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crzyimp · 3 months

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New year, New you

Author note; Learned a lot while writing this story and tried to copy JTTW writing style here or there

No warning on this on, bit of angst, comfort, and humor. Long fic.

Enjoy!

The air was brisk, and the road covered in beautiful white, blanketing the landscape and mountains in snow. All was quiet expect for the sound of crunching; footsteps and hooves leaving marks on the path behind them. The four pilgrims and their white horse on their years’ long journey to the west, each special in their own right and memorable. All expect for one, the often forgotten white dragon horse.

Bailong, dragon prince and third son of the Dragon king of the west sea, huffs and puffs white clouds against the cold air. Keeping his golden eyes forward with the holy Tang Monk on his back. Another year is closing for a new to arise and yet the melancholy refuse to shake off like fleas or ticks. Instead, it burrows deep within and rise memories, one Bailong wishes to forget.

It will be the year of the dragon for the new year, one his family back in the western sea exclusively celebrated and no other zodiac. Sadly for Bailong, the rarely celebrated new years he always missed, his family never waited for him and even forgotten him among the festive celebration. This left him feeling hollow inside and with other emotions swimming within him. In the beginning, it was an overwhelming sadness that was drowning him, then resentment made way like an ocean wave in a storm, before settling in the sands of acceptance beneath waves, forgotten and never seen. He huffs again and shakes the thoughts away.

“Master, the path is becoming difficult. Let us stop at the nearest town and rest. At least until the roads are cleared.” A voice, like that of bells chimes during prayer, a familiar hand brushes against Bailong’s white furry neck. His eyes drift down to the fearsome thunder god, Pilgrim Sun, an infamous being with many names and titles, but best known as his elder brother, Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong study him carefully with his fiery eyes before smiling. “Besides, I think our young dragon horse might’ve fall under the weather.” Wukong tease deftly dodges a bite from Bailong sharp fangs, his laughter echoing in the mountains.

“Wukong,” a warm, but firm voice spoke up above Bailong. “I’ll take your advice, but refrain from teasing.” A delicate hand reaches out, the fingers comb through his fur. The owner of the hand can be no other than the holy Tang Monk. The one who started the journey to complete his quest. Tensions wash off of Bailong and briefly close his closing his eyes. The holy monk knew the best spots. “When is the closest village?” Sanzang asks.

“Yes, big brother! Use your nimbus to scout ahead.” Zhu Bajie pipe in, kicking up snow as he trudges up. Sha Wujing measly catch up behind Zhu Bajie, bits of frost covering the tips of his red beard. The pig and water demon turned disciples, each one with their own names and past, join the other three. “Little brother is freezing and see! His fiery beard is turning blue like his skin!”

“Do not worry about me my brothers, bits of frost nor snow won’t stop me in completing our quest.” Sha Wujing reply with a hum, keeping the rear and smiling gently to the others.

“You say that little brother, but old monkey can hear your teeth chattering from here.”

“Yes, and you’re losing your hue, my disciple.”

“Wukong, hurry up! Find a shelter soon or Sha Wujing will turn into an ice block!”

“Idiot, little brother would be more of an ice boulder than a block.” Wukong said, with more insults ready to throw at Zhu Bajie.

“Please stop bickering, you two! Sun Wukong, please go forth and look for everyone’s sakes.” Sanzang said, stopping them before they truly start.

“Of course, master.” Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie said in union with heads bowing. Bailong huff at the usual display, a normal occurrence and always lively compare to his quiet palace home. His heart feels warm at the concern, even light-heartedly, at the youngest disciple. Even Wukong’s teasing at him as well, far different from his home.

He idly listens to the group’s conversation and suppresses a laugh when Sanzang offers some of his outwear to warm Sha Wujing up; only for the three disciples to dog pile on him with their own winter clothes and becoming a fabric lump with a tiger skin skirt on top. Bailong won’t complain about the added weight, all part of his atonement and added benefit. He watches as the eldest brother somersault onto his cloud and speed ahead. Nothing more than the spec in the sky in a matter of seconds.

Things soon return to the tranquil quiet as before, with sounds of foot and hooves crushing snow in the white landscape. The thoughts of his family far gone from Bailong’s mind, the group continues on with light snow fall until only an hour later Pilgrim Sun returns with news. Bailong didn’t pay no mind to it, only the important bit; the nearest village is only a few hours away and Pilgrim Sun already establish a lodging for them all. An empty home they can all stay for with food provided. He tune out Zhu Bajie as he starts the normal hungry complaints and the distance. Or when the two oldest brothers go at it again and Sanzang muffles a sigh under the pile. Sha Wujing smiles through his chattering teeth, always keeping up in the rear and never complaining. Together, the monk and his disciples travel to their destination, with the eldest leading the way.

True to Sun Wukong’s word, the party arrives just a few hours with a small home fit for a family of five. “I didn’t realize it was of the new years already. It’s nice of the locals to have our lodge decorated for the occasion.” Sha Wujing said, stepping towards to the door, using his transformation to shrink down to the size of an average man. “Though it’s a shame there isn’t any bamboo for us to burn, I always did enjoy hearing the crackles during this time of year.”

“Maybe there will be plenty of food then.” Zhu Bajie reply, rushing forward and doing the same as Sha Wujing, almost matching his height. “A nice hot meal will be nice to shake off the bitter cold! Better yet, a feast!” Zhu Bajie said with excitement, passing the youngest brother and first through the door into the house with Sha Wujing behind him.

Wukong quietly watches his two brothers before he leads Bailong to the stables with a now sleeping Tang monk softly snoring on top of him. “Little Bailong,..” Bailong always hated that, he’s not that young, “…come inside with Master and old monkey. It’s much too cold for you to be out here.” Speaking in a hush tone, Wukong grows into size enough to grab the bundles of fabrics that is his master. He carries the monk like a parent does with a sleeping child. Sanzang’s red nose was the only thing peeking out. Wukong chuckles as the dragon horse, the extra warm gone and now left his body shivering, “See, come with me and I’ll prepare tea for you and Master.” Titling his head to the side, he studies Bailong’s state; flakes and dull skin, even his eyes lost their shine. “Ah, even as a horse you still molt, old Sun shall draw you a bath. Let me bring Master into our lodging and I’ll come back for you.” Bailong bobs his head in reply, watching the two leave. The cold seeps into his bones and feels of constriction of his skin with an itch that won’t go away. A wooden beam stands only a few steps away from him with ever-growing temptation, soon the satisfaction of the coarse wood against his hide. He sighs, his thoughts of his family back at the forefront of his mind, along with hollowness. Perhaps this year they’ll send a letter or even wishes or gifts. Anything to remind him he’s still family. His ears perk at the distance sound of chatter coming from the house.

Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing stood in the kitchen discussing among themselves of tonight’s feast and the rooms they briefly explore. A main room where everyone can eat, one with a tub for washing, a kitchen, and two for sleeping or storage. The sound of a door opens and closes draws their attention. Peeking out, they see their oldest brother carrying their master. Their eyes on him as he disappears into the bathroom and shortly coming out, then in another room where the two store everyone’s luggage and out again. At this is when Sha Wujing spoke up. “Brother, the sleeping quarters are down the hall at the end.”

“Ha! Fool getting lost in a small home, is that the reason you bother everyone in heaven because you couldn’t find your way?” Zhu Bajie laughs, his belly shaking and wiping a tear. His laughter doubles and clutching his gut when Sun Wukong glares at him.

“Quiet Idiot! Are you trying to wake Master?” Sun Wukong whispers harshly with narrow fiery eyes, briefly glances at the sleeping monk. “And I see you haven’t gained more weight yet. Why don’t you make yourself useful and cook for us tonight.”

“I don’t know, perhaps you should, Mother Sun.” Zhu Bajie replies, grinning when Sha Wujing covers his mouth and looking away, his shoulders shaking.

“I guess you make a poor husband who can’t cook. Old monkey can see why your wife and in-laws wanted you gone.” Wukong smiles, smug when Idiot’s ears flaps and his face turn red like Sha Wujing beard. At this, the youngest brother couldn’t contain his joyful laughter, using the wooden beams to support himself.

“I’ll show you! I’ll make the finest dish that you’ll offer any daughters to marry me and honor me as your son-in-law!” Zhu Bajie declares and return to the kitchen. Wukong proudly watches and sees Idiot’s outstretch hand grabbing Sha Wujing. The youngest brother yelps when he’s yank in with barks of orders. Sun Wukong shakes his head with a smile, carrying the Tang Monk down the hall and gently laying him on the bed. Even tucking the monk before leaving.

“It’s amazing master slept through all that. Old monkey thought he’ll wake from Idiot’s blubbering and little brother’s laughing.” Walking back towards the kitchen, the sound of chopping and bickering reaching his ears. He steps closer and listens.

“Little brother! You’re chopping that wrong! Are you trying to feed rabbits like that? You’ll make a poor husband.”

“I don’t want to be a husband. I want to be a monk, big brother.” Sha Wujing mumbles, pricking his fingers for the third time.

“And you’re bleeding again! You want the master to break his vows? Go clean your wound again and tend to the fire.” the second brother ordered with his back turned.

“I see why your marriage failed.” the youngest brother mumbles

“Hmm!? What did you say?” Zhu Bajie whips his head at Sha Wujing’s direction.

“Nothing big brother! Must have been the wood crackling.” Sha Wujing reply sweetly.

Sun Wukong silently chuckles behind his hand, leaving his two brothers as the cold hits his golden fur. Chills burrow into his bones, the thick snow falling now and some landing on him. He admires the beauty of nature for only a moment before he trudges over to the stables. The sight of the youngest member of the group rubbing his side on the old wooden support beam, tilting dangerously. “Stop! Stop! Let Monkey help you before that beam collapses on us both…. I said, hold still!” Sun Wukong shouts, both hands on Bailong and a tail around the beam. He nods to himself, patting Bailong’s stomach. “Quite impatient today, young Bailong”

At this, Bailong shifts into a more humanoid appearance, with antler like horns and teal hair. His features resembles of that a boy on the cusp of adulthood. “Don’t call me that!” His voice cracks just like his skin.

“And moody too. Is it has becau-“

“That it’s the year of the dragon and my family hasn’t sent word or wishes. Treating me as if I don’t exist, as always.” Bailong turns his back to Wukong with arms crossed. His emotions swirl like a whirlpool inside, ready to burst.

“I thought it was the year of the monkey.” Wukong said, stepping closer to the young boy on the cusp of adulthood. Frowning at the poor condition he’s in from his molt and the sudden outburst.

“You say it’s the monkey’s year, every year.” Bailong said flatly as he spun back around, his eyes firmly on the spec of snow beneath him.

“Well, Idiot fell for it during the year of the pig, but I suppose it’s the dragon’s year, if you say so. As for your family…” Wukong reaches up to his ear, “…do you want Old Sun to pay them a vis-“

“No! I just….” Bailong when he interrupts a second time, but he continues. “…I just never spent new years with them, I just…” He sighs, his shoulders sagging. He was a dutiful son and never voiced or went against his family’s wishes until his mishap almost got him executed. If it wasn’t for this journey, he shivers at the thought. “I.. I just want to know that my family cares for me…” A part of him misses home, the luxury and the comforts. However, the other side of him loved seeing a world he’ll never get to see behind his watery palace or the people he met along the way. Did he truly misses his family or is he telling himself that? Familial loyalties can be the strongest and yet it was his father who sent him to the heavenly courts and his execution. Even in the years he travels with the monks, not once did his family reach out or seek him out. His eyes water as his thoughts swarm around him, intrusive and hostile, like the old and inhospitable world.

Until powerful arms wrap around him, protecting him and dashing his train of thought. Bailong buries his face against Wukong’s chest and staining his robes. Tears now flowing freely as he feels a hand rub against his back gently. No one exchanges words, and Bailong doesn’t mind or care as he quietly weeps. Only feeling Wukong lifting and carrying him like he did with the holy monk; the cold snow before the warmth of inside. His ears perking as the other brothers bickering and then laughing in the other room. Wukong carried him further into the home, the joyful sounds fading away.

A door opens and closes, the room far more humid compare to the main room and hallway. The moisture in the air doing wonders for his flaky skin. Bailong lifts his head from Wukong’s chest to see a bath ready with all the essentials. In the corner of his blurry vision, he spots what could only be a clone making final preparations and setting new clothes for after his bath.

Bailong didn’t have the chance to think more of where the clothes came from or if it was even his, when his feet dip into the steaming waters. His mind was blank and his body moved on its own. Quickly stripping away garments and diving into the waters. Splashing and spilling over, Wukong can be overheard grumbling about being wet and something else. It didn’t take long to feel the heat to soak into him and, like a weighted blanket, ease him into a peaceful sleep.

Sun Wukong watches all of this with annoyance and amusement, shaking the water off his fur and wringing his soggy robes. A plan forms in his mind as he glance at Bailong, closing his eyes and drifting off. Wukong sighs. He’ll have to leave the young man alone for his plan to work, but he wants to ensure that Bailong is up when dinner is ready or when Master is awake. He leaves and walks towards the kitchen, knowing the only ones still awake can help him.

“Little brother, how on earth or heaven did you survive on your own like this?” Bajie ask in astonishment, wrapping Wujing’s bleeding finger in cloth.

“I only know how to pickle and pickled anything that came to my river and eat when it was necessary. I’m not a cook like you,” Wujing said with his head hanging low.

“Please forgive your big brother. I got blinded by my attempt to prove to our eldest that you needed help.

Sha Wujing clasps Zhu Bajie’s shoulder and smiles. “Then please enlighten me on the ways of cooking, so that I can be an excellent monk.”

“You mean husband?” Zhu Bajie teasingly asked with a smile.

“No, I think he meant monk, Idiot.” Wukong said, standing in the doorway. Firey eyes wrinkling when the two jump and nearly hit each other. “I need to leave and gather supplies for tonight. Our dragon horse is dispirited- “he pauses as the two gasp and talk among themselves over poor Bailong. Wukong clears his throat and continues talking. “He’s soaking in the bathroom. Bring him out once dinner is ready. I’m-”

“Perhaps we should cook some of his favorites.” Bajie said, a hand under his chin with his eyes close.

“Maybe we can further decorate the home and I can gather bamboo. I remember seeing some on the way here.” Sha Wujing suggests. His eyes focus on the window.

“Brother, what do you think?” Zhu Bajie asks their eldest brother, “And the ugly bastard gone.” He grumbles at the empty spot Pilgrim Sun was in. Zhu Bajie asks their eldest brother, "Brother, what do you think? And the ugly bastard has disappeared." He grumbles at the empty spot Pilgrim Sun was in.

The two concluded on a plan without the eldest and went their separate ways, each completing tasks with intensity. Bajie cooked all meals the young dragon horse mentions over the years on the road. Add flavors and spices to Bailong’s personally loved. His mouth waters and his snout twitches as each of the dishes he set at the table, but he’ll abstain until he sees the delight on Bailong’s face. Bajie admires the handy work of Wujing’s decoration.

