#Twig just has to get to a point where she can’t keep pushing things aside

[sincerely-sofie]

*gently places angsty Twig comic in your hands*

There comes a point in healing, sometimes, where you must grieve the child you never got to be, and bury her along with the desperate hope of one day somehow becoming her.

It isn’t fair. And it never will be.

But you grieve the child, still.

#hey so do you think the PMD universe has a concept of PTSD or #I gotta admit I’m not so sure about posting this one either ;w; #i like. never make my angstier works public. so this is very new to me #man this AU really is just Twig Going Throught It huh #I promise it gets better #there’s a happy ending pending #Twig just has to get to a point where she can’t keep pushing things aside #she’s got to hit rock bottom so hard it knocks enough sense into her to ask for help #also when Young Twig appears beside Adult Twig she’s not literally there! #not sure if that was clear #Twig talking about how she feels messed up just reminded Grovyle of something she said while a human #it was a lil flashback on his end #*slips tumblr a $20 bill* please let this be less blurry than the last comic #stuff by sofie #the present is a gift AU #pmd2 #pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd #pmd au #pmd comic #pmd grovyle

[incorrectlumityquotes]

Frilda, My Toy Ship

Now before anyone freaks out let my start by saying that TV Tropes defines a toy ship as:

Which I don’t normally do because I don’t watch a lot of shows that have actual little children in them. I think it’s weird, but that’s for another time. Normally the characters I ship are teens or adults, but they’re all animated and you know fictional so it really doesn’t matter. But this time I had to stop and go, “Huh, that’s actually quite nice.” 

Even though this is a lumity blog, I’m not saying this ship is like lumity. There are some similarities but there are a good share of differences. My main point is that Netflix’s Hilda is underrated and should be appreciated. And if you want a network to like a show as much as you do, get those numbers up. Keep watching and re-watching The Owl House on Disney Plus+ and watch Hilda on Netflix a few times. I’m confident you’ll enjoy it. Why?

Here’s why:

First off, what is Hilda?

Hilda is a British-Canadian animated television series based on the graphic novel series of the same name by Luke Pearson. Produced by Silvergate Media and Mercury Filmworks, the series follows the adventures of fearless Hilda, a blue-haired girl who, along with her deerfox Twig, moves to the city of Trolberg, where she befriends even the most dangerous monsters. The series debuted on 21 September 2018 as a Netflix exclusive to overwhelming critical acclaim. Yes, I just copied that from Wikipedia. Shut up.

I personally love the show. The characters are charming. The animation and color pallet are so easy on the eyes that you can just stare at the show. The music is nice, and the stories are fun. And while I would not call this an action show, it is definitely an adventure show.

But you’re not here for a review; you’re here for a ship.

Frilda, who and why?

Hilda is, obviously, the main protagonist and Frida being one of her best friends. I’m going to try to be as spoiler free as I can but there will be light spoilers for context so you can understand what I’m talking about.

Hilda is a young girl (around the 9-12 age) who grew up with her mom in a cabin out in the wilderness, miles away from other humans. She spent her days exploring the wild and having adventures with her deerfox, Twig. But when plot related things happen, her mom decides that they need to move into the city. Hilda doesn’t want to but when the plot literally stomps its way in, they have no choice. 

Hilda isn’t very good at getting used to the city until her mom signs her up for the Sparrow Scouts, a scouting and camping group that Hilda’s mother was a part of growing up. There she meets the other half of our ship, Frida.

Frida grew up in the city of Trollberg with her parents. If you’ve watched as many cartoons as I have you’ll recognize this character type. She’s very smart and is the overachiever. She’s always trying to be perfect, tidy and spot on. She admits that she wanted Hilda in her group because helping a new kid earns you more points in the Sparrow Scouts. Yay?

You would think that this means that they’re opposites and their personalities immediately clash and Hilda has to learn to be more tidy and Frida has to learn to be more loose and fun. Hilda is street-smart and Frida is book-smart. All that jazz.

But none of that happens. 

Yes Hilda is very outgoing and a bit more laid back, but she is adventurer. Hilda needs to be physically doing something. Frida at the same time need to be accomplishing something. She needs to be fulfilling a goal, getting that badge, crossing some finish line. But you can’t accomplish anything without action. 

The best metaphor I can give for this ship is that Hilda focuses on the process while Frida focuses on the outcome. They both still have the same goals, and they both are still girls of action.

Frilda, who and why?

So yes the characters are charming and are canonically good friends. So why ship them? Well (aside from the fact that I can’t help myself and always have to ship something from every franchise I come across)...

Like most ships that probably will never be canon, there so many little moments in the show the push towards something a little deeper than friendship. Bits and pieces that show that they think of each other as more than friends. I would like to list them, but that’s a chore by itself and I think you should watch it yourself on Netflix anyway. 

But one of my favorites is even when they are mad at each other and arguing, Frida calls Hilda “the cool wilderness girl.” Show her what you really think. 😏

I’ve always argued that the best ships are not “opposites that attract” but “compliments that complete each other.” That sounds like the same thing but it’s not. If Hilda and Frida were opposites, Hilda would be an adventurer and Frida would stay home all day and hate adventures. Frida and Hilda (like all good ships) are compliments. Frida thinks of a plan and Hilda carries out that plan.

Theme Song

“Witch’s Wand” by SLOAN

I was told that people don’t do this anymore, but I love picking theme songs and making playlists for my ship. While I don’t have a playlist for this ship, there was a song in the second season that is really good. Don’t worry about spoilers. You won’t understand without context. 

.

Thanks for reading my shipping manifesto for Frilda. Feel free to let me know what you think and since I had a lot of fun doing this let me know if you wouldn’t mind reading another for one of my other favorite ships. Stay safe and watch your favorite shows on repeat or they might be cancelled.

#not lumity #hilda #hilda the series #hilda netflix #frilda #frida

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

My Little Mermaid, part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Synopsis: a human man finds a mermaid washed ashore in a storm. His dream come true becomes her nightmare.

Content Warnings: mermaid whump, lady whump, creepy whumper, obsession, captivity, torture, noncon touching, starvation, exhaustion, heat, escape attempt,

Tag List: @deluxewhump @freefallingup13 @strangerthanx @whumpinggrounds @just-a-whump-lover @kixngiggles

Author’s Notes: thanks so much to everyone who is along for the ride so far. I’m really enjoying this, even if Myla isn’t.

btw, her name is means either “soldier” or “gracious/merciful” depending on the language (it’s a feminine variant on the names Miles), and I think that suits her well...she’s a fighter and protector for her pod, but has softness reserved for those she loves

Hayes means “hedged area” and I like that that implies being trapped

----

There’s no mistaking the shift in her captor’s demeanor after that. He regards her coldly, when he regards her at all. He doesn’t visit nearly as often the next couple of days and she wonders if the fool thinks that his absence is somehow a punishment, when in fact it’s a relief.

It gives Myla time to reconsider her escape plan. The dull points of the comb he tried to gift her with gave her an idea. She may be unable to tear the walls of her enclosure with her hands or teeth, but if she had a tool, something sharper, perhaps…

It doesn’t solve the problem of what she would do once she was out. She could be miles from the ocean for all she knows. But the only thing on her mind is getting away from Hayes.

For now she bides her time, waiting for the right moment. She hopes to rest and regain her strength, but instead it dwindles. It hurts to breathe through her bruised gills, and the stale, unmoving water is barely breathable to begin with. She barely sleeps in spite of her desperate need for it. There’s no room to stretch or swim, and she can feel this deeply in her tense muscles. On top of all that, the human only brings her half as much food as before. Rather than wait by the side of the pool, he tosses it in twice a day and leaves. She eats every horrible bite of it but is never full.

On her third day she realizes that if she doesn’t try to leave soon she might not be strong enough to try at all. So when she hears the door to the outside slam, the rev of an engine, the crunch of tires on gravel, she doesn’t hesitate.

Myla props herself out of the water and perches on the edge. She takes a few practice breaths with her lungs. She has had to get used to using them more than ever before.

She scans the room for something to cut through the mesh with. There’s little in the room that would be of any use, but her eyes land on a pair of gardening shears poking out of a pail.

Carefully she makes her way over to them. It’s harder than last time. She feels heavier and weaker than before and her arms are still not used to bearing her weight like this. But she pushes through it, driven by the need to escape.

She grabs the shears and puts the handle in her mouth, then begins the trek to the wall. Even after crossing the short distance she has to stop and rest a moment. It doesn’t bode well for trying to move across the land beyond these walls, but she’ll worry about that when she gets there.

Myla holds up the tool and examines it. She’s never seen or used anything like this, but the end is sharp, and that’s all she needs. She holds the mesh with one hand and uses the other to stab it with the tool.

A rush of triumph rushes through her when the material rips under the sharp blade. It’s the first good feeling she’s had in quite a while.

She keeps at it, hacking and tearing with renewed vitality. She can see outside! She can see the sky and clouds, she can hear birds! She can smell salt on the air!

The ocean, though, is nowhere in sight.

One thing at a time, she reminds herself.

Soon the gap is wide enough to fit through. Myla tosses the shears aside and pulls herself through.

A light breeze tousles her hair and she breathes in as deeply as her lungs will allow her. It’s beautiful out - a bit warm, but clouds peppering the blue sky enough to provide some cover. It is the sort of day she would spend exploring and playing with her friends or traveling with her pod.

The thought of them urges her forward. She can hear seagulls in the distance, her only indication as to the direction of the ocean. Between her and it is an expanse of lawn and then a forest, with a dirt path cutting through.

At least the lawn is grass and no longer concrete. She’s grateful for its soft brush against her tail as she pulls herself forward bit by bit. No matter how tempting it is, she doesn’t look back.

It’s a long and grueling journey just to reach the edge of the woods. By the time she arrives at a tree to lean on she is gasping for breath. The hot air is merciless. Her arms ache. Her tail is useless deadweight.

Myla allows herself a moment to lean back and close her eyes, arms folded over her growling stomach. She thinks of the cool water and the promise of real food. She thinks of comfort and safety and friends…

She forces her weary eyes open. There will be time to rest later. Now she has to move, before he returns.

She turns back onto her front and moves from the grass to the trail. It’s a mix of sand and dirt, pebbles and broken shells. The dread of dragging herself over the bumpy surface is alleviated only by the sight of sand. That’s promising; where there is sand there is beach, and where there is beach there is water…

Without the gentle grass to glide over she has to move even more slowly so as not to hurt her tail. No matter how carefully she moves the pull of her scales over the rough ground is uncomfortable, but she is patient and her reward is no further injury.

The path is flat at first, but begins to slope slightly downward. It grows steeper as she continues forward. Her arms burn and tremble from the effort by now. Her skin feels overheated, though the shade from the trees provides at least some relief.

Still she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t want to see how little progress she’s made; what matters is looking ahead.

But she’s so sore, so tired...the shade is cool and the thick trees provide a sense of safety she hasn’t felt in days or longer. By now she wheezes with every inhale.

Maybe...just a little break...To catch her breath, to let her arms rest. But what if I’m close...

Her arms make the choice for her. They give out and Myla crumples to the ground. She presses her forehead to the cool dirt.. Every inch of her is warm and weary. Exhaustion grips her mind, tries to pull her under. She closes her eyes. Just for a moment...

It feels like the blink of an eye. But when she opens them again the sun has moved significantly, the trees casting long shadows around her. She lies there heavily, blinking the sleep from her eyes. How much time did I lose?

Too much.

In the distance, but not distant enough, she hears a vehicle and then the telltale crunching of gravel. A door slamming.

The sound terrifies her into action despite feeling as though she’s made of stone. She forces herself back up onto her arms and crawls down the path, no longer bothering to be careful.

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he’ll go the wrong way.

Her panic doesn’t help her strained breathing. Not paying attention to where she’s going, her palm lands on a sharp rock. She hisses and stumbles, landing face first in the dirt.

No, no, no…

Myla’s arms shake violently beneath her when she tries to push herself up again. She feels like they are screaming at her to let them rest, and she wants to scream back we can’t, we can’t!

The sound of another door slamming reaches her.

Her blood runs cold. She drops to the ground and drags herself with her forearms.

And then - footsteps.

She isn’t even close to the sea, and she knows it.

Mumbled cursing, twigs snapping under heavy boots.

Myla stops moving and lays there staring ahead at the path that seems to go on forever. Tears blur her vision.

I didn’t make it...

“There you are…”

#mermaid whump #mer whump #lady whump #creepy whumper #obsessive whumper #captivity #torture #noncon touching #injuries #starvation #exhaustion #heat #escape attempt #whump #whump writing #my writing #my ocs #myla

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.37

Word Count: 2.949

Characters: Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Peter Hale, Lydia Martin, Ethan Steiner, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey (mentioned), Aiden Steiner (mentioned), Kali (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluff, death

A/N: Season 3A is now complete

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

You wrapped your arms around Derek’s unconscious body, pulling him to the bed as Cora sat up, groaning.

You felt slightly worried, trying your best to ignore it. He was no longer an alpha, but both of them would be okay. If Derek ever woke up.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Good… what happened to him?” she asked, motioning to Derek.

“He’s fine. Well, he’s alive. He’ll wake up sooner or later,” you said, walking over to Cora as you wrapped your arms around her tightly.

“He better wake up soon. There's a full moon tonight, which means his time is over, and Kali is on her way,” you looked at the sun setting as Peter paced around.

“Maybe you guys should leave,” you suggested.

“I’m fine,” Derek groaned, sitting up as you tensed slightly.

“You’re not strong enough to take on Kali. You and Cora should get out of town,” you said.

“For once, I agree with (Y/N),” Peter nodded.

“We’re not running away,” Cora ran to get Derek some water as you opened your mouth to speak, getting interrupted by a call from Lydia.

“Hey, what happened?” you asked.

“We found the nemeton. But, me and Ethan are right outside the loft,” she said.

You furrowed your eyebrows, running to the door as you pulled it open.

Ethan stood nervously, Lydia standing next to him.

“What are they doing here?” Peter groaned.

“We’re helping you to find a way to escape.”

---

“No,” Derek started.

“Uhm, yes.” you crossed your arms.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, we’re not running away.”

“Yes, you are,” you clenched your teeth.

“(Y/N), no-”

“Shut your stubborn ass up and get the hell out of here. You are not at full strength, Kali is coming here, right now. She's going to kill you. Peter is taking you and Cora to get another car, and then you’re out of here,” you continued to scold Derek as the rest of them outside the doors of the loft, not wanting to interfere.

“So what? You’re gonna hold her off? You and Ethan?” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Yes, we will. You’re leaving and you have no choice,” you pushed past him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you back as you glared.

“Then what if you get hurt? What if she hurts you?” he asked.

“She didn’t last time, she won’t this time,” you rolled your eyes.

You clenched your fist tightly, feeling an aching pain in your head as you tried to ignore it. 

“But now you’re trying to protect me,” he pointed out.

“Look,” you started.

“Will you just listen to me for five seconds?” he raised his voice.

You exhaled sharply, looking up at him. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt (Y/N), please listen to me,” he begged.

You stroked his cheek softly, breathing softly as he looked down at you.

“Somnum,” your eyes turned black, as he gasped softly, closing his eyes as he fell to the ground.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath as you walked to the rest of them.

“So, do we have a plan?”

---

“Isaac just said that Scott’s dad was at Argent’s house. He’s holding them right now,” you sighed, reading your texts from Isaac as you looked up.

“Okay, well, Derek and Cora are heading out of town now. I have no idea where Peter is,” Lydia shrugged.

You heard your phone going off again.

“It’s Stiles,” you said, reading the texts.

“Me and Lydia can hold her up. Aiden’s on our side too. You should go help your friends,” Ethan nodded softly.

You nodded, running off.

---

“What is it?” you looked at Stiles from the passenger seat as he anxiously drove through Beacon Hills.

“I’ve just had this big headache,” he sighed.

You looked outside the window, seeing lighting from the sky.

“Maybe I should drive then,” you offered.

“No, it's fine. I’ve just been feeling weird since we did that thing,” he sighed.

“What thing?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Sort of like what you did, when you lost your powers, the ice bath thingy. We made a sacrifice to the nemeton to try to find it,” Stiles swerved slightly, putting his hands on his head.

“Sorry,” he said.

“You did what?! You guys could've died! Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped!” you immediately scolded him.

“You were trying to help Cora,” he interrupted.

“I can’t believe you… you piece of-” you groaned, frustrated as you took a big breath, clenching your fist.

“Sorry, my head…” he swerved again as you tensed up, putting your hands on the wheel.

“Stiles?” he fell to the side, leaning on your arm as your heart began to race.

You could see the storm getting worse, hearing thunder as you turned the wheel, trying to keep the car in your control.

He laid unconscious on you as you pushed him aside as quickly as you could, trying to keep the car from hitting anything.

You could barely see the view in front of you, blocked out and covered by leaves and twigs. You winced as you heard someone screech, covering your ears with your head. 

“Oh shit!” you turned the wheel quickly, taking a deep breath before seeing the tree in front of you. You quickly moved, trying to shield Stiles as quickly as you could. 

“Stiles!”

---

You opened your eyes, groaning as you felt blood trickling from your wound on your head. Stiles continued to lay unconscious as you tried to push him up. You tried to move, finding a sharp pain shoot up from your leg as you screamed. You could see your eyesight blurring as you yelled out for Stiles.

“Stiles!” you yelled, watching as he jumped up. 

“W-What?! What happened?!” he yelled. 

“We need to get out,” you said.

He pushed open his door, falling out as he gasped for air. 

“H-How did this happen?” he asked, standing up shakily as he reached for your hand.

“Go find the nemeton and save them,” you said.

“I-I can’t leave you here. Y-You���re stuck,” he stuttered.

“Capitulum quintum,” you used your magic, forcing the door open as you fell out.

“I-I,” he stuttered, running his fingers through his hair as you stood up, leaning against the car, breathing heavily. 

“You gotta go to the nemeton on your own… Lydia’s in trouble,” you said.

“What? How do you know?” he asked.

“I heard her scream. Just go. Take your bat in case there’s any trouble,” you said.

He reached for his bat, grabbing it before he gave you a look.

“Your head’s bleeding,” he said.

“Go,” your voice was distorted as you clenched your jaw, pushing yourself up as your eyes went black.

---

You entered Derek's loft, immediately met with the faces of Derek, Jennifer, Lydia, and Cora. 

You noticed Kali’s dead body on the corner, along with Ethan and Aiden’s.

“You’re supposed to be on your way out of here,” you raised an eyebrow.

“You little,” Derek pulled your arm, harshly yanking you to the side.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, pushing you against the wall.

“I was trying to save your life!” you yelled back.

“By hurting yourself?!”

“In case you didn't realize, Kali is laying there, dead, and I wasn't even here to begin with!” you yelled.

“Why is your head bleeding?” he asked immediately, scrunching his eyes.

You twisted his arm back, pushing him away from you.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jennifer?” you clenched your jaw.

“I need yours and Derek’s help. To kill Deucalion,” she said.

“Let the sheriff, Melissa and Argent go and maybe we’ll consider it,” you said.

“She said she’ll let them go if we help her,” Derek sighed.

“First, I don’t trust you. Second, we should just kill you right here, right now. Third, Deucalion will be at his lowest right now. The rest of his pack is dead, we don’t need anyone else,” you said.

“Except he’s not alone. He has Scott wrapped around his little finger,” Jeniffer retorted.

“Well, Scott knows what he’s doing,” you crossed your arms.

“You haven't seen Deucalion at his strongest. I have. That’s why I need your help. If we help each other,” she started.

“Forget it,” you shook your head.

“We’re doing it to save them, (Y/N),” Derek said.

“So then what happens when you go fight Deucalion? Kill Scott too? Scott’s on his side,” you scoffed.

“We’re not gonna kill Scott. Look, we have the eclipse in our favor. Deucalion will be powerless, that’s when we strike,” he said.

“She’s worse than Deucalion! How can you not see it?!” you yelled.

“Deucalion was trying to kill me!” he yelled.

“That was Kali! God, you’re so stupid! How can you trust a single thing that comes out of her mouth?! Didn't she abandon you in the hospital? Kidnap Melissa and Argent and Stilinski! Why are you still covering for her?! She killed 9 innocent people, and she’s gonna kill more,” you could feel your head throbbing harshly as you clenched your fists as tight as you could, almost 100 percent sure your palms were bleeding now.

He looked at you silently, crossing his arms. He scratched his forehead twice, giving you a look as you inhaled deeply.

“So, fuck you, Jennifer, and goodbye,” you rolled your eyes, walking out of the loft as you pulled out your phone, texting Derek.

---

Your hands were shaking as you took a deep breath, hiding outside the building, awaiting the eclipse. The plan was fairly simple, wait till they all lose their power and then use a spell to trap both Deucalion and Jennifer. 

Deucalion wasn't a bad person, you couldn't see him as one, for whatever reason. But Jennifer killed innocent people. She was selfish and only cared about power. You tried your hardest not to bring your own feelings into the reasons why you hated her. Derek cheated on you with her. But she did a spell on him, so it wasn't his fault. You kept thinking back to that fact, finding it hard to process that. It wasn't his fault. She manipulated him. 

But he hurt you. He said he never loved you, not her. He said the two of you were a mistake, not her. But he didn't mean it, did he?

His words continued playing through your head on repeat, as you tried to ignore him. You let your emotions overcome your and your powers, now you killed your dad. Now you're always angry and in pain. It takes all your might to not try and kill everyone around you. But it was different with Derek. It was more painful with him. It’s like he was your anchor.

You looked up, seeing the sky turn an orange hue as you jumped up. That was your signal.

You ran into the building, looking around cautiously. Deucalion was nearly unconscious, laying on the floor, Scott staying in the corner. Jennifer stood up, towering over a bloodied Derek as your eyes went black.

“Lignum unum,” you pulled Jennifer away from Derek, using your magic to hold her down on her knees.

“Saepem coici,” you put a small barrier around the two of you, trapping her with you.

“That was a bad idea for you,” she chuckled, strained.

You squeezed your fist tighter, hearing her gasp for breath.

“(Y/N), d-don’t!” Derek yelled.

You ignored him, clenching your jaw as you tried to hold her down.

“She has her powers still! The plan didn't work!” he yelled.

You continued trying to hold her down, taking a deep breath. You could do this. 

You could hear high-pitched ringing in your ears, wincing slightly as you attempted to hold the barrier together, attempting to hold her down.

“A te removere potentiam,” you continued going along with the plans, trying to stay strong as your head began aching from the noise.

“You can’t do that, (Y/N),” Jennifer began to stand up slowly, fighting your magic as you scrunched your eyes, trying to block out the sound.

“Oppilaverunt in perpetuum,” you let out a soft cry, saying one more spell as you fell to your knees. 

“Your little plan backfired. It’s over for you. Stupid move, trapping us both in here. Now you'll die all alone,” she fake pouted.

“Inter duo,” you saw her stumble backward, looking at you.

“If you kill me, you die too. I linked us,” you struggled to speak as blood began falling from your nose, ears, and eyes.

“No, no you didn't!” she screamed.

