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blitzendoggo · 1 year ago

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Spot in My Heart

Callisto finds a kitten on his way home, Prophis couldn’t be happier.

Prophis/Callisto (2097 words)

Every year, Callisto swears he’s going to quit working at Bowenburg Academy, and every year, Prophis convinces him to stay, but this really might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He stayed late grading papers and helping students with work as they came in and out of his office -having a strange admiration of the teacher that Callisto cannot for the life of him understand, but Prophis always laughs and shakes his head whenever the dark-haired man mentions it- and when he finally decided he should pack up and head home it was nearly 8:30 at night. And to top it all off, it was raining hard enough for the raindrops to sting as they struck Callisto’s skin.

He is power walking home as fast as his 6’5” legs will allow him which makes him look like a grey-and-black blur zipping through the town. Most of the world is simply white noise to him, the only noise being the pounding rain as everything else that is sensible is hiding somewhere dry.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

As he rounds a corner, sharper and faster than is safe given the very slick concrete, he stumbles forward as his heel steps on something far too soft, and said soft thing begins yowling and crying loudly. Callisto spins around and sees a tiny black and white kitten, drenched to the bone, and, even to Callisto’s untrained eye, severely malnourished.

The man pauses before the guilt -and some of his animal-loving husband’s consciousness- overwhelms him, and he steps under a nearby awning and clicks for the kitten as he crouches down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to step on you,” he apologizes quietly, feeling a little ridiculous talking to the tiny creature as he digs into his bag and pulls out his half-eaten salami sandwich, offeringsome of it on his palm to the little thing. The kitten quickly eats it out of his hand before looking up at the tall man expectantly. Callisto gives him more with a small smile.

He offers everything he can to the kitten before standing up. He is beginning to shake with the cold and wants to get back to his husband. He nods to the kitten and turns to walk away before noticing that the kitten is still following him.

“Go on, go home,” He tells it sharply, trying to sound mean and drive it off, but instead he is given an honestly pitiful meow. “Oh, you’re quite cold, aren’t you…” he says quietly. He intends on taking another step away, but his legs don’t seem to be listening to his brain as they instead bring him closer to the sopping wet cat, and his arms seem to be listening even less as they reach to grab the kitten.

He feels around its neck for the collar, deciding that he can deliver the kitten back to his home before coming to the upsetting conclusion that there was no collar.

He straightens up and looks at it for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Alright, then, I suppose you’re coming with me.”

He gently picks up the black-and-white mess of fur. The kitten begins purring as hard as it’s shivering and Callisto can’t bring himself to put the kitten down. He gently wrings the excess water out of its fur and looks at him pensively before tucking him down the front of his grey sweater.

Though he was certainly walking fast before, he nearly doubles his speed as he barrels home, feeling the need to deliver this kitten to safety. He silently gives his thanks that their house is not that far from the campus, and he bursts through the door to their little home in only five minutes.

“Callisto!” Prophis yelps, jumping straight up from his seat. “What on Earth are you-?”

“Cat,” Callisto says bluntly, fishing the mewling thing from his sweater and holding it straight out.

The elf stares at him and the kitten for a long moment before quickly approaching and swiping it from his husband’s hands.

“Oh, Callisto, where did you find this poor little dear?” he asks, immediately fretting over the kitten.

“On my way home,” Callisto explains as he peels off his drenched jacket and drops his bag by the door. “I accidentally stepped on its tail.”

“You what?!” Prophis exclaims, turning sharply to look at his husband as if he had said that he had punted the cat.

“On accident,” Callisto rectifies quickly. “And I apologized, and fed it half my lunch.”

The elf inspects the kitten twice over and gives a satisfied nod. “Well, other than being a hungry little fellow, he seems unscathed.” He pauses and turns his gaze to his husband, and the dark-haired man knows that look.

“No, Prophis,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster in the face of his husband. “We cannot keep it.”

“Why not?” the elf pouts. “He’s perfectly fine and well-mannered!”

“Prophis,” Callisto all but pleads.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be as heartless as to cast the little one out into the rain!” Prophis doubles down, putting his bleeding heart on full display as he cradles the kitten closer to his chest. “He wouldn’t survive the night and winter is just around the corner and-”

“Alright,” the human says tiredly.

“Alright?” Prophis echoes, the hope edging into his voice.

“Yes, alright, we can keep it.” Before his husband can properly cheer he adds, “Just until we can find someone who can take care of it instead.”

Prophis has a look on his face for a moment, one that Callisto recognizes as his “I’m plotting something face” before he nods with a smile. “Well, if he’s going to stay he needs a name.”

“A name?” Callisto echoes.

“Yes, something to call him instead of just ‘the kitten,’” Prophis reasons.

The human considers it for a moment before he concedes with a nod. “I suppose that much can be true.”

The blonde holds up the black-and-white mess of still-soggy fur before saying, “Mr. Business.”

Callisto smiles at his husband’s choice of naming. “We can’t call it that, the Monopoly Man would steal it.”

Prophis sighs. “Fair point.” He walks into the living area and gently sets the kitten down on the table, looking at him intently as if the cat will tell them his name.

Callisto follows his husband after a moment. He looks at the kitten before thinking about his lesson on the Greek mythos this evening. “What about Clio, after the muse of history and heroic poetry, from the old tales?”

Prophis snickers. “That’s truly a you thing to say, but look at him.” He gestures at the cat. “That’s not a hero of old.” As if cued by his words, the cat tries to walk off the table.

The history professor watches with bemusement as his husband scrambles to save the kitten before considering his comment. “You may have a point.” He pauses, weighing his options before smiling as he says, “Dionysus then, the old god of intoxication, that seems to fit the cat’s,” he trails off, looking the tiny thing up and down before landing on, “Everything.”

“I still feel a god’s name is too clever for him,” Prophis points out.

Callisto nods, watching as the kitten tries to eat a strand of his husband’s long white hair. “I suppose you’re right,” he says slowly.

“What about,” he trails off before grinning. “Spot? After the three-headed dog.”

Callisto pauses for a long moment, looking at his husband before slowly saying, “Did you just-? Do you mean-?” But the hopeful look in Prophis’ eye causes him to stop. “Alright, love, Spot it is.”

“Yay! Spot!” He stands up with Spot and spins around. The cat, to his credit, is completely unbothered, just lazily looking around as the 6-foot elf twirls around with him.

Callisto chuckles. “I don’t know what I expected from you,” he says before shaking his head. “Scratch that, this is exactly what I expected from you”

Prophis doesn’t even respond as he stands there with the kitten, smiling and laughing. He is on cloud nine with this little thing in his arms because he loves animals, but that’s not the only reason. While Prophis may love animals, Callisto does not, and one of the compromises they made when getting married and moving in together is that they wouldn’t have any pets in the house.

His husband snickers before deciding to be dramatic. He sniffles and pulls his, still-wet, cardigan closer around him. “I was out in the cold rain too, you know. The kitten’s not the only one who needs cuddles.” He huffs and turns to walk towards the stairs. “I suppose I’ll just go curl up in bed under the blankets.”

Callisto barely finishes his sentence before Prophis wraps him in a tight, one-arm hug. He litters his face in kisses, muttering “I love you” between each one. In his other hand, he holds the kitten away from Callisto in an effort to not smash the tiny thing.

“I love you too, darling, but I really should go dry off.” Prophis huffs, but does not let go, causing Callisto to chuckle. “Let me dry off and then we can cuddle, sound good? Wouldn’t want you getting all wet, considering you’ve already had your bottom surgery,” he teases, tapping Prophis’ hip.

Prophis slowly blinks as he processes that Callisto is still dripping wet and slowly steps back. “I somehow missed that- yes, yes, go dry off. I’ll be here taking care of this little guy.” He kisses his husband's cheek.

“You were offered cuddles after a long day of being home alone, and dove for the opportunity, my fault really. I’ll be back in a moment, darling.” Callisto walks off to the bathroom, but a second later his head pops back into the room. “I’d like to point out that ‘Spot’ is also soaking wet.”

Prophis nods and follows him into the bathroom, sits down on the floor with a towel, and dries the kitten off while cooing at him while Callisto dries up.

Callisto tries to wring the water out of his hair and clothes before mumbling “To hell with it” and completely stripping and snatching Prophis’ fluffy pink robe off the wall. He carefully pulls it on before loosely tying it in the front and burying his nose in its soft sleeve. The exhustion of the day begins to catch up with him as his eyes droop and his shoulders sag.

Prophis sees him out of the corner of his eye. He slowly stands up, still cradling the kitten in one hand, and gently readjusts the robe on Callisto with the other.

“Pink is your color, love,” Prophis hums, mirth alive in his eyes.

“Shh,” he mumbles into the sleeve. He lifts his head just enough to see his husband. “It smells like you, okay?”

The blonde trails his hand up to Callisto’s face and gently twirls one of the strands of brown hair around his fingers. “Mhm,” he hums. “Is that why you steal all my clothes?” he questions. Spot meows and Prophis briefly redirects his attention to the kitten, curling it closer to himself and making sure he is still securely held before giving his attention back to his very suddenly sleepy husband.

“Yeah, you have a nice smell, and furthermore, it’s the smell of my husband. I’d love your smell if you smelled like rancid garbage, but luckily for me you smell like vanilla candles and warmth.” Callisto rests his head against Prophis’ chest, but the cat's tiny tail keeps smacking him in the nose. He makes a disgruntled expression while shifting to rest his head in the crook of his husband's neck.

Prophis snickers as he gently puts the cat down, and wraps his husband in a proper hug before swaying them there. “I still think I smell like stale food, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.”

Callisto scowls against his husband’s neck. “You do not smell like stale food, this is a hill I will die on.”

The elf laughs, squeezing his husband a little tighter. “I know, we ‘argue’ about it once a week.”

“Yes, yes, we do.”

Prophis sighs. “How about this, let’s call this argument a draw and go to bed for some proper cuddles?”

Callisto nods with a loopy smile, the need to sleep finally winning.

“I love you,” he says quietly as the blonde leads them to the bedroom.

Prophis smiles. “I love you too, pretty boy, and thank you for bringing home Spot.”

#d&dorks #callisto #prophis #fanfic #prophis/callisto #eldritch gays #this is entirely self indulgent #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #symmerty series

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sacidraw · 9 months ago

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I finally got around to posting my current D&D party for a Wild Beyond the Witchlight campaign I'm playing with my friends, let me introduce you to our characters:

"Bimba" | Hexblood | Ranger | My character, she was kidnapped and raised by a Hag when she was a kid. Her idea of teaching others how the Feywild works is the equivalent of tossing a child in a pool to teach them how to swim. There have been mixed results.

She got crowned as Witchlight Monarch at the start of the adventure.

Frenchy | Shadar-Kai | Warlock Gunlock | A smuggler who made a pact with an ancient entity, now he can cast GUN at will. Constantly wondering how we haven't died yet.

Lea | Cat Shifter | Rogue | Her instict tells her to steal whatevere is not bolted down, her survival (AKA Bimba) instincts tells her it is not a good idea in the Feywild.

Woundwort | Herengon | Monk| Former Witchligt Carnival performer, he's got one braincell and is used for coming up with the most convoluted plans possible.

Aldolini | Human | Wizard | Another former Witchlight Carnival Performer, he's trying to tech our Druid that violence is not always the option especially if you are as frail as a wet paper bag.

Evermore | Elf | Druid | Who would have thought that the Disney princess looking one wearing a dress literally made of flowers would have been the one with a taste for blood and picking fights? Not us!

#art #my art #dungeons and dragons #dnd oc #dnd #d&d #d&d oc

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weezeryuri · 1 year ago

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i need to watch unicorn warriors eternal so i Can draw that pathetic wet paper bag of an elf

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kicksnscribs · 2 years ago

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Like... we all could have made a far, far better Jason Todd monster form and given it actual significance and reason for being. Instead, dare I say, we get the visual representation of a wet fart.

The longer I look at it the more infuriated I become like oh my god they really just did not try with any kind of design did they??

The mis-matched pile of limbs that include tentacles and��crab claws I guess?

The elf ears bc sure why not?

Spiny protrusions that I’m guessing was supposed to be hair??

the combover….😬😬😩

All wrapped up oh so affectionately in a misshapen wet paper bag of a body lovingly colored a vibrant shit brown

“Oh my god” fr random super-lady I’ve never seen before!

((Also Nightwing what the hell is going on with your face there bud?))

Edit: I have read the comic linked in the OG reblog and…

Wtf…

They just did shit back in the 90s didn’t they???

#DC is lucky I’m on bed rest bc I want to redraw this so fucking badly #bc that is a fucking atrocity #I understand it was the 90s but godDAMN #dc comics #Jason Todd #answered asks

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letrune · 10 months ago

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They know the legend of the silent wanderer. They know me by the overtly patched robes, the harp I play for entertainment, the pouch which always seems empty but always has just enough coin in them to pay for the next meal. But they can see the newest addition to my legend: a book. I write in it, old ways I learnt a few centuries ago, from the Abbey of Tomes, by the First Dragon themselves, the Dragon who brought wisdom from the gods to the world. I wish I could explain it to anyone, but I am yet to find anyone who can read me.

Seven Rivers, a city of elves. Huge towers grown on trees, carved in rock and thin pillared bridges across the small islands. The air is wet and annoying, and for some reason, they built it so you can't walk without seeing the rich mansions on one side and the hovels just off - most grand tales are born among common folk, rising up to the occasion, or just loving purely and freely. It's annoying how many of these I can only glimpse at.

But what annoys me the most right now is the guy looking at me. Like he never saw a being like me. "Hey, cat!" My ears snap that way, I can't help that. Some elf. Bronze-skinned like all of them in this area, but his black eyes feel angry. "What are you doing here?" I raise my cup from my bag and mimic drinking from it. "We don't like your kind here." Oh, that old song and dance. I sigh and keep walking but the guy steps on my robe and tears some parts of it. I turn and very softly slap him. His eyebrows furrow. "You made a fatal mis-" Before he can finish, I kick his legs from under him, grab my patched cloth and kick him in the unmentionables, letting him squirm in pain. Then I just go, follow my gut to one of the eateries near. It’s a shiny marble one, rich wood, a mansion! But my stomach is unable to care for such details. As I walk in, a well-dressed man stands in my way. "I am sorry, paupers are not welcome." I raise my harp. He raises his eyebrows. "We do not require such frivolous entertainment either." My stomach notes that no matter how much I’d pay, I’d not be welcome either way, so I shrug and turn around, walking a bit more. I follow my guts until I smell the smell of eggs and bread, and as it is customary, there it is - the pub. Ale and wine, cheap food, perfect for me! I get there and another man raises his hands. "Hey there. You must be some pauper, eh?" Very curious, they do not know me here? I shake my paw sideways and my head very softly from shoulder to shoulder. "Oh, you can't talk. You need something?" I get my cup out and mimic drinking again. "Got ale, wine and water. What you want?" I pull a coin and put it down, pointing to the river. "Yea, water then. Show me the cup." I drink and sew back the torn piece. I just let them see my stuff, because why not? If they do not know me...

The sight is amazing. I get the book and the coal, and start to draw. It's not perfect, but I think I can get it down eventually. I got paper, I got coal, and as far as I know, I can always get more. Adventuring is always paying well, especially if one knows where to go. I grow hungry as I work on the art, and go to the guy again, putting a few coins on the counter, mimicing eating.

"And what'cha want to eat?"

I point to a guy eating a mixed bowl of meat pieces and bread. With my mouth watering, I also point to the kitchen where a half-cooked pile of bacon gets dropped on the iron. I get my food and I nod and bow enthusiastically, going back to the one seat where I was. I eat like I haven't eaten since… well, ever, and just mindlessly play a few tunes on my harp as I do.

"Hey… you know songs?" Someone asks. I nod, then point to my throat and give the one sound my throat allows: a sighing exhale.

"Well, she is not a singer, but I bet she can play a song." The guy running the inn says. "You guys get some nice tunes and you" he points at me "you get a few cups of extra water and maybe a bowl or two, if people like it."

I nod and look around, tuning the harp.

"You know 'When a wanderer comes'?" Someone asks and I do, playing a few tunes. Of course I know, I made the first version, but I must say, the one done in Pellegria was a lot better than my version. Leave it to the Dragon of Songs to make anything into a melody.

I play the song, tapping with my paw the base tune, and let the music play me. It is pretty liked, some sing a few verses, and as I finish, someone comes up.

"Can you play 'From the edges'?" I play a few tunes, questioning if it is the one. It is. So I play that too. The music flows and people start to sing along. More elves come in, by their clothes they are common folk. I am happy they come around, they sing, they dance, some even bring some instruments. Soon, we play a few songs together, nobody is in the lead, and everyone has fun. A few guards lean on the fence and listen in. It is all cheer.

Then, as the moons rise, someone fancy enters. They got guards pushing the way in, and the music stops. Everyone stands aside as an elf with golden bands and silk walks in.

"Who is playing the harp?"

I raise the harp and strum a tone.

"Her majesty, the silken, requests your talent."

I look around and shrug, eyebrows raised.

"That's a big deal, wanderer." The innkeeper says, with a trembling in the voice, so I finish my drink, get my things together, and bow out with a final tune.

The guy leads me to a fancy chariot, it has real thunderiron on it. I am shocked, it is rare at these parts, it's worth more than gold in the elven lands; either imported down from the tallest mountains, or they scraped together a lot. Well, I am curious now where this leads, who is this silken one is.