The villagers have set some up to make them as a welcome gift. One they were certainly grateful for, though Wujing took it further by writing scrolls and handing fabrics. Bajie’s ears twitch at the sound of the door and footsteps. He spots Wujing with bundles of bamboo under his arms and snow mix with his hair. “Once you set those down, please wake and retrieve our master and Bailong. I’ll set the final preparations and ensure everything is ready.” Bajie said, he watches as his little brother nods and disappears further into the house.

It doesn’t take long for Sha Wujing to return with tears in his eyes and something shrivels in his arms. Bajie feels his heart stop at the sight. “Zhu Bajie! Brother!” Wujing’s voice is loud as it echoes off the walls. Bajie rushes over to him. “It’s Bailong! He’s…he’s” Wujing wobbles, his body shaking and his breathing shallow. Bajie gasps, finally getting a better look before he, too, sob over what was once was Bailong. In Sha Wujing’s arms lies a husk, shell and translucent of Bailong’s body. Still warm and droplets dripping from his hands with tears landing on his frail body. Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie collapses, each with arms wrap around the other.

“Why are you two crying? Did something happen?” Sun Wukong asks, his eyes searches for the source of the cause for his younger brothers’ sorrows.

“Brother! Bailong, he’s…he’s” Sha Wujing wiggle away from Zhu Bajie to show the eldest disciple of what has become Bailong.

“That’s what you two were crying about? Just toss it and wak-“

“How could you?!”

“You rotten ugly bastard!”

“Disciples, why all the shouting at this hour and right before supper?” All eyes whip towards Tripitaka, rubbing his eyes and holding hands with a yawning Bailong. Who’s skin and hair shine brightly against the lights, his features closer to that of a young man, but with a hint of boyishness still lingers.

The second and third disciples cried again, practically tackles the monk and dragon into a hug. Once free from two burly men’s hugs; Bailong explains he sheds his skin every few years. His shedding always landed on the New Year, the year of the dragon, to be exact. The sea cold waters made it grueling process overall. However, this time it was easier on Bailong’s body thanks to the hot bath Sun Wukong prep for him. Wukong’s chest puffed up and smug with such praise.

“You ape! Why didn’t you say anything before?! Sha Wujing and I wouldn’t have to bawl our eyes out if you told us!”

“I would’ve if you kept your mouth shut and allowed me to speak. Not old monkey’s fault you lack manners.” Sun Wukong said matter-of-factly.

“You!”

Tripitaka sighs as moves himself over to the table, Bailong joining him while Sha Wujing set the table and the dishes. Soon he joins the other two as they help themselves to the food and watch the daily entertainment of the two older disciples argue like a comedic skit during a play. A dinner and a show, an array of flavors and non stop snickering laughter as Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie go at it. It took some time for both the disciples to tire themselves out before joining the others.

Bailong soon enough became the focus of attention from the other men. Zhu Bajie asking his thoughts on the dishes, many he recognizes as his favorites from his home, but more importantly from the travels with everyone. Each bite brings memories of the places they stop at and the stories it holds.

However, Bailong didn’t have the chance to answer the second disciple before the third was asking him about the decorations. His golden eyes wander the room, his cheeks puffy with food. The deep color of red littering the room with mixtures of yellow, none quite matching with the red. It’s nothing to compare to the one back at the western sea palace. However, despite that, everything felt warm to him, like when he was in the bath or when Tripitaka scooted over to allow him under the covers for a nap.

Finally, his eyes landing on the bamboo and his eyebrows raise, that was something his family definitely didn’t partake. He heard about burning bamboo to get it to crack and crackle. Even seen and heard it from a distance during the journey, but to partake in it? This was something he couldn’t contain his excitement, nearly bouncing in his chair and scarfing down the food.

“If you’re excited over burning bamboo, then Old Monkey has something even better.” Now this got everyone’s attention and eyes on Pilgrim Sun. Which leads to everyone with the same thought. Where did the oldest disciple run off to? “Old Monkey remembered an old acquaintance and pay them a visit. Kind enough to gift me a newly made invention! One that can light up the sky.”

“You mean you stole it.” Zhu Bajie said between bites, smugly when he sees the familiar frown etch on Sun Wukong’s face.

“No, Idiot, I did not steal it. I did a favor of exchange for it and it will make our new years a memorable one.”

“How long will we have to wait?” Bailong spoke up, hands on the table and leaning over. “Can we see it now? After dinner?” his voice was louder with a wide smile.

“After dinner.” Tripitaka announces, “After dinner and we’ll see what Pilgrim Sun brought.” Calmly declare with poise and elegance as he ate his food at a faster pace than he usually does. Although no one paid much mind as the rest soon clear off the rest of the dishes.

With much haste, everyone finishes dinner and rush out the door. Pushing the eldest disciple out first with unrestrained glee. “What happens to the men and who replaces them with children?” Sun Wukong laughs, making himself a little heavier. Let them work for it if only a little.

Outside in the brisk air, the group stands off by the entrance as Sun Wukong stands a respectful distance away with an object in his hand. A quick light and a good throw, the object soar high into the night air. With bated breath, everyone stares at the sky and waits.

“Nothing happ- “Bailong’s words die in his throat as the once darken sky soon turns into an explosion of colors with a thundering boom. He and the others feel it in their bones, but no one dare move as they watch vibrant colors spread across the sky before fading back into the darkness. This was nothing he could have imagined witnessing in all his life, nor does he ever wish to forget. Bailong spends the rest of the night among his fellow traveling companions, his family, celebrating the new years together. Until a heavenly official arrives about a noise complaint.

#sun wukong #journey to the west #jttw #xiyouji #bai longma #tripitaka #zhu bajie #sha wujing #long fic #please dont ask how long this took out of me #wrote this for a contest in my jttw discord server

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popopretty · 2 years

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BSD Chapter 102

Chapter’s name is Jingaimakyou – The first part (roughly translated to “mysterious place out of the human world”). Not sure if it is done on purpose but author Oguri Mushitarou wrote a novel of the same name.

We have a change of pov this month, so we will have to wait at least another month to know what happened in the prison, but instead we get to learn a lot about Bram in this new chapter, and also Bram and Aya interactions are the cutest <3

Please note that neither English nor Japanese is my mother tongue, and Bram’s speech is so hard to understand so I may make mistakes. Please let me know if there is anything you want to correct.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Aya takes Bram to a parking lot and both of them get into a truck of a laundry service. (Bram is like oh this wagon doesn’t have any horses XD). Aya explains to him that besides passengers, there are many other people working in airport service who go in and out of the airport every day. And the securities will not have enough time to check through everything here, so if they get in one of these vehicles and wait, they will be able to get out of the airport once someone drives it out. Bram praises her and Aya is like of course I am the ally of justice.

Aya looks at the sword piercing into Bram and tells him they can look for a way to pull it out together if it hurts. Bram says that it is stupid because once the sword is pulled out, it will release the devil inside him and bring and darkness to earth blah blah blah. Aya then asks him what exactly that sword is, and Bram tells her that the sword used to be human. Hundreds of years ago, when a skill user died, his physical body was turned into metal by the skill, from which this Holy Sword was made. That skill that remains even after the user’s death was the skill to fuse a “physical body” with an “ability”.

We get a quick change of scene here, where Atsushi hears Dazai’s voice calling out for him, telling him to wake up because there is no time. Then he opens his eyes to find himself being tied up in a (supposedly) torture room with Teruko staring at him.

Back to Bram and Aya, Bram continues to explain that the sword has the power to connect the “physical/material” and the “mental” aspect of things, granting the power to control “skills” like a part of the “body”, a skill that goes against the law of this world. When stabbed by the sword, it will take its roots into your brain, and it will craves a holy mark on the person holding the sword. Right now, the mark is on Fukuchi’s hand, which means only Fukuchi can use his power.

Aya says that Bram seems to know about the sword very well, to which Bram tells her that is because he has been stabbed by this sword not once, but twice. There is a flashback of Bram from long ago when he and his kins’ heads were hanged on stakes, in front of a big army who are cheering to “kill the enemy of God”. And Bram was asking the soldiers to have mercy and spare the members of his fief, when one of them called him a demon and slashed his head with the sword.

Back to present, Aya asks why Bram is making such a sad face, Bram says that it’s the worry of the lord that the underlings can never understand. Aya stops him there, asking him if he is calling her an underling, and Bram tells her she is more like a horse because she carries him on his back and takes him around (xD). Aya says she would drown him in a bathtub and Bram somehow acknowledges that it is the way people nowadays worship their lord. Aya says no one can beat him at being a natural airhead.

Suddenly the top of the truck they are sitting are cut off and vampire!Akutagawa appears in front of them. Bram urges Aya to run away as quickly as she can.

The chapter ends here. Next chapter will be out on July 4 (JST). Thank you for reading till the end ^^

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #summary #spoilers #bsd spoilers #aya koda #bram stoker

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funnel-webbed-au · 8 months

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Tenebris

Tag List: @skellebonez, @caxycreations

Riley's Notes: The title is a song reference to an Ultrakill OST. Catch it if you can. PS, I kinda struggled to write this one. Summary: Yang Jian leaves his palace for the first time in a long time in a desperate attempt to stop the Snake Zodiac from wreaking havoc in her search to find Nezha.

He had to find her before she could snap.

Yang Jian dashed through the streets at such speeds that it was as if he had never been there. No one even had time to register his presence, or any trace of it, until after he had passed them. Every movement was fitting of his godhood, yet the purpose that clung to his heel flew in the face of the monster he'd used to be.

The notion was one of few that took the edge of that guilt off.

The ancient Deity skidded to a halt as he caught the sight of vivid teal around him. That couldn't have been a good sign, he thought to himself, and he quickly pursued the figure, taking care not to be seen. The closer he got, the colder his blood grew.

Bai Xian hissed, wrath and determination clawing at every fiber of his being. They weren't making any progress yet. They hadn't found a damn clue as to what had happened to their lotus, why he wasn't home yet. As the serpent staggered, leaning against a street lamp, she couldn't help but stare into the pavement, wondering what it would feel like to paint the concrete with the ichor or those damn pricks on their high horses... those damn fools who thought they were above accountability.

As Xian rose to her feet, the Deity pursuing them inadvertently locked eyes with the serpent as she turned to him. The air that clung to the Viper Lord was completely different than what Yang Jian was used to. He'd been afraid of this.

Bai Xian's circlet manifested around his disheveled hair, and the robes the serpent wore were quickly stained with powerful elemental magics, turning them from black to a deep blue. The elemental markings that befit the Zodiac of the Snake covered the fabric that he wore, staining it with the colors of the forces of Nature themselves.

Even so, Yang Jian had to try.

"Please, Bai Xian, my dear, come home with me. We can talk about this over tea, but your haste, and your craving for violence, will not do us any favors. I miss him, as well. Have you forgotten that he is my son?"

The serpent turned to face him, her mascara having dripped down her face and dried there. The sight of the serpent's redone winged eyeliner combined with the mascara tears and eye bags made Jian's heart freeze.

There weren't a lot of reasons why they let this happen.

"You of all beings should know it is unwise at best to get in my way. I must find him." The serpent dug his claws into his cheeks; any harder and he would have drawn his blood. "Every moment away from him is torture. I am decaying in his absence, I rot without his embrace. I feel my own mind slipping away from me without him here. I must find him, and you will not stop me."

Jian's eyes widened. He could almost hear the church organs playing now as the Viper Lord gathered their power, more than prepared for a confrontation. He refused to draw his spear, unwilling to wield it against someone he held so dear.

And yet.

"Xian, please, you must see reason. There is nothing for you here, he will come home in due time. There are no forces conspiring against us, for who would have such nerve? There is no one in this world who has that kind of audacity anymore."

The Viper Lord stared Yang Jian dead in the eyes, summoning twin cursed blades that the Gods had prayed to never witness again. "You should not even try to underestimate the horrific deeds your kind is capable of, Yang Jian. The atrocities that Celestial Animals and Demons alike have suffered at the Divine's hands are innumerable and unforgivable, and for that... for that..."

Jian watched as icy claws dug into his heart. The pavement beneath his feet seemed to cling to them, all while his heart beat faster to an unheard rhythm.

"I will bathe the land in the blood of its false idols."

Footnotes: The fight was intense, and on a scale I'd compare to the s3 special finale. Yang Jian was eventually able to subdue Xian, as shown in The Great Devourer drop, and spent the next several months wearing himself thin in order to repair the damage to the city.

#[the grass is greenest after the rain - stormy - yang jian/erlang shen]#[arc two - toxic tides - post-canon]#[The Indigo Death - The Viper Lord - Bai Xian]

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strawberry-cow-snuggles · 3 years

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Suffering as Students

Category: Headcanon

Characters: Demon Bros, Royals, and Purgatory Hall

Themes: Studying, Grades, Light Teasing, Tutoring, Typical School Stuff, Professors, Chaos

Description: What would the boys be like as students? We know who our troublemakers are and who likely gets good grades, but the game itself doesn't focus too much on their academic lives. Here are some headcanons on what I think they'd be like!

Lucifer

"Mr. Perfect"

Has to have the best grade in the class no matter what

Routinely struggles with Satan for the top spot in their shared classes

If anyone gets a higher score than he does on a test he's drinking demonus alone in his room and contemplating life

His projects are always immaculate, like to the point where it's disgustingly obvious he's sucking up to the professor and their biases

Oh, the prof likes horses?? And they need to do a diorama of the Royal Castle??? Lucifer is suddenly dedicating more time to detailing the royal stables rather than the castle itself.

