#would definitely hand you all sorts of cool rocks and twigs they found on their walk

[glowstone23b]

Pov you are a gold bar or perhaps a nugget

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere RE8: TRP Part 4

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 5 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Uhh... hello?"

You looked at the woman standing in the stairs. She was wearing a dark veil that matched the rest of her outfit- oh shit, that's a funeral outfit.

I really did pick a bad time to come here, didn't I? She's in mourning, she sees an intruder, and her day went from bad to worst. Yep, she's gonna kill me.

You took one look at the woman and then at all the possible exits: the doors- no, they'd be too heavy to move and what if they're locked? The window- but I'd have to jump out and just because it looks cool in movies to jump through glass, doesn't mean it'll work, Y/n.

So, the only option was to eliminate the threat. Or maybe... defuse it.

"This is your doll, right?" You asked, pointing at the doll, judging by the lace designs on both of their dresses. The woman didn't reply. "It looks like its been... used a lot. To be honest, she's very different than most dolls I've seen, definitely a lot more spookier." You nervously giggled, hoping she didn't mind. "But... she looks like she's been loved. A lot. Despite being broken from a lot of places, someone still took their time to fix her." You smiled sadly, remembering your own doll that Mia had ripped. "Wish I had someone like that. To sew up the wounds and fix them."You mumbled, not really sure if you were talking about your doll or yourself.

"Your doll, she's- she's very pretty. My sister would've liked her." You began. "Which is why I'm here. My family, we were in an accident- I know it was wrong of me to come here without permission, but I need to find my sister, Rose and my father, Ethan." You took a step closer. "They both of have blonde hair. Rose, my sister, she's just 6 months old. She was dressed in a baby pink onesie, bundled up in a blanket. My father, Ethan, he's about this tall and has big blue eyes. I think he was wearing a jacket, with blue denim jeans. H-have you seen them?" You asked, eyes full of hope and voice laced with eagerness.

Please, please let her have seen them. God, please.

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't reply, but she did turn her head towards the left window. You didn't know whether she was telling you to get out of her house or signalling that they are out there, but you knew you had to leave.

Nodding, you slowly walked towards the window, your heart beating faster as you prayed that this wasn't some sort of trap, hoping she wouldn't attack you from behind because that would be like... really shitty.

But you left the house unharmed, and without looking back at the window because you didn't want to jinx it, you walked towards the forrest once again, thankful that the sun had finally came out.

Where are you guys?

You had been walking for a couple of hours now, the sun had been a bit warmer today, which was good since you hated the snow that surrounded you now. You looked at the map, tracing the path to your new destination. The Salvatore reservoir. It seemed like it would take you a day's journey to get there, and you sure as hell weren't seeing any lake in sight.

God, when will this nightmare end?

You decided to sit on a stone and take some much needed rest. Your feet ached from all the walking, and your calves were cramping. You rolled your head, popping it from the side, before taking off the rifle that had been weighing down, stretching out your arms. Digging through the little back pack you bought from Duke, you pulled out a thermos of coffee and twinkie. You don't know how or where he got it, but Duke had filled your bag with a couple of snacks; saying its for his loyal customer.

So, here you sat, in the middle of the snowy woods, eating a twinkie and drinking a lukewarm coffee. Both didn't taste good, but they're gonna keep you alive so, no complaining.

After drinking the coffee, you rested your head against a tree, recalling last nights events as you waited for the caffeine to kick in.

You tried to make sense of what happened when you got... locked in the basement. You thought you had forgotten about her, Angel. Guess not.

Wait- didn't that lady lock me in the basement? Maybe, she didn't look very hostile, her creepy doll looked scarier than she did.

You laughed at the irony. You always made fun of the horror movies where the family would become so attached to the most horrifying doll, and you'd scream at their stupidity, And yet here you were, falling for the cliche as you found comfort in that creepy doll.

Man, I'm really losing it here.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you tried to come up with the next plan. But the warm coffee had lulled you right to sleep, which was dangerous but you were too tired to care.

Just for a couple of minutes...

You woke up to the sound of growling and heavy steps. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you knew you had definitely slept for far longer than a few minutes. But that was not of concern at the moment. No, it was the source of the growling that had woken you up.

Just about 40 feet away from you were lycans. Plural. Not one, not two, but 5 lycans, and one of them was a really big one.

You held your breath as you watched them wander around; they hadn't spotted you yet, and if you stayed quiet, you hoped they would just go away.

Stilling yourself as much as you could, you watched them with wide eyes. One of them started to walk in your direction, it wasn't looking at you, which meant that it hadn't seen you, but he would if he kept on walking this way.

God, I know we haven't been on good terms, but like c'mon, you gotta give me a break. Please, I love you? Come on, you know this is not how I want to go.

You sent a silent prayer, and perhaps it worked, since the lycan suddenly turned the other way, joining its pack as they started walking deeper into the woods.

Slowly, you began to gather up your things, silently shoving them in your bag, one eye on the lycans and the other one making sure that you don't accidentally drop something that'd cause noise.

Fortunately, you didn't. You swung the bag over your shoulder, and took a step forward, careful not to step on any twigs.

Maybe God did love me. All that time in church-

THWACK!

You jumped back as a huge sheet of snow fell from the trees in front of you. You whipped your head towards the monsters and they all had stopped dead in their tracks. Slowly, one of them turned and if they hadn't heard the snow fall, they'd definitely heard the way your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Then, it growled.

Motherfucker.

You pulled out your gun just as the two of them began running your way. With a quick jump to the side, you dodged them and shot them two times each. Hearing your gun fire, the other two began running your way too, while the larger one stayed behind as it watched. This time, as you shot one of them, the other managed to kick you in the chest hard, throwing you against the rock. Luckily, you didn't hit your head, as you rolled and shot it dead.

Spitting out the blood, you looked back at the last lycan who had already started running your way. You began loading up your gun with trembling hands, but just as you aimed, the lycan took a giant leap and knocked the gun out of your hand.

Fuck.

The giant grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up high before throwing you across the ground. You wheezed, scrambling up to your feet as you began running away from it, its heavy steps following you. It roared angrily behind you, and that only made you ignore the burning pain in your chest as you ran faster.

But of course, God had decided to make you live a cliche horror movie, because you tripped over a fucking branch, making you fall on your stomach. You flipped over instantly, and saw your nightmare come true as the lycan jumped on you.

On pure reflex, you punched it square in the face, which you doubted hurt it more than it hurt you, if anything, the monster was momentarily perplexed, but that was enough for you to slip from under it.

But you were only able to take a few steps away when it suddenly grabbed you by your neck and lifted you up again, snarling as it began opening its mouth, revealing its razor-sharp teeth at you.

God, if you're hearing this, I'm converting to atheism because I did not need this today.

Looking at the horrifying lycan, you prayed one last time before you were eaten by it. Surprisingly, your life did not flash before your eyes, which you were kinda grateful for because you did not need to relive that before your death.

But that moment didn't came. No, what came were familiar moans of pain, and then the sound of a drill, followed by blood splattering on your face as the lycan was sliced vertically from the head to the toe by the aforementioned drill.

The lycan fell to the ground, revealing the pair of soldats that killed them and behind them a smirking Heisenberg, who rested against a tree, tipping his hat at you.

You were far too shocked to say anything, and after a few seconds, the man walked over to you, blocking the view of his monstrous creations just mutilating the lycans.

"So... that was a bit traumatising." He started, chuckling at your stunned face. "You okay, kid?"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-

"Yeah." You took his hand, and he helped you up. You groaned at the pain, touching the tender side around the chest where the lycan had hit you. Yeah, you probably broke a rib.

Heisenberg helped you sit down on a tree stump. "Hmm, that bastard kicked you hard didn't it." Wait- "But that was a phenomenal punch you threw at it. Nearly made me burst out laughing."

"You were watching? Why the fuck didn't you come in before!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you could really handle yourself- which you were pretty good at, but then you lost your gun and it was kinda an unfair match from there on." He pulled out some pills from his coat. "i was just passing by when I saw those lycans moving away. Thats when I pushed the tree which made snow sheet fall and you know the rest from there on."

Your eyes went wide. "You did that on purpose? What the shit, Heisenberg-?! Fuck." You doubled over in pain, clutching your ribs, heaving.

"Shh, stay still, kid. Here, take these. They'll help with the pain." You eyed the bottle before popping two in your mouth. Hey, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have saved me from the lycan. "I just wanted to see if you were worth the trouble, and as it turns out, you are."

"You didn't have to almost kill me to see that. And now I've lost my gun. And I don't have any money to buy a new one. I doubt Duke gives freebies." You huffed out.

Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "God, you sure do whine a lot. Here-" He dropped a tiny pouch in your lap. "There's some coins in there. That should be enough to buy you a new gun. And for fucks sake, get a gun with more rounds! You don't have time to be loading a gun mid battle." He huffed. "So, where are you going now?"

You rolled your head from side to side. "Well, I went to the Beneviento house. Didn't find Ethan or Rose there. Now, I'm going to the lake."

"The lake? Huh, well if you survived Donna, then Moreau should be a piece of cake. You got the map? Let me show you the short cut, it's not far from here." You gave him the map and he showed you the directions.

"Where are you going then?"

"Mother Miranda called. Don't worry, I'll keep our meeting a secret." He then nodded at you. "Alright, I'm off now."

"Wait!" Your voice stopped him. "I don't know when I'll see Duke again. And I don't have gun, so what if another pack of lycans come?"

Heisenberg slumped his shoulders as he let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. I gotta do everything by myself." He dog whistled and one of the soldats stopped maiming the lycan and ran to Heisenberg. "From now on, you're gonna listen to her."The soldat looked at you and nodded. "If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she tells you to die, you die. Follow her around and keep her safe." The soldat nodded. Then Heisenberg turned to you. "He's already dead, so don't worry about throwing him in danger. Oh and also, just take him into the sun every once in a while so that his engine can recharge. You'll know when he needs the sun."

You were baffled. "Wait, Heisenberg- how the- what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Figure it out, kid. Think of him as a guard dog."

You looked at the soldat then at Heisenberg's retreating form, then back at the soldat.

"So..." The soldat stared at you. "You got a name?"

"Handsome." You nodded to yourself as you trudged, using the soldat's arm to support yourself. "That's what I'm gonna call you. Handsome. What do you think?"

The soldat was wearing a metal contraption over its eyes, so you couldn't really tell what it was feeling.

"Well, you don't seem to have any complaints, so from now on, you'll respond to the name "Handsome". Do you understand?"

The soldat nodded.

You laughed. God, the pain meds were either making me stupid or everything else funnier.

You looked at the map again. Just a couple of more minutes and then a right turn. And then you should see the lake- god, this map was confusing as hell.

"So..." you wondered what you should ask the cyborg. Oh right. "You seen Ethan? Blonde man, crazy big eyes. Or a baby, Rose?" The man shook his head no.

Sigh. What else could I ask him? What about how did he die? No, what if that's triggering? I can't handle a Terminator right now. And I don't think I should ask him about his past or anything that'll cause him to have a existential crisis. Ah! I've got it!

"Hey, how do you see?"

The soldat looks down at you for a few seconds then points at his metal contraption.

Wait- is that sarcasm?

You scoff. "Of course, you see with your eyes! I meant, with the whole metal thingy covering them, how do you- oh, there's this vision specs in them."

You smiled. "Hey, you're kinda like Cyclops, yknow-" you were cut off as Handsome suddenly pushed you to the ground, turning on his drill.

"Wait, shit- you don't have to be Cyclops! We can talk this out-" but Handsome was focusing on something else, and that's when you saw it. Two lycans.

Handsome ran and easily maimed them to pieces, I mean, you had to look away from the horrific scene midway.

The soldat returned five minutes later, covered in blood. He extended his hand and you reluctantly took it, letting him support you as you began walking again, your heart still beating like crazy.

But you calmed down when you finally reached the lake, the setting sun gave serene feel to the entire reservoir. You inhaled deeply before looking at Handsome. "Lets go down there." You pointed at the lake.

You were both sitting at the wooden broadwalk, your legs hanging off the ledge. You looked at the water, it wasn't crystal clear, but you could see some fishes swimming around, so at least it wasn't dangerous to life. You looked at Handsome, then at his drill and you realised he was still covered in blood. "Lets get you cleaned up, hm?" You said, pulling out a rag from your bag and dipping it in the cold water below. You began with cleaning up his drill, then dipping the rag back in cold water and cleaning his chest and his other arm.

"Good job back there, Handsome."You smiled as Handsome nodded. "Heisenberg was right, you are kinda like a dog. Hmm, I wonder if..." You tested your theory as you petted him on the head. "Good job, Handsome!" But the soldat only tilted its head in confusion.

"Hmm, perhaps not." You cupped the cold water in your hands and washed your own face, You looked at your reflection in the water. "You wanna go for a swim? I don't mind." Handsome shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of swimming either."

Handsome stared at you. You scoffed. "Oh so you pretend you don't understand what I say, but you want to hear the story? Fine, but I'm only telling you because it might be important later."

You both stared at the water as you began your story. "Well, when I was 15, I had snuck out of the house to go to a party. It was at this rich girl's house and I knew she didn't like me, but I was surprised when she had invited me to her place. Yes, a red flag I should've seen from miles ago, but I was young and dumb and desperate to climb the highschool social hierarchy." You chuckled. "Anyways, long story short, one of the guys there pushed me into the pool because I don't know if they thought it was funny to see me drown? By some luck, I managed to grab onto the pool ledge and pull myself up. I immediately left the party, embarrassed and cold and on the verge of breaking down. Then on the way back home, there was this car following me and then some weirdo catcalled me and tried to get me in his car. Now, scared for my life because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, I ran all the way home, praying that he leaves me alone. I think he stopped when he saw a Range Rover following him, but I don't know. I just rushed back home." You sighed. "You know what happened next? I bursted through the front door, slamming it shut and I turn around to see my dad in the living room, looking surprised to see me. He stood up and looked me up and down and then said, "Y/n? You're drenched completely. And you're messing up the floor. You know what? Mia's in the bathroom right now, why don't you go upstairs and I'll clean up here. You know how she gets when there's water on the wood." And I was just so shocked, that I didn't say anything and went back upstairs. Once I was in the shower, that's when I broke down crying. I almost drowned, almost got kidnapped and my father was worried about me messing up the wooden floor? Hell, he didn't even ask me why I was coming home at midnight." Your tears fell into the lake, making small ripples. You chuckled, "God, I always wondered how tired he must've been from work that day to ignore all these visible signs of distress. I always hated his job, you know? They made him work way too much." You looked at Handsome who was looking at the lake. "Anywho, now you know I can't swim so, save me if I fall into this lake, okay?" He nodded.

You guys sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a question popped up in your mind. "Handsome?" He turned his head towards you, only to see a mischievous smile on your face. "Are you seeing someone?" The man turned his back to the lake, making you laugh. "Ahh, so you like someone. Tell me, is it someone from the village?" The man further turned his head away from you in embarrassment. "Oh come on, tell me! Is it a girl?" He nodded reluctantly, making you punch his arm. "You dog! Does she know?" Handsome shook his head, making you smile. "Tell you what? As a payback for saving me back there, I'll help you get her. I'll be your wingman, Handsome, hm?" He nodded a bit enthusiastically.

"We all deserve good things, Handsome. No matter how we look, or what we are, these things don't really define one's self worth. Its our intentions, you know?" Handsome didn't know, but he nodded anyways.

"Good. Now, lets go check out this place. Keep an eye out for Ethan and Rose, okay?" You told him, not knowing someone was already watching the two of you.

So... thought?

What did you guys think about Handsome? I'm gonna post a pic of him soon if you guys want.

Part 5 is here.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Crosshair’s Ending

  Intro

    “I guess I’ll follow Crosshair,” you said.  The sharpshooter hadn’t heard your statement.  He was already on his way toward the edge of the clearing, crossing over into the woods.  

   Omega nudged you with her elbow.  “You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss him!”

   You hesitated.  “I don’t know.  He didn’t wait around for anyone to go with.  Maybe he wants to be alone.”

   “No,” she insisted with a shake of her head, blonde locks waving.  “Trust me, he won’t mind you going.  He likes your company.”

   You had to admit that he wasn’t as abrasive with you as he once had been.  Over time, the sudden snaps and sarcastic comments had died down.  He even showed subtle signs that he cared for you as a member of the team and family in his own little way.  Your feelings for him had grown beyond what you could have imagined in that time.  You didn’t expect for them to be returned, but at the very least, Crosshair didn’t seem to mind you.

   “Hurry!”  Omega urged again, giving you another nudge.  Crosshair had already disappeared into the forest, but he most likely hadn’t gotten far.  You shrugged at Omega before taking off for the edge of the clearing.

   “Here goes nothing,” you muttered to yourself.  A twig snapped beneath your shoe as you stepped out of the bright open clearing and into the shady, cool woods.  It was beautiful.  The trees above created a sort of canopy, only allowing for smaller patches of sunlight to shine through.  Everything was so green, and the air smelled so sweet.  The brush was thick and difficult to get through even though you were following Crosshair’s trail.

   You looked straight ahead to see him standing there several feet away, twisted around to peer at you over his shoulder.  You offered a smile and waved despite the fact that your leg was caught in a bush.  If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it.  His gaze swept over you for a moment before he approached.

   “Hey,” you greeted.

   Crosshair’s eyes met yours briefly.  “Hey.”  He extended his hand and pulled you forward so that you could remove your leg from the brush.  It was done swiftly and with ease.  Once you were free, you dusted yourself off and looked up at him.

   “Thanks.  Do you mind if I walk with you?”

   Crosshair turned his body in the direction he’d been walking in before, peering at you over his shoulder once more.  “Do what you want.”  It was well known that he wasn’t the most wordy or expressive.  That phrase was his way of an open invitation.

   You were watching where you walked, but your gaze was also drawn to the one who led the way through the dense woods.  You studied him as if somehow it would give you insight to what was going on in that mind of his.  He didn’t speak for some time.  Your eyes rested on the back of his head of silver hair, traveling down his form and pausing at his arms.  They were left exposed by his sleeveless blue shirt that faded into darker blue further down the torso.  He definitely wasn’t built like Wrecker, but his arms weren’t noodles either.  His lean form held an impressive strength.  You’d witnessed it on the battlefield many times, and even more recently, he demonstrated it when he had snapped the tent pieces back into place in front of you and handed them back.  It had been done swiftly and with ease, whereas it had taken you and Omega both to do it the first time.

   “What?”

   You snapped out of your train of thought at his question.  “Uh, what?”

   “You were staring.”

   Of course, those keen eyes of his didn’t miss a thing.  It was handy when it came to taking out droids, but at that moment, it was unfortunate.

   “Sorry.  I was just thinking.”

   He stepped over a bush and paused, turning to hold out an open hand towards you.  You hesitantly took it, and he helped you over the plant.  “About what?” he asked.  It wasn’t meant to be nosy or demanding.  It seemed he was trying to start a conversation, which was a rare but not entirely unheard of occurrence for him.  At least, not with you these days.

   Your heart was thumping erratically at that point, racking your brain for something to say other than “I was thinking about you.”  Although, you didn’t want to lie either.  “I was just thinking how nice the sights are here.”  It was true.  Crosshair just happened to be one of the sights that you admired.

   “It is nice,” he agreed, pausing to cast an admiring glance at the canopy of trees above.  The leaves created lovely patterned shadows on his face.  You followed his gaze and sighed at how your chest swelled with happiness.  The air was warm, but not quite as blistering hot as it was in the sunny clearing.  The shade held a different kind of quiet intensity, a tension that was still so beautiful to you.

   Your eyes fell back to Crosshair.  The corner of his mouth was turned up in a half-smile at the view.  He noticed then that you were watching him, and he turned his head to look back at you fully.

   “Have you and the squad done this before?” you asked.  “Gone camping?”

   “We’ve camped out for missions,” he replied.  “Never did it for fun.”

  “Technically, Hunter originally told us that this was for team-building.”

   “Funny, he’s the one who let everyone wander off in separate directions.”

   You chuckled at the realization.  “That’s true.  Well, maybe this is part of team-building in the end.  We negotiated an effective way for everyone to do what they want.  I’d say that was a good problem-solving exercise.”

   Crosshair shook his head.  “Good one.”

   The two of you continued through the forest, talking a little along the way.  It wasn’t exactly a chatter-filled walk, but it was probably the most you and Crosshair had opened up to each other.  He told you a few stories about the squad’s past experiences camping out.  There was one in particular about how Wrecker heaved a rock and accidentally knocked over a hive of bees that Crosshair even smirked at.  Fortunately, Wrecker had escaped without getting stung, but he had run off yelling and swatting his hands around.

   You weren’t sure how long you and Crosshair had been out, but it was definitely past lunchtime.  You hardly noticed.  You were having such a nice time with him that the time flew.

   “We should turn around,” you spoke up.  “The others are probably having lunch now.”  Crosshair paused and nodded before turning straight around and heading back the way you came.

   Even as late as it was, It still seemed a little too early for the sky behind the trees to be darkening as much as it did.  The air had grown humid, and the bird chirping had ceased.  The woods had gone from delightfully shady to nearly sunless and dreary.  You walked closer to the sharpshooter, though not so close that you’d step on his heels by accident.

   Then, you heard the pitter-patter of rain beginning to fall on the greenery around you.  It started off as a trickle before gradually morphing into a downpour.  It was so heavy that even the trees didn’t shield you from the drops that soaked your clothes.

   You felt a hand take yours, and you squinted through the rain to see Crosshair urging you to follow.  You let him lead you toward a large tree that had been uprooted.  It leaned against another tree, creating a spot beneath it untouched by the rainfall.

   You rested your back against the upright trunk, panting from the sudden dash.  Crosshair ran a hand through his damp hair and shook some drops from his face.

   “When it lets up, we’ll keep going,” he said.  Both of you stared out into the rainy haze in silence.  You wondered how long it would be before it would subside.  You were glad to have a shelter of sorts, but you were starting to shiver in your soaked clothes.  Crosshair’s eyes locked on you.  He gazed at you, and despite your chill, your face grew warm under his quiet scrutiny.  Finally, he walked over to stand right in front of you.

   “Cold?” he drawled.

   Your words abandoned you at the proximity, so you merely gave a short nod.  Crosshair was just as soaked as you were, but the arm that slipped around you still provided some comfort.  You automatically leaned into him, pressing your face against his bare shoulder which was already warming back up.  His other arm wrapped around your form, and you breathed a sigh as you sank into the contact even more.

   You lost yourself in the rise and fall of his chest as well as the steady thrum of his heart.  It was a melody that you were sure would play itself over and over in your mind after the encounter.  You didn’t even want to think about the after.  You didn’t want this to end.  Your arms had slipped around his waist, and his breath hitched.  You lifted your head to meet his gaze, concerned that perhaps you’d overstepped, but then his eyes locked on yours.

   It was like the bug caught in a spider’s web that caught your eye earlier as you passed through the forest.  You were trapped by those piercing eyes as his face grew closer, though you didn’t feel like the prey you’d seen before.  You weren’t struggling to escape.  You were drawn in.

   And suddenly, his warm lips were pressed to your own.  His grip on you tightened, and you felt like you’d melt into a puddle if it weren’t for his arms holding you.  All at once, something exploded in your chest, and your lips pulled away only to unite again in a more heated dance.  Your back hit the tree trunk behind you, and Crosshair grunted an apology.  His lips met yours again before he pulled away altogether, eyes glinting.

   “Rain stopped,” he said, running a thumb along your jaw.  You didn’t tear your eyes from his to confirm, only noted that the sound had subsided.

   “We’d better head back then,” you replied.

   Neither of you moved for several seconds.  Eventually, both of you were able to pull away, though his hand didn’t let go of yours, and continued your trek back to the campsite.  The walk back was quiet, though you found yourself meeting Crosshair’s gaze many times.  There wasn’t room for embarrassment because he was almost always staring at you first.  Even though there was a bit of a hurry to get back to the campsite before it rained again, you enjoyed every second.

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Harry Potter

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Harry doesn’t get enough love.)

- You and Harry first meet at Hogwarts but he isn’t really aware of your existence until around fourth year when everyone else in the school turns their backs on him. 

- He’s making his way through the crowds of ‘Potter stinks’ buttons when he hears someone call his name. He almost doesn’t stop, expecting the same mocking he’d been receiving all week, but he does stop and there you are, giving him a small, kind smile and telling him that you “just wanted to wish him good luck in the tournament.”. 

“I-er, thanks.” He replies awkwardly, looking at you for another quick moment before nodding and quickly retreating. 

- A few days later, you were walking around the wooded areas of the school and just so happened to come across him sitting alone. You didn’t want to bother him; especially since you really didn’t know him and you sort of had a crush on the famous boy, but a twig snapped beneath your foot and he quickly glanced up at you, taking away your option of leaving before he saw you. 

- Giving a quick hello, apology, and excuse for interrupting him, you moved to walk away before you found yourself turning back and asking if he was alright. It didn’t take him long before he was explaining everything to you and; calmly, ranting about the situation. 

