#and whatever an Onyx Deer is

[arisenreborn]

5 Character Associations - Emrys

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

Spite, contempt. Wrong. Everything about him is 'wrong', and he knows it best of all. He hates it, he loves it, he can't do a damned thing about it. There's a deep wound in his heart and spirit that have left him rotting within.

Hopeless. Fear. Everywhere he looks there's no escape from his fate, it's an endless wheel of servitude and torment, truly.

Defiance, rebellious. Yet despite all that, and as a result of all of that, there's a flicker of willful defiance that rails against everything that 'is'. It's so small, yet it slips through the cracks wherever it can.

Hedonist. It's easier to sink into the things that 'feel good'. Drink, sex, or even just wandering the wilds - the things he enjoys, without anyone telling him so. (And yet, he only reached for those things because they were the things others reached for first...)

Simple. A mask that slips beneath the surface. It's so easy to go with the flow, after all, to follow the course of the unending cycle. You could even be happy here, like this, if you let yourself believe it.

Bonus - Impertinent, sassy, particularly and openly with Olivia, but extremely veiled with others. She lets him get away with it for the most part because she thinks he isn't entirely wrong to feel that way and can even relate to some degree, but when he starts to get Mean about it she gets right back at him. (He's kind of like a teenager in this respect, testing boundaries, but he ought to know better.)

Bonus - Shame. A trembling self-loathing and disgust.

COLOURS:

rusty red

faded gold

earthy browns

bruise purple

dragonsplague red

SCENTS:

At any given time, simply, "the outdoors"; campfires, wood, and trees, soil, damp leaves, moss, and dew in the morning, fresh air - as well as the vague scent of blood, sweat, and rot.

A wisp of whatever perfume that bordelrie worker was wearing.

Leather, new and old.

"Crisp and clean" when in the city, experiments with all sorts of different soaps and bath salts (on Olivia's coin).

The smell before it rains - before astorm.

OBJECTS:

Fox mask - a gift from Olivia when she requested he join her to several masquerades.

A very old dagger, it couldn't possibly be useful anymore...

"Lucky" rabbits foot, he understands the irony, that's why he has it.

Onyx - He picked it up at the Excavation Site, and holds onto it, he says, in case he needs emergency funds, but there seems to be an additional touch of bitter sentiment to it.

Collection of 'badges'; identifiers of several different mercenary and thief groups and similar such he's worked with in the past. Claims he holds onto them in case he needs them again...

Bonus: Bordelrie Membership Card... (he received it from a mercenary buddy)

BODY LANGUAGE:

Lax, slightly slouched, giving an overall sense of capriciousness (or perhaps laziness) and approachability.

Sleepy, half-lidded eyes, big big yawns. Often lethargic (bored?) when not actively engaged.

Moves with confidence, be it in his stride, shot, or swing of the blade. He makes it look easy and effortless because he's been doing it for so long. (Actually you could put in a little effort, Em...)

Laying sprawled out at camp, arms folded behind his head against his bed roll, legs stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles. Entirely relaxed, surrounded by the sounds of nature.

(High Perception Requirements) When no one is looking - rolling of the eyes, irritated head shakes, silent sighs where his whole body slouches in exasperation.

AESTHETICS:

the forest; the wilds, the roads that cut through it, the ambling deer paths and light dancing through the boughs

furs, leathers, bones and fangs - living off the land and making careful use of everything

bustling streets and taverns filled with shouts and laughter, a place where it's easy to fit in and be one with the crowd without anyone noticing

[wild animal] caught in a trap

bow & arrow, feathers - stripped from their purpose and made into fletching

SONGS:

Michael Bublé - Feeling Good

Hozier - In The Woods Somewhere

The Arcadian Wild - Liar

The Amazing Devil - The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

Placebo - Running Up That Hill

#character prompts. #oc: emrys (pawn) #sorry about his emotions/feelings section he's dealing with a lot #a sorta-straightforward pawn moonlighting as a simple pawn #i'm honestly half-tempted all the time to make him straightforward but i've grown too accustomed to his voice #begging u capcom unleash the voices

[acourtofthought]

Elain, Lucien and Koschei’s Soul

There’s been a lot of talk surrounding the three sisters conquering the three mountains.  Feyre was UTM (which was located in Prythian’s sacred mountain, Nesta was Ramiel, and that leaves the Prison mountain for Elain.

While Nesta’s experience with Ramiel was with her found family by her side, Feyre’s help came from Rhys (and Lucien to a small extent).

Which makes me think if Elain were to also conquer a mountain, she’d have someone by her side as well (most likely Lucien). 

I do think Elain will travel to the continent to free Vassa from Koschei but they won’t be able to kill Koschei without first finding and destroying his soul (which based on mythology, he keeps hidden somewhere). 

“There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything....save for them.  The girls”

My guess is his soul is in the box Elain had a vision of.

As to where that box might be?

One of the stories surrounding Koschei the Deathless tells us this:

In Russian traditional stories Buyan is a magic island, mentioned in incantations and spells.  This invisible fortunate island located somewhere in the ocean has ability to appear and disappear using the tides.  The Sun, according to some sources, lived on the island with its attendants.  Seed of all living things are stored here. Powerful forces made the island the source of all-weather which is created there and sent forth into the world by the god Perun.  There’s also the mention of it’s location marking the center of the universe and having Indriks, which is “a fabulous beast, the king of all animals with a bull’s body, head of a horse, legs of the deer and a large horn”.  According to legend, it’s a place where the Koschei the Deathless hid his soul. Koschei cannot be killed unless somebody find its soul.  

How is it possible that the Prison would be SJMs version of Buyan and how would it relate to Elain and Lucien?  

First, we know the Prison is on an Island (like Buyan) and not easily seen:

On an island in the heart of the Western Isles,"

This place, wherever it was, was freezing, deserted, barren.  Only rock and grass and mist and sea

There was nothing - no one around." "I don't see anything.  The rock is the Prison"

The Sun and it’s attendants may have lived on Buyan, the seeds of all living things being stored there, and the place where a fabulous beast lived.  We know this of the Prison:

The very land seemed abandoned.  Like something great had once existed here and then vanished.  Like the land still waited for it to return."

According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon - had once fed in fair meadows that had long given way to moss and mist. Perhaps that was part of the decline: their homeland had vanished, and whatever had sustained them there was no longer."

Nesta studied the carvings in the floor.  They all seemed to spiral toward one point.  I think these are stars.  Constellations.  And like a golden sun, the Harp lay at the center of the system.”

She had the creeping feeling she'd been brought here.  Not by the Cauldron or the Mother or the Harp.  By something vaster.  Something that stretched into the stars carved all around them."

The fact that the fairytale mentions the Sun and its attendants seems important as Helion must have a connection to the prison lands considering he has the only remaining Pegasus which (as legend tells) came from the island the Prison is located on.  A land that used to have fair meadows instead of moss and mist and a land that once had something great which existed there.  We know whatever sustained the life of the Pegasus is no longer around which has caused the decline in their numbers so in a way “seeds of life” is not far off the mark though I’m guessing there was something even more important that was once in that territory.  He is stated to be the Sun personified and Nesta states she was brought to that specific place, where the constellations meet with the Harp in the center like a Golden Sun, by something vaster than the Mother or Harp (so the area the Harp was sitting on seems to have greater meaning, a possible portal?)  And anything that relates to Helion also relates to Lucien and there’s no way SJM wrote what she did about where the Harp was found (”that specific place” “something vaster than the Mother or Harp” without the intent of us visiting that place again in the future. 

As to where Koschei might be keeping his soul hidden, the fairytale usually mentions things like a needle inside an egg inside a duck inside a hare inside a chest buried under a tree but in SJMs world, it’s inside an onyx box. 

But rather than red stone, it was carved of black rock."  Spells and wards pulsed around the room.

Part of me wonders if the Prison was either built or stocked with its inmates to hide the Harp's presence.  There are so many terrible powers here and the wards on the mountain itself.....I wonder if someone hid the Harp knowing that it'd never be noticed with so much awful magic around it."  

But who put it here?"  "Your guess is as good as mine.  Someone who existed before the High Lords ruled."

Nesta and Cassian were talking about the Harp but it’s information we could apply to Koschei.  A onyx box, possibly hidden behind a onyx (aka black) cavern wall.  Hidden in a place where most would never go because of the inmates that would deter them.  A place with spells and wards around the room and a place that someone who existed before the High Lords ruled would have access too.  I can’t think of a better place for Koschei to hide his soul.    

Along with Elain’s connection to Koschei because of her visions, SJM could also turn what most anti’s make fun of her for into something that will be of enormous value.  My guess is the Pegasus ate some sort of grass or plant as horses do and wouldn’t a “grower of things” gifted with powers be exactly the right sort of person to find out what caused a land of fair meadows to become moss and mist and eventually bring back whatever it was the Pegasus had fed on?

#pro elucien #elucien #acotar theory #elain theory #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #helion spell cleaver #elain archeron

[gazelessmenagerie]

The runt rolled up a large ball of snow, intending to throw it at Broly and show him just how strong she is! She rolled up one that was bigger than her, and attempted to carry it, only for her to lose balance, and the whole thing crumbled on top of her. "Darn it!" She exclaimed, but wasn't gonna give up. She just rolled up ones bigger than her hand and threw one, it landing on his golden boot. There was an attempt.

The Brute's attention was on anything else BUT the runt that decided to tag along with him for whatever reason. Onyx pools looked down at the ground, large body crouching to get a closer look at the disturbance of the terrain. Reaching out a hand to pick at the obstruction of foliage, Broly observed well the familiar marks of prey that had passed not too long ago in this direction. By the looks of it, the stride of one set was long and the imprints were of those hooved creatures along with other possible contenders on the prowl. It wasn't often he'd find only a single trail of the deer alone but perhaps this one might've gotten separated from its herd for one reason or another. No matter, it was going to wind up as food as far as the Saiyan was concerned. If he was lucky enough, he may glean two more pelts for his own use but it wasn't too much of a concern this time. No, he has enough to get by for a while in terms of maintaining his warmth without relying solely on his ki but food was the fuel he needed.

. " Darn it! "

The mountain of black hair rose from between the peaks of strong shoulders, flecks of white already caught in the deep seas as the light grey skies overhead gently shed their glittering flakes. Misted breath exhaled in a grumble as the Brute looked over his shoulder to see that pup trying oh so hard to gather enough snow for small, lumpy spheres and dared to throw one at him. The arc was weak and though it landed only on the back of his boot as he remained on a single knee in a crouch over his task, it only earned an unimpressed look from him as his gaze flicked down at where the snow clung to the back of his armored heel.

Strong brows knitted together, part of him ready to reprimand with a hiss of his tone to keep quiet but another thought pushed it aside. Slowly, his sights drifted down to the tracks he was observing then to the sky above as a gentle snowfall continued. Ears listened to his surroundings, hearing only the silence of the snowbound forest surrounding the two. Thoughts lay shrouded behind his gaze, seconds filling the silence until the sound of scraping could be heard. His imposing figure did well to hide what he was up to, the thick pelt draped over his figure shrouding more out of sight and while it wouldn't have been surprising he might've returned to his task of tracking.. the runt didn't have to wait long to see his plot.

Standing to his full height, the Brute looked over his shoulder and smirked with a clear mischief to his displayed fangs. Turning his body around, there was a large ball of snow easily matching the size of his torso at its widest held between his hands in front and already being raised over his head to slam down on the poor girl.

#|| Tag: Answered #orphanedwolfandfriends #|| Gazing over the Abyss of Stars { Broly } #|| Verse: { Main } Out of my Mind | I Walk the Line | I'm Lost | Now I'm Sinking again #( bless but also rip. ) #( there's gonna be a pup-sicle )

[vespertinefantasy]

People say that there is a demon living in the forest, and at night it wakes up to eat human flesh. I've never believed it but I've always stayed away from the forest at night, just in case.

Until today: this morning I made a stupid bet with my friends.

Let's go in the forest at night and undress, they said.

Let's be completely naked under the moon and let's see if we can summon the demon, they said.

Let's see if this demon is actually that terrible, they said.

We went in the forest and had a few beers, then we decided to get naked and danced for hours. I was expecting to have some fun with them, maybe even sexually, but then they all run away after hearing weird sounds. I run too, but I fell and I think I hit my head because everything was black for a while.

When I wake up again, I'm facing the sky and someone is watching me. No, not someone but something. The half naked body is that of a man but it has onyx black deer horns on its head. After realizing it, I try to get up again and run, but everything hurts, especially my ankle. It must be broken.

"Stupid humans," a soft, warm voice says, "You call spirits and then you get scared when we actually come. There's always someone who gets hurt."

I can't say anything, I just stare in silence, heart racing, I can't believe what I'm seeing and hearing. The thing lowers so that the face is closer to mine, and my mouth is wide open at this point. Now that the moon is lighting it, I can see that it... he is terrifying yet somehow beautiful: the eyes are completely black, just like the horns, and he such noble features, with a defined jawline. The skin is almost white, but with a green undertone to it, and the lips are a strange mixture of pink and green.

"Are you ok?" he asks, smiling, and I can just nod while thinking that the sound of his voice reminds me of moss. He's still staring at me, so at the end I get finally to speak. "No, actually. I think that my ankle is broken."

He smiles wider, and caresses my cheek, I feel his claws on my skin while he speaks: "Let me take you to a place where you can get better."

I nod, not really knowing why. This creature makes me feel safe somehow. He then picks me up as if I weight nothing and throws me over his shoulder. Only then I realize how tall he is and that his skin is as soft as moss in the morning (everything about him reminds me of moss, apparently). I let my hand wander on his muscular back and I realize that his skin is covered with something soft, almost feathery, which I can't figure out what it is. I let him take me to whatever place he feels like, only because I'm hurt and alcohol is apparently still in my blood, and not because he's probably the most beautiful being I've ever layed eyes on. Maybe, after all, the idea of summoning a demon wasn't that bad.

#should i write a part 2? #mine #vespertine fantasy #writers of tumblr #writer #writing #writeblr #fantasy writing #nsft #nsft concept #nsft text #writers #vespertine fantasies #fantasy #monster fucker #demon #forest demon #forest spirit #vespertine story

[coffee-n-ocs]

Onyx Soul: Raleigh Raven, Man-Made Human (2001)

The first successful experiment of the demon scientist Raine Silver, Raleigh acts as Mayor Tatum's 'enforcer', and is the strongest man in Gravesend.

"My whole body's functional, I replace anything that breaks."

