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strangersteddierthings · 5 months

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In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #pre-steddie more accurately #my fic #we have a lot of fic where it feels like the miscommunication is just one character deciding how the other feels #and i LOVE that trope. The angst of it all it just *chefs kiss*#but I dont think steve would let people get away with telling him how he feels #i think hed get hurt and then angry #so i wrote it #thats a lie. this STARTED as that trope (i even warned the discord babes) but while I wanted steve to stay sad instead he got mad \:#so its not actually the story i wanted to tell but it's the one i got

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gag-me-munson · 1 year

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Your fingers were lazily playing with Eddie's hair slowly, twisting strands absently. His head rests on your lap and he playfully nips at your thigh as you both rest in bed watching a movie, nothing worth noting as you're both too tired to care what's actually on the screen.

His hands hug your legs closely and you're sure you can hear him snoring lightly but you continue to run your fingers through his wild mane before he whispers something to you.

"What was that?" You enquire gently, unsure if he's sleep talking again or actually awake.

"I said 'I love you'."

A smile spreads across your lips and you can feel a small tear come to your eye.

"I love you, too, Eddie Munson. I love you, too."

#eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie fluff #mine #my writing #idk i needed this today #so i wrote it #leave me alone with this thought

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missmoonfrost · 17 days

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Not tonight - a wolfstar short fic

Remus couldn’t sleep. He rolled over and curled up with his knees to his chest and the quilt over his head in a vain attempt to shut the world out. It soon turned uncomfortable and hard to breath.

It was only a few days since full moon, but it hadn’t been worse then usual. Nothing especially bad had happened. He could think of no real reason to feel this grumpy and anxious. He knew he shouldn’t bother Sirius. That he was being a needy brat didn’t mean Sirius shouldn’t get to sleep. But he felt so lonely…

Sirius lifted the quilt and wordlessly welcomed him. Remus carefully slid into place, trying not to disturb him too much. Sirius fingers started to trace patterns over Remus back, over his arms, down his chest. He pulled up close and whispered in his ear: "You are so sexy.”

Remus didn't feel sexy at all. This was one of the days he just felt worthless. He had hoped he would feel less awful, less lonely and misplaced, if he crept over to Sirius. But Sirius touch just brought it all to the surface.

"Not tonight. I'm too tired."

"Okay. We'll just sleep tonight." Sirius hands continued to paint circles over his chest. Sirius nose snuffled in his neck and ruffled his hair.

Remus chest tightened. Obviously, he was giving him the wrong impression. What had he expected, coming to Sirius bed at night? He got up.

"No, no, no. Wait!" Sirius grabbed his wrist. ”Where are you going?"

"I told you. I don't want to."

"Remus, that I find you sexy doesn't mean we need to have sex. Don't you want to sleep here?" Sirius let go of him.

"You're not disappointed?"

"No! Why would I be?"

"It's just... You always want to, and I... I say no all the time. It doesn't seem fair."

"Thats nonsense! Well, I mean... I would like to have sex you. But that means nothing if you’re not up for it. I'm so sorry if I've framed it any other way."

This was a useless argument. Sirius didn't get it. And Remus couldn't explain exactly what was wrong either.

He sighed and lay down beside Sirius again. "You sure?"

"Well, I can’t promise I won’t get a hard one with you next to me" he said in an attempt at joke that Remus didn't muster a smile for. "If that makes you uncomfortable, of course we can sleep separately. But if not, I would love if you stayed here and cuddled."

Remus wound his arms around Sirius and buried his face against his chest. "I love you."

Sirius pulled him close and delicately stroked his hair. "And I love you. So very very much."

Sometimes it felt like this. Like he would never deserve what he had. Like everything he did or said were somehow wrong. Like the world would be a better place without him.

He knew, logically, that it was temporary. He knew that he didn’t feel like this yesterday, or the day before that. But right now, it seemed this was the only true interpretation of the world, that every day he had thought he’d been happy had somehow been him gravely misjudging things.

He tried to have faith that the feeling, this time as well as every time before, would eventually subside. The arms around him were not enough to chase it away, but they made it easier to endure the waiting.

Sirius fingers gently swept tears from his cheeks.

"Want to talk?"

He shook his head against Sirius chest.

"Okay, baby. Then sleep."

Maybe Sirius didn't understand. Maybe Remus would never be able to properly explain it to him.

But maybe it didn't matter all that much. Because no matter what, even when Remus had nothing to offer, Sirius was always there for him.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius × remus #comfort #healthy relationship #mental health #mentally ill remus #what i needed to read right now #so i wrote it

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ineadhyn · 13 days

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Reading hour

Thank you for letting me use your prompt @reverieblondie

fem!Tav sneaking out whilst Raphael is asleep and meeting Haarlep.

Haarlep is in Archduchess shape for the entirety of their encounter, because I am gay and this was very self indulgent.

Warning: Raphael and Tav have an established relationship so there are definitely flavors of cheating.

“You can cry his name all day”, Haarlep said as Tav squirmed. “But in the nights you will only utter mine. Can you manage that?”

Full under the cut:

It was not uncommon for Tav to sneak into the archive in the middle of the night. After all, she lived in the House of Hope after delivering the crown to Raphael and becoming his warlock in return - his warlock and some more. A smile snuck onto her lips as she let her fingers run over the backs of the countless tomes on the shelves. The smell of old paper, leather and parchment hung in the air. Raphael. She still could barely believe she was with him now after all that had happened since he hit her with that “Charmed, I’m sure, in more ways than one.”

Now was fast asleep, back in the boudoir, because he was a notorious early bird and Tav herself a night owl. So, just like the nights before, she had left his side to roam the halls.

So, it really wasn’t novel that she pulled out one of the books now, a small one, but ancient, with a dark blue cover. What was new was that apparently she had company.

“A lost little mouse is running through the house …”

The breathy words hit her neck and made her skin form goosebumps immediately. Tav sighed and put the book back before turning around. “Really, Haarlep? I live here.”

The incubus showed a toothy smile. They had shed the shape of the younger Raphael after Tav moved in and Raphael didn’t desired his own image anymore. Now they roamed the boudoir in a variety of their accumulated shapes. However, Archduchess still made an appearance occasionally. Like now. Haarlep’s wings were folded behind their back, the harness sat tight around their waist and breasts and the tail curled neatly around one of their own calves.

“I just remembered that first encounter of ours”, Haarlep cooed. The dim light enhanced the hook of their nose and the curve of their brows. “What a shame you only have eyes for the master now.” They lowered their head towards Tav’s cheek. “You were … delicious.”