- You listen and give him a few words of encouragement before you find yourself walking back to Hogwarts with him, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. 

- Little by little, the two of you grow closer and become more comfortable with each other; even though he’s sort of forming a crush on you and gets easily flustered by you. 

- Probably unsurprisingly, he doesn’t just drop you when Hermione and, more so, Ron go back to being his friends. Instead, you’re welcomed into their little clique, particularly by Hermione who appreciates having another girl in the group and can immediately see that Harry has feelings for you; even if he stutteringly protests to it. 

- Funnily enough, initially, he doesn’t even think to ask you to the Yule ball until you’re sitting at breakfast one day and he looks at you and a light just goes off in his head. He’s just as nervous about asking you as he would be with anyone else; probably even more so considering the fact that he’s pretty much in love with you, but he manages to keep his cool a little better with you since you’re supposed to be his friend. 

“Erm, y/n? Would you like to go to the ball with me?” 

- When you happily agree, he gives you a “brilliant”, his heart racing and a small smile plastered across his lips. 

- Godric, the look on his face when he first saw you the day of the ball. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, his face turning a delicate shade of pink as you first took his arm and gave him a smile. He was so distracted by you that he hardly even noticed that he needed to start dancing with you, he only snapped out of it when you told him to take you by the waist. 

- It’s after the ball that he knows for sure that he’s in love with you, and if he’s able to triumph over dragons and defeat Lord Voldemort at the age of one then he can ask out the girl that he’s fallen for, right? Easier said than done.

- Harry is pretty awful with women. He’s awkward and shy and clumsy, and it’s adorable in retrospect; and in some other cases, but it’s not exactly beneficial to the evolution of your relationship. He keeps trying to confess, keeps wondering how he’s gonna do it, tries to do it but is interrupted in some way or just can’t bring himself to actually say what he wants to. 

- It isn’t until fifth year that he finally manages to do so. You’re both left alone in the room of requirement as everyone leaves after their most recent lesson. He walks over to you and the two of you talk. You ask him a few questions, make sure he’s alright with everything that’s happening and before you know it, you’re both drifting closer and kissing each other. 

- It’s soft and slow, and when you pull away, he’s got this dazed sort of look on his face that gives you butterflies. He gets a hold of himself as you go to grab your things and leave, calling out to you in a quick explosion of words, asking if you’d go out with him. 

- He has to repeat himself so that you can actually understand what he’d asked but once he does, a bright smile spreads across your face and his heart skips a beat as you agree. 

- Due to a certain frog-faced substitute headmaster, you can’t exactly express your feelings in public, but just knowing that you’re officially his girlfriend gives him a certain sense of comfort and reassurance that otherwise wouldn’t be there. 

- The girl of his dreams is finally his and he couldn’t be happier. 

- Harry, in general, just isn’t the type of person to be all over you while you’re out in public. He tends to save most of his affection for when you’re behind closed doors, mainly because he’s a bit shy and easily flustered; especially by you. 

- Given the fact that Harry was provided with nothing but negative attention throughout his entire childhood, he’s definitely going to be a bit awkward when it comes to affection. That being said: he loves when you give it to him and really starts to crave it after you first pay him special attention.

- Handholding. He’ll tentatively slip his hand into yours while you’re standing together or grip it tightly as you both excitedly run somewhere.

- He could genuinely hug you for hours if you let him.

- Gentle touches.

- Soft kisses.

- Quick kisses in the midst of danger or when he’s leaving to do something important.

- Kissing his scar. 

- Ruffling and playing with his consistently messy hair.

- Hair petting. He’ll usually stroke his hand down/through your hair as you kiss.

- Long, loving snogging sessions. Sometimes, you’ll pull off his glasses so that you can kiss him better and he just melts.

- He loves cuddling with you; it’s one of the things that really bring him comfort. You’ll usually be the little spoon whenever you do, he’ll bury his face in your hair and wrap his arms tight around you, not letting go until morning.

- Considering the fact that he has like zero experience with girls, he usually just calls you by your name since that’s what seems most natural to him.

- Flustering him whether you mean to or not; it’s usually quite easy to do since he’s so inexperienced with girls.

- Getting mini gifts. A piece of candy here, a little trinket there, things like that.

- Dates at the Three Broomsticks. He loves kissing you and tasting the butterbeer on your lips.

- Dancing together.

- Spending time alone in the room of requirements.

- Sneaking around all the unknown tunnels and rooms of Hogwarts with him.

- Him using the invisibility cloak to come see you and sneak the two of you out somewhere.

- Study dates.

- Him helping teach you spells and defensive magic. He likes seeing that look of glee on your face when you do something right, and having the excuse to hold and guide your hand/stand close to you.

- Watching his eyes widen in shock and a smile spread across his face when you do something impressive. He’s so proud of you.

- Awkwardly and shyly reading news articles written about the two of you. Your parents have quite the reaction when they find out you’re dating the boy wizard himself.

- Hagrid gushing over and teasing the two of you. He sometimes gets a little sentimental seeing the two of you together. He knew Harry when he was such a wee little thing and here he is, all grown up and in such a lovely little relationship.

- Cheering him on at Quidditch games regardless of what house you’re in. It makes him so happy to see you rooting for him.

- Endearing sarcasm. He can be a smartass when he wants to be.

- Attempting to write to him over the summer.

- Having him stay with you over the summer or at least letting him visit for some time once you hear how he’s treated by the Dursley’s.

- Running to hug him when you’re finally reunited at the beginning of the school year.

- Being teased by Malfoy. Harry has probably almost killed him a couple of times; only stopped by the fact that Ron was holding him back.

- Hermione and Ron giving the two of you looks.

- Becoming a part of the golden “trio” and having double dates with Ron and Hermione.

- Accompanying him on adventures and quests.

- When everything starts to turn to shit around you, he may try to break up with you in order to protect you. He loves you too much to risk you getting hurt because of him.

- Standing by him, even when things go wrong and other people desert him.

- Comforting him. Harry has gone through a lot and though he won’t admit it to most people, he needs a little support. You’re his rock and he couldn’t live without you.

- He always tries his best to comfort you, even though he usually has no idea how or if his plan will work. That being said, he always just seems to know how to cheer you up.

- He’s a pretty jealous person but he tries to hide it most of the time. He hates the thought; and sight, of you with other boys and gets a bit annoyed whenever he sees you with them. He’ll be a bit passive aggressive when you go over to him, saying he’s “brilliant” when you ask what’s wrong. He just doesn’t want to lose you.

- He’s always surprised whenever you actually get jealous over him but he sort of likes it. He feels bad that you’re upset and reassures you that he only loves you but he can’t deny that it feels nice to know that you care enough about him to be jealous.

- Overprotective. After everything that’s happened to him and the people around him, he watches over you like you’re the most precious thing on earth. He’d defend you with his life if he had to.

- Harry tends to give you a sort of silent treatment when he’s mad, usually before saying something passive aggressive or harsh when you don’t really acknowledge his behavior or go to leave him alone. You’ll most likely argue until the issue is solved or until he shuts you out, either doing so by walking away in a huff or causing you to leave by his lack of responses.

- Regardless of whether you were in the wrong or if he was, he’s most likely the one to approach you. If you were in the wrong, he’ll come up to you and make some comment, trying to prompt an apology; because that’s all he really wants.

- If he’s in the wrong, he’ll feel really guilty and keep staring over at you until he can’t take it and finally asks if you can talk. He’ll ask how you are before telling you that he’s sorry and that he knows he was wrong. After he does so, he’ll ask if you forgive him/if you guys can go back to normal, smiling and kissing your cheek when you agree.

- There's quite a few I love you’s in your relationship. He loves hearing you say it; even though it flusters him, and he just feels the need to let you know how much he cares about you; especially as you get older and he loses more people without being able to let them know how important they were to him.

- The two of you will have to go through some difficult situations but he knows he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. You just need to get through this rough patch and then you can have a perfect little life together.

[aellynera]

An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby​ for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You:  Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @rosemarysbaby13 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @itspdameronthings @poedjarin @spider-starry @tinygaydemonbby @writefightandflightclub @woakiees @veuliee2 @yourbucky084​

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[volganic]

Song of Awakening

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] || [AO3] || [discord]

i didnt mean to take two months to update but ive been playing among us and now i have ideas for an among us au that i’ll never write

“I have to go back to the woods!”

“Absolutely not.”

They spent the better half of the morning bickering with each other: Link needed to complete his mission — the sole reason for leaving the castle — and Volga wouldn’t allow it. The dragon argued he was unconvinced that Link’s grief had fully passed for his fallen comrades; a wandering mind would only land him into more trouble if he wasn’t careful. Pinks and oranges of the early dawn bled into blue, and Link was growing impatient with Volga’s stubbornness. He folded his arms and stared the dragon down.

“I’m going back.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“I’m flattered that you think I need your protection, but I really don’t,” Link huffed. “If I don’t finish my tasks in Faron Woods, even you can’t protect me from the general’s wrath.”

“I would never keep you from your duties as the hero, but you are no hero yet,” Volga snapped. He rose from his seat with his spear in hand, drawing closer to take his turn to intimidate his smaller companion. “One Manhandla sapling is of no danger to you or your army — let it sprout. You are lying. There’s nothing in those woods for you except another death wish.” 

The Hylian refused to listen, bristling in his spot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Volga. There’s something else in there too, and after I kill the sapling, I’m going to find it.”

“Then I shall accompany you—”

“No!” Link put his foot down to interrupt Volga from spouting out another excuse or insult. “I can handle it alone from here. If I can’t do it, it only goes to show that maybe I’m not worth bearing the Triforce. I have to prove myself worthy.” 

Their eyes fell downward to Link’s gauntlet. Where Link might have considered the outcome of his last venture into the woods as cowardice, Volga saw it as means to survive. The Triforce was a sign of status; if this was how Link wanted to prove (to nobody but his goddesses) himself as worthy, Volga could allow it.

The spear in his grip slackened. With a grumble, he spoke. “Very well. If it puts your mind at ease, I will honor your decision.”

Link’s posture relaxed as his face broke into a sheepish smile. Maybe he’d win a lot of arguments from this point on if he used this excuse. He adjusted the holster holding his blade behind his back. “I’ll hold you to it; don’t think I forgot how you managed to sneak up on me last time.”

Volga turned away and grunted in response.

“Hey now,” the Hylian approached, placing a tentative hand on Volga’s arm, “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I also need supplies from the village below. As much as I like suffocating against your dragon body at night, I think I can manage a night of sleep with a decent bedroll!” Volga shot him a glare. Link smiled a bit wider, but his expression softened. “In all seriousness, thank you. You’re really a great friend.” 

Link gave the dragon’s limb a quick and gentle squeeze — a wordless promise to return when his mind was clear.  

——

The sun had yet to reach its highest point when the Hylian managed to enter the deepest part of the grove. The environment was serene, peaceful — a little too quiet for his liking. There were dangerous creatures that lived in these woods, he knew, and to not even hear the song of a bird or the buzz of an insect’s wings through the air perturbed him. The only sounds that reached his ears were the leaves rustling against the breeze with the occasional sound of twigs and gravel being crushed under his boots. 

The wooden bridge that led to an old Hyrulean outpost creaked underneath his weight, threatening to give out from the lack of use. It was useful back when he and Impa had led their small brigade when they had first encountered Lana, but the lack of upkeep since those few months had left the fortress withered and decaying, succumbing to the depths of the forest. Even if it had been months ago, the magic that lived in this place left it looking as if it hadn’t been used in centuries. 

Careful to cross the bridge through the other side of the outpost and to another keep, Link found what he was looking for — sort of. A Manhandla sapling in bloom lay in the center of the clearing where sunlight could seep through the branches overhead. Upon closer inspection, Link found that the bud itself had been ripped cleanly out of the plant. He took his sword in hand and approached it even closer, leery of finding it in hiding. The tip of his blade poked and prodded and turned the leaves over to find any evidence of the carnivorous creature. 

From the looks of it, either someone had done his job for him, killing the Manhandla sprout — or someone was bold enough to pluck it while in its sapling stage and grow it elsewhere.

While he was no botanist, the Hylian knew that it had to come to either of those outcomes; Manhandla in its sprouting stages weren’t mobile yet at this size. His mouth fell into a puzzled frown. Mission accomplished? As an added measure, Link staked the tip of the Magical Sword into the ground underneath where the Manhandla should have been, uprooting it from the earth. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure there's no chance of another one growing in its place, he thought, covering his nose and mouth with the folds of his scarf as his heels dug into and tore the leaves of the plant, cautious of its toxic dust.

Now it was mission accomplished.

——

The doors to the fairy fountain deep were heavy as Link pushed them to open. Clearly they haven’t been used since Farore knows when, kudzu and overgrowth nearly sealing the doors shut. If it weren’t for his sense of direction leading him astray from the forest path, fear of getting lost in these mysterious woods, and the crumbling staircase leading him there, he would’ve never found it.

The air inside the fountain was... different. It smelled wet, but held a crisp clean air about it as if unbothered by time outside of its doors, even with the scuffle with evil forces not so long ago. The Hylian tentatively stepped inside with sword in hand, half-expecting to be ambushed by something. Or someone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him as he moved to the middle of the room, watching for any shadows that moved behind the stained glass window on the fountain’s wall. When there was no promise of a threat, Link sheathed his weapon and approached the edge of the fountain. Despite the withered and crumbling rock around the edge, numerous flowers floated across the water as if they were freshly picked. 

Strange, he thought. Rumor had it that the Great Fairies often made themselves known to those of pure in mind and soul – something he would definitely argue he possessed. His ears picked up the faintest echo of a woman laughing, but paid it no mind – whoever it was, she was too far away for him to consider her an immediate threat. Delicately Link splashed his hand in the water, pulling some of the flowers toward his direction. The tips of his fingers barely grazed its petals before the water in the fountain began bubbling. 

Uh oh.

Link staggered backwards as a torrential wave of water erupted from the shallow water of the fountain. An infectious and jovial laugh assaulted his ears and a large shadow obscured the streaks of sunlight that poured the window. He felt dazed for only a moment, clothing soaking wet from the eruption and the water that dripped from the ceiling before he lay witness to a rather giant woman now in front of him. She studied him with a sultry eye and hummed pleasantly.

“O, hero of Hyrule,” she cooed, beckoning him with a manicured finger, “come into my fountain! Don’t be shy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment with the sudden realization that this was the Great Fairy. He never expected her to be not only outrageously “tall”, but voluptuous and seductive; the stories he had heard from merchants who had set up shop outside of the castle walls about the fairies did her no justice. Link pushed himself up and brushed off any rubble (he had to look at least somewhat decent in front of a lady) and obeyed, stepping over the edge of the fountain into its cool waters. Immediately whatever worry that lingered in his body seemed to wash away much more effectively than the springs on Death Mountain.

“What brings you here, my hero?” The Great Fairy invited him to sit closer to her. Link inched over and brought his hands up to sign. She leaned forward and delicately pushed his hands down. “There’s no need for that,” she winked. “I know what gifts the goddesses have bestowed upon you, and your secret is safe with me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly quashed it. Inhale, exhale. “How do you know about it?”

“Oh, my love,” she laughed cheerfully, “I know many things. I might be the closest thing to Hylia herself! It’s a wonder that people pray and come to me for guidance.” The Fairy stretched out on her stomach, hovering only inches above the water and giving her undivided attention to her guest. “I know that the guardian of Eldin is the one to have awakened your divine gift, and that he is keeping a close eye on you as your mentor. I can only hope that he continues to treat you well.”

Link sighed wearily at the mention of his friend — Volga would have easily objected to coming into any fairy fountain. “He does… in his own way.” A pause. “Do you know anything more about him?”

The Great Fairy chuckled softly. “That I am not inclined to say, dear hero.” Link then decided she knew more than she was letting on if she knew that they were friends in the first place. “You’ve come to seek me for guidance, have you not?” she asked, changing the subject. “How may I be of service?”

“Do you know anything about the witch, Cia? And Lana? What are their goals? What can I expect?” The Great Fairy cupped her hand under the water to slowly pour it over his head, sensing his unease. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck, shivering with the feeling of the cool water trickling down his collar as it alleviated his nerves slightly to prepare him for any life-changing revelations. “Do you think I’m prepared enough to take the role of the legendary hero?”

“My love,” she began, “I offer guidance and assistance, not opinions or visions of the future. I cannot tell you exactly what you must do to fully prepare yourself for the coming battle. I will be here to assist you when you need me the most in your most dire hour. What the goddesses have intended for you is out of my control. Your fate is in their hands.”

Link feared for the worst, expression growing downcast with the answers he was given. “However,” she interrupted, “I can tell you that it is more than admirable that you have come so far in your ordeals. You make a fine hero as you are now. I have no doubt that you will do only the best for Hyrule… even if you are grounded on his mountain.” She winked, her pink lips spreading into a sincere smile. Link could only smile back feeling how infectious hers was. 

“Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” she purred, reaching out to affectionately prod his cheek. The Great Fairy then rolled onto her back, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. “You must go now if there’s nothing more I can do to assist you, as much as I’d love to keep you here for myself. Your soul is bound to another, after all.”

Link felt his cheeks burn with the thought that the Great Fairy – the Great Fairy! – had found him appealing, but shook those thoughts out of his mind. Of course, legend always had found the hero bound to the princess. At least, it always presented itself that way. It wasn’t a destiny he would have personally chosen for himself, as he hasn’t had much interaction with Princess Zelda in the first place, but if the goddesses dictated it, so be it. As long as he served for Hyrule, he would serve for her. He stood silently and stepped out of the fountain with that in mind. 

“You will find your other half in the most unlikely of times, my love — in fact, you might have found it already!” she exclaimed suddenly when Link neared the entrance. He blinked and turned to look at her to ask what she meant, but she cut him off. “Please, do not hesitate to come see me again. It gets awfully lonely here.”

The Great Fairy made her exit with a dive and a splash into the short pool of water, laughing all the while. Link turned away to save himself from getting drenched again, finding that the woman was indeed gone, nothing but freshly picked flowers and a few silent fairies fluttering over the water’s edge in her wake.

——

“Massster! Human isss back! He bringsss thingsss!”

Volga turned away from the ores he had been attending to when the sound of the younger Lizalfos scouts pattering after their chieftain echoed off the rock walls. Their arms were filled with items that definitely had no place in his caves. He grumbled at the sight; Link might have been simple at first glance, but the items he had gathered in excess proved that he was going to be a pain in Volga’s side.

“Where is he now?”

“Bottom of mountain! Climbing ssslowly!”

“He may be a friend to our clan, but he will not treat you like his dogs,” he scowled, gesturing for them to drop whatever items Link had pushed onto them to the side. The scouts obeyed without a second wasted while their chieftain apprehensively drew to Volga’s side. 

“He asssk nicely. We help.”

“The boy is more capable of carrying his own rubbish up the mountain.” Volga’s frown remained. The chieftain stood patiently for any more orders. The dragon released a drawn out sigh and waved his kin away. “You have my leave to go. I will take care of the rest.”

With the clear dismissal, the chieftain scurried off further into the chambers of the caves, leaving Volga with his hoard of ores — and Link’s hoard of belongings. The dragon turned to the discarded items with a look of disgust. He left his own pile to sift through Link’s things; what on earth could he possibly need? Underneath the pile of clothes including his green tunic, there were a number of small bottles of potions, larger flasks of fragrant soups and broth, a few rupees here and there, a mirror — useless, useless things!

“What are you doing?”

Volga turned back to the entrance of the cavern. Link stood there with an incredulous expression having caught the dragon red-handed going through his things. He looked so different outside of his uniforms, clad only in a longer sleeved shirt that made him look like someone he wasn’t: someone lost; someone vulnerable; someone who shouldn’t be within his domain. Volga carelessly tossed the small mirror back into the pile. “You’re able to handle yourself, so why, I wonder, you use my kin to transport your rubbish up the mountain, I’m curious. Clearly it wasn’t worth the time.”

Link’s mouth formed a small frown. “If I’m offered help, I’m not gonna turn it down.” He pushed the sleeves up of his shirt up to his elbows and pushed through Volga to tend to the bottles. As callous as they were treated, none of them were broken. “I could have brought more, you know.”

“Essentials, I understand and commend you for. The mirror, however, is excessive.”

“Old habits die hard,” said the Hylian with a small hum in his voice. “I like mirrors. Appearances are important to keep up within the castle walls: I can’t act my part as a captain if I don’t look like one.” Carefully he picked up the round mirror and looked himself over in it. He couldn’t bring himself to look for too long; his hair was in disarray and dark circles began to form around his eyes from lack of proper sleep or rest; the exact opposite image of a hero. 

“If you have the strength to uphold your title, appearances mean nothing. As battered and broken as you look now, I’m well aware of what you are capable of.” The dragon strode back over to his own belongings, taking one long glance at the ores in their respective pails. He had more than enough to trade. “It’s well into the evening. You need to rest.”

Link nodded in agreement. “I also told you I’d bring my own bedroll. The caves are a little warm for me, and it’s not too cold out—”

“Sleeping outside?” Volga asked. “To leave yourself exposed? I think not.”

“You’re free to follow if you want, but I’ve already made up my mind,” Link announced, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and tucking his bundle underneath his arm as he made his way back outside. The rest of his belongings wouldn’t move anywhere. It took a good amount of restraint not to laugh when he heard Volga’s heavy footsteps following him a few paces away, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at his companion when he found a decent spot to settle down. “I take it you’ve never slept outside of the caves?”

“Why would I?” he bit back, crossing his arms over his chest to brave himself from the gentle breeze tickling his cheek. The temperature wasn’t at its lowest yet; Link really was a fool if he thought only a blanket and scarf were enough. “They offer all the protection you could need.”

“That’s true, but only if you’re either a dragon or have the means to survive in the heat.” Even with the fireshield earrings, the caves provided a little too much warmth. Waking up feeling uncomfortably sticky from sweat wasn’t necessarily pleasant. “I’ve never thanked you properly for the earrings before, but you nearly burned my ear off when I had the chance. So thanks for that, too.” Link’s face twisted into a pout at the memory, but it didn’t stop him from patting the grass next to him to invite the dragon closer. “At least here outside you can see the sky.”

“And that leaves you exposed to the elements, too, boy,” Volga said with a tone that clearly painted him as annoyed. Regardless, Link took satisfaction when the dragon made an effort to humor him by taking the spot next to him at least an arm’s length away. The dragon removed his helmet and held it to his chest as he laid down. It felt strange being so close to home, yet so far away, left vulnerable to the bitter cold that crept underneath every crevice of his armor. A puff of smoke left his lips to try and regulate his body temperature. The sound of Link shuffling around in his bedroll couldn’t drown out his amusement. “Is there something you find funny?”

“No.” Though the scarf around his neck concealed most of the Hylian’s face, it was obvious that he was lying. Volga held his stare, but turned away when it was clear that Link wasn’t going to budge. This was stupid. He couldn’t fathom why he continued to play in Link’s games, but he never had also expected to take him under his wing. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but keeping Link so close seemed to soothe it, and, despite the immaturity he displayed more often than he should, the Hylian was slowly fitting into his hero role. That enough was satisfactory. 

“Have you ever been to the village below?”

Volga’s eyes remained closed. “No. I have no interest in mingling among those beneath me.”

“Do you even have friends?” Link propped himself up on his arms. “And before you say your scouts or chieftains, they don’t count. I mean anyone outside your tribe.”

“I have you,” Volga said, “but sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a poor choice in keeping you as a friend.” He tilted his head and cracked an eye open, knowing full well that his comment would strike a nerve. In a huff, Link turned over and pulled the covers up to his ears. It was Volga’s turn to laugh quietly. “I have you, and I have ties with the Goron Patriarch. I wouldn’t have as grand of a collection without him.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.” Link turned onto his back. “It wouldn’t hurt to expand your horizons. I heard that merchants are supposed to stop by and trade in the village tomorrow.”

“I’d rather not. They have nothing I could possibly want.”

“Now you’re just being a killjoy, Volga.” Link chided with a yawn. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Enough.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No,” he interrupted, “I mean to say ‘I’m old enough’. I doubt you would believe me should I reveal my true age to you, which is why ‘enough’ should be a sufficient answer.” Volga let the words hang in the air for a moment for Link to absorb it, followed by, “You should be resting, boy, not spewing whatever thoughts are bouncing around in your mind with answers you can’t comprehend. With your duties to your army fulfilled, we resume ours in the morning.”

“One more question?” Before being given the chance to be shot down, the Hylian asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

The dragon remained silent. Of all things, that’s what he wanted to know? Whether it was out there to annoy him, or purely out of innocence, Volga didn’t know — and didn’t know how to answer it himself. As a dragon, instinct had told him to curb the favoritism to ward off those with prying eyes, as thieves were around every bend to steal whatever he coveted most. As for favorites, he realized then he didn’t have many — a favorite weapon? A favorite meal? A favorite song? — much less narrowed down to a specific color. He lived in a world painted in reds and oranges and yellows and greens with splashes of golds and silvers and a bioluminescent blue, but none of it appealed to him. 

