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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

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The Winter Solstice

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Seven

A JSE Fanfic

Well after last week’s brief foray into writing for a different fandom, we return to the septics once again. The FM!septics to be exact. It’s the winter solstice, meaning there are holidays to celebrate! Chase, Jackie, and Henrik have a great day that totally doesn’t become suddenly serious near the end haha nope just fun times all around with some world building and character development :) Enjoy :)

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

The day dawned cold and snowy, but nobody at Wyvernlair cared. Not when today was the winter solstice. This was a time for celebration! And with all the people in the camp, there was bound to be a big party. Preparations had been ongoing for the past few weeks. Food was made, games were planned, and time was set aside for those honoring the various holy days. When the day itself dawned, normal duties were put on hold so that everyone could join in.

Chase woke up at sunrise. He had a quick breakfast—light, since there would be a lot of food at the feast planned for that night—and strolled about, taking in the changes. Everyone was bustling about as usual, but now they chattered with excitement. Some people had hung decorations outside their tents: replicas of snowflakes made from white-painted sticks, candles with carved designs set on the ground, pine branches and snippets of other winter-blooming plants scattered about. Combined with the white layer of snow, it was quite beautiful.

Yet, Chase felt a pang somewhere deep in his chest. Last year, he’d spent Longest Night with his family and the rest of the village. There’d been town celebrations in the square. He helped Quentin carve his first candle. And now? Now, he didn’t know where his family was.

“Chase!”

He was snapped out of his melancholy thoughts when he heard someone call his name. In the middle of turning to see who it was, that ‘someone’ barrelled straight into him. “Oof!” He was about to respond, but found he couldn’t, because he’d been wrapped in a tight bear hug.

“Sorry, did I knock the wind out of you? Sorry!” Jackie was too full of energy to notice he apologized twice. He gave Chase one last squeeze before breaking off the hug.

“It’s okay, just give me more warning next time.” Chase took a minute to catch his breath. “Well. Happy Longest Night, then?”

“Happy Longest Night, then!” Jackie repeated. He whirled his cloak around dramatically. It was still red, but slightly nicer, with a fur lining. His wolf mask was pushed back, sitting on his forehead. “You know the plan, right? We’re having games all day. War games, dice games, card games—a few strategy games, too, the ones we have the boards for in storage. Then there’s the feast later, and the Dark Vigil tonight.”

“Yea, I understand,” Chase said, a faint smile on his face. He couldn’t help it; Jackie was contagious. “How many people will be at the Vigil?”

“A fair share. Schneep won’t; he does something at moonrise instead.” Jackie shrugged. “Are you planning to do any of the games? What about archery?!”

Chase laughed. “No, no, I’m not good enough to compete in a war game. I’ll probably just drift around and join in where I can. Do you think anyone will be playing Luck of the Deal? I’m very good at that.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s good at Luck of the Deal. That’s the whole thing about it, it’s luck.”

“You don’t know that. There’s skill involved, too,” Chase insisted.

Jackie patted his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Hunter. It’ll be some time before everything really gets going. Anything you want to do before that?”

“Umm...” Chase thought about it. “Well, is there anything I can do to help with the feast preparations? That’s usually a community thing, isn’t it?”

“Well we already have a lot of volunteers for cooking. They’ve already gotten started, in fact.” Jackie thought about it. “But if you want to help, you could put your hunting skills to the test in the surrounding woods. Always good to have more food than less, on these occasions. People would eat their plates, if it was possible.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I know that. Amabel would eat us out of home on Longest Night. She must’ve gotten her appetite from Stacia’s side of the family.” Saying their names, the melancholy threatened to return.

“Honestly? I have a confession.” Jackie leaned closer. “I’m one of those types, too.”

“Oh? Somehow, that makes sense.”

“And somehow I’m offended.” Jackie gave him a playful shove. “If you want to go ahead, you know where the shortbows and arrows are. Oh!” His eyes widened as he remembered something. “But try not to shoot any pigeons. Those are important.”

“Important?” Chase put the pieces together. “You mean...messenger birds?”

Jackie nodded. “I don’t expect anyone to send messages on the solstice except for an emergency, but there might be some arriving that were sent a fews days, or even a week, ago. It takes a while to fly across the island.”

“Got it. I won’t shoot any pigeons.” Chase shook his head, a bit in awe. “Messenger birds.” He’d heard of them, but never seen them in use. Somehow, they seemed almost as magical as actual magic. Getting letters sent across the kingdom in a matter of days? That was amazing. “I’ll just head out, then.”

“Good luck, Chase!” Jackie said cheerfully, waving as he turned to leave. “Be back before noon, that’s when the fun will start!”

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

If possible, it was even colder out in the forest, away from the magic heat of the dragon bones. Chase clutched his jacket tighter and made sure his hat was securely on his head. He doubted that he’d find any animals out here. By Longest Night, most of them were hibernating. But it was worth a shot.

Snow crunched under his feet, so he slowed down, carefully placing every step so it wouldn’t make too much noise. There wasn’t a lot of foliage to hide behind in the winter, but he had made sure to grab a white jacket from storage to help him blend in. He’d also turned his hat inside out so that the red ribbon around it didn’t show. After a while, he found what he thought was a good spot to wait. So he settled down, nocking an arrow so it would be ready to fly at any moment.

The world became very still. The only sound he heard was his breath, accompanied by the small puffs of mist that breath caused in the cold. He made sure not to move a muscle.

Until there was a sudden sound. Footsteps, very light, being pursued by much heavier ones. His eyes darted towards the sound. The bare branches of a bush rustled, and suddenly a streak of brown fur dashed out in front of him followed by something much larger—

Chase reacted, letting go of the bow string and loosing the arrow. It shot through the air and landed solidly in the brown furry something. Shocked, he laughed in the rush of actually shooting something moving that fast. But then a voice cried, “I knew it!”

“Wh...?” And Chase finally noticed what the large something pursuing the small animal actually was. He looked up from his position near the ground to see...Lukas. It took him a moment to recognize him without his usual fox mask, but once the brown-auburn hair and tall longbow registered, his heart immediately sank with dread. “What are you doing—”

Lukas took an arrow out of the quiver on his back and nocked it, aiming at Chase. “Did you think you could take me out when nobody was looking?! Claim it was an accident?!”

“What in the world?!” Chase stood up. Slowly, of course, he didn’t want to get skewered by that massive arrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to play dumb, you just tried to kill me!”

“I was shooting the rabbit!” He pointed at the small animal, which was, in fact, a rabbit.

“A likely cover story.”

All of a sudden, Chase felt hot rage rise up his throat. “I know you hate me but you don’t have to be an idiot about it!” he burst out.

That seemed to take Lukas by surprise. He blinked, and lowered his bow slightly.

“I don’t know what kind of trust issues you have or where they come from, but I’m sick of you always acting this way! I’ve been here for almost a full season now, and you still act like I’m about to stab you in the back the first opportunity I get! I know, you’re probably thinking something like ‘he’s playing a long game to get everyone to trust him,’ but let’s be honest, you’re just looking for any justification to be like this. I wouldn’t trust someone like me in your position either, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. You don’t have to like me, you don’t have to trust me, but elders be damned, you don’t have to stir up this much trouble for Jackie and Henrik and everyone else here!” Chase ran out of breath and was forced to stop. He waited silently for Lukas’s reaction.

For a while, there wasn’t one. Lukas just...stared at him. Then he lowered his bow fully, putting the arrow back in its quiver. “What are you doing out here?” he asked in a carefully-neutral tone.

“We have some time before the real celebrations start, so I thought I’d help out by trying to find more food for the feast,” Chase explained. He walked past Lukas and picked up the rabbit, trying not to feel sad. Something about shooting rabbits made him feel guilty. Maybe he respected how hard they worked to stay alive, running so swiftly. Or maybe he thought they were cute. “What are you doing out here?”

“The same thing,” Lukas answered.

Chase snorted. “And you decided to bring that monster of a bow for hunting?”

“It’s more powerful than yours,” Lukas retorted.

“Yes, but it’s also heavier and more cumbersome. I remember my second day here, Holly said that big bows like that were more suited for long range, while shortbows—” Chase waved his bow as an example. “—are better for mobility. Look at all these trees. Do you think you’re able to shoot long range in a forest? Not to mention if you miss, you’ll end up burying your arrow in a tree with all the force you need to fire it. That’ll just be a pain to pull out.”

“I know all this,” Lukas said irritably. “But I’m most familiar with this style of bow. I can make it work.”

“Maybe if you weren’t stomping around the woods,” Chase muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You were running after the rabbit. Bad idea; you’ll never catch up with them. It’s better to wait and let the animals come to you. If you have to move, be quieter about it. And slow. Conserve your energy; animals get tired faster than humans.” Chase glanced downwards. “You’re wearing heavy boots, I see. Those will make a lot of sound no matter how much you try to be quiet. And your clothes stand out, too. Especially that red band on your wrist. It’s bright and you have to hide it. Like I did.” He turns his cap right-side out again, letting the red ribbon show.

“Hmm.” Lukas eyed him. He did that quite a lot, but somehow, it felt different this time. More...respectful. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned away.

“Um...right.” Now that Lukas was leaving, Chase felt the sudden energy that had filled him starting to fade away. “I’ll...see you at the celebrations, then.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand in acknowledgement, not stopping as he headed back to camp.

Well...that wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Lukas clearly didn’t think worse of him. And he had managed to shoot a rabbit, something he’d rarely done in all his years as a hunter. Though he’d only done that because the rabbit was too busy running from Lukas to notice him crouching nearby. So really, he should thank him.

Maybe later. For now, Chase headed back to camp, ready to join in on the festivities.

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

By the time Chase returned to Wyvernlair, the festivities were starting to get underway. Games, mostly. People gathered in circles playing cards, or in threes playing dice, or in pairs playing board games. Others clustered around the players, watching the game and shouting encouragement. Some food was already prepared. Plates of sweet buns and meat pies were passed around. Chase grabbed a couple buns as he looked around.

But though the camp inside the circle of dragon bones was crowded, most people were out on the combat field. That was where the war games were set up. Chase decided to stop by for a moment. Even if he wasn’t going to participate, he wanted to see how things were going.

Targets were set up for archers to test their skill. People had grabbed close-quarters training weapons and were sparring, onlookers cheering on their favored winner. Someone had dragged over a rock and a large branch, setting up a makeshift see-saw that people were standing on top of, trying to knife-fight without losing their balance. Chase shook his head at that particular event. He himself had some scars on his hands from knife-fights as a young man; they really weren’t worth the bragging rights.

There was an especially large crowd gathered around one particular sparring match. Chase stopped, edging his way into the mass of people as he tried to see what was going on. Wait a minute...was that Jackie?

Indeed, Jackie was one of the sparring participants. And he was easily outclassing his opponent. He easily danced around jabs and swipes, not striking for a while, then jumped forward and hit his opponent on the side with his wooden practice sword. The crowd cheered, and the two participants backed away, shaking hands as they parted. Chase could’ve sworn he saw money change hands among the watchers.

“Anyone want to go for another round?” Jackie called to the crowd. “Doesn’t have to be to the first contact. What about to the ground?”

At that, a tall man grabbed a practice sword from a nearby rack, stepped forward, and announced, “I accept the challenge!” The crowd cheered again. “To the ground!”

Jackie grinned. “To the ground! Someone give us a count!”

In unison, the crowd started chanting, counting down from five as Jackie and his opponent started circling each other. Chase joined in. “Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Clash!”

The two men immediately started going at each other with the practice swords, jabbing and backing up, swiping and dodging. The new opponent tried to make use of his height advantage, but Jackie was just too fast. The sparring lasted a few minutes and the crowd was enthralled for every second. Until Jackie managed to get behind his opponent and knock out his legs, making him fall to the ground. The crowd cheered. The opponent got up, looking no worse for wear and in good spirits. He shook hands with Jackie before leaving. Now Chase was sure he saw people exchanging money.

“He’s got skill, doesn’t he?”

Chase looked up, and saw Holly standing beside him. “Oh. Yea, he’s really good.”

Holly laughed. “That’s an understatement. You know he trained at Fíornear Field?” Chase nodded. “Well, so did I. But he could beat me in a fight nine times out of ten.”

“Really?” Chase asked, interested. “That many times? I thought it would’ve been closer between you two.”

“Everyone does. I say it’s the size difference. But what Jackie lacks in height, he makes up for in practice and sheer determination.” Holly watched as Jackie started sparring with another opponent. “Anyway, Chase. Come to watch or try your hand?”

Chase laughed. “No, no, just watching.”

“Well. In that case.” Holly leaned closer. “Care to try for chance?”

“You mean betting? Don’t tempt me.” Chase shook his head. “Besides, I can tell that betting against Jackie is a waste of time and money.”

“Doesn’t have to be at this spar. There’s many more war games to be had. I hear there’s axe throwing.”

“Axe throwing?” Chase perked up. “Alright, I have to see that. Lead the way.”

Holly laughed, and the two of them left, heading towards a set of targets. Indeed, some people had taken up throwing axes at these targets. Not competing against each other at the moment, only themselves, and also showing off for the passersby. Chase watched as one of the axe-throwers hit the center of her target. Then, surprisingly, he recognized the axe-thrower. “Nemet!” he called.

Nemet turned around, smiling at him. “Hello, Chase! How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. What are you...uh...I didn’t know you threw axes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it so unexpected?”

Chase shrugged. “Well, you’re a doctor.”

“I am. I am a doctor who likes to throw axes.” Nemet picked up a throwing axe on the ground beside her. She held it back, paused to aim, and threw. It landed right next to the last one she threw. Holly and Chase clapped, impressed.

“Wanna shoot something, Brodyson?”

Chase yelped in surprise at the voice that came from behind him. He spun around to see Tripp grinning up at him. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Maybe,” Tripp said. He was tossing a rock back and forth between his hands. Getting bored of that, he threw it to the side. Magically, the rock curved around, shooting for the target, where it bounced off the handle of one of Nemet’s axes. “Ah, almost a bull’s eye. Anyway, wanna shoot something, Brodyson? We could have a triple competition, axes versus arrows versus sorcery.”

“Hmm.” Chase considered it. “You know I had only planned to watch, but...that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t let him pressure you if you don’t want to, Chase,” Nemet said.

“No, do let him pressure you, I want to see this!” Holly insisted.

Chase laughed. “Alright, fine. Just a few rounds.”

Though as the afternoon passed, those few rounds stretched out into many. Chase had never been one for war games, but somehow, he didn’t mind.

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

Eventually, of course, came the main draw of the winter celebrations: the feast. The people who’d volunteered to cook had been preparing food all day, and shortly before sunset, declared it ready. Instantly, a good half of everyone dropped what they were doing and headed over to the cooking fires.

Chase wasn’t sure what to expect from the feast. Wyvernlair didn’t use tables for food, so would everyone be standing around with plates? But it seemed as though they’d found tables, if just for today. Probably borrowed from storage. Some of the meat stayed on the skewer, roasting over the fires to keep it hot until someone wanted it. But most food was lined up on the tables, free to take. Sweet buns and meat pies, of course, but also preserved fruits that had been kept for a special occasion like this, and tarts covered in sugar, and pumpkin pie, and roasted potatoes, and more than could be counted.

Everyone ate until they couldn’t anymore, washing down the food with water, juice, and ale. Chase savored it, mingling and talking with the other Phantoms. And for once, he didn’t feel out of place here.

Time passed. The sun set. And as the feast died down, most people began talking about the Dark Vigil, the ceremony used to honor the Elder of Dark and thank them for protecting humankind from the shadows. Chase yawned. They’d be holding that in the center of camp, where a spot had been cleared specifically for that purpose. But it would be some time before everyone was ready. So, Chase decided to slip out. He headed towards the outside of the skeleton, away from the noise and bustle.

The stars were beautiful tonight. It was clear, without any clouds fogging the view, and the moon was nearly full. Chase leaned back against the bone and stared upward. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to appreciate the world lately. It was all busy, working with the Masked Phantoms. But it was nice to slow down for a moment.

Some minutes passed in silence. Then, he heard footsteps approaching. And then, a small thud, the sound of stumbling, and a muttered “Shiesse!”

Chase looked over towards the sounds, already grinning. “You doing alright there, Henrik?”

With a huff, Henrik emerged from the darkness. “I would be better if I know no one heard that,” he muttered.

Chase laughed. “Anyway, how’re you doing? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, I am fine.” Henrik leaned against the bone next to Chase. “I have been stuck in a dice game for most of the evening. I almost missed the moonrise.”

“I see. Jackie told me you had to do something around then. Is it like the Dark Vigil?” Chase asked.

“Similar, in ways. Different, in others.” Henrik looked up at the sky. He pointed upwards, at the moon. “She is beautiful tonight, yes? I never understood why your Elders never come from the sky.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I understand there is the Winged Elder One, but they are for more weather, yes?” Henrik kept his eyes fixed skywards. “None of them are for the heavens.”

“Well why would they be?” Chase shrugged. “The sky’s beautiful and wonderful. But it’s so far away. We live on the earth. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with what’s down here?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Henrik sighed. He reached down his belt, removing his flask and taking a drink.

“Oh—” Chase started to say something, then stopped. It would probably be rude to ask, wouldn’t it?

Henrik looked over at him, and guessed what he was about to say. “Yes, I am still taking the medicine. It is...not something that goes away.”

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Is okay,” Henrik said, giving him a small smile. “You are polite about it, so I do not mind.” He returned the flask to his belt. “Ah, though I am afraid I must change the subject now. I just remembered. We managed to get the materials for more plaster this week. So you can finally have a mask of your own!”

“I can?” Chase repeated.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Henrik chuckled.

“I did? I didn’t mean to. It just seems a bit...unreal.” Chase had left his borrowed mask, the hedgehog one, back in his tent. Most people had—or at least he assumed they had, since most of them were walking around without them.

“Yes, I understand.” Henrik nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to wait?”

“Wait no, I didn’t say that—”

“I am just making sure.” Henrik playfully nudged his shoulder. “You will need to choose an animal, you know. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Oh right. I forgot about that part.” Chase thought about it for a moment. “What about...a deer?”

Henrik raised an eyebrow. “A deer?”

“Is that not allowed? I mean, Tripp’s mask has those ram horns so I figured antlers would—”

“No, is not that, I just suppose I did not expect that.”

Chase shrugged. “I like deer. They’re good animals. Um...do I have to make the mask myself, or...?”

“You can if you want, but if you’re not artistically inclined, someone else could do it easily enough. It’s not that difficult if you are...” Henrik trailed off. He was staring out into the trees, eyes fixed on a point. “Chase. Is something moving there?” And he pointed.

“Hm?” Chase peered into the darkness. Indeed, he could see the faint movement of shadows. “Oh, yea. It’s probably just an animal.” He paused. “That’s...getting closer?”

They looked at each other, but unsure what to do with this information, just turned back to watch the animal get closer. And closer. It was too small to be a threat, but Chase felt Henrik tense anyway. Eventually, the animal got close enough to make out what it was. “A...cat?” Chase asked, confused.

“A cat,” Henrik agreed.

“What’s a cat doing all the way out here?”

“I am not sure...” Henrik said slowly, brows lowered as he thought through the possibilities.

The cat continued its course, walking in a straight line up to the two of them. Chase crouched down and held out his hand. “Here, kitty.” Once it was close enough, the cat sniffed his hand. Then, satisfied, butted its head against it. Chase laughed. “Y’know I haven’t met that many cats. When I was young, maybe about twelve, Pastor Cait had a cat. We joked about that, since her name was so similar, ha. But it’s gone now. I don’t think the town had another cat since then. A couple dogs, but no cats.” He reached out and petted it. And after a few seconds of that, scooped up the cat and stood. “Does someone here have a cat?”

“No, there are no animals in camp,” Henrik said, still puzzled. “Does it have a collar?”

Chase checked. Difficult, given that the cat clearly didn’t like being held and was wriggling a bit. “Yea, right here.” He pointed to a braided leather collar around the cat’s neck. “No name, though. For the cat or its person.”

“Well. It is cold and snowy, and even with that fur, I don’t think the cat enjoys being out here,” Henrik stated. “Maybe we should take it into camp? We have that fire set up in the skull now, that could warm it up.”

“Good idea.”

The two of them headed back, passing between the dragon bones and into the main body of Wyvernlair. By now, the festivities were starting to die down. Games were ending, and a lot of people were getting ready to attend the Dark Vigil. Chase and Henrik walked quickly by, since the cat was really struggling against being held by this point. Luckily, it hadn’t used its claws yet, but Chase could already feel them digging into the fabric of his jacket.

They reached the skull soon, passing through the gap where it joined the rest of the bones and ending up inside. It was almost empty here. Except for two people and several birds. Chase blinked a bit at the surprising sight, but then remembered what Jackie had told him that morning. So these must be messenger birds, then. There were about seven of them, pigeons in a variety of colors; white, gray, brown, spotted. Actually, Jackie was here, too. Along with Ana, who Chase had figured out by now was the head of organization at Wyvernlair. They both seemed rather impatient, quickly putting away documents. Probably heading to the Vigil like most others.

Ana looked up, noticed Chase and Henrik, then turned to Jackie and said, “It’s your best friend and his best friend. They have a cat.”

“They have a what?” Jackie spun to look at them. “Oh elders, you have a cat. Where’d you get a cat?”

“It just wandered up,” Chase said. “We thought it might like to get out of the cold—ow!” The cat dug its claws into his skin, managing to pierce the jacket, and Chase instinctively opened his arms. Of course, the cat landed on its feet, and trotted over to the side of the fire, which was slowly dying but still giving off a lot of heat.

“I’ve never seen a cat like that before,” Jackie muttered. “That’s a really unique pattern, isn’t it?” The cat was mostly a brownish off-white, but its ears and tails were dark gray, almost black, and the tail had rings of lighter gray. Its legs were striped with light brown, and it had markings on its face of the same color. Big blue eyes stared up at the strange people.

“Oh!” Henrik’s eyes lit up. “I had not noticed outside! It was fairly dark. Oh, you are a pretty kitty, aren’t you?” He slowly approached the cat, and when it didn’t run away, bent over and started petting it.

Meanwhile, Ana was bored, and anxious to leave. She looked at Chase, and her eyes lit up with a strangely sly expression. “Hey, it’s Chase, isn’t it? Do you mind helping me open this?” She held out a small tube made of metal and leather. “I’ve been trying for a while, I think it’s stuck.”

“Um..sure,” Chase said warily. Was this going to be a joke of some kind? He took the small tube and turned it over in his hands. There was a door on the side of it, and after some effort, he figured out how to open it. Out fell three items. Two folded pieces of paper, made of pressed wood pulp and therefore pale brown, and a rolled-up piece of vellum tied with twine. “What’s this?”

“Messages,” Ana said, grinning. “Can you see names written on them?”

Chase looked down at the items, sorting through them. There was writing on the folded papers, but...well, it could just be his lack of reading skills, but it looked like absolute nonsense. “These are names?” he asked doubtfully.

Jackie and Henrik looked away from the cat, noticing the exchange between Chase and Ana. “What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“These words written here, these are...names?” Chase shook his head. “I’ve just never heard names like this before. Um...here, I-I’ll try to read them. Uh...” He squinted at the writing in ink on the two papers. “This one is ‘Ee-uh-oo-koh’ and this one is...um...‘Ffssehffmuh.’ I think? The handwriting could be—”

Henrik’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he was right next to Chase, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly. “What is it?! The two papers?! Which one is—that one, can I see that one?”

“Whoa, hey, calm down!” Chase leaned back. “You mean this one?” He held out the paper with the ‘Fsefma’ name on it.

“Yes!” Henrik snatched it up, then retreated, unfolding it.

Jackie leaned over his shoulder, then grinned. “Oh, I see. Vsevna sent you a little letter, didn’t he? What’s it say? Is he confessing his love?”

“Shut up, Jackie,” Henrik said, holding the letter far away from him so he couldn’t read it. “Is just another report.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, with your name on it. Come on, Henrik.”

“That does not mean anything.”

Chase, listening, raised an eyebrow. “So...I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I think I can figure out that this Fsefna person—”

“Vsevna,” Henrik corrected.

“...Vsefna—”

“Vsevna. It is important that you voice those sounds.”

“He’s the person you’re pining for, huh, Henrik?” Chase pressed on.

Henrik was slowly turning red. “I say nothing.”

