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archived-kin · 3 years

Text

diluc ragnvindr and the secret spouse

note from kin: i was running around dawn winery looking for any chests i might have missed when this idea suddenly popped into my head. honestly i was tempted to do this similarly to the obey me solomon piece i did a while back and give diluc a husband but then i figured i should probably keep it gender neutral for both the girls and the gays

this is super short but i’ve had writer’s block for AGES so at least i got something out! i hope this isn’t so awful it burns your eyes out :,) i tried my best okay

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, diluc, aether, paimon

pairing(s): diluc/reader

warning(s): none

genre: fluff!!

You wake to the distant buzz of household conversation and a distinct absence of the usual presence beside you. Slightly disoriented, you sit up, rubbing at your eyes as the morning light peeking around the edge of your heavy velvet curtains casts the creases of the sheets around you into sharp definition.

A still-steaming mug sits on the bedside table, indicating that it hasn’t been long since your dear husband got up and made you your usual morning cup of tea. There’s a little red flower sitting on the saucer - a Windwheel Aster, which, if the flower language the two of you have developed over time still stands true, means that he’s still at home. He’d have left a Snapdragon if he was going out, a Calla Lily if he’d be gone for the day, or a Cecilia if he’d be away for an extended period of time. Of course, he tells you these things in person when he gets the chance, but, well - duty calls, and duty certainly doesn’t wait for a sensible wake-up time.

You throw your arms up and stretch, limbs trembling slightly as all the knots and cramps that have built up throughout the night finally straighten out. Windwheel Asters usually herald a good day in your household - though with Diluc, they can become Snapdragons and then Calla Lilies in the blink of an eye - and you’re looking forward to spending some time with your husband. It’s been a busy week for the both of you, what with an unexpected increase in the number of Abyss Order attacks cropping up around Mondstadt as well as several sudden unexplained deaths of hunters from Springfield, and you’d really like to have twenty four hours to just relax.

Diluc’s usual coat is still draped over the chair beside the desk, so, after a moment’s thought, you pull it on over your nightclothes. You have the weekend off, anyway - all your pending cases have been essentially solved and are ready to go - so you don’t see any need for donning your usual detective garb, though you do feel tempted to put on your trademark scarf to ward off the morning chill.

You take a few minutes to make the bed and open the curtains before you sit down in the armchair by the window to enjoy your tea. You can see several of the usual workers milling about between the grapevines, as well as what looks like a carrier balloon being docked just by the road. That’s new - deliveries to Dawn Winery usually come by carriage, but then again, the fact that the balloon also appears to be smoking extensively and is being accompanied by a very dishevelled-looking man who looks close to tears indicates that this probably isn’t a delivery,

On further inspection, you realise that your husband is standing nearby the smoking balloon, conversing with a young man with long golden hair tied back in a braid that you’re not particularly familiar with. You’re sure you recognise him from somewhere, though - in the same way that you might recognise the general composition of a painting you’ve seen in passing.

You don’t have time to continue contemplating the boy’s identity, though, because next thing you know, Diluc is leading him inside. You drain the remainder of your tea to the dregs with one gulp and pull yourself to your feet, resolving to go down to greet the two.

While you don’t bother with changing into something more formal, you do take a moment to wash your face and freshen up your breath with some of the mint-water Diluc keeps in the bathroom. You’re not fussed about keeping up a ‘respectable’ image, but you do at least want to be presentable.

Diluc is sitting with his back to you when you slip into the front room, still dressed in just your nightclothes and his overcoat, now with your feet tucked into a comfortable pair of slippers as well. The boy he’d invited in is the first to notice you, looking up from the map in his hands and face steeling slightly as he registers your presence.

An odd little fairy of some kind is bobbing about behind him, chewing on what looks like a large slice of cake. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she spots you, exclaiming so loudly that she sprays crumbs all over her unsuspecting golden-haired companion.

“Who’s this?!” she shrieks, alarmed in an almost comically exaggerated way. Her shock sends her even higher into the air, and she threatens to hit the ceiling head-on. “Y-you don’t look like a maid!”

You raise an eyebrow, mildly amused. “That would be because I’m not a maid.”

Diluc finally turns around, eyes lighting up slightly when he sees your choice of attire. A small smile curls at the corners of his lips as he moves to the side, leaving enough room on his seat for you to settle down beside him.

His young friend’s eyes dart between the two of you rapidly as Diluc continues droning on about something to do with transport balloons and the influx of monster activity in the area without a word as to your sudden appearance. He’s certainly quick-witted, you’ll give him that - he seems to deduce your relationship almost immediately.

Still, he asks about it in a polite and roundabout way - bless the boy. You can imagine that he’s a little afraid of making assumptions, especially about a man like Diluc.

“Is that your coat, Master Diluc?”

Diluc pauses in the middle of his explanation, eyebrows lifting slightly. You don’t know why he seems so surprised by the boy’s question - after all, the impression of the prideful Darknight Hero he has probably doesn’t incline him to think of him as a relationship-y sort of man.

“...yes.” He says finally. You don’t miss the way he steals a glance at you through the messy fringe of his red hair.

“Why so surprised?” You chime in, smiling at the boy as he straightens up slightly at the sound of your voice. “Surely you’ve deduced our relation already?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Are you two… partners?”

You laugh. “Well, you could certainly put it like that.”

“You’re so clueless, Aether!” complains the boy’s fairy companion. “They’re obviously dating or something!”

Aether shoots her an unimpressed look. “That’s what I meant, Paimon.”

“Your name’s Aether, then?” You note. He nods. “Good name, Aether. You seem like a smart boy.”

“Hey!” The fairy glares at you, but it doesn’t really have much effect when she’s got the face of a baby lamb and crumbs still decorating her lower face to boot. “Don’t forget about Paimon!”

“Paimon’s a lovely name too,” You comply with a smile. “Very trustworthy.”

She looks appeased by the compliment, crossing her arms with a smug grin aimed at her taller companion. “See? Paimon’s trustworthy.”

“I heard them, Paimon,” sighs Aether, wearing the kind of expression that tells you he has to put up with this sort of thing a lot.

“What are you doing up so early?” Diluc asks you, and you start slightly at his sudden question. “Normally you sleep til noon on Sundays.”

You shrug and give his thigh a firm pat, taking great enjoyment in the way his ears flame up slightly at the gesture. “Guess I just missed your lovely face.”

The red of his ears darkens. “...you’re ridiculous.”

“You’re cute,” you counter with a smile, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He chuckles in spite of himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that he rarely lets anyone but you see.

“You’re both gross,” Paimon decides with a pout, and the two of you suddenly remember the presence of the two other people in the room. Aether is pointedly staring at a painting on the wall, but at Paimon’s words, he hurriedly turns back.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You laugh, waving off Aether’s apologies for his fairy friend’s comment. “The maids often say the same thing.”

“The maids wouldn’t say such things if you didn’t insist on being so affectionate everywhere,” Diluc comments, though the smile still tugging at his lips tells you that he definitely doesn’t consider that a bad thing. “If you don’t want them to talk, perhaps you should take it down a notch or two.”

“Who said I didn’t want them to talk?” You counter, inching closer to him again. You'll refrain from kissing him right in front of Aether and Paimon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one always hanging off my shoulders whenever you get the chance.”

Diluc, however, doesn’t seem to have the same qualms as you about abstaining from affection in front of guests. His smile widening almost playfully, he gently lifts a hand to your chin. “Oh? Are you complaining?”

“Who said that?” is your response, and you lean in and kiss him.

It isn’t until the two of you pull away that you realise that Paimon has started making gagging noises as Aether frantically tries to shush her, all the while determinedly refusing to look in your direction. You almost feel bad for the kid - he clearly isn’t the best with affectionate couples.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say airily, moving away from Diluc, though you keep a hand resting on his knee.

“Is this what all married couples are like?” Paimon says, still wrinkling her nose in disgust. “If so, Paimon doesn’t want to get married, ever!”

Aether, still avoiding direct eye contact with both you and your husband, mutters an exasperated, “Bold of you to assume anyone would want to marry you.”

She immediately kicks him in the head, nearly knocking the poor guy right off the sofa. “Paimon heard that!”

“What a rowdy pair,” You comment cheerfully as Aether retaliates by flicking Paimon hard in the head, sending her spiralling halfway across the room with an indignant yelp. “You really do make strange friends, Diluc.”

He makes an odd chuffing sound in response to your words. “They aren’t any stranger than you.”

You shake your head. “You still married this strange detective, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did,” He smiles softly again, setting his right hand over the one you have on his knee. “I wonder if I made the right decision?”

You give his knee a reproachful pinch and he gives short, sharp laugh in response - something that you don’t hear nearly enough from him. “Of course you did!”

You move to jab him in the sides, knowing exactly where all of his sensitive spots are, but he stops you quickly, seizing both your hands in his and firmly refusing to let go. You struggle for about a second before giving up and slumping against him with a dramatic huff.

“You’re too strong,” You complain, though your affectionate nuzzle into the side of his neck directly contradicts your pseudo-annoyed words. “I don’t like it.”

Diluc chuckles, knowing full well that you love the fact that he can lift entire tables without breaking a sweat. “Whatever you say, darling.”

The look that you give him as you raise your head nearly knocks all of the breath out of him. The adoring grin on your face doesn’t relent as you lift a hand and brush his cheek, your touch feather-light and sending shivers down his spine.

He finds himself leaning in again, overwhelmed by your presence. You smile knowingly and reach up to meet him - only to be interrupted with a start.

Paimon complains, half-disgusted and half-resigned, “They’re doing it again!”

#unedited #genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin aether #genshin paimon #diluc x reader #fluff #looking back on what i've written so far i've come to the conclusion that i just really like domestic fluff #short n sweet #diluc is a SAP #i haven't posted any writing for a while now sorry #hopefully this isn't awful haha #reader insert #gender neutral reader #funny that both of my genshin impact pieces so far are about diluc and he isn't even my favourite #i guess he just has a lot of romantic writing potential #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader

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emyluwinter · 3 years

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After the events of chapter 5.

Yuu recovered from a serious injury and sat in a hospital bed in the infirmary. Physical activity was forbidden to them under the threat of danger to their health. Ace and Deuce and Epel and Jack were supposed to come in after class. Their prefects strictly instructed them to go to classes, and in their free time to visit Yuu. So now they were alone in the infirmary. Even Leona didn't doze off here as he usually did. Although he couldn't stay in the infirmary for long because of Yuu. Leona said that " you smell too much like...burnt ... medicine that makes my nose ache."»

The infirmary was very quiet and only the sounds of voices from the corridor came from inside.

Taking a deep breath, they slowly got to their feet and walked over to the small medicine table. There was a cabinet above the table, and Yuu carefully took out a small mirror.

They hadn't seen their reflection in all this time, and they wanted to see something.

No. Make sure.

Removing the light robe from his right shoulder and picking up the mirror, Yuu took a few more deep breaths.

It was harder than they thought.

Finally deciding to look in the mirror, Yuu saw three large streaks from the burn and wound on his shoulder, running down to his collarbone and down to his chest.

They were afraid that they would stay.

Creepy

Disgusting

Scars.

The scars are proof of their weakness and their own stupidity.

Yuu shouldn't have gone alone that night. They had to ask someone for help.

Grimm was never found.

Yuu was willing to give all his money to buy up all the cans of tuna from Sam.

If only this problematic lump of fur would return.

- It looks awful, doesn't it? - Yuu whispered softly, looking into the mirror. Lucky it didn't hit their necks, or they wouldn't be standing here alive.

- You will always be the beautiful flower of Trickster-san. - Suddenly, a soft voice came from the window.

Yuu didn't drop the mirror in surprise and barely managed to grab it and hold it to his chest.

- Rook-san??Wha....whatt...why are you here?

Rook was, of course, a master at sudden appearance. Seriously, did he and Lily have some kind of competition to scare the hell out of people?!

Yuu noticed that now, every time they met, Rook took off his hat in their presence. Hunt had never behaved like this. Yuu thought that Rook felt guilty about what had happened. And with this action, he wanted to express that he was sorry.

"I'm so..Sorry I didn't prevent it."

- I wanted to check on you. But I saw that you decided to look at a new part of yourself.

Yuu put the mirror back on the table.

- Senpai ... please ... tell me honestly...doesn't this look disgusting? - Yuu asked in a soft whisper. They didn't want to see his expression.

He is a hunter of love. He will never say something offensive and cruel about the appearance of others.

Vil critical thinking would be more appropriate.

- I only see before me a man who bravely went to meet danger. This part will be hard for Trickster-san to accept. But these patterns on your fragile body will never make you ugly. You are still a beautiful flower bud that is about to open and show its beauty to the whole world....ah... I can't wait for this moment.

Yuu chuckled slightly as Rook was always in his repertoire.

- Ah!And Vil, unfortunately, could not visit you because of his busy schedule. But he has given you a modest bouquet of ointments of his own making for your patterns. They will help you to relieve tension and make them more accurate.

Patterns.

Yuu liked that word.

-Thank you Senpai...thank you very much..

***

Ace eat apples that brought Epel for Yuu. - You want to get tattoos??

Yuu smiling awkwardly – not really. I want to try to cover them with Mehendi patterns. But I was told that you need to wait until they are overgrown for the end, and this will last more than a couple of months.

Epel dreaming - tattoo in the whole body. It's so cool and manly!!!I want to stuff myself with a huge tiger or dragon on my back!!

Yuu worried- Epel................Epel no, please. I don't think Vil-senpai would appreciate the idea. Why don't you try the temporary one first?I'll draw you Mehendi whatever you want.

Epel is inspired – Can I ?? I want!!!

Deuce – and I want too!!!!

Jack - but will it come off after?

Yuu explaining - it's easy to wash it off, this one will be easier to explain to Riddle and Vil when they see tattoos and they try to kill me a second time…

Ace-you're definitely not okay with your sense of self-preservation.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst mc #twst yuu #twst reader #twst ace #twst rook #rook hunt #twst epel #twst jack #twst deuce

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izaswritings · 3 years

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Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it.

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.

Chapter Warnings: past character death and its effect (Belos), implied past child abuse and neglect (again, Belos), and depictions of trauma, insomnia, depression, grief, and a mild panic attack. Also a few instances of strong language. If there’s anything I missed, please let me know!

AO3 link is here.

First | Previous | Next

chapter three: out of order

He must fall asleep in the human’s room, because when Hunter wakes up he’s still on the floor, just tilted over, and there’s a blanket placed very carefully over his shoulders. The palisman has migrated from his hair to the small crook of space between Hunter’s arm and his face; he is breathing in feathers. It’s still dark outside the window. Luz is nowhere to be seen—back in the human world, no doubt. Her pen and pencil still sit on the floor.

Hunter rolls over to stare at the ceiling, aghast. He cannot believe he fell asleep. It had better not happen again.

The palisman is awake too. Its eyes are open and watching him. It takes some of his hair in his beak and tugs. Okay?

His heart is racing a mile a minute. He feels feverish, too warm, ill in an anxious sort of way. His back is cold with sweat.

“Your feathers taste disgusting,” Hunter tells it. His mouth is dry. The words are thin. “Stop sleeping by my face.”

The palisman flutters its wings at him. Lies! Slander! Blasphemy!

“You are literally made of wood; I can taste the palistrom. Ugh, its so gross.”

The palisman titters at him. Its eyes are knowing. For all its fussing, it stays close by, and when Hunter reaches out to run his hand down its back, it does not peck him as it would if it were truly annoyed at him.

Sleep, says the palisman, imploring.

The sky is still dark. His eyes hurt. “I could…” he says, falsely thoughtful, drawing out the word. “Agh, it’s such a shame. Actually, I was just thinking I could use some apple blood…”

The palisman has gone very still.

“Oh well,” Hunter says. It takes effort to fight the grin. “Sleep it is. I mean, if you insist.”

No! Wait! No!

“Guess we’ll just have to sneak it some other time.”

The palisman pecks him, fluttering a storm. APPLE BLOOD, it says.

“Ow,” Hunter says, pointedly. He is grinning, even so. His throat is dry and his head pounds, but in this moment, as he fights the laugh, the fear and the nightmare that woke him feel further and further away.

The palisman likes the apple blood. The palisman really likes the apple blood, which is to say it likes nothing about the taste and absolutely everything about the way it can dip its tiny claws in the drink and hop around leaving red footprints all over the Owl Lady’s kitchen counter.

“Hey, hey, hey!” says the Owl Lady, spluttering and furious, when she sees Hunter with the cup. A small globe of light hovers over her palm. The light glyph. “What are you doing!? That stuff’s in high demand, you know!”

It’s not even dawn yet; the windows are all dark and even that weird bird-worm is asleep, snoozing loudly from the door. Hunter hasn’t even lit a lamp, and he squints at the Owl Lady from his place at the table, unimpressed.

“Why are you even awake?” he says, irritated. “Aren’t you like, old or something?”

“Lily was right about you. You ever get tired of being a brat?” She steps down the stairs, the light following her. The palisman continues its single-minded quest to cover the Owl Lady’s furniture with tiny red bird-footprints. She looks at it for a long moment.

“…Pretty sure I made a rule about this.”

He will not react. He will not. “Yes,” Hunter says.

She looks at him. He holds himself still and smiles back with all his teeth, because the fact he has to force himself still at all is— irritating. She isn’t Belos. He doesn’t actually care what she thinks of him. She’s just some washed-up witch, and the fact Hunter is living in her house doesn’t mean he actually owes her anything.

The Owl Lady breaks first. She lifts a hand and rubs at her eyes. “Ugh, it’s too early for this.”

So why are you up? Hunter thinks, fiercely resentful, but doesn’t say it— she hadn’t answered the first time he asked, and he can take a hint.

“What even is this?” the Owl Lady is saying now, watching Hunter’s palisman with squinty eyes. The palisman radiates smug victory and hops determinedly on the table. The Owl Lady squints harder. “…Okay. As cute as that is, this doesn’t actually explain anything.”

“The palisman wanted to try apple blood,” Hunter says. Seriously, what else does it look like?

The Owl Lady considers this. Then she looks at him, eyebrows up. “…You seriously call your palisman ‘the palisman?’” She cracks a grin. “Aww. It hasn’t told you its name yet?”

Hunter looks away. The palisman, immediately distracted from its game, flutters its wings and hops up and down and chirps its true name very, very loudly.

“No,” Hunter says, like a liar.

I will call you my boy, and my boy only, says the palisman. My boy has no name anymore.

“Hah, like that means anything. No one can understand you but me.”

Other palisman will know.

“I can’t hear other palisman.”

The palisman does not reply to this, but its next apple blood footprint is made with a very vengeful hop. Hahah. Hunter’s totally winning this argument.

…And now the Owl Lady is staring at him. “What?” Hunter says.

She frowns at him for a long moment. Then she shakes her head. “You even old enough to drink that stuff?”

He’s not. Hunter looks her right in the eye and takes a big sip anyway. The blood tastes absolutely awful: bitter and coppery and too sweet on his tongue all at once. He has no idea why so many people like it. He fights the urge to make a face with everything in him.

The Owl Lady looks at him for a long time. Her expression is unreadable. “…You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you.”