Volga craned his neck to look back at Link, unsure of how to answer and unsure of how Link would react, only to find that either he had taken too much time mulling over his response, or the Hylian was more exhausted than they had initially thought. Link had succumbed to the fierce grip of sleep. Under the covers of his bedroll, Volga could see Link’s chest rising and falling, his breaths light and evenly spaced; finally at peace. Without the expanse of the ocean staring back at him waiting expectantly for an answer, clarity had struck through Volga, and he knew his answer. The words poured out just above a whisper:

“I’m fond of the color blue.”

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Family Fights - Chapter Four

Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: I’m not too happy with this chapter, but it will get better, hopefully!

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4)

She hadn’t had anyone outside her family in her house for over an year. She hadn’t given this much thought before, but as her guests entered her house for the evening, it became stark clear to her that she had not properly prepared her home to receive outsiders.

Not that there was anything dirty or smelly - Maven made sure to keep her house in good conditions, as her mother had taught her. It helped her keep a clear mind. But she could tell that she should probably had put some things away before Johanna arrived that evening, bringing with her the elf that apparently lived with them and her very new apprentice.

She eyed warily the books piles on the living room’s shelves, frowning at titles such as “Advanced Spirit Work: Protections” and “Introduction to Blood Magick”. The elf, taking the place in from his spot at the woman’s ear, hurriedly jotted down notes as he tried to distinguish all the different sorts of ingredients on their glass jars by the room’s windowsill. While Hilda… Hilda looked like she was having the time of her life.

“Your house is so cool!” She told Maven when the librarian gestured for her guests to sit down on the sofa. “Does no one suspect that you’re a witch with all this stuff around, though?”

Maven shrugged, leaning her hip against the big table where she used to take her meals with her family, once upon a time. “Not many people come here. Mostly few cousins, but they know about witchcraft, even though their branch of the family lost the gift.”

“Will you teach me how to cast a spell today?” Hilda asked, looking up at her with shining, excited eyes, and Maven noticed out of the corner of her own eyes that Johanna didn’t look at all very happy with that prospect.

“There’s still much for you to learn before I can teach you how to cast a spell.” Maven sighed. “But first, did you read the book? What did you think of it?”

The girl bit her lip and tried to look less guilty, failing and giving it away that she had barely reached its half. “I found it very informative.”

“Well, it was quite a heavy book, anyway. I don’t blame you for not thinking it a page turner. Would you lot like some tea?”

Hilda and Johanna exchanged looks. “Not now, but thank you. Could you explain us what you’ll be doing today?”

The librarian nodded at Johanna’s words, and pulled a chair from the table for herself. “Of course. We’ll be looking at the basics of energy work today.”

In a few minutes, Maven tried to put the most important concepts of energy work in the easiest way to understand she could think of- she talked about how every being had energy, and about how some of them were energy, like the faeries. She talked about how witches could wield this universal energy to do their wish, and that this was how spells worked. She talked about grounding and visualization and energy raising, and she was happy to notice that Johanna seemed to grow less suspicious with the explanations. The elf had been writing down everything she said, even going as far as asking her a few questions along the way.

“When you’re ready, I’d like to try a grounding exercise with you.” She told Hilda, who promptly stood up and declared herself ready to go.

Maven asked Johanna to remain inside the house. This was a very simple and safe exercise, and it would be better for Hilda to be alone so she could properly concentrate. Then she brought the girl to her kitchen, where a door led to a simple garden at the back of the house.

“Sit down.” She instructed as the sun dipped lower, the sky getting ready for dusk. She set down herself on the grass, cross legged in front of her student.

“Grounding is an exercise to rid yourself of unwanted energy. It will stabilize you. Close your eyes.”

The girl did as she was told, but looked none too happy about it. The librarian figured she probably expected something more magical on her first class, but it would do them no good to skip the essentials.

“When you exhale, imagine all bad energy leaving your body. When you inhale, imagine pure one entering it.”

Hilda broke the exercise, opening her eyes. “How am I supposed to imagine energy?”

Maven sighed, but she supposed it was a valid question. “I like to imagine negative ones as clouds of smoke or dirt. I usually see the new ones as golden, but what really matters is that it feels right to you. Trying to visualize it is important in order to make you feel it, there’s no wrong way to do it.”

Though she looked confused, she nodded and closed her eyes again. After a few minutes had gone by, and Maven could feel her apprentice more balanced, more in tune with the nature around her, she spoke up again.

“Imagine a tree root coming out of your backbone.” She was pleased when Hilda startled slightly at her voice, a clear indication that she had been concentrating at the exercise. “Imagine it growing all the way down to the earth. If there’s still leftover energy that you wish to let go, let it flow through your roots and let the earth absorb it.”

Attuned as she was to all the different energies around her, Maven could feel all the negative, chaotic energy leaving Hilda, even more so than with the breathing exercise. This was good. It was important for each witch to learn what worked best for them.

“Now feel the roots growing even deeper, to earth’s core. Can you imagine it? Glowing with harmonic energy?”

“Yes.” Hilda whispered.

“Let the roots absorb this energy and bring it to you, filling you up with it. Keep up this switch of energies, just like you were doing before.”

Slowly, silently, Maven got to her feet and went back inside, to find that Johanna had been watching them through the window.

“She’s doing very well.” She informed the mother, who looked somewhat proud at that. “Let’s leave her at it for a few minutes. Your girl has a lot of pent up energy, she could do with some meditating.”

Johanna chuckled, agreeing with the librarian and thinking that the woman must truly be a powerful witch, to be able to get Hilda to calm down and reflect, or whatever it was that the two of them had been doing.

“Miss Underhill!” Came a small voice in the middle of their chat. “Would you mind if I took a look at your books? They seem impressive!”

Maven tilted her head at the elf, who was now at her kitchen’s counter trying to organize the many notes he had taken that evening. “Of course. Do you want me to take you to the shelves, or…”

“No need!” He chirped as he jumped from the counter. Though her parents had made sure she had signed elf paperwork at a very young age, she had had few opportunities to actually see them, since there were very few in Trollberg, so she was quite impressed to find they could jump from so high.

“Yeah, it surprised me at first too.” Johanna spoke, as if she had been reading her thoughts, and smiled when Maven felt her cheeks heat up a little.

“Tell me, how did you happen to come across an elf? He is not from Trollberg, is he?” The elves Maven had found inside the city walls were all somewhat wild. She didn’t think this one fit among them.

“No, he’s not.” Johanna chuckled. “Hilda brought Alfur over from the wilderness. His tribe had attacked us.”

The woman seemed amused at the librarian’s lack of response. She had thought that apart from the Lost Clan, elves were supposed to be peaceful. She’d definitely ask the two of them for more of that story later.

“I see. Would you like that tea now?”

Johanna thought it over, raising her eyes to the ceiling, from which she noticed hung twigs of dried herbs and branches. “I don’t want to impose… besides, I should probably give Hilda dinner soon.”

She rubbed her left hand against her right arm, looking out at the window to try to get a glimpse of Hilda. She didn’t really want to go, but she didn’t know how Hilda would feel once her training was over for the day. Maybe she’d want to go straight home.

“It’s fine if you’d rather not, but you’re definitely not imposing, Johanna.”

Oh well, she thought, not really wanting to resist anymore, there was no trouble with a cup of tea.

She accepted and watched with wonder how carefully the librarian prepared the brew. It was not from a sachet, like it often was at her own home, but rather from herbs and flowers that Johanna suspected Maven had dried, and maybe even planted, herself.

When she was done, there were three cups of tea on the counter. “I, uh, don’t think I have anything fit for the elf.”

Johanna chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll understand. Will you call Hilda now?”

“Yes. She’s been at it for long enough.” Maven nodded before excusing herself to go outside. The sky was beginning to turn purple and blue with the night setting in, and the sounds of insects all around them was getting louder.

The librarian sat in front of her student. A more experienced witch would have been able to sense Maven’s presence, but as it was Hilda remained unaware of it. Carefully so as not to startle her, Maven touched her fingertips to the back of the girl’s hand, resting on her knees.

“Feel those roots shortening… coming towards you… shrinking into you once more.” She whispered. “When you’re ready, open your eyes.”

She did so few seconds later, a smile slowly spreading over her face. “That’s… not what I had been expecting, but I feel so well! Like I’m focused and awake but… calm?”

“That’s exactly the point.” Maven chuckled. “If you could do that everyday before you go to sleep, that would be good. It would even help you sleep better.”

Maven rocked herself on her heels and got up, offering a hand for Hilda to take. “All of it?”

“No need, just try the part with the roots. I just asked you to try both because I wanted to see which you’d respond the best to.”

Inside, Hilda wasted no time in rushing to her mother to describe how she felt. Maven smiled with some measure of satisfaction at Johanna’s happiness as she saw her daughter’s interest on the lessons. The woman truly wanted to help Maven, but she would never ask her daughter to do something she didn’t want to.

Leaving Hilda to her tea, Maven walked over to where Alfur was studiously inspecting a tome on the different ways to use crystals in witchcraft. Amused at his interest, she didn’t bother him as she looked for a book in specific. It took her a while before she realized that it wasn’t there.

Sighing, she moved to her room, hoping her disappearance wouldn’t be noticed. She tip toed past where Freya was sleeping on her bed, and her shoulders slumped when she saw where the book was, even though she had already reached this conclusion.

The book she wanted was sitting on Myra’s shelf, mocking her with the reminder of how badly she’d failed her sister, and how her sister had failed them in return. But there was no time to wallow in past mistakes, she thought as she took “Basics of Witchcraft for Children�� from its place. This was all about fixing the past, not being choked by it.

This had probably been the first book she’d read without her mother’s help. It was nearly a tradition that this book would be passed down from parents to children in their family. There were notes, written in childish, immature handwriting by many of their family members: her mother, her uncle, her grandmother, and even a few people she didn’t get to meet. Myra had also read it, and the book remained with her, waiting for one of the sisters to have children of their own or for someone with magical gifts to be born to the other branches of their family, to be passed down and read and scribbled on once again.

Well, her sister’s fate was terribly uncertain, and it was extremely unlikely that Maven would have a child herself, so there was no harm in giving it to Hilda for the time being. She was sure the girl would appreciate the direct and concise way the author wrote.

She went back to the kitchen and finished her tea with her guests. They were joined by Alfur not much longer.

“I have to make up for the tea someday.” Johanna quipped, a lovely smile adorning her face.

Maven lifted her eyebrows, amused. “You really don’t.”

“You should come by our house someday, I could make you dinner!”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” The librarian kicked back at her, making the woman roll her eyes. “And dinner in return for tea? That doesn’t sound very balanced.”

Johanna helped Maven put the cups in the sink, filling them with water. “Well, then you could make up to me later. In some way.”

Hilda and Alfur exchanged a look at their banter, the two of them already waiting by the door where the two women couldn’t see them. “I’m sure I can think of something.” Maven said as she walked Johanna to the exit.

They said their goodbyes, and Hilda thanked her once again for the lesson and for the book, assuring her that she’d read this one. They scheduled their next meeting for the next Saturday; they would once again meet in her house.

As Maven watched the trio go away, the moon shining its light on them, she mused that even if this didn’t work, a thought that greatly pained her heart, she had at least got to know good people. Whatever the outcome, she’d already won something.

[dontdietwd]

Day 67, part 2

I had my eyes closed as I sat on a rocking chair on the porch of the farm house. Everything was silent now, except for my own ears ringing loudly in stress. I breathed in, allowing my head to rest on the back of the chair, and out, slowly, my feet nudging the wooden floor to rock the chair softly. Otis and Shane had left for the high school, Maggie was gone looking for Lori, and the others were around Carl. I was a quiet moment, which I highly valued. I had to cool down, allow my body to return to normal, allow my brain to stop screaming.

I knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did.

The door to the house creaked open to let out both Rick and Hershel, who joined me on the porch. Hershel sat on the chair by my side and Rick stood on the railing, looking outside.

“Your farm is beautiful, Mr. Greene,” I said in a low voice, as if scared to mess up with the rare peace of the moment. “I can see you take very good care of it.”

“It’s been in my family 160 years.”

“I can’t believe how serene it is,” Rick said looking out. “How untouched. You’re lucky.”

“We aren’t completely unscathed…” the old man disagreed from his chair. “We’ve lost friends, neighbors. The epidemic took my wife and my step son.”

I nodded looking down, “I’m sorry… It’s like there ain’t nobody alive who ain’t lost someone these days.”

“It sure is, but my daughters were spared. I’m thankful to God for that. These people here? All we got left is each other.”

“Yeah… We know how it is. We, our group… We’re also al we got.”

“Let’s hope we can ride it out in peace until there is a cure.”

Rick looked back into the porch and his eyes met mine, we both thinking the same. Rick looked down and out to the field again as I tried to choose my words.

“Mr. Greene… We’ve been on the road for a while now. We tried shelter in different places. One of them was at the CDC, in Atlanta. The most important place nearby that’d be working on a cure,” I paused, making Hershel look at me, waiting for me to finish. “It’s destroyed. Blew up to pieces, we all nearly blew up with it. They had no cure.”

Surprisingly, he smiled. “I don’t believe it. When aids came along everyone panicked. One boy in town came down with that and some parents pulled their children from school so they didn’t have to sit in the same room.”

“This is a whole other thing…” Rick said shaking his head and he turned to face us in the chairs, leaning against the rail.

“This is what we always say, ‘this one’s different’. Mankind have been fighting plagues from the start. We get our behinds kicked for a while. And then we bounce back,” with a serene smile, he looked from me to Rick and back. “It’s nature correcting itself, restoring some balance.”

We exchanged a look again and Rick lowered his head, his disbelief in the man’s words clear.

“Well,” I started carefully, “I don’t believe it, Mr. Greene. I really don’t… But I’ll be more than happy to be wrong about it. I hope we’re wrong about it.”

Maggie came back on the horse with Lori by then, galloping across the same field I had run just a short while ago, the sunset painting a beautiful picture that ended up unobserved. I stood on the porch with Hershel as Rick went to meet his wife on the garden in front of the house, telling her what happened and holding her as she cried, and then leading her inside. I sat back down on the rocking chair, my throat painful at the sight of the mother’s desperation.

“Delivered your message,” Maggie told me as she climbed the steps. “You were right; he did not trust me.”

I gave her a little smile, “He was protecting the group… Takes his job very seriously.”

“He your guy?”

I huffed, “What? No… It’s – I don’t, he’s…” and I paused to get in control, and finally shook my head. “No.”

With a knowing smile, Maggie dropped it, “Did you eat already?”

“Just a glass of juice… Don’t know if I can stomach much more.”

Rick gave Carl blood once again and could barely walk after that, his face pale and sweaty, but still refused to sit when he and Lori joined Hershel and I in the dining room, so Lori could understand better what was about to happen. Later, I sat once again on a bench outside on the porch, under the shadow of the house. Maggie joined me, quietly taking a seat by my side. Sun had come down and still Shane and Otis had not returned with the equipment, the emotions at the house growing tense by the minute. Everybody knew what they might be facing out there and everything that could go wrong, but an unspoken agreement made us not mention it, and simply wait.

Going over everything that had happened today, so far, I felt like I’d been awake for days already. So much had happened! Improvised breakfast at the road, Andrea’s drama, the search on the woods, the corpse on the tent, the church bell and the hope it arose, the disappointment, the deer, Otis and the shot, the run and the farm and, finally, just minutes ago, realizing Mr. Greene was actually a veterinarian.

Craziest and longest day ever.

I smiled for a moment before starting to laugh, quietly, my shoulders increasingly shaking. Maggie turned to look at me, eyes a little wide, gob smacked.

“Sorry! It’s crazy, it’s just…” and I kept laughing. “It’s just that, you know, feels like a week ago but just a couple of hours ago, Otis –” and I paused to laugh a little more. “Otis said ‘go to Hershel, he’s a vet, he’ll help!’ and we were all like ok, well, a veteran!” I laughed more, just a little louder, and Maggie started laughing with me, understanding the line of thought. “We never thought vet meant veterinarian!”

We were still laughing softly together when a car appeared at the far, the low ruffle of the motor disturbing the silence of the farm.

“Is it them?” Maggie asked.

I stretched my neck to see over the railing, “Not all of them, we got more cars,” and I got up, squinting to try and see who was driving but the lights made it impossible. I wondered why just one car, where was everybody else, what had happened, and in a second a thousand scenarios crossed my mind, how unaware of things I was now and how uncomfortable that felt. Where was Daryl?

Glenn and Theodore hopped out of the car looking curious but calm and I sighed in relief. Seemed like everything was fine. Except for Theodore himself, who was wrapped in a blanket even though the evening was nearly as hot as the day had been and looked nearly white on his paleness. I stood on top of the stairs, waiting for them to approach.

“Holy shit, T,” I said as a hello. “You look like hell.”

He laughed and sounded high, “Gee, thanks!”

“He’s got a fever,” Glenn explained as they stopped there. “Cut’s infected. Daryl gave him a few of Merle’s pills, some antibiotic I guess.”

“Okay, come on, let’s take a look at it,” I gestured them to come up.

“You okay?” Glenn asked me as he came up and pointed at my eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah, just a twig, was nothing.”

“Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” Maggie asked them from where she was still sitting and both Glenn and Theodore looked past me at her, only now noticing there was someone else there.

“Uh, hi,” Glenn raised a hand lamely. “Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again, we met before, briefly.”

“This is Maggie,” I told them as the girl got up from the bench. “Maggie, Glenn and Theodore.”

Theo just nodded, his eyes nearly closed as if asleep, and Glenn waved again.

“Where are the others? Why only you two came?”

“Daryl decided they should stay one more night. Says he’s gonna put a sign for Sophia in case she comes back to let her know we’re looking and to wait there. Set some supplies too. They’ll all come in the morning.”

I nodded, the sense of pride I’d been feeling for Daryl showing it’s face once again.

“Look, we came to help,” Glenn kept talking. “Is there anything we can do? We got some antibiotics and painkillers, if Carl needs it.”

“Come in inside. I’ll make something to eat. You too Sam, is your stomach settled enough, you think?”

“Yes, it’s definitely better.”

We followed Maggie inside and she went straight to the kitchen. I gestured them both to follow me and stopped at the bedroom’s threshold, pointing inside. Glenn and Theo solemnly entered, their faces betraying the distress in seeing Carl lying there like that. Inside, Rick and Lori saw them and nodded their greetings.

“Uh… We’re here, okay?” Glenn told them nearly in a whisper. Whatever you need.”

Glenn was a sweetheart. Not for the first time I felt a wave of tenderness towards him. He was a gentle man, not much more than a teenager actually, he had to be what, nineteen, twenty tops? I felt like if I’d ever had a brother, I wanted him to be just like Glenn, if life had given me one.

Patricia came to stitch Theo’s arm, poor woman, I could see the worry in her eyes, her heart must have been aching right now, and she had to just do something as she waited for her husband to come back. I hoped he did, both he and Shane. I sat at the table with them and Glenn just paced nervously around us, because Theo was getting stitches, and many of them, with no anesthesia at all and man, that had to hurt. On the table, the sort of medication Daryl had found in Merle’s bag.

Damn, the man was a walking pharmacy! I wondered how he was coping without them now; withdrawal must be kicking his ass. Been through it, didn’t want to be on his shoes right now. And where the hell was he, anyway? Without a hand!

“Merle Dixon,” I heard Patricia say as is reading my thoughts. “Is that your friend with the antibiotics?”

Uh, tough subject. Glenn looked at me and we exchanged a second. He must have known it was hard to me to talk about it.

“No, ma’am,” he answered instead. “Merle’s no longer with us. Daryl gave us those… His brother.”

“Not sure I’d call him a friend,” Theo was able to groan out though his pain with the stitches.

“I would,” I said immediately and Theo looked at me, kind of an unreadable expression. “Merle was my friend, all things considered,” I paused for a moment to gain some drama and moved on, “Horrible person! The one you’d want away from you. But ended up being my friend after all.”

“Well, horrible person or not,” Patricia looked from me to Theo, “he is your friend today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life.”

“You know what Merle was taking it for?” Maggie asked as she held Theo’s arm in place.

“The clap,” Glenn answered quickly and caught himself. Every one of us was looking at him and I fought the urge to laugh at his awkwardness. “Uh… Venereal disease. That’s what Daryl said.”

“I’d say Merle Dixon’s clap was the best thing that happened to you,” Patricia declared and this time I did laugh, out loud, just a Maggie did.

“I’m really trying not to think about that!” Theo suffered just a bit more.

Glenn left the room then, apparently unable to take Theo’s pain and the needles and his own awkwardness anymore. Poor guy, this instant crush on Maggie was palpable. She really was very pretty, and nice. I liked her a lot. I was glad to see her follow him out just a minute later, as soon as Theo’s stitches were done and she could let his arm go.

“Your turn,” Patricia told me after Theo thanked her and stumbled out of the chair, all but dragging himself over to the couch.

“Oh, God… Do I really have to?” I whined a bit.

“Come here, let me take a look.”

I got up from the chair I was in and occupied the one Theo vacated. Patricia removed my eyebrow bandage and looked the cut over before saying, “Sorry to disappoint, dear, but this will be a three or four stitches. It’s a small cut, but it went a bit deep and eyebrows tend to bleed a lot, see this?” she showed me the bandage and it was all red in new blood that had come out after Maggie tended to it.

“Yes, I figured. Let’s get on with it then…”

It did hurt a lot, the needle and the stitches perforating my skin, I could feel everything. But I didn’t cry out as much as Theo did, I’m proud to say. I ended up being four stitches, and a much smaller bandage after it was done.

A while later, I was sitting on the porch with a bowl of warm oatmeal, made with milk, and with raisins in it – oh, the heavens! Breakfast food for dinner, and the sustenance, it was just amazing. I ate is fast, but still appreciated the flavor of every spoonful. I was already scraping the bowl then a car approached. I placed it aside and got up to recognize Otis’ old truck. They were back! I got up and ran down the porch stairs just as the others left the house to greet them back.

Shane got out of the driver’s seat and took heavy bags from inside the car, and he limped his way to meet us, breathless, his eye wide and not blinking. He was a wreck. Something had gone really, really wrong, and where the fuck was Otis?

“Carl?”

“There’s still a chance,” Rick told him as Hershel took the bags and handed them to Glenn.

“Otis?” he asked Shane, also noticing his absence.

Shane looked down.

Fuck.

He took another moment to answer, saying simply “No.”

Fuck! We had just got that family’s friend killed.

There was a stunned silence and, by my side, I hear Maggie take a painful intake of breath. Hershel looked around, lost, and after a moment said “We say nothing to Patricia. Not ‘till after. I need her,” and he grabbed the heavy bags on his own again and ran inside.

Rick went to Shane and hugged him, thankful. I turned to Maggie, who was frozen on her spot and touched her shoulder. When she looked at me her green eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled.

“I’m so sorry… God, I’m so sorry, Maggie…”

[stillebesat]

"It’s an egg!” and “THE EGG IS HATCHING!” with Dragon!Virgil and any other Side, please?

Egg-stenuating Circumstances

Sanders Sides: Roman, VirgilFic Type: Dragon!Au, FantasyBlurb: Why is it that the simplest of quests for Roman always end up more complicated than they should be?Warnings: None (let me know if I need to add any)

“If this witch can’t help me, I’m eating you.” Virgil growled over Roman’s head as they moved through the forest, the black dragon’s larger feet picking through the underbrush with much more coordination than they had a fortnight ago, even if he still made enough noise to wake up the city a day’s ride way.

Roman barely flinched at the threat, having heard it a dozen times already, though it didn’t stop a shiver from running down his spine every time the dragon spoke. He kept moving ahead of Scales with his trusty blade bared, head on a swivel as he scanned the trees for potential threats. “No you’re not.”

“Am too.” 

“You’ve said that before with every witch we’ve encountered.” Roman smirked, turning to gesture down at himself. “And I’m still very much out here and not in you.”  

“And every time another witch chases us off with molten fireballs, the temptation grows stronger.” Virgil hissed under his breath as his horns tangled for the thousandth time in a tree branch.

Roman silently raised his eyes to the forest canopy as Scales worked to free himself, the talons as long as his sword digging gouges deep into the earth as he fought a losing battle with the tree. 

At this rate they would only make it another mile or two before the sun set.

He exhaled, sheathing his weapon. “Hold on–” Roman jumped up, grabbing onto one of Virgil’s spikes and swung himself up onto the dragon’s back, navigating between the two furled wings and up the shimmering black scales of the neck with much more ease than most of the towers he’d climbed in order to rescue damsels in distress. “You know this quest would be much easier if we just–”

“Don’t.” The wings on Virgil’s back trembled, curling tighter.

Roman rolled his eyes, balancing on Spikey’s large head so he could untangle the horns. “Fly, Virgil.” 