The chariot goes up a lot, up hills, thru tunnels, across slender bridges, the houses get replaced with opulent manors and amazing sights. We stop at a moderately rich house, not the richest, but it is a very fancy place. Personal guards open the door to the gold-banded guy and he leads me to an interesting looking person.

They are white-skinned. I know such exist, but I only rarely go to those climates. They are also wrapped in silk, which explain the name and why they lack the usual sun-kissed looks. The being is vaguely elven, but I can not tell, their arms and legs are visible but their torso and head is wrapped in layers upon layers, and their voice a sound of bells ringing. As in, they sound like about twenty bells ringing at the same time, little trills and clings.

"Her majesty requests your harp." The elf in gold translates. I shake my head as a negative answer and hold it close to myself. I love this harp, it had been with me for a loooong time, got it as a gift from a knight who had been a legend for centuries.

A loud bong shakes my innards, followed by soft ringing of bells.

"Her majesty proclaims that this is not a mere request. You are to give her your harp."

I squint my eyes and shake my head again. It is mine, not some tiny fleshy belltower's!

BONGGGGGG!

My innards take an odd dance, and despite my eternal nature, the pain makes me collapse. I shake and wheeze, the air gone from my lungs.

"Her majesty orders you."

I sit up, and shake my head again, pointing to myself as I struggle to breathe.

The gold-banded guy grabs the harp as another bong shakes me around, my bones rattle in pain and I wheeze where others would emit a blood-curling scream. The harp disappears between the silk drapes, then… What I was afraid of. The sound of strings torn. The sound of wood bent. The harp screams in pain and I extend a shaking paw for it.

Then I pounce into the drapes. The silk flutters away, the fleshy tendrils of the being shake as I tear the harp away and bite into the being. The sound of bells ring in a cacophony as I jump back and hold my harp up. It's broken at the top, the strings loose or snapped. I cry over it. I can not help but cry.

The silken one and the golden one each stand as I look up. The silk drapes shake as I reattach the harp and the sad tune it plays ends. Her majesty made me angry. I can barely hiss, and the gold-banded elf stands between us. The bells trill and softly chime.

"Her Majesty offers you 50 thunderiron bars." He says too fast. 50 bars. Enough to buy her whole villa, but not enough to cover the gift. Even 5.000 bars would be too little to give back the gift that I had ages ago. If I could speak, I would tell them to shove it all down her majesty's throat if she got any.

I step forward, tears going down my face. The silk robes shake. The bells sound scared now.

"A hundred bars and twenty meters of her finest silk."

Claws out, I remember. How we fought up that hill to rescue some king or queen. How much we travelled to return the First Drum to the Dragon of Music. How he laughed. How he gave me the harp. "So you can sing along, even without a voice."

Her majesty, the silken one, shakes and the bells ring in alarm.

"Two hundred bars and all her silk! She… She can not offer more. Please…" the gold-banded one begs. The silk-wrapped being looks pathetic. She is just a bully. I look into the eyes of the gold-plated elf and show a sign, my right paw raising upwards and my left going down. I mimic a scale.

"You… want more?" I nod. He whispers to the being and the trill of bells come again. "Two hundred bars and two each year, or your own weight in silk…" my paw-scale shows it is not enough. "In silk and gold…" I show that I am thinking, then pull the coal and the book. The elf comes close to see me writing.

Can this be for my friend? I write. He reads.

"Yes. We can. Where is your friend?"

I rummage in my bag, until I find the signet I got so many years ago, when I last visited the kingdom.

"Argilita? But that is on the other-" i mimic the scale again and let my claws out. "Of course. Of course… but… only…"

I put the signet back in the bag, get up and shake myself again. The bells now trill gently.

"Her majesty says the shipment will leave as soon as you do. She will give you the best chariot she can so you can travel in luxury to the kingdom of Argilita."

Oh, so now she wants to shake me off? She breaks my friend's gift, my voice! She bargains for her life! Then, she wants to throw me out?! Oh, no, we do not do that…

I accept her offer, then raise my finger, and point at my mouth.

"Oh, I am sure her majesty's kitche-"

I shake my head. I walk to the chariot, hop on, then clap twice. The banded elf joins me as the silk pile of bells and flesh tries to sulk away. I shot a glare at her. She will remember me.

The chariot stops at the fancy food place. The elf at the door is about to complain when I point to the banded one.

"She is here on Her Majesty, the Silken One's own costs. Give her whatever she desires." He commands. And whooo boy will it cost her. I sit outside, the table set for a queen but I am alone. So I invite random elves over. Just waving at them. The restaurant will be very rich and the good folks of Seven Rivers can sample the food of the nobles. At that moment, it seems like a great idea.

About six hours later, I am notified that the storage got empty. With a shrug, I get up, the patched robe fluttering as I walk past the carriage and see the two heavy carriages with the metal bars and rolls of silk. I just hop on on one and wave at the elf, letting him deal with the bill as the good folk leave and the nobles are all shocked.

Goodbye, Seven Rivers. You cheered me, scarred me and spat me out, and yet I left as the victor. Hopefully the delivery will be just this eventful.

You are known as the silent wanderer. Ageless because of time magic. You have lived longer then the oldest of dragons. Cursed to never being able to speak or talk in a way people can understand. But thats OK. Action speaks louder then words ever will.

#writing prompts #writing prompt

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 3 years ago

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Harry was up before dawn.

By the time first light touched the horizon he had a large fry-up keeping warm in the oven and a vat of butter softening on the counter, Padfoot drooling sadly by his feet. The grocer's would owl a fresh loaf of Draco's preferred wheat bread sometime before they sat to eat.

He showered and dressed with care, attacking his hair with a wet comb like Mrs. Weasley used to. He couldn't remember any of the spells Draco had taught him.

He was putting on his boots when Padfoot wandered into the bedroom, slowly ambling around the bed and picking up the stuffed Niffler that Hermione had crocheted for him, before blinking sombrely at Harry.

Harry smiled. "Are you excited, Pads?"

The dog blinked and slowly lowered onto his haunches.

"He's going to pretend to be offended by you but I promise he will love you more than I do."

Padfoot sighed and rested his snout on the Niffler.

"'Smelly old stray', he'll probably call you." Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Ponce."

He stood and looked around the room; after a moment he drew his wand and flicked it at the bed, stripping it. Then he fetched fresh sheets and made the bed by hand, like Draco always used to.

"See how there are no wrinkles here on the corners? Say what you will but magic always leaves wrinkles," Draco would say. Then he'd sigh. "Unless you're a house elf. Everything you do is impeccable when you're a house elf."

Harry shot some freshening charms at the curtains and just as he was turning away he spotted Ron and Hermione's owl flapping towards the house in the dim golden light.

Harry untied the large cloth bag the owl carried. "Hi, Rufus. Treats are in the kitchen."

Padfoot growled at the owl but didn't go after him, sighing tiredly instead.

Harry smiled as he pulled out a bunch of gorgeous fresh white lilies tied together with a red ribbon.

"Typical Gryffindors," Draco might say.

Ron and Hermione had sent him a gift each. Ron's scribble on his card was barely legible, as usual, and Hermione's said, "Happy birthday, Harry! I hope today goes according to plan. Have a smashing day! Love, Hermione."

Harry smiled and put the flowers in a vase on Draco's bedside table. He left the presents unwrapped. There would be more. Draco loved watching him unwrap others' presents so he could criticise them.

He checked his watch. It was time.

He pulled on his jacket and after a last sweep of the house, deemed it in order.

"Be back in a bit, old boy," he said softly, rubbing Padfoot's head. The mutt pushed himself up and followed Harry to the front door on his shaky, arthritic legs. "Look cute when we get home," Harry reminded him.

He Apparated.

He was instantly chilled to the bone. The island was pitch black, like the early dawn light couldn't touch it quite yet. Harry's breath fogged in front of his face. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Harry trudged quickly to the iron gates.

He spent twenty minutes filling out paper work under a single flickering light bulb. The groans of distress and the jangle of keys made him feel queasy. The wizard at the front desk, white and pinched looking, watched him with a mixture of fear and awe.

At last the papers he signed glowed gold and vanished. The wizard behind the desk nodded and then trotted away, disappearing into the gloom of the place.

Harry waited, his stomach aching with knots. It was even colder inside, somehow. Harry just wanted one single glimpse of him because he knew that would drive away every last trace of the cold.

Pacing restlessly to the single window, he looked out into the still grey morning. There were unmarked graves in the backyard. In the distance, a single line of brilliant silver-gold gleamed - the sun was on the very brink of showing itself; any moment now, there would be light.

There was a rattle and a crash of iron doors. Harry whirled around.

The front desk wizard hurried back to his station and behind him, two burly guards supported a heavily bundled third person. Harry hovered behind the yellow line on the floor marked "Visitors Stop Here". He was about to throw up. He was about to cry. He was about to whoop like a banshee and wake up the whole building.

At the last second, he lost patience, leaping over the line and grabbing the third, smaller figure between the two guards, one of whom growled.

Harry met his gaze calmly. The guard actually stumbled back a step.

The bundle in Harry's arms quivered. The layers around him, Harry recognised; it was the dark green cloak he'd picked up for Draco in Albania while on a mission.

"It's me," Harry whispered. "It's me, love. We're going home."

Harry slapped off the hand that the remaining guard had foolishly left on. Then he half-carried Draco outside.

"I've made us breakfast. I cleaned the house. The whole fucking house, Draco. You owe me. And I have a surprise for you. You'll hate him at first. He smells a bit. But he's so loving. So loyal, Draco. You're going to be buying him things soon enough. He's actually really cute."

The iron gates clanged shut behind them and Harry exhaled with a whoosh; a seven year old whoosh of air.

At that moment the sun cleared the top of the craggy mountain in the distance and the light dazzled Harry's babbling right out of him. So bright was the light that the pale hair under his nose gleamed Patronus-silver.

There was a heart beating frantically against his own. A pair of bony hands clutched at his jacket. Warm, shaky breaths danced across the side of Harry's neck. For a few seconds, it was as if Azkaban, in its entirety, simply did not exist.

Then, in a hoarse, barely audible whisper: "Happy birthday, Harry."

#happy birthday harry! ⚡#my writing

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multi-lefaiye · 2 years ago

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HELLO i need to know who the rat king is

HELLO YES!!!! So The Rat King is a character in the WIP I have that's mainly just vibes but sometimes it rotates really fast and I get more ideas: God Died With Wooden Bones! Though it's been a hot fucking minute since I mentioned it so asdjfkl;

So, The Rat King is a side character in GDWWB, and she's a fucking menace. She's a local cryptid woman who's kind of a minor celebrity, but less in the sense that she's a beloved member of society and more in the sense that she's really fucking weird and everyone's fascinated by her. Everyone wants to study her so bad.

Essentially, The Rat King is the "lovable rogue who's also a wet paper bag of a man" but she's a woman. And she's a fucking delight.

I also think she might be a void-walker! Not sure because I created her before I created void-walkers, but, well. She fits the criteria. Gonna have to think about this.

Anyway as a fun fact about The Rat King, that's the only name she accepts being referred to as. HOWEVER, if you're not feeling up to her mouthful of a name, she does accept being called Sir as well.

Also The Rat King is a goddamn menace. The antagonist of GDWWB, Elliot, has a completely one-sided rivalry with her because she's a huge asshole to him all the time, but she isn't aware of the rivalry. She doesn't even really register that he exists, and he hates that so much.

I unfortunately don't have recent art of her, but I do have a picrew of her!! (picrew link)

[Image Description: A cartoony picrew of my OC The Rat King, an elf woman with pale skin and long, dark hair. She has sharp cheekbones and studs in her ears, as well as a piercing in her left eyebrow. The Rat King is wearing a low-cut black tank top, a black choker, and a flannel button-up. She is smiling and holding a thumbs-up as she looks toward the viewer. The background is blue and has white sparkles around her. End ID]

#talk to the bunnykitty #the rat king #god died with wooden bones #bat time all the time #sorry for the delay in answering this btw

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

Text

SIREN (AMMB): Zadok’s Ending

Chapter 1: Meeting the Band

Pairing: Deep Sea Merman (Zadok) x Gender Neutral Reader

Adult Content below the cut. Dom Reader and collar use.

---

A lithe looking figure was draped in oversized clothing. Loose cuffed cargo trousers were covered in chains and topped with a large hoodie and a coat which made your own look positively thin. You frowned before you caught sight of the pale, micro-scaled skin underneath. The white scales shimmered with pearlescence as Zadok glanced around behind himself and touched the water pumps attached to his neck, which were then coupled to a small tank fastened like a backpack to him. There was a sense of worry in his posture as he reached for his wallet to order.

“A chai tea please. And an anchovy sandwich to go.” He ordered quietly as the barista noted it down and carefully took his money, trying to avoid staring to badly at the suction cups and tank attached to him. Zadok ignored her look and stood to the side, pulling his hood further over his fins to avoid any more unwanted attention from the customers and staff. It was weird seeing the confident lead singer to upset and shy about being seen in public. Your staring, however, got you caught firmly in the act. With a rush you turned back to your phone, and pretended not to be looking as his white eyes caught you. A huff sounded but he didn’t move to come and say anything. He turned back to the counter and opened his phone, clawed webbed fingers typing across the keyboard.

Sadly, and awkwardly, you turned back to your table and waited for your food, trying to put Zadok out of you mind. He didn’t owe you anything after all, you were just a fan of the band. The barista was quick to make his drink before she packaged and wrapped his sandwich for him in the red and white plaid paper.

“Thank you.” He rumbled as he took the food and paper cup, “Have a nice day.” Zadok’s webbed fingers adjusted the wrapped sandwich before he tucked it into his satchel and placed his wallet firmly back inside. The singer reached upwards, his pale skin flashing with purple light, to adjust the cups over his gills. They didn’t budge, and so he walked away from the line, his hood up and his head ducked as he headed towards the door, leaving with a soft ring of the bell. You ducked over your food as he turned to walk left, past the glass window you were sat next to. He stopped just outside of the door and pulled something out of his pocket as he sipped at the tea in his hand. You realised it was his phone and as he raised it closer to his eyes you ducked back down to avoid being seen, sipping your own drink before your phone vibrated on the table again.

Thinking it was just another text from Tom, you opened the screen with a disappointed sigh, upset that Zadok had ignored you. The screen lit up again and you clicked your tongue at the incessant buzzing. A message, but not from an account that you knew, nor did you follow them. It was a picture of a figure huddled by a cliff as the profile icon, decked in all black and shielding themselves from the wind. The water looked choppy and you saw the faintest hint of waves in the background. With a confused look, you opened the message.

‘Sorry for ignoring you.’

The second message was not twenty seconds after the first.

‘This is Zadok by the way. Don’t start gawking out of the window at me please.’

Slightly rude, you thought as you looked closer at the obscure profile icon, wondering just how the weird, huddled mass of black could be the singer. Your phone buzzed again before you could give it much thought.

‘Meet me by the Elf fountain.’

You looked up from your phone as the Merman tugged his hood a little higher and tucked his hands into his pockets again. You didn’t see him then as he disappeared into the mid-morning crowds beyond your sight. With a rush you finished up your food and took your coffee to go before you made your escape out of the café and into the street. The Elven fountains weren’t too far from the café and you were eager to know just why Zadok had even spoken to you at all. The fountains were fresh water and housed a few species of pond fish, usually Koi kept for decorative appeal in the gardens. A car slammed its horn at you as you dashed across the crossing at the last moment heading towards the park where the fountains were.

It didn’t take you long to weave your way through the streets and it took even less time for you to manage to find Zadok. He was perched on the edge of the fountain, his feet beneath the cool water. You were sure it wasn’t allowed but none of the busy workers seem to be bothered by the man as he trailed them back and forth. His heavy work boots were shoved by the side of the stone, his socks tucked into each boot. You stood by the gate to the little fountain area for a moment before white eyes turned and found you staring. Zadok pulled a hand free from his pocket to give you a small wave, claws flashing a silvery colour in the light.

“Good morning.” he offered as you approached, his voice soft and calm despite your obvious staring from the gateway.

“Good morning.” You replied, feeling awkward and caught out by his kind greeting, “So…”

Zadok chuckled at you as he pulled his feet up onto the stone, perching his head on top of his knees, “So…” he replied.

“Why did you invite me here?” You asked quietly as Zadok brushed water from his webbed feet, avoiding his other filed claws on each of his toes, “You seemed well, pretty gloomy when you walked in.”

Zadok just watched you for a moment, his ghostly eyes staring at you before his mouth stretched to reveal a wide smile full of thin, sharp teeth, “I tend to look like that when Duncan spends his night crushed against me instead of in his own bed.”

Suddenly, it was like the tension dissipated, like a lightning bolt and smashed right through it. Your tension seemed to evaporate, and you returned his smile, “I can see why that would make you upset.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.” he chuckled, “I’m sorry for seeming like an utter creep, but I don’t…well I don’t much like public places. I get recognised and its just never much fun after that.”

“No, I understand, I’m just confused about how you uh…found my socials.” You asked as Zadok’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Ah. I see now.” he lowered his head and awkwardly played with the tops of his shoes, “I found the pictures. It wasn’t too hard to find considering the show was last night.” he confessed, “That’s my private account for family and friends.” Zadok reached for his phone and showed you the screen of his page, “I wanted to talk, if that’s alright with you?”