She turned slowly, blood dripping from her as well.

“W-We…. can both die in here…. or you can stop,” you gasped for air as you laid on the ground.

You let out a cry, feeling pain ebbing throughout your body as blood dripped.

She whispered something softly, as you felt something break inside you as you screamed in pain.

“(Y/N)?!” you heard Derek yell.

“Let go of me. Now,” she yelled.

“If you hurt me, you hurt yourself,” you cried.

“Then I’ll hurt Derek,” she said.

You turned to him, watching as she used her magic to hold him against the wall, struggling for breath.

“N-No,” you whimpered.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“Confractus link Index!” you screamed, breaking the link between the two of you, along with the barrier.

She kicked you harshly in the stomach, throwing you back as you groaned, Derek immediately falling to his feet, running to you.

“I-I’m sorry… It’s my fault. I-I thought she was going to lose her powers. God, you’re bleeding so much,” he wrapped his arms around you, lifting up your head as he held it in her arms.

“I-It’s not… your…. h-how long left till the eclipse is over?” you asked softly.

“Now,” you heard Scott’s voice.

Derek’s eyes turned blue, growling softly.

Jennifer grabbed a vial filled with mountain ash, throwing it around herself to keep the three of you out.

“Let go of (Y/N),” Scott growled.

“Or what? You can't do anything to me,” she scoffed.

You saw a small blue light shining, from the corner of your eyes as you squinted, watching Scott try and break the barrier.

“S-Scott,” you whispered.

You gasped softly, watching as Jennifer collapsed to the side, backing away from Scott.

“Let (Y/N) go. Stop the storm or I’ll kill you, I don't care what it does to the color of my eyes,” Scott threatened, his eyes flashing red.

“He’s an alpha,” you said.

“Shh, don't speak,” Derek whispered, holding your hand as he took your pain.

“It won't do anything to mine,” you watched as Deucalion stood up, walking past you and Derek as he used his claws to slash Jennifer’s throat, in one quick motion.

You gasped for air as his body fell limp, holding onto Derek.

“She’s dead. She’s dead,” he wiped your cheeks softly, cleaning away some of the blood.

It was done. She was gone. It was over.

---

“So, demon wolf? That’s how you knew so much about me turning into a demon,” you leaned against the door, talking with Deucalion.

“Yes, and also, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he put his fingers on your forehead, as you closed your eyes, feeling a warm sensation pulse throughout your body.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Is there any way to stop it from happening?” you asked softly.

“I’m afraid there isn’t. At least not to my knowledge. But I will tell you this, witches don't usually have anchors. Consider yourself lucky for him,” Deucalion motioned to Derek.

You smiled softly, pushing yourself up as you put your hand out.

“Stay good, Duke,” you smiled softly.

“Duke?” he questioned.

“What? It’s short for Deucalion,” you shrugged.

“Very well then. Take care, (Y/N),” he shook your hand, before turning his back, walking off.

You walked to Derek and Scott, both of them turning to you.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked.

“Good, Deucalion healed me. What about you two?” you replied.

Derek nodded, as the two of you looked at Scott.

“Well, I’m apparently an alpha now. My mom’s safe. So is Argent and Sheriff Stilinski,” he sighed.

“Well then, time to go home?” you suggested.

Both of them nodded, linking arms with the two of them, resting your head on Scott's shoulder as the three of you walked away.

---

“I’m going back to South America,” you turned to face Cora, your eyes watering.

“You’re leaving?” you asked softly.

She nodded, as you wrapped your arms around her tightly.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you sniffled.

“Come with me,” she said.

“I can’t,” you shook your head.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Beacon Hills is my home, Cora. I’ve been living here for the past 19 years, I don't want to leave,” you said.

Cora froze for a second, before sniffling softly.

“You stupid bitch. Making me cry and crap,” she scoffed.

You laughed softly, looking at her.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said.

“Well, you’re coming with me right now. Derek’s taking me to South America. You’re coming too,” she said.

“What?” you replied.

“You’ll be back in, like, a week. Come on,” she pulled you to the window, seeing Derek and Peter arguing about something, leaning on his car.

“Fine. But only if you promise to text me and call me like every day, okay?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Deal” she nodded, yanking your arm as she pulled you to the car, while you rolled your eyes.

“Hey,” you said to Derek and Peter.

Derek smiled at you softly, earning a glare from Peter.

“So, let’s hit the road, shall we?”

#teen wolf #teen wolf text #teen wolf fic #teen wolf angst #teen wolf fics #Derek #derek hale #derek hale fluff #Derek Hale Angst #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale x reader fluff #Derek hale x y/n #derek hale x reader angst #derek hale x platonic!reader #derek hale x witch!reader #cora hale imagine #cora hale #peter hale #peter hale imagine #lydia martin

[marilynsweet]

WITCH AU: Red

Part 2/3,the first part is “The Witch’s House.”

General warning for PG-13 esque stuff, I don’t wanna spoil too much;;

The gentle glow of the sunrise glimmered through the curtains. The window, closed, kept out the freezing air. The icy chill of late autumn had begun to set in, though there was warmth in the room. Scents of fresh greenery permeated the air.

Asriel’s eyes opened, finding himself staring up at the ceiling. His arms rested above his head.

After taking a few moments to stir himself from slumber, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

He’d been here for about two months. The lack of such a busy lifestyle had made this place seem like paradise; he’d grown used to the quiet chirping of the birds in the woods, the sound of wind rustling through the tree’s branches, and the sounds of the goats and chickens outside each morning. His injuries had healed to the point where the only thing that irritated them was sudden quick movement. Frostbite trusted him on his own, now, to not hurt himself trying to do too much.

After a quick change of clothes, Asriel made his way out of his room and into the kitchen. The wood stove contained the soft embers of the previous night’s fire. Though it was still warm, a chill had spread through the house. Asriel took it upon himself to add another log and some twigs to reignite it.

His attention was grabbed by the sound of a THWACK! outside. Curious, Asriel took his boots from the mat by the door, laced them, and headed outside.

His breath fogged before him, and icy frost decorated the outside world in white crystals. The grass crunched beneath his feet, and sunlight sparkled through the few remaining leaves upon the trees. Two black goats trotted across the yard, along with a small flock of chickens. The thwack interrupted the air again, and Asriel followed the sound around to the side of the house.

There, he found Frostbite. She had laid her cloak across a stack of cut logs, and her arms had slipped out of her wide-necked shirt, the sleeves tied neatly behind her to keep it in place. In her hands, she held a woodcutter’s axe, and she stood in front of a pile of uncut logs. She had taken one log, and placed it upon the trunk of a long-dead tree.

He noticed black markings and symbols decorating her arms. Her arms themselves were toned by years of hard work and turmoil. She swung the axe, Asriel noticing the outline of her muscles in the movement, and slicing the log before her in two with another thwack!

He shook himself out of his staring, suddenly aware of the heat in his face. He took a deep breath, turning away from the scene to watch the goats, trying to purge the pink in his cheeks.

“You still can’t sneak as well as you think you can!”

Asriel perked, turning back to the scene to see Frostbite facing him, running a hand through her hair. Her breath fogged up quickly, sending clouds into the frosty air as she caught her breath. She swung the axe into the trunk, where she let it rest.

“Just came to see what you were doing!” Asriel replied, watching her retrieve her cloak and untie her sleeves. She slipped her arms into them, and then clipped her cloak back around her shoulders.

“Yeah? Wanna help me feed the goats?” Frostbite asked when she approached, offering him a smile. Her cheeks were flushed from her previous efforts, and she again ran a hand through her hair.

“Sure!”

She walked across the yard towards a small shed. Asriel had helped her build it about a month ago, to store the animals’ feed somewhere other than her bedroom. Following, Asriel watched her drag out a heavy canvas bag, pulling it open.

“Need help?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“I got it,” she replied, heaving it into her arms to get a better grip on it. “I’ll carry, you dispense.”

They made their way over to the wooden trough, worn through years of usage. There, Asriel helped Frostbite lay out a batch of alfalfa, and the two goats came trotting over.

“I’ll have to get more of that,” she murmured, closing up the bag. “They seem to love it.”

They returned the bag to the shed. Their footsteps left prints in the frost, and the sun was beginning to rise further against the tall trees. Beautiful reds and oranges and pinks decorated the sky, along with shadowed clouds.

“I fed the chickens earlier,” Frostbite stated, tossing her hair to move it back in place over her right eye. Her hair was smooth, shining in the gentle morning light. Her amber eyes glowed with that same shimmer. She took the heavy board hanging on the shed and swung it forward over the door to keep it shut tightly.

Asriel shook himself again, blinking as if awakened from a trance.

“You alright? You keep spacing out,” Frostbite asked, though she walked back towards the house. She motioned towards it with her head, indicating he should follow.

“Yeah— Yeah! I’m alright, I… I think I had a weird dream last night. I just… don’t remember anything about it,” Asriel replied, walking after her. “I think it threw me off.”

The kitchen had been warmed in their absence as the log caught fire in the stove. The chilled air was left behind when the front door closed.

“How long have you been awake?” Asriel asked as Frostbite sunk into one of the chairs at the table, stretching her arms above her head. She seemed tired.

“A few hours,” she murmured with a yawn. “That wood wasn’t going to cut itself, it has to be done before the snow comes.”

“I could’ve helped—!”

“No. I want to be sure your neck isn’t going to act up again before I let you exhort that much energy,” Frostbite replied quickly, before he could retort. “I’m not taking the risk of you hurting yourself again.”

Asriel couldn’t think of a retort to that.

“I’m going to gather eggs for breakfast in a bit, then I’ll make something. Bread should still be fresh.”

“I can make breakfast, if you need a break! I know how to make eggs!” Asriel replied, perked and eager to help.

A small smile crossed her face as she leaned back into her chair, running a hand through her hair. She took a deep breath before letting it out.

“Fine,” she murmured, sitting back up to look over at him. “But don’t hurt yourself!”

“I won’t!” Asriel replied, and before she could get up or retort, he had already headed outside.

When Asriel returned, Frostbite wasn’t at the table.

“Frostbite?” He called out, setting the eggs into the designated basket on the wooden counter.

No reply, but he could smell the faint whiff of a freshly lit candle.

Curiosity sparked in him as he looked over to the stairs. In his time here, he had never been upstairs. Frostbite had moved her things from his room to hers once she had made room for them, but he hadn’t been able to help because of his injury. Now, he was curious.

Tentatively, he took hold of the railing and began to climb the stairs.

When he reached the top, he was taken aback by the room. Two walls were entirely covered by bookshelves, upon which rested more than books. Crystals, jars, plants, and small chests. A bed lay on top of a rug on the wooden floor, above which was hung a wooden ring, decorated with feathers and strung with pink blossoms he hadn’t seen anywhere in the village. Above that, a hand-carved moon cycle was hung in an arch. Candles were placed upon the bedside tables, as well as on empty shelves. To his left, a wardrobe was pushed against the wall, in a hollowed out area of the shelved wall. Plants hung in hangers around the ceiling, in strange balls with what looked to be small trees and ivies sprouting from them. To the right, Asriel found Frostbite.

She was sitting on a cushion next to a low table. The table was set against the wall, with an open ornate box sitting upon it. There was a statue of a woman holding a staff, a closed book, a wooden cup, a variety of crystals set into an arch, and a rainbow of colored candles upon the table. Asriel noticed that only the red and pink ones were lit.

Frostbite sat cross-legged, with her hands in her lap. Upon approaching, Asriel noticed her eyes were closed.

“You should really knock before entering someone’s room,” she said without moving. “I could hear you.”

“What are you..?”

“Meditating,” Frostbite replied, again not moving. “I’ll be down soon.”

Asriel chose not to comment, only staying for a few more moments before heading back downstairs.

The room was quiet, but Asriel quickly set to work preparing breakfast. About halfway through, he heard the padding of footsteps on wood.

“Surprised you went to find me,” Frostbite said, and Asriel heard her moving a chair.

“I could smell the candles — wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“...I assure you, I can handle myself, don’t worry,” she replied, and Asriel could almost sense the smile on her face. “Breakfast smells wonderful.”

“I picked up on a few things from my mother,” Asriel replied, taking two plates from the cabinet. “She taught me how to cook.”

“Impressed, I am. Not many seem to know how, aside from the women in the village.”

“Eh, mother thought I should know, and I enjoyed it.”

Asriel was done quickly - eggs didn’t take too long to cook, nor did slicing bread - and returned to the table. He set a plate before Frostbite, and then himself, before sitting across from her at the table.

“How’s your neck?” Frostbite asked, watching him eat for a few moments.

“It’s fine, better than it was. It only hurts now if I do something like jerk it to the side too quickly.”

She nodded, before divulging in her own food. Asriel took notice of how her ears pricked at the first bite.

“You did very good,” she said, causing a smile to cross Asriel’s face and pink to flush his cheeks.

“Thank you! It’s, ah… it’s been a while,” he said a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I might just keep you around!” Frostbite said with a small giggle, and Asriel perked upon hearing her laughter.

“I’d hope so! I do like it here!” He said, returning to his own food. “I figure I should at least try to do something.”

“You can help me bring water back to the house and stack the logs, how’s that sound, hm?” Frostbite said, shooting him a smile. “You can do that.”

“Of course! But you need to finish eating! Gives energy for hard work.”

Frostbite rolled her eyes, snorting.

“I wouldn’t let such a good meal go to waste,” she joked with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish it.”

The rest of the day was busy. Asriel helped Frostbite with the wood, with her cutting the logs and him stacking them up against the side of the house in a way that would keep them the driest. Asriel was in awe of her strength and efficiency, and more than once Frostbite had to remind him that the logs wouldn’t stack themselves. By the time the afternoon came, the final log had been split, and they had a sizable stack against the house.

After the wood, Frostbite took him into the forest, along a well-beaten path she had traveled many times. She carried with her two sturdy buckets, as well as some jars. From the house, she led him deep into the woods, where Asriel was able to take in the fresh breezes and chirping of the birds. Clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, visible through the branches above. Winter was coming - the clouds were gathered in larger and larger clumps.

Deep in the woods, they stopped at a creek. The water was clear and fresh. Occasionally, a fish would swim by. The pebbles were visible in the bottom, along with tall grasses along the banks and stepping stones that peeked out of the water. Frostbite took the buckets and walked out onto the stepping stones, again leaving her cloak behind, draped over a dry rock on the bank. She rolled up her sleeves, crouched upon the rock whilst balancing on her toes, and dunked the bucket under the water. Asriel assumed that to be the deepest part of the creek.

She did this with both buckets, Asriel helping by filling up the jars. Their breath fogged in the chilled air, the cold nipping at their wet hands and making them shiver. After filling their containers, they made the hike back to the house. Frostbite carried the buckets, Asriel asking many times if she needed help, to which she simply shook her head.

At the house, Frostbite dumped the water into an airtight barrel, kept in a cabinet under the stairs, so well-hidden Asriel hadn’t known it was there until she had first shown it to him. Many hikes and many hours later, they eventually had filled four barrels, stashed safely in the cubby.

Night seemed to come quickly with the hard work of the day, the darkness spreading over the woods. An occasional star would dot the sky through the gathering clouds, and the cold sunk deeper into the air.

After a hot meal and a change of clothes, Asriel sat on the floor next to Frostbite’s bed. Frostbite had lit her red candles again, though he didn’t ask why. A few rose petals lie upon her table by the wall.

She had a hand on either side of his head, gently tilting it either way to gauge the healing process. The rope burns had long scarred over, but the internals had taken much longer to heal.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” She asked softly, and Asriel shook his head.

“Feels better and better every day,” he said, feeling her lean his head back.

“You’ve got a leaf,” she murmured, and he felt her pick something from his hair.

“Thanks.”

Frostbite didn’t reply, though she did shift her hands to his neck, and her touch was soft. One of her hands was roughened by age-old burn scars, and the other soft and smooth. He guessed that was because of the glove she wore to protect it.

There was a mild discomfort when she pressed against the back of his neck to feel the bone, but nothing he couldn’t bear.

“You’ve healed well,” he heard her murmur, though her hands let go of him after a few moments.

“That’s good to hear — means I’m not going to be unable to do anything forever!” Asriel said with a soft chuckle, lifting his head to look up at Frostbite. His head was about level with her knees, from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

He noticed her shifting her hands in her lap,

“Frostbite?”

She wasn’t looking at him, seeming deep in thought. He didn’t like the look of reluctance on her face.

Before he could ask again, she slid off the bed and walked over to her table by the wall. Confused, Asriel stood up, following after her.

“Hey— Frostbite, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, taking one of the rose petals in her palms.

“...You’re going to want to leave,” she murmured after a long silence. “You’re going to want to go back. You’ve healed - why stay?”

Asriel felt his heart sink at the heartbreak in her voice.

He hadn’t considered that. Yes, he had missed home, but he hadn’t been thinking of the day that he’d leave. Maybe every now and then, he’d consider it, but the thought never came to him that it would come to pass.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings. Frostbite was refusing to look at him, running a thumb along the delicate rose petal in her hand.

“...I won’t make you stay,” she muttered. “I’m not going to keep you hostage, force you to live here. I know your beliefs conflict with mine. I know you have family elsewhere. I know you miss home. I just…”

Asriel noticed her hands shaking as she tightened her grip upon the petal, crushing it in her palm. He was lost for words. What could he say that wouldn’t make it worse? However, it was the next words that took his breath from his chest.

“...I love you.”

His cheeks flushed with heat. Before he knew it, she had grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Asriel was taken aback. Unable to think, to move, for a long moment. His eyes were wide, and he felt stiff all over, frozen in shock. However, he didn’t push her off of him.

She was soft and gentle, the grip on his shirt loosening.

Frostbite let go of him after a long while, slowly, almost seeming shocked by her actions. Silence fell, once more, broken only by the chirping of crickets outside and the hooting of owls in the distance. The moonlight shimmered through the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

There was a fluttering in his chest he hadn’t felt before. Butterflies filled his stomach in a swarm. He raised a hand, and touched his lips.

Had that just happened?

Frostbite stood in silence, not looking at him, but at a spot past him, seeming to consider her next words very carefully. She bit her lip, trying to find the words.

After a few moments, she began to speak.

“...I’m sor—“

However, before she could finish, Asriel had taken her face in his hands and returned her kiss. Though the butterflies swarmed, though his heart raced, his mind told him one thing, and one thing only:

I love you, too.

Though his eyes closed, he could feel her run her hands along his shoulders, pulling him closer. One of her hands trailed into the hair on the back of his head, the other moving to wrap her arm around his neck.

Though he had to let go of her face to do so, his hands moved to her waist, holding her close as the kiss broke apart. He instead moved to press slow kisses against her cheek, then jaw, neck, collarbone, and then exposed shoulder. She leaned her head back, giving him more room. Every new kiss against her skin prompted her to grip him tighter, hold him closer.

I need you.

Her touch was gentle against him. In turn, her skin was soft against his hands. Burn scars be damned, the feel of soft flesh wasn’t only foreign to him, but it was addictive. He hadn’t felt anything like it. A lover’s caress, a kiss, holding and being held. The way she held him tight, the way her hands traveled across him, the way they seemed to just… fit together. The way her hands ran through his hair, holding him closer, longing for his touch, his kiss. The shivers down her spine when he buried himself into her neck, the feeling of his touch, the need for him.

It was intoxicating. They needed more.

The night had never felt so long, but not empty. Far from it. In the heat of the moment, in the desire, the need, they didn’t want it to end.

However, it did.

In the dead of night, when silence fell and the night grew cold, sleep came quick from exhaustion. The bed felt unusually comfortable, the blankets warmer than normal, the pillows softer.

The room fell into silence, the red candles on the table finally flickering out.

-

Frostbite woke that morning to the sun’s beams peering through the curtains. Birds outside sang their familiar melody, and it took her a few moments to register the morning.

Though, from her position, she didn’t want to get up just yet. It was warm… warm and comfortable. She trailed a hand behind her, feeling the sheets.

“Asriel?” She murmured, rubbing her eyes and turning over.

He wasn’t there.

She shrugged, yawning and stretching in her bed. He’d probably woken early.

It took her a long time to get out of her comfortable bed, though upon doing so, she wished she hadn’t. The air was icy and cold, especially against bare skin.

Odd… He would have thrown a log into the stove. Did he forget?

She picked up her clothes off the floor, with a wince, before walking over to her wardrobe. Everything felt sore from the previous day. It hurt to lift her arms, and her calves hurt from the trekking to the creek.

She pulled open the doors, tossing the previous night’s clothes into a hand-woven basket at the bottom. In the back of the wardrobe, a tall mirror hung, allowing her to take in her reflection.

Her neck and shoulders were covered in small bruises, and her hair was a tousled mess. She tidied it with her hand, tucking strands back into place and combing through it with her fingers. She then quickly dressed herself, hurried by the cold air nipping at her skin.

“Asriel?” She called out again, a bit louder this time, making her way down the stairs after closing up her wardrobe. On the way down, she clipped her cloak around her shoulders.

Upon reaching the kitchen, she noticed that the stove was cold and ashy, no embers glowing inside. The front door was slightly ajar, and Asriel’s room remained silent.

Eyebrows creased, she walked over to the door and shut it. Something was wrong.

Had he gone to the creek, perhaps, and forgotten to start the fire? Why would he leave the door open?

Looking around the room for clues prompted her to spot a torn sheet of paper on the table. She approached the table and took the scrap into her hands.

Her heart sank into her stomach.

Upon reading its contents, tears began to quickly flow from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her hands began to shake, then the rest of her, and it wasn’t from the cold. Her grip tightened on the paper, threatening to tear it.

On the paper, written in hasty, messy handwriting, was one sentence:

God forgive me, for I have sinned.

#witch au #witch! frostbite #witch! asriel #undertale oc #undertale #undertale au #frostbite #oc #frostbite storm #asriel #asriel dreemurr #frostriel #oc x canon

[soukokuwu]

I did fall in love with mori after season two so what do you think about hcs for yandere mori, fyodor and dazai with a s/o who doesent accept any of their affections and always try's to "fight" them? I think this would be a intresting concept because most darling give in or get stockholm syndrom but what is if that wont happen?