Name

Full Legal Name: Raleigh Shannon Ashley Raven First Name: Raleigh Meaning: From an English surname that was derived from a place name meaning either 'Red clearing' or 'Roe deer clearing' in Old English Pronunciation: RAW-lee/RAH-lee Origin: English Middle Name(s): Shannon, Ashley Meaning(s): Shannon: From the name of the River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland, called 'tSionainn' in Irish. Ashley: From an English surname that was originally derived from place names meaning 'Ash tree clearing', from a combination of Old English 'Æsc' and 'Leah' Pronunciation: SHAN-an, ASH-lee Origin: English. English Surname: Raven Meaning: From the name of the bird, ultimately from Old English 'Hræfn' Pronunciation: RAY-ven Origin: English Aliases: Raleigh Shannon, Raleigh Ashley, Raleigh Ash, Raleigh Lee, Leigh Shannon, Leigh Ashley, Leigh Ash, Leigh Lee, Leigh Raven, Shannon Raleigh, Shannon Leigh, Shannon Ashley, Shannon Ash, Shannon Lee, Shannon Raven, Ashley Raleigh, Ashley Leigh, Ashley Shannon, Ashley Raven, Ash Raleigh, Ash Leigh, Ash Shannon, Ash Raven, Raven Raleigh, Raven Leigh, Raven Shannon, Raven Ashley, Raven Ash, Raven Lee Nicknames: Leigh, Ash, Lee Titles: Mr

Characteristics

Age: Unknown (Stated Age: 25) Gender: Male. He/Him pronouns Race: 'Man-Made Human' (Frankenstein-esque Creation) Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Birth Date: Unknown (Creation Date: 19th January 1999) Sexuality: Unknown (Can change with a change of his brain) Religion: Non-Religious Native Language: Unknown Spoken Languages: Unknown Relationship Status: Single Astrological Sign: Unknown (Capricorn) Face Claim: Drew Powell

Geographical Characteristics

Birthplace: Unknown (Created in Gravesend) Current Residence: Gravesend Have They Been Beyond The Veil: Not since his 'Creation'

Appearance

Height: 6'3" / 191 cm Weight: [Data Redacted] Eye Colour: Blue (Can change) Hair Colour: Blond/Brown (Can change) Hair Dye: None Body Hair: Hairy Facial Hair: Clean Shaven Tattoos: None Piercings: None Scars: Staples and stitches where each body-part was put together Clothing Style: Whatever Raine gives him

Health and Fitness

Allergies: Unknown Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Social Drinker Illnesses/Disorders: Unknown Medications: None Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Affiliated Groups: None Friends: None Enemies: Anyone Mayor Tatum or Raine sends him after Mentor: Raine Silver Significant Other: None Previous Partners: Unknown Parents: Unknown Parents-In-Law: Unknown Siblings: Unknown Siblings-In-Law: Unknown Nieces & Nephews: Unknown Children: Unknown Children-In-Law: Unknown Grandkids: Unknown Other Notable Relatives: Raine Silver (Creator)

Notes

Occupation: Henchman, Enforcer, Bodyguard Tropes: (Purely Speculative)

Artificial Zombie: Is a 'man-made' human

The Dead Have Eyes: They're functional, and interchangeable

Fearless Undead: Has no fears

Friendly Zombie: Unless Raine or Tatum tells him to attack

Glowing Eyelights of Undeath: Under moonlight

Ridiculously Alive Undead

Undead Laborers: Works for the mayor

Undeathly Pallor: His skin is grey, green, blue and yellow in places

#onyx soul series #Raleigh Shannon Ashley Raven #Raleigh Raven #Leigh Shannon #Shannon Raleigh #Ashley Raleigh #Ash Raleigh #Raven Raleigh #man-made human #frankenstein's creation #frankenstein's monster #frankenstein's creature

[floweroflaurelin]

I am obsessed with Impulse’s new look!! I love making fanart that I can later take out of context to use as NPC art in my dnd campaign, and so far season 9 of Hermitcraft is delivering wonderfully 😆✨

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #hermitcraft fanart #hc #hermitcraft impulse #hc impulse #impulse hermitcraft #hc fanart #hermitblr #impulse fanart #impulsesv fanart #hc season 9 #hc s9 #fanart #floweroflaurelin art #mcyt fanart #mcyt #mcytblr #elves and dwarves and gorgons and dungeons and rifts in the universe #and whatever an Onyx Deer is #I’m loving s9’s vibes sm

[theminecraftbee]

Impulse, Gem, moth!Pearl | Season 9, around Gem, Impulse and Pearl's area | Pearl is becoming very sleepy; soon she will have to build a coccoon and hybernate until her wings grow, but who will take care of her stuff until she gets back? | fluff, humour

"You what?" Impulse says.

"I have to cocoon to grow into a moth," Pearl says. "I explained it the first time! Now that I can have wings -"

"You're like a beautiful butterfly," says Gem.

"Do deer eat butterflies?" asks Impulse.

"I mean, bugs are fun to chase, but technically I'm an herbivore -"

"I'm a moth?" Pearl says. "Guys, I did this last season too."

"Yeah, but we weren't there for it," Gem says.

"Impulse, you were in Boatem."

"You didn't tell us!"

"Would you tell Grian you were in a cocoon?"

"I mean, no, that's a terrible idea, but -"

"Exactly."

They all pause for a moment to contemplate the terrible reality in which Grian realizes someone is entirely AFK for long enough he can do whatever he wants to their base, and then they move on.

"The point is, we all do enough together that I thought you guys might worry. And, also, make sure the Onyx Deer doesn't eat anything it's not supposed to while I'm not around to watch it. You only have to feed it once a day but it only eats obsidian or souls, so, you know -"

"Pearl, wait, wait," Gem says. "Don't insects dissolve in their cocoon? Into like, soup?"

"Oh yeah, I think I remember reading that," Impulse says. "They turn into soup and then reform as the actual butterfly."

"Oh my god," Gem says, her eyes wide and horrified. "Oh my god?"

"...guys," says Pearl.

Gem throws herself across Pearl into a hug, dramatically wailing. Impulse simply looks bemused. "PEARL! PEARL, YOU'RE GONNA TURN INTO SOUP! PEARL!"

Pearl pats Gem on the head and looks at Impulse with mild panic in her expression. "It's fine? I'm pretty sure I'd know if I turn into soup. I'm pretty sure I just get my moth wings. I mean, I don't know, I'm pretty much asleep the whole time, but -"

"That would explain why you like soup so much," Impulse says.

"No, it doesn't?" Pearl says. "Or, wait. I mean, sure. I guess it sort of does? Huh."

"PEARL!" wails Gem again. Pearl pats her on the head again.

Pearl begins to wonder if maybe she should have just not told anyone again as Impulse starts to mumble something about researching what kinds of flowers moths like, though and Gem starts rambling about taking care of all of Pearl's diamonds while she's out - you know, for safekeeping.

...maybe she should have lead with the fact it normally only takes about two days?

...

Nah. This is funnier.

#answered #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #geminitay #HELP THIS IS THE FUNNIEST HEADCANON. IMMEDIATELY ACCEPTED. #ask game #prompt ficlets #a bee fic #body horror #MILD AND PLAYED FOR LAUGHS THOUGH I JUST HAPPEN TO KNOW HOW COCOONS WORK

[rosfrandomness]

based on their buildings on the server could you write something about archer!Gem and creature!Pearl? maybe set in a forest, a dynamic between these two could work :D the tone is up to you

oooh thank you for the request! (ask game link if anyone needs it) okay let's see, five hundred words or less..

Word count: 461

So it ended up being kinda fluff, there's a bit of tension considering Gem is threatening to shoot Pearl for most of it, but no one gets hurt in the end!

There was a rustling in the bushes. The archer quickly turned toward the sound, instinctively reaching for an arrow. There wasn't anyone else in these woods, from what she knew, which made even the slightest sound a cause for concern. Out from the surrounding foliage emerged a beak of some kind, then emerged the rest of the… whatever it was. There were plumes atop its head, then something akin to a lion's mane composed of flower buds and blooms around its neck. A tail, similar to stems, split in three and flicked around, leaving a faint trail of pollen from the flower at one of the ends.

Gem took a step back, notching her arrow. The creature was certainly colourful, with a coat of brown fur that looked almost like soil, with green and purple and magenta seeming to grow over it, making it a clear target in the green of the forest should she- "What're you doing there?"

Well, the archer definitely wasn't expecting that voice. Actually, she hadn't been expecting *any* voice, and that fact only made her raise her bow in preparation to aim. When the creature curiously stepped forward with what seemed no care at all, she cautiously stepped to the side. "What are you?" The archer hesitated to ask, receiving a simple, "I could ask you the same thing," in return.

"It's not everyday I see a moving sculpture," The creature continued, and Gem supposed she could see where they were coming from. The archer hummed, lowering her bow a fraction, yet didn't let herself relax quite yet. "Well it's not everyday I see a.. again, what are you?" The creature seemed to light up at the questions, stomping their feet with excitement and leaning forward. Gem realized that they seemed to have a similar stance to a roadrunner, or perhaps a raptor.

"I, PearlescentMoon-" The flowers on… PearlescentMoon seemed to open up a bit more at the announcement. "-am an onyx deer. You can call me Pearl!" The archer reclined a little at the extended handshake that accompanied the cheerful words. "Hello," She offered, rather than freeing either hand. "You can call me Gem," She supposed, and the onyx deer lit up at the revelation of a name.

"Oh, we're gonna be great friends, Gem!" Pearl beamed despite the clear attack that could come at any second, and the archer was sure they would be grinning if they were capable. "We even both have flowers! You have those pretty yellow ones on your head, and we both have all this cool moss-" And Gem sighed, but did find herself smiling a little as she finally let down her weapon when the other started walking. Maybe this could be a nice friendship, in her lonely forest.

#rodoeswritez #ask games! #inbox funbox! #anons! #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft #Gem ended up being very skeptical in this one #not exactly the most eloquent at the moment so forgive me for that but yeah!

[angstyclowns]

....dragon pair hizashi and and shouta find a cute little omega stumbling onto their hoards? Since you wanted dragon au? Also! I love you're writing!!!

YES. Also thanks alot! Y’all so so sweet and good to me.

Also again: @plainbrunettelbl is responsible for the dragon au.

Poly! Dragon! Erasermic X omega! Reader

You were lost.

plain and simple. 

You were chasing a small doe that caught your attention, even seemingly wanting to play

but you tripped on a stupid tree root

and lost the deer. 

You were more upset about loosing your new friend then your bummed knee. 

Blood dripped steadily down the wound, not fully catching your attention until you tried to stand. 

Yea, that didn’t work out. 

The minute you put any weight on it, you let out a loud chirp as you immediately were back down. 

Looking down, you swallowed whatever saliva was in your mouth before chirping again. 

But you shut your mouth at the loud roar that rang around you. 

It just hit you now that you were in dragon territory.

You were dead. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

You omega whined at the thought.

You never got the white picket fence life! You never had any pups, no family and no alpha!

Biting down another chirp, you let out a sigh before ripping off the sleeve of your dress, tying it around your knee before weakly standing. 

There was a nearby cave that seemed too low for any dragons to take refuge in, so you set your sights there.

When you did get there, you chirped loudly before you could stop it, a massive horde sitting in front of you. 

Your shock made you stumble back, falling on your tailbone as you whined. 

If you weren’t dead before, you sure are now.

There was enough gold here for two dragons!

You slowly began etching backwards only to pause as you backed into what you assumed was a wall.

Until it began moving, smoke bellowing around you. 

Looking up, you chirped loudly at the obsidian scales and red eyes glaring right back at you. 

You tried getting back up but your knee gave out as you collapsed again.

You then fell into fetal position, hoping you death was quick and as painless as possible.

A warm hand was soon placed on your shoulder, forcing you to peek up, a blond male smiling in front of you, green eyes glimmering almost as brightly as the emeralds behind you. 

“It’s okay, omega, Shouta is all bark and no bite.” He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You couldn’t control what you did next, your omega pushing you forward and into his arms. 

He only chuckled again before lifting you up and bringing you to an almost nest of soft pelts. 

A raven then came up to you, onyx eyes watching your every move before he moved to your injured knee. 

It didn’t take very long before you were bandaged as good as new, Shouta- you were guessing- taking the bloody remnants of your dress sleeve who knows where.

“You took quite a fall.” Shouta started, his voice gruff as he sat beside you, watching in interest as you didn’t shy away, only moving in closer as you hummed.

“I was chasing a deer.”

He snorted a chuckled before stretching and getting up once more. 

“Then you must be hungry, come on, Hizashi and I have some leftovers you can have. Your in no shape to go back home so you can stay with us for now.” 

You chirped happily before trying to follow him, only to start falling forward as your knee gave out once more. 

This time though, you had two alphas there to catch you.

***

***

You laughed softly to yourself at the memory of your first meeting with you alphas, absentmindedly rubbing your swollen belly with a far away glance. 

“What’s got you so happy?” Hizashi hummed happily, climbing into your nest with you, Shouta going to the other side. 

He said nothing, only pulling you closer to himself before settling down for a nap. 

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I never did catch that deer.”

#alpha bnha boys #alpha shouta aizawa #alpha shouta aizawa x omega reader #alpha present mix x omega reader #alpha present mic #alpha hizashi yamada #alpha hizashi yamada x omega reader #alpha erasermic x omega reader #poly #dragon au #alpha dragon shouta aizawa x omega reader #alpha dragon hizashi yamada x omega reader #erasermic #alpha hizashi yamada x alpha shouta aizawa x omega reader

[abruisedmuse]

Nesta groaned lacing her fingers together, stretching upwards with a restful sigh. Turning and twisting in her midnight blue comforter. Her face and mess of dark auburn tresses buried into her plush pillow. Reaching out for her husband's body. Though it wouldn’t surprise her if it was one of their toddlers instead. Still, they would receive the same touch. An arm curling around the middle and a swift peck on the check. The only difference would be how she said good morning. To their toddlers, it would be motherly full of warmth and affection. She’d run her fingers through their thick dark locks, cupping their little rosy cheeks. Until Cassian grabbed them, tickling the two and chasing them out of the bedroom. To Cassian, it would be a good morning prick which would entice him to flip her on her back. Murmuring some damned nonsense of how she loved his prick and he would show her. Or it would be her peppering kisses from his tousled hair down to the nape of his neck. He’d turn to her in a sleepy daze capturing her lips in a morning greeting.

This morning when she reached out there was nothing. No one. Not even the warmth of a body. Just a cold spot of silken sheets. She jumped up startled blue-grey eyes scanning the room for any of them. The only one in the room was her.

“Cassian?” Nesta knew it was ridiculous to call his name in a still room. If he was in the master bath she’d hear him. Loudly too. Always singing off-key or just generally making noise. No matter the time of day he seemed to hold a habit of slamming doors and cabinets, “Aidan? Audrey?” she called for their twins on the off chance they were once again hiding in the walk-in closet or under the bed. No giggles, singing, or cabinet slamming. Only silence.

Pulling the covers off, her bare feet touching the cool cherrywood flooring. Resting a hand over her three-month swollen belly as she walked towards the small black chaise next to the window. People thought they were crazy for having another while the twins were only four. They couldn’t help it and they only needed justification for themselves. Cassian and Nesta always wanted a big family. For Cassian growing up, it was only him and his mother. Things were always lonely and tight. For Nesta, it was troubling. Her mother left them with her father never bothering to contact them again. Her father did nothing but drink his days. She believed if she did nothing that he would eventually get his act together. He didn’t. He never did. Eventually, his sister took in the three girls. Elain and Feyre they loved and adored. Nesta was always pushed aside. Too much like her mother they would say. It took years later for some Illyrian idiot with a man bun crashing into her while leaving a creative writing class to melt the ice around her heart. But he did and with him, she wanted that chance. To fill her house with the laughter and love she never had. Things weren’t always easy for them, but their love and devotion to each other ran deep. Now with her successful career as a writer and his as a gym trainer with his equally successful lines of workout supplements, they had the means for that family and more.

