#the way its been 20 years and kingdom hearts still has me by the throat

[cheerupcharms]

YOOOOO HAPPY KINGDOM HEARTS 4 ANNOUNCEMENT DAY!!! 🤩🥳

#kingdom hearts #sora #kh4 #kingdom hearts 4 #sora cosplay #THE WAY I TORE THROUGH MY EVERY BELONGING LOOKING FOR PARTS FOR THIS COSPLAY #LIKE SOME RAVENOUS BEAST #A HORRIBLE MONSTEROUS BEAST!! #i felt insane omg TRULY 😂💀 #my body was like oh boy 7am! lets see what’s the haps on twitter! #🤪 #the way i dropped everything and immediately started tearing through every room like one of them #whole ass demon tide heartless tornadoes #ALSO WHY?? DO WE LITERALLY OWN THE COUCH IN THE TRAILER?? 😂💀 #im literally still shaking crying throwing up etc etc #the way its been 20 years and kingdom hearts still has me by the throat #kh spoilers #kingdom hearts spoilers

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

For the intimacy prompts, “say it again”. Whichever pairing you're feeling inclined to write :)

Look How We’ve Grown 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~3.4k Notes: S, you’re always laying down the best ones. Thanks for all the creative freedom @goindownshipping - it’s much appreciated. I hope you enjoy where I decided to take this one.  Warnings: None that I can think of - there’s lots of fluffiness.  Summary: 

Tony tells everyone but Peter how much he loves him. Luckily, Peter is a sneak & has super hearing. 

Or: two times Peter stumbled upon Tony confessing his love for him to someone else, and the one time Peter pulled the confession from Tony himself. 

do the thing, send in all the prompts 

The first time Peter heard Tony say he loved him, the older man was talking to Happy. In the last year of being a full-time Avenger, Happy’s presence became a regular thing. He didn’t understand the depth of his relationship with Tony until he saw the two of them interact. Happy got to see parts of Tony that the rest of them wouldn’t ever be privy to, no matter how much they pestered him, or asked about the life he used to lead.

In Tony’s defense, Peter wasn’t supposed to be at the compound. He initially made plans with Ned and MJ, since they were both in the city on break from school. Working out the online stuff with MIT ended up being the best for Peter – he took advantage of not going to class by working in the lab with Tony and training with every free second he had. The shit with Thanos was no joke – he needed to make sure he was prepared for everything after that.

His friends bailed on him at the last minute, however – MJ had a new boyfriend and Ned was in the middle of writing some corrected code for a video game he’d been developing. Peter couldn’t begrudge them for it, either – he’d cancelled on them more than a few times over the past 12 months of full-time superheroing. The early night meant he might catch Tony on the couch, relaxed and watching a movie. Those were the best times – getting to see Tony at his realest.

When he walked into the kitchen from the hall, Peter stopped dead in his tracks – the cadence of Tony’s voice was too recognizable to ignore. He’d been straining to hear every single word that came out of the older man’s mouth for years now, just the pitch of it made his heart race a little. 

Peeking in to see who all was gathered around the table, Peter let out a sigh of relief when he only saw Happy. As much as he loved the rest of the crew, he wasn’t up for the effort it took to be present with everyone around.

He was about to walk further into the room when he heard his name. “What’s about Peter? You two have been getting pretty close recently,” he heard Happy say – the look he shot Tony spoke volumes. Like there was way more to it than getting pretty close. 

In a lot of ways, there was – they were creating a bond that Peter didn’t think Tony had with anyone else. To him, it felt deep; but that might just be the hopefulness of the still lingering crush speaking.

Tony took a second to respond – Peter watched him take a long pull of the drink in front of him and readjust in the chair; he only did that when he was nervous about something. “Honestly, Hap – I’m in love with him. He makes me happy and has the most interesting brain. Not just his smarts, either – the way he looks at life. But the smarts, too, Hap – he’s a genius and keeps me on my toes. It’s mind-boggling, how much knowledge is in that pretty head of his.”

Tony stopped for a second, looking at Happy with a goofy grin. “I’m not sure about it yet, but I think he might feel the same way. So, I’ll let you know.”

With his heart in his throat, Peter turned on his toes and rushed away from the spot he’d been eavesdropping from. He hadn’t even meant to – he had every intention of walking further into the room and joining the two of them. Yet, he didn’t really feel bad about it. He’d been agonizing over the idea of Tony reciprocating his feelings – a little affirmation was never a bad thing.

Sitting on his bed for a few minutes, Peter let the information sink in – the open way Tony looked at Happy and talked about him was everything that he’d ever wanted. It almost seemed like something that was too good to be true, but he heard it with his own ears. 

Tony admitted that he loved him. Just – not to his face. Shaking his head, Peter decided to be happy with the little things. If Tony was admitting it, maybe it wouldn’t be long before he brought Peter in on the secret, too.

The grumble of his stomach reminded him of the reason he ventured into the kitchen in the first place – so he got up from the bed and made sure to make a lot of noise leaving his room. He stomped down the hall and even pushed one of the chairs in the living room out of its space for good measure. He didn’t want to spend any more time sneaking around and needed to make sure Happy and Tony weren’t caught in another intimate conversation like the one he witnessed before.

Both men looked up when he walked in, the soft smile on Tony’s lips catching his eye almost immediately. Walking to the fridge, he grabbed one of the Gatorade’s sitting on the shelf and took the seat next to Tony at the table. “Anything left?” Peter asked, his eyes roving over the table in hopes that there was still some of the amazing smelling Indian food.

Tony didn’t hesitate to start putting the half-empty cartons in front of him – Peter looked up at him with a big smile on his face and started to dig in. He didn’t look up again until a couple of them were completely wiped out.

“So, Happy – how’s Pepper?”

The question was enough to have the man spluttering, a swift blush moving across his face. It wasn’t widely known that the two of them were an item – so Peter enjoyed every single second of his mumbled avoidance and then eventual gushing. Tony caught his eye a couple of times throughout the conversation, an amused twinkle residing there. Peter pinched his lips together and sent Tony an knowing wink.

----

The next time Peter heard Tony say he loved him, Peter ran into him and Steve leaving the meeting room – both of them looking stressed. He tried to stop Tony as he walked past, but the subtle shake of his head stopped Peter’s next attempts. The only time Tony really got upset like that was when Steve was unreasonable and looking to go against what Tony said simply because it was Tony staying it.

Thinking quickly, Peter looked up – the habit one he hadn’t been able to break, no matter how often he communicated with the AI active around the entire compound. “Hey FRIDAY, do I still have access to the recordings in here?” Tony let him in on the monitoring codes when he first got here so he could avoid the others when he needed to a break from all the overbearing stimulus. It’d been more than a few months since that happened, so he wasn’t sure about the continued access.

FRIDAY answered immediately, her accent always making Peter smile the first time he heard it after a while. “Hi, Peter. You do. Tony hasn’t changed any of the security codes where you’re concerned. You’ve got full access.” She spoke so simply, as if having one of the keys to the kingdom wasn’t a big deal.

His curiosity about what just happened won out and he had FRIDAY pull up the footage from Steve and Tony’s conversation without much reservation. The screen on the wall was suddenly showing a scene that was timestamped for fifteen minutes prior. Sitting in one of the chairs closest to the screen, Peter settled against it and watched.

Tony shut the door behind Steve, sitting down across from him. The nerves that Tony couldn’t ever help sat heavily on his chest – the grip of his knitted fingers giving him away. Steve looked over at him, a curious tilt to his head. “What’s this about, Tony? We’re right in the middle of restructuring patrol groups – there’s not much going on,” Steve stated outright, the tone of his voice cutting and serious, as per usual.

Ducking his head, Tony took the customary few moments to reply. It was a noticeable habit – how long it took the older man put his words together. The idea of having so many thoughts running around in an already clustered head didn’t sound simple – so it made sense, his hesitation. 

He ran a hand through his hair before looking Steve dead in the eye. “I just wanted to let you know about something before things change because of it. I know that you’ll have something to say about it, regardless of when I tell you, so I thought I’d get it out of the way.”

Steve looked at him with interest, his forearms pressed against the table and he leaned on them, the move cutting down the space between them. “Sounds serious – what’s up?”

Not wanting to beat around the bush, Tony stood up, his mouth and hands moving a mile a minute. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t think I’d ever fall for someone on the team – but I have. I’m crazy about him and I’m bidding my time, trying to decide the best way to approach him.” Tony turned to lean against one of the glass walls, his arms crossing in front of him. “It’s Peter. I’m in love with Peter. If he’ll have me, I want to see where things can go with him.”

The reaction was almost immediate, Steve getting up out of his seat. He closed the distance between him and Tony, his long legs making it a quick thing. With less than a couple of inches left between them, Steve grabbed onto the front of Tony’s waistcoat. 

“You know how young he is, don’t you? You can’t, Tony,” Steve spat out, his eyes wide. It was an aggressive gesture and he seemed to understand that when Tony stayed silent. He let go but didn’t make any move to create any space between them.

“You think I don’t know how young he is? I was the person to bring him into this mess. I’m well aware of how it looks, but there hasn’t been anything between us until recently. He’s 20, Steve – shouldn’t we let him make his own decisions?”

“FRIDAY, turn it off, please.”

As soon as Peter requested it, the video was cut and the picture he saw up on the wall was no longer there. He didn’t need to see anymore to understand the defeated look on Tony’s face. Like most people in Peter’s life, Steve still saw him as a kid. Hell, up until the last couple of months, Tony still saw him that way, too. 

That was the one disadvantage, being the youngest person on the team – everyone neglected the fact that he’d been in the shit for years and could easily make his own decisions. Why did years of experience matter for some people, but not others?

Taking a couple of cleansing breaths, Peter got out of the chair he’d been sitting in and left the meeting room. What he’d seen made his blood boil – not because of what Tony said. No, he absolutely loved that. The way that Steve reacted, however – he might never be able to get that out of his head. 

Peter didn’t need people to fight his battles; especially someone still stuck in the past when it came to a lot of things. When something happened between him and Tony, Peter was determined to make sure Steve knew exactly how much he wanted it.

The unease sitting in his chest led him into the elevator and down a couple of floors to the lab that felt like a second home. There were a few adjustments he wanted to make to his web shooters and could get a lot of work done now that he had a little bit of extra energy to spare. 

He stopped when he saw Tony bent over his workbench, sparks flying around him. Peter took a second to enjoy the view of Tony in a tank top with his muscles bulging before, once again, trying to make as much noise as possible before walking into the room.

Tony looked up at him with the big goggles covering his eyes – the dirty part of his face spreading in a smile. “Hey, Pete,” Tony said, his gloved hand waving in Peter’s direction. He moved the goggles from his eyes and let them rest on the top of the backwards hat that sat on his head. If it wouldn’t be embarrassing, Peter would’ve swooned right there – the look was more than nice.

Shaking his head of the thought, Peter walked further into the room, a smile of his own settling across his face. “Hey, Tones – are you making those adjustments we talked about last week?”

It must’ve been the right question to ask, because Tony started on a happy tangent, the perturbed look he got a little while ago completely erased.

----

Thankfully, the next time Peter heard Tony say he loved him, it was directly from Tony’s mouth. Since watching the video of his interaction with Steve, Peter felt a little on edge. He wondered, if only briefly, if the man’s reaction would be enough to dissuade Tony from acting on his feelings and putting them both out of their misery. It’d be the most unfortunate if Peter lost the chance he knew he could have before it even came his way.

In the last couple of weeks, Peter did everything he could to make his intentions clear. He flirted ruthlessly, touched Tony whenever he could, and even hinted about spending more time together outside of the lab. Tony didn’t look at him funnily, but also didn’t jump on the chance. The reserved smiles were driving Peter crazy – more than anything, he just wanted to shake Tony’s shoulders and shout about how much he knew. If only things could be that simple.

With the growing frustrations, Peter spent a little more time in the gym. Getting sweaty and letting his body do its thing was a great way to work off a bit of the pent-up energy that he couldn’t stop from bubbling up. So spun up, Peter hadn’t been able to sleep soundly throughout the night for a few days. Instead of tossing and turning, he got up and had FRIDAY run one of his simulation programs in the empty gym space.

He’d been flying effortlessly through one when he heard the door open. The sound blew his focus, and before he knew it, he was soaring in a free fall – his quick reflexes the only thing stopping him from slamming his face right into the floor. It was covered in padding, of course, but would make for a few hours of uncomfortable and needless pain. Looking up from them makeshift perch he made against the far wall, Peter was surprised to see Tony standing there.

“Swing down – I’ll hold the pads for you in the ring,” Tony shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth in the cutest of ways. Peter didn’t bother to answer, he simply did what was asked of him and touched down in front of Tony within a couple of seconds.

Boxing wasn’t usually his thing – he liked to keep things in the air where he had a bigger advantage than most. When it came to hand-to-hand combat, Peter preferred to rely on his speed; he had the gift, it made sense to take it by the reins and use it. However, he’d been trying to get more into the art of it. Tony spent a lot of time talking about the cadence of his breath and the footwork – he tried to cling the technicality to keep the interest alive.

For a little while, the only sounds in the gym were Peter’s breathing, the smack of his hands against the pads, and their feet moving over the canvas of the mat. It was soothing, transferring his weight back and forth between his feet and letting his arms go. Despite his normal disinterest, he found himself getting into it as the minutes past.

Tony finally broke the silence, his eyebrows arching at a particularly hard hit Peter delivered. “Having a hard time sleeping?” Tony asked. The answer to the question was obvious, but Tony was giving him the room to talk about it if he wanted to. Peter did, he really wanted to shout in Tony’s face, how much whiplash he’d brought upon himself. He didn’t, though – not when doing so would implicate him just as much.

“Its been a bit of a struggle, yeah. I haven’t been able to sleep through the night in a couple of weeks,” Peter admitted, his arms dropping for the first time since he stepped into the ring. “I’m exhausted most of the day but can’t seem to get any rest when I actually want to. I know you know how that is.”

They shared a look, the softness of Tony’s eyes blazing into loosening his resolve the longer he kept the older man’s stare. It was too hard to break away – he wanted those eyes on him all the time. In all honesty, he didn’t know how he survived it when they weren’t.

“I know, you know,” Peter mumbled, the words coming out of his mouth so easily despite the mental battle he’d been having about them for what felt like way too long. Tony didn’t break the eye contact, in fact, he took a step closer, the hitting pads falling to the canvas below them.

“You know what, Pete?” Tony asked, his strides stopping just before their toes were touching.

Peter could smell the musky sweat Tony worked up over the course of their trips across the ring – he always smelt spicy and clean, no matter how drenched he was. It made Peter wanted to thrust his nose into the middle of Tony’s chest and inhale, taking in the most Tony of scents he possibly could. Biting down on his lip, Peter shrugged, buying himself a couple seconds of time.

“That – that you love me. That you’re in love with me,” Peter finally babbled out, his face turning a cherry red with his confession. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, his body on high alert in case shit went wrong.

Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile slipping across his face. “I knew I heard you that night I was having dinner with Happy. He said it was just my wishful thinking – but I knew it.” Tony filled the space between them and wrapped him up in sweaty arms. “I do, though – love you.”

Grinning, Peter put his hands on Tony’s hips, his fingers finally able to clench and grip skin and bone he’d been thinking about for longer than he cared to admit. “Say it again,” he whispered, a mischievous glint overtaking his eye.

“I love you, Pete. I’m in love with you. And I want you. Very much.” Tony said the words with a nervous smile on his face – he still wasn’t sure about Peter’s reaction.

Peter surged forward and pressed his kiss against Tony’s in a sloppy kiss – the feelings he’d been keeping under wraps coming to the surface and overflowing. Tony moved until he was clutching Peter’s chin between his thumb and fingers, the grip tilting his head just right. The next kiss was much more controlled, the desire fueling the intensity of the kiss, not the sloppiness. Peter let himself be led through it, his entire body thrumming.

Oxygen forced them apart – Tony’s chest was heaving, and his cheeks were pink from the lack of blood flow to his brain. The entire look was too much – Peter leaned in and rested his face against the side of Tony’s neck in hopes of distraction. He took a deep breath, his brain desperately trying to categorize the smells. Then, he remembered that Tony loved him and that this embrace wouldn’t be the only one or anywhere close to the last.

“I love you too, you know,” Peter mumbled quietly, his head resting on Tony’s sweaty shoulder.

He felt Tony wrap him up tighter, his chin resting on the top of Peter’s head. “Yeah, Pete – I know.”

#goindownshipping #starker #ironspider #prompts #ask prompts #s suggests #bobbie writes #look how we've grown

[carmen-riddle]

River Styx: what do u think happens when we die

Hey anon ,

This question made me think. Like think think and then the sudden harsh reality that I am going to die someday and not be a teenager anymore but actually some old grandma hit me hard so thanks for that bruh.

I really don't know what happens. I believe that once the body does the soul goes to a court room where it is presented in front of god and according to the karma in this life the fate is decided. If you have done exceptionally well and good things you go to heaven . Which I believe would be the case for 1% people. You then are able to attain moksha or the freedom from the re birth cycle. If you have done evil deeds then you serve your time in hell . Which would be the case for 20% people give today's crime statistics. Now the people who have done their time in hell get a choice to either become a demon , re birth or heaven I believe that most would choose heaven . Lastly the rebirthers people who neither belong in heaven nor in hell but this doesn't mean they have not don't anything wrong or anything good.

According to Hinduism

Among the collected hymns of the Rigveda (which may date from 1500 BC and probably constitute the earliest known book in the world), there is a “Song of Creation.” “Death was not there,” it states, “nor was there aught immortal.” The world was a total void, except for “one thing, breathless, yet breathed by its own nature.” This is the first recorded insight into the importance of respiration to potential life. To the intellectually inclined Hindu, the eternal, infinite, and all-pervasive principle of Brahman alone is real, and the acquisition of cosmic consciousness allows humans to become one with it. The individual soul (ātman) is merely a particle of this cosmic principle. Think of it this way , a drop propelling out of the ocean its different from the ocean for a while but in the end it is made up from this ocean and returns back to it.

After death At the cremation site, a lighted torch is handed to the eldest son or grandson, who ignites the pyre, near the feet of the dead woman, at the head of the dead man. While the body is burning the soul is thought to seek refuge within the head. The intense heat usually explodes the skull, liberating the soul; when this does not happen spontaneously, the skull is deliberately shattered by blows from a cudgel. Other traditions hold that the soul passes out through the nose, eyes, and mouth. Some believe it is better still if it leaves through the anterior fontanel, an opening in the skull that normally closes during early childhood. Such theorists hold that if the deceased has practiced yoga or intense meditation, this opening will reopen, allowing free passage to the soul. In some parts of India it is believed that the souls of the really wicked depart through the rectum, and in so doing acquire such defilement that endless purification is necessary.

Immediately after death, the soul is not clothed in a physical body but in a vaporous thumb-sized structure (linga ṡarīra). This is immediately seized by two servants of Yama, the god of death, who carry it to their master for a preliminary identity check. Afterward, the soul is promptly returned to the abode of the deceased, where it hovers around the doorstep. It is important that the cremation be completed by the time of the soul’s return, to prevent it from reentering the body. By the 10th day, the near relatives have purged some of the defilement (mṛitaka sutaka) they incurred from the death, and the chief mourner and a priest are ready to carry out the first śrāddha (ritual of respect). This is a step toward the reconstitution of a more substantial physical body (yatana ṡarīra) around the disembodied soul (preta) of the deceased. A tiny trench is dug in a ritually purified piece of land by a river, and the presence of Vishnu is invoked. Ten balls of barley flour mixed with sugar, honey, milk, curds, ghee, and sesame seeds are then placed, one by one, in the soil. As the first ball is offered, the priest says (and the son repeats after him), “May this create a head”; with the second ball, “May this create neck and shoulders”; with the third, “May this create heart and chest”; and so on. The 10th request is for the ball to create the capacity to digest, thereby satisfying the hunger and thirst of the newly created body. Bungled ceremonies can have catastrophic effects. Prayers are offered to Vishnu to help deliver the new entity (now perceived as some 18 inches [46 centimetres] long) into the power of Yama. The balls of barley are picked up from the trench and thrown into the river. Further śrāddhas are performed at prescribed times, varying according to caste; one of these rituals makes the soul an ancestral spirit, or pitṛi. With the completion of these rituals, the soul of the deceased leaves this world for its yearlong and perilous journey to Yama’s kingdom. The family is now formally cleansed. The men shave their heads, and the women wash their hair. The family’s tutelary god (removed by a friend at the time of the death) can be returned to its home. A feast is offered to Brahmans, neighbours, and beggars—even the local cows are given fresh grass. There is a sense of general relief: if the śrāddhas had not been performed, the preta could have become a bhūta (malignant spirit), repeatedly turning up to frighten the living. For the deceased, things would have been worse: the preta would have been left errant. (A similar fate befalls the soul of a person who commits suicide.) The horror of dying unshriven that haunted people in medieval Europe resembles the despair of the devout Hindu at the prospect of having no son to perform the śrāddhas.

The soul, in its substantial envelope, is meanwhile proceeding on its journey, holding onto a cow’s tail to cross the Vaitarani, a horrible river of blood and filth that marks the boundary of Yama’s kingdom. Throughout, it is sustained by further śrāddhas, during which friends on earth seek to provide it with shoes, umbrellas, clothing, and money. These they give to a Brahman, in the hope that the deceased will benefit. During such rituals relatives have to avoid all sewing, which might occlude the pitṛi’s throat, rendering it incapable of ever breathing or drinking again. After a year, the pitṛi in its yatana ṡarīra reaches Yama’s seat of judgment, where it is sentenced to a strictly limited term in heaven (svarga) or hell (naraka) according to its deserts. This completed, it moves into another body (the karaṇa ṡarīra), whose form depends on the individual’s karman. It could be a plant, a cockroach, a canine intestinal parasite, a mouse, or a human being. Unlike Jains, Hindus believe that whatever body the soul eventually moves into, it inhabits as sole tenant, not as a tenement lodger

#asks #wow #idk what to say #philosophy #yeeeehhh #getting older

[buckthegrump]

Creatures of the Forest - (1/2)

Summary: If only you had listened to your mother when she told you not to make a deal with the fae.

Pairing: Prince Bucky x F!Reader 

Word Count: 7.2k+ (sorry)

Warnings: Angst, so much angst, SMUT!! please don’t read if you're under 18, unprotected sex, oral (F!receiving), violence, character death

A/n: this is the first time i’ve had something with smut in it for marvel and i’m new to the smut game please be kind. This was written for @propertyofpoeandbucky​ ‘s mystery writing challenge my prompt was  “I carved our initials into the tree.”/ “What did the poor tree do to you to deserve that?” Enjoy fuckers

Bucky pulled you from the spot where you lay in the soft green grass looking at the sky.

“Bucky,” you groaned and followed the insistent young prince across the field.

He stopped in front of a tree and turned to you with a look of pride on his face.

“What?” You asked.

“I carved our initials into the tree.” He pointed to a small heart that had his name next to yours. It was a tree on the edge of the forest. The forest that no one was allowed to enter alone because of the creatures that resided there.

“What did the poor tree do to you to deserve that?” You asked a little too seriously, but you thought it was sweet.

“You don’t like it?” Bucky asked, sadly.

You turned to him with a bright smile. “I love it, you just as well could have done it on one of the tables. But a tree works, I suppose.”

“It’s supposed to be romantic,” Bucky muttered.

“It is it?” 

“I don’t know; my mom said that one time, my father did the same thing for her. It’s supposed to symbolize that I want you in my life forever.” He beamed.

You gingerly ran your fingers across the carving. The knowledge that Bucky wanted you in his life forever was a great comfort to you, but you knew that was very unlikely. He was a prince, and you were but a commoner. The only reason you were friends with him was because your mother worked in the castle, that, and the King and Queen appreciated how you kept Prince James out of trouble, most of the time.

/

20 years later.

You stood at the tree where Bucky had carved your names. It was just at your eye line, proof of the passage of time.

You turned and set your gaze upon the palace in the distance. It looked beautiful, especially at sunset. The stark contrast between the stone of the walls and the orange and pink of the sky.

There was a chill in the air that caused a shiver to run down your spine, and you regretted your choice in wardrobe. You should’ve taken the cloak that hung on the inside of your door instead of just opting for your blue-green loose-fitting tunic, pale pants, and black boots.

It had been years since you’d been back. As far as you knew, no one knew why’d you’d left in the first place or that you were even alive. But the reason for your disappearance would stay between you and the fae that you’d made a deal with. 

Your mother had warned you plenty of times never to make a deal with a fae, for they were master manipulators and would easily twist words. But it’d been worth the risk, and you would stand by your choice; in fact, you’d do it again if you needed to.

Taking a deep breath, you set off to the kingdom you’d once called home. It looked the same as it had fifteen years ago, the only thing that was noticeably different was the wall that now surrounded the borders.

There were two openings at the front of the wall. A large gate for cargo and large groups of people and a smaller door, no doubt where the guard stood. After a brief hesitation, you knocked.

The guard opened the small opening that had a grate in front of it and took you in. He stared before his eyes opened wide in shock.

“Y/n?” His voice raspy and broke while he said your name.

“Yes.” You stood there frozen, unsure of what to do. You were sure you had been forgotten, or at least people would’ve assumed you’d died.

Not a moment later, the door flew wide open, and you came face to face with your uncle, who wrapped his arms around you tight.

“Your mother knew you couldn’t be gone.” As he whispered in your ear, his breath tickled.

“Where is she?” The mention of your mother brought tears to your eyes, but you refused to let them spillover.

Your uncle pulled away and looked at you, something in his eyes told you that you were too late. 

“I’m sorry, child, but your mother passed last year.”

You nodded, unable to speak because of the lump in your throat. He pulled through the door into the kingdom and closed the door behind you.

“Here,” he shrugged off his cloak and handed it to you, “Do you remember where my cottage is?” You nodded. “Go there quickly. Try not to draw attention to yourself.”

“Why?”

“People do not take kindly to strangers here, and more than likely, they will not recognize you. And if they do, they will wonder how it is you've risen from the dead.”

“But I did not die,” you whispered.

“Please, Y/n,” he pleaded, “Keep yourself hidden just until I can think of a reasonable story as to who you are.”

You nodded and put on the cloak and lifted the hood.

As you walked through the town, you noticed more differences. There used to be a market that was always busy, full of laughter, and haggling. People yelling at children in the streets who’d fallen victim to their pranks, but now the roads were quiet. The market was still there, or at least the stands for vendors were still there, most of them abandoned, and the only ones that still had customers were the ones that had the necessities.

You walked silently and unseen through the streets, a trick you’d learned in the forest. Not one head turned toward you, not one nosy neighbor stared at you, but you watched them. People who used to stop and gab to each other now avoided gazes and rushed by.

Your uncle’s cabin was not difficult to find, and once inside, you made sure the blinds were closed and shed the cloak.

Before, a house with closed blinds would’ve been reason enough to become the subject of gossip. Now, it seemed like a common practice.

You sat in the armchair that faced the fireplace. Scared to light a fire, you sat in the cold dark cottage. It was only a few hours later when your uncle came through the door.

“Uncle,” you stood, not bothering with a greeting, “What happened here?”

He walked over and started a fire silently. Only when the fire was in full force did he begin his story.

“After your disappearance, your mother convinced the king to send out some hunting parties to find you. The king almost said no, but the prince and queen claimed that if he didn’t send out trained hunters, they would join your mother in the woods. So the king sent out parties.”

You remembered as much. You watched them look for you and pass by you many times.

“They went out for months, then after a while, less and less men came back. So the king put a stop to it. Your mother was frantic and went out, she got a small group to go with her one of the people with her was the prince.”

“Did you go with them?” You asked because you hadn’t witnessed that search party.

“No,” he shook his head. There was something in his eyes, like regret. “No, I was guarding the castle at the time. Once they realized that the Prince wasn’t in the palace, they sent me out. I went with the king, and we found the party, they were fine, but I think the king must’ve eaten something because when he came back, he was different.”

You held your breath because no, it wasn’t something he ate.

“When he came back, he was sure that the creatures in the woods had somehow found their way into the kingdom. That they’d broken the unwritten rule that they kept to the forest, and we kept to our kingdom, save for the pathway the merchants and visitors take. So he built the wall, but not before he became a tyrant.”

“What happened to B-,” you stopped yourself, you couldn’t use his nickname anymore, it felt odd to you, “What happened to Prince James?”

“No one has seen him in years, once most of the residents who could afford to leave did, he disappeared from the public eye. That wasn’t long after that last search party.”

“What about the King and Queen?” You asked. Somehow you ended back up sitting in the chair, letting the warmth of the fire wash over you.

“The king died not long after your mother, and the queen has been trying her best to return the kingdom to its former glory, but it’s been a slow process.”

Yes, it would’ve been seeing as how there’s a curse that’s infected everything that resides in the wall. You’d seen it once you walked through the marketplace. You had the sneaking suspicion that the missing prince was the key to breaking said curse.

“How did you become the guard at the gate?” You asked softly.

“Your mother asked me to take the job in case you were to ever return. No one else would recognize you, and even though I thought you were long gone, I had to do it for my sister.” You watched as your uncle walked to the desk under the window and pulled out an envelope. He walked back to you and held it out. You took it and stared at it as he spoke. “You’re mother wrote that when she became ill. She told me to give it to you if you came home. I’m sorry I did not believe that you were alive, and I’m sorry that I did not look harder for you.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That there was a glamour that had been put over the kingdom meant to convince everyone that you were dead; clearly, it hadn’t worked on your mother. Instead, you stood and said, “I’ve had a long journey -”

“Of course, I have a spare room.”

He led you to the room you assumed your mother had been in during her final years. Once he was gone and you had changed into one of your mother’s old nightgowns, you sat on the bed and stared at the envelope. The only source of light in the room was the candle that sat on the table next to the bed.

You placed the letter on the table and blew out the candle.

/

The next morning, just before dawn, you woke. You put on your clothes from the day before but took the cloak that had belonged to your mother. It had tears and tatters, but it would suffice. You no longer got cold as easily as other people did. Actually, you’d forgotten what it was like to be cold, you didn’t get cold in the forest, not even in the winter.

But something about this place, more than likely the curse, caused it to be unnaturally cold here despite the fact that it was supposed to be summer.

You walked out of the room to find your uncle sitting at the table in the kitchen. He looked at you and then looked at your outfit.

“What?” You asked, looking down at yourself.

“You’ll stick out like a sore thumb, there should be some dresses that your mother had that should fit you. Women don’t wear pants here.”

You huffed slightly and went back to change. A few minutes later, after you’d put on one of your mother’s old dresses, you presented yourself to him again, and he nodded in approval.

“Have any plans today?” You asked him, trying to be casual.

He put down his mug and studied you. “I have work, but you could’ve guessed that. The real question is, what are your plans today?”

You opened your mouth to say that you didn’t have plans, but the words died in your throat. You couldn’t lie, at least not to some people.

“So you are fae.” He picked his mug back up, and you stared at him, shocked.

“What makes you say that?” You asked, keeping your face neutral.

“Where have you been for the past fifteen years?”

“That I cannot tell you.” You sat in the chair across from him.

“If you are looking for the prince, you best start in the castle. I’d tell you to stay out of sight, but something tells me that won’t be an issue for you.”

And he was right, it wouldn’t be.

An hour later, after he’d gone to watch the door, you were stalking through the dungeons of the castle. According to your uncle, there was no need to guard the wall anymore now that you were home. The wall watcher was a formality. They didn’t get many visitors.

You quietly made your way through the secret passageways reserved for servants and noticed that you hadn’t seen any of them. They must have been removed from the castle when the king went mad or at least most of them.