Tav could feel the tips of their tongue caressing her skin, light like a feather.

“Don’t you miss it?” They reached down to grab her hands and pull them up. “The feeling of this shape you asked for so nicely, when you came into the boudoir?”

Tav’s mouth was dry. It was true, she had been distracted by finally getting her fill of Raphael over the past weeks - quite literally in most cases - but that didn’t mean she had forgotten about the incubus.

“Who said I didn’t have my eyes on you?” she responded, so very tempted to just cup the breasts in front of her. They were so close … But Raphael and her hadn’t talked about including anyone else in their relationship yet. She couldn’t betray him.

Haarlep seemed to notice the struggle in her face. “Are you worried about our little brat?”, they asked. “What would he say if he found out you snuck away in the night to be with his personal incubus if he found out?”

Fuck, those words only made the idea even more tempting to her.

“Because that’s what you are doing here, isn’t it?” They continued, grabbing her hands more firmly and finally pressing them against their soft breasts.

A torn little moan escaped Tav’s mouth. The truth stung. Yes, that had been exactly what she had been hoping for secretly when she sat in the archive every night, flipping through book after book - though she did not intend to tell the incubus just how right they were.

“I also like to read.”

“Of course you do.” Archduchess moved Tav’s hands over the shape of her chest and Tav could feel their nipples harden under the touch. “He doesn’t have to know.”

Tav bit her lips, but her resistance crumbled - if there had been any in the first place. Her hips yanked forward on their own to press against the incubus’ groin.

“Come here”, Haarlep purred, leaving her hands and pulling Tav into an embrace. “Let me make your desire become reality.”

With a wave of their right hand they made their harness burn away. Tav felt the silky small scales under her hands and the only thing she could do was tipping her head back and silently begging Haarlep to kiss her. They complied, not without a satisfied smile on their lips of course and met her mouth. Their lips were just as hot, but they tasted a lot different than kissing Raphael. There was only a hint of sweetness, instead the sensation of darker depths and burning spices. Cinnamon …

Their tongue opened her lips and explored her mouth. Tav drank in the salvia that she knew would intensify the heat between her legs and the tingling under her skin. The two tips of Haalep’s tongue embraced and played with hers until they gave her free, eliciting a disappointed and wanting moan. They urged her backwards until she felt one of the desks pressing against the small of her back. At the same time Archduchess’ hands slid under Tav’s clothes, taking in every inch of her skin, sliding the fabric up in the process. Tav helped and pulled the shirt over her head. Since it was her loungewear, she wore nothing underneath and her breasts were on full display.

Haarlep licked their lips at the sight of them. “Oh, I have missed this body. Of course I can indulge in it whenever I want, but it was very naughty to let me see you with Raphael and not grant me the same access. I had to improvise …”

Tav’s mind shot back to the times when she had been with Raphael and her lust had heightened seemingly without reason. When she had felt her clit twitching, despite him leaving it untouched, but too heated in the moment to pay real attention to the sensations.

“So that was you”, she gasped.

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

“You can have me now.”

“Oh, I will.” They grabbed her thighs and pulled her up to sit on the desk, spreading her legs at the same time and pulling down her pants. The fabric landed in a pile on the floor. Archduchess bent over her, grasping Tav’s hips and ass, pulling her into a lying position. Tav made the best of the access she was granted and let her hands indulge in the feeling of the Haarlep’s sides, the lean back and the bases of their wings. Apparently she had found a sensitive spot, because Haarlep froze for a second before bending down, licking and biting Tav’s neck. Fighting the urge to just close her eyes and hand herself over, Tav let her finger circle the wing base again, feeling the incubus shiver in reward. Haarlep bit down harder, almost piercing the skin of her shoulder with their sharp teeth, then making their way down her belly. Their tongue curved around her belly button whilst their claws grazed over the sensitive insides of her legs, causing them to instinctively spread further. Just as Tav thought they would dive down between them and finally meet the pulsing spot that craved attention, Haarlep went back up again.

“Fuck!”

“Shush, little one, you don’t want to be heard, do you?”

But she wanted to be heard. She wanted to make her moans wake Raphael from his slumber, wanted him to rise and come looking for what his mouse was up to and who managed to pull these noises from her. And then, when he saw them, he would step closer and -

Tav inhaled sharply as Haarlep’s teeth closed around her nipple, one of their hands grabbing her breast firmly, the other kneading her ass.

“Thinking about him?”

Of course Haarlep had picked up the flavor of her arousal. They teased her nipple with both tips of their tongue until it was rock hard and so sensitive that the feeling seemed to shoot right down to her clit. She must be so wet now that the slick was probably dripping. And still Haarlep hadn’t touched her in the place she wanted them most. Frustrated, Tav tipped her head back, her hair falling off her shoulders.

“You can cry his name all day”, Haarlep said, finally tracing one finger over her vulva, but not sliding in or with enough pressure to soothe the burning. Tav squirmed. “But in the nights, you will only utter mine. Can you manage that?”

Tav nodded eagerly.

“Perfect.” They kissed her once more and then finally dove down to make their tongue meet her clit. Tav buried her hands in the archduchess’s hair to hold onto something. The incubus’ saliva, the split tongue and their extraordinary skill had Tav rush to her orgasm faster than lightspeed. But as she neared the release Haarlep rose again, lips glinting from wetness and only circling her clit with the tip of their index finger. Tav sat up, reaching for their round hips and pulling them close, seizing the chance to touch them instead. Her fingers found their entrance wet and pulsing. Tav couldn’t resist but to lick her fingers before going back for it. Haarlep’s cunt tasted similar to their saliva, rich and spicy and absolutely delicious. Tav’s fingers spread the folds and moved in the same way she’d pleasure herself. As Haarlep urged their hips closer to her in response, she grew more courageous. She fucked them on her fingers whilst sucking on their tits, nose buried in the soft flesh until their breath became ragged. She hooked her legs around Haarlep’s thighs and let her right hand wander up their back until she found the wing base. They shivered and clenched around her fingers as they came, breathlessly moaning for a moment, but recovering quickly.

“Cheeky”, they muttered against her ear. “But far from unwelcome.”

Haarlep pulled her hair and at the same time they pressed two fingers into her. As they spread and scissored inside her, Tav sank back until her head met the bookshelf behind her. Haarlep’s thumb brushing over her clit caused her eyelids to flutter. Tav’s fingers clawed into their upper arms desperately. Haarlep fucked her until she was close again, then they held her on the plateau of her lust, balancing her orgasm on the tips of their fingers, not allowing her to tumble over. Tav’s legs twitched, her stomach muscles contracted helplessly, heat seared in her abdomen. Haarlep’s lips caressed her cheek.