Nesta pulled the sheer curtains apart looking down for any sight of her husband running with the kids. One twin up on his shoulders while Cassian chased the other. Possibly with him pinned to the ground and the two climbing on top of him. It didn’t matter, it was only eight in the morning. If Cassian had it his way. He would drag his wife and the kids outside the second the sun rose. They weren’t outside either. There was only one other place they could be. Nesta grabbed her charcoal robe, slipping into the sleeves and tying it loosely over her striped nightgown. She picked up a hair tie next to the cell, tying her hair in a bun while heading to the door. As she turned the knob, Nesta heard whispers through the doors and realized she should’ve checked the house first. Twisting the doorknob in her hand, silently she pulled it open.

“Daddy. What is book brinding?”

She heard Audrey ask, her shoulder-length hair still mused from sleep, thick and dark like her fathers. They all had their backs to her sitting at the dining table. Audrey on the left, Cassian in the center, and finally quiet little Aidan on the right. Nesta heard Cassian laugh at the innocent question. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned against the door frame listening to the conversation.

“Bookbinding sweetheart. See it keeps the book together like this.”

“Oooh.”

“Will mommy like it?”

“Course she will, buddy. You and your sister made it.”

“You made it too!” the twins shouted in unison. Cassian shushed them both, “Oh right,” they’re voices lowered, “You made it too,” they repeated.

“Not really. I helped with the writing and tied it. The idea, the drawings, and the pictures you chose. That’s you guys. Daddy has something else planned. She’ll like it.”

“What is it?" Audrey asked. A childlike curiosity in her voice.

"Is it your prick?" Aidan questioned. Nesta stifled a laugh watching her husband's back straighten as he froze in his movements, "You always say she likes that."

"How many conversations do you kids listen to?"

"Oh. Lots," they spoke together.

"Yeah, let's not do that. Some conversations are for mommy and daddy only."

"But what is a prick? And why does mommy like yours so much?"

It was Audrey this time who asked. Nesta didn't have to see his face to know his tanned skin was draining and turning ghost white. By her guess, it was happening quickly. Cassian was good at many things, but awkward talks with almost five-year-olds were not one of those things. Pushing off the frame, she decided to make her presence known to the three most important people in her life.

"What are we doing?" she asked, her brows arched walking towards the dining table.

All three turned around at the same time. Looking like deers in headlights. The twins gasped, throwing their small hands over a squared object on the onyx table. Both of them fussing over who was louder and caused her to wake. Saying things like mommy needs sleep for the baby. The baby won't grow if you wake her up. Cassian hushed them both, pushing the chair out to go and greet his beloved. The twins followed suit.

Although Aidan and Audrey were twins. Their looks weren't similar except for their olive-toned skin. It seemed to be a mix of Cassian and Nesta. Aidan was a spitting image of his mother. Hair a deep golden hue like her and his eyes a marbled blend of grey and blue. Like a storm on the sea. His small child features were already strong like hers, both mother and son having sharp noses. He had his father's courageous and outspoken personality, but Nesta's love of reading. Aidan held an imagination that outweighed even his sisters of magic, fairytales, and dragons. He was still dressed in his pj's. A cheesy little blue and red set that read Mommy's little super hero on the front.

Audrey, on the other hand, looked at that of her father. Hair black as night and down to her shoulders. She liked it that way with bangs. It was like Cassian and auntie Amren. Her eyes were a bright amber with flecks of green throughout. Like sunbeams breaking through rich green leaves in a forest. Lips pouty and plush like him. She too loved reading, not as much as Aidan though. Audrey had a knack for adventure. Wanting to be the princess and yet wield a blade. She had her father's free spirit and her mother's stubbornness. Audrey stood there in her white and pink polka-dotted nightgown. A heart in the center with, Mommy's sweetheart embroidered. Standing close to Cassian. A daddy's girl through and through.

Cassian who stood there in the same wardrobe as the kids. A black shirt with black and red plaid bottoms. Grinning ear to ear at her, running his hair through his thick, wavy locks. He glanced at the kids to his sides, "Why don't you get the present?" they both nodded giggling. He stepped to Nesta, hand resting on her belly, kissing her sweetly, "Happy Mothers Day Nes."

"Thank you," giving him a chaste kiss, "What are you up to? Besides gifting your prick to me."

"Only gifting if it if you want it, sweetheart. I was thinking Amren and Valerian could watch the kids. Which I already asked. They said yes. We can go for brunch, get you one of those prenatal massages you like so much.."

She hummed, curling her arms around his waist. Resting her head against his chest. Cassian ran his fingers down her spine, "What if I want it?" She crooned.

"Insatiable woman," he teased, smirking at her.

"Let's call it a pregnancy craving."

He chuckled kissing the top of her head," Whatever you say. The kids have been working on this for a week by the way."

Aidan and Audrey returned shouting to Nesta to shut her eyes. She did as requested. Cassian guided her to the couch. The twins sat next to her and Cassian sat on the edge. Nesta felt a weight in her lap.

"Happy Mothers day!" they shouted in unison. Nesta flicked her eyes open to look at the item. She gasped. Her heart full looking at her gift. A book. They made her a book. Nesta Archeron wasn't someone who cried. So far in her life, she cried three times. When Cassian proposed, when they married, and when the twins were born. Now she supposed it was time for another. She could feel her eyes brimming with wetness. Overcome with emotion.

The cover was a drawing of what she guessed was Aidan and Audrey. It was a titled Why we Love Mommy. Nesta assumed the title was Cassian. It was too forward for a child. The sides of the book were laced together in a red ribbon. She opened the first page. It was a drawing of her and Cassian while she was pregnant. If the drawing didn’t give it away the sentence stating it would have. Some pages had photos of the four of them or Just Nesta and the kids. Most page was filled with inaccurate drawings and little stick figures. She loved it anyway. The bodies of themselves and then the twins when they showed in the book were far from proportionate. On one page Nesta's legs were as long as the drawn Cassian next to her. Sometimes the twins were taller than their parents. Her favorites were the ones of Cassian with circles as muscles playing his guitar while Nesta sat on the floor. Drawn with a long-armed Aidan and a book bigger than her head. The pages had simple sentences like: We love mommy for giving us a home in her tummy, We love when daddy plays music and Mommy reads to us, We love mommy’s pancakes. She didn't even realize tears were falling when she read the last page. There was a heart messily drawn and at the bottom, it read, We love mommy cause she’s pretty and strong, and she loves daddy and us bigger than space and dragons. It was a sentence only two four-year-olds could muster. It touched her in a way she couldn’t fathom. Her touchy pregnancy hormones had gotten the best of her. By now her tears were streaming down her face. Not from sadness, but affection.

"Nes?" he questioned handing her a tissue. She took it, nodding her thanks, dabbing at her tears.

"Do you like it, mommy?" The twins asked. She wrapped her arms around her babies. Planting a loving kiss on their heads. They hugged back as tightly as their little arms could.

"Yes. I love it very much. It's my favorite book," she shared a look with Cassian, her lips trembling but her smile wide. He reached out to squeeze her hand.

*******************************************************************************

a/n: This is actually part of series called: Mother’s Day in Velaris. Which atm has two parts. Nessian and Elriel (Which I’ll repost tonight). I still need to do Feysand and it will be complete.

Over the next week or so I am transferring my fics to tumblr. I kinda prefer the tumblr platform and I am on here more than ao3. So some of the fics I will be posting, yes you may have seen before, like this one.

Taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @hizqueen4life​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @b00kworm​ @negativenesta​ @sjm-things​​ @whataboutmyfries​​ @justgiu12​​ @illyrian-bookworm​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​ @vanessa172003​​ @thewickedkings​​ @sleeping-and-books​​ @thefolkofthefic​​ @yafandomsdotnet​​ @aknymph​ @alittledribbledrabble​ @iminsanenotobsessed​ @figuredihadanodustollensofalife​ @Df3ndyr @forbiddencorvidae​

want to be on my taglist? let me know!

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #Cassian #Cassian x Nesta #nessian babies #pregnancy #kids say weird things #Daddy Cassian #insert fire emoji #sjm fandom #Acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #usernite #becca writes #sweetlyvillainous

[mrs-han]

Hello!! I see your request is open, so i was wondering could you write about jumin finding out that mc has a self harm scars? And she’s been trying not to relapse into her old habit but she’s having a hard time so it’s the only thing she can think of? Im sorry for my bad english 😅 and if you don’t want to do it, it’s okay! Don’t force yourself to write it. Thank you, oh and also i like your writings a lot! Have a good day :)

~~~

You’re too sweet, thank you so much for your request! This deals with some fairly upsetting topics!

~~~

The delicate georgette sheen from your onyx long-sleeved dress rubbed harshly against your slashed arms. Of all times to relapse, this was the worst - Jumin was a guest of honor at a new hotel inauguration, and of course, he brought you along.

Palms sweating, you pasted a friendly smile towards every patron in attendance. Frankly, you were overjoyed with your husband’s success. But with you having issues of your own... it was difficult to be in a celebratory mood.

“Mrs. Han!” A sponsor quickly made his way towards you, bringing with him several other philanthropists. Anxious, you tugged the hem of your sleeve down, experiencing a sharp pain and a subtle ooze of liquid.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” the older gentleman beamed, hand extended towards you. “I am Tanaka Sato, a close partner of your husband.”

Again, you plastered a fake smile across your mouth. You reached over to shake his hand and shuddered as pain radiated through your right arm. Unconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanaka.”

“It seems he has chosen a new aesthetic, entirely separate of C&R’s minimalistic design. Are you the inspiration behind this?” A chirpy young woman chimed in.

“I always consult with my wife before making any major decisions,” Jumin spoke affectionately, resting his hand on your waist and lightly tugging you close to him. “This project has been hers as much as it has been mine.”

Several of the woman blushed and whispered amongst themselves as the men took a subtle step back, aware of the power both you and Jumin exuded.

If only you felt as powerful as you looked.

“Jumin?” You flashed him a subtle look of desperation. “I need to freshen up, where’s the restroom?”

“Come with me, my love. Excuse us,” he smiled, his eyes bright and full of fondness for you, ignoring everyone else.

It still confused you, how he could look at you with so much love in his eyes. A whirlwind of emotion ravaged your stomach and chest every time he did it. Were you deserving? Certainly not. But he continued to gaze at you with more tenderness than Cupid’s gaze upon Psyche.

“Are you well?” He asked, the strong acoustic voice that overpowered the venue twenty minutes ago now a low, effete tone.

“I’m okay,” you lied. “I couldn’t find the bathroom, but I’ll be out in a minute or two! Go back to your guests!”

A lie was difficult to get past Han Jumin. But he kissed your temple and squeezed your arm - and you held back a mighty yelp.

There was a first time for everything.

“I’ll be waiting for you by the grand piano,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

After watching his withdrawing figure, you pushed the door to the ladies’ room open, flew to a stall and caught your breath before slowly unbuttoning the diamond buttons on your sleeves. Pain greeted you instantly as the cuts on your wrists throbbed unbearably, each laceration making up a heartbeat on their own.

Easing the sleeves up further, you winced. Dull maroon meshed with bright red, old droplets of blood met new. Unforgiving gashes punished you mercilessly, each slice reminding you of how stupid it was to relapse now, when things were so good. Why now? You were so beloved. So cherished. You had no goddamn reason to do this to yourself.

Choking back sobs, you recklessly pushed the stall door open and turned the faucet on. The water cold, you shoved your arms under and bit your lip, desperate to keep from crying out. Determined to keep your scars from discharging anymore blood, you scrubbed with the flat of your hand. The white of the porcelain sink and marble countertops, illuminated by the overhead lights, was now stained with red hues. You had to hurry before someone else came in - everyone knew your face. Anyone could report what they saw to Jumin, especially...

“MC?”

Jaehee.

Tears blurring your vision, you looked towards the door. Her eyes wide, she stood there, processing the scene before her. Hands shaking, you turned the faucet off and, trembling, faced her with what little courage you had left.

She continued to stand there, speechless. You had presented a fairly complicated situation to her, no doubt. Finally, she pressed her hand to the door. “There you are... I will let Mr. Han know.”

“No!” You bellowed. “Please, don’t!”

Conflicted, Jaehee hesitated. “Those cuts... they look serious. It’s best that I —”

“Jaehee,” you pleaded, tears falling down your chin. “Please. I’m begging you, don’t tell Jumin.”

Jaehee’s brows creased. “But MC... he’s worried about you. He’s been standing by the piano for over twenty minutes and now he is sending others to look for you... myself included.”

Overwhelmed and angry as more blood leaked from your opened gashes, you shouted at her. “He can’t see me like this!! Look at me!! Look!!”

Jaehee blinked and flinched slightly.

“I look disgusting!! My arms hurt, I... I can’t face him like this, Jaehee... please —”

“Have you found her, Assistant Kang?”

You didn’t have time to shield yourself. Jumin stepped through the threshold and froze in place. Completely exposed and frozen with fear, you stood before your husband like a deer in headlights.

A single drop of water falling into the ceramic of the sink was the only sound that could be heard.

“Leave us,” Jumin spoke to Jaehee, his voice trembling ever so slightly - his power slipping from him.

Obedient to the end, Jaehee agreed - leaving you stranded.

“What is this,” Jumin demanded, power seeping back to his voice.

You trembled. “Jumin...”

He moved closer to you. “Who did this to you?”

What did he mean...? His eyes trembled, moving back and forth between your arms and your eyes. Did he... not believe you could have done this to yourself? Did he not want to...?

You hung your head shamefully. There was no going back from this, no more hiding from him anymore. You felt mortified, embarrassed that he could see you like this. If only you could turn back time and...

“Give me your arm.”

You flinched - he was already so close to you and you didn’t hear him move. Refusing to look at him, you limply lifted your arm - his hand took hold, making you wince.

He turned the faucet on and ran his hand through the water, checking it’s temperature. “Come closer to the sink,” he hummed, easing you closer to the sink with his other hand on your lower back.

You shuddered as your husband cupped cool water over your wounds. His fingers stroked your burning cuts, making you wince and twitch - but he remained kind and gentle throughout.

What bothered you more than anything was his silence.

He remained focused - but quiet. Hot tears flooded your vision - he would think of you differently now. He could think you were crazy, or he would put you away in a mental ward. He wouldn’t want you anymore, not after this.

The silence dragged, second to second, minute to minute. Jumin patted your arm dry, still saying nothing.

“Jumin...” your voice trembled. “I... I —”

“Give me your other arm,” he spoke, a commanding yet tender tone overtaking his voice.

“Jumin...”

His eyes met with yours and you trembled under the weight of his sorrow. “Talk to me, darling. Please talk to me.”

You moved your hand over your mouth. What were you supposed to say...?

Jumin swallowed thickly. “Are you... are you unhappy with me?”

“No, no Jumin, not at all...!”

“Then...” he took a step toward you, cradling your elbows in the palms of his hand. “... talk to me. Dearest, these wounds look fresh... days old.”