Mammon

Procrastinates every single assignment until the last minute

Some of his work is... 😬🤚 buddy did you even read the rubric

Never prepared for a test and usually bombs the pop quizzes

Whenever he does apply himself, he actually does pretty decently, but most of the time he's more concerned with having fun than with studying

During exam season he starts sucking up to Satan more and acting like they're best friends; often brings him kitty stationery and notebooks while begging for help with homework

Leviathan

The shy type that rarely speaks up, only doing so if something related to a hyper fixation comes up

Spends most of the class doodling anime characters in his notebook and honestly, they're impressive af sometimes. The dude needs to be put in an art class asap bc he'll rock that course without a problem

Overall pretty average when it comes to assignments. He studies occasionally, but his lack of attention to detail is what tanks his grade the most

He's the casual kind of learner where he'll put a lecture on in the background while he plays video games. Sometimes the knowledge sticks and sometimes it doesn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Either way, it's still enough to keep him out of trouble with Lucifer, so he has no intention of changing any of his routines

Satan

Aggressively the class know-it-all

Raises his hand with way too much enthusiasm, nearly throws himself out of his seat, and begs to be called on if Lucifer is in the class too just so he can upstage him

At the beginning of each semester, all the profs sigh in combined relief if he's in their class but go home and cry if Lucifer's there too

Spends time after class helping out the librarians and is on a first-name basis with some of them

Occasionally swipes the professor's spellbooks from their curses class just to see if he can find anything useful to the Anti-Lucifer League

Will tutor other students from time to time but only if he owes them a favor. Will always accept Mammon's bribes

Asmodeus

Asmo's notes are cute af with little flowers and heart doodles all around the pages

His everything is covered in stickers and smells faintly of whatever cologne/perfume he chose to wear that day

Will routinely give all his homework a spritz before handing them in, sometimes leaves a kiss mark in faint pink lipstick at the top of his page if he thinks the prof is cute

Asmo will rewrite an entire essay if he doesn't think it looks pretty. Profs are appreciative of the aesthetic value of his papers, but often wish he focused more on their content

Every essay is riddled with modern social media slang. His boomer profs are very confused and shamefully approach him regularly asking what "tea" and "deets" are. Please help them

Beelzebub

Typical jock student-athlete

Ends up drowning in assignments when the peak of the season hits

Has hoards of demons lusting after him but he's too dedicated to his team and his classes to notice their efforts

Manages to balance his academic, social, and athletic affairs pretty well most of the time

A bit frazzled during finals because he missed a lot of class and the foundation for a lot of material during the beginning of the year to go to games but his grade always gets saved after a good study session with Belphie

Belphegor

Falls asleep in class without fail every time but still manages to get good grades every single time

Professors and other students hate him because he puts absolutely no effort into learning but he's still in the top 25% of the class

Absolutely refuses to tutor anyone but Beel because it's too tiring

Could easily take the top spot if he cared. He tries to care, but it's just so exhausting

His essays always end up sounding sarcastic and rude, even if he doesn't mean for them to. That's just his writing style. It's easy for him to make enemies of professors

Doesn't go to any events at all unless they're mandated by the class. Even then he usually does his own thing instead of participating in it

Diavolo

The one student every professor fears having in their class

Derails the lessons every single time with off-topic questions. Given that he's the Demon Prince, what can his professors do? Say no? Prince boy gets what he wants every time without fail. Few days go exactly as planned thanks to him

The only demons capable of keeping him in check are Lucifer and Barbatos. For the most part, they can keep him from being too unintentionally disruptive, but sometimes they indulge the young prince

One time a professor found out that had Diavolo and Solomon in their class without Lucifer or Barbatos and they ended up resigning on the spot

He gets stellar grades thanks to his pedigree training and royal tutor sessions with the most knowledgeable of demons, but his childishness sometimes gets in the way and causes him to skip over certain important pieces in his work, leaving him to be around a B+ average student. Barbatos always scolds him after he underperforms.

Barbatos

The tiger-mom type friend and the most perfect student

Spends a lot of his time keeping Diavolo in check but still manages to get perfect grades no matter how much he works. Buddy how the hell???

Routinely scolds Diavolo and sometimes the seven brothers if they don't do well in their studies

He's extremely strict when it comes to tutoring. If Lucifer is feeling particularly sadistic after his brothers fail a test, he'll threaten to send them to tutoring sessions with Barbatos. They're so intense that they often haunt Diavolo's nightmares

Barbatos is only light on Luke. He teaches Luke like one would teach an elementary schooler. He rewards him with baking time and cute puppy stickers after each test. Sometimes Solomon feigns jealousy, but Simeon is grateful for the motherly kindness Barbatos treats Luke with

Simeon

Simeon is every professor's dream student

He helps keep most of the chaos caused by the seven brothers and Diavolo to a minimum when he can, he always offers to help pass out papers and help grade homework when such activities are allowed. It's not that he's a teacher's pet or searching for extra credit per se, but rather that he just genuinely enjoys being helpful. However, if extra credit is offered, he'll definitely accept it. He likes having that extra cushion to fall back on if he doesn't do super well on a test

He gets relatively good grades, but they're not picture perfect like Satan, Barbatos, and Lucifer. He's more lenient with his studies in this sense as he acknowledges the importance of having fun as well as staying afloat academically

He guides other students if they're having trouble and is the complete opposite of Barbatos when it comes to tutoring. Whereas Barbatos is a military instructor, Simeon is a kindergarten teacher. He praises every effort someone makes to better themselves, no matter how minor, and practically holds everyone's hands as they walk through a new problem on their math homework.

Luke

Luke is the student professors sometimes feel bad for

He often struggles with the more demonic subjects such as seductive speechcraft and hexes and curses. Whether professors consciously intend to or not, they're always a bit more lenient when grading his work.

At the beginning of his first year, he was teased pretty heavily. About a month or two it all seemed to stop though. Maybe it has something to do with the absolutely terrifying time demon that treats him like his son???

He always has to sit in the front row of every class because he's not tall enough to see over the demons in front of him. It's rather cute to see how his legs dangle from the large chairs. He really does look like an out-of-place little kid.

Loves studying with his parents Simeon and Barbatos, his whole binder and all of his folders are full of the cute puppy stickers from Barbatos's tutoring sessions

Solomon

why

Solomon is the ultimate NIGHTMARE student

He's the ultimate chaos inducer and serves as a catalyst for tomfoolery

This boy is smart and mischievous and he takes advantage of every opportunity he gets to entertain himself some more

Being alive as long as he has been, he's pretty much already mastered most of the planned magical curriculum, so he just does his own thing and experiments with whatever he can get away with during lessons; grades be damned.

As a result of his lust for discovery, there are at least three to four classroom explosions from him every semester. The potions director is on the verge of quitting and moving to the countryside far far away from him

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

All About Eavesdropping - Loki x Reader - Words: 1,835

“You want us to what?” You yelled.

“I need you and Elsa here to go to Greenland for about a month,” Tony said. You stared at him from across his worktable in his lab.

“Why in Valhalla would we need to do that, Stark?” Loki retorted. “And don’t call me Elsa.” Tony had called the two of you in there right after breakfast saying that he had a very important job for you. This, however, did not seem to be all that special.

“For purely scientific purposes, of course,” He replied, mouthful of blueberries.

“And those would be?” You sighed, facedesking.

“The new winter stealth suits I designed. I need them tested in the field. I’ve run as many lab tests as possible but,” Tony shrugged. “Field tests are absolutely necessary. Everything you’ll need is either in these boxes or in the house in Greenland. If you want to take any other personal stuff you’ll want to grab it before you leave.”

“And you think we’re the best for the job?” You asked.

“He’s already a popsicle so if it gets too cold he can deal with it and you can heal yourself or him anyway,” Tony said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Loki tensed at his words but didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine,” Loki grunted. He grabbed the box Tony had marked for him and headed for the doors.

“You leave at 6! Don’t be late!”

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Stark,” Loki sassed before finally stalking out.

“Have fun!” Tony grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“First of all, perv. Second of all, ain’t gonna happen!” You replied. “Why are you doing this? This whole thing is a direct attack on a part of him he doesn’t like to address!”

“Well I figured he has to grow up one day and deal with it. We all have inner demons to fight. I figured I’d help him.”

“A bit not good there, Sherlock.” Tony snorted in laughter and shook his head.

“Would you rather I send him with Steve?” Your eyes widened comically.

“Nope!” You exclaimed, popping the p. “I think we’ll do just fine.” You grabbed your box and headed out as well.

By 6 o'clock, the two of you were flying out on one of Tony's jets. "So, what do you think of the new suits?" You asked Loki, trying to make some conversation.

"They are no match for true Asgardian leather and would be greatly improved by at least a cape," He replied sounding rather bored.

"Oh," You said. "How exactly are we to be testing the suits again? I forget what Tony said."

"He said nothing, darling. It was all in his infernal little packet." You blushed lightly at the pet name and nodded.

"Alright, well, I guess I'm just going to," You paused, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Loki was not interested in conversation but there wasn't much to do on the jet. "I'm just going to sit over there," You said, getting up quickly and moving to the other side of the jet. The rest of the flight was quiet, Loki only speaking up to alert you that you were about to land.

"Surely the man of iron could not possibly want us to stay here," Loki said, getting out and seeing the small house.

"Maybe it's bigger on the inside," You said hopefully. Gathering your few things, you both headed in. "Oh this is so much worse," You groaned. The large main room consisted of the dining and living rooms and the kitchen. However, it was very sparsely decorated. You could see a stack of groceries in the kitchen along with a note. Loki wandered off to explore the bathroom and bedrooms, you assumed, while you read the note.

"Find anything of interest?" Loki called out, surprising you.

"Just that Tony said if we didn't like the food or somehow ran out there's a grocery store about 10 miles away."

"And just how does he expect us to go there?" Loki yelled, getting increasingly frustrated.

"The note says our transportation is out back." You walked down the small hallway to the back door and looked outside. Stifling a laugh you called out, "Hey, Loki! I think your ex is here!"

"My who?" Loki replied, very confused. "I have no 'exes', as you call them, on Midgard." You smirked and moved aside so Loki could look. When he saw what was in the backyard, a strange look crossed over his face. "Run," He said in a dangerously calm voice.

"I beg your pardon?" You replied.

"Run if you don't want to lose your phone," He smirked back. You laughed but you did take off running. He chased you back out to the main room but you ran out the front door. "Don't think you can escape me!" He called out.

"Wanna bet?" You called back, running to the backyard. You quickly jumped on one of the two horses you had seen and took off.

"Oh, you'll regret saying that, my dear," Loki grinned, getting on the other horse and taking off after you.

The next few days continued in a similar pattern. There wasn't much to do so you and Loki would often spend your time exploring the woods behind the house or riding the horses or just talking. Loki had warmed up to you quite a bit, pun intended, and you were quite happy. Of course, you recorded the events of each day in your diary. Well, it was less of a diary and more of a collection of special moments you wanted to remember and sketches you'd made. You had just finished writing today's events when you heard a loud clatter and Loki call you from the kitchen.

"Y/N!" He said. "Can you come here please?" You quickly put your notebook in the nightstand drawer and hurried out to the kitchen.

"What in the world happened, Loki?" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. Loki was laying on the floor, covered in a mixture of flour and eggs it seemed, with various cups and bowls around him.

"I was attempting to reach a mixing bowl on the top shelf when I slipped on an egg and pulled the shelf down," He admitted.

"You're telling the truth!" You gasped, openly chuckling at the situation now.

"Of course, love! I couldn't lie to you." You blushed brightly, as he often made you do with those pet names.

"Uh, well," You stuttered. "Why don't you go wash up and I'll finish," You paused, glancing around. "Whatever you were making."

"I was attempting to make breakfast," He grinned. "But I think I should make myself clean instead, hm?"

"Yes, you should," You smirked. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you were greying early."

"You-" He exclaimed, standing quickly. For a moment you thought he was truly angry, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached onto the counter and threw a handful of flour at you before running off to the bathroom. You laughed, dusted yourself off, and got to work on breakfast.

About an hour later, he came back out and sat across you at the counter. "Your breakfast, my prince," You smiled, presenting him his plate. He smiled and you ate in silence for a time.

"I've been reading a lot lately," He commented.

"Mhm," You replied, mouthful of syrupy pancakes.

"The last book I read had some rather interesting sketches in it too."

"Really?" You asked, truly interested. "I love art. Can you show it to me?" You took a large gulp of milk as he replied.

"My dear," He said, setting down his fork. "I read your diary." You coughed, almost choking on your ill-timed drink.

"You what?" You screeched. "How dare you invade my privacy like that and-"

"Don't you care to know what I thought?" He interrupted.

"Why? So you can laugh at me, oh Mr. High-and-" He cut you off by leaning over the counter and kissing you earnestly. "Oh, that's nice," You said once you pulled away.

"Just nice?" He smirked. "I guess I'll have to work on that." He kissed you once more before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"I just remembered something!" You gasped.

"What's wrong?" You quickly pulled out the pamphlet Tony had made you about the suit testing. You then gestured to a paragraph under a subheading of RECORDING ANY AND ALL TEST RESULTS

ALL TEST RESULTS MUST BE RECORDED BY THE TESTERS USING THE STEPS LISTED. TO ENSURE NOTHING IS MISSED, HOWEVER, THE HOUSE WILL ALSO BE UNDER 24/7 SURVEILLANCE TO TRACK ANY UNRECORDED RESULTS.

OUTSIDE - AUDIO/VIDEO

INSIDE - AUDIO ONLY

Loki grinned and leaned into you, lips brushing against your ear. He whispered something and you giggled. "Loki!" You gasped. "We can’t do that here!"

"Oh, yes," He purred. "We can do it anywhere we want if we're creative enough."

"But outside is so much more exciting," You grinned. "So," you paused, struggling to find the right word. "Freeing!"

"Please do not do anything outdoors where I can see!" You heard a loud voice yell. You both quickly realized it was coming from the monitoring system.

"Steve? Is that you?" You called back with a chuckle.

"Yeah, Tony insisted I take a turn on guard duty," He grumbled. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted," He paused awkwardly. "Whatever you were doing but could you please not do it outside? Outside has cameras." Loki laughed loudly and you did too.

"We really didn't mean to prank you, Cap. I thought Tony was on the other end of that mic."

"I however have no objections to how this turned out," Loki added. You whacked him arm lightly and shook your head. "Truthfully, though, we were only speaking of testing another aspect of the suit. I whispered to Y/N my idea and-"

"I get it," Cap replied quickly. You couldn't see him but you could tell he was embarrassed. "I'll make you two a deal. Behave yourselves, finish the tests, and get home early and I'll help you prank Tony here in the tower. Ok?"

"You have yourself a deal, Captain," Loki grinned.

"Alright. I'm going to take a nap now. Don't do anything stupid."

"Oh we won't," Loki smirked, wrapping his arms around you and planting light kisses on your neck.

"Loki!" You squealed.

"Do you want to prank Tony or not?" Steve yelled. "I can't see you but I can hear you! And that didn't sound like suit testing. Get to work! If you do as you're supposed to, you'll be done in a week."

"Yes, sir," You both grumbled. Loki, ever the mischief maker, wasn't about to let up. He grabbed a towel and twirled it, smacking your backside with it as you walked away.

"What was that for?" You asked.

"Loki, did you just-"

"For purely scientific purposes, I assure you," He replied. Steve groaned in frustration.

"This is gonna be a long week."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

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Marvel (all characters) Taglist

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@another-crazy-fangirl

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#loki #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x reader #marvel #avengers

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aceofwhump · 4 years

Text

Guys

The Weeping Monk.

The Weeping Monk has become my new obsession. I love him. I knew I would because seeing all the gifs of him in tumblr is why I watched in the first place I didn't not expect for him to capture my interest so much. It's not the strongest hyperfixation I've ever had but it is one nonetheless and I'm thrilled. Welcome the list of "Ace's Favorite Whumpees"!!

SPOILERS ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously I got ramble and let some spoilers loose so if you want to watch it still and don't want spoilers just keep scrolling

So not only is Daniel Sharman fucking gorgeous but Daniel Sharman looking like this?

With the eyes and the hood and the darkness and the scruff. Oh hell yeah! He's like some omen of death with that cloak. I love it.

