#one rubber stopper was gone

[lushlovers]

frat joe with drunken confessions definitely !!!!

Drunk Promises, J Burrow

summary; joe being absolutely gone and rambling about things he shouldn't.

warnings; swearing, kisses, mentions of drinking, drunken rambling

word count; 700 something

note; i'm so bored and tired but i can't sleep so i decided to fulfill this request while i have some downtime:)) also hey?? Its been like a million years, more frat joe coming soon;)!

The porch is spinning and Joe swears he sees three different door knobs after he's struggled with only you to help him drag his heavy limbs around. He attempts to reach for one of them but misses, swishing his hand around before he finds it to unlock and shove the door open. You mumble every swear that comes to mind when it slams into the rubber stopper on the wall, surely waking up everyone in the house and a few houses down, "Welcome to my humble abode, gorgeous," he smirks, stumbling into the wall, trying to play off the fact that he nearly fell over by leaning on it with arms crossed over his broad chest.

When your eyes meet him, his brows raise playfully. At this point it's taking everything out of you not to bust out laughing at his advancements, he's not one for compliments unless he's high as hell or drunk out of his mind, "I've been here more times than I can count, but thank you," you shake your head as you unstrapped your heels, leaving them to rest on the shoe rack.

After he'd struggled as much coming up the front steps, you're thanking God he chose the bedroom on the ground floor rather than up or downstairs. "To my bed then," he asks hopeful as all hell and you nod, taking his hands and leading him straight to his bed. He falls back onto it slowly scooting himself toward the headboard.

Quickly you bolt to the kitchen in search of hangover relief and some water before he gets any stupid ideas whilst left alone. Upon your return, you're greeted by a shirtless Joe who's struggling to get his jeans from around his ankles. Shaking your head for the thousandth time, you tug them off, discarding them in the hamper in the closet. "Eager for me?" You scoff at the ever-deepening of his voice and allow him to unzip your dress.

When his hands swiftly push the fabric from your shoulder, "Not tonight, Joey. Why don't you get some sleep" you step back and he continues attempting to pull you back into him. Joe watches intently as you find one of his LSU shirts folded atop his dresser, give it a smell test, and climb into bed beside him.

"Pathetic excuse for panties," he mumbles through hiccups, using his index finger to snap the elastic against the meat of your hip. You roll your eyes and as you inch away from him his arms wrap even tighter around you, keeping you plastered into him. He grinds his hard-on into the back of your thigh holding onto your hips moving you only where he sees fit.

"Sleep, Joseph," you murmur against his pillows but of course, he's relentless with his wet, sloppy neck kisses. This time you sit completely in bed, snatch the pillows from behind your head and throw them onto the floor. You fumble in the dark for the throw blankets at the foot of his bed, once you've found them you make your spot on the floor, but before you even put the pillows into position he's mumbling and hiccupping through protests.

"mmmm, baby noo, get up here with me. I sleep a bajillion times better with your body next to mine," when you meet his eyes they're glazed over, almost like he wants to cry but is fighting it with every fiber of his being. You're quite shocked, never has this man ever cried in your presence and for that to happen right here, right now, wouldn't shock you with the way he's been acting since his third drink. "And you're drunk, I don't want you to do or say something you'll regret, honey."

He's melting internally at your use of that sweet little nickname you love to use when he's been drinking, "I'll be quiet about all that, mama, I promise" You sigh, and give in as soon as a pout begins to show itself on his pretty, perfect face, picking up your stuff off the floor just as fast as you had put them down. Before you're even back into his bed, he's giggling and scooting over to leave much more space than you need to keep his promise.

He's melting internally at your use of that sweet little nickname you love to use when he's been drinking, "I'll be quiet about all that, mama, I promise" You sigh, and give in as soon as a pout begins to show itself on his pretty, perfect face, picking up your stuff off the floor just as fast as you had put them down. Before you're even back into his bed, he's giggling and scooting over to leave much more space than you need to keep his promise. As you drift off he's babbling on and on about how in love with you he is, if only he was like this when he was sober.

#joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #nfl fan fic #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #frat!lsu!joe burrow #frat!joe burrow #joe burrow #lushlovers fic

[prairiefirewitch]

I’m hagging out a day early because I’m headed out of town for a couple of days, but I was not about to miss this month’s hag party. I love making infusions and have managed to turn infused witch things into my full time job, so this is my strawberry jam. Strawberry vanilla hibiscus infused mead, specifically.

I try to make at least 2 batches of mead a year; one at Yule to be shared at Midsommar, and the other made at Midsommar to be shared at Yule. It’s a nice way for me to slow down and apply patience (I’ve got zero) to a project, and eventually reap the delicious benefits of waiting for the mead to mature. And it’s very sweet to taste the labors of summer in the middle of winter, and then to taste the warm spices of winter in summer. It’s alcohol-fueled time travel.

This mead is my favorite of all the batches I’ve made, so I made 3 gallons instead of the usual 1 gallon batches I make.

Mead is incredibly easy to make; once you toss everything together, it’s just a waiting game. Here’s the down and dirty but there are many good recipes online if you want something more complex. Sanitizing your equipment is the most important step and you can use San-star from a homebrew supplier, or make your own with a gallon of cool water and about an ounce of household bleach. Everything you use here needs to be sanitized.

You need all this stuff to make a gallon:

2.5 - 3 lbs honey

1/2 pack sweet or dry yeast mead (I used champagne yeast because I like it bone dry)

1 gallon spring or purified water

2 cups berries

Vanilla bean, split and scraped

10 raisins

1/2 cup dried hibiscus flowers

You’ll also want a gallon sized glass carboy, a big funnel, a large cooking pot, a small cooking pot, an airlock, a sieve, a rubber stopper that fits your carboy, and a big spoon to stir with.

Put your honey in your large pot and add about half a gallon of water. Warm it on low just until the honey dissolves. Watch the heat, honey scorches quickly. While it warms, put your clean chopped strawberries into the small pot with about 2 cups of water. Bring it to a low simmer and use a potato masher or an immersion blender to make a purée. Add your hibiscus flowers, heat for a few minutes to let them soften and turn off the heat. When it’s just barely warm, use your sieve to filter out the seeds and flowers.

Once your honey water cools to about 100 degrees, pour it into your clean carboy. Add the other half gallon of water, and your sieved strawberry purée. Top up with additional water if needed, leaving about 3 inches of head room. Add your vanilla beans and raisins. Raisins provide nutrients for the yeast. Sprinkle the yeast on top, but be sure your mixture is 90 degrees or cooler or your yeast will die.

Pop your rubber stopper into the carboy and insert the water filled airlock. Now you wait. Let it ferment for 2 weeks. Most of the activity will have stopped.

Now you need to filter the mead into a second carboy. If you don’t have one, use a sanitized pot or bucket while you wash your carboy for the secondary fermentation. You want to pour or siphon slowly and carefully, using a fine mesh strainer, so you leave most of the settled yeast and bits of strawberry out. Once it’s carefully filtered, add it back to the carboy, put the stopper and airlock back in. Now wait for a long time. This mead should be ready to drink in 6 months, but it’ll be a bit rough and unrefined. You can bottle it at this point, which is what I do, but lots of people just let it age in the carboy. I like heavy duty swing top glass bottles, but wine bottles work too.

If you’re patient, save a few bottles to age for a full year. This is when your mead becomes a nectar fit for gods, with all the roughness gone, and the delicate honey flavor gets complex. Keep your bottles in a cool dark place.

Thank you @msgraveyarddirt for hosting!

#hagging out #mead #hail dionysus #Midsommar

[shostakobitchh]

chapter 54 sneak peek!

There was a timid knock at the door. Snape’s mouth clamped shut as his gaze cracked over to its direction. He swore under his breath — Remus almost didn’t catch it — as the door creaked open. 

A head popped into frame — red hair around a pale face and dark eyes. Her nose wrinkled as she stepped inside, gazing down at something in her hand, but she quickly froze, shoving whatever it was — something that glinted? — into her robes as she met Snape’s furious expression. 

“Er — hello,” Ariel squeaked. “Am I —” 

“Why are you here, Miss Evans?” Snape snapped. “You’d better have a very good reason, as it is dangerously close to your curfew.” 

“I — right — I tried the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey wasn’t there —” 

“So you decided to burden me with your presence.” Snape said flatly. 

The insult bounced off of Ariel like rubber. “Believe me, I’d rather be in bed right now. It’s bloody freezing down here.”  

Remus bit back a laugh. Snape threw him a horrible look. 

“Well?” Snape bit out. “What have you done now?” 

She pulled down her turtleneck to reveal bright red scratch marks all over her neck and the tops of her shoulders. Remus inhaled sharply, but nearly choked halfway through the breath when he caught sight of the look that had taken over Snape’s face. 

He’d gone very still. His lips thinned into a hard line, and for a moment, Remus thought he saw a flash — it was almost worry, but it was too manic, too hard to see — in the depths of his inky black eyes.

"What happened?" Snape demanded, his voice as tight and sharp as a whip.

“Hermione’s cat,” Ariel grimaced. “It tried to eat Scabbers.” 

Remus looked to Snape, who was still glaring at Ariel like he was trying to splinter the air between them apart. “What is a Scabbers?”

“Ron’s rat.”  

Snape’s cheek twitched. He continued to glare wildly at Ariel until she covered herself back up, her face flushing as red as the scratch marks. Remus wanted to say something to Ariel — ask if Hermione had made sure the thing wasn’t rabid or ill — but he was so taken about by the sudden stillness and the deadly look in Snape’s eyes that it barely registered.

“Stay here,” Snape bit out, turning on his heel before disappearing into the storeroom. 

Ariel shifted uncomfortably as Snape strode away, his robes billowing behind him. An awkward silence descended on the office.

"Er — sorry about this, Professor Lupin," Ariel mumbled, glancing at Remus. "I know it's late..."

"No, no, it's quite alright," Remus assured her kindly. "Those look rather nasty. Here, come sit down.” 

Ariel nodded, wincing as she adjusted her turtleneck and slid knot one of the workbenches to wait. 

"Does it hurt terribly?" Remus asked gently, noticing her wince again as the fabric rubbed against the scratches.

Ariel gave him a small smile. "Not too bad. Just stings a bit."

Remus nodded. "Cats can certainly do some damage when they want to. I remember a rather nasty Kneazle once took a swipe at me when I was about your age — left some deep scratches down my arm. Cleared right up though with some sort of ointment.” 

“Move, Lupin.” 

He turned to find that Snape had emerged from the storeroom holding a small jar of pale yellow salve. His face was still taut, his movements brusque as he approached Ariel. Remus moved to the side as Snape walked briskly over, uncorking the vial with a soft pop. 

“Murtlap essence?” Ariel guessed, eyeing it curiously. 

“This isn’t a pop quiz, Miss Evans,” Snape ground out. 

“I was just curious,” she mumbled. 

Snape's face was stony as he applied the slave to Ariel's scratches, his motions brisk but gentle. Ariel winced slightly at the initial sting, but soon relaxed as the soothing properties of the salve took effect.

"Better?" Snape asked curtly.

Ariel nodded. "Yes, thank you, sir."

Snape studied her neck critically for a moment more before replacing the stopper on the jar. When he noticed Remus watching them, his lip curled. “Well? Are you going to drink it or not?” 

He glanced at the goblet, his stomach turning. “Ah — yes. Of course.” 

Ariel eyed the goblet warily. “You’re going to drink that?” 

Remus gave Ariel a weak smile. "It's just a potion Professor Snape brewed to help me feel better. I've been a bit under the weather lately."

“Is it going to make you feel better by killing you? You can’t feel anything if you’re dead.” 

Snape rolled his eyes. "Enough with the clever insights, Miss Evans. Professor Lupin is more likely to die from your alarming lack of perception than any potion I could concoct."

"It was just a joke,” she muttered. 

Snape's gaze softened marginally as his attention returned to Remus. He jerked his head towards the goblet. "Drink — now."

He lifted the goblet, the pungent liquid sloshing inside. “Cheers,” he said, raising the goblet to Ariel, who smiled. 

Remus steeled himself before downing it in several large gulps, trying not to dwell too much onto the positively foul taste. He suppressed a shudder as he set the empty goblet back on the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape watching him intently, as if waiting to see if he would suddenly sprout fur or claws. But the only effect Remus felt was a mild, spreading numbness in his fingers and a metallic taste in his mouth.

"Well, I suppose I should turn in for the night," Remus said, attempting to sound casual. "Thank you again, Severus. I can walk you back to your dormitory if you’re ready, Ariel."

"That won't be necessary, Lupin," Snape interjected sharply. 

Remus frowned slightly. "Oh, that's quite alright Severus. It's no trouble —”

"I wasn't asking for your opinion," Snape cut him off, his black eyes glittering. He turned towards Ariel. "Miss Evans will be staying for a detention.” 

Ariel’s jaw dropped open. “What!” 

"Detention," Snape repeated, emphasizing each syllable. "A consequence of being out of your dormitory past curfew.”

“But I wasn’t!” 

“It’s three minutes past ten.” his voice was smooth but held an underlying tone of smugness that made Remus’ blood boil.

#aim and ignite #sneak peek

[nsk96]

Personal

So in this middle of breakfast this morning my parents got into an argument. As usual it’s because something happened such as an item getting sabotaged, and then my mom asking us about it and my dad getting defensive.

This time it was because one of the rubber stoppers for the toaster oven door went missing and there’s no way it could have gone missing unless it was pulled out. This rubber stopper helps protect the door but also muffles noise from closing the toaster oven which is great considering my mom is a light sleeper.

I already know that my dad makes noise to wake her up during the night. My mom has set her phone’s voice recorder to pick up on said noises and a couple of the recordings correspond with a couple of the nights I caught him awake [context: he sleeps on the couch because his apnea]

Anyways, as always, he’s the first to raise his voice and yell, and bring up past events as if that will somehow invalidate my mom’s points. Then when my mom would defend herself and recall those events accurately, my dad would deny and try to gaslight her saying “no, [this, that] happened” which is always a lie. Maybe lies he tells himself and other people to make himself seem like the victim.

He is always trying to make himself look like the victim. Thank god I witnessed the events he brought up in the argument, and so I knew my mom was telling the truth and that he was lying. It’s hilarious watching him lie about things, forgetting I was there for said things.

He lied about the poor condition of the pool to our faces. Back when he was responsible for cleaning the pool, it was always green and had bugs and mosquito larvae because he wasn’t using enough chlorine. It was green like the trees. He tried to lie and say it didn’t look like that and the only bugs in the pool were the ants that fell in “from the wind”. Bruh…I have pictures. Don’t try me.

Then after my mom walked away, my drama queen of a dad put his head in his hands (like he always does) and said it’s so hard to “live with that woman” and “it’s getting worse”. Then he said “I just want to live out the last 4 years of my life in peace.”

That last line took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to make of it but decided to ask. I asked “4 years?” And he replied “I’ll be dead in 4 years.”

I asked “how do you know?” and he said “I know”. I asked it again and all he could say is “I know”.

Either he’s trying to scare me (because he’s used many tactics previously to scare us like the gun threats or saying he wants to die, or threatening to drive us into oncoming traffic) or maybe this is the length of his plan. Honestly, he seems so unstable, I’m not sure what’s scare tactic and what’s a real threat. I don’t know what to expect from him now so that’s why I need to prepare. How ironic that just before I came here to type all this out, I caught a glimpse of a news article of yet another man who killed his wife and children and then himself. He was 80 years old if I recall correctly. My dad is merely 60, going on 61 this May. If an 80 y/o can do it, what’s to stop a 60 y/o? A 60 y/o who literally threatened to do this multiple times and then just a few years ago after a heated argument with my mom, was banging on the walls like a madman and frantically went looking for his handgun and was yelling and shouting at us asking where it was. He came asking me where it was and said I was told to put it away when we moved in and I said I wasn’t and didn’t know where it was. When he couldn’t find it, I thanked my forgetfulness later on. Because when we moved to this house, I was responsible for placing the handgun in their room where my mom told me to put it…but I forgot about where I put it and forgot that I even was put in charge of that task. The one time forgetfulness saved my life I guess. It was only until a week later that I remembered that I was put in charge of storing it away and then it finally hit me where I put it. Apparently my mom forgot where she told me to put it too😂 It was hidden well. Now my mom and I both know where it is and he doesn’t. However he still has a gun cabinet with other guns in there including a shotgun and another pistol and a historic rifle replica that is also functional. So we’re not out of the hot water yet.

Maybe in 4 years he plans on taking the money and leaving as my mom and I suspected all along. We have emergency money stashed away in my room and he’s been desperate to get to it.

He also has a joint bank account with me and was scared when he saw I started to use some of the money to pay off tuition costs (from what my FAFSA loan didn’t cover).

He could legally take the remainder of the money in our joint bank account and leave, leaving me with no money in there, and I wouldn’t doubt that was a part of his plan.

Two years ago he expressed wanting to move up to St.Augustine in a few years. But he said “I’m moving to St. Augustine” not “we’re moving to St. Augustine”. There was no discussion. My mom said “don’t you mean all of us?” and his answer was a shallow confirmation, like he was just trying to get her to back off.

His words are a reminder that I need to get my stuff together and get out as soon as I can. I hope I have enough time to finish pharmacy school before whatever he plans goes into effect. Whatever it is, I may have to leave right after I graduate, whether or not my mom is ready. I will warn her again but there’s only so much warning I can give her. If she doesn’t want to leave, then that’s her choice but I can’t let her force me to stay.

Oh and he poisoned us with the waffles yesterday. We didn’t even know he was gonna make any. He usually tells us the night before. I couldn’t believe it when my mom and I got sick from it, because it’s always one batch and he eats it too. However, he made the first few then conveniently remembered that “he forgot” to add yogurt to the batter.

So he added yogurt (and I don’t know what else because my mom and I wasn’t around to watch him. I only know about the yogurt because that’s what he told me) and so the last 3 waffles had the “yogurt”. Those 3 ended up on the top of the stack and that’s what my mom and I ate while he ate the waffles without the yogurt. I also ate one without the yogurt and realized there was no reason to add yogurt at all because it was soft and chewy like always.

At first I dismissed it because I figured he’s still learning about how to substitute for egg. There was no need to add yogurt if he was adding baking powder. I don’t think the recipe he used even called for milk. It didn’t hit me until after I finished, when the surface of my tongue went numb and my throat as well. This is one of the main symptoms of when he prepares our food or drinks. But magically doesn’t happen when we make these things ourselves using the same ingredients. I wonder what ingredient is missing…

I asked my mom how she felt without telling her my suspicions nor my symptoms, and she told me she was experiencing those symptoms. Then my stomach started to get upset and later that evening, some body pains had started. My mom and I had to go out to get my PPD so we discussed it then. It’s crazy. I guess no more pancakes nor waffles from him either.

This is why my mom and I always have to prepare our own food and unfortunately his as well. The only time we eat what he cooks is when he’s cooking for the week. Food we know for sure that he will eat. Even then, when a little bit of leftover food remains back, I’m scared to eat it and wait for him to eat it before taking any. I’m tired of living this way. I’m tired of being paranoid of everything in the fridge. I’ve been eating so unhealthy for the past few years because the only foods I can trust are the ones that are sealed and snack foods he eats as well. Ramen noodles beloved.

#personal rant #tw dad mention #tw mom mention #tw narcissistic parent #tw narcissistic abuse #tw narcissism #tw death threats #tw murder mention #pharmacy school adventures

[boissonsaumiel]

LMAO we will under NO circumstances be doing, looking at, or even thinking about ANYTHING illegal.

...on our channel.

I quite like City Steading Brews. Their videos are better than other mead channels in terms of providing answers to specific questions. The titles are easily searchable, and they usually tell you everything they're going to do and why at the beginning of each video, so you don't usually have to watch the entire video to get the information you need.

I also appreciate that they're not constantly brewing Potion of Shit Yourself. Doin' the Most, for example, is always backsweetening with sweeteners like lactose and erithritol that are indigestible to yeast and, consequently, also indigestible to many, many humans.

.

Progress update:

My little bag of pectin arrived in the mail today. I eyeballed about ⅛tsp and dropped it in the rose petal infused mead. It seemed to have a pretty immediate effect. Fewer petals floating on top, more settling. I think it already looks a little clearer even though it's only been an hour or so.

The new half gallon batch I started on the 11th smells ... weird. Not like it's gone bad, but rather like the small amount of parsley I added (I was trying an experimental method of adding vitamins & minerals to the brew) was too much and it has altered the flavor in an undesirable way.

I was originally planning to use that for a saffron infused mead, but now I might use it for a lavender infused mead instead, since lavender should easily overpower any odd flavor left by the parsley.

I will use the batch I had intended for the lavender infused mead for my saffron mead. That batch was smaller than a half gallon though, so...

...I started 1 more backup batch.

I lied, slightly, when I said I was at capacity earlier. I still had 1 unused airlock and one drilled rubber stopper small enough to fit in one of the empty 750ml wine/bourbon bottles I never got around to recycling.

So now I'm really, truly at capacity.

#mead journaling #No.061123 #No.060123 #No.061623

[fatgumsdarling]

can we get some dilf iwa hcs 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️pls 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️

bestie is this you?? //LOL

but yes, ofc you can definitely get some dilf iwa hc’s 🤍

𝒹𝒾𝓁𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝒿𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓏𝓊𝓂𝒾

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: fluff with suggestive ending

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: dilf!iwaizumi x fem!reader

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: gets a lil spicy //hehe

he’s still very buff, but has the slight grey hairs popping up everywhere, it looks so hot

normally has a slight stubble, just barely scratchy, but if he was to grow a beard it would be well kept and clean

he normally wears joggers and tight workout shirts,

or the work out shorts that are kinda short but so fine

but when he has to dress up he wears a button up shirt with jeans and Nike Air Monarch IV’s aka the king of dad shoes,

if not he’s wearing a well fitted suit and tie, with matching dress shoes

he knows how to dress

usually matches with their kid to embarrass them,

“look at Hajime and their kid, matching how cute!”

has a reputation with all the single moms and staff at the school

always helps with any and all events

he knows the impact he has on the single moms and staff at the school,

he might have a slight god complex bc of that

he loves to watch the moms swoon at him when he does any little thing

he loves how they just lose their minds when he holds and cuddles a baby

when he lifts anything heavy? even better

“Wow Hajime… you’re so… strong..”

“yeah imagine how i easily i could lift you”

he loves to show off and lift up the moms,

watching them squeal and giggle

as he wraps his arms around their waist

lifting them over his shoulder like they weigh nothing

“Hajime!!” you called out, “Do you think you could help me put the rest of the equipment away?” He turned to you as he told his kid to stay with the other adults and kids. Your kids had gone with their father since it was his weekend, so you offered to help picking up.

“Hey little miss y/n..” he said sliding next to you slightly touching your arm, you felt electricity where he touched and took a moment to gather yourself quickly, “I don’t know where these usually go, you’re going to have to show me.” you said as you grabbed some bats, as he grabbed the mits and balls, “Yeah, of course don’t worry about it… I got you.” he said as he reached over you, his face so close to yours, you could smell his cologne mixed with sweat, so musky, so captivating.. “Are you gonna grab that?” he asked snapping you out of a trance, “Oh, fuck, shit! I mean shoot! Yeah..” he let out a deep chuckle as you scrambled to grab the last bat and followed him to the gymnasium where they kept the equipment.

“They usually go in here, make sure the door stopper stays there if the door closes we’ll be locked in.” he pointed to a small rubber door stopper as you two walked into the dimly lit closet, “God it’s so stuffy in here…” you set the bats down and began to put them in their holders, “and hot!” you continued as you fanned yourself, Hajime couldn’t help but stare at you as you bent over to pick up the bats and stand on your tippy toes to put them up, watching your shirt slightly lift up each time you reached above your head.

You could feel him staring at you, it made you nervous, dropping a bat you went to chase it immediately.. as did Hajime, the both of you bumped into each other and you flew back to the door hitting it shut. “Oh.. fuck.” Hajime said, scrambling to his feet to help you up, “Oh my god, I-I’m sorry!” you said taking his hand quickly getting up.

He tried to open the door but to no avail… Locked. He sighed and felt his pockets for his phone, only to remember that he left it with his kid, “Shit.. Do you have your phone? My kid has mine.” you frantically looked for yours, “Ummm.. Yes! I do!” as you took your phone out he quickly took it and put it on the a high shelf, that you couldn’t reach,

“Hajime! What!?” you jumped to try and reach the shelf, “Hajime this isn’t funny, it’s hot in here and your kid is outside!” he grabbed your hand that you had extended and pulled you closer to him, “My kids fine y/n…” he placed a hand on your cheek and ran his finger along the curve of your face, slowly, feeling the softness of your skin against his rough hands, you avoided his gaze looking to your right at the sports equipment,

he quickly placed his hand under your chin and forced you to look at him, “What’s the matter y/n? don’t like me being this..” he brought his face closer to yours you could feel the heat coming off his face, “close?” you gulped and slightly bit your lip, “No.. I-I like it…” you were melting into his touch,

with a swift move he pulled your other hand up and held both hands up by the wrist with one of his, pushing you up against the cluttered wall of the closet, letting out a small whimper he brought his face to your neck taking in your scent with a deep breath and letting out a deep groan, “Fuck, y/n you’re just so … intoxicating.” with his free hand he lifted up the hem of your shirt sliding his hand upwards,

“H-Hajime…” you breathed out, “does that feel good pretty girl?” your head spun at the pet name, “‘mm feels ..good” he began to leave small kisses on your neck leading up to your cheek, slowly moving towards your lips, your skin felt tingly everywhere he kissed.. “I’ve been wanting to get you alone…” he looked deep into your e/c eyes and studied your face. “I’ve been dying to have your lips on mine, your arms around me..”

he let your arms go, placing them on his shoulders, moving his one arm around your waist as his other hand stayed on your face, his thumb sliding slowly across your bottom lip.. your eyes moving from his lips, to his eyes. He moved in closer… Reaching above and behind you to grab your phone, you pouted and pulled him closer, he held up a single finger, to signal you to wait, as he called one of the parents outside,

“Hey! Belinda! Hi yeah, it’s Hajime, I left my phone with my kid, I’m using y/n’s phone, we’re locked in the damn closet please let us out it’s so hot,” he said winking at you, “we’ve been yelling for the past couple minutes hoping someone would hear!” his free hand moved to your waist and pulled you in close, “Great, thanks!” he hung up and slid your phone in your back pocket, lifting up your chin with his hand he leaned in to kiss you, keeping his hand on your face and waist, pushed you up against the wall again, kissing you slowly and deeply.

You both heard the gymnasium door open, quickly pulling away and composing yourselves, “Y/n! Hajime! Geez, I’m so sorry! The kids were so loud.” the both of you walked out of the closet and sighed in relief to be out of the closet, “Hey Belinda don’t even worry about it! At least you got us out!” Hajime said placing a hand on her shoulder, she smiled and began to walk back to the exit, “and as for you….” he grabbed a handful of your ass squeezing tightly, “i hope to continue this.. soon?” he said winking, “i could definitely switch weekends with my kids mother..” you let out a giggle, “i like the sound of that…”

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ omggg!!!! this was my first post ever, i hope you liked it🥺

don’t be shy to request anything, please this was so much fun!! i hope to write more for you all ♡//hugs n kisses

#haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x y/n #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x you #☁︎cherryfluff #iwaizumi haijime x reader #haijime iwaizumi #dilf!iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi oneshot #iwaizumi drabble #iwaizumi headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq iwaizumi #haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #hq hcs #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x y/n

[hollers-and-holmes]

LAST, NEXT, and [fire] for the writing asks :D

Okay I am seriously stretching the length parameters for this and posting big chunks instead of a couple of sentences.

Here’s the LAST bit of the current monstrous MASHlike army surgeon WIP:

I bend to inspect the battered foot. It looks like his boot took the worst of it, but he’s still contused deep and black over the metatarsals and up the inside of his ankle. Three good puncture wounds into the sole and an ugly little laceration in the webspace between his first and second toes. When I ask him to move them I can see a sliver of white tendon, but his range of motion seems to be intact. The gentlest of palpations tells me there are no fractures. Kids have bones like rubber.

I glance up at this one. “He almost bit your toe off.”

That prods a little smile from him. I straighten and say to Falchanar, “What do you think, just whack it off at the knee?” I chop the edge of my hand lightly against Nat’s shinbone. “We could whittle him a nice wooden peg to hobble around on.”

“Might slow him down a little,” says Falchanar dryly.

“Eh, his mother might object if he took up the pirate life.” I pat him on the leg. “I can’t feel a break, Fal, and he’s got full movement, we’ll patch him up and you can recommence the butt-chewing.”

Nat cuts me a dark look. Sorry, buddy. I’ll sew your foot up, but other troubles you have to dig yourself out of. For a moment I think of my own kid a scant handful of years older than he is now and showing up where he oughtn’t be, and my pity toward this one’s plight dissipates a little. His mother must be about to claw her own eyes out with worry.

I head for the door. “You fellas hang tight, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Here is a chunk for the prompt “FIRE” (admittedly not probably the kind of fire you had in mind 😝)

The utility room is deep in the far corner of the compound nearest the well. It’s a humid, sweltering, sauna of a space, not enough light coming through the single window. The three washers rumble incessantly along the wall, the left one rattling on the damp pourstone floor. Another thing to fix.

By some stroke of luck, the other girls are off to other duties, and only the one I’ve come to address is there at the table doing a cumbersome job of folding fitted sheets. She sees me and her eyes go wide. She bobs her head. “M’lord.”

I draw her staff token out of my pocket and lay it on the tabletop. Her eyes dart down and back up to mine. We’ve played this game before of course, her feigning innocence. I’ve let it slide this far. The sliding is over.

I say, “This was on the floor of my office this morning.”

“I—”

“Someone broke in last night and tried to steal the lockbox out of the desk.”

“Milord, I don’t—”

“I have to be able to trust the people who work here. I can’t tolerate a thief. Stakes are too high.”

“Please, I can—”

I take the token back. It’s gone through the hands of three or four other girls this summer. Not sure when we’ll find another to replace this one—our options are wearing thin. Better gird your loins, Veo, you might be bleaching the bedlinens for a few weeks until we do.

To Ingwen Ingmar’s daughter I say, letting a little gentleness seep into the words as she stands there looking stricken, “I’m sorry, kiddo. You need to pack your things. You’re fired.”

And for NEXT I fear I will have to make an addition tomorrow, because my writing window is drawing to a close for the night. But that bit ☝️ for all its seeming innocuousness is more than I’ve written on this scoundrel for weeks, and believe it or not it has solved a fairly major plot problem that has had me stoppered up for a very long time. So thank you dearly for the prompt! 😘😘

[sadoeuphemist]

We were about twenty minutes in when we realized Brody’s fingers weren’t wrinkling. We’d only just come up with the idea for the competition, all of us splashing around in the pool and clowning on each other, and Kai was going, “You guys ready to have your whole bodies turn into prunes? All baggy and swole up with water? Because I’m sticking it out to the end. You guys don’t want to end up with your waterlogged skin peeling off, you better call it right now!” That got us comparing each other’s fingertips, trying to figure out who’d end up the most pruney, and Brody’s were perfectly smooth and taut, not a wrinkle in sight.

“You been keeping your hands out of the water?” Derek said, squinting at him.

“I’ve been in the pool just the same as you,” said Brody with a shrug. He splashed his hands. “Maybe you guys just don’t have what it takes.”