“I...” you leaned against the sink, your legs wobbling. “There are days when... when I’m the happiest person in the world because I have a wonderful life... and I have you, you who loves me more than life itself... and yet... there are days when I’m so sad, so miserable with my own existence that I... I take my misery out on myself.”

Jumin’s thumbs stroked your abrasions, his touch so gentle that you lost any will to contain your tears. You leaned into him, hands close to your chest, and you wept.

“Come here,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you firmly against him. “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“Of course you are,” you whispered. “You’ve always been here...”

He cradled your face in his hands, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I want to help you, darling.” His blinked and you gasped as tears rolled down his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Jumin...”

He clutched your hands desperately, as if you would disappear without a moment’s notice. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll sit with you and we can come up with a plan for you to stop hurting yourself. I’ll shorten my schedule at work just to hear your troubles, my love. I’ll do anything, so please. Don’t leave me. Whatever is plaguing you, we can fight it together... I won’t ever leave you to fight on your own, so please. Please.”

His knuckled whitened. His hands trembled. For the first time since you met him, you witnessed your husband so desperate to keep you by his side... and you realized that you weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in a long time, you felt a link in the chains that subdued you break and shatter... all because he loved you and wanted to help you.

No he couldn’t banish your demons all together. You didn’t expect him to. But at least this time... you weren’t alone.

“Thank you,” you pipped. “I only wish you found this out later, rather than... here, now, at this very moment. I’m afraid I ruined a really important night for you...”

Jumin carefully kissed your scarred wrist. “No businessman nor any proposition will take precedent over you, my love. Now... let’s finish cleaning you up, mm?”

Through tears, you cracked your first genuine smile of the evening. “Okay.”

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x mc #Thank you for your request! #Lilac blooms remind me of the scent of your perfume ~

[crescent-quill-writings]

Feywild Fates

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 5154

Relationship: Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson

Additional Tags: Magic AU, Fantasy AU, D&D AU, Adventure & Romance, Sorcerer!Thomas Jefferson, Ranger!Marquis de Lafayette, Fluff, Only One Bed

Summary: Thomas' magic had always pulled him, always kept him searching for answers and looking for new ways to develop as a person and advance as a sorcerer. It's this same pull that takes him to the little mountain town of Whinterhavenne after hearing rumours of access to the illusive Feywilds in the area. What he doesn't expect is for it to lead him to a handsome ranger with kind eyes and a soft smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Between two snow-capped peaks was a valley warm with the vivid greens of late spring, and nestled in that valley was the quaint mountain town of Whinterhavenne. The town itself was simple, and those living in it lead equally simple lives.

What had brought Thomas Jefferson up the mountain path was not the town, but the area around it. Rumours travelled far, and word spread of hidden paths and secret gateways to the Feywilds. An average traveller would keep their head down and stick to the main roads or avoid the area entirely, but the high-elf sorcerer was no ordinary traveller.

He lowered his hood as he stepped into the market square, allowing the late afternoon sun to illuminate his thick onyx curls, pointed ears, and the sharp line of his jaw. The market was organized in a pair of rings, creating a path between them that'd allow one to browse the various wares Whinterhavenne had to offer.

Thomas wandered along between the stalls, a small smirk making his lips twitch upwards as one of the stalls caught his attention. It was draped with displays of quilts, cloaks, tapestries, and other kinds of decorated fabrics but the tabaxi with leopard spots and soft grey fur sitting behind the wooden table interested him more. He began to approach, the quiet clicking of his boots against the cobblestone pricking the shopkeeper's ears and garnering her attention.

"Well hello there, stranger! We don't get to see many elven folk all the way out here, what can I do for you today?"

Thomas gave a small smile in response, glancing over the various wares before he spoke, "I couldn't but notice all the colours you use in your wares... Do you make the dyes yourself?"

"That I do!" The tabaxi replied with a proud grin, watching as the high-elf felt the violet fabric of a cloak between his thumb and two fingers, "I gather almost all my materials from the area, including stuff for the dyes."

"Interesting," Thomas began, nodding as he looked over the cloak. He noticed a subtle pattern of roses around the edge outlined with faint golden embroidery. He had to admit, it was a very pretty piece, "They're quite exotic for a mountain town, where do you get them?"

The shopkeeper chuckled in response this time, covering her mouth with a furry paw-like hand as a little twinkle appeared in her lilac eyes, "Something tells me you already know the answer to that question, stranger..."

The high-elf smiled with a breathy laugh in response, his gaze falling to the table covered with folded quilts and rolls of fabric before the tabaxi continued.

"You're cloak, it's an elven weave, yes?" She pointed to the mauve fabric draped over the high-elf's shoulders, earning a nod in response, "I'll trade you it for the one you've been eying but you got to tell me what's gotten you so invested in Whinterhavenne's secrets. If your answer's interesting enough I'll add a pretty little pin to the deal, what do you say?"

Thomas couldn't help but smile as he mulled over the offer, giving the shopkeeper another nod in response. He had learned of tabaxi nature before and how they prefer to trade in stories and fascinating new things rather than coin. This was exactly what he had hoped for.

"You have yourself a deal, ma'am," He confirmed, and the tabaxi leaned forwards with intrigue as her eyes shined with curiosity and Thomas began to tell his tale, "I am a sorcerer and my magic... It guides my travels the same way I guide its power when casting a spell. When I heard the rumours of this place crossing over with the realm of the Fey, I could feel it pulling me towards the mountain paths. I believe it's trying to lead me to something, and so I'm searching for whatever that something is."

Once he had finished he took off his cloak with a flourish, folding up the mauve fabric and placing it on the table. The shopkeeper's eyes were still shining as she handed over the violet cloak and begun to search a small drawer for another item, "I don't get to see many brave enough to face the Feywilds out here either, good luck to you, stranger."

She then held out her closed fist, waiting until Thomas held out his open palm in turn before dropping the item into his hand. It was a golden pin with a pink, glassy orb that had a blooming rose etched in beneath the surface.

"Thank you for everything, ma'am. Oh, and I have one last question."

"Hm?"

"Do you have any good inn recommendations?"

________________________________________________________________

Thomas fiddled a bit with the rose pin as he secured his new cloak around his shoulders. It suited him quite well, though he was curious as to the kind of gemstone that decorated his new look. He rubbed his thumb in a small circle over the smooth surface of the glassy gem, casting a small identification spell.

"Rose tourmaline... Hm, interesting." He was aware of tourmaline's use in various protection charms, but the specifics of its pink variant were unknown to him.

At the very least, it was pretty.

The high-elf gave a nod to himself as he checked himself in the vanity mirror, quite satisfied with his appearance, before he stepped out of the rented room. He had already paid for a few week's worth of room and board, so he simply gave the innkeeper a curt nod and a subtle smile as he left.

The pull of his magic had only grown stronger since he arrived in Whinterhavenne, becoming something Thomas could no longer ignore. He let it become his compass and followed its directions as he made his way out of the town and found himself facing the southern peak.

"I must be close... I've never felt this way before." The sorcerer murmured as he paused where the cobblestone roads shifted into dirt pathways. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves and calming the fluttering butterflies in his chest before he continued onwards, determined to find the source of what had been calling for him as long as he could remember.

He continued forward, following the path up the side of the valley and into the forest that climbed up the side of the mountain. At some point, the dirt path faded into flattened grass of deer-trails, and it was here that Thomas felt the pull shift inside him to guide him in another direction. He hesitated for a moment, trying to peer through the trees to get a good look at the wilderness he was being led into before he took his first step off the beaten path.

Thomas tried not to trip over the tangled roots that hid beneath soft mounds of moss as he pushed his way through the trees and held his cloak close to his body so it wouldn't snag on any of the needle-covered branches of the pines he passed. He lifted the violet fabric higher as he stepped over a mushroom dotted log, but when he boots met the mossy turf on the other side a shift inside the sorcerer made him pause.

The pull of his magic had always been consistent, a steady, pointed force that guided him along the paths he took. Now it was concentrated, buzzing presence within his chest that felt like a compass gone haywire after being held too close to a magnet.

"What on earth...?" He muttered, placing one of his hands to his chest. He looked behind him, hesitating for a moment before he steeled his nerves and turned to the path ahead.

If he was to find his way on his own, then so be it.

Thomas marched forwards into the forest with a determined furrow in his brow. The deeper he went the harder it was to ignore the arcane aura of the place that was thickening with each step, "This must be the Feywilds then..."

The forest wouldn't have seemed any different to the high-elf if it were not for the nearly suffocating presence of pure magic, but this did not surprise him. He knew that the Fair Folk liked their illusions and used them most to protect their realm from the prying eyes of outsiders. He wasn't worried. He was a sorcerer, after all: he'd find a way to break through.

All of a sudden Thomas was met with the sound of high-pitched, mournful wailing. The sound sent a shiver down his spine and forced him to pause his determined march to search for the source of the crying. Through the trees ahead of him, he could make out the figure of a woman in a clearing just ahead of him. The high-elf began to approach, ducking a bit and keeping his steps as quiet as he could to try and get closer.

Standing just within the treeline he could make out more details of this mysterious woman. Her back was turned so the sorcerer wasn't able to make out her face, but he was able to see her stark white hair that reached just below her knees and the faded, sickly sea green hues of her tattered dress.

Thomas stepped into the clearing, concerned but also untrusting of the mysterious woman before him. He was only a few feet away when his heel met a stray twig in the grass. The resounding sharp snap! put a sudden stop to the woman's wailing, and she slowly lifted her head from her hands before suddenly whipping around with a howling screech.

This was not a woman, but a Banshee, a foreteller of death. It seemed like Thomas was to be the next victim.

Despite his efforts to brace himself against the assault of the sound, he couldn't stop the feeling of needles digging into his mind or how the screech melded into the high-pitched ringing of his own ears.

Gritting his teeth, forcing himself to pull his hands away from his ears so he could face his enemy. He weaved arcane energy between his fingers and conjured ten small yet radiant stars that moved to hover in rings around his wrists. The sorcerer sent a pair of the stars flying towards the banshee, streaking through the air like comments in the sky and bursting into bright sparks of celestial energy upon collision with the fey creature. She screeched again from the impacts, the sound piercing into the high-elf's mind again.

Thomas was about to send another pair of stars in a volley towards the Banshee, but she got to make her second attack first. She lifted off the ground, arms out by her sides and let out another horrid screech that cast the sorcerer into arcane darkness. He could barely make out the little stars that orbited his wrists and luckily his feet were still on solid ground, but still only able to hear the Banshee's ringing shriek and being shrowd in the darkness he was left entirely defenceless.

The fey creature let out another shriek, this one causing the high-elf's heart to seize with fear as he dropped to his knees. Beginning to hyperventilate he pressed his hands to his ears and dug his nails into his scalp, desperate for relief from the sound piercing through his skull.

Suddenly there was a bright sphere of light cast into the arena, hovering about six feet above Thomas' head. He had to blink against the sudden brightness that washed away the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the new light just in time to see a pair of arrows pierce into the Banshee's throat and chest.

She was still standing and hissing at the new foe, but with her throat pierced she could no longer shriek. While his ears were still ringing the relief he felt as the needles piercing his mind was immense. The sorcerer was able to steel his nerves again and push himself up into a kneeling position and send the rest of the starts shooting at the fey creature.

In barely a moment, the situation turned from hopeless to triumphant as the Banshee fell to the ground and began to dissipate into an ashy mist.

Thomas let himself take a deep breath as he rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the spikes of pain in his head before a hand was placed on his shoulder. He couldn't help but jump despite the gentle touch. Quickly looking up to face the stranger, he focused on their words through the dull ringing the remained in his ears.

"Monsieur... Monsieur sorcier! Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

He managed a nod in response, taking the stranger's outstretched hand, "Yes, I think I am... Thank you, sir."

"That is good to hear," The stranger began with a soft smile that reflected in his kind eyes as he helped Thomas to his feet, "I have been tracking that Banshee for about a week now, hoping to kill it before it caused problems in the town... I am sorry she got to you first."

"No, really, it's alright. I'm just glad you got here." The high-elf replied as he brushed himself off and straightened his cloak before looking to his rescuer. Thomas would've disregarded the copper tone of his skin were it not for its subtle metallic lustre and the thin, tapered points of his ears, "You... You're a wood-elf, aren't you? No wonder you are such an excellent ranger..."

"That I am, yes," The ranger replied with a small laugh and a smile that crinkled around his eyes, "I should be saying the same about you, Monsieur sorcier. Only a high-elf could cast spells as swiftly and elegantly as you."

Thomas couldn't help but smile at the wood-elf's words before he extended a hand as he introduced himself, "My name is Thomas Jefferson, though please, just call me Thomas."

"I have many names, though the townspeople here call me Lafayette. It is very nice to meet you, Thomas." Lafayette replied with a brighter smile, moving to wrap an arm around the high-elf's shoulders and pull him closer.

He would've appreciated the friendly action were it not for the spikes of pain the sudden jostled movement sent shooting through his skull.

"Oh, Dieu... I am sorry, mon ami, I forgot that Banshee's shrieking gives terrible headaches." The ranger murmured, cupping the sorcerer's cheek for a moment with a small frown like he could see the psychic damages down to Thomas' mind, "Why don't you come back to my cottage with me? I'll make us some lavender tea with honey, it should help fix you up!"

"Well, if you insist... By all means, lead the way."

________________________________________________________________

The path that Lafayette led them through was strange, to say the least. It winded through the trees, shifted between wading through pools of thick ferns and treading over soft carpets of moss, and definitely doubled back on itself more than once. Though Thomas was cautious of the twilight realm he had wandered into, the ranger's cheery confidence was too contagious for him to really be worried.

When they reached a stream bridged with a fallen log, the sorcerer had to pause. The looping rings of mushrooms over the log seemed to line up with a strange veil in the air, and if he squinted Thomas could almost make out faded shapes on the other side.

He opened his mouth to question the strange sight, but Lafayette had already started to answer as he hopped up on the log and extended his hand.

"My home is just on the other side of this stream, but it'd be best if you stayed close and held on to me, Thomas. Borders are tricky in these lands; the wild loves to welcome newcomers but rarely will it let them go without a guide."

"Ah, I see. I am very glad to have someone like you by my side, then." The sorcerer replied, taking hold of the wood-elf's hand and carefully stepping up onto the log next to him.

Lafayette's smile turned warm and bashful from the compliment, a quiet giggle escaping him before he turns and leads them across the mushroom dotted bridge.

Thomas couldn't help but hold his breath as he followed behind the ranger with careful steps, giving his hand a squeeze as he pushed through the illusory veil and the wild whirling of his magic chest finally settled to pulse along with his heartbeat.

He couldn't help but sigh in relief as he stepped off the log and onto the soft grass of a meadow, pausing for a moment to take in the new space.

The stream they had just crossed followed along the treeline for a little while before turning into the meadow and lazily winding through the grass before it reached a small pond. Directly ahead were a few smooth stepping stones pressed into the soft soil that led up to a cottage. It was a small, but quaint and fit right in with the peaceful scenery. The sorcerer couldn't help but think it'd make for a perfect place to study.

"You have a very wonderful little home... Do you live out here by yourself?"