So why do I like the Weeping Monk so much?

Well first of all I LOVE A GOOD REDEMPTION STORY!!!!! Like so much! I blame Zuko for that. But if you give me a bad dude who's done some bad shit but also has one hell of a traumatic past then put him on a path of redemption and healing? I’M SOLD! And at the end of the season, The Weeping Monk has been set on his redemption beginnings and I will die if Netflix doesn't give us a season 2 so I can see this boy walk his new path towards redemption and healing. I crave it.

But anyway. This man right here. The emotional angst and whump he exudes is so lovely.

Towards the end of the season we find out that he's Fey and I fucking lost my shit. This boy is a Fey who was raised by the people who hate Fey. His people were killed and he was taken as a child by the same people who murdered them. He was then brainwashed to believe he was demon born and evil and a sinner purely for existing and was taught to punish himself for it (he whips himself in a form of self flagellation!) and I'm sure he was punished for all sorts of things growing up by his "Father". The amount of self hate and self doubt he must feel breaks my heart. He knows he's Fey! He remembers his real name (also that reveal sent me to another plane of existence) so he must have some memories of his family and his people. But he's spent his whole life being used as a weapon against his own people and brainwashed into thinking he was saving them because fey are inherently damned. And that's all he is to the Red Paladins. A weapon. But he sees them as his people, his family because that's all he knows!

This dude is so broken and brainwashed and lost it just breaks my heart.

LOOK AT HIM!! Look at this lost and broken boy!! He just needs some love and affection dammit!! I mean he flat out asks "Do you love me Father?" AHHH!!

And oh my god this conversation between him and Gawain?!

Allow me to share the whole conversation because I need to talk about it.

Gawain: Don’t be afraid Ash Man. I don’t bite. It’s those eyes. The mark of the Ash Fold. There haven’t been any in these lands for centuries. How did you find your way here? Have you just come to watch me die?

The Weeping Monk: Why didn’t you tell them? Before...you could have told them. But you didn’t. Why?

G: Because all Fey are brothers. Even the lost ones

WM: This suffering, it will cleanse you.

G: You parrot these words, but you know it’s all lies. I can feel it in you, my brother.

WM: You are not my brother.

G: They have turned your mind so far inside out...that you don’t know the difference between kindness...and hate. Who did this to you?

WM: We are saving souls. Your soul.

G: Tell that to the little ones that you burn.

WM: I don’t harm the children

G: You burn their homes, you slay their mothers and their fathers, and you watch your Red Brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes. That makes you guilty. Brother! You can fight. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you.

WM: You are not my people.

G: Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are.

WM: I’ll pray for you.

G: And I you.

First of all this conversation is the reason I now ship these two. Just saying. Gawain saw that he was kin, that he was lost, that he was broken and reached out to try and help him even though he is the reason he is being tortured. I can’t with these two! But also, the WM felt guilty about turning him in and worried about his own fate but you can tell that Gawain’s words sink in and set something inside of him and it’s because of Gawain that WM is now on this path of his. AND Gawain! I fully expected him to hate this man after everything hes done but he saw a lost and broken fey brother and tried to help him and I just...Gawain is so good you guys! This whole exchange is just *chefs kiss*. Cause after this the WM saves Squirrel.

Which leads me to Squirrel and the Weeping Monk. The other reason I desperately need season 2 is because I can't wait to see this unexpected pairing. I mean come on, big bag tough guy with trauma becomes unexpectedly joined with a young child? Best trope ever. Plus he got his ass kicked pretty bad and I need season 2 start off with that so I can see Squirrel take care of this injured man. Anyway, these two are going to have a great adventure getting back to the Fey and I NEED TO SEE IT!!! I want to see Squirrel and Lancelot bond and Squirrel defend him against Fey who hate him and for Lancelot to reluctantly become attached and defensive of this Fey boy and AHHHHHH!!

Oh and side note: One of my favorite tropes occurred. Defeated in battle, manhandled to their knees and hood pulled off revealing their bruised and bloody face. God yes please.

Time for some headcanons:

Okay he's totally touch starved am I right? This boy hasn't known a kind touch in his whole life. Pain is all he's known. The Paladins only touch to punish him or wield him. And he thinks he deserves it. He deserves the pain. The punishment. But kindness? A soft touch? Someone tending his injuries gently? He doesnt know what to do it that. He ends up stiffening or flinching away from the blinds hands of the fey, confused at first but slowly he starts to crave that kind touch.

Squirrel is always hugging him. Like whenever he sees him. And WM doesnt know what the fuck to do with that. You think he ever for hugged? I DOUBT IT! So hes all stiff and awkward and kind of bears it but after a while he starts hugging back kind of awkwardly.

Oh and speaking of tending his injuries I can almost guarantee that he has either had to tend to his own injuries in the past or he didn't do anything for them at all. But he's in a Fey camp now and the Fey help each other so when he and squirrel first show up at the camp and a he's taken to a healer and at first he balks and is like "I'm fine" but people like Pym and Squirrel and Gawain (YES GAWAIN! I have thoughts hang on) are like clearly you're not so just sit down before fall down again and let Pym heal you! AND then we get a scene of them all seeing the scars and fresh lashes and being horrified

Okay Gawain. He's not dead and he and Lancelot become best bros (or lovers cause I kind of ship them so much. Forget Nimulot. It's Gawain and Lancelot all the way) and Gawain protects him from the Fey who want to kill him after Squirrel and Lancelot arrive at the makeshift Fey camp and he's taken prisoner. Gawain watches him and see his humanity and goodness and self hate and trauma and Lancelot has someone who sees him as a "brother" as someone lost but not irredeemable and they fall in love okay bye

His powers as one of the Ash Folk. We know he can track. But from what we saw what if he's also got some camouflage or healing abilities hes never explored. NEVER EXPLORED BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT A MANIFESTATION OF HIS INNER DEMON!!!

Also, I saw these two onset pics and now I'm ready for this to be s2 WM and Squirrel.

Okay rant over. Sorry. Bye now ✌

#cursed spoilers #cursed netflix #cursed #the weeping monk #daniel sharman #mod post #ace rambles about her favs #new whumpee #new fav #my whumpees

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hello Steph 😊 Do you have any BAMF Molly or just some good fics that feature Molly? I need some Molly love at the moment because I just read a fic where she "turns to the drak side" so to speak, and my heart 😭😭😭

Hey Nonny!

Ah I did a few comm. recs lists recently with Molly, but here are what I can offer you from memory, LOL. PLEASE add your fave Molly fics, guys! PLEASE NOTE these are fics I’ve read, and please check the sub-headings for a TONNE of stuff I haven’t read!! Big title so I can find it later LOL.

MOLLY PLAYS A ROLE

See also:

COMM RECS: Coming Out To Molly

COMM RECS: Molly with Women

COMM RECS: Molly and Greg Push John and Sherlock Together

COMM RECS: Molly as a Villain

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake. AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w., 20 Ch. || Alternating POV, Molly/ John [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon...or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn't know what Molly's up to...but he knows he doesn't like it.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w., 5 Ch. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending, Souls) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #molly fics #molly plays a role #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon: Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance.

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground.

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there.

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student.

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence.

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside.

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have.

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take.

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them.

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country.

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow.

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age.

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one.

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks.

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days.

“Anyone know what caused it?”

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again.

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on.

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh.

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds.

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down.

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is.

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once.

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand.

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

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

The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed.

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share.

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking.

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him.

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted.

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers.

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck.

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?”

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no.

“Din. Call me Din.”

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's.

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do.

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help.

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate.

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case.

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town.

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by.

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that.

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu.

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him.

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze.

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?”

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now.

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about.

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed.

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café.

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

Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him.

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school.

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well.

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile.

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller.

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it.

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…”

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide.

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course.

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache.

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace.

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso.

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble.

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

Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be?

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight.

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind.

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?”

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak.

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness.

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way.

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known.

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town.

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety.

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled.

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls.

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself.

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself.

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit.

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh.

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.”

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him.

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it.

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down.

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.”

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you.

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong.

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover.

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built.

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

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were.

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’.

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself.

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes.

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you.

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back.

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming.

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough.

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place.

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them.

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you.

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless.

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity.

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.”

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Mando’a Translations

Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent.

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

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maverick-werewolf · 3 years

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Vampire Fact #7 - Becoming a vampire

Remember the handy post on ways to become a werewolf in folklore vs pop culture? Here’s one of those but for vampires!

Please note, as usual, that this is not going to cover the full range of possibilities, but it will cover the most common/most popular ones. This applies to both folklore and pop culture. And of course, again, I’ll save a full list for when I write my book on vampires, you know?

Please bear in mind that a lot of these come from Romania and other regions of Eastern Europe, which are rich with vampire folklore that is some of the best-preserved that scholars currently have for study. It is essentially the baseline of what we consider “vampires” today.

Something to think about before we enter into this list, of course, is that I want to re-emphasize - and I will do this several times in this post - that vampirism was not a “disease” like it sometimes is considered today. Although vampires were often associated with disease in folklore, vampirism itself is not a disease. It is either a demonic being that is a vampire, or else it is a curse. Vampires have this in common with werewolves of pop culture today that being a vampire is some kind of infectious disease they can pass on to others (here is how lycanthropy isn’t a disease at all in folklore, ever), but that isn’t really a thing in folklore.

Appeared in folklore

Being a demon - A lot of vampires in folklore were not humans at all. They were demons taking the shape of humans (sometimes; they didn’t always maintain that shape, sometimes appearing as mist). It’s important to mention this one because I cannot emphasize enough that vampirism in folklore is generally a demon, demonic possession, or a curse, not a disease like it so often is today.

Demonic possession - Plenty of times, a vampire in folklore is the result of a demon possessing a corpse, and again, they aren’t really humans at all, per se.

Being born cursed, becoming vampire after death - There are all sorts of reasons for this (see the last entry in this “appeared in folklore” list, though even that doesn’t cover all of them). One could be born with the curse of vampirism - but that would only manifest after the person died.

Being cursed - Sometimes somebody just straight-up doesn’t like someone else and then they curse them. After that person dies, they’ll return as a vampire because of the curse. This often didn’t require some complex ritual, because in the olden days, even saying “damn you” was literally considered a curse - this is why it’s called a “curse word.” If you say that to someone, you are literally cursing that person, wishing them to be damned.

Violent life/violent death - Someone who lived a violent life - if they were a killer, if they mutilated others, whatever - and then also died a violent death, such as if they were murdered, would rise again as a vampire.

Incest/born out of wedlock - What it says on the tin. The child would be cursed and then become a vampire after death.

Incorrect burial rites - Gotta get those burial rites correct. Mess them up, and the person will rise again as a vampire. You don’t just stick a person in the ground. Extra measures might be taken to prevent the person becoming a vampire, too, like burying the corpse face-down or sticking needles or a stake in it, as mentioned in this post on weaknesses.

Ignoring traditions - You may have heard of strigoi or the similar word striga from a certain popular fantasy game - or maybe you never played the first one; you should - but it isn’t what you think. A strigoi is a spirit, and if one does not properly undertake the right funerary feasts in the right time period after a person’s death, then that person might rise again as a strigoi - in other words, a vampire of sorts. This basically falls into the same category as incorrect burial rites, but it’s slightly different because these traditions may need to be held more than once, such as once a year, in order to keep the spirit pleased.

Animals jumping over corpses/graves - Cats, dogs, horses, you name it. Animals jumping over graves was not a good thing, especially for the recently interred or those in the process of being buried. They’d probably return from the dead as a vampire.

Suicide - There are some stories in which committing suicide can result in a vampire, such as one tale of a man who hangs himself, becomes a vampire, and then still pursues his girlfriend, who spurns his advances because he’s an evil spirit now. He does not, however, want to drink her blood, because not all vampires actually wanted/needed to do that (more on that later).

Many strange and specific happenstances - These include but are not limited to: not eating garlic during life, a pregnant woman not eating salt during her pregnancy, if the mother of a child is a witch and/or uses spells and incantations, if someone lives an amoral life (such as obtaining money falsely, for instance, as well as being violent etc. as mentioned before), if a pregnant woman is seen by a vampire (and given the evil eye; a big deal in folklore)... all of these would result in the person and/or the child in question becoming a vampire after death, but they would not be born this way. All of these emphasize that being a vampire is a curse, often put upon those who do not live moral lives. Or, I guess, those who don’t eat their proper anti-vampire diet.

Did NOT appear in folklore

Almost any case of a vampire “creating” another vampire - This wasn’t really a thing in folklore. Much like how lycanthropy wasn’t considered a “contagious disease” in any fashion in folklore, being a vampire was a curse, and it wasn’t something they could pass on. Events in a person’s life, whether in or out of their control, determined whether they would become a vampire; this is especially true of Romanian folklore.

Blood transfusion - They didn’t really do blood transfusions back when - though drinking blood was a thing, actually, and not just for vampires; more on that later, though - so obviously there’s no vampire folklore where you put a vampire’s blood into someone else and then that person becomes a vampire, for so many reasons.

Drinking vampire blood - Nope. In fact, a vampire’s heart was sometimes eaten or the ashes of the heart drank by someone in order to destroy a vampire.

Biting a human - Nope. First of all, vampires in folklore didn’t really have the signature fangs to leave those fang marks that means someone will turn into a vampire. Vampires drank blood from their victims all the time and no one ended up becoming a vampire from it, really.

And that’s all for now!

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blazefire-engine · 3 years

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The Deal (Part VI)

Summary:

Backed into a corner, Paradis is in need of advanced weaponry to go against Marley forces. Mikasa Ackerman understands this more than anyone. The Azumabito family complies with her request to share Hizuru’s technology with the island demons- in exchange for being “Hizuru’s hope.” A small price to pay, according to the ever loyal and self-sacrificing Mikasa.

Canon-divergence from chapter 107 to 132 (-ish). Which means slight spoilers until chapter 132.

Part: I | II | III | IV | V | VI

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"Oi, what was that for?" Commander Hanji exclaimed from the floor, rubbing her right butt cheek.

Eren sighed. "You know how the Captain feels about his height, Hanji-san."

The Captain’s glare turned to the Titan shifter at the mention of the sensitive topic. "Are you looking for another beating, Eren?"

Jean slammed his forehead by the window. "Idiot."

- - -

"Tomorrow the new recruits from the 106th Cadet Corp are arriving." Hanji announced in their evening meeting. Levi took the liberty to pour them all a cup of tea. "I will be assigning you all team leader and instructor roles."

The remaining 104th soldiers stared at her in shock.

"Commander Hanji-" Armin started.

"I will not take no as an answer." She said seriously. "You have all proven your worth and your experience is needed."

"We are the only capable ones left." Levi added, reminding them all their comrades perished in the battle at Shiganshina. "We need to rebuild the Survey Corp and all of you are essential to carry out this role."

“It’s essentially a promotion!” Hanji grinned. “Armin, you will be our new instructor for strategy and my right-hand for all exploration plans.”