“What the hell,” said Derek. “Let’s see your feet.”

Now all of us, our toes were pretty wrinkly already, but Brody, again, had perfectly smooth skin, not a single wrinkle or crease. “What the hell?” said Derek.

“Is there something wrong with your skin?” said Tyler. We were all sort of gathered around him now, with Brody leaning against the edge of the pool and floating, bobbing one foot out of the water. “Is this, like, a medical condition?”

Brody shrugged again and looked real smug.

“Are you not affected by water?” said Kai.

“Hey,” said Brody, “you guys don’t think you can beat me, feel free to call it quits right now. Me, I’m real comfortable.” He spread his elbows out on the gutter like he was reclining on a throne. “I could spend the whole summer in this damn pool.”

“C’mon in the deep end, if you’re so comfortable then!” said Kai.

Brody laughed and pushed off from the wall, disappearing under the surface of the water, a dark shape propelling itself across the pool until he surfaced again at the far end. We all stared.

“What the hell?” said Derek. “How is your hair not wet?”

---

The contest was temporarily put aside, as everyone applied themselves to the issue of how Brody’s body was completely unaffected by the water. The rest of us splashed around, got chlorine in our eyes, snorted water out of our noses, watched the skin on our fingers etch themselves into little labyrinths of grooves, and through it all Brody might as well have been on dry land for all it showed on him. It was as if his skin had been sealed off, rubberized, like there was an invisible force field keeping the water from touching him. Brody himself seemed similarly insulated to the bizarreness of what the hell was going on with his body. “I’m feeling great,” was all he would say. “I could spend the whole summer right here.”

I was the first to call it quits after a few hours. “Brody’s going to win,” I said, climbing out of the pool dripping. “How’s this even a contest? He’s got some weird physiology that makes him immune to water!”

“Boooo,” said Tyler. “Don’t even want to try for second place!”

“I’ve swam enough!” I said. “I’m going inside!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Brody. “Acknowledge the champion. All of you ought to give up right now.”

We had a pizza by the poolside as well as a bunch of drinks, but as the hours went by I ordered another, got more drinks out of the refrigerator. Tyler gave up. I went diving a few more times, but then the sun started going down and it started getting cooler. Derek got out, shivering. Kai and Brody had set themselves at opposite ends of the pool, staring each other down.

Tyler broke out the DVDs. Derek went out to yell at them. “It’s been ten hours!” he said. “You fuckers have been emptying soda cans and haven’t left the pool once! That’s piss soup in there! You’re both stewing in piss soup!”

Kai looked absolutely miserable. His fingertips were white and wrinkled and had turned translucent. He was hunched around himself like a wadded-up rag. The moon was out, reflected in milky ripples across the pool. Brody meanwhile looked untouched, like a plastic bottle bobbing in the ocean, stoppered up and completely airtight. “You could quit at any time, Kai,” he said, grinning. “This is my element.”

“F-fuck you,” Kai said. “You gotta crack, sooner or later. I don’t care what sort of genetic mutant you are, you can’t keep sitting in a pool for hours and nothing happens to your body. You gotta reach your limit! You gotta - hit saturation or something, man, I don’t know! Fuck!”

“Suit yourself,” said Brody. He lazily kicked out his legs. “Man, this pool’s real nice. Figure I could just about live here.”

“It’s piss soup!” Derek said.

It took two hours more, but Kai finally gave up. He came out shivering from the black surface of the pool, and we had to wrap him up in towels and rub him down because he looked like he was at risk for hypothermia. Brody did a few more laps, floating unconcernedly, and we had to yell at him before he finally pulled himself out. He sat on the edge, one foot still dangling in the water, and rubbed at the sole of his foot.

“Hey, whaddya know,” Brody said, looking down. “Finally got a wrinkle. What are we on, hour twelve? Well, took long enough, I guess.”

We all looked, even Kai, who was still waterlogged as a drowned cat. There was in fact a wrinkle on Brody’s perfectly smooth skin - but just a single one, incongruous against his rubberized sole. Squinting at it, I thought it looked like a defect, a flaw in the material. It was like seeing a wrinkle on the taut skin of an inflated balloon.

“Never got one of these before,” Brody said casually, pinching the crease of skin between his fingers. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, seeing it, someone pinching the skin of a balloon. “Maybe you shouldn’t -” I started to say.

And then the piece of skin came off in Brody’s fingers, and all the water started gushing out.

We were all awestruck for a moment, just watching it. It was a perfect arc of water, crystal in the moonlight, so smooth that it seemed like a curve of glass stretching from his foot into the pool, like a sculpture, or a fountain, a perfect pressurized flow. We might have all just watched that for a good ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute, just staring in wonder at the sight of it, and then I looked up at the rest of Brody and saw his eyes rolling back in his head, his head and shoulders deflating, sagging, right about to collapse.

“Oh shit, put some pressure on it!” Tyler called out, and we all sort of grabbed at him at the same time and went unbalanced, and Brody toppled right back into the pool, Tyler and Derek diving in, fully clothed, after him.

Between the four of us we must’ve seen that event from every possible angle, and yet none of us could tell what had happened next. We all saw bubbles, the splash, the force of impact, and to my mind it was like watching a balloon popping, the pressure equalizing, Brody disappearing beneath the surface of the water and gone. Tyler and Derek came up gasping, and already there was this murky fog spreading through the water, all skin cells and hair and whatnot, I figured, Brody’s remains. Derek scrambled out of the water, spluttering, rubbing at his skin and pulling off his shirt and immediately ran to hose himself down. Tyler dived back down, looking for Brody, and then came back up again with the growing bewilderment of someone who’d set something down for just a moment and couldn’t tell where he’d left it. Kai was standing by the pool’s edge, probably in shock, and I'd fallen backwards on my ass and was just watching the whole thing like an idiot, while Tyler dived under again and again, feeling around the edges of the pool, possibly trying to find Brody by process of elimination.

Finally we managed to get him to come out, and we all just stood there poolside, staring down at the cloudy water. Brody was gone, not a trace left of him but his trunks.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Kai. “Fuck.“

“Oh god,” said Tyler. “Oh god oh god he just disappeared, he was there and then -”

The murky pool water burbled, bubbled, spoke with Brody’s voice, if he had been speaking to us from the bottom of a drain.

“Told you guys I could spend the whole summer right here,” it said.

---

So, swimming was out for the rest of the summer. Brody occupied the pool, and the rest of us would come by to skim out the leaves and whatnot, toss some pizza slices or nachos in there occasionally, or empty in a few cans of coke. The water level slowly sunk as the summer rolled along, the pool water growing cloudier and more congealed, until it started to look like Jell-O setting in a mold. The pool drained itself, its contents becoming more and more concentrated, until one day we came by and found Brody at the bottom of the pool, stark naked, his skin still wobbly and not quite fully set, waving up at us.

“Lost my trunks!” he said. “How ‘bout you help a guy out!”

So that was how we spent our summer, and we all agreed that we had definitely not gotten the full benefit of the pool, although Brody maintained he could not reasonably be blamed. That didn’t stop him from lording his victory over the rest of us, proclaiming himself the undisputed Champion of the Pool, a record that would never be broken. Brody being Brody, it got to the point where he was seriously obnoxious about it, but once Derek started calling him Piss Soup that was finally enough to shut him up.

#fiction #repost

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (8/8)

If you’d like to read this work in its entirety, you may do so here.

October 24, 2018

Scully was half-elated, half terrified when her children escaped from the cabin and their captor. It removed them from harm’s way, but gave the mercenary who held them a sole focus -- herself and the child she carried, and Mulder.

Luis seemed to be even more amped up by their escape, checking his watch and trying his phone twice as often. When she rose and requested a drink of water, the man stood so quickly from the chair he sat in that it fell backwards to the floor.

He stood, twitchy and suspicious, looked at her a moment and then nodded tersely. She turned to go into the kitchen when a powerful force seized her and she stumbled, grabbing onto the back of Mulder’s chair.

“Scully!” he said, alarmed. He rose and moved to her side as the gunman watched them, tense but otherwise expressionless.

The pain wrapped around her middle and went all the way to her back. She’d experienced back labor during her labor with William and remembered the agonizing sensation. This was the real thing.

“Mulder,” she whispered, dragging her eyes up to him. She saw realization dawn on him, saw the mix of tender excitement and abject fear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, tilting his head to the side to look at her. They rarely used pet names for each other, but the sound of those words on his lips made her stalwart exterior crumple. Tears fell from her eyes. She looked at him and tried to tell him silently all the things he’d ever meant to her, and all the things he ever would.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” the man said, to Lily. “We are going to unload the ATVs off of the trailer. We are going to drive them to the camp where your family is staying. You will be on one, your brother and I will be on the other. I will have a gun to your brother’s head the entire time. You try anything, I shoot him. He tries anything, I shoot him.”

Lily nodded, and she could hear Will swallow with some difficulty next to her. “My colleague at the camp… Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Lily said, not taking her eyes off the barrel of the gun.

“Good,” he said “Do what I say, and no one has to die.”

Lily could feel the weight of the burner phone in the front pocket of her sweatshirt and sweat broke out on her upper lip. Maybe, she thought, maybe she could still use it.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully grasped his hand tightly, eyes closed, breathing hard. As the night wore on and windows outside the cabin turned pale, her contractions seemed to be progressing as they ought, but she was in pain -- terrible pain -- and his heart clenched for her.

He hadn’t done this since Lily was born nearly two decades before -- holding the hand of his wife while she battled to bring his child into the world.  He still felt an overriding guilt for not being there for her during her complicated and troubled delivery of William.

He remembered walking down the hallway toward her room the day he was born, his breath shaky and halting, not knowing what he’d find. There had been a strange sense of deja vu as he approached her door that night, and he had an odd mental picture — an actual phantasmagoria — flash through his mind unbidden of walking in and seeing Scully, her hair shorter than she had ever cut it, her body on the bed thin and reedy -- most definitely not pregnant. He could still see it in his mind’s eye, Scully lying on her side in the hospital bed, wires and IVs coming out of her, a nasal cannula over her ears. She wore a teal hospital gown and the look on her face was one of horrified surprise. The flash had so disturbed him that he ran the last few feet to her labor and delivery room and crashed through the door, which knocked into the rubber stopper on the wall. There Scully lay, in a pink gown, her hair long and her face pale, but smiling, their son lying peacefully on her chest.

He shook himself of the memory and concentrated on his wife.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The man had Will unhooking the ATVs as he pushed them back and off the ramp of the trailer, his gun strapped to a holster on his leg. Lily had her hand in her pocket thumbing the phone, trying to remember which button was “on” from memory. She depressed the button and the ancient phone beeped once, the sound covered by the merc turning on and revving the first four-wheeler, luck on her side, for once.

He moved to the side of the van and pulled out a mid-sized black canvas attache case that had a biohazard warning patch on the side. He secured it to the back of one of the vehicles and then winked at her. Lily’s insides went cold, thinking of her mother.

He pointed at the ATV and looked to Will. “Hop on, William,” he commanded. They had not told him their names. Her brother mounted the four-wheeler, licking his lips nervously. The merc turned to her.

“You know how to drive one of these?” he asked her. She shook her head. He pointed, impatient. “Throttle. Brake. Get on.”

She did.

“You know where to go,” the man said, then revved his engine, the noise a loud mechanical crank in the sleepy peace of the forest. A flock of birds were startled into flight from the trees above, taking wing into the autumn sky, a flutter of panicked commotion.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Mulder, I need you to promise me something,” Scully said weakly. She was tiring and had refused food. She was laying on the narrow cot by the stove and he was sitting next to her.

“Anything,” he said, brushing back the hair from her forehead.

“Don’t be a hero,” she half-whispered. “I need you. The kids need you. Don’t… don’t try anything.”

Luis, listening in from a few yards away, spoke for the first time in an hour.

“‘S good advice,” he sneered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Lily slid the phone out of her pocket and took a surreptitious look down. It was on. She glanced back up to watch where she was going -- the trees here were much closer together -- saplings growing like weeds in a field. She had to swerve quickly to miss one and she heard the mercenary shout from behind her. Her quick turn had lifted the right side of the ATV’s wheels almost off the ground -- if she’d been leaning the wrong way or even at all, the whole thing would have gone over.

Straightening and watching her path on a fresh surge of adrenaline, she glanced once again at the phone -- there was a single bar of service showing. She was so shocked she almost dropped it. Licking her lips, she kept her eyes ahead and dialed 911, glancing down once or twice to make sure she’d entered it correctly. She pressed “send.” She was driving one-handed and was hoping the merc didn’t notice. Even with the roar of the engines, she could hear the phone dialing.

They were almost to the cabin. She could smell woodsmoke. If they cleared one more rise, they’d be there.  

The burr of the phone ringing was the only thing she could hear.

Up the rise, she knew the ATV was still right behind her, knew that there was still a gun trained at her brother's head.

"9-1-1, what... your emergency?" she could hear the dispatcher through static.

Then she was over the hill. The cabin sat before them, a squat building standing stalwart in a field of trees, smoke leaking from the chimney and sinking to the ground like an escher painting.

She felt the machine under her go over an unexpected bump on the right side and the wheels rise up slightly. She took a chance on creating enough of a distraction for emergency services to trace her call. She leaned hard left and gravity did the rest, tipping the ATV in what felt like a slow motion fall onto its side. Lily, wearing neither helmet nor seatbelt fell hard onto her shoulder, her head snapping into the earth.

She rolled, and the machine missed her leg, but the phone went flying out of her hand, arcing through the air and into the leaf cover. The other ATV revved to catch up with her and then stopped close to the cabin on a spray of dirt and leaf pieces. Then the engine cut, and she could hear the voice on the other end of the phone several yards away cutting in and out in static.

Stars burst behind her eyes like fireworks popping in the night. When her vision cleared, the man was standing over her, his boots so close to her face that she could smell the leather. Her brother was close, but was clearly wary of the mercenary, and she saw him take several steps backward toward the cabin, his eyes on his sister and the dangerous tableau before him.

The man before her lifted a foot and she braced herself for a kick or a blow, but instead he took several steps off into the duff and then once again lifted his heavy booted foot up and this time slammed it down hard onto the staccato-voiced cell phone in the leaves, the static turning into silence with an almighty metallic crunch.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully’s contractions were extremely close together. She was lying on the cot, her face a sheen of perspiration. Mulder almost didn’t hear the sound of the engines over her groan.

Luis, who had been watching Scully intensely, his brows knitted together, stood quickly when he heard the motors. There was a chaotic sound outside and then the engines cut, close to the cabin.

“About fucking time,” Luis hissed and then was out the door, leaving it open. Mulder looked to Scully and then, very slowly and deliberately leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“No matter what happens,” he whispered, “I always have and always will love you.”

Scully nodded and then another contraction pressed on her and she winced.

“Mulder, I’m feeling really pushy,” she said.

“Shit,” Mulder swore, standing without much hope of doing anything.

Scully opened her mouth and let out an unholy yowl.

And then, from outside the cabin, they heard the unmistakable voice of their fifteen year old son: “Mom?!”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Shut up,” said the merc to William from where he stood by the cabin’s door.

Lily rolled up to her knees and shook her head, standing woozily, just as the man Luis came barreling out the door.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Luis hissed at the other man.

“Get your panties out of your ass, Cardinal,” he said. “I’m here.”

“She’s in labor, you greasy piece of shit. We’re on the fucking clock.”

Another dump of adrenaline hit Lily’s bloodstream and she took several steps toward her brother, who was still looking at the cabin in alarm.

He nodded at Luis and unstrapped the black attache kit from the back of his ATV, walking to the open doorway, where he paused. He pointed to where Lily stood, not far from her brother.

“Watch these two,” he said, “and maybe don’t lose them this time?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“...and maybe don’t lose them this time,” Mulder heard from the doorway. The voice was familiar, and when he looked to the man’s face, he was taken over by such an unholy rage that his vision quite literally tunneled, going black from the sides.

He’d launched himself before anyone knew quite what was happening, even himself. His body hit the other man’s full force and they flew outside, landing in the duff and scattering dirt from the force of their impact.

“Krycek,” he hissed, “you son of a bitch-” and then he reared back his fist and delivered a haymaker to the man’s chin -- all the pent of fury of finding Scully at the top of Skyland Mountain all those years ago crashing back -- Krycek’s head whipped back, spraying blood onto the O horizon.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She’d say this for her brother: his time on the ice had served him well.

Cardinal was as taken by surprise as everyone else by their father’s furious launch at the other merc, and Will, who had been standing several feet away, took the opportunity to grab his improvised hockey stick, which had been propped up by the door on the outside of the cabin and swung it with everything he had at the man. It connected with Cardinal directly across the temple; the dull, sickening thud the best thing Lily had ever heard. Cardinal hit the wall of the cabin and crumpled, sliding to the ground like bubbles down wet skin.

Her father’s head whipped around to see what had happened behind him, and Krycek seized the opportunity to kick Mulder hard, sending him flying backwards. Both men scrambled up to standing when Scully appeared in the doorway of the cabin, taking two shaky steps outside. Everyone turned to her.

“Mulder,” she rasped, looking at her husband, distraught, “I think it’s time.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder looked to his wife.

Scully then let out a scream and stumbled forward, grabbing onto a nearby tree for support. Lily dashed to her side without thinking, giving Krycek the opportunity to swing the gun he still held in his hand up to train it on both of them. Mulder’s heart rose to his throat.

From nowhere, Krycek produced another pistol, which he aimed at Will, who had been attempting to get around the side of the cabin after felling Cardinal. Mulder froze.

"This ends one of two ways!" Krycek shouted, stopping everyone in their tracks. There was a smear of blood running down his chin. "All of you dead, or everyone alive. I really don't care one way or the other."

Krycek flicked the gun once at Will, who dropped the stick and made his way over to his sister, who was still several feet away from Scully, who had taken a few staggered steps before slumping to her knees, knocked back by another powerful contraction, this one right on the heels of the last. She was panting, and swung her eyes up to Mulder drunkenly. Krycek had a gun on her and one on their children.

"All right," Mulder said, anguish gripping him, "all right."

He was out of options. He looked to the functioning four-wheeler that Krycek had come in on. Krycek could have Scully on it and to the county road in less than ten minutes. The other four wheeler was still on its side, smoking, the smell of gas and oil ripe in the air. He'd never be able to get to them.

Mulder looked at Scully. He looked at his children. Hopelessness rose in his gut like vomit, consuming and poisonous. He thought vaguely of bum-rushing Krycek once again, one last sacrifice to save those he loved.

The moment slowed to a honied drip. Five seconds to make a choice, each one ticking by more slowly than the one before it. One. He thought of Lily as a baby, of William; the newborn smell of their sweet red hair. Two. He thought of Olivia Kurtzweil, sitting across from him in his office. Lying dead on her own floor. Three. He thought of Samantha, her thick braids flying out behind her, laughing as she ran down the beach in Quonochontaug. Four. He thought of his first day of firearms training at Quantico. His instructor laying a pistol on the countertop and saying: “It takes only seven pounds of pressure to pull a trigger.” Five. He thought of Scully. Of their first meeting in the basement office, her bright seafoam eyes and her chipper little handshake. He thought of her terrified face atop Skyland Mountain, how her hands felt around his neck as he carried her all the way down. He thought of how she gasped when he touched her, of the dusky way her skin looked in the moonlight.

He moved to take a step toward her, but was shocked into stillness when a gun shot rang out out of nowhere and Krycek slumped to the ground. Mulder turned to where the shot had come from and there, standing in the middle of the Northwoods forest in a pristine white blazer and jeans stood Lauren, the archaic rifle that had adorned the deer mount on the cabin wall pressed expertly to her shoulder. Smoke wafted out of the barrel, and she slowly lowered the weapon.

“You stopped answering your phone, Fox,” she said. “We had a deal.”

XxX

Will and Lily were both facing away from where Krycek had fallen, looking at Lauren in surprise, and Mulder took three large strides to get to them before they could turn and see what was left of the man. He grabbed them by the shoulders, one hand on each of them and leaned down.

“It’s okay,” he said, in a quiet voice, “we’re all okay.”

Will turned into him and buried his face into his father’s chest. Lily put her hand over his and turned toward Scully, who was leaning against a tree, one arm wrapped tightly around her stomach. Luis Cardinal was still out cold by the cabin’s wall, his arm thrown out an odd angle. Mulder hoped it was broken.

“Can you guys help your mom into the cabin?” he said and both kids went immediately to her.

He heard the crunching of leaves and found Lauren at his shoulder.

“I called the county Sheriff before I came onto the property,” she said in a low voice, “I don’t know how long it will take them to get here.”

Mulder turned to her in full.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice shaky, “You saved my family.”

“You’re all the family I have left,” she said, “and you would have done the same for me.”

He pulled her tightly to him. She gave him a brief squeeze, the rifle she was holding pressing into his hip. She pulled back.

“Please tell me Dana’s not in labor,” she said.

“Dana’s in labor.”

Lauren took a deep breath and glanced down at the man whose life she had taken not moments before.

“Don’t look,” Mulder said gently.

Lauren nodded stoically and shouldered the rifle.

“There’s another merc by the cabin,” Mulder said, “alive. Can you help me secure him? See if there’s some rope or something inside?”

Lauren nodded and headed into the cabin, and Mulder turned to Krycek and pushed him over onto his back with his foot. The man was looking straight up with sightless eyes. Then Mulder noticed several pairs of zip ties that Krycek had had secured to his utility belt. He tried not to think of what he’d planned to use them for, and pulled one from the dead man’s waist.

“We need to make this quick,” Lauren said as she came out the door, her statement punctuated by a low, feminine moan from inside the cabin. Mulder’s gut roiled.

“Let’s go,” he said, and dragged Cardinal roughly by the shoulders to a medium pine not far from the cabin door. Mulder wrenched the man’s hands behind his back around the tree and Lauren cinched the zip tie on tightly. He gave a light moan but was otherwise still.

When they trotted back into the cabin, they found both kids at their mother’s side, wearing panicked, wary faces.  

Scully had settled onto the cot that had been set up near the woodstove. Her eyes were closed and her hands gripped the steel frame. Mulder asked the kids to collect clean linens and blankets from the cedar cabinet and then went back outside to pull Krycek’s body over behind a large tree, knowing he was disturbing evidence, but not caring. He didn’t want it anywhere the kids could see.

When he came back inside, Scully was propped up on pillows, Lauren kneeling next to her. They both turned to him. Scully reached out her hand and he walked over and grabbed it.

“Any sign of the Sheriff?” Lauren asked in a low voice.

Mulder shook his head.

Scully winced and squeezed his hand, gritting her teeth.

“Her contractions are one on top of each other, Fox,” Lauren said.

Lily had drifted over and spoke from Mulder’s elbow.

“Can you give me and Will something to do?” she said, “he’s kind of freaked, and so am I.”

“Hey Will,” Mulder said, “can you take the bucket to the pump and bring us water?”

“Yeah!” Will jumped up and grabbed the bucket by the kitchen wall and scooted outside quickly.

“Lily,” Mulder said, and she looked up at him. “Do you think you can help your mom?”

“Yeah, I can,” Lily said, and went to Scully’s other side.

Scully looked up to Mulder.

“I’m feeling really pushy,” she said once again and gave him a this is serious look.

“You pitch, I’ll catch,” Mulder said easily, trying to project a confidence he didn’t feel, and moved to the end of the bed. He helped Scully pull down her leggings and get situated back on the bed.

Scully was breathing hard and took another deep breath, trying to slow herself down.

“Lil,” she said, pausing to close her eyes and breathe through her nose, “you hold one knee, Lauren will hold the other.”

Lily nodded bravely and grabbed her mother’s leg firmly. Lauren did the same on Scully’s other side.

Mulder could see a bright thatch of hair already crowning between Scully’s legs and grabbed a clean towel, reaching forward.

“Oh my god,” Lauren said, just as Scully gave another almighty yell. The baby’s head was all the way out. One more push and Mulder caught his second son as he careened into the world, registering his complaints loudly for anyone who would hear them.

Will came banging through the door just as Mulder was placing the child on Scully’s chest, a full bucket of water sloshing over where it hung from his hand.

“The Sheriff is here!” he said, as he took in the sight before him.

“Come and meet your brother,” Scully said, smiling tiredly, sweat beaded on her brow.

EPILOGUE

Lily stood in front of the building nervously twirling a lock of hair around her fingers, over and over; a tic she’d had since childhood. Her father was parked not quite a block up the avenue waiting for her -- not totally out of sight, but enough to afford her some privacy. She glanced at his car's taillights once and then looked back at the old building with its colossal white columns and bright red brick.

She knew Travis's schedule well enough that she shouldn’t have been surprised when he emerged from the double doors of the Old Engineering Hall, but her heart skipped a beat anyway.

He was several steps out when he noticed her standing at the base of the old cement staircase, and he pulled up short, cinching his backpack once contemplatively before continuing his descent. He stopped in front of her, but made no move to touch her or talk. He merely looked at her, waiting for her to say something.

She gave him a tentative smile that he didn't return.

"Hi," she finally said.

"Hello," he said. He didn't sound angry or upset, merely expectant, maybe a little resigned.

She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She couldn't think of a thing to say -- where to possibly start telling him her story. He must have sensed how overwhelmed she was, as he took a breath and said, not unkindly:

"You were supposed to meet me for lunch. You never showed up."

She pressed her lips together and nodded her head, remembering the feeling of being pursued through the student union, of holding her father's hand and running from Darlene's house, thinking she may have gotten her whole family killed. Of running through the trees. Of gunshots and the hot ozone smell of cordite.

"I called you," he went on, "I called you like thirty times."

"I didn't have my phone," she finally said, "I couldn't-"

"-you didn't have to ghost me, Lillian," he interrupted, "I was afraid something happened to you... I was about to call the cops when I realized that I didn't actually know where you lived." His tone was serious, a touch disappointed, and it made Lily's insides feel like iced lead.  

"My... my name's not Lillian," she whispered, and the tears finally fell from her eyes.

He tilted his head like a confused pup and looked at her, puzzled and upset.

So she told him. Everything. She took a breath and let loose with everything she and her family had been through for the last nine months. In a teary voice with hitching sobs, she told him about her family's genetic legacy, about going on the run, about how she had managed to feel safe and happy when she was with him, able to forget -- at least for a few hours -- about the dangers pressing on her from all sides. And finally about the last 72 hours and her life at the other end of a pointed gun.

He stood, staring at her in fascination and what looked like disbelief. When the last word of explanation had been said, she could feel her insides wilt a little in relief; everything out in the open, the last of her words falling out of her mouth and sinking to the ground, heavier than air.

“I… I would understand if you didn’t believe me,” she finished.

Just as she steeled herself for his withering incredulity and disbelief, he took one giant step toward her, dropping his backpack as he moved, and wrapped her in his thick, sturdy embrace. She felt herself melt into his caress like liquid, felt his hand come up to hold her head tightly to his chest, his fingers threading through her hair.

“I believe you,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair.

She experienced a relief so profound she gave an involuntary sob into the solid mass of him, as he murmured words of encouragement and comfort into her ear. She figured out in that moment what love was. It was this.

She wasn't sure how long they held each other, but he didn't pull back until she did, and even then he reached out and grabbed her face in both hands lightly, his thumbs rubbing her cheekbones in a gossamer wisp.

"Jesus," he finally said, searching her eyes with his intense hazel gaze. She gave him a shaky smile and a half laugh and he dropped one hand to her arm, leaving the other on her face, which she leaned into. "I don't know your real name," he chuffed kindly, "What do I even call you?"

She smiled, sniffed -- probably unattractively, she thought -- and closed her eyes once before looking at him with affection. "I'm kind of partial to 'Frisbee,' to be honest," she said. He leaned down and kissed her with everything he was worth.

#In Conclusion #MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #XF #Fanfic #My fic

[isolaradiale]

The dark hues of the evening blended to lighter, softer blues of dawn. With every minute, the creatures of the museum began to slow until they stopped altogether, all at once. Whatever they were doing, they dropped it, and began to move their way to the places they had been before the museum took a turn for the lethal.

The artwork climbed back into their frames, stepped onto their pedestals, and walked back into their display cases. A light rain outside washed all the street paint away, color emptying into the drains in the city. Landscapes let their prisoners out, shutting the windows to their world.

Those unlucky enough to earn a spot on the Wall of Shame reappeared in the lobby, their wounds appearing as colorful splashes of paint, and nothing more.

As the oranges and golds of the sun trickled in through the ornate windows of the museum, a blaring voice interrupted the stillness as the intercom museum sparked to life.

"Goooood moooorning, my lovely little visitors! The door to the museum will be opening shortly. Please make your way back to the lobby in an orderly fashion, and be sure to grab all your belongings!"

As Capella promised, the large wooden doors opened once again, releasing all the prisoners of the museum.

"Thanks for visiting the Tempus Museum! Janus, did you want to say any parting words?" "I'm mortified enough as it is, thank you." Came a muffled voice from behind, sounding much less enthused.

"Aww, somebody's cranky... Well, suit yourself!"

As if to add *Extra Enthusiasm*, as everyone exit the doors, they passed by Capella's invulnerable form as she personally waved everyone goodbye, stickers glittering in the morning sunrise. Janus was still sitting at the reception booth, head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

"Bye bye! Goodbye now! Goodbye! Buh-bye! Bye now!" was the chorus that trailed off as she spoke, bidding farewell to the museum's visitors...

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Thank you, everyone, for participating in our recent event: Canvas! As a reminder, you will receive event participation IF:

You've written a starter, thread, mini, or interacted with someone else using the event setting for parts 1, 2, or both.

You've written a 500 word drabble using the setting of the event for parts 1, 2, or both.

You did not have to participate in both parts to receive event credit (so if you only wanted to participate in part 1, it still counts!)

Remember that for participating in the event, you can give yourself 100 stars to use in the marketplace!

A few things have changed as a result of this event, also:

The Tempus Museum has decided to make its home in the Archimedes ward, for now, not far from the Theater of Calliope. Its structure and function is largely the same, but the Optimized Tools won't be there. The artwork won't come to life and attack you, either... during the daytime, that is. You can check out its full description on Archimedes' page!

Janus still takes his place as the museum's curator, and does his best to accommodate guests of the museum. It's not uncommon to see him taking and teaching courses and workshops in the museum, either! He's still polite and eager to help with anything involving the museum and its activities, but if asked questions about the Stars or Spirale, he'll politely explain that he doesn't want to get anyone into trouble. As in the event, on the odd chance that someone is hostile and violent toward him, they'll instantly be killed, and will respawn back in their room.

Thanks again for participating in Canvas! We hope you had a great time!

Frequently Asked Questions:

"Do the things we made turn back to normal?"

Yup! If you didn't destroy it in Part 2 of the event, whatever you made will turn back to normal.

"Will our artwork try to kill us at night?"

Nope! If you took it with you, it's of no danger to you. If you kept it on display at the museum, it's also no danger to you (or anyone else for that matter.) Only the original stock monsters of the museum come to life at night. But unless your muse breaks into the museum, you have nothing to worry about.

The monsters still have their damage invulnerabilities, so unless your muse has a death wish, maybe don't break into the museum without some serious planning. Shady art theft rings will buy your stolen artwork for a hefty price, though, so whether it's worth the risk or not is up to you.

The more often your muse breaks into the museum, the more the monsters will recognize their patterns. Breaking into the museum more than two times is almost impossible, and should be reserved only for the most cunning of thieves.