You stepped closer and sat down on the side of the fountain with the singer, “What do you want to talk about?” You smiled as you sat down, folding your hands in your lap as you tried to get comfortable against the stone.

“It seems weird now that I think about it.” Zadok confessed as you sat next to him, your drink clutched between your two hands, “I just wanted to thank you for what you said yesterday. It really does mean a lot to have someone feel so strongly about our music.” You watched as he tucked his clawed, webbed hands away in his pockets before looking him in the eyes.

His white eyes were striking, and you struggled to reply immediately, “You don’t have to thank me for being honest. Your music is amazing, just like you’re an amazing singer.”

“It means more than you think.” He insisted as he reached for his own drink, and pushed aside a small plastic bag, “I’ve spoken to a lot of fans, and, trust me, not one of them has spoken like that. Not with such passion about it all.” he laughed softly as he leaned back to take a drink, revealing the water pumps over his gills. He caught you staring, “They’re more to stop me drying out and hacking on everyone. I find I really need them after shows. So much singing hurts my lungs, so I have to revert back a little.”

“I had no idea you had to breathe water too.” You marvelled at the gills again before turning your gaze back to his pale scale-skin face, “Wait…” You held up your hands, “You sing so much it actually hurts?”

“Now don’t worry yourself!” Zadok bumped your shoulder gently, “Its not bad. Just like human singers need rests from growling, I need my own rest and recuperation.” He chuckled again, “But it is much easier to sing with water, but its not something anyone but a Mer can understand well.”

“Is that why you looked like you enjoyed the beginning solo so much? Because its easier to sing in the water?” You asked, curious and eager to pick Zadok’s brain.

He laughed at you before nodding, his hood sliding to reveal the pointed tip of one of his fins, “I’m surprised you noticed.” he held his drink in his lap, wiggling his wet toes in the cool air, “Its not just that its easier to sing, really…I was born in the ocean, even though my parents have long lived with humans. We still spend our early years in the deep black waters before integrating into society. I’ve always just loved the water. Its always brought me peace. Its like a veil on the audience so I can just be myself.”

“That seems like an odd way to start life, but the more I think about it the more I think it must be nice, to be just you and the water.” You sat back, your palms pressed into the rough stone as you looked at the water, “And I bet it made you an amazing swimmer.”

Zadok paused before laughing again, the noise gentle and soothing, like the sound of water in a stream full of pebbles, “It did make me a good swimmer, yes, but it also taught me a lot about our culture. It made me who I am.” he looked at his feet and the water in the tank gurgled quietly.

Silence fell between you both again, and you sat looking at the little goldfish in the fountain as they swam around Zadok’s ankles and disappeared under the lily pads. It was serene. You looked up and soaked in the weak sun.

“I have one more question for you.” Zadok said.

You looked over to him, “What’s that?” You asked.

He looked around and leaned over, “Is there somewhere more, private than this?” he sighed, “I just…I’m sick of being recognised. I ran into a group of fans on my way here and had to sign a few things. I just…”

“Want a day away from it all?” You asked gently, “I think I have a place in mind.”

Zadok smiled at you, “You’re not planning to kidnap me, are you?” he joked as he took another drink of coffee.

“Me? Kidnap you?” You exaggerated, “I think I would have more luck catching one of these goldfish, and that’s a pretty slim chance!”

Zadok laughed gently, like the sound of water over stone, and you stood from the fountain, holding your coffee as you waited for him to shake his feet dry and put his shoes back on. He looked at his socks and huffed before pushing them into his pockets, opting to instead carry his boots and walk barefoot through the grass.

“So, where do you have in mind?” he asked as he followed you, “Will I need my shoes on?”

You nodded at him, “You’ll need your shoes for now. The city might be okay but I’m pretty sure you’ll get glass in your feet if you don’t wear something.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s too fun. I can’t be having a day in the minor injuries unit.” Zadok followed you to the gate before he took his napkin from his coffee and wiped off his feet. He hopped on each foot as he put his sock on and then his boots. Quickly, he tied the laces up before he checked his wrist. A silver watch flashed, and he hummed at the time.

“Have you got somewhere to be?” You asked.

Zadok shook his head as he clicked the sound off his phone, “Nope. Let’s get going.” he pulled his hood back up and hid his face as you exited the park and headed out towards the city’s edge.

“I suggest you keep your stuff close.” You suggested as you both entered into a small, abandoned area of the city. It was overgrown and the small homes here were derelict, with ivy and bushes sprouting out of the windows and collapsed roofs.

Zadok looked up through the trees, “What kind of place is this?” he asked quietly as you both stepped around a couple of mushroom circles.

“It’s a fae pool. A spirit pool of sorts.” You pointed past the houses towards a large clearing where a natural pond glittered with the light pouring through the centre hole of the canopy, “Its protected by the city for small fae and creatures to use and live in. Some species can’t integrate with humans, so these are the result.” You pointed to the rocks where a nymph combed her hair. She turned and saw you both, smiling before she blended into the air and disappeared into a small creek that trickled away from the large pond with a chime of laughter.

“This is amazing.” Zadok breathed as he ran his claws over a rotten wooden fence, touching the ivy which wrapped around them gently, “I’ve never seen something like this before, not unless it was in the actual countryside.”

You smiled brightly as you reached the edge of the water, “Well, its something a lot of people don’t know about. I only know because of the guy I work with. He comes out here sometimes during shifts.”

“Is that the one that was with you last night, the werewolf?” Zadok asked curiously as he laid his bag down by the edge and undid his coat.

“Oh yeah, that’s Tom. He comes with me to a lot of stuff. We’ve been friends for years now.” You answered him, “I saved him a spot at the front since he was just as excited as me to see you guys.”

“He’s a nice guy then.” Zadok smiled, his needle like teeth parted slightly as he turned to sniff the air, “Sounds like a keeper.” he teased.

You shook your head, “Nah. We’re just friends. Tom is like a brother to me. We’ve both been through this before.” You shrugged, “I’m sure I’ll find someone like that though.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” Zadok awkwardly added before he changed the subject, “Are we allowed in the water?”

The water was clear enough to see the heavy, dark stones that covered the bottom and you shrugged at Zadok.

“So long as you don’t kiss any Nymphs, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You joked as you sat yourself next to the water and sipped the last remnants of your drink.

“Oh, I don’t plan on kissing any of them.” Zadok chuckled as he shrugged his coat off and reached for his tanks, “Would you mind…”

“Oh, gosh, sure, sorry.” You rambled before turning around, “Are those tanks hard to get off.

In reply you heard the hiss and click before water glugged and the tank thumped to the floor, “No. It’s not too hard, just a lot of suction cups and water glugging.” Zadok hummed and you made sure to keep turned around as fabric fluttered to the floor, “You can turn back now.” He announced quietly.

You turned back around, clutching your drink between your hands, and looked at the man as he laid on his back and floated out into the middle of the clear water. He was bare of clothes, but nothing was exposed, and you remembered your anatomy lessons enough to know that most Mer’s had slits which hid everything away. Zadok flipped himself backwards and plunged himself deep into the pool. The water swirling was the only sign he was moving, and you walked back to the edge and sat down. Much like he had earlier, you took your shoes and socks off, and plunged your feet carefully into the water. It was quite cool, and you shuddered at the sensation before you wiggled your toes back and forth and swung your feet in the water. A hand grabbed your ankle and you jumped with a squeak until Zadok’s white head appeared. His head emerged and you marvelled at the glittering silver and purple of his bioluminescence. His eyes blinked back their protective eyelids, the third lids sliding to the sides of his eyes as he peered up at you with a grin of needle like teeth.

“Boo.” He whispered before submerging his gills again, his eyes poking out above the water while the slits on his neck and ribcage flared and moved water.

“You’re an ass.” You commented before splashing water at his head.

Zadok flared the fins on his head, the sails on top of his head and one each side shaking in a ripple before they shone with purple light, “You stuck your feet into a pool with unknown creatures in it.” he shot back at you as he laid himself on the incline of the pool, his stomach resting against the stones, keeping his gills submerged.

“Is the water okay for you? Don’t you need salt water since you’re from the deep ocean?” You asked curiously, “You won’t get any infections from it will you?”

Zadok gave you a withering look, “I’ll be fine. If this is a fae pool it will be perfectly clean. They don’t like dirty water.” he wiggled back into the water, “I can breathe fresh water just fine, since this is pure, its even better.”

“That’s great then. I didn’t want to be responsible for making you ill or anything! Considering you have a few more months of touring it would be pretty disastrous.” You smiled with relief.

For a while, you watched Zadok swim and dive. He dipped beneath the surface seamlessly and you marvelled at the glow to his fins and scales as he dove to the bottom of the pond. You could make out the colour of his bioluminescence beneath the surface, glowing through the water as he swam in large circles. As you sat, quiet and still, the sprites seemed to return to the water, and you smiled as a few smaller sprites sat by you in the reeds and grass. A couple of small looking mushrooms rattled together before their small arms and legs appeared and they opened their eyes, trundling over to pick at Zadok’s clothes and shoes before they hopped into his shoe and made happy noises. You laughed at them before a small, hummingbird like fae zipped in front of your face and giggled before settling herself on top of your head to play with whatever she could reach. Zadok surfaced and opened his eyelids as a couple of kelp looking creatures clung to his fins. They flopped back into the water before he could complain but he only smiled beneath the surface, snapping at them with his sharp teeth to scare them away from his fins. He reached and tugged a few of them free of his dorsal sail, the sharp needles tearing a few of them a little, but they didn’t seem to complain as they floated back into the depths of the pond.

“They seem to like you.” Zadok commented as he swam close to the edge, his body bending before he laid his webbed hands in the grass, claws plucking at the strands and snapping them.

“If you come here long enough, they take a liking to you. They just like people who can sit quietly, and who don’t litter.” You replied as you placed your cup into his plastic bag. You hummed as you reached inside and plucked the bottle out, “Did you plan on doing a little more than swimming?” You teased as you shook the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

Zadok plucked it out of your hands and scoffed, “A little more than relaxing…” he muttered, “Something like that. It’s been a rough few weeks, being on tour and all.”

You didn’t know Zadok well, but you found yourself replying before you could stop yourself, “Is it something you want to talk about?”

“No.” he replied brusquely, “Its something at home. Nothing you can really help with.” Zadok hummed, “But some company might be nice?” he asked as he held the whiskey a little higher out of the water.

It was only just past midday, but you smiled at him, remembering that you had the day off work anyway. You checked your phone and nodded.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind sharing some of that. Its expensive.” You commented as Zadok undid the lid and tossed it into the grass.

He held the drink up before taking a few sips and hissing, “Definitely decent stuff.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You joked, “As a bartender, I have a keen sense for what makes a good whiskey.” You laughed before taking a mouthful and humming at the burn as you swallowed, “Oh yeah, definitely decent.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Zadok chuckled as he leaned back and floated out into the middle of the pond, his eyes closed as the sun shone through the leaves and hit the skin of his belly. His stomach glittered with blue and purple light from the natural sunlight and you watched the light show in awe before you took another sip of whiskey to dampen the feeling swirling in your gut.

Zadok floated for a while before he dipped below the water and dove to the bottom, the water swirling in his wake. His fins popped back out of the water as he swam to the edge and surfaced, smiling at you before he held out his fist.

“Open your hand.” he insisted, “I have something for you.”

You did as you were told and placed the whiskey down to open your hands for what he had to give you. He opened his claws and dropped a large looking rock. You frowned but span it over to reveal the inside of a geode. It was split some time ago but Zadok’s swimming had cleaned most of the silt from inside of it, revealing a shiny gathering of blue and clear crystals. The sprite in your hair chirped happily before a magpie squawked and landed nearby, eyeing the shiny object up with one beady eye.

“Wow.” You whispered, “Was this at the bottom of the pond?” You asked as you turned the crystals away from the sunlight, so the magpie didn’t decide to dive at you for the object.

“There’s a small cave at the bottom. It probably leads to some fae lair, but the inside was full of rocks and geodes. Its obviously a lair which has been abandoned though, there’s silt all over it.” Zadok commented, “They probably moved along a while ago.”

“That’s amazing.” You replied, “Thank you. Its very pretty.”

Zadok failed to stop his fins from flaring as he puffed with pride, “Sorry.” he grunted, “It’s a natural thing. I can’t stop myself.”

You only laughed at him, “Its fine, don’t worry about it.” You took hold of the whiskey again and held it out for him, “Want some more.”

Embarrassed, Zadok nodded, “Yep.” And took the whiskey as he swam back out into the pond, treading water easily as he sipped whiskey, back and forth across the length of the body of water.

The whiskey was strong, and it quickly got to your head, making you smile as you laid near the edge of the water, talking as you watched the clouds roll overhead. You grinned as Zadok started to cloud watch with you. It was childish almost, but peaceful as you both laid back and watched the day roll past, sipping whiskey before you started on the bread and meat he had shoved into the bag as well, chewing slowly as you listened to the trees rustle and fae giggle. The sun started to dip below the horizon as you both finished off the bottle of whiskey, giggling and slapping water at each other before you flopped back against the bank with your feet swirling back and forth in the water. Zadok dipped below the surface and resurfaced happily, stretching his lithe figure out before he swam back towards you. One of his hands wrapped around your ankle, the black, tapered claws grazing over your skin before he pulled himself out of the water, and grazed them up over your calf, to the point where your bottoms were rolled up your legs. His white eyes continued up your legs, following their own path over your chest before your gazes locked.

His fingers pressed against your skin, softly mapping the expanse of your calf before he trailed his other hand up your other leg, touching the back of your leg in a slow stroke before he heaved his body up and out of the water, resting between your legs as he dripped water over your stomach. Intensity burned in his white eyes as his nose holes flared and his mouth opened, scenting the air. You looked up at him and felt your body go hot. After a moment looking at his perfect, pearl coloured skin, you dared to stroke your hands over his stomach, following the deep purple colours as they zipped up over his shoulders and down his back. A croaking purr escaped Zadok as he pushed his skin against your hands, enjoying the petting as his lips pursed. His gills flared with a sigh before he leaned over and pressed his lips to your own. His second eyelids closed over his eyes, like he was snatching a fish from the water, and he watched you melt against the grass, one of your hands cupping his cheek, stroking at the fin on the side of his head, while your other hand dared to trail down his stomach, stroking the soft, scaled skin before you reached the mound between his legs.

Another soft rumble ran up Zadok’s check before he croaked, the sound accompanied by the soft fluttering of his gills. His eyes were closed as your fingers grazed over the flushed flesh of his slit. You stroked along the centre where the rough scales parted to reveal a peak of his soft, blue coloured flesh.

“Fuck.” Zadok whispered as his arms shook, “Please.” he whimpered in your ear.

“Please, what?” You gasped as your finger dipped into the slit as it grew slippery with a natural lubricant before you kissed him again, stroking the flushed flesh gently as you felt his tongue prod at your lips. The two of you kissed a little deeper, tongues touching before Zadok tilted his head and pulled himself out of the water completely, pressing his wet skin and scales to your front.

The mer shifted against you as your fingers came away from his slit, covered in a thin slime, “Let me…” he croaked again with a purr, “Let me have you.”

You grinned as he pressed his slit to your hips, rubbing the scales against you, “Do you have a room somewhere?” you asked, no louder than a whisper.

Zadok nodded his head as you dragged your nails down his back, shivering before he managed to speak, “The Rouge Bard. We have our own rooms. Everyone is out today.” he added as he blinked and leaned to nip at your lips, his gills fluttering again before he leaned back.

“We best continue this there then.” You stated as Zadok kissed you once more and pulled away, shaking water from his body as he hissed and pulled his clothes back on. The cotton dragged at the swollen flesh of his slit and you drunkenly hummed, looking at his angular ribcage, structured with thin bones and heavy scales. You were admiring him. Zadok smiled as he zipped up his cargo pants, moving the chains out of the way as they linked together and jangled.

“Yes. Let’s.” Zadok shuddered as the wind blew, but quickly covered up before stealing another heated kiss from your lips, his fins flaring as you clicked the water tank breathers to the gills on his neck.

The two of you stumbled from the abandoned homes, stealing kisses and dragging your hands over each other’s skin as darkness settled over the city. You stumbled and laughed with one another as you reached the hotel and he dragged you into the elevator, purring his croaking noise again as he pressed you to his front and stole another kiss, his lips demanding more from you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you gasped against his teeth as they nipped at you. The elevator pinged the floor and you both collapsed out of it, dragging each other down the hall until you reached his door. You pressed his back against it as he fumbled for the keycard to get in.

A whistle sounded behind you as Zadok opened the door, “Golden boys getting some ass tonight I see.” Senoz purred from across the hall.

“I think I might be the one getting the ass.” You purred as the demon’s tails swung upwards, curled curiously.

“Well, when he’s a disappointment, you know where to find me, sweet thing.” Senoz swiped at your neck and licked the skin before leaving you both to tumble into Zadok’s room.

“Fucking demon.” the merman growled, “I’ll…”

“You better not be all talk. I might get bored and head over to see how good Senoz is in bed.” You countered as his coat fell to the floor.