“Right,” Chase said, grinning. “So, who is he?”

“He’s another one of the Phantoms,” Jackie said, sensing that Henrik wasn’t going to answer. “He and Yuko—that’s the other name on that second paper. Last we heard, they were in the Southern Moors with the rest of their crew. They said they’d scout it out for a bit more, then move on. These are probably their reports. Or...Yuko’s is a report, at least.”

“Shush,” Henrik muttered. He retreated a few steps away from the others, clutching the letter. As he passed Ana, he shot her a glare. “You make Chase open that on purpose.”

Ana just smiled. “Same results, right? Anyway, that’s the last capsule. Do you mind if I head out now?”

“No, go ahead, Ana. Send Harrison to take care of the birds,” Jackie said. She nodded, and left the skull. He then looked at Chase. “Uh...can I have the other two things?”

“Oh right.” Chase forgot he was still holding the other paper and the vellum scroll. He handed them over to Jackie, and the metal tube as well. “I’m surprised. That’s a lot for a bird to carry.”

“Well these guys are trained for it.” Jackie gestured at the pigeons, now strutting around the table. “Especially Mokin here, who had this stuff.” He patted the wings of a particular pigeon, mostly white but with brown wings, which had strangely curly feathers. “They all deserve the best seeds before we send them out again. Anyway.” Jackie unfolded the paper with Yuko’s name on it, scanning the words written there. At first, he looked excited to get a letter from this person. But the more he read, the more serious his expression became. “Henrik.”

Henrik looked away from his own letter, picking up on the tone in Jackie’s voice. “What is it?”

“I...read this while I open this scroll.” Jackie passed Henrik the letter, then began working on the twine knot holding the vellum shut.

Henrik read the letter quickly, and soon his expression matched Jackie’s. “Oh. Oh, Schwestern. Oh, no.”

Chase started to back up, feeling he shouldn’t listen to something like this. But Jackie noticed him leaving and said, “No, it’s fine, Chase. We should tell everyone this, anyway. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“What is it?” Chase asked anxiously.

“Well...you remember we told you about Marvin, right?” Jackie said slowly. “About how he went out on his own and we sometimes get reports of him?” He waited for Chase to nod before continuing. “This...was a report about him. Apparently, he was in the Moors. But...he didn’t just cause chaos and leave. He’s been...caught.”

“Caught?” Chase repeated numbly.

Jackie managed to untie the twine, and unrolled the vellum, scanning what was written there. He nodded grimly. “Yep. You know what this is?” He turned it around so Chase could see.

“That’s...a royal declaration, isn’t it?” Chase asked slowly. He recognized the format, and the royal seal in the corner. “Um...‘The King...announces a...mighty...triumph.’”

“You do not have to keep going, Chase,” Henrik said bitterly. “There are better words to read than that.” He took the declaration from Jackie, glancing at it for just a moment. “I see. Marvin is accused of attempting to kill the King and some other nobility. They caught him in the act, and now...they plan to execute him. Four weeks from now.”

Jackie looked over at the cat, now sitting and licking its paws, and gasped. “Henrik. You don’t think that’s his cat, do you?!”

“What? I suppose perhaps. But if it is, how did it get all the way up here?” Henrik sounded puzzled. “It takes a week or two to get to the Moors from here, and that is for humans on horseback. For a cat...”

“Wizardry?” Jackie guessed. “I don’t know, it was just a thought, since he likes cats so much.”

Everyone fell silent. Henrik looked back at the royal declaration, reading it slowly, taking in the information. “So...how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?” Jackie asked.

Henrik stared at him in surprise. “Well, we have to rescue him, of course.” Jackie didn’t say anything. “Do not tell me that you’re going to let your grudge stand in the way!”

“No, it’s not that!” Jackie protested. “It’s just—you read the letter, right? Yuko said that these declarations were sent everywhere. Since when has the King announced his next move like this? Everything he does, he does in secret. I mean, damn, the Phantoms are just rumors, and we’ve been taking serious action for years now. He’s hushed up so much, why wouldn’t he just make Marvin...you know, disappear? Why a public execution?”

“You think it is a trap,” Henrik stated.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted.

“That is fair, but if it’s a trap, who is he planning to catch? If he wants information about us, he could get it from Marvin.”

“But Marvin hasn’t been part of the group for a year now! His information would be out of date.”

“This does not change the fact that there is no guarantee it’s a trap in the first place. Perhaps he wants to strike fear into the population. Given his actions, it seems likely.”

“If it does turn out to be a trap, though, we can’t afford to lose anyone!”

Chase coughed awkwardly. Jackie and Henrik jumped, then turned to him, looking embarrassed to be fighting while he was still there. “You know...I don’t know if I have any place in this. I mean, you two are in charge, after all. But...I think you should try to get him back.”

Henrik and Jackie looked at each other, then back to Chase. “Are you trying to say something?” Jackie asked.

“I just...” Chase paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I don’t think...you should leave someone behind. He was still part of the Phantoms, right? Didn’t he help create it? A-and weren’t you three...Well. You don’t have to talk to him after we rescue him, but it just doesn’t seem right to leave someone behind in this situation. I know you had your fight and all, but maybe...this could be...you know.” He paused. “Also, I want to know if this cat is his or if some random cat just wandered by.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, that would be good to know, wouldn’t it?” He sighed, and his expression fell, becoming serious as he was lost in thought.

Henrik leaned closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jackie. Chase is right, this does not mean he is rejoining the group. You do not even have to go. But...we should do it. Marvin does not deserve this.”

After a moment, Jackie nodded. “You’re both right. Of course. Even though he was an ass last time we talked, that doesn’t mean I want Marvin dead.” He took a deep breath. “But we should prepare for the possibility of a trap. Just in case.”

“Of course we will,” Henrik assured him.

“...Hey. Chase.” Jackie gave him a smile. “Thank you. I-I don’t know what it is about you, but you know what to say. It’s really easy to talk to you about stuff like this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Chase said, returning the smile. “But, um...I think the Vigil is happening soon, so if we want to go—”

“Shit, I almost forgot about that!” Jackie gasped. “Henrik, I don’t want to leave the cat alone, can you look after it or something?”

“Don’t worry, I will take it to my tent,” Henrik said. “You two go and...is it alright to wish you fun? In a ceremony like this?”

“Come on, Schneep, you’ve lived here for over a decade, don’t talk like it’s so strange to you,” Jackie chuckled.

“I think it’s fun,” Chase said.

“Well, you two go have fun, then,” Henrik said. “I will see you later. Tomorrow, if not tonight.”

“Thanks, Schneep.” Jackie gave him a quick one-armed hug, then headed towards the skull entrance. “Let’s go, Chase. We don’t want to be late.”

They almost were. The Dark Vigil was about to start when they arrived, shuffling into the crowd. Everyone stood in a circle around a set of candles, one blue and the rest black, which were in turn set in a circle around several smooth, round pieces of black onyx. Three people stood inside, lighting the candles.

After the candles were alight, everyone sat on the ground, clashing a bit as they all tried to make room. Then once everyone was sitting with their legs crossed, the three in the center started the Vigil. They spoke the traditional lines, describing the Elder of Dark—their vague appearance, their actions, their history with the other Elders—and finished it by thanking them for their guardianship. Everyone joined in on the final part: “As you stand and watch vigil, so shall we this night.” And then silence fell.

During the silence of the Dark Vigil, each individual offered their thoughts about those who needed protection. In the past, Chase had asked for his family to be alright. For them all to stay healthy and happy. Today, he asked for that again. He wished, silently, desperately, for them to be safe. And not just them, but everyone else who had disappeared from his town, as well as all the other mountain towns that had been destroyed. He thought about Henrik and Jackie and all the other Phantoms he’d met here, and wished for them to have luck in this fight against the King. He thought about Marvin, someone who he’d never met but who was dear to his friends, and wished for them to be able to rescue him.

As Chase stared at the candle flames, he thought he saw...something. He wasn’t sure what. A shape in the smoke. The shape of a four-legged animal, with...antlers. A deer.

Then as was the tradition, the candles were extinguished, and the night was left in darkness.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

the shapes in the silence (11)

new chapter at the behest of one of my patrons! hope you enjoy! >:)

warnings: terrible coping mechanisms, antagonistic but not "evil" deceit, semi-vivid panic attack, suicidal implications/thoughts, arguing, an antagonistic and also genuinely evil cliffhanger, take care for realsies

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side.

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways.

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash.

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?”

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either.

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out your key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown.

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric.

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.”

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool.

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan.

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded.

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind now, Roman?”

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes.

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to grow!”

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is, why is this happening to us all of the sudden? It’s certainly not something we’ve had to deal with before.”

There was a terse silence.

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.”

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?”

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.”

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug.

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!”

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if his host recognized him?

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.”

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.”

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!”

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman.

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba.

Right in front of his host’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.”

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?”

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most.

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his host’s face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him.

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, his host was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need.

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his host’s chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why.

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.”

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!”

No, no no no. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come.

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless--

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?”

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit.

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that liar daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about himself and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off.

“Like I care about your newest pet project,” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.”

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?”

“Not just some way. All the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes.

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…”

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.”

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!”

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained.

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s Anxiety.”

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?”

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.”

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out.

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye.

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated.

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.”

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for your plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come home.”

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.”

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs.

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go?

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense.

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the solution remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent.

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap.

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously.

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows.

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken.

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred.

Then, there was only Puff.

#sanders sides #tiny dragon virgil #g/t #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts thomas #ts janus #writing #my writing #tsits #the shapes in the silence #mind the warnings #again for clarity this is Absolutely not the last chapter #or even close to it #ask to tag #lets hope the next chapter is a quicker process hm? *ominous evil wink*

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (waffles)

summary: (part 1) or (part 5) <- reader joins douxie on his quest to protect nari. he’ll need company wont he. (part 6) do you like waffles? also appalachia and nj trollmarket fun. next-> (part 7)

warnings: swearing, fem! reader, maybe an alcohol mention, proof reading is for squares yo

word count: 3875

a/n: i’m sorry to anyone from PA but wtf. i also have no idea why this turned out the way it did. bon apetit.

no gif im trying to test something

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n looked over at Douxie. The blue of his hair was starting to fade into a duller hue. While not as bright and bold as his personality, it was still very nice to look at. This muted blue was softer, almost comforting in a way. Y/n found herself running her fingers through it. It wasn’t just the color that was soft. Like feathers in her hand, she gently caressed the strands. The duller color made him look tired, older, and the permanent bags under his eyes didn’t help. She placed her hand on his face and ran her thumb over a said eye bag. He gave her a very subdued smile in return. His sunken eyes were so beautiful. Her favorite color. Or colors, one should say. They were like an earth toned opal. Y/n’s hand drifted down his face. She used her thumb to explore his cheekbones, tracing constellations in his freckles, and finally settled on his mouth, tracing his cupid’s bow. Douxie couldn’t help but break the stoic face he was trying to hold.

“As much as I hate to ask this, and I really do, but will you please cease what you’re doing, My Love. I’m trying to drive here.”

“Yes, I would also like to ask you to stop, miss L/n. Not wrecking the ship is worth you canning your pda for a while.” Archie added.

Y/n pulled her hand back and exaggeratedly pouted. She teasingly stuck her tongue out at Archie for good measure, but couldn’t help but dissolve into a snicker right after so it wasn’t very effective. But really, it wasn’t her fault that Douxie’s beautifully sculpted face was right there and demanding to be touched. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the scenery around them. North Pennsylvania was delightful, so it’d be a shame if she spent the whole time that they flew through it looking at nothing but Douxie. There was plenty of time for her to do that the rest of her life. It’s not like she didn’t have every freckle memorized already. Every single adorable little dot. Right, Pennsylvania. Appalachia. Y/n was a little disappointed they didn’t manage to go through West Virginia, being as north as they were. She really wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Country roads.

The mountains were hard to transverse through, so Douxie took the boat up high in the clouds. A little too high. The oxygen was thin. While this didn’t affect Archie the dragon or Nari the plant goddess, Douxie and Y/n were getting a bit woozy. Neither would get altitude sickness to the point of dying, thanks to that good ol’ curse of immortality, but their minds weren’t exactly operating at high speeds here. They passed through a low hanging cloud in a puff of fog.

Though they were over it, just being in the range of Appalachia felt odd. There was a presence that clung to the mountains. Even flying high up in the air, one felt as though they were being watched. Like the thousand eyes of the forest were upon them. Looking down below, hanging over the edge like Douxie hated her to do, Y/n saw a herd of deer that might as well be ants. Watching over the herd was a bigger, or maybe closer, stag on a peak of some sort. His antlers were covered in crimson. Y/n hoped he was just shedding.

There were pathways cutting through the trees below, some roads, some manmade trails, some rivers, some troll trails, and some deer trails. Some that wound around in endless curves, some that seemed to start from nowhere and stop at nothing, some that went round and round in a circle, and some that crossed over each other, effectively creating a maze of sorts. Y/n didn’t know why, but she was glad she was above the trees and not in them. Something within her gut told her that as beautiful as the scenery was, she did not wish to experience it first-hand. The deer below were beautiful, but there was something not quite right about them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to turn down a game of ninepins either, and she could really go for a drink.

Douxie’s brain may have been foggy, but he could certainly see Y/n hanging over the edge again, tantalizing him. He couldn’t help but imagine 174 ways for it to end badly. He’d been pretty passive about this before but now that they were so high up, he had no choice but to be up front now.

“Y/n, My Love,” Y/n turned her attention to him, which also pulled her weight more towards the boat than the sky. Good. “do you mind being back near the center of the ship? I really don’t like you draping yourself over the railing like that.”

Y/n was getting sick and tired of people always trying to keep her away from edges, advising her not to climb the mountain, telling her to stay inside when there was only a light rainstorm. She could handle it. She wasn’t a fucking porcelain doll. She was not wearing a fancy gown that suffocated her, she could speak, her lips were not perfectly painted on. And she wouldn’t shatter. “Relax, Dewdrop. I’m fine. I’m not just gonna go skydiving for kicks. If anyone has had a penchant for falling through the sky recently, it’s been you, Hisirdoux. I can catch myself with anti-gravity spells, like you taught me. Besides, we walk across tall, crumbly, ancient non-osha compliant walkways all the time. You never had a problem then.”

“Well,” He huffed, “it would be one thing if I was there next to you, but I’m not, so could you please just try to stay safe when I can’t reach you?” Y/n was taken about at how quick his tone went from annoyed to desperate. She furrowed her brows. Doux sighed, “Look, it frightens me, okay. I know that nothing will happen, but what if it does? I can’t- I can’t lose you.” His tone got even feebler in his pleading. “And there’s so many ways to lose you. Especially with the Order on our tails. Please, just give me this peace of mind for at least one thing.”

Y/n stepped away from the railing, crossing over to Douxie. He opened his arm and she nestled into his side. Pressing her head against his chest, she mumbled, “Absolutely. I’ll just—I’ll just stay here then. Next to you. I’m sorry I worried you. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, My Darling.”

~ ~ ~

The dipped down south to go through the top of Maryland and completely through Delaware to get to the south of New Jersey, in place of just going through Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love was not on the itinerary. Philly, and the top of New Jersey, were just too densely populated to take a magic boat through. The airspace was filled with airplanes and skyscrapers. It was easier to go the roundabout way.

As they passed between Philly and Lancaster, they went by fantastically named towns such as Paradise the city, where the girls are pretty, Bird In Hand, Blue Ball, and Intercourse. Stellar. Y/n was starting to really like Pennsylvania. It was cursed ground. She made sure to get photographic evidence of every road sign. Douxie was happy to pose with them.

They took a pit stop in a town called Peach Bottom before leaving Pennsylvania. Y/n wanted to go through New Texas, since she was curious how somewhere in the original colonies could be a new Texas, but Nari could sense a river nearby, and wanted to seek it out. Peach Bottom. It was a cozy little town with a power plant that was dumping it’s waste into the riverside it was built on. Toxic river. Fun. Y/n made Douxie explain to Nari why she couldn’t get near the river or touch any of the water. Y/n wouldn’t have been able to stay as calm as Douxie could. There was nothing happening in the rural Pennsylvanian town. Nothing special about it unless you counted their countless nuclear admissions. The locals didn’t care for strangers, and that was alright with them cause they didn’t want to be here for any more than necessary for a restroom break. Dinner could wait.

The top of Maryland was great. Lots of rivers to make it up to Nari. There was just, an incredibly large walmart near the line. Just absolutely humongous whopper walmart. A leach whose name doesn’t even deserve to be capitalized, thank you very much autocorrect.

It took less than half an hour to fly right through the top of Delaware. Hi Delaware, bye Delaware.

Soon they were on the coast of south New Jersey, headed for a sleepy town called Monty. Monty was a town along the Cohansey, split across it with quite an impressive bridge between the two sides. As soon as the bridge became visible on the skyline, Y/n grabbed Douxie’s sleeve and tugged excitedly. She looked up at him with a big smile. Rest. At last, they were going to get to rest. Y/n made herself busy calling Jim to let him know that they were there so he could call someone else to let them know that they were there and to wait by the entrance for them. Neither Douxie nor Y/n had a horngazzle on them at the moment. Y/n had had one in her possession back in Arcadia, being book club buddies with Blinky, but alas that was destroyed along with their bookstore.

They hid that damn magic boat in the forest. While they did plan on staying with the trolls for a few weeks, Douxie didn’t put it back in its glass bottle quite yet, cause they were in fact taking it into New York not tomorrow but the next day. He covered the ground around it with a few more wards than necessary. Y/n threw up an illusion spell around it, as she had been all the other times they’d just left it in the woods, and thought the wards were overkill but didn’t say anything. They started on the trek to the base of the bridge.

The troll at the entrance greeted them cordially. He was a dark green color, with two massive horns resembling those of a longhorn cow, chiseled stone tattoos, and no clothes other than a tiny loincloth which made everyone but Nari uncomfortable. He let them in with flourish, as if he’d always wanted to do this and practiced it.

“Welcome to NEW JERSEY TROLLMARKET.”

Y/n was surprised at how well the town had come along within the two months the trolls had occupied the cavern. It wasn’t the Trollmarket she had known, there was no Blinky and no library, but still marvelous. The new hearthstone glowed warmly, very much alive and not making zombies. While looking pretty similar to the old Trollmarket, with a multitude of shops and homes carved into the mineral covered walls and formations, there was a sort of human touch to it now. Claire definitely had a hand in the planning and maybe the decorative features too. Or perhaps Jim. Y/n wouldn’t put it past the boy to be the one who designed the very elaborate crystal art flower bed she was looking at. Or that weirdly steampunk bridge. Funny thing, a bridge under a bridge.

Dictatious met them soon after they came in to show them around and to where they would be staying. The tour he gave them basically just included him walking them through the main street, waving his arms to various places and vaguely saying that they were shops but not what they sold, pointing out the pub, and then took them straight to their accommodations. Since the home that had been occupied by Blinky, Jim, and Claire was now empty, they’d be staying there, with the place practically to themselves. Dictatious also lived in said home, but rarely stuck around it for long now that his brother was gone.

“Alright, here’s your nest.”

Since Dictatious still slept in the nest that he shared with Blinky, he had given them Jim and Claire’s. The nests were just rocky bowls carved into the floor of the room, with a few comfort items. Thankfully, Jim and Claire had left theirs full of pillows and a couple thick cushions they must have taken from a couch. Unconventional, but better than sleeping on literal solid rock. Speaking of couches, there were way too many couches spread across the apartment. This entire place only had two rooms, a large living area and a nestroom, and yet there were five couches. Not to mention the extra-large easy chair Dic was currently lounging in. Okay, so one of said couches was technically a love seat, but still. There was no kitchen, which was surprising due to this being Jim Lake Jr’s home, and no table besides the one that three of the sofas were gathered around and a paper-covered work desk against a corner. There were glowing crystal lamps all throughout, lighting the house. All in all, interesting interior design decisions. The kids had definitely been trying to make it a more homey human dwelling but had limited options.

Nari nestled into the nest, happy that there were no blankets to smother her. Not even a minute passed and she was out like a light. Douxie and Y/n sat on one of the couches in the nestroom, watching the veggie lady snooze. Archie made himself comfy in Douxie’s lap, who absent mindedly stroked his familiar’s fur. They were underground now. Surrounded by inorganic matter. Some of that inorganic matter could fight, would be willing to fight, would probably be disappointed if there wasn’t a fight. The little devil on Douxie’s shoulder wasn’t really having to work hard. His stomach growled. They had opted to just not stop for dinner in favor of plowing right through their trip route. It was late, and dark, and Douxie really just wanted them to have a roof over their head before midnight. And now they did.

He looked over at Y/n. They had been a couple for an entire day now and he had yet to take her on a proper date. What a bad boyfriend he was. It’s not like Archie would want to come with them or anything either, since he filled himself with birds that didn’t know what hit them while they traveled. The dragon had even caught a hawk at one point, which wasn’t as impressive as it sounds, since Archie was a much faster flyer. He would be happy to watch Nari for them, surely. And Dic had given them a horngazzle so they could come and go as they pleased. It was settled then.

“Arch, watch Nari for us, please, we’ll be back in a pinch,” He grabbed Y/n’s hand to pull her off the couch, “C’mon, My Love, we’re going on a date.”

~ ~ ~

Turns out the only thing open past midnight in small town New Jersey was a waffle house. The perfect date. Y/n had thought it funny to watch Douxie try and deactivate all the fresh wards he had put around the boat. He had to be careful where he put his feet, and it was like he was doing a silly little dance. Ward trap ballet of his own barely thought-out design. At one point he stepped backwards to admire his work, triggering the ward behind him, and Y/n had to free him from the net. Lucky it was just a net one.

Entering the waffle house, they slid into the nearest booth, the one near the jukebox. They ordered what else but waffles. The food of kings and hungover college kids. Not just plain waffles, though. Douxie got chocolate chip and Y/ got strawberry, and they were going to combine them to make chocolate covered strawberry waffles. Everyone knows chocolate covered strawberries were the most romantic food, why else would they push them so hard around Valentine’s.

Douxie leaned in with his head in his hand. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Y/n laughed, decided to play into this bit. “Oh, I’m just a California lass, on her way to New York. Things have been crazy lately. Went to a very convincing renaissance faire, I’m harboring a fugitive, my roommate keeps hitting on me. Very stressful. Sure am lucky I came across you, Mr. Handsome.”

“Lucky indeed.” Doux snickered.

Y/n pointed to the jukebox behind Doux, which he twisted around to see. “Have you ever heard ‘Last Night I Saw Elvis At Waffle House’?”

“No?”

“Oh, it’s a banger.” She got out of the booth and put a coin in the juke, making her selection. She slid back in with a Cheshire cat grin and Doux was kind of scared now, actually. As the current song ended and the song that they were waiting for began. Well, it was a song. About seeing Elvis in a waffle house. With a country tune he supposed someone thought was catchy in order for them to have recorded this. Douxie didn’t know what he had expected.

“Uh, wow.”

“Yeah, Ain’t it something. I loved this song when I was knee high to a grasshopper. All the waffle house jams really.”

“Your aunt let someone bring you to a waffle house? That’s not very proper.” Douxie chuckled.

“Oh, no, actually. Um, this was before my dad passed and my mother, ah, slipped.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, no. I’m fine Dewdrop. I can talk about it, really. And, like you said the other day, I’ve been focusing on the Now Love.” The silly waffle house themed song was still playing despite the air of seriousness that had fallen over the duo. It helped keep Y/n from getting too sad and dwelling on the memories she had just brought up. It was comical, really. A waffle house song keeping her grounded. She rubbed the palm of Douxie’s hand. “I still mourn my family, but it’s been so long that the pain’s but a dull ache now. As long as I don’t think too hard about it. If anyone knows about mourning it’d be you, Doux. I can’t imagine meeting hundreds of friends over my lifetime just to watch them all grow old and die while you just have to go on living.” She paused, eyes drifting downwards, “But I suppose that’ll be my fate anyways.”

Douxie reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s actually not that bad, once you get used to it. You just have to enjoy every bit of time you get. That’s what makes other magic friends so valuable, there are some permanent players on your team.” He let his hand linger under her jaw, pulling her face closer to his, “You have me. We have each other. We’re family. We always have been.”