Said new instructor was sitting with his mouth open like a gaping fish.

Hanji continued on. “Connie, you will be leading ODM training and equipment management.”

“Huh?” The young man stuttered, then looked at Jean. “But wouldn’t Jean be more suited for the ODM training?”

“I was going to get to that: Jean will be assisting you on the ODM and equipment, but he will lead horse training.”

“Hah?” Jean shouted.

“Sasha, your hunting skills will be useful for rifle and survival training.”

She saluted silently from behind a loaf of bread.

“Eren, we have duties with Historia in the capital. But when you're here, you will lead the hand-to-hand combat and physical training.”

“Mikasa, you will assist or lead depending when Eren is here. And you will lead the combat aspect of ODM and weapons training.” Hanji finished assigning the roles. “Levi will be supervising. Some Garrison members will be transferring as well to help with logistics and increase our numbers- I will handle those.”

"Also, Mikasa, please do the orientation for the new recruits." The Commander concluded their evening meeting.

"Copy that." Mikasa noted it in her notebook.

"Hanji-san, are you sure you want Connie to lead ODM training?" Jean mentioned as he and Connie shared a concerned look.

Eren couldn't help but snicker. “How fitting that Jean is in charge of horse training.”

"Wanna say that again?" Jean threatened as Connie raised his hands to ease him.

"Connie has the expertise and he’ll lighten up the atmosphere." Hanji addressed Jean. "And you will be there to assist, you will be fine."

Armin smiled as he collected his papers and added. “You do have an affinity with horses, like Captain Ness.”

"And you have an affinity with strategy." Hanji grinned at the blonde boy.

"You sure you aren't Erwin's kid?" Levi added seriously. The kid uncannily inherited Erwin's genius. Maybe he wasn't his kid, but maybe Erwin’s soul had reincarnated into him.

Armin blushed. "Of course, I can never compare to the brilliant intellect of Commander Erwin… Hanji-san, can you proofread my lecture notes before-"

"Nope!" She chirped. "I trust your judgment."

"Y-yes."

“Oh, I almost forgot, I have chosen two new squad captains: Mikasa and Jean.”

“Hah?!”

---

In a freshly laundered green cloak and her hair tied up, twenty fresh recruits were lined up in front of her.

With a salute, she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Mikasa Ackerman. You may address me as Captain Mikasa. I’ll keep this brief.”

“Here are your schedules.” She handed them each a small packet. “Use the rest of the day to prepare your gear, settle in, and get familiar. You can expect similar routines as within the Cadet Corp, however, more rigorous. Warm ups start tomorrow morning so please get plenty of rest. Our routine expedition outside the walls will be in two weeks. Any questions?”

“Will we be getting our own horses?” A young man asked with a raised hand.

“Yes.” Mikasa nodded. “Captain Jean will assign you your horses tomorrow. They are your comrade and friend. Please treat them as such and with care.”

“When will we be getting our uniforms?”

“Ah.” She was about to respond with another 'tomorrow,' but paused when she saw Captain Levi turning the corner with a stack of green cloaks in his arms.

“Captain.” She went to him and grabbed half of the cloaks. “Here are your uniforms.” They each gave the recruit a cloak.

“Wear it with pride. If you have no further questions, you are dismissed.”

As the recruits filed out, murmuring as they went, a single female soldier stayed behind, silently smiling at her.

It didn’t take long for Mikasa to recognize her.

"It's you." She stared at the amber eyes and short, blond hair.

"You're the young girl." She remembers slaying the titan in Trost, buying time for the civilians to evacuate. She looks at her chart. "Louise."

Yes." The girl gave a salute, one that mirrored Mikasa’s own salute all those years ago when she saved her. “I look forward to your instruction, Captain Mikasa.”

“Yeah…” She replied and watched the young girl follow the rest of the recruits."

Levi stood at the side as he watched each new recruit. Ever since the coup d'etat and the truth of their world released, the Survey Corp surprisingly gained more willing bodies, albeit more young ones who were no doubt fighting for freedom.

He narrowed his eyes at the group of boys that looked at Mikasa with shining eyes.

“That’s her!” One of them whispered. “The woman worth a hundred soldiers!”

“She’s probably worth more now- probably an entire brigade!”

“Graduated top of the class. Shadis said she’s a genius, top marks on everything.”

“Slayed more titans than anyone in the 104th.”

“Said she’s second to Captain Levi.”

“She’s so pretty too…”

“They must be crazy strong to survive the battle at Shiganshina…”

The murmurs died out and the Captain turned to watch the young woman, who seemed fixated on her clipboard.

“You have a few admirers.” He noted.

She paused but kept her eyes down. “Captain, I’m rather impartial to their admiration.”

He couldn’t help the small smile. “You and me both. They admire us because we’re strong. We give them hope.”

She picked up the sacks of cornmeal with ease, intending to bring it to the kitchens to help the Garrison members. “Do you think our strength is because of our Ackerman blood?”

“I don’t know. Could be.” He easily picked up the sacks as well. “But does it matter?”

“I suppose not. It was just a thought.”

- - - -

“Did you guys notice?” Eren said, curiously watching across the mess hall. “Mikasa and Captain Levi.” The two people were carrying two heavy looking sacks. “It feels like they’ve gotten closer.”

“Why? Jealous?” Jean teased behind his bowl of soup.

“No.” He scowled slightly. “I’m actually glad that she’s opening up to other people.” He watched her again. “And I think her grudge against the Captain is gone.”

“They’ve always been close.” Armin responded. “I think the Captain sees himself in Mikasa. He’s always patient with her, tells her to calm down. They’re usually the ones who lead the charge.”

“Now that I think about it, Mikasa is the only one the Captain actually tolerates talking to.” Connie said.

“That could be because she doesn’t talk much in the first place.” Eren replied. “She usually gets straight to the point like the Captain.”

“It could be an Ackerman trait.” Sasha exclaimed. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

“Huh.” Armin pondered. “You may be right, Sasha.”

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

A/N: Man, it's been a few days since I updated. After 139, I realized I could expand on this fic so I’ve been brainstorming and school + work has just been in the way.

Also, damn, I suddenly got an explosive amount of activity with Beast. I wrote this shit like 6-7 years ago lmao thank you RM fam.

I didn’t emphasize it, but the setting was young adult Mikasa with... urges and she tried to relieve herself with some cadets but just couldn’t get what she wanted (everyone was lowkey intimidated by her) and Levi definitely noticed and knew what she needed.

#rivamika #rivamika-thedeal #levimika #this fic is getting out of hand #i dont want it to end #i want to squeeze in all the rm moments i can #and im just a simp for mikasa ok #and i also wanna squeeze in 104th squad moments #i wrote a thing

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa fic for @fawn-eyed-girl enemies to lovers trope. Happy Holidays :)

Helping others was something Kagome Higurashi really enjoyed doing on her time off. There were so many people in need in their city with its large homeless population, it was an easy decision to join a local organization that did things for them. From food drives to holiday meals, they’d visit shelters, or scouted the back alleyways looking for anyone that was struggling. Especially the children, oh those broke her heart and fueled her desire to do what she could year after year. Of course, there were dangers when going into the seedier areas because they weren’t just full of homeless people. Drug users, thieves, gamblers, prostitution. Most steered clear of people like Kagome, but on occasion her pepper spray came into use.

On a summers night as she made her rounds near a bar, two drunkards with a loss of inhibition saw a pretty young woman and decided she’d make for a great way to end their evening festivities. Kagome tried to be nice at first, noting the heavy stench of liquor on their breaths. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with men like this. But talking was getting nowhere and before she could pull out the pepper spray from her pocket, one of them grabbed her from behind. If it had just been one man she could have fought back, but not two. Kagome screamed for help, praying that someone from the bar would hear her.

“Stop being such a bitch!” the man who held her growled as she fought fiercely in his hold.

The second male grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks to silence her screaming. “Behave or this’ll only get worse.”

At that moment, a flash of white ripped the man facing her away and her eyes widened as the guy is flung against the building 10 feet away. Next, the one holding her suddenly let go and took off running, but he doesn’t get far and is tossed through the air into the darkness of the night. Kagome stood there frozen, heart racing, just watching her white-haired savior. She’d never seen him before in the area and assumed he must have been a bar patron.

“Are, you okay?” The white-haired male questioned Kagome.

“Yes. T-Thank you, sir.”

“Good, but what kind of stupid woman are you to be in this kind of area late at night alone?! You got a death wish?! If I hadn’t heard ya screamin’, they would’a made you their bitch!”

Kagome was taken aback by this strangers outburst. He wasn’t wrong, but did he have to be an asshole about it? “I’m not stupid okay!” She crossed her arms, “I’m here doing something important.”

“Keh! Picking up idiots at the bar? You don’t look like a pro.”

“Cause I’m not a pro! I help homeless people. And what do you do sir? Bouncer at the bar cause you have no education?”

“For your information I’m a thief. You know, like Robin Hood.”

“Pfft, I doubt that. You’re a common criminal who’s just as bad as the other nasty elements I deal with, so get off your high horse in berating me and look in a mirror!”

“Look wench,” the man towered over Kagome. “Criminal or not I coulda just let them kidnap you!”

But unafraid, Kagome stood on the balls of her feet and glared right back. “And I said thank you!”

The man seemed shocked by her attitude because he stepped back while still pointing a finger angrily. “J-Just, stop being so reckless!”

He then literally jumped away, scaling the building next to them. Well, at least it was over. Kagome huffed and let out a long sigh. Good riddance! Sure, she was happy to be okay but geez, he was so mean! She hoped to never see him again!

Over the course of the next two years, her wish never came true. Which confused Kagome. Before their first encounter, she’d never seen him in the area, but after, she couldn’t go a month without running into the guy. So, after six months had passed, she’d had a friend in the police department search their records to see if this stranger had a record. Kagome never got the man’s name, but his appearance was very distinctive. Long white hair and dog ears perched atop his head. Sure, enough he was in their system. Inuyasha Taisho. Mostly petty theft, nothing major, a few fights, but often ruled defensive. Okay so he didn’t start fights, but he ended them. Even more curious is who Inuyasha’s parents were. Kagome expected to learn he had grown up in a poor area or something that lead him into thievery, but it turned out the family was wealthy.

The rest of their encounters weren’t as explosive as the first one had been, but still as irritating as ever. Someone would start to harass Kagome and Inuyasha would scare them off. He’d snap at her for being reckless, then jump away as she screamed at his fleeting back. In a few strange incidences, Kagome suspected he was nearby because she’d hear footsteps following behind her and suddenly, they would disappear. She didn’t know if he was following her or had stopped someone else from doing so, but the alleyway would always be empty when she turned around.

Don’t get her wrong, she appreciated his protection. But what had she done to illicit it in the first place? Kagome suspected Inuyasha stole things out of boredom, so was watching her his new line of amusement? And fine, since he’d never done anything to hurt her, she could tolerate his knight in white armor routine if he wasn’t such an asshole when he spoke to her!

It was maybe around the first year mark that Kagome had noticed a change in some of the activities. The amount of people bothering her had slowed, left mostly to the more foolish elements who were hell bent on trouble. Certain crowds fully stayed clear of her, especially organized elements like gangs. She wondered if word was traveling through the underground to leave her alone or face his consequences. Kagome had to admit the thought brought a flutter to her chest. Because okay, he was an ornery asshole, but he must have a heart to protect a woman... not to mention he wasn’t exactly ugly. Quite the opposite in fact...

“Yeah Sango, I just got here,” Kagome balanced the phone on her shoulder as she turned her car off. “I’m gonna unload the gifts for the kids Christmas party. Oh... okay, see you soon.”

She clicked off her phone and got out of her car, popping open her trunk before pocketing the phone. There was a lot to do before the small holiday dinner they had prepared at the community center for homeless families in the area. Gifts for the children, food, a Santa Claus was coming, tables to set up, games and decorations. As she leaned into her trunk to grab gifts, Kagome ran down her to-do list in her head.

“Don’t move.”

A chill runs down her spine at the deep voice right behind her and something poking into her back. Kagome’s body stiffened up instantly as all the blood drained from her face.

“Don’t turn around, don’t make any sudden movements if you wanna live.” The hard object pressed deeper into her side. It was cold like the muzzle of a gun. “I know money is kept in the office to pay vendors, so you’re gonna get it for me,” the male voice instructed.

Kagome whimpered. “Okay, I’ll get you whatever you want, just please d-don’t hurt me.”

The man forced her away from her car towards the building, keeping constant pressure to remind her he could fire off his weapon at any time. This was the first time since the night she’d met Inuyasha that Kagome had felt true fear. So many things were running through her mind, her family, friends… What if this man killed her and left her for dead and the children saw it? Those kids had it hard enough. They don’t need to be traumatized further. All she could do was pray in her head to be spared.

She fumbled with the keys to open up the side door, but Kagome’s hands were shaking so badly, she drops them. “S-sorry!”

“Stupid bitch!”

“I’m sorry!” Kagome cried out and braced for some kind of backlash, but instead is greeted with the most demonic sounding growl she’d ever heard. In seconds, she’s knocked to the ground, pushed out of the way as white hair flies past her vision. It was Inuyasha fighting with the robber! She scrambled away, pressing herself against the building as the two men battled on the ground. Inuyasha was trying to wrestle the gun away and strike at the same time. But unlike the other attacks, this stranger was much, much stronger. She covered her ears to the growls and curses, the sounds of her own screams ringing in her ears but couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Until a loud boom, followed by a flash of light made Kagome’s scream cut off. She instantly shielded herself in reaction and all noise was replaced by a buzzing sound. The gun had gone off! Inuyasha let out a guttural roar at the impact, but it didn’t stop him, only made him ten times angrier. She watched in a mixture of horror and intrigue as his eyes turned red and purple markings appeared on his cheeks. He slashed deep into the strange males chest and abdomen, once... twice... not to stop but to kill. At the third raising of his arm, Kagome cried out, snapping Inuyasha back to reality. He stopped, hand raised, staring down at the man who was semi-conscious, and fatally injured without immediate medical treatment.

Kagome stumbled and rushed over to Inuyasha, ripping her jacket off in the meantime. “Oh, my god you’ve been shot!” Tears are clouded her vision and her hands shook, but she pressed her jacket against the wound in his stomach. “Keep the pressure,” she instructed while pulling her phone out. “I need to call 911, y-you need to get to a hospital.”

“Tch, don’t worry about me. I’ll live.”

His nonchalant response made her stop what she was doing and sent Kagome to such a level of anger, it took Inuyasha completely by surprise. The tears that clouded her vision now freely poured down as she rapidly punched his shoulder as hard as she could. “You asshole! You asshole! You asshole!! You’re not invincible! You just got shot because of me! Why?! Why would you go this far to protect me?!”

More sounds appeared around them. A car, running footsteps. Her friend Sango’s voice, talking, yelling about hurry and emergency. But all Kagome and Inuyasha could do was stare at each other oblivious to it, he wide-eyed, and her crying and shrieking.