He shrugs. The Owl Lady shakes her head and turns back to the kitchen proper, lowering her hand to let the small ball of light hover over the counter as she reaches for a cabinet. “Anyway, not that I care or anything, but is there a reason you’re down in my kitchen at…” She squints at the windows. “…some unknown terrible time in the morning?”

“You don’t listen well, do you?” Hunter says, critically. “I told you. The palisman wanted to try apple blood.”

The Owl Lady pauses in her search to give him a look. “So you came down here.”

“Yes?”

“At this hour. In the dark?”

He can feel his face heat. “I’m not lying.”

“No, you just make no sense,” the Owl Lady mutters, but thankfully turns away to keep on rummaging. Hunter scowls at her back, biting hard at his cheek. House rules. He doesn’t care about the Owl Lady or what she thinks of him— but he has broken a rule, and she’s being weirdly magnanimous about it, so he can at least pretend to be civil. For Luz’s sake, if nothing else. The human will be insufferable if Hunter gets himself kicked out four days in.

It rankles him, even so; her questions hit too close to all the things Hunter doesn’t want to talk about. This stupid house with its stupid inhabitants and Hunter, who can’t sleep, who has no idea why he agreed to Luz’s offer at all, actually, in hindsight.

He’s gripping the mug so tight the ceramic is starting to crack. Hunter watches it, and makes no move to loosen his grip. He feels far away and distant, not really here at all, which of course is when the palisman hops back to Hunter, sticks its foot out, and says, My boy. Give me blood.

His mind totally blanks. Hunter stares. “What?”

The palisman hops in place and lifts its foot again. It’s looking at the mug. Blood! it says, way too cheerfully.

Right. The apple blood. Hunter blinks fast and then rubs at his face with his free hand, struck with the sudden and hysterical urge to start giggling.

“…You are so weird,” Hunter says, at last, and kind of hates how he can hear the fondness in his own voice, the smile tugging involuntary at his face. The palisman titters a laugh and hops again.

Hunter rolls his eyes and puts down the cup of apple blood for easy access. It’s not like he wants to drink the stuff anyway.

The palisman is delighted. It splashes its talons back in the cup and then starts hopping all over the table again, except this time it chirps blood! blood! blood! after every footprint. Hunter watches it go, still fighting the urge to smile.

“Huh.”

…He’s forgotten about the Owl Lady. Hunter looks away from the palisman to find her frowning at him, and holds himself very still. “What,” he says. “You’re still here?”

She’s found whatever it was she came down here for—a potion bottle filled with a shining elixir, glowing softly in the early morning gloom. For once she looks more amused than annoyed at Hunter’s comebacks; she shrugs, grinning, and then pries out the cork of the bottle with her teeth. “I’ll give you this, kid,” she says, and takes a small sip of the elixir, rolling back her shoulders. Small white feathers drift from her arm—Hunter hadn’t even seen them. “Your palisman’s cute, at least.”

“It’s a menace,” Hunter says, unimpressed with this peace offer.

Blood! chirps the palisman, in the background.

The Owl Lady shrugs. “I tried,” she says, to the ceiling. “Luz can’t say I didn’t try. Man, it really is way too early for this.” She heads back to the stair and then pauses, looking back. She points the half-full elixir bottle at him. “House rule number four. Elixir is actually off-limits. Also, stop stealing my apple blood, that stuff isn’t cheap.”

“Are you seriously just going to keep adding—”

“Ye-ep.”

He grits his teeth. The Owl Lady rolls her eyes. “Sleep, kid,” she calls back, and starts up the stairs at last. “You need it. Don’t spend too long in the dark boring holes in the wall.”

“I’m not—”

“Also, one last thing.”

He bites his tongue. The Owl Lady glances back at him, the small ball of light shining in her eyes.

“Next time?” she says. “If you can’t sleep, just say so.”

Hunter stiffens. His face flushes red. The Owl Lady vanishes up the stairs, and Hunter scowls after her—and then the palisman hops right from the table to his head, and the sudden weight of it makes his head dip forward. Hunter steadies himself on the table and tries to glare at the palisman, instead. “What was that for?!”

The palisman laughs at him and doesn’t reply. Hunter breathes out through his nose, and resists the urge to shake his head—the palisman will get dizzy, and the Owl Lady is already gone, out of sight.

He’s alone again. Hunter stares at the the stairs in silence for a long moment and then pushes the mug of apple blood away from himself roughly. His hand is shaking a little. The liquid sloshes. Even the smell makes his nose wrinkle; it’s so gross.

He presses his hand back to his face, feeling the anger drain, and then slumps against the chair. “…That was stupid,” he mutters into his hands. “Get yourself kicked out after less than a week, great, good going.”

The palisman coos at him. Hunter leans forward to thump his head down on the table. His eyes hurt. His head hurts. He is suddenly exhausted, and still, he can’t keep his eyes closed. Something restless burns through his blood.

The palisman tugs a little at his hair. Sleep, it sings.

“Later,” Hunter tells the table.

The palisman pecks him for that. Hunter hisses. “Hey!”

Apple blood is very tasty, says the palisman, which is rich, given the thing didn’t drink a single drop. I’m sleepy now. Let’s sleep.

Hah, hah. As if. Hunter is wise to its tricks. There’s about 25% chance the palisman is actually tired, and a far more likely chance its just trying to needle him into sleeping more. It’s a stupid little song and dance of a conversation; there’s no way Hunter is sleeping any more tonight, not after those restless hours of dozing and the violent lurch of the nightmare that woke him only a half hour ago. There is no getting back to sleep after that, not for him, and the palisman knows that—but still, it insists.

He’s too tired to argue with it. Hunter pushes away from the table, gives the apple blood one last tired look, and then heads for the stairs. The palisman is probably right. His uncle always said as much too, something about tired minds sparking anger and mistakes.

If the thought sticks a little in his throat, that’s no-one’s business but his.

He stops by the stairs, looking up into the gloom of the house. He exhales. “Sorry,” Hunter mutters, low under his breath. He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for, exactly—the sleeplessness, his own bad temper, the nightmare that jolted them both awake at this terrible hour of the morning. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m trying.”

I know, says the palisman. I am sorry too.

Hunter pauses, one foot on the stair. There is a very careful innocence to the palisman’s voice; he narrows his eyes. “What for?”

The palisman is silent.

Hunter considers this. He looks back at the cup of apple blood.

I am very sorry, says the palisman, again.

“…You got apple blood in my hair,” Hunter says, very flat.

The palisman titters merrily and then swoops off his head and up the stairs like a shot. Hunter covers his face with his hands again, and will never own up to the smile.

Luz trips back into the Owl House just in time to miss a very awkward breakfast meal. Literally, genuinely trips: golden light blooms and whispers echo, and then Luz smacks through the portal with a cut off “—be fine, Mama, be back soon—” a stranger’s voice shouting, in alarm, “¡Cariño! Wait! Where are you—” and then Luz herself, in all her fourteen-year-old glory, falling through the portal to land face first on the back doorstep.

“Ow,” says Luz.

The portal fuzzes out from existence behind her. The whispers and the unknown woman’s voice fade away. Hunter goes to help her up. “I can’t believe you ever beat me at anything.”

She sniffs, but takes the offered hand with a smug little grin. “I’m just that good.”

“…Your nose is bleeding.”

“Ah! No! Mama’s going to— hey, wait.”

He cracks a grin. Luz glares at him. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Ehhh. Agree to disagree.”

“You’re so mean,” Luz says, resigned, and stands to her feet, brushing the dust from her leggings. Her face is fine, if red from the fall. The shadows under her eyes remain.

Hunter studies her for a moment, frowning. When Luz glances back at him, he crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at her.

Luz just squints at him. “…Why is your hair—”

The palisman is a guilty ball of feathers on Hunter’s shoulder. “Don’t ask,” Hunter says, at once.

“Cause it looks like—”

“I know,” Hunter snaps, and Luz presses her lips in a thin line and tries very obviously not to start cackling. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” says Luz, in the highest voice imaginable. The Owl Lady enters the room. Luz pivots. “Eda!”

“Huh? Luz?” The Owl Lady returns the hug on automatic. “When did you get here?”

“Just now! I can’t stay long, though, Willow and Gus and I were going to help with clean-up. The library is an important institution!”

“If you say so.” The Owl Lady is grinning, though, and she takes a moment to ruffle Luz’s hair. “Just… keep a low profile, yeah? It’s still a bit chaotic out there. I don’t want you getting caught up in any of it.”

“No worries. I’ll be careful.” Luz pulls away from the hug at last, looking back over her shoulder to Hunter. “Do you wanna come too, Hunter?”

The Owl Lady frowns. “Wait, him too? Luz, I don’t know about—”

“Pshhh, it’ll be fine!” Luz is smiling at him. Her expression is hopeful. “Well?”

Hunter watches her with narrowed eyes. Luz’s smile falters a little.

“…Fine,” Hunter says, before he can talk himself out of it. Whatever. If Luz doesn’t want the Owl Lady to know about last night, that’s none of his business anyway. Luz’s weird realm custody battle is her own fight. “I’ll go.”

“Seriously?” says the Owl Lady. “Yesssssss,” says Luz, and fist-pumps the air. It’s almost good enough to hide her sheer relief. Hmmm.

“Why not?” Hunter says, instead, and shrugs as casual as he can. “Library… wrangling. Or whatever.”

“Hanging out with friends,” Luz corrects, helpfully.

“…Sure.”

The Owl Lady also looks doubtful. “Look, Luz…” Luz turns and clasps her hands, eyes wide. The Owl Lady sighs. “That face. I hate that face.” Luz keeps up the face. The Owl Lady groans. “Fiiiiiiine.”

“Yes! Thank-you-Eda-we’ll-be-good!”

“Only understood like a third of that, but whatever. Go have fun, kiddo.” She ruffles Luz’s hair again. Luz beams. The Owl Lady glances over Luz to give Hunter a narrow stare. “And you. Keep a low profile, got it? Last thing we need for this whole political disaster is adding the Golden Guard’s survival to the mix. Talk quietly, yeah?”

His voice is not that bad. Hunter scowls at her. “I do know how to be discreet,” he says, miffed at the slight. “Unlike a certain someone I could name.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I do discreet with style.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“VISTORS,” says the bird-worm, loudly. Hunter cringes, startled; the palisman jumps too, its wings beating the air. Luz and the Owl Lady hardly even blink— already, Luz is running for the door.

“That must be Gus and Willow!”

The Owl Lady grabs at her shoulder before Luz can leave. “Hey— one sec.”

“Huh?”

“Just a quick word,” says the Owl Lady, eyeing Hunter pointedly. Hunter frowns back. Then he shrugs and goes for the front door.

He leaves the kitchen behind him— but he doesn’t go for the front door, not yet. Instead he lingers in the hallway, out of sight but not out of hearing range, and strains his ears. The palisman, always a sneak, settles down on his shoulder and leans its head forward too. It is very cute. Hunter resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“…nothing bad,” the Owl Lady is saying now, quietly. “I just—wanted to check up on you. You holding up okay?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Look, kid, I won’t pry. But that sort of thing can mess a person up, and a lot of bad shit happened. I won’t smother, but if you need anything…”

Hunter doesn’t move. When Luz speaks again, her voice is small. “I know.”

“Ah, kid.” Another moment of silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “It shouldn’t have been you,” she mutters, at last. “Titan knows I always wanted to whack the bastard. But you…” She trails off. “I’m sorry, Luz.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Eh, debatable. But you’re right. Doesn’t change the facts.” Another silence. He can hear Luz scuff her foot against the carpet. “…Anyway. Like I said. If you need anything—I’m here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

Luz is silent for a long moment. Hunter stands in the shadow of the entryway and regrets ever wanting to eavesdrop. His mouth is dry. The nightmare beats against his head.

“Thanks, Eda,” Luz says, at last.

“Go meet with your friends, kiddo.” The Owl Lady’s voice has gone gentle. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

Luz laughs, weak and watery. “Y-yeah.”

The palisman nuzzles at his cheek. Hunter brings up his hand, automatic. The feathers are soft beneath his fingertips.

Luz says something else, then, but Hunter doesn’t listen. He steps away from the wall and heads for the door. Their voices fade out behind him, and the palisman sits, singing softly, on his shoulder the whole way back.

It doesn’t quite drown out the memory of his uncle. But it is better than dwelling on it.

‘Willow and Gus,’ as it turns out, are the plant witch and illusionist. Hunter knows pretty much nothing about either of them, except at one point during the Day of Unity they totally tag-teamed to throw him through a wall, and actually in hindsight he’s still a little upset about that. The bruises. They ache.

Be nice, says the palisman. Its argument is lacking. ‘Willow and Gus’ are staring at him; Hunter crosses his arms and stares back.

Please? chirps the palisman, hopefully.

…This is absolutely going to be a disaster. He doesn’t even know which name belongs to which witch.

“So, funny thing,” the illusionist says, turning to look at the plant witch. “Because I think all the illusion magic has finally gone to my head?”

“It has not gone to your head,” says the plant witch. She’s making a very aggressive effort at keeping calm and kind of cheery, but her eyes are fixed on Hunter with a bright wariness that says she’s totally fine to try and throw him through another wall. “Luz told us, remember? The Golden Guard is staying at the Owl House.”

The boy’s voice drops to a fearful whisper. “I thought she was kidding!”

“I can hear you,” Hunter says.

“Oh my Titan, it’s responding.”

This is about when Luz arrives. Her smile is blinding. “Guys!”

“Luz!” says the plant witch.

“A reality that makes sense!” says the illusionist, tearfully, and they all do that weird parallel-arm thing Luz likes to do, except, like, in sync.

Luz pulls back first, wiping at her eyes. Her smile is wobbly. “I haven’t seen you guys since… it’s so good to see you!”

“It’s just not the same through a scroll,” the plant witch agrees. She’s wiping away her own tears. The illusionist is blinking fast. Hunter lingers on the fringes and makes a face at the ground; everything about this situation is uncomfortable.

“Oh, right, whoops. Guys, this is Hunter! Hunter, this is Willow and Gus.” She gestures when she says their names. Thank Titan. “He’s going to help us out today, if that’s okay?”

The two exchange glances. “I mean…” says the plant witch, uncertainly. “I guess so, but… Luz, isn’t he—”

“—the Golden Guard?” says the illusionist, in a terrible whisper.

“I can still hear you,” Hunter says.

Luz clasps her hands again. “Guys,” she says, imploring. “Trust me, okay?”

They exchange glances again. Hunter looks away, uncomfortable. Trust me. He has no idea why he agreed to this. He has even less idea why Luz invited him. She is risking too much for him. Too much for no reason at all.

“Okay, Luz,” says the plant witch. “We trust you.”

“Besides!” says the illusionist, cheery. “Even if he does do something weird, I’m pretty sure we can take him. Again.”

“That was a fluke,” Hunter snaps, straightening from the door. “I was tired—”

“Oooh,” says the illusionist. “That sounds… oh wow… like an excuse?”

Luz laughs loudly and steps in-between them before Hunter can fight the twelve-year-old. “Library wrangling!” she says, a little too loud. “Woooow, look at the time, we better be off!”

Hunter gives her a look. Luz gives him a pointed look back. Hunter rolls his eyes and marches out the door.

“…I guess we can give this a shot,” the plant witch says, quietly.

“I still think I’m hallucinating,” the illusionist mutters back.

Success! chirps the palisman, proud, on his shoulder.

“…Wait, hey,” says the illusionist. “Did his hair always have red streaks?”

Aaaaahhh, says the palisman. Hunter feels his face flush as red as the apple blood in his hair, hunches his shoulders, and stomps off down the path.

“Have fun!” shouts the bird worm, from the door. “MAKE GOOD CHOICES!”

The longer he stays here, Hunter thinks, the more he starts regretting it.

It’s not so much that Hunter was unaware of Bonesborough’s state post-Day of Unity, and more that… from a distance it just looked smokier than usual, and right now, standing in the middle of what used to be the town square, Hunter is just looking at a lot of fire. And rubble. And… aftermath-things, some of which he was definitely responsible for.

It’s a different perspective, is the point.

“Oh, yikes,” says Luz.

“You can say that again,” says the plant witch, glumly. “Clover’s been woozy for days.”

“Ooooh, yikes.”

The library is… a little better. At the very least, it is not on fire, even if the roof is a lost cause.

“Didn’t someone crash an airship through here?” wonders the illusionist.

Hunter smirks a little. The memory is fond and will be forever cherished. “That was Kikimora.”

“…Okay, yeah. That tracks.”

They are not alone at the site; others have already come through and gone, creating pathways through the debris. The west section has been partially restored, and he can see a few people there now—dressed in librarian robes, the linen grayed with dust. One drags their finger in a large circle, yawning into one hand, and a whole bookcase reassembles itself in under a minute.

If Hunter had his mechanical staff, he could have done that too. His staff remains broken and in the rubble. Hunter flexes one hand in a restless fist and says, conversationally, to his palisman: “This was a terrible idea.”

I can fix two bookshelves, says the palisman, nonsensically.

“We can’t fix any bookshelves,” Hunter replies, incredulous. It can’t even help him fix his window. Honestly.

“We haven’t even started yet,” says Luz, the eavesdropper. She grabs his wrist. Hunter eyeballs her hand. “Come on! The poor east side is just waiting for some good ol’ magic fixing.”

The plant witch and the illusionist are already walking away, talking about something Hunter is too tired to listen in on. Luz keeps hold of his wrist and drags him after them. He considers shaking her off, but… effort.

The palisman flutters to his head and burrows in his hair again, sulking. Hunter hadn’t even said anything; sometimes he suspects his palisman can read minds. (That, or it knows him too well—but that’s a bit of an uncomfortable thought, given after all of this Hunter isn’t even sure he knows himself, and it’s… really for the best if he just stops thinking about this. Yes.)

Luz stops dragging him and flings out her arm. “Welcome to the East Side! Usually its a lot more…. Um, intact. But it’s still cool! We’ve got the kid’s corner and the teen series section and the Isles comics section, and the reading nook, which is where Amity reads books to all the little kids. She does voices. It’s very endearing!”

“I have been to the library before,” says Hunter, dryly.

“Oh. Well.”

“Speeeeaking of Amity,” the illusionist says, and slides up to Luz. “Have you called her yet? Is she meeting us here?” He smiles as he says it, almost mischievous, jostling Luz with his elbow. The plant witch rolls her eyes, but she is smiling with the same lilt, teasing warmth.

Luz laughs loudly and suddenly. She skips back two steps and waves her hands in the air. “Oh! Amity! I, haha, I totally… called her… aaaand she said she couldn’t make it! Family business. I think their house collapsed. Oh well, next time!” She makes for the bookshelves. Her friends stare after her, their smiles falling, brows furrowed.

“What are you guys waiting for?” Luz calls back, and starts digging through the rubble. “These shelves aren’t going to sort themselves, you know.”

The plant witch and illusionist exchange glances. The plant witch looks worried. The illusionist shrugs, helpless.

“Hello? Guys, come on, I’m not lifting this bookcase myself.”