Zadok was quick to pull the suction cups of his water tank free, wheezing for a moment before he pealed his shirt off, revealing his angular chest and plated ribs again. You leaned back to admire the sight before he grabbed at your own clothes. You let him wrangle your coat and shirt off before you pushed him back towards the double bed. He went with a soft rumble, laying back against the cushions as he undid his trousers. You stood and slid them down over his hips to reveal his underwear. They were wet with lubricant. Pulling them down, you tried not to lick your lips as his slit sat before you, puffy and glistening, the head of his cock already peeking out from the blue flesh. Zadok threw his head back as you pushed your fingers against the soft scaled skin, revealing the v-shaped head of his cock.

“Fuck, please.” he whined again, “Please.” he reached for your neck and leaned up for a kiss, only to be denied as you spotted the jewellery collars on top of his dresser. They were probably from the show the night before. Before he could steal a kiss, you retrieved one of the studded black leather collars and grinned.

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have what you want.” You promised as you slid back into his lap, holding the studs of the spiked collar open.

The merman looked from the collar to your face. His white eyes widened before he nodded, licking at his lips with a blue, pointed tongue. You reached around his neck to click the collar closed before leaning back in his lap to admire the black leather and silver spikes against his pearlescent skin. Bioluminescence trails ran up his arms as you trailed your hands over his scaled skin. It was rough over the tops of his arms and you dug your fingers into the meat of his tricep to enjoy the feeling of the rough skin against your palms. Sitting back on his thighs, you turned your gaze downwards as you looped a finger through the ring hanging from the leather. Zadok moaned quietly as you gave it a soft tug and teased the tip of his cock. It bobbed, stirring between the blue fleshy lips before it extended out of its hole, shining wet with lubricant. His dick was long and curved upwards, with a head that tapered into a v shape. Beneath the head was bulbous, in the shape of an oval, and the bottom was flared with ribs. It was entirely new, and you felt your mouth water slightly at the sight of the blue gradient of the organ. The bottom glittered with silver light at your staring and his cock bobbed upwards sharply as your fingers trailed over his shoulders and down his ribs. Zadok let out another purring croak as you finally reached his pelvis and ran your fingertips along the top of his dick.

“Please, master, please.” he croaked as he flopped back into the cushions, easily falling into a more submissive role as you dragged him up a little by the ring of his collar, “Please touch me.”

You shuddered at his tone of voice, enjoying the soft pleading from a voice which was usually so confident and demanding of attention on stage.

“Are you going to be a good boy and do as you’re told?” You asked as you sat on his thighs, running your fingers over his hips, towards the base of his cock, before you trailed back again, letting the head of his dick leak precum and his slit drip with more lubricant. The clear fluid leaked down over his buttocks and you watched as his face lit up with a blue blush.

Zadok swallowed thickly, “I’ll be g-good.” he promised quietly as you let go of the ring of his collar and stroked the length of his dick.

“Good boy.” You cooed as you stroked him, “We can stop anytime, just pat my thigh twice.” You told him before leaning down to steal a kiss from his lips as you pressed your finger to the sensitive head of his cock.

“Ah!” Zadok cried sharply as your fingers twisted underneath the bulbous part of his cock, “That’s…sensitive.” he whined as you grasped the oval shape again and stroked around it, watching his clawed feet curl into the sheets, cutting slits into the sheets.

“Its sensitive is it?” You asked as you trailed over the bump again.

“Yes.” he cried, “Please, master, I can’t…I’ll cum before…”

Abruptly, you let go, watching his cock bob and throb with a hum. Zadok whined and croaked again before leaning up to kiss you, demanding your attention.

“I think I need a little help before I can fit that in baby boy.” You uttered against his lips, “How about you open me up a little?”

Zadok nodded as you took hold of his hand and looked at his claws, assessing them for a moment before you decided they were clipped enough to not shred your insides.

Zadok croaked before purring again as you sat on your knees, resting above his lap as his hand encompassed your sex, the rough scales on the outside of his fingers grazing against your sensitive skin before they ran back and pushed at your hole. He met with resistance and the mer quickly gathered the natural lubricant from his slit, smearing it over his fingers before he pushed back against your hole. Carefully, he slid one finger inside to the second knuckle, letting you rest for a moment before he eased the rest in. Your inside were warm, and Zadok shuddered at the temperature difference before he crooked his finger and began gently thrusting it in and out. His other hand occupied itself at your chest before his mouth took to teasing your nipples, sucking on the buds until they were pert and sore, his sharp teeth nipping at the skin as he croaked again in happiness.

“You’re such a good boy.” You moaned between the attention of his mouth and hands, enjoying the pleasurable stretch as he pushed another finger into you and scissored the two apart, pressing against your plush insides.

“Anything for you, master.” Zadok purred drunkenly, his pale face flushed with blue blood. You watched his cock bob and weep a pearl of light blue precum, following the fluid as it dripped back down the length and mixed with the lubricant seeping from his slit.

“Zadok, you’re dripping all over yourself. Is this turning you on that much?” You asked breathily as his fingers pressed into a sensitive spot, keeping your composure as he sucked on your nipples again, leaving cool spit over the skin with his blue tongue.

“Mmm. It is.” Zadok hissed as you wrapped your hand around the head of his cock, “Please, can I be inside you?”

“Hmm? What was that? Where are your manners, baby?” You asked as you pulled his fingers from you looking at them before you leaned back in his lap and pinned his hands to the bed. His dick bobbed as you stretched his arms up over his head and you admired the shape of his lithe figure, all bone and sleek muscle. His luminescence burned bright in striped over his entire body, shooting like currents as you nudged your hips against his own, “What’s the magic word?”

“Please, master, I can’t stand it. I need to be inside you.” Zadok moaned as you tugged him up by the collar for a kiss, mashing your tongues and teeth together messily before you reached back and lined his dick up against your hole, “Thank you, thank you…” He uttered incoherently as you sank down on his cock.

A moan tore from you as the bulbous part under his head sank into you, stretching you wide before the ribs along the bottom scraped gently at your insides. A sharp bolt of pleasure ran up your spine as you took him to the base. He was unique, slippery, and textured in ways you had never taken, and you took a moment to admire his face as his second eyelids flicked and blinked back and forth. His hips shifted, jolting you on top of him, and you felt the cool seep of lubricant from where your hips were pressed together.

“You’re just gushing for me, aren’t you?” You teased as you slid up his cock and slid back down, enjoying the wet squelch that sounded as your hips collided. Zadok nodded and croaked again, reaching for his collar as his other hand wrapped around a bed post, anchoring himself as your rhythm took over, rocking his dick in and out of yourself. He struggled to say anything as the bulbous protrusion expanded, squirting something unfamiliar inside of you.

“Did you just….” You paused as he shook his head, and your insides turned into jelly, numb to the swell but tingling with extra pleasure. It was a thin stream of jelly and you sat up on your knees to see it drip out of you thickly, numbing wherever it touched.

“Its for…eggs…” he moaned, “I couldn’t stop myself…”

You moaned as your legs shook, “It’s fine…Fuck its.” You pushed your fingers to your sex and shuddered again.

“It’s an…aphrodisiac and its…” Zadok moaned sharply his hand flying to the bed post again as you dropped on his cock, picking up the pace in a frenzy as your insides throbbed with the need to cum.

“I need to cum, baby, can you do it with me?” You asked as you leaned for another kiss and to tug at his collar, tightening the hold of your hand around his neck slightly as you thrust onto him. The ribs of his cock brushed your insides and you quivered before you came, white hot pleasure burning behind your eyes before Zadok croaked and shot his load. You shuddered at the feeling as you slowly brought yourself off his dick. Light blue cum dripped from you and you flopped against his chest with a sigh, thumbing at the collar around his neck happily in the afterglow of it all.

Tiredly, you roused from your sleepy state as Zadok placed you back against the cushions and tugged the sheets over your body. You hummed against the cushions before the sheets slid back down over your skin.

“You’re not already up for more are you?” You cooed as you peeled open your eyes.

“If only. I’m not that young anymore.” Zadok chuckled as he eased you over onto your back and revealed a warm wash cloth. He hummed as he slid it over your skin, wiping away the cum and jelly like substance which had made your insides tingle.

“I might be able to go for another.” You hummed as he wiped between your legs and tapped at your thigh.

“Well, this one hasn’t got it in him, I’m afraid.” Zadok flopped next to you, clean and relaxed as he laid back against the cushions and reached around the back of his neck.

You reached for the collar for him, “Here. Let me do it.” You kissed the skin of his shoulder and squeezed his shoulder softly before you unclipped the press studs and pulled it away from his neck. You kissed his neck where the leather had bitten into his skin a little and placed the collar on the bedside table before snuggling back against his chest.

Zadok croaked a little before he ran his fingers over your back, running his claws up and down your spine as he laid back and enjoyed the warmth of your skin against his own. He was cool to the touch, and you slid your fingers down over his plated chest, swooping to the side to feel the odd angle of his ribcage before you stopped above his pelvis, remembering that his dick had probably long retracted into his slit.

“Wait you don’t have anything do you?” You asked sleepily.

Zadok thumbed at the bottom of your chin, “Unless you count drug laced jello as having something, then no.” he let out a raspy breath of air before sitting up, easing you off his body, “Sorry. I need to just go and soak a while. Come and join me?”

With a smile, you leaned up on the edge of the bed and kissed him, enjoying the scrape of his scales, “Sure. Give me a minute though, my legs are still a little like jelly.”

Zadok chuckled again before he purred softly and walked to the bathroom.

You watched his backside go before you sat back against the headboard and massaged at your thighs, hoping that the numb, tingling feeling would wear off. It felt like a residual tingling pleasure, and you felt your insides burn with the idea of another round in the posh hotel bathtub. A rumbling sounded from the floor. You perked up at the noise before looking at Zadok’s bottoms on the floor. His pocket lit up with the screen of his phone. Someone was ringing him. It wasn’t polite, and you knew that as you curiously leaned down and plucked the phone from his pocket.

‘Misty Conrad’ it read, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Miss Conch. The words rang in your head from the band meet and greet. Senoz had implied that they were together. Suddenly, the mild buzz from the alcohol wasn’t there, and you sobered up as the ringing stopped and the screen went black. You clicked the screen back on and looked at the notifications. Three messages. Ten missed calls. The phone buzzed again with a new message and you clicked it to reveal the short message.

‘I know you’re with that fan. Answer my calls Zadok or it’s over.’

Your eyes burned with tears of humiliation. He was with her. What they had was more than a song recorded together, and you were a fool for not seeing the signs earlier. You let out a small noise as you sniffed and grew angry, the tears siding down your cheeks as you grabbed for your clothes on wobbly legs.

“Was that my phone?” Zadok asked and you turned to face him as he poked his head around the bathroom door. He was dripping with water but his eyes widened as he saw you crying and grabbing for your clothes, “Are you…”

You threw his phone on the bedside table as you tugged your underwear and bottoms on, “You’re a cheating fuck!” You accused, “And you used me! I should have known that this was stupid but… Miss Conch. She’s been ringing you all say and now she knows.” Your brain couldn’t seem to quite catch up with you as you pulled your shirt on and grabbed your bag. Zadok wrapped his waist with a towel, his mouth open as he grabbed his phone from the table and looked. He cringed at the messages and turned.

“Look, its not what you think!” he insisted as he caught your arm, “We’ve not been together seriously for ages and…”

“And nothing!” You threw back at him, “You used me to console your feelings because you can’t bare to deal with her, and you’ve made me into some kind of…”

“I’m not…” Zadok took a breath, croaking as he pulled at his fins, “Look, I’m sorry, I’ll sort this…”

“I…I don’t care.” You tugged your arm free, feeling the tears beginning to burn into your anger again, “You’re a bastard, Zadok, I want you to know that. A selfish bastard.”

Zadok let your arm go as you opened the door and stood with his phone clenched in his claws as you slammed the door behind you. You wiped at your eyes furiously in the hall and took a shaky breath before you turned on your heels.

“Hmm, leaving so soon, sugar?” Senoz purred as he peered out into the hall, “Or did you want a piece of this instead of the fishy boy?” he sniffed and tilted his head, his horns scratching at the frame, “Wait, why are you crying? Are you alright?”

You held out your hand to him, motioning for him to stop as you wiped the tears away, “I’m fine. Leave it. I’ll be going.”

The demon turned his head to Zadok’s door as you left him stood in the hall. As you rounded the corner you heard him knock on the door.

“You know that’s real bad fucking PR to make fans cry after fucking them, Zadok!”

You didn’t hear from Zadok after that. The band continued their tour globally, and you watched the highlights happily, listening to the songs with your usual interest. You smiled at Duncan’s solos and watched the crowd go berserk. It was energy you lived for. Zadok’s performances were stunning. He draped himself over a piano and sang a ballad before he did more singing in his ancient mer language. It was lovely, but it stung a little. It wasn’t long after their tour finished that you turned on the alternative radio station. The ends of a metal song chugged along as you made a sandwich. It was your day off from the bar and you had been cleaning most of the day, enjoying cleansing yourself of clutter and dust. You hummed as you placed two slices of bread on the plate.

“Although we have drama in the metal scene, we’re all used to the usual knucklehead fights between rival bands, or better yet, accusations of plagiarism, but we’ve never quite had some news like this. The frontman of the band SIREN has been caught, if you mind the pun, in a fishing net of accusations. Miss Conch, the mans supposed former partner, has been blowing the lid off his life outside of his band. The accusations range from ritual sacrifice to cheating, and its not something we usually endorse. But, to answer these claims, we have the very man, or mer, with us in the studio right now.”

You dashed for the volume dial and turned it up a little before you moved your plate closer and began to cut up your filling for the lunch.

“So, Zadok, what do you have to say about these claims by Pop Star, Miss Conch?”

“Some are right, but most are wrong. The ritual sacrifice, for starters, is a ceremony done by my people to appease the currents of the ocean. We take a fish and its bones and lay them in art decorations as an offering. Its an old and sacred tradition. The cheating accusations are, in part true, but our relationship was never official, and I had already broken things off by the beginning of this tour. Her more serious allegations…well my manager and lawyer are already dealing with those. They are untrue and slanderous.”

“Are you calling Miss Conch a liar?”

“For the most part, yes, I am. She invaded my private life and failed to see when our relationship was over. I want to be transparent and come out to speak for my side of the story. I’m not calling her obsessed or anything derogatory, I am just justifying what is fact from fiction.”

“That’s understandable and I’m sure your fans appreciate your honesty.”

“Unfounded and untrue.” You scoffed as you slapped your sandwich together, “Next he’ll be telling everyone that he-”

“This drama has gone on long enough and it has hurt people close to me, not just mine and the band’s reputation. I hurt someone I now know I shouldn’t have with this mess and this is my start to fixing that mistake.”

“That he didn’t know where his dick was going…” You whispered as you looked at the radio like it was a person staring back at you. You wondered if he was talking about you as you moved around the island of your kitchen and headed towards your couch to sit and eat your sandwich. The host thanked him before announcing the next song as Burn by SIREN. You listened to the thunderous drums as you chewed, mulling over the words in your head before the guitars wailed and you thumped at the cushions.

“Why do I even think that? He’s the one who just failed to tell me he has a girlfriend!” You grumbled to yourself before pulling your phone out. You sighed as you opened MonstGram. In your inbox, there sat one message.

‘Can we talk? I need to speak to you. I know I’m a selfish bastard but I want the chance to apologise.’

The same image of the figure by the sea. You took a deep breath as you looked at the vague image of Zadok and placed your phone down, the screen black as you finished off the last bits of your sandwich. Contemplation lasted only a moment as the screen lit up and the notification registered. Another message. You looked at the icon and opened it again.

‘I know I’m the last person you want to see but I’m sorry things ended up how they did. I hope my stupid actions didn’t ruin your love of our music. I’ll leave you alone. That’s all I wanted to say.’

It stank of desperation. You looked from the message and back to your empty plate. It wasn’t manipulative. It was honest, and that made you hate how you were feeling even more. You opened the conversation again and stared at the picture of the sea and cliffs. Your fingers danced over the keyboard before you started to type.

‘One chance. Meet me at Full Moon Bar. Friday. I’ll be on shift but I’ll talk to you.’

‘I’ll see you then.’

With a great sigh, you closed your screen and looked up at the ceiling, your head resting on the back of the sofa cushions. It was a leap of faith, you knew that. You were trusting him with your good faith again.

“If he doesn’t show up, Miss Conch will be the least of his problems. I’ll slice him up like sushi and mail him back to his manager.” You spat, and the poisonous words made you feel a little better and hate him a little less. With a smile, you ran a hand over your face and got up to go and put your plate away in the sink for washing later. For now, you had a living area to deep clean, and you headed for the vacuum to try and clean Zadok from your mind for a while.

The bar was quiet on Friday. Thankfully, there was a small group who had a lot of orders to keep you entertained. It distracted you from the nerves brewing in your gut.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you today?” Tom asked as he leaned over the bar, his nose perked as he sniffed at the air, “You smell off as all hell.”

“Get your werewolf nose away from me, Tom. I mean it.” You threatened as you turned to place some clean glasses under the bar, “I’m not in the mood for your meddling.”

“Meddling? Me? Never.” Tom teased gently, “Its like you’re worried though. Talk to me.”

With a great sigh, you turned back to face him, “Someone I’ve not seen in a long time is coming…I just need you to be there in case. Not with me or anything, just around.”

“Of course.” Tom consoled, “I hope this isn’t some abusive asshole, because I swear on the moon I’ll…”

“Don’t worry. Its not. Its just something I need to sort out.” You assured him.

“Okay. What time do you need a minute?” he asked as he opened the bar door and stood next to you. You peered at the clock as the bell on the door rang, and Tom turned to greet them with a smile.