“So I hate to interrupt, but, waffles.” The server put the plates she had been holding down onto the table. Douxie and Y/n pulled away from each other quick as lightning, sitting up straight in their seats. “Again, sorry guys.”

“Thank you.” The two chorused to their fleeting form in embarrassment. Their faces were fire engine red. Archie was right, they did get a little carried away with the pda. It may have been 12:28am in a waffle house but they were still in public. Grabby hands needed to be kept to themselves.

After dinner, neither Doux nor Y/n could bring themselves to go home quite yet, despite the nagging feeling to return to Nari. They loitered around woods, unsure of what to do. Leaning against the parked boat, Douxie got an idea. He put on the music on his phone, turning the volume all the way up and positioning it so it’d put out a better sound the best he could. The playlist he selected was actually the one he had of songs that reminded him of his beloved. Copying what Y/n had done last night, he held out his hand.

“Come on, dance with me, My Darling.”

Douxie twirled Y/n around in the night breeze that blew through the trees. This song was much faster than the one they danced to last time, and there was more energy between them. Y/n’s laugh echoed through the forest. This was a lot of fun, she could do it all night. Honestly, she could do anything all night if it was with Douxie. He lifted her up, like she weighed nothing. Seriously, how strong was this noodle armed wizard. She threw her arms around his neck, looking down to meet his eyes, a rare thing. Y/n kissed his nose, eliciting a happy giggle from his mouth.

He should have put her back down by now. Instead, he still held her up, transfixed by her face ringed in moonlight, like a halo. She noticed the awestruck look on his face, kissing him properly, yet it did nothing to pull him out of his stupor. He had one thought running over and over in his mind. Marry me. But, he couldn’t say that. A proposal had to be special, not after a waffle house date. Their first date, mind you. He couldn’t possibly jus-

“Marry me, Dewdrop?”

Well apparently he couldn’t but she absolutely could.

It took him a moment to take in her words, shocked out of his overthinking. The biggest grin spread across his face as he giddily spun her around in his arms. He finally put her feet back on the ground, crashing his lips into hers. Y/n brought a hand up to drag through his hair and left the other to slide down his back. No battle for dominance, Douxie’s tongue was definitely the one leading here. He just couldn’t believe it. It was if she had read his mind. It was still hard for him to believe she wanted him in the first place, but this much? If this was the afterlife he must surely be in heaven. One makeout session later, Y/n rasped “So I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“Let’s sign the papers tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

Despite the uneasy feeling they had both had about leaving Nari alone for so long, she was perfectly fine. In fact she hadn’t even moved an inch form the spot they left her in. Like they never left at all. Archie was asleep on that couch, as peaceful as ever. They’d tell him the news in the morning.

Y/n climbed into the nest and dragged Douxie down with her. After getting comfy on the array of cushions, he opened his arms and she nestled into his chest. She could feel his hands rest on her back. Perfect. It was calming, listening to his heartbeat, being lulled to sleep with the rhythm that gave proof that her beloved was alive. A steady beat that reassured her he was there, he was there. He wouldn’t leave her again.

*** check notes for chapter illustrations lmao

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie imagine #douxie casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #douxie #toa douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #douxie casperan #my writing

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milkypompon · 4 years

Text

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜 | ℙ𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟 Zuko x Reader

*+:｡.｡𝔼𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒 ℍ𝕠𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕗𝕦 ℍ𝕠𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕟｡.｡:+*

ℤ𝕦𝕜𝕠 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

< ℙℝ𝔼𝕍𝕀𝕆𝕌𝕊 || ℕ𝔼𝕏𝕋 >

𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕆𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊 𝔹𝕆𝕆𝕂

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | Aang and Y/N are siblings who share powers, but Y/N was hidden from the Four Nation’s eyes to avoid the possibility of their separation. Then, Zuko meets the flamboyant and flirtatious Y/N for the first time at the Western Air Temple where he attempts to join the tight-knit Gaang.

[ℙℝ𝔼𝕍𝕀𝕆𝕌𝕊𝕃𝕐]

Zuko flopped over to fully face Y/N and grasped their wrist with a strong grip. Y/N was caught off guard, yelping as he yanked it close to his chest. Their faces hovered over each other’s, noses just inches apart.

[ℙℝ𝔼𝕊𝔼ℕ𝕋 𝕋𝕀𝕄𝔼]

The fast pace of shuffling shoes from outside the bedroom reached Zuko’s ears, causing him to loosen the grip on Y/N’s wrist. To his surprise, they didn’t pull away. Their eyes still hovered over his, holding their gaze as unspoken truths were laid out before them. The golden irises of Zuko reflected the morning light coming in from the carved window. A look that undoubtedly made Y/N want to shrink away.

Y/N could feel Zuko’s pulsating heartbeat beneath the hand they placed firmly over his chest to steady themself from the dizzying feeling that he casted over them. Y/N’s breath picked up, tickling his eyelashes.

Zuko wanted to blink and look away from the rising embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to. His gaze fluttered down to Y/N’s soft lips, slightly agape. With a gentle hand, he smoothened the pad of his thumb over their chin. Allowing himself to feel the bare skin that warmed up his fingers.

Y/N felt a tug on the nape of their neck, an invitation for something forbidden, but never will be forgotten. He pulled them down gently, giving Y/N time to pull away if they wanted to. There was not a single hint of refusal or denial, allowing them to feel a sensation of a new yet familiar warmth that washed over their lips.

The contact emitted a gentle flickering flame, slowly but surely trickling through every part of their shared sensation. A gentle push and pull that drew out between their lips. A swirling feeling that made the thoughts of tomorrow a haze, only concentrating on today.

Only feeling the excitement of their beating hearts right now.

A deep hue sprinkled over Y/N’s cheeks, relentlessly growing darker as they pressed on a little longer. Their warm hand hovered over Zuko’s cheek, unsure if he wanted their touch. He pressed it down quietly giggling to himself.

For someone so cocky and flirty, who knew this would be their first kiss? Zuko thought.

“Ooo! Y/N’s getting some-” Sokka squealed. “Ow! Hey, let go!”

With a face contorted in annoyance, Katara dragged in Sokka by the ear. A vice grip that threatened to pull off a part of him.

Y/N, with a flustered face, stumbled as Zuko shoved them forward a little too hard. He slammed his head down onto the pillow and drew the thinning blanket over his reddening face.

Y/N cleared their throat, refusing to meet their gaze.

“So-” They dwindled their thumbs, attempting to avert their attention from the scene they just walked into.

Katara pinched the bridge of her nose, “THE ONE THING I ASK OF YOU!”

Y/N took sudden interest to the cracking concrete. “You didn’t blatantly say to not kiss Zuko…”

Sokka snorted quietly, earning a twist to the ear from his sister. Y/N glared at him now only realizing who the fucking tattle-tale was. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

“Bitch,” Y/N mouthed.

Sokka stuck his tongue out in return.

“Anyways! Where’s Toph and Aang?”

Two pairs of shuffling feet made their way to the rest of the Gaang. The pair’s chests heaved as if they’d been trying to catch up with a furious looking Katara and horror-stricken Sokka.

Toph rested her hand on the bedroom opening, Aang gripping her shoulder to balance his swirling head.

“Present!” Toph shouted. Aang hummed in approval.

“Y/N, don’t try to change the subject!” Katara let go of Sokka, who rubbed his reddening ear.

Zuko allowed everything to play out, a pang of guilt hit him as he realized that he was still under the sheet, allowing Y/N to take the embarrassment head on. He admired this about them, despite the consequences, their mind is only set on finding a way out of a situation that was getting out of hand. But, to Zuko’s dismay, he was partially responsible for this.

He peeped his eyes out.

Aang caught the nervous look in them. He jutted his thumb behind him.

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Leave while you still can!” Aang whispered a little too loudly. Katara whipped his head back to glare at him, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Good job, Twinkle-Toes,” Toph hissed and elbowed his stomach.

Zuko couldn’t take the suffocating tension, more so awkwardness hanging about in the air.

He cleared his throat. “Well, now that everyone is here…”

Y/N took a few careful steps back, already knowing the reaction of the Gaang .

“I won’t be much help to the Avatar,” He finished.

Toph pointed up a finger. “Correction, Avatars”

The room stood still, everyone was stunned from the reveal.

Zuko propped himself up, slowly sitting. “H-Huh?”

Toph shrugged her shoulders. “He was gonna find out eventually and plus, I thought he already realized that after yesterday.”

He swung his legs down to the floor to stabilize himself. He looked around him, finally resting his gaze over to Y/N’s tilted head.

“C-Could someone fill me in?”

Y/N clasped their hands behind them and made their way to Zuko whose face was buried in his palms.

“Well, fellow hotman.” Y/N plucked a stray piece of Zuko’s black locks and tucked it behind his ear. He looked up and was met with the annoyingly confident smirk that they always held around him.

“While you were out cold, or should I say hot because fire was surrounding you… Aang and I went into the Avatar state.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But how-”

Y/N put their pointer finger against Zuko’s lips. “Ssh, ssh. Listen!”

“Because I am the second Avatar!” Y/N pressed their nose to Zuko’s. A small boop!, accompanied by a giggle escaped their lips.

He leaned back and clawed his nose. “A lifetime with two… How is that even possible?”

Y/N formed a circle with one hand and a pointer finger with the other. “Well, when you have a female and male-”

Aang interrupted, “OKAY! What did you have to tell us?” He pushed his way through the door and stood next to his sibling.

For once, Zuko felt small under his gaze. Aang did so with no intention to intimidate him, but after all that the Fire Prince has done to them, he least he could do was show them the art of the uncontrollable. But now, for the first time, he had no direction in his life.

Zuko started off with a more or less steady royal life. He was treated with respect by the utmost powerful leaders of the nations to the lowly peasants that traversed through the streets of Ba Sing Se. Then, off he went to capture the Avatar for his father. A jaw-clenching chore that made him into the fool he was today. Easily swayed by the emotions he propelled himself. Zuko was bent this way and that by the people around him.

The only time he fully trusted his emotions in the hands of another was with Uncle Iroh. A respectable man who he wished he could call his own Father. Iroh became a mediator between Zuko’s outburst of emotions and the things he desired most.

And at this moment, he wanted, no, needed the feeling of being loved and return it.

By Y/N.

Zuko gulped, struggling to the find the right words to relay an unnerving message,

“The so-called firebender can’t bend his own shit! Puff the Magic Dragon could destroy more than Zuko can at this rate,” Sokka pipped up.

Katara gasped, “EVEN AFTER YESTERDAY?”

Zuko groaned and placed his face down into his palms once again, “Can everyone stop referring to YESTERDAY? All of you are saying it as if I remember!”

Everyone became silent, save for a few defeated sighs.

Zuko felt the mattress dip under him, he craned his neck to the side to see Y/N’s eyes suddenly perk up with delight.

“SOKKA’S RIGHT!” Y/N shouted.

“Wow, Y/N. Event that’s a little too mean for me,” Sokka’s eyebrows shot up.

Toph caught on. “No, no, listen. Zuko needs to go back to the original source of firebending.”

Zuko muttered under his breath, “Dragons.”

Y/N smirks and bumped his shoulders with him.

“Hot and smart.”

𝔼𝕟𝕕 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | WE BOUTTA GET SOME ACTION IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. (Not like that ya nasties...)

DISCONTINUED SERIES

【ℝ𝔼ℚ𝕌𝔼𝕊𝕋 𝕋𝕆 𝔹𝔼 𝕆ℕ 𝔸 𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕋ℍℝ𝕌 𝕄𝕐 𝕀ℕ𝔹𝕆𝕏】

@haylaansmi @lizzyumi @ruinedlies @anime-simp @akariblue @uber-scooter @celamoon @rhodeisland101 @flloooooopppa @mackandcheese24 @samschaoticblogs @ilovespideyyy @kisskissshutmydoor @og-disaster-bi @emogril @vlovers-world @samsmultifandomblogs @plutaars @kinismanditory @shephard17895 @eridanuswave @iguessthefloorislava @a-hopeless-fan @mybnkjj @mahleeyuh @elammd @seducethis72 @was-yeeted-to-the-moon @sadbitchhours400 @janedeowriter @lunariasilver @doodlephobic @coldlilheart @too-attached-to-fiction @iknowrocknroll567 @bucky-blogs @royahllty @woohoney @darkskin-buttercup @sweetjeebuz @lonelyhibiscus @mochminnie

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko fics #zuko self inserts #zuko x y/n #zuko imagines #atla #atla imagines #avatar #avatar imagines #atla self inserts #avatar self inserts

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indigobackfire · 3 years

Text

Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Below is a lengthy history of his parents, their involvement with dragons, and how he lost them.

Ps: I tried adding some Scottish dialect in the dialogue, but I'm not the best at it considering all I have as reference is my love for James McAvoy and Outlander. Forgive me in advance for any atrocities lol. Also, diverging from canon especially in relation to Veela powers and physical descriptions.

Phoenix's father, Emilian, was sorted into Gryffindor and with pride, he was a Gryffindor by the book, adventurous, brave, often reckless, fun, with a strong sense of protection over his friends, someone who valued courage and honor.

Emilian didn't know how he and Palmer Silverwood - Slytherin, pureblood, much more popular than him, and one of the best duelists in their year - became friends, he also didn't know how Palmer found an about to hatch dragon egg in the forbidden forest, or how he even got into the forbidden forest to begin with, but being who he was, Emilian wasn't much surprised.

The biggest surprise was that Palmer even knew who he was.

Emilian takes a peek into Palmer's robes where the egg is hidden. "So? You're the dragon laddie, Nobleworth."

"Yeah, it's a dragon egg. Common Welsh Green this one." He looks up. "And is that what people call me?"

"Are ye really surprised? You talk about them all the time, yer the best in Care of Magical Creatures, and ye have a dragon painted at the back of yer bloody robes."

"Only fair. McGonagall hates it."

Palmer laughs. "Will ye help me?"

"Aye. But what ye want me to do?"

"I dinna ken. I just don't want the wee dragon to die. The poor creature wasn't warm when I found it so it's probably motherless. I mean... they fire up their eggs, don't they?"

Emilian smiles. "You're not as unknowledgeable as you think, Silverwood. Let's go somewhere more private."

In the humid and dusty air of the artifact room, they hide. "Hand me the egg."

Palmer hands him the egg delicately as if the creature inside it wasn't one that could eat them both in a bite when grown. And for a moment Palmer wonders what he'll do, but Emilian just stands there holding the egg. And as he's about to question him, he sees Emilian's fingers get bright red.

"Mate? What's wrong with yer hands?"

Emilian snickers. "I have a secret, can you keep it?" Palmer nods eyes fixated on the egg whose cracks were very slowly growing. "I'm half Veela and whilst I can't throw balls of fire from my hands... I can heat it up to... oven temperature."

"Oven temperature?"

Emilian smirks. "Ah dinnae have exact numbers, but if ye want to give a touch."

Palmer looks at his hands again. "Nae. They're as bright as molten glass, lad."

Emilian raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I felt it move."

"Ooohh, it's gonna set this tiny room on fire."

"Let me hide it this time. I ken a place we can go. The person ye should've gone to in the first place."

Palmer widens his eyes. "Kettleburn, nae."

"Silverwood, ye cannae keep the dragon. It'll set you on fire before completing one year."

Palmer puffs as they walk out of the artifact room. "If the dragon enthusiast dinnae want to keep a real dragon, why would I?"

"A dragon lover is the same as a bee lover. You can appreciate the honey, the lovely stripes, but if ye hold it in yer hand, it'll sting you. Dragons were made to live outside, flying, spitting fire. A wee dragon is cute, but once is grown..."

"Yer a curious lad, Nobleworth." Emilian gives an awkward half smile. "I like you."

Their friendship was as unexpected to them as it was for the bystanders, but one that sustained for their last two years in Hogwarts - including Palmer's girlfriend, Clarin, an uptight but curious Ravenclaw, who despite her best instincts followed behind on the boys' adventures.

When Emilian announced he would be leaving England for the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania a couple of years later, as much as Palmer and Clarin expected that to happen, it still came with the bittersweetness of watching one of their best friends go.

Years go by, but still, their bond sustains time and distance. Every opportunity they had, the SIlverwoods would travel to Romania to visit their friend who in a lighting in a bottle chance found himself a wife of "his kind".

Full Veela, Antonia Lazar, practically raised herself as her father left her mother, a temperamental full Veela woman, to deal with Tonia herself, a task she delegated to her equally careless family members, closely involved with the Dragon Sanctuary in times the place was still informally managed.

When Emilian meets her, barely wearing rags over her body, barefoot on the grass, pearl blonde hair unruly, looking as if she was raised by wild house elves, he couldn't help his heart hammering in his chest. Female Veela beauty wasn't something he was unused to, considering his mother and aunts were ones as well, but when Antonia was before him he thought of himself before a goddess.

Emilian tries not to spill the water in the heavy buckets while Antonia doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He wouldn't have a need to even carry them if he hadn't forgotten his wand, but at least he got to be alone with her.

"Why is it that ye dinnae like us?"

"You English think you run the place just because you read about dragons in a book, think you know more than us who grew with hundreds of them." She shoots him firey eyes. "Know when I first rode a dragon? I was five years old!"

"I never say I doubted yer capacities. And I'm not English, I'm Scottish." She glares at him again. "I'm kidding."

"Don't get me angry, you won't like it me angry. Trust me."

"I would actually. I wonder what color yer feathers would be."

"I'm sorry?"

"I ken a Veela when I see one. Especially cause I'm half one."

Her expression soothes a little. She puts the bucket down and grips his hand. "Go, do your magic."

While his hand goes as hot as they can, his eyes slowly change hues to match her, never breaking eye contact. "It's nice touching a girl who doesn't mind a more... ardent touch."

She gives a small smile. "You're pathetic."

"I'd love to fly on a dragon's back with someone who understands about them. I promise I'm not here to mock or doubt you. I love those creatures more than anyone I know."

She lets go of his hand and with a smirk picks up the bucket. "Well, now you know me."

Their relationship quickly becomes stronger as they spend day after day together. The work at the Sanctuary is as rewarding as it is tiring, so at the end of long days, they would sit together and exchange stories, her of her buckwild childhood and him of his years in Hogwarts. In each other's company that they find an air of normality and peace.

After recognizing and accepting her strong feelings for Emilian - something hard considering how men had treated her before, seeking what she had to offer them more than considering her needs - and finding out he felt the same for the longest time, they decided to marry, her seeing in him a sense of stability for the first time in her life.

It doesn't take long until Antonia is pregnant with their first child, and in the pool of genes and possibilities, their first-born boy is a full Veela like his mother, something uncommon for boys. Not considering what would be 'formal' or well accepted, Antonia decides to name him Phoenix for encompassing what being a Veela means to her, a bird of elegance and fire and perseverance.

And as if it was pre-destined, just a couple months prior, Clarin and Palmer had given birth to a girl of name just as uncommon, little Indigo Silverwood, who is but three months old when they come to Romania to meet little Phoenix.

To this day, the Silverwoods wonder if their timing was the best or worst it could've been.

As in the same week they came to visit, an attack happens with the intent of capturing as many dragons as they could from the reserve, something that had happened times before but this time much better planned and heavily armed with the best wizards they could get.

They start picking up their wands in haste while seeking the fire protection potion they had brewed specially for this trip back at home. "What do they need dragons for? Can't they breed their own." Clarin asks.

"Is not like is legal or easy to do so." Antonia has her eyes soaked with tears. "They don't care about the creatures, they want money. Oh, they use their blood to make spot removers. Oven cleaners! How can you take a marvelous creature and turn it into such a pathetic thing? Then they use their hearts in you wizards stupid wands and their skin into gloves!"

"Somebody must have heard about the new Chinese Fireball," Emilian says, "People seek the gold in their horns and eggs, but if you pull them out, they die."

"Not to mention the baby Romanians. Put your goddamn boots on already, Emilian!"

"What 'bout the bairns?" Palmer asks anxiously.

"There's no time. They probably ain't getting all the way up here, but in all cases." Emilian grabs the potion from Clarin's hands turning over Jacob's and baby Indigo's mouth, knowing the fire wouldn't do harm to Phoenix. He places something in Jacob's little hand. "Jacob, if any mean person comes trying to hurt ye, throw this at their feet and run. Alright?" Jacob nods, eyes wide with fear and excitement of a five-year-old.

"What is it?" Palmer asks.

"A vial of Peruvian's Vipertooth venom, extremely deadly and volatile. Don't ask me why I have it."

Palmer looks at Jacob. "Stay quiet and protect the babies, right, love?"

Antonia kisses Phoenix on the forehead one last time then turns to the others. "Let's go, please!"

And if they knew, she would've held him a little longer, Emilian would've stopped time for a couple of seconds to look at their boy for a lingering moment more. But they didn't and time never reversed.

They weren't the only lives lost, but side by side they fought and won and lost and lost and lost. They managed to protect all but two of the dragons at the end, blood of dark wizards - and innocent ones - soaked the grounds. Dragons loose on the sky overhead, blood spilt from both sides, burnt buildings, scars that would never heal, the body of a friend devoided of life, a mother of dragons and children never to wake up again, children crying in a cabin kilometers away.

When Antonia's mother refused to watch over her own grandson, Clarin felt as if it was her own son the woman refused and it was that soon the decision to keep him came. She was still breastfeeding and no ordinary family would know how to raise him right, at least that's what both her and Palmer told themselves. Emilian's parents, both devastated by the news of their son's death were quick to agree with the Silverwoods' proposal.

And it's like this that Phoenix and Indigo are practically raised as twins, still young when he notices he doesn't look like the rest of them - a pale and blonde boy in a family of tanned brunettes - not only for his looks but by the fact that sinking his hand into a pot of boiling water doesn't hurt or the fact his anger makes his body react differently from the others or that people got mesmerized by his looks enough to do whatever he asked them to.

But the Silverwoods learn the painful way that raising a Veela child is not easy work. Not only easily irritable but also dangerous when transformed, not much to others while still young, but to himself due to painful and harmful transformation, taking hours until he could retain his human form. Meditating and thought exercises became pivotal from an early age. As not make their treatment towards him different from Indigo, they become tougher with both, demanding an altruistic, patient, and empathetic behavior from both.

This leads Phoenix to grown into a level-headed, sweet and compassionate boy who eventually got sorted into Hufflepuff without the sorting hat having to consider long.

As much as he wishes he had grown with his biological parents, he's grateful to have grown in the family he did and doesn't consider himself any less part of it, he loves his siblings dearly and considers and reslects his parents as if it was from their blood and cells he was made of.

---

This is my attempt at a concise history of Phoenix, mostly his parents who I dream of drawing someday. I'll make something in the future for his romantic life as it is its own ride. I ship him with Ismelda and boy oh boy I have some to say about that.

If you wanna more info on Phoenix, I made him an OC profile :)

#mi artita #phoenix nobleworth #fanfic?#oc backstory #hufflepuff #dragons are in it too #an attempt at scottish sounding dialogue #i cant draw clothes for sht #or poses #or hair #help #hphm #hogwarts mystery

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adelheidvonschicksal · 4 years

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Voracious | Todoroki x F!Dragon!Reader

So may I please have an nsfw todoroki/dragon!reader in a fantasy au where they’ve known each other for quite a while and then for the first time, he sees her enter her heat, and using with what he’s learned abt dragons he takes “care” of her.

Todoroki’s breath fogs in front of him as he views the fall of tiny fluttering flakes of snow. The magisters had predicted that this winter would be early and heavy. As the city prepares, he can’t help but worry for people like you, who live without a heated home or even the bare essentials. Education tells him you have the means to keep yourself warm but for how long? Dragons had to get cold too after all. Probably. He’d have to ask.

Todoroki decides to gather steal blankets and cured meats from the castle in case you needed them before sneaking out and traversing the dense forest on the edge of the city. Upon arriving at your cave, he spots you gathering the last of fallen autumn leaves on the ground into large piles. It is something he never saw you do before but your dead focus on the task, to the point you didn’t even acknowledge him, awakens his curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Building a nest,” you reply and look to him. Observant by nature, he sees you eying the sheets in his hand then the material you had gathered. Todoroki keeps his thoughts to himself when it comes to the unconventional methods you had of creating warmth. If only he could invite you back to the castle; but with his dad there, he couldn’t risk you being turned into a war idol. “Can I borrow that?”

“Yes. I brought it for you and some other…” he tries to explain but you promptly snatch the blanket, spread it out, and start piling leaves onto it in a makeshift basket, leaving him confused but strangely motivated by your determination, and he kneels down to help.