“What did I tell you?” It was merely a whisper.

“Haarlep, please!”

Satisfied they pressed against the right spot inside her and Tav exploded. Her walls contracted violently, her whole body spasmed, only held in place by Haarlep’s firm grip, but they didn’t stop touching her and her climax didn’t stop either. The first wave was immediately followed by another and then another until Tav whimpered against Haarlep’s neck, tears in her eyes.

Tav wrapped her arms around them as they lifted her off the table, much taller than her, even in Archduchess shape, and set her down on her own trembling legs. They handed her her clothes and with a shudder of sparks the harness reappeared on their body. Tav struggled into her clothes. When she was done, she found that Haarlep had picked up the blue book and handed it to her.

“You wanted to read, I recall”, they said with the cheeky grin that stayed the same regardless of which shape they were wearing.

Blushing, Tav took the book.

The incubus leaned closer. “I’ll meet you again, when you’re in a literary mood”, they said, kissing her forehead before sauntering off. Tav’s eyes followed their swaying ass and knew far too well, it wouldn’t be long until she’d indulge in some books again. After cleaning herself quickly, she slipped back under the covers taking her place next to Raphael. He hadn’t even stirred.

Raphael waited until Tav’s breath slowed and the cold foot touching his calf had thawed. Then he turned around to look down on her face. Her cheeks were flushed with a hint of pink and her mouth stood open just a little. His brows furrowed. How stupid they thought him to be. He might feel less of the Archduchess’ touch than of Haarlep’s male shape of him and normally he might have been able to sleep through it. But as the tingling of his skin woke him up tonight and he found Tav’s spot empty, he knew immediately what she was up to. She and his menace of an incubus. Raphael let his fingers wander over her cheek until they traced Tav’s lips, still plump from all the kisses. He watched as she subconsciously closed her lips around his index and sucked on it.

“Oh my, little mouse”, he muttered to himself. “What trouble did you get yourself into now …”

#working title was #“apparently I crave lesbian haarlep smut”#so I wrote it #archduchess raphael #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav #bisexual tav #haarlep as archduchess

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kilgarraghforever · 2 months

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The paper creaks beneath my fingers

And I wonder

If it can remember its branches

Creaking

In the wind

And tries to imitate that sound

An echo

Of what it once was

#poetry #i was doing some oragami #and this Came To Me #so i wrote it #enjoy #trees #memory

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heniareth · 3 months

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For @snarky-bee for OC kiss week

(Set in a verse in which Kallian is herself and Astala is her Companion AU self, that is, the Warden's sister. Enjoy! ^^)

The room was dark and smelled musty. The windows were nailed shut. This had probably been somebody's home before the Vints had taken it over.

Astala leaned her head against the bars of her cage and mechanically massaged her bruised ribs. Those bastards who called themselves healers had taken none too kindly to her escape attempt. Who knew magic could bruise as much as a club? And it hadn't even hit her. It had just sort of flared up and all her muscles had locked up and she hadn't been able to breathe. It'd been scary. It was good, she supposed, that it was her and not Kallian.

Oh, Kallian. If only she could've done something to keep from that Grey Warden.

"Don't go," she'd told her when Kallian had told her where she was going. "Please, let me-"

"What?" Kallian had asked. Astala remembered the harshness in her voice like they'd just spoken yesterday. She hadn't meant it, Astala knew that. "Do what? The guards already know my face. And you've heard them, I have to leave Denerim."

"But not with that shem!" Astala had shouted. Kallian, still in her blood-drenched wedding dress and the stolen armor, had looked over both her shoulders before stepping in close. "Listen," she had whisper-hissed. "I want this. I want out of here, I don't want to get married. I'm leaving." Astala had felt the blood drain from her face. "Kallian-" "It's no goodbye," Kallian had insisted. She was trying to keep her expression neutral, Astala could tell, but the air around her had been vibrating with excitement. "You'll see me again, just you wait. I just have to talk to Shianni real quick." "She's inside," Astala had answered tonelessly. Kallian had left her standing outside the house in her hurry. A few moments later, she had stepped out again, pushed out by an equally excited Shianni, wearing old gear that Astala swore she had still been able to see blood stains on. Kallian had waved, and then hurried towards the shem waiting for her. A glare was the only thing Astala had been able to give him for taking Kallian away. And then they'd been gone.

That had been a good year ago.

Sweet Andraste. A year already. Astala looked at the ceiling and swallowed down a ball of bitterness.

They all disappeared, didn't they? First Adaia. Then Kallian; they had received news of the defeat at Ostagar a month and a half after that disaster of a wedding, and Astala desperately wished she had insisted on giving Kallian a proper goodbye. Then, the purge had come. Astala and Shianni had done their best to look after their family. But the plague and these Vints had followed, and taken first Valora, then Cyrion, and now Astala. Worst of all? She'd landed herself in here while trying to get her family out. She'd never had Kallian's ability for stealth and thievery.

They made a pretty trio, and all good things come in pairs of three. Adaia, in her blood-soaked shroud. Kallian, in the wedding dress smeared with blood. And she, Astala, in nothing but her shift and the few drops of blood she got when the magic made her muscles clamp up and her teeth bite down on her lip.

Lady Andraste, she was so tired. She shivered, pulled her knees up to her chest, and hugged her arms around herself.

Steps. Several people, out in the hallway. Astala stayed where she was. She probably should be standing up, to face her destiny with her chin raised and her back straight. But she didn't find it in her to pull herself up. So she stayed where she was. Would they be sold together? Would she end up somewhere close to everybody else? They'd sell Cyrion and Valora for housework, which they did best, but she'd shown the Vints that she was well able to fight, and strong. Field work, perhaps. Or maybe even an arena? People died there, she'd heard. People died there quickly.

It was too soon. She thought they would've taken longer to get her.

Voices, clanking of weapons and armor, the door swung open. Astala's fingers found the bars behind her, wrapped around them, not yet, please-

"Astala?"

Kallian.

Astala whipped her head around, and there she was: blonde hair, slight frame, alive, alive! Astala scrambled to her feet, sent the bars of her cage rattling when she hit against them.

"Kallian!!" she gasped. "Get me out. Get me out of here!"