"What if we made weapons or jewelry? Can we take those back home too?"

Sure! Just know that the weapons will go back to being fragile, and will shatter if used in combat. Any jewelry will look very convincing, but if you try to sell them to anyone, they'll identify it as a fake. Not that they won't buy what you have anyway, but it certainly won't be worth the price of actual precious stones and minerals.

"Can we go back to the museum?"

Yes! It's open to the public from sunrise to sundown, unless there's a nighttime gathering at the museum (which you're free to come up with on your own if you'd like to use it in a setting for a thread.) You could also theoretically break in or sneak in, or hide until the place closes, but you run the risk of running into the guard patrols... or worse.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ (Epilogue)

As the visitors left the building, Capella skipped over to the front desk. Caelum emerged from the darkened corner of the lobby to join her, with the rubber stopper on his cane making soft thumps on the elaborate stone tile.

"Well, that was fun! Thanks for letting us use your museum, Janus." "You're... welcome, I suppose." "Good good! I'll come back here when I make more pieces to show off to the lovely people of our Spirale."

Punctuating this, her hands went up to playfully pat his cheeks.

"Ooookay! Well, until next time! And as for you, Dr. Caelum, I'll see you at this afternoon's meeting or whatever, right?" "Aha, yes I'll be there."

Saluting the both of them, her form vanished into a series of pixels, leaving the other two at the desk. Now that she was gone, the AI turned to give a pointed look at his father.

"...Mmm. Still angry, eh?" Came a chuckle, but the other didn't look so amused.

"You know, at one point, I would have congratulated you for feeling slighted. And I would have celebrated you experiencing such a thing. But you've been around for so long that these things come naturally to you now, don't they? Feelings like being angry... Now I just feel bad when you're upset like any other human."

Another more cheery laugh, and he walked himself over to the doors, motioning the other to follow. With the crowd gone, he could finally step outside and stand on the steps.

"...I am sorry for causing you trouble." "I know." "Good, I'm glad that came across." "I'm still irritated, don't get me wrong." "Yes, yes. I don't doubt it." "And I'm not sure if anyone will come back after such a thing. I wouldn't blame them. I just wanted a place to contribute to this whole thing, and now it's all..."

Sighing, he sat on the first step, watching the rest of the street illuminate in the warm glow of the sunrise. He only realized the old man beside him was trying to sit down when he gave a little huff of effort, and immediately helped his father down beside him.

"Ahh. Much better, thank you." "I could have gotten you a chair..." "Haha, that's alright. If you can sit on the steps, so can I."

For a while, the two sat in silence, watching the streets of Archimedes begin to wake up. Cars stirring, cafes opening, people walking their dogs.

"...Are you doing alright over there?" Janus asked, not turning his head.

"About as well as I can, mmhm." "You still have your migraine medicines down there, right?" "Mmhm. Dr. Lyra has been taking good care of my health, don't worry." "She's the nice one, isn't she? That's a welcome change from the other facility..."

A hand went to the Ai's shoulder, patting it reassuringly.

"Instead of worrying about my health, you should direct that concern inward, Mortimer. You have a place where you can walk around, do all sorts of things humans do. Talk to people, make friends. Play games, read books, paint your lovely canvases. You're not confined to the life we lived three years ago."

Silence followed for a little until the young man leaned against the older one. He must be pushing 70 at this point, right?

"...Are you in a place where you can refer to me by my name? And not that Star code that they made?" "Well, no. Not really. But I don't think anyone's listening. So I don't care~" "Ha! Rebellion got you into this mess, didn't it?" The AI replied with a laugh, earning another from his father.

"Well. Messes that they were, I can still sit with you without you being stuck behind a screen. So even after all the hells we've been through, I'd call that a success. Wouldn't you?"

A smile cracked on his face. They have gone through a lot.

"A success... it's nice to finally call something a success again, father. It's very nice."

#Isola Event: Canvas

[poesparakeet-fics]

The hurt/comfort fill from the prompt votes. (Accepting submissions re: names. The prompt Olympics? But you don't really vote for the Olympics. Idk. Help.)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Summary:

After the Mighty Nein are saved by some of Caleb’s most dangerous spell craft, they’re left to nurse their repeatedly self-sacrificing wizard back to health. In the end, they give him everything he asks for and more. For his own good, of course.

This one’s SFW, so the whole text is under the break. Or go read it on AO3! You have options!

The Nuclear Option

For once, the Mighty Nein were ready.

They knew what the spell could do. They’d run drills on how to use it, this hair-trigger safety net of destruction. Caleb made them practice the dry-run over and over. So when it happened for real, this time, they were ready. Unlike most of the plans the Mighty Nein concocted, this one went off without a hitch.

They were a mile underground if they were an inch. More chittering voices were flooding in from all sides. Beau and Veth were down, balanced in a still-raging Yasha’s arms as she tore herself away from battle at the sound of Caleb’s voice.

“Nein! Gather!”

With Yasha carrying the two unconscious women, they all made it to his side, grouped carefully close with Caleb at the centre, hands pressed over their ears. 

“Foris” The incantation was followed by  a moment of vacuous silence, like all the sound had been sucked out of the air. Light seemed to collect on Caleb’s skin until he was a pillar of radiance, and then–

Boom.

The sound rattled in their skulls even as they were magically sucked away from it. All the air was gone, it was hard to breath, each heartbeat could be felt in their temples. Then relief. Breathing and tumbling onto soft carpet. Jester was crying. Caduceus was doing a headcount.

“We’re good,” He pants, “we have everyone. Here, uh, I’ve just got little stuff but we can rest now.” He started to cast, and Beau’s eyes fluttered open while Yasha kissed her hair.

“Don’t use them on Caleb!” Jester cried, “Don’t forget, they’ll hurt him!”

“No, no, just these two. Someone put the wizard in a bed, get the water boiling…” He cast on Veth, too, who popped up a moment later.

Mollymauk, perhaps the most hurt out of all those who made the trip conscious, collapsed on his back on one of the hearthside furs with a pained groan. Yasha crawled over a moment later, leaving a recovering Beau to gulp from a waterskin. She laid her hands on him, and a few of his smallest injuries healed up. 

“Oh…” He groaned. “Thank you, love.”

“Might as well use them on someone.” Their eyes met in mirrored worry. 

In the meantime, Veth had crawled over to Caleb and cradled his head. The problem with turning yourself into a planar bomb was really all in the side-effects. Caleb was unconscious. His lips were blue and frost gathered at the corners of his hairline and on his lashes. Arcane sparks were still shooting along his skin, following the path of his vascular system. Any additional magic now had a decent chance of stopping his heart, or worse.

Fjord started to build a better fire and boil water. Their little safehouse had a long, wide hearth surrounded by fine fur bedrolls and fluffy pillows. One large wooden bed lined the back wall, and a kitchen table long enough to fit them all filled the far end.

A fretting Jester dragged Caleb over to the large bed closest to the hearth, hurriedly pulling his coat off. Every piece of fabric she tugged away was frozen stiff, and when she got down to the last layers she grew gentle, worried for his skin.

Veth hopped up on the bed next to them, yanking the blankets down to make room. Together they bundled him in. Veth grabbed furs from nearest the hearth and piled them on top too. 

Fjord appeared with several rubber-stoppered skins in his arms, each filled with hot water. He pulled back the blankets to place one on Caleb’s chest and arrange the others around him before tucking the wizard back in and pulling the still-sniffling Jester into his arms. 

“All here.” He murmured into her hair. “All alive.”

Caduceus sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, his hands reaching for Caleb’s underneath the covers to press icy fingers between his warm palms. Caleb’s breathing hitched into what could have been a sigh of comfort. 

The game was waiting, now. Something they were not used to, having travelled for so long with two powerful clerics. They ate, some of them bathed, and they fell into an exhausted silence.

Caduceus worked carefully, applying a balm to frostbitten fingers and toes, as well as Caleb’s nose and ears for good measure. 

Veth helped Caduceus before curling up at the foot of the bed, just like the old days.

Jester and Fjord sat next to him on the bed, her entirely in his arms, both watching and waiting. Catching their breath.

Beau lay collapsed and half-asleep by the hearth, Yasha sitting next to her with one big hand slowly, rhythmically rubbing her back.

Mollymauk crawled under the covers with Caleb, fresh from a steaming bath with all of his already-plentiful infernal body heat. It earned them their first real sign of stirring when he tugged Caleb into his arms and the man mumbled in unintelligible Zemnian through a relieved sigh.

The little sound was enough to make them all look up. Something about it broke the heavy, cold feeling of waiting, and let the rush of relief that they’d all made it and they were all alive pour through.

Caduceus made tea. 

Veth started to snore.

Jester wiped her eyes and crawled out of Fjord’s lap to take a bath. Then she put her warm self on Caleb’s other side, Fjord budging up behind her.

Yasha lay down next to Beau, letting the monk wrap around her while she pulled the furs across them both with a sigh.

Molly shivered for a bit in the burrowing embrace of a frozen, half-dead wizard before Caleb’s skin temperature evened out, as did everyone’s breathing. They slept.

The bed wasn’t actually big enough for four people, was the thing. It’s what led to Fjord rolling out of bed in the morning with a groan, one hand moving to support his back as he hobbled over to the dining table where tea and toast was starting to make an appearance. Jester followed, a healing word passing between them with a chuckle.

Mollymauk woke at the commotion and witnessed the fluttering of bright blue eyes from the wizard drooling on his chest. It took a second for Caleb’s eyes to focus, his gaze meeting Molly’s..

“Hello!” Molly murmured quietly. 

“Hi.” Caleb returned, face twisting into a grimace the second he tried to move.

Molly supported him by the shoulders to help him get comfortable. He moved like a rusted Golem, every joint and muscle pulling a groan or whimper from deep in his chest. They finally got him onto his back, Molly helping him prop himself up with pillows.

“Did it work?” Caleb rasped.

Molly gave an irritated sigh. “Yes, your bloody martyr spell worked.” Then his face softened a little. “Thank-you.”

…

The point of the teleportation bomb was to let them escape, alive, while leaving a firestorm of damage in their wake. It had worked perfectly, no matter Molly’s bitching about Caleb’s ‘martyr complex’. He was alive, so if he was a martyr he was a bad one.

The spell was… unpleasant, for the caster. It collected every little bit of latent energy, most particularly heat, and used it to ignite an explosive force. He wondered if they could go back and see what damage they’d done to the caves. The aberrations there certainly hadn’t survived, but he was curious to know if the cavern did. Even if the Nein didn’t want to, Essek might help him check.

Caduceus had a theory that the Bomb spell also collected chemical energy, meaning it sapped all of Caleb’s body’s resources. It was his explanation for why every muscle ached afterward. It was also, Caleb suspected, a convenient excuse to force food on him. Which would happen momentarily, from the smell of Caduceus’ soup on the hearth.

In the meantime he was propped up on pillows, eyes closed with his head rocked back in ecstasy. His lips parted with a small groan. Fine-boned tiefling fingers held his hand, thumbs rubbing firmly at the small muscles and tendons from fingertip to wrist. The smaller muscles were always the most painful, and his fingers had suffered the cold as well. The massage ached and tingled, but the flood of endorphins that came from the relief provided drowned any unpleasantness out nicely.

“Does it hurt?” Molly asked.

“Yes.” Caleb sighed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Molly chuckled, crawling over him to take his other hand and start the process over again. A kindness. If his hands worked he could read, write. Entertain himself for the few more hours that the magic was still battering his system, before Cad and Jester could heal him up safely.

Jester appeared at the foot of the bed with a pounce and a bounce.

“Oh, poor Caleb! Here, let me he– Hey!“

Caleb’s eyes shot open, his legs bending to snatch his feet away from Jester’s clutches. 

“Nein– absolutely not–”

“But you’re letting Molly help!” Jester whined.

“I assure you I wouldn’t trust him there either.” 

“But whyyyyy?”

Caleb’s face broke into an exasperated smile. “Because I am not fool enough to let a tiefling handle my feet–”

“Rude!”

“Fine then, how about ‘because I have long term memory’ and ‘I occasionally learn from past mistakes and experiences’, hmm?”

“Humph. Still rude.”

“Or…” Fjord walked up to join them, bearing soup for Caleb. He delivered it before turning around and swinging Jester up into his arms. “Completely reasonable and good thinking. He’s still hurt. You can tickle him after he’s better.”

Fjord carried a giggling and protesting Jester over to the table for dinner. If Caleb had the strength, he would have tossed a pillow at their backs. 

Drinking the soup was a lot like the massage. He had it from one of Caduceus’ huge earthen teacups, so warm that it scalded his hands a little. The liquid itself felt molten, like it was cutting through his frozen insides. It hurt a little, but the near-instant relief from the bone-deep chill of the spell’s after effects made him savor it. 

Molly’s hands– also hot against too-cold skin– started to work on the larger muscles at his shoulders as he drank, planting the occasional kiss on top of Caleb’s head. Once the soup was done and the world started to haze in the warm, bright way it only did around the Nein, Caleb gave up the cup to Caduceus and burrowed into Molly’s arms once more.

The tiefling shivered. “It really is upsetting that you’re still so cold. Like you’re dead and we just haven’t noticed yet.”

“It fades when the arcane disturbance does.” Caleb mumbled into his chest before shifting to hide a coy smile in Molly’s shirt. “Would a corpse do this?”

Admittedly icy fingers, now functioning for all of Molly’s hard work, started to spider-climb up Molly’s side.

“Ha! Heh. You do realize– hehe– that your tickle immunity ends the sehehecond someone can lay a heal on you?”

“Mhmm.” Caleb mumbled, his eyes closed in an entirely false show of angelic sleep while his fingers kept teasing Molly under the covers, “sounds like I better enjoy it while I can, ja?”

Molly still wasn’t quite laughing, just breathless and twitchy, still holding Caleb in his arms. “Oh me oh my, your future self is gonna– heh!– regret this grave you’re digging, dear.”

“If he had a ticklish tiefling who couldn’t retaliate, I think he’d do the same.”

“Heh– haha! Has it been so long? Are ya just aching to be tickled out of your keeheeheen little mind that bad?”

Caleb just gave him a smug little smile and tweaked his hips. The human man’s fingers started to slip and slow as his exhaustion took over, and soon he was asleep with his face buried in Molly’s chest once more.

He woke up pressed between two tieflings. It felt a bit like being wrapped in a sauna. He was drooling on Molly’s chest again, with Jester’s softness pressed against his back. Was he overheating? He sat up, pushing the many layers of blankets and furs away. The air felt refreshing, cool against his skin. His muscles still ached, but his skin was still, free of the arcane sparks.

“Do you feel better, Caleb?”

He quickly realized that both tieflings were looking at him, having interrupted the conversation they’d been having quietly over his sleeping form. 

“Ja. Still sore, but the cold is gone. I think the sparks as well?” He extended his limbs to show her.

“Yeah, I think they’re gone! Here, let me take care of the rest.” 

He looked around while she cast, catching sight of a card game over at the table that was getting a little rowdy as several bickering quips were traded between players. Caduceus was watching, looking very amused but without cards of his own. 

The Heal spell done, Caleb tested his muscles and joints. “Much better Jester, thank you.”

“So, you’re all better?”

“Ja I think–” 

Caleb cut himself off with a wince, not even making an effort to try and avoid the two-tiefling tackle that upended him. He wound up on his stomach, each leg pinned with a tiefling body while whip-quick tails took turns poking his sides and ribs.

“So, we obviously need to talk about how rude it was, when Caleb said we couldn’t be trusted!”

“Aye, that was mighty rude.”

The tails prodding at his back and ribs already had Caleb jittery. “S-so you’re going to prove me wrong, ja? By being very trustworthy and nice?”

“Sure we’ll be nice,” Molly said with a smile that was anything but, “we’re gonna give you exactly what you were askin’ for.”

One of Jester’s pointed nails circled his heel. “Can you feel that OK, Caleb? Any numbness?”

“Ha! N-no they’re fine!”

“And how about here?” Molly teased, one finger tracing an arch.

“Ah! No! I’m fhihihine, they’re fine, please!”

“We have to check them over carefully Caleb. To prove how responsible and trustworthy we are!”

“Nein!”

Then they were both tickling the balls of his feet, and Caleb’s attempts to hold it together collapsed into a mound of cackles. His upper body jackknifed and flapped, expressing the desperate squirming his pinned legs couldn’t.

At some point Molly’s tail had managed to slip up the loaner shirt Caleb was wearing (much too large) and start writhing underneath his belly like a snake. Caleb wailed like he was dying, trying to paw at the tail under his shirt without being able to roll over.

“Hey! Uh… you did heal him first, right?” Cad strolled over to them and away from the increasingly loud card game.

“Yes of course! Now we’re just making sure it worked!”

“It worked! Bitte, bitte!  Pleaheeheese!” Caleb cried through his laughter, one hand reaching out to Cad in desperation before yanking the arm back with a yelp to try and block Molly’s tail as it tried to crawl into his armpit.

Cad watched Caleb laugh for a moment, seeming thoughtful. 

“You know,” he finally spoke, directing it at the tieflings, “It’s really the toes you’ve gotta worry about, with frostbite.”

“Nein!” Caleb cried before they even started. “Mercy!”

“Ooh what a good idea Caduceus! Caleb, what about this toe, can you feel this one?”

The only answer was a squeal like a rusty door hinge and increasingly desperate laughter. The process continued with two more toes before they got bored and went to town.

Caleb was so busy burying his face in the blankets and beating his palms helplessly against the mattress that he almost didn’t notice Cad lower his large frame onto the bed beside him. He didn’t have the breath to talk, so he just mouthed “Why!?”

Caduceus chuckled, leaning in close to rumble in Caleb’s ear.

“You know I don’t approve of martyrdom.”

Then there were thick, soft, careful fingers combing Caleb’s ribs, and he was lost to hysteria. 

At some point beyond the edge of Caleb’s conscious thought, Cad called the tieflings off, citing exhaustion. At some point they pulled Caleb back under the blankets. At some point he fell back asleep to the sounds of tea, a raucous card game and quiet conversation. 

Lucky martyr.

#Critickle Role #Fic #Poes Prose #Hurt/Comfort #h/c #widomauk #The Poly Nein #All Tieflings Are Knismos #M9 #Tickle fic #TK fic

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 26.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Adventure, 30% Fluff, 20% Action, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: Min Yoongi is sent off to the town of Millpass to complete a quest for his mentor. But there, he’s humiliated when he gets scammed and stolen from by the same person - you. // Alternatively: They like to call you a cheat, but you like to call it business. You’ve learnt that nothing in life comes for free. Rather, there are opportunities. And when you run into a certain human fighter with blonde hair, you’ll take advantage of his protection and embark on a quest together for profits, dragons, and a blossoming romance.

➜ Notes: Inspired and set in the world of Dungeons and Dragons. However, you do not need to have prior knowledge of the game or have played in order to read the story. ((Extra Info: Dungeons and Dragons is a fantasy role-playing tabletop game set in an imaginary world based loosely on medieval myth.))

The town of Millpass is lively and welcoming to its many tourists and travelers. It’s open to creatures with all kinds of backgrounds; the wealthy are able to purchase rare spices from the marketplaces while the poor arrive here to make a new living for themselves. It’s a place of opportunity.

  But Yoongi isn’t here to enjoy the town in spite of being a traveler — even if he’s observing his surroundings, taking in the warm weather, the animated atmosphere, the bustling tavern and wooden stalls lining the streets. Even if he’s feeling better after the tiresome journey getting here.   You, on the other hand, are taking full advantage of what this town has to offer.   “Get your potions of resistance! Made from the most experienced artificers and warlocks in the depths of Chult! Won’t get it anywhere else! Get your potions! Can’t go into battle without them!”   You’re holding stoppered bottles in both hands. The one in your left is a bubbling, neon red while the other is a frothy, icy blue. There’s a sign dangling from your neck and your leather satchel is slung across your body, a bag of holding that houses the rest of the bottles.    “Get your bottles!” Every time you jump, your braids bounce and dust flies onto your peasant dress and boots, but the brown shades easily hide just how dirty you are. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like one?”   You stop a brute-looking Dragonborn on the street and by the look of the axes in his possession, you assume he’s a barbarian. Your neck hurts when it knocks back to look at him. His shadow looms over you like a tree providing shade on a Summer’s day. He’s well over six feet tall.   “What does it do?” his voice is low and raspy, his brow lifted at the bottle.   “It’s potions of resistance! This one gives you resistance on heat and this other one gives you resistance on cold damage. They last for twenty four hours.”   “Twenty four? I thought it was only for an hour.”   “Well these are made specially from an ancient artificer from Chult that learned from a warlock that specializes in herbalism,” you say and he seems reluctant to believe you. After years of this, you can tell he’s about to walk away, so you come closer with shining eyes. “You wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity. Better to take a risk and try than to walk away without ever knowing, right? Don’t you want to satisfy your own curiosity and doubts?”   There’s a moment of silence.   Your persuasion works.   “How much?”   “Two gold pieces.”   “One,” he negotiates.   You hum as if considering it. Then, you nod. “Deal.”   The ruffian Dragonborn barbarian hands the gold piece over and you give him the glass container with the scarlet liquid, thanking him for doing business with you. As he walks away, you flip the gold coin up into the air with your thumb and snatch it in one hand with a grin. But there’s still nine more bottles to sell, so you quickly take your place again.   “Get your potions. Get your resistance potions—!” Your attention is suddenly taken by a passing stranger with a rounded face, sleepy features and baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead. “Hey, you! Duckling hair!”   Yoongi turns around at the shout and realizes you’re looking right at him.   Duckling hair?   He pinches the strands on his head, eyes flickering up, confused as all hell.    “You don’t want to miss this chance!” You grin and hop over to him, pulling another bottle out of your satchel swirling with a pale, pastel yellow that matches his head. “Want a potion of resistance? It’s made from an ancient artificer in Chult who learnt from a warlock who specializes in herbalism kits!”   “N—”   “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime.” Your eyes skim him from head to toe, eyeing his outer clothing that you know wasn’t cheap. He wears a black, ample cloak with a hood, wool shirt and a sturdy belt that holds two different swords, and brown boots like you. “You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? How often do you take leaps of faith? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions! Very suitable for fighting beasts and creatures. You never know when you might need it and it might just save your life!”   You’re persistent — your coaxing’s a talent in itself. And against all odds, Yoongi finds himself forking over a gold piece to the grinning peasant girl with glittering irises.   But as he walks away, wondering why he bought one, he brings the stoppered bottle up to eye-level. Yoongi swishes it and he sighs, realizing it’s just water. Dyed water in a bottle.   Feeling like an idiot, he turns around.   But you’re already gone.   //   After a successful morning of business, you decide to satisfy the hunger in your stomach and the stout lady behind the stall seems just as ecstatic as you wolf down her boiled and fried shrimp.   You pass her a silver piece as you grab another skewer of pineapple and lemon shrimp, inhaling them within seconds. Eyes pinpointed on some pepper shrimp, you fish into your bag for another silver or copper piece, but all you come up with is gold.    Gold that you know you need to save.   “Ca’ I ge’ one on th’ house?” you ask with your cheeks full.   The plump woman glares. “No.”   You’re unable to pout when you’re chewing your mouthful, but you suppose it’s fair. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities. And as you swallow down your food, a man approaches the stall. At once, you recognize his tender features and the strands of his blonde hair that remind you of rubber ducklings.    Yet, he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to you or recognize you from earlier.    You suppose this is fair too — after all, you’re dressed in peasant clothing that’s meant to easily be overlooked and disguise you amongst the crowd of commoners.   “What’s your most popular kind?” he asks the stall lady who happily smiles.   “Of course, it’s our shrimp gumbo,” she answers and it’s ironically the most expensive one.   “I’ll take two then.” The man with pale lemon-coloured hair takes two silver pieces out of his pocket, handing it to her and she nods, telling him that it’ll be right out. In the meanwhile, you eye his pocket and naturally shuffle over. Turning your head as if you’re looking in the other direction, your fingers dip into his open cloak pocket. But your luck is rotten this time.   The man turns his head.   He looks right at you.   “Hey!”   Your hand curls around a foreign object and you snatch it before taking off. You run, darting down the road as fast as your legs can take you. But when you turn your head, you nearly scream. He’s hot on your heels, his gentle features twisted in an intimidating scowl. He looks like he’s going to kill you and it only serves as motivation to sprint faster even if your lungs burn.   He chases you, but when you turn the corner of the street, you duck behind an alley.   Looking down, you cuss. It isn’t a sack full of coins. It’s a damn scroll.    Opening it, you find it’s been sent by Mirla Nistar, some random lady who you’ve never heard about, and it details a quest to help this woman in the case of her missing daughter.    It’s useless………..Or is it?   At the same time, Yoongi heaves for air. His hands are on his hip and he cusses, having lost sight of you. In the span of one day, he’s been scammed and stolen from.   The town of Millpass isn’t welcoming at all.