➤ ah yes t’was when we found out how scheming he can be~ and aye i gotchu anony ^.^

➤ warnings: yandere themes, manipulations, abductions, implied death

s/o who is not receptive to their feelings at all [yandere]

it’s easy enough for him to get you to be his little darling. he can turn on the charm so easily — appear like the perfect gentleman; lie through his teeth as effortlessly as he breathes. not completely your fault for thinking he’d be a perfect catch, but darling too bad for you, once you see the signs, you’re already in too deep.

and so you refuse. every single thing. he wants to kiss you? cringe. you pull away. he buys you gifts? you slap them away from his hands. dazai lets the behaviour pass... for a while. bend his patience enough and he’ll break like a twig. no, no, he won’t be broken like you will be, but instead he’ll take this as fuel to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

what do naughty darlings get? punishment. for dazai, it comes in an entire range. there are the small, nearly insignificant kinds where he just barely speaks to you (and you thank god that the devil has shut up) but there are also times where he would lock you up in the port mafia dungeons because why not? you’re of no use if you’re not subservient. he’ll release you only when you apologise to him, beg him to forgive you. which you will, because you get hungry or you need the toilet. and only dazai can let you out.

but if this persists? dazai will get bored. much like anything in his life. he used to be obsessed with you and now he sees that you aren’t all that he made you out to be. he thought you were exquisite, positively wonderful. but now? you’re just stubborn, defiant and dull. he can guess your every move — rejection. not once are you ever obedient. for someone who has everyone in the port mafia worship the ground he walks on, this behaviour from you he finds absolutely foul.

prepare to be thrown to the curb and shot at three times. he might set you free... might. it depends really. he knows you’re not a threat at all in any way, but he also hates how you’ve been such a nuisance even though he’s been so nice. rejecting all his affection? did you think he appreciated you playing hard to get? should he kill you for it though? most likely he won’t, because if anything, you’d make for a nice plaything if he ever needed to find one.

wins you over by the only way he knows how: fear. he casually lets you see how he can easily manipulate people into doing his bidding, how heavy and real his threats can be, how he can smile even the most seemingly dire situations because he always has something up his sleeve. this way you’d know how calculative he is, how scary he can be. but he also shows you his sweet side; mainly, how he treats elise. and you figure that maybe he can make an exception for you too. but even when he does, his bad habits of being controlling is way too much for you to handle.

and all of a sudden, his attempts are all futile. you’ve lost all interest in him — not just that, you’re disgusted by him. you see him for how he really is now, and nothing can turn you back from it. his gifts will never be good enough for you, the dresses that he always bought for you to wear (which you used to comply with, you weren’t opposed to being a cute doll), you’ve cut up with a knife and shred to pieces. now mori is the boss of the port mafia, he will not be used to anyone going against him, but also knows not to be impulsive.

give this guy a little credit, darling. he tries. tries so hard not to kill you every minute of every day, that is. because that’s how much you reject his advances. not only does he try to shower you with presents, he even tries to get all touchy with you. and you thank heavens that he doesn’t actually force anything on you. but it’s more for himself than out of consideration for you. making love with someone who looks at him with disdain? he’ll pass.

but as fast as he is to make advances, he’ll also know when to quit. he gets to that point faster than dazai. mori doesn’t like to push it, he has elise to fall back on anyway, to keep him occupied. it doesn’t make him any less angry sad that his darling isn’t so cute anymore. and now he must wonder, should he just silence you forever?

oh it is such a waste, you used to be a good little girl, succumbing to his desires and being the light of his life. what a waste of time you turned out to be. and he knows it is necessary to dispose of certain things, certain... people. after all, the moment you stopped being a receptive darling he’s lost all romance toward you. you’re of no use, and you know too much of what he’s done. sorry darling, you may have rejected his gifts but you can’t reject death’s kiss.

picture perfect, that you were. he stumbled upon you by chance — or so the chance that he crafted out himself. once upon a time he spotted you from afar, such pretty features engraved on your face. what an absolute masterpiece. and masterpieces deserve to be kept safe, seen but hidden. and so fyodor worked his way into your heart, to gain your trust and your affections.

but why? why is it that you wouldn’t cross the fucking line? why are you so adamant on just being friends? fyodor has expended so much time, energy and money into you. something which a god definitely should not have to do. and yet, even after he puts aside his own ego for you, you dare refuse? he doesn’t give up though, no. he just has to do things a little differently for his darling now, doesn’t he?

and so he uses the easiest method of all — force. oh darling is way too gullible. meeting someone she’s just known for not long at night in a quiet street? he almost finds it endearing how naive you can be. it’s all too simple to knock you out and drag you back to his place. but it gets so frustrating. fyodor can clearly see the fear in your eyes when you realise your situation, but yet you still don’t cave to his demands. as much as fyodor likes the tug of war, this is getting tiring. and he has much better things to do with his time.

as perfect as you are, there comes a point when all you’re becoming is a nuisance. he spends time ordering gifts for you on the internet and yet you don’t bother opening, let alone using, any? he gives you time and space alone in your room yet you never come around. he actually tries talking and appearing as patient as he can, but the words never get in your ears, do they? and ah, that’s when he realises his darling is just a fake all along. a bad copy of a real masterpiece the paint just doesn’t quite hit the canvas right.

and what do you do with fakes? pass them on to another person for profit? throw them out like the trash they are? fyodor does still relish seeing the look of terror in your eyes, though. so maybe you can serve a purpose. the doubt, the... gratitude(?) in your eyes when you see he opens the door for you, to set you free. but you don’t turn back as you run out and away from him. but darling you turn a blind eye to it enough and you might just end up right back where you started. because fyodor may have grown tired of the tug of war, but he’ll never tire of cat-and-mouse. except this time, he’s the cat. and his darling, if unfortunate, will turn into a mangled little mouse.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd mori #bsd fyodor #dazai x reader #mori x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd dazai x reader #bsd mori x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #bsd dazai osamu #bsd mori ogai #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #bsd mori ougai #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons #bsd dazai hcs #bsd mori hcs #bsd fyodor hcs #bsd dazai headcanons #bsd mori headcanons #bsd fyodor headcanons #dazai hcs #mori hcs #fyodor hcs #dazai headcanons #rachwrote

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, The Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 2)

Summary: The adventure gets underway.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: None so far

Word Count: 2235

Read on AO3: here

Patton's eyes were huge. “The Narnia? With the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext?”

“That's the place,” said Roman. “I mean...I dialed back a little on the religious subtext, since that can be kind of a touchy subject. But Patton, there will be as many talking animals as you want.”

“So how is this going to work?” asked Virgil. “We're the main characters? Will you tell us what to do next?”

“I won't have to!” said Roman. “It's literally just the plot of the first book. All we have to do is go through the major story beats! We'll pick things up at the point where all four Pevensies go through the wardrobe together and meet up with the Beavers, and—”

“Whoa, slow down, Pagemaster. I hate to bust your bubble, but I don't actually remember much about the story.”

“Nor I,” said Logan. “It has been quite some time since Thomas either read the book or watched any of the film adaptations, and in the interim I have grown...” He trailed off, blinking, and then pulled a thin stack of index cards out of his jeans pocket and thumbed through them until he found the one he wanted. “...'fuzzy' on the details.���

“You needed a vocab card for 'fuzzy?'” asked Roman. “Never mind. Don't worry about not being fully up to speed—it's a pretty simple adventure story, and Patton and I can give—”

“Actually...” Patton said, sheepishly raising his hand like a schoolchild, “...I don't really remember much about the story either. I always get distracted by the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext.”

Roman stuck his tongue into his cheek for a moment, considering. Then he brightened. “Even better! This way I'll be able to surprise all three of you! And who knows—maybe it will all come back to you as we go along. So is everyone ready?”

They affirmed that they were.

“Oh. One more thing, before we go in. Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own. You might find yourself having...odd impulses, ideas that you're not used to. That's the story, trying to nudge you in a particular direction. It's best to just go along with it. Remember that it's a story for kids, there will be a happy ending, and we're all friends.”

Virgil's eyes widened and he took a breath to speak, but Patton cut in: “I trust you, Roman.” Virgil let out the breath and bit back his protest.

Roman smiled. “Follow me, everyone. And try not to be too alarmed by anything we might encounter...”

They stepped into the wardrobe. Almost at once, a chilly breeze, tasting of snow and pine, fluttered past them and swirled around to tug the doors closed. “Don't worry, that was supposed to happen,” Roman said in a breathless half-whisper. “Head toward the light.” And indeed, as their eyes adjusted to the darkened, fur-lined interior of the wardrobe, they became able to perceive a cool light in the distance, opposite where they had entered. They went for it, pushing and stumbling through the rows of coats, gasping with startled...delight?...when the soft fur gave way to prickly conifer branches, and snow crunched underfoot, and finally blinking in the soft glow of a forest in deep winter.

Roman had gone all out. It was a world of white and blue-gray, the snow caked so thickly that only here and there was a hint of brown bark or green needle visible, and even these colors were muted. The only sounds, apart from the ones the Sides had brought with them, were the soughing of the breeze and the occasional patter of ice crystals from a distant tree branch. And it was cold—so much so that the first thing any of them did, apart from stare agape at the frozen landscape, was Virgil retreating a few yards into the grove they had emerged from and returning with four of the fur coats. He kept one and handed the rest to Patton for distribution.

“See, Virgil?” Roman said, his voice sounding oddly hollow as the snow and wind swallowed it. “You're getting the hang of this story already.”

“Less talk, more...whatever you have planned,” Virgil said, wrapping himself in black rabbit. “Let's get going before we all freeze our...toes off.”

“Hold up...where's Logan?” asked Patton.

“Over here,” came Logan's calm voice from a couple dozen yards away. He was starkly visible as a dark spot against the snow, standing perfectly motionless, huddled into himself and shivering slightly as he stared at the thing that had prompted him to drift away from the group.

“I remember this now,” he said as the others approached. “Come to think of it, it may be part of why I retained so little about the book in the first place. I mean...it's patently ridiculous. What fuels it? There are no gas lines in a wild forest.”

“If you must know...friendly spite,” said Roman.

“That warrants a fuller explanation,” said Logan, accepting a coat from Patton.

“Well,” Roman said, waving the group along, “C.S. Lewis, the author, was great friends with the almighty J.R.R. Tolkien, who told him in rather absolutist terms that you couldn't write about a fantasy world and put a lamppost in it. To which Lewis replied—I'm paraphrasing here—'Oh yeah, homes? Watch me'—and created this delightful world of Narnia, with that lamppost as a signature feature. True story. If nothing else, you have to admire his saucy rebel spirit.”

“I fail to see how that translates into a viable, inexhaustible fuel supply.”

“Aw, Logan!” Patton chirped. “It's a magic lamp in a magic forest! That's all it needs to glow forever!”

“See? Patton gets it!”

“Ease up a little on the noise, guys,” said Virgil. “Anything could be stalking us in this place. Roman, where are we even going?”

“It's not so much where we're going as what we're going to encounter. I condensed this part of the story somewhat and—”

“SHH!” Virgil hissed emphatically, pulling up short and throwing his arms out to the sides to stop the others as well. “I heard something in the bushes,” he muttered. “I told you we were being followed. Nobody move until we know what we're dealing with.”

There came a short whistling sound from a patch of shubbery, and a low, dark shape darted out, heading away from them through the brush, muttering in an almost human fashion as it went. Patton's eyes grew enormous. “Talking animal!” he cooed, and immediately gave chase. “Wait up, critter! We won't hurt you!”

“Patton, no!” Virgil called. He spun about and thrust a finger in Roman's face, eyes glittering with barely suppressed fury. “If anything happens to him, I will end you.” Then he followed, vaulting over low-growing bushes, somehow not slipping in the snow.

“I didn't make Patton run off,” Roman grumbled as he and Logan brought up the rear.

“Was this part of your plan?” asked Logan.

“The animal, yes, Patton's impulsiveness, no. Virgil's hostility...definitely no. This is supposed to be a fun excursion!”

“I am afraid I have no advice for you.”

They caught up to find Patton inching around and poking at a dense thicket, Virgil staying close but not interfering. “It's in here somewhere,” Patton said as a repeat of the whistle from earlier confirmed his claim, “but I can't find a spot for us to get through.”

“I keep telling him this is a bad idea,” Virgil said.

“Virgil, it's fine,” said Roman. “This is how the story is supposed to go. That's our guide in there.”

“You said these stories could, and I quote, 'take on a life of their own.' How do you know—”

“Aha!” Patton exclaimed with a touch of giggle. “Here we go!” He pulled aside a swath of branches, making an opening easily big enough for them to pass through if they stooped.

It was spacious inside the thicket, with a “roof” of branches low enough that a few twigs brushed the Sides' heads, and a “floor” of earth and dead leaves—the tangle overhead was thick enough to keep out the snow, which meant it also kept out most of the daylight. They could barely make out the form of the creature that had led them there, seeing only that it was stout and dark-furred, with a hunched posture and beady eyes that twinkled in the meager light.

“Aw, it's a beaver!” Patton said. “Heeeere, beaver, beaver, beaver!”

“Hush!” the beaver said, bounding across the space. “I brought you here for secrecy's sake, but if you start shouting you'll attract the wrong sort of attention anyway.”

“See, guys?” said Virgil. “We need to be more careful.”

“How are you able to speak?” asked Logan, bemused. “You appear to have completely normal morphology for a member of genus Castor. Your vocal tract should not be capable of forming such complex sounds, to say nothing of your brain structure.”

“Logan, you're doing it again,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth.

Mr. Beaver, for his part, ignored the nosy questions in favor of counting the Sides. “Four,” he said with deep satisfaction. “Four Sons of Adam. At last. Narnia has been waiting for you for a long time. I have so much to tell you...but not here. There's only so much privacy we can manage out-of-doors. Her spies are everywhere.”

“Her who?” Virgil said with a hint of a growl.

“Who else?” replied Mr. Beaver. He beckoned them all to lean in close, which in the Sides' case meant leaning over quite a bit. “The White Witch.”

“Oohhh yeeaahhh, I remember now,” said Patton. “She is one scary lady.”

“Understatement of the year,” Roman muttered.

“The White Witch has kept Narnia in thrall for a hundred years,” the beaver continued, “but now that you four have come, we shall finally see the end of her wicked reign. It has been prophesied.”

“Hang on, hang on,” said Virgil. “Is that the thing where four humans show up, kick the White Witch to the curb, and all settle down as kings of Narnia? Guys…are we actually down for that? I mean, I know Roman is, but…”

“If it’s part of the story, then I say we go for it,” Patton stated firmly.

“We did agree to follow through with the adventure,” said Logan.

“There is much to tell you,” said Mr. Beaver, as if the interruption hadn’t occurred, “but not here. I’ll take you to my place and fill you in on all the details. Now let’s hurry…it’ll be dark soon and you do not want to be caught in these woods after dark.”

They left the shelter of the thicket, and although the sky was overcast, it was indeed evident that the daylight was waning. The trip to the Beavers’ house was undertaken in near-silence, which gave Roman plenty of time to take stock of how the adventure was progressing.

His first thought was that it was going really well, actually. His fellow Sides were settling into their roles as fantasy protagonists, plus or minus a little snark (which was only to be expected). The scenery looked great, Mr. Beaver was following the loose “script” Roman had assigned him without any need for corrective nudging, and the adventure was shaping up just how he had imagined it.

As he thought more about the other Sides' reactions, he realized that they were even taking on rough approximations of the roles of the Pevensie children. Patton accepted everything with wide-eyed wonder, just like Lucy. Logan was being typically skeptical and sensible, much like Susan. And Virgil, in his drive to protect them all from danger, was acting almost like an eldest brother, a la Peter. That just left...

Roman stopped dead in his tracks as a chill that had nothing to do with the snow shot up and down his spine and forked down all his limbs.

I thought I was your hero...

Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own...

He forced his legs to start working again before the rest of the party could notice anything was wrong, and pulled up the hood on his silver mink coat in order to hide the expression of dread that he could feel forming (and to potentially play it off as a sudden bout of chill if anyone did notice).

Anyway, he was destined to be far colder before the night was over.

He should have known. How could he have overlooked something so simple?

On their final approach to the Beavers' house, Roman turned his eyes northward, toward the twin hills where the story obviously wanted him to go. Could he already spot a hint of an icy spire?

He barely tasted the trout dinner the Beavers served the four of them, barely heard the conversation that ensued. He already knew how it went, after all. His only role in all of it was to duck out early (quack?) and take the relevant news to their enemy.

He had only wanted to be the hero, but someone had to be the villain, and the story had picked Roman. How could he refuse?

#sanders sides #fanfiction #lamp/calm #platonic lamp/calm #dlampr #platonic dlampr #narnia #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #villainous roman

[barnesandco]

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (4/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack at Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​ 2020. Word count: 2100. Square filled: “They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing (three sh*t’s to be exact)

A/N: Not really feeling this one, but okay. Please let me know what you think...

The sound of sirens starts a chain reaction. Bucky hurriedly takes both mugs of hot chocolate and pours them down the sink, and she grabs her bag and hands him his before they run out of the back door. His heartbeat grows louder in his ears just as the sirens do. Police have no business for miles around -- they can only be here for one thing. Capturing them.

“Down the path, go straight through the fork in the trail,” she says, Bucky realizes she must have studied the map, and they stumble down the trodden track behind the cabin, displacing mushrooms and twigs along the way. Coniferous needles whip at his cheeks, cold of the night biting his nose.

“There’s no path going straight. Left or right?” He hisses through his teeth, coming to a dead stop at the fork. She almost bumps into him, and braces her hands against his shoulders to avoid tipping over. 

“That’s the point, Barnes. Go.” Taking the lead, she stomps into the thick foliage, looking back when she sees he isn't following. She’s about to emerge from the bush when he looks up at the inky sky, stars swimming in its surface. 

“Helicopters.” A thump sounds from the cabin, now at a healthy distance above them. Battering ram. That’s enough to convince him, and he joins her off the beaten path, but she has no time to celebrate before a searchlight skims over the forest, missing them by nary a hair’s breadth. 

“We need to get under deeper cover. They’ll start searching the woods soon.” She tells him over her shoulder, going as fast as the dense undergrowth will allow, littered with tree roots, blueberry bushes, and the occasional porcupine. Bucky follows closely, eyes on her swinging ponytail and the brief glimpses of her lip between her teeth as she tries not to fall. We can’t outrun them, he wants to say, keenly aware that they will have realized that they were in the cabin, and hence also deduced that they cannot be far off. However, he says nothing, permits himself to be guided deeper into the woods -- as if he has a choice -- trusting her apparent knowledge of the region.

For several minutes, there is no sound except that of the crunching twigs underfoot. As long as he blocks out the drone of the helicopters, that is. Even the crickets have gone silent, as if holding their breath for the intruders of their peace. 

Her breaths come in short pants as she navigates the terrain in front of them, until she stops, abruptly, and he has to grip her waist so as to not fall into her and push her over. That’s when he notices there’s something in her ear, and he can hear a male voice emerging from what he presumes to be a communications device.

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised. Get out and mind the choppers.”

Before Bucky can ask her what the hell that was, and before he comes to his senses enough to take his hands off her waist, she has turned around and begun to look back towards the general direction they came from. Panicked, she takes her bag off her back. “Shit, shit, I’m an idiot,” she mutters furiously, dropping it and kneeling on the forest floor as she rummages through it. Bucky stares down at her and then looks back nervously, surveys their proximity, his mind initiating a countdown for when this pause will become dangerous. Eventually, she produces two cloaks, both a strange, camouflage material, dotted with holes. Something in his mind clicks as he remembers, but the confusion must show, because she rushes to explain.

“Anti-infrared fabric. It’ll keep us hidden from the thermal imaging cameras. Thank God I remembered in time.” She drapes it over her shoulders, and he mimics her, tucking his hair under the hood as they continue.

The green of the woods blurs into the sight of the same green fabric cloaking armored Soviet vehicles lying in wait for the enemy. Siberian snow contrasting against its green, him observing both in the cold of winter as the world would go quiet. Still, patient, watching.

Stubbing his toe against a tree root the size of his arm sends a lighting bolt of pain through his foot. The sound of his stumble prompts a curious glance from her, eyes falling under the shadow of her hood. She faces forward and marches on, picking up speed as the helicopters hover above the cabin, which is now barely visible as a speck of light between the forest canopy. Bucky thinks he can make out a few bodies, bustling like the anthills around his feet. Can imagine people talking into radios and contacting headquarters.

“There’s a cavern under a cliff half a mile further,” she murmurs, as if to herself, and Bucky’s about to ask her how she intends to get down said cliff when a chorus of barks tears through the forest, ensnaring them like a lasso.

“Sniffer dogs. Run,” Bucky says, grabbing her left hand in his right, metal one stretched in front of him to push aside branches and shrubbery, the downhill motion aiding their efforts. More barking ensues and their panting grows heavier, louder, drowned out by a helicopter soaring overhead. Bucky’s senses pick apart his surroundings, informing him that the other helicopter has also stopped hovering, and is headed east. The chase is on.

He spares her a brief glance between paces, their hands firmly clasped together, her eyes wide and fearful. Shimmering pools of determination, they meet his icy blues before returning to the path ahead. Her heart is pounding so hard she is sure it will break out of her ribcage, pulse roaring deafeningly in her ears, nothing break through but the barks of the dogs that seem to come ever closer. 

She gasps when they pass a landmark - a particular pile of rocks - and pulls them both to a stop. Bucky’s hand is clammy with cold sweat but hers -- just as slippery, calloused, perhaps from guns and knives like his, yet so much warmer and so soft -- does not let go of him. 

They turn to the left, but the faint beam of a flashlight shines past them. The dogs’ running is audible now, in addition to their barks; Bucky estimates at least six, a proper squad. Looking at each other, they know they can’t outrun them. She pivots on the spot frantically, searching for escape, her eyes lighting up at the sight of something. A chance at getting away.

“Come on.” She tugs at his hand, dragging him towards a large plant with purple flowers. “Get in.” He looks at her incredulously, as if to say you’re shitting me.

“Dead serious. There’s a gap right there. Try not to disturb the shape of the bush too much,” she says, practically pushing him in. The bush is spread around the base of a tree, and she crawls in after him, so they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder against the tree trunk.

Her whole side is pressed against him - he can feel her pulse throbbing through her body, panic tangible. Her profile comes into stunning focus as she leans across to see if the hunters have caught up. Cheek so close to his nose that he feels his exhale reflected back, if he dares to breathe at all. They are frozen in time, his eyes fixed on hers although she is not looking at him, then moving to the bridge of her nose, the movement of her bitten-pink lips as she breathes. 

She pulls back and covers her mouth with a now-free hand as the dogs run past them, then halt, turning on the spot, and yapping incessantly. Bucky feels he might vomit his heart out of his chest; his hands clench around the tree roots he’s sitting between and he bites his tongue, fear seeping into his mouth along with the taste of blood.

The dogs circle, moving in and out of sight, unsure whether to continue because the scent is right there. Bewildered, Bucky looks at her questioningly, asking silently why they haven’t been torn to shreds. She shakes her head, holds a finger against pillow-cloud lips in a hush motion, then point to the flashlights as the owners catch up to their dogs. The helicopter seems to have gotten the memo as well. The purple flowered bushes flicker, but don’t betray them, shielding against the searchlights. She pulls her hood tighter around her head.

The dog trainers are yelling to each other now, clipping on leashes as they patrol the area. One -- their leader, presumably -- speaks into a radio.

“We’ve lost the trail, but they weren’t definitely here. Dogs aren’t going mad for nothing. They can’t have gone far.” A colleague’s flashlight illuminates the words Joint Terrorism Task Force on his jacket. 

A dog stops a few feet away from their hiding place. Sniffs at the ground. Lifts it head and turns, smells at the air around, almost looking her in the eyes. She shuts them, and Bucky can hear her try to bring the crescendo of the drumbeat her heart is playing to a full stop.

