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astrodances · 5 months

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This fic started with the idea I've had for a while of Raine giving Eda wrist kisses after she got her sigil, and it just evolved into this whole scene which I basically wrote all of last night. 🥺🥹

(And yay!! Managed to write, finish, and post something in 2023!! And yay for my first (published) TOH fic!)

Happy, healthy, lovely New Year to everyone, and thank you for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! 🥳💜

_____

A Brave Face

It stings. Titan, it stings and it burns and it hurts it hurts it hurts-

Steve utters an “I’m sorry” laced with so much regret to an unhearing Eda, hiding the offending sigil glove as he backs away from her unseeing eyes, still tightly wound shut against the reality of what just happened.

Raine’s quick to take over, ushering Eda to the stern of the Bard Coven airship (in this moment, they want to curse every string they ever plucked, every note ever played under the coven’s banner). Everyone else pointedly stays near the bow, giving them the space they need. Lilith stays near the edge of the group, closest to the middle, on standby in case a sisterly shoulder is called for.

Eda’s breaths are heavy, shaky in the silence they wrap themselves in. The wind, free and cold at this altitude, flows by to tickle their hair and clothing, but otherwise, she stays braced against the pain, clutching her branded arm to her chest.

“Eda...?” Raine prods gently. “Eda? Hey, can you hear me?” Every syllable is softer than a whisper (they should know), and one hand stays on Eda’s shoulder to help ground her to the present, their thumb rubbing comforting circles.

Eyes still closed, Eda’s willpower catches in her throat, and she sniffs in warning before the tears begin to flow as freely as the wind. She shakes her head, not at Raine’s question, but at everything she’s feeling. Against the ability to speak. At the unfairness of it all.

Raine immediately covers Eda in an embrace, angling her away from everyone to give her more privacy. Mindful of her arm, they cradle her head and bring her close to them. Her mane of hair absorbs most of the vibrations she emits with each audible sob, each one deepening the grimace across their face and crushing their heart more and more.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you...” they say, refusing to lie with any false platitudes or even mention the sigil right now. Still, they hope their words and their presence are enough to soothe her, to just let her know that she isn’t alone.

Eda merely snuggles further into the crook of Raine’s neck, letting-needing-them to support her as she lets her guard down.

They let a few more long moments pass, giving Eda time to let the brunt of the storm pass. Raine, meanwhile, begins to regulate their breathing, and finally says, “Try to focus on my voice, okay? I’m gonna count you through a breathing exercise.”

Without waiting for an answer, they begin, demonstrating as they go.

“In, two, three, four...”

Eda shudders against them as they hold for a moment.

“...and out, two, three, four.”

In less-dire circumstances, Eda would make a joke here about Raine being a walking time-signature or something to that effect, and Titan, Raine wishes it were so. They’d take any form of teasing right now just to see a shadow of a smile grace her face.

“In, two, three, four...”

“Out, two, three, four...”

They keep the rhythm, not caring how long they have to stand there breathing and counting to get through, imbuing as much calm as they can into the other witch. Other airships go by, quiet murmurs make their way from the front of their own, but Raine’s focus remains undeterred.

Eventually, after several minutes, Eda stills, her own breathing still strong but steadier. Raine pulls themself back just enough to see her face and catches her wincing.

“Are you okay?” they ask. They know the answer is no, but it’s instinctual.

Her eyes are still closed and she’s still holding the outside of her arm, but for the first time since before the branding, Eda speaks. “It hurts, Raine,” she hisses.

“What do you mean?”

“The si- my wrist, it hurts. Like it’s burning.”

She offers her arm out partway, and Raine takes the invitation to hold onto her hand, gently coaxing her wrist into view. They try to reign in a gasp at the sight of Edalyn Clawthorne with a sigil - it’s still hard to believe this happened at all.

Sigils usually don’t hurt for this long though, if at all; Raine’s tingled for maybe half a minute. And the eclipse hasn’t started yet.

“Maybe it’s because of the curse?” they speculate, fingers itching to run over the branded skin.

“Maybe,” Eda whispers.

There’s something so broken in the way she says that one word that causes Raine to whip their head back up to her, only for them to furrow their brow in utter despair. They feel like they’ve been sucker-punched in the gut.

Eda’s finally opened her eyes, still wet and gleaming with tears, and Raine can see just how vulnerable she is through them.

They’ve never seen her this vulnerable. Not when they first approached her in that corner at the I.F.W.O.T., or when they caught her alone at the lunch table on their first day at Hexside. Not when she first told them about her curse, or even when she begged them to protect her kids.

The Day of Unity, saving the world, everything else fades away. For the moment, those things don’t exist.

Raine can see what she’s mourning -- thirty-plus years of freedom, of playing by her own rules, of being the “Wild Witch of Bonesborough,” of standing up for what’s right and winning the good fight for herself.

Tonight, she lost. She lost the battle, the final blow there on her wrist, and she deserves to honor and mourn that sacrifice.

The Head of the Titan is still a ways off. They have time.

Raine trails their gaze back down to her wrist, this time intentionally tracing their thumb over the sigil before they raise Eda’s arm up and start planting the most tender kisses they can manage across it. They hear Eda choke back another quivering sob.

“I want...you to know...” they begin between kisses, “...that you...are...the bravest...person...I know.”

Once they’re sure they’ve covered every inch of skin and sigil with love and affection, Raine looks up again and gives a kiss to Eda’s nose, her forehead, and finally to her lips. It surprises them both, if they’re being honest--there’s an unspoken agreement between them that they’ll discuss their relationship after the Day of Unity, to avoid distractions, naturally (though they both know there’s very little to actually discuss at this point)--but Raine sees it if nothing else, at the very least, than as admiration and a promise, the same promise they made to Luz.

“T-there. Does that help a little?” Raine asks. They’re both blushing messes now and Eda is crying waterfalls, but the question does make her laugh despite herself, and Raine will gladly count that as a victory.

Eda nods a couple times, then leans her forehead against theirs. “Yeah, y-yeah it does, Rainestorm. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

They stay close together for a few moments more, Raine now holding Eda’s hand to their chest, sharing the rhythm of their heart.

Eventually, they guide Eda to sit on the floor of the airship with them to rest and let them wipe her tears away and just talk and think. They share worries; they share hopes.

And when Eda starts to let herself acknowledge the sigil more, turning it this way and that in the sunlight, Raine holds her a little tighter and hums their rhapsody-requiem into her hair.

Eda lost a battle to help win a war, and Raine will do anything, anything, to support her and honor that.

Anything for the bravest witch of all time.

#The Owl House #TOH #Eda Clawthorne #Raine Whispers #raeda #my fanfics #writing this was mostly spurred on by drawing an Eda from pre-sigil branding on Christmas Eve - I'll post that in the new year :)

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numericalbridge · 1 year

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Title: Wounded Hearts

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: T/PG-13 (brief descriptions of blood and injury that are more intense than canon, but still on the level of a fantasy book aimed at teenagers)

Word count: 4195

Main characters: Raine and Darius

Other characters: Belos, Eda, Lilith, Eberwolf, Alador, Katya, Amber and Derwin

Summary:

An AU confrontation between possessed Raine and Darius, and the aftermath. (written before the finale)

The humming in their head, terrible and alien. The thudding of their boots on the castle’s floor. Their vision is tainted with sickly green…

As they lurch forward, helpless, just a marionette at the tyrant’s whims, they can almost feel those decomposing green tendrils infiltrating their mindscape, piercing the trees, leeching out their memories. They can almost hear the creaking and the splintering of their mind. Powerless to do anything. Trapped inside their own body. Helpless, again.

Yet they still try to fight. With every fiber of their being they try to stall, they pray that something, somebody will come and stop them. Stop it! In those jumbled first moments they almost succeeded – they almost managed to throw themselves and the terrible green monster inside them over the railing of a staircase, but at the last moment Belos had wrestled the control.

Oh, they can feel his disintegrating thoughts inside of their very being. He is not long for this world, and he knows it, and it makes him even more dangerous than before. Only now they, who have always prided themselves on their independence from the Emperor’s doctrine, are nothing more than his puppet. And everything is so terribly green, and the smell of the rot and the sound of his hateful thoughts hurt their mind.

“Just give up, go to sleep,” his voice inside their head lulls them, so patient and soothing. “You have nothing to fight for.”

“Fight and you’ll be punished.”

And maybe they would have considered giving up, perhaps if they were younger. Perhaps not, they were always stubborn. But Raine Whispers have gone so far, sacrificed so much. They won’t give up. It’s just so hard to think and stay aware…

“Raine!” They are in a narrow castle corridor, and Darius is in front of them, reaching out his hand towards them, palm up.

Belos stretches their mouth into a leering grimace. Darius’s eyes widen, he must realize that something is wrong.

Suddenly, a memory: Darius, standing just like this, eyes wide in surprise at their silly rebel banner. Darius, offended with their naiveté. Raine, teasing him for the whole week.