"Yes, I do," Lafayette replied with a small nod, still holding onto Thomas' hand as he led him over the stepping stones and to the front door, "Not many are willing to live so close to the Feywilds as I do, and Elvish lifespans make relationships a little tricky."

The high-elf hummed quietly in response, unsure of what to say as the ranger unlocked the door and welcomed him inside.

The interior was just as quaint as the exterior, with a kitchen filled with fresh herbs, fruits, vegetables, and flowers to the left and a little living room with a small table set up next to the fireplace. Just against the far wall was a ladder that led up to a loft space he could only assume was where the wood-elf slept.

"Make yourself at home! I'll bring you the tea I promised in just a moment." Lafayette explained with a shining little smile before he went to put a kettle on the stove.

Thomas nodded with another hum, glancing around the space as he walks into the living room and quietly kneels down on one of the square cushions set next to the table. He couldn't help but smile at the homey space, already finding wondering if he could stay the night, "It's much more comfortable than the inn, anyhow..."

"Hm? Did you say something?" The wood-elf questioned with an innocent little tilt of his head as he set down a tray with a simple tea set on the table and knelt on the other cushion across from Thomas.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just muttering," The high-elf replied with a small wave of his hand, not wanting to impose as the ranger poured two cups of tea and added a swirl of tea to each.

He took the cup with a thankful nod, breathing in the gentle scent and letting a wider smile spread across his lips as he took a sip. Already the soft sweetness of the tea helped restore him after the beating he took from the Banshee.

"I see you are enjoying yourself," Lafayette commented with another one of his little giggles that graced his expression with a shining kindness, "I am glad. It is my own special blend of tea and it always helps me to unwind after a hard day..."

After another small hum in response from the sorcerer, a comfortable silence fell between the two elves, both simply allowing the tea to soothe their bodies and minds after an adventure. Eventually, Thomas took in a breath and ended the peaceful quiet with his words.

"There are many things I wish to know about you, though I'd hate to impose by bombarding you with too many questions," He began, setting down his teacup for a minute to meet Lafayette's eye, "But I must know, how are you so familiar with the Feywilds? From everything I've read the place is unnavigable by those who aren't within the Seelie or Unseelie courts..."

For a moment the wood-elf's eyes were misted with a sort of sadness that made Thomas wonder if he had done something wrong as Lafayette replied, "It is alright, mon ami, I expected you to at least be a little curious..." He murmured, pausing as he closed his eyes and took another sip of his tea before his smile and shining kindness returned to his face, "The details of my story are complicated and I do not wish to bore you, but when I was very young I managed to wander into the Feywilds on my own while searching for my mother's favourite flowers. I was very lucky to run into a very sweet queen of the Seelie courts who helped me find the flowers and then returned me home... Later on in life, she sheltered me when I had no other place to turn, and I learned how to navigate the wilds under her care."

"I... I see." Thomas said quietly, looking away and down from the ranger's face as his fingers tapped nervously against the side of the teacup, "I'm sorry, I don't really know what else to say."

"It is alright, mon ami, I expected this sort of reaction as well." Lafayette replied with a small shake of his head, offering the high-elf a reassuring smile, "But I think it is fair I get to ask you a question now, yes? So what brings a man like you all the way out here to the little town of Whinterhavenne? You don't seem like one to wander into the Feywilds on accident, were you looking for something? Someone?"

The sorcerer couldn't help but smile at all of the wood-elf's innocent little questions and the way he tilted his head and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on the table and create a perch for his chin with his folded hands.

Just how could he say no to a face like that?

"The answer is... A little bit complicated, I'll admit, so I'll do my best to answer succinctly but-" He took a quick sip of his tea- "As a sorcerer, I've always had an interesting relationship with magic. Magic doesn't like to stay quiet or to be kept hidden away behind theoretical lock and key, and with as strong as mine is I've always felt this sort of pull. I think it's trying to test me, making me travel and see what I learn and how I grow to know if I'm worthy of its power. I think the Feywilds were another test, though..."

As Thomas trailed off his brow furrowed and a concentrated frown spread across his expression. He placed a hand on his chest, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers into the muscle like he was searching for something inside him.

"Is something the matter?" Lafayette asked cautiously, already having sat up and ready to leap into action if the sorcerer needed help, "Are you alright?"

"No, no... I'm fine, it's just," Thomas began, stopping himself with a short sigh and blinking a few times before continuing, "The pull, it's not there. It's different, I don't know-"

He stopped himself again, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He lifted a hand and conjured a chromatic orb in his palm. He made sure to carefully watch the energy inside shift from crackling blue sparks to whirling frost-bitten winds and then to fluttering ashes and embers. Anxieties quelled, he closed his fist and allowed the spell to harmlessly dissipate.

"My magic is still there, but it's not pulling it's just... There. It's pulsing a little, but it's following right along with my heart I hardly noticed it." The high-elf trailed off again, lowering his hand and taking hold of his teacup. He felt lucky its contents were so calming.

The wood-elf frowned, tilting his head as he contemplated his next words, "Maybe this is a good thing, maybe it means you are worthy like you said."

"Pardon?"

"You still have your magic, yes?" Lafayette began again, a contagious little sparkled shining in his eyes as he began to smile, "Yet you are no longer being pulled by it so it can test you, so that must mean you are worthy!"

Thomas couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at how joyous the ranger was in explaining his little epiphany. He really was something, "I can't be sure, but I hope that you are right. You're a very kind man, Lafayette... Thank you."

The ranger only smiled more in response with a small shake of his head, lifting a hand as if to say, "There is no need to thank me," before he takes hold of his teacup. The little action made the sorcerer smile as he followed suit, moving to take a sip of his own sweet, soothing liquid.

The moment was peaceful, both having shared a small part of themselves and found comfort in the presence of the other. The calm might've stayed forever if Lafayette hadn't caught a glimpse of the setting sun through the window.

"Oh dear, is it really this late already?" He questioned, sitting up straight before frowning a little and looking to Thomas, "I am sorry, mon ami, I meant to take you back to town but it looks like you will have to stay the night."

"Really, it's alright," Thomas replied with a small smile and a shake of his head, "I don't mind spending the night. You have quite a nice place, actually."

He watched as Lafayette nodded with a little smile of his own, then standing and taking the dishes to place them in the kitchen sink, "I'll admit, I do take pride in my little home. If you like it too, I won't mind giving you my bed." The wood-elf offered a playful wink to punctuate his sentence with.

Though the sorcerer's heart fluttered at the little action, he still stopped him as he began to pull out spare blankets, "Really, Lafayette, I can't take your own bed away from you. The floor by the fire will be just fine for me."

"Non, mon ami, I must insist. Take the bed, you need a good rest after today-"

"- Which is why I can't let my hero sleep on the floor in their own home, I was raised better than that."

With only one bed and the elven pair insisting that the other have it, there was only one outcome where they'd both be happy.

"I guess that leaves us with no other choice then; we will share the bed!" The ranger announces with an innocent smile and a clap of his hands, startling the sorcerer.

"What?"

"It will be like a sleepover! I have many fond memories of having friends overnight." Lafayette adds with a little laugh as he takes the high-elf by the hand.

"I suppose..." Thomas murmured, unable to bring himself to deny such a sweet offer when Lafayette seemed so excited by it.

The ranger was able to scale the ladder with just a few leaping steps, no doubt a perk of spending all your time in the forested Feywilds. The sorcerer, on the other hand, was much more cautious with his steps as he climbed up the home-made structure.

The loft was just tall enough for the elven pair to be able to stand up in, and many of the decorative themes in the rest of the house carried into the cozy space. Still, Thomas couldn't help but blink at the sheer volume of warm quilts and soft blankets strewn over and around the mattress that was set into the floor.

"You have... Quite the collection. Is this a hobby of yours?" He asked as he slipped off his shows and unclipped his cloak from around his neck.

Lafayette chuckled a little in response as he shook his head, "Non, they are gifts. Back in town, the resident weaver is a very sweet tabaxi, you might have met her. I help her find flowers for dyes, and she often gives me some of the things she makes in thanks."

"Ah, yes, I did meet her," The high-elf replies as he sets his boots in a little corner and begins to fold his cloak, "She gave me clues on where to find the Feywilds in exchange for my story. She's also the one I bought this cloak from."

"That certainly sounds like her..." The wood-elf replied with a nod as he begins to settle into bed, "I'll have to thank her soon. Now, it is time for bed mon ami, come." He added with a smile, lifting part of the layered quilts and patting the space next to him.

Thomas couldn't help but smile at the sweet little action, allowing himself to get comfortable without taking up too much of Lafayette's space, "Thank you for everything today, Lafayette, goodnight."

"It was my pleasure, mon ami... Bonne nuit."

________________________________________________________________

It wasn't long after dawn when Thomas next opened his eyes, making an "Mmnff," sound under his breath. He rolled over in bed, blinking when he came face to face with a butterfly resting on his pillow. Curious, he lifted his head and reached for the little creature, only for it to flutter away and rest on Lafayette's cheek.

The wood-elf was actually covered in many butterflies, each glittering with their own exotic patterns and colours. It made the high-elf smile to see such a gorgeous man in the company of beautiful little creatures. Somewhere in his sleepy mind, Thomas remembered Fey liking to give cute little gifts like to the ones they favour.

One of the butterflies came gliding over from where it was fluttering between Lafayette's curls and landed on the high-elf's shoulder. It was lavender with silvery speckles that reminded him of the first stars that appeared just after sunset. It made him smile, "How sweet..."

Thomas shifted a little bit, lifting an arm and carefully wrapping it around the wood-elf's waist. The butterflies moved to allow for the action, and in turn, Lafayette snuggled closer and pressed his nose into the high-elf's chest.

His heart fluttered at the sleepy affection as more butterflies landed across his shoulders and in his curls. Thomas began to close his eyes, letting out a quiet hum as he settled back into sleep.

His magic had always pulled him, taking him places and presenting him with situations where he could test his abilities. He was always moving, never being able to stay in one place for long before the pull became too much to ignore and he was made to follow it again. Now it was calm, following along with his heart, and his heart told him to stay right where he was.

#Lafferson #Thomas Jefferson #Marquis de Lafayette #Magic AU #Fantasy AU #D&D AU #Sorcerer!Thomas #Ranger!Lafayette #Fluff #Fey #Only One Bed #my writing

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Colors ch.22: Onyx

(A Spicyhoney ‘The Village’ AU)

The story so far:

Crimson | Yellow | Blue | Blush | Sallow | Russet | Spice | Whiteout

Sable | Blue on Black | Midnight | Ebony Falling | Golden

Magenta | Marigold | Coquelicot | Daffodil | Verdigris | Honey | Scarlet

Alstroemeria

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Read ‘Onyx’ on AO3

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Read More Here!

~~*~~

The next morning, Rus woke to find Banquo sitting in the entryway to their room, peering in hopefully. His tail began wagging slowly as Rus blinked at him blearily, trying to sort out his early morning thoughts enough to explain the sight before him.

Visitors, yes, they had guests staying with them and Rus was more glad than ever he hadn’t allowed Edge to persuade him into any shenanigans, as he often ended up sleeping naked after and that was not a view he wished to offer any of their guests, much less one who in the village would still be in stripes.

“hello,” Rus whispered loudly, still muzzy with sleep. Then realizing the boy couldn’t understand him, “good morning.”

“Morning, yes, yes!” Banquo whispered happily, then with pitiful hope, “breakfast?”

“hm? oh!” Rus sat up quickly, even as Edge mumbled a discontented noise next to him. His husband’s sleeping dismay would have to wait, they had guests and boys were often hungry. He could still remember his days of devouring whatever his brother put on a plate and begging for seconds. “breakfast. yes.”

Banquo didn’t seem inclined to leave while Rus dressed and Rus didn’t quite know how to ask him, so instead he pulled Edge’s oldest cloak back on over his nightshirt in a sort of robe and headed out.

Fry cakes sounded tasty this morning and they were easy to mix up as well. Rus wasn’t accustomed to having an audience while he cooked other than Edge, but Banquo was an attentive observer, watching with curious, rounded eyes as Rus stirred up a thin batter and poured it out on the heated stone.

They still weren’t as good as his brother’s, but trial and error taught Rus to make a light, tasty cake. He stacked them on the edge of the stone to keep warm until he had a half dozen cakes, then set them into one of their carved wooden bowls. He spooned some stewed dried fruit over the cakes, drizzling the thickened syrup and handed the first serving to Banquo. He sniffed at the bowl curiously, tongue cautiously poking out to explore.

The taste seemed to be to his liking. He buried his face into the bowl, eating messily, and Rus could only smile, frying up more cakes. The smell of it would likely wake Edge, and their guests proved just as attentive, for soon after Britta joined them. From her narrow look at her son, followed by his shamefaced grin, Rus suspected that he wasn’t supposed to be off begging for his morning meal. Between the two of them, breakfast was quickly made and carried back to the parlor where Edge and Mathon were already sitting, each accepting a dish with flattering gratitude.

That morning seemed to set the tone for the day, all of them gathered into the parlor for visiting and meals.

It was nice to have guests, in a way Rus never knew it in the village. People often came to their house, but it was usually only briefly and their greetings to Rus perfunctory; after all, those with ill or hurt family members hardly wished to stand around and gossip.

Even when they did have real visitors, they were always there to see Blue. The ladies coming by on baking days or those who owed Blue favors stopping in to offer help around their homestead.

The closest Rus had to a true visit was the time Emma came by and that was a thought he’d best not linger on. It was enough that Mathon’s family reminded him so much of Dogamy’s, merely thinking of Emma and her friendship, her kindness, made his sockets sting.

Rus pushed the thought aside firmly, determined to enjoy the visitors that he had.

Never in his life had he been able to sit with others like this. Britta had brought along a cunning lap loom and worked on a panel to one of those lovely blankets that were scattered around their home as she chatted about recipes, the season, the weather as they traveled yesterday. Rus’s knowledge of their language was far from complete, and he ruefully understood now what Edge meant about listening being easier than speaking. At least he could mostly fill in around the words he couldn’t place in his head, but everything he said needed carefully chosen to be sure it made sense.

Not that Britta minded. When he accidentally asked if she slept outside instead of if she’d slept well, she let out a peal of laughter and corrected him. It was hardly the first time anyone laughed at Rus, but it was the first time he felt as though a person was laughing with him, not at him, and her humor was not mean-spirited.

Edge spent a long time talking to Mathon and their words Rus understood even less. They were going over maps similar to the one Edge gave him before, only much larger and painted with astonishing intricacy. He’d seen enough of Edge’s painting skills by now to know that it was his work, done in a much finer hand than he used for their wall paintings. They were discussing something about travels and other members of their...clan? Rus wasn’t certain of the word and it hardly mattered if he was. The only ones he’d met thus far were the Wolf who'd come to them for healing and Mathon’s family. He could hardly ask after the health of any others.

Even if Rus didn’t always understand what they were saying, having them here was a wonder, helping his vocabulary grow in leaps and bounds. Edge was an excellent teacher, but he wasn’t precisely chatty, or at least not in the way that Britta was.

She’d brought along a few skeins of that colorful yarn for Rus, gifting them to him and laughing softly while he fumbled for gratitude. It was unlike anything he’d ever used before. It wasn’t wool, the gauge was softer and much finer, and when he drew out his knitting needles to try it, Britta watched curiously, leaning in closely to see how it was done.