Thieves' tools jangled, the door to her cage swung open, Astala clambered out, out! Next thing she knew, she had her arms slung around Kallian and Kallian was hugging her back fiercely. She had grown a bit. She had put on muscle. She smelled a bit strange, something acrid and far too sweet under the smell of dust and sweat and iron, but Astala shoved that thought aside. Everything would be alright now.

"You're alive," she muttered into the hug. "We thought you'd died!"

She felt and heard Kallian laugh triumphantly, and wanted to bottle the moment in.

"Takes a bit more to kill me than some darkspawn," Kallian answered. "Are you alright? What did they do to you?"

"I'm fine now," Astala said. And she was. "I'm fine. They just locked me up. But-"

Suddenly, everything came rushing back.

"Kallian, they've taken him. They've taken Pa, out and to the back! There's another warehouse behind this one. They take them there, and then down to the docks and onto a ship, I saw it when I snuck in. You might just catch them. Kallian, they're Vints. Blood mages!"

Kallian's expression hardened. "I know. Don't worry, we got this."

She turned around to her companions. Only now did Astala take the time to actually look at them and at Kallian herself. They were armed, and their armor looked expensive and well-cared for. Kallian held herself... differently. Yes, this was the girl who had broken her mirror and stolen strawberry-rhubarb cake for her, but she was also so much more now. Where had those scars come from? Where the quiet self-confidence and liquid grace in her movements, the way she got all of her companions up to speed and took the lead among this bunch of shemlen and one- Ah. The way the other elf was speaking to her and trailing after her was interesting. Astala smiled to herself and decided to ask all of the questions once they were out of this slaver den and safe.

"What's with that smile?" Kallian asked.

"Nothing," Astala said and shrugged, not bothering to tone her smile down.

"You smell like money now, is all."

"Ugh! Stop it."

Astala laughed as Kallian swatted her arm. Kallian grinned back.

Then, her expression sobered. "We'll get Pa out, alright? You stay here."

"Alright," Astala said. "Promise me you'll stay safe, yeah?"

Kallian lifted an eyebrow. "No 'please let me keep you safe' this time?"

"I think you're doing a pretty good job," Astala said lightheartedly. "And, to be honest... I don't think I can keep up with you anymore."

Something fluttered over Kallian's expression. Then, she pointed to her right.

"We came that way, and you should find nothing but dead shemlen there. Take the back door."

"I'll wait for you at home," Astala said. Then she pulled Kallian in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Stay safe, please," she said again. "Ma would be so proud of you."

Kallian didn't look at her for a moment, and Astala let her.

"No goodbyes?" Kallian finally said.

Astala smiled. "No goodbyes."

With a last squeeze to Kallian's shoulder—what bit of shoulder she could get past the armor—Astala left the room and turned to the right. Kallian and her companions turned to the left. Astala listened until the clanking of their armor had faded away, and then for some more time.

Silence.

Astala took a deep breath, and ran. She skidded down the hallway, jumped over a few shemlen corpses, and burst into a wide open hall. The back door was right there. Astala ran, through the door, down the street, and halfway to home until she slowed down and took a big lungful of fresh air.

She was free.

And Kallian was alive.

#i was snooping through your longfic the other day and i got an idea #so i wrote it #i hope you like it #and red sunrise is really really cool #i am scratching a bit at the walls to find some time to read it #anyways enjoy!!

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breakfastteatime · 1 year

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After peeling off his poncho and taking care of his injuries in the 'fresher, Cal decides he can't face food or company right now. Instead, he winds his way to the back of the ship where, to his almost tearful relief, he finds a bed.

Leaving himself open and vulnerable to these strangers might sound like a bad idea but the Force says otherwise. Cal has spent five long years barely letting himself consciously reach for the Force. Now he's done more in the past hour than he has in all that time and he is so, so, so tired and he is so cold and Prauf... Prauf is...

That woman. She put her lightsaber through... She killed... She...

Cal sits on the bed before he falls on it. He bends over double, trying to hold it all in. Tears, vomit, screaming, he can't let any of it out. He doesn't want those strangers coming back here and finding him like tht. He'd rather be numb right now than feel it all. He can't handle it, can't begin to comprehend the sheer insanity he has just survived.

The train had exploded around him, and somehow he's still here. A hysterical giggle breaks free before he can catch and crush it.

Teeth clenched, Cal jabs the heels of his hands into his eyes. His head pulses with a thick, nauseating headache. He is so tired, like he's been awake for every second in all the years he's been alive. All the years he was on Bracca at least. Those meticulously crafted shields of his, the ones sealing in all the grief, are coming undone.

Not now. Please, not yet. He can't handle any more. He moves, hand reaching for the pillow. He needs to switch off, needs to -

Feels weird to be making up this bed again. He only uses it when he's got a full passenger manifest. Not like he can charge anyone to sleep back here. And since Cere hired him, at his maximum rate too, he's had no need to sleep back here himself. Someone's going to have to eventually, probably some old Jedi Master who's going to save the galaxy from the Empire or whatever with a bunch of baby Jedi. Yeah, right, sure. They're gonna do that after five years of hiding out. Still, Cere's a paying customer and who is he to argue with someone with all those credits to their name. This charter is Greezy money, baby.

Cal slips out of the memory, too exhausted to care that he definitely wasn't the Jedi Master Greez or Cere had sought out. Prauf would be alive if he -

Stop. Stop it.

Cal indulges his exhaustion. He doesn't even have the energy to kick off his boots. He slumps against the mattress, hand grabbing the blanket and -

- at least this Jedi person will have a nice, freshly laundered blanket to sleep under. Might be the first time in years they had such a nice blanket. Maybe they've been under a rock or -

Cal falls into a deep, heavy sleep before the echo finishes its recollection.

#star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo minific #jfo headcanon #cal kestis #greez dritus #cere junda #this idea kept me up far too late last night #i found myself wondering what echoes cal got from the bed in the engine room #SO I WROTE IT

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jhalya · 1 year

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🍎🗡Happy Obiyuki Saturday!

🔗Read on AO3

#obiyuki #lemon and lime #mean man obi #dom!obi #canon au #I woke up thinking about this #so I wrote it #:3 #ans

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cohborikardok · 1 year

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Maybe this was a bad idea. In two days he would have to leave the Ascendancy forever, and if he really missed her as much as Thalias said, she didn’t need to give him false hope by waltzing back into his life right before his life as he knew it ended. It would be selfish. Almost everything she did was for the Ascendancy and Borika hardly ever did anything selfish like that.

So she surprised even herself when before she knew it she was standing next to Thrawn’s table and saying in her Oolian accent “Would you like an opponent?”

