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ashenburst · 1 year

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bsd era is back woo woo!!! I wuz curious how gogol and fyodor are when they fall in love. Like, how do they act when they start to catch feelingss. Answer whenever you can! You’re so amazinggg!!!

Hello dearie, thank you for the request <3 and I'm so sorry for taking a whole month! Anyway, if I understood well, this was meant as something general, some x reader thing, not a Fyogol thing. If it is Fyogol, however, do correct me, I'd be willing to write that too! Now onto the work!

This is how the headcanons will go: first, the cuter parts, then, the more somber parts which will be marked. Good? Good.

Fyodor

Fyodor is in love? He is both amused and intrigued. I believe these are some of the few states that move this rat to act more human than godlike (or the contrary? heh). This is why he’ll definitely do something about his feelings, unless they interfere with pre-existing plans, of course. Can’t have pesky feelings in the way! He assures himself, those will pass, they always do. But goddamn, it is difficult to ignore them. So, during the stage of denial or repression, he might find himself a far greater artist than before. No longer a consumer, but the creator. This vehement inspiration in such a mind could hardly be contained in artistic outlets. He’d realize he’d need to tamper with his muse. And so it begins!

The master manipulator should understand how to win over any heart. Yes, and he’d win over your heart but only if his verity is intact. This is pure love, done for the sake of love. It must be Christianly true. Therefore, he would not manipulate, he’d be himself. Cruelly sharp at times. Other times, innocent and gentle. It’s intriguing, really, the contradictory mien of a great mind in a weary body. How strangely the brain controlled it… one could easily say he had inhuman eyes because of all the world he saw and revealed to you. But no. It was all the same world, now merely embellished by his mind. And if your intellect bounced off of it right, well… Fyodor will be getting butterflies.

Around the person he loves, he exudes a calming energy, even appearing frail at times. That’s the lowered guard you see, and that bears potential for messing around. His sense of humor, wit, charm, they flourish, especially if your reactions are approving. Spontaneity increases and you learn to distinguish gentle genuine smiles from sadistic and scheming. But not only this. With the stripping of his mask, the ugly is revealed too. Fyodor can be moody, but luckily for you, when he is, it’s very obvious. If you know to avoid pestering him during those periods, things should go well. He wouldn’t tolerate much anyway. The fact he even fell in love with you in the first place meant you were nigh perfect in his eyes, only imperfect in some endurable amounts.

This leads me to another factor: Fyodor would likely want a self-sufficient, practical partner. Or at least come to this realization at some point. Yes, he is gentlemanly and he would love to help you, but he will not be putting up with useless, incompetent, and so, in his eyes, unreasonable people. He’s dealt with enough of those. He’d come to you to rest from them, even. From them and everything else, truly. You are his safe place. You are his home and his sanctity and he wouldn’t let anyone tarnish it.

Enough of the nice stuff. Next are the darker implications, the somber section.

If protecting you means going insane lengths, he would. He would actively do things without your knowing or consent. On a daily basis, he might record you through secret cameras or stalk you. Maybe you wake up in some random village in the outskirts of Siberia because he thought it would be safest to move you there. Are you at peace with this? He doesn’t care. He knows better and you should understand that (his words, not mine lol).

Indeed, for minds of his caliber, it is easy to lose track of reality and build another one in his thoughts. While he would never admit to it, and it certainly isn’t the craziest version of it, Fyodor might become delusional. Thoughts upon thoughts are like Mathematics – one can express anything in any order, in any tautology, even prove the impossible. Without an external factor to verify or comprehend it (without his thoughts interacting with reality), these easily complex equations and expressions would easily lose sense. Rationalizations galore. Once this point was reached, good luck escaping Fyodor. The only person who can change his mind is his own mind. Not even the heart. Only mind.

If you think Fyodor’s delusion is scary, check out that of this clown’s.

Nikolai

An adorable bundle of joy. Simply perfect – understanding, enjoyable, over the top happy, childlike but in the best manner possible. I imagine it’s easy to assume this, but let me expand that notion. The cheerful, supportive boyfriend who will follow you around like a dog, a golden retriever, to be specific; the sort to always have something to say, to always be able to ramble about whatever you bring up. He is truly inexhaustible! But not to insane extents, of course. He will also have his catlike moments, curling up next to you or on you at random times. Random, he really is random; expect tiny gifts and surprises throughout your relationship. His creativity is unparalleled when it comes to those.