“Later,” the plant witch says quietly, and the illusionist nods, expression serious. The plant witch turns for the shelves. “Magic, Luz! I can’t believe you even managed to lift that… here, let me help.”

Hunter does not move. Luz laughs again and steps away from the bookcase, now supported by the plant witch’s vine. Her hand rubs the back of her neck. Her smile is sheepish. She is clever, and Hunter knows this; that Luz has forgotten to use magic is tell enough.

He stays back on the fringes and watches her, eyes narrowed. He is irritated and doesn’t really know why. He thinks of Luz drawing the light glyph, over and over. He thinks of yesterday afternoon, of Blight’s downcast expression, and his frown deepens.

…Whatever. It’s not his business. Hunter exhales hard and marches over to another bookcase. It is half-collapsed into a pile on the ground, broken shelves and paper everywhere. Hunter frowns at it.

“Sooo….”

The illusionist. Hunter straightens up and glances back. The plant witch is sticking by Luz, chatting cheerfully; you’d never guess her worry by the smile on her face. The illusionist, apparently, has decided to tag-team Hunter. Interesting teamwork. Is this a plan on the fly, or did they work it out in advance? Though Hunter is not sure why he got stuck with the illusionist.

Well. Either way. Hunter turns back and starts sorting through the books. “You don’t have to keep an eye on me,” he says, shortly. “I’m not going to blast you when your backs are turned.”

“Haha. I, uh… wasn’t worried about that until you said it. But good to know!”

“…Right.”

“Right,” the illusionist echoes, awkwardly. He glances back at Luz and the plant witch, sighs a little, then sets his shoulders and holds out his hand. “Anyway, I know Luz already introduced us… but I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot? When we, uh, met.”

Hunter settles the books on a free space of floor and frowns back at the rubbled bookshelves. Perhaps he should clear off the wood, first…?

“…and I was thinking—” The illusionist stops. “You weren’t listening to any of that, were you.”

No, Hunter thinks. Might as well try this with the shelf as-is; if he fails that’s just a bit more rubble, and at this point does it really matter? He holds out a hand for his palisman. “What do you think?” he asks it. “Want to try?”

My boy, says the palisman, like a sigh. So rude. But it flutters to his hand and forms a staff even so. Unlike most other palisman, Hunter’s palisman does not seem to like the idea of a permanent staff in hand. It flies freely unless there’s a fight to be had, and then it conjures the staff itself. Hunter has never understood this preference; he has never asked. The palisman is old, and not made for him. Maybe it is simply used to being free. (And Hunter, of all people— Hunter has no right to ask at all.)

“Man,” says the illusionist, who is still here for some reason, and looking at Hunter like Hunter is a kind of fascinating but very puzzling creature. It’s a weird look to be pinned with from a boy whose like ten, or something. “I mean, all right, I’ll admit I kind of expected this, but… still!” He crosses his arms and nods firmly. “I deserve better than this. I’m being very nice in not holding the whole ‘trying to kill us’ thing against you, you know.”

Hunter ignores him and aims the palisman at the bookshelf.

“…Figures,” sighs the illusionist.

Hunter narrows his eyes at the rubble, trying to focus. The palisman’s staff feels odd in his hands; the mechanical staff had been cold, even through his gloves, sharp metallic tang and power like live lightning. It had weighed almost nothing—hollow, light as air.

The palisman is a different sort of magic. Heavy, solid, weighed down in his hands like stone. The wood is knotted and gnarled. And the magic—it burns in an erratic rhythm, unpredictable, wild. The heat of it thrums like a heartbeat in his hands.

Wild magic. His heartbeat feels off. Hunter steadies his breathing and focuses on the shelf.

“Uh,” says the illusionist. “…Are you okay? Not that I care, or anything, but you look a little—”

He loses his grip on it. Something bangs; white flashes in his vision. Hunter hisses from the recoil and fights to keep from dropping the staff.

“Okay. So that went… er, well, I mean, it could have definitely gone worse, right?” Footsteps, coming closer. The illusionist steps up beside him. Despite the cheer in his voice and the unimpressed expression he’s worn since the day started, he does look a little concerned. “Um, need a hand?”

“No,” Hunter says, irritated with himself, and rolls back to his feet. The palisman staff is a burning warmth in his hand; the palisman is annoyed with him, and the ruined bookshelf is… not great.

Hunter sighs. He presses a hand against his eyes.

“…Not used to that palisman magic, huh.” The illusionist actually manages to sound sympathetic. He looks at the buried pile of books and winces a little. “Uh… second time’s the charm? Fake it till you make it? No, wait! Practice makes perfect.”

Hunter glares at him.

“Tough crowd, aren’t you? Wait, wait, try this.” The illusionist makes a little spell circle and then hops back, arms up, dramatic presentation. A poorly drawn and inaccurate star appears lopsided above him, an off-key yellow with ugly font proclaiming: YOU TRIED.

“Oh, wait, I didn’t mean to use that one, I… Luz made me make it for a joke… er.” Hunter stares at him blankly. The illusionist slumps a little. “Yeah, I didn’t get it either.”

There’s a long silence. The illusionist rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck and toes his boot through the dust.

“Why are you talking to me,” Hunter says, finally, at a loss.

“Why are you making yourself so hard to talk to? Huh? Ever think about THAT?” The illusionist crosses his arms. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Hunter should stop trying to meet Luz’s friends. They are all as crazy as her. He stands up and points the palisman staff at the bookcase again. The power burns through his gloves. Hunter keeps his breathing steady. The illusionist has gone silent.

Slowly, surely, the debris rises into the air, chunks of stone and broken wood, the books beneath. The rubble separates, slowly, hovering in the air. The stone from the wood. The wood from paper. He has almost got it entirely sorted—

The power sparks. Hunter’s hand spasms on the palisman’s staff; he flinches before he can stop himself, and every single floating object shakes. Shit.

He grits his teeth. This used to be easier, he thinks, suddenly angry. He used to be able to do this, and he is so close, he is right there, if he can just—

“There!”

The shout surprises him. His hold loosens on the staff. Hunter stiffens—but the pile doesn’t collapse, the books and debris cleanly separated, and the illusionist is walking up to the books, one hand to his chin, nodding to himself.

“Interesting, interesting… not bad!” The kid turns around, grinning. “I mean, the books are totally out of order, but who cares about that, right?”

“Seriously,” Hunter says, exasperated now. “What are you doing?”

The illusionist points back behind him. Hunter stiffens and whirls around—but nothing is there. His eyes focus. Oh. The plant witch and Luz: they have moved in the other direction, shifting through the rubble. Luz is using her ice glyphs to support crumbling walls; the plant witch using vines to dig through for anything still whole.

“Helping you,” the illusionist says. Some of that childish cheer has faded from his voice; when Hunter turns back around, the illusionist has crossed his arms, and he meets Hunter’s eyes with a firm tilt to his chin. “Look. I get it. You don’t like me, I don’t know you… you’re probably a sore loser about the fact Willow and I totally kicked your butt during the Day of Unity…” Hunter scowls. The illusionist grins, briefly, and then coughs into his fist.

“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is… Luz is my friend.” The illusionist’s voice has gone quiet. “Okay? And she asked us to give you a chance. So…” He gestures—to the library, to the books, to the rubble on the floor. “This is me, trying to give you a chance. You know, if you’d let me help. Like, dude. Cooperation. Come on.”

I don’t need your help. It’s on the tip of his tongue. In the background, something falls; Luz shrieks briefly and then starts laughing. The plant witch is laughing too. The illusionist doesn’t budge.

The palisman’s staff burns warm in his hands. Hunter sighs, and turns back to the debris.

“…I don’t suppose you know what order the books should be in, do you?” he says, at last.

“Haha, I totally do. Reading! Gotta love it.” The illusionist hops down to stand next to him, waving a hand. An image of the unbroken bookcase rises over the rubble; in the illusionary shelves, the book titles glint. Above each shelf is a little plaque with the genre and alphabetical section. It is a good illusion, too: see-through but detailed, decorated even with the false image of woodgrain. If not for the translucence, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it was fake.

Hunter frowns down at the kid. The illusionist grins back. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all, huh, Golden Guard?”

“…There’s always time to change your mind,” Hunter replies, a little impressed despite himself, and raises the staff again.

The library work, if annoying, is at least mindless in its repetitiveness. He barely even has to talk to the illusionist at all; by the fifth time Hunter refuses to respond to the kid’s attempt at conversation, the illusionist sighs loudly and stops trying, though he does spare a moment to give Luz (nearby, by that point) a pleading face and a really unnecessary comment of “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” Luz had said, without hesitation, which was probably fair but also really, really unappreciated.

At any rate, Luz is a few bookshelves over again and the illusionist has fallen into blessed silence. The palisman is quiet too; it can’t peck him for being avoidant when he’s using it as a staff, which is a win that Hunter has gladly taken. Ha-ha, palisman. See it try to scold him now.

The library’s starting to actually show some progress too, which is nice. The books all lined up in the right categories and genres and everything. They aren’t alone in the work either; other townsfolk and probably the librarians have all converged to try and pick up the pieces. It’s almost ironic, seeing it; the aftermath of the Day of Unity seems to have inspired more unity than the actual day itself. Hah, hah.

“Woah,” says the illusionist. Hunter has swung the staff too hard; instead of organizing this section he’s knocked over a whole stack of books. “You, uh, okay there?”

Hunter closes his eyes and breathes out through his teeth. “Fine!” he says, brightly.

“…If you… say so?”

Hunter marches over to the next rubble pile. It is very stupid to miss the palisman’s nagging when the palisman is right here in his hands and he was just gleefully enjoying its silence. He knows its stupid.

His next attempt with the staff, instead of doing literally anything useful, knocks over a second stack of books. Hunter resists the very mature and reasonable urge to scream and throw his staff against the wall. It would not be fair to the palisman.

“Maybe we should take a break,” says the illusionist, reasonably. Hunter glares at him. “….Or we could not take a break! What do I know, its not like you just murdered two whole stacks of boo—okay, okay, shutting up now, man…”

The illusionist wanders over to pick up the books. Hunter goes to follow him, and then the staff dissolves in his hands.

Hunter stares down at his empty palm. The palisman, animated once again, flutters before him and chirps.

“Really?” says Hunter.

So much magic. Too tired. Time to rest!

“Seriously?” Hunter says, unimpressed. The thing is made of wild magic, like he’s gonna believe that sorry excuse.

The palisman flutters to his shoulder, perfectly innocent. Sleepy… sleepy…

Hunter puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t move. Then he sighs, drags his hands down his face, and goes to sit against the wall.

Yes, yes, yes, says the palisman, and hops down to his knee with undisguised smugness.

Hunter rolls his eyes and reaches out with one hand to scratch at its feathers. He shouldn’t have sat down; he feels tired, and a little like he can feel every single hour he’s spent not-sleeping like a weight on his shoulders.

“Stupid bird,” he tells it.

I am very cute, replies the palisman, proudly, and then lowers its head to play with the tail end of his sleeve.

Hunter hisses through his teeth, defeated, and thunks his head back against the wall, resigned to wait. The illusionist glances back at him once and them seems bizarrely delighted; apparently he thinks Hunter is taking his advice by choice. Hunter… lets him think that. It’s fine. Whatever.

Weird, though, the way the kid clenches a fist and goes “Yes! Progress!” in such a bad whisper Hunter doesn’t even have to strain his ears to hear him. Kind of funny, too. Luz’s friends are almost endearing when they’re not being annoying and throwing him through walls.

The day is almost half done and the light shines through the rubble slanted and sickly yellow, sunshine and lingering smoke. The library is taking shape once more; the towers upon towers of books, someone else dusting the debris from a dark carpet. For all of his words to Luz, Hunter really hasn’t been here that often. He is not from Bonesborough, and even the few times he had been in town, there had never been any need: the Emperor’s Coven had its own collections and once Hunter had become the Golden Guard in full, walking around with his true face showing just hadn’t been an option.

There are columns here, and once-stained glass windows; the remnants of them stand like lone sentinels in the debris, the last walls still standing. It’s sort of funny, in a way. All this destruction, Kikimora’s rage carved into every bookshelf and scoured across the floor, and yet there’s still enough standing to rebuild. The library has withstood her: defeated by a bunch of books. Hunter could laugh and laugh. If he could tell that to her face— hah!

He can’t taunt her with it, of course—he has no idea where Kikimora even is, let alone if she’s alive or not. The coven has fallen and the Emperor is dead; who knows what they’ve been left with? Maybe Kikimora is still around. Maybe she is trying to call the shots. Or maybe she’s been locked up and hidden away, all the coven officials taken out of view.

All of them, of course, except him.

…Are they looking for him?

The palisman tugs at his sleeve. Hunter stares at the wall. Too much thinking, says the palisman. Rest, rest.

“I’m resting right now,” Hunter says, tired.

The palisman chitters at him, unconvinced. Hunter shakes his head and runs a finger down its head. The palisman sighs at him but drops it, nuzzling into the touch. Its unfairly cute. Hunter’s lip twitches, fighting a smile.

“—just want to know what to expect, you know?”

Hunter stills. The voice is unfamiliar to him, and on instinct he presses back against the wall, sinking back into the shadows. He misses his cloak, suddenly and fiercely—if he still had it, now is when he’d draw up the hood—but he makes due, shoulders flat against the wall and the palisman held securely to his chest. He holds his breath, listening.

“I know what you mean. My daughter goes to Hexside—she’s been panicking all week. Like, the school’s still standing, but is she still aiming for a coven? I just don’t know.”

“She could always work with you at the library. Uh. Once it’s… you know.”

“Intact.”

“Yeah, that.”

Hunter closes his eyes, annoyed with himself. Librarians. It’s just librarians. There’s no reason for him to make such a fuss—ugh, the fact he’s practically plastered himself against a wall to hide from them, how embarrassing—

“Hunter? Youuuu okay there?”

Hunter lunges up, smacks a hand over Luz’s mouth, and drags her into the shadow before she can give away his position. “Shh!”

Luz smacks her elbow back into his gut.

“Ow,” Hunter hisses, incensed again, and tries to put her in a headlock.

Luz smacks his arm, making muffled noises of rage; Hunter lets her go, scowling. She goes to speak. Hunter shushes her again, aggressively, and then pulls her further behind the shadow of the bookshelf. Luz rolls her eyes at him—but she stays quiet this time, and she hides too, so Hunter forgives her. A little bit.

(He rubs his side, gingerly. Ow. Bony human elbows.)

“What are we doing?” Luz whispers, once they are both hidden behind the bookshelf. “Why are we hiding?”

Hunter directs his gaze far away from her, and absolutely does not go red. He cannot admit that he’s hiding from librarians. He just can’t. For one thing, he has no idea why he’s doing this either. “Where’s your little nerd squad?”

“The correct word is friends,” says Luz, unimpressed with him. “And they’re just over there, see?” She points. Plant witch and illusionist are conferring seriously over a pile of books yet-to-be-sorted. They look up as one at Luz’s gesture—what is this, some sort of weird groupthink mentality?—give awkward and not-at-all suspicious smiles, and wave. Luz waves back.

They are absolutely gossiping. Given their guilty expressions, its probably gossip about Luz and not him, and therefore none of Hunter’s business.

(The look on Blight’s face, yesterday. The very obvious fact Luz is avoiding contact. Not his business.)

“So why are you avoiding Blight, anyway,” Hunter says, abruptly, because apparently he’s a traitor even to himself.

“Um,” says Luz, and—and she’s not smiling at all now. It’s a terrible expression.

“Never mind,” Hunter says. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’m not avoiding her,” Luz says, in a quiet and high-pitched tone that is just sort of distressing to hear. “I’m not, haha, why would I—why would I be avoiding her? Maybe you’re the one… avoiding…”

“Blight?” Hunter says, very dryly.

“Blight…twins!” She elbows him, too hard to be casual. “You keeping something from me, huh buddy?” Hunter just looks at her. Luz falters. “Y-you… you haven’t met the twins. Have you.”

“I’ve met them,” Hunter says, flatly. “I don’t really understand what you’re trying to get at, but—whatever. You don’t have to tell me. Just—never mind.”

“I’m not avoiding her,” Luz says, in that small voice again. Awful, awful. Hunter should never have brought this up. “I… I don’t want to avoid her.”

The last part—it has more a ring of truth to it than anything else she’s said yet. Hunter shifts a little, opening his hands; the palisman, ever quick on the uptake, flutters over to Luz. It nibbles at her hair and hops lightly on her shoulder. Luz smiles, weakly.

In the afternoon light the library is shadowed and strangely golden, illuminated and shadowed in equal parts. It’s cold, especially with the walls all broken in; autumn is coming, and with it the rainy season, the whirlwinds of falling leaves and the rolling fogs that tend to take whole towns and leave nothing behind. The librarians are still gossiping behind them, only a few rows down—market prices and if spider eggs might go on sale given everything. Useless talk.

But maybe that’s the point. Useless words and useless action—like Hunter actually cares about this stupid community library, as if he wants to be here, picking up books and talking about nothing with people he doesn’t know. He doubts Luz cares that much about it either—oh, sure, more than he does, but four days after the end and her idea of fun is picking up the rubble? As if.

Useless, all of it. Maybe that’s why it feels like the end of things. The covens are all tangled up, the government in shambles, everything everyone thought they knew left broken on the pedestal. What else are they supposed to do, really? What else is he supposed to do? The Emperor’s coven is gone—

(His uncle is dead.)

—so he might as well be here. Doing useless things, like picking up books and sitting awkwardly next to a miserable kid who might be his only real friend, as sad as it sounds.

“Never mind,” Hunter says again, uselessly. “Just… let’s forget it.”

Luz sniffs a little and scratches at the palisman’s head. “…Sorry.”

He has no idea what she thinks she’s apologizing for. “It’s fine.”

Too sweet to be sad, says the palisman, mournful, and clicks its beak at Luz’s fingers. Pet shop! Password! You are a little angel.

“I’m okay,” Luz tells the palisman, which is entirely the wrong interpretation of what its saying. The palisman seems pleased by the answer anyway; it flutters to Luz’s head and combs through her hair. She laughs, surprised. Little angel, coos the palisman.

Footsteps on the stone. Hunter glances over, wary, shifting a little to hide Luz with his shoulder. It is the plant witch and illusionist. They look worried, and a little alarmed, but when Luz tries to smile at them, they do their best to smile back.

“Everything okay, Luz?” says the plant witch.

“Why are we hiding?” adds the illusionist, bemused.

“Everything’s fine, guys,” says Luz, and somehow manages to make it sound like they’re being funny for asking, like she hasn’t very obviously almost been on the verge of tears. The illusionist squints at her. “How about you? Almost done?”

“We’re making progress!”

“Which means we’re close, right?” Luz climbs to her feet. “Okay! One last push. What do you think?”

“I think—” starts the illusionist, and then the librarian says, “—anything about the Emperor? I mean, really, any news at all? You’d think they’d announce something by now!”

The conversation withers. The plant witch has gone still. The illusionist glances over the isles, for the first time looking slightly panicked. The librarians do not notice—their little group hidden behind the bookshelves, out from view.

“Well, nothing official, true,” says the other bookkeeper. “But I mean—there’s rumors. You know.”