“There’s nothing more here. Let’s head back to the cabin, regroup. Maybe try to get a tip out of one of the captain’s buddies,” the man in charge calls, so everyone pulls their dogs closer, and they begin to go back the way they came. Bucky looks at her as she opens her eyes, watering from how tightly she had closed them. She holds up ten fingers, hands shaking, and Bucky nods. Begins counting.

597, 598, 599, 600 seconds -- ten minutes -- later, and he lifts his head from where it had been resting on the tree behind them, and taps her shoulder.

“Why didn’t they find us?” He asks. She motions towards the purple flowers around them. 

“Bittersweet bush. Also known as woody nightshade. Poisonous if ingested for humans, but just the smell is enough to confuse dogs. It hid our scent,” she says. A leaf tickles her face and she wrinkles her nose while adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Bucky is dumbstruck, fairly certain the awe is as prominent as a neon sign on his face, as he watches her check her pockets. He has to physically shake the shock off him, as they creep out of the plant they owe their lives to.

“This way.” She starts moving. Ears peeled for threatening movement, he imitates her cautious footsteps. They can’t risk another dog chase, although she is certain they’re far enough to no longer be able to hear or smell them. The woods have fallen silent once again, and he thinks he can hear a nightingale’s song ahead.

He treads so lightly she has to look to ensure he’s still there, and she finds comfort when his eyes look back. 

As they draw closer to their destination, she holds out a hand to stop him. 

“Careful. It’s steep, and the rocks can come loose.” She points down, and he sees only darkness below.  They begin their descent slowly, steadily, kicking up pine needles and dirt as they move. It’s going fine until Bucky slips on a mossy stone, tumbles forward, and into her. She latches onto him as they fall, landing on top of him and they roll down. Instinctively, Bucky tucks her head against his chest with one hand -- the other belting around her waist -- and tucks his own chin down into his collarbone so neither of them split their heads open on a rock. Her small hands, now bleeding, hold his biceps as they fall, fall, fall.

Then, as suddenly as they started, they stop, coming to rest on a flat ledge on the steep mountainside. Right in front of the mouth of a cavern. He can’t believe their luck, feels the adrenaline bubbling in his spine after the night they’ve had. She pushes herself off of Bucky, coughing up soil and spitting out leaves. Chest heaving for air, he stays where he is, on the forest floor, bag digging into his aching back.

It’s a small shelter, sufficient for the scarce remainder of night, as it’s unadvisable to keep travelling right now, but rest is the last thing on his mind, while he gets up to join her where she is spreading out a sleeping bag. “Who’s talking in your ear?” He asks, gruffly, and she stops. Freezes, and turns slowly with a sigh. 

“Sam Wilson. One of the captain’s buddies.”

#ayesha writes #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction

[littlemisswolfie]

A Midnight Run

AO3

The woods are dark, this late at night. Sam knows the moon above her is full, but its light is hidden behind the leaves of the trees looming over her. Her legs burn from the force of her feet pounding over the grass and dirt, and her lungs ache with all the air they’re pulling in and pushing out as she runs, but she can’t stop running. Not now. Not yet.

A few hundred yards to her left, someone yelps and something else growls. Heart pounding, Sam veers right and pounds her legs harder. She thinks that was Tucker. That means she’s the last one standing. The realization sends a shot of adrenaline through her system.

He wants a chase? she thinks. I’ll give him a chase.

There’s a creek nearby. Maybe she can hide her scent if she runs through it. That’s his primary means of tracking, after all. She has a chance if she can take away his sense of smell. If only she hadn’t left her bag in the truck; she has all sorts of nifty plants in there she could have used.

But there’s no use dwelling on that now. She has to keep moving.

The sound of running water hits her ears. She’s close to the creek. The ground is uneven here, and though all she wants is to sprint to the water, she has to take it slow. Tripping and falling would make too much noise, and then all hopes of escape would be dashed. And she refuses to let him win this time.

Her boots hit the creek with a splash. She bends at the waist to scoop water up and wet her face and arms as well. The water is freezing, but she can deal. In a few minutes, she’ll either be back in the warm truck, or she’ll be caught. Either way, she won’t be cold for long.

She backtracks a little to muddle the scent before taking off again. Sam knows these woods as well as she knows her bedroom by now, and she doesn’t need light to navigate. If she can make it back to the big pine tree they parked the truck by, she’s home free. Getting to the tree means the chase is over. And it’s less than a quarter mile away.

She takes one more deep breath to steel herself before she runs. She runs faster than she’s ever run in her life. Hell, she could outrun Dash Baxter. She’ll run as hard as it takes to get her to that tree. Because the tree means she wins.

She can just see the trunk of the tree when a twig snaps behind her. Her spine goes hot, burning white like a supernova, and that’s all the warning she gets before she’s being tackled to the ground. A hand comes up to keep her head from hitting the ground, but the rest of her body absorbs the shock, and suddenly there’s something heavy and warm over her, and a set of teeth pressing at her throat. Not biting, but the threat is there in the points of the fangs. “Gotcha.”

She groans, irritated, but rolls her head to the side in submission. “Only because you won’t let me use any of my herbs, you ass. Not all of us have night vision and super speed like you do.”

Danny chuckles, the sound much darker than it is during the day. Suddenly, Sam finds herself shivering from something other than the cold. “Are you, Sam Manson, saying you need help to beat me at something?”

“You wish.” She puts her palms against his chest, feeling fur where his shirt is ripped, and nudges, and he sits back without protest, though he’s still straddling her hips. She can’t see much of him in the low light, but she knows he can see her, so she wipes at her face to get some of the dirt off. Sam never used to be so aware of her appearance. In fact, she openly mocked girls like Paulina and Star who were so obsessed with their looks.

But that was before Danny changed.

They’re still not sure how, exactly, the change happened. It wasn’t like he was bitten or anything. It was probably something they messed with in his parents’ lab last September, but they’ll never be sure, now. What matters is that Danny isn’t human anymore. Sam can’t see him now, but she’s seen him often enough in the past few months to know exactly what he looks like. His body is larger, taller, more muscular. Black fur sprouts from his skin. His nails are sharper, more claw-like. His ears have moved to the top of his head, now pointed and fuzzy. And his eyes, usually the color of the sky on a clear day, are like liquid mercury—silver and burning.

“Now that you have me,” Sam says with a quirked eyebrow, “what are you going to do with me?”

Danny growls low in his throat at the obvious provocation and dives in, slanting his lips over Sam’s in a heated kiss. His hands, large and hot, grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She moans into the kiss, and though she very much enjoys his weight on top of her, she wishes she could wrap her legs around him to hold him to her.  But when Danny’s like this, more wolf than man, he has to be in control. He has to have the leverage. “Part of the curse,” he’d grumbled once. “The wolf would rather die than submit.”

Lucky for them, Sam found herself more than happy to submit, if only to Danny.

“Tucker?” Sam asks when Danny pulls back to let her breathe.

Danny leans down to kiss and lick his way down her neck. “He went back to the truck to watch our phones. The woods are all ours.”

Good enough for Sam. She cranes her neck up to kiss Danny again, and he releases her hands so his can nudge her jacket away. “Next run,” he says against her lips, “try shedding some layers. It muddles your scent.”

“Giving me advice now, wolf boy?” Sam asks, trying to pretend he’s not leaving her breathless.

His fingers work their way under her tee shirt and brush against her belly. “Yes. The sooner you get away, the sooner you’ll let me mark you.”

One of Danny’s many new instincts is the drive to claim anything that’s his. In the day to day, he does it in both human and animalistic ways. He writes his name on the tag of all his clothes and scribbles on the covers of all his notebooks and he has a million decals on his cherry red motorcycle. He’s constantly touching Sam and Tucker at school, and he’s scent marked them at least once a day since their first run in with Skulker, a rival alpha who thought Danny would be easy pickings when he first changed. He’s drawn the line at peeing on things, thank god, but the one way Sam hasn’t let him claim her yet is by marking her.

Marking is permanent. Danny marking her would result in a bruise that would basically telegraph “Mate of Danny Fenton” to any supernatural creature in the immediate vicinity. And it’s not that Sam isn’t ready for that commitment—she’s been in love with Danny for years—but she refuses to be a damsel in distress any time some hunter or rival supernatural wants to get one over on Danny. So Sam decided she would refuse his mark until she could get away from him on a full moon on her own merit. If she can outrun a werewolf on his own turf at the time he’s at his strongest, she can do anything.

And Danny, the wonderful guy that he is, respects her decision, and he never holds back.

Just like he doesn’t hold back now.

Forty-five minutes later, they return to the truck. It’s Sam’s truck, a sixteenth birthday gift from her grandmother, and it’s the group’s primary form of transportation aside from Danny’s motorcycle. Tucker’s sitting in the passenger seat, blaring Ember’s new album over the Bluetooth radio, and he gives him an impressive eye roll when he sees their rumpled clothes and tangled hair. “Next month,” he says when they’re situated in the cab, Sam on the hump and Danny behind the wheel, “I’m asking Ember to come, too.”

“She’s gonna be in Mexico on her tour next month,” Danny reminds him.

“Damn.”

Sam leans her head on his shoulder. “Buck up. Maybe I’ll get away next month.”

“You guys will just be even worse if you do.”

Neither of them brings up the option of Tucker simply not coming at all next month. Danny wouldn’t stand for it. He needs them both on full moon nights. No exceptions.

Danny puts the truck into drive.

Tucker gets dropped off first, and Danny, as he always does, waits until he’s safely climbed the fire escape up to his window before driving away. Sam could move over to the passenger seat, but that would mean moving away from Danny, so she stays put until they get to her house.

They climb out of the truck and Danny cups her face with his hands and pulls her up for one last kiss. “Text me when you get home,” she tells him, even though he’s probably the most dangerous thing in Amity Park, at least for the moment.

“I will,” be promises, laying his forehead against hers. “I love you, Sam.”

Butterflies explode in her belly. “Love you, too.”

She feels Danny’s eyes on her as she clambers up the flower trellis leading to her window, and when she’s safely inside, it’s her turn to watch, silent, as he lopes off into the night.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #fanfic #ao3fic #amethyst ocean #my writing #my post #mine

[chiclet-go-boom]

point of impact 3

Later he tells himself it’s because he was exhausted. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen to him, he’s better than that. Outside of some really spectacular stunts, Varric Tethras simply doesn’t lose his footing for any reason short of something collapsing out underneath him - and even then it’s a dice roll he often wins.

And hadn’t he dodged every attack that Blight be damned giant had thrown? Every single one, including the first that none of them had even seen coming because he’s just that good. He’d rolled, unhooked, loaded Bianca, shot a complete salvo and all of it from zero to a dead run while the clearing they’d stepped into was rapidly being made wider with each swipe from a club the size of a tree because it was a tree. How the hell they’d managed to stumble over something that big without hearing it first defied comprehension.

And not once had he tripped on anything. Not roots, not rocks, nothing. Even with the ground quakes as the thing had tried to squash either the Seeker or the Herald the easy way, peering myopically at the quick moving targets under its feet, he hadn’t missed a beat. He’d been particularly proud of the tight cluster of bolts he’d managed to plant in the monster’s knee that had brought it to down to, if not eye level, at least less mountain-versus-completely-startled-ants.

So losing his balance backwards as a rock had shifted under his foot while climbing the bank of the shallow river ford, working their painful way back to last evening’s campsite was completely uncalled for. He’d windmilled but hadn’t been able to save himself.

And worse yet, the Inquisitor had burst out laughing.

He’d sat up spluttering and cursing, three quarters of the way to being actually angry only to be greeted by the sight of the Herald of Andraste nearly doubled over and clutching a spindling tree that was in no way equipped to deal with it. And the water was cold, damn it, up over his waist as he’d sprawled there on his ass glaring at her and the Herald was still laughing as if it was the funniest thing she’d seen since Maker knows when. Higher up the bank the Seeker was staring down at both of them with a faintly disapproving look, her shield arm pressed her to belly to keep it stable while they walked, her dark braid trailing miserably over her shoulder just like a snake trying to find a spot of warmth to curl up in and suddenly he was laughing too because the whole damned day was just that flavor of absurd.

The sound of Dorian sloshing up behind him muttering “If you people are quite done,” hadn’t helped either.

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

He tells himself it’s because he has to clean Bianca thoroughly that he’s taking his time stripping her apart. And it’s true, he’s not lying. Between the water and the mud and the hours that have passed since she took her bath, he needs to make sure everything is in good working order so he’s in no hurry to finish, peeling her down methodically, automatically.

Across the campfire, he’s watching the Inquisitor help the Seeker with her hair. It’s damn near domestic.

Wide legged on the sagging tree trunk that probably fell sometime during the last Age, the Inquisitor has the other warrior wedged below her, Cassandra’s back against the support as she gets the debris calmly picked out of her hair. Down to her padded tunic and leggings with her shield arm poulticed and bandaged to help with the bruises and strain, the Seeker might almost look relaxed if it wasn’t for the scowl still compressed between her eyebrows.

“Careful, Seeker,” he throws out. “Don’t want it to freeze that way.”

“If I want your opinion, Varric,” is the reply after a moment, “I will give it to you.”

The Inquisitor snorts before he can, pale fingers moving delicately through the black tufts. Catch, release. Catch, release. Varric puts another set of interlocked gears to the side and squints into the chambered groove left behind. He reaches without looking for the rag he has set aside.

He knows the Seeker is discomfited that she can’t do it herself, can’t lift her arm that far until the potion and the salve do their work and yet it’s still somewhat endearing to watch. The Herald is as blond as the Seeker is dark and the contrast is interesting in the twilight that will very quickly be true darkness. Everyone is tired and he can see it on their faces, drowsy with heat and the last remnants of ebbing fear. Dorian has already retired to a tent after having eaten his portion of stew, saying something about last watch, but they’d all seen his hands trembling. Nobody had been stupid enough to mention it. The mage had pulled a crap ton of fire out of seemingly nowhere in those first desperate seconds.

Cassandra sighs and tilts her head to the side, a small sound as the Herald starts to unwind her braid finally, dragging her fingers through it to remove the snags. A piece of wood chooses that moment to snap sharply.

“Maker, but that feels good,” she says. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem. I spent a couple of weeks once with enough sand in my hair to build a small castle with.” The warrior’s voice is amused. “I would have tossed Dorian to the blood mages if somebody had promised me a comb and a bath.” The Inquisitor’s voice is low enough but Varric still looks over at the tents. There’s no answering rebuttal however so Dorian is probably already asleep.

“I know how you feel,” says Cassandra. “I keep my hair short for that reason but it is still a nuisance.”

“I gotta ask, Seeker,” he says without considering it first, his fingers busy along with, apparently, his mouth. “Why do you keep any of it long at all?” He waves at hand at nothing in particular, the rag suspended in it. “This has got to happen a bunch to you.”

The sound the Seeker makes isn’t exactly a growl but it’s hard to classify what it is, really, other than condescending. “It is functional.”

The Herald’s fingers have the braid half apart, fingers splitting the long length of it from tip to scalp. The dark trail reaches nearly to Cassandra’s breast with the kinked waves picking up the firelight in patches. Varric looks down at his crossbow and tries to remember where he was with it. Cassandra’s hair looks surprisingly tactile, it’s almost as if he can feel it running over his fingers instead. He wipes down the stock of the wood to push the sensation away.

“I have to say, I don’t see how,” he replies. Surprisingly it’s the Herald that answers.

“Padding.” She picks out a few more twigs, a small leaf, eyeing them critically before flicking them into the fire. “Helmets never fit right unless they’re specifically hammered to you - and even then they don’t fit right. Doesn’t matter what they’re lined with, or what you stuff ‘em with either, there’s always something that presses in the wrong spot. Wearing braids gives some extra cushion, distributes the weight around.”

“Huh,” he says. “Never thought of that.”

“Most don’t,” says Cassandra, “which is unfortunate since a bad fitting helmet is a trial. Braids should be more in fashion than they are.”

“Well,” Varric says, “we can always slip a note to the Orlesians for next season, there’s still time. Start a trend. Maybe rake in some royalties and pay off Big Nasty into an early retirement.”

A frown for his levity flashes across Cassandra’s face but the Herald simply laughs. “Ponytails are good too if they’re long enough to wind up top, if a bit more slippy. Or you know, you can just skip the helmet thing altogether and hope you’re fast.” She winks at Varric even as her rough fingers start to rebraid Cassandra’s hair, pulling gently.

Varric quells a flash of odd disappointment. With her hair down, the Seeker had looked different somehow, just that little bit less severe and he was kind of liking it. It doesn’t help that her temple is now resting on the Herald’s knee with her eyes half closed, exposing the long line of her neck.

“Also,” says Cassandra unexpectedly, “it is personal.”

Varric blinks. “Oh?”

The Seeker shifts, as if already regretting her words but her voice is measured across the fire. “When I was a little girl, my hair was entirely braids. It is - was - very Nevarran. I do not know if it is still in vogue. They were down to my waist and very heavy and I did not enjoy them. When I joined the Seekers I cut them all off as soon as I could. It was very freeing.”

And damn him, he can almost see it. Little Lady Cassandra rises in his mind’s eye, black glossy braids down her back, ribbons in them maybe. Red maybe, or sapphire - no, definitely cobalt blue, and probably satin. Did somebody ever pull her by them? He imagines a hand tugging on her hair, burying itself in the dark mass of it and he swallows dryly for no reason he can name.

But the Seeker thankfully isn’t privvy to what’s in his head, her own nose wrinkling softly at what is obviously a distant memory. “Yet I found that as I grew older, I thought of myself sometimes as I was then, when I was not always a Seeker or so deeply involved in Chantry politics or carrying out the will of Most Holy. So I grew out enough hair for a braid, to remind me of times when the worst I had to fear was being scolded for a muddy dress. It is...a comfort to remember that the world can still have those moments.”

“So functionally personal.” He clears his throat, staring down without really seeing anything, fingers lifting out another piece without his mind having to be involved in the process. “I gotta say Seeker, that’s very you.”

“It is, I suppose,” she agrees without discernible inflection. The fire pops again, settling and the Herald continues, bent over her fingers as the plait continues weaving itself.

It is the work of moments and the braid is finished and coiled on the Seeker’s head, back in its accustomed place and the Seeker is just the Seeker again, a woman with a scarred face and a weary expression.

“And on that note, I’m to bed,” says the Herald, groaning as she stands. She offers a forearm to Cassandra who accepts awkwardly on her good side, suffering herself to be hauled to her feet. “Cassandra?”

“I, also, if that is okay. Varric, you are good with first watch?”

He waves a broad hand. “Sleep well, ladies. I’ll keep the bears and giants and various bugs entertained awhile longer.”

He watches as they disappear into the tent they share, the flap falling behind them. He looks down at Bianca, cradled in his arms, half undressed as she is, her pieces gleaming.

“Just you and me now, sweetheart.” He bends to his work and tries really hard not to think about anything at all except where caked mud might still be wedged.

#cassarric #fanfiction #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #dragon age inquisition

[chloe-clegane]

My Devotion and Mah Protection, Our Love - Chapter 1

Summary: Rayla and Callum have been together for three years and are ready to transition into adult life and marriage. The fight against Aaravos isn't over but they refuse to let prejudice or fear keep them from living their life together. Having the first Human and Elf marriage, in over 1,000 years was never going to be easy.

AO3

Taking Care of You is Part of Loving You

Callum returned to their (his) room late and took his boots off. Having separate rooms in places like this was a silly facade. It would be unseemly for a Prince of Katolis to be sharing a bed with anyone prior to marriage. So they played along lackadaisically and everyone knew to look the other way. No one was going to stop them after everything they’d been through, plus one offender was a trained assassin with disappearing powers. The sun was going down, Callum was starving and surprised Rayla wasn't waiting for him.

He kicked off his boots and walked to the mirror. He was unsurprised by what he saw, his fair skin was brown with dirt and mud. “Yup, this is what success looks like doesn’t it?” he spoke to the empty room, frustrated. “It’ll be fine they said, trust that the branch will catch you they said ugh!” He accentuated each mocking quote by pulling twigs out of his hair “15th times the charm, don’t give up. Why do I need trees to catch me anyways? Don’t have to worry about falling when I can fly!”

“Oh no, that bad?”

“Rayla!” He nearly dropped the water jug he’s been using to fill the washbowl, you would think after all this time she would have a harder time sneaking up on him, but no. He sighed “I mean it went kind of… sort of… yeah it went bad”

“Well I found somethin today and I think you should come see it, It’s a surprise” She smiled and moseyed up behind him.

“Rayla, do I look like I’m ready to go out anywhere? I’m dirty and hungry and… kind of grumpy” While he spoke she reached behind him, dipped one of the wash clothes and wiped a spot clean on his cheek and proceeded to kiss it.

He pouted “can we do it tomorrow? I need a bath”

“Well ye’re in luck, you won’t need a bath where we’re goin” she walked away and grabbed a clean pair of shoes from his trunk.

“But where is it?”

“I told ye it’s a surprise”

“Bu-” her finger was on his lips as she handed him the shoes

“No buts put these on”

“Hungry” he whined

“Good news”, she danced away when he tried to grab her waist. She picked up a large basket he hadn't noticed by the door. “Food! In the basket!”

“My clothes?”

“In the basket!” she said it in an identical tone.

“Can I grab my sketchbook?”

“In the basket!” She gave an exaggerated point. He laughed and let her drag him willingly

“I love you… but why am I’m going to change my clothes out in the woods?”

“Hush! We’re almost there” She squeezed his hand and continued to lead the way

“Rayla I spent all day in the woooods, can’t I at least have a hint? Or- ”

She stopped walking and he bumped into her. “Callum, this is the surprise!” she pushed away a branch and what Callum saw made his jaw drop. It was a hot spring, steam was rising from the warm water. It was surrounded by glowing purple and orange flowers, he’s seen them before but never this many lighting up a whole area. Here in the moonlight, it was beautiful. Even the rocks had veins of quartz that seemed to exude magical energy.

“Wow, Rayla, ok this was worth the dark walk in the woods.”

“See I told ya to trust me” She gave his hand one more squeeze and started unpacking the basket. The picnic spread looked delicious. “Here’s yer clothin and yer sketchbook as promised” He knelt down next to her and took them

“Yeah I should never have doubted you” she mmhmmed in agreement, gratified. “Thank you” Callum felt the kindling in his chest catch fire. All he could do was smile and stare at her beautiful face.

“I found this hot spring earlier this mornin when I was doin some training. I ran miles today. Also I did the stretching and the lifts for mah arm“ Rayla spoke casually as she opened the waxed linen packages revealing the tasty contents. “Yesterday you were so worn out, I thought this would be a perfect place to bring you. Mind you I didn't know you’d be this stinky, if I did I woulda packed soap” She chuckled and looked up with a cheeky grin. She pulled out a bottle and two small ceramic cups “I brought a bit’a honey wine. We can toast to muh excellent picnic packing skills or-“

“Rayla, you planned all of this for me?” He spoke softly and sincerely.

“Yeah o’course, I Iove you.” She quickly kissed him on the lips. ‘Here try this.” She excitedly shoved a cube of cheese in his mouth before he could speak again.