That’s how he’ll most likely conquer your heart. With sweetness, tiny gifts, utmost loyalty. That sheepish, most adorable behavior of his. It can melt even the coldest of hearts. Oh, he is so much better at this than Fyodor.

Speaking of, there is a sort of a domestic energy to Nikolai that might be more apparent than with Fyodor, but it isn’t as easy to maintain. Nikolai might be one wonderful partner, but he is just a human, too. Cracks appear.

You will catch glimpses of melancholy in his demeanor, but if you ever point it out, he’d disagree. He hides any bad feelings. Yes, Fyodor might not outright state his troubles but he will at least be visibly moody and at least give some verbal indication when spoken to. Nikolai would never, ever do that. He would change the topic, he would pat your head, he would tap your nose… and he will gaslight you that everything is fine if you keep pushing it. That’s a bit disheartening. Yes.

But, I believe you can deal with this by not being too pushy and simply reminding him you are there for him. I don’t think the poor baby has had anything stable in his life before you. In fact, with how he is towards Fyodor, he certainly has sabotaging tendencies, and I believe they come from 1. a chaotic growing up with no stability 2. a lack of sense of control 3. emotional negligence 4. aaand the idea that he’ll compensate for it all, gain control over both actions and emotions, by recreating and monitoring the environment he is so used to. For the love of God, don’t you become Nikolai’s therapist. It’s impossible and could ruin the relationship (or even yourself; you don’t know what you could be triggering). Just keep the good vibes going, eh?

As for the dark version…

Let us begin with Nikolai’s desire to murder Fyodor and so liberate himself (in loose terms). It is highly likely that Nikolai develops a similar ideation with the object of his affection. You could be reduced to a prop in his imagination. A symbol generating a symbol when destroyed. In reality, you’d be another one of his failed attempts at overcoming himself. Even if he fully believes your death/mutilation/torture has fixed him, in actuality, it did not. The warmth he feels is that of your blood and your breaths and your tears, and the warmth is the orgasmic moment of bloodlust, and all of this… it’s just a traumatized butcher’s delusion. Then, the drop in adrenaline and the rise of coolness, the red pool growing in silence, as do his lungs, suddenly fuller than before, him fuller than before… now, all of this, it is just an addict’s calm after the storm. Everything too fresh. Whereas previous vigor was that of heat, now was that of cold, and as soon as it abandons him, well... in that boredom… maybe he will discover yet another pair of wings on his back to unchain. The self-serving self-ruining angel.

Do you know of this urge to squash anything cute? Nikolai would actually do that, but in the literal sense. Also, I see a huge yandere potential. The sort to lock you up and treat you like an object or a game, with just enough interactivity to make you think he can be reasoned with. Make no mistake – it’s impossible. He does this for his own sake, with immense cunning and resources. In fact, he will toy with you if you try outsmarting him, give you hope and then crush it.

After all, keep in mind that he knows Dostoyevsky well, and he still went against him. That is the kind of man you’d be dealing with. I wish you my deepest condolences.

#nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #nikolai x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyesky #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #nigolai gogol x reader #ask #request #anon #anonymous

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ctitan98official · 4 months

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Cassandra Dimitrescu long lost child au

Alright, another excuse to write for Cass T^T Let’s get into it!

You had grown up in the outskirts of the village and had a hard life. You were constantly reminded by your hateful adoptive father (Who was apparently a very distant relative) that you were not really his kid and he expected you to pull your weight around the house. You often did all of the inside AND outdoor chores because the stupid drunk was basically useless.

By the time you had become an adult, you needed to get the hell out of that house. You took odd jobs fixing things or building stuff, so you did not have a steady income. You ended up living at the local inn. The manager took pity on you and gave you a good weekly rate.

You had never known your parents and it had really started weighing on your mind lately. It seemed that people in the village didn’t quite know your origin either so they were very little help.

One night, after having more than your fair share of shots at the bar, you decided you would go and ask the only person in the village who could help… Mother Miranda.

You stood up to go seek her out, but the shakiness in your knees and the fact that you were now seeing two of everything told you that you had better wait until tomorrow.

The next day, after waking up with a huge hangover, you made your way to Mother Miranda’s cottage and knocked on the door.

Mother Miranda came out to greet you and when you told her why you were there, she eagerly invited you in.

Mother Miranda listened to what you had to say and recognition blooms on her face. “Goodness… I lost track of you for some time, my dear.” She says. “I know all about you, Y/N.” Miranda smiles warmly at you.