#zahn told someone yesterday that they were supposed to reunite in lesser evil #so i wrote it #borika #thrawn #sw #fanfic #fanfiction

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tojiswhore-nanamisslut · 3 months

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I have a smutty true-form SukunaxReader fic i wanna post but... fear 🧍‍♀️

#is the second fic i ever post fr gonna be smut #this was actually the very first fic i ever wrote bc i had the idea and i Needed to read it #so i wrote it #also smut is like a whole different beast bc it's so hard to write it in a way that's sexy and not repetitive #and i can't tell if i just like it bc i'm a big time sukuna fucker or if it's bc it's actually good #posts #sigh

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brucenorris007 · 1 year

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“MARIO!”

Mario’s shoulders jumped, startling him from his nap; Toad’s distinctive yell from outside the house shortly preceded the little guy barging through the front door. The stopper he’d installed just that morning saved the wall from another dent.

“Here we go...”

He hustled off the couch, blinking away lingering dregs of sleep and letting out a jaw-cracking yawn as he pulled his overall straps back on. Toad was rambling at this point, arms flailing over his head.

“Bowser’s early this month,” Mario murmured, rummaging around the cushions for his hat. “Where’s the princess this-a time?”

“Nonono, no, the princess is fine,” Toad said, finally speaking intelligibly after his initial outburst. “It’s Luigi, he–!”

Mario snatched Toad by the collar so fast he almost gave himself whiplash; almost, because he was too focused on Toad to notice anything else.

“What happened and where is he?”

Toad gulped; Mario realized he’d unconsciously summoned fire, thankfully to the glove he wasn’t using to grab Toad. With visible effort, he made it vanish.

“H-he’s in this haunted spot, King Boo’s got him!”

Mario blinked. Twice.

“Oh.”

He released his grip on Toad’s vest, absently patting the fungi fun guy’s shoulders in apology for the roughness; he sighed, letting tension hiss out with the exhale and he slid his overall straps down again.

“Hmmm.”

He ambled toward the kitchen, cracking open the pantry door with one hand and opening the fridge with the other; Luigi might’ve been a better cook overall, but Mario knew his brother still preferred his lasagna.

“Um. Mario?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you, uh, gonna help him?”

“Of course,” Mario said, tossing the noodles onto a counter and pulling out cheeses, tomatoes and beef. “Luigi will wanna hot meal when he gets home.”

“But...” Toad stammered. “King Boo...”

Mario blinked again; he glanced at his friend, who was pointing toward the still-open door and looking thoroughly baffled. Mario chuckled.

“He doesn’t need my help with ghosts,” he said, matter-of-fact and wholly confident in his little brother’s capability. When Boo got involved, more often than not, he saved Mario. “He knows better than me how to handle King Boo.”

Toad’s jaw worked, but no words came out; Mario went back to looking for a pan to layer the lasagna. He could make a mean pasta, but he still didn’t know their kitchen as well as Luigi did.

“If you’re gonna stick around, could you brown the meat?” He asked. “Oh, and shut the front door.”

“. . . Okay.”

So it was that, nearly two hours later, when Luigi came stumbling home–haggard, sweaty, dragging the Poltergust behind him, sporting scruff on his chin and half-asleep–Mario was pulling out piping, steaming lasagna from the oven.

“Wash up first, little bro,” Mario said, taking Luigi by the shoulders to spin him towards the bathroom when his brother stalled at the threshold to the kitchen, drooling with his nose in the air. “It needs to cool a bit anyway.”

Far be it that Mario would let Luigi come home intact only to get sick because he went to bed without cleaning up.

Mario didn’t force conversation at supper; he’d ask about the adventure later. For the moment, he enjoyed the meal and made sure his drooping brother didn’t drown in the cheese and sauce.

“I’ll clean up.” He said, cutting off any argument his stubborn brother might’ve started about the dishes. Luigi seemed too tired to summon any more protest than a huff; lethargic, warm and comfortably full, he hung his hat on his coat hook and trudged up to bed.

Mario followed, after an extra helping–or two–of lasagna and leaving the plates and pans out to dry. He cut the lights and crept on tiptoes up the steps, taking his boots off to further quiet his footsteps before he walked into their room. Luigi, usually the more restless sleeper, had gotten as far as pulling the sheets back before collapsing mostly on top of them.

Mario’s mouth twitched; he moved Luigi’s boots so he wouldn’t trip in the morning and gently tucked his brother in. He glanced around the room, spotting the cuboid rainbow-colored plush Daisy had made for him; Mario still boasted about the Aurora Block story to anyone who’d listen, much to his brother’s embarrassment.

Even so, Luigi’s arm immediately curled round the soft pillow in his sleep.

“G’night, Weegee.”

#Mario #Mario Bros #Super Mario #Luigi #Toad #Mushroom Kingdom #super mario bros #Super Mario Brothers #Fanfic #Thrown into the void #Brucenorris007 #Woke up feeling stressed about some stuff #Idea hit me #Wholesome #I wanted some wholesome Mario Bros #So I wrote it #Family #Brothers

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lavellenchanted · 1 year

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in the twilight beyond the deep

Standing beneath the stars in the Shattered Sea, Elora opens up to Kit about her life in Tir Asleen.

(Or: an expansion on Elora and Kit's conversation in E7)

Read it on AO3

“I wanted to be brave . . . and loved. And to not be a princess.”

A laugh, one’s that soft, quiet, almost not there at all, is threaded through Kit’s voice.

And despite everything, despite the fear that’s been lying slick and cold in her stomach for days now – or maybe it’s weeks, or even months, time doesn’t really seem to mean much out here – and making her already frayed nerves stretch to breaking point, despite the doubt constantly whispering in the back of her mind and the anger that she tries her best to ignore but is buried too deeply beneath her skin to dislodge, despite the guilt that beats at her like a drum, Elora feels herself start to smile in response.

“It’s funny,” she says, staring up at the star-flecked sky, “I sort of did.”

Not long ago, Kit would have made fun of her for the admission – would have snorted and said something pointed and sarcastic meant to probe at her weak spots.

Now all she says is, “. . . yeah?”

There’s genuinely curiosity there, but restrained, respectful, opening a door and giving Elora the choice of whether or not she wants to walk through. It’s an attempt to make amends, and maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s just the fact that all Elora ever wanted was for someone to notice and to ask that she answers.