As much as Yoongi wants to get out of this place, he knows he can’t until tomorrow at the earliest. He still has a responsibility to fulfill here, or rather, a favour. He’s been called to help his mentor’s old friend and if he didn’t respect her so much, he would’ve already left.   “Oh my goodness, you must be who Mirala sent! Come in, come in.” The tubby woman wearing three strands of pearls widens the door. He nods his head silently and makes sure to wipe off his dirty boots before he follows her inside her abode. He eyes her massive painted portrait hanging in the main room above the mantle that seems to follow him wherever he goes.    The ceiling is high, golden curtains draping the large bay windows into her garden bed and a couch and two armchairs are arranged in a semi-circle. The only luminescence comes from the orange glow of the roaring fireplace and Yoongi notices a buff Dragonborn barbarian seated comfortably in one of the armchairs, staring at the flames as if entranced.   Yoongi takes a seat and the Dragonborn seems to notice him, turning to stare.   “Hello. My name is Yoongi.”   The Dragonborn merely grunts.   “Tea anyone?” the woman tottles over with a tray.   Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”   The woman looks over to the Dragonborn and he nods. She pours it for him and drops in two sugar cubes but he never takes a sip. Yoongi clears his throat and looks to the clock, watching the arms tick away. “Is this everyone?” he asks, not expecting he would have to take this journey with only one other person.   Usually an adventure of this capacity would take four to five, but he didn’t mind.   The fewer people, the more efficient and faster the quest can be completed.   “I guess so.” The woman musters a smile and takes a seat. “I’m just grateful that anyone showed up to help me at all. If you don’t know my name is Sorli Stav and my….my daughter, Mina Stav, was taken by a dragon.”   The Dragonborn sputters and then clears his throat. Yoongi cocks a brow but returns his attention to the woman so she can continue telling her story.   “One minute we were in the middle of the forest and the next, I heard this roar and there was wind and then she was being taken! Gone! Just like that! Oh, my poor baby!” She clutches her pearls and wails ear-piercingly. “Please help her! It has to be the Dragon of the North. No one would do such a treacherous thing as to kidnap someone in broad daylight like that!”   “My condolences,” Yoongi offers to console her. His hands are placed on his knees and his posture is straight. “We will try our best to rescue her, rest assured.”   She nods, wiping the area beneath her eyes gingerly with her ring finger. “I have a sister in Rutherglen. Ashal Stav. She can help you. She lives close to the North. Please…”   Yoongi turns to find the Dragonborn staring at the flames that flicker. He’s been strangely silent so far. But then his lips part and he speaks three words...in an odd voice, slightly muffled but reminiscent of a child trying to lower their pitch. “What’s the reward?”   “What?” The woman’s head lifts and she exclaims, “Anything! I’ll do anything! You can have anything you’d like! Even my daughter’s hand in marriage.”   “No. I want gold.” The Dragonborn sharply inhales and leans forward while looking around the room as if estimating how much the house is worth. “How about ten thousand gold pieces….”   Yoongi nearly chokes. But he doesn’t comment — he’s met many different adventurers after all and each of them have their own motivations and quirks that are unnecessary to argue against.   “That’s all I have in my vault,” she murmurs, disheartedly.   “Five thousand for each of us. I think that’s fair. After all, the risk of fighting a dragon is substantially high and we’re putting our lives on the line. Unless….you don’t think your daughter is worth that much,” he mutters, clearly persuading the woman and succeeding in it.   “Deal! I’ll do it!” she agrees wholeheartedly and the Dragonborn barbarian grins.   “Of course, we’ll need half of the prepayment first before we can embark.”   She rises to her feet immediately. “I’ll run upstairs and scrape up what I can!”   Yoongi stares at the brute Dragonborn whose face glows in the fire’s crimson light. And the Dragonborn finally takes the dainty teacup to drink from it, pinky raised in the air.    The moment the lady comes back and the payment of two thousand five hundred gold pieces for each of them are given out, there are a few farewells said. She pleads with them to help her daughter until the last second and both nod, reassuring her that the girl will return shortly. But the moment the door shuts and Yoongi looks to his side, the Dragonborn has vanished.   He finds him down the road and quickly catches up. “Shouldn’t we discuss our plans?”   “Huh? Yeah, maybe in the morning.” The Dragonborn clears his throat. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”   “Wait. I don’t know your name,” Yoongi says, coming to a realization and quickening his pace when the Dragonborn walks faster.   “It’s Robert.”   The Dragonborn begins to break out into a light jog, getting farther away from him. Yoongi’s brows furrow deeper, exasperated by the evasiveness of his partner. He still has countless questions, needs to set a time and place they can meet tomorrow, so he shouts, “hold on!” and Yoongi extends his hand.   Except, his fingers go straight through where the Dragonborn’s shoulder should be.    Like it’s an illusion.   The two of them look right at each other.    Yoongi’s mouth opens. His eyes are wide. He’s baffled beyond speech. But then the Dragonborn takes off without another moment to waste, sprinting down the road. And it’s déjà vu.    “Hey!”   Unfortunately for the Dragonborn barbarian, he’s unable to make his getaway. Not when he���s too busy paying attention to Yoongi chasing him and not straight ahead. And his body collides roughly with another.    “Watch it, you!” the stranger snarls and it’s a stranger with the exact same face as his. “Wait a minute….!”   Yoongi catches up and looks between the two of them in absolute bewilderment. He wonders if this is some nonsensical dream or if he’s fallen into another plane of existence when there are two duplicates of every entity.   The two of them look up and down one another as if mirror reflections. They wear the exact same clothing, their faces exactly alike down to the detail, the weapons they carry the same.   “Who are you?!”   “W-Who are you?”   But on closer inspection, Yoongi finds tiny details that make all the differences. The Dragonborn he was speaking to is shorter and visibly thinner. The other Dragonborn, on the other hand, is towering in stature and his voice booms menacingly down the night street illuminated by lamp posts.   The Dragonborn Yoongi’s unfamiliar with steps forward and draws his greataxe. “I am Astrid, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   Yet the Dragonborn beside him doesn’t back down. “I am Robert, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   “Liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”   “You’re the liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”    It’s utterly ridiculous and Yoongi’s about to walk away from the sheer senselessness of the situation that’s worsening his headache. But then the Dragonborn who was with him flickers. Like the flame of a candle. Parts of his body become translucent, fading and flashing. He looks down at himself as if coming to a realization and cusses—   “Shit! Fuck.”   The spell ends.   The claws turn to fingers, mess of ropy hair morphing into two braids, golden scales and reptilian frills to smooth skin. The hide armor alter back into a brown dress, white chemise tucked into a full brown skirt and a bodice crisscrossed over to hold the attire together.   You’re fucked.   Yoongi’s eyes become rounded, his expression clearly telling you that he finally recalls who you are — but there’s little to dwell on when there’s a much larger threat at hand that also recognizes you.   “Wait a minute!” The real Dragonborn barbarian huffs from his nose. “I know you! You sold me that fake potion from earlier! You’re that fraud!”   “I prefer the title charlatan,” you say with a tiny smile and then slide behind Yoongi for cover.   Yoongi’s face twists in distaste, his mouth goes lopsided and his brows knit together as he looks at you, the conniving peasant girl who stole from him and scammed him too. But before he can move aside and let you deal with the consequences of your own actions, the Dragonborn clutches his greataxe with both hands and a battle cry tears from his throat.   Yoongi sighs in exhaustion and pulls his rapier from its sheath.   The Dragonborn barbarian swings. The axe hits Yoongi in his left shoulder but the blade is dull and not deep enough to make a real cut. The impact does more harm, but his grip tightens and he slashes the barbarian. It’s a critical hit, causing the Dragonborn to stumble back and Yoongi surges forward once, slicing the other male’s arm.   He shouts in pain and surrenders, backing away.   “I’ll find you again, thief! This isn’t over!” he swears and you peek out from hiding behind Yoongi’s frame.   The Dragonborn’s eyes narrow and he turns, eventually disappearing down the dark street.   Once the coast is clear, you finally breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks for that, Yoongi. You really saved me there. I thought I was going to be in trouble for a second.”   You grin. It’s good to put a name to a face...or rather, a name to some hair. Calling him duckling right now wouldn’t be appropriate after all. But the man appears entirely unamused with your familiarity with him.    His brow cocks and his glare is only slightly intimidating. “What’s your real name?”   You hum. “Sorry, can’t tell you that.”   Yoongi scoffs and extends his arm, opening up his palm. “I want my scroll back and I want a refund.” The faster he gets his belongings returned to him, the faster he can leave. “You gave me dyed water.”   “I would give you back your gold piece, but I’m afraid I already spent it.” You smile brightly, hoping he doesn’t count the heavy sack of two thousand five hundred gold in your bag of holding. “And I left the scroll at Sorli Stav’s house. It’s not like you need it though, right?”   His impassive expression never changes.   “How about I strike you a deal?” You come closer, arms behind your back. “I was going to run away with the prepayment, but I’ll join you in your quest as a way to show my gratitude.”   Your eyes flicker down, scanning the expanse of the human fighter. You have absolutely zero plans of joining him in crawling into a dragon’s lair, but he doesn’t need to know that. All that matters is that he’s proven himself capable and strong. It might just be beneficial to go along with him for a little while. He could protect you, at least until your journey to Bogsburrough.    But the man never answers your offer, he merely scoffs.   //   It’s bright and early in the morning when you finally see a certain duckling-hair male exit the inn. He’s stretching his limbs, features still sleepy. But the process of getting the kinks out of his neck is interrupted when his eyes stray to you and he realizes you’re looking right at him.   “About time.” You approach, having been leaning against a wheelbarrow across the road with your arms crossed. You need to get out of here before that Dragonborn barbarian finds you again and tries to dig that axe into your leg. “I’ve been waiting for a good hour.”   “I have no plans in letting you join me,” he states in a husky timbre, already walking off.   You sync your steps with his, joining his side as you tilt your head and enjoy the azure shade of the sky. “That’s too bad then, but looks like we’re going in the same direction. What a great coincidence!” As if to mock him, you grin and hold up the scroll you claimed to have lost. Yoongi glares and snatches it back.   “Do whatever you want,” he mutters without looking at you and pockets the scroll.   You click your tongue in annoyance, falling behind him.    “Unlikable prick,” you curse in Elvish.    Suddenly, Yoongi turns around, bringing you to an abrupt halt. “That’s a new one. Usually people call me moody or a cold bastard. But if you have something to say, then at least be honest with yourself and say it to my face.”   You’re shocked.   You can feel your face heat with embarrassment, but more than that, you’re impressed.   With a newfound vigor and enthusiasm, you catch up with him and even overtake his speed. You lean close to the man, inspecting his facial features and ears closely. But he doesn’t look like an elf. “Are you a Half-Elf? How can you speak Elvish so fluently?”   “No, I’m not a Half-Elf,” Yoongi sighs halfheartedly. “I was just taught the language.”   Just like you.   You’re curious. Maybe the two of you had more similarities than you thought.   “Sorry, my bad,” you apologize in the foreign language with a cheeky smile, following along happily.    Eventually, the both of you leave the town of Millpass behind with your little bags and belongings, taking the path up North. Or at least that’s what you’re assuming with the way Yoongi pulls out his map and tilts it around every so often. Part of you worries he doesn’t know where he’s going, but if he got to Millpass in the first place then you know he’ll figure it out.   After all, it’s not like you’re eager to go complete this little quest of his.   Payment of no payment, you don’t fuck with dragons. You’re the last person who should fight one.   “I have a plan. A way I think the both of us can come to an agreement on.”   “Which is?” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, still concentrated on his little map.   “What do you think of commissioning other heroes to go fight this battle for us?” you offer with glittering eyes. “We can pay them a hundred gold pieces each, which is quite a lot. And then we can go back to Sorli Stav and collect the rest of our reward. We wouldn’t profit as much, but it’s worth it and there’s no risk of danger!”   Yoongi eyes you in silence. “You’re good at persuading others, aren’t you?”   You scoff, lifting your chin up high. “Of course. I should be! It’s my career, after all. I’m a business woman.”   “A cheat?”   “A business woman,” you insist much to his amusement.   From the corner of your eye, you swear Yoongi smiles.   The forest is humble, lush, and blooming. Its canopy is eclipsed by willow, elm, and sycamore, their leaves and branches allow for just enough light to cascade through to the grass beds beneath. The array of common flowers adds a playful element and makes it brighter, letting you enjoy the view as you take the stone path winding through the trees.    Yoongi is often quiet, you realize. Maybe he’s not one for making small conversation or he’s suspicious of you — which you wouldn’t blame him for considering the things you’ve done and the nature of your occupation. So your ears tune to the buzzing of the insects and the birds chirping overhead. Until the noises are overridden by boots and other voices in the evening.   “Oh I can’t wait to get myself some pork chop and curds. I’ve been craving it for a whole month.”   “No way! Our first meal is totally going to be cheese pie and onion soup! That tastes a lot better than pork chops!”   “Nu-uh!”   Another voice pipes up, “How about minted pea soup?”    They’re a group of adventurers. You can’t see it in their weary faces, worn clothing, and weapons at their sides. And immediately you grin. The timing couldn’t be any better.   “Oh!” They stop when your groups cross paths. Their excited eyes meet yours and Yoongi’s; the man is much more reluctant than you are. But you suppose he isn’t naturally enthused in the first place. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen other people! Are you travelers as well?”   “Something of the sort.” You smile, arms placed behind your back and by the glare Yoongi pins to the back of your head, you know he can tell there’s an idea brewing in your head.   With the sun falling over the horizon after a long day of journeying, it’s rather easy to persuade them if you and Yoongi can join them in setting up camp. They seem eager to allow you in as well as if they’ve missed seeing new faces around and you wholly take advantage of that.   “This is Alvyn,” the leader gestures to the small, fey creature with a warhammer discarded by his side as he’s busy digging into a frog on a skewer. “He’s our cleric Gnome.”   “Nice to meet you,” he says past a cheekful and you swear some of the food flings into Yoongi’s face, making the man glower and wipe his forehead.   “This is Thunder from Bright Cliffs Clan,” the Half-Elf gestures towards the catlike humanoid. He’s slender and covered in spotted fur, a long tail flickering behind him and retractable claws that digs into his roasted chicken thigh. You look between him and Yoongi, perplexed at how much Yoongi looks like a cat as well. But you don’t voice it out when the man glares at you for staring at him for so long. “He’s our Tabaxi ranger.”   “And I’m just an old man,” the old man pipes up with a hearty chuckle and thick accent you recognize from the South. “Chester’s my name, but everyone calls me Chuck.”   “He’s our Druid,” the Half-Elf says with a smile. “And I’m Greg, a Half-Elf bard.” He’s as tall as Yoongi is, but with longer hair, the tips of his ears pointed and he’s much more poised.   “Nice to meet you. I’m just a peasant girl.” Yoongi scoffs and it’s your turn to glare. But when he never introduces himself, you nudge him roughly, jabbing your elbow in his ribs until he relents with an enormous sigh.   “Yoongi. Human. Fighter.”   “Sorry, he’s unsociable.”   “Not to worry!” Greg laughs. “It’s just nice to meet you all. Where were you headed?”   “We’re going to Castrow,” you lie without even blinking. “My husband and I are visiting his mother.”   Yoongi is sorely unimpressed. But the others nod joyfully, looking between the pair of you as if they didn’t expect you to have that kind of relationship. Though, they don’t question it as if it’s completely believable.    “That’s quite a long way away,” Chuck says, “You ought to be careful around these neck of the woods, you never know what might jump out of you.”   “That’s right!” Alvyn exclaims. “There might be wolves.”   “It’s okay. My dearest husband will protect me.” You grin at Yoongi but his expression remains impassive and he makes no comment much to your dismay.   They seem like a capable group, one that can fight a dragon off and might just be willing to do it for a hundred gold coins each. It might take some sweet-talking to convince and hire them, but you don’t think it’ll be particularly difficult. For now though, you try to get yourself acquainted with them and build some rapport.    “Hey, isn’t that going to burn?” Yoongi taps you on your shoulder and you break out of your trance. He points to the mutton you have at the end of your stick that’s being roasted in the fire.   You pull it out and it’s charred all around, a thin layer of black. You shrug. “I like it like that.”   Yoongi watches you eat it and his face twists as if he’s biting into a lemon.   The entire group is seated around the campfire and you’re sitting especially close, not worried at all by the sparks. It’s comforting and you feel a natural pull to stare at the red and orange flames, listen to the crackle and sputter of the fire, watch the smoke until you fall asleep…   But you force yourself out of it when there’s an abrupt scream.   The Gnome is shrieking terrifyingly, black boot upside down in hand. Then, he bursts out laughing in embarrassment. “A spider got into my boot!”   “No worries.” The Tabaxi is sympathetic. “That’s happened to me more times than I can count!”   “Who’s turn is it to tell a story?” Chuck says mid-chew. “It better be a good one and not like that one about the snake that gave that apple to that lady in the garden. That was terribly boring.”   “It’s my turn.” Greg raises his arm and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. You and Yoongi are getting whiplash, turning your heads and trying to keep up with their fast-paced conversation.    Greg clears his throat. “Back when I was in Al’bamo, I heard this wondrous tale. Many whispered his name. A boy, called Jungkook, said he made a heavier-than-air machine, that could fly without magic.”   There are ooh’s and ahh’s around the campfire.   You look around at them, watching the way they lean in as Greg continues, “He rode what was called ‘The Airplane’ out of a cliff, as a crowd watched him fly it into the unknown. Legend says Jungkook will one day return, giving flying machines to everyone.”   Uh-oh. One of your worst fears is manifesting—   They’re idiots.   “Excuse me,” you raise your voice and enunciate each syllable carefully. “What adventure exactly did you just embark on?”   “Why, we were sent to investigate why animals in the forest have suddenly dropped down dead and why people who have wandered inside have gone missing!” Chuck says as he strokes his white beard and the others around him nod. “We went in and got lost for a full week! Had no clue where we were going whatsoever!”   “You...didn’t have a map?” Yoongi asks, interested in the story as well.   “We did,” Greg says, “But then we found out no one could read it.”   The old man laughs. “Anyhow, we really thought we were going to die of starvation or dehydration, whatever comes first. Then luckily, we happened to come across a pond, so we drank from it. But the water was poisonous!”   The Tabaxi shivers as if he can still recall. The Half-Elf nods along.   You’re listening while becoming progressively more horrified.   “Then we ate some leaves and those were poisonous too!” Part of you wants to believe these are all exaggerated lies to build up the comedic effect but by each creature’s expressions, you can’t detect a single shred of deception. “What do you know, the ogre who was wreaking havoc in the forest came by and thought we were dead. So he dragged us to his cave to eat us, but right when we were put in the water, the ogre suddenly clutched his chest and fell over.”   Your brows shoot up. “A heart attack?”    They shrug.   “Anywho, we stumbled out of there, fell down a few ditches, rolled down a few hills. Almost died again. Then this little fellow,” Chuck says as he signals to the Gnome cleric, “found us and cured us from the poison and now we’re alive!”   “We defeated the ogre!” Greg declares with a giant hurrah and they high five one another.   In the meanwhile, you and Yoongi exchange equally skeptical expressions.    They accomplished their goal out of astronomical sheer luck — which is a talent in itself.    But you can’t rely on pure fortune.    Looking at them with clearer perception, you know it’ll be an impossibility for them to fight a dragon and not die trying. They’ll never be able to do your bidding for you.   Night falls and there’s a little more conversation exchanged before they’ve all fallen asleep.   You’re sleepy as well, knees gathered to your chest, arms wrapped around and your head beginning to bob as you stare at the blazing inferno. You’re sitting close but you’re most comfortable there where the fire is right in front of you and the flames nearly lick at your cheeks.   “This is not going to work,” you murmur to Yoongi whom you still know is wide awake. He’s distrustful of others — you can tell with the way he refuses to relax around these strangers, still seated straight and his vision swooping around the darkness of the forest. “It’s not worth investing in this group.”   He laughs, the sound mellifluous in your ears and above the crackle of the bonfire. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”   “I’ll just go,” you exhale in exhaustion. “The reward is worth it anyways, but I can’t promise I’ll help you fight that dragon.”   Yoongi hums a low note deep within his chest and shifts his gaze towards you. He finds the fire is yet to die out. If anything, it’s brighter and more blazing than before. He observes the way you poke and prod at it, as if you don’t have it in you to let it die out.   “What kind of magical caster are you?” Yoongi asks. He knows full well the only ones who can disguise themselves the way you can are bards, sorcerers, or wizards. But you don’t have musical instruments with you or any magical items he’s seen either.   “What do you mean?” You turn to him, blinking once. “I’m just a normal peasant girl.”   He scoffs, knowing better than to believe you.   And a smile forms on your features.   You return to stare at the fire, listening to the soothing sputter and pop.    “My name is Y/N,” you murmur and Yoongi never says anything in response. But if you turned around, you would see the way your name forms it on his lips, speaking it silently as if it’s something to remember.   //   The pair of you continue your journey and the group of ‘heroes’ are sad to bid you farewell, but you’re happy to get rid of them. If there was anything more than a sham than you, it was them.   You can already envision them going back to town and being celebrated — without anyone actually being aware that they did absolutely nothing. They’ll reap the benefits and rewards, have feasts and be honoured. But you suppose that’s the way life is. The undeserving often are the most praised. It’s not like you mind it though, sometimes it can be good to take advantage of.   You’re also glad to get rid of them considering it’s less chaotic and much quieter. You prefer it when it’s just you and Yoongi. His company is rather pleasant, even when you’re used to just traveling by yourself.   “You know, we can take a shortcut to Rutherglen through Bogsburrough. Have you ever heard of it?”   “I’ve heard of it.” He side-eyes you. “But it’s a detour, not a shortcut.”   “It’ll be a detour that’ll be worth it.” You grin. “I’ll make sure of it.”   Yoongi scoffs, about to ask you how you’ll do that — but the banter is abruptly cut short when a massive mastiff comes bounding by. It’s an impressive hound with taupe fur, big enough that a Hafling could probably ride it. You’ve only seen a mastiff once before when it was trained as a guard dog for some affluent lady.   You’ve certainly never witnessed one walking itself through the forest without a care in the world.   Yoongi is as bewildered as you are.   But a minute later, an exhausted warrior is lurching forward, holding a leash attached to a broken collar as he tries to catch his breath. Then he stops a meter away, pathetically sobbing and wailing at the top of his lungs. He cries something akin to ‘come back!’.   While Yoongi is prepared to continue walking, much to his dismay, you approach the warrior.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask in spite of already having a good idea.   “M-My hunting dog just ran off! He’s been...been running off for an hour! Oh, Sparks!”   You hum a low note, arms crossed as you look in the distance where the mastiff went. It’s an opportunity, one that’s presented itself and you’ve made a living capitalizing on these opportunities.   “Tell you what.” You turn to him, eyes already glittering. “I’ll catch that little pet of yours at a price.”   He’s easily persuaded and even looks at you as if you’re his last hope. “I’ll give you all the riches I have.”   And that’s how you and Yoongi end up straying off the stone path, ankle deep in the forest floor’s tickling grass while screaming, “Sparks! Sparks, where are you?!”   “Come here, doggy!”   Yoongi gets tired faster than you do. He was reluctant to follow your whims in the first place, but now his voice gets quieter and his arms droop to his side. You don’t blame him — he doesn’t seem to be like someone who enjoys the sweltering sun or buzzing insects trying to nip him.   “Don’t give up, duckling!” you shout as encouragement, trying to boost his morale and his head cranes towards you, the most unimpressed expression etched on his features.   “I don’t get why you volunteered to do this.”   “What? You don’t take me as the altruistic type?” You burst out laughing when his blank face remains the same, clearly not buying your act. “He said he would give us twenty gold pieces. That’s a lot even for something like this.”   It goes silent as you both venture deeper into the forest, twisting through the trees and making sure you don’t trip over any branches. But then he breaks the quietness with a question.    “Why are you trying so hard to collect gold?”   “Because I have a dream,” you murmur softly with a smile, stealing a glance at Yoongi to see him already staring at you intently. “I want to build a big house in the middle of nowhere, preferably a meadow. I’d read books all day, paint, garden. Anything. But it’ll be a place I can call my own. I’d get a wizard to put up a wall of force for me too, so no one could find me. My family won’t be able to find me.”   Yoongi stares at you, wondering why you have such a desire, what led you to it, why you would want to hide from your family. But he supposes it’s nothing particularly strange. After all, he’s here because of his family too.   Maybe it’s something the two of you have in common.   “I haven’t told anyone this before,” you mutter out loud as you come to the realization and then you twirl around to face him, smiling widely. “A secret for a secret. It’s only fair.”   The blonde man scoffs. “I never agreed to that.”   “I only know your name. Or are you purposely trying to keep up the mysterious front? I bet you think it’s attractive, don’t you?” Your eyes mischievously sweep him up and down, and Yoongi finds your gaze oddly invasive. A sly smirk even appears on your lips. “I bet it works for you too, doesn’t it? You like it when girls wonder about you and they like wondering about you too.”    “No.”   “Uh-huh, skirt chaser. Listen, I won’t judge you for your strategies. If they work, then they work.”   If Yoongi could expend the rest of the air in his body for the longest sigh, he would. “For your information, I am an honourable knight from the Order of the Black Sun. Mirla Nistar was my mentor and she’s taught and trained me in the Great Weapon Fighting technique for the past decade. She’s old friends with Sorli Stav and this quest is a favour I’m doing for her.”   Yoongi clears his throat. “I actually come from a rather famous family—”   But you’re not paying any attention.   “Shush!” You’ve found the mastiff. It’s a shadow barely from the distance and before Yoongi can strategize a plan to take it, you sprint after the beast. “Sparks, you motherfucker!”   Yoongi groans and then runs after you. He pulls out his rapier, the sword sharply cutting through the wind, but you turn around with a frown. “Don’t.”   His brows furrow, unsure of what you mean and what your plans are. But then he watches as you hold something discreetly in your bag and murmur something beneath your breath, how you open your other palm and a giant bone appears in your hand. Yoongi pays close attention and realizes it’s not conjured. It’s an illusion.   One that the mastiff fails to detect.   Instead, he sees the delectable bone for what it is and you make an effort to throw it in the area you came from. “Go get it, boy!”    The mastiff leaps through the forest for the illusionary bone, the same direction his owner is waiting.   //   Yoongi swears this is the happiest he’s ever seen you — humming with a skip in your step, throwing your heavy sack of gold pieces up and down your right hand while there’s a permanent cheery smile plastered across your cheeks.    Well this might be one of several times he’s seen you in this state. He remembers you were fairly enthused when he relented and allowed you to follow him in the first place. You also seemed pretty delighted when you scammed him too.   The coins clink as you toss it and Yoongi scoffs, finally tearing his eyes away from you. “I want my half.”   “I know,” you sing-song. “We’re a team now and I’m fair in square, for your information.”   He almost snorts. “Sure.”   “What? You don’t believe me?”   “I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up with all my weapons gone and my own clothing stripped.”   “Hmm, that makes you smart then,” you snicker and the corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “We should set up camp before the sun goes down. It’s getting cold.”   He pulls out his rolled map from his pocket and spreads it. “We could, but there's a tavern inn stop about half an hour away,” he says and your ears perk. “I don’t know if you want to—”   Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you’re already running.   He laughs and wonders just how much energy you have. What’s stranger is the fact that energetic people tend to drain him, yet somehow you keep him from being tired like he usually is.    You spin around when you’re half-way down the path. “C’mon, old man! I’ll even treat you!”   Yoongi scoffs, but his lips curl into a smile.   It’s night by the time you arrive — the two of you are exhausted, feet aching with an intense need to rest them. The tavern is placed rather oddly, right on the side of the road by the forest with the candlelights inside glowing on the path. But with the noise from inside, you suppose it’s an unexpectedly good location. After all, there are countless travelers who are always searching for a rest stop like this one.   Unfortunately, your beeline straight to the door is impeded by a drunk.   “Hey, watch it!” you cuss at them when your shoulders collide. “Idiot.”   But as you turn around, you freeze.   The stranger is a Goliath monk who is eight feet tall. You can tell with his gray skin that’s littered with tiny growths akin to pebbles and darker patches. And he towers over you, glowing green eyes peering into your fragile soul. The Goliath reeks of alcohol, unsteady on his feet, but gaze unwavering. You notice the way his hands are wrapped in brass knuckles, his armor clanking.   “You wanna fight?!” his voice bellows out and you immediately hide behind Yoongi.   Yoongi holds in his sigh, mind already cursing you. He’s sure you’re the absolute bane of his existence and one day will get him killed, but for now, he stands tall and his chin lifts.   The Goliath monk isn’t intimidated, yet he turns with narrowed eyes lingering on the pair of you.   Once he’s gone, Yoongi cranes his neck and glares.   “Can you try not getting us killed for once?”   “Hey, it wasn’t my fault! He still bumped into me. Plus, I had it under control.”   “Control, huh?” His brow cocks and he eyes you.   You grin and correct yourself, “You had it under control, oh great knight from the Order of the Red Dragon and my sole protector, Yoongi.”   “It’s Order of the Black Sun,” he exhales and opens the door before you can land yourself in more trouble out here. “And I never agreed to protect you.”   “Yeah, but you still do anyway…”   The tavern is bustling, a good amount of creatures already crowded around tables with their own drinks in hand. They’re all travelers from different kinds of places, having gathered for a night of proper rest with a roof over their heads. You and Yoongi head over to the bar, taking the menu from a busty waitress.   “She your type?” you lean in close, wiggling your brows. Yoongi is unamused and you laugh. “What? Hey, I won’t judge. I understand a man’s needs. Might even help you out if you want me too — I got a way with words.”   He doesn’t think you realize the implication of what you’re saying. But he shoves you away before you can feel the way his face heats unusually.    You’re interrupted by the barkeep, a rough-looking dwarf standing on a wooden stool to reach the counter. “What can I do ya folks for?”   The pair of you finally look over the selection, but are completely overwhelmed. There’s a hundred things and by the third page Yoongi flips, you give up on reading it all. “Surprise us.”   “Sure thin’.” The barkeep goes to grab a glass and selection of bottles, fluidly flipping them back and forth and pouring different substances into it. He juggles them, but without the intent to impress — he’s simply doing his job and it’s even more remarkable.    There’s a bright flash of fire at some point and you gasp, eyes glittering.   Then, the barkeep slaps down a crimson shot in front of Yoongi. “Go ahead.”   Yoongi, on the other hand, is much less excited than you are and skeptically stares at it. “What is it?”   “Tell ya afterwards,” the barkeep answers.   Yet, the man is still carefully assessing the liquid and sloshes it as if he’s worried it’ll be poisonous. You nudge him hard enough that he almost falls off the stool. “C’mon, duckling! Don’t be a wuss.”   Yoongi glares at you, eyes half-lidded and he never breaks eye contact when he brings the glass to his lips, taking the entire shot in one smooth motion. The liquid burns.    As you’re wondering if he makes those bedroom eyes to every female he comes into contact with and if that’s part of his mysterious moves to seduce, he tears away from you and wheezes.   You burst out laughing.   Yoongi feels the hot embrace of hell in his lungs. “W-What is that?!” It’s as if he drank fire itself and he feels warm from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, already breaking a sweat at his hairline.   “Drink’s called a Fireball,” the barkeep grins, happy that the effect worked. “Just like the spell, eh? And you even get that cold resistance for the next thirt’ minutes.”   “Did it taste good?” You lean in, eyes glittering with curiosity.   “I thought I was going to die.”   It’s your turn next and you watch in amazement as the barkeep makes your drink. A whole glass gets slapped in front of you afterwards instead of a shot. It’s clear with opalesque swirls with specks of glowing pink lights. It already reeks of alcohol, more than Yoongi’s did.   “Made with Tiefling fire vodka, dash of pixie sugar dust, teaspoon of honey, an’ two spells. One is faerie fire and the other ain’t named, but ’s an ancient spell of warlock origin.” The spiel sounds like something you’d make up on a whim, but it’s intriguing. “Go ahead, girl.”   Yoongi opens his mouth. “Wai—”   But it’s too late. You’re already drinking. Then the taste explodes into your mouth. Your eyes grow wide at how amazing it is. It tastes like tropical juice, pineapple and raspberries with a kind of smokiness to it that reminds you of the charcoal of a fire or burnt crisp around meat.    It’s amazing and you down the entire thing within seconds.   You slap the glass to the counter in a ‘thump’, a burp leaving your stomach. You’re dazed, mind clouded, unable to think properly even when Yoongi worriedly calls your name thrice.   “Drink’s called Nyssa’s Nectar,” the barkeep slurs with a ginormous grin. You feel strange, the tips of your fingers tingling and your limbs itching. It isn’t just your eyes or your imagination either. “Turns you into the opposite gender. Right down to your clothes!”   Suddenly, your legs expand, your arms grow more muscular, your hair morphs into a shorter form and your dress distorts into pants and a tunic.    “What?!”   “Really?!”   Yoongi is appalled, his jaw dropped. In the meanwhile, you’re giggling in amazement while you check your pants, gasping at what you see inside. “Don’t worry, it wears off in the mornin’,” the barkeep informs and then tottles away to serve the next customers.    “Yes!” you drunkenly laugh and noisily cheer. “This is the best disguise yet!”   “I can’t believe—...hey! Where are you going?!”   You’ve stumbled off your stool to a table of two female elves, leaning over with a sly smirk.    “Heyo, females. Wanna try a potion?” You pull two stoppered bottles out from your bag, clutching it tightly. “They’re philter of love! Get any creature you wanna charm for an hour! Don’t waste an opportunity like this—” Mid-hiccup, you turn around to see tender features and a mop of pale yellow hair reminiscent to a duckling’s fur. “Hey, Yoongi! Wanna buy one? It’ll be five hundred gold!”   “I’m so sorry for her— his behaviour.” He grabs your collar and starts to pull you away while the elves giggle. But Yoongi doesn’t get a hold of you for long. Your passion for selling is big and you scramble out of his grasps to another table of adventurers with bottles overflowing your arms.   It’s the last thing you remember.   //   There’s a deafening bang.   You groan, whining Yoongi’s name and mumbling to sleep in another five minutes. But—   “Get up!” The barkeep yells, loud enough to burst your eardrums. You open your eyes, wincing from the bright sunlight coming through the windows and you lift your head off the wooden table, coming face to face with the dwarf. “Ya got a duel at noon and you got fifteen minutes left. Better get goin’, eh?”   “What?”   You look to your side where Yoongi’s also fallen asleep, unaffected by the noise like he’s a brick and not a human. It takes a good minute for what the barkeep told you to sink in, and then you’re shaking Yoongi frantically.   “What.” he grunts angrily.   “Yoongi, Yoongi. Get up. I challenged someone to a duel at noon and there’s only fifteen minutes left. Oh lord, if you don’t help me, they’re going to come find me and I’m going to die!”   There’s a sigh. Then he raises his head, eyes narrowed. “What?”   Creatures are gathered outside the tavern on the road, most likely patrons from last night. They form a long oval, encircling both you and Yoongi in and not allowing either of you to escape. At the other end stands an eight feet tall Goliath monk — the same one you bumped into last night.    But he doesn’t seem to remember you from that incident.   “That scrawny boy ran like a coward!” The Goliath’s voice booms, rousing on the crowd of bored travelers who haven’t watched a proper match in ages. He’s referring to your male form and then points at Yoongi. “No matter! He was your friend, no? He was with you all night! You will fight in his place!”   The Goliath’s glowing eyes pierce into Yoongi’s and you peek out from right behind him.   You have no idea what you said to make the Goliath so pissed. Usually monks are fairly peaceful and they don’t drink either, but there seems to be plenty of exceptions to the rules at the moment.   “I am very, very sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur in his ear. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you ten folds.”   He turns his head slightly. “I am going to kill you.”   You pat him on the back, ignoring his blatant threat. “Don’t worry, I’ll support you from behind.”   At once, the Goliath monk runs forward and attacks Yoongi with his closed fist. The punch slams straight into his abdomen and you move out of the way, wincing. Yoongi’s air is knocked out of his lungs. He wheezes and the Goliath swings again, missing once and barely grazing Yoongi’s arm on the other.   The crowd cheers like a bunch of maniacs and Yoongi draws his shortsword from his side. He swings twice, slashing against the Goliath’s chest. He surges forward, managing another slice.    But the Goliath looks barely affected, merely pushed back and angered.    Your jaw clenches and you reach out, hand wrapping around Yoongi’s wrist. You yank him back so he’s behind you and his eyes widen at what’s in your other hand. It’s an orb with swirling orange and blazing red — as if fire has been encapsulated into a crystal ball.    It’s an arcane object. A spellcasting focus.   It’s the way arcane spells can channel their power.   And you let go of him in favour of pointing your finger at the Goliath. Suddenly, a bright streak flashes out of your skin towards the eight foot male, blossoming into an explosion of flames with a low roar. There are terrifying screams and shouts, the crowd dispersing and running for their lives before they’re burnt to a crisp.   Yoongi looks away when the light becomes overwhelming and the Goliath shouts in pain.   When the fire disperses, the Goliath is still standing and storms towards you. He lands an attack on your right shoulder, punching you enough to bruise. He frantically throws two more hits but misses both times when his movements are no longer calculated.   Yoongi takes the opportunity to slice his sword twice more on the Goliath. Then you throw another fireball from your fingertips, allowing the flames to bloom and roar towards him.   When the smoke dissipates, the Goliath is on the ground, unconscious.   You grin, clapping your hands at the outcome of the duel in place of the audience that’s disappeared. But Yoongi looks at you, both unamused and impressed.    His brow lifts. “Just a peasant girl?”    You give him a cheesy smile. “With maybe a little magic.”   //   Bogsburrough is a town hidden in a thick swamp to avoid governments and large cities. It’s a dismal place with rotting trees and a certain stench in the air, each of your steps sinking in its mud. But many valued illegal goods are made in this area and traded, such as fatal poisons, meat of endangered species, addictive substances, and many other items treasured by outlaws.   The underground market is also rich with life, a bustle in itself. Bandits dressed in black have set up stalls along with other crooks and fugitives, servicing wanderers and travelers alike.   You and Yoongi are two of these people taking a look around.   “Yoooongi, I’m sorry,” you whisper in his ear for the thousandth time, glued right by his side. He’s been silent so far and you know with that look on his face, he’s had enough of you. “On the bright side, you did a good job during the fight. You looked really cool. I bet you have a line up of mistresses who want to be wedded to you.”   Unfortunately, your persuasion doesn’t seem to have an effect on him anymore. Your buttered words don’t change his stoic state.    After a moment, Yoongi breaks his silent treatment. “Stop trying to get us killed all the time, brat.”   You sulk at him, holding onto his arm. But the cute act doesn’t seem to appeal to him either — or at least he doesn’t show that it does. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose, duckling.”   Still, Yoongi doesn’t shove you off from holding his arm, so you take it as a win.   “What do you want to do here?”   “I have some stuff to sell.”    The magical satchel slung across your body weighs fifteen pounds, but it can hold up to five hundred pounds and is two feet in diameter and four feet deep. There’s been plenty of things you’ve been collecting that you need to get rid of and more ‘potions’ that you would like to sell.   Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You can sell your things anywhere.”   He isn’t wrong. A detour to Bogsburrough is completely unnecessary if the only reason is to sell.   There’s a moment of contemplation and then you concede, deciding to tell him about another secret, or rather… “There’s a rumour.”   The two of you slow down and your eyes meet. “They say the tapestries in the palace are forgeries. Apparently, the previous king pawned them off and the current one couldn’t find them, so they had to be replaced with some replicas. The royal family would be really grateful if they were retrieved and would probably give a very handsome reward. You know what that means, right, Yoongi? I could make my dream come true.”   The struggle of scraping up with a few gold pieces at a time would end.   You could finally have your house built in the middle of nowhere, hidden from civilization, isolated from all people and creatures.    “So you’ve been searching for these tapestries to return them to the royal family?” he asks.   “Yep, and I think it might be in Bogsburrough.”   Without warning, the two of you are interrupted by a human talismonger dressed in white robes. “What a beautiful couple! I see much compatibility and fortune! I bet you’re looking to have children soon, aren’t you—”   You’re flustered, your entire brain delayed as your mouth slowly opens.    But Yoongi is much calmer. “No—”   The talismonger doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “We have charms to increase fertility and charms for impotence. Tell you what? I’ll give it to you for five silver pieces!” He spreads his entire hand in front of your face and Yoongi’s, overwhelming you with the sheer volume of his voice.   “That’s quite alright—”   “Okay, okay!” Creatures passing turn their heads at the ruckus. “An impotence charm for four silver pieces!”   At this point, you’re getting irritated. “We don’t need it!” you shout. “My husband does not have issues with impotence!”   The two of you push past the obnoxious man, but then he loudly haggles for the entire market to hear— “FINE! Okay, sir! I’ll sell you the charm to fix your impotence for half price!”   Both you and Yoongi freeze in your steps. Your necks crane around. Your intimidating glares bore into his face, Yoongi’s hands gripping his sword, and your swirling orb of fire is clutched in your hand. He squeals in fear.    No one gets to cheat a cheat.   “Terrible technique,” you mutter when you’ve made your way down the market. “He’s supposed to convince and persuade them, not try to embarrass the customers. Horrible business man.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls and he chuckles. “Yeah? Well, you’re not any better.”   “Hey, I’m so much better! I do business properly.”   “You lie about the product.”   “It’s called a business technique.”   You look around the stalls and what’s for purchase. But once you’ve made it to the end of the market, there are no tapestries in sight. Even when you ask around, no one has any clue what you’re talking about and you know you’ve reached another dead end.   “What’s your plan now?” Yoongi asks.   “I don’t want the entire trip here to be a waste, so I’ll set up and sell some stuff.” You sigh. “Well, this place was a shot in the dark anyways. It was worth a try. At least I can cross it off my list. Anyway, give me an hour and I’ll be done. You can walk around or do whatever it is that you do.”   Yoongi nods. In the meanwhile, you pull out a rug from your bag and dump out golden chalices and wondrous items you’ve probably stolen, and begin advertising them at outrageous prices to creatures passing by. He lets you be as you’re happily scamming and walks off with a tiny smile.    “Excuse me,” he approaches a human Ranger standing by and the stranger lifts his head with suspicious eyes narrowed in on him. Yoongi had a few ideas on how to make his time worthwhile here too.   “Yes?”   “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   “The North Dragon?” The Ranger shakes his head. “Sorry. Don’t. But you can probably ask Raithe. He knows a thing or two about creatures around.”   The Ranger indicates a man in a black cloak sitting on a stool and staring at bystanders. Yoongi thanks him and approaches the so-called Raithe. “Excuse me.” The man looks up, revealing beady eyes and a long, red beard. “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   The corner of the man’s mouth curls. “Who may you be?”   “I’m a traveler on a quest,” Yoongi says vaguely, knowing better than to pass information about himself around or go into too much detail needlessly. Anyone could use anything against him.   Raithe hums. “I know that there’s a dragon in Stoughsby Peaks. That it’s fiercely loyal. But I’m afraid any more information will have to come at a price.”   He pulls out a gold coin from his pocket. “Will this be enough of a price?”   “That’s more like it, young man. Do you have a map?” The greedy man smiles, snatching the payment before Yoongi pulls out his crinkled map you always make fun of. Once spread, Raithe points to a patch of grass on it in the middle of the forest that’s between this place and Rutherglen. “Here. A wise wizard can tell you all that you seek to know about the North Dragon, but he is not easy to find and he doesn’t allow just any guests inside his home.”   “How do I find him then?”   “You keep walking.”   That’s all the man is willing to say and Yoongi keeps it in mind as he marks the map.   At the same time, you’re having much success with your business.   “Thanks for coming!” After getting rid of your chalices and your eyes of eagle, your sack of gold has become heavier and heavier in your pocket. You’ve managed to sell two of your stoppered bottles too, passing them on as potions of heroism when really it’s just been dyed blue and the bubbles are from the expired milk you had in them. “Get your potions of heroism! Get your potions!”   You can’t wait to see the look on Yoongi’s face when you brag about how much you’ve made.   “It’s a blessed spell! Gain more health before you go charging into battle! Great for adventurers and travelers who love exploring the region!”    Your eyes light when a creature comes up to your rug. He’s five feet eight with reddish skin and a purple head of hair. A sulfurous odor radiates from him, but you recognize the horns, prehensile tails, and pointed teeth for him being a Tiefling and his daggers for being a rogue.    “Hello sir, would you like one? It’s a rare potion you won’t find anywhere else! Take the chance while you still can!”   “How much?”   “Five gold pieces.”   You hold in your cackle when he passes the gold to you without even bargaining. But blood drains from your face when he flicks off the cork and prepares to chug it. “Wait! Are you going to take it right now?”   “If it’s good, I’ll buy the rest,” the Tiefling rogue states, solid orbs of silver for eyes looking back at you. And with that, he chugs it.   You hitch your breath. Your teeth grit.   After a moment, the Tiefling rogue spits the potion out. His expression twists into horror, another strange odor leaving his mouth that smells like rotten eggs left in the Summer sun.   “What is that?!”   “Uh….it’s…..it’s…...a potion….of heroism?”   He points at you, shouting, “Fraud!”   “I prefer Charlatan!” you scream and jump back before his dagger can hit you.   Across the market, Yoongi hears the commotion. There are creatures moving away and murmuring, not wanting to get involved, and his blood runs cold when he realizes you’re on the other side where the clamour is.    Immediately, he rushes through the crowd, but then his shoulder collides with another.   “Min Yoongi?”   A cold voice stops him.   “Yorril.” The slender Elf is the same height as Yoongi is, long blonde hair that’s half-tied up and reaches to his ribs. His piercing green eyes are set within their sockets, having seen his enemies coiling their bodies to his shoes. He has a dignified aura that’s unfriendly as always.   But Yoongi supposes that it’s only natural. The Belxiron faction has always had an air of superiority, especially over the Min faction and it has permanently been a source of strife.   “What a pleasant surprise,” Yorril utters in Elvish. “I thought you ran away like a coward.”   “Cowards are the ones who stand behind their family’s back to protect themselves,” Yoongi answers in a hiss. “If being a coward is making something out of yourself rather than taking the status given to you at birth, then you are worthless.”   The elf’s jaw clenches as he pulls his trident to his side. “Always so righteous, Min. Always have to have the last word. But it is time I give your mother a real reason to mourn—”   On the other side of the market, the Tiefling strikes you with his dagger against your left forearm. It’s enough to skim against your skin and leave a mark, but not enough to bleed.   You hold your orb within your hand and hurl three rays of fire towards him. The first one barely hits him when he dodges, but the second and third make him cry out in agony as he’s burnt.   “You bitch!”   “That’s rude!” You’re about to persuade him to give it up, but it’s useless when he runs towards you again with newfound wrath.   In the meanwhile, the Elf uses his trident and attacks, piercing Yoongi in his abdomen. The weapon digs into his leather clothing, never into his skin, but then light twirls through the trident and he feels as if lightning has shocked through his system.    Yorril smirks. Yoongi pulls out his rapier but misses when he swings. “Going down so easy, Min? I expected better from someone who ran off to become a knight for the Order of the Black Sun.”   Yoongi grits his teeth and swings again. This time, Yorril is pushed back, sliced in his shoulder and Yoongi surges forward once more. Then, he’s dashing to the other side of the market.   There’s a shout of his name behind him, but it doesn’t matter.   He breathes a sigh of relief when you come into view. Visibly intact and unharmed. “What happened?” Yoongi hyperventilates from running, eyes wide and searching your face.   You muster a smile, afraid of his scolding. “Just...you know….the usual workplace risks.”   The Tiefling shouts and runs forth with his dagger. He manages to nick your dress and collarbone with his blade this time, making you hiss out as blood soaks through. Yoongi retaliates in an instant, swinging at him with his rapier and he stumbles back.   “Min!” There’s a shout of his name and the angered Elf comes out of the crowd silently observing and gasping. “I’m not done with you!”   Your back presses against Yoongi’s as you both hold onto your weapons. “You know this guy?!”   “He’s an enemy of my family,” he murmurs as he faces the Tiefling rogue and you face the Elf.   “What kind of family do you have?!” You throw an evocation spell forward and a line of roaring flames thirty feet long and five feet wide emanates from you towards the stranger. The crowd disperses quickly, shuffling back before they’re hit by the fire.   Unfortunately, the Elf is dexterous and manages to move back, only getting hit by half of the fire.   “It’s complicated,” Yoongi says.   “Get out of the way,” Yorril grunts in Elvish and attacks you with his trident, charging forth to spear you. He hits against the arm you bring out to shield your face away and as it digs into your flesh before you force it away.   Yoongi hears your cry and turns around to strike him.   At the same time, the Tiefling rogue fails to drive his dagger into Yoongi’s stomach.   Your grasps tighten on your orb and you lob three more scorching rays of fire in your hands towards your enemies. One of them hits the Tiefling and he yells in pain before falling over, unconscious. Two of them are fired towards the Elf, one that misses and the other that gets him straight in his face.   He’s burnt, not too badly that he’s become disfigured but enough that it hurts.   “Damn you, whore! Stay where you belong!” Yorril swings at you, piercing you in your stomach and leaving a bleeding gash in its place that you press with your other hand to keep blood from pouring.   “It’s going to have to take more than that,” you wheeze in Elvish to him and it serves to aggravate him further.   Yoongi is horrified, paler than he was before and he shouts deep from his lungs. He swings at Yorril, slicing him in his back and your arm lifts. A blinding streak flares from your pointing finger and blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. The Elf’s eyes are rounded in terror and he howls from deep in his stomach as he’s burnt. The fire spreads through the room, igniting the wooden stalls and rugs.   Brought to his knees, Yoongi slices Yorril once more with his rapier.   The Elf uses the remainder of his strength to hit Yoongi once more and manages to scrape at his knees before Yoongi strikes twice and the latter male falls over, also unconscious.   It goes silent except for the sound of the two of you catching your breaths.   Then you and Yoongi turn to each other.   Compared to Yoongi who’s still firmly on his feet, you’re worse for wear. You’re bleeding in numerous places, nicked at your jaw and neck. But the corners of your mouth curls and you slowly reach into your pocket. You hold out a heavy sack of gold, one that isn’t your own. “L-Look what I got.” Your eyes flicker to the unconscious Tiefling who’ll eventually wake up wounded and broke.   Yoongi scoffs with a tiny smile. “This is why so many people want to kill you.”   “You have your fair share of enemies too, evidently,” you breathe out. “And it’s not so easy for me to die, y’know.”   He comes over to shoulder you, all traces of mischief gone. “Are you okay?”   “Of course I’m okay.” You muster a tender yet tired smile, leaning your weight on him. “It’s no big deal. Don’t you know….who I….am?”   But then your eyes begin to droop and Yoongi opens his arms, catching your slumping body. You’re snoring, exhausted from the fight and he puts you on his back, a tiny smile etched on his features.   There’s chaos around you both, people returning to their stalls to see that it’s been burnt down to a crisp and wailing at the loss, other sly creatures trying to steal what they can in the chaotic situation and others that return to their stations like nothing happened at all.   A fight in Bogsburrough might not be uncommon, but Yoongi doesn’t dwell.   He carries you and the two of you fade away as quick as you came, continuing on your journey.   //   After being bandaged, taking a long rest and downing a bunch of healing potions, you’re back in tip-top shape again. Your initial plan was to just have Yoongi protect you until you made it to Bogsburrough — a plan you never told him about — but with no other idea of what to do or where to go next, you find yourself continuing with him on his quest.    Why not, right?   If he defeats that dragon, you can reap the benefits and get that amazing reward. It’s certainly better than wandering on your own and having nothing to do. There’s no other reason than that.    No other reason………………………...   “So we’re supposed to just...keep walking?” you ask skeptically after wandering aimlessly for what seems to be an hour around this meadow.   “That’s what he said.”   “What if this is a trap.”   “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.”   It’s only fair that after Yoongi took your detour, you take his. But you’re unsure what this nonsense about a wizard is. There’s nothing here, but grass and flowers—   Your forehead smacks into a wall.   You stumble back, rubbing at the area while cursing. But there’s nothing there. Your brows furrow along with Yoongi’s and you put your hand out, feeling the invisible barrier placed there.   “It’s a wall of force!” You grin, excited that your efforts weren’t wasted after all.   “How do we get rid of it?”   “We blast it!” Before he can protest and get some time to think things through, you grab your orb that allows you to channel your power and you hurl a fireball at it. The flames howl, blossoming an explosion and slamming into the barrier.   The barrier ripples, revealing its spherical shape — but it doesn’t shatter or open a hole.   You huff out in frustration.   Yoongi steps forward. “Wait.”   But you throw another fireball at it, fiercer and with more vigor. This time, it works and the barrier splits with a tiny opening, enough for you and Yoongi to push yourselves through.   You grin at his bewildered expression. Of course he should be impressed with your abilities. You might not be as capable or strong as he is, but your magic often comes in handy like now. “It’s sorcerer magic.”   “Yeah, well, I think we’ve already long established you aren’t a normal peasant girl.”   “Nope. I’m not.”   There’s a house in the middle of the meadow, placed on a tiny hill — one that was not visible outside of the invisible wall of force. Built with white stones and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly symmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the manor has several floors. More importantly, you swear you see the curtains shift on the left.   The two of you step up on the wooden porch, facing the mahogany double doors.   “Do we just….knock?”   “I guess.” Yoongi’s fist raps against the surface while you brace yourself for an attack.    No one who wants to hide warmly welcomes unexpected guests.    Inside, in a dusty library, the male who’s levitating abruptly shuts his book at the sound. The cover is bright green, labeled ‘Halfling Histories’ and it slides back onto the empty slot of a nearby bookshelf as his small feet touch the ground once more. The sound of scattering toes on floorboards echo as he sprints to the front door.   The door swings open.   You hitch your breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens.   Instead, you see nothing. Not until you and Yoongi collectively drop your heads to discover a three feet tall Halfling in a silk, blue robe with rounded glasses perched on his nose. He is reminiscent of a child with his full, rosy cheeks, brightened eyes and stubby stature.    The Halfling gives a dimpled smile and widens the door.   “Welcome! Oh my goodness, I haven’t had guests in so long! Come in, come in!”   The pair of you exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes your breath — cozy mahogany and high ceilings, mementos on a shelf near the winding staircase with a magical pull to them. The owner of this house has made it their own. You can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury.   You gander around wordlessly.    Whoever this wizard is, he’s literally living your dream.    Out in the middle of nowhere. A place of his own. Hidden from the rest of humanity. It’s your aspiration in the flesh.   “My name is Namjoon,” the Halfling says as his dimples crease deeper, “and I am a servant to the lord of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?”   “I am Min Yoongi, in search of a Great wizard said to have lived here.”   “Ah, it is very nice to meet you. I’m afraid the lord is asleep upstairs. He doesn’t like to be awoken, so I fear it may be several hours until he can entertain you,” he informs and you look at Yoongi with uncertainty. The Halfling follows your movement and smiles. “And may I ask who you are, milady?”   “I am merely a servant girl accompanying this man as a way to repay a favour.” You lower your head, never once stating your own name.   “I see.” Namjoon smiles. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for my lord?”   “There’s just something we want to ask,” you say quickly, stepping forward before Yoongi can spill the whole truth. “It’s about a magical item. One we’re willing to sell to him.”   Namjoon hums. “Alright. I’ll let my lord know as soon as he wakes up. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!”   But suddenly, Yoongi feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and you turn to him.   “Is everything okay?”   Yoongi looks at you and the way your brows scrunch together. But doesn’t answer. He tries to fight it off.    And he fails.   Yoongi feels his thoughts being pulled, untangled, exploited and read.   “Y/N—”   The corner of the Namjoon’s mouth curls in genuine amusement. He looks between you and Yoongi curiously as if he knows something you don’t. Then your neck whips to the side, catching him staring at you with that smile like he knows who you are.   Before you can ask him what he just did, Namjoon opens his palm. In one split second, the wooden staff you didn’t notice leaning against the grandfather clock flies into his hands. The surrounding flames are snuffed out, drawing the three of you into darkness except for the dim evening light piercing through the glass windows. Your shadows lay across the walls.   Namjoon looks at Yoongi and an overwhelming gust of wind pulls him back.   Yoongi shouts his name, but it’s choked inside his throat. Namjoon’s casted hold person, causing him to be frozen, paralyzed against the wall.   “Yoongi!” Your eyes are wide, connected with his. You rush over, but the path is interrupted by a growing low noise and three glowing darts that strike you at once. They pummel into your body before dispersing as quick as they appeared. A kind of agony immediately shoots up your spine and causes a cry to tear from your throat.   You turn yourself to Namjoon — the wizard you’ve been searching for.   “What do you want from us?!”   “The truth,” the halfling utters while you grip your glass orb in your hand that swirls colours of red and orange. From nothing but the magic that runs through your blood, you conjure three rays of fire and hurl them at him. One misses, but the other two burns him enough to hear his sharp inhale.   Namjoon raises his arms, his curled staff lifted with the motion and you feel a necromantic energy washes over you. The spell he casts drains moisture from you, making your skin dry, your lips chapped, your lungs shrivel. You double over, wheezing as your throat becomes parched. But it’s far from over.   