You look at her with disbelief. “You do?! Then… You must know where my mother is!” You say. “Please… Can you tell me where to find her?” You beg.

Miranda chuckles. “Of course, Y/N. But, there are a few things you should know before I take you to her.” Miranda says.

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay…” You tell her.

Mother Miranda thinks for a moment on how best to explain the situation. “Y/N… The reason your mother left is because… I took her.” Miranda begins.

You look to her in astonishment. “W-why?” You ask in a small voice, trying not to get upset with her.

Miranda smiles sadly at you. “I assure you, Y/N, it was necessary.” She says. “Your mother was very sick. So sick that she was close to… Well, let’s just say that her time was running out.” Miranda said, trying to soften the severity of the situation.

“Your mother has been through an extraordinary transformation. It seems that memories of her past life are… Forgotten. I’m sorry, Y/N.” Miranda says quietly.

Your heart clenches. Your mother doesn’t even know who you are. That stung.

“But,” Miranda says, making your eyes shine with hope. “I can still take you to her. I’m sure she will be eager to meet you with or without her memories once I explain what happened.” Miranda offers.

You nod. “Yes, please! I just need to see her.” You say frantically. You can’t believe you’re about to meet your mom. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for your whole life it seems.

Miranda smiles. “Well then, follow me.” She tells you.

You both stand. “Your mother’s name is Cassandra.” Miranda says and gathers her vestment. “She lives at castle Dimitrescu. She has been adopted by Lady Dimitrescu.” The blonde says rather casually.

You blanch. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.

——————————————————————————

Mother Miranda led you to castle Dimitrescu and made easy conversation that helped distract you as your nerves started to get the best of you.

The priestess knocked on the door and a timid maid answered.

“Hello, dear. We need to speak with Lady Dimitrescu.” Miranda said.

The maid quickly ushered you two in and brought you to the lady of the castle.

Alcina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at seeing Mother Miranda.

“I must apologize, Mother Miranda. I did not realize we had an appointment today.” She said, gesturing for you two to sit.

“We don’t, Alcina. My new friend here does have something they need to speak with you about, though.” Miranda said as you both sat down and she patted your knee.

Alcina’s attention was now fully on you. Her piercing stare made you flinch. Wow. Now you know why people from the village say she’s intimidating.

“Well, how can I be of service, um…?” The giantess said and paused hoping you’d introduce yourself.

“Oh! I’m Y/N. Uhh…” You trailed off and gave Mother Miranda a pleading look. You didn’t want to just come out and say that one of her daughters was your mom. What if she took it badly?

Miranda chuckled. “Alcina, Y/N is very special. They actually have a strong connection to Cassandra.”

Alcina’s eyes went wide. “How do you know my daughter?” Alcina asked you, unintentionally sounding gruff. She was suddenly feeling very protective of Cassandra.

Your cheeks burned and your throat went a bit dry. “Umm… Well… I think she might be my… Mom.” You said, now regretting having come here.

“WHAT?!” Alcina said and quickly stood up. “Mother Miranda, I’m not sure if this is a game you are playing, but-”

“Relax, Alcina.” Mother Miranda said and waved her hand. “What Y/N says is true. Remember when I brought the girls to you right before I gave them the cadou?” Miranda asked.

Alcina’s eyes shot to you, but she nodded.

“Well, they obviously had lives before they came to the castle, but… Cassandra had a little toddler.” Miranda explained simply and rubbed your shoulder.

Alcina spluttered and began to pace. There was no way this was possible! Her girls were very young when they came to live with her… Wait…

Alcina put a hand to her chin in thought. Now that she remembers it, when Cassandra was newly created, she often complained of nightmares involving a young child. Could she have been subconsciously remembering her past life?

Alcina came closer to get a better look at your features. You definitely had traits she recognized in Cassandra…

The lady of the castle sighed in defeat. There was no fighting it. You and Mother Miranda must be telling the truth.

“What do you propose we do now?” Alcina asked and crossed her arms.

“Y/N, would you still like to meet your mom today?” Miranda says as she turns to you.

Your stomach flips with excitement and anticipation. You knew it was now or never. You eagerly nod your head and look to Alcina.

Alcina can’t help but feel a fondness growing for you. This made you her grandchild, after all. Damn, she was getting old.

Alcina sighs. “Alright, but, you should know something, Y/N. Cassandra can be a bit… Intense when she meets new people. Please don’t take it personally, she’s just very protective of the family.” Alcina said.

That did nothing to help your anxiety. “O-okay. Understood.” You said, trying to sound calm but failing miserably.