“Ah, Darius, my treacherous Coven Head,” Belos croons. Raine is fighting him again, but it is so hard. Why, why are they not strong enough? Never strong enough.

“Raine, come on, fight it!”

“Oh, they can’t hear you.” Raine feels their arm stretching, growing with disgusting creeks into a spiked limb. They feel eyes opening on it, confusing their senses.

No! Raine screams inside their head.

“Fight me again, and he will pay.”

“Raine, you can do it, you are stronger than him!” Darius is still reaching towards them, offering his hand, but his other arm has already transformed into the abomination scythe.

Do it. Stop him.

“Let’s end this,” Belos throws their body forward, surprisingly quick, and they clash together. Green mutated spiked limbs, the abomination scythe.

The fight is brutal. No time to be afraid. Raine tries to fight for control. He is distracted! They try to throw their body into the path of Darius’s attacks, but they are useless. No time to think. No plan. Only desperation and anger.

“Raine! We are the C.A.T.T.s, remember?” Darius’s voice cuts through the haze of their hopeless fury. “Now, listen to my voice, we can defeat him!”

Belos staggers back, and Raine feels their bones and muscles ache. Their breath is catching. Darius doesn’t seem to be able to fully transform — perhaps as the aftermath of the draining spell or the Collector’s influence — yet he is gaining the upper hand. Raine stares into his eyes — green and determined — and wills it: Do it, just do it. End this. I was always prepared. They hope he knows they would never blame him.

And suddenly, as their body stumbles, and the scythe is descending upon their head, the awful green tendrils retreat, and Raine gasps for air, able to move and fully feel again, their hands raising up to protect their head on instinct. They look up, and see Darius’s face contort in fear, as he throws his arm to the side, and the scythe whooshes past their ear, missing them by inches.

Darius stares at them, panting with exhaustion, but tentatively putting his hand out again. He is starting to ask something, just as the green rot returns, its tendrils piercing Raine’s inner self, and Raine screams, and Belos roars with laughter inside their mind, as they lose control again.

And Darius makes a small, chocked sound.

One of Raine’s spiked arms is piercing through his shoulder. They can feel the shudders of his body as they pull him near.

“Oh, what happened?” Belos coos into Darius’s ear. “Couldn’t hurt your precious Songbird?” Raine can feel their arm twisting inside the wound. The rot twisting inside their memories. Belos smiles wide, “But, you know that in your place they wouldn’t have hesitated?”

He pushes Darius back, and Darius falls off the spike and onto the floor. He tries to get up, but another spike goes through one of his knees.

“Pathetic.”

Drip-drip-drip. Something inside Raine goes numb. Darius is trying to crawl away. There is a blood trail. Belos is savoring his suffering.

“You really are terrified of me, aren’t you, Darius?”

Another memory. That time Eda had exploded pustule-berries across the cafeteria of the Hexside, and everyone got covered in sticky red pus. Darius’s face: Surprise-Disgust-Panic. Raine feels their mind starting to shut down.

“Should I make this quick?” Belos wonders, making their mouth pout. “Or should I do to you what I did to my previous grimwalker?”

Darius looks up, not comprehending. He isn’t trying to get away anymore, and just stares at them from the floor. Drip-drip-drip.

“I mean the previous Golden Guard,” Belos explains, patient like a school teacher talking down to a particularly dull student. “You know, in the end he was offering you in his stead, just to escape from the torture.”

“You, how dare you,” Darius snarls, trying to transform again.

“Yes, I killed the previous one,” Belos’s voice is bleeding with mirth. “But you’ve already suspected it, haven’t you? Oh, and I killed little Hunter too, just so you know. I possessed him, and crushed his annoying little bird with his own little hands, then, when the body wasn’t useful anymore, I drowned him in front of his worthless friends. And now I’ll kill you, and after that I shall destroy the other Coven Heads and the rest of these ungodly isles, and I’ll strip this body I wear to the bones before that, while they see and feel every single moment of it.”

Stop it!

“Are you going to cry now, Darius?”

“We are the C.A.T.T.s, remember?”

Never strong enough.

Darius is not crying. He is staring up at Belos — at them — with an almost childlike expression. Eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth trembling convulsively. Something behind those eyes fracturing irreparably. His whole body is shaking slightly, but he makes no move to fight or escape.

Belos takes his time approaching him, avoiding staining Raine’s boots with blood. Raine has to watch.

The creaking of the mindscape. Memories… they and Eda, in the forest clearing forever.

Raine’s arm is mutating into the spiked weapon again.

“But, if it is any consolation to you, Darius,” Belos’s voice is oh-so soft and so cruel, “I am just finishing what Raine wanted to do.”

The sounds of the world around them are muted. The remnants of the rot are slowly leaving them. They hear soft murmurs of hushed conversations, Eda’s voice standing out even now. Raine blinks slowly. Their vision is blurry without their glasses. They stare at the high ceiling of the castle. The sensations are returning, and they can feel a dull ache all over their body.

Eda’s arm is around their shoulders, holding them close. They are half lying in her lap.

“You are safe now, safe.” “Breathe.”

Then, “He is gone now.”

“Dead? For real?” Raine croaks and cringes at how raspy their voice sounds. So different from the silky fakeness of Belos. Inside, Raine still feels numb. Drip-drip-drip.

“Yeah, for real,” Eda chuckles. “And the kiddos dealt with the Collector.”

Carefully, Raine turns their head. They see King, Luz, and their friends huddled in a group on the other side of the room. Hunter is with them too. Raine exhales in relief, though they can’t see his bird. There are other people around; Raine doesn’t even recognize all of them.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Eda assures them again. “And Amber, Katya and Derwin are safe too, they are with Steve helping everyone outside.”

“The children, are they alright?”

Eda sighs, “Physically at least… But you’ll need some patching up.”

“I’ll find somebody from the Healing Coven,” Lilith’s voice says from the side, and Lilith’s palisman crows in agreement.

Something to remember first. Why did they think about the bird? So much blood…

“Eda…” The memories are coming back. Not like Belos made them forget anything. No, they were there for every gruesome moment. They just went numb at some point, and the world turned hazy.

Raine sits up. Searches the castle hall with their eyes. Children, some adults. Vitimir and Mason. No Terra, good. And Eberwolf, looking around, his ears down in worry. He catches their glance and gives them a small wave. He isn’t rushing to bite their face off, so he doesn’t know yet.

Their heart races so badly, they nearly faint. “Darius?” they rasp.

“Haven’t seen him yet,” Eda replies. “Maybe he is helping outside too.”

“No!” Raine clutches her arm. “No. Eber! Listen! The staircase near the East Wing, there is a small corridor where the old library used to be. Bring someone from the Healing Coven. Hurry!”

Eberwolf’s eyes widen, he nods and scurries away.

Raine falls back into Eda’s embrace. How much time has passed? Hours, at the least. With those wounds — gurgling, tearing, snapping — and without immediate help he can’t still be alive.

Everything is so muted. Voices. Feelings. They wish they could stay cold and hard-hearted forever. “They wouldn’t have hesitated.” Never mind their dreams of being gentle and soft, like before.

“Raine? Raine! Please, don’t space out!”

“Raine, please!” They think Eda is crying. “I’m here with you, it’s going to be alright… right?”

I really failed at everything. Failed as a rebel. Chose to fail as a teacher. Failed as a friend…

“Talk to me, please,” Eda begs.

Silly, silly Sprout, thought they were a hero.

Failed to protect Eda even, that’s why she is holding them with one arm.

They can’t talk. They lay in Eda’s embrace for what feels like hours, while the others leave to find their families or to offer help or just to rest, until suddenly in an explosion of the abomination matter Alador appears by Eda’s side. He looks even more disheveled than usual. Raine feels nauseated at the sight of him.

“I…” he blinks at the pair of them. His voice is shaky, “I wanted to say we found Darius. He is badly injured, the healers are working on him right now. I thought I’d tell you.”

“He’s alive?” Raine blurts out. How?

“Yes. Odalia, of all people, had found him and tried to give first aid.” Alador sighs. The shuffling of his boots irritates Raine’s ears. “Apparently, even she couldn’t just leave him to bleed out.”

Even she… “Just finishing what Raine wanted to do.” Raine feels something rising up in their chest. Why did it have to be Odalia? Alador’s shuffling is unbearable.

Raine braces themselves, gripping Eda’s hand. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad, but…” Alador is avoiding their gaze, “I negotiated with the Healing Coven Head, so he should be fine, probably? They say she is the best, right?” Alador blurts it all out in one breath.

“What do you mean? Negotiated?” This can’t be good.

“Well, she won’t be investigated for what she and her coven did under the Belos’s rule, and…”

“And why do you think it was your place to negotiate with her?!” The numbness is replaced with cold, burning fury that threatens to choke them. That… that hack, who’ve gleefully supplied the Empire with weapons, how dare he?

“Well, should I have just let Darius die?” Alador snaps back.

Or do you want your own crimes to not be investigated?