“Evening.” he said before he turned back to you, his eyes wide and his nose flared, “Tell me I’m not dreaming, and that Zadok from SIREN did actually just walk into the bar.”

You stiffened as you peered around him, “You’re not dreaming big guy.” You headed to the door, “So keep your cool. This is the one I need to talk to.”

Tom’s mouth opened like a large fish but he didn’t ask you any questions as you headed over to Zadok.

Zadok ducked into a booth near the entrance, his head low and covered by a large black hood. His water respirator was on and he was wearing a mouth piece over his face. You watched him before finally taking the last couple of steps and sliding into the seat. You slid him a shot of whiskey. Zadok caught the shot glass and looked up, his white eyes locking with your own before he reached for his face and clicked a few buttons. The water drained from the mask and he pulled it free, smiling with needle sharp teeth. He was dressed in his usual baggy combats and a large, long sleeve shirt. The shirt was torn and had a few chains linked across his chest. He tugged off his hood and looked at the shot glass for a moment.

“Look I know that…That I fucked up. What I did was selfish, and I took advantage of you.” he started as he clutched the glass between his hands, “I shouldn’t have I shouldn’t have let you do what you wanted but it happened and I’m sorry.”

You looked at his face and the wetness of his eyes, “You still did it, and that hasn’t changed. I was…I was hurt and upset. I had her message me, Zadok. Spiteful, horrible things. None of that hurt will go away but its fading.”

Zadok cringed over his drink, “We weren’t even properly together. We had sex and a few dates but with the tour, it wasn’t going any further. She messaged me constantly. Harrassed me with phone calls and I was just…I should have told her.” he looked you dead in the eyes, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“It’s a mess, but I appreciate you being so honest with me.” You confessed as he thumbed at his drink before downing the whiskey. His hands looked a little steadier after the strong liquor.

“It’s the least I could do. She’s in the past. She’s tried to file a lot of shit against me. It wasn’t worth it, and I’m…I’m tired. She can have the song rights and royalties. I just want her out of my life”

You didn’t comment but nodded as he ranted a little. You knew about the allegations. It was widely known news to the fans now. Still, his interview weighed on your mind.

“What you said in the interview you did on Metal Talks.” You started, “Is this what you were talking about? You wanted to make this right with me?”

“Yes. I knew…Look I was a fucking idiot, I know that, but I ruined something that I thought was going to be…”

“More?” You added with a small smile.

“Call it stupidity, but…You were just stunning, and I got carried away. The alcohol didn’t help matters but I still think you’re amazing. Your love for the music, for life, it just spoke to me and… Look I can’t change anything, but I can try and sort this out.” He pushed the glass over to you on the table, “We don’t know each other, not really, but would you be willing to know me, in a better way?”

You gut churned as you looked at his pearlescent skin and his beautiful white eyes, chewing the inside of your cheek, “Maybe I would. I thought you were moving, in everything, from the moment I started to follow you all, but that doesn’t change what you did. I need time and space, but I would like to know you, the real you.”

Zadok carefully reached for your hand and squeezed at your fingers carefully as he smiled and ducked his head. The door opened and Tom greeted the next customer. You sat, letting him hold your hand, before you blushed and got up.

“You still have to pay for the drink, but you can stay, if you like? I know Tom is dying for an autograph and a picture. He’s probably your second biggest fan.”

Zadok chuckled and looked up at you, “Who’s my first?”

“Well, you just might have to find that out.”

#merman x reader #merman x gender neutral reader #merman #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster bf #monster boy x reader #monster boys #monster reader insert #reader insert #zadok #SIREN #siren: a metal monster band #zadok x reader #monster boys x reader #exo #terato

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itssuppertim3 · 3 years ago

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Share (Miraak x Remeir)

A sweet n' fluffy OC one shot for you, if I may

It was cold. And rainy. And wet.

Remeir and Miraak stood and observed the downpour, both pondering over their little predicament. In the spur of the storm, the two dragonborn took off towards the closest shelter they could find and luckily came upon an abandoned cave.

Miraak shook his head in dismay and grumbled an assortment of dovah curses. Remeir mustered a sigh before using a small flame spell to guide her way into the mouth of the cave. "This is just dreadful," Miraak muttered. "Dreadful, I say."

"Just get in here and help me start a fire before we both catch a cold," the redhead called back. Both of them were squatted down, a shivering mess. There were a few dried and burnable materials in her bag, such as paper, books she held no current interest in, and even unnecessary ingredients. The fire she managed to craft was a small one, yet durable. Luckily, her ebony armor deflected any rain from touching her clothes underneath. Her tall, atmoran companion was not so fortunate.

Miraak's robes were drenched and the worn fabric stuck to his skin like tree sap. She definitely didn't blame him for being as vexed as he was. "Don't glare at me with such remorse, Dragonborn," the man finally sighed. The quirky elf blew out a chuckle before rising to her feet. "I can dry your robes for you, if you want. I imagine it's not very comfy," she offered. Miraak inspected her extended hand and glanced at his outfit. "As long as you do not catch them on fire. I'm not in the mood for running around this land like a half-nude peasant." As serious and nonchalant as he was, Remeir bent over in a spew of laughter. "Oh, gods! How can someone as cold as you be so funny?! I could-- I could just picture you walking around like a damned caveman!" He clearly wasn't amused by the display in front of him.

In silent disgust, Miraak peeled off his top and threw it at his savior's face. "It's humiliating to be reminded that you were able to defeat me," he hissed. Still, she continued to chortle like an infant. Remeir was well-past her years of embarrassment. Over time, she gradually learned to ignore the opinions of others and lived the carefree life she always desired. That being said, most were so intimidated by her flamboyant personality that she was often avoided. She never failed to be amazed how Miraak had remained by her side for this long, now. Mara only knew almost every second with her had to be excruciating for him.

When the dunmer finally composed herself, she draped Miraak's robes above the fire and let the heat do its work. When she turned to face him, she had forgotten that his upper body was now completely and utterly bare. Saying that Remeir was unprepared for the sight in front of her was a massive understatement. As long as this woman had been breathing, she was more inexperienced with men than a fly was with a house! Besides the heavenly sound of his voice, she colored Miraak to have the body of one of the grey beards. That being said, she never failed to catch notice of the way his biceps swelled when lifting something heavy or how broad his shoulders grew when throwing his gear over his back. She knew he had a burly musculature. But this, this was something else entirely. Was that an eight-pack?!!

"Quit staring, you star-eyed oaf!" She switched back to reality when Miraak attempted to cover his front with his arms like an exposed woman. "My bad. Just trying to figure who the lucky lady you're trying to impress is," Rem stated bluntly before plopping down beside him. "Or~," she purred. "Could it be a seeker?" Miraak used his hand to push her face away. "You are outrageous," he grumbled. "Immature, little brat." Remeir ignored him and slid out her bedroll from her knapsack. As she started to unfold it, she glanced her companion's bag. "Is your stuff alright? It looks soaked."

"That's because it is. I cannot understand how I am the unlucky one in this situation. Other than those silly braids of yours, you along with all of your things are completely dry," he noted, fishing through his belongings. "Maybe it's because Lady Mara shines on my every step," she cooed. "Well, your Lady would sure be kind to shine a bit of light in my direction, as well." Sure enough, he retrieved a damp bedroll. "Oh, dear," she voiced. "Oh dear, indeed..." Miraak released a groan of annoyance and welcomed it on the cold floor. "Would you... like to share mine?"

A brief, uncertain silence was exchanged between the two. With Remeir's cheeks becoming the same pigment as her red strands, she started to frantic. "I-I mean, you probably won't like it since it'll be a tight squeeze. But it's better than sleeping on hard rock, right?" she clipped. Miraak took a moment to think it over. "Alright."

That night, Remeir was overwhelmed with all types of emotions. The soft glow of the campfire was able to ease her mind a tad, but viewing the large silhouette of Miraak's shadow flicker against the cave wall, it didn't do much help. She couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't that she was afraid of him. His entire aura was just so overpowering to her. It was like sleeping next to a docile bear. The young elf stiffened after feeling his back press further into hers as he slept. He seemed awfully comfortable for someone who despised being even remotely close to another person.

He was so warm. She was surprised he produced so much body heat, which was the contrary to his icy persona. In all honesty, Remeir often admitted to herself that he was quite cute. He was strong, of course he was. He made made that clear whenever he was able, no matter the time nor place. But he was just so adorable! As her brain rambled on, Remeir neglected to notice him reposition himself on his other side to where his chest was firm against her back. She let out a tiny squeak in response. No longer was this man "adorable", he was flatout terrifying! "Miraak," she sounded. He was too deep in his slumber to reply.

When she attempted to wriggle some space between then, her actions were shot down upon feeling the sensation of Miraak's arms curling around the small of her form. Remeir's sanity was now dangling by a thread. He was so incredibly close to her in this moment, if his mask wasn't working as a barrier, he'd be kissing her neck! She nudged and squirmed and continued to make little attempts of stirring him from his unconscious oasis, but alas she ended up in failure each time.

"Zu'u los hin..."

The scrambled woman's breath had caught in her throat. She wasn't exceedingly fluent in Dovahzul like Miraak, but she was able to catch only his sleep-slurred words. "I am yours," he had said. What was that supposed to mean?? Rem prayed to every Aedra and Daedra that he wasn't dreaming of anything suggestive while holding her in such a way. Other than his odd choice of words and affectionate touch, he showed no signs of having any explicit intent.

Over the minutes, Remeir gradually released any pent-up tension she held and let herself become engulfed by the larger figure behind her. Miraak's legs softly entangled with her own and her heartbeat fell into the same rhythm as his. It was strange. She'd forgotten how safe it felt to be coddled by another person. She knew it wouldn't last, though she wished it would. Once he found out what he was doing, it would be the last time she would ever be caressed by him. That much upset her.

But little did the Last Dragonborn know, Miraak was awake the entire time.

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God I literally love those two too much

#miraak #skyrim oc #elder scrolls #tesblr #dunmer #miraak x ldb #first dragonborn #one shot #fluff #dragon priest

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years ago

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Ch. 8 Creepypastas x Fem! reader

Sorry I've been gone for so long. My grandfather died a month ago and I wasn't in the right mindset to write. But I'm back and ill do my best. Thank you all for your patients. Anyway, enjoy<3

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As the week progressed, the girl found that it was the slightest bit easier to read through Masky's facade. Though that did not mean that she could thoroughly read him quite yet, she made it a challenge that eventually she would. Masky himself became lenient at first as to mind her injuries. But the moment she started to heal, it was all back to the ruthless nature of his work. Finally, when the week ended, she got informed that someone else was going to teach her. That person turned out to be Ben, the blond-headed boy that seemed too eager to meet her.

An early sensation lurked in the air the moment she woke up, groggily walking to the bathroom and taking a well-deserved shower. The feeling of all of the previous days' dirt and grime washing off her punctured flesh was refreshing. Her mind was finally clear, able to freely think and dwell on her current predicament without any outside interference. The hot water trickled down her naked body, soothing her as she thought of any way she could escape. But no matter how hard she thought, deep down she knew that the only way she could truly leave was to stay a little longer to devise a plausible plan.

Sadness overtook her body, hot tears streaming down her already wet face intertwining with the water droplets from the showerhead. She'd been able to withhold her tears for a while now, not wanting to give those bastards the satisfaction. But as her current position set in her mind once more, she couldn't hold it in. It was like a never-ending loop. After being rudely introduced and forced to spend a week being trained to the bone by two different killers, she had to repeat the process with another. It felt like her own personal hell.

Feeling the scalding hot water turn cold was an indicator that it was time to get ready. Not giving a damn if she was late. Stepping out of the shower with a huff, she looked at herself in the full-body mirror. Steam covered its surface from head to toe. Though, no matter how blurry, the rough outline of all the large scars, cuts and a few red bruises that littered her body were still very much visible. The feeling and texture of her once somewhat clear skin was now a distant memory in her mind. Slowly tracing all of the scars with the tip of the rugged fingers she winced when she made contact with a few of the most recent injuries.

Getting dressed in the same greyish jump-suit she has been washing and wearing for the last few days, she went to eat breakfast. But before leaving her bedroom she looked at the nightstand, there laid the old pocket watch he gave her. For some reason, he didn't want to take it when she offered it back. Shrugging her shoulders she put it in her right pocket and headed downstairs. Reaching the kitchen, noticing that Masky must have left early. Not paying any mind to his disappearance she carried on with her day. Eating the meal she prepared for herself. Sitting there on the dining table, in total silence, patiently staring at the clock. Ben still hadn't arrived. He was already ten minutes late, to begin with, which was a significant tonal shift from Masky, who was extremely punctual and despised tardiness. After what felt like hours, a loud crash was heard that made the girl's ears perk up as she ran to the living room. Their laying spread eagle, on the front of the old television, was none other than Ben.

" What happened, how did you get in here?" The girl quickly said while helping him up. " Dammit, forgot how small the damn television was." He said under his breath, ignoring her previous question. Getting on his feet he brushed himself off giving the girl a better look. Unlike the other two men, he was significantly shorter, 162 to 165 cm or 5'4-5'5 feet tall. Medium length golden hair under a long green hat and sharp pointy elf-like ears. His pale white skin looked ceramic, almost like a doll's and thin lips with a button nose. He seemed considerably young, but she assumed that he most likely was about eighteen years of age. Though, what caught her attention were his round black eyes that had a speck of red in them that acted as pupils. He was dressed as an elf, with his bright green tunic, forest green pants and leather belt neatly tied around his waist that held a small satchel type bag.

Looking in her direction he flashed her a creepy smile that showed off his white teeth. The girl didn't know how to react to his sudden action, as she felt discomfort all around her body, shifting her weight awkwardly she chose to ask him again. " How the hell did you manage to get in here without me hearing you?" " Well, I did the same thing I'm gonna' be teaching you today. Sorcery or magic. Whatever word floats your boat." " Magic? As in witchcraft, like spells and potions?" " Yup. I mean I know Jack already told you this so I don't know why you're so shocked." He snickered, it sounded distorted. " Yeah, I remember but I didn't actually expect-not that I didn't think that it would be magic-it is just that this is all so strange, I can't believe it." " Believe it, cuz I'm gonna' be teaching ya some spells. Follow me now out the back door." He spoke loudly, shaking his hands in a flamboyant manner.

Walking swiftly to the kitchen towards the back door. The girl was visibly confused as she followed suit. Why did they have to go through the back door, it was all quite strange. Stepping out, she noticed the rather large, wooden table a few meters in front of them. Its surface is covered in all kinds of trinkets, herbs and plants. " What's all of this for?" She said, approaching the table. "I got Masky to set it up before he left, we're gonna be needing some of this stuff so I can show you the ropes and basically help you understand the basics of making potions. A skill you'd need for survival." He answered while picking up a bunch of the items off the table and stuffing them in the bag. " Oh, what do we have here?" He said excitedly under his breath " Is it Raskovnik? My god it is. I know what i'll be teaching you first now, don't I. '' He started with a laugh as he made his way towards the trees. " Where are we going now?" " To the brewery. Do you really think you will be making risky positions in front of the cabin? You humans are actually the dumbest creatures."

The girl's face scrunched up in annoyance but still kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to try and argue with these people. Biting down on her tongue she got drawn in by the scenery like most times she was out in the forest. Autom was soon approaching so the wind had started to pick up the past few days, it made the multicoloured leaves on the trees dance as it passed. It calmed her as it passed through her body. Taking in a large breath she smiled and carried on behind Ben. Dogging trees and branches as there was no pathway in this part of the forest.

" Did you get the plant?" Ben spoke up after a while, cutting the calm silence. " Sorry, what?" " Were you the one that got the Raskovnik?" He repeated the question louder. " Oh, well yeah. I got it a while back as a part of my training with Masky." She replied quickly walking to his side. " Figures. Maskys is the type to make others do his dirty work." He muttered bitterly. But the girl was still able to hear it. " So you have a bad relationship with him?" " You could say that. Most of us do. The scumbag." The air started to tense. " I guess you could call him that. But he's not always that bad, he has his moments I guess." " Not that bad? Tell me, how did you manage to get that big ass gash on your neck." He harshly replied, pointing his leather-gloved hand to her neck. She quickly covered it and looked to the side. Not responding. " As I said, he's an absolute scumbag." " Well if it isn't stepping over a boundary, mind telling me why he's so bad." " Well, to begin with, he's a sadistic prick that only cares for himself. He broke into my house and stole some of the VERY rear herbs that took me YEARS to collect. And worst of all, he's the dog of The Operator." His face darkened when he mentioned The Operator's name. " The Operator? Whos that?" The girl quickly asked, lowering her hand and looking at him with a confused look on her face. " He's one of the most powerful beings to even exist. The embodiment of evil." " So like the devil?" " No, he's not the devil, the devil is a different being, but he's still terrifying." " Why do they call him The Operator then?" " Well, like. I don't really know how to explain this to you but, imagine this forest being a very large city. Y’know how every city has a mayor or someone in charge that leads it. Well, that's what The Operator really is. The Operator isn't his real name but a nickname given to him."