It was another hour before you came across people. It was the Queen talking to a servant.

“The King is still sleeping, your majesty.” The servant bowed.

The King? We’re they talking about James, or had his father not actually died?

“And what of my son?” The Queen asked. The servant only shook his head. “I should stop expecting him home so soon.”

“Is he to return this week?”

“He’s to return today or tomorrow before continuing his hunt. I hope he finds something soon.”

With that, the queen and servant went different ways, and you made your way back through the dungeons. You made a quick stop at the cottage and changed back into your clothes.

You made your way to the door at the wall where your uncle just looked at you.

“Will you be back?” Was all he asked.

“Yes.”

He nodded and let you out the door.

You followed the path that led through the forest, the one that travelers took to avoid the things that lurked in the dark, waiting for someone to brave the roads less traveled.

After half a day of walking, you came across a little tavern that you’d never seen before. You could sense the magic that surrounded it, though. There was a spell that protected it from anyone who would cause any of the harm, which is why you passed by the border, no problem.

Your uncle had been right. You were fae now. That was part of the deal you’d made all those years ago.

You walked through the doors and removed the hood of your cloak; no one looked to you despite the fact that you didn’t use any of your magic to make yourself unseen. Everyone was focused on a commotion that was going on in the back corner.

“All I’m saying is that a person who is human during the day and wolf on a full moon makes no logical sense and therefore doesn’t exist,” one man argued.

“I hear you, Tony, but -” a familiar voice said, “Magic itself makes no logical sense there for everything is possible.”

His saying this caused everyone to start talking about the endless possibilities of what could exist out there. You finally caught a glimpse of him. Prince James, although he no longer looked like the sweet boy you saw all those years ago. Now his hair was longer, half of it up in a bun the rest of it flowed freely. His jawline, once clean-shaven, now had the start of a beard. His eyes though, were just the shade of blue you remembered them. They looked worn like he’d been through things you’d never understand, but there was still a spark of life about them.

He looked at you and paused then squinted like he almost recognized you. You turned, breaking the eye contact, and walked up to the bar.

“Can I get you anything?” The barkeep asked. He smiled at you, and you returned it.

“Just some water.”

“Coming right up,” he walked away.

“Clint, can I get another pint?” James’ voice came from next to you.

“Sure thing, Buck,” Clint responded.

“Do I know you?” James’ asked. You didn’t need to turn to know he was talking to you.

“Not as far as I know,” you told him, not looking away from the wall behind the bar.

“Really because you seem very familiar,” he whispered as he shifted closer to you.

You knew he was trying to catch your eye, but you refused to give in and meet his gaze.

“I could just remind you of someone,” you offered, and he hummed in response.

“Maybe that’s it,” he said.

Using your magic, you changed the color of your eyes and looked to him.

“Yeah, you couldn’t possibly be her,” he said, gazing into your eyes.

Now that he was standing, you could get a good look at him, and for all that is good, did he grow up. The last time you saw him, he was slim, now his arms were large and muscular. He was wearing a thin tunic, and you could see the discoloration of his left arm. It looked almost metallic, you’d seen work like this before. 

“What happened to your arm?” You asked, unable to stop yourself. “Sorry, I was always told that my mouth would get me in trouble someday. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No,” he smiled, “No one’s ever asked me that out right before. I came face to face with a Leshy. The shapeshifting forest god and his pet wolves were hungry.”

There was only one Leshy within a thousand miles of here, and you’ve met him. He was mean on the bad days and tolerable on his good days. (His bad days heavily outweighed the good.)

“Lucky you only lost one arm,” you commented, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say it sounded a little flirtatious.

“Yes, and that I know a girl who’s quite handy with metal.” Clint had returned with the drinks, and James took his pint and took a sip, only briefly looking away from you.

‘And magic,’ you added in your head. James’ had unknowingly confirmed your suspicion on where he got it. Shuri, she was a master as tinkering with materials, such as metal, and combining it with magic. And she’d been told many times by the fae leader of your region, Natasha, to leave the mortals alone. But Shuri didn’t really like to be told what to do.

“So what brings the likes of you to these parts?” He asked there was no malice, but you felt the need to defend yourself nevertheless.

“What do you mean ‘the likes of me’?”

He grappled for a moment before clearing his throat. “Seemingly defenseless. I know better than to judge something by their appearance.”

“Looking for an old friend,” you say and look at your cup of water.

“Is there any chance I know them? That I could help find them?” He leaned onto the bar.

“It’s a possibility, he’s very popular, but I don’t need any help. Your offer is appreciated, though.”

“So, it’s a man?” 

You took a drink of your water and put it on the counter.

“It was very nice meeting you, but I must be going.” Which would’ve been a lie, but you felt you had to leave that place and soon.

You didn’t wait for his reply and left the tavern.

The road was clear, but there was an eerie feeling that told you that something was coming. You’d stay close to the tavern tonight, find a tree to hide in that overlooked it just in case the wards around it didn’t work.

You were barely half a mile away when you heard steps running up behind you. You prepped to attack them before they could attack you.

“Wait,” came the one voice that you wouldn’t attack. He jogged and stopped in front of you. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he smiled at you. He now had on a jacket and was carrying a quiver of arrows and a bow. “I never caught your name.”

“I did not give it,” you tell him and start walking again. Once again, it came off as flirtatious.

“The forest is not a place for anyone to walk alone,” he said, almost matching your tone, but there was something behind his eyes.

“I’ll be ok.” But you wouldn’t mind the company of your oldest friend.

“Just for my peace of mind then,” he said and continued to walk with you.

With every step, the arrows clinked together. Even though Bucky had no idea who you were, being in his presence was just as easy as it’d been all those years ago. He even made it easier to breathe, like you had been taking half breaths for years and now finally could take a full one again.

There was a moment after the two of you had been walking for about an hour when you looked behind you, unable to see the tavern. And the eerie feeling was still as strong as it’d been when you left. The creature was following you, or James. Either way, Bucky was blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked nearby.

His ignorance only lasted a moment as the sky darkened despite the lack of clouds and the fact that it was midday.

“What is it?” He whispered mostly to himself, but you knew the answer. 

There was a breeze and the very faint sound of wings. “A Wakwak,” you murmured, and Bucky looked to you.

“A what?” He asked. 

You looked at him, and over his head, a bat-like creature with the torso and head resembling a human reached out its arms with talons at the end for Bucky.

“Bucky, run!” You yell and push him out of the way. You sent a blast of light towards it and followed after Bucky. He led you back to the tavern, he mentioned as you ran that he had a room to hide out in. You, being in no place to argue, followed compliantly.

Once you were past the ward, the sun returned, but you and Bucky did not stop until you were in the tavern. No one paid either of you any mind, and Bucky led you up to his room.

Bucky closed the door behind you, and you started pacing around his room while he stood at the door and watched you.

“What is a Wakwak doing out during the day? And how did it sneak up on me? It shouldn’t have the power to summon darkness like that,” you ran through all your thoughts out loud.

You were still talking, mostly to yourself, when Bucky stopped you.

“I never told you my name.” Bucky put his bow and quiver down on the chair next to the fireplace.

You froze. “I heard of a missing Prince,” not a lie, “you give off a prince feeling.”

“That does not change the fact that I never gave you my name, let alone the nickname that only three people in this life have ever called me.”

He took a step towards you, and you shifted your face away from him.

“How did you know my name?”

You opened your mouth, but once again, he interrupted you.

“And why have your eye changed colors.”

Fuck, you must’ve let your glamour drop after walking away from the tavern. You looked at him, hope written all over his face.

“Y/n?” He whispered.

You didn’t break eye contact with him as you nodded. He closed the distance between you and gently place his hands on your cheeks, taking in your features.

“Ha,” he smiled as his eyes welled with tears, “I found you.”

“I found you first,” you whispered.

Your heart was pounding against your rib cage, and you were sure Bucky could hear it. 

His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment before he looked into your eyes once again.

Suddenly, every feeling you had for him when you were younger came back, the love, the lust, the trust. You grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him flush against you and captured his lips with yours in a heated kiss.

He returned the kiss moving his hands from your face, the metal one to your waist, and the flesh one to the back of your neck.

“I almost lost you again,” he said, his lips brushing yours his breath fanning over your face. “I cannot lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you promised and kissed him again.

You shrugged off the cloak, it was making you sweat. Or maybe that was the running and the near-death experience, or maybe it was the fact that Bucky was so close and kissing you.

Once your cloak was gone, Bucky’s jacket followed. His hands slid up your tunic and brushed under your breasts. Your breath hitched, and you felt him smirk. He guided you to the bed and pushed you back onto it.

He took off his shirt showing off his muscles and the place where his prosthetic met his flesh, but right now, you were more focused on his muscles.

“Your turn,” he demanded.

You took off your top but one-upped him by also removing your pants and undergarments.

“Well, now I feel overdressed,” he joked.

“Luckily, you can fix that,” you raised your eyebrows.

He leaned down and removed his trousers and underwear in one fell swoop. He looked back at you, watching you bite your lip as you took him in.

He climbed onto the bed hovering over you to kiss you again. His lips left yours, and you whined but cut yourself off with a moan as he moved his mouth down to your neck then further down. He closed his mouth around one of your nipples and brought his hand up to the other one.

It seemed like he was trying to do as much as he could in a small amount of time, almost as if he thought that if he took too long, you’d up and leave.

He continued his journey south.

“Bucky,” you moaned.

He teased you, stroking a finger lazily up and down your slit until you whined again. He spread your lips, and his tongue licked a slow stroke from your entrance to your clit. He flicked at your clit with his tongue for a while. You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly. The action set something off in him because he buried his face deeper into your pussy, speeding up his efforts.

“Bucky,” you gasped.

He inserted two of his flesh fingers into you and thrust them into you at an almost inhuman speed. His metal hand was on your stomach, holding you down as he brought you to the edge.

“James -” you warned, and he doubled down on his efforts, which you thought impossible until he had you writhing and screaming out in pleasure. 

Once you came down from your high, he got to his knees and removed his fingers from you. He very pointedly made eye contact with you as he brought his fingers to his mouth, and you watched as he licked them clean.

“James.” You panted.

He lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly slid into you. His thrusts were slow at first, then they go faster. He pulled you up into his lap, continuing to thrust up into you, instinctively you wrapped your legs around him. You kissed him, he moaned into you. You dug your fingers into his shoulder as his hands rested on your waist, guiding your body on his cock.

With a grunt, his dick twitched, and he spilled into you. Moments later, you hit your second orgasm. Bucky kissed you slowly and gently before laying you back down on the bed and removing himself from you.

He got off the bed, and you sat up about to call after him, but he walked over to the attached bathroom and returned later with a wet rag. He cleaned you up, then threw the cloth across the room and flopped onto the bed next to you. You laid and stared at him. 

His eyes met yours, and you smiled at each other.

In the silence, you almost said it. You almost told him that you loved him, but you wouldn’t do that to him. Even if he felt the same, there was no way you could be together. He was human after all, and he would grow old and die long before the passage of time would dare leave a mark on your skin.

No, you would let him go so he could find someone better suited for him.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

Your smile faded. You couldn’t tell him not yet. Your people had always been taught to fear the fae, and if one was ever to come across them, they were taught that killing them was the best option. You’d heard rumors of some people coming across a fae child and torment and torture it for fun.

“I won’t let anything harm you,” he said as if he could read your thoughts.

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” you whispered.

“I’m not,” he said firmly, “I will not let anything or anyone harm you. I don’t care what you became.”

“So, you know.”

“It was not hard to guess. Especially after you changed your eye color to hide your identity, that was clever, by the way. But what really gave it away was the blast of light you hurled at that -” he paused, “What did you call it?”

“A Wakwak, it’s a beast that has a nasty habit of snatching humans. Usually, they only come out at night and live close to the witches that create them. There’s not a witch for at least a week's journey in any direction.”

“So, what was it doing so far from home?” Bucky tangled his fingers in yours.

“I have no idea,” you admitted.

“We should rest,” Bucky said, bringing your hand to his chest.

“It’s barely midday.” You weren’t opposed to the idea of laying in bed with him for the rest of the day, but you felt you had to put up at least a little bit of a fight.

Bucky rolled onto his side and faced you. Your hand still on his chest, you traced the scars on his left shoulder where flesh met machine. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, reveling in your touch.

“Does it hurt?” You asked.

“Not normally,” he sighed. “And when it does, it’s just a dull pain that I can normally ignore.”

“Is it hurting now?”

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “No, and even if it did, that pain would be the last thing on my mind right now.”

“What’s the first?” You asked. Admittedly, you were fishing for compliments.

“You.” You tried to bite back a smile. “Your lips, your noises, your taste -”

You looked away bashfully. He put his fore and middle finger on your cheek, turning your head back to look at him.

“The fact that you came back to me.” His mouth hung open as if he had another thing to say, but he closed it and opened it again. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He chuckled. “What is going through that pretty little head of yours?”

Your fingers moved on from tracing his scars on his shoulders to tracing the scar in the middle of his chest.

“A lot, you,’ he smiled at you, “And the fact that I didn’t get to see my mom one last time.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your brow line. “She spent her life looking for you.”

“I know my uncle told me.”

“Your uncle?” Bucky looked confused.

“Sir Normand.”

“The knight who watches the wall?”

“Yes.”

“Huh, I did not know.” Bucky stared off into the distance as he processed the new information he’d been given.

“Your mother is expecting you back.”

Bucky nuzzled his head into the pillow closing his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Tomorrow, for now, we sleep.”

“Your Highness,” you said the use of his title snapped his attention back to you, “your people need you to lead them. Their home is cursed, and their king went mad before someone falsified his death.”

“I am well aware that my lands are curse Y/n,” Bucky said with a new kind of intensity one you'd never heard from him before almost rageful. “And his death is not falsified per se. His body may not be dead, but he himself has been cursed and hasn’t woken in years, and I’ve been searching far and wide for a way to break either curse.”

You were silent for a moment while you thought about your next words carefully. “Who cursed your lands?”

“What?”

“My uncle told me that after your father came back from the forest when he found you looking for me, he was different. That he’d gone mad out in the woods.”

“You think someone cursed him?”

“I know someone cursed him and your lands. The kind of magic that fills the air; there is not the curse of things ingested. Not to mention that if the king had eaten something that made him go insane, that would’ve faded within a matter of days at most.”

“Who do you think it was?” Bucky chewed on his bottom lip in thought.

“It would’ve had to have been someone powerful if the curse has lasted for the past 15 years.” You didn’t tell him that you had an idea of who it was. Because if you were wrong, it would be of no help to Bucky and his subjects.

“We need to talk to my mother,” he said finally.

“What happened to resting?” You teased.

He smiled at you. “Oh, so now you want to rest.” 

You shrugged. “I like laying here with you.”

“Fine, we will journey home tomorrow.”

“Or we could do it after we sleep for a few hours.”

“By that time, it will almost be dark, and we were attacked by a monster that is supposed to be nocturnal during the day. I’d rather not risk encountering what is out hunting during the night by walking home.”

“Who said anything about walking?” You asked innocently, and Bucky raised his brow at you.

/

Just before dusk, you and Bucky got dressed. He met you outside after he paid for the room.

You watched as he walked toward you in the light of the setting sun. Somehow he looked even better in this light, but you doubted that you would ever find a light that he didn’t look good in.

“My Lady.” He smiled at you, but you looked at him, shocked. You were no lady, and he knew that. “How do you propose we get home.”

Home. As if you still lived there, as if you would live there after the curse was broken.

You kept your hands at your side. “Magic.”

“Don’t you need to take my hand for that?” He held up his palm.

You did need to take his hand, but, a prince should not take the hand of the daughter of a servant. Not after they were of age, as children, it was one thing. But now -

“Lady Y/n,” he whispered. There was that title again.

You put your hand in his, and a cloud of darkness enveloped you only a moment later you were beside the tree on the edge of the forest. 

Prince James seemed unphased by the sudden transport as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. 

You jerked your hand from his. He gave you a puzzled look as you hurried past him towards the entryway your uncle guarded.

“My Lady,” Prince James called after you, and you turned to face him.

“Stop calling me that,” you ordered.

“But -”

“But nothing your highness, you are a prince, and I’m nothing but a commoner. Someday you will need to marry a princess to ensure the wellbeing of your people, and you will forget all about me.”

“But earlier -” he started again.

“Earlier was a mistake,” and from the hurt, on his face, you could tell that he misinterpreted it just as you intended, “I’m sorry your highness. But we can’t let something like that happen again.”

His brows furrowed together, you turned to continue walking Prince James hot on your heels. You got to the door, and your uncle just opened the small window.

“Something’s changed,” he whispered.

“Sir Normand, open the door,” Prince James ordered from behind you.

“I cannot do that, your highness.”

“Why not, uncle?” You asked.

“Someone came into the kingdom this morning after you left and now, - now creatures are roaming the streets invoking terror.” Normand looked behind him then back to you. “Find another way in, but don’t go back to the cottage.”

You nodded, understanding his warning. “Be safe.”

Your uncle gave you a sad smile. “I’m glad you found your way back.”

The window closed without warning, and you took James’ hand once again. Moments later, you were in your mother’s old chambers in the castle.

“If someone is here -” James started.

“We will take care of it, we can keep your people safe. But I must speak to your mother.”

He searched your eyes before nodding. 

James loaded an arrow into his bow and led you down a hallway after hallway. Once you were at the level where his mother and father’s chambers where he put his weapon away. 

Faintly you heard the sound of footsteps behind you approaching quickly.

You pulled James into a small closet and covered your sent. Your bodies were pressed together, and you did your best to look anywhere but his face. The footsteps passed, but neither of you moved until you were sure they were gone.

“I do not believe you,” he whispered.

“Speaking to your mother is important -”

“Not that, Y/n,” he almost growled. “I do not believe that you truly think today was a mistake. I don’t. I wouldn’t take it back for anything.”

His confession stunned you as he cracked the door open and checked to make sure the coast was clear.

“Let’s go.” He walked out, and you followed. He opened the door to his parents' chamber, normally that would not be tolerated, but these were dire situations.

“James,” his mother said, relieved and ran to him. He embraced her for a minute before pulling away. “Y/n?”

The queen looked at you, you gave her a single nod. She unexpectedly gave you a similar greeting to the one she gave James.

“As happy as I am to see you, your majesty, I must ask,” you pulled away from her. “What was the name of the warlock who cursed your lands?”

“How would she know that?” James gave you a look, but you did not move your eyes from the queen.

“Brock Rumlow.”

“Mother -”

“I’m so sorry James but -”

“But sending you out to find a cure was a way to save you. Rumlow would need to come back to uphold the curse he place, and I can’t imagine that he did not enjoy tormenting the townspeople.” You gave the queen a knowing look.

“How do you know this?” James turned his attention to you.

“He’s been tormenting my village,” you answered.

“Your village?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Since I left, I’ve been living in a fae village in the forest. We tend to keep to ourselves but when our people started turning for the worst - I came back to find out if anyone here knew where Rumlow had been hiding, but then I felt the curse, and you were gone -”

“So, you set out to find me?” James took a step towards you.

“Yes.” You stood your ground.

“Do you know how to defeat him?” The queen asked.

“At first, I did not, but now I know.”

“How?” James took a final step towards you.

“I need your grandfather’s dagger.”

/

James was kneeling next to his bed, rummaging through the things he kept under it until he finally pulled out a dagger in a sheath. He turned to you still on one knee and presented the blade to you.

You took it, and the prince rose to his feet.

“Why that one?”

“It was given to him by the leader of my people. It was to make sure he always had a way to defend his people even from magic. It’s one of the only things that can kill a warlock. Or fae,” you said that last part in a whisper.

James’ hand gently brushed up on your elbow. “How do you know this?”

“Unlike you, your highness, I listen to the tales people tell me.” You hinted at all the times your mother or his governess told you and James’ stories, and he never paid attention. “Let’s go save your people.”

You head towards the door, but James stopped you. “You keep doing that. Saying ‘your people’ or ‘your lands’ never ‘ours’ or ‘my’. Do you think that you are no longer welcome here?”

“This hasn’t been my home for fifteen years, James.”

You start off to the grand hall where the Queen has lured Rumlow.

/

“I don’t like this plan,” James muttered in your ear.

The two of you were crouched at the opening to the secret passageway, you could clearly see Rumlow taunting the Queen.

“It’s the only one we have, and it’s a good plan,” you said.

The Prince was to make a grand entrance that Rumlow would notice while you concealed yourself with your magic and got in position to kill the warlock.

“Any plan that puts you in harm's way is a foolish plan,” he said under his breath, but you heard him, and instead of getting into it right, then you rolled your eyes and nudged him forward.

The door swung wide open, your magic already concealing you, and James smirked at the warlock.

“Brock Rumlow, I have heard stories about you,” he shouted.

James walked towards Rumlow, and you diverged from the path getting closer to the queen and Rumlow.

“Ah, the elusive Prince James, you are quite good looking. Any princess would be lucky to wed you. Too bad, you will not live to see tomorrow.”

Now. If you were to strike, it’d be now. But something unplanned happened. You reached for the dagger only to realize you didn’t have it. You looked to James, who was going toe to toe with Rumlow wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the dagger.

Bucky would not be fast enough once Rumlow saw the blade -

You dropped your magic. “Bucky, no!”

Bucky did not heed your warning and went to stab Rumlow. But the warlock was one step ahead. Rumlow stole the dagger from Bucky’s hand and stabbed the prince in the stomach with it.

You were in front of the warlock by Bucky’s side before Rumlow could register what was happening. You pull the knife from Bucky’s stomach and stabbed Rumlow in the throat, cutting off his air supply.

The warlock dropped to the ground turning to dust. You looked at Bucky, who gripped your shoulder before he fell. You caught him before he hit the ground you sank to the floor with him still in your arms.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #death tw #mentions of death #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #smut #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of BRUTUS. Admin Rogue: There is always something about the way you write unvarnished truth that gets me, every single time. Boris is not a likable character by any means, but I still find myself curious about him when seen through your lens. You want to make ruin of him, or maybe for him to make ruin of us, and it’s so attractively despicable that I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a character this unapologetic, not just to some but to every single person in Verona. Let them try and eat him, let them spit him back out, let them realize he will not be swallowed no matter how much he deserves it. I can already see the way he’ll burn across the dash, a torch-song I want to touch, and I couldn’t be happier to welcome you back to us in this new and exciting form! Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB. 

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Julie

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Given that I’ll probably be stuck at home searching for a job for the next month, I figure my activity will be okay. The usual reply every other day or so situation, I hope!

Timezone | MST

Triggers | Already listed!

How did you find the rp?  | Two years ago I went diving into the LSRPG tag because I was curious and now here we are. :)

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino, Loretta, Lucien

IN CHARACTER

Character | Brutus / Boris Kovrov

What drew you to this character? | Brutus, I think, is one of the most human characters in Diverona by default, without development, in the sense that he is so selfish it makes you want to tear your eyeballs out. It’s the same with most people: we encourage each other to take time to themselves, to put themselves first, but can feel rebuffed or insulted when they actually do that. Boris has taken that to the ultimate extreme: everything he does is for himself and no one else. He didn’t ascend within the Montagues because he wanted to further his family’s social standings, he did it because he alone wanted to succeed.

He’s not apologetic about it, either, and that’s what makes him so interesting. At all times, Boris is fully aware he is perceived as underhanded and generally disliked among the mob, but he’s so good at what he does that it doesn’t matter. He returns to Verona with a searing brand of shame in the form of his personal betrayal, and anyone could see that if they just fucking looked close enough, but they don’t. That’s where his talent really lies, and that’s what makes him so weirdly endearing to me: he makes himself valuable, and even when he does the worst possible thing a person could do in a mob, it still doesn’t undercut his worth. He makes himself out to be a friend, lies and lies and lies, and because most people don’t want to make the effort or choose not to, it’s believable.

Some might call him cut-throat, or a coward, a backstabber, potentially even brutal: he’s not ashamed of sprinkling rat poison into the food of his competition if it means he’ll succeed. He’s an opportunist at best and a manipulator at worst, and if there’s anything to be said about Verona, it’s that the manipulators usually come out at the front of the pack. The last sentence or so in his bio are what really sealed the deal for me: “The historians fail to mention that the traitors are the ones who survive, who outlive empires and kingdoms, who lay their sovereigns to rest and spread their ashes like trail markers.” God help him, Boris will come out of Verona alive, no matter how much of it he feeds into and how much of himself he lets it consume.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

• Fly not; stand stiff: ambition’s debt is paid. I’d love to see some real-time consequences for Boris’ betrayal of the Montague family. Others have been ousted for less, but somehow he gets to remain? That doesn’t seem particularly fair, but Boris couldn’t give a shit about fair if he tried. He sold his information to a mob in Russia for the purpose of a safety net. Other emissaries also deal with Russia – it’d make sense that one of them might hear about the dark dealings and try to use it to their own advantage, were they so ambitious. Or maybe it will come from someone higher up, like Castora, who knows more than they’ve let on. Maybe this will lead to his demotion, his death, Damiano’s assassination, the ushering in of a new era – who knows? These things don’t play out without someone paying the price, and I want Brutus to pay in full.

• I kill’d not thee with half so good a will. In my head, Boris has been out of the picture for some time now, working on relations between the American families and the Montagues to keep business booming. I’d love to explore the Verona Boris left a little over a year ago (totally headcanon, by the way! I’m happy to adjust wherever necessary) and how it’s changed in comparison to what it is now. Roman Montague has failed as an heir, the Witches hung in a public trial, all illusions of neutrality or working towards peace have been shot right through the middle. Damiano is unraveling at the seams, and the question of who will lead the Montagues lacks an answer entirely. It’s complete and utter chaos: messy, bloody, exactly the kind of environment Boris thrives in. I want him to wreak as much havoc as possible in his own way, and if he can’t do that, then I’d like to see him secure his seat closest to the throne when the concept of a coup becomes inevitable.

• But hollow men, like horses hot at hand / Make gallant show and promise of their mettle. He hunts Tomas Sabello and Bernadette du Pont because they are the easiest openings into both sides of the mobs. Bernadette is croquettish and manipulative but still naive, in Boris’ eyes, to the difficult path which lies ahead. I could see him trying to sway her to the Montagues if she would only listen. Grace Daly had done it for less, after all. Sabello, on the other hand, is Boris’ favorite target: throat exposed, head leaned back, weeping tears of sorrow over his wife. Boris has experience with the follies of the heart and he can see that Celeste has never loved the man, and frankly, Boris doesn’t think there’s much to the man to love. He’s hollow on the inside, scraped out with a metal spoon. His arrival so late into the act poses some difficulties, but he’s hopeful he’ll be able to pick up where he left off.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely!

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

Valentina Gallo dies a violent death. An inextricable, unforgiving death. An ugly death. When they take pull her body from her brother’s arms, and she is taken in to be seen by Damiano’s own eyes, witness the violence which has laid itself across the barren field of a corpse –

This is when Boris is called home.

Exit, Viola.

Enter, Brutus.

He bids Lorenzo and the rest of the Gambino family farewell that same night over the phone: Lorenzo calls him a bastard for not shaking his hand before saying goodbye, but Boris has other things on his mind: A plane. The brisk cold mornings that give way to blustery sunshine. Damiano greeting him as a member of the family instead of an extension of his long reach, like he had a year ago. He can remember the phone call well. He’d run it through, night after night, dissecting and picking apart intonation and tone and the speed with which Damiano had dismissed him, like a dog begging for scraps hastily shoved away from the dinner table. He lets the familiarity of the conversation wash over him as he settles in his plane seat the night of the twenty-seventh. He’ll be there by morning.

I’ll be there to greet you, Damiano had said. Boris had tried not to read into it too much.

New York was intended to be punishment and apology wrapped up into one. Damiano sent him off to deal with the budding crime syndicates and crush them under the imaginary Montague heel. He would spread seeds of dissent and terror: most fall silent when he enters a room for good reason, and it is in this way that he gets them to listen when he speaks. Most would not expect a man as imposing as Boris to speak so passionately; he’s always been a fan of turning ideas on their heads. By weaving tales of just what the Montague family has at its disposal, he alone would stamp out the passionate flames of greed and light his own small fire of fear.

In his younger years this would have intimidated Brutus. When he’d received the call a year ago, he’d only felt dread.

But he’d done well. It took him five months to chase down every single lead provided to him by men paid under the table, and after that, all there had been to do was clean up the mess and socialize. Shake hands with the shattered fragments of the once-powerful mob families, reach out to the contacts he’d had in Canada and New Orleans, as they were perhaps the most influential, the ones who could sway the boat with weaponry and other fun and exciting goods that still had his heart pounding when he looked at them.

He’d thought about calling Evgeny once, and only once: when Damiano had chewed him out over the phone for something that was not his fault and hadn’t been in his wheelhouse to begin with. Boris knew, that night, what Evgeny would say. Patience, Kovrov. We’ll be here when you’re ready.

When you’re ready. Whatever that meant. For all Evgeny knew, Boris would never be ready. He’d die with Verona just out of reach.

He startles awake as the plane hits turbulence coming into Verona, heading towards the landing strip. It’s a bumpy landing, but he’s never done well in planes to begin with. He thinks, often, of his father, who had marked to Boris that all would be well just before returning to Russia. The flight wouldn’t make it, of course. Damiano had ensured it: Sasha Kovrov had been dead weight long enough. All he could’ve hoped for, Boris thought, was that his son would prove worthy of something.

And he had. He’d crawled on his hands and knees across glass and gravel, waded through blood and sweat, and tears – never his own, if he could help it – to see the Montague family through to the other side. Could he really have been blamed for wanting to ensure he had some sort of future laid out for him, even if it wasn’t in the name of the two old bloodlines of Verona? In return, he’d gotten: a usurpation of a position that should have been his, a pound’s worth of rat poison that he couldn’t use, distrust among his peers and disgust from the one man who should have seen his dedication, and a promise he couldn’t act upon until he was ready.

враки.

He exits the plane, meets Damiano on the tarmac, and just as quickly they are swept away by Damiano’s driver. There is no discussion of previous business, tasks he has completed. Craven is mentioned offhandedly, but Boris had to admit some time in September that whatever illicit ties Everett Craven had to the Capulets when it came to his dealings in America, the man kept them wound up tight. He’d been impressed. Instead, they set their eyes on the future: Damiano speaks to him of the failures and successes, trials and tribulations, and Boris takes note of the way his brow knits together when he speaks.

It is like Damiano cannot bear to look at him, but is forcing himself to anyway. Surely his betrayal had not burned so badly. It wouldn’t have left a mark.

Valentina Gallo died for less. She didn’t give nearly as much away. She’d given what she had to give. Boris had given Evgeny everything, and then offered the grounds of the coffee to Damiano in return.

Boris is lucky to be alive, seated across from a man he might have once considered a better father than his own, who looks at him with poorly-veiled discuss and tells him what to do. Boris had sold his soul – this might just be the devil’s recompense.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, watching the city pass them by, nodding where appropriate and watching the sun rise over the river as they drive alongside it. If he gets his way, Damiano Montague will be sooner dethroned, and Brutus will have his rightful place as second-in-command to some poorer, less competent man. If he is anything, it’s stubborn. They drive by the Castelvecchio, and he’s saddened to see it is still a work in progress, not at all the shining beacon it had once been of unity or pride within a place being torn in two, right down the middle. He feels a pang of something hit him in his chest. Homesickness? He’s home, but—

Boris’ flat is small, modest, tucked away in an alley. Close enough to the library that he can be there within minutes just by walking, if necessary. All the pedestrians on the street avert their eyes when they see Damiano’s car pull up outside. He grabs the one bag he’d taken with him on the plane: he’s hopeful the rest will arrive within the week, but that’s an if at best. Before he slips out, Damiano clears his throat.