They could have seen another twenty witches by now if only–He yelped as the dragon jerked his head down and to the side, sending Roman flying into undergrowth, through a dozen bushes and over a small stream to roll to a stop against a half buried boulder. 

Ow. 

“WE. ARE. NOT. FLYING.” 

Roman spat out a mouthful of leaves, roughly brushing the back of his hand over his eyes to dislodge the dirt. Okay. Maybe he deserved that. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask for a flying lesson.” He called back, blinking his vision clear.

It wasn’t the worst or the furthest way he’d been thrown. He’d suffered more with the Kelpie that had played wild bronco with him, but still.

“Well, that’s the only way you’re getting off the ground, because I didn’t ask to be changed into a dragon either!” Virgil snarled, the crash of falling trees marking his approach. 

Yah yah. Roman was familiar with the complaint. “Gotcha, Scales. No wings next time, I got the concept.” He said, ignoring the shadow that fell over him. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a next time. The sooner he saw the back of Spikey’s human self the better. 

Brushing the twigs from his hair Roman dropped his hands to push himself up and frowned as his fingers encountered cool glass…in the middle of nowhere. “What the?” He mumbled, brushing away a dusting of dirt, his fingers flashed with sudden warmth, leaving red streaks shimmering on the surface of a–

“It’s an egg!” Virgil hissed, black tail curling around an opalescent egg nearly the size of Roman’s head, leaving a shimmering large band of purple across it as the dragon pulled it out of his reach. “You don’t mess with those!”

“And what exactly are you doing then?” Roman demanded, pushing up onto one elbow, frowning as Virgil hunkered down, tail protectively keeping the egg close to him. “You don’t even know what type of egg that is!” He certainly didn’t. Roman had never seen anything like what was peeking out from Scales tail before and he’d raided dozens of nests.

The dragon growled, fanning out his wings defensively. “I’m keeping you from breaking it, or worse.”

Huh. Fire and Brimstone had never struck him as the paternal type.  

“Worse? Ha.” Roman shoved to his feet. “Beyond the fact that I-” He gestured to himself. “Am a Valor. What could I do that is worse than breaking it? Which, by the way, I wasn’t going to do.” He jabbed a finger to the black dragon. “Which one of us here is a) the giant fire-breathing dragon and b) the one who just threw me halfway across the forest and into the nest!” 

He never would have found it if it hadn’t been for Scaredy Cat here refusing to fly because of a fear of heights. He was a dragon for crying out loud! Master of the Skies! Surely a human fear wouldn’t transfer into a dragon body. It had to be against his new instincts to spend so long on the ground.

Silver eyes glittered at him as Scales bared his teeth, ears laying back. “Who turned who into the freaking Dragon with their uncontrollable magic, oh mighty Valor? It certainly isn’t me.”

Oh. That was low. Roman clenched his hands, fighting to breathe normally as red sparks briefly flickered along his fingertips. 

It wasn’t his fault that the wildmagic had chosen to unexpectedly manifest in him during his battle with a Manticore-Chimera monstrosity rampaging through the Capital. 

After all, it was a magic that Valors weren’t supposed to have because it was corrupted. A magic that had, when Roman had been seeking a shield to protect himself with, decided to change Virgil from cloaked stranger sheltering in a market stall into a huge black dragon that had defeated the Manticore-Chimera in a bonfire of purple tinted flames.

“And I’ve told you before.” Roman managed say in a mostly steady voice, moving his hand behind his back as he pushed to his feet. “That it was an accident! And I am going to fix it!”

That was his job. He fixed things. He saved people. He rescued the damsels in distress. He could do this!

“You keep saying that and yet here I am STILL,” Virgil’s wings flapped for emphasis, sending last years fallen leaves swirling into the air. “A dragon.”

Because Sparky’s particular problem turned out to be a bit more…complicated than Roman had originally thought. Wildmagic refused to work with other magics. Even though they’d tracked down and taken the human-turned-dragon to at least a dozen witches and sorcerers to undo Roman’s accidental …alterations to the market boy, they’d only encountered failure after failure. Fleeing for their lives more often than not.

And it was all Roman’s fault. 

His fault that Virgil was still a dragon. That he had no control over his…magic. Perhaps it was best that the dragon kept the now red and purple egg away from him before the wildmagic ruined another life. 

Roman forced himself to meet the dragon’s silver eyes. “You won’t be forever.” He said, working to keep confidence in his voice. That was all he could promise. His other ones of ‘by sunset,’ in ‘three days,’ and ‘before the full moon’ had proven his word wasn’t worth a grain of salt to the wildmagic running through his veins. But no matter what it took, he would find a way to get the dark cloaked market boy back. 

The silence stretched out until Virgil huffed, blowing smoke into his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Or you’ll eat me?” He offered, closing the distance so he could crouch down near the now mostly purple egg. He frowned. Huh. It was almost like the color was bleeding from Virgil onto the shell. Why–He blinked, his own fingers warming again as he brushed its glassy surface, leaving a wash of red streaks in his wake. 

What sort of egg changed colors from touch? There had been nothing in his Valor training that mentioned such a possibility. 

Virgil hissed dropping his wing down, shoving Roman back. “What did I say about touching the egg?” 

Roman threw his hands up in the air. “Do you see my fingers sparking at all?” He demanded, hoping Scales would ignore the fact they’d been doing just that two minutes earlier. 

“You could still break it! Your magic has done weirder things.”

True. He didn’t want to dwell on that. “You’re the one with your tail wrapped around it!” He shot back. “Are you planning to babysit it until the parents maybe come back, because I wouldn’t be surprised if your bumbling presence has scared them awa–”

CRACK.

They both froze at the sound, Scales eyes growing wide as he quickly whipped his tail away from the egg. “You don’t think–”

Oh, there was definitely a noticeable crack along the purple and red streaked section. A blind man would have been able to see it from a mile away. Roman tensed, dropping his hand down to his sword. 

“Virgil!” 

Virgil’s wings lifted straight up as he dropped his head down next to Roman’s, laser focused on the rocking egg. “I didn’t do it!” 

“You didn’t–” Roman shoved Scales nose away and darted forward, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “You’re the one who moved it from its spot and NOW THE EGG IS HATCHING!” He winced as his voice rose an octave. 

There was no need to panic. No need at all. Just a freaking mystery egg was hatching in front of them and he had no idea what to expect or how to help. He knew you couldn’t force a hatching, but was this egg like a dragon’s egg where the parents needed to help out or like a chicken egg where the chicks could do it themselves?

“How was I supposed to know!” Scales demanded, sounding nearly as hysterical as Roman felt as he crouched down nearby, his wings practically radiating a summer’s heat wave they mantled over the violently shaking egg. “What if it dies because of us–How are we–”

BANG. BANG. CRACK.

They flinched as the top half of the egg exploded, the shell ricocheting off of Virgil’s wing as the baby spilled out onto the forest floor. 

Roman’s heart jumped into his throat. A yellow and black tail similar to Virgil’s writhed in the dirt in place of legs as small human like arms waved in the air near the baby’s very human head. A human head that, with the exception of a scattering of dragon scales covering the left side of his face, looked very similar to Roman’s baby portraits. Curly hair and all. 

It was like this creature was…was a combination of…of him and…and–

A loud cry pierced through the air as the baby turned his head to them, small fangs glinting in the sunlight as wide mismatched green and silver eyes locked onto theirs, pleading for help.

“Virgil…” Roman licked his lips, shakily reaching out to take one of the babe’s hands, lightly running his thumb over the tiny seed sized scales there at the same time the dragon’s black tail reached out to curl around the baby’s. “I-I think we’re parents now.” 

End

Taglist: @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @redundant-statements-for-400 @aikogumi @depressed-alone @lizziepopanime @midnightcandy @sidewritings @nekoabi @ironwoman359 @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @theblackhoundsdaughter @littlemiracle05 @virgil-has-a-houseplant @caristars @seas-space-and-stardust @thedannyparable @faacethefacts @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good @fancydelusionluminary @generalfandomfabulousness @theincediblesulk @i-am-avacado @entitydark @unikornavenger @iris-sanders-athena @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @uniquesoulshatter @made-of-bitterness-and-sarcasm @moltengoldenstardust @sanders-is-awesome @myownhappilyeverafter @dragonsight9 @loving-neko @lucifer-in-my-head  @punsterterry @riley-castillo @sleepyssnail @fandomcrazy899 @fuck-perfection-be-a-mess @yay-cats9 @i-will-physically-fight-you @wisepuma23 @jemthebookworm @sparkedawg @kirsten-the-freak @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @saphirestrike @proudhufflepuff @dementeddracon @thatgaydemigodnerd @fallout-jedi @koalaaquabear @deep-ocean-blues @heythereprincey @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @somepostontheinternet @nyamafriend @topiwolf 

[criticalrolo]

almost, always (limwen x cassiopeia)

It’s very basic: four times Limwen really, really wanted to kiss Cass, and one time she finally did. 

(your move, @stormslesbian)

The thing is, glitching is never an easy process. Plane shifting is tiring enough, without it being an involuntary process that feels closer to being dragged through a hole than to jumping into space. As it is, when Limwen's feet hit the ground, it's with the full weight of the multiverse punting her around. There's an audible snap as the temporary portal seals itself shut behind her, and her knees buckle under the force of gravity aggressively reasserting itself. She falls on all fours, heaving in a gasp that feels like her first in ages. Wherever she is, it's relatively quiet, and the sudden sound of her panting breaths cracks through the silence. 

Silence, meaning that she is alone. Unlike a few moments before, when a small starry hand had been clutching at her own pale fingers, asking her what all this energy was, why was she phasing in and out of sight, Limwen what's happening – 

Limwen opens her eyes.

She's glitched to some sort of forest, surrounded by tall trees with black bark and creeping dark vines looping across their branches. What little she can make out of the sky from her hunched over position on the ground is as dark as pitch as well, with no visible moon or stars that could help her navigate. And, as she suspected, there is no softly glowing pink figure anywhere nearby, laughing at how she's ripped her leggings in her fall and reaching down to help her up.

Her next inhale catches in her throat, and the next as well. The heavy weight on her chest feels less like the familiar press of new gravity and more like a hand that has reached between her ribs to squeeze her lungs closed. 

A bit frantically, Limwen staggers up from her knees, reaching out to the nearest black tree to steady herself. The rough bark scratches at her palm, and she knows vertigo is to be expected after being forced across the universe in the blink of an eye, but that doesn't explain the dizzy feeling building behind her eyes or the way her throat constricts at how she can't hear a single living thing nearby, or how she should have known better when she thought she'd found someone who she could count on to stay - 

There's another snapping noise, and although she's never glitched twice in a row so quickly, Limwen instinctively braces herself for the familiar pull and tug of the universe tossing her away. 

The feeling never comes. Instead, there's a nearby thump and the sound of twigs snapping under approaching footsteps. 

"Wow, Limwen, you should have told me you were going to jump so we could travel together!"

Cass shakes off the residual energy from her own planeshift and beams at Limwen, who doesn't realize her jaw is slack with surprise and relief. 

"I... didn't realize it was going to happen," Limwen mumbles, her voice rough with adrenaline. "I should have told you, I don't really get a say in the matter." Her hands are shaking as she runs them through her long dark hair.

Cass's face twists into an expression of surprise touched with sadness. "Oh, I hadn't realized. That doesn't sound very fun. Explains why it took me a second to find you though. " She turns her vivid starry eyes to look around at the forest they've both landed in. "Where are we anyway?"

The second Cass glances away, Limwen is seized by the insane desire to reach out and kiss her out of sheer relief that she somehow hasn't been left alone. 

She doesn't do that. Instead, she just says, "I'm not sure. I don't get to decide where I land either."

Cass smiles softly, and holds out a hand towards her. "Want to find out together?"

Limwen takes the hand.

--

"You," Limwen says, pushing Cass to sit down on a flat rock covered in lime green lichen, "have no sense of self preservation whatsoever. Are you still pressing down on that like I told you to?"

Cass grimaces, her normally cheerful glow dimmed to practically nothing as she holds the wad of fabric down over her freely bleeding shoulder. "I didn't think he would react like that! He seemed like such a nice man and those glass sculptures he was selling were so beautiful."

Limwen lets out a sigh, glancing back towards the town walls that the two of them had just been chased from. If she squints, she can just make out the front gates, but it doesn't seem like their pursuers felt the need to follow them further than the city limits. "They were lovely, I suppose. But that doesn't mean you should just grab one of them."

Cass looks at her with an expression so miserable Limwen almost flinches. "It wasn't like I was going to steal it or anything! I just wanted a closer look at the details."

Her voice is earnest, but tight with suppressed pain as Limwen reaches out to peel away the cloth that she'd hurriedly tried to wrap Cass's shoulder in when the shop owner had snapped and lunged at her with a knife. "We're going to have to be more careful for as long as we're here. People are... touchier than expected. Also, this cut looks like it's going to need stitches."

Cass's eyes go wide, the faint starlight that always dances in her irises flaring for a moment. "I've never had stitches before. Do they hurt?"

The rough satchel Limwen always carries is full to the brim with the food she'd haggled for earlier, and it takes her a moment to dig out the medicinal kit. She kneels down next to Cass and tugs her shirt sleeve aside to give herself more room to work. "It can sting a bit. Hold still so I don't mess up."

Before she can think too much about what she's doing, Limwen threads the needle, gently positions Cass's arm, and pierces through the skin to begin sewing her up. The high pitched whine that Cass quickly cuts off feels like a needle piercing into her own heart, but she firmly buries that feeling. Limwen has given herself plenty of stitches before, and knows how to move efficiently for the least amount of pain. She narrows her eyes and focuses on getting Cass patched back together.

When she pulls the last stitch into place, there's just the barest trace of moisture building in Cass's eyes. Limwen cuts off the thread and is seized by the insane desire to lean forward and... kiss it better? She shakes her head and settles back, brow furrowed. Cass doesn't say anything, just sucks in a slightly shaky breath, so she asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

Cass hesitates, and then reaches forward with her good arm to pull Limwen into a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Not your fault, Cass. That guy was an asshole. If you want, I'll go back in there and stab him right back." Cass lets out a slightly watery laugh, but shakes her head and squeezes Limwen a bit tighter. 

She squeezes back.

--

"Have you seen how gorgeous these flowers are? I've never seen such a bright shade of orange in a plant like this!"

"I... wow, that's really..."

"And look -- when you hold it like this -- yeah, there you go, when you angle it just right they're reflective! You can see the sun setting in them."

"Very pretty, Cass."

"It looks like they're on fire, but in a good way. Don't you think?"

"Yes."

"Limwen, you're not even looking at the flowers, you're looking at me. You've got to angle your head just right..."

"...Yeah, of course, right."

--

The whole world is grey and faint, just bleary shadows that smudge and blur on the edges of Limwen's vision. She tries to blink, tries to clear her head, but every time she closes her eyelids everything seems to shift and spin in a way that makes everything pulse and throb horribly.

Was it the last glitch that had felt so awful, or was it the one before that? They'd been coming more frequently in the past couple of months. Limwen has a vague memory of being forced through a few jumps in a row and the sensation of the universe tearing her whole body apart at the seams, before slamming into solid ground at last and cracking her head against something rough and solid. After that, everything went hazy and dark, until she awoke with a fire lit under her skin and no way to make sense of anything around her. 

She works on forcing air in and out of her lungs. Even though she feels trapped inside her own skin, the sound of her wheezing seems to come from far away. There's an even more distant noise that sounds vaguely musical... or maybe it's someone speaking? It's too hard for her to tell, so she doesn't try to focus in.

What she does notice is the feeling of something cool being draped over where she assumes her forehead is. It feels so nice in comparison to the raging heat that threatens to burn her from the inside out that for a second she's able to make out a glimmer of pink and purple that stands out against all the grey. 

“Limwen? Are you awake?” the music says. The vague shape of a hand reaches out to press against her cheek. 

Limwen’s brain must really be boiling, because if she could have mustered the energy to move, she would have reached out to brush a kiss against the star dotted fingers on her face. For some reason, it feels important and like the thing she has to do. 

She doesn’t have the energy though, so she settles for a brief keening noise that was supposed to be words but definitely isn’t. 

The music sighs, and the thumb gently caresses her cheekbone. “That’s okay. I’ll keep a look out here, and you go back to sleep.”

She trusts the music, so she does. 

–

After glitching so deep underwater, Limwen had thought that surely this was when the universe finally got its act together and actually managed to kill her off. The shifting ocean floor had risen up like a living beast to swallow her down, growls rumbling deep through the water as it pulled at her, when a pink hand wrapped itself around her wrist, clutching her arm and dragging her away.

It’s with a desperate gasp that they both burst above the surface of the ocean, a hundred yards from the shore. Cass is still holding onto her tight enough to turn her knuckles white, panting and running her hands over whatever part of Limwen she can reach, checking for blood or injuries. After brushing so close to death and being convinced she’d never see Cass’s face again, Limwen can’t tear her gaze away from the way the sunlight bouncing off the water reflects off Cass’s beautiful star filled eyes. 

They’re both treading water and trying to catch their breath when Cass presses a hand against her cheek in such a tender manner that Limwen feels like her heart is breaking. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Limwen blames the oxygen deprivation for why she doesn’t think at all before leaning in and kissing Cass right there in the middle of the ocean. 

There’s a moment where Cass stiffens out of shock, and then the hand on Limwen’s face moves to the back of her neck to pull her in closer as Cass kisses her back. The water they’re both drenched in is salty, but underneath it Cass tastes like starlight. 

It’s hard to tread water without both hands though, and neither of them really have caught their breath yet, so they break apart after a few moments. Limwen stares at Cass with wide eyes, suddenly mortified that she might have done something wrong, when Cass grins and splashes her. 

“Limwen, you couldn’t have waited ten seconds until we were on dry land where we wouldn’t have to stop?” Cass laughs at Limwen’s stricken expression. “Come on. I’ll race you to shore!” She pushes away and starts to swim towards the beach.

There’s a light burning in Limwen’s chest as she blinks and watches Cass swim away. Then, with a small smile of her own, she hurries after her. 

[jadedragonsage]

Breaking the Barrier (A KirinRyth Fic)

Prologue: Rythian comes from the End in an alternate universe where his society was incredibly magically advanced. He was turned into an enderborn, a person who has been genetically altered and implanted with an ancient ender pearl in order to transform into a war beast capable of fighting the dragon. The enderians left the barren end after killing the dragon with many escaping to the Overworld. Rythian in this AU is covered head to toe in runes and tattoos marking him and controlling him as an enderborn. He escapes his handlers and is run out of villages as word of about the danger of them spreads like wildfire. This forces him into fending for himself in the wild and his increased metabolism leaves him constantly scavenging for food. He was never given a chance to learn English due to his new status as enderborn and purely speaks Enderian. Kirin is based off of a friend’s interpretation of him and is a kind-hearted hermit who lives alone tending to himself and the forest he calls home in this AU.

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It was mid day as Kirin wandered through the forest, tracking an unknown creature that had been feeding on the local wildlife. While it wasn’t enough to wipe them out it was certainly concerning how many deer and other animals had been taken. He looked around carefully for further signs before he noticed a large open cave mouth with a few signs of recent activity. Kirin approached carefully and quietly, uncertain if whatever may inhabit it was home. As he neared the entrance the a strange and certainly alien scent filled his senses mixed in with animal remains. He peered in, not hearing anything beyond water dripping deep within. Quietly he made his way in, stopping just before he accidentally trod over a dead fire surrounded by flat stones.

The cave appeared recently inhabited by a hunter of some sort, the bed of boughs looked human made and there was obviously the firepit. However Kirin couldn’t help but wonder why it smelled so… not quite wrong but definitely different. It was unlike anything he had sensed before, not human, fae or elf. He sighed and decided to keep watch for the cave’s inhabitant to return in order to solve this mystery. He made his way carefully back outside and found a comfortable place high up in the trees before taking a light nap.

It wasn’t until the sun had was just barely peeking over the horizon and the forest had grown dark beneath the canopy when Kirin awoke to the sound of footsteps and small twigs breaking. The sound of something being dragged followed the steps and as he looked about below himself until he found the source. A tall and thin man wearing ragged clothes was dragging the body of a deer towards the cave. His dark tan skin was completely covered in all sorts of shapes and runes, none of which were even remotely familiar to Kirin. He was certainly the source of the strange scent and seemed to be from somewhere far away. Kirin debated jumping down to speak to him but decided against it as the man had a wild look about him and he didn’t want to initiate a fight or scare him.

Kirin watched as the deer was taken into the cave, careful not to make a sound and alert the stranger to his presence before he returned to the forest floor. He shifted into his own deer form before hurrying home quietly.

From within the cave Rythian shivered, having felt as though he had been watched. After he had the deer safely put away he stepped back out to the entrance. Looking out carefully from around the rock but saw no signs of any creatures or humans. He slowly moved out of the cave, stone knife in hand as he keep an eye out for any dangers. Once he was satisfied there wasn’t any hunters he returned within to finish dressing his fresh kill.

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A few days later as Rythian was leaving his cave for his morning forage he nearly stumbled over something. He jumped back into his cave, pulling his knife from his makeshift belt as he moved back to examine the object. At his feet sat a simple handcrafted basket, it was far from finely made but it held a number of items including an iron knife and several fruits Rythian had not yet seen here. Hovering a hand over the knife he tried to read if there was any hidden spells but it seemed to be a simple mundane tool. He frowned and carefully picked it up in his free hand, feeling the cool wooden handle as it rested in his palm. Unlike the basket it was well crafted and testing it on one of the fruits had it slice through it like butter. Raising a brow, he was uncertain why someone would gift him a weapon but it would help his hunting endeavors immensely.

Rythian carefully sifted through the rest of the basket’s contents, finding a sheath for the knife beneath the fruit. The bottom of the basket was lined with fabric that upon closer inspect and gently pulling out revealed a light simple blanket. His eyes widened in surprise and his brows raised at the sight, he had needed something to cover himself at night and this was an utter boon. Looking up as he held the blanket in his arms, he glanced around for who had left the gifts. However the forest was still and only the sound of distant birds chirping and singing could be heard. Rythian let out a soft sigh and whispered a thank you in his native tongue to whatever gods or beings had decided to bestow him with these items.

Slowly the enderborn stood and carried the basket and its goods back into his cave to put away. With his new knife in hand he again left his cave, traveling out to find more food to keep his body from eating itself. High up in the trees past the lower part of the canopy Kirin watched the strange fellow, smiling at the fact he had accepted the gift. Kirin waited until he had disappeared far enough into the forest before returning to the ground once again. He would have to plan a meeting soon, his curiosity about the stranger was like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch enough, he needed to know more.

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Every few days Rythian awoke or returned to his cave to find a new gift. Each time he carefully examined it, his heart thudding as he expected one to be a trap. But every gift proved to be useful in some way, many being some kind of food with a few containing a tool or two. Some had prepared meals and others simply a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables. Rythian appreciated each gift and hoped whoever was providing them would continue until he could survive better on his own.

As Rythian stepped out of his cave several days since the first gift he froze in his tracks as a large figure stood quite a ways away from him. He wore deep teal robes and his hands were empty and at his sides. A casual smile rested on his lips and his bright cyan eyes were gazing right at the enderborn. Rythian felt a chill go down his spine and he pulled his knife from its sheath at his side. He growls low at the stranger across from him and shouted in his native language. “Leave this place! Leave me alone!” His body was tense and he stood defensively within the mouth of the cave.

Kirin remained still, his smile slipping into a small frown at whatever words the other had spoken. He couldn’t understand his language but it certainly sounded more hostile. However the lack of actual attack made it seem simply in defense. Kirin sighed softly, it was a bit much to expect anything particularly positive. He motioned towards his feet, bowing slowly a bit in the process before stepping further back.

At Kirin’s motions Rythian took a quick glance down, seeing there was yet another basket, this one far larger than any of the last. His gaze darted back up to Kirin who had retreated back from the basket as far as he had initially stood from the cave. His face was neutral now, showing no signs of emotion positive or negative. Rythian stood back up straight, still tense but not longer in a fight or flight position. His stomach growled and he resisted moving a hand to cover it. Taking a deep breath Rythian took a step forward, eyes not leaving Kirin’s form before taking yet another step closer. His bare feet moved from stone to grass as he slowly approached the basket between them. His fingers gripped the knife tightly in his hand, prepared to fight and his heart pounding in his chest. Regardless of the gifts he wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security as this could be the trap he had been expecting. After all, why else would this person reveal themselves? The enderborn’s eyes drifted back down to the basket, the sight of the fresh delicious fruit made his mouth water and he wanted to eat it immediately. But his mind snapped back to the situation at hand and he returned his gaze to his unwanted visitor.

As Ryth stood before the basket he looked Kirin up and down, trying to figure out who he was. He certainly wasn’t one of the hunters, they usually wore all white and he doubted this one had been hired to find him. Rythian’s mouth was a tight line as he examined the other before he spoke again in his native tongue. “Why are you doing this?” His voice wasn’t as hostile but retained a cold and defensive air to it. His hand gripped the knife tighter, expecting an unfavorable reaction but Kirin simply raised a brow and looked at him curiously. Rythian didn’t expect him to understand what he was saying but it was worth a shot. He tenses slightly as Kirin bows his head a little and steps back a bit further before returning his gaze to the enderborn again.