You shout from deep within your stomach, hearing the strained call of your name behind you from your companion and a bright flash streaks from your finger, blossoming in a rumble of fire.   But Namjoon counterspells it without even blinking. He snuffs out the flames before it can reach him.   His feet shift and a blast of cold air erupts from his hands. It coils towards you, itching towards your body before enveloping you in frost. It nips against your skin, cracking your lips further.   This is it. This is how you die. You’ve always envisioned succumbing to fire, brought down by the power inside of yourself — the greatest devastation and irony of all. You never imagined yourself to fall in the home of an unknown wizard for unknown reasons….   But as you turn your head to gaze at Yoongi once more, your eyes meeting his tender ones full of unadulterated fear and anguish, there’s a surge from within. It screams, causing you to stand straighter, for your feet to root into the floorboards. It’s instincts —   And it tells you that you can’t leave him behind.   Instantaneously, a fire from within you blazes. A blinding light slices through the room as you’re magically wreathed in swirling flames. It’s overwhelming, pouring from the tips of your fingers and toes, seeping out of your pores without control. A grating orange and flaring crimson. It’s ugly, the way your eyes glow like hot coals, how you feel like your skin is melting off your bones.   The fire from within your blood is restless. Vengeful.   You can’t see the way Yoongi forces himself to look at you past the bright flare — you don’t know he’s in awe, that he finds it absolutely magnificent.    Before you can barrel forward, the Hafling drops his staff.   His hands lift, surrendering, as a dimpled grin spreads into his cheeks.   “I knew it! I knew it! You’re a phoenix sorcerer!”   Somewhere in Yoongi’s mind, those words are familiar. He’s read them somewhere before. But the details are murky. He isn’t sure. He simply knows there’s one infamous phoenix sorcerer family in existence.   The fire disperses as Yoongi’s let go from his binds, no longer pinned to the wall.   “You….” You’re panting, out of your mind. “You did all that to prove a theory?!”    “Well, I had a feeling you wouldn’t be honest with me if I asked.”   “You fucking crazy bastard!”   Namjoon laughs and then suddenly lowers himself to one knee, height no higher than your own knee. He blinks up at you with his brightened irises. “Will you marry me, Miss? Our powers combined would make for the best offsprings.”   Your eye twitches. “You’re a piece of shit.”   //   The library is old and dusty, but the winding bookcases that reach the ceiling tells him there’s an endless amount of knowledge stowed away between these pages of parchment. It is larger than any library he has known at home in his faction or in the castles he’s been stationed at. These books radiate types of magic, each enchanted with different spells he will never know the names of.   Seated at the round table, his trance is shattered without warning when there’s the ear-piercing noise of a stool scraping against the floorboard. If Yoongi didn’t know any better, he would think it was his imagination but then the short Hafling hops up on the stool to be seen and spreads the map across the wooden surface.   “You wanted to know about the Dragon of the North, yes?”   Yoongi nods in silence and he studies the map. Never has he seen something so extensive and detailed, all towns and rivers labeled with different kinds of terrain shown on the parchment. There are numerous roads winding on the paper, a scale for size he has no doubt is accurate.   “Can I copy this map?”   “You can just take it.” Namjoon grins. “I have plenty, don’t worry. I have some ancient dragon books too if you’d like.”   Yoongi nods again and the Hafling bounces off his stool and tottles over to one of his bookcases. He climbs the wooden ladder but when that can’t even grab the spine of the large book he’s reaching for, he whirls his finger and it slides out for him, swooping onto the table.    There’s a pile of dust that flies when Yoongi opens it, but he brushes it away and tries to read about the myths spoken about the North Dragon and Stoughsby Peaks.   “It seems like this dragon isn’t as dangerous as it seems,” Namjoon comments as he pushes up his circular spectacles. “And it’s been hidden for quite a while.”   “It kidnapped a girl.” Yoongi places the book down, telling him in case he can offer anything insightful. “We’re on a quest to bring her back at any costs.”   But Namjoon merely hums and his eyes twinkle. “Maybe it did it for a reason.”   In spite of this place behind a holder of knowledge, there isn’t much on the North Dragon aside from folktales and rumours of travelers who witnessed the creature and survived the encounter. But Yoongi makes sure to read every word, knowing that anything could be helpful.    Though after a while, the sentences dull and Yoongi finds himself curious about something else.   “Do you possibly have any books on phoenixes?”   The Halfling wizard smiles. “I’ll happily lend you some. Perhaps one specifically on magic, human and phoenixes?”   //   You’re taking a long rest in one of the countless bedrooms when Yoongi enters.   But despite how soft the mattress is and how warm the sheets are, different from the many nights spent on the forest floor or in dodgy inns, you aren’t comfortable in the least bit.   “We need to get the fuck out of here, Yoongi,” you say immediately when the door opens and it’s duckling hair that you see. “I need to get out of here. He’s psychotic.”   He smiles gently and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, allowing it to dip underneath his weight. “We’ll leave when you can stand up again.”   “You can just carry me.”   “And risk breaking my back? I almost did last time and you still owe me.”   You pout, knowing full well he’s exaggerating. “I’m not that heavy.”   It goes quiet for a moment as if he has something to say and doesn’t know how to broach the topic which is unlike him. “Hey, Y/N.”   “What? And ew, don’t call me like that.” Your nose scrunches, making fun of him to lighten the mood he’s created.   Yoongi grins. “Like what?”   “Like I’m dying. Y/N,” you lovingly whisper, mocking him and causing him to scoff lightly. “Makes me feel like I’m your bedridden wife.”   “Well, at the rate we’re going at,” he mutters and you’re not sure what he means — if you’ll end up bedridden or his wife or both. But you can’t dwell on it when he continues, “I never finished telling you about my family.”   “Oh yeah.” You lean back against the headboard. “And that guy who wanted to kill us at the market?”   Yoongi nods. “I’m the youngest son of the Min house, a faction in Srinas.” It’s the capital of Pegan, the largest country bordering this one. “The region is broken up into factions and a house owns each of them.”   “And I’m guessing that Elf was from another faction?”   He nods again. “I didn’t expect to see him there.”   “Why did he want to fight you?”   “Our houses are enemies,” he explains with a sigh. “No matter where I go, as long as I’m a Min, there will be preexisting enemies. The factions are different from how you’d imagine them.”   It’s interesting, intriguing to hear. You aren’t someone who cares about the troubles of another, but you’ve traveled with Yoongi for so long that a part of you has always longed to know more about him, about his background, where he came from, what led him here. “What do you mean?”   “There was constant backstabbing and betrayal. Your friend one day would be your enemy the next. Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi brushes it off with a stoic expression. “I got tired one day and decided to leave.”   You know he left to join the Order of the Black Sun where he trained to become a knight. “And you haven’t looked back since,” you finish.    The silence confirms your guess.   It feels like you’re filling in the gaps of your knowledge about Yoongi, that you’re finally coming to understand the man in front of you. But you wonder why he’s telling you when he’s been so private. Why he’s voluntary letting you in his secrets without you needing to pry or whine. Perhaps he wants to know about you, but is taking the first step for you to know him.    So you indulge him, taking the initiative of what you assume he’s seeking without him needing to ask. “Mine’s not any different. Well, less….backstabbing, but it’s true. I’m a phoenix sorcerer and so is the rest of my family.”   You trust him. You trust Min Yoongi.   “My great, great grandfather saved a phoenix and a shard of its power runs through my bloodline. My power draws from an immortal flame.” It’s a mixed blessing. Like the creature indebted to your ancestor, you can conjure its fiery energy and be able to cheat death itself.    But it comes at a cost.   The fire within you bristles. Always demanding to be unleashed. You find yourself thoughtlessly feeding fires, hearing them call out to you, being unable to bear them sputtering out.   You uncurl your fingers and a flame ignites in your palm. Yoongi watches it dance then his eyes flicker to your face, soaking it how the fire glows against your cheeks, warming your features.    “People like me make others nervous. Our magic is volatile. It can be dangerous and we have a reputation for reckless behaviour. The stereotype isn’t untrue though. Most phoenix sorcerers think the essence of the phoenix can save them, but we aren’t necessarily protected from fire. We’re as vulnerable as the next creature, the next human. All we can really do is use our powers to pull ourselves from the brink of death. But most often than not, the reliance on our destructive magic is what put us there in the first place.”   You shut your eyes. The fire smothers out.   “My family has tried their hardest to remove themselves from such labels and molds. Each generation is put through strict teaching and training since the moment each person is born. But my family still think of themselves as superior. They were suffocating.”   Yoongi connects the dots. “So you left.”   “It wasn’t a life that I wanted to lead, so three years ago, I learned how to forge fake documentation and I ran away.” For the longest time, your greatest fear was being deported. It was being brought back to that house that was more concerned about status and upholding the bloodline than your own wishes. Where your freedom was suppressed.   You release your breath. The corner of your mouth pulls.   “I’m sure if you turned me into officials, you’d get yourself a handsome reward, Yoongi.”   Yet, Yoongi doesn’t give into your banter or playfulness. He remains solemn and sincere. “I have no plans in doing so.”   The two of you gaze at one another.   He doesn’t seem affected whatsoever by this new information, about the secrets you’ve held close to yourself. The both of you come from rich and dark histories, but you’ve never encountered someone who wasn’t at least a bit surprised.   But the way he looks at you is familiar. As if you don’t scare him.   “Get some rest, Y/N,” he says as he finally stands, turning towards the door.   “Yoongi,” you call his name tenderly before he can leave. The man pauses and your teary eyes trace his backside. “Thank you.”   //   The second you feel well enough, you get the fuck away from Namjoon. You sprint faster than you ever did before. He waves goodbye enthusiastically, saying that the offer of marriage still stands indefinitely — clearly, the Halfling wizard finds you sorcery magic quite intriguing and even bombards you with questions until the last moment — but you don’t entertain him.    You run for the hills without looking back. And finally, the two of you make it to Rutherglen.   It’s built on the bottom of a snowy thicket with a woodland forest nearby, the terrain rocky presumably from the mountains seen vaguely through the clouds. The village itself is plain but humble. With its redwood rooftops and maple wood walls, Rutherglen carries an inviting atmosphere. Though right now, there seems to be a certain commotion, lanterns strung through shops, vibrant posters set against brick walls, children wearing masks running through the streets and other adults preparing stalls that line the streets.   “Is there something special going on today?”   “Why, tonight is the Festival of Champions!” A petite woman says as she passes by, holding a ribboned basket of bread and biscuits, and catching wind of your question to Yoongi. “You must be travelers! How exciting and great timing, really.”   “What’s the Festival of Champions?” Yoongi asks, having never heard of such a thing.   “A long time ago, a powerful demon was driven up from this town and now we celebrate that day that we freed! The festival only happens once a year and it’s spectacular, much needed as well considering how on edge everyone’s been from those rumours of a dragon up north.”   “What?”   “Anyhow, no time like the present to enjoy yourselves!” She grins. “Enjoy yourselves, travelers!”   With the short-sightedness of these villagers, it’s no wonder they run into predicaments like demons and dragons attacking them.   “I don’t think I can do it.” There are two young girls chatting on the street and as you pass, your ears perk, picking up their exchange. “What if he rejects me, Lirla?”   “He wouldn’t. You have to confess!” At that, you turn your head, watching as the girl in the plum dress grabs the hands of her friend with a brightened, innocent smile. “You’ve been waiting for this day for months and you know what they say, if you do it tonight during the fireworks, you’ll have luck on your side.”   “I don’t know…..”   Such fickle emotions such as love, nervousness in wanting to declare one’s feelings, uncertainty of how the other person will respond — you never got to experience such nonsense.    But you can’t help but feel envious of them. You were never allowed to have such freedoms such as love.   Yoongi shifts, having overheard the conversation as well and noticing how silent you suddenly are. “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn to look at him, but in doing so, your focus gets captured elsewhere. “Yoongi!”   It’s a red and white striped circus tent pitched in the town’s center. A six feet tall Fighter in a ripped tank top struts in a chalk ring while flexing his biceps and a Halfling wearing a top hat stands on a soap box. For being a fraction of a human’s normal size, his voice is deafening—   “Test your fortitude! Test your steel strength! Kourteous the Mighty challenges you to the Terror of the Rings! Best out of three clinches wins!”   “Yoongi, Yoongi! Go!” You push him forward with a ginormous grin.   His tender features twist is mortification. “What? You want me to fight him?!”   “All you have to do is push him out of that ring and we get prizes. C’mon! Don’t be scared!”   With one last shove, Yoongi stumbles forward and the Halfling grins. “Ah! Is there a new challenger?!” Yoongi turns around, glaring daggers into your soul and you give a sheepish smile.   The blonde knight sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”   A crowd soon gathers to watch and Yoongi joins the circle, knees bent and hands open. Folks cheer on the Fighter and you suppose it’s fair considering Yoongi’s shorter stature and smaller body. No one expects him to win.   But you know him — you know he’s carried you on his back, that he’s fought countless creatures, that he’s protected you in several instances.   Yoongi is strong. Even when he doesn’t look like it.   “Round one!” The Halfling slams a wooden rod into a bell, making it ring loudly. “Fight!”   At once, the Fighter makes a big show. He flexes his muscles, brushes his feet against the dirt and shouts from within his belly.    It makes the crowd cheer.   The Fighter charges Yoongi, but he keeps a low stance and dodges easily. The taller male swoops past, nearly running out the chalk circle with his sheer speed, but stops right on his toes. It causes the whole pack of creatures around to gasp in delight, put in anticipation.   The Fighter turns around with a growl and runs to grab Yoongi. But this time as he swiftly ducks, Yoongi steals the opportunity and shoves the larger male out, centering his strength on the man’s abdomen.    The Halfling throws his arms out dramatically. “One to zero!”   They meet each other in the circle again and he switches to an offensive strategy. The Fighter is caught off guard with Yoongi’s strength with their hands meet each other and their arms strain, trying to push the other out.    Yoongi is the epitome of stability.   He pushes him and the Fighter stumbles out while trying to keep balance.   “Two to zero!”   It’s unexpected and the crowd is going absolutely crazy. They’re hooting and hollering like it’s the middle of a tavern on a drunken night of celebration, and you feel your chest blossom with pride. “I know him!” you shout above the uproar to the Elf next to you. “He’s my partner!”   During the last round, Yoongi obliterates it.    He wins so hard that the Fighter is stunned and the Halfling is speechless. “C-Congratulations!”   Immediately, you run to Yoongi. He catches you in his arms while your own loop around his neck. You giggle into his shoulders and he grins, squeezing you.   It’s a moment that you will come to cherish.   You end up asking if he can do another round once the Halfling gives you the prize money of seven silver pieces. But he nearly cries and begs you both to leave instead.   “I knew you could do it!” You’re tossing the sack of silver up and down in your hand, feeling its weight and listening to the clank as you do so. It’s technically Yoongi’s but he said you could have it and you didn’t hesitate to accept the gift.   “You pushed me in before you even understood what the game was.”   “But I believed in you anyway,” you laugh.   The both of you continue on your way while you’re humming with a light skip in your step. When you find Yoongi looking at you, you flash a bright grin at him and he scoffs. You’re starting to like this place. But you don’t make it far before something else captures your attention.   This time though, it’s not a circus game or creatures trying to sell you something.   You’re enraptured by a fifteen-foot statue of a woman unmarred by time. There are steady streams of seemingly clear water traveling down the woman’s eyes, but leaving no erosion there. But next to her are the shattered remains of another smaller stone statue. The feet of this smaller statue remains affixed to the ground while the rest are scattered around. It looks close enough that the body may have once held the woman’s outstretched hand.    You’re close enough that you can read the silver plate of the statue. It says ‘Missing Daughter’.   The statue reminds you of your mother — and you wonder passingly if any members of your family have tried employing others to find you, much like Yoongi has been sent to find Mina Stav. Or maybe they haven’t. Maybe they think your family thinks you’re dead...   “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn away from the statue outside the sanctuary. “Where’s this person again?”   Half-across Rutherglen, you and Yoongi knock on a cottage door while unsure of yourselves. It's a single floor modest home, not at all extravagant like you expected it to be. Sorli Stav, the woman who commissioned you and Yoongi on this quest, reeked of wasteful luxury after all. You expect her sister to be the same or at least have some level of similarity.   “Are you sure this is her?”   “I’m sure,” he says in spite of his own skepticism.   The door opens a moment later and on the other side is a thin lady with long, stringy hair and a flowy skirt. “Hi, how can I help you? Are you the workers from Johnson? I told him I’d be right down for the festival. What an impatient man, he is. Really—”   “No, ma’am,” Yoongi politely interrupts. “Actually, we were told you could help us. Are you Ashal Stav?”   “I am.” Her sparse brows furrow. Then as if she suddenly recalls, her entire face lights up. “Are you those heroes looking to rescue my niece?! Come in, come in.”   You’re guided into the cluttered home with an open living space, a kitchen and dining room. It looks like there’s only three separate rooms after that. “I’m so sorry for the mess.”   “It’s quite alright,” you muster a smile as your eyes stray to the dirty stains on the wall by the bookshelf.   “Oh, I should’ve really cleaned better but the festival was here and I didn’t have much time.” The older woman is rushing about, collecting her clothes off the floor to throw into another corner and clearing the table of rotting food by pushing it aside. “My younger sister sent me a letter telling me you were coming. Although she informed me it would be a young fighter and a much...bigger barbarian.” She eyes you curiously like she didn’t expect a peasant girl.   You smile as your eyes glitter. “I replaced him due to some unforeseen circumstances.”   “Well, thank you for your service then.” She kicks some books on the ground underneath a table between the armchairs. “I really hope you can save my niece. Mina’s a wonderful girl really. A bit outspoken and stubborn, but very pleasant.”   “Actually, we were told you could help us,” Yoongi says. “You have information about this dragon?”   “Information, dear? No, no. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the North dragon whatsoever. I only know you will be in grave, grave danger.”   The pair of you exchange expressions.   “You can feel free to stay here for as long as you’d like,” she huffs while catching her breath from the impromptu cleaning session. “I make one mean apple pie. You two look like you’re cold too! Rutherglen is practically winter all year round, so feel free to take any coats in the closet you’d like. And oh! Enjoy tonight’s festival as well!”   You and Yoongi don’t know what to say, simply holding in your groan. And when you come into the room she’s offered you, you find out that you’ll have to share a bed meant for one.   //   “That could’ve gone a lot better.”    You realize you should’ve bargained for a better reward. That woman prepared nothing for the two of you — there’s virtually nothing to go on, no help, no information. If not for Yoongi seeking out Namjoon, you wouldn’t even know how to get to that mountain. Still, it’s a death sentence.   But Yoongi merely hums, stoic and unaffected.   “So you’re really just going to march up that mountain?”   “I suppose,” he says.   You had no plans in fighting a dragon — you still don’t. But the thought of Yoongi going there alone while you wait here in this town makes you unsettled. Your stomach turns and you feel nauseous. In a split second, you can imagine him never returning. You can envision waiting for agonizing weeks until you venture up there yourself and die in the frozen wasteland before your body is covered in snow never to be found again or at the mercy of a dragon’s fire breath.   Either way, the outcome won’t be good for you or him.   “Yoongi—”   “Fire! Fire!”   There is pandemonium as people shriek, scrambling out of the Market District. Both of your heads lift, catching the rising smoke that curls in the sky and turns it gray. It’s growing fast and you exchange expressions before hurrying forward towards the inferno — Yoongi feeling an intrinsic need to investigate as an honourable knight and you with an inborn fascination for fire.   With what people are shouting as they pass, you learn it’s started from a cobbler shop that put too many cobblers in the oven at one time and forgot it was in there. And by the time you get close enough to see people running in with tiny wooden pails of water, you know it’s hopeless.   It’s already started to spread.   You quickly tug on Yoongi’s sleeve. “Hey…”   He looks at you and then follows your line of sight to the unattended market stalls filled with exotic items for sale. In one moment, he already knows you’re planning to satisfy the itch of your fingers. But before he can stop you and grab the back of your collar, you’ve already crouched down and slunk away from him.   “What do you think you’re doing exactly?”   There’s a sharp, husky voice and you peek over your shoulder, discovering Yoongi hunched down with you behind some wooden crates. The corner of your mouth curls at his frown.   “When life gives you chances, duckling, you have to take them. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities, don’t you know?”   His brows lift. “You’re going to steal?”   “I’m going to pick up some abandoned items at a substantial discount,” you correct, “if you’re not going to help me, then get out of my way.”   Your eyes flicker in all directions. There are creatures gathered around the flames, trying to help. Once the coast is clear, you stealthily slink over to the stall.    Yoongi’s hot on your heel, hiding his smile of amusement. You don’t seem to know but his hands aren’t completely clean either. With life in a faction the way it was, he was forced to steal things numerous times. He’s just never taken from innocent folks out in the world before.   At the stand, your hand lifts and you swipe at a leather pouch. Peeking inside, you find five branded agates, colourful rocks that seem to be worth a good amount. You slip it into your bag.   Yoongi scoffs, watching you. “What do you even plan to do with these things?”   “I’ll sell it, obviously.”    Unfortunately, your whispering is loud enough to catch the attention of a woman nearby who spins around. Once she looks at the stand, the burly owner notices and looks. He steps aside and immediately sees you and Yoongi murmuring to one another while squatting next to his merchandise.    “Hey! What're you think you’re doing?!”   You gasp, eyes wide, and you stand. Yoongi is slower to your feet as he retains a calm disposition. You steal the chance at hand and point to your companion. “I’m stopping him from stealing!”   “What?” the man huffs, louder than the sputter of the fire meters away.   Yoongi’s brows raise, surprised at your betrayal before his expression morphs into a glare.    “I’m not,” he deadpans, calmer than ever before.   “You dare take from me?!”   “You’re mistaken and my friend here is only kidding. She has a terrible sense of humour, I apologize.”   In the meanwhile, your hand slips behind you. Your fingers find a cool, silver surface and you nab it. Your other hand also curls around a thin piece of glass that’s heavy in your grip. With your bag of holding shifted behind you, you easily slip the objects in.   The man is convinced with Yoongi’s composure, one that does not belong to a thief. “You better be kidding, boy! If I find anything missing, your head’s gonna be on the chopping block,” he grunts, turns away to address the urgent fire.   Yoongi releases his held breath and glares at you.    You sheepishly grin at him and the both of you walk away from the commotion.   “Thanks for that. You really saved me there.”   “I can’t believe you betrayed me without even needing to think about it.” His eyes narrow in on you. “But I’m not surprised.”   You pout and lean into him. Your arms wrap around his body. “Aw, Yoongi. I’ll split the gold with you, promise.”   He lightly scoffs and you laugh before taking a chance to look into your bag. Instantaneously, your eyes glitter when you discover it was a bottle of common wine and also a flash of alchemists’ fire, probably worth around fifty gold pieces.    Day by day, you’re getting you closer to your goal, your dream. Soon enough, you'll have a house in the middle of nowhere, much like that Halfling wizard’s. Yet somehow, the taste of victory doesn’t have as much of a glorious flavour as it used to.   Ever since you’ve seen your ambition in the flesh, the fantasy you dwelled on doesn’t seem to be as vibrant in your mind….   Yoongi abruptly halts on his heel and you turn to him, your own trance broken.   He glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you put out that fire?” he asks nonchalantly and your eyes sweep the chaos, soaking in the distress etched on the villager’s features. Yoongi steals a glance at you. “Taking is also about giving back, right?”   There is silence.   Then, a long sigh releases from your lungs. “I never took you to be so righteous, Min Yoongi.”   “I am an honourable knight.” He smirks. “I think you forget that sometimes.”   “If you were so honourable, you’d turn me in,” you quip.   “Let’s just say I’m more loyal than I am honourable.”   Smothering it out goes against your impulse for keeping flames alive. Like you’re suddenly writing with your other hand or clasping your hands and switching which thumb folds on top of the other. Yet you still grasp your magical orb that swirls red and orange and extinguish the inferno. You stand sixty feet away beside Yoongi, hidden in the shadows as you control the flames with the movement of your palm. It smothers within five feet in one direction and the creatures around cheer, assuming the water’s finally snuffed it out.    You repeat it twice more until the fire dies down enough to be stomped on.   “Feel good?” Yoongi asks, accidentally catching your tiny satisfied smile as you both walk away.   “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s gonna take a lot more convincing for me to do charity work like that again, Yoongi.” You exhale and passingly tell him, “There’s a reason I’d rather be seen as a useless peasant girl. A lot of the time, folks would think fires like that are from people like me.”   “That’s impossible. There’s too many valuables. You’d rather take them than burn it down.”   You laugh, heart swelling.   //   The minute the sun sets over the horizon, the lanterns strung along stalls and the lights inside shops are ignited to illuminate the streets, and the humble town of Rutherglen truly comes alive.    In the town square, there are bards playing flutes and fiddles, lutes and mandolins. The folk music brightens the ambiance even more and children giggle and dance together while the elderly sit by with warm mugs of cider in their laps, clapping along. Other children are running around with paper masks, playing games and couples stroll the streets with one another.   It’s a beautiful, cozy atmosphere as snow sprinkles down from the sky in a gentle flurry. It collects on rooftops and crunches underneath your steps, glitters and shimmers against the warm glow of the lights. You aren’t cold at all, not with the emerald pea coat wrapped around your shoulders. Yoongi’s in a coat too, leather and long to his knees. He would look like a mercenary, if not for his rosy cheeks and tender features that says otherwise.   “Why are you looking at me like that?”   “No reason.” You tear your eyes away, a smile still plastered across your face.   You’re glad that you came here. Opportunity like this doesn’t happen often. Having the company of someone you find pleasant doesn’t happen either.   “Oh, oh! Look, Yoongi!” Immediately, you drag him over by his sleeve.    Yoongi knows better than to resist your whims, especially when you get excited. So he only feigns annoyance yet still follows you diligently. The two of you come to a booth with fishes swimming inside a rectangular pool of water. Kids are huddled together with buckets while the man behind the booth is loudly advertising people to come try their luck at goldfish scooping.   But even without the vendor, it’s a game you recognize well.   “Should we play?!” you ask, turning to Yoongi with glittering eyes.   “Where would we keep a goldfish?”   You deflate, disappointed, but you know he’s right. “Never mind. It’s okay. It’s just I used to play this a lot when I was a kid,” you reminisce, not sure when the last time you went to a festival was — though it might’ve been years ago when you were still a child with your family. “But I always broke the scoop before I could get one and my dad wouldn’t let me play more than once. Did you ever hear that rumour though? Some say the goldfish are actually polymored fair-goers who were caught cheating some of the other games.”   He grins. “Is that why you don’t cheat?”   “Hey, I have integrity too! Business and games are two separate things. I would never cheat during a festival or carnival.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly, but his eyes are still lit with mirth. “You always know how to twist your logic.”   It’s not long before another game interests you and Yoongi’s following you closely behind before you lose each other in the crowd.   It’s an archery competition where contestants are trying to shoot an apple off the head of a Gnome — a Gnome that was presumably forced to take on the role with the way his knees are shaking and he squeals every time someone new comes forth. The prize is an elemental gem, something you’re sure you can use to sell at a higher price.    “You know I’ve only been trained in swordsmanship, right?”   “Giving up already? That’s not the spirit.” You slap Yoongi on the back harshly despite his glare and you point at the frightened Gnome that looks like he’s about to sob. “Take your shot, duckling!”   Yoongi sighs, but raises the bow to eye level and draws it. The tip of his tongue peeks out as one eye flutters shut and he takes aim. Holding in his breath, he releases and the arrow flies.   The Gnome squeaks. Unfortunately, the arrow slams above the apple, off by a few inches.   “Better luck next time,” the girl managing the booth chimes.   You exhale in frustration and immediately toss a silver piece to the girl. You snatch the bow from Yoongi’s hands and snag another arrow from the basket. The Gnome’s eyes bulge as you aim for the in-between of his brows and before he can stutter out “W-W-Wait”, you’ve released.   There’s a sharp whistle. The arrow spirals. The Gnome ducks with a shriek and there’s a loud thunk! The apple’s pierced through it’s core, hitting the bullseye on the target behind.   “Amazing!” The girl blinks as she soaks in what transpired in a mere three seconds. But she gives you the prize as promised. “Here you go.”   You slip the shiny gem in your leather bag with a smile before turning to Yoongi and finding his surprised and impressed expression. “What? Let’s go.”   The next game you stop at is an arm wrestling contest. There are several beefy fighters and barbarians getting in a line to challenge one another at wooden tables and while it’s not something that particularly captures your attention, the prize makes you halt on your heels.   “Fight for love! The winner receives an uncommon potion! A philter of love!”   “Yoongi.” Your hand plops on his shoulder, making him stop. “Want to play?”   He looks at the horde of people and then back at you. “You want to verse me?”   You burst out laughing before it dies down and your expression washes over into impassivity. “I don’t think so. I don’t do arm wrestling contests. Ever.”   That seems to pique Yoongi’s curiosity and his brow cocks. “Why not?”   “I just don’t.” When it seems like that answer isn’t enough to satisfy him, you sigh and explain yourself further, “My older brother challenged me once and I lost so bad, I broke my wrist. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the prize is a philter of love! Don’t you know what it means? A creature who drinks it becomes charmed by another creature they see for an hour and they regard them as their true love.”   “And you would need that because….”   “To sell obviously. Unless.” You come closer to him, closing the distance between your bodies and a sly, playful smirk comes across your face. One that Yoongi finds both unsettling and provoking to his emotions. “...Unless you want to become charmed by me.”   He scoffs. “I don’t think so.”   “Because you’re already charmed, right?” You wink at him and giggle when he merely turns away and joins the lineup to play.   Yoongi ends up annihilating his competitors as you expected. He wins three rounds consecutively without one loss within minutes and hands you the prize as you’re cheering him on. The fighters and barbarians around are absolutely speechless at how such a smaller looking man seemingly without muscles could be so strong and they even challenge him directly. Yoongi sticks around for two more matches, but when the crowd grows, he decides it’s time to leave.   They beg him to stay, but he doesn’t even look back.   “You could make a living doing that, you know.”   “Playing strength games at carnivals and circuses?” He laughs and you grin, bumping into him.   “You could get famous! Think about the notoriety. People coming from far lands to challenge you.”   “Fame’s never interested me,” he breathes out.   “Wow.” You roll your eyes at his righteousness and part of you wonders what it is he actually wants. Fame and gold doesn’t seem to affect him like it does to a normal man. “The Great Min Yoongi never gets greedy for anything, huh?”   “No,” he murmurs, eyes flickering to you. “There’s definitely some things I’m greedy about.”   Before you can ask what it is specifically, he walks ahead with his arms behind his back.    You quickly catch up to him and the following game that the both of you stop at is actually something that interests Yoongi. It’s a pick pocketing challenge. People are given bright pieces of cloth to be put on their belt or in their pocket — and the last one who still has it wins a grand prize.   “Ten gold pieces?” You sharply inhale, considering it. “That’s actually not bad.”   “Want to try then?” Yoongi grins and you smile at his unexpected enthusiasm.   “You really think you could beat me in this?”   He merely shrugs and the two of you step up to join the round that starts at the beginning of the hour. You’re given a bright scarlet cloth while Yoongi’s given a soft hue of baby yellow that you find all too fitting. There are about ten people within a fifty feet circle, all of different ages. You won’t aim for the young kids, that’s a given. While children shouldn’t be underestimated, it’s clear they’re playing for fun and their parents who joined are just trying to humour them.   Your eyes, however, pinpoint on the other participants — an elderly man, a teenage girl, a married couple and Yoongi.   The Dragonborn referee blows his whistle to signify the start of the game and immediately, the teenage girl is booking for you. You dodge out of the way easily, but when you try to snatch her own cloth from her pocket, she shifts back, out of reach. The two of you stare at one another and like having mutual respect and creating an alliance, you turn away and pick different targets.   The married couple is easy to eliminate. They don’t expect it when they’re too busy with one another and you sneak up to steal their strips of cloth. You’re surprised Yoongi’s made it as long as he has and when you turn around, you find he’s taken out the elderly man ruthlessly.   “Not too bad, Yoongi.”   The corner of his mouth curls. “You underestimate me too much sometimes, Y/N.”   “We’ll see about that.”   The both of you circle each other with hooded eyes and mischievous smiles. The tips of your fingers itch to unleash magic, but you hold it back to play fair and when Yoongi swiftly surges forward, you dodge enough to barely brush against him.   You turn around, gaze locking with Yoongi’s. He grins a gummy smile full of victory and holds up your red piece of cloth that you didn’t even know you lost like it’s a winning flag. But then your eyes glitter and an enormous smile plasters across your cheeks. Yoongi finds his pastel yellow cloth is twisted around your finger and his heavy sack of gold pieces is in your other hand.   “Player four and five eliminated!”   The teenage girl ends up winning after the children forget the rules and go running out of the circle, thereby being disqualified.   “Not bad, Yoongi,” you sing-song afterwards. “But I think it’s safe to say that I still win.”   “I let you win. I know you’d sulk all night if you didn’t because you’re a sore loser.”   “Am not!”   Yoongi laughs gleefully and you can’t even feign annoyance at his teasing. You muse that there are truly few opportunities like this — where you get to spend time with someone you like as much as you like Yoongi….   The two of you soon settle down after hearing that the fireworks are beginning. If possible, the streets go into a bigger frenzy, friends coming together and families meeting in ferment. You try to go to the center of it all to watch the show, but with the crowdedness, you and Yoongi nearly lose one another.   It’s not until he grabs a hold of your hand and suggests sitting somewhere farther away that you find yourselves on a hill not far from the commotion. It’s quieter, where the noises become a lull of background sounds and you can finally hear one another’s voices. You and Yoongi sit on a dry patch of grass, shoulders brushing while you gather your knees, keeping yourself warm.   It starts after a countdown.   Colours burst in the air, one after another. They’re vivid hues that are brightened against the darkened sky, blossoming into all sorts of patterns and reflected in your irises. Some whirl into spirals, tumble in a shower and others shatter into sparks. Your breath is stolen, put into awe.   The scent of gunpowder and smokiness to the air makes the magic inside you tingle.   “Do you still want to live by yourself?” Above the bang of the fireworks is Yoongi’s husky voice. You turn to him, eyes soaking in the profile of his face illuminated by the lights. “Don’t you think you’ll be lonely living in isolation where no one can find you?”   “I never thought I would.”   You know it’s a childish dream. You came up with it as an adolescent when you were upset with your parents and you stuck with it until now. You envisioned it in moments of defiance and frustration. You held onto it with a vice-like grip. It was your anchor. Your buoy.   But you’ve been free for a long time.   Ever since you left that night with your forged documents, left behind a single note and fled without looking back, you’ve had freedom in your grasps. Now all that was left in your plan is to be kept away from the world, from any human or creature….   But as you look at Yoongi, an uneasy emotion overcomes you.   Maybe you will be lonely. Maybe the illusion is better than the reality.   You’ve always wanted a home for yourself, but a place where there isn’t anyone like Yoongi by your side feels lonely.   “I’ll make an exception,” you tell him and he turns to you, eyes locking with yours. Your mouth pulls into a smile. “You can come visit me, Yoongi. Whenever you like. It’s a one of a kind invitation.”   His lips twitch, and then they spread into a gummy grin. Yoongi’s eyes crinkle slightly, but it’s not a sight you get to savour for long when he turns away to keep watching the fireworks.    “Since we’re all getting it out in the open, can I ask why you keep calling me duckling?”   “It’s the hair.” You observe the horizon and the burst of red that comes across the darkness before more sparks spiral upwards and explode. “It’s pale yellow like a baby duck.”   You don’t notice the way Yoongi pinches the strands of his bangs. Or the way his eyes flickers up to try to see what you’re talking about. He’s never really thought about the actual shade of before — it’s always just been hair to him. It’s been the same as birth, the same as his mother’s.   And while the effort to analyze the strands are futile in this darkness and he gives up, a tender smile comes across his features.   Tomorrow, if all things go well, the two of you will finish your quest. The end is coming soon. Quicker than you’ve had a chance to realize. But you suppose that’s what time is. Fleeting.   “I’ll miss you, Yoongi,” you murmur so softly that you’re not sure if he can hear you.   But then you feel his gaze on the profile of your face and he says, “We still have to go back together. That’ll take a good week or two and even then….I don’t think I have any plans of returning to the Order.”   You’re surprised, neck whipping to the side as you look at him. “Where are you going to go?”   Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time there. It’s why I took on this quest in the first place and agreed to do the favour for my mentor. I was trying to take the next step in my life.”   The next step in life.   You hum, looking at the night sky and the smoke that curls in it after the fireworks have fallen. “I’m envious….”   “You don’t have to be,” he says automatically.   Your gazes connect with Yoongi’s. “What do you mean?”   “You could do it too.”   “What would I do?” you ask, uncertain if this is an invitation to come with him, to continue your journeys together after all this is over. But Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man — that much you know. He’s blunt, though never honest with his feelings out loud. Yet in this moment, as the vivid lights are still bursting through the horizon and your eyes have met one another’s, you think you know what he means.   “Anything you want,” Yoongi murmurs in a low voice and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips.   You swallow hard and hold your breath. But as nervous as you feel, anticipation bubbles in the pit of your stomach and you lean forward, eyes fluttering shut. You feel his breath skim against your skin, warmth rising to your face and heating your cheeks like a furnace. You don’t know that Yoongi’s eyes are half-lidded, staring at your lashes as he tilts his head at a better angle.   Your foreheads nearly graze. Your mouths are a millimeter away—   “I like you!”   Both you and Yoongi jolt in your spots and your eyes open in an instant. Yoongi moves away and you turn your heads at the noise, on alert. There’s a teenage couple a few feet away by some trees and they don’t see you and Yoongi sitting together on the hill.   “Really?” the boy gives an awkward and nervous laugh.   At the same time, Yoongi releases a sigh and looks at you with a soft smile. “We should get back. There’s a long trip in store for tomorrow.”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, getting on your feet and rushing away to try to dispel the magic spell Yoongi’s put on you that’s made your cheeks this warm.    You never notice the tender smile on his face as he stares at your backside.   //   The two of you set off an hour after the first blush before you can change your mind about coming with Yoongi. While you had planned to stay back, you can’t bear the thought of him not returning and knowing that you could’ve been there. Yoongi’s worth any kind of danger.   But it’s not like you’ll ever admit that out loud.   Your pride is too much and your fear of his impassivity to your emotions is overwhelming. Neither of you speak about last night’s affair either. How the distance was almost closed, how your lips almost touched his — maybe Yoongi changed his mind, but when he doesn’t talk about it, you don’t bring it up either.   So you both trek up the mountain in brooding silence, also sore from poor sleep. You shared the same room and bed, but peaceful slumber was far out of reach. Yoongi hogged the blanket and apparently you snored too loudly, making him beat you with his pillow several times through the night which woke you up and made you cuss at him. It didn’t help that the woman, Ashal, also barged in during the middle of the night to give you healing potions. She was the least helpful person on your journey so far and you’re glad to get away from her while you could.   “How much longer?”   “An hour. Or two.”   Yoongi twists the map around and you sigh, allowing the flame in your palm to grow and flicker. One glance at your companion and you notice the way his hands are shaking as he holds the parchment. “Aren’t you cold?”   “Not particularly,” he mumbles.   But you pull him in anyhow, looping your arm through his and holding the fire in front of both your faces. “I’m not going to save you if you freeze to death.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “Good to know. Are you hungry? We can take a short rest if you are or if you’re tired.”   “I’m fine. The faster we move, the quicker we get there, right? Or are we lost?”   “Stoughsby Peaks is over there.” He points and beyond clouds, you can see the imposing silhouette. What was a tiny shape back in the village has now taken up the entire horizon. “I know where we’re going.”   “Uh-huh.”   Yoongi folds up the map, places it into his pocket and buries his hands deep, finally getting them warm. You don’t miss the way he leans into your frame as well, how he comes closer to the fire dancing in your palm and you keep the flame strong so there’s some sort of heat.   You wouldn’t say it — but you’re happy to keep him warm.   “Are you not coming with me into the cave?” he asks, a cloud of air emitted from his mouth as he does so.   “I’ll support you from outside.”   “Are you scared?” his brow raises, finding such a thought surprising since it’s rather uncharacteristic of you to be.   “It’s not that. It’s….” Your voice grows quieter as your eyes narrow into this distance. Yoongi’s staring at you, but when you nudge his arm, he follows your line of vision. “Yoongi….what is that?”   There’s a rising shadow, an outline of a ginormous centipede but with wings, and it’s coming closer. Slowly and carefully, Yoongi pulls his rapier from his sheath while you take your orb out of your satchel. The two of you hold your breaths in your nose and your other hand comes to tug on Yoongi’s sleeve.    As the seconds pass, you’re finally able to discern what’s approaching — a monster that’s forty feet, scaly body with horns and an insect-like head. It’s ice-blue in colour with a dozen legs, and its back glows red with an inner fire.   “Oh fuck...oh fuck.”    Both you and Yoongi scramble back but it’s too late. The monster had picked up your scents the moment you stepped onto its territory.    “It’s a Remorhaz!” A monstrous beast resembling a cross between a worm and a centipede that thrives in cold environments. You’ve learnt about it back in your schooling days and learnt that it’s to be avoided, that the monster is worse than death itself.   The two of you start running, though the effort is futile when you hear it shriek behind you and start chasing at an impeccable speed.    You shut your eyes and channel your magic. Without hesitation, your hand slips downwards to Yoongi’s. He turns his head to you. You cast your spell and shove him away from you.   “Y/N!” Yoongi’s eyes are wide and then he fades away into the snow. Gone from your sights.   Yoongi looks down at himself to find that his entire body, clothing and weapons are translucent. You’ve casted an invisibility spell on him and with that fact known, he grips his sword and runs forward towards the monster. He strikes it on the back, surging forward to dig his blade in and the monster shrieks.   It twists and turns. But it finds nothing in its sights.   Yoongi holds in his sharp inhale. The Remorhaz’s body is hot as if it’s oozing of fire from within and feels himself burning when he comes close.   “This is why I don’t want to fight a dragon,” you spit, terrified when the fire-resistant monster coils around to approach you. “Most of my magic is fire based!”   You run again, but turn around to cast lightning bolt. It’s one of the few offensive spells you know the monster isn’t immune against. And a stroke of lightning forming a line a hundred feet long and five feet wide blasts towards it. The monstrous beast howls in agony and anger.    At the same time, Yoongi strikes his sword twice on the Remorhaz from behind. It confuses the creature even further.   Before terror can render you frozen, your palm thrusts out. A hundred twenty feet away towards the East, you stitch together an illusion. An image of another forty feet Remorhaz twitching. It seems completely real, including sounds and smells. A picture of your new worst nightmare.   The real creature contorts its head around to look, ducking and dipping, unable to discern that it's fake. The Remorhaz’s attention is completely stolen, taken away from you. And it instantaneously dives towards it while you take a temporary sigh of relief. You’re thankful you’ve always liked illusion magic more than the fire magic and spells your family taught you.   In the meanwhile, Yoongi takes the opportunity to strike it twice more, running his blade along its scaling back, making it move away faster in a frenzy. You cast lightning bolt once more, stealing the chance while you still have it.   The creature is getting weaker. You can tell with the way it slows and slumps. But the distraction doesn’t last long. When the monster bites through the illusion and completely passes through, it turns around, bulged white eyes directed right at you.   “Yoongi….Yoongi….!”   He chases after it and throws one of his daggers with as much strength he can muster. The blade lodges into its back and the Remorhaz shrieks yet again. Unfortunately for you, you’re too slow. Your feet slide from the slickness of the ground and you fall on your back into the snow.   The Remorhaz’s jagged teeth split.   Its head snaps down to bite.   You scream bloody murder.   “Yoongi!”   There’s a sudden pained shriek — it’s ear-piercing, making your ears buzz. And you open your eyes to see the monster’s bulging ones a few inches away. It’s frozen. And you scramble back in a whimper as it falls. Colliding to the ground. Lifeless.   Yoongi’s finally visible again once your concentration has shattered. And he’s standing at the back of the Remorhaz’s neck, pulling out his rapier from the soft spot. He dives into the snow immediately to cool off his body. “Fucking hell. That….that was something alright...”   You’re gasping for air, hand over your heart that’s about to give out.   “Are you okay?” he asks and when you don’t respond, Yoongi stands. He dusts himself off and comes over.   “I...I’m fine.” You take his outstretched hand and get back onto your feet. “I...I think I might need that short rest though.”   “Okay. We can do that.”   You’re reeling and your eyes peel away from the dead monster to Yoongi’s. “You...saved my life.”   “This isn’t the first time, you know,” he says with a tender smile as if he’s willing to do it a hundred more times. Yoongi’s hand pats your head affectionately as he passes by you.   You snap out of it quickly and join his side, getting the hell away from the large corpse as fast as your feet can take you.    Yoongi doesn’t ask why you decided to save him first, why you used your invisibility spell on him and not yourself. With the way you’ve been looking at him when you think he’s not looking, he already has an inkling of the reasons. And he smiles to himself, merely glad the feelings are mutual.   “W-We’re going to need a plan to fight that dragon.”   “We’re? You’re coming with me?”   “I think I owe it to you after that. At least to help in any way I can.”   The tiny smile he’s been repressing stretches into a gummy grin.   //   Stoughsby Peaks is a snowy mountain in an inhibited empty void. It’s quiet, eerily so. In the patches without snow is exposed rocky terrain that’s rough against your shoes. The opening at the entrance stares right at you as you climb the steep slope. It’s a dark cavern without a lick of light, making you unable to see anything inside. But there’s another path on the left that wraps around, leading to the top.   “So this is it…..”   Both you and Yoongi are stuck in your spots, gawking at your inevitable demise.   Had you told yourself a few weeks ago that you would be encountering a dragon with a stranger that’s no longer a stranger to you, you would’ve laughed before packing your bags and hitching a ride back to your overbearing family. As restrained as your freedom was, you were at least safe and away from danger.   But as you stand here next to Yoongi, oddly enough, you don’t feel frightened.   You feel….calm.    Maybe Yoongi’s finally emanated his stoicness and projected his indifference onto you. But you have a feeling that even if you become consumed by your own fire or that of the dragon’s, you wouldn’t mind as long as he’s there with you.   “It’ll be okay,” he says.   “Yeah…” You exchange soft expressions. “I know.”   The interior of the cave is damp, carrying a musty odor that makes you shudder when you sniff. But you try not to gag, instead keeping quiet as you stalk the walls. You and Yoongi are both hidden, coming inside from different points — you from the upper path while he took the main entrance. You can’t see him, but you know he’s here.    The plan is to stay hidden, to channel and conjure your illusion magic as a distraction while Yoongi fights the creature — a strategy similar to the one used with the Remorhaz.   So you keep yourself small, sliding behind a large boulder at a tiny plateau, a spot above the ground that makes your stomach coil when you realize you could fall to your death. It’s dark, but there’s light that comes up from the opening at the top of the mountain, a subtle beam cascading in.   But as you peek out for a tiny look, your breath hitches. There’s a mountain of diamonds and other light-hued gemstones at the bottom, a horde of highly polished platinum and silver pieces, works of art that look like mirrors, all glittering like ice. More importantly, the dragon having a slumber on top of its riches isn’t red, brass or gold like you feared it to be.   The sleeping, scaled beast with barbed claws and wide wings is white.   It’s a white dragon — a dragon of ice.   You nearly scream of delight, but you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to not be too loud. If you knew that the dragon wasn’t fire-breathing or fire resistant from the start, you would’ve marched straight in and torn this mountain apart. It’s not like a white dragon is any less fearsome, but now you know your abilities aren’t completely useless.   The dragon shifts, huffing through its nostrils and you have an inkling it’ll awake soon. Time was running out — the opportunity is still at hand and so, you steal it.    Before Yoongi can run in and sacrifice himself.   You grip onto your swirling orb and slide out into the open. Your fingers point at the stirring beast. At once, a bright streak flashes from your flesh. It blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flames. The fireball spreads around all corners of a twenty foot radius sphere. And the ice dragon awakes with a pained growl from deep within its stomach.   Yoongi who’s been hiding behind other rocks is startled, cussing you under his breath for being a reckless brat and foiling the plan. But he takes it in stride and once the fire dissipates, he comes out and tosses the dagger. It hits — the blade dug in between the wings of the dragon.   “Who. Goes. There?!”    The dragon’s pained voice booms and echoes throughout the mountain, ricocheting in your ears and rumbling the ground beneath you. He is frightening, his presence calling all those to bow down to him, but you and Yoongi are unaffected.    “Come. Out!”   You follow its orders, but only to hurl another fireball at it.   Its howl is thunderous as its heavy limbs and scales are burnt, and Yoongi uses his secondary weapon that he seldomly touches, a crossbow, to shoot it at a distance. The arrow pierces into its leg. Yet the dragon’s attention has been taken by you and in spite of its heavy limbs and scales, it moves swiftly and dexterously. The creature of great stability inhales and then exhales an icy blast centered on you.   You’re able to move away, diving out of its range, but the damage has also been done. Your leg is encased in ice, but you prop yourself against the mountain’s wall and channel the magic that runs through your blood. Your hand lifts and you create a wall of fire to protect yourself from it.   It’s sixty feet long, twenty feet high and a foot thick. The wall is opaque, flaring every so often and heating up your cheeks. It makes your skin feel like it’s melting off of your face, your eyeballs burn to the back of your lids. Yet the orange glow almost seduces you to come closer, to feel the true intensity of the heat.   You allow the phoenix fire blazing within you to unleash — and your slumped form is magically wreathed in swirling fire. A bright light sheds from your flesh and your eyes glow like hot coals.   “How. Dare. You?!”   “Where is she?!” you strain your voice, allowing it to pull from your vocal cords. “Or did you already eat her?!”   “Who. Do. You. Seek?!”   “Sorli Stav’s daughter. Mina Stav,” you spit feverishly, barely able to recall their names as you feel yourself on the verge of burning.   “You. Come. For. Mina?!”   Yoongi fires another arrow and you hear the beast roar in torment. Despite the fire that you’ve stitched together to encase you, Yoongi dashes up the slide of the slope, shouting your name.   At the same time, the white dragon crosses the wall of fire. It braces through the flames, taking damage and howling as it does so. But once it makes it to the other side and claws at you, the flames wrapped around your body burns it further. You don’t go unscathed either — lacerated in three different strokes from your shoulder downwards and feeling the bleeding wound go numb from the coldness of the creature.   Still, your trembling hand lifts and you create three rays of fire in your palm, throwing them at the dragon with little effect.    It’s over. Surrounded by your fire, at the hands of a dragon emulating ice, you can only hope your family won’t be too disappointed. You can only hope that Yoongi makes it out alive.   But the man you’re thinking about, with his pastel yellow hair that you adored from the second you laid eyes on him, he rushes in front of you. His blade, drawn and shimmering in the glow of your inferno, strikes down upon the dragon. He flicks his wrist, raises his arm and slices him across his muzzle.   The dragon cries and Yoongi yells deep in the pits of his stomach before surging forward, driving the sword further into its hide.   “Yoongi.”   Before he can grip the handle and use his body weight to tear the blade down the dragon’s front, there’s a scream of terror—   “Wait!”   A girl covered in a black cloak, skirt of her white dress peeking out, comes into view. She stands at the entrance of the cave, chest rising and falling as she gasps. And she pulls her hood down, revealing brunette curls and brightened eyes.   “Please don’t hurt him,” she begs.   Your brows furrow, having no idea who she is or where she even came from. But Yoongi seems to know her with the way he steps forward and his eyes become rounded, recognizing her from a painting he had seen. “Mina?”   “Mina?!”    You whip your head over and everything finally clicks.    //   The kidnapped girl you were sent to rescue was in fact not kidnapped.   “We met when I was a child and he saved me when I was lost in the forest for days,” Mina reminisces with a tender smile, looking over at the dragon that’s polymorphed himself into a human form. He’s become an otherworldly man with long, black hair, his skin fair yet his eyes still icy blue. He doesn’t have any cuts or bruises from the earlier fight either.   If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was a divine being.   “We became friends and...somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him.”   You’re still reeling. It’s hard to comprehend what’s going on. Or wrap your mind around the fact that there’s a tunnel system underneath the mountain and they have a whole living space here. As Mina speaks, you soak in the mundane kitchen space — the glass cupboards of mugs and teacups, the cozy picture frames of flowers in a row above the sink.   “We’ve been together for years, but it was only recently I decided I wanted to be with him forever without needing to hide him or myself.” She lifts her hands, placing it on top of his on the table and he smiles, turning his palm around to interlace their fingers together.   “Your mother thinks you were kidnapped,” Yoongi tries to explain, “She sent us here to find you.”   Mina sighs. “My mother is an...anxious woman. I left her a letter, but it seems like she still thinks I was taken against my will.”   “Maybe you can write her another letter,” he offers. “We’ll deliver it and tell her our own account on how you want to stay here.”   “But even then, who’s to say she won’t hire someone else to force her back?” you pipe up, turning to Yoongi. You know full well how overbearing family members can be and with the way that woman had disdainfully spoken about the Ice Dragon, there’s no way she’ll allow her daughter to be with him. That much is obvious to you. “She might just think we’re lying and get other people to repeat exactly what we did.”   “You’re right.” Mina’s eyes are downcast. “If she won’t even listen to me, she would never listen to you adventurers.”   “You should go back with them,” the dragon, Azer, states in a low voice. You didn’t know dragons had proper names, but you suppose in these circumstances, such a thing isn’t too strange.   “No!” She turns to him immediately. “I want to be with you. I thought we talked about this.”   “Yes, but I want you to be safe and free, and here, you’re not—”   “But I’m happy here.” Mina smiles at him lovingly and in reassurance. “I’m happy with you.”   Yet, he takes her hand and caresses it, not quite looking her in the eyes. “Even at the expense of your mother’s worries?”   “She has always worried about me. If I returned, she would marry me off to some wealthy, old man. Would you be satisfied with that?”   “Of course not.”   “So let me be with you.”   It feels like you’re intruding in on an intimate scene meant to stay between a couple. You stay quiet, trying to blend into the yellow wallpaper with Yoongi — but one glance at him and finding that he has an impassive expression, it makes your lips tickle.    You never could’ve imagined an ancient ice dragon could be such a hopeless romantic. But while things of this nature would’ve made you feel unpleasant a few weeks ago, suddenly, it seems sweet. And familiar. As if you and Yoongi have had many intimate conversations like this before.   As if you are no stranger to these affectionate-laced words.   “Please don’t tell my mother I’m here.” Mina breaks your trance, turning to you both with a desperate expression. “I don’t want her to harm Azer anymore than she already has.”   The pair of you exchange expressions and after a second, Yoongi relents. “Then we can tell her that you passed away but we defeated the dragon. We’ll need evidence for it though.”   “My blood,” the dragon in human form hums. “A vial should be enough. It’s rare to come across dragon blood, so she’ll believe you.”   Yoongi nods.   “You should leave this place too,” you say, looking around the cozy abode that they’ve made together. It would be a shame to leave this place, but a necessity for the plan. “There might be other travelers or creatures that hike up this mountain. If they see that you’re alive, the whole rouse will be over.”   They take each other’s hands, gazing at one another with warm smiles. “That’s easy enough.”   “Thank you.” Mina looks at both you and Yoongi. “Truly.”   But you don’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything spectacular. It wasn’t a fight, a battle, a victory. It was a compromise. One you had never expected to make during the trek here.   The couple offer you spare rooms to take long rests in and afterwards, they serve warm meals to satisfy the bubbling starvation in your stomach. It’s odd to see the dragon sitting there at the table, not at all resentful or angered at how you barged into his home and started to attack him without warning. He even makes jokes to you and Yoongi to which you both stiffly laugh at.    But neither of you linger for long.   When you both feel well enough to make the trip back, you bid your final farewells.   Though before you leave for good, there’s an urge to satisfy the curious question probing your brain. So you turn around to the girl you’ve been searching for all this time. “Won’t you ever get tired spending the rest of your life running and hiding?”   Mina smiles at you, a tender way you don’t yet understand. And she looks over her shoulder to the man wiping down the table. “Maybe. But I think I found something that’s worth it.”   You wonder if your own reasons are worth it.   //   A sigh befalls your lips as you walk down the steep mountain, leaving your footprints in the snow next to his. “Love does crazy things, huh?”   Yoongi steals a glance at you and smiles. “Yeah, it does.”