He stops, and finds a single piece of paper pressed into his hand. He can only assume what it is, won’t open it – it’s deliberately folded closed. It could be anything: a name, a number, a place, a threat, a promise.

“When you’re ready,” Damiano murmurs, like some sort of sick joke, which is to say that it will be when he asks, because Boris ceded any hope at control over his own life the minute he sold all he possessed to the Russian mob, heart and mind and soul, only to crawl back to Verona just after. Some might’ve called him a fool, but he’d only seen the future, then. If only others could see the eclipsing horizon always in his sight.

It’s here that Boris is left: a small alley, out of sight of the rest of the world, the morning sun shining on his face. The future in his hand. He opens it before he has the chance to breathe in again, the vitriol in his heart already beginning to sear out through his ribcage.

Extras: N/A

#accepted: brutus #accepted

[ladyfawkes]

Stop Calling Him ‘Horace’! - Eugene Fitzherbert Appreciation Week | Day 7: Birth Day

Sooooo.... Basically, I planned to have this pretty little fanfic finished up for today, the final day of Eugene Appreciation Week. This fanfic is extra-special, specifically it features our Eugene at ages we’ve never seen him in canon. Allow me to sum up this “plan” of mine in one word: HAAAAA!!!! Suffice it to say that although fanfic is very old-hat to me (I’ve been writing it since 1991, fgs) the world of fic-blogging is still relatively NEW to me and several of my fics and headcanons that I’ve released the past several weeks are needing to connect and soon, otherwise the whole convoluted, many-headed Medusa won’t wind up making any sense at all. I’m not exactly certain how it’ll all come together yet but I have to say that getting to spend the past week with all of you fellow Fitzy enthusiasts on Twitter and Tumblr has been some of the BEST DAYS EVER that I’ve experienced on the internet in my entire online life!!!! (And I’ve had an internet presence since 1991!!!) You’ve injected me with serious shots of Inspiration Elixir and I’ve had soooo very many ideas pass through my mind just over the past 7 days that I can’t possibly hope to catalog all of them. I haven’t felt quite this inspired in, well, YEARS.  I’ve enjoyed the heck out of sharing and exchanging headcanons, theories, ideas, essays, and even artforms. I’ve had a Tumblr account for more than ELEVEN YEARS and yet this is the first and only time I have consistently blogged and reblogged over the “heart-stopping” a time-span of 7 months **gasp** now (and counting). I’m a member of a couple dozen fandoms at least and this is the ONLY ONE that has consistently captured my interest AND managed to not scare the shit out of me so badly that I have to go and hibernate my account for the next, y’know, 3498349540 months. Until yet another worthy obsession captures my interest..... but Tangled the Series is still burning the brightest and I REALLY need it to right now, tbh. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everybody with whom I’ve interacted on this....I have health issues that cause me to transpose and forget names. But if you wish me to personally tag you, please tag THIS particular post and I shall tag you when I have actually finished this particular scene sequence featured in THIS ficlet. So now!!!!! Without further ado, I shall give you a teaser of the drabble-turned-ficlet-turned-short-story that will eventually feature the actual Birth Day of one Eugene Fitzherbert!!! Click the keep reading link below to see the remaining text. =)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edmund knew from the beginning that Alexys did not like the name “Horace”. At the time, the king had told her that it was family tradition that the first-born son should receive a strong family name. Despite her pointed protests, he was utterly immovable on the subject.

The more Alexys’s belly grew, the more her dislike for that name swelled too. Shouldn’t she have a say in their child’s name, given that she was putting in all the work of keeping him healthy and strong, so to speak? Shouldn’t her family names count as possibilities too? Unfortunately, Edmund’s childhood largely consisted of his father and grandfather basically hazing him into believing that he had to “take command” of virtually any subject matter, in practically any situation. As a result, he thought of just about everything in militaristic terms. Over the past 4 years, Lexy had slowly and subtly molded her hot-headed young 20-something husband toward different healthier, less uptight ways of handling life and looking at various situations.

They had finally settled on a great couple synergy and got along very well -- except for the times they had an ongoing argument, that is. And this was definitely one of those times.

“I don’t understand why you won’t see reason, Edmund!”

“Because it’s more than just a name, Alexys! It’s a birthright. It connects him directly back to us and these names might very well be the most important gift we could ever give to our children!”

“You don’t think I know that?? Just as sure as I know this child is a boy, I am equally certain that he will not live a traditional royal life. And his name must reflect that!!”

Apparently, entertaining the possibility that any son of Edmund’s wouldn’t want to grow up a devoted soldier completely servile to the Moonstone wasn’t a possibility he was ready to face. Alexys watched as Edmund drew in a long breath, held it, his face turning interesting colors. Slowly his hands balled into fists and rather than saying anything, he exhaled one very pent-up breath and stomped out of the room. She had never before seen him so agitated. Although she also sensed the naming subject wasn’t at the core of his ire that day, she never brought it up again. Alexys hoped that whatever it was eating at him, Edmund would be able to solve it by the time their child came. And that would happen any day now.

Alexys wanted so much to tell Edmund about the beautiful vivid dreams she’d been having about their future child the past few nights. But he’d been increasingly preoccupied, sullen, and distant over the past month. It was most unfortunate and Alexys was as yet at a loss of how to help him. Now....while it’s true every good mother believes their child to be exceptional, Alexys knew that their son was destined to shatter tradition. For the first time in millennia, she knew without doubt that he would be the one to bring light to the Dark Kingdom. 

One of her dreams began with a small boy, age 4 or 5, who had floppy brown hair and very expressive round eyes just like Edmund. In the dream, Alexys and the boy were standing on a trail near the edge of a narrow rock crevasse....a location that somehow seemed familiar to Lexy....but she couldn’t quite place it. The little boy smiled up at her cherubically and reached out a chubby little hand toward hers.

“Play?” he questioned sweetly. He was happily bouncing on his feet, very subtly heel to toe, and even when he was in one place he barely stood still.

“Yes, of course!” Alexys replied, grinning in awe at this absolutely beautiful dream-child her mind was currently conjuring. She gathered up her long skirts and petticoats in her left hand and took the little boy’s offered hand in her right. As they walked, she noticed a small mole at the base of the boy’s neck and it matched exactly the one that Edmund had, only in miniature. So her suspicions had been confirmed; this was indeed their son.  They approached what Alexys recognized to be a very-scaled-down version of The Great Tree....and the crevasse was apparently a much-scaled-down version of the gorge which held the actual Great Tree. Even though it wasn’t the real Tree, it still possessed a very substantial and robust trunk. It was about 30 feet high and could easily withstand the weight of a couple dozen grown adults, if they ever had the inclination to climb this dream tree from within my own mind, Alexys thought wryly. As they reached the ground level of this miniature Great Tree, the little boy let go of her hand and latched onto the tree base itself. He turned back to her and said, “Play?” again while pointing upward. Bounce, bounce. Instantly, Lexy’s mothering instincts came out. “Uh, little one, I don’t think it’s safe to climb--” but it was clear the little boy wasn’t really listening to her. And even faster than a real toddler could climb, he scrambled up and out of her reach in a flash, giggling with childish abandon. She kept pleading with this child to stop and to come back down instead, that he might get injured, but he clearly had no intention of heeding her. Not only that, she didn’t even know his name. One thing was certain -- he definitely did not answer to ‘Horace’. Poor Alexys hoped this nightmare of a fearless toddler wasn’t an omen of things yet to come.  She fleetingly considered just tearing off her petticoats and skirts to climb and then realized it wouldn’t matter anyway; she was nearly nine months pregnant and thus not climbing anything that day. “Look!” She suddenly heard the little boy’s voice again. This time, he was speaking from some 30 feet overhead through the tree boughs. Alexys moved away from the Great Tree’s base to a better vantage point further out from the trunk. Shielding her eyes from the sun, the queen looked up at the tree to see that the little boy was now pointing out toward the opposite direction of the crevasse from where they originally came. In the distance, she could see what looked to be a miniature version of the impassable mountain range between the Dark Kingdom and the Great Tree. Just beyond was Black Crystal Valley and in the center of the valley, an exact copy of The Dark Palace, only much smaller. What happened next was nothing short of absolute surreality on toast. “Look!” said the little boy’s voice again, still giggling as he climbed even higher until it looked like he was physically standing on the canopy leaves of the fake Great Tree. Lexy’s breath caught in her throat as this little boy reached up and plucked a literal piece out of the sun -- yes, he plucked a PIECE out of the actual SUN -- straight out of the actual sky. The light emanating from the Sun and the Shard he had in hand didn’t seem to be affecting the little boy the way it was affecting Alexys. She was shielding her face from its overpowering brightness when suddenly, the little boy wasn’t in the tree canopy anymore. In the blink of an eye, he was standing miraculously in front of her. Alexys blinked incredulously and tried not to yell aloud in shock due to being so startled. She failed at not yelling, but at least the little boy didn’t appear to notice. Next, this little boy held out the Sun Shard toward Lexy. He must’ve done something to help it because now she could look toward its brilliance without being blinded.  “You can finally see my friend!” her boy said happily. Bounce, bounce. “We hug her!” he continued, holding the glowing object against his heart, rocking back and forth a few times. “And we kiss her,” and he gave the Shard his sweet toddler kisses. “And we be very soft,” he toddler-whispered, demonstrating deft touch through voice as well as action.“Now you!” he insisted, his pudgy hand offering the Sun Shard to her. Bouncy, bouncy, bounce. “I -- I don’t know. Won’t it burn me?” This dream had already gone so warped, she didn’t feel too weird for asking. Lexy was somewhat concerned with accepting the offerings of a toddler but he didn’t appear to be covered in slobber or any other mystery substances, thank goodness. Neither did the Shard. “Burn you?” the child echoed. He suddenly burst into giggles and said, “Silly Mama.” Lexy’s breath caught in her throat. Mama. He actually said it! How her mother’s heart fluttered. This….this interaction required something extra special. She oh-so-carefully got down on her knees (no small feat in her condition) so she could be level with her son. “Yes, your mama can be very silly sometimes,” Lexy acknowledged. Then she pointed toward the Shard in his hands and said, “Will you show me how?” Instantly, he came to her and passed the precious glowing object to Alexys. “Hold her here,” instructed her little boy, pointing toward his heart. Lexy was surprised to discover that the Shard wasn’t a shard at all -- and while it was very warm to the touch, it wasn’t burning hot. Pliable with only mild bit of give to it….rather like warmed sealing wax without the tackiness. Upon tucking the glowing object next to her bosom, Lexy looked upward at her boy and said, “and now I…” “Cradle,” followed by his rapid rocking back and forth motions. Bouncy-bounce bounce.  “Of course,” smiled Alexys, who had arranged both her arms to cradle this golden drop of sunlight. “Is that what you are now? Not a Shard -- but a Drop of Sunlight?” She was now talking to this object but again didn’t feel one bit silly for doing so. It seemed….alive, somehow. Slowly, carefully, she rocked back and forth while on her knees. “Sing, mama!” prompted her little boy, who was excitedly bouncing on his toes and clapping his chubby hands. A time-honored German lullaby sprang to mind and as she sang the words, the longer she sang, something rather remarkable happened. As Alexys looked down in her arms, she could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of an image, not more than a sparkling golden shadow really, of a completely different child in her arms. Only this child was much tinier and younger than the boy. This was an infant, a baby girl, one with remarkably long flowing golden hair. She appeared to have even more hair than her toddler son. By orders of magnitude more. Disembodied babygirl giggling and babbles filled the air around them. “You see her now!!!” Her little boy was more excited than ever! He clearly knows! Lexy could hear the rhythm of his feet in front of her. Bounce-bounce-bouncy bounce-bouncy-bounce. Alexys was afraid to look away, lest the wispy golden dust in her arms blow away before she could get her fill. “Who is she?” questioned Alexys in awe. “She is our friend. She is….Sun...shine. Yes. Sunshine,” the boy confirmed, tilting his head to one side as he spoke, as if he were listening for something only he could hear. ......to be continued!!!!......

#Eugene appreciation week #Eugene Fitzherbert appreciation week #fanfiction #fic #ficlet #WIP #eugene fitzherbert #dark queen #king edmund #ladyfawkes eugene fanfiction #ladyfawkes fanfiction

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 1

>> Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N, Jungkook x reader

>> Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, fluff, smut

>> Words: 2003

>> Notes: This is my first time writing on tumblr so I hope you can go easy on me

Synopsis: You are the chosen sacrifice to the King of the Vampires and his son this year. You decide to be fair to the people that have given their lives before you by going ahead with the God’s decision. You arrive at the Vampire castle ready to be munched on by wolves after having your blood drunk dead out of you but instead you are faced with a strange yet compelling adventure with none other than the beast son of the Vampire King.

               “And this fateful year, the chosen one by the Gods we worship of the skies, the oceans and the land is” he cleared his dry throat and continued in his raspy voice, “Y/N”.

               Whispers became murmurs becoming loud conversations as everyone discussed the plight of the next sacrifice. Isn’t her father the best blacksmith in the city? I heard his emblem has been carved into the shields that defend the King of Vampires himself! Oh, what a pity! Yet another young one to be lost and grieved!

               The conversations continued to be blown all over the small city by the winds that sent a shiver down my spine every time it touched my pretty pecan brown skin. The big and leading kingdom of Vrykolakas is North of our small city of Psari. All the four cities of this island, Psari the city of fish, Pouli the city of birds, Skylos the city of the dog and Vatrachos the city of the frog, are ruled by the kingdom of Vrykolakas. The kingdom gained power after its third king, King Alaric, won the Great Agrios War, also known as the fierce war, defeating all kings, of the South who ruled Psari, of the East who ruled Vatrachos, of the West who ruled Pouli and of the North who ruled Skylos together with King Alaric himself. This betrayal remained in the hearts of the people of Skylos and they refused to accept King Alaric as their ruler hence they were all executed. Their bodies were fed to King Alaric’s wolves and he feasted on their blood for his celebration feast. Upon consuming far too much human blood, he became fond of the taste and smell and soon sought out innocents whose blood his tongue could savor.

               Rumors spread fast through the other cities of the human-turned-vampire king, but not as fast as King Alaric’s horses. He consumed almost everyone at Pouli and soon his descendants, born with their father’s tongue, consumed anyone and everyone that crossed their way. Population dropped as fast as a man falling from a roof top and soon everyone came to fear the sound of horses. Whoever managed to escape built underground bunkers or moved to our city. Our city avoided all the bloody chaos thanks to the fast-flowing river 10 feet deep that separates us from the main land on which all the other cities and the kingdom are built on.

               Three generations down the line, 300 years later, King Cassius, now ruler of Vatrachos, is said to have fallen in love with a human lady who changed his evolutionary habits of consuming human blood. However, story has it that he killed her with his own hands 4 years after the birth of their second son. His oldest son, Prince Athan ran away from home after witnessing the death of his mother leaving his little brother behind. Prince Athan was never to be found again.

               After the death of his wife, King Cassius, established a new rule; every year a sacrifice from the city of Psari was to be offered to the King and his kin. The sacrifice will have no age limits or selected gender. They will be brought to the castle by the King’s knights and guards and shall never see the Sun again.

               There was utter chaos in our city following this new rule and people turned against one another, lovers turned enemies and families torn apart to select a sacrifice. Soon the council members of our city decided after the age of 8, all individuals must submit their name and family name to the council who will then carve it on a black stone and place inside a clay pot. This pot will be positioned under the Sun facing the direction of the kingdom and will soak in the waters of the rain until the day of decision arrives. The day of decision falls annually on the 27th of August and everyone gathers around the pot as a council senior pulls out a stone while reciting prayers and reads the name on it. Countless children, pregnant mothers and sick fathers have been sent as sacrifices who never returned. And this year, the Gods have selected me.

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

               I was seated in front of my mirror on a dainty stool looking at myself as if I was seeing myself for the first time. My dark brown eyes looked almost black underneath the thick lashes and my locks fell in a frizzy mess past my shoulders. So, this is it, huh? I smiled at myself in the mirror.

               My mother walks in with a cup of my favorite tea, looking like she has been crying for hours. I didn’t want to leave without giving her the smile she loves, the smile of the girl she birthed and raised for 20 years. I took the warm cup of tea and smiled. “Mother, don’t you worry. I am going to meet my cousins up in the skies and talk till we fall asleep like we always used to”

               My mother fell on her knees with a thud and cried like she was in immense pain. I knelt in front of her and placed the tea cup between us. “See mother,” I said pointing at the tea. “You have made me my favorite cup of tea. You usually make this before I sleep, so I can sleep more peacefully” I held her shuddering shoulders. “Think of this as me going to sleep. You made me tea and now I shall sleep peacefully... forever” I smiled my brightest smile since the announcement of my father’s liver cancer. My mother holds my face between her calloused hands and touches her forehead to mine. “I love you so much y/n. Don’t you ever forget that.  Come back to me my dear. Please” I held onto her as my tears spilled into the cup of tea making it salty like the seas of empty space between life and death.

               There was a sudden rumble and then we heard it. Horse steps. Approaching fast.

               It all happened too fast. Knights broke down my closed room door and grabbed my shrieking mother from behind. Someone struck me on the head with something that shone in the sunlight pouring through my windows. I fell to the ground and felt myself being dragged disgracefully out of my house. I could still hear my mother shrieking and I wanted to ask her to shut up and go inside. I didn’t want my last memory of hers to be one where she looks ugly with sorrow.

               My father.

               I wanted to see him. I wanted to hold his big hands and allow him to envelope me in his bear hug one last time. I wanted to hear him before I left. Just one more time.

               But I could barely move. I felt weak at my joints and my head was spinning. I was put on a horse back and soon fell asleep to the rhythm of the galloping horse.

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

               All I remember is being thrown on to cold, hard ground. I could spell blood in the air and it made me want to throw up my last lunch. My hair was stuck to my face with sweat and I was finding it hard to breathe. My hands had somehow been tied behind my back and I couldn’t move my head without an intolerable pain shooting through the sides my head. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

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

               Someone kicked me awake. I woke up sputtering saliva. I tried to look up to see the giant man looming over me but my eyes couldn’t focus with the sweat clung to my lashes. The man pulled me by my hair and threw me out of the cell I’ve been in. My knees scrapped against the hard, stone floor and I was pulled up by each arm by two equally big knights. Just how big are these men? I wondered to myself.

               I was dragged carelessly and my skirt tore at the bottom. I squirmed in their hard grasps and managed to free my arms. I stood on shaky legs that wobbled like crazy. “I can walk on my own. Allow me my last walk”

               The men looked at me like I was crazy, but I could only see their piercing blue eyes through the masks they were wearing. “Let the girl walk. We don’t always get someone so foolishly brave” a voice came from behind me.

               I turned around to find a man with broad shoulders and plump lips approach me. I recognized him as the man who pulled me up by my hair. He wasn’t wearing a mask like the other two so I assumed he must be someone of higher rank in the castle. “Follow me” he commanded and for some reason, I obeyed. I followed him through dimly lit, stone hallways and it got much warmer as we walked into the castle. I looked out a single window on my right to see a dead garden with over grown weeds spilling from the broken-down fountain in its centre.

               I wonder if anyone is even bothered to care for this garden?

               Growing up, I loved nature. Trees were my first best friends. It saddened me to see them so carelessly left to die. If I was granted one last wish, I’d ask to tend to the garden before they ate me.

I was busy thinking about last wishes when the man in front of me suddenly stopped walking and I bumped into his enormous back. I peeked from his side to see a man twice as large as the man that brought me in with a crown of gold, sapphire, diamond and ruby sitting pretty on his long dark hair. His eyes gleamed red and upon eye contact I immediately hid behind the knight with no mask.

               “Why is this sacrifice using you as a cover, Seokjin?” King Cassius asked.

               “My Lord, she almost put up a fight with base level knights 78 and 86 demanding to walk alone. I myself am surprised to see her bravery suddenly gone upon seeing you” knight Seokjin answered. Knights 78 and 86? Wow. They don’t even have names for their people?! I thought to myself in disbelief.

               “Appear before I, the King and my son, pathetic being” King Cassius demanded, his voice booming against the stone walls, making them shake. I sighed at what my mind was asking me to do next. I moved from behind Seokjin and took 20 steps forward. I was awfully too close to the throne now. “I only got to live 20 years of my life Lord. Therefore, I took 20 steps forward. Kindly do whatever you please with me as I stand on this spot” I said bravely staring the king square in the eyes.

               The king laughed. “You are telling me what to do? You, a pathetic fool who is about to be devoured by my son and myself? YOU?!” he shouted in mock at my face. That’s when I noticed the tall guy seated next to the king on a throne as luxurious but a step lower than the king. What a strange man, I thought to myself at first glance at the man cloaked in black from head to toe.

#jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #vampire jungkook #beast jungkook

[hazelandglasz]

"I meet and fall in love with you in every lifetime at the same age but your age is always different so it never works out and for the first time I’m meeting you when we’re the same age and I’m horrified that I might fuck this up." Sterek with Derek as the one who's always the same age *w*

On AO3

Derek is 20 when he meets Stiles for the first time.

Derek is always 20 whenever he meets Stiles after that moment, until now.

But let’s catch them at the start, shall we?

Earth 745, Year 1650

Derek rides into the forest, his battle wolf happily howling at being allowed to run so freely.

“Steady, steady.”

The forest is always Derek’s favorite place to run and hunt. The spirits welcome him as one of their own and light up his way, but other creatures are not as welcoming.

If Derek came today, it’s because his Queen heard about a rumor.

A worrying one.

That Sparks have settled on the edge of their forest, using the spirits and the kingdom’s resources.

Triskel comes to an halt, muzzle raised in the air to sniff it.

“Aroo?”

Derek pats her neck to calm her, closing his eyes to visualize what she sensed.

Sparks are definitely moving around this area.

No aggression in their feelings.

Just … settlement.

There is a particularly strong Spark that seems to lead them.

There!

Derek opens his eyes, glowing just as red as Triskel’s, and they both turn them toward the entrance of the meadow.

Where a Spark stands, arms crossed over his chest.

In Wolf years, he looks to be just a bit younger than Derek, but Derek has been raised, taught, better than that.

Sparks may be a unique brand of Spirits, but they still belong in their family of beings.

A Wolf lifetime barely counts as a Revolution for a Spark. 

This one may look young, but his age must already be in the three numbers range.

The power exuding from his fingertips is proof enough.

“You’re on private property,” Derek calls, keeping his hands on Triskel’s neck.

The Spark sends a half-crooked smile his way. “This land was Spark land long before you lot bonded with the first pup.”

Triskel hums under Derek’s touch, leaning her massive head toward the spark.

“But I’m not here to escalate an argument with you, your highness,” the Spark says more gently and more seriously. 

“Why are you here, then?”

“To offer an alliance between our packs.”

Derek blinks at the offer. Legends about Sparks do not depict them as a fraternizing lot, even less helpful than Foxes and Hunters. “An alliance?”

“Quid pro Quo, my prince,” the Spark says, stepping closer. The grass curbs in front of his naked feet, and though there is no wind, his brown hair moves gently in an invisible breeze. “You let us stay where we settled, we protect the Eastern border of the Kingdom, everybody wins.”

“How do we know you won’t betray us at the first chance?”

“Please,” the Spark says, blowing air at Derek. “We may be powerful, but you Wolves have the strength to disseminate us. I quite like living, thank you very much, especially with all my limbs still attached to my body.”

Derek unconsciously drags his eyes down the Spark’s slender frame and can’t help but nod.

It would be a shame to hurt this particular body.

“I’m but the prince,” he finally answers, refusing to acknowledge either the heat he can feel on his cheeks or the smirk on the Spark’s face. “I cannot sign a treaty of this magnitude.”

“And I am not my pack’s leader,” the Spark replies. “Let’s consider each other as intermediaries for our people.”

“I will still need some proof of your trustworthiness.”

“How about a blood pact?”

“That would work.”

“Here,” the Spark says, bringing his wrist to his lips and biting, tearing the glowing skin and letting a droplet of bluish blood run down his forearm. Derek dismounts from Triskel, mirroring the Spark’s gesture, before bringing his wrist to the Spark’s.

Their bloods mix, and for a second, their attached wrists glow golden.

Triskel whines, breaking the enchantment that took over Derek for a moment.

“Bonded,” the Spark says with a beaming smile. “I can’t hurt you and you can’t hurt me.”

“I suppose I could give you my name now.”

“That’s called manners, your highness.”

“Call me Derek.”

“Call me--” the Spark starts, but the sound that follows does not belong in a Wolf’s throat.

Derek’s confusion must be obvious, as the Spark lets out a burst of laughter.

“Call me Stiles, then.”

“What’s a Stiles?”

“A me,” Stiles replies, licking his wrist clean. “Only one of me.”

Somehow, Derek does not doubt him for a second.

--

When Death comes for Derek, once his hair and beard have turned white, once his face is covered in more lines than a tree, when his eyes close on a smile, Stiles is still by his side, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

“See you in the next life, big guy.”

xxxxxx

Earth 504, Year 52

Somehow, when Derek turns three, he knows.

He knows that he was a prince, he knows that he’s on a new cycle, and he knows …

He knows that he has to find Stiles for this life to be worth living.

That is a pretty hard concept to formally have in a three-year-old mind, but the idea is there to stay.

Though what Stiles will look like and how they will meet is a mystery.

When Derek turns twenty, he meets Stiles.

More precisely, he meets flight instructor Stilinski.

Though Stiles is a dragon rider in this life, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth signaling his propensity to smile and laugh, Derek has no doubt that this Stiles is his Stiles.

“The young Alpha worships you, Stiles,” he overhears a conversation between Stiles and Master Martin.

Stiles laughs. “He’s a good kid. Will be one hell of a rider some day.”

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“Can you blame him?” Stiles gestures at himself and through his embarrassment, Derek feels a surge of fondness for Stiles, from their past camaraderie.

“I’m serious, Stiles.” Master Martin swats at Stiles’ shoulder. “You need to be careful with him. Don’t go and break his heart.”

Stiles opens his mouth, eyes glaring in offense before he lets it all out in a sigh. “All I want is for Derek to be happy.”

“I know that. Be his tutor, be his friend.”

“I will.”

--

When Spark falls under a vicious attack, his rider as good as dead on his back, Derek can only let Triskel follow them into the Darkness.

“See you in the next life, Stiles.”

xxxxxx

Life after life after life, Derek gets reunited with Stiles.

Whenever they meet, their bond is reignited and they remain by each other’s side until one of them moves onto the next life.

Life after life, Derek remembers all of their common pasts, too.

And as much as Stiles can be annoying, frustrating, too bright for his own good, Derek finds himself drawn to him, life after life after life.

In this life, though, Derek has almost met Stiles when he was just a bit younger.

In this life, he’s fifteen when he feels Stiles in his proximity, but at the time, his family just got decimated and he can’t find it in his heart to make the move toward that connection.

But the presence he feels is young, just a bit younger than him but not by a wide margin.

For the first time ever, it’s even a relatively small gap that separates them, age-wise.

Not that he dwells on it at the time, consumed by grief, rage and shame as he is.

But they do meet when Derek is twenty.

“You’re on private property.”

He may be scowling, but in his mind, Derek allows himself to be sentimental.

Maybe it is Fate that brought us together, making him repeat his words from their first encounter on the life where they have a real chance of bringing this relationship to another level.

A thought which is immediately followed by, “I’m going to fuck this up”.

---

The pull toward Stiles is just as irresistible as it always is, but Derek resists.

He knows he will, can, fuck this up, damage Stiles and perhaps break the bonds that has lasted through centuries.

With the many life of retrospects he has on their lives together, Derek is convinced that the first Stiles, the Spark, the magical being, created that bond to make sure they would meet again.

To get a chance to be together, as lovers.

But if there is one thing this life has taught Derek, it’s his propensity to fuck things up beyond repair.

Especially relationships.

Especially the people he loves.

The last thing he wants is to hurt Stiles.

The next to last thing he wants is to lose Stiles.

His life is a fucking conundrum and he hates it.

---

And then, Stiles saves his life.

Derek has to admit, he didn’t see it coming.

As they manage to stay afloat in the pool while the kanima prowls its edges, Derek allows himself a moment to consider that really, this is a repetition of their first shared lifetime.

After all, despite his frail appearance, Stiles the Spark did save Derek the Wolf prince many, many times.

This time around, Stiles’ fragility is a calculated ploy to deceit people into underestimating him.

Derek admires this wit more than he would like to admit.

Falling in love with Stiles is just as easy as breathing, but Derek remains terrified.

Not of hurting Stiles, because fight after fight, Stiles proves how strong and resilient he really is, but of, again, fucking everything up.

---

Until the Berserkers.

Until his full shift.

Because managing to push his shift to this extreme, reconnecting with his mom, with his powers, with himself, brings Derek to one conclusion.

He may have found his balance, but in order to be complete, he needs Stiles by his side.

In a more permanent way than simply being “here”.

Once the decision has settled in his mind, there is no more room in Derek for fear, uncertainty and doubt.

Only focus on making it become a reality.

Because now, Derek knows how to avoid a fuck-up.

AKA, How to Woo a Stiles 101.

Going all out and romantic would just freak him out, that much Derek is sure of, no matter how much Stiles may be, is, attracted to him.

But by going in small, subtle touches--getting the pizza he likes, wear comfortable and unthreatening (yet flattering) cloth, creating a safe environment--Derek slowly manages to get closer to Stiles.

Even that would be enough, if he’s honest to himself: having Stiles close, close enough to touch, to smell, to protect.

That’s where he is in his thoughts one evening, when Stiles is the only one left in the Pack’s loft, the pizza has been reduced to its crust and neither one of them knows what is playing on the TV anymore.

Stiles laughs at something silly Derek just said, and with a contented sigh, drops his head to Derek’s shoulder.

And Derek freezes.

And Stiles looks up, long eyelashes slowly revealing his beautiful brown eyes..

Derek stays still.

And Stiles considers him, a wall wrinkle apparating between his eyebrows before it clears out.

Derek stays still, still.

Stiles slowly leans upward, his breath tickling Derek’s neck until his lips meet Derek’s cheek.

It all happens in slow motion, and Derek stays still.

Stiles straightens up, still focused on Derek, before cupping Derek’s face in his hands.

A golden light appears in his eyes, taking over the ring surrounding his pupils. 

Derek gasps, just as Stiles leans forward.

Their lips could be touching, barely kept apart, as Stiles smiles.

“Hello again, big guy.”

Before pulling Derek in for a long, long-awaited kiss.

------

Same Earth, same year, some months later

“You knew?”

“I don’t know. Not knew, knew.”

“Nyunyu?”

Stiles rubs his nose against Derek’s stomach before blowing a raspberry there. “All those lives, I never knew for sure. I had a, a …”

“A feeling?”

“An instinct, yeah.”

Derek sighs, his fingers tangled in Stiles’ hair. “I’m glad we found each other in this life.”

“I hope we’ll find each other in the next.”

“Me too.”

“Though the later the better.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

#nothingcanbreakthemapart #sometimes i write #sterek au #but is it really au though #soulmates #fluff

[artificialqueens]

Overpowered Part 7 [FINAL] (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: Well, the last chapter is here and I’m in my feelings. Three months ago, I was looking at Brooke’s superhero runway look and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I decided I really wanted to write it even if no one would read it. The response this fic has gotten has blown my mind. Every comment, like, reblog, etc. has given me such joy and it honestly means the world to me; the sequel definitely wouldn’t have happened without your support. I’ve put my heart and soul into this for 3 months, and I’m really happy with the ending. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone that read, commented, liked, shared, etc. If I could thank each one of you, I would. I’ve got some exciting new works planned, and I hope you’ll stick around to read them!