“Come on, have some pride. Rumors. Not the same as confirmation.”

“No, but… everyone’s saying it. And there’s eyewitness accounts—”

“Still, you have to look at the facts...”

“Well, sure the kid’s human,” replies the other, and beside Hunter, Luz has gone so, so still. Hunter doesn’t look at her. His breathing feels very hollow. “But she’s the Owl Lady’s apprentice too, isn’t she? So why couldn’t the human have killed the Emperor?”

Hunter stands up very suddenly. The plant witch and illusionist startle, eyes wide, gripping their staffs. How funny. This whole day, all of his terrible attitude, and now is the only time where they look at him like he might be a threat.

Luz doesn’t look up at all. She’s drawn up her knees, hiding her head in her arms. Curled up small and sort of shaking, like she’s fighting the urge to cover her ears. Maybe he could hate her for that. Maybe he should. His uncle is dead because of her, and she still won’t look him in the eye.

(She’s fourteen, and tiny, and maybe the only friend he’s ever had.)

The palisman is still sitting on her head. It is silent.

“I have to go,” Hunter says, thin. “Now. Important business. Sorry.”

The plant witch hesitates. The illusionist looks between them, and startles when Hunter pushes past him. “Hey, wait,” the kid says. He looks alarmed. He glances back at Luz, the plant witch now kneeling beside her, then turns around and rushes to catch up with Hunter, reaching out for his arm. “Er— are you—?”

Hunter snatches his arm away. His breathing feels locked up tight.

They are out in the open now. The librarians have stopped talking. There’s no way they could recognize him—no one here who could know the Golden Guard’s face—and yet it feels like being under a spotlight, like standing beneath a throne, hearing the heartbeat drumming cold. Like being seen.

“Leave me alone,” Hunter says, tense and tight and angry. The kid flinches back. He looks uncertain. He glances back at Luz again.

Hunter doesn’t give him time to think. The kid looks away and Hunter moves—down the hall, through the rubble, beyond the library doors and into the open air. Busy city streets and a market road, still burning. Posters lining the walls—one he recognizes. The Golden Guard, masked and faceless. The Emperor’s Coven Wants You!

Hunter rips it from the wall, vicious. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

He keeps walking.

The palisman catches up to him eventually— it always does.

For once, Hunter is not in the mood for it. The palisman flutters by his head and he sneers, waving it away. His chest feels knotted, his throat tight. “Go away, bird,” he says, and this time he does mean the lack of name to be an insult. If he had never heard it. If he had never known it. What would his life be then?

The palisman doesn’t leave, of course. It never does. Just flutters in the air, and sings its name.

“I don’t care,” Hunter says. “Shut up.”

My boy, replies the palisman. It sounds almost like a sigh.

He waves his hand at it again. The palisman flutters out of reach. Hunter clenches his fists and glares at the ground, then turns around and keeps going. He is on the fringes of town by now, nearing the woods, the wild. The path leads on, deeper through the trees; if he follows it he is sure to find the Owl House eventually.

Spiteful, Hunter steps off the path and marches in the other direction, into the overgrowth.

Why, titters the palisman. Hunter hunches his shoulders. When he looks back, though—still, the palisman follows.

For a moment he is blindly, incessantly angry with it; Hunter takes a short, quick breath and whirls back around. He pushes through the woods and doesn’t look back. He doesn’t say any of what he is thinking—he doesn’t look at the palisman again. He just keeps walking.

So stupid, he thinks. This whole thing is so stupid. It’s not like he hasn’t heard it before. It’s not like he didn’t know. It’s just that every time its brought up Hunter doesn’t know what to say, and if Luz is there then she doesn’t say anything either and everyone just—looks at him. As if they’re expecting something. As if they aren’t sure what to expect.

He isn’t looking where he’s going; his foot catches on a root, and Hunter nearly face-plants. He catches himself against the tree at the last second, righting himself. Stupid. Stupid. He is the Golden Guard, Belos’s right hand man and a Coven official, and he’s officially lost it. No mask, no badge, not even his Titan-damned cloak.

Hunter makes a fist and slams it sideways against the tree. That doesn’t help either. His hand just hurts. He hisses through his teeth and pushes forward—

Another root. He almost trips for a second time, stumbling into a nearby log. Something in him snaps. Hunter reels back his foot and kicks the fallen tree with all his might. Nothing happens. He kicks it again, harder, spiteful. Then again.

It doesn’t do anything. Hunter reels back his foot and kicks the tree so hard it cracks. The broken bark bites like teeth at the skin above his ankle. Fan-fucking-tastic. He is now bleeding.

Hunter wrenches his foot from the broken log and stands still, breathing hard. His face feels hot; there is pressure building behind his eyes. Nothing happens. Nothing changes. Everything is the same as it was before.

Hunter, his uncle had said. The night before the Day of Unity. Not in the throne room, then—the library, Hunter restless and unable to sleep. The palisman had been with him; when he heard his uncle coming he’d panicked, shoving the palisman out of sight into his cloak, under his arm, trapped against his ribcage. For once, the palisman had refused to go wooden. It had stayed there, silent but breathing, and the whole time Belos was there Hunter could feel its heartbeat humming against his ribs with every breath.

Hunter, Belos had said, smiling. His hand light and warm on Hunter’s shoulder. His expression fond.

I know you won’t let me down.

Hunter breathes. He sits down on the log and stares at the woods. The palisman lands by his feet and does not touch him. Its eyes are open, watching. Its wings flutter like a heartbeat.

It says nothing.

Hunter hides his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and breathes. The woods are silent and still. The afternoon sun is warm on his back.

He still isn’t crying. He thinks that might be the worst part.

He doesn’t move for a long time. The blood is cold and itchy against his ankle, the cuts scabbing over. He rubs at his eyes, uselessly.

Then he stands back up again.

#toh #the owl house #owl house #toh hunter #the golden guard #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #hunter owl house #owl house fic #toh fic #fic: who we are in the aftermath #iza fanfic #fic update #reblogs are always appreciated

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nnightskiess · 3 years

Text

₊° 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

tw: touching without consent

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Julian opened the door with a cheeky smile, keeping it open for his friends and fellow heretics. His grin widened when lastly Nora and Y/N stepped inside— for the first time ever being able to hold hands while walking into a pub.

Even though Julian was pretty heartless, he still loved his little family just like any proud man would. He held a specific adoration for the two women. Not only did their fearless and ruthless attitude impress him every time again, he also loved the soft side they showed when it was just them and their family. Having seen both sides, made him make a promise to himself— to always protect them, no matter what, even though everyone knew both women were fully capable of that themselves.

“Ladies.” He bowed curtly and closed the door after him when everyone was inside.

“Now let’s have fun!”

Lily gave him a look, but her stern expression broke down because of his grin. Valerie and Beau wandered off to the bar, Julian wrapped his arm around a lost-looking Mary-Louise while Y/N’s eyes warily wandered around the place— this world was still new to her and she wasn’t sure if it would ever start to feel normal.

To say Nora was excited was an understatement. She had learned how use a mobile phone sooner than she had visited a pub in the 21st century and couldn’t wait to cross this off her list too. Her hand safely intertwined with Y/N’s, who looked around to take it all in. All the voices were hard to drown out in her head.

Y/N didn’t know how to feel about the world they were dropped in. In a way, the girl was a perfect mixture of Nora and Mary Lou— she was excited to explore this new version of earth but it also terrified her immensely. Scared of the unknown was a better way to put it. But, with Nora by her side, she was sure it wouldn’t be as scary. Besides, she had gone through scarier stuff before. A pub, filled with oddly dressed people talking about unknown or weird topics with electronic devices in their hands was nothing compared to fighting off fellow vampires or vampire hunters.

A squeeze in her hand interrupted her daydream.

“-Love?”

“I’m sorry?”

Nora stood in front of her with her usual mischievous smile, holding out her other hand for Y/N to hold. Y/N grabbed it and let her lead her to an empty spot in the far corner.

“You sit your pretty butt down and I’ll get us something to drink.”

“No-”

“No weird 21st century cocktail,” Nora cut her off and rolled her eyes in amusement, “I know.” She whispered teasingly.

Y/N crossed her arms and let out a puff of air. A few people stood crowded around a pool table, seemingly having fun. Right behind them was someone playing darts.

Y/N snorted when all of his attempts went over the board— his darts now sticking into the wall. Even though she had never played before, she knew she would do way better.

With the usual strut in her step, she walked over to the guy. She removed the darts out of the wall, not even looking at him.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, quietly asking him what he was still doing there, standing in her spot.

“You’re gonna try?” He seemed surprised and also unimpressed.

“Can’t be worse than you.”

The guy bit his lip and put a hand through his ruffled dark curls. He watched from next to the woman as she threw dart after dart— most landing around around the bulls-eye.

“Looks like you lost big time.” Nora teased and appeared next to Y/N, handing her girlfriend a drink before looking at the man. He seemed pissed but smug at the same time, now that two women seemed to want to keep him company.

“Do you want to give it a go?”

Nora shook her head and took a sip out of her beer bottle after landing on one of the seats around. She shrugged absentmindedly, “Long pointy things aren’t really my thing.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at the innuendo and handed the guy the darts.

Nora sat with them for a while, shamelessly watching her girlfriend like a hawk while drinking her beer. God, Y/N looked great in these new type of clothes, no matter how much she had complained about how itchy her jeans were or how stupid it was that there were holes in them. Y/N had barely touched her drink, way too focused on their game of darts and thus also not realising how the guy stood closer to her every time they switched places. But Nora had. Oh, Nora definitely had. But like Lily had said before they left: no funny business, which meant that tearing the guy’s heart out was clearly not an option.

The man finished his bottle of beer, any reservations he previously had washed away with the alcohol in his system.

“You’re so fucking hot, look at you go.”

Nora's lip curled into a sneer, ready to jump in.

“And gay.” Y/N’s reply seemed to fly over his head.

“I doubt darts is the only thing you’re good at.” The way he said it made Nora’s blood boil.

“I better not have heard that correctly.” She flew up in an instant but the look on Y/N’s face told her she was ready to handle it on her own.

The guy held her lower back as he passed her and walked off into the crowd without another word.

Y/N turned around,

“What a dirty pig.”

“Glad that perverted git is gone.”

Nora immediately rolled her eyes at the look that followed on her girlfriend’s face.

“Nora Hildegard....jealous of a good-for-nothing guy? A guy!”

Y/N gave her a playful shove. Nora was barely jealous, Y/N knew that. They had been together for so long and had literally gone through sickness and health and basically died twice together, only coming out of it stronger. There was no one else for Y/N than Nora, and the heretic knew that all too well.

“I just get disgusted how he treated you. Are there even normal men nowadays, instead of only pigs?”

“There were pigs back then, too.”

“Sure, but they don’t try to hide it now.” Nora grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her closer, planting a quick peck on the girl’s lips. Both girls felt triumph knowing that they could finally kiss in public without being beaten out of the pub. They both grinned when they pulled back, knowing they had thought the same.

“I’m going to get myself another drink, be right back.”

Y/N turned back around and continued throwing darts, though this time she didn’t do her best, she just wanted to pass the time. After a couple minutes of absentmindedly throwing at the board in front of her, she felt a presence behind her. A hand suddenly grabbed her chin from behind and caught her by surprise. When feeling the presence, she had initially thought it was Nora who had returned, but her scent was far away and these rough hands holding her in place weren’t hers, neither were the chapped lips that were forcefully planted on her neck.

In the surprise of it all, she let out a muffled yelp. His intoxicated mind took this as an invitation to continue, making Y/N freeze every muscle in her body. Shove the damn bloke off, she yelled at herself. She knew she had the strength, but she was so shocked that her brain didn’t know how to send the signals to the rest of her body.

Over at the bar, Nora had heard her girlfriend’s muffled cry for help thanks to her hearing and immediately filtered out the rest. She didn’t care who saw her use her speed, or who would witness the thing about to happen next. All she cared about was helping Y/N and doing whatever harm popped into her mind to the guy holding her locked.

Nora’s speedy walk caught the attention of all the people around and the hushed whispers immediately reached the rest of the heretics.

Y/N still stood there, limp, shocked, horror in her eyes and in that moment, all Nora saw was red. Her eyes darkened, black veins formed around her eyes and her teeth shone in the dim bar light, serving as a warning. She grabbed the man’s head, who finally realised all eyes were on him.

Nora squeezed his head and slammed it into the wall next to him in full force within a second. She dropped him and gave him a second to recuperate. He groaned and looked dazed... or maybe he was still drunk? Not effective enough, Nora thought. Her eyes quickly flickered to Y/N’s, seeing her girlfriend nod slowly. She was okay. Well, she wasn’t, but she’d be okay until Nora was done with the guy.

“Nora! Leave it!”

But she zoned out every voice or rational thought and didn’t hear Lily yell. She tended to do that when it came to Y/N being hurt. The rest of the heretics watched in anticipation, knowing Nora wouldn’t do this if the guy hadn’t deserved it. Some of them even wore smirks.

Nora stood over him, an evil and taunting look on her face.

“Now, that did not have the desired effect I hoped for. Apparently your head’s not as hollow as I deemed it it to be.” Within a flash, she held him by his neck and made him stand up, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His face turned blue, “This might have.”

Her hand dove into his chest and pulled out his heart. People who had previously watched in confusion and terror, now started screaming, especially when Nora turned around— heart in her hand, blood dripping down her arm, eyes bloodshot and fangs out.

“You fool!” Lily frantically looked around, not knowing where to start damage control.

Nora threw the heart behind her, not caring where it landed. He didn’t need it anymore, anyway. She blinked a few times, going back to normal, before running up to Y/N.

She held the girl’s cheeks and softly examined her before her eyes landed on her girlfriend’s face. The look Nora had sported not even ten seconds ago, the one that had frightened everyone in the bar, completely vanished the moment she held her girlfriend in her arms. Instead, her soft eyes were now filled with worry.

“Are you alright?!”

Y/N kept quiet, ashamed she couldn’t stand up for herself. Nora nodded, knowing very well what Y/N was thinking but couldn’t say. Being together for so many years made it easy to read someone that well.

She pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her girl’s head close to her chest and planting multiple kisses on her hair. She softly massaged the girl’s scalp. She knew Y/N always responded better to physical contact, which was why Nora used it to calm the girl down most times.

Y/N was safe now, in her arms, and Nora would protect her with her life. In this century and in the next.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#nora hildegard #noralise imagine #nora hildegard imagine #nora hildegard x reader #noralise #tvd one shot #tvd imagines #tvd x reader #nora hildegard blurb #mary louise imagine #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvator imagine #damon salvator x reader #heretics imagine #legacies imagine

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opinated-user · 1 year

Note

I think another reason why Lily put porn in the Star vs video wasn't just for "you knowing what this is and pointing it out makes you guilty"... really underhanded way to take the responsibility off you, Lily.

I think it was also done as a way to get attention because people who know what Rape Play is would talk about the problematic move Lily just pulled, and some people will even go back to the original video to see if Lily actually did this horrendous thing. It's for views and ratings.

I'm not justifying anything Lily did here, it's disgusting to promote this stuff on a mostly children/teen cartoon-centered channel. What I am saying is that shooting yourself in the foot like this is not a good way to maintain viewership, and some people will walk away for good for shit like this, myself included.

considering how much LO actively hates whenever we talk about her problematic antics, i doubt that was the primary motivator for doing that. even more so because we're exactly the kind of circle who actually encourages people to not watch her videos directly and always choose alternative routes like hooktube (replace the you part of YouTube for hook in the url) so LO keeps losing the views that she's already losing on her own.

she might claim whatever excuse she thought for that action, but personally i feel like including that game was purely and simply LO exhibiting the kind of japanese media she enjoys behind the scenes and enjoying the fact that people can't directly call that out. not only because someone who enjoys the kind of content in any of the sankaku accounts of course would love rape play, but also because she just can't help herself to tell everyone her kinks.

just like she did when she hyperfocuses on a painting of cherub inspired Steven for way too long, when she "jokes" about how his metaphorical aunties and grandma the diamonds are part of his harem or when she "jokes" about hunter recieving annilingus. it's always about where her mind jumped at naturally because she has no filter, no boundaries and no idea of why that is a bad thing.

#lily orchard

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nightmaresart · 3 years

Text

𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'd be usin' for the rest of my life

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'd be usin' for the rest of my life

Don't blame me - Taylor Swift

𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Full Name: Victoria Penelope Montgomery

Meaning of Name:

The name Victoria is of Latin origins and means "The one of victory"

The name Penelope is of Greek origins and means "Beautiful person" or "Gift of God "

Nickname: Vicky, Victory, Penny

Reason of Nickname:

Vicky: Vicky is a nickname ber parents and friends often use for her as its easier to catch her attention like this if they want her to pay attention for a second

Victory: Victory is a nickname that her parents use to cheer the young woman up when she was younger

Penny: Penny isn't a common nickname for Victoria as people tend to use Vic or Vicky more, however, it is used from time to time by her friends to tease her about her middle name

Gender identity: Cis-Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Hetrosexual

Age: 17, depends on what I write

Birthday: 13-08

Zodiac sign: Leo ♌

Place of birth: Warwick, England

Blood Status: Half Blood

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

The wand: Dogwood, Boomslang Venom, 12 ⅓ Inches

Dogwood: Dogwood is one of my own personal favourites, and I have found that matching a dogwood wand with its ideal owner is always entertaining. Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun. It would be quite wrong, however, to deduce from this that dogwood wands are not capable of serious magic when called upon to do so; they have been known to perform outstanding spells under difficult conditions, and when paired with a suitably clever and ingenious witch or wizard, can produce dazzling enchantments. An interesting foible of many dogwood wands is that they refuse to perform non-verbal spells and they are often rather noisy.

Boomslang Venom: Boomslang venom, whether crystallized or in a rarer liquid core, provides a small boost to jinxes and hexes thanks to its venomous qualities. However, when a wandmaker undertakes the dangerous task of working with the raw venom, it is generally with the aim of creating a powerful Transfiguration wand. Whether or not the advantages outweigh the risks is not generally agreed upon in wandmaking circles.

Patronus: Orca

Orca - It’s no mistake that orcas are nicknamed “killer whales.” They are one of the most effective hunters in the ocean. Orcas use teamwork and complex communication skills to hunt and the same cunning to protect their young. With the fierce, calculated protection of an orca on your side, you can rest assured that the Dementors will be no match for you.

Magical abilities: Lycantrophy

Lycanthropy is the state in which a Werewolf finds him or herself: that of turning into a fearsome and deadly near-wolf.

Boggart:

The most important people in her life looking at her in disgust as they're talking down on her and who she is

Riddikulus form:

Not available, she ran out of the classroom and never got to discover it

Amortentia

What do they smell?

Maple syrup, Freshly cut grass, Warm tea and a Fireplace

What do they smell like?