Looking back down at the basket Rythian slowly crouches, glancing back and forth between the two as he lightly uses the knife to sift through the food. Nothing noticeably harmful seemed to rest in its deep contents and he didn’t want to pierce the fabric in case it was like the blanket provided before. Putting holes into a truly useful gift would ruin it. Slowly he stood, holding the large basket under one arm to keep his other free for defending himself with his knife. Rythian stepped a few feet back before he lowered the knife back to his side. He took a deep breath and said “Thank you,” somewhat softly in his own language.

Kirin watched as the strange man examined the basket, his lips curled back into a smile as Rythian seemed to be accepting his gift and allowing his presence. He did his best to keep his posture calm and to avoid appearing threatening. He cocked his head at the soft whispered words by the other, wondering what they meant. It certainly sounded kinder, perhaps it was gratitude of some sort. Kirin bowed his head again before turning to leave, letting his back face the enderborn as he walked back into the forest. He could feel Rythian’s eyes on him the whole time until he disappeared into the trees.

It wasn’t until the unwanted visitor left that Rythian finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sheathed his knife and stepped backwards towards the cave, carefully holding the basket with one arm still. Once he felt stone against his feet he quickly slipped back inside behind the rocky protective walls to examine his new gift. Setting it down carefully and he gently scooped the fruit and vegetables up before moving them to a container he had fashioned himself. With his food safely put away he returned to examine the remaining contents. This basket was larger than most with what seemed like several layers of fabric. Carefully moving his hands over them he didn’t notice anything too strange, there was a somewhat lumpy object at the very bottom but nothing reacted and he couldn’t find a trace of magic.

Finally Rythian began unpacking the rest of the basket’s contents, peeling off the top layer of fabric to find it was actually a heavy cloak with a simple brooch fastening the edges together. He gently pulled it on and tugged the hood up over his head, surprised at the warmth of it as it rested heavily on his shoulders. It was concealing and dark but could act as another blanket during the cold nights he endured within the cave. Rythian lightly bit his lip, careful not to puncture his own skin as he ran his hands over the fabric. Again this was a finely made item like the knife, certainly crafted with care and with his height in mind. He stood with the cloak wrapped about him, finding it fell just above his feet. Gently he removed it and laid it atop the blanket the stranger had gifted him as well before he moved to see what else lay in the basket.

The next layer was more fabric but instead of covering the entire inside of the basket these other pieces were folded up and laid out carefully to support the food that had rested at the top. Picking up the first piece and unfolding it Rythian found it was a tunic with similar craftsmanship to the cloak. His eyes went wide and brows raised at the sight, the cloak was already impressive but new clothing as well was unbelievable. He carefully set the shirt down before picking up the other items, finding trousers and a simple jacket matching the tunic. Rythian let out a soft gasp and cooed, running his hands over the new garments before he moved to change out of his tattered rags. Slowly he slipped each piece on, feeling how surprisingly soft and supple the fabric was. Once he had pulled them all on he tested the feeling of them, moving about his cave and couldn’t help the purr that rose from his chest. It was unlike anything he had felt since the dragon arrived, he had forgotten what well crafted clothes even felt like. They were a bit big for him but he hardly expected some stranger to know his size, it was impressive he had even gotten his height right. Hardly any human could measure up to his people’s average height but he doubted the stranger had been entirely human either.

With a sigh Rythian sat down on his bed made of flora and animal skins, running his hands over the sleeves of his new tunic. His mind reeled with thoughts about this stranger, who they were and why they had taken such an interest in him. Anyone else he had met since arriving here had shown either indifference, fear or hate, sometimes all at once. But this one, they were curious, he could see it in their eyes. But why the gifts was what Rythian couldn’t understand, since becoming an enderborn he has never been treated with kindness. So why now? He let out another soft sigh and laid down on his bed, mind wandering and puzzling over the meaning behind these gracious gifts.

Blinking bleary eyes open, Rythian awoke to rays of fading light shining in from the mouth of the cave. He fumbled to get up, unaccustomed to the new and far looser clothing his body was now wrapped in. He rubbed at his face as he walked towards the entrance to see how long he had sleep before nearly tripping over the basket and causing the remains to skid over the cold cave floor. He swore softly in his tongue and moved to pick the items up, having forgotten the last of the basket’s contents after laying down. As his groggy mind clicked the pieces in place he realized he was staring at a leather boot in his hand. Its partner lay halfway between him and the entrance while a bundle of leather string still sat within the now tipped over basket. Rythian blinked a few more times before his mind comprehended what the footwear implied and his own bare feet against the icy floor helped it sink in faster.

He didn’t know how it started but a flood of emotions had welled up in him and before he could stop it, tears were streaming down his cheeks. He rubbed away the tears, mentally scolding himself for crying over clothing of all things. With the boot in hand he walked over to pick the other one up before tugging them on. Definitely larger than his feet but not enough to trip him up when running, hopefully. He wiped more tears away and hugged his arms as he walked back over to the bed, grabbing the leather string as he passed the now emptied basket. Fiddling with the rough material his mind returned to his thoughts while he had laid down. This felt like more than a simple gift but there was no way to know. After all it was items he had desperately needed but had no way to obtain. Did this stranger know that? Had they watched him get ran out of towns or was it simply observation of a half starved wild creature they took pity on? He groaned and rubbed at his still crying eyes, wishing the flood of emotions from his entire time spent in this dimension would stay bottled up.

But they refused and he bent over on his bed, sobbing at the abuse his own people had brought upon him. Crying out in anger at his own helplessness despite the strength he held within. How every attempt to defend himself pushed him back into the beastial form they had thrust upon him and removed his sense of self. He clutched at his hair and wanted to rip the pearl from his chest to just end it all but he knew his instincts would never let him harm it. After letting the feelings within him rage he found himself panting and almost gasping for breath as the last few choked sobs left him. He had been so focused on simply surviving he had pushed down every ounce of emotion he felt. But something about these gifts, this show of kindness made it all bubble up to the surface. And the fact they had shown their face… revealed themselves to him, Rythian couldn’t grasp why or even understand the reason they seemed to care about him.

With a few more deep breaths he stood up again, still dressed in his new clothes and picked up the dark cloak. With it wrapped around him he walked out into the now dawning night as the sun had finally passed below the horizon. The canopy left the forest floor dark with no moonlight to shine down upon it. With a hand on his knife he trudded out into the forest to find at least some scraps to fill his insatiable belly and to add to what meager stores he had collected.

---

With the passing days, gifts continued to be left outside the cave and spring had long since passed into a warm sweltering summer. The forest canopy provided much needed shade and a dip in the river gave a quick cool down. Plentiful game and forage left Ryth with enough to survive day to day and he worked towards trying to better sustain himself.

However as he was returning home one night he spotted the stranger in his usual deep teal robes as he left another small gift at the cave entrance. Silently teleporting out of sight Rythian watched them carefully as they turned to leave, pausing briefly and glancing around. He held his breath, holding his basket of food tightly to his chest as he waited for his visitor to walk away before he teleported back inside the cave to deposit his things. He shivered as the magic caused a flood of ice through his body but quickly recovered and moved silently to the entrance. Peeking out from the cave he watched as the stranger walked away, keeping a casual relaxed pace. Rythian bit his lip, wanting to know where this mysterious person came from and as he was just about to lose sight he hurried to quietly catch up and hide behind the trees.

Admittedly he hadn’t expected quite a trek to follow the stranger and with such a slow pace he was quickly growing bored. But the curiosity gnawed at him to learn more about his gift giver and he continued his slow pursuit. Finally a small cottage appeared in the distance and Rythian held back further, not wanting to reveal himself when he seemed so close now. He watched the stranger slip indoors and once he was sure he wouldn’t be spotted he walked around the outskirts beyond the forest’s edge. The trees were a boon and provided ample coverage as he explored around the house. A small orchard sat on one side and nestled between that and the cottage was a garden full of all kinds of plants. He recognized a few fruits and vegetables as ones that had been part of the gift baskets. They made his mouth water at the sight of the plump juicy deliectables but he refrained from stealing from his kind provider.

Rythian let out a breath and as he looked over the quaint home he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Certainly nothing extravagant and he supposed it made sense if they lived alone, it was doubtful that someone who had others to provide for would also take care of him. He rubbed at his neck and circled the premise one last time before he made his way home, curiosity sated for now.

But within the small cottage Kirin smiled warmly, he hadn’t really expected the wild man to follow him so soon but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t dare scare him off and remained inside and out of sight to allow his acquaintance time to explore unobserved, or at least mostly so. He had to admit the amount of magic power radiating off of the other was like a bright light in the darkness. It also rather alien, something he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of  how it reminded him of endermen. After he watched the source of the powerful aura disappear back in the direction of the cave he left his cottage once more. No sign of his visitor remained but he could still sense that aura even from his home as he disappeared into the forest.

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Fall creeped up far too quickly upon the enderborn and before he knew it the warm summer days had faded into far chillier nights which only continued to worsen with each passing day. Rythian feared what this new world may present him if this cold didn’t stop soon. He had never experienced his entire world becoming as chilling as he felt when he transformed and it terrified him to think this may be another phase in nature’s plans. He was no fool, despite his homeland lacking seasons anywhere near this dimension’s he could tell when they had passed and shifted into the next. He could only hope that this cold would end soon and would not grow any worse.

Each night he awoke trembling in his bed as his fires would inevitably go out and no matter how much he covered himself it seemed to hardly stop the chill in his bones. Kirin had gifted him a couple more blankets, including a rather thick one but even combined with the cloak he couldn’t seem to fight the cold off completely. The cave was warm enough but nothing he did could reach any true level of comfort and each night it became worse and worse. He fled deeper into the cave but even that wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay. The large damp caverns within were far worse to warm up with a fire and Rythian could barely hunt enough let alone gather extra firewood.

The longer autumn rolled on, the worse things grew. Unaccustomed to the cold, the enderborn was slowed and weakened. Animals and forage grew scarce and he found himself relying ever more on the bundles of food left out for him. Rythian found himself unconsciously wandering more and more around the stranger’s cottage even in his daily hunts.

It wasn’t until a particularly cold night, just as winter was almost upon him that Rythian finally caved in. With a soft whimper he draped all of his blankets over himself and his cloak before stepping out into the frigid night. He almost returned but his fire had already gone out and he knew he couldn’t sustain himself through this. With a deep breath he moved forward into the night, slowly making his way to the cottage. His big boots crunching through leaves and twigs as he gave up any pretenses of subtlety.

Finally he arrived, shivering and softly whining to himself he walked up into the porch. A soft flickering glow emanated from the windows, perhaps from a crackling fire. He paused at the door and a glint caught his eye by his feet. Another small basket sat at the foot of the door and his heart skipped a beat. He had been expected. Crouching down and doing his best not to lose his many covers he picked the item up, finding a simple silver key. Beneath it was a long, flowing and soft scarf which brought a smile to his frozen lips. He pulled it on, a bit chilly from sitting out in the cold but still surprisingly comfortable.

He fumbled with the key and the lock before hearing a soft click. Turning the handle he pushed the door open to a flood of heat washing over him and escaping out into the night. He carefully nudged the now empty basket inside and hurried himself in before shutting the door. After taking a moment to figure out how to relock the door he stepped back and placed the key into his pocket. Looking around the room it seemed to be a general living space with a large fireplace on one side, stairs leading up somewhere above and several doorways leading into other rooms and a hallway. Even with the door being open the room was still cozy warm and Rythian couldn’t help but purr a little.

Hesitantly he moved towards the fireplace, walking around a large couch to examine the crackling fire. He carefully picked up a spare log and deposited on the dying embers, making sure to keep his blankets away from the sparks that shot up. With a soft sigh he sat down on the couch, surprised at its plush feel and ran his free hand over the cushions. It was so cozy and the warmth washed through his body. He kicked his boots off, leaving them beside the couch before pulling his legs up onto it and resting his sore feet. It wasn’t long before he slid down from sitting upright against the back of the couch to laying across its cushions. His head soon resting on one of the pillows propped up against the arm of it. Against his better judgement he quickly fell asleep, his purring fading into a soft snore as he rested in his cocoon of blankets. It was the first time he had any decent sleep in so long and his body melted against the warm soft cushions as he drifted off into pleasant dreams.

---

As the early morning sunlight filters in through the gaps in the curtains Rythian scrunches up his face and tugs the hood of his cloak down over his eyes. A purr rises in his chest as he’s surrounded by warmth and softness, two feelings that he had not felt in so long. The sun however is persistent and even with the blankets and cloak surrounding him it makes everything bright past his closed eyes. Attempting to roll over in his nest of blankets proves futile and with a soft groan he gives up, letting the sunlight wash over him and slowly wake him.

Slowly his groggy mind starts to come back into focus as he realizes something’s off. He’s not dreaming, at least it doesn’t seem like it and good dreams have been incredibly few and far between. He lets out another soft groan and lifts a heavy hand from the blankets to rub at his face, brushing against the soft scarf around his neck. Blinking his eyes open against the bright light he lifts up the scarf and stares at it, brow furrowed. He knows it came from somewhere but the memory is distant and his mind still too foggy to pull it back. He feels his body shift from relaxed comfort to a sudden awareness that he was in a strange place. Nothing was right, it was too bright and lacked the dank smell of the wet cavern he had lived in for so long now. In its place was a strong sweet scent that was almost overpowering.

Rythian swallows, mouth and throat dry from it being so long since he last drank and he slowly sits up. Finally able to see clearly with the sleepy haze out of his eyes he looks around the room he was in. The light pouring in through the windows gives it a warm and inviting feel as the fire crackled away feeding on fresh wood in the hearth in front of him. His mind vaguely dredged up a memory of adding a log to it the night before but why he was here was still a mystery. The sound of glass clinking could be heard behind him and he turned his head, taking in the rest of the room. It looked vaguely familiar and a few more memories resurface as he looks around and recognizes the tell-tale basket by the door. It finally clicks and his face flushes deeply, he was in the stranger’s house. His entire body tenses as he debates making a run for it or if he dare stay. His mind running through the memories as they flood back but one thought in particular stands out; the key. He was expected. Swallowing again and taking a gasping breath as he feels almost choked by his own thoughts he slowly stands on shaky legs, one hand on the couch for support. His tired and sore muscles begged to go back to sleep but couldn’t just yet.

He wasn’t sure if this was a trap or if he could consider the possibility of it being something more. Slowly he shuffles his way towards where the sweet delicious scent is coming from, unable to resist a peek and to find out if the person who had been helping him was there waiting. He pauses at the doorway, still hearing glass clinking and the sound of a liquid being poured. Taking a deep breath he walks closer, enough to peer out and spots the stranger with their back turned pouring out a drink into two glasses. The liquid in the pitcher seemed to be made from one of the fruits that had been in the gift baskets and it certainly smelled like it too even from across the room. Rythian found himself frozen in place, barely half stepped out from the corner as he watched the other turn with drinks in hand.

Kirin half jumped at the sight of his guest suddenly up, he hadn’t heard a sound even with the pile of blankets he was obviously dragging along with him. A warm inviting smile spread across his lips. “Hello friend, you can join me for breakfast if you like.” He set the glasses down at the two set places on the table, knowing it was unlikely his guest understood him. He hoped the tone in his voice got through and he moved back from the table to stand back against the counter, trying to keep his posture and body language as open and non-threatening as possible. He watched as the tattoo and rune covered man took a step forward, then another. He could see the fear lurking under his tense expression, the tell tale signs were in his eyes. There was no knowing how he’d react but Kirin hoped he would stay and give him a chance.

Across the table sat two plates, eating utensils, another smaller pitcher of something dark and a massive stack of baked goods Rythian didn’t recognize. It hadn’t been something included with the gifts but the smell reminded him of pastries and sweets from his days before the dragon. Home cooked food that he missed the taste of dearly. His mouth wanted to water but he needed a drink. His eyes flicked over the bright colored presumably juice and he made his way to sit on the chair before the table. His blankets still wrapped around him he clutched them together with his cloak in one hand as his opposite shakily reached out to the glass. He carefully raised it to his lips, releasing the blankets from his hold to keep from dropping it as he gulped down the cool liquid. With a soft gasp he finished it and quickly set the now emptied glass down. A chuckle from his host made him jump and his eyes flicked over to the other but he relaxed a little as he realized they had just simply found something humorous. A smile rested on their lips and Rythian felt his own curl up in turn. He whispered a soft thank you, knowing they wouldn’t understand but hoping his gratitude still reached though.

Kirin dipped his head and picked the pitcher of juice back up, walking over to his guest and pouring another glass. “Well I’m glad you like it at least.” He murmured softly, a warm smile still on his lips. He set the pitcher down before taking a seat himself. He could tell his guest wasn’t sure about eating so Kirin picked up a pancake with his fork, depositing one then two upon the other’s plate and nodded towards them. Momentary confusion rested on his guest’s face before he seemed to get it and picked up a fork and pulled a piece of pancake off. Kirin took the syrup in hand, pouring it across his own meal but keeping an eye on the other’s reaction as well.

Rythian gasped, finding the flat pastry incredibly soft and delicious. He looks curiously over at Kirin as he pours the vicious dark liquid over his own meal before setting the small pitcher within easy reach for Rythian. He gestures invitingly, still smiling and nods when Rythian gingerly picks it up. He pours it across one of the cakes and sets it back down before grabbing a utensil to tear off another bite. He lets it soak in a bit more of the liquid before popping it into his mouth. Holding back a soft moan at the taste, it’s unlike anything he’s had yet in this world and it reminds him so much of the food back home before the war. He purrs and takes another bite, savoring the taste and feeling the warm fluffy goodness sink into him. The space and his host melt away as for just a brief moment his mind and body relax and focus on the tastes and smells surrounding him and he’s filled with warmth.

However the sound of Kirin’s fork clinking against the glass plate seems to shake him out of it, causing Kirin to frown as his guest’s body tenses back up. It was nice seeing him so calm and relaxed for a moment. The purr was surprising as well, he knew few others who could do so and wondered about his guest’s origins as he continued eating and his guest returned to doing so as well but with his eyes down and focused on his plate. Kirin frowned a bit, wondering what he had been through to cause his odd behavior. Going from so incredibly defensive to now surprisingly submissive it was strange to say the least. He let out a soft breath and finished his own breakfast, hoping his guest would stay when they were done.

Rythian sat back in his chair, finding himself truly full for the first time in so long. He wasn’t sure what was in those cakes but eating half the stack had certainly filled him up. As he finished off his glass of juice he hoped his host hadn’t minded him eating so much and let out a soft sigh. Some of his blankets had fallen back onto the chair with only his cloak really still resting on his shoulders now. The warmth in the house alone felt like a heavy quilt wrapped around him that he wanted to curl up in. A soft purr rose up again and he felt sleepy with his full belly. His body had been so exhausted between the cold and the extra hunting and foraging he’s had to do to survive. A moment longer inside this warm abode hopefully wouldn’t hurt.

He snapped back a bit at the sound of dishes clinking, not having realized his eyes had even shut and he almost dozed off again. His face flushed as he watched his host turn towards the sink and began washing off the remains of syrup and their meal. Rythian sighed and looked out the window, tugging the blankets back up around his shoulders. His mind roamed over what this all meant, he couldn’t help but feel nervous sitting here and eating inside the other’s home. It felt far too intimate for someone who had been simply leeching off of his host’s supplies. Even though they had been gifted he felt more like a burden regardless.

Kirin returns to the table, his smile fading into a soft frown at the distant and troubled look on his guest’s face. At the sound of his chair scraping back the other noticeably jumps and looks back over at Kirin, expression nervous and body hunched a bit. He had hoped the odd man could have relaxed further and Kirin did his best to hide his brief frown under another warm smile. “I hope you enjoyed your meal, certainly seems like you did.” He chuckled again softly and that seemed to ease an ounce of tension. Kirin racked his brain for a a way to communicate when he realized he still hasn’t learned the other’s name. He gently set a hand on the table, grabbing his guest’s attention again.

Pointing to himself and he spoke gently “Kirin.” He grinned and patted his chest, hoping maybe his intent would come across. “Kirrinnn.” He said carefully, looking curiously at the tattooed man across from him whom cocked his head and gazed back equally curiously before softly trying to repeat the word. It seemed to be clicking in his head that it was a name. “Kirin, mhmm.” Kirin repeated, nodding his head. His guest repeated once more, tongue struggling with the abstract sounds and leaving the name heavy with his own accent. But he nodded, repeating Kirin’s actions which made the large man smile. After a moment it seemed to stick, his guest repeating it a few times until he seemed to have figured out the flavor of the words in his mouth. Kirin’s grin grew a little wider and he gently motioned towards Rythian, waving his hands slightly as if trying to gesture his guest towards him.

Rythian cocked his head at this new gesture, he figured from the other’s motions that it was their name but this was interesting. It wasn’t hard to figure given this ‘Kirin’ telling their name that he was expected to share his own. He swallowed and tried to raise his voice and speak clearly, “Rythian.” He watched Kirin’s expression, half expecting him to suddenly recognize his language and distrust him. But instead the other grinned wide and nodded, repeating back his name and trying to pronounce it correctly. Ryth smiled and tried his best to help express the sounds that made up his name which was rather foreign to Kirin’s own speech. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat pleased with the exchange and it was nice to know his host and gift giver’s name. “Kirin...” he said softly, feeling the words in his mouth.

Kirin let out a soft chuckle again and nodded his head, proud and happy to have shared names. Finally he knew what to call this stranger he had been observing since late spring. He leaned back in his chair, feeling pleased at the progress and it was remarkable that they’d gone from that first stand off to Rythian sitting here in his kitchen. A thought came to him and he tugged at a string around his neck, pulling out a key from beneath his shirt. He showed it to his guest and watched as Rythian pulled the key out from his pocket that had been left in the basket outside. Kirin nodded and smiled as Rythian held it up but his lips slipped as the other slid it across the table. Rythian had returned to his nervous expression and took his hand off the key halfway across. Kirin shook his head quickly. “No, no...” he leaned forward, causing the other to flinch a little as Kirin picked the key back up and placed it into Rythian’s palm.

Rythian bit his lip as he watched Kirin’s motions, his hands were rough with calluses but warm and large. He stared down at where they touched, watching as Kirin wrapped Rythian’s fingers around the key and gently pushed his hand back towards his chest. Kirin said something else Rythian didn’t understand but he could tell he did the wrong thing. His host motioned to the house and then to the key in Ryth’s hand. He picked up his own in his fist, holding it to his chest. Then it sunk in for the enderborn and he realized Kirin was in some way welcoming him to his home. He wanted him to be able to return. Rythian flushes, between the contact and the invitation he can’t think of how to respond and his mouth hangs open like a fish. That warm smile plays across Kirin’s lips again and he lets out a soft laugh which seems to melt Rythian’s fears away. He smiles and Kirin nods, his own head following the motion and he feels a tear form in his eye. Wiping it away quickly he slips the key back into his pocket and whispers another thank you.

Kirin stands back up, being sure to do so more slowly so as not to spook the other and holds out a hand invitingly. Rythian glances back and forth between his hand and his face, again confused and Kirin lightly motions with his head, hand still out stretched. Hesitantly Rythian raises a tattooed hand up to Kirin’s, resting it on his and Kirin gives him a light tug. Taking it as a request to stand he follows Kirin as he leads him over to a pair of doors. His hand is released and Kirin opens them, revealing a large storage of food. Rythian’s eyes go wide and his eyes flick between the food and Kirin who simply smiles. He points to Rythian, then gestures with his hands to the pantry before picking up an apple and handing to his guest. Rythian looks down at it, surprise still evident in his features before raising it up to his mouth. Kirin’s ever present smile grew and he nodded, giving Ryth another small motion and said something warmly that the enderborn couldn’t understand. Rythian returned the smile and tried nodding a bit before gingerly placing the apple back. He rubbed away more tears, moved by Kirin’s kindness. “Thank you.” He said again in his native tongue as Kirin who seemed to have caught on nodded once more. It certainly seemed like nodding was a way of communicating understanding or praise.

Rythian’s hand was gently picked up again, sending a small shiver through his body at the contact before he was led back out into the main part of the cottage. He followed quietly behind Kirin, eyes wide as he took in each room he was shown. He clutched his blanket and cloak tightly as his other hand was still held by Kirin. The last place Kirin took him was to the stairway in the back of the main living space. He went slowly up the stairs, mindful of Rythian’s many blankets and did his best to keep the other from tripping. Looking around the space it appeared to be what little loft space remained beneath the roof. A large double bed sat on one side which Kirin walked over to and sat down on. He motioned to something behind Rythian which made him turn around. A smaller bed but equally long rested nestled amongst several boxes, chests and other storage containers. Rythian raised a brow and looked back at Kirin in confusion.