“This will work,” you mutter happily to yourself. “Keep the egg nice and cushioned.”

“Your egg?”

“Yes. I need to keep it safe.”

Todoroki pauses, the admission causing him to grimace as he feels something deep inside him crack and compress into this empty feeling above his heart. Despite the two of you promising to share everything with each other, he had not one memory of you ever mentioning a lover. He couldn’t figure out why it would bother him so much to find out, but it did. Barely able to stop this bitterness from broadcasting itself through his voice, he asks, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Lucky guy?” you repeat, puzzled. Then, you click your tongue as you finally understand. “Oh, I don’t have a partner,” you answer, and the heaviness that was making it hard for him to breathe began to lighten little by little. Now, it was replaced with confusion, which you easily picked up on. “I mean there will be once mating season starts. I’m preparing in advance for the unpredictable. As for you, I’d advise making yourself scarce for a few weeks when that happens unless you want to be mistaken as rival and challenged.”

“They could try,” he mumbles, thinking he could easily take out any dragon that wanted to mount you if he used his ice magic. It worked on you well enough the first time you met after you thought his horse would make a good dinner.

“Good. You can weed out the weaklings for me.”

Todoroki smacks his lips, the tightness from before slowly returning as he thought about the prospects of you having a child with someone soon. Even with your casual almost excited flare, he quickly realizes that it would be unlikely that you would know your mate beforehand while he often considered running away at the prospects of being placed into an arrange marriage with another person, let alone bare a child with them. “How do you deal with it?”

“Deal with what?”

“Mating season,” he explains as he twists and hauls the blanket full of leaves over his shoulders, slowly walking back to your den with you. “You don’t usually know your mates or if you’d like them. Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

Faster than he could ever expect, you answer, “No.”

Stopping in his tracks, Todoroki scowls at you. Sensing his unease, you stop too, tilting your head at him curiously as he scrunches his face. “No?”

“What?”

“How could it not bother you? What if…you didn’t want to mate with them or if…you liked someone else or someone liked you?”

You shrug. “I don’t understand why that would matter, whoever is stronger would be my mate.”

“That easily?”

“Yes. I’m not sure what you do not understand—Oh,” you gasp. “I forgot it’s different for you. You humans tend to get really attached to your mates. It always amazes me that your species manages to survive that way.”

Todoroki scoffs. “Since when is it a crime to want to be with someone who actually cares about you?”

“It’s not. It’s just unnecessary in the grand scheme of the world to care about that sort of thing especially if it creates a burden to do so.”

“Does that mean you think our relationship is unnecessary?” he demands, the hurt final breaking through as he clenches his fist at his side.

“You have to admit it’s not conventional.”

“But, I’m convenient for you.”

“Yes, but I do like being your friend as well,” you answer honestly, not one to notice your own bluntness even for the sake of someone else’s feelings. “Look. Our world is harder than yours, so we owe to our children to give them the best odds of surviving that world. I don’t expect that as a human you’d understand that, but that’s the way it is.”

Unsatisfied with the answer, he throws down the makeshift carrier and glares at you. “You’re right. I wouldn’t get it,” he replies, storming away from you and returning to the castle.

The next few days, he spent sulking, agonizing over the fact that your relationship could have been one only born from convenience. Though, there were times he thinks that you enjoyed his company. Shouto could only think of a few times he was happier than when he was with you, and now he was more miserable than ever now that he had fought with one of the only people he had considered a real friend, something he had hoped for so long when he was alone in the castle for so many years.

It took longer than he expected for him to realize the reason he got frustrated wasn’t because of his anger at you. He didn’t blame you for following your natural instincts or your response. He understood that humans did live differently. Rather, he was jealous because you didn’t think to choose him because no matter how close you were, he was still sadly a weak human in your eyes.

Deciding to swallow his pride, Todoroki once again snuck out the castle late one night to find you and apologize. However, he wasn’t expecting to catch you huddled over yourself in a fetal position, your tail curved between beautiful strong legs when he arrived. In a few seconds, he registers what you’re doing as your tail slides to and fro. Your chest heaves, each desperate pant causing a puff of smoke to leave your mouth, the same as him when he gets too cold and the water in his breath condenses. Those short strokes turn into sporadic thrusts across your naked body, and he flushes as you whine. The sound was so gentle and sweet, the soft little purrs becoming the cutest thing in his memories about you.

Eventually, he decides to give you privacy before you catch him and decide to show him the opposite of your cute side. Slowly, he backs away, and he almost makes it scot-free until he steps on a buried branch. He turns to face your direction as soon as it snaps. Your eyes find him faster than he expects from such a light crunch.

You stand, walking his way, and he gulps, trying not to get distractive by the beautiful bounce of your breasts (as he can finally confirm that you do get cold if the swell, stiff peak of your nipples were anything to go by) and the swing of your hips as you sway towards him. As you get into speaking distance, he readies himself for the lashing you were bound to give him but instead, you lunge.

Hitting the ground, the air is instantly knocked out his lungs. Todoroki grunts, closing his eyes in pain as his head throbs. Slowly regaining himself, he opens his eyes to looks up at you. Glossy eyes meet his back before your tongue slides across your lips, plump and bruised from your own biting, before pulling back in over pointed teeth. The unusual display fills him with a sense of panic and fear he’s never experienced. Shouto never noticed how strong you were until he was pinned to the frozen ground of the forest floor. Pinned underneath your raw strength and the heaviness of your entire body, tail and all, he has time to briefly remember his sister once asked if he thought you were dangerous. He answered, “to livestock maybe”, but that’s how he felt right now, like a piece of livestock.

You lean down over him. Todoroki shudders under the flurries of bites that array his skin in shades of sangria. It was as if you were trying to devour him as you hungrily bite and suck marks into his ivory skin, leaving rings of teeth marks along his neck. He whimpers in both pain and arousal. He reaches up for anywhere to hold you. Landing on your shoulders, he holds you back, but being touched made you rumble lowly, almost reminiscent of a purr. His heart speeds up as if it hadn’t already been racing a marathon. He groans as you shift again and sink your teeth deeper, breaking his flesh. The shock causes him to react with a rush of cold that rivaled your fire element, and you snap away with a yelp.

“What’s wrong with you! Why would you do that?”

“Me? What’s wrong with you?” he huffs, shocking you as you see him panting underneath you, his chest rising and falling hard.

“Sorry…I thought you were someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Yeah, you see, I’m still—”

“In heat.” he finishes, and you nod. “Still?”

“I haven’t had much luck in the mating department.” Pulling away, you return to a seated position of squeezing your tail between your legs to fight off the urge to pounce him once again. “Never mind. Why are you here anyway?”

Todoroki scowls, bowing his head as he shovels his fingers through the dirt and snow. “About that. I wanted to apologize,” he starts, but his explanation goes unheard as your lustful sighs catch his attention. He blushes as you start to grind your tail against you again like he wasn’t even there. Shouto tries to look away, but he couldn’t keep from glancing over as he overhears your blissful sighs. You didn’t look like you were listening to a word he was saying anymore. “Uhm, (Name)?” Slowly, you fix your gaze on him, almost making him choke on his spit. “If you’re that desperate I could stand in as your mate if you want me to.”

Your eyes flit up and down, studying him as if you were thinking about it. Thoughtfully, you chew on your inner cheek. Then, you say what he feared. “But you’re a human.”

Ignoring the sting of your first rejection, Todoroki scoots a little closer to you, his hand steady as he reached out to touch you. You flinch, making him gulp as you looked at his hand on your shoulder. “I know I’m not exactly what you wanted, but you just need stimulation, right? I’m sure we’d line up.”

“Are you sure? My species can get pretty sexually aggressive during mating season,” you warn – like he hadn’t realized that when you first mounted him.

Confidentially, Todoroki replies, “I can be aggressive.”

To his surprise, you snort, laughing lowly at him, and he scowls, knowing he might be rejected but he wasn’t expecting for you to outright laugh at him. You stop giggling and kneel forward onto your knees. He blushes as your face comes to his, so close that he could feel the natural heat on your breath. “You’re a cute little human,” you say and shove your lips against his. Shouto goes back on his back again from the force while you happily take up the space between his legs.

Shouto busies himself with what he wants most: exploring your body. He slowly circles his fingers at your waist, mesmerized in the way your body went from the smooth warmth of skin to the leathery texture of your sunburst scales. But you need more than those light strokes. Taking in his fresh scent, you tremble with excitement at the smell of heat rolling off his left side.

Roughly, you move your lips against his, not holding back just as you had warned. Your teeth pulled on his bottom lip. It leaves light splits in his skin, which you happily lick. Following your lead, his best idea was to meet you with equal force or else be torn with your affection.

With a growl, Shouto bites down on your tongue. He hears that sound again, that purring, and decides to suck on the warm appendage in his mouth. Your hands come to his neck, where on a dragon there would be scales to protect him from your claws dragging along his skin. The first line of blood spring from him; and almost apologetically, your tongue laps at his wound.

“Shouto,” you mumble softly.

“I’m all right.” He uses the opportunity to roll you over and gain some small semblance of control. You could turn the tables back on him again any moment but when his hips rock against yours, you buck and moan at the intense yearning it unleashed in you.

You reach up, pulling at his shirt while your mouth still voraciously attacks his. You try to force his buttons off until impatience caused you to rip at his coat and nails draw into his skin. “Slow down,” he hisses, second-guessing his decision as your mouth wetly covers the patch of exposed skin. You want more, need him more, so you tattered his clothes to reveal more smooth skin.

When you pierced through, he instinctively lit your skin with ice. You whimper and squirm away, your breathing heavy.

Todoroki saw the perfect way to even the playing field and slid his fingers over your stomach again. “Claws off or I’m going to punish you again.”

“Shouto, don’t play with me. I’m not in the mood,” you huff, and he hums in response.

“You look like you’re in the mood to me. You look like you were about to cum right there earlier,” Shouto teases, unfurling your tail to slide his fingers between your lower lips, and he sucks in air as your wetness immediately overtakes his thick fingers, trailing behind his touch in thick, clear strands. “Absolutely amazing,” he whispers, groaning to himself. “You look good enough to eat.”

“You’re going to eat me?” you ask, squirming as he kisses down your stomach, gentle lips brushing your smooth skin. Why would he even kiss you there? He begins to kiss your thighs, making you shudder as the cold air hits the wet spots he left on your flesh.

Shouto kisses the base of your tail, drawing his tongue over the edges of your scales to lick away the flood of fluids, and you gasp as the rough texture of the top of his pink tongue sinks between them to the sensitive flesh in between. Todoroki chuckles, mismatch eyes watching the erotic lift of your hips, knowing that he was the one to make you buck. Shouto glides his fingers into you, watching the erotic display of his fingertips breaking the barrier of thick cum and sinking into your slick folds. The soft croon you release makes him shudder, a bolt of excitement running through him. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

“What are you—oh, OH,” you moan, lolling your head back as Shouto covers you with his mouth, his tongue scooping up your taste, and his nose inhaling your scent. He glances up, watching your eyes, clouded and lust-filled, on him, observing his every move with awe and apprehension that leads him to believe no one ever taught you much in the way of foreplay.

“Your taste is unreal,” he comments, smirking as your chest heaves and your breathing becomes heavy with smoke again. You whimper as he grabs the top of your legs, snatching you closer, his nails snagging against your scales and making them prickle. “I wish I’d known it was this easy to make you mewl like a kitten,” he smirks then slides his pink muscle between your lips.

“Don’t call me a kitten,” you growl, moaning as his back arching as his warm lips suck around your clit. Knowing it wouldn’t hurt you, his left palm lights with flame as it drags down your skin, making you cry out as the fire tingles on your skin and warms every nerve.

“This is my kingdom. I’ll call you as I please,” he states, dotting frost across your skin to make you whine louder. Warm thighs close around his had as you shiver, smothering him in the smooth heat. Shouto thinks it’d be better to feel them around his waist as he drives into you. Your hands come down, gripping his hair and pulling it in tight fists as you fight to hold back your moaning. Todoroki hisses and nips at your clit in retaliation to the pain he felt pulling at his head.

Yelping, you begin to grumble as you feel your orgasm building up before the two of you could properly mate. You felt embarrassed to actually be feeling weak from this, much like a mewling pet as his tongue skillfully dips and swirls inside of you. You tremble as it overtakes you in a flash, draining down your legs as your pussy pounds with the strength of your own orgasm.

“You did such a good job, kitten,” he says, licking his lips clean of your fluids before sliding his tongue over each finger one by one. You groan, finding him attractive despite the obvious differences between the two of you.

“I said don’t call me that,” you demand still panting heavily.

“You’re not the one in charge.” You ‘hmph’. He smiles mockingly, threatening to light you with chills again until his fingers ghost over your stiffened nipples then tweaks them, one cold and one hot, each reaction completely opposite but both making you whimper. “If you tell me you want me nicely, I’ll give it to you.”

“Cocky bastard. Take your clothes off already.”

“Don’t curse,” he reminds you. “Or do you want me to punish you again?”

Growling, you use your strength to tackle him over and pin him by the wrist. You lean close, forehead touching his as you glint your teeth at him. “I think you’re forgetting who’s stronger here, human.”

“Are you so sure about that?” he says, jerking against you, and you push him down harder.

“Yes.”

You bring your claws down to rip through the rest of his coat, leaving tattered lines that reveal what royal genes and training crafted. He shivers as you leave rippling muscles and supple pink nipples exposed to the elements. “Oh, don’t fret, I’ll keep you warm,” you tease as he flushes from the bitter bite of wind stinging his cheeks.

“You should worry about yourself,” he warns, and your leg chills with his power.

“You can make it come out your feet?” you ask between chattering teeth. He fights back against you – your disadvantage that you can’t fire back at him due to fear of burning him to a crisp as you rolled together for dominance.

He turned over on you. “I’ll use my fire later if you’re good, how about that?” he asks, sparking flames to flicker over your skin, and you whine, gasping as it tickles through your body.

“Damn it…” you moan as the heat overtakes you, right after you had just come. “T-That feels good.”

He chuckles. “I’ll make you feel even better,” he answers, undoing his pants, and you smile at him as they come loose, gasping in amazement.

“Ah, it’s so cute.”

“Cute?” he scoffs.

“Yes, it’s so small,” you coo, giggling at him as you lean up to curiously squeeze, making his cheeks redden. “Don’t you have a knot?”

He narrows his eyes at you, irritated at your remarks. “It’s normal-sized. Bigger, actually.”

Your mouth widens in surprise. “Oh, human men get smaller, even cuter.”

“Don’t call it that,” he hisses, pushing his cock into you, slipping into your heat center with a rough thrust.

You gasp, choking as you inhale roughly. “Ah, you’re so sudden, I’m still sensitive.”

“But it feels good, so why don’t you be a good girl and cum on my cock for me, kitten,” he teases, squeezing and kneading your jiggling breasts as he rocks his hips into yours, pushing deeper and deeper. Growling, you wrap your legs around his waist, bucking upwards.

You pull him flushed against you, moaning when his warm body hugged against your bare skin. Burying your head against his neck, you sink your teeth in to bury your groaning at the pace of his cock repeatedly stretching and stroking your core while he pants, low and husky, into your ear.

Your legs spasm with the rush of fluid out of your core, and he curses so softly when you clenched around his throbbing cock, urging him to release with you until you were both satisfied with your union.

“That was…better than expected,” you admitted, relaxing as your aching subsided. With one strong push, you lift him off of you to get some space to catch your breath.

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” you answer with a coy grin that makes him scoff. You laugh in return before acknowledging the shivering the cold around you induced now that you were finally able to cool down from your heat a little. Shouto takes it as an opportunity to pull you against him again.

You readily curl up against him for the time, knowing it’d be impossible for him to shack up with you until the end of mating season like a normal mate. You purr softly and lick his cheek affectionately.

“Uhm, (Name),” he begins, flushing from the affection of your grooming. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but do you remember how you said humans get attached to their mates? That’s because we humans tend to mate for life.”

You stop. “You do?”

“Yes, we do,” he says, and you wrinkle your nose in suspicion.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“I never heard that.”

“I’m the human here, so I think I get the final say on what’s our culture.”

“You’re a strange one,” you answer, “But, I don’t mind just for mating season,” you agree, kissing him again as you push him down into the snow. “Let’s get one more in for today,” you demand.

Todoroki sits on the garden bench, restlessly staring at the castle wall as the snow flurries drift down. Sighing, he wonders what you’ve been up to over the last few weeks he’s been on house arrest under the eyes of the knights ever since his father didn’t take well to him coming home in the early morning with new wounds each time.

He wonders if you would let him stay with you if he was to run away this time, but somewhere in his mind, he doubts that would work out. It would only put you both in danger.

Then, he hears a voice, softly sweet yet somehow confidently demanding, and he looks up from the ground to see you standing before him.

“(Name), what are you doing here?” he whispers harshly, reaching out to pull you down but you step away before he gets the chance.

“I needed to see you.”

“But, why, how did you get in? There are guards everywhere.”

“You mean those clinky ones out front? I don’t think they’ll be getting up any time soon.”

“You can’t go attacking the knights.”

“It’s not like I killed them. Calm down,” you demand with a huff before reaching around to pull out something from an old satchel he’d give you. “Here.”

You hold at an oval object the size of a small melon and carefully place it into his arms. Shouto holds it up, running his fingers over the jagged horizontal lines of red and blue that decorate the object.

“What is this?” he questions curiously.

“It’s your egg.”

Shouto jumps, clutching on tighter to stop from dropping it in surprise. He was completely unaware that the two of you could have kids. He’s never read or heard anything about half-breeds before, and he wasn’t planning on becoming the first case of such either. “My egg, like you gave birth to this sort of egg?”

“Duh, what did you think mating season is for?” you remind him sarcastically as he panics. “I need you to watch it for me so I can go hunting.”

Todoroki gulps, unsure where to even begin taking care of this sort of thing, let alone how to hide it in the castle. “Uhm…but aren’t women supposed to watch their egg?”

“Humans share the responsibility for their children, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, if you want to stick around and follow this mating for life thing, then you should help take responsibility for your egg,” you explain. “It would be much safer and cozier in your fancy house, don’t you agree?”

“But, how should I—”

“Just keep it warm and don’t break it for god’s sake,” you answer, make your way towards the wall, and leap to the top of it. “In the meantime, I’m going to go catch dinner.”

“Wait,” he orders but you already drop to the other side, leaving him and his future half-breed offspring alone together. He sighs and glances down at his egg. His heart jumps when he feels a slight jerk under the protective shell, making him smile softly, and he cradles the egg towards his left side to keep warmer. “Let’s keep you safe for when she gets back,” he promises already thinking of a spot he can keep his child hidden.

Todoroki supposes the only thing left to do was to start thinking of names.

#todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #adelssmut #notsfw #todomochi #repost later

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ladyramora · 4 years

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How about a self indulgent thing, a nice 'date' with or without declaring it so between Ger and Haurchefant?

The candle was burning low, the flickering flame casting shadows across the report she was currently leading. The words blurring in and out of focus with the tiredness of her eyes. Ger sighs, taking a moment to rub at them, the press of her fingers an aching relief. The hour was late, long past the time she would be in bed. But it had not sat right with her to leave her lord alone to deal with this sudden influx of activity reports. The night watch had spotted no small amount of strange goings on of late, and two pairs of eyes were better than one to get to the bottom of it.

Ger jumps with the sudden thunk of something weighty dropping onto the wood of her Lord's desk. She looks up, the sheaf of papers in her hands slipping to land in a pile to be swept to the side as she watches, bemused, as her Lord Haurchefant moves the small bit of clutter on his desk to the side and sets out cups, still steaming bowls of the stew she knew Medguistl had been prepping for bright and early that morning, and a candelabra with fresh candles that were still unlit.

Ger eyes the nondescript bottle that he had set down first, the cause of the sound that had startled her in the breaking of the quiet. "What's all this, then?" She asks, favoring her lord with a narrow eyed stare as Haurchefant lights the candelabra with that dying candle, blows the guttering candle out, and then plucks the heavy bottle up and uncorks it with his teeth. Filling the cup he had set in front of her just shy of the brim.

Haurchrfant spits the cork, a soft "puh," of sound leaving his lips as it drops from his mouth and rolls across the floor somewhere. Unlikely to be found again. Did he intend for them to drink the whole bottle?

"We have not had time for dinner," Haurchefant says, pouring his own glass. But his, Ger notes, is only filled to the half way mark. "Shall we take a break and eat?"

"You've been gone half a bell at least," Ger remarks pointedly, lifting her glass and pausing at the unmistakable potent scent of Daniffen's joy wafting from the cup. A drink saved for special occasions.

What was he up to?

Ger sighs, deciding she did not rightly care, and raises the cup to her lips. She was overdue for a damn stiff drink. It burns like dragon fire as it goes down; settling warm in her belly and chasing away any chill she might be feeling.

Ger sets her mug asde, mostly emptied, and reaches for the bowl her lord had set in front of her.

"Ah, ah," Haurchefant tuts, his voice right in her ear, and Ger tenses as his hands settle on her shoulders.

"It's still too hot," Haurchefant murmurs, his breath a warm puff of air ghosting over her ear and cheek.

Ger swallows, hands grasping at the edge of his desk. "My lord...?" What had gotten into him?

Haurchefant tsks, "You work too much, my lionheart," and takes the knight by surprise as he digs his fingers in, kneading at muscles she had not realized were quite so sore.

Ger makes a low sound, head tipping forward as she presses her fingers into his desk.

Haurchefant sucks in air through his teeth. "So tense, so tense," the lord comments as he works his magic on her. "Have I worked you too hard, my dear?"

Ger shakes her head, grey eyes half lidded, biting at her lip to stifle the sounds her lord was pulling from her in this unprecedented massage.

"Ah, but of course, you were never one to complain. So very dedicated.." Haurchefant chuckles gently. His thumbs digging in and making the midlander groan despite herself.

Ger's lips part, mind whirling. What was going on? Had she fallen asleep whilst reading? There had to be a reasonable explanation for such a shift in her Lord's behavior.

Wait. The bottle. Ger reaches for it, swishing the liquid around inside. It was already partially empty.

"My lord," Ger growls, tipping her head back to stare up at him in disapproval. "Are you drunk?"

Haurchefant laughs. His fingertips sweeping wide, caressing her throat and along her clavicle. Large, warm; distracting.

So very distracting.

Ger swallows with that lingering caress.

"No, Ger," her Lord laughs. Then adds with a twinkle to his eye as he bends forward to wink at her. "Not just yet, at least. Though I do seem to have lost the cork to the bottle. So, up for a bit of drinking?"

Ger stares at him, eyebrows furrowing. This was all strange. What was he up to? "...What are you doing?"

Haurchefant grins down at her. Warm and just a tad mischievous. "Can I not reward my most loyal knight with a hot meal and a stiff drink?"

"And the massage?" Ger asks, narrow eyed and suspicious. "Are you trying to butter me up? Or have you yet to confess something? Something I will mislike?"

Haurchefant hums. That mischievous expression falling to one of a more serious, thoughtful nature. His hands cup her jaw, those too blue eyes gazing down to meet grey, face softened by warm candle light. "...I am unsure," the Lord murmurs.

His thumbs drag over her cheeks.

Despite all her careful composure, Ger cannot fight the way she shivers. How her fair skin reddens. The gentle part of her lips as she whispers, "...my lord?"

Haurchefant lowers his head.

Ger gasps as his lips brush hers, and the lord pulls back to gaze intensely into her face. "...Do you mislike it?" He asks.

She can see the questions in the wide blue of his eyes without him needing speak the words. Did he make a mistake? Had he ruined it? Should he not have kissed her?

Ger lurches upright, heart thundering as she stumbles to stand and turn to face him.

She stares at him. Haurchefant gazes helplessly back. His posture is already defeated. The way he says her name, "Ger?" soft and pleading.

"Lord Haurchefant," she says, and winces at the way he flinches.

She pauses, touches her lips, says, "My lord…" There are so many reasons why they shouldn't.

So many reasons. Yet she could not bring to mind even one as she looks at his face.

Her hands fist at her sides, eyes closing as she breathes deep. "...I did not." Her voice cracks as she admits it. Allows herself to be selfish. "I do not. ... Mislike it."