Sweets, A hint of blood, Lilies and the woods after a storm

Mirror of Erised

Herself and her Husband with some healthy kids, not having to worry about what others think of her and that she is safe with her new family and friends

𝕻𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Untamed coup of hair that perfectly represents whether its close to a full moon or not

Weight: 58 kg or 127 lbs

Height: 1,65 m or 5 ft 4

Type of Body/Build: Mesomorph, Hourglass figure

Skin Tone: Beige, warm undertone

Distinguishing Marks: The first thing people will notice are the scars on the left side of her face

Face claim: Phoebe Tonkin

𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

Overall Personality

An overall calm and collected girl who seems to know more than she shows. She is smart and uses her knowledge for pranks and least harmful ways of creating mischief. She is snarky and can be quite sarcastic, she loves to mess around with her friends and is often the reason they get out of trouble or detention.

Briggs myer type: ESFP

Good traits:

Outgoing, adventurous, caring, talkative, understanding

Bad traits:

Crude, loud, distracted easily, a bit of a dreamer, pushover

𝕬𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖊

Towards people they hate

She is cold towards the people she hates, she doesn't interact with them and always gives them the cold shoulder

Towards people they tolerate

She is gentle with the people she tolerates, she isn't as talkative with them as she is with her friends but she doesn't mind talking to them at all

Towards people they consider friends

She is herself with the people she sees as friends, she doesn't hide her personality and if she deems them trustworthy enough she also doesn't hide her lycanthropy at all, even alerting them when the full moon is close so they know she'll react differently

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘

Family:

Father: Matthew Montgomery, a muggle man

Mother: Rosemarie Smith/Montgomery, a full blood woman

Sibling: Timothy William Montgomery, younger brother

Friends:

Teddy Ellison, Galen Stagg @cursebreakerfarrier , Roel Leeuwenhoek @words-and-wands , Gabriel Sapieha, Josie Edwards @slytherindisaster , Tadgh Lynch, Kit O'Sheeran @unfortunate-arrow , Logan Rosseto @demon-twins-and-co

S/o:

Danny Gibson @catohphm

Rivals:

TBD

𝕭𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

Born in Warwick England, Victoria's mother was casted out by her family for marrying a muggle man and having a child with him. This automatically meant that Victoria was an outcast to that side of the family as well as she wasn't a full blood born child. She never learned about her mother's side of the family as well as Rosemarie refused to talk about them.

Growing up Victoria had quite a happy and normal childhood, she was allowed to do her own things and her parents were there for her if she needed them in any sort of way.

Around the age of seven when the young girl was staying with her uncle she was unfortunately attacked by a werewolf. Distraught the young child screamed and cried herself a sore throat and it took ages for her uncle to comfort her.

After this accident Victoria wasn't the same anymore as she was constantly on edge and scared, she didn't know what to do and neither did her parents. It tookba couple of years to come around and accept it, around that time she also received her Hogwarts letter. Stress was the first thing she felt when she got the letter as she wouldn't have a safe place to transform during a full moon and she didn't believe that the other children would accept her if she told them.

In the beginning of her Hogwarts career she was very closed off, but as time passed she gained more confidence and eventually became one of the many troublemakers Gryffindor and Hogwarts would see in their years to come

After Hogwarts it is said that she disappeared of the radar, refusing to live in a busy city or town

𝕽𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝕱𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘

Victoria is quite cautious about telling new friends about her lycanthropy, but once she does tell them its always after she has decided she trusts them enough

She is quite good at transfiguration and its her best subject with Potions being her absolute worst

She is always in a horrible mood a week before the next full moon and will make this fact known to her friends

She will sass you if you're being a complete idiot in her eyes

She loves teasing her friends about their crushes once she figures them out. Ofcourse she never takes it too far

She loves puns and often makes them, cracking up halfway through though as she amuses herself with them the most

She is really good at giving puppy eyes, she uses this to get things from her friends or to get out of trouble, it works most of the time

If you want your mc to be added to her friend or rival list, just tell me and I'll add them!

#harry potter #hphl #hphl mc #hphl oc #hphl moodboard #hphl profile #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #victoria montgomery #she is here!#with an updated profile #jesus christ #gryffindor #gryffindor oc #gryffindor moodboard

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twenty Eight: The One When He Comes Home

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2338

Lily and Cedar sat in the lab for a few moments after she posed her question, eyes locked on one another, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. The two were seemingly two birds of a feather when they were younger, but as age and the years weathered them both, they split into two. Neither truly understanding what was going on in the other's head. Lily used to be able to figure out Cedar in a matter of seconds, but now...he was just a shell of the brother she adored. He wasn't who he used to be. It broke Lily to see him like this, but she wondered if it may be a charade. If his entire presence was a trick done by her parents to get their hands on what they truly wanted out of all of this.

"So are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?" Cedar quipped, shifting in his seat, "Learn that from the assassin you let sleep in the same house as my nephew?"

Lily lowered her eyes at his words, a rage boiling deep inside of her, "What happened to the calm and relaxed demeanour from yesterday?" she questioned, crossing her legs, "And don't speak about James like that. You don't know him."

"What? Not Bucky anymore?"

"Not to you, he isn't."

Both resumed the same tense silence as earlier, though this time, Lily's back stood a bit straighter. Her eyes lowered and focused solely on the expressionless face of Cedar. He was hiding something behind that facade of being too weak, but that may simply be the cynic inside of Lily. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps her parents used him against his own will. But if she knew Cedar, he didn't do it willingly.

"What do you want, Cedar?" Lily questioned, leaning back in her seat as Natasha walked in with pancakes.

"To help," he stated cooly, eyes glancing to the agent that dropped the two plates in front of Lily and him, "To help you, and the others."

Lily stayed silent as she waited for Natasha to leave the room. When she did, the blonde leaned forward and took a bite of the pancakes. Not as good as hers, but not bad. She watched Cedar carefully, monitoring every flick of his eyes and twitch of his hands. The way his breath increased whenever he heard voices travelling from upstairs. He was anxious, Lily figured that out pretty quickly, but also scared. Of what? She wasn't sure.

"I need the truth, Cedar." Lily stated simply, placing down her fork.

He hesitated, mouth pursing before he took a bite of his own pancakes, wiping his mouth before speaking, "They want something they can't have, Lily," he said in a hushed tone, "something I know you'd be damned before ever giving up."

"What is it?" She questioned, shrugging her shoulders, "Hunter? Because I'll take them on myself before any of you lay a hand on him."

"Any of us? You think so low of me, Lil?"

"I do," she stated harshly, voice shaking, "I do Cedar. Rose does too. So does Hunter. So does James."

"So your boyfriend's opinion on me means more than everything we've been through?" He scoffed, pushing his plate away.

Lily watched intently. Everything was going as Bucky had instructed her. He wanted her to rile him up, get his emotions going to reveal something they didn't know before. It hurt her, it destroyed her, but she knew he was right. She knew that the man before her was not her brother, but someone else wearing his skin. Maybe had his heart, but not his soul. This was someone who had been corrupted into something far more extreme than he realized. His actions put so many people in danger, and in harm's way, including Lily, and her son.

"What we've been through?" Lily chucked, shaking her head, "No. No Cedar this isn't about what we've been through. This is about what you aren't realizing. I hold James' opinion higher because he was there to put things into perspective for me when you, mom, and dad, were off doing your little experiments."

"This has nothing to do with him." Cedar stated simply, shrugging his shoulders in a menacing mockery of Lily.

"This has everything to do with him. He is my family now Cedar," Lily sneered, "And you have decided to mess with my family. You stopped being family when you tried to hurt my son."

"Oh my god, this has nothing to do with Scott's either!" Cedar exclaimed, standing to his feet and pushing the chair away.

"Why were you there, Cedar?" Lily asked, her voice as calm as a river after a storm.

"Can we not do this-"

"Why were you there?"

"You can't be serious right now, Lily!"

"Answer me!"

"TO GET HUNTER!" Cedar exploded, flipping the plate off the table, causing Lily to jump away out of instinct, "AND TO GET YOU! TO BRING YOU HOME! SO YOU COULD BE LIKE US!"

Lily stared at the man, analyzing the words of his confession. Her heart raced and chest was rising and falling at a rate that showed she was close to tears. Her lips quivered and eyes were wide. She knew he didn't mean their actual home. She didn't know where he meant. But it wasn't the calm, two story, eco friendly home in Long Island. It was where this new Cedar had been made. Because her parents were going to start with their own family. Make them new, and make them into the icons that the world "needed".

"Well that was quite the show." Tony's voice echoed as he stepped into the lab, "Glad to know Cyborg doesn't just have old gears in his head." The man quipped, turning his attention to Cedar, "C'mon. Don't make this arrest harder than it already will be."

Cedar's eyes dropped down to Lily, who was shaking slightly in her seat. Her own eyes dropped down to the broken plate on the floor, her mind racing as memories resurfaced. The feeling of betrayal sat heavy in her stomach, and she knew that it was her own doing. She should have fought harder for him. Made him confess that he was being manipulated or controlled. Anything to prove that what Cedar was doing was not his true intent, not his true wishes. But she knew that it was, all from the heavy breathing escaping from his mouth as he sneered down at his sister. The way he looked at her, that of disgust and hurt. She could only imagine what her own looked like.

"You've become a coward, Lily." He spat, before turning towards Tony.

-----

Two hours later, Lily sat in her bed with the blankets pulled tightly up to her chin. Tears ceased to fall from her cheeks, seemingly having run out. Her body shook as the dry heaving took over her quiet sobs. No one dared ask to talk, not even Rose. Steve tried at first, and earned a pillow being thrown at him by the broken woman. Her hands were numb and aching from the grip she held on the blankets, trying to hide away from the world. She hated herself for what she did, despite it being the right thing.

The sound of a helicopter or plane above the compound set Lily's heart off into a frenzy. Either someone was visiting, or Bucky was coming home. With Cedar's confession and evidence of DNA altering from Tony and Bruce's tests, she could only assume that they had enough to convict her parents of whatever. But she didn't move from her spot. She couldn't. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to face the truth of what happened. What she did. She betrayed her own family. But most of all, she failed.

She raised Cedar. She cooked for him, bathed him, did everything for him. She swore to protect him at all costs. Keep him safe from all the dangers of the world, just as she had sworn to Hunter. Instead, she let him fall into the hands of her parents. Those same parents she came to realize were the farthest thing from that. They provided food, and a shelter, sure, but they weren't parents. They never cared for Lily, they never cared for Rose, and all they ever did to Cedar was us him. Convince him of things she knew for a fact weren't true. Maybe that's why he went to them. Trying to fill that hole of not having them as a child.

He was her brother. And she said he wasn't even family anymore.

Her eyes lifted as her bedroom door opened, the face of her son popping around with sad eyes. Lily immediately released the blankets and wiped her eyes, opening her arms to Hunter as he walked forward. When he climbed onto the bed, Lily gave a weak and clearly forced smile. She knew he could see through it, but she figured any sense of comfort that he could get, would help in the times he was experiencing. Hunter sat across from her with his legs crossed, mirroring her own position.

"Uncle Cedar is getting arrested," he whispered, voice barely louder than the wind.

"I know," Lily whispered, nodding slowly as she pursed her lips, "They won't try to hurt us anymore. Ever. I promise."

Hunter wiped his eyes as he crawled into his mom's arms, curling into her shoulder as his warm tears dropped onto her collarbone. The world fell away as she listened to his heavy breathing. Her fingers ran soothing circles down his back, her own pain putting itself on the backburner. Hunter was her main priority right now. It didn't matter what she said, what she did, as long as Hunter was in her arms. He was safe, healthy, and with her. No one out there trying to hurt him or get to him anymore. Because she sacrificed what she needed to.

Maybe more than she intended to.

"Can't you give them a bit?" a hushed voice echoed from outside of her room, "She's been crying for two hours." Steve continued, his voice growing closer as boots tapped on the ground.

"Steve, that is the woman he loves in there," Sam retorted back, "I need to tell her. We also need to talk about her parents' arrest."

"She just helped have her parents and brother arrested, don't you think she deserves a few minutes alone with her son?"

Silence fell. No one breathed, no one spoke. The only noise was the soft cries from the boy Lily held in her arms. Her own heart seemed to cease from beating as the familiar voice of Sam replayed through her head. Something happened. Something terrible happened. Lily didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to know. Whatever Bucky did, she knew it wasn't good. Whether it was sacrificing himself, or forcing Sam to leave. But she figured out pretty quickly he didn't arrive home with Sam. Which only scared her more.

The creak of the door handle set Lily's heart in motion once more. Sam's face poked around, a large bruise on his eye and gash across his cheek.

"Where is he?" She croaked.

-----

Arrested. Her parents were arrested. And she was at her wits end. She couldn't do it. So when Sam told her he didn't know where he was, Lily snapped. She packed everything, put Hunter, Rose, and Joey in the car and was gone. No one tried to stop her. No one tried to get her to stay. They knew there was nothing they could have said. Lily Osborne was sick and tired of being caught up in the Avengers.

She couldn't do it.

No one spoke. Not a word was exchanged as Lily drove back down to the small home she missed. It was enough. But when she turned the corner, a car stuck out to her. One in her driveway she never saw really. She'd seen it, but she and him never used it. They used her car primarily. But her blood boiled as she pulled in and stormed into the house.

There he was, bruised and battered, sitting on her couch.

"Rose," Lily called back, "Take Hunter to Gen's."

Bucky's face fell as he listened to her words. Dread took over his face and Lily slammed the door, her face hard and aggressive. The anger she always hid away fought its way to the surface as he stayed sitting. Neither spoke, neither breathed. The only noise was the air conditioner that warmed the house around them.

"Hi Doll."

"Do not call me that," Lily exclaimed, slamming her keys down and walking across to the living room, "You do not speak right now. You sit, and listen. Because I have had enough, James."

And he did as told. He readjusted in his seat and waited for the hell that Lily was about to unleash.

"You have roped my family into something," she snapped, "I'm tired. I'm so tired. I am so tired Bucky."

"I kno-"

"No! No Bucky you don't know!" She exclaimed, tugging at her hair, "You made a promise to me. You promised me you would keep us out of danger. And here we are, after two weeks of sitting in an Avengers Compound because we were in danger."

"Lily please-"

"No I'm not done talking," she retorted, eyes bearing down into him, "I felt so sick these past weeks. Not knowing where you are, what you're doing. If you're alive! I sat in my bed like the dotting wife who was waiting for you. But for the love of GOD Bucky I can't keep doing that!"

"Lily I'm retiring."

"No don't do that," Lily whispered, tears rolling down her face, "Because you know that's not true. You will say you're done and they will rope you right back in."

"Lily- "

"Get out. Get out Bucky. I'm tired. I'm done."

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funeralcryptid · 3 years

Note

Hello there, i hope you are well! I offer you my favourite flower Tiger lily and dark chocolate~ :D i hope i did that right haha

My question i wanted to ask if i could know if Hades or Hecate had a message for me? I've been a bit lost about what to do on my spiritual journey so any message will help thanks so much!- M.R♌🖤

Welcome,

I'll start by asking Hades. I see him in the shadows, he does not look at me but stares into the distance as if he was reading into the threads of fate.

"Run, run, Run like a horse on the verge of death. In the end, even the horse of Death surrenders to its destiny"

In spite of the way this message sounds, I don't believe this is a portent of ill fate. On the contrary, it seems like you need to learn to listen to what he says, for sometimes he could bring unclear messages that seem to strain the communication but in reality, reveal all you need to know the more you open your mind and heart.

"Souls are judged in the end, but who is our biggest judge if not our own?" he adds.

I think he wants you to commit to chasing your goals, to recognize the prospect of a life full of potential in which you scatter across land and time as you burn the pages of destiny with your life. He sees suffering in your soul, whether it comes from this life or a previous one and recognizes a sense of indecision inside of you he wishes you would tackle. He offers the fruit of clarity but once you recognize that and commit to taking it you will open your eyes to many things of yourself you've been ignoring that will throw you off. Disgust and judging yourself are feelings that will arise but all will be with the end goal of helping you grow.

What is it that consumes you? What is it that you desire?

If you don't have the answers to these questions it means there's still a long way to go, your path extends until it's no longer noticeable and he wants you to use this life to retake your power and fully claim it.

As for Hecate, she's rather silent. I see fire, it glows with a blue tint. I believe this is the fire of transformation and that she wishes you to burn away the surface that inhibits you from truly connecting with your path. She wants you to burn, to partake in the sabbath of transfiguration and for you to spread your ashes against the grain of truth by your own hand. She wishes you to surrender to her teachings and to your heart, and to become a noble hunter and not someone who waits for the answers to come.

They don't want you to resist, to fight emotions or experiences. They want you to walk into the waters of self-discovery and to go throw catharsis if needed.

"Death and time are not but the end, but means for you to attain the transformation of the being"

I hope this reading was helpful.

Thank you for your patience.

#tarot readings

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snappedsky · 3 years

Text

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 4

Skies meets up with the Crimson Raiders.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

Chapter 6

Skies stares out at Helios. She’s close enough now to make out most of the wreckage; the rubble that stretches out for miles, leading up to the giant H embedded into the Pandoran landscape.

Sighing heavily, she glares at the cliff side at her feet, separating her from her destination. Too steep to scale and too high to jump.

“So close, and yet so far.”

She hears the roar of flames and turns to wall of a large, nearby bandit town. Pillars of flames are shooting out of the wall and into the sky. Skies eyes the city curiously as she turns on her ECHO communicator.

“Hey, Tim, do you see a bandit town with a wall of fire?” she asks.

“Um…no,” he replies.

“Okay, I’m gonna check it out. Maybe they know of a way I can get to Helios. You keep doing your thing.”

“Can do.”

So Skies heads over to the town. She passes the broken down vehicles in front of the entrance in the wall, then immediately ducks out of the way. There are four active turrets within the doorway. She expects them to start firing but they remain quiet. She cautiously sticks out her hand, and still they give no response.

She stands up, goes through the doorway, and up to a turret. They’re definitely active, rotating back and forth, but they don’t seem to view her as a threat.

“Hm. Cool,” Skies comments and heads into the town. It’s a rather large bandit town, with lots of space and big buildings. But it seems about as dead as the desert.

“Hello?” she calls out, “anyone home? I come in relative peace!”

There’s a sudden flash of purple and Skies jumps back before glaring with wearily at the person who just appeared before her. “Oh. Hey, Lily.”

Lilith stands up and glares back at her, hands on her hips. “Skies. What do you think you’re doing here? I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“Hey, you’re the one who teleported Tim and me into the ass end of nowhere,” Skies points out, “oh, but I suppose I should thank you for getting us safely out of Sanctuary.”

“Well, to be honest, I just teleported as many people as I could out. I had no idea you were even there,” she shrugs, “but you’re welcome. Now what do you want?”

“I’m just trying to get home. I couldn’t care less about your guys’ problems.” “Tch. Well, I suppose you can stay here then. Just stay out of our way.”

“Whatever,” Skies groans as Lilith Phasewalks away. She starts to head deeper into the camp when she notices someone approaching.

“Skies!” Vaughn calls happily.

“Vaughn?” she exclaims and runs up to him. They clasp each other’s arms, laughing with excitement.

“I can’t believe it’s you! What are you doing here?” she asks.

“This is my camp, the Backburner,” Vaughn replies, “or I mean it was, before those plant guys killed all my bandit bros. Now the Crimson Raiders have moved in. But it’s cool, we’re all bros now.”