Agh, Raine stares at him, seething, searching his face to see if he blames them. Alador lowers his eyes to the floor, all awkward again. Raine wants him, or somebody, anybody, to hurt just as they hurt…

“Alador,” Eda offers, not unkindly, and for a moment Raine almost wants to hurt her too. “Maybe we’ll discuss all of this later? No one is in their right state of mind at the moment. Go check on your kids. King said they all will be at Hexside with Luz’s mom.”

Alador nods, shuffles some more, then finally leaves.

Raine stares at the empty space in front of them.

“Raine?”

“Eda, am I a bad person?” they want to ask, but they know Eda, and what she would say.

“Your ‘Bats’, your students were so worried about you,” Lilith’s voice suddenly interjects. Raine doesn’t even want to look at her. Why is she bringing up their students? “They love and respect you so much. You inspired them so… Even now they are helping others outside. I find it quite admirable… and envy it. Don’t just give up on yourself because of what Belos did.” Lilith then coughs, says the healers are on their way, and murmurs an excuse to leave.

“Oh, wow, that was wordy,” Eda muses. “But Lily’s right. Raine, you can’t let him, Belos, win. That monster would’ve wanted you to blame yourself and…”

“Oh, Eda,” Raine closes their eyes. They feel like crying, but the tears won’t come. Why are they so helpless? Would it ever get better? “Just hold me, please.”

Darius wakes up slowly. Blinks. Stares at the inoffensive beige ceiling of the healing ward. His chest hurts, his whole body aches. He contemplates the insistent, dulled feeling of dread and sorrow. He closes his eyes. His eyelids are crusted, and everything feels gross. He opens his eyes again, unable to fall back into unconsciousness.

He remembers waking up in this ward before — Hettie’s sharp voice admonishing him, the nurses giving him potions and changing his bandages. Pain. Despair. He thinks he remembers Eber talking to him. Bitter taste of medicine on his tongue. Bitter taste of failure. This is the first time since the… injury… that he’s woken up almost completely clear-headed. Yet the feeling of vague terror mixed with helplessness is still there.

He remembers.

Failure, what a spectacular failure.

He turns his head. Eber is sleeping in a chair by his bed, his face scrunched up into a grimace, and ears down.

At least he is here, Darius thinks. At least he is alive. At least Darius is not alone.

Eber’s ears perk up, and he opens his eyes.

“You’re awake,” he chirps. “Want some water?”

This is the most lucid Darius has been in days, yet it takes him a moment to comprehend the beast-speak. He feels shamed. “Yes,” he manages a weak smile. The ache is pulsating through his body. “Thanks,” he adds.

He can barely move his arms, so Eber helps him drink.

“This is humiliating,” Darius complains.

Eber shrugs, “You're going to hate your stay here.”

“I know.”

Eber gives him a weird look. “You scared me.”

Darius turns his head away. Does he feel guilty? “What happened?” he asks.

Eber sighs, “Belos’s dead.”

Dead. Well, Darius supposes he wouldn’t be here otherwise, alive. Eyes burning cold blue on the wrong face. He gulps. His flesh tearing, red and wet… His less injured hand clenches into a fist.

“And the children pacified the Collector,” Eber adds quickly, the tone of his voice suddenly, deliberately upbeat. “Eda’s King and the human with her other friends. And Hunter was with them too.”

“He’s alright?” Darius is looking at Eber again. Of course that titan-damned bastard has lied. Darius’s shoulders sag in relief. Should he allow himself this feeling?

“Mostly alright,” Eber’s ears droop again. “Belos tried to possess and murder him, but the human’s mother, her name is Camila, saved him, and then his palisman sacrificed itself to heal him.”

“Oh.” The thought is cruel, yet for a moment he wonders: Even that little bird did more good.

Eber is eyeing him cautiously.

The failure is so bitter. If he allows himself to feel he will choke.

“Raine is fine too,” Eber offers carefully.

“Ah. Good.” Darius doesn’t know what else to say. He sees their face, contorted into an alien grimace. He pretends he doesn’t have time to think about it. “Well, I’m glad everyone got out of the mess.” Except for that little palisman…

Then Eber is blabbering on about the human’s mother, who is like a healer for beasts, and then some nonsense about Odalia helping him, and, then, of course, he moves on to Darius’s current condition.

Darius just nods along. That poor bird. Flesh tearing. Raine’s face leering over him. Powerless… He wishes he had his gloves.

Eber groans. Darius realizes he stopped talking.

Eber gives him another worried look. But why should Eber be worried? Darius was the one who failed to protect him, and Hunter, and everyone else… “We are the C.A.T.T.s, remember?” All his sacrifices, all the pain for nothing. The worst part is that he lowered his defenses just enough, softened himself just enough to make this sorrow unbearable.

Eber fidgets in his seat. “Are you alright?” his tone is almost tentative.

Darius blinks at him. He is so tired, and so bitter, and broken. A failure all around. And he has no strength to lie.

“No,” he chokes out, “I’m not.”

Eber stares at him for a moment. Then gingerly climbs onto the bed and carefully, gently, puts one paw on his arm.

“It’s ok, I’m not alright either. We can be not alright together.”

And suddenly Darius finds himself nodding, then his shoulders are shaking, and he finds himself crying. He can’t pretend anymore, and his carefully maintained facade is crumbling.

Eber hunches down, nose scrunched up, eyes and ears lowered, still gently holding onto his arm.

“How embarrassing,” Darius mutters. Just seeing Eber like this makes him want to banter to make him cheer up, despite everything. “Look how you made me cry. I’m all gross now.”

Eber raises his head, relaxing his posture a little, then reaches into his mane, and, to Darius’s astonishment, pulls out The Abomination – Darius’s favourite little abomination that he used for spying and sending secret messages. Eber plops it onto Darius’s chest, and it toddles up to his shoulder. Darius looks at it through tears. It creates a small handkerchief out of the abomination matter and tries to wipe Darius’s face with it. That’s just too much…

Darius is laughing through his tears.

“Eber, you absurd creature,” he groans. “Did you have to ruin my emotional moment with this ridiculousness?” He is still crying. While laughing. It is terrible. He can’t even move his hands well enough to cover his mouth. And it is probably not the right way to deal with this ‘outburst’.

Eber cocks his head to the side and chitters in a self-congratulating manner. The Abomination settles in the crook of Darius’s neck. It looks pleased with itself too. Darius was worried about it, after leaving it behind on the Day of Unity, so he is glad it is safe.

“I must look so undignified now,” Darius starts to complain, just to continue with the familiar banter, when Eber yelps and groans, looking in the direction of the ward’s door. Darius follows his gaze. His blood freezes.

Raine is standing in the open doorway.

Darius presses himself back into the pillow. No, not like this. Don’t want to be hurt like that ever again.

A familiar voice, “You are terrified of me, Darius, aren’t you?”

Gentle pressure on his arm, and an almost silent alarmed growl – Eber. The cool touch of the abomination matter on his neck. Darius gulps. He forces himself to look again.

Raine is just standing there, their eyes fixed on him with an unreadable expression. Their ears are drooping. They have scars on their face and neck now, and they are dressed in new, non-coven clothes that fit them badly. But their favourite earring is back, although there is a huge scratch on it. Darius focuses on the earring. It reminds him of something. Something that won’t hurt.

Eber groans again, in low tone, asking whether he is alright.

Then, yes, Darius remembers. The earring. There was paint on it. Red. Eda’s thoughtless little prank that left most of the Hexside’s cafeteria covered in that horrid substance. Darius had a meltdown because it was on his face, and his clothes, and his hands… Raine walked him to the bathroom and helped him clean, no questions asked. Their eyes weren’t so haunted back then.

Darius steels himself, then sighs and gingerly, slowly opens his palm, offering his free hand to them. Raine silently pulls up one of the chairs, sits down and takes his hand. They lower their head, and he can feel their hand shaking in his. They sit like that for a while, in silence. Only Eber is purring softly.

A loud bang of a door slamming somewhere and sounds of footsteps break the tentative peace. Three familiar faces of Katya, Derwin and Amber appear in the doorway.

Oh, no.

“Are we interrupting something?” Katya asks.

Eber chirps happily. He adores the B.A.T.T.s. Raine straightens up and smiles weakly at their students.

Darius makes a grimace, “What are you doing here?”

“We came to visit papa Darius,” Amber declares in the most annoyingly cheery voice possible.

“Don’t call me that!” Darius sputters.

“Well, there were other, worse alternatives we’ve considered,” Derwin explains.

“Ugh.”

“And we brought balloons, since Eber said they don’t allow flowers.”

“How nice, it’s a cat,” Raine offers. At least they don’t look so utterly beat down anymore, and some shaky mischief has returned to their eyes. You couldn’t protect them either.

Eber, meanwhile, looks way too pleased with himself.

“This is a cat, because we are the C.A.T.T.s, and this one is an abomination, for obvious reasons, and this one just looked cool, it has teeth and a tail,” Amber explains as Derwin and Katya wrestle the giant balloons into the room.

“I’m not twelve, you know it, right?” Darius grumbles. He just knows the B.A.T.T.s are playing it up to mess with him.