Rus swiftly knitted a couple of simple rows to show her. She fingered the weave, intrigued, then asked, “Teach me?”

“yes,” Rus agreed, more than pleased to have at least one skill worth trading. He handed the needles over and Britta slowly followed his direction, coming up with a somewhat uneven row of her own. Her confidence grew quickly and soon Rus left her to it.

Banquo’s tail thumped hopefully when Rus called him over to the checkerboard. The boy had been very well behaved, wandering back and forth from father to mother as he listened to all their talk without interrupting. In between, he sat by one of the warming walls, whittling on what looked to be a shaping into a ferocious creature of some sort. But Rus well remembered what it felt like to be left to the side and hoped to keep his youngest guest from feeling lonely.

Choosing his words carefully, Rus explained the game as he set out the pieces. Despite his imperfect words, the lad was clever and caught on to the rules quickly and though Rus was not one to throw a game to spare feelings, Banquo only laughed when he lost, resetting the board for another round. Rather unlike Rus’s agemates back at the village who often sulked whenever Rus beat them at any games.

It was, Rus thought, a lovely day, filled with laughter and company and the only snare to catch at it was just after luncheon, when Mathon brought out a sack and set it before Rus.

From it he withdrew a deer skull, small antlers rising from it.

“For your --” Mathon explained and though Rus didn’t understand the word, realization came with stunning clarity. They wished to make for him a mask of the like Edge wore, that they all wore when roaming out in the woods.

The beat of his soul rose up, pounding in his hearing and Rus glanced wildly at Edge. Who only met his gaze calmly, offering no indication of his thoughts on the matter. He suspected if he declined, Edge would say nothing, perhaps even stand by him if Mathon insisted and yet...

He was a part of this strange, wonderful world now. This was to be his life going forward. He was truly never going back to the village, never returning to his small room at the top of the stairs, never spending evenings with Blue, knitting while his brother read him the village newsletters.

But also, he would never again be trapped by the Elder’s rules or words, their lies, never fearful of being hurt or banished for showing his magic. Never be without Edge’s love, his care, his gentle touch and his warm smile.

The emotion in his soul was a briar patch, tangled grief and elation, but Rus only lifted his chin and nodded. In truth, he’d made his choice some time ago; perhaps his fate had been sealed the very first time he’d set foot in these woods.

Mathon grinned in doggish fashion and lifted the skull, moving to settle it atop Rus’s own. He’d expected it to be uncomfortable, the bones scraping against each other, but to his surprise the inside of the deer skull was already carefully lined with soft leather, well-cushioned. A series of rawhide ties were attached and Mathon fussed over them, moving and tightening them until the fit was a good one. Finally, he stepped back with a satisfied sound and Rus lifted his hands, cautiously feeling the face covering his own.

It was heavier than he expected, though surprisingly comfortable and the crisscrossed straps holding it in place would be covered by the hood of a cloak. There were no mirrors here, but Rus stood and went to the bathing cave, peering down at himself in the reflection of the water.

His own pale eye lights peered back out from an unknown face, the small antlers rising up above his skull. Once, Rus might have been terrified to see such a thing, as he’d seen Edge so long ago, a blank face coming towards him in the woods.

He couldn’t say what he felt now, his emotions were too wrought, but he thought it might be something like gratitude. Mathon thought he belonged here and was offering Rus a place in this world. A place where he could belong.

He went back to the parlor to find them all waiting expectantly, and Rus couldn’t help but see Edge seemed particularly anxious. Rus pushed up the mask, let it settle on top of his skull the same as Edge often did, and gave a smile to them all, “thank you. it is well.”

Laughter and sounds of cheer rounded the room and Edge visibly relaxed, a faint smile of his own touching his mouth. Rus drew the mask off entirely to get a better look at it. The bone was sun-bleached, and Rus realized there were carvings around the sockets. The craftsmanship was amazing, each symbol neatly done. Some were a match to the ones on his gloves, Edge’s name, he knew, and he traced them lightly. Others were unknown to him; he’d ask Edge later what they meant.

“why a deer?” Rus mused softly, to himself. “why not, say, bear or a bobcat?” For Edge's mask held fierce teeth, as did the ones for Mathon’s family, more ferocious than the ones in their very own heads.

A smothered sound of amusement came from his husband and he gave Edge a startled, questioning look. Edge took his hand and drew it up, pressing a light kiss to the slender bones and his words fell lightly as he said, “Rus, my soul, you are no bear.”

Ah, well, that was a fair point. He supposed a deer did suit him better. Before he could set the mask aside, Britta had him by the arm, pulling him towards the cave entrance.

“And now we can go outside!” she said happily.

Edge sat up very straight at that, unease falling over his face, but Britta shushed his concerns before they could even be spoken.

“He needs fresh air! We won’t go far!” She laughed, shooing him back with one careless hand. “You can smother him with love when we get back.”

Rus looked at Edge entreatingly, a blush heating his face at the thought of being smothered in love, and he sighed, gesturing Rus away. Excitedly, Rus followed her out, eager to venture outside. He bundled into his cloak and boots while Britta and Banquo did the same, and settled the mask over his face as he truly ventured out for the first time since he’d arrived.

True to her word, they didn’t go far, only waded through the snow to the tree line while Banquo loped along beside them. The fresh, clean air was briskly cold, invigorating, and Rus tipped up his mask to gulp it in. The sun was high overhead, pouring light down to glitter across the snow, the smooth drifts broken by Banquo as he laughingly tore through them. Britta tipped up her mask as well, her mouth opened in a doggish smile as she watched her son play.

To his shock, Britta took out a small pipe, very similar to the ones some of the men at the village used. None of the ladies would ever have carried one and Blue scoffed at them as well, saying more than once that no sort of smoke ever did much for anyone’s health.

Unlike the men of the village, she lit the pipe with a flick of her fingers, proving her skills akin to Edge’s and his own when it came to magic. She puffed complacently, watching as her son tore through the snow, filling the still air with his happy barking. Though Rus did try not to stare, Britta caught him watching and perhaps she mistook his astonishment for interest.

“Here,” she offered him the pipe, urging him to take it. Uncertainly, Rus did, holding it by the mouthpiece awkwardly. It was a rather lovely piece of work, carefully carved with symbols similar to the ones that graced his gloves. “Very good! You try?”

Memories of his brother scolding the sins of smoking were close to the surface of his mind, but they wisped away as he stood there contemplating it. Surely a single try couldn't hurt too terribly, and it seemed so very rude to refuse.

Before he could persuade himself out of it, Rus lifted the pipe and inhaled deeply. And then promptly coughed the smoke back out, nearly gagging with the force of it.

Britta laughed and pounded him good-naturedly on the back until he caught his breath. The taste wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but the burn of the smoke certainly was. How was it that those who actually had lungs could stand it?

He hastily declined when Britta held out the pipe again, content to take in the fresh air untainted. Except as they stood there, Rus began to feel a bit peculiar. His mind felt fluffy and pleasantly dizzied, and when Britta caught his arm to lead him back inside, Rus nearly toppled into the snow, a giggle bubbling up from nowhere as he caught his wobbly balance.

Somehow, he managed to follow her back into the cave, haphazardly shedding his outdoor clothes into a pile before making his way to the parlor. Edge was sitting, talking with Mathon and his crimson eye lights widened as Rus went to him. Suddenly, all he wished for was to be close to his husband and his clouded mind couldn’t offer a single reason why he shouldn’t, instead urging him to boldly settle into his lap while a startled Edge caught hold of him.

“hmmm, you’re warm,” Rus sighed happily. He buried his face against Edge’s neck, seeking more of that lovely warmth and then it occurred to him that those strong bones were deliciously attractive. He pressed his teeth to Edge’s cervical vertebrae, felt him jerk as Rus mouthed them, curling his tongue around those powerful, delectable bones.

To his dismay, Edge took him by the shoulders and forcibly pushed him back, looking at him with a narrow gaze. That same look was cast suspiciously to Britta, who looked amusedly abashed, and just as an inkling that he might have done something wrong began to trickle unhappily through the fog of Rus’s thoughts, Edge leaned in and gave him a gentle, chaste kiss before murmuring sternly, “No, no, no.”

Rus let out an unsteady laugh. “no from you? that’s a first.”

To his bleary delight, Edge’s cheek bones actually pinked with a lovely, rosy color. But he shook his head firmly, tucking Rus against his side and did not allow for any wandering hands to explore beneath his tunic, more’s the pity.

By the time the dinner hour came around, Rus’s thoughts were somewhat cleared, enough that he could only recall his scandalous actions with blushing horror. But he stayed at Edge’s side, guilty enjoying being curled against him while Britta served up stewed venison for supper. His first mouthful brought up a memory of his mask and he wondered if there was some inference here or if it was merely coincidence that deer was on the menu. Asking seemed past his meager language skills and so Rus only ate his portion, thanking Britta shamefully and profusely for cooking

It was delicious, spiced and rich, and yet. Halfway through his bowl, he was abruptly struck with how different this was from his brother’s cooking and with that thought came a peculiar melancholy. Sorrow settled over him in a thick, inescapable blanket and suddenly all Rus could think of was his brother. His entire life, Blue had been there for him, caring for him and now he couldn’t even see him and--

But Mathon’s family had traveled through the snow. Traveled all the way from their cozy home to here without a single troublesome problem.

Nausea rose and with shaky hands, Rus set his bowl aside, drawing unsteadily away from Edge who cast him a look of concern. “Excuse me,” Rus said aloud, forgetting that the words wouldn’t be understood as he fled the room for their own.

The wide bed and open space still seemed too much, and Rus crept into the smaller cave where Edge kept his clothing, curling up on the floor as the whirl of his thoughts overwhelmed him. Edge’s reasoning for not visiting Blue was that traveling was dangerous, and yet he’d gone himself to Mathon’s home, brought them back to visit. Why was that safer, was it that the route was better traveled? Was the path a shorter one? Or was it something else entirely, was Edge keeping something from him, how could that be and yet—

“Rus?”

Rus jerked hard to see Edge crouching next to him, reaching towards him but not touching. That nausea rose again and Rus shuddered, cringing away. But Edge did not touch, did not force, as he never had. He only urged Rus, gently, “Breathe deeply, it will pass.”

But it wasn’t illness that had him glaring at his husband. Rus met those concerned crimson eye lights with a furious gaze and demanded, “why is it they could travel here to see us, but we can’t travel to the village to see my brother?”

A complicated expression briefly crossed Edge’s face, settling on bland calm, and Rus did not quite resist as Edge gently cupped his cheek bone in a warm hand, “Your thoughts are not your own tonight. We talk tomorrow on this.”

That was not a truth that Rus could deny, and it deflated his temper, leaving him unsettled. The effect of the pipe smoke did still linger, it was true, and he allowed Edge to draw him back out, taking in slow, deep breaths at his urging until his nausea settled.

The two of them returned to the parlor where Britta waited worriedly, “You are well?”

“I think pipe weed is not for him,” Edge said dryly.

Britta’s abashed grin was nonetheless wide, “No, only beginner’s folly.”

If that was so, Rus was content to stay an amateur. He did feel well enough to help Britta with cleaning up, listening to her easy chatter and she seemed not to blame him for his embarrassing brashness earlier. By the time they finished, Banquo was yawning, blinking sleepily as his mother ruffled his ears gently. She and her son bid Rus good night and went to gather Mathon, and Rus slowly went to his own rooms, his thoughts still awhirl.

Yet it wasn’t irksome thoughts troubling him, it was something else entirely. Perhaps it was the pipe smoke rousing him, perhaps it was simply that he’d grown accustomed to nightly relations with his husband. In any case, tonight Rus found he was far less concerned with their guests overhearing them.

He slipped off the threadbare crimson cloak he was still wearing and with some effort, he managed to tack it up over the entrance to their bedroom in a sort of curtain that may at least keep curious pups from simply wandering in. He was just finishing as Edge came in, taking in their new door covering with curious wariness.

Rus didn’t allow him time to question nor protest, only pulled him down into a heated kiss, one that was eagerly returned after a startled pause. At this moment, Rus wanted to not think about anything but the feel of Edge in his arms and hopefully other places that craved his touch.

They undressed between kisses, clothes tossed carelessly aside, and Rus was helpless to stifle his eager groans, muffling them instead against Edge’s equally enthusiastic mouth. In no time, Edge was pulling him to the piles of blankets and furs that made up their bed, but when Edge drew him down, Rus was confused to be settled atop him, between Edge’s spread femurs.

A hesitant squirm revealed not the familiar hard length of his shaft but instead soft, inviting folds, slickened with the evidence of his desire.

“you...you want me to…” Rus stammered, promptly forgetting everything he knew of Edge’s language. Certainly he would have been the penetrating partner if it were a lady that took his fancy, but as one who could bear and seed, he was expected to be the one receiving if he were with a gentleman...except...except Edge was like him, it seemed. Able to give and take, and, and, oh, this was all muddled, it would never have happened in the village!

But it certainly didn’t mean he didn’t want it.

Rus gulped as he braced himself over Edge on his elbows, looking down into his beloved face that gazed back up at him with soft, desirous eye lights, “i...i’ve never…”

He couldn’t find the words in either language. They didn’t seem necessary, Edge understood without such things and his warm hands slipped between them to Rus’s bare pelvis, touching and coaxing. To his embarrassed shame, Rus couldn’t focus enough to form a shaft; he’d only done it once before, after his conversation about relations with Blue and that more for curiosity's sake. He’d never expected there would be a need. Instead, the same construct as always settled into place, the delicate bud of an entrance which Edge currently had no use for.

Yet, his husband did not seem disappointed. His fingers teased, drawing out Rus’s arousal until he only moaned shakily, all thoughts of shame abandoning him.

“Rus,” Edge leaned up to nuzzle a soft kiss to his mouth and pulled him closer. The feel of those damp folds pressed to his own, grinding softly, made Rus gasp aloud, he’d never even considered such a thing, how could it possibly feel so good!

Clumsily, he shifted closer, shuffling one leg between Edge’s and rocking his hips, matching the rhythm that Edge set in a wicked dance whose only music was the sound of their passion. Slippery friction built between them and it hardly seemed to take any time at all for Rus to find his peak, shuddering with the sweetness of unexpected pleasure.

Edge only pulled him closer, grinding against him more urgently and Rus groaned in disbelief as his pleasure rose again. This time, Edge moaned along with him, the pinch of his sharp fingertips digging into Rus’s shoulder blades was nearly a pleasure of its own as the two of them collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-dewed bones and shivering completion.

Rus lay panting, his thoughts awhirl as Edge murmured love words to him.

Suddenly Edge’s lack of concern over Rus’s ability to carry children became blatantly clear. If they chose to have a child, Edge could be the one to carry them. His inability wouldn’t deny Edge a family, if that was his desire.

The blossoming warmth in his soul from that knowledge made tears sting as Rus cut off the endless litany of loving nonsense from his husband with a kiss, pouring his love and passion into that hard press of teeth. Edge met his passion with muffled surprise, matching it with his own until Rus drew away to look into the bright crimson of his eye lights. It was hard to recall now that he’d ever thought such a lovely color to be frightening.