With that they finally stepped into a small grass filled clearing where in the middle, was a very small cottage covered in vines, plants and flowers. The old wood that it was made of was held up the multitude of plants, securing it firmly. The half-rounded door was nicely placed in the front, a yellow brick pathway leading to it, with a square window to the side. They quickly approached the door, the girl's breath taken by the beauty. The inside itself was small, shelves were on every side of the walks, each holding a plethora of books, trinkets, herbs and plants. It was relatively messy but still easy to walk in. A cauldron was in the middle of the room with a desk stacked with papers, pens, and scrolls.

Placing the Rascovnik and emptying his bag on the desk, Ben looked at the girl. " So let's begin I guess." He said walking to the medium-sized cauldron. " What are we going to do exactly?" She quickly asked as her eyes followed him, as he walked around the cottage collecting different ingredients and placing them on the desk. " Well, you're not going to be doing anything, just taking notes." Tossing a notepad at her. " While I prepare something and explain the different things you'll need to know." " Yeah that's great but am I going to be quizzed the same way Masky quizzed me because I need to know what I should expect." She said frantically, firmly grasping the notepad to her chest. " Nah, you're not. I don't do quizzes or tests, I like doing things spontaneously y'know. And plus taking notes will help you understand things more, so just write down herb and spell names, important details and whatever else will help ya remember. K?" " Ok, I guess." Anxiety began to dwell in her mind, as she looked around. " Readdy?" He said walking in front of the cauldron, giving her a slightly crooked reassuring smile.

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Hermione doing everything to seduce Ron but fails miserably. A hilarious Valentine's day fic. XD.

Hi anon! At first you had me stumped, but the idea started to unfold, and I enjoyed writing this one in the end. Please enjoy their first Valentine’s Day together

Warning: Implied Smut, but no actual Smut.

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Valentine’s Surprises

She’d read the books. She’d gotten special permission from the Headmistress. Hermione was fully prepared to give Ron the best Valentine’s Day surprise. This was the first Valentine’s Day that they were actually together and could celebrate properly, and she’d have to make it extra special because she probably wouldn’t get to see him for his birthday since it fell during the week this year.

It’d been six weeks since they’d seen each other over Christmas hols, and this whole long distance thing was getting old pretty quick for Hermione. She looked in the mirror and observed herself. Demelza had helped with her makeup, and she’d managed to tame her hair down a bit using Sleakeazy’s. It had a nice waviness to it, and was pulled back into a side plait. She smiled as she stared down at her overnight bag. Massage oil, sexy red lingerie and a silk robe, the fuzzy throw blanket that was wrapped in decorative paper, rose petals and bath bombs...and a change of clothes for class tomorrow.

If Hermione had planned everything out properly, Ron would be in for the surprise of his life. She knew he and Harry always went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner, normally arriving at four and getting back around seven. It was 4:30 now, and Hermione was heading to Professor McGonagall’s office, where she was planning to floo to Grimmauld Place. She had two and a half hours to bake biscuits, and set things up before setting herself up in his bed for him to come home and find her.

Upon arriving at the Headmistress’ office, she was reminded that she needed to return at 8:30 the following morning, and Hermione profusely thanked her again for allowing her to leave. She stepped into the fireplace and in a few short moments found herself in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The boys had really done a fantastic job updating the home, making it brighter and more welcoming.

Hermione set her bag down and began summoning the ingredients she needed to bake his favorite biscuits. Molly had shared the recipe. She only bothered with checking the ingredients because ‘if you could read, you could cook,’ right? Hermione quickly set to work preparing all the ingredients per the directions until she hit step seven.

Wait...how was she even supposed to do that? She understood mixing the dry and the wet ingredients together normally, but there was a spell written, and having never read any magical cookbooks, Hermione was at a loss for what to do. She began panicking, looking around the kitchen for some sort of ‘how to’ book to help her through this. Of course the boys didn’t have one! She was opening and closing every cupboard she could find as she became more and more frantic. Then, she opened one particular cupboard, and a memory flashed before her eyes.

Would it work? She had no idea, but she had to try. She was desperate for this night to go perfectly. “Kreacher?” she asked softly. At first nothing happened, but then a loud POP echoed through the kitchen and Kreacher stood before her.

“Hello, Miss. What is you doing in Masters Potter and Weasley’s home?”

“Oh, thank goodness it worked!” Hermione said with a rush of relief. “I’m here to surprise Ron tonight, Kreacher. It was my intention to bake his favorite biscuits, but I’m afraid I- I don’t know how to get past step seven. Could you help me?”

Hermione was crestfallen. She wanted to do this all herself. She didn’t want to have to ask for help, but she couldn’t leave a half attempted recipe out for Ron to see when he got back.

“Yes, Miss. Where is the recipe?” Hermione pointed to the counter.

“Thank you, Kreacher! Do you mind if I watch?” Hermione tried to hide the disappointment in herself.

Kreacher gave a grumbled sigh and a curt nod as he set to work. Hermione should have known that the elf would use nonverbal magic on the recipe, so it was partially a waste of time to watch him work. He made quick work of the rest of the steps, and magically placed perfectly round balls on the baking sheet. “Miss forgot to turn on the oven.” He took care of it. “Would you like me to take care of the rest?”

“No, no, thank you Kreacher, I can take it from here. Thank you again!” Hermione said as Kreacher fell into a low bow and then disapparated out of sight. Hermione figured she had about fifteen minutes before the oven was heated to temperature, so she grabbed her bag and set to work upstairs. Somehow it was already after six.

Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the bag of rose petals when she got to Ron’s room. She scattered them on the floor and over his bed,placing the package on the end of the bed and the massage oil on his nightstand. Satisfied with her work, she went back downstairs to find the oven was ready and she placed the cookies in the oven. Mrs. Weasley’s note said they needed to be baked for exactly ten minutes. Hmm, I wonder why so exact? Hermione thought.

She set a timer for herself as she went back upstairs to draw the bath water and change into the lingerie and robe, keeping an eye on the timer. She’d gotten the top on, but was struggling with the bottoms when she got the minute warning. Giving up on them for now, she threw the silk robe around her and turned the water off, casting a quick warming charm over it as she hurried downstairs.

Hermione opened the oven door just as the timer went off and pulled them out. They looked perfect on top, but the bottoms were tinged a bit dark. It’s okay, at least you didn’t burn them! She turned the oven off and transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. Hermione magically washed the cookie sheet and double checked the recipe once more. Ugh, not another charm! She realized Mrs. Weasley had one more charm to set the cookies with at the end. I’m sure it’ll be fine without it, she thought because she did not want to call Kreacher back again.

Hermione left the cookies to cool, and hurried back upstairs to figure out the mess of straps that were the bottom half of her outfit. It took a good ten minutes to get everything situated properly, and she checked herself in the bathroom mirror. She smiled softly and hoped she’d drive him mad with desire upon discovering her like this. Hermione didn’t often care what she looked like, and she wasn’t exactly one for seduction, but she wanted to do this for Ron.

She checked to make sure the warming charm was still intact on the tub, and dropped one of the bath bombs in. Then, Hermione hurried into Ron’s adjoining bedroom, shut the door, and hung up the robe. She carefully climbed under his covers. Now, we wait.

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Harry and Ron finally flooed home from the Burrow just before 7:30. Ron knew they were later than normal, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on Valentine’s Day. He cursed again because he should be able to spend it with Hermione, but she was at bloody Hogwarts. Harry had invited Neville and Seamus over around 8:00 since they all might as well be alone together on this particular holiday.

“Uh, Ron,” he heard Harry say. “You didn’t bake biscuits before we left, did you?” Ron looked over and saw, were those his favorite biscuits? He didn’t even realize the sweet scent until Harry had said something.

“Er, no, mate..that’s odd,” Ron said. Harry made to pick one up, but having been poisoned before, Ron stopped him. “Harry, no! Better check with Kreacher first. We don’t have any bezoars lying around.”

Harry called Kreacher who appeared with a POP. “Kreacher, did you bake these while we were gone?”

“I helped, but it wasn’t me,” Kreacher croaked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked him.

“Surprise...doesn’t know how to bake with magic,” Kreacher muttered as he shook his head.

“Kreacher, is someone else here?” Harry asked as Ron did the homenum revelio spell. Kreacher nodded as the spell did in fact reveal a third person.

Ron looked back down at the cookies, which were his favorite. He looked at Harry, who said, “You don’t think…”

“If it is, you’re on your own with Nev and Seamus,” Ron said as he sprinted up the stairs. His bedroom door was shut, and he definitely hadn’t left it that way earlier. He opened the door to see Hermione, scantily dressed and laying in his bed. His heart damn near stopped. “Bloody hell…” was all he could manage.

“It’s about time!” Hermione couldn’t help herself. She’d been waiting over a half hour and was starting to get nervous that he wasn’t coming home.

Ron shut the door and cast a quick lock and silencing charm on the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said as he met her on the bed and wasted no time in pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

“Wanted to surprise you,” she said.

“Reckon it worked. You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that?” Ron couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was stunning. He’d never seen her in lingerie before, only dreamed of it. He was basking in the glory of having her here, when he saw the look of disappointment on her face. It was subtle, but it was there. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s- it’s nothing,” she said as she looked away.

“Tell me, ‘Mione. Please?” Ron reached out and touched her chin, directing her face back to meet his.

“It’s just, everything I planned has gone wrong! I couldn’t even bake your favorite cookies! I needed Kreacher’s help and I still missed that there was a spell at the very end, so they’re probably ruined. I planned for you to be home around 7, so the bath water is probably cold, and I couldn’t go anywhere to check because I didn’t want anyone seeing me in this. I probably should have just told you McGonagall let me off for the night. Then you would have known and we could have had more time.”

Ron chuckled. “Hermione, we have the whole night ahead of us, and I'm so glad you’re here. And it’s a good thing you didn’t leave the room in this because I want you in this all to myself, though I’m about two seconds from ripping it off you,” Ron gave her a dark, wanting look then. Six weeks was way too long.

He always knew how to instantly make her feel better. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, giving her best seductive smile. Ron was on her in an instant, hands exploring her body and relishing in the feel of her against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said against his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” Ron returned, becoming lost in the sexiness of his girlfriend.

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #don't eat that it could be poisoned!#Honestly Harry have you learned nothing??

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years ago

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Just a fic about Caleb buying a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, and coping with that kind of change and newfound stability (and becoming Professor Widogast). Angst and fluff are at war in this fic.

Content warnings: lots of grief, Caleb's backstory, referenced child abuse

Chapter summary: The Nein goes shopping and Caleb is tired. The market offers up an expected memory, and the chance to hold a little piece of childhood in his hands.

Notes: Title is from Nine by Sleeping At Last.

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Chapter 4: I let the scale tip and feel all of it, it's uncomfortable but right

Jester and Caduceus were a force to be reckoned with at the marketplace. They had already convinced Caleb to let them buy him a set of curtains for his side of the house. Thick fabric to block out most light and definitely any nosy neighbours. They were a soft yellow-green patterned with watercolour chamomile flowers, which they had figured out were native to the Zemni Fields behind Caleb’s back.

“These are so pretty Cay-leb,” Jester said, gently sliding them into the bag of holding with Fjord’s help as they stepped out of the shop. “We’ll put these up as soon as we get back, okay? Yasha promised she’ll help us.”

Yasha was a little way off with Kingsley, her arm over his shoulders as they looked at swords at a nearby market stall. Caduceus dragged everyone off to stock up on kitchen necessities and more seeds for Yasha’s garden. And a ton of baking supplies, because Yasha had begged Caduceus to teach her, even though everyone knew no one had to beg Caduceus for that kind of thing.

Essek, disguised as a half-elf with soft brown hair and eyes, held himself a little awkwardly here in the heart of the Dwendalian Empire, but he defiantly refused to complain. He had little input on Empire goods, aside from wine, about which Beauregard happily bickered with him. Caleb was happy enough to let the others direct him, even if he theoretically knew the markets better than they did.

He trusted them. And he was so tired.

So he quietly followed the Nein around the market and let them make decisions for him with minimal input. He must have looked wrecked, because Essek, despite his disguise and clear nervousness, held his hand to anchor him.

Fjord, Jester and Kingsley bought him a ton of high quality paper and ink for the study, with Essek’s subtle guidance. Caduceus picked out basic kitchen staples for Caleb that would keep him fed even if he didn't have much time to cook, in the event he couldn’t eat with Beau and Yasha. Veth found some orange-amber cushions that complemented the curtains. Yasha found an orange-white checkered tablecloth that she declared matched his hair and therefore was a necessity for the house. She and Beau bought two, one for each side.

Caleb, in a lucid moment, found a soft blue rug for Beau and Yasha’s bedroom and bought it for them, despite their objections. It was only fair he gave them something back after everything they were doing for him. He would have to work out the logistics of installing a real-world sex mirror later as a proper gift. He’d ask Essek to help, and Essek would do it, but he would hate every second of it. The one sex joke he had ever made in front of the Nein was 50% deflection. And jokes were very different from installing a sex mirror for someone.

Jester would be up for it. A little bit of gold dust would be enough for Caleb to hold it in place with Immovable Object while they secured it.

Caleb was pulled from his calculations about dimensions and weight for a ceiling mirror when Veth tugged on his hand. “Hey, Cay. There’s an old lady selling homemade quilts. Rexxentrum is very cold, and you are going to catch a chill if we don’t get you something better than that one shitty blanket. Come on.”

She led him over, catching up with the rest of the Nein. Jester was chatting with an old Zemian woman sitting behind the table behind piles of bright quilts. The stitching sparked an old, old memory in Caleb, and he found himself stepping closer before he had consciously thought about it.

“Ja, I make the trip up from Blumenthal every few months,” the old woman said in a thick Zemnian accent, much thicker than Caleb’s after all his time travelling.

Caleb froze for half a second, easing himself through the shock of that information. “Ah, hallo, grandmother. It is good to meet someone from home.” This conversation would be easier in Zemnian. Common lacked the polite Sie form that Caleb would typically have used for respect. But he wasn’t sure he could handle having this conversation in Zemnian, so it was probably for the best.

The woman smiled up at him, her lips wobbly with age. “Hallo, young man.”

Caleb’s knees ached a little, just to remind him some parts of him really were not young at all.

She held out a wrinkled hand for him to shake. “Call me Lisbeth.”

Caleb had a strange moment of indecision regarding his name, trying to remember if he had known this woman as a child but coming up empty; Blumenthal was just large enough that it was possible not to know everyone, and she may have even moved there after he was gone. “Ah, Caleb Widogast.” He shook her hand. “I grew up in Blumenthal. This stitching is…” Why was he just saying everything that came to his mind?

“Very traditional, ja.”

“Ja, my mother used to make quilts like these...” His was probably ash now.

He was dimly aware that the Nein were watching him, and that Veth had done an extremely visible double-take.

Lisbeth searched Caleb’s face for one terrifying moment, and he was convinced that maybe she did know him after all. But then, whatever she saw made her soften, and she reached beneath the table. “I like to save my best work for those who will appreciate it. Here.” She laid a thicker quilt on top of the others. “I made one like this for my grandson. He wears it like a cape around the house.”

The stitching was a little more intricate, and the squares were detailed with minimalist animal shapes. Mostly cats. Una had taken Caleb’s cat obsession to heart; the quilt she had made him had been similar. Painfully so.

Caleb traced the stitching of an orange cat, his vision blurring. Essek squeezed his hand. Caleb blinked until he could see again. Even with the disguise turning purple eyes to brown, these were definitely Essek’s eyes staring up at him with a familiar look of both affection and concern.

“We’ll take it,” said Veth. Veth, who had already bought Caleb a house, and cushions. This was… no.

“Veth.”

“Caleb.”

He sighed. “A word, please.” He took her hand, leading her a little away from the group. “Veth, this is too much.”

Veth’s eyes were wet. “No. No, it’s not. I saw how much this means to you. Caleb, you just talked about your childhood and your mother to a total stranger. That’s not…” She sighed. “I saw your face when she pulled out that quilt.”

“I cannot let you…” Caleb could barely speak. “Veth.” He swallowed. “You bought me a house. You are still buying things for me. This is… I can’t take this.”

“Why not?” There was an edge to her voice, but it was a genuine question. “I thought we were over this. Why is this the line?”

Caleb did not know where he found the strength to stay on his feet when all he wanted to do was fall in a heap. He stared at the dirt.

“Cay, look at me. Please.” Veth couldn’t reach his face, but she absolutely could conjure her mage hand to lift Caleb’s chin until he met her eyes. “Will having this make you happy? Or does it hurt too much? I won’t force you to take something that hurts you, but if this is because you don’t think you deserve it…”

“I don’t know, Veth.”

They had spent a long time alone together, relying on each other to survive. If anyone could read him, it was her. She stared at him for a few moments, eyes moving as if his face were a real book.

“I don’t think you would’ve struck up a conversation with a random Zemnian lady if this was the bad kind of pain,” she said. She rolled her shoulders back. “That settles it: you’re getting the quilt. I’ll get the Nein to chip in if that makes you feel less weird about it.”

It kind of did. And Caleb didn’t have it in him to argue anymore. “Ja, okay.”

Veth pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek and led him back to the stall. “All right, everyone give me your money.”

It was probably a sign of how bad Caleb looked that nobody questioned her. But when Essek reached for his pocket, Caleb reached out to stop him.

“No,” he said. “Not you.”

Essek frowned deeply with the half-elf’s face, but the expressions were undeniably him. “Caleb.”

“No. You need that money. Do not put me through this.”

Essek’s face softened. “All right.”