“Ah, just my luck that the only camp for miles has been taken over by the Crimson Raiders,” Skies groans, “I’d prefer a pack of bloodthirsty bandits.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Long story short, I’m trying to get to Helios.”

“Oh, that’s a real problem.”

“No kidding.”

As Skies follows Vaughn into town, she notices a bar set up under the stairs and smiles with relief. “Moxxi. You made it out.”

“Thanks to Lilith,” Moxxi replies and pours a glass of ale. “Here, sugar, have a drink on me for trying to help before.” “Thanks, Moxx,” she sighs and she and Vaughn sit at the bar.

“So. How’s Rhys?” he asks.

“He’s really good. Been keeping busy,” Skies replies, “he’s almost always in his office, working on plans and prototypes.”

“Does he uh…does he ever talk about me?”

“Sometimes he’ll tell old stories. He’ll be happy to know I met up with you.”

Vaughn smiles warmly. “And what have you been up to?”

“Um not-not much,” Skies replies awkwardly, “I uh don’t really know what I want to do.”

“You know what’s a good lifestyle for that? Bandit Lyfe!”

Skies chuckles. “Been there, done that.” “Not in a group, you haven’t. I tell ya, the right bandit bros will always have your back. I might have lost all of mine, but I’m gonna start rebuilding. You can be my first new member! We would be legendary!”

Skies smiles as she listens to Vaughn go on about bandit life. He almost makes it sound good, but with that big, dopey smile, he could make anything sound good.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of panicked rushing, and they turn to see the Vault Hunters hurrying up the stairs.

“Uh oh,” Vaughn mutters and follows them. Skies finishes the rest of her drink before doing the same.

On the floor above, she sees Mordecai lying unconscious on the couch, his bird, Talon perched nearby. His breathing is laboured. The Vault Hunters are standing around him. They glare at Skies as she approaches.

“That’s a bummer,” she comments, staring at Mordecai.

“What are you doing here?” Maya asks hostilely.

“Ignore her,” Lilith orders. She, Ellie, and Vaughn are standing around a nearby table. “We have to find a way into that mine. The door is too thick for me to Phasewalk through. Ellie, think we can blow it up?”

“We’d need a powerful explosive,” she replies.

“Why not use Helios’ Moonshot cannon?” Skies suggests as she walks over. Everyone looks at her with surprise. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on, but that cannon can blast through anything. And it should still be working, right, Vaughn?”

“Yeah, it still works,” Vaughn replies, “but getting there is a challenge. Plus Helios has been taken over by those plant guys.”

“So, the Vault Hunters can clear them out,” she shrugs. “It is a good plan,” Zer0 comments.

“Thanks,” Skies chirps.

“Fine,” Lilith grunts, “bandit, how do we get to Helios?”

“You’re gonna have to get through…The Burrows,” Vaughn replies dramatically.

“The what?” Skies questions.

“Surviving the Burrows is a bandit rite of passage,” he excitedly explains, “if you guys make it through, you can all be part of my new crew.”

“We’ll see,” Axton grins with amusement.

“Let’s get going,” Maya orders and the Vault Hunters quickly takes off. Skies watches them for a second before patting Vaughn’s shoulder.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you around, Vaughn. Take care of yourself,” she says before chasing after them.

She catches up to them outside the camp at the nearby Catch-a-ride, where they’re digistructing a technical. As they begin to drive off, she quickly jumps on and sits in the back next to Krieg.

“Hey,” she says.

“Ugh, Handsome lover,” he spits with disgust.

“What do you want?” Gaige asks.

“To get to Helios, so I’m going with you,” Skies replies.

“Why are you going to Helios?” Maya asks.

“To meet up with Timothy so we can find our way back to Old Haven,” she explains.

“Ha, so that’s why you suggested the moon cannon,” Axton scoffs, “you don’t wanna help us.”

“Of course not, I wasn’t pretending like I was,” Skies points out, “but we’re all going the same way so we can either go together and help each other out, or we can make it even more awkward.”

“I am fine with this,” Zer0 says.

“Fine,” Maya grunts, “but we’ll be watching you.”

Skies rolls her eyes and leans back in her seat.

“Nice to see you can all get along,” Vaughn remarks through everyone’s ECHO communicators. “Alright. So these tunnels are sacred bandit territory. And I’m totally breaking the bandit code by telling you how to get in. But anyone who could tell ‘em is already dead. So, just bust down the electrified gate and you’re in! The sandworms definitely won’t escape probably.”

“Sandworms?” Salvador questions.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Axton grunts.

They drive through the desert following Vaughn’s directions until they find the electrified gate. They bust it down, revealing the way into a deep, dark cave.

“Looks homey,” Skies grumbles then motions for the Vault Hunters to go ahead. “After you.”

Zer0, Krieg, and Salvador go ahead but Axton, Maya, and Gaige wait for Skies.

“I’m keeping you ahead of me,” Maya says and motions for Skies to go. She cocks her eyebrow incredulously but obliges. And together, they all enter the Burrows.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #tales from the borderlands #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands au #myocs #myart

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

Going on Sixty

Dean’s fifty eight.

He’s pushing sixty, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s pushing as hard as his back allows - but it doesn’t seem to be working, and if he’d had a stick - though he doesn’t need one, thankyouverymuch - he would’ve been using it too.

And it’s not just the number.

He’s old.

Bobby Singer’s words have never rung truer, and that man has said plenty of wise things in his life. “Old age is both - forgetting things like a drunk, and hurting all over like you’re sober.” It’s ridiculous. Dean won’t vouch for having had a brilliant brain before, but he didn’t used to forget why he went into the next room, he’s quite sure.

And, oh lord, his bones. His joints creak when he sits, and he wishes he’d given older hunters less shit for it when they’d all been whining in chorus about their goddamn hips. He gets sick easy too - Sam, the ever smart-ass says his immunity is as trash as the meals he’d have when he was thirty. He might be right. When it’s flu season, he wheezes like he might cough his heart out; and he’s sure anyone who hears him is positively scared about it too.

So, there. He’s old, and he’s grey, and he’s slow, and he’s grumpy.

But hell, is he happy.

Everyday, he wakes up on a mattress that’s known him for just the perfect span of time, under a white, fleecy comforter; all seasons of the year because they’re settled in Key West - who set their bets on Florida, ‘twasn’t him - and he wakes up next to the man he loves.

Cas is either curled around him, hands tucked around his middle, or he’s cuddled up, pressed to Dean’s front, and Dean gets to wake up hugging him close, leg slot between his, and his nose in Cas’s hair - which frankly, he’s gotten so used to, that it doesn’t even make him sneeze anymore.

And then they wake up - Dean mostly second; and breakfasts are cooked and coffees are made, newspapers are fetched and kisses are shared, until dressed in fresh clothes to go mostly nowhere in particular, he finds himself seated across Cas on their little table for two - they’d reasoned family meals are more fun on the patio anyway, and ninety percent of the time, it’s really only just them.

And every day, Dean thinks about how lucky he is, and it mostly happens while he’s staring at Cas unabashedly as the beautiful, wrinkled man solves the crosswords, and writes his lists on less printed pages to conserve paper.

Days pass slow, but years are always in a hurry - they’ve been married sixteen years, already. It had all Sam’s doing, that one, he’d never meant to have a grand big day out, with white linen tablecloths and calla lilies and a goddamn wedding photographer.

But he doesn’t need those pictures to remember. Cas, in his cobalt tuxedo, and Dean in his black blazer - both walked up the aisle because either one of them doing it had sounded unfair. He remembers the vows, the dances, and the kiss. It had been everything he hadn’t known he wished for, and he’d cried that into Sam’s shoulder a week after, when Sam brought homethe gigantic album from the studio. That day, he’d gotten to bring Cas home, and make honest men of themselves, he remembered saying - and then, they’d moved into their house together, husband and husband.

The house is close to where Sam teaches, close enough to the shelters they volunteer at twice a week, and at walkable distance from the diners, movies and parks. They have a library debossed in a wall, a garden at the back, and a study for where Dean and Cas alternate taking calls, pretending to be the FBI.

It’s perfect.

And Dean Winchester’s happier than he’d ever been - and it sucks, because it doesn’t really seem to count. Because now, he’s old.

The troubles started slow, as you’d expect them to do.

Dean misplaced the keys to the Impala one fine evening when they’d planned in advance to go play pool and darts at Wren’s. He’d found them at Sam’s, the next day. And if he hadn’t been as busy as he was, correcting Cas whenever he called it ‘losing’ the keys, because he’d ‘known they were at Sammy’s, dammit’ - he would’ve given more thought to how that had been the very start of a long line of similar mishaps.

A particularly embarrassing once, he’d forgotten the other side of the grocery list when he’d gone out - Cas had justifiably nagged him about the lack of oranges, post-it pads, and condoms for the rest of the day.

Once, he got so utterly exhausted performing Baby’s monthly maintenance routine, he fell asleep - and Cas just assumed he was staying over at a friend’s and had forgotten to inform him, so Dean spent the entire night and then some, in the garage.

Yeah, because he slept ten frigging hours a day now.

Dean occasionally complains how it’s happening all wrong for him, because this stuff’s supposed to start at eighty! And Sam and Cas both shine their intellectual scowls at him, and he’s told that he’s been mislead. Cas goes on to add, with a smirk, that since Dean hadn’t exactly allowed himself to age till forty two - when they finally took down Chuck and bowed out of the game - it might be a way for his body to compensate for the delay then. Dean tells Cas then that he’ll make him sleep on the couch, and Sam points out that it’s not Cas who develops a crick in his back from that, and Dean declares that he hates them both.

If someone had told him - and honestly drilled it into his head too, that exercise at thirty would mean surviving at sixty, he would’ve fucking joined his brother on his smug-faced morning runs. He still wouldn’t have yoga’d, to be completely truthful, but he could’ve fucking ran. (Though, he wasn’t sixty yet. That was far, far away.)

But the point stood as it did. Dean felt multiple times the old Cas seemed to be, and especially on the times he messed up and Cas turned even more thoughtful and nice - he has to seriously resist the urge to pull a Crowley and tell his ridiculously understanding husband that he has no idea what old feels like.

Except he isn’t a hypocrite, and theoretically, Castiel is older than mankind, and Jimmy’s older than Dean.

A day just so, when Dean’s home and Cas is gone visiting Claire at her new place - she’d moved in with Kaia only last month, after dating for more than a decade, with a quiet, beautiful wedding in the backyard, so Cas had taken with him a waffle maker to keep up the tradition of wedding gifts in their family - and Dean’s sat by himself on the porch contemplating the nature of being old as crap and acting like it, he’s struck with a horrifying thought.

He hadn’t realized it yet, but all the things he’d been doing wrong, have been affecting his relationship with Cas, somehow.

The keys? They’d had to postpone a date, that Dean couldn’t even remember them going on later. It wasn’t his fault, but Cas had had a busy week. The condoms? Well, go figure that one. The sleeping in the garage? He’d smelled so much of motor oil that even he couldn’t be disgusting enough to lean in for a kiss the next morning.

Perfect. So, it hasn’t been enough to ruin Dean’s dignity and his sense of normalcy. The ghost of two-years-to-sixty had to mess with the best thing in his life, too.

Though, he reasons, Cas has been nothing but accommodating all those times - well, except for when he’s a smartass about it.

Mostly, he just tries to convince Dean that it doesn’t matter, really, and that he understands - but it just irks Dean further. It isn’t fair that Cas can still walk at the same ex-angelic-pace from before, or that he doesn’t have colds and acid refluxes. He’s happy that Cas doesn’t suffer, of course he is - but it doesn’t seem fair.

Cas might be aging with him, but he isn’t growing old.

Instead, while Dean developed body aches and lines on his face, he’d just developed more pronounced crowfeet from the ever increasing smiles, and it just made him more beautiful. And he’d widened some, but Dean just likes that more.

Cas doesn’t forget keys, or sexy items on the Walmart list, or any of the shit Dean pulls. He doesn’t do things which might compromise their time together, or date nights.

Dean’s the one who does that.

He can’t believe he hasn’t noticed it before. He shudders at the thought of becoming like one of those old married guys who stop putting a goddamn effort - because he knows he’s grateful for the life he lives, everyday. Getting married to Cas is one of the best things that have ever happened to him. But does Cas know? Does Cas remember? Dean loves him, but he’s hardly able to show it anymore. He can hardly plan elaborate and adventurous dates, and he certainly can’t orgasm thrice in a night. He’s old, and he knows Cas gets it, but does Cas get it?

Suddenly very troubled, Dean takes another sip from his beer.

As the years passed by, his tolerance for alcohol has gone lower. It even tastes bitter, going down his throat.

Old age just became exponentially worse.

The last straw is something as inconsequential as a backache is at this age, and as horrid as one too.

Watching Netflix’s Queer Eye in the living room, they’d fallen asleep on the couch, in the middle of the day. Their white settee isn’t large enough for them both to lie down, but they’ve managed to settle pretty comfortably, and it doesn’t even feel like they’ve had to squeeze in, because Dean gets to have his hand around Cas, who has his head rested on Dean’s left shoulder.

The episode is long over, and owing to autoplay, Dean wakes up to the Fab Five spending the week with a completely different person altogether; and Cas stirs too, and lifts his head from Dean’s chest, having migrated downwards to hug his hips, and -

“Fuck.” Dean winces. The loss of weight had allowed his spine to straighten mostly, and a sharp pain shot through his back. He has to fight his tongue to not swear again, because Cas is looking at him concerned - albeit, still drowsy.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, in a sleep-roughened pitch, and Dean tries to focus on that instead on his back. How wonderful Cas sounds, and sure he does, but - holyshit, his back.

“It’s - I’m good, Cas.” Dean placates, trying not to speak through his teeth, still trying to ignore the pain.

“Did we really fall asleep at three in the afternoon?” Cas smiles at him, and his eyes are bright and eyebrows are up. “I’m surprised at us, Dean.” He adds, in a not very surprised tone, and scoots upwards to Dean’s level.

The pressure helps a little bit, only enough for Dean to screw his eyes shut and kiss back.

Cas is slow, soft and warm. He is half draped over Dean’s front, and cupping Dean’s face with both his hands like he wants to take his sweet time kissing today - like he has nowhere else to be, and Dean knows he doesn’t, and he wishes to dedicate all his time to Dean’s lips and Dean goddamn wants him to, too.

It’s been some time since they made out like this. It’s leading to no where - of course it isn’t, they aren’t monkeys who do it on the couch anyone; it’s just what it is, it’s very in the moment, and it’s one of Dean’s favorite things to do. Except right now, he’s not in the moment.

He tries to return the best he can, letting an arm fall over Cas, and move his lips in sync with his. Cas is adequately pleased to be the one leading, and makes a happy, contented sound as his tongue enters Dean’s mouth.

And it feels wonderful, but Dean’s back still hurts, in spite of the weight now, which means there’s really no easy way out of this.

Cas chooses that moment to let go of Dean’s face, and his left hand trails under Dean, while the right one moves up into his hair. “Dean.” He sighs, and it’s so perfectly gorgeous, that Dean begs for it to stop hurting, so he can start enjoying too, because they haven’t kissed like this in a while, and he’s missed it.

There hasn’t been a reason to not do it - they’ve obviously kissed good morning and good night, but this is still the fortnight Dean forgot the lube and condoms so they haven’t had sex, and now that Dean thinks about it, his back has been showing signs of impending doom, as well as -

“I love you,” Cas breathes out, still nice and tender on him, and his mouth still engrossed in kissing him.

“I -” Dean looks at Cas, sleepy blue eyes and soft, shaven cheeks, engrossed so completely in Dean - and feels an overwhelming wave of lucky again. “I love you.”

Shit, the least he can do is give Cas what he’s asking for - his back could be tended to, some other time. He’s been a hunter all his life. If he can’t even kiss his husband back without thinking about his aching back, what has he even been doing?

He stops thinking entirely, and gives himself up to making Cas feel good - he hums under his breath like he knows Cas likes to feel on his lips, and tugs Cas closer, and he almost feels better himself, until Cas’s wandering hand somehow snakes to the exact spot Dean’s pain is focused on, and as Cas groans, he presses, and -

“Fuck!” He cries out, almost yells, leaping a good inch off the couch. Cas is on his feet almost instantly, kiss swollen lips now frowning in earnest, studying Dean.

“Was that -” Cas pauses. “Is that an erogenous zone you’ve newly developed, and not told me about?” He asks, and he’s frank is all that matters. “Did you -” His eyes track lower along Dean’s body, where his member is definitely perking to attention, newly so under Cas’s curious stare.

“What? No.” Dean flushes, at the idea of coming in his pants like a horny teenager, from perhaps the most innocent drawn-out kiss he’s ever shared with Cas. Only because he’s been thinking about his back, that is.

“It’s -” He almost tells Cas. Then he remembers the way Cas had looked at Dean, how much he’d wanted this, and how long it’d been. “It’s nothing. Just got reminded of something, or…whatever. Come back.”

Cas squints at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Dean swats He still doesn’t dare to move his spine though, because after he’d sprung up in pain from Cas’s hand brushing the area, he’d managed to find a spot where he wasn’t quite feeling the pain.

Cas continues to squint.

“C'mere.” Dean motions, and makes the mistake of turning towards him to persuade Cas with full-blown puppy eyes, which usually work - because another bout of pain shoots through him, and he visibly squirms.

“Backache.” Cas declares, crossing his arms on his chest. “You have a backache.”

“S'no big deal.” Dean shakes his head.

“Okay.” Cas agrees, and sits down on the couch next to Dean, but not touching him anymore. Dammit. Cas had wanted to kiss him, wanted to keep kissing him, and Dean hadn’t even been able to get kissed. He was a complete moron, and now he knew he wouldn’t be able to get Cas to return to the kissing, till he’d dealt with the situation.

“Tell me where.” Cas demands.

“I said it’s not a -”

“Falling asleep on the couch must’ve triggered it. You’ve been stiff since Thursday.” Cas notes, ignoring him. “I’m going to shift the TV to the bedroom tonight. You’ll help me with the plugs and the chords, you always know how to get the wires right. Now, can you walk?” Dean opens his mouth to protest that he doesn’t want to, because all he wants to do is sit on that couch, and have Cas on top, kissing him. “Because if you can’t, I’ll have to pick you up and put you on the couch which can be pulled into a bed, and you can stretch out.”

“Cas.” Dean whines.

“Dean.” Cas replies, matter-of-factly. Dean can’t tell if he’s pissed because Dean’s killed the mood by getting a stupid backache, or because Dean didn’t tell about it before.

Who’s he kidding, though? This is Cas. It’s the latter.

“Well, I haven’t tried to walk yet.” Dean finally gives in. Cas smiles, and it’s not a triumphant smile, Dean must have imagined it. But the fond twinkle in his eyes, he couldn’t have imagined.

Cas gives him a hand in getting up, and hooks Dean’s arm around his own shoulder to mostly drag him into bed. He plants Dean on his side, almost with a nonexistent grunt, and rewards him with another smile.