Also, thank you @writworm42 for helping me get the final scene together

Brooke’s fingers constantly drift to her ring, like she needs to touch it just to prove that it’s real.

To prove that her entire life is real.

When the worries break through and threaten to consume her, when she struggles to see herself as anything other than a burden weighing Vanessa down, Vanessa’s promise to love her forever and always be there for her echoes in Brooke’s brain and forms a protective shield over her, fears and doubts ricocheting off and banished from her mind.

Her vows in return extend the same protection, and she hopes it makes Vanessa feel safe when she struggles herself. She hopes Vanessa knows that Brooke will always love her no matter what.

She rubs the smooth ring in their hotel that morning, trying to calm the bouncing in her leg as Vanessa sleeps. Vanessa had been too excited to sleep much on the train, and Brooke is so grateful Vanessa didn’t even mention flying down to Florida, that she was willing to spend a whole day on a train for her, that she’ll let Vanessa sleep all day if she needs to.

She pulls out her notebook and flips through the pages Vanessa had written her for Valentine’s Day, all her favorite memories the two of them made. Brooke giggles to herself as she reads about when she and Vanessa made pizza, and Vanessa tossed the dough in the air and got it stuck to the ceiling. She’s reading about the time they were on patrol and took a break to play in the snow when Vanessa’s phone blares. Brooke jumps, papers scattering over her lap, and Vanessa rolls over with a groan.

“This hoe can’t even leave us alone on our honeymoon,” Vanessa grumbles as she puts the phone on speaker.

“I have exciting news I think you’ll like to hear,” Silk announces grandly.

“The last time you had exciting news, it was about the crunch wrap at Taco Bell, so-”

“Quake and Shockwave are going away for life in the Pacific Prison. They’re gone, and I mean it this time,” Silk cuts Vanessa off.

Neither of them speaks. The Pacific Prison, on the other side of the country, was reserved for the worst criminals.

Vanessa ends the call, and Brooke turns to her, wetness in the corners of her eyes. “We’re really safe, Brooke,” Vanessa says. “They can’t touch us again.”

They embrace in the bed and Brooke holds on to Vanessa and this moment, completely wrapped up in the security like a blanket.

They break apart, and Vanessa pushes tangled hair out of her eyes and pulls her clothes on. “You could have woken me earlier,” she insists.

“I wanted to let you sleep. Besides, we have time. We have the whole week.”

We have our whole lives, she thinks, and today is just the beginning. —

They decided on Disney for their honeymoon. Vanessa hasn’t been since she was a kid, and Brooke is pretty sure she went before, but can’t remember it that well.

They talked and laughed and pointed out all the animals and weird billboards they saw out the window on their train ride, which Vanessa had booked without hesitating over the 24-hour journey; she knew without question that flying wasn’t an option.

They run through the gates at Magic Kingdom and Brooke is bouncing up and down, and Vanessa couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. She feels like a kid again, the sky bright and a perfect day blooming in front of her. They approach the castle and Brooke gasps.

“I’ve been here before!” she exclaims. “I think I was 9, maybe?” She rubs hard at her temples, trying to force the memories to come, and Vanessa is about to ease her hands away and tell her it’s alright if she can’t remember when Brooke claps. “The train ride! There’s a roller coaster like a train! Can we go on it?”

“Of course we can,” Vanessa laughs. “You’ll like Splash Mountain too. That one was my favorite. It’s a water ride.”

“You go in the giant log!” Brooke shrieks. “I remember!” And she grabs Vanessa’s hand and they wade through old memories as they make new ones.

They get matching ears and stuff themselves with so many mouse-shaped foods that Vanessa almost hurls on Thunder Mountain, which Brooke drags her on three times in a row.

They have to dial back their strength before they break the wheel on the teacup ride, and Vanessa may or may not speed past some screaming 5-year-olds to get a front row seat on Splash Mountain, a decision she regrets slightly after the mammoth order of chili cheese fries she and Brooke split.

She can’t remember the last time she felt so carefree, so weightless. She thinks she could actually float away. Brooke is by her side, slurping at her second ice cream cone (sometimes Vanessa thought the ice powers were scarily accurate), and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, no one whose arm she’d rather have around her shoulders on the It’s a Small World ride.

That night she kisses Brooke as red and blue fireworks soar and fizzle in the black sky over the castle, and just like on their wedding day, the explosions of joy inside her rival any in the sky. —

They come back home and resettle into life as a married couple. It’s honestly not that much different than it was before. They volunteer at the animal shelter together again, cats and dogs licking at their hands. They make dinner together, looking for any excuse to bump shoulders or brush arms as garlic is chopped and spaghetti boils. They wedge themselves into the couch with all three pets, Vanessa flicking through channels while Brooke flips through cookbooks. They go to bed with limbs intertwined, difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins.

They fulfill their vows everyday. Brooke insists on patrolling when she isn’t feeling well, and Vanessa tucks her into bed that night and spends the next day swirling honey into tea to soothe her throat, simmering chicken soup, and laying cold washcloths on her sweaty forehead. Vanessa gets deep into it with a villain going after a young girl, fists flying and rage burning, and Brooke cleans all her cuts and spreads cream on her bruises and massages her aching muscles, helping the anger ease out on a wave of gratitude that the girl wasn’t harmed.

They each go to Nina, and Brooke dutifully takes her medication every morning. Progress takes time and isn’t always in one direction, Nina reminds them both as they continue to heal.

They zip through damp spring air, Frost maintaining her death grip on the handle, Yvie with her legs draped across Scarlet’s lap in the backseat while they hold hands, Vanjie howling out the window on their way to another crime.

People come up to them and deliver sincere thank you’s thick with tears, two young kids throw their arms around all four of them in turn, and for all the joking and griping, for all the fears and doubts, they know that keeping people safe makes it all worth it.

That battling supervillains and battling your personal villains equally make you a hero. —

Brooke reads her file again, piece by piece. She knows to do it with Vanessa or Nina, after she read it alone one day and wound up on the bedroom floor, knees to her chest, the tide of panic so strong and swift she couldn’t fight as it overtook her and stole the air from her lungs.

She learns that she was an only child and that her parents died when she was 20, a few months before she began dancing professionally. She started in on the business side of the company six years later, working her way up, and was the youngest co-director in the company’s history, her heart filling with disbelief and a long-ago pride as she reads, Vanessa’s steady hand on her shoulder grounding her.

The nightmares aren’t as frequent, and she gets occasional flashes of her life pre-lab, sometimes just a random image, like a photograph floating through her mind. Sitting at a desk doing homework, her tiny hand clutching a stuffed monkey, a glittering gold dance trophy, smiling in her black graduation robe.

She still gets big ones, flashbacks that feel like they last for days, depleting her energy while the horror of memory traps her in its grasp, helpless until it ends. She manages them easier now, knows to lie down afterwards and let her body and mind rest.

She decides to tell Yvie and Scarlet what happened. Nina said it was her information to share, and she wants to share it. Brooke trusts them, and she’s pretty positive they won’t pity her or think any less of her, and they don’t. They both shed tears and give her big hugs and say how happy they are that she’s healing now.

Ra’jah said that with all the complicated drugs the lab gave her, most of them advanced and untested, it’s likely she won’t regain all her memories, and Brooke is genuinely okay with it. After over a year of being locked in a cage she didn’t know was a cage, not knowing the happiness she was being denied, not even knowing her own name, any memories at all are special and enough for her. She writes down her flashes and dreams and revisits them, focuses on the memories and the delight, or sorrow, or nerves she might have felt at the time.

And every day, she makes new memories. Memories of blowing flour at Vanessa across the kitchen. Memories of slow-dancing in the living room at midnight, heartbeats replacing words. Memories of Vanessa tripping over Apollo after said slow-dance, both of them laughing till they cried, sharing crinkly-eyed grins.

Just like Nina told her to do in one of their first sessions, she lists things she does know.

She knows that she is in a much better place than she was a year ago, both mentally and physically.

She knows her parents loved her in the flashes she gets, even if she doesn’t remember completely.

She knows she has friends that love and support her.

She knows she loves Vanessa, and Vanessa loves her.

She knows that she will continue to do the best she can. —

Vanessa knows something’s up when Brooke picks at her food and excuses herself right after dinner, but she’s not sure what until Brooke emerges from the bedroom with her pointe shoes on, brow furrowed and teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Vanessa, I…I want to show you. I want to dance for you.”

Vanessa has wanted to see Brooke dance since Christmas, but she didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to put that pressure on her.

They move the coffee table and Vanessa seats herself on the couch while Brooke stands, eyes on her feet. Her shoulders rise up and down twice, then she nods to herself, and starts to move.

Vanessa remembers when they used to fight, when Brooke’s fighting techniques were so graceful and elegant that Vanessa thought she seemed out of place as a fighter, like her body should be doing something else. Now, she knows exactly what that something is.

Brooke spins and twirls and jumps and Vanessa’s eyes are wide, forcing herself not to blink because she doesn’t want to miss a second. Brooke moves so exquisitely, so beautifully, that their living room transforms into a stage and her leggings and T-shirt become a delicately sewn costume. Vanessa is lucky just to take her beauty in.

Whatever nerves Brooke was showing melt away. Her eyes are bright and focused, not a hint of hesitation in her movements. It’s the most confident Vanessa has ever seen her.

She makes it look so natural, so easy, though Vanessa knows if she tried it she’d be flat on her ass with a broken ankle.

Her eyes have the same sparkle as when they went to the ballet last week: like a missing part of her had been found again. —

Brooke’s not sure when, but at some point while she dances, she stops thinking and simply lives. There’s no couch, no walls, no ceiling to box her in or imprison her. Even Vanessa fades into the background. There’s no thought of what move is next, no consideration of what criminals she’ll stop later; it’s just the air flowing around her, existing solely to whoosh past her limbs as she goes up on her toes and spins around, and it feels like flying.

She’s been practicing in their room, studying YouTube videos and observing herself in the mirror, but out here is different. She has the space to roam, and she’s not going cross-eyed staring into the mirror looking for her flaws.

She just lets herself go, lets herself be.

Nina was right. Even though she’s not perfect, it doesn’t matter; she feels each stretch in her muscles, mind quiet and calm as her body takes over, every atom of her being alight with pleasure. She didn’t need to be perfect. She just needed to be free.

She finishes with a flourish and a deep breath, oxygen going in and intensifying the good ache deep in her muscles, and Vanessa bursts into applause.

Heat floods her cheeks. “You liked it?”

“Liked it?” Vanessa scoffs. “That was incredible, Mary!”

“I just-” A sob swallows Brooke’s response, cheeks damp without warning. She can’t explain it, wouldn’t even know how to start. There truly aren’t any words; the closest she can manage is a bird spreading its wings for the first time, nothing to hold it back.

Vanessa rubs her back in understanding. “You don’t gotta talk. Just let yourself feel it.” She takes Brooke’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Seriously, Brooke.”

It’s like the lab’s chains never even bound her.

It’s like a part of her she thought gone forever has come back to her. —

“I’ve been thinking of working with A’Keria,” Vanessa admits one night, head on Brooke’s chest and arm around her waist, stroking her hip.

“Instead of at the base, you mean?” Brooke questions.

She nods against Brooke’s skin. “She said the woman who owns the salon is looking for someone to do make-up, and that’s what I used to do, you know? I mean, working at the base is great, but I think I need a bit of a change.”

The base is calm, and predictable, and she had needed that stability when she first got her powers and was readjusting to the world. But now she’s ready for more, something besides reviewing case records and running daytime city monitors.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Vanessa had thought so herself, but it also seemed like too big of an idea to think was good on your own; the kind of idea where you wanted to see what someone else thought of it.

“Yeah. If you want to do it, I think you should.” Brooke’s voice is enthusiastic, fingers twirling Vanessa’s hair.

“I think I will.” She pauses before her mouth opens again. “Have you thought about leaving the base, doing a different day job? Maybe you could work at a ballet studio or something?”

Brooke is silent and Vanessa holds her breath. Brooke’s been doing great lately, especially with her meds, but changing jobs is a big deal for anyone and maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“I’ve talked about it with Nina before,” Brooke answers right as Vanessa is about to tell her she doesn’t have to. “I…I think I’d like to. Eventually. I know I’d have to work on it with Nina. I mean, the last job I had was 2 years ago and I barely remember it, and I’d have to do interviews and stuff and just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt-”

“Hey, hey, just breathe,” Vanessa soothes, feeling Brooke’s chest tighten and her heart take off beneath her. “I know that would be hard for you. You don’t have to be in any rush. You just be you. If you decide to change, I’ll be here to help you. If not, I’m here too. I’ll always be here.”

Brooke’s lips are soft against her temple. They fall asleep quickly, and she calls the salon the next morning. —

“Are you sure you want Vanessa to teach you to drive?” Yvie asks, fixing Brooke a pointed stare as she sips orange juice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa demands across the table.

Scarlet pipes up. “Well, we drive around with you in that death trap of a car every night-”

“I know how to drive,” Brooke insists. “I just haven’t done it in a while.”

The lab gave her a motorcycle to use on her missions and to go to her appointments, though they sometimes drove her home in a security car depending on how out of it she was after the drugs hit.

“Vanessa’s a decent driver,” A’Keria starts.

“Thank y-”

“If your only other option is walking,” A’Keria finishes around a mouthful of toast.

“Hey!”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Brooke cuts in. “I mean, I just want to go to the grocery store, not-”

“Drive for NASCAR?” Silk snorts.

Vanessa takes her to an empty lot that afternoon. Brooke keeps readjusting her sweaty hands on the wheel. The last time she’d driven had been in a downpour, her worried focus enabling her to see through raindrops and her own teary, bloodshot eyes, to get Vanessa from the cemetery Brooke knew she went to when she was upset.

“You gotta take your foot off the brake,” Vanessa instructs softly.

“I know, I know. I’m just…nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous for, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Brooke nods and eases onto the gas. She breathes in and out as the car glides across the pavement. It’s…okay. Sure, they’re going about 15 miles an hour, but she finds her grip loosening as she makes easy turns and changes directions.

“You’re doing great!” Vanessa encourages. “Maybe I’ll open up a driving school!” —-

“We really do have cake for everything, don’t we?” Scarlet muses. “Brooke’s like a lesbian Martha Stewart.”

“Bold of you to assume Martha Stewart isn’t already a lesbian,” Yvie murmurs thoughtfully.

“I didn’t see you complaining over those tree cupcakes for Arbor Day,” Silk states.

Vanessa digs into the chocolate cake, her leg nestling against Brooke’s under the table. She just started at the salon that day and Brooke wanted to have pizza and cake for her, spending the afternoon on caramel filling and cream cheese frosting.

It’s only been a day, but she already knows she loves it there, feels some of the old Vanessa peeking through, delighting in the salon gossip with A’Keria and the other girls and helping her clients feel good. And the best part is, she’s just Vanessa. No one knows about Vanjie, and she can focus on powders and lipsticks instead of weapons and fighting tactics.

It’s comforting to know the old Vanessa isn’t entirely gone. —

“There’s, um, there’s a job opening at this ballet studio. The same one that did the show Vanessa and I went to,” Brooke explains.

“And you’re interested in it?” Nina prompts.

“Well, maybe I could- I mean,” she sighs and starts again. “I want to. I-I think I might be able to, but I would need some help. Is that okay?”

“Brooke, that’s wonderful! I do think you could take on something like this, and we can talk about anything you’re fearful of or think you need help with. This is a big step and I’m proud of you. I want to tell you that again, Brooke. I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you’ve worked so hard and you deserve to be proud of yourself.” Nina’s voice washes over Brooke and her insides heat up.

“You really think so?” Brooke asks, grin breaking free.

“I know so,” Nina affirms. “Think of how far you’ve come. Remember our first session?”

Brooke did, face flushing at the memory. Even though she knew Nina wasn’t that kind of doctor and Vanessa promised Nina wouldn’t hurt her, Brooke sunk into the chair with her knees against her chest and her head down, and Vanessa had stayed outside the door just in case. But Nina had been kind, and told Brooke to use her first name instead of Dr. West, and by the end of the hour, Brooke was at least able to lift her head up.

“Yeah.”

Nina smiles. “You hardly talked. But look how much more comfortable you are now. I know you still have days that don’t go as well as you’d like, but you’re still here, and you keep working. Have pride in that, okay?”

Brooke nods because she can’t speak around the lump in her throat. Brooke has felt the changes in herself, but to have someone else, someone like Nina, notice and tell her she’s doing well, is a kind of pride Brooke can’t describe.

“Oh, and Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“Speaking of progress, do you remember when I asked you to try not to apologize when you’re here?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s been an hour, and you didn’t apologize once.”

Brooke’s eyes narrow and all she can do is stare at Nina in disbelief, rifling through her words from the past hour. Sure enough, she can’t remember an apology passing her lips.

For just a second, Brooke almost apologizes for not apologizing, I’m sorry’s second nature to her.

Brooke closes her mouth, suppressing the reflex, as Nina’s words sink in. It may have taken over 6 months from when Nina asked, but she did it.

Progress takes time, Nina always said, and while some small part of Brooke thinks something like this shouldn’t have taken so long, she knows not to measure herself with shoulds and shouldn’ts. Her progress is her progress.

Her face spreads into a wide smile. “That’s, um, that’s good then,” Brooke manages.

Nina smiles back. “It sure is.” —

Vanessa’s been at the salon a month now, thriving like a summer flower after a cold winter. Her body is strong and focused, and with Nina’s blessing, she starts doing monthly therapy sessions instead of weekly ones.

She nuzzles against Brooke one night and cautiously slips her hand under Brooke’s shirt. Usually Brooke would go rigid when Vanessa got too close to her scars. One time she even pushed her hand away, like she was ashamed of them.

But tonight, she doesn’t. She tenses the tiniest bit, but then the muscles relax again. “It’s okay,” Brooke murmurs, and Vanessa sets her fingers, warm with love, over Brooke’s icy skin.

Her fingers brush over the tiny one between her ribs, then the one below it, the one Vanessa stitched herself after Brooke took a bullet for her on the night that they- and the life they have- began. She warms the one just above her waist, where the doctor shot her.

And then her hand roams up to the big one, the thick, raised line that starts at the hollow of Brooke’s chest and runs to her abdomen; based on her file, this is how they’d repaired the internal damage she sustained in the crash.

She knows Brooke has always been torn about her scars, much like Vanessa is about the one she got from the lightning strike. They are permanent reminders, etched on skin, that they suffered through things no one ever should. But they’re also signs that they survived those things, that they’re still living.

She rests her hand over Brooke’s heart, the gentle beat calming beneath her hand. Instead of telling Brooke that the scars make no difference to her, that they don’t make her any less worthy of love, she lets her hand speak as it warms Brooke’s body, hoping Brooke understands that Vanessa loves her no matter what.

The knowing look in her green eyes says that she does, and Brooke slides her hand up Vanessa’s shirt, stopping at her hip. Vanessa nods, and goosebumps form as Brooke’s hand smooths over the small pink scar on her chest before settling on her heart.

They just lay there, arms tangled up, hands on each other’s hearts, pulsing against their touches.

It reminds her of their first night together, no need to talk as their touches exuded more love than words could ever describe, as their hands delicately explored each other’s faces, unaware that the lips and noses and cheeks they were touching would soon become familiar terrain.

Unaware that they would soon come to recognize the sound of each other’s breathing.

Unaware how big a space they would soon occupy in each other’s hearts. —

The July night is warm, and they had looked at the calendar that morning and realized it was one year. One year since Brooke was released from her hospital bed after being shot, one year since Vanessa took her home and they began their new lives together, free from the lab.

One year, and things are still changing. Vanessa got promoted to head make-up artist at the salon, and in two weeks Brooke starts assisting the director of a ballet company, taking the first step to get where she would like to be someday. Silk took care of the paperwork, replaced all her personal documents the lab had stolen; Nina spent weeks with her practicing interview skills and ensuring she felt ready to work outside the base; and Vanessa supported her the whole way, rubbing her back when she threw up from nerves the morning of her interview and insisting on a pizza party when Brooke got the job.

The city shines below, bright lights beaming, so dazzling they almost made you forget the crimes occurring below. Crimes they were going to stop.

They settle on the blanket Vanessa’s laid on the rooftop, suits on but masks off, still Brooke and Vanessa, as she unpacks the basket, laying out marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.

“S’mores?” Brooke asks uncertainly.

“S’mores, baby!”

“But there’s no fi-ohhh.”

Vanessa winks. “This is one of the best perks of fire powers. I kept forgetting to show you.” She dangles a marshmallow above the small flame flickering in her hand, watching as the skin crackles to a crisp golden brown before laying it on top of the chocolate and forming a perfect s’more.

Brooke takes it in her eager hands as Vanessa whips up another for herself, arranging potato chips on top, and they laugh as marshmallow clings to their lips, trading sugary kisses to get it off.

“Vanessa, I love you,” Brooke says. “I love you so much, and I don’t know if I told you today, so I want to say it now and make sure you know.”

Vanessa reaches over and takes her hand. “I love you too, baby. So, so much. And you better know it too.”

Their lips meet again, Brooke’s hands resting on Vanessa’s hips and Vanessa’s hands stroking Brooke’s back, love bursting off them in sparks. No matter how many times they’ve kissed, each one is special in its own way, like a snowflake.

“Got a report of breaking and entering at the department store on 13th,” comes the voice in their ears.

“What’s a kiss without Silk to interrupt it?” Vanessa mumbles.

They reach in one for one last kiss, one last blend of sweet chocolate and sticky marshmallow, of fire and ice, before reaching for their masks.

They traipse down the ladder and Vanjie revs up Bertha. Frost extends her arm and they lock hands over the center console.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Vanjie tears away from the curb and they head deeper into the city, chasing the moonlight that shines on them both, each of them thinking how beautiful the other looks with the moon in her hair.

They both know they won’t be able to do this forever, that eventually a day will come when they have to hang up the masks. And when they do, they might pick up the phone and call a child adoption agency. Hopefully by then they’ll have the cozy little house they’re saving for, with flowers and a vegetable garden in the back.

But that’s the future. A future neither thought they could have, but one they can make happen.

Together.

For now, they have lives to live and memories to make.

They have each other.

And they’ve got a city to save. —

Post-Credits Scene Years Later

“These are the flowers we’re gonna give Mommy,” Vanessa instructs Lily, wiping frosting from the cupcakes Brooke made off her lip. “It’s her first show as the director and we want it to be special, right?”

“Right!” Lily agrees. “Wanna hold ‘em! I a big girl, Mama.” She flashes the brilliant grin Vanessa has seen every day since they adopted her three years ago, and Vanessa knows she’ll never tire of it.

Vanessa smiles. “You are a big girl, huh? You can hold them.” She bends down and puts the bright bouquet in her daughter’s tiny hands. “I’m gonna get Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!”

Vanessa knows exactly where Brooke is going to be: their bedroom, staring out the window at the garden. Her favorite place to think.

Brooke’s shoulders rise up and down evenly, and Vanessa knows she’s doing her breathing techniques. The sun shines off her short blonde hair, and she fills out her black suit so well it should be illegal. The sight of her still makes Vanessa’s body warm and her heart flutter, even years later.

“You okay?” Vanessa asks, taking Brooke’s hand. “You were quiet during dinner.”

Brooke nods, and her eyes are damp. “Yeah. Just…thinking about how lucky we are. You and A’Keria running the salon now, and me directing the company, and Lily…we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“We sure have.” It hasn’t been an easy road for either of them, but it’s taken them places they never thought they could go, given them things they never thought they could have.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa nods. “You sure did, baby. And I love you too. Don’t you forget it.”

Vanessa stretches up and kisses Brooke, and it still feels like the first time.

The kiss is interrupted by Lily’s hand tugging on Vanessa’s dress. She thrusts the flowers at Brooke, whose tears fall harder as she accepts them.

“Are you sad, Mommy?” Lily asks.

“No, baby, I’m not sad. I’m really, really happy.” Brooke scoops Lily up, and the little girl is sandwiched between Brooke and Vanessa in a hug.

“A’Keria and the others are gonna meet us,” Vanessa reminds Brooke. “You ready?”

“Ready.” Brooke nods.

“Ready!” Lily shouts.

They pile in the car, and this time, they’re not racing to stop a criminal. This time, they’re riding to live their lives.

And it is every bit as heroic.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #akeria davenport #silky nutmeg ganache #nina west #branjie #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #lesbian au #superhero au #overpowered #athena2 #s11 #tw therapy #concrit welcome #submission

[1-1snailxd-art]

Sides of a Hero

Chapter index ------------ Chapter 19

Chapter 20 - Who I am now

Summary:  A hero is someone who others admire for their courage, achievements and qualities. Anyone can potentially be a hero to someone because we are all capable of showing the qualities of a hero in different ways. Many looked to Thomas as a hero, and he looked at them in the same light. All of Thomas’ sides were heroic, in their own right, even if they didn’t always see it in themselves. After loosing Virgil, they each moved on in their own way; striving to be the best they could be to make their lost hero proud.

———————————————————————— 

As the days went by, the mindscape settled, and the sides were able to confirm that Guilt was the only impulse to return during the reset. The dragon guard continued their search of the mindscape for impulses and aspects, with Ledelit visiting Roman nightly to give an updated report. Despite two consecutive days free of any changes, Roman didn’t adjust his directive and Ledelit was not about to defy the prince’s orders. Patton forged an appropriate path that ran from his territory, past Virgil’s old mountain, and ended in the imagination kingdom. He even adjusted the cubby houses in his territory to act as hangout spaces for roaming impulses; which Dee, Rage and Guilt were thankful for. The mindscape was becoming much less segmented, though one side kept their territory well concealed.

  Logan had ignored Roman and Patton’s excited discussion about how they were going to connect their territories to make the roaming impulses feel more comfortable. As much as Logan appreciated what the others were trying to do, he valued the comfort and security of his secluded hideaway. His lab was his own and the idea of opening it up to others made Logan feel extremely uncomfortable. To save himself an explanation, Logan dismissed himself whenever the conversation inevitably went to the structure of the mindscape. Eventually though, he was caught during one of his casual exits from Roman’s kingdom.

  “Very clever, Logan.” Guilt stood at the entry to the castle and followed Logan as he continued his journey to Roman’s room. “Avoiding the conversation to avoid lying. Keeps Dee in the dark, but you can’t hide from me.”

“I am not attempting to hide from you, Guilt.”

“Then what’s the hurry?”

“There is no hurry. I am simply eager to return to my lab and go over some facts for a video.” Logan paused as he reached the door to Roman’s room. “Why are you following me?”

“Because you feel guilty.” He lent casually against the wall next to the door. “The question is, are you going to continue to let your guilt grow and strengthen, or lessen it by talking to someone?”

Logan looked away and Guilt knew he was on the right path. It had been clear to him that Logan was hiding something, and he was glad he took the plunge in approaching the logical side as he opened the door and gestured for Guilt to enter. The two remained silent as Logan led Guilt through Roman’s common area door, into his own room and paused at the door to his lab.

“I have a confession to make…. but you must promise not to tell the others.”

Guilt nodded and Logan unlocked the door and walked into the lab. A chill ran up Guilts spine as he entered the room and practically jogged to catch up to Logan after shutting the door.

“What’s the rush, Logan?”

No reply came, so Guilt continued to follow in silence until they reached a wooden door, tucked away behind a shelf at the back of the lab. The rough wood did not match the cleanliness of the rest of the lab and Guilt’s eyes widened when the door opened to reveal a dark rocky tunnel.

“Does this go where I think it does?” Guilt whispered, following Logan into the tunnel as the side conjured a powerful torch to his hand. “When did you find this?”

“After the migraine finally past.” Logan kept his tone level and his focus straight ahead. “I was cleaning up when I found the door.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone because?”

“Because I didn’t want to get their hopes up.”

  The torch light found the edge of the cave and illuminated the blackened remains of a forest. The torch served as the only source of light, and Guilt looked around in shock as he took in what little he could see. Their footsteps were muffled by soft soil that was neither dry nor wet and not a single piece of foliage was left on the skeletal trees.

“Why isn’t there any light?”

“From my inspections, the top of the mountain is actually sealed. The formally named Oasis, is no longer able to live up to its name.”

Reaching the clearing, Logan cast his torchlight across the dried-up stream. Guilt grabbed Logan’s hand to aim the torch towards where Virgil’s room portal used to be located. The rocky surface was blank and smooth. Kneeling, Guilt pressed his hands against the ground and closed his eyes, trying to get a sense of the area or at least make a connection like he used to.

“This place is completely separated from the mindscape.” Guilt looked up towards Logan, but Logan kept his eyes trained on the rock wall. “It isn’t even neutral space. I doubt I could even sink out from a place like this.”

“You can’t. I’ve tried.” Logan took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before speaking again. “Do you think the others need to know? Will learning the location of my underground lab, and its connection to Virgil’s mountain, make any difference?”

Guilt looked around, straining his eyes into the darkness. He imagined bringing the others there and giving them yet another visual reminder that Virgil was gone. Standing, Guilt brushed his hands off against his pants and made eye contact with Logan.

“They don’t need to see this. You were right to keep this to yourself.”

“Thank you.” Logan felt the weight of his guilt lift with the affirmation that he had made the right choice. “I needed to hear that.”

The two aspects headed back towards Logan’s lab, eager to regain their sense of connection with the mindscape again. Once back in the lab, Logan shut the door and set the torch down on the nearby shelf.

“Logan?” Pausing, Logan turned to face Guilt. “Would you mind if I visited the Oasis on occasion?”

Although unsure of his reasoning, Logan nodded and continued down the aisle with Guilt only a few steps behind.

  After their discussion, Guilt made a daily habit of visiting the Oasis. With Logan’s permission, he would teleport to the door in the lab to collect the torch before heading through the tunnel and making his way back to the dry creek bed. Sitting in the darkness satisfied the invisible itch that had plagued him since his return, though he still didn’t understand why.

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

 It had been a whole two weeks since the incident. Two weeks since they had watched Hood and Jacket jump over the cliff edge. Two weeks of recovery. 14 days of reshaping the mindscape. 336 hours to accept their new reality.

Laptop balancing on his knees, Thomas sat on his lounge reviewing costume images for the next video and felt thankful that they were taking the time to make the costumes properly. It had been frustrating to delay the video, but now he was very thankful.

Logan sat at the other end of the couch reading a psychology textbook and reflecting on the revised script that Thomas had read out earlier. Frustration built in Logan’s throat and he finally had to speak.

“Do you really have to dress me as Frankenstein’s monster?”

Thomas sighed loudly, “for the third time, yes, Logan.”

“I am happy to pass up the Roman insult if it means you portray me as Dr. Frankenstein.”

“Oh, let it go, Dr. Dribble.” Roman rose up in his usual spot, his arms folded as he faced off with Logan. “It works for the story and I’m giving you a free pass to insult me. Just take the hand you’ve been dealt and move on.”

Logan rolled his eyes; lighting a fire in Roman and the creative side opened his mouth to argue just as Patton rose up.

“Hey, Hey, hey. It’s meeeeeee, Patton!”

The other three stared at Patton in confusion as the side giggled to himself.

“Wha-what was that about, Patton?” Thomas questioned, very confused by the sudden and loud entry.

“I dunno. I wanted to make an entrance.”

“Mission weirdly accomplished.” Roman laughed, forgetting his prepared argument for Logan.

“Okay then,” Thomas turned back to his computer and continued scrolling. “So, how are the other impulses going? Are they all settled into the new mindscape?”