“You can be just as immature,” Eber growls, signing along for the others. “And the card?”

“Yes!” Katya shoves something into Darius’s face. “Look, we all signed it!”

Darius looks. It is indeed a large greeting card. On the violet background there are 'get well soon' wishes from Derwin, Katya and Amber, and a short one from Steve too. But also wishes from Eda and Luz (a drawing of an abomination with cat ears included), and underneath them a signature from Lilith. To Darius’s surprise there is also a rather formal, but lengthy message from Perry Porter, as well as wishes from Perry’s son, Hunter and the rest of the Emerald Entrails written in an absolutely horrid shade of green ink. Harmless green, though. There is also a scribble from Alador that uses their old inside joke and gives Darius way too much secondhand embarrassment.

“See? How cute!”

Darius feels… something. He looks at Eber’s smug face, then at Raine. Raine is still holding his hand. Darius wishes he was one of those people who can easily tell what emotions they are feeling. But, yes, he is crying again.

“Noo, already? You sap,” Eber grins, pressing his paws onto his arm in affection.

“It’s the medicine! That’s all,” Darius retorts. It is easy to fall back into their old bickering routine.

“I know! What we need is a group hug,” Katya suddenly declares.

“No! Wait!” Darius can just see three grown young adults, and probably Eber too, piling on top of him. He wouldn’t survive it. His body is all broken.

“Come on, Katya,” Raine interrupts, smiling their old smile, although there still an edge to it. “Darius is still healing. Don’t rush at him.”

“Ok then, maybe we can make it a very careful, very gentle group hug?” Amber proposes.

So they do a very soft, very gentle group hug. The Abomination nearly gets squished. Darius is completely overwhelmed. His body still aches all over. He is still not alright.

He looks at Raine, though, their hand still in his, and they share a glance, and there is a sudden, painful, silent understanding between the two of them. Because, yes, maybe they have failed, and maybe the pain would never go away, but there are still people in their lives who they care about and who care about them, and there are always bridges to build... And maybe for now it is enough.

#raine whispers #darius deamonne #toh darius #can be read as #dariraine #toh eberwolf #toh fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction #the owl house au #written before the finale #yes i deleted it here but then decided to post it again #i am mercurial just like that #but now it includes the title and the correct word count #numericalbridge fic

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colemacgrathtkz · 1 year

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Trouble at the market

Breaking out of Hooty's owl pellet was bad enough. She had to pick leaves out of her hair. Not to mention, bits and bones of whatever the tube demon last ate. Now came the crowds of fans of "Luz, the human ''.

Witches of the (unofficial) "bad girls coven" raced upon seeing one of their idols. Witches, young and old, swarmed around her. While others were snatching Penstagram selfies, uneasy fans wanted to know what caused the Isles to tremble just a short while ago. This might be a taste of fame. But it was still the pressure of everyone counting on a high schooler. Not exactly something Luz counted on when she helped save her friends. The witch apprentice turned hero, Luzura. Her identity as "the dummy in the principal's office" was crushing. But this was a new kind of pressure.

She tried to calm down the flock of worried admirers. But they kept asking about the "rainbow geyser" that rained down on the titan. From its head to its toes, liquid metal-like substances crashed down onto the ground.

Unable to answer all their questions, Luz nervously agreed to let everyone know when she learns more. One thing she learned to always keep on her, a bottle of fog brew. After her first day of Hexside, she wanted to ace her first potion. Now, the results spoke for themselves. Using the smokescreen and an invisibility glyph, she snuck away.

Young witch: "So cool. Like that other human hero. What was it? Man-bat?"

Luz(under her breath): "It's actually Bat..."

The slight exhale caused her glyph to wear off. Before she could use another one, she spotted a Glandus student sprinting in her direction.

Luz: "No,no,no, wait, I don't..."

They sped past her, completely ignoring the confused human. And then another, and another, and another. Panic could be heard getting closer, as the sounds of battle grew bigger as well. The ground shook as she saw witches retreating. The former emperor's coven guards fell under the banner of the "C.A.T.S". Those accepted were under the leadership of the original rebels against Belos. Raine Whispers, Daruis, Eberwolf, Lilith and Eda Clawthrone. Only those personally approved by one of them were made into peacekeepers.

C.A.T. guards fired spell after spell as they fell back. Dust and debris approached ominously toward Noceda's direction. She wasted no time running towards them, in hopes of being able to help.

From the dust cloud, two C.A.T. guards were launched through the air. Noceda used a glyph to catch them in greenery and created an ice wall with another. She readied herself and thundering footsteps approached. The sound of metal bending greeted her before the sight of a 30 foot blue humanoid newt emerged. In one arm, he held what looked like a sci-fi energy sword. A large abomination attempted to focus its attacks on his head. The witches responsible for the goo champion became over confident. One of them spotted Luz and became careless.

C.A.T. guard: "It's the human!"

At that moment, the large newt swung its tail. A chunk of rubble was sent crashing into the origin of that call. Their partner ran to their aid. With eyes irritated from the blows, he could just make out a familiar sight. A fuzzy silhouette of hair with leaves and sticks. The huge armored creature closed in on his human target.

King Andrias: "A human, huh?"

Luz: "Um, hi. You're a big boy, aren't ya?"

King Andrias: "What have you done with the box?"

Luz: "The box? I don't know what you're talking about. What box?"

King Andrias: "The power of Amphibia's greatest treasure. My battle on Earth just moments ago. Now, I'm here amongst these creatures. Of course, you sent me here. Always a little thief misusing its power."

Luz: "Listen, um, sir? I don't know anything about a box, but if you just..."

Wait, he knows about earth. He said, he was just there? What's going on in the human world? Did what happen back at the pool site reach there, too?

King Andrias: "You want to play games? Catch!"

Using his sword to bring down a wall, he swung his tail like a bat. Debris went flying towards Noceda's direction. She quickly slammed an ice glyph on the ground. But the frozen wall it created only held against the stone projectiles. Her attacker charged at her almost immediately. Swinging his sword through, he completely closed the distance between them. Despite towering over her, she could see the reds of his eyes. Even with his vision impaired, he was still a threat.

King Andrias: "You've got ice powers now?"

He caught her in his massive hand in an attempt to crush her. But she activated a fire glyph she planted on him, just under his fist. Right when he loosened his grip, she escaped and used a plant glyph to swing from his arm, up to his face. He spotted her aim and headbutted her before she could use another attack. She came down on the ground, hard.

He quickly tried to stomp on her. But she rolled out of the way.

King Andrais: "You think sending me away was going to save Earth?"

He swung his sword without giving her any reprieve. One of the blows cracked the street, causing Luz to lose her footing.

King Andrais: "I'm going to enjoy crushing everyone you care about when I'm done here."

At that moment, several spikes of ice went right for her opponent,

Luz(angrily): "What did you just say?!"

She coated a rod, lying on the ground, in ice. It almost looked like a shimmering sword.

King Andrias: "Touche."

She used a combo of fire and ice to create a fog. Using the cracks in the street, she used a plant glyph to attack from below. He evaded, but took his already poor eyesight off her. She used the distraction to slip away, using an invisibility glyph. Sneaking up on him, she surprised him with a large flash of light. With what felt like looking directly at the sun, he covered his eyes. His reaction from the pain made the opening Luz wanted. Using an ice platform, she launched herself up to his collar. With her makeshift weapon, she lodged it into his armor. Using vines, she knocked the sword out of his hand. She had to use one arm to hold on. But she appeared to immobilize one of his arms with a plant glyph. They managed to drag his arm closer to the ground. Unfortunately, she forgot about his tail. He knocked her off his back and snatched her out of the air with his spare arm.

King Andrias: "So many new powers. You’ve outdone yourself, chosen hero. I underestimated you. But now you die.”

Just as he raised his fist to smash her into the ground, sunlight allowed him to get a better look at his captive.

Bringing her closer to his face, he studied her features.

King Andrias: “You’re not Anne Boonchuy.”

Not wasting this opportunity, she remotely activated one of her last two glyphs. Using a vine to reach the rod under his collar, she set off a series of ice glyphs coated around vegetation that shackled his arm.

King Andrais: “What’s happening?”

He flung her in the direction of the floor. Fortunately, her last glyph allowing her to stop in mid air and land safely on the street.

The barrage of glyphs managed to reach underneath his armor. Finally, immobilizing him completely and ending the battle.

Author's note:

I was worried about how much I could fit here.

#No Owlet Home AU #the owl house #toh #luz noceda #story i pieced together #No owlet home #king andrias

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blxckdragonfly · 2 years

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Darkness Finds You Saga Outtake #1

(Warning: None/Bit of Blood.

Pairing: Malakai Black x Lyra Crowe (FC: Mothica)

Synopsis: Lyra invites her Owlman and now friend, Benedict Cumberbatch to see the inside of the wrestling world)

AEW All Out- September 4th, 2022. Chicago, IL.