“OH that is good cheese.” It was nutty and creamy and Callum savored it.

“I know right! She was clearly pleased with herself and giddy to show him what she’d packed.

“But seriously Rayla” he wanted to get back to the subject and reached out and cupped her cheek “Really, thank you”.

She leaned into his touch and sighed happily “Yer welcome. I know I’m the best most kind, beautiful and funny girlfriend you could ever ask fer. Now eat! I brought these bacon-wrapped sun dates. Apparently this merchant imports them from Lux Aurean. Oh and these she pointed to another open package this is a smoked fish that tastes like berries. In’t that weird?”

She pushed that into his mouth too. Callum scrunched his face “Um… eh… that’s really... weird... it’s like my mouth and my tongue are confusing my brain”

Rayla popped a piece in her own mouth and cringed “that sounded good in theory when I bought it” She tried one more piece and then shook her head no. “ok yeah, no, it’s a weird texture thing” she stuck her tongue out and scraped it against her teeth before moving to the next item “This is better I actually sampled this one”.

They went on like that for the rest of the meal, giggling and feeding each other various foods imported from around Xadia. They each had a cup of wine and she teased him for the way his cheeks turned rosy.

“Ok stinky prince, let's get you cleaned up. Take yer clothes off”

Callum chuckled nervously. “Get naked here? In the woods? What if someone comes or a monster jumps out or-?”

“That’s what towels and muh blades are for, duh” She said it as the most obvious thing in the world and tossed both to the edge of the water. She stood up and pulled her shirt over her head without hesitation and tossed it aside “yer turn!” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Callum inhaled sharply when he saw her. The glow of the flowers caught her hair and silhouetted the shape of her small perky breast. He clumsily pulled his own shirt off. When the fabric was out of the way he looked back at her. She had moved onto the laces of her pants. Now her perfect lavender nipples had grown hard in the chilly night air. He felt his blood rush, first to his now scarlet cheeks, second was the throbbing between his legs.

She stepped out of her pants and was now stark naked in front of him. Her lithe frame was begging to be grabbed and her white curls were ready to be stroked. “Ok get those pants off or I’ll do it for you” She chuckled.

He laughed nervously, feeling exposed. Part of him liked the idea of her doing it for him but he did as he was told “Oh um yeah let me just” he turned trying to position himself in a way that would somehow make his erection less obvious.

She teased him saucily “Callum are you gett’in nervous because yer willy‘s hard?”

“What! No! I…” He protested a little too strongly. She raised her eyebrow at him and he relented “Yes...”.

She rolled her eyes “I’ve seen it plenty” she laughed. Oh, how he loved that laugh. “Now hurry up and get you and yer big’ol pecker into this pool” Then she jumped in and her head went below the surface, he immediately knew this wasn’t going to go well. He rushed to get his foot out of his pant leg and nearly fell over. As expected when she resurfaced she was waving her arms and spluttering “It’s deeper than it looks!” she floundered “CALLUM!” She coughed and bobbed “this was a mistake, I regret everythin” she squealed “HELP”

“RAYLA, I got you!” freed from his pants he immediately jumped in after her.

After a lot more flailing, a little not crying and Callum being accidentally elbowed in the nose he swam her over to a shallower side of the hot spring.

“You’re such a brave warrior” He was laughing at her “I think you’re swimming has really improved”

“Shut it, don’t patronize me or this time I’ll hit your face on purpose”

He raised his hands in surrender, “You’re such a bully”

“Aye but I’m yur bully” She kissed him “I’m cleaning you off now, yer a bit ripe” She waded to the side and pulled herself out. She repositioned the picnic spread and her swords to the shallow end of the pool, she stopped and scowled at the deep end muttering an insult he didn’t catch. He loved her annoyed face, he found it cuter than he probably should.

His current view was exceptional. The erection that had melted away during the deep end incident was making its return. Callum can’t imagine wanting anyone else, she was it for him, brave, kind, heroic and that ass... He could look at her all day and never get bored.

“Alright, I got a washrag but as stated earlier no soap, makin do.”

Callum tisk tisked “I guess that basket isn’t as infallible as you claimed” She rolled her eyes and carefully lowered herself into the shallow end. Callum knew it will probably be years before she jumps into water like that again. She took the wet rag and started wiping his chest and shoulders.

“Rayla you don’t have to, I can clean myself off” He smiled and reached for the cloth but she pulled it away.

“I want tae do it,” She said it soft and sweetly and stopped to kiss the places she scrubbed. Now lean back, you can float” He complied and she starting washing his hair. Her nimble fingers massaged his scalp, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. The sensation of floating in the warm water the way her hands felt on his body was phenomenal. Every piece of stress was evaporating, he couldn’t feel the bruises or sore muscles anymore. Then she was kissing him and like a damsel in a storybook, he opened his eyes serenely.

“Did ye like that?” she asked coyly.

“Mmmm hmmm” he pulled himself up and kissed her. “You knew exactly what I needed Rayla. You put together the perfect evening that I didn’t even know I wanted”

“Well I figured you would’a spent the whole evening moping in bed, Nobody likes a mopey mage. It was mah duty to intervene”

He chuckled “your assumptions would be correct” another long sweet kiss. “I like this much better than sulking. Thank you Rayla, for taking care of me”

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck while she spoke “I think take’en care of you is part of lovin you.” She smiled and it was radiant, her eyes were bright in the moonlight and It melted Callum. “How are those bruis-?”

“Marry me” he didn’t know he was going to say it until the words had left his mouth. Both of them froze, she blinked one, two, three times.

“Yes” She said it with no hesitation or indecision and smiled sweetly, she cupped his face in her hands stroking his cheek with her thumb. He stood there frozen with his arms around her waist processing what just occurred, what he had just said.

Rayla’s smile grew increasingly nervous the longer he stood petrified “uuuuuh Callum?” Impulsivity seemed to be a trend, he grabbed her and crushed her lips with his. They stayed there kissing until they had to pull away for air.

He caught his breath and tried to clear he daze “Did I just… did we? Are we engaged now?” Callum tried not to stutter.

“Um, I think so? Is this not how humans do it? One person asks, the other says yes? Am I miss’in some weird human thing?” she asked it genuinely concerned.

He laughed and spun her around in the water. “Yes! No, that’s all fine, it’s perfect, you’re perfect. Wow, I didn’t plan that at all.” He laughed “Rayla, I love you! Oh, I need to get you a ring!” He was blathering.

“So we did miss a step then?” She chuckled presumably at the sheer joy and absurdity of what just happened. “You know I feel pretty lucky muhself... Whats the ring for?” She gave him a cheeky grin.

He hollered into the night, not caring who heard “YEAH! WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

She shushed him with kisses, giggling “What have I told you about being a loud mage.”

“It’s a lie, I’m loud and you’re gonna marry me anyways! Agh you’re so beautiful.” He gushed. “I love you!.” She just giggled before pulling him in for a passionate kiss. She tipped the mood from jovial to seductive by wrapping her legs around his waist.

She smirked at what she felt “Oh hello! were you wantin somethin?”

“Um, hehe, I mean… I wasn't intending to but yes always… always yes… whenever you let me yes”

“Yeah I know, I am pretty irresistible aren’t I?” she chuckled and teased before enticing him in a husky voice “give it to me you big dumb human” He immediately started kissing her, walking them over to the side of the pool, his hands started groping at her ass and her waist, her hands gripped at his back.

He broke their kiss “wait, did you want me to give it to you give it to you? In the woods?”

“YES!” she shook his shoulders “Take me now sweet prince!”

Callum ran his hand up her thigh under the water and kissing her neck and muttering “You know you’re a gift to me right? Every time it’s an exciting surprise” He ground himself against her and she whined. He lifted her out of the water partially so he could take one of her firm nipples into his mouth swirling his tongue around it. “Playing with you never gets old”.

“Mmm You try’na drive me mad Callum?” She was practically purring as she rolled her head back.

“Maybe.” He ran two fingers along the outside of her folds. She moaned unabashedly and he smirked “All I know is I want to spend the rest of my life making you do that”

“Good thing I just agreed tae marry ya isn’t it” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, nibbling his lower lip and ground against him.

This time it was his turn to shudder “it’s a veeerrrry good thing” He agreed muffled by her lips.

He used two fingers and rubbed a circle at her opening. He’s learned her body over the last few years of hand stuff, he knew exactly where to touch and what speed. Always able to find her little bundle of nerves. Despite the wild pace their kissing had escalated to, he tried his best to keep his touch smooth and light. Slowly increasing the depth of his penetration with each thrust of his fingers while trying to keep his thumb on her clitoris.

“Calluuuuum” she moaned and rolled her head back “hmmmmmmm I want’a feel you”. But his work has already paid off and she writhed and panted, tensing up and then slumped forward kissing his shoulder lazily. Making her cum always made him feel smug and proud.

He had once over heard Gren say (with a beat red face) “a gentleman always serves his lady first” Callum had tried to uphold that standard of curtesy.

When she caught her breath she started kissing him again and this time she was the one who did the groping. With her narrow hand, she started working the length of his erection. He massaged her ass and moaned. She spoke low “I want you inside me Callum”. She didn’t need to ask twice. Together they lined him up and he pulled her down onto the length of him. He buried his face in her neck and nibbled. Starting to rock slowly he found her little nub again and rolled circled around it.

He focused more on her than on thrusting, she made up for if by grinding on her. Still sensitive from the first climax she started to fall apart again quickly. She was scraping her nails across his back.

“Rayla, look at me” her violet eyes opened and she smiled the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. He took a moment to enjoy the way the moon seemed to make the violet glow. She struggled to maintain eye contact when she cried out and shuddered. He loved seeing her like this, feeling these sensations with her. Looking her in the eyes felt intimate, like in completed him.

The feel of her contracting around him almost put him over the edge. This was the first time he’d tried something like this. To pleasure her while simultaneously being inside her. They’d only had sex less than a half dozen times. He knew his longevity needed some work so he wanted to make the most out of it. It was exceptionally more difficult than he thought it would be but the reward was dazzling. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her back arched. She cried out again and then whimpered between gasps. Rolling through the waves.

Now it was his turn, he put his head down kissing her neck as he began thrusting into her with full force and enthusiasm. The pleasure ramped up and she started to whisper “I love you” He thrust “I love you” thrust “Callum” thrust “I love you-”. He barely had enough time to unsheathe himself before he came.

"Rayla I love yo-” he groaned. As his head spun he was too late to realize his knees buckled, he slipped into the water and took Rayla with him. He was smacked in the face as she tried to pull herself up, it didn’t feel entirely on accident.

“I coulda drowned“ She shrieked

He just laughed at her while the tingling sensations dissipated. “The water is barely three and a half feet”!

“Still!” she was being dramatic “So this is the story we’re goin’ta tell our children someday? You ask me tae marry me you, make sweet love tae me and immediately try tae drowned me! And after I went through all this trouble settin up this picnic for you?”

She never fails to make him laugh “I think we leave out the making love part”.

“But I like that part” She smirked.

“It sounded like you did, didn’t it?” He was so smug. “But really I don’t think other people want to hear that part of the story”.

They toasted each other with another cup of wine, continued to flirt and relaxed in the pool awhile longer before dressing and making their way back. Partway Rayla asked a serious question “Callum?”

“hmm?” he hummed.

“Is it wrong for us to get married now? While Claudia… and them… while they’re out there and the war isn’t done.” She asked it tentatively.

Callum stopped walking and thought a moment. “No, no I don’t. I think if we let them stop us, stop us from being happy and living our life, it means they won in a way. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah” She agreed “I suppose that’s a good way to think of it”

Callum’s thoughts turned a little darker. “I also, I don’t want to risk any regrets, or missing out on anything with you. You never know what could happen”. The nightmares of her falling to her death had been usurped by their more recent encounter with Viren and company. His mind slipped back into the memory. Rayla’s arm twisted behind her back as Claudia used the withered octopus tentacle to hold her down and contort her limps. He’ll never forget the sounds, Raylas screams and the way the bone popped as the shoulder left it’s socket. To make things worse the dark mage was so focused on torturing Rayla she didn’t see Callum’s blast of lightning coming. If Claudia hadn’t had a healing spell on hand the electricity probably would have killed her. Screams and the vision of black eyes with nothing but hatred and malice behind them have been burned into his psyche. He felt himself shiver. As his fiance knocked him out of the sour haze.

“Callum, it’s ok” She moved in front of him and directed his face with her hands. “We don’ have tae think about that now. It’s fine, I’m fine. Look!” She rolled her shoulder, raised and wiggled her arm. “See, it’s ok” She hugged him and he relaxed into it, holding her close. “I agree, I don’t want tae miss out on anything.” She did the Rayla thing she does and lightening the mood by making him laugh. “What happened tae the hoot’in mage blabbering about marrying the world’s most lovely and perfect assassin? Huh?”

He chuckled and tried to let the worry melt away. “I love you”

The rest of the walk back to the Earth Nexus he banished the nightmare and embraced that this was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. They held hands and all the sensations were perfect, his clean skin against clean clothes, the cool breeze on his damp hair and the post-coital glow. He had so much hope that their future together.

#rayllum #rayllum fic #rayla #Callum #fanfic #ao3 #the dragon prince #older rayllum #skinny dipping #my fics

[lins-fandom-hub]

a friend’s demise

Boring title, I know.

@dat-silvers-girl​ and I talked through a potential alternate storyline in my MC’s multiverse, which I decided to write out in hopes of serving her character justice. Hearing about both of her game plays being banned by JC made me seriously angry, and there’s nothing more I would want to do than at least put out there how angry and empty I felt. But at the same time she had the idea and brought it up to me, so it’s perfect.

So this is for her.

This story takes place in Rowan Khanna��s POV.

---

The explosion still rang in my ears amidst the present solemn silence.

I glanced through dry eyes at my best friend wounding a long piece of pale lilac ribbon through her fingers, twisting it tightly to the thinness of a thread, relaxing the material when the strain was too tight. Through the fuggy film of her glasses I could see her red puffy eyes, the spark of life and joy now absent. Her ponytail, messily done in the morning before the funeral, now dangled limply near the end of her black hair—and I knew I couldn’t blame her for looking like a cold, empty zombie. No one would have known how quickly they would lose a friend.

“She didn’t have to go,” Clara muttered thickly, clearing her throat to rid it of the phlegm. “She had no reason to.”

I didn’t know the deceased as well as she did, and I could only imagine how she was feeling right now. I only remember tutoring her a few times in Potions and Transfiguration when she was struggling for the past few years. I’ve seen her with Clara a few times, though. They even played against each other in Quidditch once or twice overall—Clara as a Chaser for Gryffindor, and she as a Beater for Hufflepuff.

Sarahi Silvers. That was the name I caught on the jersey; that was also the name I caught on her gravestone.

“I don’t understand, Rowan,” Clara finally said, dropping her hands and turning to me. “All my plans were solely for Ben and Merula’s ears—how did you even remotely catch wind of what we were up to? And why did you follow me? Why did she follow me?”

It hurt to see the hurt in her eyes, the anger flashing in the tears that boiled at the brim, and I shook my head numbly.

“I hope you don’t get mad at me,” I murmured after another long stretch of awkward tense silence. “But I had a good reason for following you—I just can’t explain about her—”

“At least tell me why you did what you did first. I only kept ‘R’ a secret from you so that you would be safe!” Clara shouted. “The lesser people involved, the better off we all will be, right?”

“Remember that day at the train station, Clara? The day we went to get love potion ingredients so you could make the trade for an invisibility cloak?” I reminded her. “I told you that I wanted to do the right thing, and worrying about you and caring about you was the right thing. So when Charlie ended up telling me everything about ‘R’, I had to know that you weren’t getting into anything that would cost you your life.”

“But you’re not invincible either, Rowan! If anything, you could have been killed last night!”

“I know. You have every right to be mad at me right now, but you should know that we all do care about you. And you can’t blame Sarahi for doing what she did last night, either…”

The cold mist settled over my ankles like a blanket of frost, but I knew any sign of movement would give me away. I knew Clara only wanted to keep this between herself, Ben, and Merula, but I knew of their plan before they even stepped foot out of the castle. From a single black quill sitting innocently in Jacob’s room, with a transfigured message from ‘R’ asking him to meet them in the Forest Grove, they figured out that not only was Jacob in danger, but the rest of the school potentially could fall under defenceless mercy. I had no idea what they did to prepare, but they seemed prepared to go after ‘R’—at least, Merula was ready to go after Rakepick for the brutal Cruciatus Curse she cast on her in the Buried Vault.

I watched from behind the tree as Clara knelt by a bush and lifted up the low branches, eyes widening as they registered on something on the ground I could not see.

“Ben, Merula, I found something!” she called out.

“What—” Merula ran over to Clara immediately, flinching when she saw what Clara was looking at. “No, don’t touch that! It’s cursed!”

“What do you mean, that necklace is cursed?” Ben inquired, heading over to the two girls now. So that was what was under the bush—a piece of cursed jewelry that might have been of no use to Rakepick.

“That necklace is one of Rakepick’s dark artefacts. She showed it to me once,” Merula added upon seeing Clara’s confused face. “You can touch it if you don’t believe me, see what happens when you do.”

“No, I believe you,” Clara replied hastily. “It’s just…Dumbledore told me he had Rakepick’s Dark Artefacts stored at the Ministry of Magic. If she infiltrated even the one place that has greatest security measures…”

The cool night air suddenly plunged into a deep freeze, and I winced as the bark beneath my fingers began to gather a fine layer of ice.

“Then we’re in deep trouble.”

“No kidding, Lin!” Merula jerked her head at the fluttering black cloaks that surrounded the group. “Look!”

I have never seen them before in the flesh, but I would recognize them anywhere—Dementors, evil beings that sucked the happiness out of any specimen that could express even a sliver of happiness. Hovering in midair like nightmares that haunted the living daylight out of any of us, they closed in on the trio, forming a tight ring around them, obscuring them from view.

From behind me, I thought I could hear a twig snap, but I didn’t want to look back.

“Dementors! They’re surrounding us!”

“Too many!”

“Expecto Patronum!”

I watched with wide eyes as a silver unicorn emerged from Clara’s wand, cantering towards the nearest Dementor with its head bowed and goring it through with its horn. Silently, I applauded her. At least she had a powerful happy memory to fuel her powerful defence.

But even her strength had its limits. Too soon, they were wearing out, and yet the Dementor's ranks seemed to replenish with each attack.

“I can’t keep this up anymore,” I could hear Clara wheeze. “My Patronus…not powerful.”

“And when you drive one back, another takes its place,” Ben noted quietly.

“We’re screwed. Now what?!” Merula cried.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A silver lioness appeared out of nowhere, leaping towards the trio and roaring to the skies, driving every Dementor away with an ever-growing shield as thin as a bubble.

“What the…who was that?” I heard Clara ask.

Imagine everyone’s surprise when out of the shadows stepped none other than Madam Patricia Rakepick. Her fiery red hair gleamed under what little moonlight remained, her symbol of Ra polished to a shine. She towered over them like the Dementors did, save for the fact that she was robed in scarlet instead of obsidian black.

“YOU!” Merula screeched—but barely had she raised her wand when Rakepick knocked it aside, blowing her down with a simple non-verbal spell.

Non-verbal spells…they were hard to execute with as much precision as spoken incantations. How in the world could Rakepick exercise this kind of advantage against the rest of us? Either way, it was clear that the confrontation with the Dementors had completely worn the trio out, and Rakepick eventually struck them down like flies, or severely incapacitated them to the point where they were limping to face her.

At least, Ben was still standing and wincing with pain racking his body where countless blows struck.

“That will teach you a lesson!” he said.

“Take this lesson to your grave!” Rakepick countered, raising her wand. “Avada—”

“NO!”

My eyes barely registered a blur of black, yellow, and white running past me—and before I knew it, a girl about my age had lunged toward Rakepick with an almighty yell, tackling her to the ground.

“Ben!” I shouted then, running toward him as fast as my numbed legs would take me. “Clara, Merula…”

It was then when the trio saw me for the first time—Clara in shock, Ben in anger, and Merula with disgust.

“And here I thought Copper was the Crup puppy sticking around,” Merula drawled. “What are you doing here, Khanna?”

“DUCK!”

TWANG!

The point of a throwing knife sank deep into a tree near Clara’s head, and she didn’t emerge from it entirely unscathed—she cupped a hand to her ear, where the point of the blade nicked her skin.

“You—” Rakepick growled as she tried to throw the girl off her back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

That was when I saw the girl in a better light. Black hair splayed wildly over her brown eyes and pale wheatish skin in the fray, one fist curled around the curse-breaker’s gleaming red hair and the other holding another small knife like the one embedded in the tree.

“Sarahi?!” Clara exclaimed. “What are you doing here?!”

Sarahi did not answer her friend for a few seconds as she landed a roundhouse kick at Rakepick’s spine, sending her flying away from the group. Then she turned to her.

“I told you I could help with any physical fight, didn’t I?” Sarahi responded, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “You helped me find a place here at Hogwarts without making me feel like a waste of space. Now it’s my turn to return the favour.”

“Wait—that’s not—I didn’t—”

“Expulso!”

Somehow, given the harsh impact of the kick, Rakepick still managed to pick herself up, aiming her wand at Sarahi who ducked as the spell flew past her ear, blasting another tree to smithereens.

“Sarahi, you have to get out of here!” Clara shouted as best as her hoarse throat could manage, but she might as well have been screaming into an empty void. Everyone watched with wide eyes as Sarahi grabbed Rakepick’s arm with her free hand, pivoted her feet, and threw her with all her might to the ground, knocking all the wind out of Rakepick with a loud thud. 

“Run!” Sarahi screamed back at us. “All of you—go!”

“No!” Ben shouted. “This was my fight! I was supposed to protect you!”

“No one’s going to protect anyone if we end up dead, Copper!” Merula snapped.

“Aahhh!” Sarahi suddenly exclaimed as Rakepick’s hand closed around her ankle, sweeping her clean off her feet as she landed hard on her butt.

Physical fighting was not unheard of in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world…one would only rely on such means of combat if they were left with no other choice. Anyone who didn’t have a wand would end up delivering a good punch in the nose, but what good would a bleeding nose be against the deadliest of all Unforgivable Curses? Yet there she was, scratching at Rakepick like a cat at a scratching pole with her free hand while the knife trembled in her tightened grip while Rakepick grabbed at her hair to slow her down.

I have never seen a stranger fight.

“Is this even allowed?” Ben inquired. “I would have loved to see Clara defeat a dragon this way.”

“This is not the time for commentary!” I hissed at him. “We need to get her out of here!”

Just as the words flew out of my mouth, though, I saw the blade plunge downward into Rakepick’s arm, the point sinking deep into flesh rewarded with the sinful scarlet fluid.

“You—” Rakepick growled again, pointing her wand at Sarahi who attempted now to choke her with her bare hands.

“Sarahi, forget her!” Clara screamed. “You have to go now!”

“NO! YOU GO!” Sarahi cried. “All of you go!”