The rest of the Nein, even Kingsley who still barely knew Caleb from a bar of soap, coughed up enough coins to pay for the quilt. Lisbeth, a little teary herself, offered a discount, which they refused. Jester and Veth gave her extra gold that Caleb couldn’t count through his brain fog. Okay, he was very much not coping if he couldn’t even count things.

Veth was too small to pick up the quilt without dragging it on the floor, even after Lisbeth had gently folded it, so Yasha accepted it from Lisbeth and handed it to Caleb. Old muscle memory took over, and he buried his face in the soft fabric.

“Danke schön,” he said quietly.

Lisbeth smiled at him again, but it was sad. “You should come by the market and say hello before I go back home in a few weeks.”

“I will.” It would hurt a lot, but Caleb meant it.

“Take care, Schatz.”

No one had called him that in a long time. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Grief was funny like that sometimes. You think you’re getting on with things, doing okay, and then there will be a scent on the wind, an old term of endearment, stitching identical to your mother’s… and you break.

Caleb squeezed the quilt and barely held himself together as the Nein led him back home. Whatever shopping they had left to do… they had wordlessly agreed to leave it for another day.

****

Back home, Caleb asked to be alone for a bit. That meant Essek was allowed. They laid the quilt out on Caleb’s bed, Essek’s disguise abandoned. Caleb stopped fighting the tears, letting the sobs come as he smoothed out the edges, fingers catching on a stitched golden retriever puppy.

Essek pressed his palm between Caleb’s shoulder blades. “Sit. Please.”

Caleb lowered himself slowly, wholly convinced he would collapse if he wasn’t careful, and settled on the edge of the bed. Essek pushed him onto his back and curled up next to him, guiding Caleb’s head to settle against his chest. Limbs tangled together.

No more words were said for a while. Caleb drifted asleep at some point, waking with a headache. Essek left briefly to fetch him a cup of water. Caleb stretched and his back cracked a little bit. He felt hollowed out, but in a good way. The way you felt after a good, well-deserved cry.

Essek returned in a few minutes, wiping his own eyes on his sleeve, and made Caleb drink the whole cup. “You should eat something.”

“Soon.” Caleb still felt a bit queasy from the tears.

Essek tucked himself into Caleb’s side, arm around his waist. He squeezed, just a little, and kissed Caleb’s collarbone. Caleb pulled him in close and kissed the top of his head.

“Danke.” The word was not enough to express the depths of Caleb’s gratitude that Essek had lain here with him through his grief, that he had taken such a risk to stay at Caleb’s side in the market to begin with. Under better circumstances, Caleb would have been furious with Essek for that, but they both knew Caleb had needed him today.

Caleb slowly rubbed his palm across the surface of the quilt behind Essek’s back. It felt exactly the same as the one he’d had when he was little, which Una had repaired again and again over the years because he was so attached to it. She had made it last until he was seventeen. Until the night he had destroyed everything because of a false memory, primed by faux-patriotic indoctrination and horrific abuse. Caleb would never fully shake off the guilt. Not entirely. Whatever Trent had put in his head, it had been Caleb’s hands that set the fire. But it was getting easier to accept that Trent had engineered the situation very carefully, so that Caleb did not feel like he had another choice.

He was glad Veth had convinced him to accept the quilt. One more piece of his past reclaimed. One more piece that could become a comfort instead of a knife in his ribs.

Caleb felt better. The two of them slowly stretched out their limbs, rolled aching joints, and headed to Beau and Yasha’s side of the house. There was a scent of baking in the air. Not apple tarts--Caleb probably would have broken again if it had been, no matter how happy the memory. He could smell spices.

They stepped down the stairs into the living area. Beauregard was grumbling over some Cobalt Soul report, while Kingsley, notably bored, lazily slapped her leg with his tail over and over. Fjord listened to Beauregard’s complaints with a constructed look of sympathy. Veth was openly ignoring her, head in her spellbook once again. Yasha, Caduceus and Jester were notably absent.

“Oh!” Fjord was very quick to find an excuse to stop listening to her. “There you are. The others are baking biscuits that none of us can pronounce.”

Beauregard rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you I said it right.”

“Caleb, help us out,” said Kingsley. “They’re some kind of spiced biscuit dusted with sugar while they’re still hot. Normally for special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion,” Veth told him. “It’s got the same number of syllables as fluffernutter. I think.”

Caleb suspected he knew what they meant. “Ah. Pfeffernüsse.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Told you I was right,” Beauregard muttered.

“They’re very good,” said Caleb.

“I think the first batch is almost done,” said Veth. “You should be our taste tester.”

Caleb crouched beside her on his way to the kitchen, pointing at the book. “Veth, that rune is upside down.”

“Fuck!”

He found the spell she was copying out in his own spellbook and set it beside her. “Here. It’s easier with more than one source. I’ll be back to help you in a moment.”

Caleb then stepped into the kitchen, with Essek on his tail. Yasha had a pair of soft pink oven mitts on, pulling a tray from their dark metal oven. Jester held a bag of confectioner’s sugar, bouncing in anticipation while Caduceus tried half-heartedly to close the bag before she spilled it everywhere.

“You’re just in time, Mr Caleb,” Caduceus said, giving up. “The lady selling baking supplies at the market gave us the recipe. I am not going to try pronouncing it again.”

“Pfeffernüsse,” Caleb supplied again.

“Yeah, no.”

Jester snickered. “He kept trying to say it while you were upstairs. It was very cute.”

By now, Yasha had set the tray down and put another in the oven. “Caleb, Caleb, come here! Look!”

Caleb stepped to her side and gazed down at the cookie tray. They were a little less round than the pfeffernüsse Caleb was used to, but recognisable. Jester came over and sprinkled the sugar over them with far more grace than anyone had expected.

Once cooled a bit, they brought the biscuits out to the living area. They were soft like Caleb remembered, and the spice blend was excellent. “These are perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

Yasha looked genuinely touched, and swept him into a huge hug.

“May I help you next time?” asked Essek. “I have never baked before.”

“Of course,” Yasha said. “Caduceus is going to teach us to make bread soon.” She held up her hands in a slow-motion shrug. “Goes well with soup?” Her voice went up at the end, making it sound like a question.

Kingsley, who had absolutely not paid any attention to the conversation, shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, his eyes widening to a ludicrous degree. “What the fuck? This is the best thing I have ever tasted.”

“We are famous for our baked goods,” said Caleb.

“You’d think Zemnians would be a happier bunch if this is the shit they eat,” Beauregard said, her mouth covered in sugar.

“Depression baking is a cultural pastime,” Caleb said.

“Bro, what the fuck?”

“Do you think Astrid and Eadwulf eat these things?” asked Jester.

“Probably,” said Caleb. “We used to.” That reminded him; he needed to message Astrid and arrange a time to discuss the job offer. “Ah, one moment.” He pulled out the copper wire, sticking to Common for the sake of his companions. “Astrid, it’s Bren. The Professors delivered the offer. Do you have time to talk? I am a little nervous about it. Time and place?”

Astrid replied in Zemnian, “Do you remember Trent’s old office? I’m there now. Come when you are ready.”

Caleb re-upped the spell. “I will be there in half an hour,” he replied in Zemnian.

Still in Zemnian, Astrid replied one last time, “I look forward to it.”

Beauregard was the only one who could understand the Zemnian half of what Caleb had said. “Caleb, I don’t wanna be patronising, but are you feeling up to that?”

“I want to get it over with,” Caleb replied. He clarified for the rest of the group, “I am going to see Astrid soon, to talk about the job.”

“I’ll pack some cookies,” said Jester, grabbing the plate and rushing into the kitchen. Yasha chased after her before she could break anything.

“Do you want an escort?” asked Fjord.

“Nein. I’ll be all right.”

“You will call if you need us?” Fjord’s voice was firm; it wasn’t a question.

“Ja, of course.”

****

Caleb was out the door in a few minutes, carrying a cloth bundle of six Pfeffernüsse, all that had been left of the first batch. It was four in the afternoon, the air having chilled a little but it was still pleasant. Caleb didn’t mind the cold too much, as long as he wasn’t trapped in it.

Walking into the Shimmer Ward was less frightening than it used to be. There would always be a lingering hint of anxiety, but he had it well in hand. There were crownsguard stationed at the Academy gates; they silently let him pass into the manicured gardens of the campus.

Coming here as a teenager had been a dream come true, which had quickly become a nightmare. Maybe coming back here to teach would let him reclaim those memories, turn them into something useful. He headed to the nearest tower, where he knew most staff kept an office. Trent had rarely been in his, but Caleb recalled that Astrid had been teaching here, so it made sense she would make better use of it.

The tall marble archways and huge windows had not changed one bit since the last time Caleb had been here, not long before he murdered his parents. Maybe coming here was a bad idea, especially after the day he’d had. Or maybe he needed to get this over with. If he got emotional about being here, at least he could claim it was because he was tired.

Muscle memory carried Caleb to Trent’s old office. He felt nauseous. He knocked on the door. It swung open, seemingly of its own accord.

Astrid was seated behind the massive, heavy mahogany desk. Caleb knew from personal experience how sharp the corners could be. He was going to be sick.

Astrid set aside her pen, capping the inkwell front of her. “Hallo, Bren.”

Caleb swallowed before he spoke. “Astrid.”

Astrid continued in Zemnian, so Caleb decided to match her. “Sit down,” she said , gesturing to one of the three chairs. They looked spindly and delicate, but Caleb knew for a fact how sturdy they were. And how much force it took to break out of any bindings tying one’s arm to the arms of the chair.

Caleb took a deep breath through his nose, picking up the spices of the Pfeffernüsse. It helped. He placed the bundle on the desk. Astrid’s desk.

“Jester, Yasha and Caduceus are experimenting with Zemnian baking,” he said quietly, letting himself fall into a chair. “They’re good.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow, gently picking at the piece of twine holding the bundle closed. She lifted a biscuit from the cloth. “They smell right.”

“They taste right, too.”

Astrid split the biscuit in half, handing the larger part to Caleb. He wasn’t sure if it was affection or distrust. She waited for him to take the first bite but also quickly followed suit, so maybe a bit of both. Understandable.

“These are good,” she said, finishing the biscuit and rubbing a thumb across her sugared lips. Slowly. It had to be deliberate. “You look tired.”

“Long day.”

“How is the house?”

“Good. Different. I am...” He laughed, just a bit, thinking over the last couple days. “A little out of practice. I don’t know if you knew… I was homeless for a while. It felt safer.”

Astrid did not look surprised. “I know.” She exhaled through her nose, visibly rousing herself. “You wanted to talk about the job offer?”

“Alphira would have made a terrible Volstrucker.”

Astrid cracked a small smile. “She told me about your meeting today. I apologise for her clumsiness. You took it more gracefully than I would have.”

“I doubt it.” Caleb didn’t tell her about his breakdown behind the shop. “A shame the smut shop is gone.”

“Evidently their business fell apart without your patronage.” Astrid gave an extremely put-upon sigh. “Wulf found another place. Get him to give you directions.”

“Kingsley is curious.”

“Yes, I am sure that is your only motivation.” Astrid cleared her throat and visibly put her mind back on task. “Bettina needs a replacement. The Archmages are falling over themselves to sing your praises. They are, in some ways, full of shit. Hiring you will terrify them. I think you will like that.” She glanced at the now-closed door and lowered her voice. “Headmaster Zivan Margolin is a weak link to Trent, but a link nonetheless. Your presence will make his life very difficult.”

Caleb matched her volume. “Whoever decided the Headmaster of Soltryce Academy should be the same person as the Archmage of Conscription is…” He sighed, unable to put into words how much the deck had been stacked against him, Astrid, Wulf and every other child pulled into the Volstrucker program. And how much it upset him. “What the fuck.”

“Margolin is busy pretending he loves you,” said Astrid. “He’s become a little bold in his claims that he saw your potential from the beginning. The Martinet is growing uncomfortable with the implication and will throw him to the sharks to save his own skin. One word to the right people…”

Caleb knew Beauregard would carry the message to Yudala Fon in a heartbeat. “We need to be careful. Take it slow. We have disrupted the Volstrucker pipeline for the moment. We cannot afford to stumble now.”

Astrid leaned back in her seat, looking very much like a cat who had just eaten a bird it had been chasing for miles. She raised her voice to a normal volume. “So, you will take the job?”

“I might.”

“Bettina told me your demands,” said Astrid. “We’ll put them before the Archmages. See what we can do. If nothing else, making the demands will prove a point no matter what they do about them.”

“Astrid, I am serious. I want them fulfilled.”

“I know. Bettina has suggestions about the ethics lessons. I agree you should teach it as part of the Transmutation classes, at least for now. Would we have listened when we were students?”

“I think that depends on who it came from. And whether Trent had gotten to us yet.”

“I agree. I think you will make a more compelling speaker than anyone else we could find.” She smirked a little. “You were always charismatic, and you have the lived experience to make an impact.” She took another biscuit, chewing thoughtfully, eyes tracing through the air as if she was reading calculations. “You said you were nervous.”

Admitting that in the Sending had been an impulse decision, born out of an emotional day. He didn’t regret it. Outside the Nein, Astrid probably understood best that Caleb had always been an anxious person, even if he had handled it much more gracefully in his youth. When he eternally swung between deep insecurity and excessive arrogance owed to his skills, and the fact he had known very well how charming he could be. Anyway, Astrid and Wulf knew his old insecurities well. Now he had new ones, and Astrid was trying to be on his side as much as she could.

So Caleb voiced something he wasn’t sure he would ever tell anyone else. “I have always wanted to teach. You know that. But. It’s a lot of responsibility. Maybe Trent is still in my head a bit, but I am afraid. He said that I am not the only ‘one of us’ in the Assembly who went through similar trauma. What if I… turn out no better than he did?”

“He also said you were defined by your trauma, if I recall.” Astrid’s face had shuttered a bit the instant Caleb invoked Trent. “He likes to find our pressure points and push until we break. You know that.” She took a third biscuit and shoved it into his hand. “He saw what he wanted to see, and he wanted his vision of you to be what the rest of us saw as well. I… made an error. I misunderstood your ambitions. As did The Martinet.”

“What did Ludinus think I wanted?”

“Power. Like most others in the Assembly. Revenge. Like most Volstrucker who have thought deeply enough about what Trent put us through.”

“He would have been right. Once.”

“I know. The first time you came to me, you were still very angry.”

“I never stopped. My goals changed. I… learned better, I suppose.” Caleb owed so much to the Nein, especially his talks with Caduceus that helped clarify what he did and didn’t want in the end.

“I didn’t. You know I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I wouldn’t have resented you if you had.”

“You were right to stop me. It was more satisfying to shame him in public and have him tossed in a dark cell with a silencing collar glued to his neck forever.”

“And his hands glued together for just as long.”

Astrid’s eyes softened a bit. “One of the most beautiful things I have seen in my life.” Her gaze lingered on him, just a second longer than either of them could dismiss as casual. “How’s your beacon thief?”

“He’s fine.” Caleb wasn’t sure he could handle talking about his current partner with Astrid of all people.

“Have you seen him recently?”

“I am not telling you that.”

“I won’t turn him in. It would not go well for me.” Astrid rested her chin in her hands, searching his face. “Are you two happy?”

“Yes.” Caleb did not offer further details, and Astrid did not pry.

“You deserve it.” She smiled down at the bundle of biscuits. “Tell your friends thank you for the Pfeffernüsse. Will you take the job?”

“I will.”

“Good. For what it’s worth, I think you will be a good professor. You and I both know how important that will be.”

Caleb matched her sad smile. “No more children on the pyre.”

“No more.”

Caleb felt better. He could do this. It would take more than one person to make change, but he could do his part. Astrid had her ambitions, but he knew her in a way very few people did. There were conversations to be had between them, more damage to stitch up.

But it had been a long, emotional day. There would be more days. More time to pull the vulnerable from the flames, to stand between them and the remaining elements of this government who would use, abuse and discard them.

And, he hoped, time to care for those had already been hurt.

#caleb widogast #shadowgast #critical role #fanfiction #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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enkelimagnus · 4 years ago

Text

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 8, 4107 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for

Read on AO3

Daddy issues, emotional breakdowns and rash decisions

----------------

Snow falls almost continuously for the next day or so, covering the forest and the mountains in blinding white. Every time Vex goes onto the look-out post over the cabin, may it be to clear the path for eventual work or to actually check on her surroundings, she finds herself unable to tell white stone from snow.

Her eyes meet an endless ocean of white, she’s forced to wear sunglasses when the rays bounce off of the snow and ice and blind anyone trying to watch the surrounding nature. It’s breathtaking.

She spends as long as she can on the lookout post, sometimes alone or sometimes with Vax. The endless white makes her feel incredibly small. When she’s alone, the only thing across the valley from her is the castle, in its white glory. It doesn’t loom the way it does when it rains. It stands, proud and tall.

Whitestone exhales in winter. It chases away the heaviness. The sky is bluer right now than she’s ever seen it here. Syngorn doesn’t get this beautiful in winter, it gets drab and wet and disagreeable. Whitestone thrives in the snow. Vex finds herself exhaling with it, breathing hard and free in the cold.

It’s exhilarating, the way the air almost hurts when you breathe it. She wants to stay here forever.

She’s spent a few early morning hours watching the sunrise on the lookout post, black sky turning to gorgeous colors and the winter sun making the white come to life suddenly. It goes from darkness to light so fast it’s almost dizzying. But she can’t stand forever watching. She’s getting a little too frozen for comfort, and she has other things to do.