The journey back to Millpass takes a week without any detours.   The pair of you aren’t stoppered by ridiculous antics of other travelers nor encounter many monsters or beasts that prevent you from going forth. It’s almost ironic how smoothly and quickly things progress, how each day you make it farther than you thought was possible.   Ironically sad, of course.    Not that you would ever admit it for fear of exposing the rest of your brewing emotions. But you can’t help dwelling on the fact that the moment you learned to cherish Yoongi’s presence is when the inevitable end was approaching. Barreling towards you. Mercilessly.   Time with him always felt like it was slipping through your fingertips. To the point where you can’t even enjoy the present moment, aware that the future will have his absence. Aware that you will someday come to miss these simple affairs, these measly spats and bantering conversations.   You’ll miss him, you know that much.   How painful it’ll exactly be is something you’ll still have to wait on and see.    But no matter how much you brood, how much you try to preserve the mundane moments in your mind, the journey unavoidably ends.   In Millpass, the two of you are welcomed back as heroes. Sorli Stav is absolutely devastated over the news that her daughter is dead, but is thankful for your vengeance in ‘defeating’ the dragon. She even takes the dragon blood vial you give her as evidence, and parades it around before placing it on her mantle, underneath her ginormous portrait, as a sick memento.    The other spare dragon blood vials you have are things you sell at astronomical prices, much to Yoongi’s dismay. Although it’s not as bad in comparison when there’s a surprise celebration hosted on the streets by Sorli Stav herself. She makes sure that the whole town and their mothers know that both you and Yoongi are heroes. That you gutted that Ice Dragon to death.   There’s a party. Balloons. Free drinks. A whole speech from the mayor.   In reality, you and Yoongi are shams. Not heroes. But it’s actually not such a bad feeling.   Real heroes are overrated anyways.   “Thought I would find you here.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly but still smiles as you climb the hill and plop down beside him on the verdant grass. “I just wanted a break.”   “Too tired of all the ladies throwing themselves onto you?”   “Half of them don’t even know my name.” The man lazily grins, sitting back and leaning his weight onto his hands. “They keep calling me Yorgo. Who the hell is Yorgo.”   “Obviously the name they’re going to be screaming tonight.”   Yoongi bursts out laughing and you giggle with him.   “That mysterious front is going to land you into some trouble some day, Yoongi.”   “Yeah?” He cocks a brow, looking at you. “Is it?”   A noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat. “People are going to fall for you left and right. What will you do then?”   “Maybe you could help me.”   “Don’t put the responsibility on me,” you tease. “It’s your fault. Appearing and disappearing. Not saying much. You just like making people wonder about you.”   “Does it work for you too?”   “Maybe.”   The evening sun’s beams pierce the sky. The sunset glow has pressed itself on your cheeks, and you both watch the soft colours cascade through the horizon, allowing the laughter of the town to fall into background noise.   Suddenly, your eyes light up as you remember something and you reach into your pocket. “Look how much gold I made. This isn’t even Sorli’s reward either. Just the dragon blood.”   He snorts and lifts his hand to feel the heavy weight of the sack. “Not bad. Are you far from your goal?”   “Halfway there,” you sing-song, “But you can keep that.”   Yoongi raises his brows, surprised that you’re sharing your wealth. “Really?”   “Yeah, I just figured….I’ve taken a lot from you anyways and it’s only fair if we half it. Plus, it can be my goodbye gift.”   It goes silent.    Yoongi holds the leather bag in his hand and focuses on it as if he’s using it to avoid his eyes straying towards you. “Are you going to look for those tapestries?”   You sigh after a moment. “No.” You can feel his gaze on you and you fiddle with your fingers. “I don’t think it’s in my reach anyways. After hearing all the rumours from different places, I have a feeling the tapestries are actually lost in the castle itself and they haven’t searched hard enough for it.”   “Then what are you planning to do after all this?”   “I...thought about what you said, Yoongi.” You shift towards him, eyes connecting. “I’m going to go home.”   “I’m tired of running away and I think it’s time I confront them and gain my legitimate freedom. I’ll fight for it. So I can come and go as I please. So I don’t have to hide under a different name.” The house that you dreamed of doesn’t need to be secluded behind a barrier in the middle of nowhere. You don’t need to go to such extremes as to cut off the rest of your family. You believe there has to be a way to have the freedom you seek and the comfort of home. “I’ll fight for it.”   “You can do it,” he whispers and you look up in surprise. Yet, Yoongi only smiles. “I believe in you.”   He is sincere. Earnest. And it means a lot coming from him, a man who is blunt and not necessarily encouraging. To have Yoongi’s support makes you feel like you could conquer anything.   “What about you? What are you going to do?”   “I should probably go back home too.” He looks off at the sunset. “It’s been a while. And there’s unfinished business I should tend to.”   You hum, following his line of sight to the beautiful sky and the fading light. Suddenly, you feel a soft touch on your finger, warm skin that hesitantly meets yours. The corner of your lips quirk and while you never once look at each other, your hand interlaces with Yoongi’s.   “We’ll see each other soon,” you promise aloud, not sure if you’re saying it for yourself or for him.   But within a beat, Yoongi hums in agreement. Like he didn’t even need to think about it.    “You still owe me that refund.”   “What about that whole sack of gold?”   “Doesn’t count. That’s a goodbye present. Not a refund.”   You laugh, leaning into Yoongi who smiles to himself.    It’s bittersweet — to know the impending yearning, but also the ultimate reunion.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #yoongi fanfiction #btsboulangerie #yoongi reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #YOONGI AS AN HONOURABLE KNIGHT WITH A DARKER BACKGROUND #WHO'S JUST TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE #AND GET SHIT DONE #AND OC WHO SCAMS AND LIKES TO GET INTO TROUBLE #this is definitely a different story from what I usually write #actually I wrote this while rolling dice y'all #which was new #I made character sheets for Yoongi and OC and those they have encounters with #so they had HP and spells and I kept track of everything #and also had lists and outcomes and I rolled dice while storyboarding that made decisions for me lol