We had about thirty minutes before MB, Brody and Buddy were taking on Darby Allin, Sting and Miro at All Out here in Chicago and tonight was going to be his last match for a while. I’d also decided to invite two very special guests to come see us perform for the very first time and that was Benedict and his wife, Sophie.

They were backstage as we were getting ready. I slipped into a black faux leather halter crop top with matching faux leather leggings and a pair of heeled boots on my feet.

I had the hair and make-up team put my hair up into a bun and had black eyeshadow and dark red lips, I also slipped a black shawl around my shoulders and put on a black fedora to give it more of a Stevie Nicks feel.

I walk out of the locker room to see Malakai, Brody and Buddy standing in the hallway, talking.

I take MB’s hand and pull him away for a second. “I think we should initiate two new members into the house,” I say.

“Who might those be?” Malakai says and I shove him playfully, making him chuckle as I turn my head and shrug over at where Benedict and Sophie were sitting together, talking.

He nods as he goes back into his locker room to grab one of his bandanas, kissing my cheek after whispering to Brody and Brody nods, walking away.

“Hey, Owlman. Come here a moment,” I say as I wave my hand as I call Benedict by the nickname I gave him.

Malakai returns with the bandana as Benedict walks over to us. I smile as I turn to face him.

“There’s a reason why I called you over here, you see,” I told him as I took both ends of the bandana and I draped it around his neck so the scythes are pointing forward. I gently tied it around his neck. “Welcome to House of Black, my friend.”

“I-I’m in House of Black?” Benedict asks. “Since when, exactly?”

“Ever since the day you walked into my studio and became the creature known as Owlman for my album, you’ve always shown dedication towards The House.” I told him as Malakai nodded in agreement.

“Well, it’s rather too bad that I couldn’t wear something like this back when I was doing Sherlock,” Benedict says and I hear Malakai’s chuckle in the background as he hands me a small box with the scythes on the front of it, inside contains his necklace with the Cernunnos mask on it.

“This is for Sophie, as she is also a part of The House too.” I say, setting the box in Benedict’s hands. “And we also have something for your boys too. Brody?”

Brody comes back and he has three shirts that he has on his right shoulder, he shows them off to Benedict. It’s the House of Black design with Malakai holding his hands out with his Janus mask.

I watch as his face turns from shock to a look that seemed like he’d been touched. “Lyra…”

“Hey, I told you before. You’ve shown dedication to The House. Therefore, we look after our own. You, Sophie and your family will always be our own.” I told him.

“I don’t even have the words to tell you how much of an honor this is. I feel like saying thank you isn't enough but it is. Thank you."

I smile as he embraces me in a hug and I pat Benedict on the shoulder. "Stick around, we're going to do our entrance and I promise you, it will be unlike anything you've ever seen, just watch the monitors. Ready, boys?" I say as Malakai, Brody and Buddy nod. I hear the beginning of the swamp sounds and we take off through the curtain.

I take my place in front of the House of Black banner while the lights are out. The lights turn back on and there's a green light shining over the banner.

I slowly lifted my arms to the side before raising my hand up and making the banner fall as Absent In Body starts to play, the boys standing beside me.

"Accompanied by Lilith Czar, Buddy Matthews, Brody King, Malakai Black– House of Black!"

Hearing the crowd cheer as the lights go out and we head toward the ring. The lights turn on and we're standing on the apron, Brody and Buddy on the turnbuckles. Lights turn off and turn on again as we're standing in the ring.

Malakai hands me his mask after he's taken it off.

After the match that we sadly lost, even though I tried to use my blood mist on Darby, which he had just been able to dodge, barely and during this match, Malakai did get torn open near his eye.

We walk back through the curtain and I grab a bottle of water to get the taste of the blood mist out of my mouth, red dripping down my chin. Benedict looks completely interested in everything and Sophie looks kind of squeamish.

"Just so you know, the blood mist in my mouth is not real." I point at my chin, wiping it away before Malakai walks up behind me, placing a soft kiss on my temple and I point at the cut next to his eye, blood dripping. "This is real."

"Does this always happen, blood being drawn in matches?" Benedict asks.

"Not really, unless you're a main-eventer." As I said that, Jon Moxley walks by us and I make a gesture toward him. "Exhibit A."

Mox hears me and he turns to face us before flipping me off, I start laughing. "Love you too, Moxley."

"Yeah. Whatever, Lyra." He heads out to get ready for his and CM Punk's match as Benedict chuckles.

"Seems like a lot of you are friendly behind the scenes, like I am on set. Except when I did The Power of The Dog when I had to stay in character for most of the filming."

"We try to be, yeah. It makes what you do more exciting when you have everyone applauding each other at the end of the day," I nod.

"Hi, Lyra," I look over to see Dr. Britt Baker. She sees Benedict and her eyes widen. "Holy shit. You're…"

"Maybe I should have worn a disguise here?" Benedict says.

"No. A disguise wouldn't have mattered. I'd recognize your voice anywhere," Britt says with a laugh.

"Here's Exhibit B of a main-eventer. Benedict, I'd like you to meet Dr. Britt Baker,"

I say as we both do her pointing gesture. "DMD. Britt, I assume you know Benedict Cumberbatch. This is his first AEW show. He came along to see all of us perform. We were speaking on the subject of blood in matches."

"Is it really? Like Lyra said, us main-eventers do get torn open quite a bit. When it happened to me, it became a new development for my character on-screen," Britt explains as Benedict nods. "I started intertwining blood drips in my gear, my jacket, all of that."

"I think you even had some blood red makeup looks too, right?" I ask and Britt nods. "See? Blood can be used as a creative tool. Britt's a great example of that."

I gave Britt a side hug as she glanced over at Benedict and Sophie, extending her hand to shake his and embrace Sophie with her free arm. "Welcome to our AEW family."

"Thank you, Britt. It's lovely to meet you," Sophie says. Britt nods as she walks off.

"Alright. I think it's best if we get you out of the arena before anyone else in the locker room knows who you are." I say and Benedict nods, pulling up the House of Black bandana over his nose and mouth as Malakai, Brody and Buddy start snickering. "Hey. I'm trying to get him out of here. Zip it."

I gesture for Benedict and Sophie to follow me out of the arena, I walk with them to the SUV parked outside and embrace them both in a goodbye before walking back inside.

"Who was that, Lyra?" I see Toni Storm standing by the door.

"Just some friends of mine," I say.

"Hmph, cause I could have sworn I knew the guy in the bandana." I sigh and shrug.

Oh well, at least they've got to see The House of Black perform.

Tagging: @xbreezymeadowsmunsonx (who loved MB and Lyra once upon a time) and of course my co-writer @blackrose-92 🖤

#malakai black fanfiction #with cameos from jon moxley and britt baker #and cameos from brody king and buddy matthews #malakai black x lyra crowe #darkness finds you

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sepublic · 2 years

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Darius and Eberwolf save Raine?

YO I THINK HUNTER IS ATTACKING RAINE, DARIUS, AND EBERWOLF??? You can just barely make out Darius’ white glove in the middle image, as he’s obscured by Luz’s head! Our trio seem to start before preparing for battle (Raine takes out a flute), before the shot cuts to this;

Possibly some sort of cloth symbol over Darius’ cloak since he’s the only one we can’t fully see... Or some sort of banner with a symbol meant to act as a secret meeting signal?

It seems Luz attacks Hunter, helping our coven head trio...

There’s also this shot from the end credits, which in itself is damning to the idea of Darius and Eberwolf joining Raine! Which, they’re both coven heads who grew up under the system and were indoctrinated by it since birth, so they arguably didn’t choose it the same way the older heads did; Which opens the idea for them to realize how they’ve been brainwashed and rebel!

I also believe this connects to Any Sport in a Storm, since this hooded figure resembles Eberwolf, possibly in disguise or just wearing a nighttime cloak like Eda and Lilith during Sense and Insensitivity. This scene seems to be the same setting as THESE shots;

Which likely lead into THIS shot, of an Abomination trapping Willow’s team in the Conformatorium, like the BATTs;

Hunter was possibly transported as well... Maybe Hunter was making a breakthrough/changing his mind, only for Dari and Eber to attack based on his intel? Forcing Hunter to go along with how he told them about Willow and the others... But by the end of the episode, he and/or Willow might plant the idea in Darius and Eberwolf’s ideas to eventually rebel themselves! For all we know, Eber has already chosen to rebel at this moment, but Darius is just behind; Making Eber convince their friend! And as the two who captured Raine and saw what happened to them with Kikimora, they could help explain to Eda what’s really going on with Whispers...!

(And if Darius leaves, who wants to bet Alador will take the chance to became the Abomination Head in his place? Something Darius took from him, something he tried to get back vicariously via Amity, hence Reaching Out and his plans for her, only for Alador to not even need her as a proxy; Belos already holds his Abomatons in high esteem after all! And it’d be quite the fuck you by Belos, punishing Darius’ treachery by handing his old position to his rival!)