“i love you,” Rus told him hoarsely. “k’uhah. my soul.”

“My soul,” Edge repeated, pulling Rus in close, and as they held each other, sweat still cooling on their bones, Rus didn’t let any of his creeping doubts to slide back into his thoughts. Not this night.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #village au

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 13: Briefing

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2128

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the magnificent @pandabearer​

A harsh reputation can be the first line of defense.

      -Hawke Snow, alpha of SnowDancer

      Briefing the sentinels on the meeting with Sheriff Shaw was like chewing glass.  The violence simmering under his skin was nearly at the combustion point by the time he was done.  The darkness was taking over, a maelstrom churning in his gut because the strength that came with the frenzy was dangerously tantalizing.  More than most alphas, he knew that strength could harm those it was meant to protect.

      Good alphas maintained order with a balance of heart and harsh discipline.  Without that balance, packs didn’t last long.  The pack haemorrhaged members left and right until only unmated dominants, mostly males, remained.  The subsequent battles for dominance tore the remnants apart.

      He would never hurt their most vulnerable, even if that meant abdicating as alpha.  Both thoughts were abhorrent.  While it would be equivalent to cutting off a limb, he would do it in a heartbeat to protect them from himself should it come to that.

      There hadn’t been time for Remi to take a hard run, which was the only way he could vent the brutality that had been bred into his very bones.  A good, hard fight would be better, but not even his sentinels could withstand the full brunt of Remi’s wrath.  Perhaps later he’d see if Aden was available, the Arrow could take whatever Remi dished out and serve it back with interest.

      Taking a deep breath to cleanse the caustic memories, he clamped down on every vicious tendency with the unbending will that made him alpha and continued.

      “Lark, I want you to negotiate an alliance with StormWillow, see if they’re willing to trade intel.”  Information from an aerial perspective would be invaluable, and RainFire’s network on the ground was stronger than theirs.

      There was already an agreement in place to respect borders- they didn’t fly over RainFire lands, and the cats stayed out of raven territory- but nothing more formal than that.  When things hit the fan, the changelings looked to the predators for protection, and if his gut was right, it was best to start building on that foundation now.

      “Are you picking on me because of my name?”  She narrowed her eyes at him, not realizing he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

      “Don’t crows eat songbirds, like larks?” Elijah quipped with a waggle of his eyebrows.

      A low growl was the only warning she gave before launching herself across the table at the other sentinel.  They fell to the floor while the others provided a laugh track for the scuffle, some helpfully calling out advice.

      “Hey!” Remi barked and dropped his control for a split second, allowing his power to lash across them all like a whip.  All heads snapped to target on him, the hooligans freezing where they were on the floor.  More than one face went ashen.

      “We’ve got a compromised area on the eastern border, a submissive in recovery from a vicious beating, increasing hostility from Enforcement, and you two think now’s a good time to fuck around?  Can you look Stian in the eye and tell him a little grab ass was more important than protecting the pack?”

      All eyes dropped from him in shame.  He let them stew in their mortification.  Yeah, he could be a bastard, but that was part of the job description.  This was his first true test as an alpha.  If they- if he- wasn’t up to the challenge, word would spread like fire through drought-parched grass.  Other predators would pick them off like wounded deer from a herd.

      “Out,” he snarled.

      After quickly putting the room to rights, they filed out without meeting his furious gaze.  Theo was the last one to leave and paused by Remi.

      “The restlessness is starting to affect more than just the juveniles.”  Without an alpha’s calming presence, teenagers could get aggressive and he sure as shit hadn’t had the internal calm required to maintain order.

      The darkness raised its head at the perceived criticism.  It wanted to rend and maim the offending party.  Fortunately, Theo didn’t wait for a response and made his exit.  Once he was gone, the malevolence settled again.

      The sudden ebb and flow of his ire had him worried he'd inherited the madness after all. Leaning forward to brace his hands on the table, Remi took a steadying breath, though his muscles remained tense as ever. Perhaps it would be best to give Aden a call sooner than later, before he did something he couldn't take back.

      Lorel fussed with the plate one last time; no matter how delicious they were, scones were nearly impossible to arrange aesthetically.  Pressing a hand against the cobalt blue teapot, handmade by a local artisan, she checked the temperature again.  Still warm.  Should she have made herbal instead?  Probably would have been the better choice, judging by the way her hand shook from the three cups she’d already had.

      There was a knock at the door, and she jumped.  Definitely should have made decaf.  She’d been too distracted fretting over the food that she hadn’t heard the car pull into the driveway.  That wasn’t too difficult when hover mode was used, but she normally would have heard it park.  Hurriedly scrubbing her palms on her black capris, she went to answer the door.

      “Tien, thank you for coming.”

      The woman on her doorstep wore a dusty pink ao dai with three-quarter sleeves over flowing white pants.  The long, clean lines of the clothing emphasized her slender form.  Lorel smoothed her own pear green sweater and wondered if she looked like a big, fat apple, because she sure felt like one in comparison to the other woman.

      The little rituals of hospitality as she welcomed her guest helped ease some of her nerves.  Once they’d settled in and been plied with pastries and tea, she sprang the reason for inviting Tien to afternoon tea.

      “As you no doubt heard the other night, I haven’t lived with other changelings since I was six years old,” she admitted, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.  “I know nothing about what it’s like living in a pack.”

      “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid into you like that.”  Tien gently laid a hand on her arm, easing another knot of anxiety in Lorel’s gut.  “I get a little protective, but that’s no excuse.”

      “You already apologized.”  She laid her own hand over the other woman’s with a small smile.  “Would you mind giving me a Cliff notes version of what it’s like?”

      “Oh, honey, you’re going to regret asking me that!” she tilted her head back and laughed, onyx-black hair sliding like silk.  “That’s like asking a grandparent about their grandbabies; they’ll never stop!”  Lorel’s natural smile slipped into the customer service one and she took a quick sip that she didn’t need.

      “As I was saying, however poorly, we can’t afford to appear weak.  RainFire isn’t as big, powerful, or as established as DarkRiver or SnowDancer.”  Even Lorel had heard of those Californian packs.  They were involved in the events that had changed the world and worked to build Trinity.  “Some might see a pack unable to run off a stray cat and think we’re easy prey.  Our laws help keep the peace; without them, it’d be the Territorial Wars all over again.”

      “It sounds like a dictatorship.”

      “Hm, it can be in unhealthy packs,” she conceded after a moment, looking out at the middle distance of the backyard.  The tiny sunroom off the kitchen was set up as a dining nook, and Lorel left the French doors open to take advantage of one of the last warm afternoons of the season, giving them an unobstructed view of where the civilized backyard gave way to wild forest.

      “And in healthy ones?” prompted Lorel when it was apparent Tien wasn’t going to continue in that vein.

      “Anyone, even Jojo, can approach Remi.  Whether or not he actually does what we suggest is another matter because he has to weigh in all the factors.”  She grinned, no doubt imagining the types of proposals her daughter would come up with.  “The mark of a healthy pack is the cubs and submissives.  If they don’t feel safe and secure, then they’re not happy.”

      “So, you’re not a submissive, but you’re not a soldier?”

      “I’m mid-range.”  A slender hand held horizontally and tilted side to side.  “I’m what’s called a maternal.”  Drawing back, Tien gave her an appraising look.  “You’re a little hard to peg, but you’re probably either submissive or maternal.  Definitely not a dominant; you don’t strike me as stubborn, competitive, arrogant, domineering, aggressive…”

      “Don’t hold back, how do you really feel about them?”

      “Dominants will both treat you like spun glass and push and push until you set boundaries.”  Tien chuckled at her wry tone.  “And even then they might try and test those boundaries.”

      “Maternal or submissive?  Makes it sound like I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”  Practically radiating feline mischief, Tien gave Lorel’s bare feet a pointed look, then slid her eyes towards the kitchen a few feet away.  “You know what I mean!” she laughed.

      “Maternal doesn’t just mean motherhood.”  More throaty laughter that instead of being directed at Lorel, encouraged her to join in.  “We’re the ones that keep us all together, organize fun things like the party the other night.  A submissive’s role isn’t about power, it’s about love.  They help the rest of us maintain our humanity.  If we were all dominants, we’d end up at each other’s throats before long.”

      A familiar ache stabbed through her chest and she turned away on the pretext of topping up her cup.  Once she had herself back under control, she found Tien staring at her with the unblinking intensity of a predator in her dark, triangular eyes.

      “Uh, does that happen often?” she coughed, hiding behind a quick drink.  “Turning on each other?”

      “Dominants are built to protect, but too many of them for too long and it usually doesn’t end well.  Packs need a balance of dynamics.  It’s up to the alpha to ensure that, and really, in the end, the alpha can either make or break the pack.  Like humans, we have our own tragedies and evils,” she sighed and rubbed a thumb along the handle of her cup.  “As far as I know, and I’m not an expert, we’re no better and no worse statistically speaking.  Some of us in RainFire come from… less than ideal situations.”

      “Jojo?”  Both ocelot and woman were immediately on alert, bristling at the thought of any harm coming to the little girl.

      “Oh no!”  Eyes widening in earnestness, Tien put a reassuring hand on Lorel’s shoulder.  Surprisingly, she found herself leaning into the touch, even imagined what it’d feel like on her bare skin.  It wasn’t anything sexual; it just felt so good that Lorel imagined her skin was greedily soaking it up and feeding it directly to her soul.  Even her animal- usually an angry, semi-feral thing- calmed until it was practically purring.

      “Not my family,” she shook her head and removed her hand to take another apple cheddar scone.  The cat snarled at the loss of contact, its typical surliness rushing back in to fill the void.  “I just meant that some of us didn’t really know how to live in a pack, either, so I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

      Lorel’s primal half, hurting and denied release from the prison she kept it in, lashed out in the only course it had left.

      “I’m not an idiot, I know where I’d stand in the hierarchy and I’m not about to be anyone’s bitch.”  The vitriol in her voice, harsh and throaty with the cat, startled even her.

      Utter silence reigned.

      Cold slithered down her spine.  Normally, given its druthers, her ocelot would always choose fight over flight, deranged thing that it was.  But some long-buried instinct in the cat surfaced, warning that Tien was more powerful.  Experience taught that, that always boded ill for her.

      The animal she kept so tightly controlled scrabbled to escape, raking her insides bloody in a demand to be set free.  It needed to run and save them both from the situation it created.  She’d long ago learned to allow fleeting bits of freedom to that aspect of her nature before it grew too wild, too painful to contain.  Because of that balancing act, it had been years since she last lost control and shifted involuntarily.

      The pain and ecstasy of the shift didn’t even register to the cat.  Not pausing to settle her fur, she bolted out the open doors, leaving the woman to call after her in surprise.

#my writing #psy changeling trinity #nalini singh #fan fiction #science fiction #eventual romance #eventual smut #remi denier #original female character #psy changeling #fanfic #scifi #werecat #fat character #fan-fiction #sci-fi #plus-sized character #ocelot #leopard #fan-fic #sci fi #smoky mountains #shapeshifter #paranormal romance #shape shifter #shifter romance #touch hunger #panic attack #ao dai #afternoon tea

[lemonietrinket]

King and Lionheart ||| King!Jungwoo x RoyalKnight!Reader

Part One

Genres: Fantasy, some Fluff, Angst but has a happy ending! Word Count: 2533 Warnings: Grisly ideas with a lot of death but no severe descriptions of it Theme Song: King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men