She opens her eyes. To look at him, a favorite pastime. Haurchefant looks… shocked. Relieved. A slow smile chasing across his face, cracking into a wide grin. "Yes?"

Ger feels herself blush. "I should like it… very much.. if you did so again."

Haurchefant is in her personal space in two strides of his long elezen legs. "Permission to take you into my arms, my dear?" Haurchefant about purrs into her ear, hovering just close enough that the smaller knight could feel the heat of his body.

"Granted," Ger replies, and her voice only faintly trembles along with the rest of her body.

The lord swoops down, clutching her to him, and Ger wraps her arms around him, clinging just as tightly. His lips find hers and it is he who gasps then at the unbridled passion he is met with. The first one had counted just barely. Twas much better to have his affections returned.

The midlander gives a soft sound as the lord lifts her, seating her on his desk, and continuing to kiss her with barely a breath between them.

Ger places her hands against his chest, flushing hot as her lord tugs at the backs of her knees and presses himself between her thighs.

She pulls back, softening their kiss as she leans away. "The stew," she says, a little breathless.

Haurchefant hums, kissing over her jaw. His lips drag over her ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, "Still much too hot."

Ger shudders as he licks at her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth to nibble between his teeth. She covers her mouth, cheeks blushing red as she tilts her head to the side. Haurchefant hums approvingly, cradling her close as he kisses down her throat and sucks marks into her skin that will be near impossible to hide.

"My lord," his knight moans.

Haurchefant lifts his head, his eyes like a blue flame as he frowns disapprovingly and corrects her. "I should like to hear you call me by my name as your lover."

Get about chokes. Lover? "My lord..!"

Haurchefant tuts. "What was that?"

Ger bites her lip, eyelashes fluttering, and then says quietly, "... Haurchefant."

Haurchefant beams, cupping her face in his hands as he brushes their noses together. Gazing deep into her eyes as he croons, "Yes, my dear?"

Ger's mouth works soundlessly. What… What had she meant to say?

Haurchefant grins roguishly. "Have I rendered you speechless, my lionheart?"

Ger pushes him back, frowning and breathing deep. He was too close. She could not think with him crowding against her all smiling lips and too blue eyes. His familiar scent filling her nose and fogging her brain.

"We have work to do." She says lamely.

Haurchefant looks at her steadily. Then sighs. He steps back, muttering, "Very well," and flops into her empty chair.

Ger frowns, still sitting on his desk. She hops down, and gives a yelp as the lord pulls her quite abruptly into his lap, sideways.

"Indulge me this," the lord huffs, holding her captive in his arms as she tries to squirm out of his lap.

"Indulging you is all I do," Ger retorts, huffing. She could break free if she really wanted to. But she would be lying to say some part of her was not enjoying this.

Haurchefant makes a show of whining, "Gerrrr," and clutching her to him. "Will you not compromise? If I cannot kiss you, at least let me hold you!"

Ger rolls her eyes reflexively as he whines her name, but ceases her struggling with a theatrical sigh.

"Fine."

Haurchefant makes a smug, triumphant sound in her ear.

Ger snorts and reaches for the papers that she had been looking over before her lord had made his reappearance.

Haurchefant captures her hand. "None of that! We eat first, then work. Or would you have the stew Medguistl worked so hard on grow cold and go to waste?"

"Even cold, I would eat it," Ger replies, just to be ornery.

Haurchefant huffs a warm puff of air against her neck. "Well, tonight you will have it hot," the lord says with humor, grasping her spoon and scooping up some stew to bring to her lips.

Ger eyes the spoon, flustered. Did he truly mean to feed her?

"Open up," Haurchefant coos, saccharine sweet.

Ger exhales a sigh through her nose and opens her mouth. The stew is still thankfully warm, though she can hardly register the delicate marrying of flavors as she sits on her lord's lap and is fed spoonful after spoonful.

Haurchefant radiates such happiness from something so simple. Her heart aches with the fondness she feels for him.

Soon enough her bowl is empty, and Ger reaches for the one meant for Haurchefant.

She takes up his spoon and takes a bite as Haurchefant asks her with a chuckle, "Still hungry?"

Still warm enough.

She scoops up another bite and promptly feeds it to Haurchefant.

Haurchefant laughs around that mouthful. Chewing and swallowing before pecking a kiss to her cheek. "Fair is fair, I see."

Ger feeds him another bite, quietly pleased. She cannot help but gaze at his face, unaware how very soft her own expression is. How it usually was when she took care of him, as she had often done over the years. But this, now, was different.

She can still feel his kiss lingering on her lips. Sweet and filled with promise.

As Haurchefant finishes his stew, Ger grabs the bottle of daniffen's joy and fills his cup to the brim.

"You lost the cork," Ger says pointedly as Haurchefant grins at her crookedly.

She waits until he lifts the cup to sip from it, before saying dryly, "Drink up, lover."

The resulting spray of alcohol is worth it for the sound of her lord's laughter.

#ladyramora writes #mild spice #kissing #haurchefant greystone #germanotta lionheart #gerchefant #Ger x Haurchefant #Haurchefant x Ger #I was tired of looking at this #it still feels unfinished #but I dont kow that I'll add more to it #meh

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navii-blaze · 4 years

Text

Just Another Day

Hello, this is my piece for the current LU exchange! I had the honor of being the gifter of @/Crystal Dragon (Suri) who’s tumblr i don’t know unfortunately. They had so many good prompts to pick from so I chose “Hyrule being a capable hero and saving others with his skill/magic” for this gift. I rly hope you (and whoever else reads this) enjoys it!

Also ao3 has decided it doesn’t like me, sorry for it being here than somewhere more formal like ao3.

Word count: 2022

Hyrule knew that this day was going to be one of “those ones” when he woke up with his arm bent in an awkward position, and his morning tea gone cold before he was even finished with it. So of course the next portal they came across led straight to one of his least favorite spots in his world. From what he’s seen while venturing through the different time periods of past and parallel eras, most people like to spend their vacations at beaches with soft, white sand, basking in the sun without having to worry about a Moa or Daria sneaking up on them. Or perhaps at bustling marketplaces, buying expensive garments and stalling the day’s time by lounging at fountains and gossiping about meaningless topics. But not in his time. Nope. No rest for him or anyone of that matter, “a hero’s line of work” might be said by one of his comrades, but it still wouldn’t hurt for a break would it?

The current situation seemed to give him the answer. After the portal had sucked him in, distorting his mind and leaving him nauseous, it had dumped him and everyone else smack into a pile of coldness. Instantly the chill of whatever he had landed in seeped past the thin protection of his tunic and left small sharp pains whenever he moved. He had opened his eyes to see blinding white, and then the rest of his surroundings as the back of his tunic was grabbed by someone and hoisted up. He could faintly hear the voice of the resident captain asking him if he was alright, he nodded and felt the knight pat his shoulder a couple times before leaving.

Heaps of snow (at least he thought it was snow, before meeting the other Links he had never even heard of the concept of water freezing) laid in mounds around him. The others were looking around to gather their bearings, some of them already starting to put on more layers. To his right was Wild and their wolf companion, the Hylian had put on a strange pair of boots which for some bizarre reason let him walk perfectly normal on the powdered snow. The wolf decided to stop watching the champion and started laying and rolling in the snow, which probably felt nice considering its thick and warm pelt. But Hyrule wasn’t a wolf so he wouldn’t know.

Something about the place seemed familiar to him, unlike the other heroes who were looking at maps and conversing about which possible era they were in. The area they were in was quite large, a dense forest stretched across one side of the snow-covered turf, opposite from it the snow continued on in heaps and mounds. A small glimmer from the horizon caught his eye, Hyrule trudged up one of the larger piles to get a better view point. Beyond the snow sparkling in what sunlight there was, the horizon seemed to be moving just slightly. At first to him it looked like a fog bank, but a sudden breeze smelling of salt and fish confirmed that he was mistaken. The scene felt more and more familiar to him, he knew for sure now that he had been here before. He just couldn’t identify where they were at.

A shout of his name came from where the others were, he headed back down the mound until suddenly the snow gave out beneath him and he sank into the pile. His leg hit something hard, sending a wave of pain through him. The youngest heroes of the group came over to help him, they grabbed his arms and pulled him out, causing the rest of the mound to collapse. He got to his feet once no longer chest deep, and looked back at what he had hit his leg on. A small round dark slab of stone poked out of the top of the snow, he walked over to it and pushed the snow off of it, revealing the larger size of the stone and the engravings on it. Finally the puzzle pieces were put together to him. Once he had uncovered the gravestone he fell on, the others started finding more under the heaps of snow. Hyrule notified the group of where they were, a graveyard in the southeast corner of his kingdom. Though last time he had been here, there had been a variety of monsters that he had dealt with. The silence and absence of these foes here in the graveyard, and rather close to a dungeon, unnerved him.

The wolf jumped up from where it was rolling around in the snow, its ears perked up and fierce blue eyes alert and scanning the treeline. The rest took note of it and the sound of weapons being unsheathed was heard along with hushed orders and warnings. Suddenly something whipped by the back of Wild’s head, missing him by mere centimeters and the breeze caused by whatever it was making his hair whip to the side. The scarred hero quickly turned around sword and shield at the ready, his gaze trying to find whatever had almost hit him. Until he landed on Hyrule, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

A whistling sound came from Hyrule’s left, his senses screamed at him to get down. A flash of red appeared out of the corner of his eye, and upon trusting his guts he grabbed the collar of Wind’s tunic and pulled him down with him. The same thing that had brushed by Wild swept over their heads, at a speed that would’ve probably given one of them some kind of head injury if Hyrule hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did.

From out of the treeline came a dozen of rat-like humanoids bearing short knives and boomerangs. With a grimace Hyrule recognized them as Goriyas, easy enough to defeat one-on-one, but a nuisance when they’re grouped together and actually cooperating. He relayed this information to the others, trusting that the battle-hardened warriors would take his words to heart; a nice contrast to the stubborn and rude soldiers and travelers of his era. But now was not the time to be scornful of his experience working with other people, the creatures started to spread out along the flank of the group of heroes. Hyrule and the captain must have had the same idea at the exact moment, because the older warrior had noted how the Goriyas (after horribly mispronouncing the name) were trying to surround them. The champion made the first move, suddenly firing an arrow at the closest monster to him and then unsheathing his sword as he ran over to his opponent to finish it off. The snow-covered graveyard became a battlefield in a matter of seconds.

Hyrule cursed under his breath as the monster he faced mimicked his every move, he was just barely managing to deflect the quick jabs the Goriya gave in between. The rodent monster seemed to be having no problem fighting through the snow, its feet barely sunk into the heaps of coldness while numbness started to creep into Hyrule’s legs and feet, making his movements stiff and somewhat painful. A sharp pain came from his side, alerting him that he was becoming too slow, though thankfully by the looks of the now red-stained boomerang; he wouldn’t have to worry yet about being poisoned.

A Goriya went flailing in front of him, colliding with his opponent and knocking it into a heap. From where the tossed monster had been was Time knee deep in the snow, fast and deep breaths visible in the cold air. A Goriya jumped up from behind a mound of snow, the older hero quickly put his shield up, but nearly toppled over when the rodent monstrosity landed on his raised shield.

Hyrule started to trudge through the snow towards Time, his feet sinking deeper and becoming numb with the soaking cold. His path was suddenly obscured by yet another one of the Goriyas, its weapon raised. A quick glance over the monster’s shoulder showed him that Time was struggling to keep his footing while his opponent circled him and tried to breach his defenses. A snarl brought his attention back to the monster in front of him.

With a resigning and frustrated sigh, Hyrule grumbled a spell in ancient Hylian verse, causing his sword to emit a red glow. His opponent charged at him, right as he finished the spell. He sliced through the air in front of him and orbs of fire expelled from his blade, hitting his target square in the chest. The Goriya went down, disappearing into a puff of smoke. The magical fire had also conveniently paved a path in front of him directly to Time, no longer knee deep in a mound of snow but still holding off another monster.

As Hyrule advanced towards him two more Goriyas came out from the treeline and readied their weapons, stalking the older hero. He broke into a sprint, trying desperately not to slip on the muddied ground or trip over a tombstone. Yet another Goriya slid into his path, but a quick mumble and a bit of magic let Hyrule hop on a tombstone and jump over the monster with ease. Though of course his landing was a bit rough with the melted snow, making the ground beneath muddy and slippery. A shout of pain brought him back to focus, a spike of panic going through him when he saw that Time had been knocked down and the new Goriyas getting closer.

Ducking under the swing of the monster Hyrule had leaped over, he raced to Time’s side and kicked the closest Goriya away. The four rat-like beasts, including the one that he had left behind, grouped together in front of the two now very tired heroes. The monster that had knocked down Time let out a sequence of chitters and inhuman noises to its buddies, probably telling them a plan that would result in both of the Hylians’ doom. Hyrule put up his shield, and used a spell to enhance it, creating a red aura that would deflect any projectiles. One of the creatures bounded to his side, seeking a blindspot. But it was thwarted as Time, despite still on the ground, and with an injury to his side, took out his bow and quiver. His arrows wouldn’t be able to go through Hyrule’s shield spell, but at least he could keep their opponents from surrounding them.

Realizing that they couldn’t attack from a distance, the other Goriyas closed in on the two. Hyrule sensed that keeping his ward up wouldn’t do much help and only deplete his magic supply and energy, so he cast it off and readied his sword. A Goriya rushed at him with its spiked boomerang in one claw, and a small but most likely poisoned (considering that most of the monsters in his time era were just jerks like that) knife in the other. He locked his sword with its boomerang, staying on the defensive to preserve his strength. The rodent thrusted forward with its knife, narrowly missing Hyrule’s shield arm before he twisted the boomerang out of the creature's grip and sliced through its shoulder. The Goriya shrieked and scurried back to the others, snarling and gnashing its teeth.

Hyrule felt a hand on his shoulder, he quickly glanced back to see Time finally standing, his face a grimace of pain but also of encouragement. The younger hero faced back to the Goriyas, a small squeeze from Time gave him a final assurement. Under his breath he spoke yet another ancient verse, giving him the power to do one last spell with what energy he had left. Looking over the shoulders of his opponents, he could see the other heroes finishing off the rest of the Goriyas and shooting down the ones who tried to retreat. Hyrule sheathed his blade, and with one final murmur he felt vitality flooding through him. Going to where he centered it in his hand, green sparks coming from his fingers.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #writing #My writing #linked universe hyrule #hyrule #loz #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz 2 #the legend of zelda link's adventure #goriya #i'll have you all know that i regret picking this specific monster bc they only use boomerangs #how do you make boomerangs sound intimidating? a #all i thought of while writing the fight scenes was Sokka yelling boomerang puns #it's the 30th here so I'm not late yet #some more to come shortly (once I figure out how overlays work) :)

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jennifercrowart · 3 years

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D&D Diary - The Yawning Rodent, 16

Refresher: Our adventurers Lugs (grung barbarian), Lurk (grung rogue), Aelia (tiefling cleric), and Valas (drow sorcerer) with tagalong Deku (ratfolk cleric) explored Belak's study, finally finding Deku's stolen library book, as well as other books pertaining to vampires, dragons, and life and death cycles. After taking a long rest in the study, they went back to the upper floor of the citadel - however, Yusdrayl and her Kobold Gang were there to greet them, demanding they show proof that they're not lying about Calcryx. Durnn, who had supposedly been released on the surface by Yusdrayl but had actually been kept prisoner, told her about how the party had stolen Calcryx back from the Goblin Gang days ago and hidden her from Yusdrayl, rather than returning her. After some back and forth, the party finally shows their true colours to the Kobold Gang leader by setting traps off on her three guards who went to investigate their claims.

Sunless Citadel spoilers! CW for light body horror descriptions

Yusdrayl, her mustard-yellow scales washing out in the pale violet light of the glowing mushrooms lining the walls, swiftly flicks her wrist into the air. "Fire!" she booms out, jamming a clawed talon at the party of adventurers. The guards around her immediately let loose their slings, the twanging of strings echoing around the chamber as a flurry of sharp stones rocket towards you from every angle.

The adventurers take some hard hits from the onslaught of rocks - a nerve-wracking start to the fight. Lugs goes into a rage, shoving Yusdrayl over the lip of the well. She screams, trying to grab a hold of the vines as she tumbles backwards, but only manages to do so when she's already fallen about halfway down the 80 ft shaft. Her elite guards continue to fight for her, and the party starts backing themselves up against each other, the circular room filled with kobolds.

Aelia casts Flaming Sphere, ramming the ball of fire into an elite guard before positioning it in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the Kobold Gang interns outside the room who don't want to take fire damage.

Durnn fights the party as well, having teamed up with Yusdrayl to kill the adventurers who destroyed his Goblin Gang and threatened him into silence about Calcryx. While he's not fighting at his best anymore, his strong hobgoblin build coupled with his longsword deal some hard blows, and the sheer number of Kobold Gang members in the room all fighting them means that the party is getting worn down.

As Durnn starts getting hurt more than he anticipated - particularly after seeing Yusdrayl get pushed into the well shaft - he starts to try and bargain with the party to let him team up with them instead, so they can all finish off the Kobold Gang. The party laughs in his face, incredulous at his blatant backstabbing, before enthusiastically agreeing that he should help them get rid of the Kobold Gang. However, Lurk uses his Ring of the Flock to summon a swarm of ravens, sicking them on Durnn. The party starts getting the upper hand on the fight.

The fight continues on, everyone stretched to the limit; so much so that you don't even hear him coming. The door to the hall is slammed open, the fog from the dragon hallway leaking in at the feet of the semi-hunched figure. His eyes are wide and bloodshot, pupils small despite the lack of traditional light, and his mouth agape while he pants heavily. The pale, sickly, rough skin immediately gives it away despite the change in demeanour; this is Chadley, looking erratic, frantic, and exhausted. He stumbles forward, and it's hard to tell if the roots at his feet are just being moved with the momentum of walking, or if they're searching for purchase against the stonework floor. His arms hang limp at his sides, until he's suddenly rushing forwards, fingers tensed and clawed not unlike McKennedeigh's, eyes wide and red and thirsty, skin so pale and deathly that you can see through to the red veins beneath.

The mushrooms growing out of his bark-like skin akin to parasites over his upper back and shoulders suddenly pulsate, releasing a large cloud of black pollen into the air. It smells like sulphur and decaying plant matter, with a tinge of iron, making your eyes water and your nose and throat itch.

While Chadley is stuck in the larger hall outside the room because of the Flaming Sphere in the doorway, the pollen permeates the whole area in a sudden puff. The Kobold Gang interns, Lugs, Lurk, and Durnn all start coughing, before they feel a haze come over their minds and they look softly towards Chadley, charmed by him.

As Chadley spots McKennedeigh's unconscious body slumped over by the well after the party had carried her up with them, he starts to freak out. Hysterically, he cries that everyone here is trying to hurt him, and that they've killed his sister. Those charmed by him feel sympathetic to his cause, and are compelled to turn on everyone else to stop them from hurting Chadley.

Valas casts Chaos Bolts at Durnn and the kobold elite guards. Durnn deflects the blow, but the last of the elite guards is finished off by the magic. Feeling his wild magic crackle within him, Valas starts to hear faint, ethereal music playing in the background of his senses; nothing else changes, and with a resigned sigh, he feels like this may be the heavenly music you hear before you die.

Yusdrayl, who's been trying to scale up the vines along the well shaft, finally reaches the top and jumps down from the stone ledge.

Yusdrayl breathes heavily through flaring nostrils, her golden eyes narrow and furious.

"I have worked too hard for this," she growls, "all of this, for it to be taken away from me by the likes of mercenaries!" Frost begins to collect on the scaly hands she's had clenched at her sides, the magic in the air thickening as she draws on her power. Both hands whip in front of her, claws splayed, as she shouts, "Shatter!"

A small bead of icy platinum light then explodes with a thunderous boom, a shockwave of ice and frost tearing viciously through the air.

The Shatter spell goes off in the middle of the congregated party members, missing only Lurk. While everyone successfully braces themselves for the blast of cold damage that threatens to slow down their movements by freezing their joints, Lugs' fire snake takes the most damage, vulnerable to ice by nature. Yusdrayl then tries to cast Ray of Frost at Lugs, eager for revenge for him pushing her into the well, but he easily dodges it.

The fire snake, badly wounded, immediately tries to get away from Yusdrayl after having been helping in the fight against the kobolds. Cornered in by the Kobold Gang interns and Chadley outside the doorway, Snakey proceeds to slither over to Valas and Lurk's side of the group, its radiant fiery scales now partially extinguished and dulled with frost. Lurk - charmed by Chadley - spots the wounded creature, and mercilessly finishes them off with a sneak attack using their psychic blades. Valas hears the thump of the snake's body hitting the ground, and as he whips around, he sees Lurk out of the corner of his eye stab him through the side with another knife of psychic energy, badly hurting him despite the intangible blades leaving no physical wounds.

Durnn runs forward and attacks Aelia, bypassing Lurks' swarm of ravens as they're under Lurks' command and, therefore, now on the same side as Durnn when it comes to defending Chadley. He deals a hard blow on her with his longsword. Deku has been desperately casting his most powerful healing spells to keep the party alive under the onslaught of attacks.

Lugs re-activates his Storm Surge of swamp water, buffeting Yusdrayl, one of her guards, and Aelia who had fled closer to his side of the room in order to get away from Durnn. Aelia loses concentration on the Flaming Sphere. Yusdrayl sees Lugs look between her and Aelia before focusing his sights on the kobold leader, and yells, "don't you dare touch me!"

From out of her robes, she pulls a huge white scale, and holds it ahead of her. The scale gives off a frightening and deadly aura, but Lugs in his enraged state doesn't pay it any heed, and with a sickening crack as he brings the Shatterspike longsword down on her, she tumbles over the lip of the well one last time. The scale clatters to the ground, her eyes glazed over as she falls down the shaft, already dead before she hits the ground.

Lugs roughly shakes his head, the fog over his mind starting to clear as he breaks free of Chadley's influence. Aelia yells at him for getting her robes soaked with swamp water again, but he just points at where Yusdrayl once stood before giving her a thumbs-up, pleased with himself for defeating her.

Aelia, Deku, and Valas keep using magic to finish off most of the kobolds, aside from the interns who've just recently flooded into the room now that the Flaming Sphere spell blocking the doorway has ended. Aelia tries to tell them that their leader, Yusdrayl, is now dead, and that they can team up with the party - however, they yell back that they're going to defend Chadley from the nefarious adventurers, charmed by him.

Amidst the sounds of battle can be heard the clicking footsteps of a creature, large enough to be heard barreling down the corridor towards the violence as it gets close. Through the doorway comes a flash of pearly white scales, followed by a burgundy creature riding atop its back between two folded wings. "Aelia! Deku! Valas! Lugs! Lurk!" cries out the panting and desperate voice of Meepo as Calcryx skids to a stop, icy talons skittering across the stone floor as her intense blue eyes scan the scene. Opening her maw, she roars, and leaps into the fray with a powerful wingbeat.

Meepo and Calcryx have arrived, flanking Chadley! Deku and Aelia, in particular, light up in delight to see their unexpected friends, and teamed-up, no less!

#dnd #the yawning rodent #dnd diary #dnd diaries #dm diary #dm diaries #dnd 5e #session recap

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wickednerdery · 4 years

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Title: Hoarfrost Hel: Abated Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Jotun!OC, Mer!OC, Elf!OCs Rating: Explicit Summary: “Take me to him.” Notes: This is the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy (the first is FrostBitten) - the master list is here. The story on whole is gonna be very dark, this piece - which occurs a few days after the last Ulfr one - has significant graphic violence and so much angst. For consistency and length, it gets a “Read More”.

The pain is numbing, slips Grim in and out of consciousness, as Lady Carfindel’s men carry him off. It’s no matter, there’s no option to scream, to fight, and, as blood leaks from around tattered gills, the option of survival drains from him too. He can only cringe when dropped like a sack for the men to open the large vat of salt. While traditionally meant to cure meat and fish, whatever the kitchens might need, this one’s been marked for other uses long ago. The out and inside clawed from attempts at escape, the bottom blackened with blood, from past guests.

“It reeks!” Tir complains as they dig enough to make room for the slave.

Beria chuckles. “Yeah, well, some of them die and, if forgotten long enough...” He shrugs before joining the other to lift and toss Grim in.