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 28 November 1834

8 35

12 ¼

No kiss very fine morning F48° at 9 ¼ am breakfast at 9 35 - Had Charles H- at 10 to say he found Spaldin best to deal with – A- and I out at 10 ½ for an hour – went to 2 or [3] booksellers’ shops for Rennies’ pamphlet on railroads – learnt that he had been surveying for a railroad from Burlington to York (I think) and that his pamphlet was probably on that subject  - Wood’s work 1vol. 8vo on railroads gone thro’ 7 or 8 editions not to be had in Hull - went to Wilson’s paid for inkstand an improvement on the Indian rubber stopper - the top of the box part fixing on with a spring instead of screwing - went into the Joint stock bank corner of Silver street to ask them to give smaller bank of England notes for the note for £500 n°3884 dated Leeds 21 June 1833 signed J. Booth that A- got some while ago from Briggs’s bank – the people civil enough but against rule to exchange so large a note for a stranger unless taking some respectable known person as guarantee - as the note might have been lost before coming into my hands – I thanked the people for the information and walked off – mentioning the circumstance to Loft House, the druggist, in the market place on paying him got his Palmer’s wax candles – Wilson could get me Chalmers’s biology 32 volumes  8vo. bound for fourteen guineas – would let me have for 55/. + 20/. a copy (got for a subscriber and thrown upon his hands) of Walker’s (published by Nicoles of Wakefield) map of the canals and railways of England and Wales, published a few years ago at 3 ½ guineas with a 4th at 2 guineas and an 8vo at 1 guinea volume of text by Priestley agent to the Aire and Calder navigation - but the map was mounted for hanging up and the back, at least, looked a little soiled - back at the X Keys at 11 ½ and had the agent the Messrs. B..... and Spaldin and paid him for 120 (six scores to the hundred of deals) 21ft. rid Petersburg deal at 5 1/2d. per ft. 50 America Pine (12ft.) picked at 4/3. per deal and 10 Riga oaks logs at 4/9 per ft. - the red archangel deals are ¼d. per ft. dearer than the Petersburg - the man said Charles H- had explained what I wanted the deals for - for railing or thin rafters, and the Petersburg would do better for these purposes than the Archangel which latter is of stronger coarser grain, but works better than the Petersburg that CH- chose the Petersburg against himself - Thomas Greenwood buys the Wiburg deals (and it is Wiburg I have had from him) which are 1/4d. per ft. cheaper than the Petersburg - there is a rise of 1/4d. per ft. since Greenwood was last at Hull - CH- says we have paid 6/. instead of 4/3 per deal (12ft.) of America Pine at H-x and that I have paid for Riga oak &/. instead of 4/9 - I gave the agent the £500 b. of E. note described at the bottom the last p. and in ½ hour he sent me the change (£400 in b.o.E. notes) as I had paid the odd money [over] than £100 out of what I had in my purse - the very best Archangel timber to be had of Spaldin at 2/1 per ft. cubic - A-and I out again at 1 35 - to call on the 2 Miss Bedingfelds Humber bank - the proprietors of the row of houses there are gaining 30 or 40 yards breadth of ground from the river - driving larch piles and filling up, which ground costs them 3/. or 4/. per yard for every yard measured on the surface - a great improvement, and not dear - 20 minutes in going - found the 2 ladies at home and their niece Mrs. Steel (çidevant Isabella Waterton) with them - looking well and vulgar - all very civil to us both - sat 40 minutes - detained in returning about 10 minutes by the bridge being thrown open for a vessel to clear out of the rock - back at the Inn  at 3 – A- had a mutton chop and I ½ of one and off from Hull (Charles H- with George in the rumble and Eugenie inside crowding us) at 3 57 - Hull is a town abominable for is radicalism – a meeting last night in favour of Hutt and Hill the present radical members, their constitutions declaring they were ashamed of the name of Whigs and should in future call themselves radical reformers - Wilson (our bookseller) a conservative, a tory, a sensible man, but says he is left in the lurch by all his high tory friends - the tory interest divided - Mr. Conuthers (the tory candidate from London who was to speak at 2pm today) has not much chance of success - off too late (at 3 57) to see much– a 16 miles stage to North Cave where we arrived at 5 53 in dark and were told we should be four hours in reaching Selby 21 miles for no horses kept at Howden – to change

SH:7/ML/E/17/0115

at Booth Ferry would not expedite us – it being a mile round about and we should have to wait for horses from the other side of the water – just 2 hours in reaching Lofthouse bridge – and at Selby (George Inn) at 9 ½ i.e. by York for my watch (as entered in travelling account 9 ¾) is ¼ hour too soon – very bad tea - ate and enjoyed our score of nice smelts brought from Hull - too early for them here by 2 months - sat talking till 11 ½ - we had had in the master of the house (Hawdon) - the Selby people not for the railroad being continued to Hull - everything would then pass thro’ Selby without stopping - the Selby line estimated at £160000 - has cost above £300,000 - they have borrowed of government £90,000? Walker of London the engineer - had Mackintosh contracted for the job (he did the last Hull dock and has just taken the new dock to do at Goole) it would have been done long ago; but he was a few thousands too high § and they have expended far more than that - the Line from Selby to Hull estimated at £300,000 but it will cost at least twice that sum - (§Mackintosh’s estimate of the Selby line £7,000 above Walker’s estate which Hawdon said was £160,000 or £150,000) - fine day – a smartish shower at Loft house bridge at 8 5 but tolerably fair again in about 1/2  - F51° at 12 ¼ tonight in my dressing room (no fire) -

[treeni]

For Your Entertainment

Day 4 - There is a trail of color only you can see that marks out where your soulmate has been. (I know its late, I forgot to post here)

Prinxieceit

Wordcount: 5688

TW: Swearing, I may have to accept swearing’s a default of my writing and not swearing is the abnormal. Heights. Abusive past (sad but not graphic) Non cannon blind character, (Avatar-esque level jokes about said blindness (think Toph)) mentions character experiencing homophobia and disable-phobia. Crime?

Summary:  If you were lucky, the world would be suddenly bathed in color at sunset or sunrise. Trails of colors left by your soulmate suddenly appear. For the first time, Roman was seeing the colors he had heard so much about in storybooks, that he’d heard even Remus talk about. Finally, finally he was on a quest to follow them.

Archive Link

Tumblr Masterpost

taglist: @tsshipmonth2020 

Roman took a deep breath. In slowly, hold, and breathe out. He stared down at the crowd of what had to be a couple thousand people, maybe more. The bright lights obscured him from being able to truly take stock even from his position so high up. He rocked on his feet once, the nervous energy still shaking his knees just slightly.

And then he jumped.

Roman arched his back and stretched his legs forward with pointed toes to pick up speed quickly, his white leotard stretched familiarly with his movements like a second skin. The shimmering red accents caught the light and the audience gasped as he let one hand move from the aerial swing to pose for the cameras as Remus mirrored his movements in his own black and green leotard while swinging the opposite direction.

The biggest difference between the twins in their joint performances was that while Roman’s face was always a neutral and calm mask of concentration, Remus face was invariably stretched in a huge, toothy grin as he gave into the freedom and adrenaline rush of their careers. He truly was in his element whenever they practiced or performed. Roman? Less so. It’s not that he didn’t like it, he loved the crowds, the reactions of the audience gasping, and awing at their every trick, it’s just... he wanted something more. Something a little less mindless, something he could get lost in the way his brother lost himself in the rush. Maybe singing? Or acting? Or both? Maybe he could bring it up to their ringmaster sometime?

Remy was open for ideas wasn’t he?

Maybe going to his husband Emile about it first would be safer.

The performance was a constant back and forth between the twins, one brother constantly grabbing hold of the other brother and swinging them into the air, then catching them again on their decent. The had to be in perfect sync and over the years the two learned to read each other’s body language as easily as an open book. Or a hidden diary in Remus’ case. Several minutes in with a head rush of seemingly countless tricks and Roman felt like he was settling into the groove of the performance. He was amping up for the big show stopper soon and shook his metallic gold cuff at his brother, catching the light just so in order to signal for him to get ready. Just in time too it seemed, as a blinking stage light was signaling to them both that they needed to wrap it up soon for the next performance.

Light reflected from Remus’ own silver cuff. One, two, three flashes. He was ready and waiting. Roman nodded, mostly to himself and poised himself to go as Remus swung down first. It took a few trips back and forth while beating his legs to and fro for him to build up the momentum he needed and then he was up, up, up in the air, twirling in three consecutive cartwheels on the way down. As he descended, Roman took off, grabbing hold of Remus’ swing on the way and catching his brother as he turned in the air at the last possible second to avoid certain doom. Or at least, what appeared to be certain doom to the audience. Their job was never absolutely safe, but they did have certain safety precautions in place just in case, particularly a hidden net. If there was one thing that Remy was adamant about, it was that no one was permanently hurt on his watch, not after Emile... well....

Anyway. It was a split second maneuver as Roman twisted and worked off the momentum Remus’ fall added to their now joint swing as Remus in turn tossed Roman high into the air. Roman pulled his arms in with his ankles crossed and twirled as fast as he could, like an ice skater performing an axel spin. One, two, three, four, five, six, he pushed for just one more before letting his limbs free and reaching out to Remus’ already outstretched arm, ready to catch him. Catch him he did as the two swung together to Remus’ starting side. With a flourish, the two bowed together in perfect unison, but Remus broke the synchronicity so he could pretend he was going to fall off the stand. As the audience gasped in horror, he pretended to catch himself at the last possible second, much to the public’s relief. Roman suppressed shaking his head and gave the audience one last wave as they exited to the backstage area and away from audience view. Pretending doom was inevitable was one of Remus’ very favorite tricks.

“Ro that was amazing! I didn’t know you managed to pull off another spin!” Remus cheered, throwing an arm around his shoulders in a side hug.

It wasn’t really amazing. He’d seen Remus practice the very same trick and regularly hit eight spins, nine when he was really pushing himself. However, Roman couldn’t pull off the cartwheel trick in the same way that Remus could. It disoriented him too much. When he tried it during practice, he usually faltered at the end, nearly missing Remus’ grip. It was too dangerous to attempt in front of an audience right now and Remy refused to approve it until he made better progress. Remus never said a negative word about it, but Roman knew he was the weaker link of the two. Twins or no, Roman couldn’t quite move the way Remus could. He was stronger, sure, but less flexible, while Remus moved like a living rubber band.

“Hey, what’s with that face Ro?” Remus asked, hip bumping him playfully.

“Nothing...just...” Roman started with a sigh. “have you ever wanted to do something else?”

“Like what?” Remus asked blinking, as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“I dunno... something.”

Roman wanted to write, to sing, to dance, to paint, to act, he wanted to do so, so many things that didn’t involve variations of the same routine again and again, night after night.

“Well you know me, I’m always open for ideas!” Remus exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air to show his excitement at the prospect of change. “I want to hear everything! Let’s work on-”

Annnnnnd he was gone. Remus had stopped mid-sentence going googly eyed as he always did when his soulmate, Patton, walked into their general vicinity. He was decked out in a leotard similar to their own in a soft baby blue, with the added bonus of a floofy cyan skirt that matched his soft pleather shoes.

“You both did great out there!” Patton exclaimed with a big toothy grin, reaching to Remus with grabby hands for a hug that was readily returned.

“You really think so?!” Remus asked, nearly bouncing on his feet at the praise.

“Of course I do Inky!” Patton responded with equal enthusiasm and kissed his nose. They were supposed to use their stage names around the audience, but Patton had a habit of using them as affectionate pet names in equal measure. Remus quickly responded with a raspberry kiss on his neck that left Patton in a fit of giggles.

Roman rolled his eyes. Of course Patton thought so. He literally said it every performance.

“I thought you did great too Charm, dad said you got an extra spin tonight!”

“Yeah he did! He was really great out there Drift! The crowd ate it up!”

Unlike Roman and Remus, Patton wasn’t allowed to pick his stage name. Well, he was, as the story goes, until he tried to pick ‘Kitten.’ Emile had been okay with it, but Remy had put his foot down, saying it would make people think too much of another kind of performance. Plus, Patton wanted to teach classes to kids and he wouldn’t be getting any parental sign-ups with that kind of a stage name. Drift was a compromise that was a nod to the shoes he was filling as he took over Emile’s performance.