“Lie down. On your front, if you can.” He instructs. “I’ll come back with some ointment. Do you need help flipping to your front?”

“Y'know, you may wear a coat all the time, but you’re not a doctor.” Dean’s only trying to be annoying because Cas is a goddamn dream, and it is a miracle he loves Dean, so Dean must test his patience to make up for it.

“I used to be able to heal - I think I’m close enough to one.” Cas replies, if a bit sad. “And if nothing else, I’ll kneel next to you, and rub the ointment into your back.”

Dean involuntarily sighs at the thought of that, because while the change in setting is helping, it still hurts like a bitch. And a massage sounds like heaven, right now.

But he realizes instantly after, how he just sighed at that thought like an nineteenth century actress, and grumbles. “Never thought I’d be this happy about a massage. And it’s not even a sexy massage.”

“I’ll have to take your shirt off. I could take my shirt off too,” Cas offers, from the other room, and now he’s moved on to the part where he’s snarky about it instead of kind. “We’ll bag the sexy, don’t you worry.”

“Shuddup. I’ll be lying on my front, anyways. Won’t even get to see ya.” Dean’s cranky, but Cas’s laugh comes across the hallway to him and makes him smile. Cas walks back into the room, sporting a smirk, as he unbuttons his shirt and gestures at Dean to flip over. Dean steals a proper glance. He gets to look at Cas everyday, naked if he wants to, but Cas never stops looking good to him. He’s got the toned abdomen, though you can’t see the formerly well-defined abs. Plus, he’s got chest hair, and there’s his pecs, and the shoulders, and his collarbones - and Dean has a flashback of the time he drunkenly confessed that he’d totally sleep with him, even if he hadn’t been around to see the coverboy model looks he’d had before, or even if he wasn’t the best man Dean had ever known, just because of those arms.

So, sulking, but without his heart in it, Dean adds. “Sixty six’s not your fucking prime, you massive show-off.”

“Ouch.” Cas deadpans, and it’s not even funny, but Dean just loves his wisecracking idiot so much, so he laughs.

But this episode just reaffirms his fears. This newly-old thing is really trying to fuck up his marriage. That stupid backache - which subsided the next day, because Cas’s fingers are magic, and not just when they’re around Dean’s dick or up his ass - had cut into his quality time with Cas. He doesn’t want to let another old-person problem interrupt his time with Cas. He can’t possibly keep this up.

Even if he has to put in more of an effort, he’s going to make it through this.

“Say, Cas.”

Cas raises his eyebrows as means of asking Dean to go on.

“Wanna go out with me friday?” Dean proposed, putting on his most charming smile. Cas looks at him properly, as if analysing his face. Dean reruns his own words through his head, and suddenly realizes how much he sounds like they’re both in highschool. That’s what you say to the cute guy you have a crush on in the boy’s locker room. Or, in the case of Dean’s very heterosexual adolescence, the chick you share fries with in the lunch hall. In any case, it’s not what you say to your husband, suddenly and without preamble, when you’re both in the same bed, having ice cream for dessert while you watch Bohemian Rhapsody.

But Cas’s smile lights up his entire face, when he answers Dean. “Of course, Dean.” And he proceeds to slip a little closer to the middle, so that Dean can have his arm around him while they watch the movie. Dean feels a warmth blooming in his insides as well. Maybe the old thing won’t ruin this for him, after all. He can still make it right.

“It’s a date.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand.

“I thought so too.” Cas replies, and Dean can hear his amused smile in his voice. It’s wonderful.

“Good.” Dean beams. “I’ll meet you in the living room at seven.” After changing clothes beside you in the bedroom at six thirty, he doesn’t add, because it sounds cheesier this way, and one thing Dean’s always loved about Cas, is that the guy really does dig the textbook chick-flick moments. Almost enough that he converts Dean into it.

It’s a goddamn wonder that he doesn’t look as old as he feels, Dean thinks, adjusting his tie in the bathroom mirror. He can’t remember the last time he had to wear one.

He may have wrinkles now, but when he smiles, they look just like the smile lines he’s had since forty. Got to smile more then, he notes, grinning at the mirror, and feeling satisfied with the results.

He’s wearing a blue shirt, which is a much lighter color than Cas’s eyes are - he’s not even trying to be cheesy, but when you spend all your time looking at your husband’s spectacular eyes, you develop tendencies to compare it to everything else blue you see. And he’s trying out a new-ish fad, and wearing a tie without a blazer. It’s too hot for a blazer. But Cas likes him in ties, so he’s wearing the one Cas got him for his fifty sixth birthday.

It’s indigo, with grey stripes. Cas is wearing grey, he knows. He caught a peak when Cas picked it out of their closet. He likes that shirt.

Dean looks at himself one last time.

For all his whining, he can still clean up nice. He marches out of the bathroom, feeling a little proud of himself, and excited to find Cas. Sure, blame him for wanting to see Cas’s reaction when he checks him out.

He reaches the living room, and is stunned, momentarily. "Cas.“ He just says, without meaning to. The word rolls off his tongue, like it does a thousand times each day, and Cas turns towards him.

He is in the grey shirt Dean anticipated, but he hadn’t been prepared for how it looked on him, and he’s rolled it up to his elbows in just the way Dean’s told him multiple times he likes - and he’s wearing jeans instead of trousers, and he’s done something to his hair that Dean has no time to process, because Cas is soon walking up to him, and Dean’s definitely losing his peripheral vision too now, fucking presbyopia - or maybe all his eyes want to do is focus on the eyes, and tune all else out.

He has no time thinking about Cas’s reaction on seeing him, not when Cas looks like this, does he?

“Good eve - Okay, hi.” Dean abruptly ends, eyes widened, as Cas reaches him, stopping unbelievably close. It’s stupid how he’s literally done everything there is to do, with this man - and his proximity still gets Dean flustered sometimes.

“Good evening. You look breathtaking.” Cas tells him, having to look just the little bit up to meet his eyes.

“Well, I - uh, we still got it.” Dean corrects, leaning downwards to close the gap. Cas hadn’t been expecting it - why not, Dean has no idea; but it’s fun to take him by surprise as Cas slowly melts into the sensations, and Dean only pulls away for air.

He’s never going to get tired of kissing this man. He’s never going to have had enough. Even if it had been all he did in all of his life, till the day he breathes his last, it’s not going to be enough. Dean’s gonna get old and Cas is not, because he might not be immortal anymore, but he never learnt to start aging - and Dean’s gonna wither and fucking die someday, and all things in the world are gonna get old, but kissing Castiel? That’s never going to get old.

Cas inhales slowly, deeply, and looks at Dean in that particular way which he reserves for Dean. Dean really fucking loves it.

“I thought we were going to go out.” He says, and the teasing is loud and clear. Dean almost gives in too. As if he’d turn down an offer to stay back in bed with him.

“Yeah, but we aren’t roleplaying a first date.” Dean says, instead, his upstairs brain getting the better of his downstairs one. “We’re still going to be married. We still get to kiss.”

“Then why was I looking up icebreakers, earlier?” Cas grins back.

“Because you’re a weird, dorky little guy.” Dean offers, but pulls back too. The further away he stands from Cas, the lesser is the risk of them not being able to make it to the date.

“I’m hardly little.” Cas looks satisfied enough by pointing that out, to not respond to more, and instead goes to pick up his trenchcoat. “Are we leaving now?”

“Sure, big guy.” Dean rolls his eyes. He puts on his own coat, having to stretch his back to get in it. It’s a pleasant surprise, but none of his body parts are aching presently. He’s hoping it stays this way. “I’ll drive the car out to the front. Wait outside for me?”

Cas nods, and Dean goes. He settles in the driving seat, and slides his hands down the cover of the steering wheel. “You ready to charm my date for me, Baby?” He mutters, affectionately, as the engine roars to life and soon subsides to a purr as he drives it out of the garage.

Cas gets in next to him.

“That’s fresh air.” He points out.

“I know.” Dean grins at him, sideways.

“You used an air freshener.” Cas adds. “In your car.” He pauses, as if to process. “This doesn’t smell like the house either. You used a car freshener.”

“I know.”

“You must really love me very much,” Cas jokes, and Dean’s stomach almost drops because hell, that was quick. And of course he does, kind of why he orchestrated the entire thing. He doesn’t know what to say, so he does the one-shoulder-shrug - the universal sign for, I guess.

Cas ducks his head at that, and it’s all sorts of adorable. “So.” He starts, as Dean starts to drive. “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ve had plenty of time to ask me before,” Dean remarks. “I know you like being surprised. Are you sure you want me to tell you, or is this just one of the icebreakers Buzzfeed taught you?”

Cas chuckles. “Both? And I’m not an amateur. I used Bustle.”

“Well,” Dean grins back. “It’s this newish continental place, near the bowling alley we went to on my last birthday. I looked it up on the internet after hearing of it from various sources, and they have pretty good reviews. We’ll have to try the thukpa.”

“Then we shall do so.” Cas answers.

“Yeah, place is real busy too.”

“Oh.” Cas bobs his head. “What time did you book for us?”

“Yeah, funny thing, I had a problem getting - oh, son of a bitch!” Dean suddenly pauses, horrified. The car swerves as he realizes, and stops thinking entirely. Then he’s pulling over, taking an acute turn from the middle of the road, and Cas is staring at him, trying to figure out the cause for the strange behavior. Nothing had happened on the road.

“Fuck!” He swears, still gripping the wheel. Cas is beginning to panic, asking Dean what’s wrong, on repeat. Dean doesn’t know where to begin. Horrified at himself, absolutely whitening rage - he turns to glare at Cas, though he’s only furious at himself.

“Fuck.” He repeats, for emphasis. “I forgot to make the fucking reservations.”

Dean storms into their house, having parked the Impala on the road, trusting Cas to follow. He keeps up, indeed, constantly asking Dean what was up with him. Dean unlocks their door frustratedly, and prances inside.

“Please sit.” He motions, waving his arm in the direction of the couch.

“We could just have driven around!” Cas protests. “Dean, I get that you’re irritated at yourself, but -”

“No.” Dean states, flatly. He sits gingerly down on the armrest of a couch, as Cas takes the other sofa. “I need to do this. We need to talk.”

For a fraction of a second, Cas’s eyes widen, and they’re a little bit worried. Frightened. It must be the pop culture affiliations that phrase has.

Dean leaps to correct himself. “No! Not like that - Never like that. You’re perfect, Cas.” He sighs. “You’re everything I could ask for.”

“And you’re upset about that.” Cas points out, blinking.

“No, idiot. I’m fucking thrilled. But I’m not.”

“So, you’re thrilled, and you’re also not thrilled.” Cas repeats, squinting at him now. Cas is leaning towards him, and Dean gets up from the armrest, and begins to walk around, to avoid Cas’s eyes.

“No. I am thrilled. I’m just not everything you could ask for.” Dean admits, with resignation. He’s tried to fight it, he’s tried to be better, he’s tried everything, but he’s old and pathetic and cannot even keep Cas assured that he loves him - as was just exhibited. He’s been doing everything wrong, for everything right that Cas does.

Cas opens his mouth to say something, but Dean goes on. “I don’t remember stuff, and I can’t do things anymore - and I creak, Cas - and you’re always so fucking okay with all of it, but you shouldn’t have to be with someone who can’t even remember to book a table for a date!”

“I told you we could’ve driven around the town, and then microwaved leftovers for dinner.” Cas throws back. “I liked that car smell.”

“You shouldn’t have to compromise!” Dean argues. “You give me everything I want. You should get everything you want too, Cas! That time, we had to cancel a date cause I lost my keys -”

“You didn’t lose them.” Cas tells him, cutting him off. Dean can’t tell exactly what mood Cas is in right now, but he sure sounds annoyed. Wow, so now Dean’s managed to do that too. Kudos to him. “And I don’t even want to go there now. Claire told me the owners were loud Republicans.”

“That’s not the point.” Dean complains, trying to remember what the point was, himself. “That afternoon! You wanted to make out, and my back was killing me, and we couldn’t -”

“I could always just kiss you now.” Cas declares, standing up, as if to prove his point.

“Not the point.” Dean hurriedly passes the opening to postpone this conversation. “Cas, I just want you to know that I wish I could be more. Like before. Or better yet. I was never enough -”

“Stop.” Cas positively yells, at this point. “I don’t care about the 'point’ you’ve conjured up, Dean. I get a say in this.” Dean’s silenced by the glare he receives. “I love you.” He begins, softening.

“I know.” Dean sighs.

“And I could not have asked for anything more than you are, Dean Winchester.” Cas takes a step towards him. Dean - okay well, he doesn’t move away, as much as he shuffles his weight to the other hip. He wants Cas to get there. “Because you’re everything.”

Dean blushes, though it’s a stupidly common line, because Cas isn’t just saying it. He’s practically emanating it. “Cas, no -”

“And you talk about not putting in an effort?” Cas rolls his eyes, and his neck goes with it. “Well, what have I been doing, then? I’ve been so comfortable with what we have, that I haven’t been initiating newer things, or asking you out, or -”

“That’s not your fault.” Dean says, shortly. “We’re not a week into dating. We’re settled, and domestic, and those are good things. If you were on your toes about us doing new things all the time, what’s the meaning of all the time we’ve spent together?”

Cas looks appalled, though Dean thinks he’s done a good job explaining it. “Awesome. You can whip out thoughtful lines like those when I talk about not putting in an effort anymore, but when it comes to you, I suddenly seem to want more?”

“Don’t you try to Dr Phil your way outta my fuck-up, Cas.” Dean warns, knowing exactly where Cas would take this.

“I don’t have to.” Cas replies. “Because it’s not your fuck-up. It’s mine. Somehow, I’ve failed to make you realize how much I -”

“You’ve not failed at anything!” Dean frowns. “I know you’re going to say you love me, and I -”

“What, you think I just say it?” Cas retorts. “There are millions of words out there, Dean. I have an exquisite vocabulary. I adore you, and I’m bewitched by you, and I cherish you, and I’m devoted to you, and I’m enchanted by you. But at the end of it all, I love you, for nothing could say it better.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Now, you’re going to let me apologize for allowing you to let such insecurities fester.” Cas tells him, having caught Dean in a daze. “You’ve always made me feel loved, Dean. And in these last sixteen years, you’ve made me happier than I could ever have known. You’ve smiled my bad days into better ones, and cooked meals for us to share on that little table, and you’ve let me kiss you, and make love to you, and be wedded to you, and you’ve never once let me feel alone. And since that’s what I’ve most felt, before you, I am more grateful for you than you could ever imagine.”

Dean feels his throat clog up.

“And every day, Dean, I’ve woken up knowing I love you, but gone to bed at night, next to you, somehow even more deeply in love.” Cas emphasizes. He’s standing much closer to Dean now.

“And I cannot believe I’ve never said this aloud, for I think about it all the time.” Cas swears, his tone delicate. “But you’ve grown and changed so much, that it’s that much easier to love you now. It was always too simple, but little by little, you’ve molded into all my nooks, and filled every strange-shaped crevice of everything I ever wanted.”

Dean’s lips tremble, as he buries his face in Cas’s neck, and lets Cas hug him close. He feels a tear slip down his face, but it doesn’t matter, because Cas’s arms are around him, pulling him close, and he can just pause, and listen, and breathe Cas in.

“I don’t know how long it took, the first go-around, as you call it. Maybe I fell in love with you when I rebuilt you, or when I fought with you against Heaven, or by that river in Purgatory.” Cas whispers, words a little garbled as they’re spoken into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. “But if I had met you today, I would’ve fallen in love with you in a day.”

Dean lets out a choked sound, he wants to believe is a scoff. “You only had to ask if you wanted me to have a dad-bod, buddy. Back then, I mean.”

“You’re nicer to hug.” Cas justifies, and on cue, holds on tighter. “But it’s all the other things too. Now, you -”

“Please. Stop, Cas.” Dean begs, and it’s only a little bit of a joke. “If you go on anymore, I’m going to have to sit down, and then I’m not going to be able to get up, without being vastly unattractive about it.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Cas informs him, pulling away to look at him better. “But fine. We can finish this conversation later.”

“And I can tell you more of my side,” Dean looks down at the floor, embarrassed. “Without you rambling off poetry about our relationship, and making it all sappy like you love to do.”

“Only if you aren’t determined to fault yourself.” Cas conditions, smiling now. He’s so beautiful.

“But I -”

“Dean.” Cas scowls, and Dean shrugs, quieting down. “Only if you swear to skip to the part where we talk about how to help you overcome this. Because, I’m sorry, but it’s not me who feels what you think I feel, at all.”

“Shuddup.” Dean mutters.

There’s a silence, a warm and comfortable one. Cas smiles, again, little but pleasant - and Dean mirrors it. He loves Cas so much. And Cas loves him.

“Date nights.” He blurts. “We could do date nights.”

“Of course.” Cas looks amused, but in a good way. “I think we could pull those off.”

“Let’s have them thursdays.” Dean smirks, and Cas grins.

“Good choice.”

“And let’s go on a vacation.” Dean suggests, suddenly. The pressure is gone, but the adrenaline hasn’t worn off. Their entire future seems to be a sky of possibilities. To make each other feel loved, and to be happy. To put in efforts, without making it a big deal. They can do this. “Let’s go to a beach. Out of the country. We could go on a cruise.”

Cas beams. “I would like that, yes.”

“And -” Dean stops himself, blushing.

“Yes?” Cas urges.

Dean squirms.

“- would you like for me to choose more panties for you?” Cas says, tentatively, at the same time that Dean says, “I want to dye my hair.”

Dean lets out a nervous chuckle, as Cas’s eyebrows go up. “Both?”

“Both.” Cas nods, stepping closer again, but this time it’s not a hug, as his hands go around Dean’s middle, but his head doesn’t go on his shoulder. Dean’s the one who closes the gap, exhilarated.

They’ve got this.

And as they eventually fall back on one of the couches, Cas straddling Dean because he’s the only one of them who can still do that - Dean remembers that they never pulled the curtains down, and moves to stop Cas.

“Curtain.” He pants. “Could you -” Cas doesn’t seem to get it, and continues to lavish kisses on his clavicle. “Cas.” Dean groans. “The window, please. No one wants to see two old geezers getting sweet on each other through the window.”

“Maybe exhibitionism would rekindle the spark you claim is dead for me.” Cas mocks. “And I prefer lovely, married couple. Less old, less geezer.”

“Sure you do.” Dean laughs back, burying his face in Cas’s chest. “You’re a billion years ancient ex-wave, and I’m definitely a geezer, but sure you prefer lovely, married couple.” Cas’s laughter rumbles through him, and Dean can feel it too.

And just like that, it’s pretty frigging perfect - the sixty 'round the corner be damned.

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 123

Chapter 123 Summary: Rowan shouldn’t have agreed to go near William. And it doesn’t go well. (Taggers: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, manipulation, dubious consent, violence, blood, verbal abuse

Rowan moved over reluctantly, he kept waiting for William to leap out of his bonds and tackle Rowan once again, this time without Olivia to attack him or Peter to restrain him. But the bonds held, and the only movement was as William’s eyes watched him move closer.

“Don’t…don’t touch me,” Rowan warned, extending his trembling hands to reach for William’s shoulders.