“Yeah. Not because I wanted to rule over everyone or cared that much about fancy clothes or jewels – although fancy clothes and jewels would be nice,” she adds, thinking about how long she’s been wearing the same dress and how the ends of skirts are now filthy and ragged and probably beyond repair. Honestly, if she had the choice, she would be incredibly tempted to give up all her magic for a hot bath and some clean clothes right now. “It’s just that . . . I guess when you’re sweeping floors and scrubbing pans, the life of a princess seems pretty great in comparison.”

She keeps her eyes on the sky as she talks. It’s like someone took a handful of diamond dust and threw it across silk that’s not quite black but more of a deep, inky bluish-purple. With the reflection of it all stretched out in the water at her feet, it surrounds her, makes her feel like she could fall into it and float forever.

It reminds her of being a child, slipping out of the servants quarters on clear summer nights to go and look at the skies. She would sit beneath a tree, huddled in a shawl, and imagine the world that lay outside Tir Asleen, wondering if somewhere out there she had parents or family. Maybe they had lost her and were looking for her, but would one day some riding into the city and know her instantly, and she would finally know who she was.

The idea that she might be Elora Danan had never, ever, crossed her mind.

“Whenever there banquets or balls I used to hide in the corridors to watch it all. All the dancing and the laughter. I wanted to be a part of it all.”

“I never saw you.”

Elora glances over her shoulder then, and her lips twist with amusement at the look of puzzlement on Kit’s face. “No one did. No one really pays attention to you when you’re a servant, unless you’ve done something wrong. You just kind of fade into the background.”

It’s not meant as recrimination, but guilt flashes in Kit’s eyes anyway.

“Was it . . . did you have a hard life?” She asks the question like she’s not sure she wants to know the answer.

Elora shrugs. “In some ways. It was hard work. The days were long – I was up before sunrise and didn’t go to bed until well after it was dark – and cooking for an entire palace is no joke. Neither’s cleaning up after them. And I didn’t have much money, or could do anything other than cook, really, so it wasn’t like I could dream of going somewhere else and starting a new life.”

Not that they would have let her leave, she realises now, a thought which nettles more than she likes. What would have happened if she had tried to go somewhere else? If she had wanted to be something other than a servant?

“But,” she continues, deliberately pulling herself away from questions that have no answers before they start circling in her mind. “I had a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, food to eat. A lot of people have it worse.”

Kit seems to mull this over for a few moments, her brow scrunching up in thought, then she takes a couple of steps towards Elora and asks in a very deliberately casual manner, “Did you . . . have friends? Or . . .” She falters, pauses, then finishes with sort of resigned sigh, “Anyone?”

Their gazes meet, and there’s a kind of pleading in Kit’s eyes, silently begging Elora to tell her she wasn’t completely alone.

But Elora hasn’t lied to Kit yet, and she’s not about to start now.

“Not really. I had Prunella, I guess, but she . . . she looked after me and taught me to cook, she was the closest thing I had to a parent, but she wasn’t motherly, exactly.” It isn’t that Prunella was cruel, far from it, but she had always kept a distance between them, one that Elora never understood until now. “I think she knew who I really am. She used to dye my hair every few months, but never told me why. It was just something I had to do, ever since I was little, and I never really questioned it. I hated it though. The smell always lingered. You think lemon and honey smells nice until it’s been hanging around for weeks.”

She wrinkles her nose in distaste, almost able to smell that cloying, citric sweetness now, even though she can see that the loose waves that have escaped her braid and are twisting about her face are a brilliant, vibrant red.

It’s so strange. Her reflection in the water is blurry but it’s the closest she’s got to seeing herself since she left Tir Asleen, and truthfully . . . she hardly recognises the face staring back at her any more.

“She watched me like a hawk. But sometimes I’d catch her looking at me while we were working, just out of the corner of my eye and it was like she was almost afraid of me.”

“What about friends your own age?”

“I didn’t really have any. I wasn’t allowed to play with other children that much, and then I guess I just got used to being alone.”

Looking back, knowing the truth, she can see it was probably about keeping her safe – they couldn’t have known if her magic would suddenly manifest or if anyone might come after her, so she was kept always with Prunella so she could be watched over. But at the time it had felt like being punished for something, only she didn’t know what she was being punished for.

Kit takes a breath and Elora’s a little surprised to realise they’re now standing side by side, gazing out into the darkness together.

“But you got close to Airk.”

It isn’t phrased as a question – Elora wonders if she realises how close it is to dancing along the lines of an accusation – but Kit gives her a sidelong, curious glance that invites her to keep talking.

“Yeah. I had gone to market when Prunella told me not to, and I was in so much trouble when she got back. I didn’t understand why she was so mad then, it was just the market! But she must have been scared that something had happened to me or someone had taken me.”

Elora shakes her head, unable to help some of her frustration bleeding into her voice. So much of her childhood and adolescence that had confused and angered her has begun making much more sense since Willow had revealed the truth.

Once, she thought knowing who she was would give her peace, help put to rest the questions that had always plagued her. It’s answered some of her questions, certainly, but in other ways she finds she’s more frustrated than ever – that this decision was made and that no one ever told her about it. Maybe were never going to tell her. But if they had . . . if they had, maybe she wouldn’t have spent so much time feeling lost. Maybe she would have mastered her magic long before now and been far more use to everyone.

Maybe she would be more prepared for what she knows is waiting for them.

“Anyway, I was upset and I had gone outside – there was this alcove in the wall near the kitchen door I’d go and sit it sometimes to be alone – and Airk was just walking by, but he noticed me crying and he stopped to ask what was wrong.”

The anger fades a little as she remembers the way she had jerked her head up in surprise and saw Airk standing there, looking down at her, green eyes soft with concern, the last afternoon light just catching the copper lights in his dark hair.

Was it any wonder she’d caught her breath?

“He tried to offer me a handkerchief but then realised he didn’t carry one.” She smiles at the memory, and beside her Kit laughs.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“So he said if he couldn’t dry my tears that way, he’d do it another way, and sat down beside me and told me bad jokes until I’d stopped crying and started laughing. He sat with me until I was ready to go back inside,” she continues. “Then he came to the kitchen the next day to check on me, and I baked him some muffins to say thank you. We started smiling and waving at each other when we passed in the corridors, and sometimes he’d stop and say hi and we’d talk. And soon we were spending every hour we could together.”

“. . . he was kind to you.” Kit echoes her own words back to her. Did they have the same touch of sadness when she said them?

Elora meets the princess’s gaze and offers a small, helpless shrug. “He saw me when no one else did.”