#the owl house #the owl house darius #the owl house eberwolf #the owl house hunter #alador blight #speculation #theory

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wildborn-witch · 3 years

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“There are tales spoken in hushed whispers, beyond the ears of the Emperor’s Coven, about a tribe of witches who were bonded to spirits—mystical beings born of wild magic. An ancient race they were, said to have been the first children of the Titan when it fell. Taking the form of beasts, they had the ability to heal and speak to the Isles, calling upon its natural power. These gifts they shared with the witches, who took their name in gratitude, and together, they and their descendants settled near the Heart, wishing to live in harmony with the wilderness and their ancestor.’

“Centuries passed, and eventually their neighbors came to wield magic of their own, sparking a new age of discovery. In this time, the original covens were formed, each following one of nine disciplines, yet they all recognized the ancient tribe as the first masters. On their part, the tribe stayed distant from the others, though anyone willing to learn from them was welcomed among their ranks.’

“Everything changed, however, with the coming of the Savage Ages. Chaos reigned, and conflict and unrest divided the land until a new figure arose: a mysterious witch who called himself Belos. Claiming to be an emissary of the Titan, he vowed to bring unity to the Isles, insisting that unbound magic only brought disorder. One by one, the nine covens bowed to his teachings, but the ancient tribe resisted—they saw him for what he truly was, and would not give up the old ways. Their defiance led to their destruction, as Belos and his coven hunted them all down until, at last, only their chief remained. Accused of high treason, he was sentenced to petrification, frozen in stone as Belos took the title of Emperor over the Boiling Isles.’

“It has been thirty years since the tribe’s extinction, and the spirits have fallen silent, fading into myth and legend. But nothing lasts forever, for a new awakening has begun. The old ways will be found once more, and in time, the Isles will see the return of…’

To those who have followed me already on both this blog and my main account, I want to thank you all so much for your patience and continued interest as this has taken shape. To those who are here for the first time, my name is Drekasál, and I’m proud to announce the official master post and FAQ for the Wildborn AU!

I intend to update this as often as possible as I continue to work on new pieces—both artistic and literary—as well as answer whatever questions that may come up in the future, but for now, I figure the basics would be good to start with, first and foremost being…

What is the Wildborn AU?

The Wildborn AU is my personal contribution to The Owl House fandom, centering around my witchsona Tristan O’Connor who is its main protagonist. Taking place after the events of Season 1, it explores my own take on the history of magic on the Isles by introducing the Wildborn—a tribe of ancient witches bonded to powerful spirits of the same name.

Lore

Originating from days long before the Savage Ages, the Wildborn came into being when the Titan first fell, and hold great power over the Isles’ primordial forces. Reflecting their wild natures, their spiritual forms take on the form of beasts, both mythical and mundane.

In the past, the spirits had a rocky relationship with the early witches, whom had not evolved bile-sacs yet and thus relied on harnessing the wild magic of the Isles through glyphs. At some point in history, however, a young witch from an ancient tribe formed a Bond with the Thunderbird, the first of the spirits and their guardian. After that, the two groups grew closer, with more witches and spirits forming Bonds with each other, eventually becoming the Wildborn tribe. Harnessing the power of their spirits, the Wildborn witches did not need to rely on glyphs, and those pairs who developed strong Bonds could Merge to become a new being, a reflection of the spirit’s beast form combined with the traits of their witch.

Regarded as the first masters of wild magic, the tribe was well-respected for centuries, even as other witches eventually evolved bile-sacs and formed the original covens. Tragically, that came to an end during the Savage Ages, which saw the appearance of Emperor Belos and his enforcement of the coven system. Seeing the Wildborn as untamable and a threat to his teachings, he ordered for their persecution, hunting them down and forbidding any mention of them, until at last it seemed they had been wiped out. But the tales still persist, and the spirits live on, waiting for the day their Guardian will return, and restore balance to the Isles...

Inspiration

This AU draws inspiration from both Wolfwalkers and Brother Bear, both of which are beautifully animated movies, but the latter especially I consider a criminally underrated Disney movie. Wolfwalkers mainly inspired the Hellhounds, the secondary group of characters in the AU, but both movies played a part in developing the Wildborn themselves, particularly their powers and portrayal as animal spirits.

The Characters

Tristan O’Connor - Protagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a faun witchling enrolled in the Beast Keeping tract at Hexside School of Magic and Demonics. Shy yet kind, he has a deep love of nature and the wild, though it is a passion he has been forced to curb up until now due to the rigidity of the coven system. It is revealed later on that he is Bonded to the spirit Anam, making him the first living Wildborn to exist in thirty years.

Aedh - Deuteragonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a member of the Hellhounds, a pack of wolf-like fire elementals who live hidden beneath the Titan’s skull. Daring and adventurous, he doesn’t have the same bitterness against witches like his elders, having not been born during the time of their persecution, and he welcomes Tristan warmly as a friend. He proves vital in helping the witchling adjust to his Wildborn powers, teaching him how to be a Hellhound when he is Merged with Anam.

Anam - Tritagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s Wildborn spirit, originally being the soul of a Hellhound pup born with “too little fire”. As the AU progresses, it is discovered that he is Aedh’s younger brother and littermate, thus making Tristan, through his Bond with Anam, Aedh’s spiritual brother and and a member of the pack.

Tuft - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s pet griffin, getting his name from his tufted ears uncommon to his kind. A frequent companion of the witchling, he is fiercely loyal and protective, accompanying him on his adventures in the wilderness.

Eleri O’Connor - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. She is Tristan’s mother and a member of Bard Coven, stated to be well-respected as a master of her craft. She is shown to be a caring and loving parent, though she constantly worries about her son, partly due to her frequent absence in the household, as well as her fear that Tristan might never fit in and suffer for it. Although she is Adar’s daughter, she is not Wildborn herself, having never Bonded with a spirit.

Adar O’Connor/The Thunderbird - Supporting character(s) in the Wildborn AU. Adar O’Connor is Eleri’s father and Tristan’s grandfather, and was the last great chief Bonded to the Thunderbird before the extinction of the Wildborn tribe. When Adar was sentenced to petrification, the Thunderbird permanently Merged with him to save his life, and they act as guides to Tristan and his allies as the AU unfolds.

Arduinna “Rina” Ward - TBA

Arwain the Seeress - TBA

This list will be updated as new characters are developed and added!

Are the main cast of The Owl House involved?

Yes, actually! Their roles are still being developed, but I do intend for Luz to play an important part in this AU, given her rediscovery and usage of glyph magic, and she becomes one of Tristan’s close allies. Eleri herself has had interactions/relationships with Eda and Lilith in the past, when they were attending Hexside together as teenagers.

Is this an open AU? (Can anyone participate/make connections?)

I definitely wish for the Wildborn AU to be as open-ended as possible, as I love making potential connections with the stories/characters of other creators in the fandom. Fair warning, however, that this AU is still in constant development, so things are liable to change! Don’t be afraid to reach out if you have ideas you want to run by me!

Is fanart/fan fiction allowed?

Y E S. Fanworks are 1001% allowed and would honestly make me the happiest person ever ;;V;;

Master List

Eye of the Storm - Lore of the Thunderbird.

No Mercy - Hellhound lore

Reassurance - Aedh welcomes Tristan

Locked or Free - 100+ follower Instagram DTIYS

One Being - Tristan describes the Merge

Dumb Animal - Tristan and Aedh encounter Boscha’s gang at the Knee

Tristan’s Beast Form - Reference sheet

Forces of Nature - Wildborn lore

The Thunderbird - Official model sheet

Adar Concept Art

Hellhound Reference

The Last Wildborn - Official banner

Healing - Gift art/animation for @sobsinfrench

«—•—»

If you have any more questions for me, don’t be afraid to submit an ask, and my inbox is open if you want to reach out to me directly! I also post artwork and occasional updates to my main blog @drekasal, so be sure to follow me there as well! Thank you all so much for reading through this, and have a wonderful day!

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

#Bl3 #Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Leech Lord #Sbsart #My hcs #My writing

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whispers-of-lilith · 5 months

Text

Crossword Puzzle

You: *doing a crossword puzzle* What's a four letter word for–

Doffy: Dick.

You: What? I haven't even read the clue yet–

Doffy: Whatever. Anyway, let me ask you this, kitten. What's a four letter word for something that you should be bouncing on instead of doing that silly little crossword puzzle?

You: hah... cock?

Doffy: Good girl. Now, come.

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hallospaceboyy · 4 years

Text

Surprise

Lilith x Female Reader

For @galaxy-nerd

Lilith has been spending a lot of time with Zelda, and the reader is convinced she is being betrayed by her lover and her friend.

Lilith has been spending an awful lot of time at the Spellman mortuary, an awful lot of time with Zelda, to be precise, and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. Zelda is your friend, one of the best friends you have in Greendale, and Lilith your girlfriend, and you wanted to trust them, couldn’t understand the doubt in your mind. But you knew of witches and warlocks, and the celebration of polygamy, and traditions of practicing acts of lust and sins of the flesh, and couldn’t help thinking that just maybe Lilith was incapable of a monogamous relationship, maybe had grown bored of you entirely, both your skill and looks paling in comparison to the centuries old redhead.