At the expression from his guest’s face Kirin stood back up and walked over to the bed, one hand gently on Rythian’s back as he nudged him towards it. He patted the bed then pointed at Ryth, his head motioning as well towards it. It took a moment but the understanding again dawned on Rythian’s face and the look was nearly heartbreaking how moved he was at the offer. Rythian sat down on the bed, seeming surprised at its softness and Kirin went back to sit upon his own. “I hope you like it, I’m sure you can’t understand me but I made it just in case.” Rythian’s held tilt at his words. “I noticed how you’ve been struggling with the cold and I couldn’t bear seeing you freeze out there. Not sure if you can cope with it but it doesn’t seem like it.” Rythian still looked confused at his words and Kirin chuckled softly, motioning for Rythian to lay down as he leaned back on his own, resting his hands on his chest.

Rythian pulled his blankets up onto the soft bed, wondering if this was real or if he was actually still dreaming away in his cave. He laid down on the bed and it was so incredibly comfortable. A purr rose up unbidden and he rested his head upon the down pillows. A few tears fall and he shuts his eyes tightly. He feels a soft sob and hiccup escape and he holds the blankets tight around himself. Floorboards creak as he’s sure Kirin is walking over but he can’t hold it together anymore. A warm hand gently takes one of his and he holds it tightly, whispering an apology he knew Kirin couldn’t understand. He opens his tear filled eyes to see Kirin’s concerned face closer than he expected as the large man was now kneeling beside him. “T-thank you...” he whispers to Kirin, his lips curling up in a smile which seems to ease some of the worry from Kirin’s own features. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...” he repeats it over and over, hoping he could in some way express his gratitude. Kirin gently squeezes his hand and it feels so reassuring that he returns it, holding onto Kirin tightly like a lifeline.

The small burst of emotion sapped the rest of his energy and soon the enderborn had fallen back asleep, surrounded by his cocoon of blankets. Kirin smiled and gently released Rythian’s hand, returning it to the bed so he wouldn’t have a prickly sensation when he awoke. He let out a soft sigh and stood back up, leaving Rythian to sleep. He paused just before descending the stairs, watching the slow rise and fall of the blankets as Rythian seemed to have fallen soundly asleep. He smiled and made his way down the rest of the stairs, happy to have someone to care for again.

[magmasliveblogs]

1.04

i have not been captured by goblins! nor have i been turned into steak! this is the 5th chapter! 

recap: last chapter our protag, erin, returned to the inn and fought off some goblins. she also found a stream. now, onward! 

Her legs hurt. As she stepped outside Erin felt at the back of her legs and winced.

“Right. Knife cuts.”

She should wash that. If she had water. But since she didn’t and the wounds were already scabbed over, Erin left it and started walking.

i skipped over that section during the last post, but yeah erin was cut on her legs 

If there were, they didn’t seem interested in her at the moment. Erin found the strange, spindly trees easily and picked an armful of blue fruits. She sat and ate fourteen. It wasn’t that she was hungry so much as really thirsty. She sucked as much of the blue juice out of the fruits before gathering as many as she could carry and walked back to the inn. The seed cores she left where they lay.

…Actually, now that she thought of it…

Erin doubled back and grabbed two seed cores and placed them carefully on top of her stack of blue fruits.

always be ready for the those crabs. always be ready! 

“Firewood. If I could cut the wood away, that is.”

She thought of the incredibly stiff branches.

“…Nope. But wait a second. What about fallen branches? Or—”

She turned around and started walking back. But when she got there she found neither helpful twigs nor larger branches anywhere in the orchard.

“Weird.”

Frustrated, Erin kicked a tree and dodged another falling blue fruit. She added it to her armful and walked back to the inn.

The room was still a mess from last night’s fight. Erin sat the fruits down on one table and started righting chairs and tables.

“Stupid Goblins.”

yes it is probably a good idea to clean up, though when will we get visitors? 

“But I won.”

“Barely.”

“They’re not that dangerous.”

“Unless they stab me in my sleep. Or there are lots of them.”

“But I’m probably safe if I keep the windows and doors closed.”

“…Probably.”

“And there’s the rock-crab-thing.”

“…Does it eat Goblins?”

“They were eating the blue fruits. So they live nearby.”

“But I can run away from them.”

“…Until they chase me down and overwhelm me and eat my guts, that is.”

dont talk to yourself too much, or you could go insane 

Erin stopped and put her face in her hands. She immediately regretted that decision.

“Pheh! Dusty.”

She sighed and grabbed the rag. Time to clean up some…more?

“Uh. What happened to the dust?”

The floor of the inn was made out of floorboards. Very sensibly, and in keeping with the rest of the inn which was also made out of wood. However, Erin had never seen the floor before. Up till this very moment it had been covered by a thick layer of dust.

Now though she was staring at the floor. A clean, undusted floor. Erin stared and then stared some more. Then she looked at her hands.

“Was that me?”

It must have been, but how had she done it? Of the numerous and varied—of the few skills Erin possessed, cleaning was not one of them.

Oh, sure she could clean up spills and small messes. Anything that involved tossing water and mopping stuff up was okay. But this?

“I wasn’t even dusting for more than—an hour? Two? And it’s all clean.”

Erin scuffed at the floor and amended that thought.

“Sort of clean. You couldn’t eat your dinner off it I guess. But that’s why we have plates.”

And it was a definite upgrade from before. Distractedly Erin scratched her head and felt the caked dirt and dust on her face start to crumble away.

“The floor is clean. I am not.”

first of all, this seems like the skills from earlier took effect. also yeah, erin could use a bath 

“Right. I need a drink.”

Water, preferably. But Erin would have killed for a nice cool drink of anything, really. Too bad there wasn’t any water nearby.

“Time to find some. Or I’ll die. Whichever comes first.”

Erin wandered out of the inn. After a minute she walked back in, grabbed the knife, and closed the door behind her as she left. After another minute she walked back in and threw the dustrag on the ground. She slammed the door as she left this time.

this is quite amusing to picture 

“Water. Water is water. Because water. Where’s the water?”

Erin walked for a few minutes in one direction and saw no water. So she turned left and started walking that way.

“I could drink a Gatorade. Or a Pepsi. I like Coke too, though. What about Pepsi and Coke and Gatorade? Gatorpepcoke? Pegatoroke?”

It occurred to her that she wasn’t making much sense. Even for her, that was. Erin looked around for the water and felt her head spinning. Her head was really starting to hurt.

“Cogapeptorade?”

Her foot slipped. Or maybe she stumbled. But suddenly Erin tripped and had to spin around to keep her balance. That was so much fun that she started spinning around as she walked. She stopped after a few seconds and tried not to vomit.

“Feel sick.”

She wiped her brow. At least she wasn’t sweating. It was really hot, though. Weird.

those fruit may not have been the best for your health, or was it just the seed cores? the crab didnt like those 

not where she was. Maybe if she lay down she’d feel better?

Erin went to bend over. Halfway down she remembered.

“The stream!”

She tried to stand up and nearly fell flat on her face.

“Where—where was it?”

Head spinning, Erin looked around. The inn was still visible.

“It was there. So if I’m here…there?”

Shakily, Erin began stumbling towards where the stream was. As luck had it she was closer than she thought and came across the stream in a matter of minutes.

looks like she was able to find the stream once again! huzzah! this still leaves the question though, does the stream have fish? because if those fruits arent good for the health than fish might be the only other option. excluding the settlement in the distance of course 

The stream is fast flowing and cold. The young woman cares not. The instant she spots it she dashes madly into the water and flops down face first.

“Water!”

She cups her hands and begins drinking the water as fast as she can. Then she spits out the water and washes her hands of the grime caked onto it before trying again. She drinks one palmful, another, and then five more.

—-

It was around the fourth handful that Erin realized she’d made a bad mistake. The water was delicious and cold as ice cubes, but she was so thirsty she drank it down like…water. Five minutes later she was laying on her side trying not to puke.

Too much water on a dehydrated body. Erin could feel her stomach trying to empty itself and was determined not to let it.

“It—it hurts. It really hurts…”

After a while the pain went away. Erin reluctantly got back up. She was glad she hadn’t puked. She only had one pair of clothes after all.

Speaking of which…Erin raised her arm and sniffed.

“…Bath time.”

dont drink too much after not drinking, and i am glad she realizes that a bath is probably a good idea 

Erin ran her hand through her wet hair and sighed. She’d scrubbed hard, but without soap or shampoo what could you do? And when she thought about how she hadn’t used a toothbrush in days…

“Hm. So, [Basic Cleaning] was really a skill after all?”

Erin thought about it. It was better than thinking of cavities and rotting gums.

“…Huzzah. What a great skill! I mean, I might have to fight off giant crabs and Goblins, but at least I’ll be able to clean the floor while they eat me!”

She sighed and dunked her head into the water.

“Gah! Cold!”

our protag has realized that the skill is in fact real! lets hope the other one works just as well 

“Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.”

Erin laughed to herself.

“Or not. Knock on wood.”

She turned jokingly to find a piece of wood to knock on and saw it. A huge shadow in the water.

Erin shot out of the stream like a reverse cannonball just as the fish lunged. She felt something incredibly large brush past her navel, felt the slimy, slick feeling against her skin for one heart-stopping moment—

And then it was over. Erin lay on the grass, breathing for air as she stared at the fish flopping around on the grass.

“W—wh—”

ok fishing may be out of the picture for now 

Just in case Erin psyched herself up, ran over, and kicked the fish hard in the side.

“Aaaaaah!”

Erin hopped around in agony, clutching her foot.

“Is that thing made of rocks?”

yeah fishing is definitively out of the picture for now 

After a while Erin stopped hopping around and swearing. She limped over to the fish and stared at it. It had…two eyes. Four, actually. But it had two on each side. One big eye and a smaller eye right behind it.

“Ew. Mutant fish with teeth.”

Erin stared at it for a little while longer. Her stomach rumbled.

“Right. Lunch.”

She stared at the fish.

“…Sushi?”

but she doesnt really have any other options does she? plus she already has the fish 

“And hey, I need food. So it’s time to chop stuff up.”

Still, Erin hesitated. She’d never had to cut up a fish before. How was she supposed to do it? She had no idea.

“Huh. I guess [Basic Cooking] doesn’t work on fish.”

i agree, this doesnt really fit under the idea of basic cooking. sushi is more advanced 

Erin put down the knife and stepped into the common room to breathe for a while. When her stomach had stopped lurching she went back.

“There is no way I’m eating that. Cooked or raw. Actually, there’s no way I’m eating any of this without a frying pan.”

She looked around. Frying pan? Check. Good.

not copying it all but there was a lot of disgusting description of the insides of the fish. i would not want to eat this thing, even after cooking it to a crisp! 

She pressed hard with the knife. But it just wasn’t going through the skin. Annoyed, Erin pushed harder.

And slipped.

It happened in an instant. Her hand lost its traction and the blade skated across the scales.

“…Huh?”

Erin blinked, and held up her right hand. A gaping red line split her palm diagonally. There was no blood.

She flexed her hand once. That’s when the blood starting pooling. But there was no pain.

Erin looked around. Bandage? There were no bandages nearby. Or cloth.

Her hand felt…numb. Then tingly.

Bandages? Cloth? There were…curtains upstairs. Right? But they were dirty, and mouldy too.

this is bad

The blood was dripping onto the fish and the counter. Erin wanted to wipe it away, but she was still holding her knife. And suddenly, her hand started hurting.

“…Ow.”

Erin dropped the knife.

“Ahh. Ah.”

She gripped her wrist as hard as she could, stopping the blood flow. But the pain kept coming now, on and on.

“Bandage.”

She didn’t remember leaving the kitchen. But she was back with one of the curtains from upstairs and slicing it to make a bandage as blood soaked the cloth. It was hard. She could only use one hand and her other was hurting.

Eventually she wound the cloth tight and gritted her teeth as she tied a knot. The bloodstain was already spreading, but at least something was covering the wound. But it still hurt.

It hurt! Erin tried to think as she stumbled back to the common room. It wasn’t deep. Well, it was deep but she wasn’t looking at bone. But it felt really deep.

“It hurts.”

She didn’t have words to describe the agony in her hand. The rest of the world was dim and unimportant compared to the pain radiating from that one point. All of her senses were focused on that place, and it was all Erin could do not to scream.

“Screaming is bad. Quiet.”

She just knew it. Screaming would make it somehow so much worse. So instead Erin sat and gripped her wrist. The blood was dripping. It hurt.

It really hurt.

this is very bad 

The dead fish stared up at her on the cutting board drenched with her blood. It stank. At the same time, Erin’s stomach grumbled. She wasn’t hungry for fish, but she was hungry.

Still, she didn’t want to eat. Erin walked back to the chair and sat down. As she did she bumped the back of her legs. The knife cuts burned and hurt. A different kind of pain.

“I get it. It’s a bad day, right?”

Erin whispered. It made her feel better not to talk loudly. She was awake even though she was tired. The pain wasn’t going to let her sleep. And she was hungry, but she really didn’t want to eat.

So she sat, and watched her blood fall.

Drip.

okay now we have a bleeding hand, a rotting fish, giant crabs, and goblins to worry about. if i may reiterate, this is very much not good 

t was dark when the puddle stopped growing. It soaked into the floorboards, a dark stain in the night. Erin stared at the blackness. She couldn’t sleep.

“Still hurts.”

Erin stared at the table. She stared at the grain of the wood. No good. She couldn’t distract herself. But she had to.

So she began to whisper.

“Pawn…pawn to E4.”

She rested her injured hand on the table. It flared once in pain, and then resumed throbbing. Her other hand traced a square, and her eyes darted over the empty table.

“Pawn to E5. Pawn to F4. Pawn captures F4 – King’s Gambit Accepted. Bishop to C4, queen to H4. Check. Bishop’s Gambit. King to F1, pawn to B5. Bryan Counter-gambit. Bishop captures B5, knight moves to F6. Knight moves to F3…”

She kept talking long into the night. But the pain in her hand never stopped. It just kept hurting. And hurting.

aaaaand it gets worse. she cant sleep, and thus cant get any more of the levels, which could give her a skill that would help, plus she has started rambling out a chess game via chess notation. based on her backstory, this seems like a coping mechanism. lets hope our protag gets over this or gets help soon 

also thats the end of the chapter! the situation got a bit better and then got a lot worse. half a step forward 3 steps back i suppose. 

will our protag get over this pain? will she get medical help via a skill? will she stumble into the settlement in the distance half dead? find out next time! 

see you tomorrow! looks like this formula of post endings is sticking till i think of something better 

[tenshibeth1]

Now and Forever- Part 1

Sess-Kag Week 2k18

Canon take-off. Sequel to Written In The Stars.

(Wow this is longer than I'd meant it to be! This story had a mind of its own... 0.0 I hope you all enjoy! ^,^ )

(Edit: It is so big I have to divide it into separate posts. Sorry for the inconvenience!)

Prompt:

Day 3 - Sudden, steal, soft, breeze

Dark clouds loomed overhead, the brisk breeze warning Kagome that the storm was coming. Her white and blue traditional garb whipped around her as she struggled to pick a few more herbs that hadn't been completely roasted by the harsh summer sun. "Just a little more," Kagome pleaded with the sky as she plucked a green root from beneath the soil. She had no such luck. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder cracking right along behind it. As if it was a signal, a sudden heavy downpour began. She was drenched before she had even gotten to her feet. "Great!" Kagome groaned as she pulled her woven basket to her chest and darted under trees. They provided minor protection from the driving rain, but it was something, at least. However...she had wandered too far away from Edo to simply sprint back to the dry comfort of her hut. Vision blurred and feet slipping along slickening mud, she decided to search for shelter elsewhere. There were caves around there somewhere...she just had to find them.

Visibility really was terrible. She stumbled into numerous trees and thickets in her search for a safe place to crash. Twigs and leaves caught in her long tresses; limbs and thorns scratched and tore into her tender skin. And she was pretty sure she pulled something in her left ankle in one of her mud slides... Gasping for breath, ribs burning, Kagome slipped and grasped for what looked like a tree...but it was a dense thicket. She fell right through. "Shhhiii-uhhnn!" The basket went flying as she fell through...onto a hard, flat, rock. The pain registered first, a burning-stinging sensation in her limbs, her knees scraped up right along with her forearms. Kagome scrambled to get on all fours, searching out the basket and some of the fallen herbs. It was about that point that she'd found four escaped herbs that it dawned on her. She crashed onto a rough, rocky surface...ergo, she was very close to a cave. Grabbing one more herb, Kagome crawled her way back to the rocks, following the trail into the mouth of the cave. Kagome was finally given reprieve from the onslaught of water...

Sliding the basket farther in, she just laid out on the dry, sandy floor for a long moment, panting and trying to tune out the burning in her body from running and the stinging of her scratches and scrapes. She expanded her reiki, searching the cave for possible youkai threats or signs of life anywhere within. It was empty, thank the gods! Kagome slowly hefted herself up into a sitting position, wincing and hissing as she did. Man she was sore! And getting chilled. The weather was cooling off rapidly. While it wasn't cold by any definition, Kagome was soaked to the bone and the whipping wind did nothing to ease the coolness from her flesh. Goosebumps raised and she cursed as she began to tremble. She had to take off her sopping wet clothes. Peering outside, she could only see hints of green and brown amid the storm. Lightning lit the sky as thunder rumbled behind it, but the visibility wasn't any better. If she couldn't see out, no one could probably see in, either. She hoped. With reluctance, Kagome untied the ties of her hakama and shimmied out of them. Her left ankle hit the rocky ground and pain flooded in.

"Oowwww...geeeeeeez," she groaned, freeing her legs from the fabric. Parting her white kimono and nagajuban, Kagome slid her hands along her smooth left leg to her very obviously swollen ankle. "Great...that's all I needed...," She sighed. But there wasn't much she could do for it. The herbs she'd managed to pick weren't anything she could use for swelling. Untying her kimono, Kagome shed both it and the nagajuban. She used the tie, still soaked and cool, to wrap around her ankle. Maybe the coolness would help reduce the swelling before she was able to get out. Spreading her clothes out on the floor to dry, she wrung out her waist-length locks before crawling around on hands and knees in the dark- carefully keeping her ankle off the ground. She felt out the floor as she went, finding a nook in the side of the cave. It wasn't very big...maybe with enough room for two people to squeeze in. But it was out of the way of the chilling wind. Kagome shuffled in and situated herself with her back to the wall, legs drawn to her chest. The storm had only just begun...and it looked like it might rage on for a while. With another sigh, she laid her head down on top of her knees and erected a small barrier that encompassed the cave. And now...the wait...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lord Sesshoumaru...you're soaked," Sango greeted the daiyoukai at the door of her hut and ushered him in, handing him a length of cloth to dry off with all the while. He inclined his head in thanks.

"Where is the miko?" He asked instead of greeting them, merely holding the cloth in hand as the water-logged Inu stood near to the door. He was entirely uncomfortable being as wet as he was, dressed. The clothes stuck to his skin right along with his silver strands of hair. But he did nothing to convey his discomfort. Sango and Miroku's very much dry kids were playing cheerily by the fire.

"She went out hours ago to gather herbs...," Sango informed with a worried nibble to her lip. "The storm started in, and there's been no trace of her..."

"How long has it been since the storm began?" His eyes narrowed perceptibly.

"A couple of hours, maybe...Miroku went out to see if he could find her," Sango replied, her every pore dripping with worry. And she was right to be. Any human in this weather would not be well-off...not to mention the possibility of illness or incident of either the youkai sort or that of nature. Sesshoumaru was not happy. "We hoped maybe she had found-!" She was interrupted by a huff and a gasp as Miroku staggered in and fell to his knees as he panted softly. "Miroku!" Sango was at his side in the blink of an eye, hand on his shoulder. Sesshoumaru blinked at the monk. The rain was so droning that he hadn't even heard the ningen coming... All of his senses were dulled by that damned water falling from the heavens. This was exactly why he hated rain...

"I'm...alright," Miroku panted, water quickly pooling around him as he looked up at Sango with a tired but loving smile.

"You didn't find the miko," Sesshoumaru spoke with his usual stoic mask, only his tone betraying his disappointment.

"It's not...that I didn't...," Miroku shook his head, gazing up at the daiyoukai as his amber eyes narrowed just a bit more. Miroku's black hair clung to his face, water droplets streaming down like tears. His face was etched with regret. "I couldn't...reach her. She was too far out...and with the weather as it is...the paths are hazardous. Too much for humans...I know my limitations... But, she's holed up in the North-West somewhere... There's some small mountains there, and I hope...she found shelter in them... I followed the feel of her reiki for a while- that's how I found...out which direction she went. Kagome is staying stationary somewhere in that general direction...and that is all I can say for certain."

"...You did well," Sesshoumaru praised, dropping the cloth Sango had given him onto the drenched monk. Miroku looked up at him in wide-eyed shock. Sesshoumaru wasn't one to give compliments very often. Only when they were well-deserved. And this was one of the rare few times. Because the monk had useful information to go on. If Sesshoumaru had been searching for Kagome in this weather with his youki and she wasn't using her reiki...it was similar to trying to find a star behind dense clouds. Murky at best with unfavorable results. But she was using her reiki...so her light would penetrate said metaphorical clouds. He could find her. The terrain was a bother, but it wasn't as much of a problem for him as it was for humans. Without a word, Sesshoumaru turned and began walking out of the hut.

"W-wait!" Sango called after him. Sesshoumaru paused. "Where are you going?!"

"To retrieve the miko," he replied simply. Before more could be said or asked, Sesshoumaru was speeding out of the hut and into the downpour. Instead of using his other senses...which were completely useless to him at the moment, he opened up his youki and spread it out as he started North-West. At first he couldn't feel her reiki. And he was partially distracted by the rain. Going at his normal speed- which far exceeded Inuyasha's- in the driving rain and harsh winds gave him wind burn. Nasty red splotches that burned and stung his flesh enough to make his fingers curl. It would be gone within moments of stopping somewhere, but it was an unneeded annoyance nonetheless. It almost kept him from recognizing the weak pulse of Kagome's reiki. He did stop then, after about half an hour of relentless searching. The rain was an annoyance in so many ways...but he closed his eyes and focused passed the cold water to the weakening reiki. His youki poured out like a tidal wave, searching out what should have been a conflicting energy, and it washed over the reiki...an aura so pure and refreshing that it could only be the miko's. Her power was ebbing away...she was weakening. Was she being attacked? Was she wounded? Knocked unconscious? In some sort of predicament? He couldn't tell. The only thing he knew for sure, besides her far-off location, was that there were no youkai within several meters of her. Strange, but he wasn't complaining. His golden eyes opened, flaming with ambition and purpose. "I am coming....Kagome." With an urgency he felt down deep in his bones, Sesshoumaru began sprinting in her direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Part 1

[artlessictoan]

If you still take requests, I would like to request yodochou

and it’s only fitting to end on my most beloved rarepair ofall! sorry it took me a few days to get to this, but it’s cute and fun and i kinda wanna turn it into a full fic now.. so hopefully it’s worth the wait!

(requests now closed)

—

Music thudded through the walls, thick and heavy and dark –just how she liked it – she could practically hear the jittering screech of athousand plastic cases shuddering against metal shelves. Normally, she would’vetaken this opportunity to rock out, headbanging until she felt dizzy andscreaming along with the lyrics at the top of her voice… unfortunately, shestill had a job to do; there wasn’t enough space in here anyways.

She settled for nodding along and tapping her foot, singingunder her breath as she focused on organising some new stock instead.

“Oh! Yeah we’re gettin’ wise and you push much further we’regonna fucking rise, tear down your constitution ‘cause we’re done withsubjugation, better count your days ‘cause they�� ‘re…. huh?” Trailing offawkwardly when the music came to an abrupt halt, she glanced around until shefound the source.

Sarada was glaring darkly behind her glasses, hand still onthe sound system’s power button. “Fucking hell Yodo, would it kill you to turnit down?”

Rolling her eyes, she went back to sticking CDs intoalphabetical order, shouting over her shoulder, “What? No one’s here, I’mdrawing customers in.”

“By deafening them the second they enter the door?”

She puffed her cheeks up, putting away the last album beforejogging over and jumping onto the counter, glancing down at her co-worker. “Anyoneput off by loud music isn’t a truemetalhead, we don’t need people like that shopping here.”

Dark eyes narrowed at her, before she scoffed, “Tell that tothe ledgers.”

“Well you got any better ideas?” she asked, picking at thechipping paint on her nails, idly wondering what colour she should go for next– midnight black, jet black, or maybe void black?

“Actually yes-” aheavy thump jolted the table top beneath her, as Sarada dropped a thick pile ofpaper down, “-here, go stand outside and pass these out, do try not to look so sour, we want peopleto actually come to this thing.”

Frowning, she peeled away the top flyer and examined it; apparentlythe store was hosting a gig featuring local metal bands so small-time even Yodohad never heard of them – and she liked to keep her ear to the ground when itcame to music. “Since when were we doing this? And what the fuck’s with thesebands, Six Paths of Pain? Bloody Mist? BubblegumBang?”