Although she doesn’t say it, she likes to think that she saw him too, or at least a part of him, that others hadn’t. Of course she had loved him. Loves him still.

. . . doesn’t she?

It feels so distant now, those hours talking and laughing with him, feeling her heart skip a beat and butterflies in her stomach. Airk feels distant. She can barely remember what it was like to kiss him, even though at the time it felt like the whole world would melt away whenever she was with him.

When she’s training with Willow she tries to find the certainty she felt when set out after the rescue party, determined to do whatever she could to help her prince, but all she can seem to find is a yawning abyss of cold fear and doubt that wants to swallow her whole.

“I don’t know what your parents felt when they hid me away, and maybe they did do it because they cared about me as well as the world,” she says slowly. “But when I was with Airk, it was the first time in my life I ever really felt loved.”

Something that Elora can’t quite decipher flickers in Kit’s eyes, and a hesitant expression crosses her face, but then she squares her shoulders, looks Elora in the eye and says in a firm, clear voice, “I think they did love you. I think they still do. And I know that they –” She gestures behind them, where they can see the camp silhouetted against the sky, and their friends preparing themselves to sleep. “They definitely love you.”

It's instinct, at first, to deny it.

Elora knows that when they first started on this quest, most of their group cared for her out of duty. Perhaps Willow still held some affection for the baby girl he had protected once, but the others looked at her and saw the legendary Elora Danan, the saviour, a story come to life – and they protected her for what she meant, rather than who she is. If Elora Danan had been someone else, they would have done exactly the same thing.

But over the last weeks (or months, she still can’t decide which, being on the Shattered Sea seems endless and nothing around them changes to mark the days by any more, it all blurs into one), they’ve all grown closer, become friends, and Elora knows if anything were to happen to them she would miss them dearly – miss Jade’s calm steadiness, Boorman’s tall tales, Graydon’s unwavering belief, and Willow’s stubborn courage. She would even miss Kit’s brashness and confidence.

Is it so unreasonable to think they care for her not as Elora Danan, but as just Elora?

Slowly, she nods, not quite able to speak.

“I’m glad he was kind to you. That he gave you that,” Kit says suddenly, looking back at her. “I know my parents did what they thought was best but you – you deserved better.”

She says it firmly but quickly, like she wants to get the words out before she loses her nerve, and Elora hears in them the unspoken apology that the princess is still a little too proud to give for what she said at the bottom of the mines.

“Thank you,” Elora whispers.

They hold each other’s gaze a moment longer, then Kit grins and adds, “And, hey, at least you know you won’t be invisible any more when we get back to Tir Asleen.”

Elora laughs, but that slick, frightened feeling rises up inside her at the same time and she feels the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, because she can’t say that as much as she tries to pretend and have confidence . . . she doesn’t think she’s going to be going back.

She only hopes she can save the rest of them first.

“Yeah,” she says, and hopes Kit doesn’t hear the slight crack in her voice. “Right.”

“Come on, we should get some rest.”

A part of her would like to stay watching the stars for a while longer (maybe forever, until she’s forgotten all the anger and doubt and fear), but she knows Kit’s right.

Together they make their way back down towards the camp, but for the first time the silence between them is warm, companionable, and Elora feels just a little of the weight lift from her shoulders.

For the first time since they reached the Shattered Sea, there’s a flicker of something like hope inside her. She’s seen the vision of what’s coming and she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to change it, but for the first time in her life she’s surrounded by friends, people she cares about and who genuinely care for her.

And maybe that’s enough.

#willow #willow 2022 #elora danan #kit tanthalos #am I turning my own meta into a fic?#maybe so #but I wanted more to their conversation in e7 #so I wrote it #mostly just an elora character study #but also some mentions of elora/airk and speculating on their relationship #my fic

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kettouryuujin · 2 years

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Nobility AU - Gaeric

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokérus AU and @jade-nargacuga's Pokérus: Ghosts]

*Cresh-THUNK*

The bare-chested man jumped awake at the sound of shattering ice. It was an all-too-familiar sound to Warden Gaeric, and as he looked down at his limbs… yep. He’d lost his left leg to go with his right arm.

The limb must have frozen through overnight, then blown apart…but wait. The last time it happened, the sound wasn’t that loud, and he had definitely felt the shatter.

Panicked realization dawning, the Warden raced out of his tent.

With his, erm, deteriorating condition (turning into a Glalie sucked), he’d chosen to set up living space next to his Lord's next, at Icepeak Arena. That way, he could keep a better eye on the Lord of the Tundra. He never expected to be almost falling the second he tried to step outside, his tent now on the edge of a snowy cliff.

“L-lord Avalugg…” The Noble had…shattered. All Gaeric could do was sit and weep, any resistance to the changes dropping.

The worst had happened. He’d failed as a Warden. He-

“Berg.”

Blinking, the disgraced Pearl Clan member looked down. A small Bergmite (ok, bigger than average but still small) was bumping into his remaining blue-tinted legs. “...What are you doing here?”

At that, the Ice-type in question looked up, joy in its eyes. “Mite! Berg-Mite!”

The Warden (if he could still call himself that…) blinked. “You…wanted to see me?” Rapid nods answered his query. “But…why? Surely you can tell the old Lord has fallen whilst under my ca-MMMPH!”

Where did the little thing get that chunk of ice? And how did he throw it into Gaeric’s mouth? Either way, it was so big it stopped him from questioning the Bergmite more. Why it was so big, he couldn’t spit it out!

Grabbing it with his remaining, stiff hand didn’t work. It was too slick, too wide. So instead the man bit down, trying to use his jaw to push it out. Slowly but surely, it moved, bit by bit-

“BERG!”

And the Bergmite just jumped on, breaking the damn thing right where he’d bitten it. “Yru rirrle!”

The Ice-type looked at the future Ice-type smugly, before doing a ramming leap into his maw.

Feet-first, of course. Bergmite wasn’t stupid.

“MRRRPH!” The small ‘mon’s kick was still enough to shove the hunk of ice into the (ex-)Warden’s throat, another blow forcing Gaeric to bite down and swallow. Urgh… that went down…weirdly.

He didn’t want to think about how good it felt. Instead, the Warden pointed a hardened arm at the Bergmite. “HEY! What was that all about! You really think you can waltz up here…and…”

Sinnoh, he was thirsty all of a sudden! So thirsty… his water supply was like a drop in the bucket. No, a drop in the desert. The whole supply, gone in seconds - for what?!

The thirst was maddening, though. So maddening, that as he looked upon the piece of ice that had been knocked off, thoughts of eating the solid water flowed in.