Clara looked just about ready to argue, but I could tell she was in no shape to fight any more. I eventually dragged Clara by the arm while Merula took Ben, but just as we began to head back to Hogwarts I saw Rakepick raise her wand.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light enveloped the girl who was in the midst of drawing another knife from her robes; the force blasted her away, and for a moment I thought I saw her mouth morph into a silent scream before her body landed limply on the hard-packed earth, the knife she had just unsheathed sliding off in another direction. At the same time, I saw a scarlet bottle of something fly through the air, landing on the girl where it exploded with a loud BOOM on contact.

I thought I would never hear the end of Clara’s howl of pain after Rakepick Disapparated without another word.

“No, Sarahi can’t be blamed,” Clara realized after a while. “She must have followed you for the same reason you followed me. She...wanted to protect me too."

"And you're sure Sarahi knew nothing about 'R'?" I asked her.

"Positive. The only time I ever mentioned anything even remotely related to this was when I told her Merula had the mindset of a killing machine."

"Well, whatever the case, she must have seen you as someone very important, just like everyone else is," I remarked hollowly. "She must have looked up to you, too."

"Did you know her well?"

I shook my head. "I only tutored her once in a while in Potions and Transfiguration for the last few years. But I had no idea she knew you. She must have known that we were best friends, though."

"Who wouldn't? It's always been us since the beginning. Even the most unwary of students would know," Clara pointed out with a nod, glancing down at the ribbon still crumpled in her hands. "I just wish I could have given her more than just a few words and a simple birthday present. I mean, I could tell she liked it but…"

"You wish you had more time with her?"

"Mhmm. There's so much about her I still don't know."

She eventually fixed her ponytail and tied the ribbon over the elastic, where it now gleamed on her head with a few creases like a tin foil crown. Then she wiped her glasses and sighed, her hands balling into fists.

"They did it, then," Clara finally remarked bitterly. "'R' successfully took a friend's life. But we will take what should have been theirs, had there been no enemy in the way of defying them."

"What are you saying, Clara?"

Clara looked over at me, a storm gathering in her eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw lightning flash in the clouds that formed in her irises.

"We will avenge her in our own way. And once we do, there will be no stopping the storm."

#sarahi silvers #rowan khanna #merula snyde #ben copper #clara lin #hphm #hogwarts mystery #an alternate storyline #patricia rakepick #sarahi did not deserve this #save sarahi silvers #cursed vaults #forbidden forest #so this at least had to tell everyone how mad I am

[nelvana]

In which two dungeons are explored

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which the lake guardians arrive at the town Previous: In which the travelers regroup

    “Howling Forest is right up ahead. There is a space between two trees, it is the only way to enter the forest in general and will take you into the dungeon,” Giratina stated.

    “Huh, guess that’s why this was the required dungeon on this trip, huh?” Alex responded, patting his bag. “Everyone ready then?”

    “Yup! And hey, I can see the trees up ahead! We’re making good pace!” Keahi chirped.

    “I am uncertain of how much help I’ll provide in the dungeon for now. Let me know if you need me again,” Giratina told them, before their presence vanished from the rock again.

    Alex had volunteered to carry the rock that could house Giratina’s soul in his own bag. Ceebee using the small sack she has brought with her out to Murky Cave simply wasn’t practical here anymore, and Alex argued that such a small item could get lost in Damien’s larger bag. This was accepted, and not much other thought was given to the situation. Though later, as Nelvana noticed Dusknoir tense as Giratina spoke, reminding him of their existence in the group, she wondered if Alex’s hastiness to carry the stone himself was in a way to protect them from Dusknoir.

    “Mm, yeah, looks like Giratina’s description was pretty on the nose. The outside of this forest is basically a wooden wall with all these trees. It would be more inconvenient to try pushing through them instead of the dungeon,” Nelvana commented as they approached, her eyes scanning the border of the woodlands.

    “So, this is our first dungeon as a group… Do we have any big plans for this?” Damien asked, slowing the closer they got to the entrance of Howling Forest.

    “Well, you’re right that there are a lot more of us,” Alex murmured, glancing around him at the group. “But we shouldn’t have to change strategies too much, at least not here. This is supposed to be an easier dungeon.”

    “Yup!” Keahi nodded. “I think the main type here is actually normal, and the strength of the dungeon ‘mons themselves average pretty low. We’ll switch between who wants to fight, whoever steps up to fight first, go ahead. Those who don’t fight much can keep to the middle of the group and mostly sit back on this one.”

    “We should come up with more strategy for later dungeons though,” Tsuki pointed out.

    “Of course! But this should be a good chance to see how well everyone can battle together, so we can plan those strategies for later!” Keahi replied, “we’ve done some training together, but we haven’t had everyone like this all together in battle. We’re going to have to figure out how well our usual tactics mesh with each other.”

    “Any other comments, or should we just head in now?” Alex spoke up again, having taken a lead on the others and was now right by the entrance to the dungeon.

    “I’m good! Let’s give this a go!” Edgar cheered, heading over to join the grovyle at his side.

    After giving a pause to see if there would be any other comments or questions, Alex grinned and nodded. He almost went right to step in, but then stopped himself and turned back to give one last comment of his own.

    “Oh yeah, we should all go in pretty quickly after each other. Any lingerers may show up somewhere else in the dungeon,” he told them, “I’m sure most of you knew that… we just have a larger group so I’d thought I’d mention it.”

    “Good point!” Ceebee agreed, “form a line and let’s all go in as quickly as possible then!”

    Waiting for everyone to gather up closer to each other, Alex nodded and finally stepped between the trees, disappearing into the foliage. Edgar, being physically closest to Alex when he had gone in, entered next.

    As everyone entered one by one, right away they couldn’t help but individually silently remark that they had arrived into a lighter forest than they had expected from the outside. Tall, thick trees with large leaves made up the walls of the dungeon, and various twigs and small shrubbery grew through the dirty ground in patches. Though some of the trees they could glimpse what appeared to be clumps of pink fruits, but they were all out of reach from where everyone was inside the dungeon.

    Alex continued to lead everyone through the first hallway, though momentarily he glanced back to see how the lineup had turned out. His eyes bounced from head to head, before narrowing as he got to the back and noted Dusknoir.

    “Nope, you are not walking at the back. I allowed it for general travel since we weren’t single file, but you are not just standing at the back here,” Alex insisted, already maneuvering his way back over to Dusknoir.

    Dusknoir rolled his eye, “there is nothing wrong with me covering the back. In fact, I can handle any attacks that may come from behind better than some, being at the back would be better than the middle,” he stated.

    “I learned not to turn my back to you or your creepy army long ago,” Alex hissed, “you’re moving up in the line order. I’ll take the back if that’s how this has to go.”

    “Who will take the front then?” Edgar, who had been left awkwardly floating around the front of the line, nervously asked.

    “Nel is right behind you, she can move up, right Nel?” Alex responded, only glancing back up long enough to spot Nelvana’s nod back in response. “Great. Dusknoir, you’re in the middle then, or at least in front of me.”

    “…Fine,” Dusknoir scoffed, narrowing his eye at Alex before obliging and moving in front of the grovyle. “Can you even see back there now?” he sneered.

    “I can see just fine,” Alex snapped back, “let’s keep going.”

    After that initial conversation, there wasn’t much talking amongst the group for awhile, aside from some spare comments here and there about different battle ideas and suggestions for others, and compliments on how they handled certain fights.

    For most of the group, the dungeon spawn could be dispatched of after a single attack, and as with most dungeons, they rarely ran into more than a few at a time in most rooms. This gave a window of opportunity for some to try out some of their new moves, and get a feel for how they could use them. Tsuki began using calm mind before going to ice beam, and Damien attempted to start using thunderbolt on the few pidgey and azurill that showed up, unfortunately only earning a few sparks for his efforts. Keahi gave Nelvana tips on how to start using flamethrower; the cubone eventually managing to spit out some fire, not enough to count as the actual move, though that did lead to a coughing fit afterwards.

    “I dunno if this move is tha-that good for me,” Nelvana wheezed, thumping a hand on her chest to try clearing her burning throat and lungs.

    “You’re picking it up quickly though!” Keahi replied assuringly, momentarily placing zir wing on zir partner’s back. “I’ve heard that some cubones and marowaks just light their clubs on fire, so that might be easier for you than try to go for the full flame out of mouth like me.”

    “Maybe,” Nelvana murmured, “I think I’ll try that later though; I’m done with trying to learn flamethrower right now.”

    “That’s fine! Want to switch with me? I want to get some more rock smash practice in, I haven’t used that in awhile,” Keahi suggested.

    Nelvana nodded, and their swapped places. Edgar had moved further back in the line earlier in the dungeon to try giving Tsuki and Damien better aiming locations for their longer ranged moves, now finding himself right in front of Ceebee, who was just ahead of Dusknoir.

    It was on the sixth floor that they learned that this dungeon had monster houses.

    Keahi leapt in surprise, feathers fluffing up. Zie collected zirself quickly though, and shot out a long blast of zir flamethrower attack, moving zir head back and forth to cover more with the attack.

    “Gah! I didn’t know there would be monster houses in this dungeon!” Keahi exclaimed in a huff, shaking zirself off after being startled and going for the attack, before bolting into the room, providing space for the others behind zim to follow into the room and help.

    “Keep an eye out for traps then! We don’t know if there will be any of those here either!” Nelvana added, brandishing her club and following Keahi inside.

    “Ugh, I hate traps… and monster houses,” Damien grumbled, before side-stepping through the trees to enter the room at another angle.

    Edgar followed in Damien’s footsteps, while the others began entering the room as well to join the fight. While they had been initially taken off guard and their larger numbers than usual here meant it took longer for everyone to be able to join in and help, they managed to defeat the spawn from the monster house. A poochyena attempted to take the chance to flee towards the end of the fight, but was knocked out by a ghostly fist summoned out of the ground. Nelvana shuddered.

    “There we go! That went pretty well, all things considered! How is everyone?” Ceebee hummed, fluttering over the group. “No one hurt enough for an oran berry?”

    Edgar glanced over everyone as well, “I think everyone is good!” he responded, “huh, that wasn’t that bad! I thought that would have been harder.”

    “Have you been through a monster house before?” Dusknoir questioned, raising his brow.

    “Yeah, Sky Tower would try making them, and I’ve been on one mission down here that had one,” Edgar answered, “apparently that was a dungeon that normally doesn’t have monster houses, so I assumed it wasn’t as bad as real ones.”

    “They can get pretty bad,” Alex agreed, “but there are enough of us to even the numbers a bit more, so that helps,” he explained.

    “Hey, Alex, if you want, we can swap places for a bit,” Damien suddenly offered, “I can take the back.”

    Alex blinked, “really? You sure?” he questioned.

    “Er, yeah. You haven’t really gotten a chance at the front, and I’m sure you wanted to try out brick break, right?” Damien responded, “I can handle the back for a bit, most spawn out here can’t do much to me, so no worries about something sneaking up behind me.”

    After a moment’s hesitation, Alex exhaled and nodded with a smile, taking Damien up on his offer. They rearranged the order a bit before continuing to the next room, the major change being that Damien was handling the rear of the line order now.

    “Hey, Dusknoir,” Damien hesitantly whispered after they had been walking again for awhile.

    “Hm? What is it?” Dusknoir glanced back momentarily to make eye contact with the gengar and properly acknowledge that he was listening to him, but turned his gaze back ahead of him soon afterwards to keep an eye on the path ahead.

    “Ah, well, I saw you had used shadow punch in that fight,” Damien commented, wringing his hands together as he spoke. “And I was wondering if maybe you could… use other moves. I mean, for you, that isn’t even that great of a move, so…”

    Dusknoir narrowed his eye with suspicion, not that Damien could see from behind the larger pokemon.

    “Why are you requesting that I use other moves, when that one works fine? You are correct, I have better attacks, but there is no sense in using them here, where weaker moves that I am still familiar with will suffice,” Dusknoir responded, “…Does this have to do with why I have not seen you use it before, even though it is one of your better moves?” he added after a moment’s thought.

    Damien stiffened, “uh, yeah…” he admitted, “it doesn’t make Nel comfortable to see. She expects you to want to use it on her. I haven’t really seen if Alex or Ceebee react to it too, but still,” he explained quietly, “I think it would be easier with everyone if you just… used a different move for now.”

    Dusknoir huffed, “she should be well aware by now that it would not benefit me to harm her. I shouldn’t have to be forced to waste energy on moves that are either too strong for this dungeon or too unfamiliar for me.”

    “Tha-That isn’t!” Damien bristled, stammering over his words as he attempted to word everything the way he imagined. “It’s instincts, she can’t just change that!” he hissed.

    Dusknoir didn’t respond. Damien switched his place in lineup on the next floor.

    Fortunately, the rest of Howling Forest was completed without any other difficulties. Monster houses were more manageable when they were expecting them and realized which rooms to look out for based on items, and while they kept their eyes open, no traps were spotted or stepped on.

    Once exiting Howling Forest, they had also exited most of the woodlands in general. Ahead they could see the mountain range closer than ever, and the path was clearer than ever to get there. The group continued on ahead, keeping their eyes peeled for any dungeon entrances.

    “Hey, Giratina, can you sense the dungeon up ahead?” Ceebee asked after prompting Alex to bring out the rock, speaking loud enough regardless that it probably would have been heard anyway.

    “Hm…?” Giratina’s voice drew in after a few moments. “Not yet,” he answered after processing Ceebee’s question properly. “You are not close enough yet.”

    “That’s the problem,” Keahi sighed, “by the time we get close enough like this, it’ll be faster to just try the dungeon.”

    “We are in fairly good shape after the last one, fortunately,” Tsuki pointed out, “if we must go through Pitfall Valley, then we shall.”

    “I would expect no less from you all,” Giratina hummed, “well then, I shall let you know if I sense anything, hopefully you shall still be far enough away then to still get around.”

    “Thanks, Giratina, it is worth a try, you’re right,” Keahi replied.

    “It might be good practice for some of the other dungeons we’ll have to go through later,” Alex added, “Temporal Tower is no breeze, and if we do have to fight Palkia, it wouldn’t surprise me if they have a dungeon wherever they are too.”

    “Do you know if there will be a dungeon before Palkia, Giratina?” Nelvana asked, glancing back at the rock despite the awareness that they could not see her gaze.

    “I am… unfortunately uncertain about that,” Giratina admitted, “Palkia lives out in a split in space, outside of this world. I have not been able to visit it since being banished from this world, despite Palkia’s home not being on this world either. Whether or not they had added or have had a dungeon forced there is beyond me.”

    “It would be a good thing to assume,” Ceebee said, “even if there isn’t one, there is nothing wrong with being overprepared. Besides, a lot of legendaries have equipped their home with a dungeon to keep outsiders out for hundreds of years now, so it wouldn’t be surprising if Palkia did that too,” she explained, “…Even if their home is generally inaccessible anyway by most.”

    “How will we get there, anyway?” Edgar questioned.

    “The hope is that Dialga will open a way to let us go there. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Ceebee answered.

    “I think we found the dungeon,” Tsuki announced suddenly, glancing around them.

    “Ah, Tsuki is correct. Apologies, I had gotten distracted in the conversation we had been having,” Giratina responded. “You are all now in Pitfall Valley.”

    “In?” Keahi repeated, “we already accidentally got in?”

    “Mm, looks like it,” Nelvana sighed, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the area. “This one was really well disguised, hard to even notice a different just based on appearance.”

    “Well, we’re in it now then, so let’s get going,” Alex replied, “no turning back.”

    Damien chuckled, “that’s for sure. Is there even a dungeon you can turn back on?”

    “I think in some weaker cave ones you can,” Keahi answered, “Thunderwave Cave is actually one, I don’t think Mt. Steel is though.”

    “Huh, whaddya know.” Damien shrugged. “I’ve never tried that before. Kinda assumed once you were in you were in, aside from badges and escape orbs. Cool.”

    Pitfall Valley showed itself to be a greater challenge than Howling Forest had been right away, with a spawned farfetch’d knowing air cutter right away, catching the group off guard and grazing Alex. A headbutt and a flamethrower burst from Nelvana and Keahi managed to defeat the foe quickly afterwards, but it certainly managed to put things into perspective here; they wouldn’t be able to easily train and stroll through this dungeon.

    It also became adamantly clear early on that the vast majority of pokemon in this dungeon were flying-type. With the name the dungeon had, rock-types had been considered first, but when the first non-flying-type pokemon that showed up was a raticate on floor four, and none of the previously imagined type had been seen at all, the main type of the dungeon was clear as day. Because of this, Alex was moved to the middle of the party, as was Ceebee, and Tsuki got to lead for awhile, using ice beams from afar to remove any danger before it could get too close.

    This strategy worked for a couple floors, and then Tsuki found a trap by stepping on it. She barely had a moment to notice as the tile was revealed under her paw before the ground crumbled around her, dropping her down to the floor below them.

    “Tsuki!” Keahi called out, stepping up to the edge of the pit. “Are you alright?”

    “Er, yes, I am,” Tsuki replied.

    By looking over the hole in the floor, they could see Tsuki far below them. Despite the distance of the fall, she pulled herself back to her feet without too much trouble, looking back up at her teammates now above her.

    “Hm… the drop doesn’t look too bad,” Alex muttered, “looks like a good shortcut to the next floor.”

    “Shortcut?” Damien repeated, “are you suggesting we jump down there too?”

    “The alternative option is to keep wandering around up here until we find the stairs and wander around some more until we regroup with Tsuki again,” Alex pointed out, “personally, I’ll take the jump.”

    With that, Alex proved his point by stepping back, and then leaping down into the hole. Tsuki stepped aside to allow the grovyle to land on his own, which he managed to do without too much difficulty.

    “Alright, who else is coming?” he called back up.

    “Half of us can fly or float or teleport, this isn’t that bad, all things considered,” Nelvana murmured.

    “This is… This is kind of like one of the jumps we had to make in Magma Cavern! Yeah!” Keahi convinced zirself, “okay, I’m going next!”

    Following suit after the grovyle, Keahi hopped into the pit. Alex positioned himself to catch the torchic, hoping that it would lessen any damage from the fall. Afterwards, Nelvana jumped down, allowing herself to be caught by her partner as well, though she joked she could have landed fine on her own. And after being reminded by Nelvana of his own ability, Damien simply teleported down to join the other three. Then one by one, the remaining of those up on the previous floor were able to float, or fly in Ceebee’s case, down to everyone else so they could move on.

    It become quickly apparent why this dungeon actually had the name Pitfall Valley.

    The group mostly laughed off the first pitfall trap, telling themselves to be more mindful of other possible traps as they moved on. In fact, a dungeon spawn was the next one to step on a trap, another pitfall one, and finding the use in the shortcut to the next floor, they hopped down afterwards again.

    And then the next trap they found was another pitfall trap, and so was the next. It had begun getting to the point where they couldn’t be certain of whether or not all the traps in this dungeon were pitfall traps, but they still didn’t purposely step on any they detected on the chance it turned out to be something worse just to find out.

    Either way, they started seeing the pitfall traps as more of a positive for this dungeon, since for a descending dungeon it was one of the better traps to find; the only one that could be considered in any way helpful.

    At least until the pitfall traps become coupled up with monster houses.

    Keahi was the one with the misfortune of taking that fall. Paying more attention to chatting than keeping an eye out for signs of a tile hidden in the ground, zie accidentally revealed another pitfall trap underneath zir talons. Only able to let out a mix between a sigh and a chuckle before falling, the trap opened up a hole in the ground below the torchic, dropping zim to the floor below zim.

    “I’m alri- aaAHH! Monster house! Hurry!” Keahi shrieked, dungeon spawn appearing into the room around them at an alarming rate, beginning to surround zim as zie scrambled to recover from the fall.

    Without another thought, before even some of the others could process the danger, Nelvana already dove down to the floor below them, landing by slapping her club on the ground right away and bringing it back up to swing at the first foe. Alex followed next, and the rest of the party made their own way down as quickly as they could to help out in the battle.

    Despite the initial surprise of the situation, they managed to handle the monster house without too much trouble; aside from some super-effective cuts on Alex that required an oran berry to fix up. Right after the battle finished, however, Nelvana made sure to give Keahi a tight hug first. The torchic squirmed a bit at first, taken off guard, but relaxed in zir partner’s grip, smiling.

    “Hey Nel, I love hugs, but this is a bit of odd timing,” Keahi commented with a giggle.

    “Sorry,” Nelvana instinctively apologized, setting Keahi back down on the ground. “I just… got worried when the monster house started. I thought the pitfall trap would close up like how the stairs do when you change floors right into a monster house… Like when we rescued Team Stars,” she admitted quietly.

    Keahi’s expression softened, “oh… I hadn’t even thought of that,” zie murmured, “but hey, I’m alright, you’re alright, everyone is alright. Traps don’t come undone like that; now we know for the future.”

    Nelvana nodded, finally relaxing more herself and allowing a small smile to grow on her face. Smiling back again, Keahi gently headbutted zir partner before returning to face the rest of the group.

    “Alright, that was… a good lesson for us,” Alex muttered, finishing off the oran berry he was eating. “From now on, whenever possible, we should take a better look at the floors we’re jumping down too. This was a trap, so that strategy wouldn’t apply anyway, but we have been jumping a bit blindly into the holes the spawn set off.”

    “And perhaps sending whoever has a resistance to the dungeon’s type should be the one to jump first, just in case we missed a hint,” Tsuki added.

    “That sounds like a great idea!” Ceebee hummed, “whatever helps keep everyone safe!”

    “Hey, on a sort of related note, what floor are we on now?” Damien asked, “Alex, you have the dungeon map, right?”

    “Indeed, I do. Lemme check…” Alex reached into his own bag to rummage around for a moment before pulling out the familiar page. “Floor seventeen, just as I thought. Not long now, everyone!”

    “That’s good! I’ve been getting tired,” Keahi admitted, “what time is it? Would anyone know?”

    “Dungeons usually darken slightly at night. They do not remain completely independent of the outside world in that way. It is likely sometime at the evening, or afternoon at least,” Tsuki answered, “in any case, we should see about hurrying more, if possible. We would not want to have to exit this dungeon right into darkness.”

    “Tsuki brings up a good point, let’s keep moving,” Alex agreed, “we can rest once we get outta here.”

    Nodding back to Alex, Tsuki took the head of the group again to lead them out into the dungeon again. Alex tried going up to stand right behind her, but some quick instance from Ceebee that he hang back for a couple floors at least to recover, he moved more to the center of their lineup.

    Following through with their usual strategies, as well as the new addition for dealing with the pitfall traps in a securer way, they eventually made their way out of the dungeon within the hour. The sun was setting by this point, so they found their way to a spot off the beaten path to set up their camp for the night. Feeling drained from running through two dungeons, alongside the usual long traveling of the day, it didn’t take too long for most of the party to turn in for the night, while the others quietly chatted amongst themselves as the night continued.