“Since last month, I told you about it when I got the ideaand you said, and I quote, ‘sure whatever,’ maybe if you’d actually paidattention and helped out we might’ve landed some-”

“Ok, ok, fine,” she said, leaping to the floor and grabbingthe stack of paper, “but we’re playing too, right? Gotta get some talent up there, actually it’sprobably best it’s a bunch of nobodies playing, wouldn’t wanna embarrass anactually good band by upstaging them so bad.”

Sarada snorted, flashing that nasty grin of hers. “Obviously.We’re gonna wreck ‘em all!”

Cackling and slapping her hand against her friend’s outstretchedone, Yodo trudged out onto the street, her smile instantly dropped into a glarethe second the bright sun hit her eyes though.

This part of town wasn’t particularly busy, never had been,which meant that she didn’t actually have many people to grumpily pass flyersto, but that was kind of the problem; it was hard enough for a specialist musicstore to get off the ground in the first place, let alone one in such a quietarea, especially when…

Fuck, there shewas.

Yodo and Sarada’s little start-up wasn’t the only music shopon the street, just three shops down there was another one, one with a muchbroader and more mainstream stock than their rock, punk and metal, which ofcourse made them way more popular with customers and a thorn in Yodo and Sarada’scollective sides.

And it was run by the most beautiful woman she’d ever laideyes on, who was right now standing on the street, cheerfully calling out to passers-byand waving bright flyers in their faces until they relented and accepted one.

She was looking gorgeous, as usual, long, copper hairflowing free over her shoulders, beautiful curves concealed by baggy dungarees,though tantalising glimpses of the tight crop-top she wore underneath weredefinitely making her mouth a little dry and, worst of all, her full lips –painted that deep plum colour that she loved – were wrapped around a goddamned lollipop, each subtle shift and fleetingglimpse of tongue successfully driving Yodo further and further into madness.

Her arch rival, in both business and music taste, and shewas completely smitten.

If Sarada didn’t have a banshee’s screech loud enough tomake her shudder just thinking about it, she would have immediately marchedback inside to hide under the counter until she’d regained control of herheartbeat, however, since she did, Yodo decided to just walk behind the helpfulblock of greenery in the middle of the footpath and hope for the best.

Apparently her mood was still showing on her face though, judgingby the way that people flinched and rather pointedly started jogging in the otherdirection the second she so much as glanced their way.

Why did Sarada think it was a god idea to send her out to promote their shop anyway?

After another minute of failing to even draw someone closeenough to throw a slip of paper at them, she gave up with a groan and sat downon the short brick wall, leaning back into a thick bush, ignoring the twigsstabbing at the back of her head.

Maybe she’d be better off just taping the flyers to lamppostsinstead, or just calling up her friends – though Sarada had probably alreadydone that, they ran in the same circles after all – hell, maybe if she justchucked a load out of a high window people might get curious and pick some up,actually, that wasn’t a bad idea, surely it couldn’t be that illegal, besides her dad could always-

“Hey girl, I thought I saw you just now!”

Blinking rapidly, mind still half focused on advertisements,Yodo turned to glare at whoever had disrupted her thought process.

The speed at which blood rushed to her cheeks probably brokethe sound barrier.

“You stuck with flyer duty too?” the beautiful woman asked,flopping down next to her. “Super sucks, doesn’t it?” Her eyes – amber, theyjust had to be contacts, surely –were sparkling in the midday sun and she had a huge smile aimed right at her.

“Uh-huh…”

If she was bothered by the utter lack of response, she didn’tshow it. “Not as if people actually look at shit some stranger throws at themon the street, might as well just stand out here with a megaphone, it’d atleast be cheaper.”

“Mmm…”

“So, what’s happening at your place anyways?” she asked, questionnot even fully out her mouth before she leaned across Yodo to snatch a handful ofpapers.

Slightly panicking, Yodo stumbled for some words that wouldmake the gig seem less lame than it looked. “Oh, uh, just a gig to… promotelocal rock bands, an’ stuff… y’know, helping small groups get out there a lil, nothingbig.”

The woman was clearly trying to stifle a laugh as she readthrough some of the band names. “BubblegumBang? That’s a joke, right?”

“I fuckin’ wish,” she groaned, “never even heard of ‘embefore I saw the flyers today.”

Her laughter was warm and husky and sounded like moltencaramel; Yodo couldn’t help shuddering slightly. “Well, this Jinchuriki Stompgroup sounds pretty cool at least.”

Great, as if her cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “Actually…that’s my band.”

Steadfastly refusing to look her companion in the eyes, Yodoglowered at the man walking by in his sharp, neat suit instead – his purposefulsteps faltered for a moment, before he scurried off down the road, head downand walk uneven – idly picking at her nail polish again and just waiting forthe inevitable snickering to start.

“No fucking way-” here it comes, “-that’s so cool! What sortof music do you play? What do you play, no, wait lemme guess, bass? Ooh, do yousing too? I bet you’ve got a gorgeous voice.”

Unable to get a word in edgeways, Yodo just nodded along,admiring the way her lipstick shimmered and wondering if the taste of whateverflavoured lollipop she’d been sucking earlier was imprinted on them – was it raspberry?Yodo dearly hoped it was.

“Well,” the woman finally took a breath as she handed backthe flyers she’d stolen, though not before keeping one back for herself and carefullyfolding it to fit in her pocket. When she stood up to leave, she gave Yodo awink and a smile, calling a cheerful, “Guess I know what I’m doing Fridaynight!” over her shoulder as she walked away, disappearing in a flash of copperand gold.

When Sarada finally came out to find her co-worker, brightblue paper was strewn across half the street and Yodo had long since lost touchwith the world around her.

—

[lupienne]

Sometimes You Just Need A...

A little drabble for ya’ll! Ok, maybe longer than a drabble. 3,829 words. Set after Issue #174. Fluffy/maybe slightly angsty drek that is highly unlikely but I like it anyhoo. (Maybe that’s why I like it. LOL) Platonic Regan. :)

Story under the pic/cut.

Sometimes You Just Need A... by Lupienne

"Is this a good idea?"

Rick looked back at Annie as he tightened the strap on Silver's saddle. He'd loaded her saddlebags with supplies, and informed Heath where he was heading.

"I said I would." He patted the mare's nose. "And it's been three weeks."

"But alone?"

"I'll be fine. If I'm not back by morning, then you can worry."

"Sure thing, Mr Grimes." She stood by, ready to open the gate.

He struggled to pull himself atop the horse. She stood patiently as he adjusted himself in the saddle. He'd gained a new appreciation for the gentle old mare. She was slow and worn, just like him.

He urged her into a light trot, leaving Alexandria behind at a pleasant pace.

And what a pleasant day! The fringe of autumn, with just the slightest nip in the air. His chest tightened and he swallowed thickly. He tried not to think about it – how this was just the sort of day Andrea would have loved to go riding. He could imagine her beside him, her hat pulled low and her poncho fluttering in the wind.

Don't. She's gone.

He bowed his head. Lately, there seemed to be a bubble trapped in his trachea. Right between his voice box and his ribcage. Lately, there had been lots of pressure behind his eyes.

If he kept it down long enough, maybe it would just ebb away.

A few tears leaked and he wiped them, straightening up in the saddle. He nudged Silver back onto course. Dwight had given him rough directions: head east, look for this tree, look for that house. Dwight had also given him a thinly-disguised look of disgust, which Rick had chosen to ignore... for now.

He slowed Silver to a walk when he reached the neighborhood where Negan was staying. He didn't know if the ex-Savior was still here. If he wasn't – call it a wasted trip.

Maybe not a total waste. The ride had been relaxing, a nice get-away from the pitying gazes of his fellow citizens. Andrea would have approved. You need a little 'me' time, sometimes, she would say.

That fucking bubble reappeared. He swallowed hard, blinking away a stray tear. He had to gasp, raggedly, through his mouth. Sometimes the bubble hurt terribly. But no doctor could alleviate this pain.

He shook his head. He had to keep his eyes peeled. His hand near his gun. Undead could be lurking, and he had no clue how jumpy Negan would be. He knew the big fucker had a rifle.

As he approached the last house on the row, he smelled smoke. This house was set apart from the others and he paced around the side.

A small fire was stoked in a circle of stones, and a pot of water was heating above it. There was his ex-prisoner, kneeling down by a patch of greenery. He thought at first that Negan was planting a garden, but all he saw were a few ratty daisies and a half-dead sunflower.

He opened his mouth to call, but Negan must have heard him. He quickly turned on his heels, a trowel held out before him.

"You'd better back off, you dead fuck, or -" Negan jumped to his feet. His eyes squinted as his lips pushed upwards into a huge, stupid grin. "Well, Jesus Shittin' Christ! It's Rick Motherfuckin' Grimes!"

Rick slid from the horse with an embarrassing lack of grace. His bad knee buckled for a second before he forced it steady.

"What are you doing here? Change your mind about locking me up? Come out here to kill off your loose ends?"

Rick thought he detected a hint of hope in Negan's voice. He shook his head, both at the notion, and at the fact the big bastard was practically wiggling like a puppy at the sight of him. Maybe Annie was right about this being a bad idea.

"No. I'm doing what I said I would. Bringing you supplies," he said gruffly, gesturing towards the saddlebags. "Consider it your monthly tribute..."

"Cute." Negan scratched at his beard. It wasn't prison-level stages yet, but it was getting there. "And real fuckin' appreciated. Uh...how'd you find me?"

"Dwight told me where you headed. Took a chance you'd still be here."

"For now I am." Negan's eyes narrowed. "You still keeping that little cockroach around?"

Rick answered that glare with his own – the Motherfucking Rick Grimes death stare.

"Fine, fine. Do what you want. Rick knows best." Negan huffed a breath. "You wanna tie her up over here?"

"She won't go far." Silver wasn't very adventurous. "Just help me carry this stuff."

Together, they unbuckled the bags and headed towards the rundown house Negan was apparently calling home.

"I brought you a razor too." Rick said. He'd felt a little foolish when he'd thrown the shaving implements in the bag. He considered it an unspoken thanks for Negan's positive actions in the past few months. Unspoken – because it still burned his throat to give Negan any sort of compliment.

"That is fucking awesome of you." Negan nudged the door open with his foot. "Even though I'm rocking the shit out of this hobo look."

Rick frowned as they entered. Speaking of hobo...

Negan appeared to have made his home in the large foyer, and it was a mess. His sleeping pallet was a disheveled heap of blankets, his leather coat folded up as a pillow. There was stacks of shit everywhere.

A stack of dirty pots and pans.

Canned food strewn along one wall. Most empty, and some not, one tipped over and spilling creamed corn on the floor.

Dead flies all over the windowsill. An array of half-melted candles (with dead flies embedded in the cooled wax.)

A messy stack of firewood and twigs.

Wood dust and dirt and dead leaves all over the floor, while a broom sat propped against the wall in mockery.

In the corner near the pallet, was a pile of tissues that Rick was sure hadn't been used to blow Negan's nose.

The smell wasn't exactly great either.

Negan shuffled his feet, knocking even more dirt onto the floor. "Sorry. Uh...it's a bit fucking disgusting. My wives used to be the housekeepers. Especially Sherry...she'd kill me if she saw this place."

Rick cringed at the name.

"But she was a psycho bitch, so... yeah." Negan went silent, setting down the saddlebag and crouching to open it.

Rick tried not to think about that, nor about how untidy his own house had become over the past few weeks. He wasn't quite at this level of not giving a shit. He looked for the one thing Negan wouldn't just toss around – the mangled remains of Lucille. He didn't see her – it – anywhere.

"Aww, Rick, you're fucking spoiling me." Negan extracted cans of food, a few bags of dried beans and rice, bullets, matches and a bag full of travel-sized toiletries. He should have packed a bottle of bleach for this pig-sty.

The room wasn't the only unkempt thing. As Negan set the supplies into yet another messy pile, strands of his black hair fell onto his forehead, another sticking upwardly awry. His t-shirt wasn't the impeccable white Rick was used to seeing. His former nemesis was practically shabby. Negan rose from his crouched position with a little groan.

"Think I said it before, but fuck. Crouching. Murder on the knees." An evil little smirk played the large man's lips. "Guess you know all about that."

"My knee would have been fine....if I'd let you bleed out on the ground."

"Maybe you should have. Doesn't seem like it was a great trade-off."

Rick narrowed his eyes. The smirk eased off Negan's mouth, and his dark eyes were unreadable. Rick was noticing things – how the dingy t-shirt hung looser off Negan's shoulders, how his collarbones seemed more prominent, and above the beard there was a subtle hollowness to his cheeks. His release from captivity didn't seem to be agreeing with him.

"Are you doing all right out here? Are you eating enough?" Now that no one is handing you shit on a silver platter?

"Oh, I'm doing fuckin' fantabulous!" The reply was so bright Rick was sure it was utterly sarcastic, but when Negan paired it with that cheerful grin, it was hard to tell.

"Uh-huh."

"You brought me more pork n' beans...I'm almost sporting the world's biggest woody right about now." The nearly-rabid look Negan shot the canned food said it all. The bastard was not doing well.

It couldn't be helped, though. Jailing him again was unacceptable. All Rick could do was supply the bare minimum and leave Negan to his own devices. He didn't even need to do that, but he felt obliged. He'd promised.

Here I am, willingly forking over shit to this guy now.

But the tables had turned. Negan wasn't taking from him as a greedy tyrant – Negan was a fucking beggar accepting meager charity.

Rick wouldn't lord it over him, though. He could appreciate Negan's humbleness. At least the man had admitted he was wrong – not that it changed the past...but it was something. And as obnoxious as Negan could be – Rick found his company to be... refreshing. Negan didn't view him in the same way others did. He knew the dark part of Rick, but he didn't judge it. He was too much a devil to judge the sins of others. He just simply saw Rick... for Rick.

It was nice, for a while, until he rode back through the gates of town – to be able to drop his pretenses.

He sighed. Maybe he'd break for lunch on the way back. Prolong his return just a bit. He began to hobble towards the door.

"What happened to your badass cane?" Negan asked, following with the empty saddlebag.

His new cane was plain wood and tailored for someone shorter than him. A woman, maybe.

"Lost it when the Walker herd broke in. Carl sent me a note, he's making some kind of quote-unquote badass one for me at the Hilltop. Should be done soon."

"He called it badass too?" Negan was wiggling all puppy-like again. "How's he doing?"

"Fine," Rick said shortly. That deflated Negan's stupid enthusiasm. The large man was silent again as they went outside.

"I'll be back in a few weeks with your shit." He paused, giving the flower garden a critical look. It was definitely a memorial of some sort. The ramshackle cross seemed to say 'Duh, Captain Obvious.'

"Thanks. I really do appreciate it. Hell, the pork n' beans and the razor alone deserve an epic, slobbery knob-job."

Rick never knew what to say to those weird come-ons, and he was never entirely sure if Negan was joking either. He ignored it as usual.

The memorial, if that's what it was, was a place Negan must linger. The grass in front of it was trampled flat and worn to the earth in spots.

"Um..." Negan rubbed the back of his neck. "That's uh... where I buried her."

"The bat?" Rick tried to keep the disdain from his voice. Negan and that stupid bat. Of course he would bury it.

"Well yeah...but it wasn't just for her." A soft cough escaped the large man, and he squinted his eyes. "For uh...for um...my real Lucille. Because I didn't get to bury her..."

The Captain Obvious brick knocked him right over the head. Lucille. Worst thing I ever did was leave my wife to rot. The rabid attachment to the baseball bat. The lunatic rages whenever 'she' was disrespected. She's the only bitch I ever truly loved.

He imagined how he might have been...back in his dark days...with Lori. The phone. The phantom voice. What he might have done if someone had tried to wrest that phone away from him.

No. I don't want to think about this!

Goddamn Negan! Why did he always manage to mindfuck him somehow?

Unwanted images flooded his head. Running up a hill, with Carl ahead of him. 'Don't look back. Don't look back.' Lori, gunned down behind them. Lori and Judith. Left behind.

Rotting.

She's a pile of dry bones rotting on a fucking floor...my wife. Because of me.

He wasn't sure what compelled the words to trip from his mouth. Negan was staring at the grave, his shoulders slumped, and something dead and lost clouding his eyes. Rick had seen that look in the mirror. He suddenly beheld the obnoxious smiles and the bright booming glimmer of Negan's voice in a new fashion. A cover-up, a shield. That's all they were.

"I never got to bury my wife, either, Negan."

The brown eyes snapped to his. Negan's eyebrows furrowed quizzically.

"Not..." Andrea. He couldn't say her name. The bubble swelled inside his chest and his eyes burned. "...My first wife. Lori. C-C-Carl's... Carl's mother. We were running from a madman. We couldn't stop...we had to leave her." He took a ragged breath.

Negan nodded, staring down at Lucille's crude memorial.

A painful silence stretched between them. The bubble swelled like a water balloon. And it was moving upwards, like a surge of vomit. Panic gripped him. He swallowed hard, trying to force it down. He had to get out of here. Blinking hard and blurry-eyed, he looked around for Silver.

"Rick..." Negan's voice was so soft he barely recognized it. He jerked his head back towards the man in surprise, even more startled to see wetness pooling under the weary brown eyes. Negan bit his lip. "Do you need a hug?"

Silence again. Rick's body froze, except his damnable knee. It buckled and he forced it straight.

"Do you need a hug?" Now Negan's voice had a noticeable waver. "Because I could really fucking use one."

Rick gripped his cane hard.

Negan's face fell into that stupid look - parted lips and wide eyes – that childish visage he took on whenever Rick chastised him for his idiotic ways. Rick opened his mouth to again reprimand him, to say – 'Of course not, of course I don't want a fucking hug!'

But something in his aching heart propelled him forward into the opening embrace - or maybe it was just his knee caving again. Negan scooped him up against his broad chest. Rick blanched for one second, before sinking as if into the warmest of pillows, with the thud-thud of a pounding heart singing a lullaby.

He tentatively wrapped his arms around the other – more to support his bad leg than anything – his hand sliding over hard muscle and a ladder of prominent ribs.

Maybe he was the foolish fly submitting to the spider's trap, but the moment Negan's hand dropped to his back and rubbed softly – just the lightest human...humane... touch – he didn't care.

He pressed his head against this warm breathing body, this body who understood. The tidal wave of grief spilled over the breakers of his eyes, and that swelled bubble exploded into sobs. He tried to stifle them with teeth sunk into his lip, but his body shook from the force of it.

"I know," Negan rasped. "It hurts. It hurts so fucking goddamn bad."

Damn the big fucker for instigating the flood of tears! And a flood it was. Levies broke. The sounds that came from him were horrible, poison – and he felt ashamed. Again, Rick tried to stifle this weakness, but then over his own sobs he heard grief in another voice, just as wounded, just as drowned in long-simmering pain. Negan was crying too.

The shame melted away, and he gave into the racking sobs, the tears that burnt like fire.

Negan had said they would never share a meal, nor their deepest darkest secrets...but this was closer. This was a true passing of knowledge.

His knee began to quake under the weight of standing thus. He forced it straight, ignoring the pain. His arms tightened. Just hold on. Just let go.

Finally, his sobs ebbed to a few hoarse gasps, and died into fine quivers echoing through his body. Negan gave one last choked hiccup, and a shaky sigh. Still, Rick was afraid to let go, to see where this left them.

Negan's arms began to loosen, and his voice rumbled through his chest to Rick's, sounding thick as honey. "You might want to let go now. I'm starting to get an erection."

Oh, for fuck's -

Rick let go, tottering so abruptly he nearly toppled into Lucille's cross. Negan pulled him upright and Rick steadied his cane under his palm.

They caught sight of the mess of each other's faces. Twins of red, swollen eyes and scarlet cheeks, beards wet with tears and snot.

Starting to get an erection -

Rick bent double – and began to laugh. Huge laughter that killed his ribs and cleansed the toxins from his chest. Negan joined in, and his laugh was the sort that added gasoline on the fire of hilarity. Infectious. Rick wound up on the ground when his knee gave, gasping for air under the sunflower. Now he was really sore, his leg aching and his eyes raw and his ribs throbbing...but... it felt good.

"Are you...fucking..." Negan was still chuckling as he caught his breath, "...ok...old man?"

"Shut up..." Rick grimaced, rubbing at his ribs. "You're older than me, Grandpa."

Negan reached a hand down, but Rick waved it away, climbing painfully to his feet. He accepted his cane as Negan shoved it into his hand.

"Shit, I never thought I'd see the fucking day. Rick Grimes...laughing."

"Oh, I laugh. I've just never found you amusing."

"And how was your first time with me?"

Rick decided to ignore that one. He cleared his throat, wiping his coat sleeve over his wet cheeks. Negan pulled up his dingy shirt, getting it dirtier still as he scrubbed at his own face.

Rick squinted at the sun. He still had plenty of daylight left. And Silver was happily grazing on the house's patchy lawn. He approached her, opening the smallest saddlebag, one they hadn't touched. "I brought a sandwich for my lunch. I don't think I'll finish it all. You hungry?"

He knew what Negan was really hungry for. No, not that. It was so obvious, even as the man's eyes lit up, grasping onto the delay of his lonely solitude.

"I am fucking famished. It was a lot of hard work planting those fuckin' flowers today. Those white ones there."

"They're called daisies."

"Yeah, those things."

"How about we eat by the fire?" Rick didn't really want to go back into Negan's pig-sty. The big man nodded, and headed into the dump, returning with two mesh chairs.

"Need a tissue?" A handful of white was extended to him.

Rick shuddered. "No fucking way."

Negan shrugged, blew his nose, and threw it into the fire. They sat, and Rick split the large sub down the middle.

While they ate, Rick offered a grudging tidbit or two. How Alexandria was starting to come back together. How Carl was doing at the Hilltop, helping to rebuild and planning his future as a master blacksmith. He didn't give much, but he knew Negan appreciated it all the same.

Negan told him how he'd eaten a dog and still felt bad about it, how he'd gotten the shits from ‘a motherfucking piece of shit can of Dinty motherfuckin' Moore‘ and how he'd found another baseball bat but hadn't kept it. Rick raised an eyebrow to that.

"It wasn't the same. Didn't feel right." Negan shrugged.

"I guess not."

It also didn't feel quite right...but Rick believed him. He sighed inwardly. Negan was getting his way, after all. The wily mind-fucking fucker. The trust was building between them.

He threw the parchment paper wrapping his sandwich into the fire, brushing crumbs off his hands. Negan did the same, letting out a satisfied belch.

"Thanks, Rick. Fuck, it's been a while since I've had something fresh like that. You know... I'm starting to miss prison. That fresh bread you brought me every now and then? Fucking awesome. Also, you cleaning my shit bucket."

"I don't miss your shit bucket." Rick gave a half-smile.

"Yeah, me neither. I have a shit hole now." Negan chuckled. "And I don't mean the house."

"Maybe I'll bring a maid next time." Rick rolled his eyes, pushing to his feet. "It's time I head off. You should be good for the next few weeks."

"You can't hang out a while longer? I promise, that's not a sexual proposition, although at this point, your bony ass is looking mighty tempting."

"No, now I think it's definitely my cue to leave. If I head back now, even if I hit a delay, I'll make it home before dark."

"You want me to come along? In case you run into trouble?"

"Now you're insulting me. This 'papaw cripple' still has some fight left in him." If Negan was thinking of his ass now, he didn't want to imagine the sordid thoughts the big bastard would have riding horseback with him. "Besides, you aren't to go near Alexandria, Negan... I mean it."

Negan bowed his head, muttering. "Yeah. I know." He snorted. "The rules keep me alive."

Whatever that meant. As long as he understood. Rick clambered atop Silver with a stifled grunt. It looked like an afternoon rain was gathering on the horizon. He almost wanted to stay, here in this commiserating bubble outside his empty, wifeless home. Here, where he had laughed until his ribs hurt, for the first time in a long time. Here, where he was understood.

He looked down at Negan's hopeful eyes. No, he'd better not. Negan would start to think he actually liked him, and that wouldn't do.

"You let me know if you need me to take care of your cockroach problem, huh?" There was that insufferable Negan-grin, and then the bastard gave Silver a smack on the rump. Rick yelped as she startled forward.

"Asshole. That just pushed your supplies back another week. Better make that food last!"

"Sure, sure. See ya, Prick." Negan gave an overly animated wave goodbye.

"See you, Negan." And Rick made his way back home, already pushing Negan's next supply drop ahead of schedule in his mind.

After all, there was no way those pork n' beans were going to last Negan a whole three weeks. He'd have to come back much sooner.

Maybe two weeks.

Maybe one at the most.

[jasperrollswrites]

Brotherhood

A Goron TF, done for gogetyourverb on deviantArt. A lot of fun to do - I do love the chubby Gorons, especially when Twilight Princess introduced them doing sumo.

———————

Goron City was not a comfortable place for a Hylian to be.