“That would be a big old Y-E-S!” Beamed Patton, “They are loving Roman’s new…”

  Déjà vu is a funny thing. As Thomas opened a new email and his eyes took in the sentence "Please, join us for a live charity stream on Twitch," the sensation hit him hard. Déjà vu. Roman and Patton were filled with excitement. Déjà vu. Logan recognised the benefits of participating in such an event. Déjà vu. Thomas felt his heart rate increase and his hands took on a mild shake as his mind started producing a list of possible scenarios as long as a CVS receipt. Logan froze as he registered what Thomas was feeling; rising to his feet, his book hit the floor with a surprisingly loud thud that stopped Roman and Patton in their tracks.

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

 Can we do it right this time?

We shouldn't be afraid of who we are. We aren't here to hurt; we are here to help.

But what if we do hurt Thomas?

We won't.

But we did before.

Yeah, that was how this whole thing started.

And did you sense the size of that migraine we triggered? What if we do that again.

I don't want to hurt Thomas again.

  We only hurt Thomas because we tried to deny who we are. We let one single incident define our whole existence. Thomas was young. The mindscape was still developing. Since then, Thomas accepted Anxiety. He learnt how to deal with it, and he has been dealing with those negative and depressive thoughts for years. He is more than capable of dealing with us. We are capable of being more than just darkness. The big question is, are you all ready to believe in your capabilities?

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

 Guilt lay on his back in the clearing of the Oasis, feeling satisfied in the rich darkness. The torch was off and laying by his side, but he wasn't interested in looking around. With the light out he swore he could hear voices whispering into the air; though he never dared to mention it to Logan. Every day he came the voices seemed to get clearer.

  Are you in?

  Guilt smiled as an electrical tingling ran up his spine and he felt no fear as the ground beneath him dissolved. He found himself falling back into the faded darkness. He should have been afraid. It made sense to fear being torn and spread across the mindscape again; but instead Guilt felt happy.

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

 If we do this, we won't be the same.

Let’s be honest, nothing is going to be the same around here.

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

  *THUD* *THUD*

"Ow, jeez! Would you guys just stop and think for a moment." The impulse sat up from their landing spot on the floor, pushing back their black hood with purple plaid patches. "I mean come on; we only just survived our last social outing."

Logan skidded onto his knees to embrace the impulse; tears falling freely from his eyes. "You frickin came back."

"Flipping flapjacks, he came back!" Patton through his arms around the stunned Roman and smiled over at Thomas.

The impulse gave Logan a comforting squeeze, "You do know you shouldn't hug random strangers, right?"  

Logan loosened his grip and the two separated as Thomas slipped down onto the floor and wrapped his arms around the impulses neck.  

"Shut up, Virgil. We know it's you."

Virgil let out a mischievous laugh, "Wow, rude much."

Thomas let Virgil go and held him at arm’s length by his shoulders, taking in the sides new look. His jacket was like before, only the sleeves seemed longer, so they came down lower over his hands. His purple undershirt was now a dark grey, with the tears exposing more purple plaid. Thomas tilted his head as he looked at Virgil's face; his eye shadow seemed more like an actual skin tone and he was acutely aware that he had two fangs for some reason. Virgil squinted at Thomas' admiring face, feeling annoyingly self-conscious.

"Can I stand up or are you just going to keep staring at me?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Thomas and Logan both shuffled back to allow Virgil to stand, but the moment he was upright Patton was squeezing him from behind.

"Emo sandwich!" Roman laughed, as he hugged Virgil from the front; squishing him between himself and Patton. Virgil groaned but smiled at the ridiculous antics of the two sides.

"I can't fully comprehend what has transpired," Logan helped pull Thomas up to his feet so they were all standing, "but I don't care. We are truly glad to have you back."

"Like you wouldn't believe it." Roman laughed as he and Patton finally released the anxious side.

"Yeah, well..." Virgil rubbed the back of his neck and smiled; flashing one of his fangs. " You can't get rid of me that easily. Thomas wouldn't survive if only you guys ran the show."

"I take offence to that, Twilight," Roman gasped and dramatically clutched his chest. "What's with the costume anyway? Halloween is well and truly over."

"Halloween is never over, Princey, and this isn't a costume by the way. This is just...who I am now."

Virgil spread his arms out and tried to act confident, but their stares had him plunging his hands back into his jacket pockets.

"Wait, are you still anxiety? Is your name still Virgil? We shouldn't have just assumed..."

Thomas was now very aware that they had all just assumed that this was still Virgil. He hadn't considered that he may have been like Deceit and returned with a new identity.

"Woah, woah, calm down. It's all good." Virgil adjusted his jacket and slid one of his hands into the front pocket of his purple skinny jeans, using the other hand to gesture as he spoke. "Virgil still feels...right to me. I can't see myself with any other name. And I guess anxiety is still a part of me, but so is negativity or...well, depression."

"So, what happened to the shadows?" Logan asked, thinking about the darkness that had caused them so much pain.

"It's still around, obviously." A black shadow swirled around Virgil's free hand, and his eyes flashed grey as the shadow snaked back up his sleeve. "It's a bit more manageable; a lot less hostile. Still potential for it to become overwhelming, but I'm sure you guys will be able to help with that."

The others all nodded, and Patton exclaimed, "You bet your ass we will."

Thomas, Roman, Logan and Virgil exchanged a confused glance, confirming that they had all heard the same thing.

"Wow, Pat. You got edgy while I was gone. How do you go from referencing pancakes to language like that?"

"Pancakes? Oh, you mean flippin' flapjacks?"

"Yes, I do not understand the significance of breakfast food during a surprising situation." Logan adjusted his glasses, thinking about Patton's exclamation when Virgil had appeared.

"Oh, that’s just something I say instead of saying fuck."

Roman, Logan and Thomas felt their jaws drop, while Virgil burst out laughing and put his arm around Patton's shoulder.

"Patton, don't you dare ever change."

.

.

.

Eventually, Thomas summoned Rage and Dee to his lounge room and the group filled Virgil in on the events since his disappearance. Admittedly, the others were mad when Logan revealed his discovery of the Oasis, but Virgil was quick to defend his decision and thanked Logan for giving Guilt time.

"It was because Guilt spent time alone in the Oasis that I was able to come back together. It's hard to pull yourself together without a central meeting point. Oh and no offence, but you guys have such chaotic energy, we couldn't focus at all."

"Well at least Guilt is in a proper fusion now." Rage smiled, "better than being faded from what I hear."

"Truuuue," Thomas stretched out the word with a yawn and Logan recognised the late hour.

"We should be going. Thomas requires rest, especially if he is going to get all of his tasks completed tomorrow."

The others outwardly whined and Logan firmly shook his head and pointed down; waiting until only Virgil and Thomas remained before sinking out himself.

  Thomas pushed himself up from the couch with another yawn and headed for the stairs. Virgil followed in silence until Thomas was ready for bed. Leaning against the doorframe, Virgil watched Thomas sit on his bed and smile over at his anxious side.

"You're all good now, right Thomas?"

"Yeah... Look, I know you don't think I need to say it, but I'm going to say it anyway; I'm sorry...for everything."

"What the heck are you talking about? You've got nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I should be apologising to you. I was the one that messed up."

"No, but..." Thomas grunted in frustration as he quickly realised that this was an argument neither of them would win. "Why don't we just agree that we were both at fault. But everything should be better now. We can accept ourselves for who we are. All that we are. The good and the... perceived to be bad parts."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"I know." Thomas smiled at Virgil, playing on the fact that he had just used Logan's voice.

Shaking his head, Virgil pushed himself off the doorframe and folded his arms; flashing a fanged smile at his host.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow when we read that email again."

Virgil sunk out as Thomas threw a pillow across the room in frustration. He knew why Joan did it now, it was a very satisfying action.

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

 "Oil stained oak with brass finishes," Roman nodded at the door in the hallway, "I approve of his new sense of taste."

Logan, Patton, Rage and Dee were spread out around the lounge and dining area as Roman walked in from the hallway. They had given up waiting in the hall for Virgil to return, with Logan assuring them that he was probably still conversating with Thomas privately.

  "Wow, you guys just let anyone in here now," Virgil appeared at the top of the hallway behind Roman, gesturing towards Dee and Rage on the couch. "I feel like your standards have dropped since I was gone."

"Very funny, Dark Shadow." Rage smirked, " I think we bring some variety to this place."

"Leave the name calling to Princey, Rage. It isn't your strong point."

"Alright, Kiddos. That'll do. We are all friends here." Patton walked over to Virgil with a plate of his Crofters biscuits. "Care for a cookie, Virge?"

The smell of the warm biscuits made Virgil smile and he couldn't resist taking one and looking over to Logan who had been assessing them with his eyes.

"Thanks, Pat. So, what are you guys all hanging around here for?"

Virgil could suspect the answer, but he enjoyed watching the others stumble over their words to avoid their admission.

"I wanted to bake cookies."

"I was just ensuring Patton wasn't wasting any of my Crofters."

"Rage and Dee need supervision to be in here, so I thought I would hang around."

"This couch keeps me calm."

Dee lit up his eye and they all spoke in unison, "We wanted to see the Oasis."

"Well at least there is one honest one among you," Virgil snapped his fingers and his hallway door swung open with a slight squeak. "You can come into my room on one condition; you three in particular."

Virgil eyed the three sides, "You don't touch anything, and you walk straight through to my territory. I don't need anyone ripping off my eyeshadow look."

"Agreed"

"Absolutely."

"Admittedly, I would pull off the look much better than you, but I will agree to your terms."

  Rage vanished from the couch and reappeared at Virgil's door, giving Virgil the finger as the side fixed him with an annoyed stare.

"I mean it, Rage! Don't touch my stuff."

Virgil vanished and the others walked down the hall to poke their heads into the room just as Virgil chased Rage through the wardrobe portal. The room was well lit with a light purple hue, and the walls were lined with shelves of books, figurines and photo frames. Depressions old wardrobe was replaced with a drawing table, a curved lounged took up the middle of the room, and Virgil's bed sat in the centre of the back wall with beanbags sitting either side.

Patton and Dee walked eagerly through the room to reach the Oasis, while Roman and Logan lingered in the room a little longer.

"Clearly, he is still obsessed with spiders." Roman pointed to the webs that covered the shelving and ceiling of the room.

"Indeed."

Logan continued to inspect the shelves while Roman headed through the portal. He paused and ran his finger over the spine of a book entitled 'Logan's Advice'.

"Don't let it get to your head, Lo."

Logan jumped and turned to find Virgil next to him grinning as he swept his bangs away from his face.

"Let's just say that I value your opinion and we'll leave it at that, ok?"

"Oh, don't you worry." Logan smiled and turned to start walking towards the portal with Virgil. "I will only bring it up in order to seek validation or cause you some form of embarrassment."

"Be careful, Logan, your Roman is showing."

  Stepping through the portal was like stepping into paradise and something that Logan never would have expected from Virgil's territory. The mountain top was open again filling the space with natural light and the green foliage reflected the light further.

"Bet you were expecting some kind of haunted forest, hey Logan?"

Logan glanced sideways at Virgil's fanged smile, "It's definitely an improvement on what I previously saw."

"This place puts the cliff edge to shame!" Roman called from his place in a tree he and Patton were climbing.

"It wasn't called the Oasis for ironies sake" Dee called from his spot next to Rage, leaning back against the base of the tree. "This place actually feels a lot better than it used to."

"Well, I need a place to calm down." Snapping his fingers, two deck chairs appeared near the stream and Virgil gestured for Logan to sit. "I'd wear myself out if I was at my peak all the time."

  Logan took a seat and looked over at the other sides in the tree, analysing how high Roman and Patton would be able to climb based on the trees structure. Virgil paused at the water’s edge, looking at his reflection with a half-smile. He couldn't help but appreciate the irony of having fangs after his vampire Halloween costume and the next script. His reflection split in the water, and for a moment white glowing eyes stared back before fading to his old face.

  Things are going to be different; that much is for sure. Thomas isn't going to stop stepping outside of our comfort zone and we are going to have to adapt to this new life pretty quickly.

Just remember, we're not alone.

 The reflections merged back together, and Virgil turned to look at the sides and impulses in his territory. Each of them was important to Thomas and helped him in some way, and Virgil was ready to use them to help him as well.

  I can go to Patton for comfort and Roman for protection if the shadows get out of control. I'm sure Logan would always be willing to help me refocus if my worries become overly exaggerated. Dee can help conceal my fear when Thomas needs to be brave, just like he always has. And Rage... Is an impulsive pain, but he has a good heart.

  "Virgil?" Logan turned in his chair to look at the side still staring at the water. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Virgil moved to sit on the chair next to Logan, "I think it will be." Until something else comes up.

End note:

Thank you to every past, present and future reader for reading this and sticking with me as I embraced the challenge of story writing. At the time of me uploading this, I just finished watching season 4&5 of Steven Universe and boy do I now see just how similar that story is to my own (no spoilers). Honestly, when I planned this fic, I had only seen the first 2 seasons and that really inspired the initial concept. I can see now why Thomas and his friends like the show.

Sides of a Hero was always meant to end like this – despite diverging story arcs to get here (I abandoned so many ideas along the way). There is obviously potential for this fic to go further as either short fics to fill in plot holes or expand on events, or a complete second instalment. If there was interest, I would endeavour to continue making content.

Thanks again for reading and showing support with kudos and comments. I really appreciated the support and you all are amazing for doing that.

Happy time zone everyone *waves and returns to work*

Chapter index ------------

Tags (Thank you for being supportive) 

@atseipl

@k9cat

#sides of a hero #sanders sides #sanders sides fandom #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #thomas sanders #thomas sanders fanfic #thomas sanders fandom #ao3 #fanders #famders #fander #famder #deceit sanders #ts deceit #logan sanders #ts logan #logan logic sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #patton morality sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #roman creativity sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #virgil anxiety sanders #rage #depression

[punishandenslavesuckers]

 Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes up in a grave by the road ten years after he died. Things have gone a bit wrong since then and he might be the only one who can set things right… since it’s the Mighty Nein themselves who’ve gone wrong. AU: Where Molly comes back to yell at his super-powered Level 20 friends. (AO3 - part1) (AO3 - part 2) (AO3 - part3) (AO3 - part4) (AO3 - part5) (AO3-part6) (AO3-part7) (AO3-part8) (AO3-part9)

The Blooming Grove is beautiful in the day light.

The sun slides beams of yellow through the gnarled canopy to the undergrowth, dappling dark grass and wildflowers in shifting stripes of sunshine and shadow. That’s what Molly spends the better part of ten minutes staring at when he wakes comfortably drowsy and a bit dehydrated from an all-night drug stupor. The morning is quiet, broken, only by distant murmuring and the muted twitter of birdsong. Mollymauk’s lying on his back still, though someone moved him a little into the space beneath a great oak tree, his head cushioned on a balled jacket.

For a warm sleepy while, Molly dozes a little somewhere between waking and unconsciousness, vaguely roused from his limbo by the impression of another person nearby. Yawning a little, Mollymauk sits up a bit, raking hair from his face.

Caduceus Clay is sitting nearby.

His back is partially to Molly, his face in profile serene as the morning around him.

He’s dressed in full armor, glittering chitinous green and grown with rosy lichen. Someone has taken the long section of his hair and pulled it back so the central part is woven elaborately, plaited and clipped so it stands up from his otherwise shaved skull.  The rest of his hair is braided in a heavy rope that coils over his left shoulder. There are carved bone and amber charms threaded into the soft pink.

He looks war-ready to Molly with his fauxhawk and his armor.

He looks like he’s been waiting for Molly to wake up.

Molly can hear him murmur quietly and in the fifteen seconds that he gets to simply watch, Molly supposes that the cleric is praying. His low voice is like a long chord from a strange instrument, deep bass and vibrato. Eventually, he seems to register Mollymauk’s attention and looks over his shoulder, one long ear flipping upward like a deer detecting a noise. He smiles and the fondness is all the way up to his eyes in a way that makes Molly feel extremely safe even now, despite the facts of his fate. It’s impressive really. Molly thinks Clay could calm a storm with that look.

“Morning,” Molly says.

“Good morning,” says Caduceus.

Mollymauk folds his hands on his stomach.

“I have no hangover. Is that because you have the best drugs in the kingdom, or because you did some healing while I was sleeping?”

“Both.”

“Anyone ever tell you, you’re a gentleman and a scholar, Mr. Clay?”

“No. Because I’m neither of those things.” Caduceus turns a little at the waist and holds out an upturned hand to Molly. “This is yours, I think.”

In his palm something glitters, sunshine sparking molten before Molly gets a better look. There’s a thin chain pooled around a crystal heart amulet and when Molly recognizes it, there’s a moment of mild indifference (like when someone returns a knickknack) then a low creep of unnerve when he contextualizes how someone else came to possess it. The last resting place of this necklace, after wall, was around his own throat the day Lorenzo cut him down.

“Caleb gave it to me.” Caduceus tilts his head. “I think it’s fitting that it come back to you, Mollymauk.”

Molly arches a brow. “Caleb gave you a heart necklace?”

Caduceus gives him a look. “Caleb gave me the pariapt of wound closure on account of how often I was wounded in the course of regularly scheduled idiocy.” He shrugs a little. “But, yes, if you like.”

For a while, Molly says nothing. Then he says, “How does a firbolg cleric end up with the Mighty Nein?”

Silence for a moment while Caduceus thinks on this.

“They came to my graveyard – this one, in fact – on the sunset of your death. They asked me to come with them on a mission of vengeance and justice.” Caduceus looks out over the overgrown headstones, to the temple structure beyond and Molly thinks his expression gets a little wistful, an edge of… not regret but something. “I didn’t know anything about the world back then.” He turns back to Molly. “I know a lot more now.”

Molly stares at the periapt, then says, “No. It’s yours now. I don’t want it. Not if Caleb gave it to you.”

“It wasn’t a gift. It was a tactical—”

“Sure thing,” Molly says, grinning. Then, after Caduceus has reluctantly put the periapt back on, he asks, “You really think Caleb would risk ending the world?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Molly shakes his head. “I always knew he was deep in his head. I didn’t ever think he would… I thought he might fuck us, specifically, over. Or a lot of other people in general. I got that he was putting Nott and himself over everyone else. That made sense. That’s fine. But the whole bloody world?”

“You never knew him in context,” Caduceus says softly.

“Then put him in context.”

A hesitation then. Clay visibly wavers.

“You won’t spoil my good opinion of him, Mr. Clay. He killed me in cold blood for the sake of making a point I think.” Molly cracks a bitter grin. “I’d feel less sore about it, I think, if you gave me some framework for what makes a man do that to someone.”

Caduceus lowers his gaze a moment, then, quietly, he says:

“Caleb Widogast was insane once and finding sanity again required him to take hold of an impossible idea.” He raises his gaze then to Molly. “This idea was so fantastic it could hem in all the broken parts of him and hold his shape, make him a person again long enough to accomplish it. That impossible idea would have also, very possibly, done the world irreparable damage. So, you have this idea that Caleb ending the world is a new development and…” Caduceus shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but Caleb was always willing to end the world, Mollymauk. His restraint now is the new development.”

Quiet for a moment while Molly digests this.

“What do you mean he was ‘insane’? How and why?”

“I mean as a young man, a figure of authority convinced Caleb Widowgast to be a thing instead of a person. They hollowed him out the way authority can hollow a person and laid ideology inside him rather than morality. Then, on the say so of that ideology, he burned his family alive in his childhood home.” Cad is holding Molly’s gaze, unwavering, steady as a load-bearing beam. “The ideology wasn’t rooted deep enough to keep the horror out. He went insane. Then he stopped being insane and decided he might unravel time itself to undo what he’d done because the possibility of ‘fixing it’ was the only port in the storm.”

Molly stares.

“Gods fuck me, I knew something was wrong but… are you bloody serious?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve talked him down from something like this before.”

Caduceus nods. “Yes.”

“How’d you stop him last time?”

“I didn’t. Nott took his hand and asked him not to do it.”

Molly is quiet a moment, then, “But that won’t work this time. This time, he’d kill Nott.”

Something reactive crosses Caduceus’ face. “No. Never. He’d risk killing her,” he corrects. “That’s something he’s not been willing to do in a long time. I’m not saying he doesn’t love others and love them—" bit of a sigh here— “very, very much. But he’ll never care for anyone like he cares for Nott. Nott is what’s holding back the end of the world. Not me or Yasha or you or anyone else.”

“The whole world on a goblin-girl,” Molly murmurs. “Something kinda great about that.”

“Yes. So much depends upon odd everyday things.” Caduceus tilts his head. “Maybe on a carnival performer.”

“Ugh.” Molly rolls his eyes. “Stop. My stomach is knotting up just thinking about it. Did everyone come up with a plan while I was sleeping?”

“Yes. Breaching Caleb’s keep would be impossible… save for the fact we have Jester with us again. The Traveler travels everywhere. It may be a difficult approach, but he won’t be able to stop us like most wizards of his ilk might be able. But he can make it a treacherous road to walk.” Caduceus gestures. “The plan is simple enough, we breach the keep. Jester, Yasha, Nott, and I will try to hold Caleb. You and Fjord will find Beauregard. Fjord will… do what’s necessary.”

Mollymauk leans back against the tree, his arms draped over his knees. “Kill her in her sleep, you mean.”

Caduceus doesn’t flinch.

“It’s been my task all along,” he says, “to one day be the person who ends Beau’s life. If the Beauregard I knew isn’t dead already, then it is an unnatural thread that binds her to the world. As a person whose walked between life and death over and over tied by powers beyond your hold, tell me there isn’t a time to let life let go.”

Molly’s jaw aches from clenching it. But eventually, he shakes his head just once.

“No, I’m not disagreeing there. But she’s my friend, you know?”

“And mine. And Fjord’s. It’ll be him that does it and I don’t envy him the task, but I wish I could relieve him of it.”

“He volunteer for that job?”

“Yes. But even if he hadn’t, you and he won’t survive a direct confrontation with Caleb Widogast if he knows we’re coming. You’ll be best to end the fight at the its source.”

Molly glances across the graveyard, to the faint sound of voices and movement. Where he can sense that the rest of the Mighty Nein are milling around on the opposite side of the shrine, gathering things and preparing. The thought sets his nerves on a preemptive razor’s edge, his heart acidic suddenly in the back of his throat and he finds himself breathing faster, his hands clenching tight and he hears it clear as a breath against the coil of his ear: Lorenzo saying, “Respect.” Caleb saying, “Die.” Fjord saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Caduceus lays a hand on his shoulder and Molly twitches reactive under his palm. He waits for Molly to settle, but kneels there facing him now, pale eyes intent on Molly’s face the way one can be intent on a book they are reading. He squeezes Molly’s shoulder and it’s strange how heavy his hand lies on him, how much density that suggests in the cleric’s bones and build.

“Breathe,” he rumbles.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Molly says.

“None of us know that,” says Caduceus, “but we’re going to try. If you really think you can’t do it, you don’t have to –”

“Fuck you, Caduceus. You brought me back from the grave. If I go back to it, I’ll be on my bloody feet. Understand? I’m just saying, I’m a bit nervous.”

“I understand.” There’s a pause. “Mollymauk, I know I’ve said this before but…”

“Stop.” Molly waves a hand. “I’m sick of people being sorry for me.”

“No, I was going to say you’ve shown unusual bravery in the face of terrible things. Also, I am not really sorry. I would do it again.”

“Weirdly, that makes me feel better, thank you, Caduceus.”

This earns him a head tilt. “If you’re angry with me… with everything that’s happened, you have every right.”

“Trust me,” Molly huffs, “I don’t need your permission to be angry. I’m livid. I’m furious my friends are trying to end the world because one is an emotionally traumatized bookworm.” He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I’m furious they didn’t take care of one another and you had to dig me out of a grave to sort it out for some reason. I’m out of my fuckin’ mind that somehow the gods are hanging this nonsense on me. I’m so mad I want to bite something.”

Caduceus nods. “I understand.”

Up close, the very fine gray down that colors Caduceus’ face and throat seems to shimmer a little and there are shards of gray in the pink ring of each iris. Caduceus Clay is a pastel riot of contradicting pieces and he smells like fresh-cut grass and whatever moss is growing in the chinks of his armor. Molly doesn’t realize he’s doing it until he’s reached up and taken hold of the long, pink braid hung over his shoulder pauldron. Clay doesn’t stop him, just peering curiously.

There’s a heavy iron clasp at the end of the braid, hard in Molly’s palm.

“Why did you stay?”

Caduceus flicks a long ear. “What?”

“With Caleb.” Molly grips the clasp a little, just to feel the metal dig in. He doesn’t look at the other man. “You were one of the last people standing with Caleb. Even after everyone else had gone other directions. Nott stuck it out, I get that. But why did you?”

“Because,” Caduceus says, “there was a time previously that I was capable of holding Caleb back as well. Second only to Nott of course.”

“Wait. What does that…?”

“Hey, Deuce? Molly? You two awake and sober or does Jester need to come over here?”

Fjord’s come around the side of the temple.

He’s standing among a collection of broken gravestones, his arms crossed, wearing that strange set of black leather armor he wore earlier. The only difference now is it looks as though Jester’s painted the symbol of her god across his shoulder guard. In the full light of day, Molly can see that he wasn’t delusional: Fjord looks almost exactly the same as he did ten years ago. Time hasn’t touched him. He’s been held in a capsule. The age is (instead) in his eyes, in the way he looks at them though Molly couldn’t identify what heaviness it is exactly that ten years has put there.

“We’re okay here,” Caduceus says. He leans his weight on his staff and stands up, offering Molly a hand up. “Just discussing the plan.”

Caduceus murmurs something and Molly feels the Death Ward charm again take hold of his soul, anchoring him to the world. The cleric lets go of his hand then.

“If you die,” Caduceus says, “and there is no one there to call you back from death, that’s it. Jester’s asked her god about the rules around you dying. You can be called back as many times as there is someone to call you, but if you die and no one calls…”

“I’m dead,” Molly says. “And Fjord is no cleric.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Fjord says, a little defensive, “but if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. Point of fact, I think I’ll move faster without you –”

“He’s lying,” Caduceus says easily. “He’s just worried, particularly since he’s operating without his patron now.”

Fjord tosses his hands up. “Thank you, Caduceus, for your rousing pre-battle pep talks. Appreciated as always.” Then when his giant teammate just kind of gives him a benign but entirely shit-eating kind of smile, Fjord shoulders past him muttering, “Fuckin’ years later, still weird as hell…”

“I heard that.”

“Yeah, I know, Deuce. It’s what you’re there for.”

He glares over his shoulder, still standing close enough that he kind of has to tilt his head back to do it. Caduceus kind of smiles in return. There’s a beat in that exchange, a crisscross where something in the cleric’s expression gets a little sad despite the unabashed fondness there and something in Fjord’s glare loses the edge. Caduceus is the one to break the wordless quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

“I’m glad you’re with us again, Fjord.”

“I… yeah.” A pause. “Look, Caduceus, about what I said last night…”

Caduceus waves a hand.

“No. Man.” Fjord gets indignant. “It’s not okay. Just… you know…” He sighs. “Thank you. Nott told me a little bit about it, but she shouldn’t have had to tell me anything. I should have known you were doing everything you could. I was just… taking it out on you because I was frustrated and… and fucked up, honestly. It’s not excuse, but it’s what I was doing.”

“I know. I’m not upset.”

“You should be. I was over the line.”

Caduceus doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and glances away which doesn’t work especially well when one is taller than everyone else around them.

“You should have never been trapped as long as you were,” Caduceus says eventually. He meets Fjord’s eyes and Molly can see now what he was masking – a plain and painful guilt. “I was afraid to leave Caleb. I’m sorry.”

Fjord steps forward and grabs the cleric’s sleeve at the elbow, pulling him face to face.

“You listen. What happened to me was my fault and no one else’s. I did what I did. I signed on full well knowing what my patron was and what it wanted. I swallowed the fuckin’ sea and I took the blade when it was given to me.” Fjord hisses through his teeth now. “Dammit, Caduceus, why didn’t you get away from him like the rest of us? You didn’t have to stay.”

“We don’t do that.” Caduceus is perfectly calm, certain as sunrise. “We don’t leave each other.”

“Bullshit, Cad. We all left you.”

“You didn’t leave me. You were taken. There’s a diff—” And here he falters. He glances at Molly. Because in that instant Molly realizes (a slow unraveling dawning) that Caleb was quoting Caduceus on that beach— “there’s a difference,” he finishes. “Maybe not everyone was taken like you were taken, but you can be taken by grief, by despair, or madness, or circumstance. You were all taken by something.” Caduceus trails off. “I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not.”

“Gods, I don’t get you,” Fjord groans, pressing fingers into his temple. “It’s been how long now and I’m never gonna fuckin’ get you, Cad. You’re just so fuckin’ – oof!”

Fjord’s complaint is smothered rather effectively by Caduceus casually reaching out and yanking his shorter teammate into a hug. It’s an expert hug. Both inevitable and affectionate in equal unstoppable parts. Fjord, nevertheless, gives a cursory struggle before surrendering to Clay’s (apparently) unescapable embrace, the tension sliding out of his shoulders in increments. Molly is pretty sure he can see a glow in Clay’s fingers, light sinking into Fjord’s armor before disappearing entirely.

“Did you just hug a Death Ward onto me?” Fjord demands, muffled.

“Yes.” Clay squeezes him just once more for good measure, then lets him go. “Can you go get Nott for me? She has something for Molly, I think.”

“She can’t keep giving me her stuff!” Molly protests.

Fjord looks at Molly. “She can and she will.” He holds up his arm and there’s a pair of strange gold-hammered bracers strapped to his forearms. “I don’t know where she stole these, but apparently you can grab a spell with them and throw it back.”

“I love that girl,” says Molly. Then, after a moment, he jerks his chin to Caduceus. “I’m glad you found him after I died, by the way.” He waves a hand up and down generally encompassing Caduceus Clay as a whole. “You know, good color scheme.”

Caduceus stifles a chuckle. Fjord gets a lopsided grin and pats Molly on the shoulder as he turns to go. But he pauses. There’s just the one look – brief and curious as he looks a Molly, a question in his stare… so Molly slaps Fjord on the cheek in a way that clearly confuses him.

“Oi, none of that. Head in the game.” He winks. “We’ll sort it out later.”

Fjord hesitates. “Alright. I’ll hold you to it.”

Molly smiles until Fjord’s walking away.

“You’re lying,” Caduceus observes blandly. He’s leaning against his staff, head tilted. “You don’t think we’re going to survive.”

“No, I don’t think I  am.”

There’s a quick silence. Then, “Mollymauk, I don’t think–”

But before he can start in on some platitudes about how everything is going to be okay or something, Caduceus makes this aborted choking sound and doubles over. His eyes go wide, his head jerking back, ears coming up like a startled animal. Like he’s hearing or seeing something Molly can’t. Then, with no warning beyond that, Caduceus’ eyes kind of roll back in his skull and he staggers sideways against the oak tree and drops his shoulder against it.

Molly, who watched all this with a confused horror, rushes forward.

“Hey, Caduceus?” He touches his shoulder like you reach for a high shelf. “You okay?”

“Head rush,” the firbolg mumbles, digging around in his robes for something. “Just… have to walk it off.”

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I think something just… I don’t know.” Caduceus seems distressed and a little dazed honestly, so Molly catches his elbow and pulls the gangly cleric upright, letting him lean his weight against his shoulder from his seven feet of height. He’s a little quiet until they’ve walked a little toward the south side of the graveyard, away from the temple and the others. “Apologies. I might have over worked myself. I’ve been getting the team ready for the fight this morning and yesterday was… taxing.”

“Well you did kill a dragon with a tree.”

“It wasn’t really a dragon. It was a warlock.” Caduceus rubs his temple gingerly as if nursing a migraine. “If it had been a real dragon, I doubt we would have prevailed. True ancient sea dragons? They’re leviathans without mercy or the depravity of their land-bound cousins. It would not have played with us. Her cruelty made her stupid and we killed her for it.”