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which the lake guardians arrive at the town Previous: In which the travelers regroup

#galaxies above #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #writing #my writing #fanfiction #drawing #art #my art #digital art #team galaxy #nelvana #cubone #keahi #torchic #alex #grovyle #tsuki #absol #edgar #duskull #ceebee #celebi #damien #gengar #dusknoir #giratina

[seehowsupplethespineis]

19th Century Literary Misfits Go Vampire Hunting Because Van Helsing Said So

(Yeah, I wrote more. I can’t help it! There’s so much potential in their individual stories for wacky crossovers! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, my fellow 19th century literature nerds! If you want to know what this is all about, here’s the first story and the companion piece to that.)

(Characters include Van Helsing from Dracula, Moreau from The Island of Doctor Moreau, Griffin from The Invisible Man, Frankenstein from Frankenstein, Gray from The Picture of Dorian Gray, Hyde from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Moriarty from one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, and Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment.)

(Note: When you see “<...>,” someone’s speaking Russian.)

(Warnings: Blood, violence, killing (not of a human), mentions of murdering innocents, nudity (Griffin gets naked but he’s, you know, invisible...))

A breeze swept through the night air, stirring the branches of nearby trees and causing old buildings to groan. Mist shrouded the city and dampened the ground, hanging on dew laden leaves. Every noise seemed mysterious and alien. A soft clicking joined the night sounds. It intensified as the cold winds brushed past an unseen shape, sending the coat it wore waving.

“C-Can we go b-back now?” The clicking stopped momentarily as a disgruntled voice arose. The arms of the coat wrapped themselves tightly about the invisible shape.

“Not yet, Griffin,” Van Helsing said, not taking his eyes from the open patch of ground in front of them where a lone man stood, “She’ll be here any moment.”

“Then c-can I go back?” The invisible man’s teeth chattered even harder.

“No, your invisibility may be of use to us.”

“For what? You s-said these things can smell blood!”

“You may still surprise her.”

“You only let me w-wear a coat! I’m freezing! And besides, w-we brought H-Hyde for all that fighting n-nonsense!”

Hyde lay concealed beside them. He looked up as they mentioned his name, “Is she here?” he asked excitedly.

“Not yet, but soon.” Van Helsing assured.

Hyde bounced up and down where he crouched, a devilish smile plastered to his face. When Van Helsing had enlisted his housemates’ aid in taking down one of the blood-sucking monsters he always went on about, Hyde had been the first to volunteer. Everyone had ended up going, though, under threat of eviction.

Moreau was the only one who’d also wanted to come; a being that could turn from human to bat was most certainly one he wished to study. The vivisectionist peeked with rapt attention out from behind the bushes they were concealed in.

Van Helsing had asked for a volunteer beforehand to lure the “vampire,” as he called it, in. Frankenstein had shrugged and offered himself as bait. For once, everyone was glad of the scientist’s morose attitude.

“What have I got to lose?” he’d said before trekking out into the open.

Now they all lay in wait. The vampire had been seen in this part of town over the past few days, so there was no reason to suspect it wouldn’t strike again tonight.

Moriarty sat further back from the rest, a blanket he’d brought keeping him from touching the filthy ground, “How much longer must we wait for an imaginary phantom?” he sighed, resting his hands primly on his knees.

Van Helsing turned to glare at him, “It is not imaginary. I have seen plenty of vampires in my time. We must deal with it before it has the chance to move on and turn some poor soul into one of its kind.”

“Let me get this straight,” Gray spoke up with a yawn, “some lady dies from, and I’m quoting you, ‘being drained of her blood by a bat each night,’ which means she must have become one of these vampires when she died, so we’ve got to reel her in, stake her heart, chop off her head, and stuff it with garlic?”

“Yes,” Van Helsing nodded, then froze, “Where is the garlic necklace I gave you?”

“I threw it into an alley somewhere back there,” Gray pointed vaguely back the way they came, “It smelled awful.”

“That garlic could very well have saved your life!” Van Helsing exclaimed angrily, “Now you have no protection!”

“We need no protection from phantasms, professor.” Moriarty scoffed.

Van Helsing glanced at him and sagged, “I see you got rid of your necklace as well!”

“I tossed it aside before Mr Gray did.”

The old man sighed in deep irritation and squinted into the shadows to the left of him, “<Rodion Romanovich, please tell me you kept your garlic.>”

Raskolnikov held the chain of vegetables up into the moonlight for Van Helsing to see. The old man sighed in relief.

“Dr Moreau? Did you dispose of your garlic?”

“No! I’m not an idiot like these two!” the vivisectionist shook his head, “I actually read up on vampires.”

So saying, he shook the garlic around his neck and returned to keeping watch.

Hyde looked at them all with surprise, “How come you guys didn’t eat yours?”

Everyone turned to stare at the crouched man, noting the cloves that had spilled on the ground around him and the empty twine still draped over his neck.

“You… ate yours?” Van Helsing said slowly with an eerie calmness belying his fury.

“Sure did!” Hyde affirmed, grinning.

The coat lying beside him jerked away suddenly, “Yeah, he did! I can smell it in his breath.”

“What’s the matter, air head?” Hyde asked, “Not a fan of garlic?”

He breathed out in Griffin’s direction and the scientist sputtered and crawled away, making Hyde giggle maniacally.

The invisible man gave an angry sigh and threw aside the garlic necklace around his neck, “Forget this! I’m going home!”

“You can’t! She might catch you!” Van Helsing protested.

“Anything’s better than this idiot!” Griffin said and stood to his full height.

Suddenly a pale woman was leaping from out of nowhere and tackling the unsuspecting scientist. Griffin fell to the ground with a cry of alarm and rolled out from the bushes.

“It’s the vampire!” Van Helsing had jumped to his feet the second he saw the creature descending and raised his stake of wood, “Attack!”

The vampire looked up as she saw there were others with Griffin. She dragged him back and lifted him by his coat. Confusion flashed across her face as she found no evidence of a neck.

This brief hesitation was all Hyde needed to spring on top of her, eliciting a surprised screech. Griffin shrugged out of his coat as her hold slackened and stumbled away, his trail marked by imprints in the damp grass.

Moreau and Raskolnikov followed Van Helsing’s lead while Gray and Moriarty hung back, utterly flabbergasted by the events unfolding before them. Then they were both diving for the remnants of garlic Hyde had left behind.

Frankenstein turned around as he heard the sounds of struggle behind him, to see Van Helsing, Hyde, and Moreau confronting a pallid woman of unearthly beauty who was snarling viciously. Raskolnikov dashed up, withdrawing his ax from a loop in his coat, once again holding it the wrong way. The vampire threw Hyde to the side just as Raskolnikov neared and pounced on the Russian, sending his ax tumbling into the short grass. Frankenstein snapped out of his daze and sprinted forward just as Van Helsing leveled his stake at the monster and Moreau lunged with another stake in hand.

Then the woman was changing, her limbs shrinking, ears growing, wings extending.

“She’s turning into a bat!” Van Helsing shouted as the vampire started to take flight, hissing at the garlic around Raskolnikov’s neck.

“Incredible!” Moreau cried, dropping his stake, eyes alight with joy as he watched the vampire ascend, “She’s marvelous!”

“Not now, Doctor!” Van Helsing yelled, though the situation was already well in hand.

Hyde hadn’t wasted a second and launched himself right off the ground. He grabbed the vampire by her wings and she shrieked in anger as they began to descend. The two landed with a crash back in the bushes. Moriarty and Gray scattered immediately with what little garlic they had collected.

The vampire rounded on Hyde and dove for his neck. Hyde opened his mouth and let out a long exhale right into her furry face. She choked and shrank away with a small scream, giving Van Helsing enough time to race over and stab the beast straight through its small chest. The screaming stopped instantly.

“<Quick, Rodion Romanovich!>” At the old man’s summons, Raskolnikov rolled to his feet, retrieved his ax, and brought it down on the bat’s neck, narrowly missing Hyde’s hand. Frankenstein proceeded to grab up the garlic still around the Russian’s neck and shove it into the severed head. Then they all sat back and stared.

Moreau pushed past them and knelt by the creature. He ran a finger along its limp wing.

He looked up after a few moments, “That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen! To change from human to bat like that is… wow! I need to study the body!”

Van Helsing gestured tiredly, “Be my guest.”

Moreau gave a small, almost childish squeal and gathered up the vampire pieces.

“I agree with with the doc!” Hyde said. He had twigs stuck in his long hair and scratches across his face, though none of it detracted from his smile of triumph, “Let’s do that again!”

“Where’d everyone else go?” Frankenstein interrupted, glancing around.

“They all ran off, apparently.” Van Helsing replied.

“Not everyone.” The four gathered all looked about them, seeing no one.

The discarded coat lifted itself off the ground and slowly filled out as Griffin put it back on. “I’d yell at you for nearly getting me killed or vampire-ized but I’m freezing c-cold so can we go home now?”

“Yes, Griffin, we can go home.” Van Helsing said and struggled to stand up from the grass he was seated in. Raskolnikov bounced to his feet and offered a hand. Smiling, the professor accepted the help.

The six of them trudged back to their house. Only Moreau seemed to have a spring in his step, eager to return to his lab. Frankenstein glanced over the other scientist’s shoulder, clearly interested. He forcefully drew his gaze away, though; he felt tremendous guilt any time he had any sort of scientific curiosity and wouldn’t tell anyone why.

Van Helsing glanced at the ax in Raskolnikov’s grip, “<That ax of yours has been handy to us on more than one occasion, but I must ask, why do you have it?>”

Raskolnikov was suddenly very pale. His shoulders tensed and he lowered his gaze, then lifted it with new resolve and a wan smile, “<You never know when you might need it.>”

Van Helsing nodded, “<Right.>”

Raskolnikov gave a small, spasmodic laugh and hurried forward.

They met up with Moriarty and Gray back at the house. Both tried to appear calm and collected, though there was obvious fear in their eyes.

“You, er, disposed of it, then?” Moriarty asked, eyeing the dead bat spilling blood on Moreau’s hands.

“Yeah, now move!” Griffin shoved past the professor and threw himself beside the fireplace, flinging his damp coat away.

“Do you believe me now, gentlemen?” Van Helsing asked, just a touch smugly.

“Guess so…” Gray murmured.

Moriarty shifted uneasily, “In light of the new evidence, it would be foolish to say no.”

Moreau sprinted past them and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door shut. Frankenstein watched wistfully after him and walked slowly to his own quarters. Moriarty and Gray made hasty excuses and retired. Raskolnikov seemed to have suddenly become ill and moved jerkily to his room, bidding a faint “<Good night>” as he left.

Hyde brushed off his hat and moved back toward the door, “Well, I’m off! The night is young and there’s a whole world of mischief to explore!”

“Please don’t kill anyone!” Van Helsing implored, “It’s getting harder to calm the mobs!”

“Don’t you worry your big head, professor! I won’t kill anyone-”

“Thank-”

“-important.”

“What?”

“Maybe some homeless vagabond or lowly shop owner. Or perhaps a baby! Just kidding! I’m not that much of a monster. Or am I? I’ll see when I get there!”

He threw open the door and started hopping away before Van Helsing could protest, “See ya tomorrow maybe!”

Van Helsing heaved a deep sigh, “Please be Jekyll tomorrow…”

“He’s usually Jekyll in the daytime so I wouldn’t worry.”

Van Helsing jumped and spun toward the fireplace, “Oh, Griffin! I didn’t…” he trailed off.

There was a short pause before Griffin spoke again, in a quiet, intense voice.

“Didn’t what?”

Van Helsing glanced sheepishly at the floor.

“Say it.” Griffin prompted.

Van Helsing looked up to where he figured the voice had come from, “... see you.”

“That’s what I thought.” There was a shuffling as Griffin got to his feet, “Good night.”

Van Helsing winced, berating himself for his slip up. The stairs creaked as Griffin went up them, leaving the professor alone. Or maybe not; Griffin was known to pretend to go upstairs only to remain on the first floor to spy on everyone else.

With that thought in mind, Van Helsing shivered and retreated to the study for some reading before bed, closing the door behind him.

#Dracula #The Island of Doctor Moreau #The Invisible Man #Frankenstein #The Picture of Dorian Gray #Sherlock Holmes #Crime and Punishment #The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Abraham Van Helsing #Dr. Moreau #Griffin #Dorian Gray #James Moriarty #Raskolnikov #Mr. Hyde #Writing Entity #TW Blood #TW Violence #TW Death #TW Murder

[blehbleehhhh]

I Hate You, Mikasa ft. Eremika<3

Hiiiiiiiii. This is what I wish would have happened after that depressing conversation. Enjoy the angsty lemon ya filthy animals!

Also, thank you to those who are complimenting my writing and suggesting stories! Sorry if the spacing is fucked .-.

“Ever since I was a kid, Mikasa, I always hated you.”

His horrifically spiteful words reverberated through her mind, penetrating every cell and every fiber of her being as they ripped her apart. That four letter word. Hate. Exact opposite of the four letter word she's dreamed to hear from Eren for years. He hates me? Mikasa's lips quivered as she leaned back against a nearby tree and tried to center her breathing. That conversation left her sick to her stomach with a bitter taste in her mouth. Over and over again, she repeated those words like a mantra: 'Ever since I was a kid, Mikasa, I've always hated you.' Wiping the single tear off her cheek, she blinked back what’s nearly overflowing and stared out over the big empty field before them with a pit in her stomach.

Meanwhile, Armin lay on the grass, slowly running his fingers through the overgrown vegetation and let out a long, drawn out sigh. There aren't many things that make him seethe with rage, but listening to the way Eren absolutely berated their best friend caught him so off guard, he wasn't able to stop his fist from slamming into his jaw. Off the top of his head, he can think of many occasions where Eren had pushed her away before some major event took place. Though he knows his friend will never admit it, he most certainly does love Mikasa more than family, and he is capable of having romantic feelings for someone. But Eren has never been very good at communicating with her, at least through words. The distinct sound of Mikasa's deep, self soothing sigh yanked him from his train of thought; and taking a chance look to the side, his fears were confirmed, she's definitely trying not to come undone and it's taking all of her not to burst into tears right now.

"Mikasa, look at me," Armin sighed. "You know he doesn't hate you, right? He-"

"I don't know. That was a very convincing performance."

"You're the most important person in his life. If Eren hates you, then Lance Corporal Levi is terrible at his job. I don't think he'd do something like this without a good reason."

"Are you trying to excuse what he said, Armin?"

"What? No! Why do you think I slammed my fist into his fucking jaw! Just-" The blonde sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. These two are impossible. "Let him come to you like always."

"Something tells me he won't."

"He will. He always has, why would this time be any different?"

"Maybe he really is tired of me, Armin. I-I..." Mikasa's eyes stung as they welled up with tears, but she blinked them back and adjusted her 3DMG, straightening up her barely messy uniform. "I'm gonna go." She turned on her heel for the women's dormitory as calmly as possible, ignoring the concerned voice that called out her name.

Hate. Hate.

Suddenly, Mikasa stopped dead in her tracks

and pursed her lips together, looking up at the late evening sky; eyes filled with tears of agonizing heartache. What's the point? Why even try fighting back the tears? Everything that happened between her and Eren, all of those bitter words that tore her heart and soul into shreds, really were spoken. Crying wouldn't solve shit. She covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed as quietly as she could, leaning on a nearby tree for support. But something in her snapped, and she started mercilessly punching the trunk of the tree without even single care that the bark is tearing apart her skin as a blood curtailing, heart wrenching cry escaped her lips until she felt her lungs run out of air. She's not even sad anymore. Now, she's just angry.

However, little did she know, Armin had tracked Eren down to his usual spot located outside the main building, very far from anyone nearby. He's sitting on a rather large rock, snapping and peeling old, dead twigs. Eren heard the crinkling of leaves under his friends feet and knew without turning around exactly who it was. "I hope you're happy," Armin's voice is stern, full of disdain. "Using the quote-unquote freedom you proclaimed to have so you could hurt Mikasa." But he still didn't turn to face him, only ceased his twig snapping and drag his hand down his face.

"Do I look like I'm happy?"

"Do you have any idea how you made her feel, Eren? You made her doubt herself as a person. As a human being." He spat through his teeth, resisting the urge to punch him again. His blood was already boiling and this truly isn't helping. "It's only a matter of time until she fucking cracks because someone who swore to protect her just said he hates her, and supposedly has their entire friendship."

"Ha! I don't need to protect her," Eren snorted and shook his head, throwing the shredded twig remnants aside as he finally stood to his feet, turning around to face who is criticizing him. "She clearly does that just fine by herself."

"Right, and you're lucky she's so dedicated to keeping your sorry ass alive. Go fucking talk to her." Armin pointed in the direction she went off in and stormed off, probably to find some quiet place to think or read a book. Eren shook his head in contempt and briefly ran through possible scenarios in his head, what her reaction will be when she sees him. He's already heard this from Levi. Something along the lines of, 'You moron. I told you to keep to yourself, not treat your friends like dog shit. Be a man and go apologize.' It did break his heart to say those things to her, but it needed to be done. Eren has never claimed to be oblivious to the possibility that she could die protecting him and fighting for the lives of their comrades, in fact, it's something he's been very aware of since she so willingly followed him into the military against his wishes. The thought of losing Mikasa has him all sorts of fucked up because, in reality, he knows that he can't live without her. But if it's to keep her safe, he's willing to do anything, even if that means breaking her heart.

When he finally found her, Mikasa was leaning up against a tree, watching the colorful skyline turn the last bit darker as the sun set. Armin was right, she's definitely holding back, he can tell from the way she occasionally looks up at the heavens and blinks profusely. But then he saw her fists, how cut up and bloodied they are, and that's when the guilt really started to set in. Stay strong. It's for her own good, right? Her usually fair, milky completion is tinted a light shade of pink from holding back tears and releasing pent up rage at the tree, her eyes filled with nothing but pure anger as she tried to control her breathing. Finally meeting his ever stoic gaze, she timidly crossed her arms on her chest and didn't even wince when her bloodied fists were bumped in the process. "Leave. Leave right now." And just like that, his blood was boiling.

"There you go again, bossing me around!"

"God, Eren! I can't do this with you anymore!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"You want me to leave you alone and stop babying you so badly?!" Mikasa swallowed hard and looked off to the side, blinking profusely as her eyes filled up with tears. "Fine. I'll protect you on the battlefield because that's my job, but you don't need to worry about me getting involved anymore. I'm -" She let out an exasperated, frustrated chuckle. "I'm done."

"Now, hold on a second," He caught her by the arm and struggled to maintain his own composure. "I never said that I didn't want anything to do with you. That's you putting words in my mouth and I fucking hate it when you do that!"

"You hate it when I do anything, Eren! Mikasa, stop babying me, Mikasa I'm not your little brother or your son, fuck off, or my new personal favorite, Mikasa, I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU SINCE WE WERE KIDS!" Her cry had a heavy effect on the air around them, saturating it with hurt and anger. “You’re such a fucking liar!”

"Oh, don't be so fucking petty!"

"Really, Eren? You're the last person who should be calling someone petty!"

"Dammit, Mikasa!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a few shakes. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"So are you, suicidal maniac! If anyone gets me killed, it'll be -"

"Don't," Eren whispered, biting the inside of his cheek. "Don't you say it."

"If I get killed, it'll be your fault because I was undoubtably saving you from doing something reckless!"

"God dammit! Why do you think I want you to stay the hell away from me?!" Eren spat, her eyes widened at his words. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you fucking died. It's my job to protect you and I'm not strong enough to shield you from death! Stop throwing yourself into the line of fucking fire for me!"

"How do you think I feel when you charge out without any assistance, Eren? We're all worried about dying! We're in a war for Christ's sake!"

"A war where a select group of people, including you, has to make sure I don't die so I can save humanity. What's the point in doing that if -" Eren stopped himself, carefully weighing all possible outcomes of what he's about to say. "What's the point in living through this hell if you fucking die?!" Mikasa blinked tears from her eyes and furrowed her brows. He's never said anything like this.

"W-what? What are you saying?"

"I," Eren sighed. "I don't see any point in going on if you aren't alive. Even if you hate me for doing this, I'll always-" Fuck. How does she always manage to pry information out of him like this? He groaned and gripped her shoulders tighter. "I'll always love you." She knit her brows together as tears began to roll down her rosy cheeks, using all of her strength in attempt to squirm out of his grasp, only to fail.

"NO!" Mikasa sobbed. "No, NO! Don't say things like that while trying to push me away, Eren!" Her voice cracked, hoarse from fighting back tears and screaming in his face. Eren anxiously shuffled his feet and wrapped his arm around her waist, cradling her cheek in his hand. She didn't even flinch.

"Will you shut up and listen to me?! I've always been in love you!" Their lips crashed together, gliding at a pace they can just barely keep up with. At long last, the feeling of being in his arms for something more intimate than a hug isn't just a dream, gazing into his eyes during their brief breaks for air is more than a fantasy, because this time it's all real. Mikasa sighed softly in his mouth as tears finally stream down her cheeks, invading their tastebuds and deeply passionate kiss. It made him feel even more guilty, so he pulled her close to deepen their kiss, breathing in the scent of her lavender soap as she curled her fingers into his shirt and, much to her disappointment, the warmth from his lips was abruptly taken away. But after that, just breathing in the sweet smell of his breath and staring into those guilt ridden, emerald eyes is more than okay. No words needed to be spoken in this moment because, once again, Eren had managed to distract her from whatever negativity is occurring around them, even though those feelings exist from his actions to begin with. She could taste his anger, bitterness, fear, and complete and utter regret in his kiss; this was a sufficient apology in her book. "Wanna stay with me tonight?" His voice made her knees weak, and his question made her stomach explode in a warmth that send a throb between her legs.

"Gods, yes..." She breathed to his lips and kissed him once more, gently pulling those soft, addictive lips back to hers to kiss him deeply and passionately once more.

————————————————————

Mikasa rummaged through the drawers of his dresser for a set of matches and lit the two candles sitting on the dresser, then the one beside the bed, bathing the otherwise dark room in a warm, soft glow. Much to her amusement, he can't keep his hands off of her: they're rubbing circles on her ass and hips, or in her shirt massaging her breasts. In the candlelight, she watched his fingers unbutton her shirt and expose her chest, squeezing both of her breasts for the first time. He spun her around and immediately buried his face in her neck, softly kissing her skin as she rushed to unhook her bra and drop it on the floor. "I'm so fucking sorry." His whisper nearly made her melt into a puddle, especially when he looked up into her eyes and reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Eren..." The warmth from his lightly calloused hands gliding across her skin gave her an immediate relief of any emotional pain. Mikasa wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped up to capture his waist between her legs, crashing her lips against his and sending him into overdrive. One minute, he had her up against the wall, and the next she's laying in his bed, getting her neck nibbled and suckled on by the only person she's ever desired to do so.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He breathed to her skin as his lips tenderly kissed her neck, and when her hands reached between them to free him from his belt, he looked up into her eyes to see she'd simply teared up more.