Its proximity to Death Mountain meant the place was always warm, and while that was just fine for the Gorons, it meant that Jeremy always felt like taking off his clothes whenever he was there. He'd long since figured out in during his many visits that light clothes were best, the kind of stuff you'd need to go through the desert, long and flowing, airy. The problem was, in a place like the desert, the air was flowing, even if it was harsh. In Goron City, the air was still and stifling.

Sometimes Jeremy wished he could just take off his clothes and wear a loincloth or something, like the Gorons did, but he was too modest for that. He kind of wished he felt that free. It was a trait he admired in the Gorons. They seemed to care little for appearances, preferring to get to know the person behind the face - certainly, it was a trait he had noticed in his best friend, Doga.

Their meeting some years ago had been something of a coincidence. He had been journeying to Kakariko, and had awoken after a night's rest to discover himself surrounded by Moblins, who were already making off with his stuff. Moblins were usually dumb as rocks, but these ones had the sense to take his weapon, a short sword, first, leaving him effectively defenseless. They were ready to slit his throat when he'd heard a loud yell from behind him, and turned around in time to see one of his attackers launched about 20 feet in the air by a powerful Goron fist. Okay, maybe it wasn't that high. But it felt like it.

Doga was something to behold in combat. It was clear to anyone with a knowledge of Goron culture that he had been practicing sumo since a young age, but he didn't let the restrictions of sumo hold him back from letting loose on opponents. The other part of what made him such a sight was that Doga had let his snowy white hair grow out, into a long tangled mane of white hair that reached down towards the middle of his rocky back, tied at the end with a little twine of rope. The way his hair flowed behind him with his hard, heavy punches was almost mesmerising.

He'd been scary as he fought off the invaders, but when he turned to Jeremy on that first day, his wide face, clean-shaven face (Goron's often had beards - Doga elected not to) immediately turned into a kind, warm smile, as he helped Jeremy find his stuff that had been scattered on the plain. His bright red eyes might suggest someone meaner, but as Jeremy would find out, Doga was as kind as they came.

As it turned out, Doga had at the time just been running an errand for his father. It surprised Jeremy to find out the two were basically the same age - Doga was way bigger than Jeremy, a 7 foot tall brute of a Goron, but that was to be expected of Gorons, really.  Doga had just been running an errand, but the young Goron had a deep-seated sense of justice in him. About a year after they had met, Doga confided in Jeremy that he harbored dreams of being a travelling warrior, a Goron that would be written about in legend and remembered for years to come.

Jeremy had laughed and given him a bit of ribbing about it, but he'd admired Doga's direction in life. It was something Jeremy felt he was missing. He'd just been travelling on the plains for a few years now, doing odd jobs to keep himself afloat, but he'd lost all sense of direction in his life. In a way, meeting Doga had saved his life in more ways than one. While he still hadn't found the direction he was looking for, he felt like he was closer to figuring out what that direction was.

In the meantime, Goron City had become something of a home to Jeremy. Doga had invited him to his own home and after that it was kind of like Jeremy never left. He still travelled around, but he always ended up coming back to Doga's place, and he'd gained something of a rapport with the other Gorons in the city. Some of them even called him brother sometimes, although it seemed more like a slip of the tongue than anything else.

But that was enough of taking a trip down memory lane. Right now, Jeremy was returning to Goron City after a good couple of months away. He'd travelled out quite a distance, but he'd come back when he had received a letter from Doga, asking Jeremy to return. The letter was excited, but vague - Doga had something he wanted to give to Jeremy, a "commemoration" of something, but whatever this thing was, Doga hadn't said. So Jeremy had returned, and now here he was, back in Goron City, back to sweltering heat.

He was wearing some pretty light, airy clothing - a shirt coloured a sort of ethereal light blue, which hung loosely off his somewhat thin body, and some kind of baggy black pants. Apparently, they were of Gerudo design, which had kind of made Jeremy a little awkward about wearing them at first - weren't all Gerudos female? - but that had been a few years ago, and Jeremy had learned that they were the best kind of clothing for Goron City, and that Gorons didn't really care what you wore. After all, they didn't wear a whole lot themselves

He wiped some sweat off his brow, shifting his short brown hair a little. Coming back to Goron City always reminded him how much he admired the appearance of the Gorons - their long flowing hair, magnificent beards, big muscles. He'd considered growing his own hair out like Doga's, maybe growing a beard to differentiate them, but for now he was happy the way he was, with his short hair and clean face. His pale skin was flushing red with the heat, but Doga usually had some way to cool down in his home. All Jeremy had to do was get there, which he did easily enough.

He knocked against the door of Doga's home and waited. After a couple of seconds, the door opened, and there was Doga, whose red eyes immediately lit up at the sight of his friend.

"Jeremy!!" he yelled happily, and quickly swept up the Hylian into a tight Goron hug. He'd learned to be a bit more careful about hugging Hylians, since if he went in with full strength, he'd break Jeremy like a twig, but that didn't mean the hug wasn't still a little painful. Jeremy didn't mind too much himself though - he'd gotten stronger and more used to it. They held the hug for a few seconds, Doga nuzzling Jeremy a little, before letting go.

"Oh my...you don't know how glad I am you came back", Doga said excitedly. "You got my letter, didn't you?"

"Yeah, you said you had something for me?" Jeremy replied.

Doga grinned. "Oh yeah. I've got something real good. But first...come in, come on. Tell me about where you've been! I love hearing your travelling stories." Doga stepped to the side, letting Jeremy enter his home once more.

--------

"...and, man that minstrel was something else, I'll tell you. I wish there was some way of...I don't know, repeating it, exactly as it was", Jeremy was saying.

"You could always learn the accordion yourself." Doga suggested, grinning.

"No, no, this is...I dunno how to describe it", Jeremy replied. "Even if I did learn, I wouldn't be able to replicate it. You really just have to be there."

The pair were sitting around a table, Doga listening intently to Jeremy's stories. Everything in Doga's home was made of metal, including the chairs, since if they used wood, it would just burn up from the sheer heat of the nearby volcano. Doga was munching on a rock as he listened - he'd offered some to Jeremy, but Jeremy had politely declined.

"You said he was a travelling minstrel?" Doga asked. "Perhaps I'll run into the fellow myself."

"I hope you do. It's a unique experience." Jeremy replied. "Well, I think that's pretty much everything that happened while I was away. How have you been, Doga?"

"Pretty good, brother!" Doga said. Jeremy smiled at the name. Doga seemed to be the only Goron who used the 'brother' term for him with any sort of sincerity. "In fact, very good. Something I've been waiting a long time has finally come to fruition."

"Oh, really? How long have you been waiting?" Jeremy asked.

Doga scratched his chin. "Hmm, a year, perhaps two", he estimated.

"Two?" Jeremy said, incredulously. "Must be something very important for you to be willing to wait that long."

"Yes, it's not something that's...given very frequently."

"Well, don't dance around it", Jeremy said. "Tell me!"

"I..." Doga faltered. He seemed worried now. "It's...ah, perhaps it was a bad idea."

"Doga, I know you don't do things without thinking about them a lot, so I'd definitely say it's not a bad idea, whatever it is." Jeremy reached out a hand and patted Doga's shoulder, trying to reassure him.

"It has something to do with why I called you back here", Doga said, then reconsidered. "No, no, it has everything to do with why I called you back. It IS why I called you back."

Jeremy looked quietly at his friend, not sure what to think.

"You, of course, know about the nature of brotherhood between Gorons", Doga began. "How could you not, having spent so much time with us?" He chuckled. "But...well, you probably have heard that brotherhood can be extended - we can share brotherhood with those who are not necessarily Gorons."

"Well, they said the King was considered an honorary Goron brother, didn't they?" Jeremy replied.

"Yes, yes...well, people know that about Gorons. And I think you would know that I would consider you a brother, don't you?" Doga continued. Jeremy nodded. "I feel like...perhaps you feel I've failed you a little. We have been friends this long, and I have not put you forward to be considered a brother by the rest of the tribe."

Jeremy shook his head. "I don't mind at all, Doga. It's not up to me to question how Gorons do things."

"What I'm trying to say is..." Doga faltered again. "The reason that...I have not done such a thing is because...well, in a way, I have been trying. But...in a different way.

"It does not happen very often, but very...very occasionally, there have been times when the Gorons have considered a non-Goron a brother, but...they have felt that the non-Goron being only an honorary brother is...it's not good enough. It does not truly describe the bond between them. They feel the only way that brotherhood can be expressed is by...accepting their friend fully, and...that. That is what I have been trying to obtain for these past couple of years."

"Doga, what are you..." Jeremy said, but the Goron cut him off. He seemed solemn.

"I do want you to be a brother, I do want you to be considered a brother by the tribe. I want all the people of Goron City to see you and say to themselves, 'yes, that is my brother'. But being an honorary brother is not enough for you.

"You mean far more than that to me." Doga said, looking up at Jeremy, his red eyes looking right into Jeremy's own.

"What are you saying, Doga?" Jeremy asked.

"I'm saying, that...I want you to be a Goron...brother." Doga said.

Jeremy tried to parse the sentence. Was that pause intentional? Was he...

"Is...is the...brother part...separate from the Goron part?" he asked.

"...Yes and no."

"I don't..."

"I want to make you a brother of the Gorons. But being an honorary brother is not enough. You deserve...I see it in your eyes, when you are here. You belong here. But not as a Hylian."

"...as a Goron?"

"Yes." Doga stared down at Jeremy, awaiting his response. Jeremy was quiet. What could he say?

"But...how would that even be possible?" he started.

"You of all people should know that there is magic in this world. Is it really so impossible to believe?" Doga replied.

"I guess, but...is this really what you are asking of me? To...make me one of your own?" Jeremy said.

"The moment I met you, I knew you were lost in this world." Doga said. "You have made your way on improvisation, on taking things as they come, but you have never found your place. Except for here. When I see you here, I know you belong here. I know in my heart, that you belong with us. But as you are, you cannot survive here. So, when I went to the elders, I asked not that you simply be an honorary brother, but a true brother, a Goron, just like me.

"It has been a long couple of years, and all this time you have been watched. I wanted to show them what I saw in you, and finally, after all this time...they have agreed. They too now believe that you could be one of us. All that remains...is you.

"They have given their blessing, but the final decision lies with you." Doga said. "I know it is...a lot to ask of you, but I would not be doing this if I didn't think...that it was something you wanted too, so...I suppose all that really remains to ask is...would you want this? Do you want to be a Goron, brother?"

There was a long silence as Jeremy considered what was being presented to him. Doga was right in a way. Jeremy certainly did feel more at home in Goron City than he did anywhere else. And sometimes, he had felt a little resentment towards Doga for not asking him to be a brother beforehand, but that was before he knew that what Doga had been fighting for, in private all this time, was this opportunity.

"Would there be no going back?" Jeremy asked, although he wasn't sure the answer would have any effect on his decision.

"What is done through magic can be undone, certainly..." Doga said, "So in a sense, no. But it would not be a limited change. Once it is done, you would be a Goron permanently, until another magic were to change you once more...am I making sense?"

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Jeremy considered. He...he did want this. But at the same time, to cast off...everything he was before...but then, what was he before? Some aimless Hylian, wandering to and fro, no direction in his life. Doga was right. He had been lost since he'd entered this world, and the only true home he'd found was amongst the Gorons. If there was a way to be closer to that, then why would he ever deny that chance? He would regret it for the rest of his life.

"I'll do it." Jeremy said, resolve in his voice.

"You will?" Doga said, his mouth opening into a grin. Jeremy nodded, smiling back. "Oh, you will!" Doga exclaimed with excitement, and stood up, sweeping Jeremy into another hug. "I cannot tell you how long I have waited for this moment!"

"O...kay...okay...Doga..." Jeremy said in pain, feeling the breath being crushed out of him. "You can...give me...a proper hug...once it's done!"

Doga let Jeremy go, a blush on his face as he scratched the back of his head. "Ahaha, I'm sorry, my brother. I was just excited. Let us not delay! Come with me!" He walked past Jeremy, heading towards the bedroom. Jeremy turned, following after, and found that the room had been changed quite a bit since he had last been in it - the most noticeable difference being that there were no beds.

"Where are the--" Jeremy began.

"Out back." Doga responded. "This was the only space I had for the ritual, so they had to be moved."

The bedroom was darkened compared to the rest of Doga's home, the only light coming from the walls that glowed slightly, pulsing red like magma, and some candles set on a low rock shelf. On the floor was a carpet with the symbol of the Gorons on it - the kite shape with three triangles coming away from it, looking like a claw. Next to the candles was a piece of white cloth that looked like a Goron loincloth, not dissimilar to that which Doga was wearing. Doga took up the discarded cloth.

"You'll need to put this on." He said. "And, ah, take off your other clothes."

"That's not a...previously used one is it?" Jeremy asked.

"Haha", Doga chuckled. "No, no. I made it for you. It's part of the ritual."

"Alright..." Jeremy murmured, not quite believing this was happening. Was it a joke on Doga's part? But he wasn't really the type to play jokes...Jeremy began slowly undoing the latches on his clothing, unwrapping them from his body, undoing the sash around his waist. He slowly took the clothes off, feeling exposed as they revealed his lithe frame. He blushed at the thought, at the sensation of letting Doga see him like this.

"Is everything okay?" Doga asked. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, I am, it's just...a little embarrassing." Jeremy said.

"Hahaha! That feeling will be washed away when you are a Goron!" Doga flexed an arm, grinning. "We are proud of our bodies, and you will be too. I can tell you will make a fine Goron already!"

Jeremy smiled. He finished taking off his clothes, and Doga handed the loincloth to him. Jeremy attempted to wrap it around himself, but very quickly there was a problem.

"It's...too big for me." He said. He held the loincloth up with his hands, holding around his waist.

"Well, of course it is!" Doga said. "You're about to be much bigger! If I made it for you as you are now, there would be no point, you'd just tear it apart."

Jeremy nodded, but he felt a little stupid standing there in the middle of the room, with only a too big loincloth to cover himself up. He had to admit he felt the heat less with his clothes off, though.

"Okay, now stand on the carpet. Right in the centre." Doga said, and Jeremy did so, standing directly over the Goron symbol. "I'll just set up everything else..." he began taking the candles and placing them around the carpet, in a circle around Jeremy. As the candles lit up the floor brighter, Jeremy saw a red circle had been painted on the floor, which he hadn't noticed before due to the darkness of the room - Doga was placing the candles on marked spots on the floor.

"Is this safe?" Jeremy asked. 

"As far as I know." Doga said. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, I just...what if one of us kicks over a candle by mistake? It might set the carpet on fire." Jeremy said.

"Well, then we won't do that, will we?" the Goron said, grinning. Jeremy rolled his eyes.

After a few more moments of preparation, it seemed like things were ready. The last thing to happen was Doga taking up a piece of parchment from the shelf, on which had been written some words.

"Now, I just need to say this, and...I think it should begin. Are you ready to become a Goron, brother?" Doga asked.

"Yeah. Definitely. Make it happen." Jeremy said. He felt anticipation in his chest. He couldn't wait now. He knew he needed this more than anything now.

"Then I'll get started." Doga said, and began reading off the parchment. His voice was low, murmuring words Jeremy didn't recognise. He couldn't understand what was being said, but he had the feeling that these were powerful words, and his thoughts were confirmed as the circle the candles were stood atop began to glow with a bright red light that hurt a little to look directly at. Jeremy felt things get hotter, beads of sweat beginning to break on his forehead once again.

Doga kept talking, and the candles seemed to burn brighter with the circle below them glowing. Jeremy looked down at the carpet underneath his bare feet, and saw that the Goron symbol on it was starting to glow a bright white, with a blue edge as it reacted to Doga's words. Doga kept reciting whatever was on the parchment for a while, about half a minute, until he came to an end, and looked up at Jeremy.

"Be prepared, brother. Everything is about to change." He said, simply.

And change it did.

It started in his feet - there was the sensation of a crack in the centre of his foot, and Jeremy looked down to see his feet starting to grow. His soles were getting wider, and a little bit longer. He could feel them hardening already, getting tough, more able to withstand the sharp rocks that made up Goron City and the nearby mountain. His toes were getting bigger to match as well, the toenails thickening. His ankles were starting to swell a little with fat. It was small steps, but Jeremy felt excited already - then it felt like his legs buckled.

There was a weird, but not really painful sensation as his legs seemed to shorten underneath him. His thighs were getting thicker, but his legs were losing their length, the bones under his skin compressing down. "I thought Gorons were meant to be tall..." Jeremy said, a little out of breath.

"Our height is not in our legs, brother, you should know that." Doga responded. "Give it a moment."

His hips were widening as they lowered, and his legs were forced apart, making him stand somewhat rigidly. As his hips increased in width, Jeremy slowly took his hands away from the loincloth, and was happy to see that the cloth in question was now held up by his widened hips, so he didn't need to hold onto it any more.

As his body had begun changing, a change of colour was sweeping up his legs, although it was difficult to see in the dark room. The pink skin on his body was getting redder, like it was getting hotter, differing from the tan colour that the Gorons usually had, although a Goron with red skin wasn't unheard of. Just rarer than usual. Jeremy lifted a leg and shook the foot, experimenting a little with the changed limbs, but he didn't have long to experiment, as the big changes were about to kick in. After all, his hips had widened for a reason.

A grumble emitted from his stomach, and Jeremy instinctively lowered his hands towards it - and then began to feel it grow. It was like his body was exhaling, as his stomach began to swell outwards, musculature and fat growing underneath the skin. His belly button was beginning to stretch, as his torso bloated outwards. He felt his spine pop, as the height he had mentioned was beginning to grow in, his torso getting longer, the spine getting stronger - and it would need to. His torso was bloating out into a magnificent belly, and Jeremy grinned as he felt his gut swell beneath his fingers. The red colour swept up over his belly - and when it touched his hand, the colour spread to his hands.

Jeremy lifted his hands away, smiling as he watched these become larger as well. His fingers were getting fatter, thicker, his palms were becoming broader, his hands were doubling, no, they were tripling in size! His nails thickened like his toenails, yellowing a little, as he felt his hands becoming more powerful, and it was a feeling that only increased as the changes continued up his arms. Doga had been grinning quietly at the spectacle before him, but he had finally noticed the changing Hylian's skin tone.

"Oh my, a red Goron! How exotic!" He exclaimed.

"Ha, that's...exotic to you?" Jeremy said, grinning back.

"Well, most Gorons are here are just tan...it's nice to have a bit more colour around." Doga replied.

Jeremy felt his forearms growing, getting stronger, his biceps and triceps not far behind. He raised his arms up, flexing - and as he did, his muscles swelled before his eyes, thickening to support his gigantic hands. "Haha!" Jeremy said, feeling more confident by the second. "I hope you're ready for a proper Goron hug after this!"

"Absolutely!" Doga said, not bothering to contain his excitement. His red eyes were sparkling in the candlelight.

Jeremy's spine continued to pop as he kept growing taller. The loss of height in his legs was definitely being made up as he rose up towards Doga's height, and as he did, his chest was growing outwards to match his massive belly. It sagged down a little as fat swelled in his chest, becoming a pair of undeniable moobs. Jeremy reached a hand back down to touch one. Was it possible to be more happy than he already was? He squeezed, and felt it resist a little - it wasn't all fat under there - he definitely had muscle to spare. His belly was similarly tough.

His back, meanwhile, was hardening in an altogether different manner. His skin was being pierced, splitting open as hard rocks pushed through. Jeremy winced in pain, but it felt like his threshold was higher, as brown, spiky rocks broke through his skin. Blood trickled between the spikes, a few drips falling to the floor, but Jeremy wasn't in much pain. His spine popped a bit more, bringing him to eye level with Doga. He was almost done - it was a little amusing, seeing the weedy Hylian's head atop a large Goron body, but that was about to change.

His neck was thickening, and Jeremy found himself inexplicably coughing - as he did, both he and Doga heard his voice lowering, getting deeper, causing a rumble in his chest. As Jeremy got over his impromptu coughing fit, he rubbed his thickening neck with a massive hand. "Oh my..." he said - and jumped at his own voice. It was definitely deeper, smoother even, like melted chocolate. As he said that, he felt his jaw crack - and begin to widen. His whole face was starting to get wider, his cheeks swelling a little with fat, as the red colour flowed up his face.

As it crossed his chin, hairs pushed out of his jaw. A beard was growing at rapid speed. Jeremy slid the hand that had been rubbing his neck up the underside of his jaw to feel the beard that was growing in. He pulled at the hairs, coaxing them to grow longer with his thickened hands, while more grew across his upper lip, creating a bushy goatee around his mouth. It quickly became apparent that the hairs were a pure, snowy white, and the white was rising up around his cheeks, connecting with his hair...which was growing longer. It wasn't crawling down his back like Doga's did, but was rather growing outwards into a wild, slightly tangled mess that framed his widening face. The hairs atop his head were losing their colour, the white from the beard 'infecting' the hair, until his hair and beard created a magnificent white mane, not unlike a Lynel.

His lips were getting thicker, his mouth widening to match up with his bigger head. His nose sunk into his face a bit, and the tip rose up, creating a little pig-like nose. His eyebrows became bushier, turning as white as his hair and beard. He blinked a couple of times, and suddenly his eyes had turned a deep, oceanic blue. His body felt warm, something building up inside him, before it suddenly released, and he felt a strange sense of relief...and an overwhelming sense of contentment.

The change had ended, and where had stood a Hylian, there was now a red skinned Goron, with a grin on his face and a fire in his belly. He looked proudly at Doga, and opened his arms wide for a hug.

"How do I look, brother?" he asked.

"Magnificent!" Doga exclaimed. "I knew you would make a fantastic Goron, but I didn't think it would be this incredible! You should see yourself!" He rushed forward, pulling Jeremy into a tight, powerful hug, definitely stronger than any hug he had given Jeremy as a Hylian - but now Jeremy was able to withstand it, and for the first time he returned the hug with just as much power and force as his friend.

After a tight, close hug, the two pulled away from each other, and Doga reached out to give Jeremy's beard a single stroke. "Hmm..." he pondered. "Perhaps I too should grow a beard. It certainly looks good on you, brother Jeremy!"

Jeremy screwed up his face a little, hearing his own name.

"Is something wrong?" Doga asked. "You're not unhappy, are you?"

"No, no, I'm definitely happy, brother, but...that name. 'Jeremy'. It...sounds wrong, now." Jeremy stroked his own beard. It didn't feel like his name any more, because he wasn't that person any more.

"Ah, I see." Doga said, nodding. "It certainly doesn't ring as true as it once did. You should choose your own name."

The newly-changed Goron looked closely at Doga, considering what his new name should be. He wanted something simple, but powerful, memorable like Doga's. Doga...D, something beginning with a D. Do, de, di, da, du...Dadu? No, not quite. Sounded like something a baby learning to speak would say, but the vowels were right. It was just that third letter that needed changing...

"Damu?" he said out loud. He'd meant it merely as a suggestion, but the moment it left his lips, he immediately knew it was his name. The smile on Doga's face only deepened that feeling, as it was clear his old friend approved greatly.

"Damu! A fine name, brother! It fits you perfectly!" He said happily.

"Damu it is, then." Damu said, smiling back. He slung an arm around Doga's shoulder, feeling a sense of camaraderie and joy. Doga was right, as he often had been. Damu had been lost as a Hylian, but now, transformed into a Goron, he knew more than ever that he belonged right here, alongside his true brothers. It was like something in the universe had righted itself, and the world was clearer and more beautiful than ever.

"Before we do anything else, though, I have a couple more gifts for you." Doga said.

"Already?" Damu replied with surprise. "What greater gift could you have than what you have already done for me?"

Doga chuckled. "Haha, it's nothing as grand as that, my brother", he said. "Just a few extra things, to help you acclimatize to our lifestyle." He headed over to the corner of the room, where a metal cabinet sat, and opened up the doors, revealing a couple of items - a pair of large, metallic gauntlets, and a large chain.

"I had one of the smiths make these up for you, although I didn't say that it was for you at the time, since I was not sure that you would agree to this", he said, lifting the items out of the cabinet and presenting them to Damu. Damu took them in his own hands - they were certainly heavy, and if he had still been human, he would've barely been able to lift a single gauntlet. But his changed form, with its increased strength, made carrying all of them at once no harder than holding an apple.

"I assure you, brother, they will not go to waste", Damu said, touched by Doga's forward thinking. His old friend had been doing so much for him, all this time, and he had not been aware. Truly, he deserved the title of brother, just as much as he felt Damu did. Damu strapped the heavy gauntlets tightly to his arms, and lifted the chain over his head, resting it on his shoulder like a sash. Adjusting the chain, it felt strangely warm in his hands.

"They're perfect, Doga", Damu said happily. "I cannot thank you enough."

"Thank me later, brother! For you, it is time to see the elders!" Doga said. "There is a lot you will have to learn about being a Goron that only they can teach you."

"I look forward to it!" Damu replied, enjoying the smooth rumble of his own voice. Together, the pair left the darkened room, and went out into the light, to discover a new life, and a new family.

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