So he did. Picked it up with his remaining hand and took a good, solid bite out of it. Eyes focused on the Bergmite as he chewed, his glare unaffecting its smug expression.

*chomp* “Jerk…” Well, that seemed to sour the Bergmite’s expression some. As he glowered, Gaeric pondered just what he was going to do with the Ice-

*chomp*

Wait. He had another piece of ice? From where? Looking down as he continued to crunch the ice away, the two-limbed man couldn’t help but shiver. When had he grabbed this? Why?

Unfortunately, as he finished that chunk and picked up another from an oddly convenient pile nearby, the ex-Warden realized just why he’d been acting like this.

He was still.

So.

Damn.

Thirsty!

The realization made the thirst grow in strength, tossing rational thought out the window as the changing Warden rushed for the pile, chomping down the current chunk in one bite.

Bergmite had to jump out of the man’s way, and as he watched Gaeric devour the pile of ice his eyes widened. Not that anyone around here noticed.

—-

Thirsty… so… so thirsty… ice… not enough ice…more…more…

Hunger too… the rock… looks good? Yeah. Looks tasty. Bite through. Yummy.

Errrgh… still so thirsty…still so hungry… must…keep eating…

—-

As Gaeric’s mind began to clear, he found himself standing on all his limbs, head-first in a pile of ice and rock. Was this…no, it couldn’t be. Even driven mad by thirst and hunger, there’s no way he’d dare eat the old Lord’s remains.

…right?

No, no, that was definitely right. And the pile was too small to be from the old Lord of the Tundra, anyways. It was only as big as he was - and still shrinking as he continued to fill his belly.

“Berg! Berg! Berg!” Ah, the annoying little Bergmite was cheering him on? From a fair ways away, though… well, it was an improvement at least. He’d scuff the snow with a stiff leg before going back to his “meal,” eager to finally sate these maddening sensations.

—-

*Urrrrp!*

“Finally…ugh.” Gaeric laid down with a *THUD!*, smiling to himself. He’d made it through most of the pile, and while there was a good bit left he just couldn’t eat anymore.

Honestly, he was glad for it. He couldn’t tell as much while…dining… but he could tell now that he had grown a LOT heavier. Yet something else for the Clan to humiliate him about…

“Awww, c’mon! You’re gonna stop there? There’s not much left!”

Gaeric let out another burp as he angled his head, looking at the source of the voice. Odd, there was a slope in the way. “S-sorry pal, but I am STUFFED-” Oh, the slope moved somehow and wasthattheBergmite?!

The ex-Warden jumped, turning to get a closer look at the… surprisingly small critter. And there weren’t any people around, not that he could see. “...is…is someone playing a joke on me?”

“Noooope!” The little thing scampered off, and ok could you not bonk his right arm please and thank yo-

RIGHT ARM?!?

Whipping his head in shock, Gaeric saw that, indeed, his right forelimb had returned… with an emphasis on “forelimb”. Lifting the stout, brown limb up the short distance it could, the four-limbed (four! His leg had grown back too!) male looked it over, gawking. That wasn’t his arm.

That was Lord Avalugg’s foreleg.

Stepping back in shock, he felt - felt - the slopes move into position around his head. Which, going off the changes in his vision he’d just now noticed, was now the same blue triangle as his former Lord’s.

“...what.”

“I…ugh, fine. I guess I’ll eat it myself…” One (assumedly yellow) eye followed the Bergmite as he want for the Avalugg’s leftovers. “No use leaving parts of me around, after all.”

Gaeric could hear the sound of shattering ice in his head. There was no way that was true. If it was, then-

“S-Sir Avalugg?!?”

The smaller ‘mon was bowled over by the sudden shout, leaving the “Warden” in shock. Wait - why can’t he think of himself as Warden? Why can’t he call the small Bergmite “Lord”? It’s what he wa…wa…wasn’t.

Forefeet did their best to grip the side of the now-Avalugg’s head. What was going on up there?!?

“Yeah, although you should call me ‘Sir Bergmite’now.” The former Lord flipped onto his feet, scuttling towards the small stack of ice and rock. “Sorry about the scare by the way. Had to find some way to get the Rite going.”

Gaeric’s massive body fell to the ground (knocking the ex-Avalugg into the air) again as those words sunk in.

Gaeric hadn’t failed as a Warden.

Sir Avalugg-err, Sir Bergmite - had somehow…regressed himself, and cast off the excess mass.

And he’d done it for a Rite…wait. “T…the Rite of the Tundra?”

“Bingo! *cronchcromchcronch* “Sheesh, my remains taste…kinda meh. Guess the Rite makes you ignore the flavor or something.” …the thirst. The hunger. It was to drive him to consume the former Lord’s remains…

The same exact way the Lord of the Tundra’s heir would when it came to pass on their title.

“...does that make me…”

“Lord Gaeric? Eeeyup.” Another crunch before the Bergmite winced, backing away. “Alright, I think that’s all I can eat for now. Ergh. Anyways, some big shiitake is coming up - not just losin’ your limbs, but something worse.”

“Worse than me thinking you had died???”

“Eh…maybe. None of us are sure what’s coming, only that giving up our Titles is the only way we really have to protect you Wardens.”

“...wait, what?” Gaeric blinked, startled. “A-are you…Does that…really?!?”

A smirk with rolled eyes. “Really. Honestly, I’m just glad Palkia helped me with getting the needed materials without a bad case of, y’know, Death.”

“...Palina helped? Well… I’ll thank her when I meet her, I-” Wild laughter from the former Noble cut Gaeric off.

“I…I’m sorry. Just imagining miss Lovesick as the controller of Space is…bwahahahaha!” He fell over, rolling about the Icelands floor with laughter as Gaeric just blanked.

“This ‘Palkia’ is the Almighty Sinnoh?!” More laughter.

“N-no, no…*wheeze*... she’s the Almighty Sinnoh’s daughter… *snrrrrk*”

A titanic jaw crashed to the ground, sending the Bergmite tumbling into the air. His laughs fell on Gaeric’s deaf ear-notches, the new Noble too busy wrapping his head around this.

The Almighty Sinnoh’s daughter controlled space? Not Sinnoh Himself?!

What was next, Sinnoh's son controlling time or something?

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #pokerus au #Nobility AU #warden gaeric #lord avalugg #Bergmite #avalugg #transformation #The idea struck #So I wrote it #Jade never specified how MUCH ice and rock the new Lord had to eat for the Rite #So I just went whole ham with it.

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