The salt fires up his wounds, grates scaled flesh, as it goes red-to-black with his blood. If Grim could roar in the pain of it, he would, yet his throat is all but gone. Gills work to close, mouth gapes open in desperation, but he chokes either way. Flakes pull moisture from within, turning him all the more into the sea creature he is at his core. Tears flow, get sucked up, as the two men work to coat him and place the cover back on. Grim watches as the light leaves, the hope fades, and the darkness comes.

Once tasked with finding the Oarnér slave, Grim, by the princess, Maethril makes it her priority. Not because she finds it especially important, but because she herself suspects the slave has information vital to the crown. Close to the man who claims to be Prince Draugluin, now hidden away by Lady Carfindel, he surely knows something. Finding him may lead her to uncovering many secrets.

It takes her moons to discover his location, but when she does she rushes to inform the princess and gather reinforcements. While certainly capable of getting a slave out of the salt bath, she does not trust the Red Lady not to have it guarded. Even bewitched.

“Your Highness! Princess Rainaiel!” Maethril calls out as she rushes towards the caves the young woman finds solace in. “Your Highness!”

“Yes?” Ulfr turns from the overlook, assuming the call is for him.

The royal guard stops short in his sight; her heart begins to race all the more as his gaze goes from curious to understanding.

“You found Grim.” Time slows, his heart holding with his breath. “Where? Where is he?”

She looks down. For the first time since her early days of battle she’s speechless, indecisive, too wary to make a move. Any move.

Ulfr’s breath returns in a shudder, his heart rushing ahead with his mind. “Where?!” Water fills his eyes, he shakes without control as rage and terror build in equal measure.

“In a salt bath past the kitchens, by the storage house.”

A place Ulfr passed many times looking for Grim; the knowledge makes his stomach churn with acid. “Take me to him.”

“Your Highness -”

“NOW!!”

Fingers fuse first, the webbing of his kind returning, then his toes. His feet...ankles...legs....the longer he stays, the more he dries out, the more fish-like he becomes. Normally, this is not painful, it is something he can do at will, but this is not normal. This is torture. A slow drying out that cracks skin, shrivels scales. Fangs long ago unused grow out as gums recede and lips puff and curl. Skin and scales split and bleed into salt that dries him out all the more. A vicious cycle that slowly drains his life and will to have it...

The vat is not guarded, but both can see its enchantment. Sealed in blue-green light Maethril halts in place, in recognition, as she extends arm to stop the prince. Her attempt goes unnoticed as Ulfr rushes past her. He knows the magic, knows he can handle it...knows it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t. Grim’s in there.

“Your highness, no, it is freezing!” So cold it will surely burn any elf hand that dare touch it. He ignores, grabs and tosses the lid. She gasps as his hands turn azure, white-lined, before his illusion slips back into place. He is not the prince, he’s not even Ljósálfar! Yet the urge to put this mysterious, deceptive, beast down, the one she’s had since first suspecting him, only dampens...

The light burns Grim’s eyes even through lids, he shudders. His voice is gone, breathing barely there. What little water left in him leaks from the corners of his eyes as he’s lifted from crimson flakes.

Ulfr lowers with care, wincing on his lover’s behalf as the ground proves unforgiving, uncomforting. “Gr-Grim?” He looks down at the being that bears so little resemblance to the man he knows, loves. As badly as he wants to touch, to reassure, he doesn’t dare for fear of hurting.

As Maethril watches she’s at a loss for words. She’s seen death, seen cruelty, but this is something new. New and terrifying. The slave is not simply undone, he’s changed in a way that reminds her of the blackest magics. She knows why the urge to take the imposter down isn’t coming - whoever, whatever, he is, he loves just as any of them. He is in pain, he is scared, and he is in love...more than the prince ever was.

Even the drip of Ulfr’s tears on his flesh causes such pains that Grim’s breath stops. “We...We need to get him out of here.” Ulfr wipes his face quickly, both to prevent tears from falling as to hide them. He can be seen to care, perhaps, but not too much. Not in front of the guard already so suspicious of him. “Get him...help.”

“H-How? ...Where?”

“Do not ask me, just help me!!” The Jotun roars at the she-elf before taking a deep breath in. His jaw flickers in tension, the tears coming once again. “Please...” His voice softens to a plea. “Help.”

Maethril opens mouth, but has no answer. No solution. If they move the Oarnér they may kill him, but they surely cannot leave the man here either. She raises a hand in hopes of staving off more orders while she thinks. The black burns of the slave’s throat, the creature he’s become, it’s like black magic... “I...I may know someone who can, but...”

Stomach tightens in fear. “But?”

“She’s deep in the woods. I’ll have to find her, convince her.”

“Order her, tell her I order her.”

“She’s not one of your people, our people.”

“Tell her she may have whatever she wishes, if she heals him.”

“Your Highness, that is-” Not a risk to take with one such as this witch.

“GO!!” He doesn’t care, whatever warning she has for him doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is Grim. That Grim is alive, that he can be healed. The woman bows, heads off, and Ulfr moves to lay on the ground beside the other. He lets his façade fade, goes Jotun and freezes the ground beneath them...Grim always says too cold is better than too hot and, as the ice melts, it turns to the water that’s he so desperately needs.

Rassëiel smells the she-elf the moment she steps beyond the boundaries of the kingdom and into her woods. “You are not welcome here, Ljósálfar.”

“I come with a message from...” Who? An icy imposter? “Prince Draugluin.”

“My answer will be your death.” The dragon-witch is not blood-thirsty, but protective. Her freedom, her land, her happiness was hard-fought and she’s no intention of going back - the best way to assure that is to deal with all elf trespassers brutally. Still, she is curious, so waits...

“He requests, begs, your help, my lady.”

“With what?” She spits back, knowing the type of help requested by the last like him.

“His love.”

The woman laughs. “I’ve no interest in helping the Red Lady, she’s worse than he.”

“No, not her. A fossegrim slave.” Maethril takes another step, hands up to show she’s no wish to battle. “You gained your freedom, would you deny another dark creature his?”

“You are not allowed to die, do you understand me?” Ulfr mutters, freezing and refreezing the ground as the Alfheim sun continues to melt it as quickly. “If you die, I’ll kill myself.” After all, what was a fugitive Frost Giant to do when, again, the one good thing in his life leaves.

Grim hears, but cannot respond save to keep breathing what little breath he can find the strength to take.

Not gonna lie, writing this was a wild ride from beginning to end for me, haha! Now I’m hoping that that’s a good thing and translated into a great (and wild!) piece for you guys as well. There’s still more to come - not in the least because we’ve got a new player on the board, haha! - but I’ve a pretty good idea of what. Also, no, Ulfr doesn’t realize he’s given himself away to Maethril. AND the concept of a dragon lady actually came from a character @chibiyanai thought of first and I hope she doesn’t get cross at me for using the genius idea, lol!

Gifs found on Google, combined by me

Word Glossary (in order of usage):

Carfindel - Red-Haired (Sindarin) Oarnér - Oar - Child of the Sea (Qenya); nér - Male (Qenya) Draugluin - Blue (Were)wolf (Sindarin) Beria - To protect (Sindarin), used as name here Tir - Guard (Sindarin), used as name here Ljósálfar - Norse Light Elves Rainaiel - Sweet-faced princess (Sindarin) Maethril - [Female] Warrior (Sindarin) Alfheim - Home of the Norse Light Elves Rassëiel - [Female] Horn (Quenya

Tagged: @chibiyanai @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7 @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @drakonwild @starscreamloki @judas-nipples @hiddles-rose @the-lady-witchitery @galaxies-inside-my-head @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession @endlessstairway @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981 @lovekrystina @madoka73 @lokikingofasgardslover713 @partiallyinthecloset @ultrarebelheart @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki @sweetfictionalworld @lowcarbgem @tarithenurse @boredbrooder @beccaliciooouuusss @michellearel1

If you want on or off, or your screenname’s change from what’s listed, just lemme know! (Strike-throughs are those Tumblr refuses to tag properly)

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honestsycrets · 4 years

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Way Too Close || [AHA x Reader]

“Where is my gift?” “It’s a secret…” (Ivar or Ubbe Alex Hoegh Andersen for @ivarsrideordie)

⇁ Pairing | AHA x Reader (god rest my soul)

⇁ tw | RPF (please know I don’t write RPF usually, so please don’t request me), crazy fan ladies, general floof, and angst.

⇁ summary | you really hate overreacting this– even if you know its someone he’ll likely never see again.

⇁ sy notes | I don’t write AHA. I don’t. But @ivarsrideordie has been really down this christmas season so I wanted to make something for her that would make her feel better. that being said, please don’t request AHA.

He’s that sort of boy.

You know that Alex has a lot of fans. Some crazier than others, and so when it happened, you tried to understand. But there was something about it that wouldn’t sit well with you. No matter how many times you played it over in your mind, the sight of the Brazilian girl’s arms thrown over his broad shoulders under the magic of a deep green mistletoe, lips against lips, it just-- it was what it was. Maybe he could deal with this geniality but at some point, you had to leave and get some air.

Getting some air led to strutting down the street, and with your heels hooked around your fingers, your blackened feet made their way to the rented apartment through the chilly park. The wind whistles through the high trees, singing softly with the memory of the moment only a few minutes ago during the Christmas exchange at an event.

“Where is my gift?” Annoying Bitch said. You crane your head, catching Alex in an awkward laugh, followed by an equally stunted response. “...it’s a secret,” Alex said, a hint of flirt at the end of that statement. Though, if you’re being honest, that’s simply how he always sounded.

“Oh really,” Standing Way Too Close said, and the moment that followed was something you had seen one too many times. A forced kiss he bowed out of, catching you standing there with eyes otherwise unamused. Alex apologized. So did Not at All Remorseful. “I didn’t-- I never knew you were together.”

“Not together,” you said with a cock of your head. “I’ll catch you later, Alex.”

Still Touching Alex Way Too Much cracks a smile, clearly not fooled and yet-- as he peels her hands from his neck, bending his head as if in an apology, you’re out the front door and down the street.

He clearly had work left to do there. And maybe you had a few too many drinks stumbling through that park because you were so sure he would be busy for the night. Christmas Eve night-- not a usual thing. No, not really. He’s open with communication on these important little dates knowing how you love, and hate, and love them.

This holiday would definitely be a hate.

0914 BEEP BEEP

0824 BEEP BEEP

Your fingers curl at the keypad. Somehow, you made it here, and the keypad has never been more aggravating than it was in that second. And that wasn’t fair, because with dirty feet, a broken heart, and a boozy head-- the last thing you wanted to do was fight with a hunk of junk screen!

“Here,” someone slips beside you and tacks at the metal numbers. “0894.”

A softer beep follows this time, and you all but slump inside toward the elevator-- heading up toward the stupid apartment where you could collapse into sleep and find out how you would explain storming out so unreasonably.

Perhaps you would say that your stomach was upset. That the booze wasn’t treating you well. Or maybe-- maybe you could lie. That was it. You would tell him that… you needed to make a phone call in private. Where you wouldn’t see like that overbearing girl who wouldn’t let her man do his job.

“Thank you,” you say once you both get into the elevator-- because manners are manners. God, the elevator is hot. You slip off the coverall from your shoulders, watching as the hazy numbers definitely begin to change. Even with the fact that you’d not hit anything at all. There’s a pause, then the doors open, and you walk to the shared apartment fumbling with your purse the whole way.

Once inside, you abandon your heels by the door. Your head thumps with the repetitive beat of the music from that afterparty, and when you drop onto the couch, your eyes are glowering at the ceiling. It’s cold-- you light the fireplace, bending down in your mid-thigh length dress. The fire crackles softly in front of you. A pleasant distraction from the mess of an evening when you’re curled up on fluffy blankets, stroking the faux fur on the ground. A notepad sits in front of you. The words all jumble in your mind like a good jigsaw puzzle that needs just a hint of unraveling for the new song you meant to be working on for a client overseas.

Can’t make him change his mind.

Which, right, you think-- that was the hope you had, anyway. The more reasonable side of you says that its impossible to hold him up to the standards you were holding him up to. For most men, that situation would have been a great, big no. He’s spoken for, you could have said, and smacked Bitch Be Touching Too Much so hard that her eyeliner would fly off. But the more reasonable part of you said: Breathe. Relax. Stop-- which is exactly what you end up not doing.

Keys jingle at the front door sometime later. You figure you should go ahead and go to bed, change out of this stupid dress. You find yourself instead laying there, staring at the crackling fire, and replaying the night over and over again. If anything, he looked oddly exhausted with the throwing off the arms and kisses and-- god, what man would be tired of that?

He would. You knew he would. Anyone would. A hundred, a thousand fake smiles-- all those expectations and nowhere to go from them? It would have to be exhaustive. And though that songwriting resulted in a hundred drafts, you knew you couldn’t send any one of those to your clients. Well, maybe. But you should probably leave the bat part out of it. Then again, some artists went for that shit. Psychotic fucks.

“Love,” he says-- and it causes you to turn over, because you’re a sucker for that, as much as you shouldn’t be. The keys settle on the small wooden table just to the right of the door. “Are you awake?”

“Nope,” you answer, flicking the page. “Pretty sure I’m dead.”

There’s a small sound of him slipping out of his silvery shoes behind you. His steps become softer when he slides behind you, running his hand over the small notebook you worked on. You nip him with the tip of your pen.

“I saw you run out. Not so discreet, by the way.” He teases, and you puff out your lips, musing him even further.

“Looks like I won’t be a spy anytime soon.”

“Stick to songwriting,” Alex pauses, flicking through the pages long enough for you to know that he’s reading, and maybe not so amused with what he’s finding on the pages he’s working on.

“I have a song due before Christmas,” you lean over to snatch the journal. Despite the fact that the haze of anger has fizzled out, you’re fixated upon the pad. Because maybe-- just maybe, you could think of something in the mood you were in.

“That doesn’t seem like a Christmas song.”

“I never would have guessed,” you mumble, finding yourself stubbornly pushing up. Alex stops you with his hand upon your shoulder. “Let’s talk about it.”

“What is there to talk about?” You say. “Brazilians have the culo. You like culo. No problem.”

“Brazilians don’t speak Spanish.”

“It’s in South America. Close enough,” you say, sitting right side up. This manner of speaking, well, it’s deflection. There’s no if, ands, or butts-- (heh, see what you did there), about it.

“What is this really about?” Alex’s voice strains when he speaks again, and you’re more on edge by this point. Your shoulders, tense. Your eyes, to the ground. Yeah, jokes aside, your head hurt about as much as your heart.

“It’s probably just this new song.”

“Are you going to keep lying?” He’s probably tired, and though cuddling by the fireplace would have been preferable, Alex knows that there’s something eating at you that you just can’t make into words. A stab of self-loathing churns in your stomach, and you know you have to do something to stop this avoidance. You relax against him, staring at the brightest part of the fireplace until your eyes give away.

“The kisses,” you respond, failing in your smile. “They’re tiring.”

And he knows-- he knows how tiring it is. On-screen, that was one thing. Off the screen, well, those kisses should have been yours. Well, and his insane friends. You couldn’t forget them either.

“You know I can’t help that.”

“I know. They’re like flies,” you say. Your eyes close, and you try your best to shut out the heartbreak like you usually do. “Why don’t you age already?”

“Might make it worse,” he grins, cheesily so. “Could be a silver fox.”

“You’re impossible,” you muse, pushing his shoulder tersely. “How am I to do anything with you?”

He scoffs a little, eyes flitting down over your shoulder, and tightens his hold around your waist. There was nothing to be done or said, but you’re within confidence that he didn’t really mean to do what he did. Things like this-- they just… happened.

“You don’t,” he muses. “You love me and forget the rest.”

It sounds like the headliner for the next song. Your fingers tingle, reaching toward your notes. He stops you, bringing his hands back around to cradle yours around your waist. “Forget work for a minute,” he says. “Maybe for a whole night.”

“What do I get instead, hm?”

“Christmas cuddles.”

“Yeah,” You recline back, shifting into him when he kisses you upon on your cheek. The silence of the night is outlined by the soft heave and drop of his chest. At the end of the day, he’s here. WIth you-- and that’s what matters. “Yeah, I guess that works too.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage

#AHA x Reader #AHA/Reader #Vikings cast imagines #viking cast imagines #alex hogh x reader #alex hogh imagine

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theuncreativeperson · 3 years

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I’ve learned 2 things in the year 2020,

and Sorry that this is a little sad or depressing and long , but it has to be said. Even though I’ve only watched Unus Annus halfway through the year that it has been through, it really has helped me cope through the year 2020. Now, my year has probably been the worst year of my life. Not only has corona affected me, it’s also the 1st time a really important family member has died. That death was my dad. I was very close with him and it was really hard to let go. I’m still very affected by it even today. I feel it’s a burden to even talk to a friend who has dealed with something similar. I know it’s kind of dumb to go and write about it on Tumblr, but here I am. I thought this would be very fitting to write about since Unus Annus only has 12 days left. I would like to talk about the 2 things I’ve learned this year. 1. That death is tragic and a really hard thing to go through, but, you can get through it. Death doesn’t mean that everything is gone forever, my dad was one of the most important things to me. My family has had it hard the last 3 years, and going through that has caused a lot of depression and anxiety, especially for me. Then I remember all the memories I’ve had with my dad. Yes, I have regrets of not visiting him enough (My parents were divorced), and the hardest thing was that the last time I saw him was on my birthday. That hit hard and I was already depressed before-hand. 2, That Unus Annus was one of the channels that I was able to depend on for entertainment, and that helped me cope a lot. Even if it’s ending, the memories are still there. I know this is random, but the thing that helped me cope or if I need to get my feelings out, is listening to music that my dad listened to or played on his guitar. One of those being Puff the Magic Dragon. It’s one of the songs I remember he liked. Another regret of mine is that I don’t remember many of the songs he did play, and I would like to find those one day. So, as a tribute to him playing, I have picked up the ukulele. Now that I look back on how I wrote this, I’ve talked more about my dad than Unus Annus, So as a final note, I hope you have a good day or night, memento mori, and thank you for listening to this ramble of mine. :)

#UnusAnnus #unus annus

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lousylark · 4 years

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blue lace

(Part 8. Ready the previous part here, read the next part here (coming soon), check out chapter summaries and masterpost here (coming soon). Check my “blue lace” archive for chapters/updates. Enjoy! <3)

Spring 8th. Early morning. The Goddess Spring.

Once a week, Minori wakes up extra early so she can pay a little visit to Dessie and Witchie.

She used to go midday after she finished her chores, but occasionally she’d get strange looks from other villagers who happened to see her scaling the lily pads in the Spring. After all, as far as she knows, Minori is the only one who can see the deities’ shared abode, so it must look rather odd indeed to see a farmer sitting on a giant lily pad talking to no one in particular.

So now she goes early in the morning to avoid as much awkwardness as possible. This particular morning begins like any other: she brings a basket packed with fruit, cheeses, and flowers, and finds Dessie and Witchie outside playfully squabbling and practicing their respective magics.

“Good morning, Minori!” Dessie chirps, seeing her approach. “How are you?”

Minori plops down on the giant lily pad. “Oh, I’m alright. How are you two?”

“Practicing,” Witchie replies. She snaps, and a frog appears in her hands, which she presents to Minori. “Look at my new trick!”

Minori giggles, taking the frog in her hands briefly before it disappears into a cloud of glitter-magic again. “How useful.” She turns to Dessie. “What about you? Any new tricks to show me?”

Dessie’s face falls a little. It’s unusual to see the tiny Harvest Goddess frown in such a way, so Minori is taken aback.

“I’m trying to practice controlling the weather,” she explains, crossing her arms over her chest. “I dunno if you noticed, but this winter got a little out of hand.”

Minori scoffs. “Yeah, just a little.” Seeing Dessie’s eyes flash with hurt, she adds, “But surely that isn’t totally your fault, Dessie.”

Witchie snaps her fingers. More frogs appear. One boldly hops into Minori’s lap, causing her to jump.

“The Harvest Goddess is supposed to maintain the balance of the weather,” Dessie explains. “I don’t make the weather, I just nudge it in the right direction.” She sighs, hanging her head. “But I had a really hard time pushing winter away this year. I don’t know why.”

“So we’ve been practicing making thunderstorms,” Witchie cuts in. With a rare bubbliness, she adds, “You wanna see?”

“Maybe not right at this moment,” Minori replies, smiling. “If you conjure a thunderstorm now, we’ll get rained on. Plus, I already watered my crops this morning.”

To stop Witchie from being too disappointed, Minori starts unpacking her little picnic basket. Dessie conjures a pink teapot from thin air while Witchie provides some black cups and saucers. Within moments, they’ve started their weekly girls’ brunch.

“So I heard you’re planning a White Day festival!” Dessie says, her mouth half-full of cheese. “That’s so cute! I wanna go.”

“A White Day festival? Blegh,” Witchie says. She takes a sip of tea. “That’s so mushy.”

Dessie frowns at her friend. “It’s not mushy! Plus, there’ll be lots of food.”

“Oh, well then count me in, too.” Witchie replies.

Minori grins. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be sure to add an extra two when Veronica takes attendance.”

“Why’re you making a White Day festival, anyway?” Witchie asks, munching on a bagel. “Doesn’t this town have enough festivals?”

Minori explains her role in the New Leaf competition to them, starting all the way back from the New Year’s Festival and working through the conquest with Elise, the incident with her wine shed, and the conception of the White Day festival.

“Wow,” Dessie breathes when she’s finished. “It’s been a busy week for you, huh?”

“Got that right,” she replies. Then, a thought occurs to her. “Hey, since you guys are divine beings and all, you wouldn’t happen to know what actually happened with my wine shed, right? I’m pretty sure it was just an animal that broke in, but Elise thinks it might’ve been, like, a person.”

“Definitely a person,” Witchie replies.

Dessie stares at her with wide eyes. “What! How do you know?”

Witchie shrugs. “Oh, I dunno. It’s just more spooky that way.”

“Oh, so you don’t actually know,” Dessie says, relieved. She turns to Minori. “Sorry, Nori — I might be divine, but I’m still working on the whole ‘omniscience’ thing.”

“Yeah, after all, she can barely control the weather,” Wichie teases. Dessie gives her a sour look in response.

Despite their light-heartedness, Minori just sighs. “That’s too bad. Elise sent over her locksmith, and that helped my peace of mind a little, but, like you said,” she says, looking toward Witchie, “it’s spooky.”

A crow caws somewhere in the distance, as if supporting Minori’s statement. She stares into her cup of tea. Could it really have been a person who destroyed her stock of orange wine? But who in Oak Tree Town despises her so much that they would do such a thing? Unless it wasn’t a move against her so much as it was a move to support Elise? If that’s the case, then it would have to be someone who really likes Elise.

She frowns — as terrible as it is, she can’t think of a single person in town who might like Elise enough to destroy her wine shed over it.

“Don’t worry, Nori,” Dessie replies, putting her hands on her hips. “We’ll keep a close eye out for any sketchy people.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she says, suddenly. “Where are the Nature Sprites? I’ve got a job for them.”

“I’ll summon them. They’ll want some of the flour you brought, anyway.”

She whistles a four-note tune, sounding almost identical to a sparrow as she does so. Within moments, little sparkly puffs of air appear around them, each a different color of the rainbow. From them, the Nature Sprites emerge.

“Minori!” Pepita cries, scurrying toward her. “Hi hi!”

“Didja bring any flour?” Gusto asks. “I’m so hungry!”

Each sprite approaches her in turn, asking what feels like hundreds of questions: where she’s been, how the winter treated her, why is there a new patch in the knee of her jeans —

“Now, now,” Dessie begins, calming the flurrying sprites. “Minori has a job for you all. Perhaps if you do it well, she’ll give you some flour.”

“A job?” Flik asks, his curiosity piqued.

Minori nods. “Yeah. I need you guys to help me find something.”

Torque pushes her tiny glasses up further on her nose. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, kind of like that.” She crosses her arms over her chest, shivering just a little. Though the worst of the winter has passed, the early morning spring air is awfully chilly. “We’re looking for some of Mistel’s blueprints. Someone took them, but I’m hoping it was an accident or that they’re at least still in town.”

“Oooh, yay!” Pepita squeals. “I love scavenger hunts!”

“But we can’t read,” Torque points out sullenly. “How do we know when we’ve found the right blueprints?”

Minori purses her lips. Truthfully, she hadn’t really thought of that. For all of their magic powers, the Nature Sprites are illiterate when it comes to human languages.