Surprise jolts through Molly then, his head coming up a little to glance Caduceus. Oddly, his calling someone stupid even in death seems off-color for the gentle giant-kin and Molly frowns a little.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I don’t know. I feel strange.”

“Well, shake it off. We have another round of bad business to deal with. Gotta take care of the Mighty Nein, right?” Molly kind of nudges the bigger man when he doesn’t get an immediate answer. “Right? That’s our job in this group.”

Caduceus gives him a strange look, somewhere between sad and regretful. “Yes, I guess so.”

Molly maneuvers around a low headstone, Caduceus’ hand still resting against his shoulder. “Caduceus, you didn’t seem like you had a head rush. You seemed like you saw something and it scared you. Don’t spare my bloody feelings if Malora’s sending you visions or something, you can tell me.” Molly hesitates then adds, “If the endgame in this story is me going back to the grave, you know I… it’s okay.”

“Mollymauk—”

“It’s okay.” Molly laughs, though it comes mirthless in his mouth. “It’s fine if I don’t survive this. Not many people get three lives, much less the number I’ve been afforded. It’s alright, Mr. Clay. I don’t expect to–”

“Hey!”

Molly stops and looks over his shoulder. Nott is rocketing across the graveyard, full-speed, a darting blur of gnomish speed accelerated by some kind of magic that makes her a yelling blur. Her cloak flaps furiously behind.

“Hey! What are you doing!?”

Caduceus turns.

“You’re outside the boundary! Caduceus!?! CAD, WHAT ARE YOU—!?”

Caduceus interrupts her by suddenly raising a hand and saying a word. He thrusts his hand backward. He’s holding what looks like a large diamond between his thumb and forefinger and as he speaks, magic rushes through it like light through a prism throwing a sheet of rainbow like an aurora against the wall, painted against the air like it’s solid. Then the light shudders, the diamond splits, and simultaneously the air collapse inward and becomes a humming door composed of light.

“MOLLY, GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Molly’s heart stops.

Caduceus grabs him around the waist, hooking one long arm full around his narrow midriff and with a terrible almost beast-like strength the previously gentle firbolg yanks Molly’s slim tiefling weight up into his arms and steps back. Time seems to slow then, like it always does in a moment of horror as the quantum pull of the teleportation spell begins to close around Molly and pull him apart down to the atomic structures of himself. Nott is almost on them, having crossed the yard with expeditious speed.

Molly is inside the tunnel of light, pulled back through the threshold into the howling inter-dimension while Nott is lunging from the foyer of reality. She’s framed in a dark, living green, a window of the Blooming Grove at her back as she dives for Molly, her hand extended as if a gnome-girl jumping in mid-air will stop the pull of a high-level vortex through time and space… and Molly nevertheless believes it. He drives his boot back against Caduceus’ thigh and lunges off him like wall, his middle still collared but like a thrashing animal in a snare he gets just loose enough and shoves one arm forward and –

Reality snaps in that way Molly’s become so familiar with.

   Molly hits the ground at speed. His head cracks hard against the rock, a sick jag of pain spiking his brain and for a red moment the world goes dark and muddled in his skull. Dizzy, the world rotates on a nauseous axis, wobbling like a bowl dropped on a table until it rattles to a stop and he’s laying face down on the ground. The stone is cold against his cheek and palms, the warmth bleeding from his body into the ground.

He blinks slowly, vision focusing…

He’s staring at his own fist against the ground In it: the broken gold chain of Clay’s periapt. Like he tore it from the firbolg’s neck in his panic. Confused, Molly lets it slide from his fingers and rolls onto his side.

Caduceus himself lays some five feet away. He’s sprawled, unmoving. His staff lays on the floor near his head. The amethyst at the head is pulsing slowly, like a heartbeat, revealing the dim fifteen by fifteen foot cavern they’re trapped inside, like a bubble inside solid rock. There’s no other light source, entrance, or seam in the walls of their cell and for a terrible moment, Molly feels the weight of the earth, the walls like a sarcophagus around them and panic begins to bleed in him.

Molly gets to his feet.

“Clay?”

No response.

“Fuck. Caduceus?”

Clay stirs then, groaning as he tries to push himself into a sitting position, head hanging low.

“What… what hap—?” He kind of jerks and doubles over retching. He shudders, then looks up, looks around at the dark cell around them. “Oh no. No…”

“Hey. Clay?” Molly remains at a distance. Molly has both rapiers in hand. “You alright, friend? What’ve you done? It’s okay if you’re okay now. You okay?”

He looks at Molly, looks at his weaponry in hand, the look on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mollymauk.” He touches his neck and it takes Molly a moment to realize he’s touching the hollow where the periapt once laid. “I’m so…” His expression kind of buckles in grief, a bright pain welling in his pale eyes. “I didn’t think he’d do that.”

“Caduceus,” Molly murmurs, moving slowly to kneel next to him. “What happened?”

“I think he turned the… the chain on my periapt into an enslavement ring.” And, having said the words out loud in all their horror, a low, animal growl rises out of Caduceus’ chest and the fingers at this throat dig into the collar of his shirt just above his armor. “He must have done it… a while ago.” The growl is horrible in the firbolg’s throat, this eldritch-fey noise of rage and sorrow. His words stutter and sob. “I didn’t… I didn’t think he’d…”

Molly sheathes one rapier and loops an arm around Caduceus’ shoulders. “Shh, hey. Stop. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“The others are still out there. He only got the two of us.” Molly squeezes Caduceus’ shoulders meaningfully. “And he didn’t tell you to hurt anyone. All you did was pull us into some stupid pocket dimension or something. He doesn’t mean to kill us, I guess. It’s okay. He just sidelined us.”

“He’s split the party. They need us. We can’t fight him staggered–”

“They’ll be okay. They’ve got gods and assassins on their side.”

“How long have I worn this?” Caduceus seems to be in shock.

“Hey, stop. Hey. This isn’t a subtle spell. If you’d been under its control before, you’d know.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Caduceus covers his eyes with one hand. “I know this is the first time he’s used it, but how long has he been comfortable letting me wear this?”

“Since you switched sides,” says a voice suddenly.

Molly’s on his feet instantly. He’s only aware that he cut himself because his rapier burns now in his fist, swarmed in radiant fire. Blood soaks his shirt collar, his neck bleeding gently. Standing in the room, sudden as a blink, is Caleb Widogast. He glances at Molly’s sword, then meets his gaze. There’s something wrong with his eyes – the halogen blue color has ignited and shifts in his skull like blue flame burns behind the iris. The air around him breathes distorted by heatless mirage, power sweltering off his skin so strongly, it makes Molly’s nose sting.

“Don’t do that.” Caleb’s eyes hold Molly’s. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me, you killed me,” Molly says, this even as dividing by two and just as factual. “What did you do to Clay?”

“Exactly what he said.” He looks at Caduceus then and shrugs. “It was when you asked me if I’d changed my mind about Beauregard. That’s when I changed the chain on your periapt. That night.”

That seems to do Clay some harm because his fingers dig deeper into the hallow at his throat and his eyes clench shut. So Molly steps between Caleb and the other man, his single drawn rapier throwing white in eerie ripples across the walls. Caleb’s eyes slide across the blade, then back to Molly.

“You’re stronger,” he says, “than when you died.”

“Any chance I can convince you to just back off?” Molly says.

“No.”

“Why? You win. We’re stuck in your stupid pocket bubble whatever. Gloating about it is fucking rude.”

“I’m not gloating. I’m sorry, but I need you to–”

“Fuck you and your sorry,” Molly says merrily. He circles a little to Caleb’s right and the wizard tracks him with his eyes, his fingers burning with some held sorcery that Molly talks over. “Rude to kill someone, you know. Rude to enslave someone with a cheap piece of jewelry too.”

“I’m not here to fight,” Caleb says. “Neither of you will win here. This room is made to hold my enemies. So…” He holds out an empty hand. “Molly, come with me. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, sincere as his mask of sociopathy will allow, “but I will hurt Caduceus if you don’t cooperate.” He waits for Molly to react, but only for a second before getting impatient. “Did you hear me? I will hurt him. Put the weapon away. I’m beyond you, Mollymauk. Just do as I say.”

“Suck. My. Purple. Dick,” Molly enunciates.

Caleb gives him a bewildered look.

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Widogast.”

“I forgot how annoying you –”

“Eat me. Also, you’re terrible.”

Caleb’s eyes roll a little, a low fury coming into his gaze so Molly pivots quickly.

“If you’re such a goddamn monster now, why the hell didn’t you use that enslavement bullshit on the beach?” Molly blows air through his lips, makes a face. “Caduceus sure pissed you off then. If you’re so dedicated to this asshole shtick you should have sold it a little better, honestly. I don’t think—”

“I wasn’t wearing it on the beach.” Caduceus says this quietly, cutting Molly off. Caduceus doesn’t move from where he’s kneeling, one hand still pressed to his throat. “I was… I meant to give it you, Molly, on the day I raised you. I wasn’t wearing it.” He looks up at Caleb then. “That’s the only reason you didn’t use it to stop me earlier, isn’t it? Nothing else.”

“I told you,” Caleb murmurs. “You’re expendable to me.”

“Dramatic,” Molly snaps. “And bullshit.”

“You’ve been dead for ten years,” Caleb says sharply. “You don’t know anything. Now, put that sword down or I’ll make you.”

“I’m not wearing your stupid collar, Caleb. You want me down? Put me down.”

Caleb’s eyes flare then and he hits Molly with a spell.

Molly feels the enchantment clutch his limbs like a seizure; his hands immediately open and drop his rapier. He barely has time to panic about that, because in the time it takes them to hit the ground, Molly’s sprinted fifteen feet across the small room and slammed palms first, then sternum into the wall, pressing there like he can shove himself through the damn stone, his whole body possessed by the compulsion to just get away, far away, as fast as possible. But fast as it drives him to his knees, the compulsion is gone and he’s breathing again, gasping.

He hears voices behind him.

 Clay saying, “Enchant him again and I will make you regret it, Caleb.”

“You can’t beat me here.” Caleb’s voice has nothing in it, but the syllables. Molly looks over his shoulder. Caleb holds one hand toward Caduceus, the other up behind him, a shivering static screaming around one extended index finger. “And I won’t fall for the same trick twice. Anti-magic won’t work here, Clay.”

Caduceus is breathing hard, light fading from his staff, kneeling on the floor still but in a defensive stance now, his holy symbol raised in front of him. Molly can smell the ozone and sugar stink of dispelled magic in an enclosed space. Caleb’s stopped him from doing something clearly because Caduceus is shaking from some exertion, pink light fading off his body like steam from a hot stone.

“Tell Molly to do what I say,” Caleb whispers. “I will bury you here just to make a point.”

“Liar.” There is fey fire in Caduceus stare now, lit rose-pink in his irises, bright as the blue behind Caleb’s arcane stare. “You just attack the things you love because you think you don’t deserve them.” There’s power gathering in him, suffusing his frame and crackling across fur and fabric. “But you’re not Trent’s toy soldier anymore. So stop trying to be the monster again because it’s easier than facing up to –”

Caleb shouts something and throws a hand forward, but Clay’s staff flares and the magic dispels across his shoulders like a snowball breaking against a window. Caduceus’ eyes narrow, but there’s light shimmering on the edges of him now, moss blooming suddenly up in the cracks in the cobblestones and the air smells like soil and crushed grass and fresh sap running from spring-green wood.

“Stop talking, Caduceus.” Caleb’s stare burns chemical blue. “I’m warning you.”

“You can’t put me in a box. You won’t protect me by putting me aside.

“I’m not protecting you,” Caleb hisses, but there’s something in his words now – not anger but fear. “Don’t.”

“You can’t turn back time,” Caduceus says and with each word, the light in his eyes intensifies. His war braid starts to unravel, the light pulsing like a heartbeat in the crystal focus, in the color of his hair, and in the lichen on his armor. Light breathing through the him as radiance through a moral veil. “Live with your goddamn consequences, Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes go wide and, “Caduce—!”

The cleric slams his staff to the ground.

A terrible scream roars up through the wood, vibrating up the shaft like a tuning fork stuck to the howl of cicadas. It’s so loud, Molly has to clap his hands over his ears and watch, horrified, as the wood in Clay’s hand erupts impossibly into a black, writhing cloud of locusts, so thick they block out all but the smallest shreds of the light in the room. Molly scrambles away, back hitting the wall as Caduceus Clay’s plague of insects consumes Caleb Widogast.

He disappears into a sea of chitinous bodies, breaking like a wave over him. Through the clicking roar of beetles and wings, Molly can hear the wizard screaming. Molly smells blood and somewhere in that swarm, he can just make out the heaving thrash that must be Caleb writhing and thrashing as Caduceus’ spell bears down, merciless as the fucking tide under the moon. He’s not stopping. Caduceus stands in the center of the room, his staff blinding in his hands, a surging mass of insects breaking against the wall in front of him.

There’s blood glistening now on the bodies of the bugs, slick and iron and Molly can still hear Caleb. He’s still screaming. This insane animal sound of agony.

There’s a flare of fire from the mass, a mound of beetle igniting suddenly and a fireball the size of an umbrella erupts through the swarm and rockets directly at Caduceus. But fast as the spell is released, the bugs swarm again, and the wizard’s spell swerves. It rips a flaming path across Clay’s shoulder instead of his core, staggering, his arm suddenly a burnt and bleeding roadmap of fused fur and flesh.

Caduceus stumbles and for a moment the light in his staff flickers and the swarm slows… before he draws a long breath, steadies and with a bullish exhalation he focuses through the pain. The swarm surges again, renewed and Caleb is again, gone beneath the ravenous mass.

“Caduceus!”

Molly lunges off the wall and races to grab his arm. He doesn’t notice. So fixed on his task, he can’t hear.

“Stop! Stop it that’s enough—!” He wrenches Cad’s arm down, grabs his collar. “You’re killing him!” The swarm continues to burrow and spiral, crushing its target against the wall in a screaming wave and Molly can see Caduceus’ face – frozen in horror, his pale, glowing eyes running over liquid light and Molly grabs his jaw and pulls his head down to look at him. “CADUCEUS! Please –!”

And that’s when Caleb, still choking, being torn by insects, manages to say a Word.

Like he didn’t know the one that killed, Molly does not know this one. He, nevertheless, knows that the Word is ‘agony’.

It hits Caduceus like one of Nott’s bullets. It slams home in his ribcage, penetrating his armor like cotton and hurls the cleric down, dropping his body to the floor where the Word takes root like a weed in fast forward. The spell erupts through Caduceus in red veins of light. The veins lash themselves around his wrists, his throat, his skull, and like hideous assassin’s wire, they garrote him to the ground. Then they start to pulse. Fast. Then faster and faster. Until it’s a constant, whirring hum inside Caduceus.

And that’s when the cleric starts screaming.

The Word lights his body up, igniting the root-system of his nervous system until he’s a writhing skeleton caged by cherry-red wiring. A nebula of burning copper with a single racing coal nested in the ribcage. He’s rigid like he’s stroking out, his eyes turning back in his skull as his spine curls up from the floor, his shoulders pinned back by paralysis.

The insect swarm dispels instantly – whatever arcane focus needed to hold it instantly shredded as their spellcaster loses his concentration over to agony. Clay is howling, this horrible split-sound between a beast bellowing and a man screaming. He thrashes wildly, ridden from the inside by the pain, possessed by it until he’s incapable of screaming and he’s just shaking and choking at Molly’s feet.

“I told you,” Caleb gasps. He staggers forward, covered in blood, his entire body a red slick of uncountable insect bites. His robes are soaked and shredded. His blue eyes are still burning, fixed on his fallen teammate’s shaking form. “I told you, Cad. I told you –”

Molly’s across the room instantly. He slams into Caleb, shoving him back against the wall and one hand around the wizard’s throat and his second rapier against Caleb’s windpipe and blade edge digging into cartilage.

“Stop hurting him,” Molly rasps.

Caduceus is sobbing and retching now. Sick with the pain and clawing at the ground.

“Caleb! For fuck’s sake!”

Caleb just looks at him, calm as a summer day, eyes pale as clear skies through the blood that soaks his face.

“You’ve been with them three days and you care so much about even him…”

“You fucking idiot! You’re such a fucking idiot! How can you be so smart and be so bloody stupid!?”

“Come with me, Molly, willingly and I’ll stop.”

Molly throws the sword down and grabs Caleb’s shirt in a two-fisted twist. “STOP HURTING HIM OR I’M GONNA BITE YOUR BLOODY EYES OUT!”

Caleb waves a hand.

The Word douses like a coal dropped in water and the enchantment dies. Caduceus stops screaming instantly. Like someone knocked the air out of him and he lies there dark and numb and gasping. The light in the staff is just barely glowing, soft and thready near Clay’s head where it fell. He’s shivering, half-conscious, hair a pink muddle beneath his skull, curled in on himself like a stabbed creature. His shaking hand closed and pressed against his chest. He looks like he’s fucking dying.

Molly has his fists around Caleb’s throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened to you? He loves you, you stupid son of a bitch. They all do. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Saving Beauregard,” he says.

He offers Molly an open hand.

“Come with me.”

Molly hisses. Full on, Infernal snarling in his face.

Caleb just grimaces a little.

“Okay. The others are coming. Are you –?”

“I hope Jester punches your teeth in,” Molly snaps.

And he takes Caleb by hand and they vanish.

#critical role #critrole #the mighty nein #mollymauk tealeaf #caduceus clay #long post #in which the clay and molly complications and parallels come to a head

[btgalaxy]

Estrella ~ BTS fantasy!au

➳ pairing: jin x reader, jimin x reader

➳ genre: fantasy!au, fluff, angst, slight smut

➳ word count: 3.5k

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Chapter 1

        The silk beneath your fingers is woven from the cocoons of the larvae of the Bombyx Mori, situated in the Marblewick Woods, hidden amidst the viridescent flora and foliage; expensive, and by all means worth the levy considering your deep slumbers each night, encased in a handcrafted cloud. You extend your arms above your head and arch your back as you stretch each muscle, bending over your fingers till they touch, intertwining them to push your arms further. You sigh as you sit up, blinking to adjust to the warm sunlight spilling through the window like a waterfall of silhouettes depicting a palace window.

“M’lady.” Your handmaid, Nova, walks in with a blush gown draped over her forearm wantonly, “Breakfast will be served at 7.”

You hum, allowing yourself to fall back against the pillows with a deliberate huff. Nova quietly laughs at your lethargy as she sets the dress down on the cream chaise longue by the window, overlooking the grounds.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, m’lady, to help you prepare for the day.”

You moan again in response, waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes are closed, so you can hear only the gentle footsteps of her movement back to the door, and the click of the handle, signalling her leave.

She understands your reluctance to wake this day. The day you shall meet the dreaded Prince of Orion. The man you shall marry in due time, uniting your neighbouring kingdoms through your matrimony and dominating the East of Estrella. You’ve fought your parents on the matter relentlessly, insisting you’ve no desire to be married, nor to unite Lyra and Orion, that the two kingdoms should stay separated as Andromeda intended. But they dismiss your argument, and tell you not believe in such ‘fairy tales’.

The history of Estrella is widely debated, these days. Scholars and historians are very aware of the Great War, but its origins have been tied with mythology and legends, that the Gods and Goddesses the land once worshipped have now been deemed folklore and labelled as bedtime stories for the children of Estrella. You, however, believe otherwise. The stories inked onto the pages of the ancient books in the palace library are far too vivid and haunting for them to not be real; you see them in a way others can’t, a way one blinded by societal pride cannot.

You flutter your eyes open again, gazing up towards the ceiling, admiring the billowing patterns. Each room has been painted by the art maestro, Calypso Vega. She spent seven weeks cooped up alone in your palace, adamant to remain undisturbed till she’d completed her task. And she did it brilliantly. Every room is different, and tailored to its tenant. Yours has been painted to depict a story, the story of Andromeda and Calvus, starting from the left with fires and war, all the way to the right with Andromeda returning to the Onyx Sea. Perhaps that’s why the stories have stayed with you after all these years, having woken to them each morning and dreamt of them each night.

Nova returns far too quickly for your liking, if you could have it your way she’d not return at all and you’d spend the weeks curled up under your horrendously expensive duvet with your eyelids closed and mind wide open with lucid dreams of the Gods and their unparalleled power. But instead, you’re begrudgingly lifting your legs out of the comfort of your quilts, and lowering your feet against the cold of the marble flooring.

“The Queen chose your dress for the meeting today, she said the prince adores warm colours on a woman.” Nova smiles at you, attempting to be excited, but you give a blank response dropping your nightdress to the floor and stepping into some tan drawers, manoeuvred gently upwards to your hips by Nova’s practised hands. Next, she brings a white chemise over your head and you brace yourself against a post of your bed as she wraps a corset around your waist, tugging at the strings hard enough you stumble a little, even with the aid of the mahogany pillar.

“It’s a bit tight, Nova.” You choke out, as she pulls the final strings into a knot.

“The Queen requested I do it tighter today.” She apologises, “She wants you to look perfect.”

“I assume breathing isn’t a constituent of perfection then.”

She chuckles lightly, “I’m afraid not.”

Your crinoline is tied neatly around your waist, the metal bars already resembling a cage as your lower half becomes achingly heavier. Then finally, Nova takes the dress strewn across the chaise longue and requests you raise your arms. You do so, as you’ve been taught the past eighteen years following the same daily routine.

“It’s a beautiful dress.” Nova compliments, adjusting the trail and lacing up the back, “It was fashioned by a tailor in Bellmead, with the instructions the gown should be a warm colour, and suitable for a queen.” Nova laughs to herself, “He must know his way around royalty. And after the people see you wearing this, well, the nobles will come storming through his door.”

You watch your reflection in the mirror; the face staring back at you- sometimes it feels as though it isn’t all there. Like a part of you is missing, a part that might be small but undeniably cardinal. And the thought lingers on your mind nearly daily now, the notion that there’s something, some component of you or your history that’s hidden behind years of luxury and affluence, veiled by your palace life and highly regulated existence. Nova notices your expression and her features soften at the sight as she places a comforting hand on your near bare shoulder.

“Let me do your hair.” She guides you to the stool at your dressing table, littered with various perfume and cosmetics, all of the highest quality shipped from all over Estrella. Your mother says if it isn’t well made, then it isn’t worth having. That may just be the mindset of a queen, however.

Nova starts to pull at the locks of your hair into a bun, a few strands let loose to frame your face. You’re immediately aware of the resemblance of the hairstyle to the Queen’s usual updo, and frankly not surprised. By duplicating her appearance, you echo a sense of security to the new kingdom, a sense of experience; a false sense, but nonetheless present.

“Beautiful, m’lady.” Nova smiles slightly, placing the sleek silver brush on the white painted rosewood, picking up a translucent powder to lighten your skin, and then a small pot of red tinted balm for your lips. She swipes a generous amount of eyeliner across your upper lid to accentuate the striking colour, before finally bringing some wamrth back to you with a rose blush over the apples of your cheeks. You look like some sort of porcelain doll, just like every other royal or noble in Estrella.

You reach forwards, clasping onto an oceanic scented perfume from Volantis, down South. You spray over your neck and wrists, rolling your head back as the pungent aroma wafts up your nose and calms your frantic thoughts. You love the ocean, and anything that reminds you of it, but as princess of Lyra you’ve no chance to parade off to the warm beaches and fall asleep on the sand to the sound of the crashing waves. You’ve other duties to attend to. Like marrying a Prince you don’t love.

“Breakfast will be served in 20 minutes, m’lady. Would you like me to escort you downstairs? Or will you wait for someone else?” Nova’s insinuation is clear, but your head doesn’t feel right to see him right now. Not the day you will be engaged to someone else. The day that you will never be able to see him again, touch him again, kiss him again.

“I’ll go now.” You swallow down the bitter anguish biting at your throat, avoiding her gaze while you take a necklace from the jewellery stand and clasp it around your neck.

“He’s not angry.” Nova begins, and you busy yourself with numerous bijouterie, “He wants to say goodbye.”

“Well he doesn’t get that choice.” You snap, “He is a servant and I am his princess and he shall respect my wishes. Stop stepping out of your place, Nova.”

Although your words are harsh, you’ve no other way of coping with this seemingly endless torment. And so Nova bows her head respectfully, apologising quietly before ambling out of the room, head hung low. You shut your eyes and sigh, immediately regretful. She didn’t deserve that. You begin to walk out of the room, to go and tell her sorry, that you don’t mean what you say and you’re just stressed and upset, but instead you’re met by the force of the door from the other side. And his face appears from behind the gaping oak.

“Jimin?” You choke, as he lets out a breath of relief at the sight of you. He comes tumbling in all of a sudden, wrapping you up in his arms and burrowing his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume till his lungs are full and he has to breathe out, the gust flying over your flesh. “Jimin you can’t be here.”

“Nova’s on watch.” He mumbles, pulling back and settling his hands on your waist, as close to you as he can possibly be. You daren’t look him in the eye; you know you’ll cave. And he immediately knows what you’re doing.

“Y/N look at me.” He murmurs, bringing one hand to your chin, his thumb delicately grazing over your crimson lips setting your heart alight. His mere presence sets you on fire with pure, unadulterated passion and desire, and you know you’ll never be able to fend him off whilst alone in your bedroom with 20 minutes before anyone comes looking, so you can’t meet his gaze. You have to keep your eyes shut. For your sake and for his.

“Baby, look at me.” His breath fans over the tip of your nose, your eyes still screwed firmly shut.

He tugs you closer, “If you won’t look at me then I’ll have to kiss you.”

You’re eyes shoot open to this, beyond certain the moment kisses you all self-control will be lost to the aching depths of the Onyx Sea and never to be retrieved. How long has it been since you’ve looked at him like this? As the princess, your schedule is frequently packed with meetings, lessons, appearances, trips, and his servant duties are to be attended to all but 4 hours of the day when he sleeps, so you haven’t looked at him like this in a long, long time.

“Y/N,” his voice is deep, husky, ravenous, “I can’t believe you’re marrying him.”

You purse your lips, glancing downwards, “I don’t want to.”

“But you are.” His response is fast, but he continues slowly, deliberately. “You’re going to marry a man; a man that’s not me. And he’s going to touch you, and kiss you, and hold you at night, and flaunt you off to the public. He’s going to love you and I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life watching the woman I love give herself to another man each night.”

You aren’t sure when you started, but you’re crying now. Cautious tears, of course, careful not to tamper with your freshly made up face, but you can’t control the rate at which they come out. Jimin’s words are too harsh, too real to deny. And it’s making your heart ache.

“Jimin,” you breathe.

“I love you, Y/N.” Your heart stops for a second. “I love you and you must know I’m yours eternally.”

You finally meet his gaze, boring into you and encouraging the tears brimming at your eyelids, “I know. And I’ll always be yours.”

Then he does the one thing he shouldn’t do. He kisses you.

His lips are warm and soft, as they always have been, although the intensity of the kiss is beyond your usual, slow pace, this is frantic and fuelled by desperation. Perhaps if he shows his love hard enough, then you won’t have to go and marry some bastard prince? The thought is overlooked by lust as Jimin walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the bed and he’s clambering on top of you, mouth still working against yours.

The room’s getting hotter. The air, thicker. But you won’t stop him. This may be your very last chance to feel the way his body contracts when you touch him, the way his lips concede when you push back hard enough. And you don’t want to forget, so you savour each second.

He pushes down against you harder, his hands becoming more and more rapid with their movements as you trail your own across his pectorals and towards his abdominal muscles, flexing against your fingertips. He feels so good. His lips find their way to your neck, one hand situated on your hip and the other slowly sculpting the curve of your back as it sinks dangerously low. The breath in your throat hitches as he sucks harshly on the tender flesh of your collarbone, and you have to distract him with your lips again before he can mark you and leave you tainted for the Prince.

He’s always loved marking you. Preferably somewhere people can see, but he’s had to settle for the more discrete places. He has never and will never be able to announce his love for you publicly, as he so desires to, so by leaving a mark on your skin- it satisfied his possessiveness over you, your body. It was proof enough that you belonged to him, that you weren’t to be touched by other men.

Just as things become increasingly fervent, frenzied, fanatical, three gentle knocks on the door signal to you both that your time is up. Your mouths cease their movement, but neither of you go to move from your position on the bed, with Jimin’s chest pressed against yours, legs entangled carelessly. He sighs, pressing his forehead against yours and observing you through hooded, libidinous eyes.

“I don’t want you to marry him.”

“I don’t want to, either.”

The reality is tragic, but you’re both aware that there’s no choice in the matter. No easy way out. No running away. You just have to face this, meaning you will be married and he will be at the palace still, serving dinners and cleaning toilets.

Another knock at the door. “I won’t ever forget about you.”

The words must be a stab to Jimin’s chest as he holds his breath, digesting the situation of you with another man, thinking about him.

“This is too much.”

“You’re perfect, Park Jimin.”

“For you, I am.”

Nova enters abruptly, unaffected by the compromising position she finds you in and interrupting you mid-conversation. Jimin scrambles to his feet, offering you a hand as he pulls you up next to him, bowing his head to your handmaid.

“It’s 8, m’lady. We need to go to breakfast now.” Nova insists, somewhat apologetically.

“Yes, Nova, of course.” You blink rapidly, processing. Then you walk out of the room without looking back at his face, certain you will end up staying if you do. This way is better, this way you can remember him normal with you, gazing down at you hungrily with a venereal glint in his eye and a loving caress on your waist. It’s how you want your memories with Jimin to remain.

Nova escorts you downstairs, down past clusters of maids all frantically putting up decorations, watering plants, folding sheets, polishing, cleaning, dusting. It’s alive with a maniacal enthusiasm to prepare the palace for the Prince’s arrival over the next hour or so. He’s due mid-morning.

The breakfast room has been set up for a crowd you aren’t accommodating, as usual. The numerous platters of food bestrewn over the rich maroon tablecloth would fill an army, let alone three little royals sat so far away from each other they can barely hear another speak.

“Good morning mother, father.” You smile politely, biting back the despondency of parting with Jimin a meagre few moments ago.

The King grins expectantly, “A good morning indeed, Y/N.”

Your mother mimics his expression, “You look so incredibly beautiful. I knew that dress was worth the extra expense.” She continues to gush incessantly about her hardships unearthing the perfect tailor to craft your perfect gown, and how you should be abundantly grateful for all her hard work. You can only seem to manage a miserly nod of ‘appreciation’.

“The Prince is apparently the most attractive royal in Estrella, according to Lady Faye,” the Queen takes a polite sip of her morning beverage, “She says he’s an incredibly polite and handsome young man. The ideal suitor.” She seems to be grinning from ear to ear, but you can’t reciprocate. Not with the thought of your true illicit love hanging over your head like a guillotine.

“I shouldn’t expect any less for our Y/N.” Your father chimes.

“I think I’m finished.” You announce, sighing at the plate in front of you, barely touched.

“But you’ve not eaten.” Your mother squeals, peering over to see all the immaculate pastries and fruits surrounding you, untarnished by a greedy touch.

You wet your lower lip, “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re nervous is all, darling. You should eat.”

“I don’t think I could.” You get up from the seat, pulling out the chair as a server comes rushing over to hold it for you, “I think I’ll retire to my room until the prince arrives, if you’ll allow me.”

The Queen seems to think over your request, a little reluctant to see you leave so hastily before she can perpetually rattle on in your ear about the indefatigable advantages of a matrimony between two kingdoms. The first of it’s kind, she’d brag.