"Please don't leave me..." Mikasa bit her lip as her voice quivered. She was trembling now, bringing their lips together in a desperate attempt to avoid having a panic attack. The need to feel him close to her has always been a source of comfort but, right now, she seriously cannot get enough of him. Eren noted how much more passionate this kiss is, how she swiped her tongue across his bottom lip to entice him, how she curled her fingers in his hair to pull him in closer, even though he's already laying right on top of her. Their lips only parted for a moment so he could sit up to remove his shirt, granting her the privilege of admiring his body with her fingers, tracing the dips and ridges of his impressive abdominals as their lips come together again. Her hands reached down to free him from his trousers and boxers, rushing to pull them down to his knees. "I need to hear you say that you're never going to leave me, Eren," she whispered to his lips with desperation and fear evident in her voice. "SAY IT!" Her cry came out a little louder than intended as he gently set a hand on her cheek, slowly rubbing her bottom lip his thumb.

"I'm never going to leave you."

"Again..." Mikasa's voice is almost a whimper as the feelings from that horrific conversation invaded her mind, forcing her to engage in yet another battle with herself over negative emotions. She bit her lip and reached down between them to pull her dampened panties to the side, watching his eyes as he slowly glided through her wetness.

"I'm never going to leave you," Eren breathed to her lips and waited for a hint that he could enter, burying himself deep within the eager, soaking heat between her legs. "I promise." She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her hips slightly to indicate that she was ready for him to move, taking a sharp inhale as a tear rolled down her face. "I'm so sorry that this hurts..." Eren whispered, slowly moving against her. Eventually, her eyes rolled back and she let out a soft moan, finally feeling intense pleasure instead of sharp pains. Mikasa reciprocated his thrusts and pressed her lips to his, pleased to feel him return her kisses as they grew faster in pace, sending soft whimpers and cries into his mouth. Though they may not be speaking with words, his actions have more than conveyed any regret. And as he buried his face in her neck, kissing, nibbling, and suckling on the skin he'd been longing to touch for so long, they became one in the same. She slipped her hands up into his long, soft, chocolate brown hair and held his hips as close as she could with her legs. Pulling away just enough to feel the heat from his quiet, rapid breaths on her lips, Mikasa's insides trembled, and she moaned loud enough that he was forced to kiss her again so they won't get caught. But then she wrapped one leg around his low back and bent the other so she could press her foot into the mattress. And then, she started riding him from below, making him groan into her mouth and pull away. "Fuuck..." He's surprised that he's lasted this long being his first time as well, because surviving her orgasm and not coming was hard enough.

Pressing his lips to hers, he slammed into her and gripped her breasts in both hands. It wasn't long until they were sharing an overwhelming orgasm, Mikasa moaned helplessly into their kiss and ground her hips against him, writhing underneath his body, yet Eren just kissed her harder as he pulled out, quickly pumping his cock until he finished coating her stomach. He pulled his lips away from hers with a decadent smack and tenderly kissed down her neck. Mikasa slowly ran her fingertips along his back and relaxed the leg she has around his waist, holding him in a close embrace. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." Eren breathed to the smooth skin of her neck and smiled when he inadvertently discovered her favorite spot to have kissed. She moaned softly and leaned her head the opposite way to grant his lips more space to explore. Depending on how hard he suckles or nibbles here, those moans turn into soft cries of pleasure with the occasional giggle. But then he heard her sniffling as quietly as she could, almost certainly in attempt to prevent herself from getting hysterical. Eren looked up from her neck and frowned; her eyes are flooded with tears and she just looks so sad. "Hey, hey, hey," he kissed her softly on the lips. "What's wrong?"

"You -" Mikasa covered her face with her hands and wiped her eyes. "You're leaving me in a couple of y -" she swallowed hard, her eyes becoming blurry in the process. Eren sat back as he pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around her to muffle any nearly hysterical cries in the crook of his neck.

"This is what I was afraid of if I caved in and talked to you," He whispered, softly kissing her shoulder. "I know 5 years isn't long. But now we can hopefully spend any moment we aren't supposed to be doing something else, together. Good things don't usually happen to us, but, with Hange's growing knowledge on titans, maybe she can cure the shifters." He held her body flush to him and felt his heart break even more when her body started to shake.

"Eren..."

"We just have to make the best out of the time we have left together. That's all we can do."

"I always wanted to raise a family with you, Eren. And now that I have you, you're -" Mikasa's barely intelligible words were interrupted with a kiss that sent a warm throb between her legs. She placed a hand on his cheek and melted in his arms, surrendering to him completely as he slipped his tongue in past her lips to fight with hers for control of her mouth. Their lives aren't fair, but that's just how things are now that they are in the middle of a war. Comrades are brutally murdered on the battlefield constantly, that's horrific enough as it is, but the idea of living without the other is a thought that is simply too much to bear. However, in his case, Eren also has his concerns about how she'll go on after his passing, especially after tonight; he knows he'll have to make sure someone he trusts will take care of her. For now, Eren will spend any free time that he has putting bandaids on wounds that will inevitably be ripped open again in a few years time.

Mikasa slowly stirred her hips, rubbing her slick heat on his hardening cock, she angled herself for him to slip inside and moaned softly into their kiss. She allowed him to guide her on his length, grinding her hips faster and faster without any care of the dull pain from losing her virginity. But then his mouth abandoned hers and settled on one of her breasts, suckling gently on the hardened nipple. "Ohh, Erennnn.." She breathed in his ear and rested her cheek on his head, raising her hips up and down his length at a steady pace that elicited a groan from deep within his gut. Her inner walls contracted around him as she came, squirming and grinding her hips faster in response. But she didn't stop after this, no, she pushed him down on his back and continued with riding him. Eren grunted as his hands came to a stop on her hips, curving them around to grab the ass he just realized he's obsessed with.

"Fuck..." He groaned, and watched her lean down as her hands slipped under his pillow, burying her face in his neck. Eren pressed down on her hips, and she moaned in his ear as she reached another orgasm. "Mika, I'm gonna-" Immediately she raised her hips, just in time for him to finish on the outside of her pussy. Satisfied at last, she rolled off of him and curled up into his side, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Mikasa?"

"Hm?" Nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck, she finally allowed her lips to curve into a smile.

"I meant what I said, about always loving you. I truly believed I was doing the best thing for you."

"I already forgave you. I think you've more than made up for being a jackass," Mikasa was still smiling when she sat up to look into his eyes, now full of compassion and understanding. "Please, stop pushing me away and let me be a part of your life again, Eren." He placed a hand on the back of her head and gently brought her in to plant a series of kisses on her lips that made her smile.

"I would be honored if you'd let me spend the rest of my life not pushing you away."

"Good." Mikasa breathed to his lips and kissed him again, drowning herself in the new taste that is Eren.

#attackontitanfantic #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #aot #aot eren #mikasa aot #eren yeager #eren yaegar #snk #snk eren #mikasa ackerman #eremika #eremika lemon #eremika fanfiction #mikaere #mikaere lemon #mikaere fanfiction #eren x mikasa fanfic #eren x mikasa lemon #that convo made me cry #so did writing this

[96percentdone]

The Moonlit Prince and the Lying Thief (Part 4)

@oumasaiweek I’m a day late I’m so sorry! I couldn’t finish this chapter on time yesterday I got burnt out and it hit like 3am and I was dying inside. I’ll try my best to keep the daily schedule from here on out though!

But Happy birthday Ouma! This is the fourth entry in a series. If you’re interested, go on my blog and check the tag v3 tangled AU. Thanks!

“I have so many regrets,” Shuuichi groans, voice muffled. His face is starting to hurt a little from the way he flopped right on top of a hedge, leaves and twigs poking and digging into his cheeks, but the darkness the bush provides matches his emotional state, so he stays. If Tsumugi ever found out about this she would be so hurt. He’d never earn her trust back. She’d probably punish him for years, and he’d deserve it. “Why did I do this.”

“Beats me.” Doukeshi leans on a nearby tree, tossing a grey stone up and down. At this rate this side-quest of his will be over sooner than he thought. “Guess you can’t handle this after all, huh?”

“I can do it!” Shuuichi jumps back up, determination in his stance. “It’ll be fine! She’ll just never find out!”

“She?”

“My aunt.” And with that Shuuichi whines again, and falls back to sitting on the floor. “She’ll totally find out…” He’s in so much trouble if he does this. If he goes back right now, he can probably dodge it, right? He’ll tell her he jumped out the window, regretted it, and ran right back in. Does he leave the thief part in?

“You could just lie.” Doukeshi points out. Lying has gotten him out of so many conundrums. There seems to be just a whole lot of backstory here, and while he’s curious, he’s not planning on diving into it. He just wants to get this over with as soon as possible, so he can go home.

“I can’t just lie to her! She’d find me out, and it’d be wrong.” Never mind that Shuuichi is a poor liar, but to betray and then deceive her? No, absolutely not. He needs to just tell the truth, and go back, and this whole thing was a mistake. “I’m going back.”

“Suit yourself.” Doukeshi keeps tossing that rock, staring blankly up at the sky. “Toss me my satchel while you’re up there, will ya?”

��No!” At that, Shuuichi bolts up, and starts marching away from the tower. “We’re not doing that. I’m—I’m going to see those lanterns. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

“Okay~” Tossing the rock aside, Doukeshi strolls along behind him. He doesn’t point out that this is the wrong direction, just watches as Shuuichi walks several more feet and abruptly stopping.

“I don’t know which way we’re supposed to go,” Shuuichi says, and Doukeshi can’t stifle his snorting, which earns him an embarrassed glare. “Very funny. Lead the way.”

“As you wish, detective-chan.”

They don’t get very far, maybe another few feet, before something rustles nearby. “What was that?” Shuuichi asks, eyes darting around before landing on the bush up ahead.

“I dunno.” Doukeshi shrugs. “Bandits?”

“Bandits?!” The rustling continues. Frying pan armed in sweaty hands, he freezes, eyes glued to the bush.

“Thugs?” Realizing that Shuuichi stopped moving, Doukeshi turns around.

“Thugs?!” Shuuichi takes a small step backward, eyes never leaving the bush.

“Axe murderers?”

“Mur—murderers?”

Something jumps out of the bush, and Shuuichi finds himself hovering behind the thief. After a few seconds, he peers over Doukeshi’s smaller, vest clad shoulder, to see—“It’s just a rabbit.” Small, and furry, and brown. Oh. That…that’s perfectly normal and harmless. He puts the frying pan away.

“You do know we’re outside, right?” Doukeshi asks, glancing behind him, and they both resume walking. “Maybe you can’t handle this.”

“I’ll be fine!” Of course, he knows that. He knows about animals too, but there’s so many other things out here besides just those. Even so, “It was just because you scared me.”

“Nishishi~ Sorry! I can’t help myself!” So Shuuichi is easily scared, huh? Maybe that works in his favor. They only just started but it might be time for a small detour. “Hey, you hungry? Cause I seriously need something to eat!”

“Um, sure.” Beyond the cave, there’s a seemingly endless array of trees. Every tree passed takes Shuuichi one step closer to his dream.

Tsumugi stops in her tracks, scanning the forest for the seventh time in the past half hour. There’s something off about these woods. She’s never been truly alone here—there’s that tavern on the way to town, and there’s always been the occasional child playing dangerous games—but there’s too many people out today. What happened?

The sound of hooves galloping across dirt approaches from behind, and on instinct she hides behind a large maple tree. Citizen? Or worse? A black mare flies past her. Tsumugi only manages to get a brief glimpse at the woman riding it, but the shining chestplate tells all. “No.”

What is a royal guard doing out this deep in her woods? The crown was stolen by someone, but if they’re this far in, they might find him! The trees blur together as she tears through the woods, knocking aside any stray branches or vines in her way. She has to go back. She has to go back!

There it is. The tower. “Shuuichi?” No response. “Shuuichi, let down your hair!” Still nothing. Where is he? Did they find him? She needs to get inside now. Wrenching away at the stones that make up the backside of the tower reveals a hidden stairwell. As soon as there’s enough space for her to crawl through, she does, sprinting up the stairs.

But there’s no one in the main room. “Shuuichi?” And there’s no one in his room. “This just plain isn’t funny!” And there’s no one in her room. No matter where she looks, there’s no sign of silver anywhere in the dark tower. She’s alone.

The noon sun shines through the window, and something shimmers under the stairs to her missing “nephew’s” room. What is that? Pulling the stair reveals a bag containing the stolen crown. But that’s not all. Slowly, Tsumugi pulls out a mask, black and red and resembling a joker’s hat. So Doukeshi took Shuuichi away.

Opening a nearby drawer reveals a glimmering dagger. She’ll find him. She’ll find them both.

“To your right, as previously stated, is more trees,” Shuuichi rolls his eyes as Doukeshi narrates their same-y surroundings. He’s been doing this for at least 20 minutes now, for reasons Shuuichi can’t understand. “But to your left is, voila!” With a grand gesture, the thief showcases a quiet trail that leads to a small building. “Our destination, Saishuu Tavern.”

“Final Tavern…?” What an ominous name. “What happened to the other taverns?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” What does he mean by that? Did something happen? What could have possibly—“Are you messing with me again?”

“Nishishi~ You make it so easy.” Doukeshi pushes and holds the door open as Shuuichi makes a whining noise in response. “After you.”

“Thank…you…” Shuuichi trails off upon seeing the interior of the pub. It’s…a lot to process. There’s a hodgepodge of stuff furnishing the somewhat-circular room. Some of it is innocent (a portrait or two, a piano), some of it is strange (the steering wheel of a boat, a racket), and some of it…terrifying. The array of knives and spears, a taxidermy deer head, a guillotine, and god there are just so many people. All their eyes are on him. Shuuichi freezes in place.

Except they’re not on him, but on the purple vested man behind him. “Doesn’t that gremlin by the door look familiar to anyone?” Miu wipes her messy blond hair away from her goggles and squints.

“Hmm…Tenko agrees, but she just can’t quite place it,” says Tenko, walking up past Shuuichi to Doukeshi. He’s just glad a woman that buff doesn’t have those threatening eyes on him.

“Who, me? Nah, I’m no one,” Doukeshi waves her off, strolling into the tavern without worry. He takes a seat in a nearby rickety wooden chair. “Sides I think my partner here is the weirder one.”

And everyone is staring at Shuuichi. This time for real. Nobody says anything, they just look dumbstruck at the sheer amount of hair. Until Rantarou pipes up, pressing a finger to his lips revealing the anchor tattoo running down the length of his arm. “No, I know who that is. That’s that thief. Doukeshi.”

“With the hair?” Miu shouts.

“He’s talking about the short one,” says Ryouma who isn’t much taller than the wooden table he’s standing around.

“You don’t get to call me short, dwarf-chan!” Doukeshi pouts, folding his arms and turning away. He looks like a petulant child when he does this, but despite this, is entirely unconcerned about being called out. He’s been in worse situations.

“Nyehh, shouldn’t someone get the guards then?” Himiko says, uncaring that her cape and hat are getting in the way of her attempt to nap on the table.

“It would seem like a logical source of progression,” says Kirumi from behind the bar. Without even looking, she catches the empty glass sliding back her way in her gloved hands.

“I’ll go get them! They should still be nearby!” Kiibo jumps up, one leg made of metal.

“Um—” Shuuichi starts, but the boy is already out the door. Great. He just got here, and he’s already going to lose his guide.

“Heyyy, barmaid-chan, can you get me the most disgustingly sweet drink you have?” Doukeshi waves his arm from his corner table, but she just ignores him. Even better: the thief doesn’t care at all.

“Um, Doukeshi-san, maybe we should—”

“Relaaaax, Detective-chan. I’m not getting caught. ‘Sides,” Doukeshi looks around the room with an easy-going grin, and Shuuichi is once again reminded of the weaponry on the wall. What kind of place is this? Is he in danger? “Don’t you wanna take in the experience? This is a five-star joint!”

“Actually, I think I really don’t—”

“Excuse me,” blue eyes bore directly into Shuuichi’s own, cutting off his line of thought, “but Angie was wondering why you’re with a wanted thief?”

“Gonta wants to know that too.” Lumbering over from the back, Gonta stares curiously at Shuuichi’s hair. “Also, why do you have so much hair?”

“Is it not possible that this menace is one of the accomplices to the crime?” Tenko says.

Ryouma scans Shuuichi briefly, and says, “Doesn’t seem practical with this much hair.”

“Obviously it’s a fuckin’ wig,” Miu says. “They’re both just trying shitty disguises.”

“They definitely don’t make wigs that long…” Himiko mumbles.

“Even if they did, I heard there were two accomplices,” Rantarou says.

The debate goes on around Shuuichi, with numerous voices piping in with their theories or suspicions. He wants to take Doukeshi and leave, but the thief shows no sign of leaving, kicking his feet back on the table and even egging them on. Not helping! The room is stifling. It’s so hard to breathe. Why did he leave the tower? He wants to go home. This was a mistake. There are so many people, and they’re all getting closer, and arguing, and arguing, about him, and Doukeshi, and his hair, and him and him and him—

“Hey guys, maybe we should let him talk,” Kaede says. She gets up from her seat at the piano, and walks over to Shuuichi, who all this time was still paralyzed at the door. With a gentle smile, she asks, “What’s your name?”

Deep breaths. Shuuichi exhales, slow and long, before finally speaking up. “I’m um, Shuuichi. Just Shuuichi.”

“Shuuichi-kun then. Then you can call me Kaede.” Her voice is warm and reassuring, like Shuuichi always imagined his mother would be like. He nods. “Do you want to explain why you’re here?”

“Well…” How does he begin with this? Obviously, Shuuichi can’t say anything about the hair, but the rest? Can he tell them about the deal? Probably not. So all that’s left is his dream. Are they really going to accept something so simple? So childish? It’s worth a shot. “I wanted to see the lantern festival. I’ve never gone, well…anywhere, before, so I need him to take me.”

“And the hair?” Miu asks. Crap he’s not out of this after all. What does he say? Does he lie? Can he lie? Should he lie? The longer he stays silent, the more suspicious this looks. But he doesn’t know what to say! What should he do—?

“He’s going for a world record,” Doukeshi answers. He’s not looking at Miu, but Shuuichi, and winks. A rescue; thank god. “I want in on the cash prize, so I struck a deal with him.” It’s a lie, but it saved him. Shuuichi will have to thank him for that.

“Stealing the crown wasn’t enough?” Gonta exclaims.

“Is the lantern festival really that important to you?” Kirumi asks. Nobody says it, but the question is implied: is it worth getting tangled up with a thief for this?

But to Shuuichi, that’s something he doesn’t even have to think about. “Yes.” It’s resolute, something he hasn’t been since he arrived. Maybe even before that.  “I’ve been dreaming about them my entire life, so now that I have that chance, I need to take it.” And maybe he’s working with a thief, but he thinks that Doukeshi isn’t all that evil. He didn’t have to help. In fact, he could have probably snuck out while they all focused on him, and ran back to the tower, but he stayed. He’s risked a lot just to be here.

But they’re going to turn him in if Kiibo gets back before they can leave. Shuuichi’s chance ends right here, unless he does something. He can’t let that happen. “So…I need you to let us leave.”

Doukeshi raises an eyebrow. Is he serious? Does he really think they’re just going to let him leave? Let Shuuichi go, maybe, but not him. Doukeshi is pretty sure he’s going to have to think fast to get out. Is he really that naïve?

“You can tell the guards where we went, if you want,” Shuuichi continues, looking around at the skeptical group, “I think that’s perfectly fair, but please just let us go. I’m sure all of you have dreams, right?”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Angie asks, leaning over to the side. On her belt he can see a bunch of painting supplies.

“All of the stuff in the room,” Shuuichi explains. He’s been wondering about the eclectic collection this whole time. The knives, and spears, and taxidermy, all scream ‘thug bar’, and so do the tattoos some of the patrons have, but the other things? “Like Angie-san, you painted all the portraits hanging here, right?”

Angie lights up. “I did!”

“Kaede-san plays that piano.”

Kaede nods.

“And I think you—” Shuuichi points to the green-haired man.

“Amami Rantarou. You can call me Rantarou.”

“Rantarou-san’s a sailor. That wheel on the wall was your idea, right?”

One by one, Shuuichi wanders through the tavern, going through all the items in the room. He matches them from person to person, based on things they’re wearing, or things nearby where they were. Even for Kiibo, who is no longer in the room. And one by one, he captures the interests and names and hearts of every single person he figures out. He thought for sure that if Shuuichi came here, he’d be so overwhelmed he’d want to go back home, and yet. It’s kind of amazing, Doukeshi thinks, that someone so naïve is still so capable. Despite himself, he finds himself a little impressed.

“What about his dream?” Kaede asks, pointing to Doukeshi, and once again everyone’s attention is on him.

“Eh, don’t bother,” Doukeshi says, getting up from his seat. “It’s to be insanely rich so I can lord it over everyone else.” That’s a lie, of course, but nobody here needs to know that.

“That’s horrible,” Tenko says, and everyone nods in agreement, making their own judgmental remarks amongst themselves.

In that instant, the door bursts open, and Kiibo returns with around five or six guards. “I found them!”

And just as suddenly, he’s being grabbed, dragged behind the bar along with Shuuichi. He looks around bewildered, just in time to see Kirumi pull a lever, and the wooden floor beneath them lowers into a ramp, leading into a tunnel. An escape route. So all that touchy-feely stuff paid off. “Go. And don’t come back, or we’ll have to turn you in,” she says, with a stern gaze.

“Thank you, Kirumi-san.” Shuuichi bows a little from his spot on the floor. He didn’t think he’d be able to sway them, but he did. Somehow.

Her stern gaze turns soft, and she smiles at him. “Make your dream come true, Shuuichi-san. I hope it’s everything you’ve imagined.”

“Where is he?” Kaito is talking to the patrons about their disappeared thief while the other guards patrol outside, but they seem to be giving mixed stories. Maki tunes them out.

Those stories never mattered, because he definitely didn’t leave through the door. She has her own witness confirming it. So how did he escape? She’s examined every square inch of this room, but she doesn’t see that pesky thief at all. There has to be some trick. Going up to the bar, she runs her hands along the taps, until she finds one that moves. A lever. A yank, and the floor opens up to reveal a tunnel. “So that’s where he went. Momota. Get everyone. We’re leaving.”

“Harumaki—” But she’s already gone. Kaito sighs. “Fine, I’ll get them.”

Tsumugi watches from the window as Maki storms into the tunnel. It was quite easy to manipulate such an impulsive guard. She needs someone to catch that thief, after all, and dealing with a pest is their job. But she has to get to Shuuichi first, before they do.

He was traipsing around this tavern—carelessly—happily. She saw him. He had the audacity to betray her like this? Oh no. She’s not having that. He’ll have to be punished too.

“Oh, hello Miss.” She finds herself being addressed by a young boy with a metal leg. “Can I do anything for you?”

“You can actually,” Tsumugi replies with a plastic grin, before pointing the dagger right between his eyes. “Tell me where that tunnel lets out.”

Shuuichi will get his punishment, she just has to catch him first.

#oumasaiweek #oumasai #saiouma #Ouma Kokichi #Saihara Shuuichi #hope.txt #v3 Tangled AU #my fic #dangan ronpa #ndrv3 #I feel bad I'm late #I'm so sorry y'all #I fucked it up #BUT HERE IT IS #I HOPE ITS WORTH IT