The loudspeaker crinkled to life with a tinny, electronic buzz. “Hey, ya’ll, have you been enjoying tonight?”

The crowd sounded out their appreciation.

“Oh, I’m sorry babes, but I can’t hear you. Wanna try that again?”

The crowd screamed louder.

From their spot hidden away, Roman could spot Remy center stage in a relaxed position with a hand on his hip. He always had such a strange demeanor for a ringleader. Sometimes he’d literally just walk on stage, take a seat on a stool and spend a few minutes loudly sipping from the straw of his coffee, doing literally nothing else. Roman really couldn’t fathom why audiences seemed to think it was so funny, but they invariably did. Eventually one of the performers would usually come out and start to pull off some tricks behind his back or Emile would enter the stage decked out in his clown costume and make the audience laugh with various tricks that were mainly at Remy’s expense.

Their ring leader had been shot in the face with a water gun many of times while Emile quoted Toy Story for the kids. Anyone else would have suffered consequences for that kind of behavior, but Emile?

Emile invariably was given a soft, amused look in return and sometimes Remy would even pull out a water gun of his own and shoot his husband back.

“Much better. Let me introduce to you, my favorite, and the very best of our sorry lot! Our graceful tightrope walker Drift!”

The audience cheered again, but got louder still when Remy muttered into the microphone, “Yeah, you better cheer, that’s my son ya’ll.”

It was only mildly threatening.

“That’s my cue I guess,” Patton said, shaking his head at Remy’s antics. He gave Remus a single kiss on the cheek before hurrying to his place on stage.

Even just that was enough to push a dopey looking grin on Remus’ stupid face.

Roman gagged.

The tightrope walker didn’t know it, but Remus rushed off to the rafters with barely a wave in Roman’s direction as he hurried off, just as he did every time Patton performed. Roman pushed away his annoyance at their cut-off conversation. He honestly didn’t expect anything else. As always, Remus sat by one of the stage lights, waiting and watching closely with a taut rope in hand. He was at the ready to swing in like god damn Tarzan just in case anything went wrong.

Not that it would.

Roman was good at his trade. Remus was great at it. However, Patton grew up on the tight rope. It was as familiar to him as walking on solid ground, maybe more so. The boy’s performance was practically a grand pas on a stupidly thin surface with gymnastic moves thrown in for flair. Roman was always most impressed by his ability to fluidly fall into a split, on a rope, without his hands, like it was easy. Patton was truly the star of their little show and Roman was certain he could have gone to the Olympics as a gymnast if he was ever so inclined.

Despite his past, and despite his unquestionable ability, Patton was very much like Roman in one very important way. Neither were satisfied by their performances alone. The two had long conversations about it over the years, especially when Remus was off adding to his seemingly endless skill set as he learned the most obscure of abilities from other performers. Unlike Remus thrived in all of the oddity, Patton wanted to do something that helped people, something social. He had never settled on exactly what, but he always insisted that it didn’t matter anyway, because he couldn’t bring himself to leave his parents behind. Remus’ sheer love of it all only solidified his stance and made him want to stay even more. However, they managed to work in some end-of-matinee kiddy classes to satiate his need for interaction. The twins helped too, well, Roman helped by acting as a second pair of hands that made sure no small children lost their balance too badly on the low bar that Patton taught them how to use. Remus “helped” by coming out in a plushy monster costume toward the end of the lessons and kidnapping “the princess,” which forced the kids into a course that utilized their newly taught skills so they could make a rescue attempt. The whole thing usually ended with Remus being squashed by a gaggle of small children who would beat him with foam swords while he played dead. Meanwhile, Patton would watch him fondly from behind the very crowd of children who saved him.

Roman shook his head of the thought just as Patton gave his closing performance bow. The two truly were the funniest of pairs, but they worked somehow. Patton seemed to thrive off of Remus’ near endless enthusiasm and Remus in turn flourished with Patton’s endless patience.

The rest of the show moved in a blur as Roman waited for it all to end. He was anxious for it to be over, anxious for time to pass already. It was their first day in a new city and he was waiting for his freedom to explore it. Roman was only brought back into focus when Remus and Patton gathered him for the final bow as Remy closed out the show. It was nearing sunset and part of their deal was that the first performance at any one location would end early enough that the performers would have the sunset free to do as they wished.

Most of the ones like Roman were just as anxious as him to explore, to catch sight of a wisp of glowing color that was only revealed in the light of a sunset or sunrise. There were apparently all sorts of scientific reasons why it happened, something about the specific light rays that hit and soul auras. Roman didn’t care enough about the how to really look much into it. All he cared about was the why. The why was being able to see the aura left behind that day by your soulmate. The why was being able to find them.

The why was why he was here.

Roman and Remus grew up in a shitty home, but that was no strange story to hear among the circus folk. Patton was pretty unique in sheer support and love Remy and Emile showed him. Then again, maybe he wasn’t. The power couple acted as group parents in a way and looked out for all of their performers. Remy would bring Roman hot chocolate on days he was particularly disheartened and sometimes Emile would kidnap him to watch Disney movies together. Still, there was a reason two sixteen-year-olds found their way to the circus in the first place. There was a reason they left their old, broken lives behind. It seemed to be fate alone that led to Remus seeing and subsequently following the glowing cyan trail all the way to a tightrope dancer in the middle of a show. It was the only time Remus actually had to catch Patton in the years since they’ve known him. The chubby cheeked, fresh faced, fourteen year old performer had gotten distracted by Remus’ sudden green shine and slipped right off. Without even thinking about it, Remus dove to save him from disaster, well perceived disaster. Still, the crowd ate it up and the reporters in attendance that night labeled him a hero in the next day’s papers.

Emile immediately invited Remus for dinner that night with them as a thank you for “saving” their son. When the couple heard about Remus’ living situation, a dead father and a drunk mother, they offered him a place with them. They showed him how to fill out emancipation forms and gave him all of the instructions he would need. They also told him to think hard about what he wanted before deciding. Remus came home with his arm full of forms and big bright eyes telling Roman the story of his soulmate. How he had found his true love and he wanted the two of them to run away together to the circus so he and Roman would be free.

And... honestly how could Roman ever say no to that?

Roman could still remember the conversation they had that night.

“Do you think mom and dad were soulmates?” Remus had asked him then as they rapidly packed their necessities, and only looking back did he realize how thin his gaunt his brother looked. Roman hadn’t realized they were underfed until they just... weren’t anymore.

“Yeah, Rem, I do,” Roman remembers saying at the time. He still believes it too. He could remember the soul crushing expression on his mother’s face when she got the call about the accident. He could still picture the hollow, dejected look that never left her eyes even as she searched at the bottom of bottle after bottle in hope of finding some peace. She didn’t know how to live without him it seemed. At the time, Roman couldn’t help but feel guilty leaving her behind, but he would have felt worse if Remus gave up his chance at happiness.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Remus would have gone through with it if Roman refused. A small part of him was scared his brother would have left him behind. A bigger part of him was scared he wouldn’t have. Roman couldn’t have put him into that situation, choosing between his twin and his soulmate. He refused to. So off to the circus they went and at the circus they’ve been since. It’s been just over a decade now and while it wasn’t the life Roman imagined for himself in the days Roman and Remus would whisper what they’d do when they were finally on their own while their mother drank away her problems in the living room, it wasn’t a bad life.

He just was ready for something more.

The crowd had barely filed out before Remus had grabbed onto his usual rope to swing around the tent and rapidly opening all of the flaps while Patton did the same on foot. The two worked to let in as much light from the setting sun as possible. On evenings like these the couple would sit together in the rafters, hip to hip and hand in hand, watching each other’s soul light bounce around the stage, mimicking their performances in high speed. Meanwhile Roman slipped away and took to the street towards the town.

One perk of his job was that parkour came easily and up the buildings he went to find himself at higher ground like an everyday comic book superhero. Sometimes Roman liked to imagine what it would be like to be in a comic book. What kind of powers would he have? Character flaws? Would he be a hero? Would a comic book Roman still feel so lonely?

He jumped to the next roof.

No glowing mist.

Not that he really knew what it looked like, just what it was supposed to look like according to Remus and Patton. Not that either were the best at explaining.

He knew it looked like a light, but colorful. Like mist, but stringy, streaming. Like water. Like neon. And the description he hated most of all, like nothing he’d ever seen before.

How was he supposed to know what to look for if he didn’t know what it looked like?

Roman jumped to the next roof.

He stared down at the people crowded on the streets below and was suddenly thankful for additional height. He’d never be able to sweep the city for any remnants of glow from down there, the pushy crowd of endless people would both get in his way and block his vision. Plus, as used to he was swinging through the air unobstructed, being pushed into a tight space while completely surrounded by sweaty, gross bodies sounded like a special kind of hell. He wasn’t sure how their audience ever managed it.

He groaned at the height difference of his current building and the next one, before leaping across to grab a window ledge, only to find himself in a upward climb to the roof. He wished he brought a bottle of water, but knew in reality it was a terrible idea. Water would just slosh in his stomach uncomfortably and the bottle could leave condensation on his hands, which in his shoes could be fatal. He got to the top with a grunt, ready to call it for a five minute break when-

When he saw something.

It was barely there anymore, but he scaled down the building as fast as his hands and feet would go, taking leaps and shortcuts he generally wouldn’t risk in order to get down there faster. He lucked out making it down unscathed, knowing that even Remus would have lectured him about a particularly dodgy jump (and when Remus lectured him, you knew he was being stupid) but his quick ascent allowed him to catch the last bits of a rapidly fading yellow trail. It faded from beginning to end, so he must have been closer to earlier parts, he thought as he pumped his legs, trying to keep pace with the lights that moved so much faster than him.

God the sun would be setting soon.

He was determined dammit!

Roman did as he did best and started to swing between the buildings, grabbing hold of a balcony here, a light post there, anything that he could that allowed him forward momentum at a faster pace than he could run it. People dodged out of his way, but he didn’t care as he was finally beginning to keep pace with it. The problem was that eventually the city ended.

He was back on his feet, running as fast as he could manage across open field, trying to defy the odds and keep up with the light that was rapidly denigrating before his eyes, focused on nothing but finding the end of it.

Then it was gone.

His surroundings were bathed in darkness as the very last remnants of the setting sun disappeared before his eyes. He finally looked up to take stock of his surroundings and found himself confused to be back in front of the circus tent he had just vacated earlier. There was no way that his soulmate was one of their crew, he would have known by now.

It must have been someone in the audience.

Oh god, but there were so many of them!

That didn’t help at all! Even if Remy gave him the list of attendees, he’d never be able to cross them all off before they were packing up again! He groaned and wanted to collapse where he stood. He wanted to fall into the grass and let himself sink until into the muddy, crummy underbelly of the earth as it swallowed him up and he rejoined the celestial plane. Screw this physical plane bullshit.

Instead he sighed, his shoulders slumped dejectedly as he headed to his trailer. At least he knew they were somewhere here. He just thought that he’d finally have a story of immediately finding them as soon as he caught sight of that beautiful, golden light that danced through the streets the way smoke weaved away from a warm candle. Like waves ebbing and flowing into each other. Like nothing he’d ever seen before.

At least he understood what that meant now.

For now, he was going to sleep away his depression so he could try to convince Remy to let him out of tomorrow’s show. Tomorrow’s started before the sun set, but decidedly ended much after and he wanted to get another look around town.

Roman paused in his gait, thankful that he had worn cloth slip-ons for balance. It had the added benefit of keeping his foot steps near-silent.

There was an odd clicking noise coming somewhere from his trailer. Roman tip-toed around it, keeping himself minimizing even the sound of his breathing. He was effectively impossible to notice, especially compared to the residual noise of the others shuffling around their general campsite. Roman wasn’t sure what to think when he found a hooded boy sitting at the side door of his trailer, with his ear pressed against a door as his hands... wait was that a lock pick?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Roman demanded when he stopped in front of the boy- no man, he realized as he rapidly stood up and easily matched Roman’s height.

The guy looked around rapidly, searingly, but his gaze didn’t settle despite Roman standing just in front of him. Now that they were face to face, Roman got a look at his eyes, even with the rapid movement. They were big and beautiful, despite the messy, dark makeup framing them and they sparkled a light lilac color, nearly white. A realization struck Roman and he deliberately he cleared his throat. The face finally settled its search to point in his direction. He was blind.

“You uh... probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the guy said, shoving the hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Try me,” Roman retorted. “I think the least I deserve is an explanation for why someone is trying to break into my trailer.”

“Your trailer?” The guy asked with a head tilt.

“Yes, my trailer,” Roman said, putting emphasis on every word. Why did he look so disbelieving?

“Right,” the man replied and pulled one hand out of his pocket to reach down for a white cane Roman hadn’t noticed before. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for something for my soulmate?”

“I doubt you could look for much,” Roman said automatically, but horror overtook him as he realized the words that had tumbled out of his mouth.

Shit he’d been hanging around with Remus too much.

“I’m so sorry, that was insensitive of me, I-”

Roman was bewildered to see the man laughing as he leaned his weight on the cane for balance rather than direction.

“You got me there dude,” he said with a snort.

“No, please don’t forgive me so easily for that, that was uncalled for. I’ve had a frustrating day and I should not be taking it out on you,” Roman said with a groan, still in disbelief of what he let himself say.

“Nice to see you’re worried about the feelings of the man who tried to break into your trailer.”

“I do when I misdirect my anger. If I was going to make fun of you, it should have been related to the crime. Instead, my usual foot in mouth syndrome around cute men took over and I said what is probably the worst possible thing.”

“So you think I’m cute?”

Roman just groaned. There was no winning this conversation.

“I’m Virgil,” the hooded man said, finally taking pity on him while reaching out a hand.

“Roman, but you might have heard of me as Charm,” Roman said the stage name with a sigh, as if the name alone was exhausting, but shook the offered hand and tried not to think about how soft those long, pretty fingers were.

“Oh! We went to your performance today. I heard it was amazing.”

“Heard? But if you went to it wouldn’t you have...” Roman trailed off and immediately groaned, realizing his mistake.

Virgil was laughing at him again.

Roman willed the earth to swallow him whole for a second time that night.

“So, Roman, what would it take for a guy to get an escort home around here?” Virgil asked with a cheeky grin.

“Despite what my brother might insist, we’re not those kind of performers,” Roman shot back just as quick, finally able to contribute to the joke.

Virgil paused and Roman knew it was impossible, but it felt like man was checking him out.

“That’s too bad,” Virgil breathed with a smirk. “Sometimes it can be hard to find my way home this late at night.”

Roman snorted at the brazen impossibility of the statement as Virgil reached in his direction. Roman granted him mercy and took his hand, but he hadn’t been anticipating him slotting their fingers together.

“Walk with me?” Virgil asked, playfully bumping his shoulder into Roman’s.

Roman chided himself for automatically nodding, but Virgil seemed to get the idea somehow as he tugged lightly on their joined hands, pulling him forward without even a verbal confirmation. From there the two of them strolled through the city, keeping even a pace that could be best classified as a dawdle. Virgil seemed intent on taking his time as the two slunk along. Honestly, Roman didn’t even mind that much because otherwise he’d probably be in the corner of his trailer, sobbing as that performance’s makeup ran down his face in harsh, ugly lines.

“Tell me a boring fact about yourself,” Virgil said suddenly, not even pausing in his gait.

“Wouldn’t most people wan’t to hear an interesting fact?” Roman asked with an eyebrow raise.

Apparently Virgil could hear the gesture in his tone because he gave a shit-eating grin in return.

“Interesting facts are too much pressure,” Virgil shrugged, “Plus you work in a circus and try to fall to your death for a living, that’s already inherently interesting.”

“It’s not exactly trying to fall,” Roman defended, but conceded at Virgil’s own eyebrow raise. “Alright... uh... I hate sleeping with socks on.”

“Ha, me too,” Virgil agreed with a nod. “Janny always wears them and I don’t understand how it doesn’t drive him nuts.”

“Janny?”

“Oh shit, I mean Janus,” Virgil said, but seemed amused at his own slip-up. “Don’t tell him I called him that when we meet up with him.”

Roman swallowed and couldn’t help the disappointment building up in his gut.

“Is that your soulmate?” He found himself asking, if only to punish himself because he was already pretty sure of the answer.

“Mmmm, yeah,” Virgil agreed with a fond look that consisted of crinkled eyes with a little half smile. It was such a soft and endearing look and Roman wanted to cry.

Why didn’t anyone look at him like that?

“With the whole not being able to see anything, much less these “soul light” things I keep hearing about, it was up to Janny to find me, got me out of a shit situation too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, apparently being disabled was already pushing the envelope for my family, but gay with a male soulmate too? That was just too much for them. I was instantly kicked out. We barely just met, but he immediately made sure I was taken care of. Even offered to find a way for me to stay somewhere else if I was uncomfortable staying with him.”

“Did you?” Roman asked. This Janus guy deserved a medal or something.

“Yeah actually, chilled with his co-worker Logan for a bit, cool guy, bit of a neat freak though. Didn’t stay too long though. Janus came and checked on me every day and well... its hard not to care for someone who makes it so abundantly clear they care for you.”

“A love story of the ages from there?” Roman teased, giving their intertwined hands a playful squeeze.

“Something like that.”

“I’ve always loved stuff like that,” Roman muttered in admission.

“Like what?” Virgil asked, stopping his trek and pulling Roman to stop too.

“Love stories... soulmate stories, the whole deal,” Roman said wistfully. He loved them more than anything because he wanted them more than anything. “I look at every stop we make to see if I can catch sight of mine. I feel like I’m so close!”

“That’s... actually really good to hear,” Virgil muttered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Virgil said, and reached forward to a door that Roman hadn’t noticed before. “Don’t freak out too much, he’s got perfect aim, I promise.”

What?

Virgil pulled Roman inside without another word. Roman was just about to ask just what that was supposed to mean, when a throwing knife whizzed passed him and landed in the wood of the door mere centimetres from his face!

What the fuck?

“Who the hell is he and where the fuck have you been Virgil?! You’ve been out all night! Do you have even the slightest idea how dangerous it is out there for-”

“For someone like me?” Virgil asked with a huff as an, admittedly attractive man with a snake tattoo covering half of his face stomped straight up him.

The man put a hand on each of Virgil’s shoulders and literally shook him and demanded, “Do. You. Have. Any. God damn. Sense. Of fucking. Self preservation?!”

“None whatsoever,” Virgil deadpanned.

Absolutely savage.

The man sighed and slumped forward, letting his forehead rest against Virgil’s shoulder as he balled his gloved hands into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Aww, giving up already Janny? You haven’t even asked about your present yet.”

Oh! This was the soulmate. Suddenly his distraught reaction made a lot of sense.

Didn’t explain the knife though.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours,” Janus moaned in return. “You’re never leaving this god damn house again, I swear. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Virgil just snorted in return and motioned for Roman to move closer to them and out of the way as he used his cane to push open a curtain.

Then something beautiful happened.

No, something absolutely, astoundingly magical happened.

The room suddenly lit up in purple and gold as the first light of sunrise peeked through the window.

Virgil and Janus were literally glowing.

Roman watched as Virgil carefully tipped up Janus’ chin up, forcing him to face the sudden new lights streaming in and Janus let out a gasp.

“...Red,” he muttered breathily before he whipped around to look Roman’s way. For the first time, Roman could see the beautiful, two toned eyes that stared at him as if he were some kind of dream. “It’s you.”

#sanders sides #fanfiction #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxieceit #prinxiety #roceit #anxceit #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #background #intruality #remy sleep #emile #remile #trigger warning #abused past #mentions of homophobia

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Looking through the injury/hurt prompt list I couldn't help but imagine Connor asking a small reader for “  a little help?  ” and reader has to drag big boi back to safety but struggles but he still is thankful and surprised at how far reader is able to get them out of trouble 🌼🌸🌼🌸

I hope this was close to what you imagined!

Warning: swearing

Connor wasn't sure how he had allowed himself to get into this predicament. Despite his calculated risks, everything that could have gone wrong did. The suspect got away, shooting him in the knee-joint and rendering his left leg immobile. You and Hank had been too far behind to know where he was and, to top it all off, in his effort to continue his pursuit, despite his injury, he nearly fell off a roof, trapped on a ledge, out of sight. He was five stories up with a perfect view of his demise.

His thirium pump raced. He hates heights. Any attempt to pull himself back up caused him to slip or the cement of the old building to crumble, making his stress levels spike. He just wants to be on solid ground again. His knee throbbed, but in his panic, he couldn't figure out how to deactivate his sensors. Why the hell did he have them active while on duty anyway? Every second that ticked by played with his mind, the ledge seeming smaller, the ground seeming further away, and the world tilting, threatening to let him fall.

He just wants to be on solid ground.

"Connor! I got the suspect! Where'd you go?" You call out to him.

"Here, " he tries to call out to you, but his voice is choked, barely there.

"Connor!" You shout, and he fears your steps are going away.

"Here!" He manages to call out a little louder. After a few seconds, you peer over the ledge, looking down and finding him clinging for dear life.

"Oh my God! Connor! Are you okay?"

"A little help?" He tries to joke, but the shakiness betrayed his fear, "Go get Hank." He should be strong enough to pull him up. He hopes.

"He's all the way downstairs! Here, " you reach down to him, "take my hand." You were so small, if he were to try and pull himself up, you might fall.

"You can't. I'll be alright for a few-" a small shift of his foot caused more of the cement to break away underneath him, spider web cracks reaching under him.

"Trust me!" He so desperately wants to be on solid ground, and he does trust you. Connor took your hand.

You pressed your legs against the ledge and grabbed him with both hands, feeling like your arms are being ripped out of their socket. As much as your arms and legs wanted to give out, you heaved him up high enough so he could grab the top and pull himself over, laying on the ground, chest heaving as panic and relief rushed through him. He was safe.

You took a second before moving to look at his knee. When you turned it to further inspect it, Connor hissed, remembering he needed to disable his sensors.

"Sorry. Are you okay?" He only nodded, just trying to calm down.

It was a perfect shot, you had to give the suspect that. It was completely unusable and he'd likely need a whole new knee and shin. This is gonna make getting him down difficult. Reaching into your side bag, you pulled out a bottle of liquid rubber stoppers, taking the paste and covering the open thirium lines. At least he won't bleed out while you come up with a plan.

After his breathing slowed, you helped him sit up. He clung to you, still trembling.

"It's gonna be okay, " you coo in his ear, "I've got you." It was no mystery for you why Connor was acting as he was. He had told you about his first mission, about his sacrifice. Since then, he has never handled heights as well as he'd like. Quite frankly, you were glad to have him in your arms. You told him to trust you, but you weren't sure you'd be able to lift him. You took a risk and thankfully, it paid off. To think otherwise...

No. It doesn't do to dwell in what could have been. Just focus on now. Right now, you need to find a way to get Connor down five flights of stairs. Hank was keeping an eye on the suspect and likely won't suspect anything for a bit, and even if he did, at his age, he likely doesn't have the stamina to come back up here and carry Connor down.

"Alright, well, we can't stay here, " you pull out of the hug and move to his left side, throwing his arm over your shoulder. Taking hold of his opposite waist you get into a crouch.

"1..."

"Y/n, "

"2..."

"I don't think-"

"3!" You stood, or rather attempted. Connor only made it to his knees, and when he tried to stand on his one leg, the action sent you both to the ground.

"Dammit!" For normal people, this might have worked, but it is becoming increasingly obvious... You can deny it no longer...

You are small.

Connor was trying not to laugh, earning a glare from you. If he wasn't so damn tall... Well, there doesn't seem to be any other option.

"Plan B, " you moved in front of him, taking his arms and draping them over your shoulder, "hold on, " Connor held his forearms tightly. Seizing a breath, you took hold of his legs and stood, fighting the whole way up. His feet almost dragged on the ground, but you had him, trudging towards the stairwell.

He was surprised you were even able to pick him up, let alone carry him. Despite not being human, he was only slightly lighter than an average man of his stature. After a few steps and a slight adjustment of your grip, your steps evened out.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed once you conquered one flight of stairs, "after this... You're going on a diet."

"Duly noted, " Connor chuckled.

On the third flight of stairs, you stepped down too close to the edge. Out of reflex, you dropped Connor's right leg and grabbed the railing. Connor also reached out with one arm, the other holding you close.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, " you muttered, letting the feeling of certain doom leave you, regaining your footing, "okay, hop!" Connor pushed off the ground, back on your back with an 'oof' from you.

Your legs were screaming at you. Arms, still aching from pulling him back on the roof, growing weaker by the second carrying him. Every breath forced into your strained lungs burned. All you could tell yourself was that you were almost there.

"Where the fu- Connor!" Hank exclaimed, seeing you coming down the last flight of stairs. He rushed over, meeting you at the base of the stairs, taking Connor's arm and easing him off your back. "You alright, son?"

Immediately, you slammed into the wall, gasping as you slid down.

"I'll be alright, thanks to Y/n. You should help her to the car, " Connor couldn't think of a time he had seen you so red.

"Let's get you there first. She ain't goin' nowhere." Hank carried him to your car, setting him in the backseat before going back to you. You were no longer wheezing, but your arms and legs shook when he helped you up.

"You gonna be alright to drive?" Hank asked.

"Yeah, I just need a few more minutes... Connor's not in any danger."

"How far'ed you carry 'im?"

"From the roof."

"Didn't think to radio for help?" Hank chuckled. You were quiet for a moment, eyes wide.

"Fuuuuuuuuckkk!!!"

#brownie points if you get the Spongebob reference #dbh connor #connor x reader #rk800 connor reader #connor fanfiction #prompts

[lexosaurus]

Writing Tips From Your Local Mess

Disclaimer, everyone’s body is different. These are just my experiences. I just wanted to give some helpful anecdotes for people researching for writing because I know this shit can be useful.

1. Fainting

Background: In high school I had to go on a very restrictive diet for health reasons and ended up accidentally giving myself electrolyte depletion and started randomly passing out.

According to my doctor, the brain kinda uses fainting as a reset button of sorts. So most of the time, you’re only unconscious for a few seconds, if that.

I could usually feel it come on. But I didn’t wanna be a wuss so I didn’t say anything. Also sometimes I didn’t even faint.

One thing I did do was when I felt them coming on, I had enough time to move so I was standing over carpet or something at least sort of soft so I wouldn’t hit my head on concrete or anything.

Waking up was a trip because in the movies and stuff people usually wake up all disoriented and “where am I?? what happened??” but that wasn’t even close to reality with me. Cuz I knew where I was and I knew what happened. 

I literally acted like I had smoked a ton of weed when waking up. No joke. I was a giggly mess. My doctor said it was because my brain was being flooded with oxygen I think. Like I remember trying to tell my school nurse I was fine and I didn’t need the wheelchair, because I genuinely didn’t, AND I COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING. She was like “Rightttt okayyyy yeah you’re sooo fine yeahhh” and I was standing there like “Huehueheu no for real hahaha i’m lolol i’m so fine! trust me hahaha!”

Like I’m not kidding people literally asked me if I was high the next day because they just witnessed me collapse on the ground, wake up uncontrollably giggling, and then be escorted out of whatever room I was in pushing a wheelchair and still giggling.

2. Mild to Moderate Electrical Shock

Background: I was renting an apartment with a garbage disposal that had a loose wire. I was shoving some food down there, my hand went past the rubber stopper, and my hand entered the wet electrical field. The electricity went up my arm.

Your bones get this weird vibrating thing idk how to describe it. It’s genuinely something I can’t compare to any other sensation. Weird vibrating is the best I can do.

It really just burns. Like my arm wasn’t twitching or anything after. I couldn’t see any sparks. My arm felt like it was resting on a hot pan and the pan was vibrating.

I actually stuck my hand in there three times (the third time I got legit shocked which was painful) because the buzzing thing was so odd, I thought I was making it up in my head. So the burning only happened the third time when I just fucking went for it.

I didn’t know what happened for a solid 5-10 minutes after. I was aware something had gone wrong, and my arm was now red, but I didn’t have anything to compare it to so I made myself a sandwich and it was only when I was mid-sandwich consumption that I realized “oh fuck i got electrocuted.”

3. Fractured Ribs

Background: I had a whole ass cocktail of breathing problems and diseases over the course of several months and ended up coughing so much I fractured at least one rib.

If I’m being honest, it’s not that big a deal. Idk. I think my period cramps hurt way worse. And if you take advil and shit it’s not that bad

Your ribs go all the way around your body, so I didn’t realize for a while that there might have been a problem because my rib got fractured on the side of my torso. So. Just FYI it’s not always gonna be on your chest.

Like any broken bone, it hurt to press down on that specific rib in that specific spot of the fracture. I couldn’t sleep on that side of my body for a time, and laughing and coughing was lil painful.

Overall, not the worst thing ever. I still did weight training and stuff with it, I just didn’t do any serious cardio for a lil bit. But that was all.

You don’t wrap your chest or bind it in any way in the event of a fracture. You really can’t. Basically, you just take mild pain relievers and wait it out.

4. Getting Too Drunk

Background: I went to college.

I wasn’t gonna include this one but I just godda say NO ONE hiccups when they’re too drunk. No one. If someone does, it’s cuz idk they just are just like sometimes when you’re sober you hiccup. 

So those “Hey...*hic* how are you *hic* doing?” quotes I see in fanfiction and sometimes in published writing need to go. 

You talk slower and slur a bit and you’re a bit overconfident and bold in your general life decisions but you don’t hiccup oh my god.

5. Being Temporarily Blind

Background: Tried out a new contact brand that happened to have an oopsie in the factory, and so my contacts got doused with some chemical that wasn’t supposed to be in there.

So my specific case, I was “blind” for one week and it was due to my light sensitivity being completely corrupted so I couldn’t even open my eyes in a dark room as it was too “bright” and my eyelid muscles wouldn’t do it. 

Honestly, it was pretty boring. When you lose your vision, you don’t suddenly gain magical abilities from your other senses. I wasn’t able to hear any better or smell any better. Blind people have “better” senses because that’s what they use to navigate, so it takes a while to train those senses to work with you like that. Someone losing their vision for a short period of time isn’t gonna suddenly be an expert sniffer or anything.

Showering and stuff was a bit difficult, because I literally couldn’t open my eyes at all, but I put my conditioner lid face down and my shampoo lid face up, so it wasn’t that bad.

No, I didn’t drop my toothbrush in the sink or in the toilet or anything. I lost my vision, not my coordination.

Yes I did crash into walls. In my own house. But no, I didn’t fall down the stairs at all. Thank god.

I couldn’t use my phone at all (because I don’t know how to use the blind settings) and I was dealing with a lil bit of a pressing issue anyways, so uhhh what happened was I literally just dropped off the face of the earth for a week. All my classmates knew was that one day I was acting kinda weird and complaining about the color spectrum being wonky, and the next day and days following I wasn’t in school or clubs and all contact with me was futile. Rumors about me being in the hospital circulated, probably due to my mom, and that’s all people knew. So you can only imagine the stories I heard afterwards.

That’s all I can think of right now. Uhh yeah as someone who enjoys writing these are some things I thought might be useful. Please feel free to add onto this if you have any experiences you think could be good for people to know. Please remember, this is all anecdotal and shouldn’t be taken as a medical bible for your writing purposes. It’s just a new perspective to think about.

#quality content #writing reference #what can i say except you're welcome #listen ok if ur worried my sanity is totally fine #i've just had a lot of fun in life #some might say i've really pushed the limits on what the body can handle #but ya girl's still killing it #so #ya know #we all good