She pushes her lips to the side, “I don’t like you all alone in that stuffy bedroom. You can sit in the gardens until his arrival. The sun will be a blessing, you’re looking slightly pale.” Probably because you’re about to be married off to some foreign prince you’ve never met.

You bow your head respectfully, “Of course, mother. I’ll take a walk to the lake.”

“You haven’t very long before he arrives, don’t muddy the ends of your dress.”

Surprisingly, you’re genuinely thankful for your mother’s suggestion, even on a day she’s unrelentingly overlooking your wishes. The warm, mellow breeze outdoors lifts your mood ever so slightly and wallows up beneath your dress, wafting over the bare skin of your legs. It takes you to a place where life was much simpler, easier. Where you weren’t being forced to marry and you cared only of heedless frolicking in your pinafore and crying for Nova when you couldn’t reach the fruit on the King’s beloved blackberry bushes.

The lake ripples as the ducks sail through the lukewarm water like some picturesque vision only sought out in the depths of your most tranquil dreams, as though you’re in a sort of fictitious world. It’s always been that way; you know your life is beyond the imagination of most of the civilians inhabiting Lyra. Although they aren’t living in poverty, their lives will never come close to equalling the luxury and splendour of yours.

Suddenly, you feel something pinch at your shoulder as talons grate over your smooth flesh like needles. You feel Apollo’s beak nuzzle against your tied back hair, pulling some of the strands out of place in the process, nipping at the skin of your scalp. The small Phoenix has been living on these lands for centuries it seems, well before the palace was built. She is the one creature your parents permit to occupy this land, partly, however, because they wouldn’t know how to make her leave; she abides by her own rules. You slowly raise your hand to caress her oxblood wings, feathered with patches of vermilion and gold, creating a balayage resembling a flame.

“Hey Polly,” you coo, regretting not taking a pastry out from breakfast to feed her. She wobbles back and forth on your shoulder for a second, balancing herself before spreading her wings out and arching her neck backwards. She’s exquisite, truly. Her striking colours incite a blaze in anyone’s eyes, an unparalleled beauty.

The sudden ringing of bells, however, startle her, and she’s immediately off your shoulder and flying low across the lake, raking one talon through the water and frightening off all the ducks. You watch her shoot off into the sky before processing the sound ringing in your ears. The bells. The bells that signal an arrival. The Prince.

previous / masterlist / next

#estrella #bts #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts jin #bts ksj #kim seokjin #bts fluff #bts angst #admin lottie

[darthgrizzyyyy]

The Iron Throne pt. 1

"I dont want it. I don't. She is my queen."

Jon muttered to himself as he walked away from Tyrion. His thoughts dissipated for a moment as he walked past Drogon, failing to take into account the ginormous, fire breathing beast covered in ash lying next to the entrance to the throne room.

"What could a Dragon do if it were my enemy? My life is meaningless. Ive died once already. But what if Danaerys turns on my sisters? On my Brother?" These new troubles crossed his mind as the Dragon departed from its slumber, ash falling from its wings.

He walked in to behold Danaerys, standing before the Iron Throne which was seemingly left untouched, given the wreckage that was once an elegant Throne room fit for a King..or Queen.

"When i was a girl, my brother told me it forged from all of the swords of Aegons enemies. What do a thousand swords look like to a little girl who can't count to 20? I imagined a mountain of swords, too high to climb. So many enemies who only saw the soles of Aegons feet." Said the Dragon Queen proudly.

"I saw them executing Lannister prisoners in the street. They said they were acting on your orders." Jon snapped, furiously.

Danaerys paused for a moment, her bright smiley face morphing into one of a scolded child beginning to explain why she was in the right.

"It was..necessary." she remarked.

"Necessary!? Have you been down there? Women..children..innocent people burned! What part of that is necessary to you?"

Jons words were heated, they attacked Daenerys' defense with the very fire she burned the city with moments before, although the end of his sentence simmered as if remembering this woman was someone he still cared for.

"Cersei. Cersei used their innocence against me. Her only weapon and she failed." She continued, glaring at Jon as if he was somehow being unreasonable. "I tried to reason with her..she was my enemy. Now she is dead." Her cold, emotionless expression pierced the King in the North.

"Aye. Cersei was your enemy. She did terrible things and Westeros rose up against her and she paid for those things..with her life. But what about everyone else!?" He took a step forward, clutching the pommel of his sword. Danaerys' eye caught this slight act of hostility, but did not engage it just yet. She turned her back to Jon.

"Dany." He said softly. Then again, after a moment of no response, slightly louder. "Dany!" He walked over to her, his threatening demeanour challenging her calm one. He grabbed her arm, turning her body so she would face him. "You once said that you weren't here to be Queen of the ashes. You spoke with Lord Tyrion about breaking the wheel. You said..that you weren't your Father. Yet here we stand" Jon stepped back, arms wide opened and took a round glance around the ruined throne room. "Ashes. As far as the eye see!"

"You bent the knee. You agreed to help me take down Cersei, you agreed to ride South with your armies and take Kings Landing. For me. Your Queen." Her piercing eyes fixed on Jon. He could tell that she meant it as a personal attack from her insulting tone of voice.

Jon laughed a cynical laugh, almost disheartened by the comment.

"I love you. I will always love you and you will always be my Queen. But i didn't agree to the Murder of innocents. I bent the knee because i believed in you."

She sniggered at his defence. In the distance, a small whirlwind of ash whisked behind Danaerys as Drogon flew by behind the throne room, the beat of his winds like distant thunder claps. The two glanced at her child until he was out of view. For Danaerys, it was a subtle reminder of bittersweet victory as he was all that was left of her old life. For Jon, he was a reminder of Lord Tyrions final words to him. About the threat to the realm and to his family in the north.

The two faced other again consecutively, with Jon taking a deep breath and increasing his posture, ready for the Dragon Queens next breath of fire. He clutched the Pommel of Longclaw again, this time prompting Danaerys' attention.

"I was always just that. Just your Queen. Never anything else." She scorned, her quiet fury leaving little room for well deserved tears.

"Dany. I loved you..i really did. But how can i love you? You're Brother was my Father. You're my Aunt!" His raspy voice uttered.

"Your Father..a man you never knew? Tell me, when you're asked..who do you say is your Father? Rhaegar or Eddard Stark? Sansa, Arya and Bran are your cousins, yet you call them your sisters and your Brother. You model yourself in the image of Ned Stark who most say was the most honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Your armor bares the Direwolf sigil of House Stark. The Pommel of your sword that you keep clutching has a Wolf on it." She said with a rainbow of Emotions.

Jon didn't know where to look, Danaerys had disarmed him.

Jon snivvled, succumbing to light tears. "For years ive wanted to know who my Mother was, it was the last thing i asked my Father before i went off to the Wall and he went off to his death. And when i finally found out, it tore me apart. It tore us apart and if we let it, it will continue to tear the rest of the seven kingdoms apart. People have died, because of who i am. People died because they thought i was the rightful choice to sit on that Throne. Aye i may have been born Aegon Targaryen, but i was raised as Jon Snow. I grew up..in the North. As a Northman. Im sorry Dany i really am. But i just can't love you, not in the way that you want me to. Not in the way i did. Its just not in me to do that."

Danaerys felt a lump beginning to form in her throat. All of that Targaryen fury, those old words of 'Fire and Blood' would not be enough to fight off her breaking heart. She was offended. Aggravated. Even annoyed that she was visibly heartbroken.

"As i said. I have no Love on this continent. Fear is the only way i will rule. And rule i WILL. Anyone who stands in my way is my enemy. Are you my enemy, Jon Snow?"

She furiously cast her eyes as Jons grip on Longclaw had tightened and he had subconciously adopted an offensive stance as if ready to draw.

"Forgive Tyrion. Stop this where it is and become the Queen you swore you were. No one else has to die, we can build a better world, Dany." He pleaded with her, though not changing his stance.

"I will build a better world. I will free the world of all the Tyrants who threaten its peace. I will eliminate my enemies as i have always swore to do. Tyrion conspired with my enemies, he commited Treason and freed an enemy. Now you stand with him it seems. Do not become my enemy." She warned.

Jon wipes the tears from his misty eyes and draws Longclaw from his sheath.

"Im sorry that its come to this. But i can't let you murder anyone else." He remorsefully explained as he prepapred to carve her down.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Angrily, she sentenced her former love to die.

"Very well. Jon Snow. I, Danaerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, first of my name, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, protector of the realm sentence you to die."

A short burst of silence fell over the room as neither one of them made a move, not even an inch. In a no more than a moments notice, the distant roar of Drogon reverberated the columns of the Throne Rook and the beat of his thunderous wings getting closer..and closer.

[mortaljin]

BTS Fanfiction Recommendations!

These are some of my very, very favorite fics (like the ones I go and message the authors about). I follow hundreds of blogs so it’s hard to keep up with which fics I’ve read (I stopped tagging them at some point?) so there are probably dozens more. All I will say is that if a writer is tagged here, the rest of their writing is well worth looking at too.

Thank you, Writers, for everything you do. 

SERIES

Seokjin

Stigma; @eris0330 [COMPLETED]

(Seokjin x reader, text au)

As part of Jin’s lifestyle, he is meant to be walking in his father’s footsteps. Even before being born, the LV CEO had big plans. Jin will do everything to please his father’s wishes of finding a partner, and take over the company. But it’s not for the company’s sake, it’s for the secrets that lies within the family business. 

Eros; @kpopfanfictrash

(Seokjin x Reader)

In the futuristic world of Europa, Queen Venetia rules her land an iron fist. None are more feared than the Akeran, an alien race Earth fought eons ago, who bear a remarkable similarity to the angels of lore. When you find yourself at odds with the Queen, it seems there’s no safe place on Earth for you to hide. Nowhere but with your mysterious rescuer, and even he may be more trouble than he’s worth.

Yoongi

A Wish Out of Water; @jimlingss [COMPLETED]

(Yoongi x Reader)

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

Suga Daddy; @drquinzelharleen

(Yoongi x Reader)

Yoongi gives you an offer you can’t refuse.

Inheritance; @rbuns [COMPLETED]

(Yoongi x Reader)

After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.

Di Piano e Forte; @justoneday-namjoonii

(Yoongi x Reader)

Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin.

Hoseok

Heartbeat; @joonbird

(Hoseok x reader)

You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.

Transference; @jeonjagiya [COMPLETED]

(Hoseok x Reader)

During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell.

Written On Our Veins; @army-author

(Hoseok x Reader)

You and Hoseok are sick of spending the holidays soulmate-less while your friends enjoy Christmas as couples… tired of waiting for fate to make a move, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Namjoon

Amor Fati; @sugaroons

(Namjoon x Reader)

you’re still settling into your life back at university when you meet kim namjoon. he’s so perfect—sweet, awkward, and exactly your type, especially in bed—that you know there has to be a catch.

Jimin

I’ll Never Be Her; @anon-luv

(Jimin x Reader)

You loved him with all your heart, but he could only give you half of his.

Little Bear; @b-angst-tan

(Jimin x Reader)

You’ve always wanted a hybrid. Not truly being able to afford one makes it seem impossible that you’d have one anytime soon. Until the opportunity presents itself as if by miracle. 

Taehyung

Crimson; @idolxreader

(Taehyung x Reader)

Kim Taehyung disrupts your day-to-day life to make a deal with you.

Sugar daddy au.

Jungkook

Wanted; @rbuns [COMPLETED]

(Jungkook x Reader)

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.  

Blackjack; @kpopfanfictrash

(Jungkook x Reader)

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

OT7

Tales of Greyria; @cutaepatootie [COMPLETED]

(Jungkook/Taehyung/Jimin/Hoseok/Yoongi x reader pairings)

Five stories that took place during the great times of a kingdom named Greyria, telling us about its glory and its downfall.  How it all started with a red rose, and ended with a burning fire. 

I just finished this and guys. Just go read it.

The Lonely Hearts Club; @cinnaminsvga [COMPLETED]

(?? x Reader)

social media au where y/n and yoongi are mutuals but they’re constantly at each other’s throats for reasons unknown (aka emotional constipation)

Call Me Mistress; @jeonjagiya

(ot7 x OC, not a poly au.)

A collection of stories recounting the titillating work of the dome known only as the Mistress.

Note: This was originally written as a reader insert and recently changed to an OC. It is still so worth reading, and I can guarantee you guys will have seen the Mistress as an OC anyways!

Working Man Bangtan; @jeonjagiya (I love all her stuff too)

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

A collection of stories where the leading man has a working class occupation.

Golden Goddess; @angel-ofcolordeactivated20180104

(?? x Reader)

You were stolen, swept away in the depths of the night by Park Jimin, the cruel king of the fairies. He’s always seen you as a prize– as something to play with rather than a person, and now he’s finally got his hands on you. He’s captured you, taken you off to a different world and stripped away any inch of your former self. Will you ever manage to escape his grip?

Tales From The Land of Fae; @fireheart-namjoon

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

A compilation of tales from the four courts of fae: Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring.

Note: This is the masterlist of all the related aus. The Winter Court is the main series of this story line.

Sweeter than sweet; @gimmesumsuga

(Jimin x Reader primarily, smut involving multiple other members)

You would have never expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you;  he's handsome, seductive, and totally out of your league.  Oh, and a vampire.  You're enthralled by him from the moment you meet, addicted to his kiss and his bite, willing to do anything to be by his side - even if it costs you your freedom... and your life. 

The 7 Society; multiple authors

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

Inside the grounds of the University, rumor has it there exists a secret society. One which thrives underground, comprised of seven individuals; each of whom is only to be revealed upon the hour of their death. The Society is enigmatic, seductive and wealthy beyond belief. There is only one rule, which must by strictly adhered to.

Don’t tell.

Soul Meiteu; @bang-tan-bitch

(OT7 x Reader, literally just fluff?? <3)

Your night at a concert turns into a dream come true experience. All you have to do, is take his hand.

Trust Nobody; @softjeon

(Taehyung x Reader, OT7 x Reader)

The first thing someone should know about you is that you’re an escort. Yes, you have fucked for money. One day your boss made you an offer you couldn’t say no to. One year - seven boys. One rule: never fall in love.

Endgame; @oppamansae

(?? x Reader)

In chess, winning is everything – unfortunately, it is never easy. Y/N knew that as soon as she was ordered to assassinate the ruler of Seoul��s wealthiest mob empire, Park Jimin. The real question was: would she be able to survive this twisted game, all while keeping her identity a secret?

Bound; multiple authors [COMPLETED]

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au.)

In a world where marriage isn’t by choice and love isn’t an option – will you ever find happiness? Or just continue to search? 

Too Sweet; @justoneday-namjoonii

(OT7 x Reader, not a poly au (?),)

-Vampire!au BTS

ONE SHOTS

Seokjin

Long Live The King; @remembeo

(Seokjin x Reader)

Long live the King, and may he reign forever more. 

Currents; @bread-jinie

(Seokjin x Reader)

Jin thinks he’s loved you since the moment he saw you, back when you were teenagers; Jin knows he’s been in love with you, the soul burning kind of love, since he saw you on your wedding day. He doesn’t mind that you don’t reciprocate on his level, he’s just happy to show you he cares. Until one day, he simply can’t anymore. Until one day, you realize you need to show him you care, too. 

Golden Boy; @kpopfanfictrash

(Seokjin x Reader)

The golden boy of the porn industry, prettier than half his female co-stars. Will sue if you pull his hair. Always bothering his neighbors with pizza delivery.

Note: This is multi-author series. Masterlist here.

Yoongi

Lost Stars; @taegih

(Yoongi x Reader)

-Enemies to lovers au

Smoke; @army-author

(Yoongi x Reader)

You have full moon eyes, and Yoongi wants to cheat the system.

Petrichor; @donewithjeon

(Yoongi x Reader)

You weren’t exactly sure when Min Yoongi had come into town.

Blackthorn Manor; @kpopfanfictrash

(Yoongi x Reader)

After becoming the assistant of professional recluse Min Yoongi, you begin to notice strange things. Noises which shouldn’t take place, shadows which shouldn’t move like they do. You’re almost convinced that you’re crazy - until something happens, something unbelievable to make you realize you’re not.

Hoseok

The First Eclipse; @rbuns

(Hoseok x Reader)

Hoseok reminisces on your earlier times together.

Namjoon

I’m so sorry omg I rarely read any Namjoon stuff omg.

Jimin

20 Things (and counting) I Hades About You; @readyplayerhobi

(Jimin x Reader)

Park Jimin, also known as DJ Plouton, one of the hottest DJ’s on the planet. Arrogant, sarcastic and incredibly attractive; you’d appreciate him more if you weren’t convinced he’d be the death of you on a daily basis. But apparently that wouldn’t matter either, because what’s a bit of death to the God of the Underworld?

Note: I think this author is doing a greek god au oneshot for each boy!

Taehyung

Fireflies; @sugaxjpg

(Taehyung x Reader)

“There’s no hope for people like us, sweetheart. We’re destined to fall in love a thousand times, and have our hearts broken in each one of them. We might as well be miserable together.”

Danse Macabre; @sugaxjpg

(Taehyung x Reader)

-Vampire au

Shelter; @btssmutgalore

(Taehyung x Reader)

Taehyung’s always been a best friend, which is why you think he’s the right person to ask for help when it comes to relationships.

Sacrilege; @writingseoul

(Taehyung x Reader)

You're a sacrifice to Taehyung, the Sun God

Jungkook

Back Home To You; @kthartics

(Jungkook x Reader)

Four years after graduating from med school, and ten after a mutual break up with your high school sweetheart, he comes knocking on your window battered and bruised only for you to find out he’s quit the military and in exchange for the title of Korea’s top mercenary but to you, he’s just a boyfriend you got together with again.

Lust and Love; @bbfairy

(Jungkook x Reader)

Your family forces you to marry a man named Park Jimin in order to gain a profit from their affluence. While preparing for the Park’s arrival, your father hires a butler in the estate. Gradually, you fall for him. You become infatuated with his presence, unwilling to accept the marriage and Park Jimin.

Plans for Wedding Bands; @guksheart

(Jungkook x Reader)

I’ve been meaning to propose to you for ages and i have set up the perfect plan but as we’re driving to the restaurant this tiny little cat on the side of the road that you’re determind to save shows up and now everything is ruined oh god what am i gonna do❜

The Wedding Planners; @gukyi

(Jungkook x Reader + some side yoonseok)

jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. and then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

A/N: I really hope I linked these properly lol. Let me know if there are any problems!

#bts #bts fanfics #bts au #Kim Seokjin #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Kim Namjoon #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook

[yukiwrites]

Clumsy Tradition

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @arod7293! I hope you enjoy this DLC, ehehe ;D

Summary: Seventeen years after taking their twins only old enough to stand up for a beach day, Felicia and Azura now enjoy watching as their children grow and fall in love -- Linnea specifically. They’ll do their utmost to support their eldest daughter through her bubbling and innocent love.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Part 1 - Part 2

The land was Valla. Enjoying a peace of 20 years since the last war against the Silent Dragon, the Forgotten Kingdom thrived with its new rulers and like-minded supporters.

It was as though nature needed but the change in people's hearts to bloom into its most splendorous stage. The floating islands clashed on one another at first, yet slowly but surely they started attaching themselves again, forming larger and larger islands. The wonder of nature turning itself back into how it had been before Anankos brought many an opportunity for sightseeing.

After years of servitude and loyalty to the Crown, Felicia, almost coerced by her beloved Azura, took a few months off -- it was a time dedicated to her and her wife only, much like the old times.

Their children had grown and now they needn't worry about leaving them in the castle by themselves -- Linnea and Shigure were almost past their teenage years while their younger sister, Arete, sported a lively teenagehood. They could take care of themselves while Felicia and Azura took, well, 'care' of each other, in more meanings than one.

Still, the wives missed their children terribly. Having had three children born through bond pregnancies made the link between mothers and children run much deeper than normal.

They both knew that they weren't alone in that feeling -- the wives knew how attached their children were to themselves, and couldn't help but cut short their trip so as to be with the young ones again.

"As I thought, I am the happiest when our family is together -- and happy." Azura walked at low steps, leaning her head over her wife's shoulder, between their linked arms.

Felicia grinned, humming in approval. "Maybe we should just bring the kids? I'm sure Linnea and Arete will love that upside-down waterfall we saw last week! And Shigure could paint it and we could hang it in the halls or something!"

Azura closed her eyes, letting herself be led by her wife for a long moment, simply enjoying her warmth and tender scent. "What a wonderful idea, my dear. You still have a few weeks left before returning to work, so this might very well happen."

"Alright!" Felicia giggled, throwing her free hand up. "We should hurry to their room-" The maid stopped for two delicate fingers shushed her.

"Shh, my dear. Let us take our time, hm? I do so very much want to hug you for a while longer." Azura snuggled back to her wife's arm, missing the adorable blush covering Felicia's entire face.

"Oh, um, a-alright. I think I could use more hugging..." The maid stuttered, unable to suppress the wide smile tethering on the corners of her lips.

They took their time in crossing the portal, taking every little thing in -- they hadn't noticed how much they missed home until they finally arrived. The luminescent butterflies welcoming them; the smell of freshly-watered grass; the utter beauty of the blue sky and its cold sun. The perfect climate to a huge nap under a shade.

It was way into the morning when they reached the royal wing, intent on looking for their children.

"Perhaps Shigure will be by the art room? That child does love his paintings, after all." Azura bobbed her head to the side after they found their children's rooms empty.

Felicia placed one hand over her chin in thought. "Hmm, maybe they're still eating? I think the time changed a bit after we crossed the portal..."

"Regardless," Azura intertwined her fingers into her wife's hand, "let us search."

Felicia smiled softly, maybe a little proudly for having such a wonderful wife, and nodded. "Alright-"

They needn't look for long, however.

"Mom, Mother! Were you back, already?" Shigure had just exited a room at the end of the corridor -- his study -- and hurried to his mothers. "Arete, Mom and Mother are back!" He looked over his shoulder.

"Shigure!" They said in unison, opening their arms to welcome their tall son, then their youngest daughter. "Arete!"

"Mom, Mother!" The young girl smiled, inserting herself in the middle of her mothers and her brother. "I thought you'd take longer to come back!"

"That was the plan," Azura started after they pulled away, "but we missed you three so very much, we couldn't stay away any longer." She fondly caressed their cheeks.

"Yep." Felicia nodded beside her wife, one hand over Arete's shoulder. "Where's Linnea? We thought you could be eating or-"

"Mom, you're not going to BELIEVE IT," Arete started, her eyes eager to start a very tight gossip.

Shigure immediately nudged his little sister, his expression grave. "Come on, Arete. This isn't something we should simply divulge like this."

The girl immediately slapped both hands over her mouth lest it started running by itself. "Oh! I'm sorry, Big Brother, I thought..." Her voice sounded muffled by her hands, "well, I thought that if it were me, I'd want Mom and Mother to know..."

Felicia and Azura exchanged confused glances. "Did something happen with Linnea? You know you can tell us any and everything, right?" The princess soothed, grasping both of their hands.

"Yeah, we only want you three to be happy, so we'll do everything we can to help." Felicia placed her hands over Azura's, strengthening the hold.

Shigure pondered for a moment, chewing his lower lip as a thin frown danced over his brow. Well, he knew his sister too well to know that it would be okay to talk about it with their mothers. He himself would probably like his privacy, but Linnea was different.

The prince sighed in defeat. "Alright," he said with the same breath, making Arete and Felicia both beam up.

"Take your time, Son." Azura assured, mentally elbowing her wife for the eagerness.

Shigure looked around, as though people could hear them in that very deserted corridor. "The truth is, well, um... Linnea has someone she likes."

Felicia almost gasped loudly, but Azura's foot over hers managed to keep her grounded to the floor.

Arete nodded frantically, looking from her brother to her mothers. "And then, and then-"

Shigure touched her shoulder, silently asking to speak. He wanted to be the one to tell their mothers, as Linnea's twin. "And she's on a, um, date? With her right now. We've been observing-"

Arete snickered. "You mean stalking-"

"... Observing," Shigure cleared his throat, "them for a while; me, Arete and Linnea's sweetheart's friend, Nina."

"What wonderful news!" Azura clasped both hands together. "Who's this wonderful girl our Linnea is smitten to?"

Finally free from her wife's foot, Felicia gripped at Shigure's hand. "Yeah, yeah! Who's she? Where did she come from?"

"M-mom, you're getting overly excited about this-" Shigure took a step back, watching as Azura pulled Felicia by her collar.

"Her name's Caeldori!" Arete informed, unaffected by Felicia's enthusiasm or Shigure's reservation. "She's Sir Subaki's daughter and they met-"

Once again Shigure placed a hand over his sister's shoulder. "They met here in the castle after Caeldori got lost while delivering a parcel to Jakob."

"Oh, it must've been the usual, for Lady Rhajat," Felicia muttered under her breath, used to receiving Subaki's parcels herself. "And then they became friends and lovers-"

Shigure sputtered. "Linnea WISH they were lovers, Mom. They've been... tip-toeing around each other from the start. It's almost annoying, really."

Arete puffed her chest. "It's so fun to watch them! We were actually gonna head there just now to stalk-"

"... Observe."

"... To stalk them a bit more, heehee! Maybe you two could come with us? They never found us no matter how crudely we were hiding..."

"Surely because Nina is very good at finding us proper hiding spots." The prince bobbed his head to the sides, pensive.

Felicia and Azura exchanged looks, the maid's grin mirrored by the princess' worried smile. "We would love to spy- er, watch them, if it wouldn't be too much trouble-"

"Heeeyy! Shigure! Little Sis! What's taking you so long? They're already at the forest by now!" An eager voice called from a nearby window, banging it open. "C'mon, c'mon, hurry it up!"

The family looked at one another and dissolved into a comfortable laugh. They took a quick pace and headed towards Linnea's garden.

Once there, Nina directed them all towards proper hiding spots. "If we're all behind the same bushes, our presence might alert them. Little Sis's on guard duty, as always."

"That's so boring, but alright!" Arete pouted as she headed to the easternmost entry of the garden, leaving Shigure and Nina close behind.

Felicia and Azura circled towards the western side, finding their daughter and her sweetheart immediately.

Azura recognized Linnea's behavior instantly: the girl acted much like she and her wife did, years ago, during their courting days. She was lost in Caeldori's beauty, her unfocused eyes going from the girl's lips to her lustrous hair and pretty eyes. The princess couldn't help but snort and take her wife's hand, watching both of their histories playing again right in front of her.

Startled, Felicia almost shrieked with the sudden touch, but managed to slip her free hand over her mouth. Still, even if she had yelped, the duo probably wouldn't have notice them.

They were lost in their own world.

"Wow, it looks like Linnea's really taken by that girl." Felicia blinked, feeling almost bad for sneaking around her own daughter.

Azura hummed in response, feeling a jovial thump beating in her heart. It made her recall memories of her and Felicia's courting, so many years ago, bringing a smile to her lips.

A few moments later, Felicia perked up from her position. "Oh, no! Someone's coming!" She felt the presence of the royal twins before they showed themselves, immediately looking at the kiss that almost was.

Kamyu called out for Linnea, making the princess sputter and pull away from Caeldori, shoving her head in the dirt from embarrassment. The other girl shot herself up and ran away, her face even redder than her hair.

"Oh, no..." The both of them whispered, each displaying their surprise differently: Azura took both hands to clutch her chest, feeling for her little girl, as Felicia dragged her hands through her face, remembering how the times she missed a kiss felt.

The royal twins stayed for a few minutes, oblivious to Linnea's inner turmoil, and Felicia took that time to sneak around and go towards where Caeldori had ran to.

"I'll have a talk with Shigure, Arete and Nina about this; maybe we can help them."

"Very well. I'll stay here and talk with Linnea." Azura concurred and they went their separate ways.

Once the twins left, Azura made herself known, but Linnea didn't even realize her mother was there.

She was cursing her own inability and playing the scene in her head over and over, regretting it so, so very much-

"Linnea, my dear?" Azura called, crouching by her eldest daughter.

The young princess jumped out of her skin, but immediately dove into her mother's arms. "Mother! When did you return? Where's Mom? I wanna hug her too-"

"Shh, dear." Azura caressed Linnea's cheek, cleaning some of the dirt allocated there. "Your mom is talking with Shigure and Arete. It's only us, now."

Linnea took a few moments to process it, her mind once again wandering back into replaying the scene. "I-" she stuttered, her eyes burning with tears. "I messed it all up, Mother!" She cried out, squeezing Azura.

"Oh, my darling..." Azura soothed, running her hand up and down Linnea's back. "Talk with Mother. You know you can always count on me."

Sniffling, Linnea simply nodded, not noticing how much she was crying. Caeldori had turned into an important part of her life in such a little time, it was almost scary. She didn't want everything to end because of- of whatever had happened just now!

Taking her time with the words, Linnea carefully explained how she had met Caeldori and how their days went; how the bubbly feeling sprouted, took root and bloomed inside her chest, and how she was almost bursting with love. "Maybe if I weren't so clumsy- I wonder if she hates me? She ran so fast..."

Azura giggled, making the young woman lift her head in disapproval. "Oh, my darling! Forgive me for laughing, but it's simply amusing how you've misunderstood everything!"

"Mother?" Linnea tilted her head to the side. Azura dried her daughter's tears with her thumbs, a warm smile on her face.

"Everything, my darling; starting from the very principle that you are not, in fact, clumsy!"

Linnea immediately frowned, pulling back from her mother. "What?! No way! Have you seen our family? It runs in our blood! And I just told you about the things I did with Caeldori-"

"Heehee! Your clumsiness is at the 'everyone does it once in a while' level, dear! And those you mentioned with Caeldori -- the bones you broke and the holes in the stairs you opened -- were unfortunate accidents! Have you never noticed that whenever you took over one of your siblings' chores -- be it rearranging Shigure's art room or cleaning up yours and Arete's room -- everything went well and smooth? As opposed to when they did it?"

Linnea's mouth was agape, as were her eyes wide. "I... I... What? I'm not clumsy?" She frowned deeply, searching in her memory for the proofs her mother supplied. It was indeed true that she spent most of her time cleaning up SHIGURE'S messes rather than her own... Or that she would catch Arete after she tripped rather than falling down herself.

She was just... Normal? Normal levels of clumsiness?

"Wh-what a shock...!" She took one hand to chest, feeling it lighten up considerably. She was cursing herself, thinking Caeldori might hate her for her clumsiness -- but it was all in her head!

Well, at least the clumsiness part; Caeldori STILL could hate her for N other motives.

Noticing how her daughter went from pleasantly surprised to depressed once again, Azura felt her pain and placed one hand over her daughter's. "Linnea...?"

The young princess pouted, a swirl of bad feelings swarming her mind and heart. She blinked up to her mother, trying to find something, ANYTHING, to take her mind away from Caeldori hating her. "Mother, how was your first kiss with Mom?"

Mildly surprised with the question, Azura immediately remembered the days of hers and her wife's youth. "... Clumsily." She replied softly, though a loud bang startled both princesses out of their skins right after.

"Awawa... I didn't see that root there." Felicia quickly got on her feet, massaging her forehead, which she hit on the ground. She lost concentration on walking after overhearing Linnea's question. "A-am I late?"

Azura let out a stiff laugh, patting the space beside her for her wife to sit. "Right on time, in fact!"

"M-mom..." Linnea sputtered, remembering her previous conversation with Azura. She wasn't THAT clumsy, that was for sure!

Embarrassed for running into such an intimate talk, but quickly making her way to her wife, Felicia sat down in front of her daughter. "We're talking about kisses, hm?"

Suddenly ashamed, Linnea blushed. "Uh, um, I think I'm good now-"

"Oh, poppycock! Listen to how wonderful was your mothers' kiss!" Azura griped harder at her daughter's hand, preventing her from getting up.