She climbs down the almost frozen ladder, careful of where she steps and how she grabs. She makes it back down with no issue. The warmth of the cabin envelops her as she steps into it. It stings her fingers and feet a little as warmth and blood comes rushing back in. She busies herself making coffee in the morning, puts the aluminum pot on the stove.

Vax is still asleep, curled up on himself a little. His hair has gotten free of the tie at some point during the night and it’s going to be a bitch to entangle. She can already hear his whines as she brushes out the tangles. He’s always been sensitive when it comes to his scalp. It would be easier if he cut his hair, really, but he will probably kill her before he does that.

Like this, with his hair covering his ears, he looks almost full-blooded. Vex swallows.

She hates those thoughts. They’re not hers. They’re the ones of the Syngornian elves. They’re the echoes of their comments, of their looks, of their whispers. They’re the memories of their father’s very words when they first arrived. He’d watched them so critically, observed their ears and their hair and their faces, searching for where the human ended and where the elf began. He hadn’t found what he’d wanted, of course.

The disappointment and contempt in his eyes at the moment he’d realized that they would never be mistaken for anything other than what they were is carved into her mind forever.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons Vax never wanted to cut his hair.

No, that couldn’t be it. Vax isn’t her. He was somehow much stronger than she was when it came to their father and Syngorn. He hated them, was clear about it and had given up on their approval years ago. Now he just lives his life and flips them off both literally and figuratively every single day.

Vex isn’t the same. She never could shake the desire to make Syldor Vessar proud. She never could shake the desire to be part of Syngorn, of its society, of the culture. Still now, it comes to her sometimes, the question of whether he cares about what she’s doing. Whether he’s proud of her.

She knows he isn’t. She’s not a full-blooded daughter, she’s not part of Syngornian society, she didn’t take to the education he tried to give her. She was supposed to become part of the courts, to look and act noble-born. She wasn’t supposed to sneak out of the house at night to go run in the woods for hours, sometimes even days. She still could dance well, she could cast a couple of spells, could carve woods and care for leather and saw if needed, she knew how to put her hair up the most appropriate way, knew how to apply makeup in fashion, but she wasn’t noble in any way. She wasn’t a good daughter.

She admits it has gotten easier since Velora, his new daughter, their half-sister, came along. She’s now the full-blooded perfect daughter. There’s no expectation on Vex and Vax anymore, just sighs and demands of good behavior, of not tainting the Vessar name further, as if they were responsible for their own existence, as if he wasn’t the one who conceived them. But Vex doesn’t feel any better.

She feels worse actually. Being discarded can be worse than being a disappointment. When they set fire to the Shademurk Bog and she couldn’t leave her own room for days, terrified and in pain, wounded in more ways than one, all he did was barge into the room and yell at her for endangering an important alliance with the Fey. In that moment, she realized she didn’t matter to anyone anymore but Vax.

And it still hurts, a slowly pulsing, forever seeping, ugly wound, that remains even when the ones Saundor had gifted her with are healing. She knows she’s stupid to care so much about a man that never loved her. But what else is she supposed to do?

The coffee pot starts gurgling and she turns back to it. Vax stirs in the bed, warm and almost soft this early in the morning, when thoughts and memories have yet to come to his mind. Vex busies herself with eggs and bread as he sits up groggily.

“Early riser,” he mumbles. “How long have you…”

“A couple of hours,” Vex shrugs and grabs two of the metal plates and puts them on the table, next to two mugs for coffee. “Did some work and made you breakfast.” She reaches to flip the toast over on the pan. It takes a lot of attention to toast bread that way. She enjoys it though.

Vax huffs and gets out of bed, stretching a little and walking over to the table and the food she’s now putting there.

“What’s the program for today?” He asks, as he reaches for his bag.

Vex follows his arm and raises an eyebrow. “Hmm… We should probably hunt while the weather is pleasant. It could start snowing and just not stop for a while and finding meat then will be a struggle.” She points out.

Vax ruffles through his bag before he takes out a couple of little pouches and a glass vial. The spices and vinegar Vex requested.

“Well that sounds fun. Do you want me to come?” He puts the spices on the table with a smile towards her.

“I’m probably going to need some extra hands to get it back,” she points out. “Unless you want to wait for my text and then come get me, you should probably come along. Besides, some time in nature will do you good.”

Vax puts on a falsely offended hair, hand going from the coffee-filled mug to clutching his chest. “That feels like an insult, stubby.”

Vex reaches over and taps his cheek slightly. “You’re pale. You spend too much time in city shadows.” She shrugs. “They won’t recognize you when you go back home. All tan and full of winter air.”

Vax nods quietly, looking down at the mug. He’s usually not that quiet when she mentions his lifestyle, especially disapprovingly. Something’s up, she can tell. He leans back a little, still staring at his cup. The coffee is steaming hot, and he seems to be fixated on the patterns the steam is making in the air between them.

She leaves him in the silence for a moment. Vax doesn’t like when people push for information, even her. And she had toast to watch. She finishes watching the toast right when the eggs on the other pan are done.

She piles the toast on a plate and turns around with the pan to put the eggs in their plates. Vax has shifted slightly, a hand up to his face, fingers against his brow bones. He looks preoccupied by whatever it is that’s not making him snap back at her.

When she finally sits down, he exhales and looks up at her.

“I can’t go home,” he says quietly. “Not to Syngorn.”

Vex frowns a little, leaning away from her chair a little bit. “Did something happen?”

Vax looks away from her, swallowing. She doesn’t like this at all. Bitter dread starts pooling in her stomach.

“Father doesn’t want either of us around Velora,” he says after a moment. “He’s made sure we weren’t welcome home anymore. We won’t be able to make it through the door of the house. And…” He stops, sighing. “I think he made sure the people I usually hang with would push me away too.”

Vex sits shell-shocked in her chair. The eggs and toast and coffee are all growing cold, but so is her heart, right now.

She should have expected it. She should have known. When she left for Whitestone, she’d made sure to let Velora know that she didn’t have to be what he wanted her to be. That she could run and fall and come back home with bloody knees. That she could punch anyone who bothered her, no matter how highborn. That she didn’t need to be a perfect elven daughter. Syldor had been furious. He’d basically slammed the door behind her.

Vax takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and slides it over the table. It’s cut roughly and the words on it are messy. Elvish. Don’t come back. It’s not their father’s handwriting, nor is it Devana’s, his wife. She guesses from Vax’s pained eyes that it’s from one of his so-called friends.

“What are you going to do?” She asks after a moment. “Do you still have things there?”

Vax shakes his head. “Nothing important. All I have is here, right now.” He points his chin towards the bag next to the bed. It’s small. “There’s some of your things too,” he points out. “I thought you’d want them here… I didn’t know then we wouldn’t be back.”

Vex’s head is spinning. A second piece of paper is put on the table. This time, the paper is beautiful, the handwriting perfect, and it’s signed by Syldor himself. Her eyes skim over it. The gist of it is the same as the other paper. The house next to the tower, the deep green velvet of the bed canopy.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asks. She wishes she didn’t sound as remorseful as she does.

“You seemed happy,” Vax shrugs. “I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Fuck, they’re alone now. Truly alone. Their mother is dead, their father wishes they were dead, they have no one and they have nothing and they don’t have a home. Tears burn as they rise in her eyes, as she tries to shove them down.

“I’m gonna stay here a little,” Vax continues. “And then I’m going to go to Westruun and stay with Gilmore until…”

Until what? Until he changes his mind? Until she stops wanting to stay in Whitestone? Until they grab a map, close their eyes, drop a coin and see where it lands, where they decide home will be?

“We’ll be fine,” she whispers, but she doesn’t believe it.

Why did he have to overhear her telling Velora to be rebellious? Why couldn’t she shut her fucking mouth and not try and bring Velora into the terrible path she’s on? Why couldn’t she be the daughter Syldor wanted? She hadn’t tried hard enough, and now, now it was too late.

She’s never good enough for anyone.

There’s a nudge against her leg. She looks down and sees Trinket. He’s making little noises, obviously aware of her distress, but she hasn’t heard them. She hasn’t heard a thing. The egg looks cold and congealed now.

She swallows. “I need to go and get meat for Trinket and us,” she says after a moment. “I need… to go and think.” She points out. “Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

Suddenly, they’re back to being teenagers, grieving and angry. All that Vex wants to do is go and run through the woods until she forgets where she’s from, until she forgets the weight of who she has to be. And Vax nods, the way he did fifteen years ago.

“I think I’ll go to the city again,” he says quietly. “Walk around.”

The same thing he’d do when they were teenagers. He’d stay in Syngorn, sneak around on the rooftops while Vex ran. At the end of the day, they haven’t changed. They’re 28, and yet they’re still the same broken-hearted thirteen year olds that ran out of Syldor’s house that first time.

Vex nods quietly. She stands and reaches for her quiver, strapping it to her thigh. She gets everything else ready, bundling herself up for the oncoming hunt in the cold. As her fingers close around her usual bow, her mind drifts to Fenthras, still hidden under her bed. She shoves the thought away. She’s not worthy of that weapon.

The door of the cabin slams in the silence. She’s greeted by blinding snow. Her instincts yell at her to run and she does.

She takes off running the second she passes the first ring of trees around the clearing. Her lungs burn with exhaustion as well as the icy air. The snow crutches underneath her feet. She runs for a while, until she feels like she’s miles away from the cabin. Her foot catches on a hidden branch and she tumbles down, knees and hands hitting the packed snow.

Her pants are wet and cold and her wrists and knees hurt from the impact but she stays there. She wants to scream and she wants to cry and suddenly, she’s 13 again. She’s 13 and howling at the moon because her mother is dead, her father hates her, and the only person that loves her is as broken as she is.

The moon is not out, it’s the middle of the morning and the sun is shining, but still she howls. Her ears ring with the strength of her own screams. If anyone hears her, they’ll think she’s a wounded animal. It’s fitting.

She’s a wounded animal, hands and knees in the snow, knees numb, face burning with a thousand needles and she screams. Her body is wracked with sobs and screams, she wants to break, she wants to sleep. She’s so tired. She’s so mad. She punches at wet cold snow. It’s packed dense and it hurts her fist as she rages.

She’s ridiculous, isn’t she? She’s an adult woman, and she’s sobbing now because her father won’t love her. Fuck. She wishes her hands were claws in the snow. It’s all so white. She wishes she could stop thinking.

It’s too cold to be out there on the ground, crying. This is ridiculous. Her hands are getting numb, and so are her feet. She lets herself fall into the snow, curls up on herself. She’s still shaking and crying, but she’s not screaming anymore. She’s too tired.

Her sobs eventually quiet, her body stops shaking. She’s just breathing now, harder than before, out of breath from her crisis. She’s cold. The snow has wetted her clothing and the parts of her body not covered by several layers are damp. Her hair is wet too, after she’s just spent gods know how many minutes curled up in the snow.

She doesn’t have any other option than to get up, hunt, and go back to the cabin. And then… She doesn’t know. As long as she can keep her post here in Whitestone, she has somewhere to be. She has a house, she has an income, she has a purpose. As long as she doesn’t find herself in a situation here, she’ll be fine.

Nothing like Saundor can happen again. She doesn’t have Syngorn to go back to anymore, in case something happens. There’s no more emergency exit. This is all she has. She exhales. Fuck. She doesn’t have anywhere to run to.

Gilmore’s nice, but she doesn’t belong there. That’s Vax’s emergency exit. She’ll only take space.

She just needs to be very good at her job. She needs to be indispensable to Whitestone and to the Alabaster Sierras park. She needs to stop making waves and asking questions. She’ll settle there, do her work, and let everyone forget that she’s anything but useful and discreet.

Vex exhales, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself down. Her heart is still pounding in her chest. She needs to shove down the hurt and anger at her father, the panic when she thinks of having to leave Whitestone. She needs to focus on her job.

She forces herself to center, to melt into her primeval sensing abilities. She needs to do her job right.

It’s far from as smooth as the last time. She doesn’t let herself breathe her awareness through her pores, instead, she throws it out of herself in rage, still a little shaky from her crisis. She pushes it out of her skull, out of her body, like she doesn’t want anything to do with it. Her mind tangles with the forest and digs into it, searching, hungry, a predator.

A howling monster of a mind shoves itself through the forest, in search of prey. There’s no fey. Relief floods into her, despite herself. She didn’t think he was a big player in her current state, but isn’t he always? Hasn’t he been a player of her crisis for the past five years?

She tastes ash again. Fiend. No.

She failed. She fucking failed. There were more than one and she missed one. It’s there, it’s violent and it makes her want to scream again.

She snaps back into her body and hits the ground again. Fuck. She failed in the one job she had to do. She’s useless here, isn’t she? She’s useless everywhere, after all. To everyone.

No. Fuck that. Fuck the fiend. Fuck Syldor Vessar and fuck Saundor. Fuck everyone.

She grabs her bow and starts running again, in the general direction of where she sensed the fiend.

She’s out there for what feels like hours, running, hunting. She’s hungry now, exhausted. She’s a little in pain too, and she doesn’t have time for that. She emerges out of the woods and onto a path that she immediately recognizes. She looks up.

Above her stands the blindingly white architecture of Castle Whistestone. She’s on Keyleth’s trail, where she originally found the fiend.

She focuses again. It’s much closer now, and it seems to be straight ahead of her. Except ahead of her is the stone of the rock formation on which the castle was built. There’s nothing there. How can the fiend be in there?

Vex’s eyes scan over the rock, searching for something, anything that will make sense. She’s desperate. She wants to succeed in something, one thing. She wants to find the fiend and kill it. She needs to.

The rock seems to be looser than the rest, smaller rocks shoved one on top of the other in a way that is unlike the rest of the stone around her. There’s a couple bushes in front of it, probably trying to mask the inconsistency. Except in between the two is a space for one thin half-elf druid to go through.

The issue with visiting the same spot every month and being the only one known to use that path is that it’s obvious to see where you disturbed the natural arrangement of wilderness. Vex knows Keyleth went through there. She knows her fiend is close. There’s no other explanation. Keyleth wasn’t smart enough to fool her.

She manages to move some rocks out of the way, though it takes her a while. She’s determined, and time is nothing important to her right now. She’s solely focused on finding what the fuck Keyleth has been hiding from her.

A tunnel opens in front of her. She takes a step forward. There’s not going back now, isn’t it? She waits for a second as her eyes adjust to the darkness.

The ground seems dry, preserved from the weather. A few feet further in, Vex can spot the remains of a small fire. Someone has camped here. She swallows. It doesn’t seem very used. There are some footsteps in the dust and dirt. Vex swallows. Maybe… maybe she should go get Vax. She isn’t far inside and she might need back-up.

But she doesn’t want him to rescue her again. She needs to be useful, by herself. He’s not always going to be by her side in battle, and she needs to do it by herself. She doesn’t want him there. She’s not a damsel, fuck. She’s strong.

She starts walking down the tunnel. It isn’t very long. A few hundred feet at most. The minimal light from outside quickly disappears however, and Vex finds herself walking in the dark. With a quick motion and whisper, she casts Pass Without a Trace. She’s going to surprise that monster.

She eventually reaches a partially crumbled wall, about a foot thick. A large statue has been moved away from the crumbled part. It had probably been used to hide the hole. This is not just a tunnel, this is a secret tunnel, on many levels. Vex looks back behind herself. She can’t see the entrance anymore.

She walks through the hole and into a storage room. Once again, it’s full of dust, with a single path going from the hole in the wall to the door. Whoever is going through this passage - and she guesses it’s Keyleth - doesn’t stop to check the dust-covered crates stacked into the room.

The door itself is closed, but it doesn’t hold to Vex’s skills. She’s learned to pick locks from Vax, and she’s become pretty good at it over the years. The lock clicks as it turns, and she takes a deep breath before opening it.

The room is plunged into darkness. It’s much larger than the storage room, divided into two paths, one going on the right and the other on the left of a central section. She sneaks in closer and she sees metal bars and the glint of chains. It’s a dungeon.

Vex’s breath itches. She shouldn’t be here alone. Fuck, what is she doing? She takes a step back. She’s being stupid. Her fucking pride and her fucking issues are getting in the way. This is not what being useful looks like. She turns around and starts walking back to the door when a light hissing sound reaches her ears.

She was supposed to be stealthy. Fuck, this is where she dies, isn’t it?

She turns around, quietly. Better to be seeing whatever is behind her. She’s supposed to be the one taking monsters by surprise, not the other way around.

A light turns on, deeper in, and flickers. Shadows pool over the floor, waves upon waves of dark smoke. It almost seems to stick to the stone of the walls. It overwhelms the space of the corridor, coming towards Vex. She should be running. Why is she frozen in place?

Footsteps hit the stone floor. They’re light, but Vex has sharp senses. Even with the light hissing of the dark smoke, she can hear those steps getting closer. Two feet, unless some are more silent.

They come out of the smoke like a nightmare. They’re tall and pale, surrounded in black, the smoke seeping out of their nostrils and mouth and eyes, of their hands. It pours out of them, sick and brutal and hissing at her.

A humanoid, with pale hair and glasses and one eye blue and one eye black. Something ugly twists inside of them as they twitch, head tilting to stare at her. The blue eye blinks but not the other one. It’s a deranged sort of wink.

“Well, hello, there. Who are you?”

#perc'ahlia #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #vaxilmore #critical role #vox machina #fic

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