“Well, it’ll look kind of like a grocery list,” she finally says, “with a picture drawn at the bottom that has really straight lines. And it’ll probably be written on fancy, thick paper.”

“And the reward?” Gusto asks.

Dessie tuts a bit. “Gusto, you can’t just —“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Minori says, smiling. “If one of you finds the blueprints, I’ll give you an extra-large bag of flour all to yourself.”

At the mention of the prize, the Nature Sprites completely lose it. They clamor over each other, Mora starts to drool, and Gusto immediately disappears into a puff of glitter with only the phrase, “I’m on it!”

Minori mouths the word “sorry” to Dessie, who just giggles at her.

“Hey,” Witchie says as the Nature Sprites bombard her with more questions, her mouth half-full of bagel, “You did this to yourself.”

“But at least now you’ll probably find those blueprints!” Dessie adds, gently corralling the sprites back toward her.

“Thanks, everyone,” Minori says, fixing her hair after having received some tugs from Pepita. As the sprites finally calm down, she starts again. “Alright. So what other questions can I answer?”

Elise’s Manor. Mid-Morning.

By the time Elise manages to drag her hungover self out of bed, the sun has risen fairly high into the sky. It’s at least three hours later than she would normally get up, but with the incessant pounding in her head and the dryness of her throat, she finds she doesn’t mind the late start.

When Jenny comes in to take her dirty laundry, she asks in a groggy voice, “And how is Madame this morning?”

Her servant just shrugs. “Her door is locked and I haven’t heard a word from her since last night.”

A tiny smile plays on Elise’s lips. “Well, no point trying to slip a coin from the dragon’s horde. We ought to let her rest.”

Jenny nods understandingly. “Yes, miss.”

Her eyes flicker to where minou snoozes in a patch of sunlight on the bed. The kitten looks terribly cute; despite the hanging memory of her drunk episode last night, she can’t bring herself to regret adopting the creature.

“Will she be staying in the house?” Jenny asks. “I can ask Gilbert to bring a litter box from the pet house.”

Elise hums. “Yes, that would be ideal. Thank you, Jenny.”

And thus, the morning proceeds. Elise slinks down to the kitchen in her pajamas, sneaking past Cookie and grabbing a muffin to hold her over until lunch. She guzzles down two glasses of water whilst staring out the parlor window, thinking. Planning. Then, with a somewhat lazy resolution, she starts toward her office to finally get to work.

When she unlocks and opens the door, however, she finds none other than Nadi seated at her desk. Chaton slips through her legs into the room, stalking up to Nadi and rubbing against his legs.

“Ugh,” Nadi says, not even bothering with a greeting. “Cats.”

“Oh, hush,” Elise chides, walking toward him so she can scoop up the kitten. “She’s a darling creature.”

“I don’t like cat hair on my clothes,” he says, brushing off his pant leg.

“And I don’t like squatters in my office,” she counters, crossing to sit in her big leather chair. “How did you even get in here?”

He shrugs. “Jenny let me in.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Don’t blame her, though,” he continues, not looking up from what looks like a landscape draft. “I told her you had given me permission to get some parchment from in here.”

“Ah. Well, you have your paper,” she says, looking pointedly at the scroll he’s writing on. “So why do you remain?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really moved my stuff back to the Inn yet. Plus, this room has the best natural lighting in the house.”

She can’t argue with him there. The office faces an ideal direction for reading, writing, drawing — any sort of activity for which one might prefer natural light to fluorescent. It had been one of the only things she’d liked about the mansion when she first moved here.

“I can leave, if you want,” he says, sighing. Finally looking up at her. She suddenly notices that he, too, is still in pajamas — though his hair is tied away from his face, a little differently than it usually is. Messier than usual.

She just shrugs. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t stay, if it helps you to work better — as long as you don’t disturb my work, seeing as this is indeed my office.”

He smirks. “Of course, your highness.”

A scowl tugs on the corner of her mouth. She vaguely remembers Nadi giving her that epitaph last night, too. While only some years ago she had dreamed of nothing more than marrying into a noble family, she finds her adulthood goals have changed rather drastically. The nickname is a sharp reminder of her own child-like foolishness.

Perhaps Nadi detects her sudden sourness, because his tone softens when he asks, “How are you feeling this morning?”

She opens a desk drawer. Scoffs. “You mean besides my raging hangover?”

“Besides that, yes.”

She sighs. Sinks back into her chair with a pair of scissors in hand. “Fine, I suppose.”

“Do you, uh, remember what happened last night?”

She looks up at him, but he’s still staring down at his landscape designs. Still, from the way his knuckles are lighter in color from clenching his pen so hard, she can tell he feels nervous asking the question. It’s funny, she thinks, a tiny smile wiling its way onto her lips. He asks the question like he’s a lovestruck man wondering if his partner remembers their drunken affair.

“Well, let’s see,” she says, folding her hands. “Are you asking if I remember Madame’s French temper tantrum, being threatened with the shard of a vase, or adopting a kitten?”

“You forgot throwing up on the floor.”

She glares at him. “You know, you’d be much more charming if you weren’t quite so blunt.”

He kicks his feet up and rests them on the corner of her desk. “And you say you’re self-aware.”

She rolls up a nearby piece of paper and swats his feet with it. “Not on my desk, thank you very much.”

Nadi grins but removes his feet from the desk, moving forward so that he’s leaning over his work again. Though she wouldn’t dare show it, she’s glad that he seems to have let the topic of last night go, for the time being. The episode isn’t exactly what she’d call one of her finest moments.

A soft mew comes from the window sill, and then minou has leapt up onto the desk, taking a particular interest in the bookmark tassel sticking out from one of her farming anthologies.

“So you’re keeping the cat?” Nadi asks.

“Kitten — and yes.” She moves a finger to try and tempt minou to play. “It would be terribly unfair to just return her to Agate. Besides,” she pauses, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Madame is allergic.”

He scoffs. “You’re asking for another fight.”

“Indeed,” she muses, trailing her finger on the edge of the desk for the kitten to bat at. “Perhaps if I pick enough fights, she’ll decide to stay at the Inn.”

“With me for company? I doubt it.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t dare expose you to such torture. If she were to move to the inn, you would continue staying here as my guest.”

He shrugs, but she doesn’t miss the blatant pleased surprise in his eyes. “I have to admit, the natural lighting is a lot better here.”

As if on cue, a beam of sunlight streams in from the window. The white-light lands on a strip of Nadi’s hair, making it glow like snow on a winter morning.

She shakes her head, scooping up her kitten and standing from the chair. “Come, minou. Let’s pick out a fabric for this dress.”

“Is that its name? Minou?” Nadi asks.

“You know, we did have an agreement that you could work here only if you were quiet.”

“I’m just trying to defend your kitten’s honor.”

She clicks her tongue. “Fair.” Keeping minou in one hand, she uses the other to open up her office closet, which has shelves upon shelves of fabric organized by color, material, and weight. “Minou isn’t really a name — it just means kitten in French.”

She doesn’t turn to look at him, but she can hear the smugness in his voice when he responds, “That’s not a name — that’s like if I called Minori farmer, or you self-righteous princess-wannabe.”

“Very funny.” She touches a few different breeds of silky red fabric, and then decides on the ruby tone, pulling the bolt out of the stack. “Why don’t you give her a name, then, if you’re such a master of epitaphs?”

She watches him shrug as she moves back toward the desk. “Whenever I’ve had pets, I name them after flowers.”

“How utterly predictable.” She sets the bolt of fabric — and minou — down on the surface, and then opens one of the long drawers to find a cutting mat.

They fall into an easy silence, Nadi suddenly taken with an aspect of his landscaping design and Elise gathering the supplies to start on Lillie’s dress. Every so often she looks up at minou and wonders about names. Everything she tries in her mind — Blossom, Princess, Victoria — none of the names fit, and she would hate to give the darling kitten an ill-fitting name.

As she starts to cut the fabric, she finally asks, “What flower would you name the kitten after, then?”

He doesn’t look up from his paper. “I dunno. I’m partial to roses.”

She pauses in her cutting. Smiles.

“Rose.” Looks toward minou, and tries the name again. “Rose. I like it.”

He raises an eyebrow. Stares at her, incredulous. “You do?”

She nods. “It has a double meaning — I drank far too much of the rosé that Minori brought to the party last night. If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to adopting her.”

“Huh.” He raises his pen, as if in toast. “To rosé, then.”

“And to Rose,” she adds, putting down her scissors so that she can rub Rose’s soft little cheek.

Another lull as Nadi returns to his work, and Elise to her dress-making. The design that the girls made for Lillie’s modeling escapade is terribly simple, but, if she succeeds in making the dress correctly — which she no doubt will — it should achieve the goal of making Lillie look rather sumptuous for their humble fashion show. Hopefully, Raeger won’t be able to deny that she’s a catch.

She bites her tongue in guilt, remembering how Lillie’s fascination with Raeger wasn’t the only girlish crush to come to light the night before. Her revealing of Licorice’s feelings for Kamil had — thankfully — only ratcheted up the awkwardness in the room for just a few minutes. When Licorice had come out of the bathroom, she’d avoided eye contact with Elise, but she engaged in conversation with the other girls. Elise didn’t mind taking the brunt of her feelings — and if she’d felt a little bad about the ordeal, she’d drowned her feelings in rosé.

There’s a knock at the door. Elise stiffens.

“Yes?” she asks, careful not to reveal her slight spike in anxiety.

The wooden door opens. Jenny pops her head in. She barely manages to hold in a sigh of relief.

“Miss Elise,” Jenny starts, “Madame Dupont requests your presence in the parlor.”

Elise shakes her head, pretending to be preoccupied with her fabric cutting. “I’m rather busy. If Madame truly wishes to speak, she’s welcome to come here to my office.”

Jenny shifts from one foot to the other. “Um, she insists, Miss Elise.”

Her mouth curls into a wily smile. “As do I — and you may tell her so.”

Jenny nods her head, pursing her lips with a braveness that Elise recognizes all too well. “Insisting” anything to Madame is a task only for the stone-faced.

When the door closes, Nadi asks, “Should I leave?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she replies, standing so that she can reach across the large desk to grab a ruler. “It will infuriate her that you’re here.”

“Which is exactly why I think I should leave, Elise —“

“Stay, or I’ll fire you.”

He looks like he’s got a biting response ready to fire, but the door to the office swings open with an aggressive creaking sound.

Madame stands in the doorway, terse, poised to pounce. She holds a large stack of papers blackened with typeface. Elise watches as her gaze moves from Rose to Nadi and then finally rests on herself, becoming more pointed.

“P’tite.” The greeting is neutral, except for her eyes, which reveal that she hasn’t forgotten last night’s humiliation.

“Madame,” she replies, setting down her scissors. “Whatever is so urgent that you insist on interrupting my important work?”

She sticks her nose up a little. “If it were truly so important, you wouldn’t still be in your nightwear.”

Elise grins. “It’s a Sunday morning and I have absolutely no plans. Do live a little, Madame.” She looks briefly down at her t-shirt and sweatpants and adds, “Also, in the twenty-first century we call these pajamas, not nightwear.”

Nadi snorts — and then covers it up as a cough. Elise sits back down in her desk chair, kicking him under the table as she does so.

“Pourquoi est-ce qu’il est encore là?” Madame asks without looking at Nadi.

“English please, Madame, or else little Rose here won’t be able to understand you,” she replies, scratching Rose’s chin.

Madame huffs. “I refuse to share the house with that beast for three seasons. You will return it from wherever it came from immediately.”

“Oh, but look at her darling little face,” she says, scooping up the kitten and standing from her desk. “Would you like to hold her?”

Madame’s nose crinkles. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Gladly,” Elise murmurs, holding Rose against her a little tighter. “Now,” she starts again, mockingly bright, “I suppose you’re going to tell me about that loomingly large stack of papers there?”

Madame puts her weight on one side so that her hip juts out of her pencil skirt, making her upper half look like the Tower of Pisa. “Indeed.”

She strolls into the office and lumps the stack of papers right on top of Elise’s project. It’s at least two feet high, all on standard letter paper. The font is so small she has to squint to read it.

“I’ve decided to be merciful,” Madame begins, crossing her arms in a way that suggests she’s decided to be anything but. “If you’re so insistent on being allowed to participate in the board meetings, the least you could do is some clerical work. Complete these documents by sunset, and I’ll consider allowing you to attend our meeting tonight.”

Elise purses her lips. This is a test, and she knows it — the stack of papers is probably mostly busy work that Madame has concocted for the sole purpose of making her life miserable for a few hours. She’s testing Elise’s resolve.

“Very well,” she says, not uttering a single word about the impossibility of the task considering she also needs to finish Lillie’s dress. “But I request that you leave me alone for the afternoon so I can work.”

Madame’s lips curl into a smirk. “Gladly, p’tite.”

When she leaves the room, the door creaking shut behind her, Elise folds in on herself like a deflating balloon.

“Ouch,” Nadi says, seemingly reading her thoughts as his eyes move to the giant stack of documents. “Is this really worth it?”

“Oh, this is nothing,” she replies, kicking her feet up on her desk in precisely the way she had told Nadi not to do only minutes ago. “When I was thirteen, she locked me in the mansion cellar for a whole day because I wanted to eat pumpkin pie at the harvest festival the next day.” A pause, as she remembers the dampness of that cellar and wonders why she would reveal this particular vulnerability to Nadi. “She, um, said that the hunger I felt would make me appreciate the pie more, but looking back I guess it was a little much.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And your father just let that happen?”

She scoffs. “My father never knew, nor cared. My sister would’ve tried to fight her, I think, but she’d been tasked with giving a handsome ambassador from Silk Country a tour of the city that weekend.”

“What about your mother?”

For an instant, there’s a fire that flashes in her chest at the question. But she sucks a breath in and then forces it out until the flames go up in smoke.

“I need to get started on these documents.”

She removes her feet from the desk and stands to grab the stack of papers.

“But what about your dress?” Nadi asks — thankfully not pushing the topic of her mother again.

“Not my dress — Lillie’s.” She grazes the soft ruby-tone fabric with her fingers, frowning.

Nadi cocks his head to one side like a confused puppy. “Lillie? You mean the weather reporter? Raeger’s girlfriend?”

“They’re actually not dating, believe it or not — yet. Hence the dress.”

“I don’t understand.”

She blows out another big breath, exasperated. “Really, Nadi, you’ll need to be a little quicker if you want to work in this office. Obviously the dress is for Lillie to wear as my model in the fashion festival so that she can use her womanly wiles to win Raeger’s heart. Do keep up.”

Nadi’s brow furrows. “But isn’t the fashion contest in, like, two days?”

“Yes, which is precisely why I need to get started on these finances —“

“Why don’t you let me help?”

Now it’s her turn to look like a confused puppy. “You can sew?”

He barks out a laugh. “No, idiot. The treasury stuff.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, prepped to give a cutting response — but bites her tongue, deciding against it. Scanning the stack of papers again, and then looking down at Lillie’s dress, she realizes he’s right: she doesn’t have time to do both, and she doesn’t really want to choose between the two of them, either.

“Normally,” she begins, slowly, “I would be a fool to allow my landscaper to come within nine feet of important financial documents —“

“Ouch.”

“I’m not finished. However, I do seem to be in a bit of a pickle.” She pulls out one of her desk drawers. “You know how to operate a calculator?”

He rolls his eyes, to which she can’t help revealing a tiny smile. “Yes, Elise. Believe it or not, I had a really great maths tutor when I was growing up. And I do all my own financial work for landscaping, as you know.”

A spark in her eyes. She almost feels embarrassed at selling him so short — not that she’d ever tell him that. “Indeed, I suppose you do.” She covers her feelings by brusquely grabbing the calculator and holding it out to him across the desk. He doesn’t take it.

“Just answer me one thing,” he says, carefully.

“Questions about my mother are off-limits.”

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. It’s not about your mother.”

She eyes him carefully. Lowers the calculator. “Continue.”

“Why are you helping Lillie?” he asks, carefully. “You never help anyone.”

The observation should hurt, but it doesn’t. Coming from Nadi, who also isn’t the most socially blessed person in Oak Tree Town, the comment holds little sting. Instead, she sees genuine curiosity in his eyes — and perhaps a touch of pride, too, which for whatever reason makes her cheeks feel suddenly warm.

“I may be cold, but I’m not heartless,” she responds simply. “It’s beating somewhere in there.”

“Deep down,” Nadi agrees, but with a small, contagious smile that makes her stomach flop.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” she snaps, shoving the calculator toward him. “You’ve got a lot of work to do if you’re going to finish this clerical work by sunset.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” He takes the calculator. “As soon as you’re done with the dress, you’re helping me.”

“We shall see.”

Nadi chuckles, and perhaps she smiles a little, too, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Watching him reach for the first paper on the stack, his question turns over in her mind: when did she start doing favors for others? And, perhaps more importantly, when did she start becoming a person others do favors for?

Mid-afternoon. Norchester; the Buchanan Estate.

The Buchanan Estate, with its spire-pointed iron gates and perfectly trimmed shrubbery, sits at the top of a hill in Norchester’s oldest quarter, overlooking dozens of other large mansions that dot the hillside. But none are quite so intricately beautiful in design — nor quite so simultaneously leering — as that of the Buchanan family.

Klaus fiddles with his tie as the limousine driver enters the code at the security gate. He hasn’t seen Todd Buchanan in person in several weeks, likely because he’s been so preoccupied with his campaign. Elections are in the fall, and he has two seasons to win over the majority of the district populace — many of whom are farmers and small town folks, much like the residents of Oak Tree Town.

In his own personal opinion, Buchanan’s superficiality and penchant for greed has no chance with his constituents when compared to his much more humble opponent — but seeing as Buchanan is his employer, he wouldn’t ever dare to say such a thing aloud, especially given his acute aversion to any and all counsel, however well-intended.

When they arrive at the front porch, Buchanan’s butler, a short, stout old man by the name of Baxter, stands at the steps holding two umbrellas: one for himself and the other, presumably, for Klaus. From what Klaus can tell, Baxter is a good and honest man, if a bit bumbling at times.

The chauffeur opens Klaus’ door, and Baxter holds the second umbrella out for him. Shifting his briefcase to his other hand, he grabs the handle and stands from the car, tipping his hat to the chauffeur as he does so.

“Mr. Schulz,” Baxter greets over the symphony of rainfall. “How are you on this fine day?”

“A little damp, I must admit,” Klaus replies, following him up the long train of marble stairs leading to the estate. “And yourself?”

“Oh, chipper as always.” His bushy gray mustache quivers above his smile. “You’re in luck; Mr. Buchanan is in fine spirits today.”

“Is he?”

“Indeed. Not sure why, though.”

As they reach the mansion overhang, Klaus closes his umbrella. Baxter follows suit, wrapping his up and then reaching to open the door for Klaus.

The first time Klaus ever entered the Buchanan mansion — which must’ve been at least fifteen years ago now, he realizes with a slight pang of existential dread — he had been amazed at the majesty of the grand entry hall, with its two spiraling marble staircases and hallways leading off in every direction. A huge iron clock hangs from the wall in the center of the room; underneath it is a portrait of Buchanan’s family: himself in the middle, accompanied by his oldest daughter, Chloe, and of course Elise, who could’ve only been sixteen or seventeen when the photo was taken.

Many years ago, another portrait hung in its place — one where Mrs. Buchanan stood next to her husband, gazing adoringly in his eyes. But that particular painting had long since been taken down — and now, no traces of Elise’s mother remain in the house, as if she’d never existed in the first place.

Klaus can’t help his sadness every time he sees the new painting. Mrs. Buchanan used to decorate the entry hall with giant vases of flowers. Now, the marble floors are barren; the stairway railings are gleamingly clean but no garlands of white lilies adorn them. The hall smells like dusting spray rather than roses.

“Shall I accompany you to Mr. Buchanan’s office, Mr. Schulz?” Baxter asks like he does every visit, taking his coat to hang on the rack.

And, like every time, he responds, “No, that won’t be necessary — thank you, Baxter.”

Buchanan’s office is on the second floor of the mansion, nestled all the way at the back of the house so that it overlooks downtown Norchester. On most days, the office is host to a beautiful view of the city — of course, Klaus has always thought that it’s easy to think Norchester is beautiful when one looks at it from so far away. Being in the thick of it is another matter, but, to the current government’s credit, they’d come a long way in the last fifteen years preventing further crime in the marginalized and impoverished neighborhoods.

When he reaches Buchanan’s door, he sucks in a breath and then forces himself to release it slowly. Buchanan’s vampire-like countenance doesn’t scare him — not a lot scares him anymore, other than his nightmares. But there is a certain dark-Victorian-poet-meets-modern-technology quality to the office that makes Klaus want to spend as little time in there as possible.

Finally, he raises a hand to knock on the door. A moment passes, and then another. And then the unmistakable bass timbre of Todd’s voice from the other side of the door: “Come in.”

When Klaus opens the door, he’s surprised to find that the office has been completely redecorated — rather than being crammed with old oak bookshelves and looming portraits of old relatives, the space has been transformed to emit a much more minimalistic ambience. Gone are the plush red velvet armchairs, replaced with small, black leather stools surrounding a solid white coffee table.

Buchanan’s desk appears to be the only thing that remains the same — as well as the thick plum-colored curtains, saturated with dust, that frame the window at the south end of the room.

“You’ll pardon the dust, please, Klaus,” Buchanan says, folding his arms over his chest. “I recently had an associate over for tea and she was rather insistent that, given my current political state, my office décor be up-to-date.”

“No, it’s, er, very nice,” Klaus says. He can’t decide if he likes the barrenness of the new look any more than he liked the crypt-like qualities of the old one. “Very chic, I think.”

He smiles coolly. “Your pleasantries don’t fool me.” Gesturing to one of the blacks tools, he adds, “Sit.”

Klaus obeys, trying as hard as he can to perch comfortably on such an uncomfortable chair. He settles with keeping one foot on the ground and crossing the other over his knee.

Buchanan pulls a file out of one of his desk drawers. Klaus recognizes the handwriting in the upper-right corner of the manilla folder — Marian’s notes on his physical state, no doubt.

“So, is there anything of interest going on in Oak Tree Town?” Buchanan asks, hardly bothering to glance over the papers before splaying them out on his desk.

“I thought you’d know, sir,” Klaus replies casually. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Elise’s involvement in the Green Leaf competition?”

Buchanan’s tongue clicks. “Ah, but surely you know my daughter has no official involvement in that affair.”

Klaus hums. He’s known Buchanan long enough to understand that comment. Indeed, Minori won the conquest competition — but how much of that was orchestrated by Buchanan’s desire to keep his daughter out of the Green Leaf competition for his own political gain, he wonders?

“I may be mistaken,” Klaus starts, then, “but the town’s Business Mentor for the competition is Elise’s childhood nanny, yes?”

Buchanan, surprisingly enough, lets out an uncharacteristic snort. “Angélique, yes. I received an especially interesting phone call from her last night.” He smirks. “It seems my Elise has been giving her quite a lot of lip.”

“Respectfully, sir, Elise gives everyone quite a lot of lip,” he replies. A few years ago, he would’ve been afraid to let such a comment leave his mouth. But after so many meetings with Mr. Buchanan, the two have become quite candid with each other — or, as candid as someone like Todd Buchanan can be with his glorified freelance spy.

As he suspected, Buchanan finds this comment worthy of a curt grin. “As she learned from her father, no doubt.”

“Likely,” Klaus agrees.

“In case you’re wondering — which I have no doubt you are,” Buchanan begins, pointedly looking toward him, “it was not my choice to have Angélique installed as the Business Mentor for the town.”

“But it was your choice to install Minori as the agricultural representative.”

He shrugs. “Oh, I rather don’t care who took the title in the end, so long as it wasn’t my Elise.”

And thus Klaus’ suspicions are confirmed. The affirmation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he decides immediately that he won’t ever tell Minori. Not that he would break the confidentiality of these meetings to begin with, but in a theoretical world where he could tell her everything, he still wouldn’t tell her. He isn’t sure how she would react to knowing that Elise was forced to let her win.

“Well, your marks are above average as usual, Klaus,” Todd says, replacing the contents of the manilla folder and sliding it back into his desk drawer. “I see no reason to keep you any longer than necessary on this dreary day.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow. Usually their meetings go a lot longer. He can’t help but feel like there’s something Buchanan —

“Unless…” he begins, stretching the word and its consequent pause like a piece of bubble gum.