Lilith remained completely unaware of your growing anxieties, kissing you as she left, as she always did, oblivious to you even knowing of her whereabouts when she left you. You only knew where she had been going because you followed her, suspicious of the brunette's secrecy.

One night lying in bed, you finally pluck up the courage to ask her. “You've been spending an awful lot of time away recently, Lil. What have you been doing? I’ve missed you,” You snuggle into her, biting your lip as you feel her stiffen at your query.

“Oh, just been dealing with coven things. You know, Queen of Hell stuff,” She shrugs, and kisses your forehead, probably hoping the gesture of affection will assuage you, but it doesn’t.

You want to say more, know you can’t without giving away that you had followed her, showing your sudden distrust of her in her absence. So you don’t. You stay quiet, removing yourself from her embrace and turning over to sleep. You can feel her gaze on your back as you squeeze your eyes shut.

A few days later, and Lilith is leaving again, and you give a curt nod as she relays some explanation as to why she needs to leave, and kiss her as if nothing is wrong. After 10 minutes, you feel a rage bubbling inside of you, and slam the book down you had been pretending to read, and storm in the direction of the mortuary. When you arrive, you bang on the door so hard it shakes on its hinges, and there’s a palpable anger in your eyes as the door swings open, and Zelda herself stands there.

“Y/N, what are you doing here, darling?” She questions, and you roll your eyes at her play of friendly affection toward you, crossing your arms over your chest – convinced now that these women were betraying you, playing you for a fool.

“Well, Lilith is here, isn’t she? As she always is these days. I need to see her,” You snap, and Zelda looks confused at your obvious vexation.

“Well, um, yes. She's here,” The redhead opens the door wider and you brush past her, striding into the parlour to find Lilith sitting on the sofa. Her blue eyes regard you with shock, and she jumps to her feet.

“Y/N, sweetheart! What are you-"

You cut her off, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “If I’m not enough for you, just say so, Lilith. Don’t insult my intelligence by sneaking here to spend time with her, to fuck her, and think I won't notice. Just sitting there alone in the evenings waiting for you,” You voice is raised now, your tone cutting, and both women stand with mouths hanging open, taken aback by your outburst.

“Y/N I-"

“NO, Lilith! You’re here all the time, don’t even tell me where you are. Acting all weird and secretive. Witches may like to live a life of lust and fucking anything with a pulse, but I'm not about that. I gave myself to you because I LOVE you, and I really thought I was worth extending the same courtesy. Thought you loved me too. Obviously I was wrong,” Your voice had quietened throughout your speech, tears gathering in your eyes and your hands beginning to shake, and there’s a flash of anger in both the women's eyes now.

“Y/N,” Zelda snaps, pointing to the coffee table in front of the sofa, and as your eyes follow the direction of her finger, you notice for the first time the decorations strewn there. They look handmade, “Happy Birthday” written in neat, large letters across the banners and bunting. You feel your heart sink, and your face flush hot with shame. Oh.

“We were planning a surprise party. For you,” Lilith's voice is sharp, and you can see she’s hurt, see the same hurt on Zelda's face too, amidst the anger.

“Lilith... Zelda... I-"

“Why would you ever think you're not good enough, Y/N?” Lilith cuts you off, eyes searching yours. She steps closer to you, takes your hand in hers.

“I-um...”You shrug, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. “I’ve always conditioned myself to think that way, I guess,” You chuckle nervously, not really finding any humour in the situation, but needing to cut through the tension somehow.

“I’ll, uh, leave you two alone,” Zelda mumbles, brushing past you as she makes her way to leave. You grab her forearm and she stops, green eyes meeting yours.

“I’m sorry, Zelds,” You whisper, and she gives you a small smile, squeezes your hand on your arm, and then departs, leaving the usual cloud of perfume in her wake.

“Lilith, I’m so sorry. I never should have made such rash accusations, should never have said those horrible closed minded things about witches. It was terrible of me,” You sigh, suddenly terrified that this would be it for you and the demoness now, that you had gone too far in your unwarranted anger.

“I’m sorry too, darling. I probably could have handled the situation a little better. At least made better excuses,” She chuckles, and you laugh, your hands come up to tangle in her hair, bringing her closer. “I am a little hurt, but it’s okay. I know they came more from your own insecurities than distrust of me. I understand,” Lilith's voice is soft, and she wraps her strong arms around your waist, presses a kiss to your nose.

“I love you, Lilith,” You whisper against your lips, and you kiss her, tender and loving. “But I really hate surprises,”

She laughs and rolls her eyes playfully. “Noted,” She sighs, pulling away from you and picking up a decoration from the table, a long string of colourful bunting. “Well, now that you know, you can get to work and help organise. We still have a lot to do,”

“Oh most definitely,” You jump as Zelda comes back into the room, smirking. You can help Hilda decide on the food, I think. She's been practising some recipes, but she keeps slapping me with various utensils for eating them, and honestly, she hasn’t visited the cain pit in some time,”

With a burst of laughter, you nod and make your way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to say one final thing. “Thank you for doing this for me. You really do know how to make a girl feel special,”

“You are special,” They both say in unison, and you grin, blowing Lilith a kiss, and sending Zelda a playful wink as you turn away.

#lilith x reader #madam satan x reader #platonic zelda spellman x reader #caos fanfiction #zelda spellman #madam satan #lilith #michelle gomez #miranda otto #chilling adventures of sabrina

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crowkingwrites · 5 years

Text

The Purge

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Lily Bolton // Words:2416 // Ao3 Link

Summary: Written as a sequel to You Made Me. This modern day story is about Ramsay and Lily Bolton's descendant, Royce Bolton, as he spins a tale of one particular night that would change everything for the Bolton family.

Students gathered in a tight-knit group in the middle of the parking lot. Mrs. Easton’s first year of teaching history at North Hill High School was going really well. She had become a fast favorite among students with her interesting takes on history. Today, she brought them to a historical monument for Halloween for a spooky story or two.

“Royce! It’s good to see you!” Mrs. Easton said, all smiles. She tipped her red-rimmed glasses and Royce tipped his black rimmed ones. A common greeting between two history major alumni from Westeros University.

“Good to see you too, Layne!” they embraced as old friends do. “Is this your class?”

“It is!”

“They look like a good group of kids,” Royce put his hands on his hips. “Hate to scare them.”

“Not everyone has ancestry of awful, scary people,” Layne laughed. She turned her attention to her kids. “Every gather ‘round! I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Royce. He owns the Dreadfort.”

“Uh uh. My father owns the Dreadfort. I’m just the history nerd of this place.”

“I heard serial killers lived here!” one of the teens shouted.

“Quite a few actually,” Royce Bolton laughed. “Shall we begin? I’m sure my ancestors would love to meet you all.”

“Whoa wait, is this pace haunted?” a girl asked.

“Paige, that’s not—

“It’s alright, Layne.” Royce took over. “There are a few ghosts that haunt The Dreadfort, but before we go in let me ask you guys some questions. What do you know about the Dreadfort?” One teen raised his hand.

“A lot of people died here at the hands of one of your uh, ancestors.”

“Nah dude. He ain’t even human,” his friend cut in. “I watched a youtube video about this dude. He was an animal.”

Royce clapped his hands and laughed. “Careful, he’s my great, great, great, great grandfather. Lord Ramsay Bolton has a bloody history.”

“You’re a direct descendant?” the same girl asked. “That’s so fucked up. He had kids?”

“He had a whole family,” Royce gestured to himself. “Obviously. The seed is strong.”

“He was a vampire, right? That means you’re a vampire too.” Royce laughed even louder.

“We’re gonna put those silly rumors to rest. Let’s get inside the horror house, yeah?”

Royce took the field trip group inside the Dreadfort and started showing them historical aritifacts. How people, especially low borns, lived at the Dreadfort. Outside, everything was placed carefully as if people still lived there. Weaponry hung polished and perfect in the armory. Bedrooms still had original bedsheets and blankets mimicking what it was like to sleep there, including the temperature of the rooms.

“It’s so cold here, what the fuck?”

“Language, Tyrone,” Layne reminded him.

“Sorry, Mrs. Easton. Was it cold here all the time?”

“Yes and no. Fortresses and castles never had central heating and air. They relied on fireplaces and windows to control the temperature of the rooms.”

“Sounds awful,” a girl snapped a pic of outside the window. “Was everyone who lived here miserable?”

“No. In fact, Lady Bolton quite enjoyed the cold.”

“Lady Bolton? Ramsay’s wife? He had a wife?” Tyrone looked confused.

“Yes, again! He had a whole family. Follow me,” Royce took the group to the private dining hall in the Dreadfort. A family portrait of the Boltons stood above the grand fireplace. Roose Bolton stood over them all with Lady Walda by his side. She cradled a small bundle in her arms. Below them was Ramsay and a redheaded girl. The redhead girl’s eyes followed you throughout the room no matter where you stood.

“Is that her? She looks like Hell.”

“She was. Her name is Lilith. Lily for short. She started as a servant for the Boltons.”