Linnea felt a mild regret for asking how her MOTHERS got intimate. You don't ask that stuff to your parents, ew!

"N-not only the kisses, though," Felicia nudged her wife with her elbow, winking.

"Oh, my!" Azura teased back. Linnea gagged, looking away.

"Baaarrrf!" She groaned. "Mooooomm! TPO! Tee Pee Oh!"

Azura threw her head back in laughter. "But you asked, dear!"

"Ughh," Linnea dragged one hand through her face. "I regret it! Very much! Please let me go?" She said with fake disgust, finally smiling from the heart.

"Very well..." Azura indulged, lifting both hands up as though caught in the act.

"Thanks." Linnea sprung up with a pop, "I'll, uh, go back to my room, now. Thanks for listening, Mother."

Azura held Felicia's hand. "Always, my darling."

"It's gonna be okay, dear! Believe me on this!" Felicia cheered, not wanting the slump on Linnea's shoulder to come back.

"Um, okay..." The princess replied, not understanding her mom's sudden enthusiasm, but very much NOT wanting to stay there to find out lest she heard more about, ugh, intimate times between parents! Ew!

As soon as Linnea was out of sight, Felicia grasped Azura's hand. "Shigure and Nina got a plan to bring Caeldori and Linnea together! C'mon, let's go!"

Being pulled by her wife, Azura quickly got up. "W-wait, my darling-"

"C'mon, we're going to our place! It's gonna be Linnea's special place too, I can't believe it!"

The princess gasped softly, placing her free hand over her chest. "Did you plant that idea in our son's head?"

Felicia twitched. "I... might've." She giggled. "That place's always been there for all of our special moments... I wanted it to be there for Linnea's, too."

"Oh, my sweet Felicia..."

"C'mon, I'll tell you more once we get there!"

They quickly made their way to a special portal, making their move before Shigure could talk to Linnea. They wanted to be there before Linnea arrived, after all.

As they installed themselves on one side of the lake, Felicia filled Azura in on the plan: it was simple enough; Shigure would make up a new kind of paint that would need a special flower from this DeepRealm and ask Linnea to fetch it for him. At the same time, Nina, back in Hoshido, would ask Caeldori for that flower so she could start experimenting on masking one's smell with it, for... people-watching purposes.

"You mean stalking? So Nina is also an accomplished stalker, huh?" Azura giggled from behind a bush, actively looking around for her daughter.

"Uh, she stomped her foot until I called it 'people-watching', so that's how I'm gonna call it from now on," the maid cleared her throat, looking in the general direction of the portal.

They whispered stories back and forth, Azura filling Felicia into what Linnea had told her. The maid stole more glances than necessary towards the clearing, however.

Noticing her wife's antsy movements, Azura softly made Felicia look at her. "Are you nervous for our daughter? I can almost hear your heartbeat from here!"

Felicia gulped. "Well, I HAVE been right there where she is, you know? And I know just how she's feeling... From what you've told me about how Linnea feels about Caeldori, it's really  just like how I felt towards you... In love with someone pretty and perfect and unaware of how my clumsy actions would affect you."

Azura placed her forehead on Felicia's, her breath soothing the maid's. "Well, don't be nervous! Look at us right now -- married, with three children and as happy as our wedding night! Trust me on this -- Linnea and Caeldori WILL be happy, just as we are."

Felicia's shoulders sagged. "That's all I want for our little girl."

"And that is exactly what will happen," Azura stole a peck over her wife's lips.

Not a second later, they could feel the presence of other people -- Shigure, Nina and Arete had arrived at the opposing patch of woods. Soon after, Linnea also entered, mumbling something to herself.

Immediately did the wives stiffen in their positions, almost unable to contain their smiles.

The moment Caeldori entered and listened into Linnea's mumbling, they knew it wouldn't take long for them to kis-

"Oh, wow, Linnea just jumped and kissed Caeldori like that!" Felicia gasped at the same time someone yelled a loud 'YES' where Shigure and co were.

The maid's words were muffled by the yell, but she and her wife noticed how that hadn't stopped the girls from kissing and laughing between smaller kisses.

Azura brought one hand to her chest in emotion, feeling her eyes burn with tears. "Go live your love, my darling..." She whispered, gripping at her wife's hand. Felicia still stared at the scene, unaware of Azura's monologue. "Just as I have."

Felicia tilted her head towards her wife, not wanting to tear her eyes away from the happy scene in front of them. "What?"

"I love you," Azura whispered right by her wife's ear, making the maid jump out of her skin and grin widely.

"Awawa- I- I love you too!"

Azura glanced at her children -- Linnea was now running after Arete while pulling Shigure by the ear while Caeldori stomped her foot in front of Nina -- and noticed they would be there for a while. "Why not follow their example, hm? We won't be able to move here for now." She slipped one hand on her wife's neck, scratching it ever so slightly.

Emotional for her daughter and happy to witness such a heartwarming moment, Felicia caressed her wife's cheek. "Don't mind if I do," she whispered as she closed into her favorite thing in the world -- Azura's lips -- and kissed it.

They slowly descended to the ground, hiding even further behind the bush, deepening their kiss. "I love you, my sweet Felicia," Azura bit her beloved's lips, never tired of proclaiming her feelings.

"I love you too, my darling Azura..."

#feliciazura #felicia #azura #shigure #fire emblem fates #fatesona #my writings #Yuki's Commissions

[btsbabes7]

“Forbidden Fruit” Pt 1.

BTS Vampire/Fairy AU. Yoongi x Jimin. Fairy Jimin x Vampire Prince Yoongi. Fantasy au

A/N:  This is a Fanfic roleplay between the two admins. It is separated by our replies with our tags. This is chapter two of a on-going roleplay.

“Dark royalty has stricken the land as a creature from another realm falls into the wrong hands. When two very different beings meet, could it be fate or destruction for both?”

Jimin:

The fairy realm was a beautiful, magical place. Fairies roamed the land with complete peace, but sometimes it was too much for Jimin. Especially the rules. It was forbidden to leave the fairy kingdom. Jimin and the other fairies were always warned of the dangers of the outside world and other realms. Fairies were very rare and wanted creatures, but Jimin didn’t care about that. He wanted adventure. He wanted something more than his ordinarily perfect life. Jimin decided to pack up a few belongings in his satchel before sneaking away to begin his journey. He left his brothers and sister behind to begin a new life.

Jimin left the gates to the fairy kingdom, making his way into the Dark Forest. As soon as he left the gate, he left the protection of his world. He had no care in the world. All of the new surroundings were so intriguing to him. He entered the forest, following a pretty raven. Jimin giggled as he watched the bird fly around, leading him deeper in the woods. His shimmery wings started to flutter, allowing him to fly in the air with the bird.

After a few minutes of playing with the fascinating creature, he lands and leans against a tree. Jimin sits and takes out his leaf journal, ready to write about his findings so far. He hummed as he wrote about the dark colored bird and how the trees were tall and somewhat gloomy. Loud footsteps approach and Jimin packs away his things and looks around, ready to greet a new possible friend. A Minotaur steps out from behind the trees. Jimin smiles and gasps. He always read about the creatures, so he was excited to finally meet one.

“Hello there! I’m Jimin. Who are you?” He says cheerfully with a smile. The Minotaur huffs and looks at the fairy, inhaling the air around him. “Mmm.. You are what smells intoxicating,” he grumbles with a deep voice. Jimin watches as the tall creatures stomps forward with drool hanging from his mouth. “Uhh.. You must be mistaken my friend. I’m not food.” Jimin slowly backs away, his smile slowly fading. The Minotaur bares his teeth and lunges forward.

Jimin’s face shows pure terror as he begins to fly away. The hungry creature swats at the fairy, grabbing his wing. Jimin yelps out in pain and kicks the Minotaur’s nose. The creature howls in agony, giving Jimin the opportunity to run away. He limps and runs, feeling the sting in his wings as he moves. With tear stained eyes and a sore throat from his loud sobs, he slows down. He comes across a large, dark oak tree. He rests his hand on it and finds himself falling forward.

When Jimin looks up, he realizes he is in a whole other world. Before him in the distance was a tall, dark castle. There were tall trees, crows cawing, and beautiful purple skies. It was way different than his colorful world, and that is when he realized he must have went through a portal. He sat down and looked around, noticing lanterns along the flooring of a beautiful garden. There were red and black roses decorating the bushes. He gasped and looked around with sparkling eyes, and that is when Jimin sees him. There he was, a handsomely pale man with dark hair. Jimin locked eyes with the man as he sat on the bench, closing his book and tilting his head in curiosity. Jimin would be lying if he said he wasn’t frightened, but something inside of him said to trust the stranger.

-noona

I walk through the hallways of my castle looking at the pictures on the walls. Many generations of royalty run in my family but in the early 1900’s I was turned into a vampire by a witch due to me taking land away from a family that owed a great deal of debt to my father the king. My dad died of a heart attack upon finding out his only son was a vampire as for my mother she avoided me like I was dead. Even on her death bed she would not accept my company.

I have searched for witches and cures but all have said they could not erase it. I have a undying thirst for human blood I have people who come and I feed off them to control my hunger. I spent 20 years killing people due to my hunger and anger. Anyone who said no to me I drained them completely just for fun. It wasn’t until I found a letter from my father that I returned to my true calling as the king of France. I called upon my followers and explained myself to them all and so far everything was somewhat easier now. Some have accepted it and some fought against it but one thing remained I was cursed to a life in darkness due to this horrible curse. I had given up on walking in the day light again. I find myself sitting in my garden as my servent Jhope gives me my book. He has been the reason I am still sane. He was hired in 5 years ago to serve me and he actually developed a friendship with me. He always kept his distance from me and helped me deal with my hunger. “You may leave me be for a bit. I want to enjoy the night air alone tonight.

I open my book and begin reading passages from my parents and other family members. Hours have passed by when a sudden wind bursts through the garden and it turns my attention towards the clattering metal gates. When a small shimmer catches my eye on the ground. I look closer and see its a tiny fairy. “Hello little one. where did you come from?” I sit my book down and bend over and gently pick up the small young man in my hand. He was so dainty with his small features. Blonde almost white hair with chubby cheeks. He was beautiful almost angelic like. “don’t be scared.”  I whisper as I noticed a wing looked hurt on his back.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: As I watch the stranger put down his book and stand up, i cower back in fear. He looked like a giant! I look around me and realize that I had shrunk to my fairy size, most likely due to fear. My gaze flickers back up to the pale man as he crotches over me and picks me up slowly. I wince and pout my lip at the pain I feel in my wings. “Don’t be scared,” he said. I look up at him and tilt my head, tears forming in my eyes.

“You’re not gonna eat me are you?” I wipe my ears and hiccup. The stranger shakes his head and says “no”. I look at him and smile, hugging his thumb and rubbing my cheek against his cool skin. “Oh my. Thank you Mister!” Fairies are known to be gullible and caring creatures, so I had no reason not to trust the stranger. The man stands up and walks back to the bench. He sits and places his leather backed book on his lap and letting me sit on it. I looked around at the dark flowers painted with hints of light due to fireflies. “It’s so pretty here.”

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t see how you find this place ‘pretty’. By the way, what is your name little one?” I look back at the man and stand up with wobbly knees, losing balance due to my hurt wings. “My name is Jimin. What shall I call you Mister?” The man smiles. “You may call me Yoongi. How did you get here?” I frown, shivering as I replay the earlier events. “I-I was just going through a forest when a Minotaur found me. He.He said he wanted to eat me. I tried flying away but he grabbed my wing. I barely got away with my life. There was this really big, strange tree. I just wanted to rest against it, and here I am. I must have entered a portal opening. We fairies have read about them before, but I never realized there was one so close.”

-noona

Yoongi; I listen to the small fairy speaking as I watch him look at his wing and frowning. “Well you are welcome to stay here until your wing has healed. I have only read about such creatures in books so seeing you is a little of a shock for me as well. I know some witches that could help you as well. This world could be dangerous for you due to your size and kind like attitude.” I say looking off into the garden. “Do you know if any creature has followed you?” I say as I look down at him as he begins to hide behind my hand. I give a small laugh. “Do not be afraid no one here is a monster but me. I am a Vampire you see so everyone stays away even the maids run with fear.” I laugh at my own version of a joke. “Would you happen to be hungry?” I say as I hear his tiny stomach grumble. “Fairies usually eat a lot right?”

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I look around and cower behind his hand. “I-I don’t think I was followed.” He laughed and reassured me that I was safe from other creatures in the kingdom. The way he explained it made me actually question If I could trust him or not. Yoongj brought up the mention of food, which caused me to train my attention back to him. My ears wiggle and my eyes sparkle. “Yes yes! I’m so hungry. What do you have to eat?” I look around his hand, picking up his fingers in hopes to find food on him. My stomach grumbled louder as I thought of eating again.

-Noona

Yoongi: I can’t help but to laugh as he looks under my fingers to find food. “Ah no we need to go inside for food. Come I will carry you.” I hold out my palm as you begin to climb into my hand. I put my thumb towards the middle of my palm to give you something to hold on to. I stand up and walk towards my castle with a wave of my other hand the giant doors open up for me and quickly close behind us. “This is my home.” I say walking to the kitchen and sitting you down on the counter. “I will get something for you okay.” I turn and look inside the refridgeuator and get a bowl of soup that Jhope had cooked for himself I assume. I pour it into a pot and turn the stove on to heat it up. I can hear you singing behind me and it makes me turn to watch you.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I was in complete awe as you walked us through the huge gates. It was like a myth to me since I have only read about places like this. My tiny arms wrap around your thumb as you walk through the halls. We enter a room with shiny machines, making me intrigued. “Woahhh. Yoongi what’s that?” I hop off his hand and onto a countertop, pointing at the huge, silver rectangular thingy. He whips his head around and laughs, opening it up and revealing different foods from inside. “This is what we call a fridge. It stores food and keeps it cool. Do you not have one?” I giggle and shake my head. “I have never really seen any of these things before.” I look around and he busies himself with a task. I soon smell a savory fragrance coming from behind Yoongi. My stomach growls and I know I will Be fed soon. To pass the time, I start to skate around the slick marble, dancing and singing a sweet serendipity tune. I moved around gracefully, noticing Yoongi leaning against the counter to watch. I finally felt comfortable after I had left for my journey.

-Noona

Yoongi: I forget this tiny creature has not experienced these things in this world yet. "You will get use to these new creations here I promise.“ I smile and turn to grab a bowl. “Uh so do I fix you a little bowl?” I ask myself really as I pour come soup in a very small bowl. “May I offer you to stay here until you figure out your next move?” I offer as I sit down on a stool and watch him jump up and down as I sit the food in font of him. “Here is a piece of bread.” I tear off a small piece of bread and lay it down for him to grab. “You will need to stay out of sight from the maids and servants here until I can inform them I have a guest. “Okay?” I nod waiting for a reply as I watch you eat and dance around.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I giggle as confusion swept over your face. “I’m small because I’m in a weak state right now. After I eat and get better it will be no problem to transform.” You bring the small bowl down to sit on the counter. It was still 3 times my size, but I was happy none of the less. I lean over the rim of the bowl and slowly sip the warm liquid. “Mmm!!! Yummy!” I lick my lips and take the small crumb of bread as I dance around. “Is it really okay for me to stay? At least until my wings are back to normal. They are bent and bruised, but I would be grateful for your generous offer Yoongi!” I grin widely, making my eyes disappear before I hum a sweet tune and continue to eat.

-Noona

Yoongi: “Ah I see. Well we will work on getting you healthy again.” I nod as you eat your food. “You may stay as long as you like. I have no one here so things are rather silent. I have one real friend and he usually is around me often so he will know of you soon but he is open to strange creatures. “Can you do any type of magic?” I ask as I stroke my chin. "Oh I also have a cat. So I do not know if she will like you or not with you being so tiny so please be careful.“ I say looking around for her on the floor. "Do you know what a cat is?”

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I finish eating enough to feel sleepy. My arms stretch out as I yawn. “I can do magic, but I won’t tell you what kind.” I poke out my tongue playfully. “It’s a secret.” He mentioned of a cat and my eyes widen and lips part with a gasp. “You have a kitty?? I met one once when I was younger. A cat roamed into our city and I fed it berries. It was so cute!” I sing out. “May I meet your kitty?” I reach out and place my hands on his finger, slightly tugging. “Let’s go look around! I wanna see more.”

-Noona

Yoongi: I slide my hand near him and he climbs up on it while wrapping his arms around my thumb I couldn’t help but to feel a little warm by his kindness. “Yeah you may meet my cat. She is probably in my room sleeping on my bed.” I walk into the big walkway and point at each picture explaining who they were. We make it to my room and you let out a big gasp. “This is my room. Ah there is sable.” I say as she stretches out over a pillow and meows I walk over to the bed and lay my hand down near her so you can see her. “Sable, Meet Jimin.” I smile as she leans her head into my face. Nuzzling her face into mine before she spots you and meows softly letting you walk up to her. "When I found her she was injury by a horse in my pasture. I spotted her tiny body only when walking through the pasture. Her very small white fur was barely seen due to the mud but those bright blue eyes captured me.“

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I tip toed closer to the fluffy cat as Yoongi explained her story. I reach my hand out and wiggle my fingers around, making glittery sparks appear from my finger tips. “Hello Sable. You’re very pretty.” I touch her nose and rub it a bit. “Mhmm. Of course I do.” I giggle and lean against her cheek as I stare at Yoongi’s curious face. “What was that?” he asked. I smile as I stroke Sable’s cheek fur. “Remember when we talked about magical powers? Well mine happens to be that I could communicate with animals. It doesn’t always work though.” I frown and nuzzle my cheek against Sable. “If the animal is driven by madness or has ill intentions, I can’t get through to them, but this pretty girl here is so pure. She is sweet. Aren’t you Sable?” She meows and licks the top of my head, making me giggle.

-noona

Yoongi: I become confused at your confession. “Wow! that is amazing,” I smile down at you. “Where would you like to sleep? I can set you up somewhere or you can sleep here next to Sable.” I motion towards the pillow on the bed as I slide my jacket off my shoulders and walk over to the dresser. I reach inside and grab a t shirt and some sleeping pants I begin undressing in front of you and turn to see you covering your eyes and giggling. “Oh I am sorry. We humans, Well vampires do not mind the immodesty.” I slide my clothes on quickly.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: “Can I sleep next to Sable?” I scratch her ear as she purrs and tells me she wanted my company. “I can tell we will be good friends.” I hear Yoongi hum in approval, causing me to turn and face him. I stare at the naked curve of his back, feeling completely flustered. I gasp, feeling my cheeks heat up as I covered my eyes and giggled at his shameless act. He apologizes and sits on the bed, rubbing the pad of his index finger against my hair, petting me. “Ah.. It-Its okay.” Sable stands up and nudges me close to the pillow. I follow her instructions and lean against the pillow before she circles around me and lays down beside me. She covers me with her fluffy tail, and I tell her thank you, even though my wings were aching. “Thank you for being so kind and helping me Yoongi. I promise I will find a way to repay you. Us fairies keep our promises.” I show a sleepy smile before yawning.

-noona

Yoongi: i remove the covers from my bed to slide underneath them and turn to face both you and my cat. ��You both look very comfortable.” I smile and begin running my hand over my cats head. “I will warn you she tends to get up and leave you in the middle of the night. If she does you may come closer to me and sleep where you will stay warm. It can get very cold in the castle at night.” I nod and lay my head on my pillow as I make myself comfortable in my bed I hear a soft hum from you as you begin getting close to falling asleep. “Such a beautiful creature has fallen into my lap and I am learning all about it.” I think to myself as I blow out the candle on the side of the bed. “Good night my new friend.” I whisper out as I watch the moonlight dance of his tiny cheeks.

-Adminfoxy

Jimin: In the middle of the night, I hear Sable groan loudly. I slowly flutter my eyes open and see her running away as she mentally yelled “You took my spot, meanie! I’ll go sleep with Hobi.” I tilted my head confusingly, wondering if I was dreaming. I stretched in bed and noticed what she meant. I was back to my bigger size, making me smile lazily. Yoongis soft snores caused me to glance at him. The moonlight creeped in the window and shimmered across his cheeks, causing me to blush at the beautiful sight. My fingertips caressed his cheek bone as I leaned in to snuggle close to him, feeling a slight chill. Drowsiness started creeping back to me as I feeled warm again. “I hope I don’t scare you with my size when you wake,” I whisper softly. My eyes slowly sink closed as I thought about my adventure so far, before falling back to sleep.

-Noona

Yoongi: I sleep peacefully for most the night but I roll over into something warm and my arms reach out and pull it into my chest as I lightly snore as I didn’t realize what has happened. The sound of my curtains alarm me as the begin to move down over the windows as the sun tries to creep inside my bedroom. I sigh and relax again only to remember I have someone in my arms. I look down and realize it’s Jimin but he is now in full size and I mist have pulled him into my arms as we both slept. He sleeps so soundly and doesn’t even realize I have woken up at all. I lay there without sound and drift back to sleep for a few more hours.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: Soft breathes wake me as the small gusts of air feathers against my neck. My eyelids flutter open and I see Yoongi’s head tucked in my neck as his arms wrapped around me. I giggled quietly, wanting to let him rest more. I tried wiggling my way out of his hold but he groaned and held me tighter. My eyes shut tightly as I focused and shrunk back down to a smaller size again. I stretch and walk to the end of the bed, looking down at how far of a jump it was. My wings twinged a bit, but couldnt flutter like they normally could. I sighed and whistled, hoping Sable would hear me. She comes in the room and I motion for her to get on the bed.”Do you think you can take me for a little tour while Yoongi sleeps?” She nods and hopes up, letting me climb on her back.

-noona

Sable: I hear a small whistle making my ears perk up as I run off into the bedroom. “Master?” I Meow out but here Jimins soft voice calling me. “Yes I can. We must be careful, master doesn’t like me running around with the maids. I feel Jimin holding my collar tightly. “Okay lets go!” I jump off the bed softly so I don’t wake master up. “This is the great castle. My favorite spot is the room at the very top of the castle. The sunlight beams inside and it’s warm. Master doesn’t go up during the day time.” I begin my way up the stair case as I hear a voice coming down the stairs. “Hide! It’s the housemaid!” I say ruffling my fur so it shields you out of sight of the maid. “Sheww that was a close one!” I quickly run up the steps as she calls me back down the steps. “We can hide under the bed in this room.” I scurry under it as the maid calls out to me but doesn’t see me.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: Watching as Sable ran around as if she was on a secret mission was cute and entertaining. We hide under the bed as the maid walks around calling out her name. I look at her and cover my mouth, releasing giggles. Then I hear a familiar voice talking with the maid. “Where is Sable?” That is Yoongi’s voice! I look at Sable but she shushes me, making me realize if we exposed our location, that the maid would notice me. The maid bows, not looking him directly in the eyes. “Sorry Sir. I’m looking for her now.” He groans and runs a hand through his hair, looking distressed, probably due to the fact that I was no where to be found. “Continue your search.” He was short and slightly demanding before he sped off down the hall.

-noona

Yoongi: I woke up stretching and realized I was in bed alone. “Jimin? Sable?” I call out then look at the door seeing it was cracked open. “Shit.” I grumble getting up and walking along the hallway calling out both your names. I watch the young maid come down the hallway as I come to the top of the stairway. She calls out Sables name then sees me. Her eyes never meet mine which truly begin to make me angry. “Close all the curtains. You continue your search down stairs.” I say as I walk into the first bedroom and look around. “Sable? Are you in here?” I call out not hearing a word. I stand as still as I can and begin to focus on the heartbeats in the house. Upon hearing Sables I heard a heartbeat that had a happy rhythm to it. “That must be Jimins.” I say to myself following the noise I make it into a bedroom and my eyes spot Sables fluffy tail. “You can come out now Sable. I see you.” She meows loudly and slowly walks out. “Where is our friend?” I ask as she looks to the bed again.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I listen as Yoongi’s footsteps get closer. My heart was thumping hard in my chest like this was a fun game of hide and seek. He opens the door and Sable mumbles “He found us. He always finds me.” Yoongi taps his foot before telling Sable to come out. “DANG IT!” she groans and I try to hold back giggles. Yoongi asks where I was and I wiggle my toes with anticipation. I hear him get on his knees, lifting up the sheets and peaking under the bed. “Found ya!” He smirks and I burst out in giggles. “You’re good Yoongi!” I skip to him and he holds out his hand, offering to lift me. I shake my head and look up at him. “Can I turn big again? It is tiring being small sometimes.”

-noona

Yoongi: I smile as he shakes his head no. “Sure you can turn big. I will grab you come clothes if you need.” I watch you slowly turn into a normal size person. “Wow.” I stand in complete awe as I see his beautiful features up close. “You are breathtaking Jimin.” I watch him flutter his eye lashes at me. “You and Sable have had your fun today hmm?” I ask trying to not stare at his chest. He was very fit young man and had the prettiest honey like skin tone I’ve ever seen. I catch myself staring “Ah excuse me if I come across weird. I don’t really have people here much.” I blame the lack of people.

~Adminfoxy 

Jimin: I stretched comfortably in my human form, smiling as I watch Yoongi’s eyes roam. A small giggle comes from my mouth. “It is okay Yoongi. You can stare if you want. I know I’m cute.” I smile and scrunch my nose. “But it is kind of chilly. Can I borrow a sweater or blanket?” I sit on the bed and Sable jumps beside me and rubs my thigh, begging for me to pet her now that I was bigger. “Yeah yeah. I know you’re still here. How could I forget?” I talk to her, scratching her ear.

-noona

Yoongi: I smile as you sit on the bed. “I have this blanket here. The clothes are in my bedroom tho. You can maybe come with me or I can go grab some clothes for you. I am in need of a shower so” I lay the blanket over your back pulling it around to your chest. Sable jumped off the bed after a few head rubs and as she does her tail his a lamp and it lands on the curtain pulling it enough where I beam of sunlight comes crashing against my body. I feel my chest burning I hit the floor near the end of the bed. “Jimin will you close that curtain?” I ask in a pained voice as Sable meows and comes next to me. “I am okay Sable.” I reassure her.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: A worried gasp sounds from my lips as I see you wincing on the floor. I scurry up and run to the curtains, closing them quickly before I run to you and kneel beside you. “Yoongi.. are you okay?” My eyes water and my bottom lip trembles. All I hear is Sable whining and apologizing over and over as she rubs against him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

-noona

Yoongi: I watch him come to my side and hold my arm. I knew I needed blood to heal these burns but I wasn’t even sure what his blood could do. “I need to go to my bedroom Jimin I have blood stored in a safe in there.” I say as I slowly remove my shirt I see Jimins eyes watering and it makes my stomach drop seeing his normally happy face turning into being upset. “Ah dont worry about me Jimin. I’ll be okay.” I say while taking the back of my hand and stroking his cheek.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I continue to sniffle as I hold back my tears. I hated seeing anyone in pain. The mention of him needing blood flickered on a lightbulb in my head. “Oh of course! You need blood don’t you?” He groans at the mention of blood and nods his head. I ponder on if there was a way I could help him, and now I know that there is. “Come on. Get up.” I help him sit on the bed and he looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Will it hurt?” I ask shyly and he tilts his head. “Will what hurt?” He asks. I let out a breath and look him in the eyes. “I want to help you since you helped me. I’ll let you drink from me, but only enough to heal ok? I’m scared it will hurt.”

-Noona

Yoongi: I look at you like your joking. “Wait, are you sure about this? It may sting at first but then will become very pleasant. I don’t feed like a rabid animal.” I reach out and softly grab your wrist pulling you into my lap. I hold your wrist up to my lips as I watch your face closely I let my teeth sink into your perfect skin. The warm blood hit my throat and I felt the urge to drink more and more. “No!” I push him off my body onto the bed as I move to the other side of the room holding my arms up. “Stay over there Jimin.” I crouch down and hold my head for a minute letting myself calm down. When the hunger leaves my body I look up and see Jimin holding his wrist tightly with a calm look on his face. “D-did I hurt you?” I ask before reaching my finger up to my tooth and giving a small bite letting my blood gather on my finger I slowly rub my blood on the bite marks and they begin to heal right in front of us both. “I’m sorry I reacted like that but something about your blood just sent me into a hunger I was not ready for.” I say soft letting his wrist go.

-Adminfoxy

Jimin: I waited patiently for him to accept my offer. When he was willing and readying himself to do so, I couldn’t help but feel wonder and nervousness wash over me. My heart pounded as I watched him bring his fangs closer to my wrist. A small pinch and a sting. That’s all it was. After it went away, it felt more.. comforting? Suddenly Yoongi yells out and dashed away. I help my wrist in shock, worry filling me. Did I taste bad? Did he not want my blood? He carefully explained what happened and I still didn’t understand but I didn’t want to pressure him. “I-It didn’t hurt.” I watched as he healed my wounds, pure amazement showing on my face. “Ooh cool!” I giggle and look up at him, smiling. “Oh! Did it work? Are you feeling better?” My hand reaches out and grabs the blanket, wrapping it around me. Sable was under the blanket, letting out a whine as she quickly jumped to the floor, causing the curtain to crack open. I gasped as light came in, shining on his shoulder. “Yoongi. The light!” I get up to close the curtain again but he looked at me confused before looking at his shoulder. “You’re not hurt?”

-Noona

Yoongi: I can tell my sudden outburst has worried him but when the curtain falls and I was okay I nearly could not believe it. The sun was on my skin and I felt okay. “I-I think its your blood Jimin. I have never been able to be in the sunlight.” I wrap the cover around your bare body and make our way to my bedroom where I grab some sweats and a t shirt out and hand you them. “Put these on and we can go find some food for us okay?” I nod and watch the slow smile come across your face. I turn my back to you while you started dressing feeling someone odd to the fact I was in the sunlight today. What does his blood have to do with this?“ I felt Jimin’s hand on my arm as he called my name out.

~Adminfoxy

Jimin: I pushed the worry for yoongi aside as he began to take care of me. The clothes he gave me to wear were weird, but comfy. After putting them on, I walk back to Yoongi, but he seemed spaced out. “Yoongi? I’m all dressed now.” He just stands there, seeming to be in thought. I place my hand on his bicep, gently squeezing it. “Yoongi? Yoongi! Are you sure you’re okay? Did I.. my blood taste funny?”

-Noona

Yoongi: I softly grab Jimins hand and turn to face him. I could hear his worry in his voice so it makes me want to ease his worry. “I am okay Jimin, your blood made me feel like I couldn’t control myself and it scared me. Your blood is the most delicious thing I’ve ever had to be honest.” I say as I gently rub my thumb on the back of your hand. “I hope I didn’t make you think otherwise.”

-Adminfoxy

Jimin: “O-Oh.” I clear my throat, trying to hide the obvious nervousness I started to feel. The blush on my cheeks probably gave it away. “No.. I-It’s okay. As long as you feel better.” I finally lift my gaze to look in your eyes, realizing as that was a mistake. My face was on fire… for what reason, I didn’t know? Maybe it was the praise on how I tasted to him? I shake my head and walk past you, wanting to change the subject quickly. “Shall we go for a walk? Or maybe I can meet your friend you were talking about?”

-Noona

Yoongi: “Sure we can go for a walk I am sure that my friend is in the kitchen or the library by now so we can go meet him.” I say with a smile walking to the door and waiting for you. I watch you cheerfully skip out the door way stopping at anything interesting and asking questions. He spots a picture of my parents and points asking about them. “Those are my parents.” I hear Jhope calling me to the library when I walk ahead Jimin lingers at the picture for a moment. “Jhope I would like you to meet our new guest Jimin. “  I say when he shyly walks into the room. 

~Adminfoxy

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