“Tell me!” Kagome beat his chest one last time before slumping from exhaustion. “Why do you keep protecting me?”

Inuyasha turned his head away in embarrassment, cheeks the color of a tomato and ears pinned down. He mumbled, “Because I like you,” then braced himself to be cussed out and/or completely rejected.

What he gets in return is a snorting laughter from the woman who quickly grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the lips.

“You dumbass!” Kagome snapped at him through smiling tears. “All you had to do was talk nice to me and ask me out!”

“I’m not good with women, and besides I didn’t think you’d like a guy like me.”

Kagome is moved to the side when the EMT and police arrived to treat Inuyasha, but it doesn’t halt the conversation. “Well, you will need to behave yourself if you wanna go out with me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give you a chance.”

Inuyashas ears perked back up. “You’re serious?!”

Kagome smiled. “I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, why else do you think I do the things I do?”

“So, when I get out of the hospital, can I take you out for dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

#inusecretsanta #inukag #inuyasha #inuyasha secret santa #Kagome higurashi #modern au #enemies to lovers #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #in the spirit of christmas

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 3 years

Text

Trinkets, 40: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.

A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

A linen handkerchief embroidered with a pentagram design, surrounded by arcane symbols.

A banner in black with the image of a crow sewn into it with white silk, surrounded by arcane runes stitched in black thread. Three white silk ribbons flutter from it.

A horrific black mask carved in the likeness of a demon’s face. Massive curved horns sweep up and back out of the forehead and behind the ears, while the fangs seem to glisten as if ready to bite at any moment. When worn, the mask’s eye sockets become covered with a glassy shield that glows red. When the bearer speaks, his voice is broadcast as a guttural growl.

A small dirty wooden figurine, that of a crudely-shaped blackbird. Its eyes are glass gems, pupiless; gazing into them feels like falling into an ocean’s black depths. In its tail is a hole, through which one may string a lanyard or band. When you hold it to your ear, you can hear the faint beating of a heart that is not your own.

A four foot long rod capped at each end by a six-inch-wide band of gold and steel. The rod has a three-foot long section of clear crystal in the middle, filled with a swirling white fog.

A silver monstrance, set with gold detail, intricate in its design and covered with tiny curlicues that resemble angelic beings.

An ornately carved pipe, its bowl fashioned into the head of a satyr; whose expression is one of malicious pleasure. If the pipe is used for smoking tobacco without cleaning it out first, the bearer will be plunged into a vivid, momentary dream wherein he is being pursued across a moonlit landscape by baying hounds.

A large, sumptuous shawl or scarf of deep red and heavy silk. It is finished along all of its edges with red and golden silk tassels, and is embroidered with outlines of stylized flames in golden thread.

A woolen scarf that is knitted with the words of an ancient elven supplication to the God of Random Domain.

An ink black statuette of a beautiful woman, clothed in gossamer-like veils, holds a large bronze bowl.

A rectangular wooden box labelled “Rawshins” containing dozens of red wax spheres. The balls have some give to them and the wax can be peeled away to reveal the pickled eye of a horse. The eyeballs while horrendously unpalatable is remarkable nutritious due to the herbal mixture used to preserve them and the box contains 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A wooden talisman carved into a screaming human face that when stared at it for more than a few seconds the observer can almost hear the sound of screaming from far off.

A silk bag with drawstring that open easily, revealing a glint of white. Inside is an elegant bone reliquary, smooth and pleasing to the touch. Polished, silvered fingerbones interlace to form a simple gate, operated by twisting a knob at the top formed from a single smooth vertebra surrounding a porcelain mechanism. Inside the small cavity is a cage formed out of rib that could have held an ancient curiosity of some sort, but now lies empty. The faintest touch of necromancy suffuses the curio, but surely any power it once held has long faded...

An incredibly detailed drawing of an alien creature.

A barnacle-encrusted piece of ancient stonework. Its touch fills the bearer’s ears with a great pressure that pulses like a dreadful giant’s heart.

A small wooden box with some silver markings on its surface. Something can be heard shifting inside, however it has neither a lock nor hinges. Cutting it open by force reveals it to be solid wood.

A Randomly Colored handkerchief with a knot in it, the owner probably had something important they didn’t want to forget.

A black shiny disk with dozens of embossed rings.

A tubular instrument that gradually broadens towards the lower end. It is made out of wood, with a double reed at one end and a metal or wooden flared bell at the other end. Known as a shehnai, its sound is thought to create and maintain a sense of auspiciousness and sanctity and, as a result, is sometimes used during marriages, processions and in temples although it is also played in concerts.

A pair of clay tankards decorated with waves of blue coral.

A well-worn brass locket with a small drawing of a dwarven woman inside, she has a fantastic beard.

A well-worn ivory drinking horn etched with indigo leaf patterns and silver cap attached by slim yet robust chain.

A small obsidian horse headed idol with peridot eyes.

A large poster that reads; “Diplomat wanted. Must fluently speak the oceanic dialect of High Draconic. Come dressed in waterproof clothes to the beach by moonrise on the seventh full moon of the year.”

A piece of paper that refuses to become uncrumpled until a spell similar to Dispel Magic or Remove Curse is cast on it. Inside is the true name of a weak outsider such as an angel or demon.

A waxed scroll on which is written a complex alchemical formula. The recipe is not titled and seems to be for some sort of explosive but an knowledgeable PC can determine that it’s actually instructions for making soap.

A small silver tuning fork. When used, the ringing sound it creates can only be heard by those who have split blood in the last 24 hours.

A beautiful piece of quartz carved in a strange but unclear style. It is perfectly still until a certain tone is played near it whereupon it then begins to vibrate and move, gyrating sinuously. The carving causes the moving rock to resemble a lithe dancer.

A petrified basilisk’s egg carved into an elaborate diorama of a strange but beautiful landscape.

A disk of clay with extremely fine etchings of semi-concentric lines that seem to spiral outwards from the center in tight, semi random wiggly spirals. It has been broken into three equal shards.

A handful of jasper puzzle pieces speckled with flecks of semiprecious stones (Citrine, amethyst, garnet, etc.) that can be assembled into the likeness of a bird of prey.

An astrological chart with alien characters drawn in silver ink.

A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced by it always sounds horrible and terrifying.

A six-sided die that sometimes rolls a seven

A war banner that's shredded, torn, and stained with blood, this standard has seen more than a single battle. The image of a red maw devouring sacred flames stands atop a field of black.

A wicked wand made of two withered and twisted branches, with one single leaf to the side and a small skull tied by a string at the base. The wand has a uncomfortable chill to the touch and sometimes sends shivers through the body.

A gruesome hand fan made of plucked faerie wings

A painting of a red-eyed wolf-man eating a corpse while making eye contact with the viewer. The corpse always vaguely resembles the viewer.

A stylish jet black long coat with a furred neck.

A knotted garment that fades in and out of nothingness. Knowledgeable PC's know that an order of religious monks one covered their eyes with such bindings. It is a perilous act to stare directly into the mouth of infinity. But once unburdened by vision, salvation shall be revealed.

A frozen, crystalline gland from some unknown ancient being. Hard as stone, it thaws slowly but eternally. The alien object is nearly translucent, revealing a void filled with nothing but bright, cold light. The glowing core holds a strange allure, turning the mind toward rapturous reminiscence.

A speckled owlbear hide, tooled with raised marks.

A baleful gem that glows a sickly green and tingles unpleasantly warm when touched. The sparkling object is less like a precious stone and more like the withering glare of corruption, made corporeal and pellucid in crystal.

A child's doll made from dyed, woven coconut fiber and dressed in linen.

A selection of maps, all rolled tightly together, and crammed into one tube. The maps all show the expansion of the same location over a period of 60 years, one new map every 10 years.

A dried caul wrapped in gauze, brittle but intact.

An old, fraying coat of the type a ship's captain would wear in bad weather. There is a small singed hole through the outer layers that stops at an inside pocket.

An eight inch wide roll of silk, which when unfurled is revealed to be an elaborately decorated sock kite in the shape of a koi.

A ball of high quality waxed twine with a platinum netting needle stuck through it.

A child's wooden toy animal with a note tied to it with twine that reads in childish writing "so u arnt lonly".

A crystal vial containing a pebble, ash, water and a measure of air.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A bill from a sorcerer listing an exorbitant amount of gold for a spell to cure a terminally ill child.

A horn hair brush inlaid with small peridot stones.

A copper door handle of a manticore head holding a ring in its mouth.

A one gallon cask of Shump's Shield, a white beer with with the colour of horchata and stout beer consistency. The flavor profile is that of a milk stout with a very light hint of peppermint and nutmeg. It is typically brewed at temples to the God of war and distributed locally.

A demonic iron idol with bloodstone eyes.

A crude and somewhat obscene silver statue depicting a goblin chieftain.

A owlbear skin run.

A burlap bag containing 3d6 days’ worth of trail rations, each individually packed in waxed parchment and sackcloth and tied with string. Each packet contains an assortment of jerky, dried fruits, hardtack and nuts.

A decorative bronze key with a rose quartz in the bow.

A black-lacquered pyx decorated with pornographic images. On the sides and the lid of the small box, colorful hand-painted scenes of lurid degradation depicts men and women copulating not with one another but with jackals, hyenas, goats, and serpents. The box is brimming with coal-black crackers flecked with red. The unleaved bread has a faint but repellent odor or herbs, sulfur and vomit

A foot stool with silver-plated eagle claw feet and silken pillow.

A violet satin facemask with purple silk ties.

A quartz and horn prayer beads on a silk cord.

A crystal, bell-shaped terrarium with an easily identifiable, miniature apple tree with fruit laden branches growing from its mossy soil. The terrarium and tree within are three inches tall.

A dark leather pouch with silver clasps set with a tiger eye.

A lock of faded reddish brown hair bound and wrapped with a red ribbon strung with cowrie shells. The ribbon is embroidered in tightly stitched green thread "Return to me, my love".

An obsidian statuette of a leering gargoyle.

A porcelain pitcher with arboreal imagery.

A petrified toad with a variety of crystals growing from its back, diverse in material, color, size, and shape.

A prosthetic bronze hand with ivory fingernails.

A deed to a plot of land signed over to the church.

A bronze-plated trophy etched with two jousting figures.

A darkwood lute with silvered strings, decorated with a painting of a djinn flying island.

A silver snuff box etched with a portrait of the night sky.

A brass censer dangling from lead chains that emits smoke resembling writhing vines.

A crystal canine skull that continually burns with yellow flames that are painfully cold to the touch.

A wooden abacus with fortune telling symbols painted across its beads. It occasionally self animates and acts of its own accord, locking up for a brief moment before the beads spin wildly then stop with several symbols facing upwards before moving as normal again.

A mahogany cane tipped with corkwood and thin red leather covers its gracefully curved handle.

A cloudy white orb with a scarlet sheen to it. When the bearer stare into its depths he see shadows flickering throughout it.

A glass globe that has no visible opening on its dark clouded surface, and it is warm to the touch. Its contents appear to be a faintly glowing roiling cloud of flame.

A glass jar filled with clippings of dwarven hair and toenails.

A silver thimble containing a shimmering ballgown of spun moonlight. The ballgown is ... very see through, but can be worn over another nice dress of plain material to good effect.

A diagram of a hollow earth showing major access point below nearby city.

A porous stone flecked with emerald and sapphire dust that always feels damp to the touch.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

An automaton crab. If wound up with the key in its brass carapace, it will menace any nearby animals with its snappy little mechanical claws.

A snowball warded such that it cannot melt. At its center is a small glyph-etched stone.

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kessielrg · 3 years

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[DA+KH] Let Down Your Guard for Me (Just This Once)

Summary: An unofficial part of @chibi-mushroom‘s Dragon Age AU for the Kingdom Hearts series, in which Ventus invites Sabrina somewhere special for one-on-one sparring practice. Inspired by something that happened in chapter 36 of Dragon Age: Wayfinder.

Rating: K+ (because DesireDemon!Vanitas is a very angry critic)

Word count: 3,862 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

The conspicuous sounds of Ventus grunting is what initially caught Sabrina’s attention. How she was able to hear it when he ended up being on the other end of Redcliffe Castle was beyond her. She was quite disappointed to find that he was in the training room. Training sword in hand, he was giving some potshots at a straw filled dummy. The bard, curious to see how long it would take for him to notice her, simply laid against the entryway in amusement.

He didn't take as long to notice her as she first assumed, however. His reaction at her being there was just as great in the meantime. Ven had caught her out of the corner of his eye. At first, he just as easily dismissed the intruder, since they were just staying at the door. It was when he noticed the light purple cotton blouse that he ceased his movements. He had turned completely around before finding himself shocked at Sabrina's presence.

“Sabri-” Ven exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch so high that his voice cracked. He quickly covered it with a cough before trying again. “Sabrina. What are you doing here?”

“In the castle or in the room?” she replied with a wicked grin. “Because that first one shouldn't be a surprise. I sleep with you.”

The young man let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. Beads of sweat reminded him of just how hard he had made himself work. Did he look like he had given himself an intense workout? Oh Maker, how much did he stink? Would Sabrina even notice? She didn't seem to act like it was noticeable at the moment. Instead, the bard casually strode into the room and almost to his side. His face started to heat up the closer she was. Whether it was from embarrassment or being flustered was a little beyond him at the moment.

“Let me see your sword.” she requested, holding her hand out to him. Admittedly, Ven had to do a double take. His confusion immediately made her groan in disgust. She amended her previous statement with an annoyed, “The sword in your hand, you moron. The training sword.”

“Oh!” Ven realized -just as easily feeling dumb for his initial thought- before giving the sword to her.

Sabrina gave one last judgmental raise of her eyebrow being looking over the training sword more carefully. She held the wooden sword with both hands, occasionally taking a few test swings out of amusement. Ven simply watched as she let out a small hum of interest. In a thoughtful tone, she mused, “You've always held your swords in reverse.”

Confused, Ven asked, “What makes you say that?”

Sabrina moved closer to him again, holding the sword up so they could better examine its craftsmanship.

“Your practice sword has a special guard.” she informed him. She even bothered to run a finger along said guard to help him see it. “It's better designed to block incoming blows.”

After saying this, she picked up Ven's hand so he could take the sword back. Although the sword was back into Ven's possession, the two did not step away from each other. The air had become a bit heavier as they lingered there. Ven, for one, wanted to say something but didn't know what. Why was carrying on a conversation so hard? He never had this problem when he and Terra would seek trouble together. All they had to do was mention sparring each other, and they'd grab the training swords to head out to...

“I want to take you somewhere.” the young man blurted.

Sabrina looked at him. Her fingers instinctively going for her rabbit shaped mask- even present when she wasn't wearing it on her face, it clipped to a string that she tied around her waist. Ven immediately stopped her by placing his hand on hers. The bard flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, but didn't move him. Instead, she looked up at him with a certain darkness in her eyes.