“A servant marrying into a noble family? How scandalous!” a girl with glasses laughed. “How did she do it?”

“Lord Ramsay likes redheads. He was interested in her from the beginning. He had many lovers and female servants, but she stuck. She followed his orders to a T. He made her.”

“What do you mean, he made her?” the same vampire commenting teen asked. Royce gestured for all of the teens to sit. They took seats around the dining hall, taking in the wooden dining table and the plush chairs. Royce pulled at curtains, darkening the room around the teens. A smirk hid on his face. The fire was the only source of light in the room. A teen kept a tight grip on his switchblade hidden inside his hoodie.

“What’s all of this?”

“It’s storytime,” Royce sat at the head of the table. “What, are you too scared?” The teen loosened his grip and shook his head.

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Let me tell you the story of Ramsay, Lily, and the first ever recorded purge night.”

“Like the movie? The Purge? Are you serious? That happened?”

“It starts with Lady Bolton up there. Walda had that portrait made for her baby. She took her duties as mistress of the Dreadfort very seriously. Once she had the portrait made, she hung it up for all to see. She was proud to be a Bolton despite their ugly reputation. Ramsay, on the other hand, hated the beautiful painting.” Royce looked into the fire, letting imagination take over. He saw his great, great, great grandfather pace the room.

Ramsay stopped in front of the painting again. He scowled at it. Once he turned, he bumped right into Lily.

“Gods!” Ramsay stepped back. “You’re too quiet. You know that?”

Lily pointed to her ruined tongue, something of his doing.

“Right. Sometimes I regret doing that to you. But then I remember you forced me into doing it. You’ve never lied to me since. And you won’t ever again.” Ramsay caressed her cheek. Lily gave him a smile, but looked to the painting before them.

“I hate it. Her child is above me. I should be the rightful heir. I hate her. I hate him,” Ramsay’s attention turned back to Lily. “I haven’t taught you how to assassinate someone yet.” Lily smiled, picking up what he was implying. She pointed to a guard passing by the room.

“Good. Good question. Walda and the baby are guarded, but I have an idea. Follow me.”

Lily’s red hair flowed behind her, standing out against the soft snow. Their hands brushed against one another’s. Lily was aware of her feelings for her teacher and master. She had often stayed up long nights writing out how she felt, but would always throw it away in the morning. He and Myranda had killed Violet together. She had hoped for that same chance with Myranda.

Still, Myranda stood by his side when Ramsay had gathered the Bastard’s Boys and other bloodthirsty soldiers around him.

“I think it’s time that my father and his wife should be relieved of their duties a rulers of this great house. My father has forgotten his ancestral traditions. Our family used to live like kings. Now, we lived by the grace of the Starks in the North in this pile of shit.” Several guards and boys nodded their heads.

“How do we assassinate him?” someone stupidly asked.

“Don’t use that word,” Myranda scolded. “We cannot be found out before we even start.” Myranda was right. Lily knew. Lily looked out at all of the men. Anyone here would die for Ramsay, not her. She lived for him. As did Myranda.

“We will purge tonight,” Ramsay ordered. “Each one of us will purge ourselves all night long and start anew when we see dawn. After that, we all have a clean slate to carry this house into the future where it belongs, as rulers of the North.”

The idea was too delicious to pass up. Soon, word spread in the nearby villages in quiet whispers. No word had reached Roose’s ears. The Bastard’s Boys reported nothing to their lord. Dusk settled into the Dreadfort’s stones, cooling them off from the day. A single guard took his post for the night. As he sat down, an arrow shot through his ear, killing him instantly.

Another traitor guard took his place and yanked his arrow from his head. He used the bloody arrow again and shot it through a Bolton banner. After seeing the sign, the purge began.

Lily used Ramsay’s daggers at his blessing and slashed her way up to Walda’s room. Myranda followed her, giving her cover and defending her if need be.

“Don’t hold it like that,” Myranda instructed. “Always point the blade out.” Lily narrowed her eyes at the girl. She knew that. She wanted to speak poison back to her, but her stump allowed her only an angry mumbling. Myranda touched her shoulder.

“It’s alright to be nervous. I was too. You’re not alone.”

Lily opened the unguarded, locked door easily. One could claim she had a talent for locks, but no one ever saw her unlock a locked door. It only just opened. Inside the room sat a terrified mother and her infant.

“Please,” Walda begged. “Please spare him. I’ll run off. I won’t ever say anything to anyone. Please!” Lily removed her sympathy several years ago when her own mother left her behind for dead. The dagger sunk into her chest before she could beg more. As Walda took her last breath, Lily could hear screams from inside the Dreadfort. The Purge had taken full effect.

Myranda took the babe into her arms. She calmed him down and smiled down at him. Annoyed, Lily attempted to take the babe from her. Myranda stepped away.

“You don’t have to do this,” she told Lily. “Whatever Ramsay told you to do. You can say no. I know a woman in a nearby village who can take him far away from here.” Lily cocked her eyebrow. Myranda planned this.

Lily moved forward again. Myranda stepped away. “I draw the line at children. Just go and tell Ramsay he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Ramsay appeared behind Myranda. Seeing the squirming infant in her arms, he turned his sights to Lily. “Kill him.”

“No,” Myranda said.

“Did you just—

Ramsay was interrupted by a cut to his face. Blood dripped down his cheek. His anger rose to his chest. “You cut me.”

“Let me take the baby.”

“As long as he breathes, I will never be Lord.”

“Do you think I care?” Myranda shot back. “I’m taking him.” As she pushed past Ramsay, something came over Lily. Seeing Ramsay hurt by his lover, him being told no, it switched something inside. Something she had been hiding this entire time.

Lily jumped on Myranda’s back, sinking her teeth into her neck. It sent all three of them down the stairs, crushing the baby. Myranda tasted so good. Lily had wondered. Myranda never drank, never smoked, and only ever had one sexual partner. Myranda was a feast waiting for the right vampire.

Lily had torn her shoulder apart, reaching some vital arteries. Myranda was already dead when Ramsay had reached the bottom of the stairs. He took in the scene around him. He heard people screaming from other rooms, but this one was quiet. The only sound was Lily’s mouth slurping and swallowing Myranda’s blood and flesh.

The baby laid face down on the stairs, blood pooling around him like a red king.

“How long?” Ramsay asked. “How long have you been this way?”

Lily lifted herself from Myranda and drew on the floor in front of her. Blood and dirt formed the number fourteen.

“You’ve been a vampire all this time you’ve been with my family? That’s why you’ve never aged. Are you a threat?”

Lily shook her head no.

Ramsay looked to the baby. “You are loyal to me. Prove it. Eat the baby.”

Lily crawled over to the infant. As she picked up the infant, blood dripped from his face to the ground. Lily turned the small body over in her hands. Her teeth sank into the baby’s chest. She ate his heart while keeping eye contact with Ramsay. Ramsay could feel gooseflesh taking over his arms.

He had a vampire who was loyal to him. He wasn’t glad or angry. He was scared. He swallowed his fear and kept his eyes on Lily.

“You are more loyal to me than anyone I know. Why? You could kill us all.” Lily dropped the infant. It made a thudding sound on the ground. She drew with her bloody fingers again.

Love.

“You love me? Has our time together given you affection towards me?” Ramsay laughed. He watched Lily’s face fall. “No, no, no. Not like that. I’m only shocked.” Ramsay kneeled down to Lily’s level. His knees cover in the baby’s blood now. He took her face and brought her close to him. “You’re my secret now. No one will know. I will keep you safe.”

“After that night, Lord Ramsay took over and married her. They had four children together and ruled together,” Royce smiled as he finished his story.

“I told you they were fucked up. Who marries a girl after she eats a baby? Like who?”

“Tyrone—

“Language. I know, but still! For real.” Royce stood up and laughed. He walked towards the door.

“Family was very important to my great, great, great grandfather.”

“You keep saying that,” spoke up the know-it-all. “Lord Ramsay Bolton ruled in like the 16th or 17th century right? It’s 2019. Wouldn’t he be like your great grandfather times infinity?” Other students snickered at the joke. Royce snickered too as he locked the door.

“No. Lord Ramsay Bolton is only my great, great, great grandfather. That’s how bloodlines work. Just as Lady Lily is my favorite grandmother.”

“That’s sweet of you to say about someone you never met.” Mrs. Easton walked towards Royce. Royce turned to her with glowing red eyes.

“What do you mean? My grandmother’s right behind you.” Mrs. Easton and her students turned to a gruesome sight. There was Lady Lily Bolton. Her sunken eyes and older bones crawled on the wall towards the family portrait. Students scrambled behind Mrs. Easton for safety.

Mrs. Easton looked to her old friend. “Royce—

“Shut up, Layne. You were always too damn perfect for this world.”

“The kids!”

A singular hiss came from Lily. Her white hair parted so the teens could see her stump salivating and pulsating in her mouth. Royce walked towards his favorite grandmother.

“I really hate kids. They always mess up everything, don’t they?”

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