— Ah. There it is.

“Unless?” he prompts.

Buchanan leans forward a bit so that his elbows rest on his desk, perched like a cat waiting to pounce.

“There is a more…delicate matter,” he says, his voice accessing that higher register that he sometimes uses when speaking of such ‘delicate’ matters — usually highly political and questionable in moral nature. “If you’re interested.”

“As long as it’s within my contract.”

He rubs one temple with two fingers. “While the Green Leaf competition is charming in its intentions, Oak Tree Town’s involvement is proving to be something of a wrinkle in my campaign plans. Even though Elise isn’t publicly involved in the competition, Angélique tells me that she wishes to have a private input in their little meetings.”

“Sounds like Elise,” Klaus says, careful to keep his face straight. He remembers Minori saying something about how Elise’s presence at the first meeting had actually been helpful, and not a hinderance, but he decides he’s better off keeping that from Buchanan.

“In any case,” Buchanan continues, removing his glasses and folding them. “If Oak Tree Town wins the competition, it will reflect badly on myself and the town: people will think my connection to Elise is interference, regardless of whether or not she’s publicly involved.” He removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “However, if the town comes in last, that would also reflect poorly on me — and on my daughter’s capabilities, as well.”

“What are you proposing, sir?”

“Straight to the point, as always,” Buchanan says, wiping his glasses with the handkerchief. “That’s what I like about you, Klaus — you’re not afraid of being candid. Amidst my war in the Great Game, it’s remarkably…” He takes a deep breath through the nose, then finishes with another cool smile, “Refreshing.”

Klaus decides not to point out that, in complimenting his behavior, Buchanan is once again dancing around the subject of conversation. It’s a game he used to enjoy, but now rather detests — unless, of course, the subject is coquettish in nature. But talking politics with Buchanan isn’t exactly what he might call flirtatious subject matter.

“Well, Klaus, I’m prepared to offer you a generous bonus,” Buchanan says, replacing his glasses on his nose, “if you find a way to have Oak Tree Town place between fourth and sixth in the competition.”

Klaus snorts. “Sir, you know I gave up sabotage long ago.”

“Oh, but my friend, it’s possible you might not have to do much at all,” he says. Brushes a nonexistent bit of dust from his desk. “Tell me: how competent is the Agricultural Representative?”

“Minori? She’s, er…” he struggles to find the right word. If he tells Buchanan his honest opinion — which would be that, given her simultaneous stubborn tenacity and social charm, Minori will likely leave her opponents in the dust — he risks making her specifically out to be a threat to Buchanan. But if he undersells her, he does a disservice to her talents. “She’s, er, capable.”

“Capable, you say?” Buchanan rubs his beard, one corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Do you know her well?”

“Well, I would consider us acquaintances, surely,” Klaus replies. “Perhaps friends.”

“And is she pretty, too?”

“Sir?”

Buchanan raises a newspaper that’s sitting on his desk just enough so that Klaus can see the cover page — the headline reads, Green Leaf Ag-Reps Announced! In the top left corner in tacky font is a column labeled, “ones to watch” — with a candid photo of Minori plastered in the number one spot, beaming as she accepts the blue ribbon at some contest.

Buchanan tosses the paper toward Klaus, who fumbles only slightly before catching it in both hands. He doesn’t have to even glance at the article to know what it says — that Minori far out-ranks his description of “capable.”

“I thought,” Buchanan begins, his voice low, “I was doing myself a favor by denying my daughter entry in the contest. But it turns out I’ve put a far worse beast in her place — a girl who genuinely wants to do ‘good.’” He rolls his eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to buy over those kinds of girls with money or fame?”

“I can only imagine,” Klaus says dryly.

“Thus, my friend, here is my proposal,” Buchanan begins again, lacing his fingers together on the desk. “There’s two ways you can go about this: first, you sabotage the Oak Tree Town team’s efforts just enough for them to come in, at the very maximum, fourth out of tenth place — it’s possible, indeed, that you won’t have to do any sabotaging at all, should this Minori prove a disappointment.”

Klaus frowns disapprovingly. “You know I swore off sabotage a long time ago, Buchanan. I already said I didn’t want to breach my contract.”

“Consider the second choice, then.” He signals for Klaus to return the newspaper, which he does — standing to pass it to him instead of throwing it across the desk. “You court this Minori Awald until she’s so enamored with you that she can’t help but focus on you rather than the competition.”

At this, Klaus can’t help but let out a snort. “Oh, I think you’ll find it would take a lot more than the likes of me to distract Minori from something she’s got her heart so set on.”

“But who can resist a tall and brooding man such as yourself, my dear boy?”

“She’s good at multitasking.” He uncrosses his legs, thinking. “Perhaps the plan backfires. What if she not only wins the competition, but she falls for me in my efforts to court her, as well?” As the words leave his lips, his chest feels warm — a lovely, though fantastical, scenario that would be, indeed. “What would you do then?”

Buchanan smirks. Klaus’ stomach drops. He has a feeling he doesn’t want to hear what’s next.

“Well, I was rather hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I had Baxter read up on Miss Awald’s background — she has a degree in design from L’Universitaire de Beauchamp, does she not?”

Klaus frowns. “She does.”

“You know, Angélique has some very famous fashion designers in her circle who are looking for new assistants,” Buchanan says casually. He turns his chair just a little more toward the window, so that a quarter of his face is hidden in shadow. “It would be so unfortunate if she were to receive a job offer that begins before the end of the competition — wouldn’t it? Then she’d have to choose between a tiny town in the middle of nowhere and her lifelong dream of being a big-time designer.”

Klaus purses his lips. “Tough choice,” he says, with a hint of bitterness.

“And then this whole town, who seems to rather adore her from what Baxter gathered,” Buchanan continues, “would resent her for disqualifying them from the competition by leaving. Wouldn’t that be a pity?”

There’s a rather interesting spot in the new area rug, Klaus finds, where the pattern seems to have a flaw in it. He tries to focus on that for a moment, ignoring the way he’s gritting his teeth so hard his head might explode.

Buchanan sighs. “The choice is rather simple, Klaus. Find a way to ensure that Oak Tree Town places fourth at the very highest, or I’ll draw Minori Awald away and disqualify them from the competition altogether.” He turns his chair away from the window. “What’s your choice?”

A long pause. The seconds seem to stretch out before him as he considers his options. Would it be kinder, he wonders, to give Minori the option to accept a position as a fashion designer, to give her the option of abandoning Oak Tree Town in favor of her “lifelong dream,” as Buchanan calls it?

But then he remembers their conversation only yesterday — about how she was unsure if she truly ever wanted to leave Oak Tree Town, or if she even wanted to be a fashion designer, or what her future held. Is it wrong for him to not give her the option, or is he saving her the struggle of making such a monumental decision when she is on the cusp of what is sure to be a very important two months of her life?

And what about Elise’s involvement, and the rest of the town’s investment in the competition? Is it fair of him to make the decision for them?

He sighs. He needs to buy himself time. He also needs to talk to Marian about it — the only person with whom he ever considers breaking his confidentiality clause. Only one of the two options Buchanan has given him will buy him any guaranteed amount of time.

“I’ll do it myself, on one condition,” Klaus says, keeping his tone even so as not to betray his intentions.

“Which is?”

“You allow them to place third — not fourth,” Klaus replies. “They deserve a spot on the podium, at the very least.”

Buchanan’s mouth curves into a wily smile.

“Fair enough. I’ll cede that point. Anything else?”

He’s about to deny the question — but then a thought occurs to him.

“Actually, yes,” Klaus says. “I need a cotton candy machine.”

Buchanan’s gaze flickers. Klaus can only see the confusion in his eyes after years of practice. “A…cotton candy machine?”

“By tomorrow, yes. Delivered to Oak Tree Town. Specifically one that looks like it might belong in a 1950’s ice cream social — you know, vintage style.”

Buchanan looks like he might ask questions, but then decides better of it, resting his forehead in his hand with a resigned sigh. “Very well, Klaus. I’ll have Baxter look into it today. Do we have an agreement?”

Klaus nods. “We do.”

They shake hands, and the gears in his mind are already turning.

Oak Tree Town; Trade Depot. Early Evening.

“You know, I don’t understand why you wore that big heavy coat when it’s finally gotten warm outside.” Lillie stares at her with a suspicious gaze. “Wait…where’d you even get that coat, anyway? I don’t recognize it.”

The Trade Depot bustles with activity. It hasn’t been this busy so close to closing time in weeks — Minori would know, since she comes here usually twice a day, once when the vendors open to stock up on what she needs before the stock runs out and once near closing time to sell all she’s ready to part with. Now that the weather has finally warmed up, she figures that a lot more people are willing to make the hike even though the sun is close to setting.

“Minori?”

“Huh? Oh, the jacket.” She shoves her hands into the pockets defensively. “I’ve had this forever.” Lies. It’s Klaus’ jacket. “I just haven’t worn it this winter.”

Lillie isn’t fooled. Her suspicious stare grows into a big, goofy grin. “Uh huh. Did you buy it when you were two feet taller?” she asks, gesturing to how the hem of the coat brushes against her calves.

“Something like that,” Minori replies, and if she blushes she hides it in the woolen collar of the jacket. “Now come on — you’re only allowed to help me sell stuff if you aren’t gonna ask me weird questions about my wardrobe choices.”

Lillie grins. “What, so you can drag me into being the model for Elise’s fashion show, but I can’t tease you about this jacket that you definitely stole from Klaus?”

“Exactly. And it was borrowed, not stolen, I’ll have you know.”

They’re all giggles as Lillie starts to help unload Minori’s wagon next to Marielle’s stall — and Minori is glad. She was a little worried that after the girl’s gathering the night before Lillie would be feeling nervous, or even betrayed. But if anything, she seems to be looking forward to the fashion festival.

She has to hand it to Elise — it’s a pretty solid plan. There aren’t a lot of ways it can go wrong, even if it doesn’t go right.

“I wonder how Elise is getting on with the dress,” Lillie muses then, setting several bottles of milk down on the ground.

“Hopefully pretty well, though I’m sure she had a rotten hangover this morning,” Minori replies, grinning. “I can’t believe she agreed to take that kitten home.”

“And that she drank so much rosé!” Lillie agrees. “We should’ve invited her sooner.”

“We’ll make up for it — we could make her throw the next get-together, actually. If the eclairs from last night were any indication, I’m sure she’d supply lovely snacks.”

As Minori is dragging some bolts of fabric from the wagon, Lillie says, “Oh, but isn’t that creepy French lady staying with her? I’d hate to have a party with her watching over us.”

“Ugh. True.”

At that moment, Marielle starts to make her way over. She, too, has followed Lillie’s lead and dropped her heavy fur coats for a more Spring-ish outfit, complete with a straw hat.

“Small load today, Nor,” she comments, observing the wagon. “The farm doing okay? You need any discounts on feed?”

Minori giggles. “No, I’m good — but thank you, Marielle. I’m building my stockpile back up after the conquest with Elise.”

“Oh, ‘course. My bad.” She pulls out her purse and starts to count up some bills. “You know, we’re all really glad you won that. You’ll let us know if there’s anything you need, won’t ya?”

Minori takes the money, pulling out her wallet to organize the change. “Definitely. Thanks Marielle, you’re a gem.”

Marielle winks before turning away, her blue eyes dazzling in the setting sun. “My pleasure, love.”

Just as she’s about to put away her wallet, Lillie grips her arm.

“Ooh, Minori, what is that?” She squeaks, pointing at —

— pointing at none other than the tiny portrait Klaus had drawn of her yesterday, which she had forgotten to take out of her wallet and hide in her nightstand drawer, as intended.

“Oh, uh, just a self-portrait,” she replies, hurriedly zipping up the wallet and stuffing it back in the oversized pocket of Klaus’ coat.

Lillie crosses her arms over her chest. “Nori.”

“Lillie?”

“Why are you so intent on hiding stuff from me?” she asks, still gripping her arm. “We’re best friends. I told you about Raeger!”

“Look, Lillie, if there were anything to say about Klaus, I’d tell you.”

“Ha!” She points a finger at Minori’s face, grinning. “So it does have to do with Klaus! Did he draw it? Ohmigoddess, how romantic!” She puts a hand against her own cheek. “I’m blushing! I’m literally blushing, Nori.”

Minori just shakes her head, grabbing the handle of her red wagon again. “Fine, Lil. Klaus stopped by for a chat in the West Town Park yesterday and he drew a little picture of me while we were talking. But that’s it, I swear.”

Lillie grabs the handle and helps her pull. There really isn’t enough room for two hands, but Minori appreciates the sweetness of the gesture nonetheless.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?” Lillie cries. “Nori, you do realize —“

“Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry.” Quieter, so that not every person in the Trade Depot can easily listen in on their conversation, Lillie continues, “You do realize that for him to draw a picture of you, he had to stare at your face for, what, ten minutes? Twenty?”

“Half an hour,” she admits, digging the toe of her boot into the cobblestone.

“Goddess,” Lillie breathes. “Nori, he’s into you. There’s no way he isn’t.”

Just in front of the welcome desk of the Depot, Minori pulls the wagon to a stop. “Well it doesn’t matter how he feels about me, ‘cause I don’t feel anything for him.”

Lillie smiles. “Liar.”

But Minori doesn’t let up. She keeps her gaze even. So even, in fact, that Lillie’s face falls a little.

“Wait, really?” she asks, her voice lower in pitch. “I could have sworn —“

She sighs. “He’s got a lot of secrets, Lillie. It’s complicated. And with Iris —“

“Iris wouldn’t care, and you know that,” Lillie objects. “She’s not like that. Besides, didn’t you notice the way she was looking at Agate last night? She’s way over Klaus.”

“I know she isn’t, but —“ she cuts off abruptly. “Wait, what? Iris and Agate?”

Lillie looks at her strangely. “I mean — what, do you think I’m wrong?”

Minori tries to remember to the night before. Sure, they were cuddling on the sofa, and Iris kissed Agate’s forehead a few times, and they went downstairs together once or twice, and Iris’ eyes sort of went soft whenever she looked at Agate, like she was looking at the moon —

“Oh,” she breathes. “Wow. You’re so right. How did I not notice? We even had a whole conversation together after you all left!”

“Probably because you drank all that pinot noir,” Lillie teases, bumping her shoulder.

“I had, like, two glasses.”

“Okay, Nori, I counted, like, four, but if that’s the story you wanna tell —“

Their banter is interrupted by a loud call from her left.

“Minori!”

She turns toward the voice — it’s Kenneth, who’s waving her down from his stall. She looks from Kenneth, to Lillie, and then back again.

“Well, go on,” Lillie says, waving her away. “I’ve gotta get home so I can help dad with dinner anyway. But I’m not letting the Klaus thing go — okay?”

Minori grins. Backstepping toward Kenneth’s stall — and taking the wagon with her — she replies, “Wouldn’t dream of letting you forget, Lillie.”

She waves as she leaves. “See you tomorrow!”

“No doubt!” she says, returning the gesture.

Kenneth’s stall is furthest from the Trade Depot entrance, so it’s a bit of a jaunt to get there with the wagon. She probably should’ve brought her horse, she thinks, but she was so eager to finally get some travel on foot now that most of the snow has melted.

“Hi Kenneth,” she greets when she arrives, just a tad breathless from dragging the wagon with her.

“You’re so bundled up underneath all that jacket I almost didn’t recognize you,” Kenneth says, smiling widely. “Why’re you wearing that when the weather’s so nice?”

“Sentimental value, and it smells nice,” she replies. Quickly to cover her candor, she continues, “Um, anyway. Sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m in a pickle,” he starts. “My wife’s and my anniversary is coming up next week, and I’d really like to get her this all-natural vanilla-scented perfume she likes to wear, but the farmer I usually get it from passed on recently.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “How horrible.”

“Indeed,” Kenneth says, taking off his hat. “I was wondering if you sell any perfume at your farm? I’d be willing to part with a whole lot of lumber for it.”

She purses her lips. “No, I don’t. I’m —“ She pauses. Mind racing. “Wait. Uh, how much lumber are we talking?”

“Uh, probably eighty logs or so?”

She lets out a long whistle. That would certainly be a huge help in upgrading the safari.

“Okay, Kenneth. We’ve got a perfumist here in town — I’ll touch base with him tonight and see what I can do.” She takes out the mini notepad and pencil she keeps on her for reminders and to-do lists. “When’s the absolute latest I can get you the perfume?”

“A week from today.”

“And you want it all-natural, totally organic?”

“Yep,” he replies. “And just vanilla. None of that fancy flowery stuff.”

She flips the notepad shut and shoves it in her pocket. “Perfect. I’ll figure it out, okay?”

Kenneth beams. “Thanks, Minori. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“No problem!”

As she starts to lug her red wagon to the exit of the Trade Depot, she can’t help smiling just a bit. As much as she was being honest with Lillie — that she really shouldn’t have feelings for Klaus, given his penchant for taking mysterious inexplicable trips to the city — there’s a small part of her that is happy to have an excuse to see him again.

Norchester; The Angèle Hotel; Night.

By the time Klaus returns from the rest of his errands in Norchester, the sun has sunk well below the horizon line. As his taxi pulls up next to the hotel, he can’t help but sigh in relief.

He tips the driver generously, says a quick word of thanks, and then ducks out of the car. A bellhop is already grabbing his bags from the trunk; he nods his thanks and hands them a small tip, as well.

He makes his way into the lobby, pulling out the key access card that sits in the furthest back pocket of his wallet. The little light above the automatic sliding door turns green, granting him entry.

Karen, the night-shift worker, stands behind the desk. When she sees him, her cherry-painted lips part to reveal a perfect white smile. Karen only started working at the hotel two years ago — two years, he realizes with dread; he’s getting old — but he’s always thought she’d be better suited to a more adventurous job.

“And so he returns,” she says, lounging over the counter in a sultry way he’s more than used to by now. “My dark and handsome Silver Suite chevalier. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever grace us with your presence again.”

He smiles, not quite flattered by her flirtatious remarks — mostly just amused. Karen has always been forthcoming in her desires — perhaps too much so for his tastes, if he could be cited as having any specific tastes to begin with.

“I’ve been doing mostly day trips the past couple weeks,” he replies, handing her his access card.

She scans it into the system, as is protocol. With shining eyes, she asks, “No top-secret missions to warrant an overnight stay?”

He scoffs. “Not lately, no.”

Returning the card, she says, “How disappointing. If only you’d come around just three weeks ago; I’d just about worked up the courage to sneak up to your room and propose some midnight lovemaking.”

He clears his throat. “Ah.”

But Karen just giggles. “Oh, don’t look so worried, love. I’ve started seeing someone — you know Angie, the day receptionist?”

“I thought Yolanda was the day receptionist?”

She shook her head. “Retired a few weeks ago, thank goodness, else I’d never have met Ange. She’s a sweetheart — and blonde.” Flipping her long brown ponytail over her shoulder, she continues, “Always wished I were blonde, but I’m alright dating one, too.” With a bit of a softer look in her eyes, she adds, “Ange is gorgeous, and sweeter than anything. I’m really lucky.”

Klaus smiles — genuinely, this time. “I’m happy for you, Karen.”

She sighs, leaning back in the black leather chair that’s far too big for her thin frame. “Yeah, yeah, don’t tell anybody I got starry-eyed, though. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Of course,” he replies.

The bellhop has long since sent his bags up to the thirtieth floor — they all know where Klaus lives. It’s not like the silver suite ever gets rented to anyone else.

“Well, I’ll let you go,” Karen says finally, smiling at him. “But just because I’m with Ange now doesn’t mean I’m not still dying to know all your dark secrets. Do ring the phone if you feel like sharing, okay?” She leans back even further into the chair, blowing air through her lips like a horse. “Gets boring down here ‘round one AM.”

“Well, I suppose one secret can’t hurt.”

“What, really?”

Leaning closer to her, he says in a low voice, “During the day, I’m a perfumist in a tiny town not too far from here.”

She scoffs. “Ugh. Quit lying.”

He shrugs, smiling good-naturedly at her but starting to collect his wallet from the counter. “I only ever tell the truth, Karen.”

“Only ever tell the truth my ass,” she replies as he starts walking away. “Sleep well, Bruce Wayne.”

He chuckles. “Have a good shift, Karen.”

The elevator up to the thirtieth floor is made of glass. Just like Buchanan’s office, there’s a built-in window all the way up so that one can overlook the entirety of Norchester as they make the climb. Klaus wonders if Buchanan considered this when he was approving the designs of the hotel or if it was pure coincidence.

The ride takes about a minute, accompanied by soft jazz music. Klaus sighs. As physically tired as he is, he rather loathes the idea of going to sleep. The apartment always feels so empty when he arrives, which just makes his nightmares worse.

The elevator dings, signaling that he’s arrived. He grabs his briefcase and exits into the hallway.

The silver suite is the only suite on the thirtieth floor. It’s not the best suite in the hotel — there’s still five more floors of single suites — but it’s certainly lightyears nicer than anything he could have imagined himself staying in when he was a child. Sometimes he’s still astonished at the grandeur of it all when he walks in the lobby of the hotel.

“Alright,” he says to himself, pulling out his card again. The door clicks unlocked as he holds it up next to the card reader.

Sure enough, the apartment feels as cold as it always does. His little suitcase is just inside the entry. There’s a sticky note from the cleaning staff accompanied by two chocolates on the kitchen bar to his left; he pockets the chocolates and lays a twenty dollar bill next to the note, as he always does.

The air conditioner hums, the surfaces are spotless, the curtains are open to reveal the shining city of Norchester. Everything is as it always is — except —

— except for the landline phone on the coffee table. The answering machine light is blinking green at him.

He raises an eyebrow. Breathes to himself, “What?” Sets down his briefcase, moves toward the phone. No one has ever left a message before. He’s pretty sure the only people who have the number are Buchanan, himself, and Marian — and Marian would certainly call him on his cell phone before calling him here.

Half-cautiously and half-eagerly, he picks up the telephone and holds it to his ear.

“Please enter voicemail password.”

He stops. Checks the little piece of paper taped to the answering machine for a voicemail password. Nothing there.

Sighs. Punches in the numbers: 3-4-7-8. Buchanan’s security gate number.

It works.

“You have one new message.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end. Klaus holds the phone closer to his ear, barely breathing as he waits with anticipation to hear who somehow got a hold of this number.

Then:

“Hi, Klaus! It’s Minori. Minori Awald. You know. From Oak Tree Town.”

He smiles. He does indeed know Minori Awald from Oak Tree Town.

“Uh, I tried stopping by your house but you weren’t there — but Marian was on a round nearby and gave me this number to call you at. Sorry if I’m intruding. I know you’re in the city — and you’re probably coming back tomorrow, so I don’t know why I didn’t just wait until then to tell you, but, whatever, here I am.”

His knees feel a little shaky, so he decides to sit on the couch behind him. There’s a warmth blossoming in his chest that he doesn’t even try to withhold.

“Anyway, okay, so I’m just calling because one of the Trade Depot vendors needs some vanilla perfume — and I was wondering if maybe you could help me with that? We can talk about it in more detail when you get back, but I thought, like, I’d give you a heads up in case you need to buy some supplies while you’re in the city.”

A good call, he thinks — he’s out of vanilla extract, but he’ll be able to pick some up before his return to Oak Tree Town the next day.

“Well, um, anyway. I started thinking about what I might put in my White Day picnic basket — if you find me a cotton candy machine, I guess I could be persuaded to throw some bouillabaisse into the mix.”

His stomach growls at the thought. Minori made him bouillabaisse once, for his birthday the year before. It had been absolutely delicious, but he hasn’t dared to ask her for some again out of fear of seeming desperate.

“Well yep. That’s, um, that’s everything! I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully, unless you get back late — then maybe not, because I go to sleep, like, super early. Who’s the old geezer now? Anyway. Yup. Well, bye!”

The line clicks.

“End of new message. To delete this message, press seven. To hear this message again, press star.”

And despite what transpired in his meeting with Buchanan earlier in the day, despite the gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that falling further for Minori Awald will only lead to complications — he presses star.

#don't forget to leave a nice note if you feel so inclined #sorry I'm the WORST updater ever LMAO #minori #klaus #story of seasons #elise #nadi #lillie #sos #fanfic #blue lace #lousylarksings #long post

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