Ven unintentionally gulped before quickly telling her, “You won't need your mask where we're going. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but in seeing his honesty, she relented.

“Fine.” she agreed. “But at least let me put it in my room.”

Ven quickly gave her an eager nod. “Meet me at the back gates.”

“The back gates?” she repeated. “I… Whatever. Fine. I’ll meet you at the back gates in 10 minutes.”

“You won't regret it, I promise!” Ven eagerly told her, almost taking her hand. He was impressed by his own refrain, actually.

Sabrina still looked him over- as if she still needed some reason to bail out of the situation. They both knew she couldn't find a good excuse for this, though. When she finally turned to go put her mask away, Ven's heart was already pounding in his chest. Even if they were just going to get sweaty all over again, ten minutes was enough time to take a quick bath. Right?

. . .

It was always suspicious when Vanitas was silent for long periods of time. Even more so when Ventus's heart fluttered at the thought of Sabrina's presence. Today the desire demon was quiet- not that Ven was going to ruin that quiet. He needed all of his thoughts to belong to himself. Taking Sabrina to this spot was as important as remembering which spoon to use during a formal dinner. Maybe the demon knew this was important, so he was minding his own business for once? Didn't seem right, but Ven wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Where are we even going?” Sabrina asked. She had arrived at exactly the ten minute mark. Of course she would.

“Do you trust me?” Ven just as easily questioned, offering his hand out to her. He was answered with a skeptic raise of her eyebrow.

“For now.” she replied as she took his hand. The young man held her hand tight as he started to lead them away from the castle.

Ven held a brisk pace as he lead them around the town and to a wooded area. The sounds of the town disappeared the further they went, and eventually the sounds of gentle waves hitting the shore became more prominent. Ven let go of Sabrina's hand when the woods finally dispersed to a small beach facing Lake Calenhad. A small chill coming off the lake sent goosebumps up Ven's skin. He turned back to Sabrina to take careful notice of her expression. She didn't look very impressed- her eyes drifting to the sand, taking note that it was clear of driftwood.

“Terra and I used to come here when we were younger.” Ventus then explained. He moved closer to where the sand met the lake water just to subtly guide Sabrina out of the woods some more. “He found it one day after getting mad at Dad. After awhile, it became a place where we would spar each other for fun. I was… I was wondering if we could spar too...”

“Did you bring another practice sword, then?”

It was the bluntness of her question that caught Ven off guard. “H-huh?” he fumbled, looking back at her with an almost fearful expression.

“Figures.” she grumbled with a roll of her eyes. Placing a hand on her hip, Sabrina looked over the area before tilting her head at something. Ven wasn't quite paying attention. He was absently rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Really didn't think that through, huh?” he mused to himself. “We should head back.”

“No,” Sabrina then all but snapped at him. “Just give me a minute.”

At this, Ven looked up. Sabrina had already ventured by the trees bordering the area, apparently looking for something. The mage gave her a curious look as she went over some fallen limbs and branches.

“Here,” she noted before bending down to pick up a branch almost as long as her body and half the width of her arm. “This will do for now.”

“You mean you do want to spar with me?”

“We're already out here, aren't we?” came the callous reply. “Might as well make it productive.”

Ven watched as she knocked some excess dirt off, and even stripped the bark in certain places. For a moment, he wondered if he had ever seen her wield different weapons before. Let alone something like a sword, or fighting staff as she was going to treat this branch.

“I thought you used knives?” he wondered.

Sabrina just let out a little hum as she tested the staff in her hands. “A bard is trained in many things.” she claimed. “Like various weapons, seduction, potions, and-”

Sabrina got cut off when Ven attempted to attack her with his wooden sword. Her reaction time was just skilled enough that she blocked it with the staff. Just barely.

“And how not to gloat when the enemy is also armed?” Ven teased, pressing up against her a bit more just to playfully grin at her.

Sabrina's momentary look of bewilderment became a boastful smirk. “Something like that.” she agreed as she pushed him off. Ven let out a small laugh as he moved away from her a bit. They needed a better area for their practice- the main beach would have the space.

They were both incredibly confident as they got ready. Ven casually spun his sword with a single hand, his heart almost pounding in his ears as the grin on his face got wider. His cheeks were going to hurt later, and he didn't care one ounce. Sabrina stood tall as she adjusted herself for the fight. (And yes, he did notice that her foot was pointed when she brought one leg around to adjust her stance- assuming that little movement wasn't just to distract him.) She held her makeshift staff with enough certainty, you almost would have assumed that it was her weapon of choice. Sabrina was not a mage, though, and she certainly didn't plan on using it to channel magic.

“Whose count do we start on?” Ven asked. He couldn't even hide the excitement in his voice at the question. Something Sabrina countered with a firm smirk of her own.

“Mine.” she decided before lunging at him. Ven suspected as much, and was easily able to get out of the way. A laugh erupted from his lips as they continued to fight. Nothing else mattered at the moment- just him, her, and the sound of their wooden weapons knocking against each other.

. . .

Aqua needed an excuse to leave the castle for a moment. She had no sense of envy for the arl and arlessa- politics had never been the Hero of Ferelden's strong point. At least she was able to leave if the hustle and bustle served to be too much. Or, even use the distraction of finding Ven, who was no longer in the training room and apparently not even in the castle anymore either. He had a meeting to go to soon, and his random disappearance would probably be a cause for concern.

She wasn't going to lie about it, but Aqua had been worried at first. It wasn't until she realized that someone else hadn't been seen in the castle for awhile that she gained a certain hunch. A small trip to the training room helped support the theory. Now it was only a matter of where they went. It came to Aqua with a sudden realization- one that she was just as easily embarrassed about. Thinking on it more, it seemed only natural that he would take her there. After all, Terra had done the same with Aqua not too long ago.

“Have you seen Ven?” Aqua heard Terra ask her just as she was about to leave the castle. The Hero of Ferelden stopped just to look at her boyfriend.

“I was just about to go get him.” she affirmed. “Would you like to join me? I'm not quite familiar with the path yet.”

Terra raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask where she thought Ven was. Considering she made it seem like he would know where they were going anyway, he instead gave her a solemn nod of his head. Aqua beamed in satisfaction and gestured for them to walk together.

The woods had become more dense since the Fifth Blight. The canopy of the trees almost blocking out the sunlight as they moved away from the village. Sticks and small branches that had fallen out of the trees had also covered the ground- not quite big enough to be kindling, but too small to be used for much else than potential bird's nest supplies. It didn't take long for the duo to hear the sounds of some fight up ahead. From the sound of it, it seemed like wooden weapon against wooden weapon as the two duelists made snappy remarks at the other. Terra and Aqua recognized both voices at the same time.

“Not a bad parry.”

“I can do better. Watch this!”

“Oh, so close. So very, very close- yet so very far, far away.”

“Hmph. Maybe we should call a draw. You're not even trying.”

“Giving up already? It's not my fault you're easy to read, sweetie.”

Hearing them made Terra walk faster. He stopped when he and Aqua were close enough to see the other duo, but far enough away that they could still hide behind several trees. Aqua put a hand on him to guide him over a bit. She already knew he wasn't going to like this, so at the very least she could try to keep him out of sight for a bit longer.

“What is he doing here with her?” Terra questioned. His expression was darkening as his gaze locked onto Ventus and Sabrina. Most of it was targeted at the latter.

“For the same reason you brought me here, I'd guess.” Aqua calmly replied, even putting her hands behind her back. “He's getting her to open up. We can't interrupt them now, or they may never have this opportunity again.”

Terra looked at Aqua like she had gained another head.

“This is ridiculous.” he asserted. “Ven has other things he needs to-”

Terra was cut off when Aqua grabbed him by the collar, forcing the two of them to stand fairly close to each other. A mocking grin was etched on her lips as she told him, “Nobody interrupted us.”

Terra's face immediately lit up in a deep scarlet. He took several steps away from Aqua while refusing to look at her.

“I'll find Tidus and tell him that Ven is busy.” he grumbled under his breath. Aqua only smiled.

“Yes you will.” she agreed. Terra gave her a stiff nod before leaving. She laughed at him before turning her attention back to Ventus and Sabrina.

It was apparent that Ven was not used to fighting with a sword after so long. Sure, you could tell that he had fought with one in the past, but it was not at a level able to defend him in an actual battle. However, as Aqua observed with a tilt of her head, Sabrina was not showing the best of confidences with her two handed staff either. Of course, she had always been a more offense fighter than defense. There were small moments where Sabrina tried to be direct, only for her to leave an opening for Ven to exploit. It was equal to the times when Ven tried to prepare a spell, but remembered that he wouldn't use them- a small moment of hesitation that lead to a great advantage.

But it was their smiles that had Aqua's full attention. She couldn't see them well from here, however she could almost hear it in their voices as they bantered back and forth. Hearing Ven enjoy himself wasn't much different than usual. Hearing Sabrina with genuine amusement in her voice had been the more shocking discovery. It was in thinking that Ven was lucky enough to see this side of Sabrina, Aqua decided to quietly make her leave. She did make note of the sun's position, wondering how long it would take for the two to come back to the castle. The smile on her face wouldn't leave, no matter how hard she tried. It was great seeing the odd couple be so happy.

. . .

They never knew that they had gained onlookers for a few minutes. Even after Terra and Aqua left, Sabrina and Ven kept going at each other. Their faces were flushed from exertion, and their breaths came out heavy and shallow. But they kept going. Neither one wanting to give up the high they had in this form of intimacy. They weren't even keeping track of what they were saying to each other either. Words spilled out of their mouths that could have been flirting, or insults, or appreciation, and they would have forgotten their meanings almost instantly.

Their draw came without warning. It only took one last block that made the two pause. Ven's focus had immediately gone to Sabrina's eyes. Almost half lidded from her own exhaustion, they were trained to where his sword met her staff. If she was looking at anything else (anything lower), then the future arl had no way of knowing. He took a very careful step forward, bringing them almost chest to chest, and leading Sabrina to look up at him.

He almost kissed her, right then and there. As if he truly needed a reminder of how much he loved her.

“We work well together.” he managed to husk out. Sabrina simply looked at him. A certain sense of vulnerability and mutual attraction coming through that he'd only seen on her in the dark. It was even more beautiful in the day. Amazing, even.

“We do.” she agreed, not quite aware of her saying it.

But after this declaration, the tone started to become more somber. The weight of what they really meant coming down on them like a heavy fog. The gaze they soon gave each other measured an equal heartbreak. Ven moved forward just a bit more, closing the distance between their lips. Sabrina reacted by tilted her head up a bit, but didn't move much further than what they were.

“Please stay with us.” Ven then whispered.

“I… I don't know if I can.” she said. Her voice even more timid than his. “I only stayed as long as I did the first time because...” She trailed off, looking away from him as she took a few steps back. The corners of her mouth turned into a distressed frown. Ven only watched her- too afraid that any wrong movement would make her turn away. Her conflict on the situation was obvious. She couldn't easily find a way out of the situation- she felt trapped.

“This was a mistake.” Sabrina decided with a shake of her head. She immediately dropped the staff, turning away to leave. Ven was caught shaking his own head as well.

“N-no, wait!” he called out, not expecting it to work.

To his surprise, it did. Not knowing how much longer he had before she left for good, Ventus quickly tried to give her a speech from the heart.

“Sabrina, I love you. I love you so much that I don't even know how to express it. I don't know… I don't know how to say it so you know it too. So that you're sure that I'm telling the truth. And you know I can't just go reverse psychology on you because you'd still take it at face value. What do I need to do, Sabrina? What do I need to do to make sure you know that I love you?”

That was when Sabrina turned her body back toward him. She still refused to look him in the eye. She wanted to say something, but all words seemed to fail her. Instead, she just looked up at him with an expression so vulnerable that no other person would be able to see later. That was when he understood. Maybe not everything, but enough.

Ven used his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb gently outlining her cheek. Sabrina cautiously leaned in to the embrace, placing one of her hands at his wrist. She didn't attempt to remove his hand- she didn't want to.

“I love you,” Ven once more said, almost afraid to say it, as he pulled them in for a small kiss.

The kiss had been bittersweet. At the same time, it bore a lot more affection than when they were actually heated. Pulling away had been the hardest thing to do.

“I'd rather you become an arl than Grey Warden.” Sabrina softly admitted. “But if you take on a political spouse, they have to fit my criteria before you ever dream of putting a ring on their finger. Got it?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Ven smiled. Sabrina only offered a stiff nod. Her usual attitude was slowly returning- he could tell by the way she held herself. Her chest was lifting, her back a bit straighter, and any vulnerability was taken away to a hard callousness.

“I plan on staying in Ferelden until I receive word from Orlais. But I don't want to stay sitting at the castle. I need something to do.”

“You were still looking for things of your mother's, right?” Ven offered. A hand reaching behind his neck to absently rub it. “Maybe I can scout around for you. If there's a lead, we could go together to find it?”

In one last show of true emotion, Sabrina's eyes widened before her signature scowl came into play.

“I wouldn't mind that.” she agreed. The corner of her mouth twitched before adding, “Thank you.”

Ven offered her a small smile. She took it as a sign to leave. Her head was once more cast down as she went back through the trees.

'3 stars.'

Hearing the demon's voice in his head after so long nearly gave Ven a jolt.

'What?' the young man mentally replied, starting the trek back to the castle as well.

'I give this episode 3 stars. Good tension, but not a lot of build up between points. What even was that resolution? Did the writers not know how to end the story?'

'You do know that I have no idea what you're talking about, don’t you?'

'You're not the one that needs to.' Vanitas huffed. 'Could you guys do that thing were you take a bath and end up in bed after? I like that. I need it after this mess. You two really need to learn to start fucking it out when the tension's high, not bait switching it with pity. Sure, it gives Wabi-Sabi some development, but it train wrecks the whole mood. How hard is it just to get your shit together?'

Ventus couldn't help but roll his eyes. Nice to know that someone had faith in their relationship.

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

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When In Dreams

Angsty Elf!Geralt x OFC one-shot

Summary: As an ancient war awakens, so does a love that knows no bounds. [Lord of the Rings AU with elf!Geralt x human OFC]

Author’s note: A sweet congratulations is in order for dear @mrsaugustwalker on her 5k followers. Hereby a one shot based on your prompt-lists! I hope you may enjoy it my dear -- as well as the many other fics you’ll hopefully receive!

Word count: 3.511

Warnings: NSFW - lots of angst and trauma with a smudge of fluff and smut - mentions of death, physical and emotional trauma, violence, blindness, prostitution and mentions of torture

I dreamt of home last night. I could smell the damp grass, feel the hug of threadbare cloth and hear the storm that roared in the distance. And I could see; I could see those heavy clouds as they gathered like wads of grey moss over the once crystal clear skies. I could see them threatening with fire, the white electric serpents of the gods already slithering over deep grey. But it wasn’t the serpents’ fiery, splitting tongues that worried me as much, as did the eastern horizon where the sun still kissed the grass and the loud beat of war drums echoed over the rumble of the storm.