“My arms are bound behind me and your dog tore through my bicep.” He answered. “Even if I wanted to touch you I couldn’t.”

Rowan wedged his fingers beneath William’s arm and pulled him into a sitting position, jerking away as he yelled and watching him thump back to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” He panted weakly. “I’m sorry…you caught my injury,” He explained, and Rowan paused, looking at the red stain on his fingers.

“Sorry,” He murmured. “I didn’t mean to.” He readjusted his grasp and carefully lifted William up, resting him upright again.

“Thank you, Rowan.”

His name sounded so unfamiliar in William’s mouth. It made him feel both disgusted and grateful, his stomach lurched and his eyes watered as he stood up and shrugged in a weak attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

“Co-could I trouble you further for some water, please?” William croaked, glancing up.

You’ve done nothing but trouble me ever since we met.

What could some water do? He admitted that he missed me.

After threatening to kill you. You can say no. Peter said don’t talk to him.

It’s water. All I ever wanted was for him to acknowledge my importance and say my name.

A creature in a trap will do anything to be released. Didn’t he say that to you once after punishing you?

“Give me a moment.” He said and William nodded.

“Thank you very much.”

As Rowan dipped a cup into the bucket of water in the sink and carried it back to William he realised that he would have to help William drink. It was almost enough to make him want to put the cup down and refuse. The voice in his head that advised against agreeing seemed to be shouting ‘I told you so!’ over and over again as he took each closer step. But it was too late, he wouldn’t change his answer now, it was too unkind.

He crouched beside William and lifted the cup to his lips. He purposefully avoided William’s attempt to meet his gaze and tilted the cup back, listening to the sound of William drink as he studied his shaking hands. William released a soft grunt when he finished and Rowan pulled back the cup, finally glancing to him as he swallowed.

“You are such a sweet person.” He said, studying Rowan’s face. “I’ve truly missed your company.”

“Really?” Rowan asked nervously.

“I know now that I should have treasured you more when I had the chance,” He sighed. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have turned from me.”

“You can’t blame me for taking the chance to leave,” Rowan replied bluntly. “Even if you did only lash out from fear.” William’s eyes hardened for a second before softening again.

“Well, I suppose not,” He paused and looked at Rowan as desperately as he could. “But, could I have one last kiss? Maybe this time when we part we can properly say goodbye.” Rowan’s eyes darted to his lips and he swallowed heavily.

“All right,” William saw as he closed his eyes and leaned closer, hand gently resting on William’s collarbone and tilting his head further up. The former King’s skin was rough and scratchy against his fingertips and he almost flinched away.

Rowan could feel the breath on his lips when he heard the gentlest chuckle escape William’s throat. He lurched away, eyes narrowing on the prisoner as he regained composure.

“You tricked me!” He exclaimed. “You were just trying to manipulate me! Again! And I fell for it!” William rolled his eyes and groaned as his target moved away.

“You always were naïve.” He spat. “You could never kill me because you’re a pet. Pets hold onto their loyalty, no matter how much their master abused them, you would try and slit my throat, or choke me out like the hunter, but all you would be able to think of is the rewards I gave you when you were a good boy.” Rowan’s stomach lurched as hatred and dissent swelled in his chest. “And in any case, you are too weak to look a man in the eye and kill him.”

“I’ve killed two people before.” Rowan hissed angrily.

“Oh yes!” William laughed. “I heard from Lord Borin about your misdemeanour! But in both cases it was a mistake, wasn’t it? You can’t intend to kill someone, you only happen to. Without adrenaline in your veins you don’t have the strength.��

“Shut up!” Rowan screamed. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He was furious. He was angry at William. He was angry at Marie, for not having killed him. He was angry at himself for falling for William’s tricks after already knowing he would try to.

“How dare you growl at your owner?” William snarled, leaning forward with his teeth bared. “Get on your knees and beg like a good little puppy so I don’t think about having you retrained!”

“You can’t do anything! You’re my prisoner!” Rowan spat as tears of shame blurred his vision. “And I’m not your puppy!”

“Oh, puppy, it took me half an hour of consciousness to get you close enough to kiss me! Don’t pretend you can be normal! Don’t act as though you don’t look eagerly for the praise of whoever’s around you. Your loyalty changes with the weather!”

There was a loud crack and he looked up to see William’s head slumped against his chest, a lazy trickle of blood tracing down his temple. The broken cup on the floor beside him revealed to Rowan that he had hurled it at William in his fury, and by some miracle knock him unconscious.

“I hate you!” He sobbed and sat down by the pillow again. “Oh…I-I hate you.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #William #PTSD whumpee #manipulation #verbal abuse #conditioned whumpee #blood #unconscious

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Text

A Gentle Blade Part 24

Part 23 here

3,190 words on this one. I think the last update explains why this one is as long as it is. Up for the reveal? *wiggles eyebrows*

@tears-and-lilies

******

Leera woke on her own, presumably at night, though she couldn't tell. She felt as though she'd barely slept. Her head had still been on Kastion's shoulder and she smiled slightly before realizing the corners of her mouth were wet. She lifted her head in a hurry, looking to the shoulder she had previously been laying on. There was a dark circle on the prince's shirt.

She considered waking him up now, but decided embarrassingly that she should wait until her drool spot was dried up. How humiliating would that be? Extremely.

But why? Surely a prince drooled, too. Leera was almost sure if the roles had been reversed then it would be she who had a wet spot on her shoulder. But he was a prince, and this was the problem. She was lost in the idea of him being a prince, of him being the stuckup, rich king at dinner. Poised and insulting. Make no mistake. Be inhuman. Kastion wasn't that kind of prince. Kastion was Kastion.

Sure, drool was still disgusting, whether it came from a prince's mouth or an assassin's. But it wasn't so humiliating to Leera now that she acknowledged whose shoulder she drooled on. Not a prince's, but Kastion's.

Would Leera ever feel fully comfortable with him being a prince? Enough to hear the title and not fall into a pit of previous trauma? It will take some time, she thought, but it's achievable. After their conversation last night, she felt better about it- whatever it was.

Were they in a relationship now? If they were, what did that mean? Leera supposed it meant nothing more than it already did. They enjoyed one another's company, but what would happen once they escaped? Kastion had responsibilities. He would have to return home and tend to his father while also helping his mother make decisions for their kingdom. Where would that leave Leera? She would live as she did before, hopping between inns and barns, finding a new warm place to sleep every night. She would scrounge up papers and ink to post notices on town boards so that someone would hopefully hire her.

That brought up an entirely new question. If she didn't- the thought was difficult. If she didn't become a queen, would she return to being an assassin? Leera figured she would try to. After all, she still wished to rid the world of evil men and women. She would just have to be sure to not get caught. Leera could have completed at least two contracts by now if she hadn't been caught. Then again, would anyone ever hire her now that she already had been captured?

Too many conflicts were arising in the assassin's mind. Soon they would make her go mad, as if she hadn't been already. With a laugh, Leera tried to imagine this was all a dream. At what moment would she have fallen asleep if it was a dream? Before the capture, surely. Or maybe not. Maybe she really was captured and it was Kastion which was the dream. A hallucination.

It was now that the prince stirred. Leera watched as his eyes became open and he blinked away his sleepiness. "You're already awake," he said gruffly. He yawned, covering his long mouth with a hand. Leera only acknowledged the action because she always did the same thing when she yawned, even if no one was around. It was something she picked up from her uncle.

"I am," She peered at his shoulder. The drool was nearly gone, thankfully, and he didn't seem to notice it. "Haven't been for awfully long, but long enough to notice your snores."

His eyes widened. "I snore?" He asked it as if he were horrified. It made Leera laugh.

"It was a joke, but it was entertaining to see your reaction."

Kastion lightly threw his shoulder into hers with a smile. "Suppose I'll have to find something else to jest you about."

She smiled back, but otherwise stayed silent. Now that Kastion was awake, all of the questions Leera thought up before were returning.

Today, Kastion would reveal himself to the queen. He would ask for her presence and ears and then he would put the ring on, telling her who he really was. And hopefully Rennera would remember that holding a prince prisoner was a likely cause for a war. But then-

"Kastion, you can't demand my release," Leera said.

"Why can't- oh."

Neither one of them thought of it before, but Leera truly was the queen's property. Seeing as she killed the king, she was a criminal of the lands. Rennera owned the assassin just as she owned everyone else here except for the prince.

"The only way for me to be released is by escaping or by you stealing me from her. The latter will cause a war." Before he could respond, Leera continued, "And I will not allow you to start a war over me. Get out of here yourself, and I'll find my own way out."

"Leera-"

She interrupted, already knowing he would say something stupid, something sweet. "No. You'll leave me. Do what is best for your kingdom, not me."

The two of them remained silent for some more time. Kastion, flipping through idea after idea, only discovering that most of them would not work. Leera, wondering how she would escape someday on her own. Maybe she wouldn't escape, but she could live with that if Kastion was safe in his own lands.

"Be my queen," Kastion said suddenly, the idea just dawning on him. He pulled Dogars' ring out of his pocket, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. "Take this and hide it somewhere on your person."

Leera shook her head. "Then you won't have proof of your status."

"I do. In my trousers that they stole away."

"And if they burnt your trousers?"

Kastion laughed full-heartily. "Well it's not made of wood. They'd have a rough time accidentally burning it in a fire."

***

Crooked shoved Kastion's shoulder towards the queen's door. He nodded at the bounty hunter to knock, and Kastion did.

Upon hearing Rennera's voice, Crooked called out, "It's the fish breeder. He wishes to have your private audience. Do you accept?"

The queen did accept, and so Crooked pushed the door open then pushed the prisoner in as well. Kastion noticed the guard taking in his noble- rather, royal- clothing, and thought that soon enough Crooked might be wearing them himself. Just another thing to deal with when he returned to Thharewood. It seemed war was bound to happen no matter what he and Leera did to avoid it. So why not go ahead and 'steal' the assassin?

"Close the door, my future king."

Kastion obeyed, even latching the door shut to satisfy his own worry that Crooked might bash in when he revealed himself as the Prince of Thharewood, if he even did it here.

"Now, what is it you wished to talk to me about? I don't suppose the assassin revealed herself as my spy, did she? The emissary did a better job at it than her."

He ignored her casual taunts. Rennera didn't know nearly as much as he did, and she would realize that soon. "I need my clothes back." Kastion's voice was a bit harsher than he intended, but it was mostly because the moment scared him. As often as he thought about it, he never considered what words he would use, what he would say in order to not offend Rennera.

"Those dirty rags you wore for- who knows how long? Why should you need those back?" The queen sat on her bed, her legs undoubtedly tucked beneath her dress as it was billowed out.

"To support the truth I know you will not believe."

Rennera smiled something wicked. She had darker lipstick on today than usual. The usual ruby red was now almost black and her teeth contrasted greatly next to them. "And what's that?"

"I think it will be better that you see it rather than hear it."

"My future king, I am intrigued. You should tell me before I lose patience and decide to do something more fun than wait for a truth you already think faulty."

"I'll tell you something more believable now, then," Kastion said and strode towards the bed. He sat on the very edge, not even enough that his whole bottom was rested. He whispered, "Every man and woman that works in this palace served happily for your last husband, didn't they?"

The queen felt the shift in his tone. Even as he was serious before, he was more so now. She nodded at him.

Kastion pointed to the door. "The man standing outside that door has an agenda of his own. I know why you want to marry me. I have proven to be a greater weakness than yourself and you value that image because of the former king. You want to appear stronger than who you marry."

He continued to explain what Crooked told him not so many days ago when Kastion had poisoned himself. About how the guard thought the queen fancied Leera, and how it even made sense because of the past king's abuse. Rennera loved Leera for killing the queen's abuser. He further explained how Crooked wished to be the next king and tried convincing Kastion to hand over the title when he received it.

At the end of Kastion's report, the queen said, referring to herself loving the assassin, "That is ridiculous!" The bounty hunter urged her to quiet down as Crooked was still on the other side of the door. It's why Kastion came to sit beside Rennera and began to whisper before, so that no one outside of this room could hear.

"I can help you," Kastion told her. "But I need you, or someone, to take me to my trousers. Unless you trust my every word, I need this. It's for both of our goods."

"You suppose you could stop a greedy man in a high position?" The queen tutted, shifting beneath her dress. "You might be my future king, but you were a bounty hunter, and a fisherman before that, my dear. You are not capable of destroying a throne and crown."

Fine. "I guarantee you that as a prince of a nation in these lands, I am perfectly capable of assisting in a political matter."

Truth be told, Kastion didn't intend on assisting Queen Rennera, but if it helped him and Leera escape unscathed, he would mutter any lie necessary.

Of course, Rennera did not believe the man in front of her was a prince. How could he be? He wore rags and came as a bounty hunter. What royalty would ever pretend to be anything other than royalty? Nevertheless, the queen escorted Kastion out of her room and to Servant's Circle, where servants of the palace completed many duties, one duty included cleaning very worn clothes, such as the bounty hunter's before he was changed into a king's clothing for dinner.

Kastion had to scavenge through various piles of stinky clothing like a cat trying to find a mouse in a thick stack of garbage. After many wasted minutes, he found his trousers in the last mass of cloth. They were more rank now than they were as he wore them, which was surprising given how he'd worn them for several weeks. It didn't matter how they smelled, it was the golden circle he fiddled with in the pocket of the pants he held now that mattered. He pulled the ring out, held it in front of his and Rennera's eyes.

"Thharewood," he said. "That is my home. That is my kingdom. It was to be Leera's as well before you kidnapped her. She has a ring just as well as I, if you need further proof."

Rennera didn't dare deny her eyes. The ring in front of her was true; gold with the royal seal of Thharewood on top like a stamp. It didn't necessarily mean Sir Guard was a prince, but perhaps he was a knight of a higher authoritative lord. It was in the nickname after all. Sir Guard. 'Sir' as in knight.

"You sought to marry an assassin?"

"I didn't know she was one," he lied. "It is the reason why I took up a false identity, why I brought her back when I found her in the woods. Anger," Kastion explained. "Anger like nothing else. But I can stop her from pursuing that flimsy occupation of hers if you only return her to me." This was the quickest lie the prince ever came up with, and he was afraid Rennera would sense it. So, he spit out a truth. "I am Kastion of Thharewood, the only male heir to King Gulldis and Queen Mofrin."

The queen squinted at him. "And your sisters names? Harvin mentioned the prince having sisters."

Harvin. Kastion guessed this was the guard he called 'Crooked'. It made sense. Crooked did mention Thharewood before the other nobles showed up to the first dinner.

Before he thought this, though, he immediately answered with his sisters' names. Rennera was obviously testing his truth telling. If he'd hesitated before answering, had to think about it first, she would have thought him a liar despite having the royal seal.

"I cannot just..." Rennera trailed off. She couldn't let Sir Gu- Prince Kastion- go. She'd already announced to every important figure in the lands that he was to be her next husband. Allowing him to leave would destroy every bit of the image she made. Not to mention it might make her a target. Rennera imprisoned a prince and his supposed fiancé. That wasn't something to be looked over, whether she was aware of it or not. And Leera killed the queen's husband. If she let the assassin out of the palace, it would appear that Rennera had gone soft. No, no it wasn't possible. But then if she refused to let Kastion out, a war would begin. The emissary from dinner was from Thharewood and he would have recognized his own prince. And if she did allow Kastion to leave, and not Leera, he would start a war on his own.

Surprisingly, she admitted the lot of these thoughts to Kastion once they returned to her bedroom. It was too late to prevent the servants from uttering what they saw and heard, about the reveal, in the Circle. But, the two royals could discuss pressing conflicts elsewhere, in a place where there were no prying ears besides Harvin's, and he couldn't hear whispers through a wooden door.

"You shouldn't worry about weakness if you take solace in my kingdom." Kastion then promised he would aid Rennera should she need it, and she would.

Rennera shook her head, feeling a bout of stressed tears in her eyes. "I can't. I don't- I don't know what to do. If what you said about the guard is true...what if he is just as bad as Loel?" In this moment, Rennera realized that she didn't trust Kastion to be any less abusive. Who would turn their loved one in to a queen- a queen that clearly tortured her subjects- just because of anger? Then again, Rennera wasn't exactly mad that Leera killed her king. Maybe Rennera was just as bad as everyone surrounding her.

"Follow behind me and Leera when we leave," Kastion said. The further this conversation went, the more willing he was to actually fulfill his promises. Perhaps taking the queen in wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps if she did come with then he could teach her how to listen to her people, since it's what Rennera truly aspired to do. But how could he possibly teach her such a concept when it was he who was a coward within his own rule? Kastion's people wanted violence and he didn't deliver. He hired an assassin, which was more than violent enough in his mind, but likely wouldn't be for them.

But it was okay. They could all take this one step at a time. The most important thing right now was that Kastion return home and that Leera be safe. They could figure out the rest later.

The queen proved her aspirations when she said, "The two of you are free to leave. I will occupy the guards so that they do not guard your cell as I take you back." She breathed. "But I must stay. I can't- It's not right for me to leave when I..." Rennera wasn't sure what to say. Really, she didn't even know how she felt. Nonetheless she settled for saying, "I am the queen of Misenian, and I should be here for my people. Even if I can't help them, I should at least be a leader enough that I suffer with them."

***

Rennera led Kastion to the cell after giving a short word to Crooked, urging him to gather all of the Guard in the Servant's Circle. It wasn't a suitable place for guards and they would undoubtedly question her notions, but she needed to do this. Rennera needed to redeem her actions. She was cruel because she was scared, and it wasn't fair. And she didn't think this because Kastion was a prince, but she could admit that it aided in her decision. How much further could this all go?

"Leera," Kastion said as soon as he reached the cell door. "We're leaving. Come on."

The assassin looked up bewildered, and her eyes widened as she noticed the queen standing behind Kastion. "Wha- You're serious?" She wasn't sure who the question was directed at. Either one, she supposed.

It was unbelievable- that Rennera would let them go. There were so many ways for this plan to go wrong, more so than there were for them to go right.

Leera looked up and to her left where chains dangled. I am dreaming. I have to be. She was still drooling on Kastion's shoulder unknowingly, wasn't she?

"My guards have been gathered in an unproblematic area," Rennera began, watching Leera's confusion morph into an odd, possible joy. "I will take you two to the stables and from there you are on your own. I wish there is more I could do for you, especially given how terrible I have been. The words will mean nothing, but I have never felt more remorse in my life. I pray the gods will not be so merciful as we usually pray they will be. I do not deserve it."

Kastion hardly listened. His only goal was to pull Leera from the floor onto her feet. He did this, and when she stood, he paused.

Certainly he wasn't about to cry, he thought to himself, but he was. His eyes stung, along with his nose. How he'd ever come to love an assassin in the dungeons...he did know. Most wouldn't. It would have been so unbelievable that most would have denied it, but Kastion couldn't. Leera was worth loving. There was no questioning that concept.

"We're free, Leera."

******

Part 25 here

#leera and rennera #part 24 #kastion #sir guard #identity reveal #royalty #royal v royal #royal whumpee #royal whumper #assassin whump #original series #a gentle blade

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