AN: Based kind of closely to the lyrics of the song? It’s really good! And I didn’t intend for this to be a two-parter, but yeah it turned out that way and I’m really sorry. Hopefully, it won’t be too long until Part Two is up. Thanks for reading!

~~~

The sky was an oil painting, vast brushstrokes of emerald steadily cloaking the azure-tinted clouds that graced the night. Stars speckled the deep blue silk as if a thousand ghosts were peering down at the horror that had unfurled at the foot of the fear-stacked mountains—thistle hued rock gashes in the snow.

The streets were crowded with translucent spirits, their bodies chained in silver to their spots. Their eyes were piercing, staring into the souls of those still attached to the mortal plane, filled with sorrow and the ferocity of dry anger.

But though it should have been, their fury was not aimed at you.

The two of you picked your way through the street. Jungwoo stumbled, his eyes meeting those of the lost, the slow tears refusing to halt. A neverending cascade, striking trails across his mottled cheeks. Trembling lips were silent, the only exception being his hushed breaths that collided with the air and froze.

You watched him carefully as you stepped over rubble from the ceremonial grounds, eyes never leaving his wavering features. Golden flags were torn and muddied with charred remains at his feet, as he came to a stop at a mother’s spirit hovering at the lengths of her restraints. A fragile, swallowed whimper left his body. It felt as if it carried his whole body behind it, yet was so quiet you almost missed it.

You took to his side, standing between him and the wayward figure. Your hand cradled his shoulder, leading him away from the remnants and into the middle of the abandoned street.

You had aimed only to talk to him, but he broke, pressing his head into the furs at your neck and crying openly.  His sobs remained to be the worst sound you had heard, and you had heard many things.

Creatures built like towers made of scales fashioned of the carcasses they feasted upon, whose screams grasped at the depths of your heart. Abominations crafted of salt that tore at their own injuries as they battled, forcing bloodcurdling roars so grating that you could not believe they could emanate from something that was once human.  The guttural clicks from the bone crusted maws of a beast you never did fully lay eyes upon, and you praise the deities above that made that so, daily.

None of it compared to the wound his sadness inflicted. 

And there he was, his eyes as warm as summer nights where a blanket was no longer needed, his voice as sweet and smooth as butternut, his smile as bright and beautiful as the moon... he was the kindest soul. He greeted magpies no matter their number, and left food grown in the royal gardens for the deer of the forest. 

He was your King, and you were his lionheart. You’d fight whatever came his way—and it wasn’t simply because of the job anymore, it had moved beyond that level a long time ago—and you’d protect him no matter the cost.

.

You held is larger frame in your arms, a thick glove easing his hood rimmed with ermine, pure and speckled with onyx, over his light hair. As he trembled, you felt your heart twist.

None of this was his fault. If you had not opened the gate, after hearing his ‘voice’, had thought rationally about the logistics of the height of the wall and how, in the spontaneous game, he could have gotten over to the other side to call your name, everything would have been fine.

You had a hand in the disaster, meanwhile, he played no part. And yet he blamed himself.

“Don’t look at them, Woo,” you whispered reassuringly, “they may be angry, but it is not aimed at you—it never will be.”

He whined, clutching at your padded coat as he clung even closer to you.

It was a lie. It was aimed at him. Though not rightly.

.

He’d inherited a tumultuous throne that he hadn’t been raised for, had faced three onslaughts and the threat of war at least once, all of which caused by bad decisions on the behalf of his predecessor, his childless, wreckless cousin. The people were angry before the fourth invasion arrived, though they had mostly kept it to themselves.

It wouldn’t have a chance to outpour, at least when they were alive. Now their spirits inhabited the streets linked to their chains, and they had the chance to show their anger in their cursed form of the afterlife. 

It wasn’t his fault.

Even a country with the strongest army and all the resources of the world and preparation time leaking into months could not have withstood what had massacred the city.

They called themselves the Jotun but it was foul play to call themselves by that name, as even a true Jotun would not have been able to do what they did. Their attacks left people in pain long after death, as they stole everything, including the bodies of the people left unguarded.

It was fair to say there were no survivors, besides the two of you.

Just the King and Lionheart, heading south to seek help.

.

.

.

Your eyes scoured the busy streets, every stall, every face, every shadow, every crevice. You saw no danger, but you could not find him anywhere. You jumped in a poor attempt to see over the heads of the masses. But his bunny smile and his long white coat were nowhere to be seen.

You’d left for the best part of an hour, waiting to see the King of the realm of Aldworth. After attempting to be granted an audience with the three previous dominions that you had passed through to no avail, the King—a lady nearly as tall as the doors she had built with her own hands—had given you the opportunity to speak.

Your King had been left outside. You knew it would have been better for him to be the one that performed the speech—the plea for aid and forces to relinquish his kingdom from the control of the Jotun—but as soon as the words had come to your lips you recognised the dimmed glow his eyes and changed your mind.

The King had let you leave as she worked with her advisors to decide, but now, yours was missing. 

Crowds of people scurried from left and right, then round and round and back again. Their bodies melded and waned, shades of brown to black, like the warm earth of ice-moult. Their lungs made weak clouds, that amalgamated into one thin mist, their voices carrying like the war cry of a long-slumbered deity of thunder, and their smiles narrowed into deceit.

And then a weight smashed into your back, very nearly knocking you off-guard.

Your hand flicked upwards out of instinct, to find no hilt. 

It was then you realised that the arms at your neck were not malicious, and fit snugly at your collarbones, as a certain pair had always done.

“I’m sorry!” the man exclaimed, but there was the familiar lilt of mischief in his voice. 

You gazed back, feeling your back unfurl and tendons relax, to see a huge grin on his face. “Jungwoo! Where were—? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he cried, just as he always did whenever he had something to hide. 

You sighed. “Your Majesty, I’ve known you since we were children, I think I know when you’re lying to me. Now—”

He suddenly let go, swinging round to look at you, face to face. 

That was something you could never quite face confidently, his intense stare. Deep irises of earth, when the ice-melt had washed away and left the ground umber in the place of pristine. Everything else you showed no fear, but with him, you felt your iron shell melt. He’d gotten them from his mother. 

“I hid, because I wondered what you would do if I didn’t turn up,” he admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands entwined behind his back, “but then I felt too bad, and I was scared you’d throw a man into the ocean again, so I came straight back.”

“Is that all?” You frowned, ignoring the subtle dig.

He nodded enthusiastically, whispering an apology in a tone a thread away from serious.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling. “Honestly, Your Majesty—”

“Woo! You always call me Woo, why aren’t you calling me Woo now?” he interjected, forcing his lip to quiver.

You pursed your own. “Because we are in public and it is not etiquette to refer to a monarch by nickname, and you know that, Your Majesty, now please—”

“But I like being called Woo!” he exclaimed. A few merchants sent the two of you a few unnerved glances as they passed. You responded with a glare, and it had the desired effect, as they scuttled off towards the docks.

Jungwoo seemed to go into deep thought for a brief moment, eyes wandering about somewhat vacantly before he managed to reach a conclusion. “Wait! If I order you to call me Woo, doesn’t that mean you have to?”

You opened your mouth to begin, before you halted yourself. Though it was an unexpected conclusion, Jungwoo wasn’t exactly wrong. And with his beautiful eyes glittering in the knowledge that he’d won, you had half a mind to give in. Luckily rationality kicked in, and you swiftly decided it was safer to attempt to move on. 

“As I was saying, Your Majesty, I expected so much worse than you merely hiding, and so please refrain from minor tricks—”

“Oh!”

You huffed. Being held by hierarchical convention really did take the pinch of salt sometimes.

Jungwoo smiled that radiant grin that rivalled the sun as he continued. “And I bought this with the savings money!” 

You were about to request as calmly as you could manage to let you finish when he unclasped his hands from behind his back to reveal a hulking great sword gripped feebly between his fingers.

It had a hilt made of what looked to be pure gold, engraved with a series of runes and pictographs, telling something of a great hero slaying an ineffable beast from the oceans. Its edge was so clear and gleaming that even you had no idea what it was fashioned of—only that it could perhaps cleave bone in two, and that it had the appearance of costing the entire lot of your savings.

Words tumbled from your tongue, quivering and broken. “What is—? Jungwoo?!”

“Look it’s alright! You needed a new one after your old one broke and this one is pretty and the seller said it was magic so—”

“Jungwoo!”

“Y/N!” he said mock-sternly, though his expression seemed to be tinted with a seriousness you rarely got to see. “You are my holy, royal, sacred, personal knight! I can’t allow you to be under-resourced. That would make me a bad king, right?” He paused, and you originally expected that it was in an effort to await your affirmation. However, it dawned on you quickly that it was worse than that. His face fell, the smile that had the power to turn even the strongest hearts to putty dissipating on his features, until you were left with only an expression of emptiness before you. 

“Who am I kidding, Y/N... I’m already a bad king,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried to hold the threads of his voice together, “and not giving you a sword to help you do your job—the job that I gave you, that you didn’t ask for... that would make me the worst king known.”

His words left you stunned, a condition you hadn’t felt in so long that you couldn’t place the last time you had experienced the loss of words, the swimming of your thoughts, the lack of clarity and solutions. 

When you remained unbudged, lips agape and eyes wide and concerned, he continued, “You’ve gotten me through so much, Y/N. You’re my best advisor, my oldest and closest friend, my... my only friend... you’re the last survivor of my kingdom, besides myself. You deserve much more than this, but... this is all I can give you.”

You felt your throat tighten, breath staggered. You knew you should accept the sword, but your hands stuck by your side.

The wind slowly picked up, toying with the crimson flags of the street as the people of the marketplace seemed to fade into alleyways and nowhere.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice nearly so low the breeze almost carried it away, his lip trembling as his gentle face crumpled.

It was at his unnecessary words that something snapped in your brain.

“No apologies,” you stated bluntly, swinging into gear after buffering and taking the sword swiftly in one hand, “not to me at least. We will get the kingdom back, your people back, we’ll get everything back—no matter the cost.” You weighed the weapon in your palms, scarred from numerous grapples and close encounters with the old acquaintance of Death, and raised the blade where you could see the reflections of the sky, watery and pale. “When this sword and I are done, there will not be a single Jotun left.”

“Promise me...” he began.

You lowered the sword, to meet the gaze of his watery eyes, only to find his head still bowed. “Your Majesty?”

There was a wavering exhale, as he worked up the effort to speak rather carefully, “Promise me that the cost will not be you.”

You paused. Even if you’d known him for as long as your memory allowed you to know, this man was always full of surprises. Or perhaps your ignorance had stunted your awareness to see this one coming. 

“Is that what you would prefer?” you enquired clearly, turning your head to try and get a better view of his expression. “Over your sacred duties to the throne and the guilt of losing the people?”

Jungwoo didn’t move. He remained still for the longest time, beyond the point that you began to worry. You could almost hear the thoughts, whistling through his mind at the speeds of a gale, crashing like an avalanche through a village against the walls of his mind.

You were about to call his name when he finally lifted his head. His features were stone, firm-set yet saddened.

He nodded once, and you were left stunned.

“Even if the cost of my life was the only way to bring them all...?” 

He nodded again, with more clarity, a determination in his eyes that you knew would not fade, no matter the words you spent. You’d only seen it once before, on the day that he asked you to be his knight, his guard for his life. You had been completely unable to turn his words down then too, if you had even wanted to.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “you are my King, Woo.” You divulged in a final glance of your reflection in the blade, before adjusting the old sheath that had remained upon your back. “And so, your word shall be done.”

The sword slotted into the leather as if it destiny was made in those pure seconds alone. 

~~~

Part Two - coming soon

Masterlist

[edited: 2/04/2020] 

#jungwoo #jungwoo nct #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo angst #jungwoo fic #jungwoo multiparter #nct x reader #nct imagine #jungwoo imagine #jungwoo x reader imagine #jungwoo x reader adventure #jungwoo fantasy au #jungwoo royal au #nct angst #jungwoo x reader angst #nct x reader angst

[ayakashiramblings]

What the Foot: Kuya the Debut and Finale

Author’s note: Read this in Sir David Attenborough's voice, please. Actually, I would be still impressed you managed to read this mess. Also, I still don’t know how to use colour fonts, help.

                                      The Mystery of Kuya’s Shoes

It is at this mansion where evolution’s most impressive feat is documented: Kuya’s legs. 

So defined and long. Both can be contorted into any position should the user choose to execute any sort of movement. Little do people realize that the tengu does not even know what they are called because he has never learnt how to use these fine, magnificent specimens in his feeble life. In fact, the only reason why they move is because of sheer desperation in those mad, mad golden eyes to avoid doing work.

Right now, it seems that he has achieved his greatest wish at this warm verandah. There, he slumbers with wings tucked securely against him, curled up for comfort… the only things that stand out are… the shoes... 

Ipponba-geta (one-tooth-geta) or tengu-geta due to Japanese folklore depicting tengu goblins as the most popular wearer. The tengu-geta are mostly used as ceremonial footwear because they give the impression that they are hard to walk with and dangerous. Recently though, studies have shown that such footwear has promoted strength in muscular training...

Yet, none of these solid reasons offered seem to apply to the gentleman Kuya, for he... is rather subdued by nature.These very shoes are more alive than user as even though it is subtle, one can hear the slightest slapping sound as he occasionally shifts sleeping positions...

Gaku, are you getting this on the camera?

How can I not? He is just lying there like a couch.

Point taken, maybe we should wait for him to wake up.

Why am I doing this again?

Because Yura wants to see a homemade movie.

Yes, but why this topic?

Because aren’t you curious?

At the fact that you’re dropping the British accent while speaking in Japanese?

No, I mean Kuya’s attire. Like, if he really wanted to be comfortable, why that footwear of all things. 

Well...

Besides, according to Koga who got it from the maid who got it from Nachi who got it from the fish vendor who got it from Oji, Kuya should be forced to wake up...

In exactly 29 seconds, this particular male tengu shall be roused by the burning urge for sustenance at the chicest restaurant.

Chic?

Ok, you’re right but I’m not going to correct myself because I am getting tired of this position. How did you even get the camera here?

What? Isn’t it obvious?

No, it... wait, darn, we missed his flight. He’s on the move, after him!

Tensions are high as the tengu confronts another member of the Dawn Faction. 

Aoi from the quaint Milk Hall, Raccord. As a Satori Seer, he wields the ability to peer into people’s hearts... and their afternoon schedules or lack thereof. He stands as the tengu’s lone but powerful opponent against the ever-so-coveted... Oji-san’s omurice.

Oh wow, you really made the camera capture it. 

Erm... actually, it really is glistening and there are sparkles around it.

... On that topic...

It should be noted that within the ayakashi community, there is a clear divide between the ones who do 95% of the work with sensible but fashionably questionable shoes and those who do 5% with weird and fashionably questionable shoes. 

It does not help that Kuya flew all the way over here without being spotted somehow except by Aoi.  

Now, it is no secret that Aoi is a sharp-tongued young man with a caring disposition. It is only his inability to be honest with himself and those around him that plagues him. Thus, he relishes the rare opportunity to be completely vulnerable and engage in a secret hobby that is to be captured on the camera for the first time.

Fighting with Kuya. 

“Hey, deadbeat, we have actual customers so don’t sleep here!”

How is that a secret?

The secret is that he likes it. Now, hush and aim.

Kuya... seems not to care, nodding absent-mindedly to the tongue-lashing he is receiving. Will he finally rise to the occasion? Will he take flight? Will he fight with all of his might?!

Hey, quiet! 

Oh, sorry.

“Shh... I’m sleeping while waiting.”

Kuya alas remains aloof and detached as he lays into a fuming seer, never letting his opponent get a word in. Maybe this is the power of the shoes? 

After all, legend has it that once the tengu bestows his footwear upon a human, the receiver will be able to fall easily and get rich with each fall he takes until he becomes too short to even lift his profit. 

Who knows if Kuya is utilizing the knowledge left by his descendants with something of equal value but with a bitter price — an “I do not care about anything you said to me” attitude obtained only by reluctantly gaining an “I do not care about anything.” attitude as well. 

Then, there is a sound much like a bell’s ring, signalling all present members of the species to return to their dens for more customers and the proprietor of the place.

Seems that the Domeki has abated the crackling animosity over laziness with... more laziness. And asking about tengu-branded cigarettes? Either way, Aoi is distracted by the long-awaited cooking oil.

... This is proving valuable content for my brother, I guess. 

... I kind of want...

No food yet, we are recording it until the end now. Hush.

Ugh, you’re right, ok, zoom in on Kuya’s feet.

Notice that the tengu has propped his feet on the furniture. But wait, that’s not all. Nay, one must observe the new angle taken to accommodate those shoes. So why does he bear such a burden? Is this to justify his lethargy? The sheer struggle against some geta?

Wait, how did he finish his omurice so fast?

My god, he literally inhaled it. 

Fascinating...

His stretch causes big, onyx wings to expand widely outside. Jet-black feathers fluttering about the room for Aoi to clean, as if taunting.

... Oh wow, that is actually a legitimate theory.

You are the one coming up with the script, why are you so surprised?

Wait, look at that. He just took off! How?

... Oh, I think I know why now. 

What? 

Finally, the mystery has been unravelled by the marvellous...

“We don’t have to narrate anymore.” “But this is marvellous...”

“Ugh... fine. But I’m doing it.”

Now, observe this exclusive footage of a tengu gracefully taking flight. The takeoff is the most energy-demanding part. So does the naturally tired creature summon the required force? See how he braces himself.

Due to his large wingspan, he must take a small run up to generate sufficient airflow. Thereafter, comes a significant jump upwards and propped by those shoes. Notice how the single tooth provides the exact position needed that would have required him using another muscle.

Now, he soars, his shoes somehow securely still on him... 

Why is he coming closer?

... Run...

It was too late though once MC had collided into his chest. With an arched eyebrow, the tengu mumbled, 

“What are both of you doing?”

Even Gaku flinched. The times they exchanged furtive, accusing glances, offensive fingers and switching whoever was nearest Kuya was enough for the tengu to roll his eyes, take off his shoes and dangle them in front of the pair.

“So, do you have a better close-up?”

Defeated, MC was the first to squeak out a mortified, “... Yes...”.

“Good, say hi to Twin Number one when you show this to him. Now, do the closing thing or whatever. I’m going back to sleep.”

As they stared at Kuya’s retreating form in the sky, MC-chan chose to do the most important thing...

Tune in for the next episode of WTF, What The Foot!

Italics: MC still pretending to narrate but interrupted

Bold: Gaku having to narrate for his beloved brother but interrupted

Normal Text: Either one of them narrating unless accompanied with quotation marks

                                                          Epilogue

Yura found this hilarious and decided to use the only camera in the house to film animals. One day, the camera broke thanks to a deer. The damage was beyond even Gaku’s control. 

#ayakashi: romance reborn #ayakashi romance reborn #ayakashi rr #gaku #voltage inc #kuya #arr #otome #documentary