War was coming.

It wasn’t the first time these lands would be wrecked by violence and pain. In fact it was as common as drawing breath in Northern Rohan, and I knew no different life ever since my mother gathered me in her arms. We lost father before I could memorise him, and then some years later, with the pestilence and the failing of crops, my mother was next to pay the inevitable prize that any herb-gatherer would eventually pay; with the point of a finger and the burning of a stack of wood she was gone and I was suddenly cast-out and alone, my life as I once knew it now but a faint memory.

I left, only to start my new life a few miles east of the village, where I found this abandoned cot near the Great Dwimordene Forest where demons danced and flesh eating faeries feasted. I never dared enter the dark grove, but my long-kept fear for the great ghost stories didn’t hold footing either. I never saw them, those faeries and demons, the months turning years without a single sighting. But I did see him. Accidentally at first, his face torn between anguish and surprise as I just watched him from the tall grass, his yellow eyes sparkling like golden treasure in the shadows.

I had never seen the like of a man like him before, but even long after he disappeared - just as quickly as he had appeared - I thought of those honeyed eyes and his pale long hair. Was he one of the forest demons? If so, why didn’t he come to claim me? Roast me on a spit and dance around the flames? Long days, weeks and months passed and as the memory of his eyes faded, the eastern horizon became restless, the storm that now brewed in the sky forming a battlecry for the courageous warriors who fought there, their wives and children left behind.

Returning home after the gathering of whatever meagre supplies I could find between burned crops and crevices - roots and herbs mostly, I felt the first tears spilling from the heavens, cold and bitter like the saltwater that would soon billow down motherly cheeks. I hastened my pace on the beat of the drum and thunder, my eyes reverting back to the east, where the last of the sun was now swallowed whole, spitting out only darkness and death, death that rode a pale horse.

Literally though. It looked like someone was speeding towards me. A rider.

I still wear the marks of that moment, in mind, body and soul, my now unseeing eyes remembering the pained expression of the rider’s face, an empty cry bursting from his lips. The white manes of his majestic mount danced in the fierce wind as the horse tried to free himself from the desperate clutch of his struggling rider. But alas, it was hardly a battle in the end, for the horse was too spooked and the rider too pained. With a thud his body fell down on the wet grass and the horse eloped, fleeing from the scene.

In that moment I realised the cause of his pain. A crude arrow stuck from the rider’s back, straight through the layers of leather and heavy cloak that now lay motionless in the waving sea of green. Was he dead? My eyes searched for his attacker, but all I saw was windy waving grass and sharp solid rock; the bare bones of Rohan, my home. And his grave now too, probably. With a hurried pace I forgot about my return home, my hair now dancing around my weary eyes as I ate the distance between myself and the man, my fingertips uncovering braided long brown hair and peculiar armour; swirling and elegant, which for a moment made me wonder if he was one of the famed Rohirrim horse lords.

There was no time for wonder though, for Rohan’s earth was restless. A deep growl thundered out over the storm and in an instant I forgot how to breath as death came again. This time not riding a pale horse, but a beast that I hadn’t seen the like of before. Horse-sized, houndlike and deadly, his daggersharp teeth rattled in the chase they were laying on the lifeless man..and me. Me. Me. Me-me-me…I froze in place and let slow seconds eat away, until finally I gathered my senses, my only option now being the one that presented itself by the dagger I found beneath the man’s cloak.

Silvery sharp, it gleamed in the low light of the mighty storm, a storm that roared in my blood now too. I felt sick in my empty stomach, for I knew not how to defend myself, my shaking hand betraying my inaptness. The beast and his rider saw it too, the rider letting out a orcish cackle of horrific amusement. My heart dropped even lower as our eyes met, his redbrown beads shimmering like blood diamonds on black marred skin. He was hideous. And unfortunately for me, graceful too. With a simple hop he got off his great beast, his split tongue flaking hungrily over his barely existent lips.

He spoke then, but I didn’t know what that snake-like tongue spoke of, though I could guess it was most likely vile..and something to do with his crotch, which he grasped for illustratory purpose. Again I realised that I couldn’t move, my feet seemingly swallowed by the grass that danced and danced - almost as if taunting me for my own inability to move. For a moment I wished I was dead already, my heart thudding nervously in my ears as the orc strode closer, his blistered black hands dragging out a cruel dagger, jagged edges still glistening with blood.

The war was here.

‘Please.’ I begged pitifully, but all the orc did was cackle louder, his horrid tongue once again flaking over his lips with a hunger. And again he spoke, and again I didn’t understand, my own lip now shaking from more than just the icy rain, the heaven water rolling down my cheeks mingling with bitter tears.

After all these years of misery, this is how I’d die. Alone, abandoned and scared. If only I was as brave as the shield maidens. If only I knew how to.. The orc reached out and I surprised not only him, but also myself when I lunged forward, my dagger finding the soft tissue of his belly. He cried out, his once amused lips now curling down in disapproval as his own dagger was raised. Our eyes met and by some odd twist of destiny, he hesitated, offering me yet another opportunity to grasp for what little honour I could find in shoving him off, down onto the ground.

This time I was less lucky though, his free hand taking me down with him, our bodies now rolling for life and death in the restless green sea. Somewhere in the tumble he too had lost his dagger, his freed up hand instead opting to rip out my dagger from his black oozing wound. What happened next was worse than the death I anticipated. Worse than life up to that point had ever been. His beady eyes burned into me as he choked me in a deadly grip and took from me what I would never regain.

He gauged out my eyes.

From here on the world literally became black, my eyes no longer crying for they were not there at all. And as faith would have it, he paid for it as I cried bloody tears, the Valar striking him down with all their might. At least, I think that happened as I heard his sullen cries. Perhaps it had been the faery demons instead. Either way, I wished they would be remorseful and offer me the only thing I now wanted; a swift and painless death.

—

Gasping I sat up, my empty eyes blinking even though there was nothing to see. A warm hand on my naked back soothed me back into welcoming arms, the death I had once pleaded for seeming so silly now.

‘Sssh melleth-nîn.’ Geralt’s deep oak voice pulled me back to the land of the living. The land of the elves. My new home. ‘I’ve got you.’

I wished he had. And that he could keep me. But with my awakening, I too realised that I was to start yet another day of misery. Of whispers that betrayed that our slow-simmering relationship was frowned upon. The war had felt like a beautiful start of something new, but reality learned that the elves, despite the great tales of Beren and Luthien, were little fond of relationships between men and kin.

I sighed and turned in his arm, trying to imagine how his golden eyes were now looking at me with a silent warmth. How his lips curled slightly. In fact, I knew they curled up, my fingertips almost unwittingly tracing them. ‘Good morning,’ He rumbled gently.

‘I guess.’ I said, betraying my melancholy, his cheek instantly rubbing into my touch, like a dog would to console his owner.

‘I see more of those guesses each day and it pains me.’ His hand found my cheek and brushed away a tear that strayed there.

‘I’m sorry.’ My lip trembled as the pain of being unwanted tightened around my heart, ‘I just…’

‘Ssh, my sweet. I will not abandon you. You must know that. You keep my heart,’ His large hand placed over my heart. ‘and anything else is unimportant. I know the cause of your sorrow, and though Lórien has been my home, it is no longer. You are.’

‘What are you..?’

‘Come away with me. Let us find ourselves a home where we are both welcome. Both can live and laugh and love.’ He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then my nose..and then my empty eyelids - a thing I both hated for it emphasised how imperfect I was, but also loved, for he loved me all the same.

Our love was literally blind. From the moment he carried me out of the rain and into his forest, to the first time he and I confessed that there was more than friendship between us. And though it pained me to take him from his beloved Lórien, it was clear that the life we wished for, wouldn’t be lived out here between the Mallorn trees.

—

Our new home would be, quite fittingly, the Last Homely House, as was decided upon after he sent out requests far and wide. The good lord Elrond was welcoming to our indefinite stay and so, with the simmering war still pestering the lands, we started our arduous travel through long dark nights, our days spent in inns or trees.

I could feel the ache of his heart, like it were my own, whenever he laid his hand upon bark, only to feel that these trees were silent. The world of men we travelled through was crude and harsh and even with his hair braided back and ears cloaked, people knew he was a foreign thing, his tree-like height and strength making them gasp and whisper when we set foot in small towns.

But Geralt, my dear, didn’t relent. His warrior heart kept a steady beat as our feet again moved on, to yet another town, another waylay until the sun would come and travels were too dangerous. The long nights and days made us weary and cold, but our love held fierce as the fires on the mountain pass. We slept and wept and loved as one, and as our journey was soon to bring us to Rivendell, we felt that at long last the world would be kind to us. That our lives would find peace.

We were fools to think such a thing, for we never set foot beyond the mountains, our treacherous journey ending in yet more pain as our destinies unwound.

‘Geralt?’ I reached out for his warmth, but the cave was deserted, the meagre fire we had stoked gone cold. Outside the winter howled, silencing any other signals I could possibly pick up. I tried to ease my mind as I wrapped my cloak around my shivering frame. It's alright, don’t worry. He’s alright. He’s alright. I repeated the mantra as I listened and waited. Perhaps he had gone out. Elves were little sensitive to the wear and tear of extreme weather, so perhaps he had just left to retrieve more wood for the fire. Perhaps he had to relieve himself. Perhaps he...

‘NOOOOOooo.’ A cry echoed through the valley, soon followed by more voices. In tongues I knew too well now. Orcs. Quite instinctively I ducked away, hands following the rough rock as I tried with utmost terror to hear what was afoot. The voices were getting nearer and, where last meeting an orc I had frozen, now I ran, abandoning the cave for the bitter snowy wind that cut through my hair.

And as I did, I let my hands follow the solid rock on my right, as my feet pushed forward. I trusted myself not to fail this time. Not now. Not again. This time I wouldn’t get myself in trou..

‘NOOOOOOOOOO.’ The heart crushing cry returned, now even more pained and broken. And his. It was his. I knew it was his. I felt my knees crack beneath the sudden weight on my shoulders, my heart giving way to the strength as our bond was stretched further and further.

I sank down into the icy embrace of the mountains and realised that faith again, had decided I was to be alone. But not dead. I was never found by the orcs that took him from me and for days I then walked, my feet burning blisters and my skin bitten with ice. But none of it hurt as much as the loss of him, for whenever I heard the wind, I heard him too, his desperate cry calling out for me. Begging me to find him.

But how, I did not know, for my blind eyes lead me more astray with every step.

For a time all was forgotten. Our life together, those months of blessing, had become but dreams. The war wagered on and the lands remained restless as my journey continued, though I never made it to the last place I hoped to call home. Instead I drifted, my feet carrying me slowly over the licking waves of grass. And instead of a sweet life, again I was met with crudeness and pain, my ageing body the ship that broke through every storm. I ended my long drift in an inn, and where my heart still dreamed, my limbs were weary and in exchange for a bed I was accepting of the faith of lonely female flesh.

They used me, they did. And each time a grunt with hairy thighs ground himself into me with pathetic whimpers and moans, I’d remember him instead. Smooth and gentle, great power wrapped in silk and whispers, his sing-song tongue telling me of the moon, the stars and the trees. How they all came to be, and would remain until his immortal days were long stretched and his soul weary. In his one hundred years he had already spoke broken and hushed, but whenever he was in between my thighs, his touch came alive and his brooding thoughts spilled from eager fingertips. Even now, years later, I could feel my skin burn with lust and love on the places where others now held on.

All I could think of was him.

‘Wench.’ A brusk rap on the door awoke me from a restless sleep. I wasn’t sure whether it was day or night anymore, my life seeming one never-ending loop of misery.

‘Open.’ I croaked, my hands closing the coarse material of the robe that kept whatever little dignity I still had left.

The door opened and the voice of the keeper sounded oddly kind to the customer he had managed to reel into his whoring house. The war had meant long lines of problematic and abusive customers, but apparently this wasn’t one of them. At least, not yet. And perhaps I kept my hopes too high and was this customer only loved, for he had paid handsomely to do whatever.

The door closed again and, hearing the enthused whistle of the keeper, I knew that my guest was probably here, despite it still being so very quiet.

I was slightly taken aback when he touched me, a rough thumb brushing over my hollowed cheek, moving over a scar I had received from one of my less loving clients.

‘G’day.’ I quickly lowered my face and gestured at the bed, hoping he would be a quick and simple shag. But he wasn’t. Instead I finally heard him, heard his breath, a quiet hiccup barely managing to hide the sorrow that spilled from his hand that now returned to my face, brushing away the hair I had placed there to hide the wrinkles that had started to take away my youth.

With every passing second I felt more restless, the touch of this man far more abrasive than I wished it to be. ‘You have received the rates from the keeper?’

A short silence followed and then suddenly he was there, around me, long arms entangling me in an embrace that pushed all air and sorrow out of my bones. ‘Melleth..’ He cried and instantly I remembered these arms, this smell, the tickle of long hair and the oak of his voice.

Geralt.

My fingers braced him, finding he too had changed. He had become sinewy thin and as his lips crushed into mine, I felt that his cheeks too had lost their innocence. Scars riddled over his once unblemished skin and as I felt his silent tears on my fingertips I knew that a tree of a man like him wouldn’t cry so simply. He had suffered as much, if not more.

What followed was the physicalisation of a dream I had long kept to keep myself going. The dream that one day he’d find me and love me again. The dream that had him unwrap me from these rough wools, so I could feel his fingertips caress my flesh.

His rough fingers felt like home and as he carefully placed me on the bed I wished for the moment to not end, our lips locking in luxurious long kisses and soft hums and moans. I tried to forget about what I must look like to him, for it was now not only my blind eyes that made me imperfect. I had grown old, the chance of ever conceiving a child probably as slim as that he would love me like he once did.

And yet, here he was, worshipping the remains of our love until the flame was rekindled and the bond that had grown so thin and weary, once more felt as strong as it had once been.

We were one again.

I felt it as he stretched me around him, I felt it as he rocked me to my first true release in years. I felt it as he too joined me in the epiphany of love, my womb welcoming his gift with lust, longing and sweetness. Salty tears streamed down our cheeks as we slowly rediscovered the planes of our flesh; his once beautiful skin now marred and haunted with the many years he had been captured in dungeons of evil.

For a moment I wished I could look at him, could look into those treasure golden eyes and see him truly. See the pain and the pleasure that probably kindled behind the tears he cried. But never again I would, and so I just touched his cheek and laid him to rest on my breast, the release of finding each other being enough for now, the restless pub downstairs making the only sound above the soft hush of our exhausted pants.

That night we dreamed together; of the short life we could share before my old bones would become to brittle and break. We dreamed of meadows and kisses of the grass beneath our unmarred skin. We dreamed of our first time, gentle hands drifting over the ocean of shivering gooseflesh, anticipation licking at our hearts. For it was then decided, that our love was stronger. And again he whispered: ‘Come away with me.’

End

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