Alcina went over to the doorway of her study and called for Cassandra before returning to stand in front of you.

You suddenly started panicking. “U-um. You know what? Maybe this was a mista-”

Before you could finish, a swarm of insects entered the room and a woman materialized! How was that possible? You look to Mother Miranda, but she just smiles and winks playfully. What the hell is going on?

“Yes, mother?” The beautiful brunette said to Alcina.

Alcina smiled and placed a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “Cassandra, I have someone for you to meet.” She said and gestured to you.

Your mouth went dry when Cass looked at you. She… She’s your mom? You felt tears threatening to fall, but you took a deep breath and grounded yourself.

Cass’s eyes scanned you, mildly disinterested. “Um, hello?” She offered, confused why Alcina called her here to meet you.

You smiled shyly and waved.

Alcina went over to guide you closer to Cass.

You began sweating as you got a better look at her. She was definitely gorgeous, but a little scary.

“Cassandra… This is Y/N.” Alcina began. She was worried Cass would react badly so she made sure to put an arm around you to protect you if things went sideways.

“Cassandra. Y/N is your child.” Alcina finally said.

The brunette was silent for a moment… Then she started laughing.

“Wow, you almost had me, mother! That was a good one.” Cass said.

Ouch.

Alcina reached out to gently cup Cass’s face. “Cassandra. This is your child, Y/N.” Alcina said pointedly.

Cass realized her mother wasn’t kidding. Her face snapped to you. “What? That doesn’t make sense. I’ve never had a child!” Cass said, completely at a loss.

“Y/N was born before you were given the cadou, dear.” Miranda explained.

Cass’s eyes went wide. “But… But-!”

“It’s okay, Cassandra.” Alcina soothed and ran her fingers through her beloved daughter’s hair. “Y/N just wanted to meet you.” Alcina said.

Cass looked at you closely.

You felt nervous as she analyzed you.

Cass definitely noticed a resemblance to herself. This… This was insane.

“Why didn’t anybody tell me before?!” Cass said, looking to Mother Miranda and Alcina.

Mother Miranda spoke first. “To be honest, Cassandra, once you came to live at castle Dimitrescu, I was told that Y/N would be raised by family, but… I lost track of them over the years.” She said, a bit sheepishly. “And, you were in no condition to see Y/N, my dear. You’ve only recently been able to be in control around humans. It was for the best.” Miranda tried to comfort her.

Cass felt tears trailing down her cheeks. You were her child? You were without her for so many years. She felt so guilty.

Cass reached out and rubbed your cheek, however, the minute her hand touched your face, Cass’s eyes went wide. She froze up as she had a flash of memories from her previous life. She remembered holding you, changing you… She remembered learning that she was pregnant with you and totally freaking out. She let out a small sob and smiled softly as she remembered how she thought she would be a horrible mom. She remembered when she finally named you after you were born… You were perfect.

“Y/N…” Cass says breathlessly. She softly pulls you into her arms. She cried at the unfairness of not getting to see you grow up.

You feel warmth and safety as Cassandra holds you. It’s like you fit perfectly against her. You wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her shoulder. You can’t believe you were able to find your mom. You begin crying as well.

Cass brings her hand to rub the back of your head and coos softly at you. “It’s okay, Y/N. Mommy’s right here.” She shushes you gently.

Alcina watches the display with tears of her own. Her precious daughter had a child… And, she was so good with them. It blew her mind. Alcina had never seen Cassandra so open.

Mother Miranda smiles at the heartfelt reunion. It makes her nostalgic for her own daughter, Eva.

Miranda and Alcina’s eyes meet and the priestess nods as she leaves you all to get acquainted.

Cass kisses the side of your head. “It’s so good to see you again, baby.” She says tearfully.

Finally meeting your mom, having her so happy to see you. This was the best moment of your life.

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x y/n #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #sorta angsty #mother miranda

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hqamore · 3 years

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boreal star ✵ chapter two

kirigan wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t care for appearance and reputation. he supposed he would have to tiptoe around you until you showed your cards. until then, he’d have you play new recruit.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: slight suggestive theme (mentioned in passing)

note: wow. i’m absolutely astonished with the enthusiasm the first chapter had. thank you guys so much! i have two exams next week so i’m not entirely sure if i’ll be able to update. i will try my best :)

here’s the masterlist

“here’s your room.” aleksander gestured to a room that was vaguely familiar.

brows furrowed, you turned to him. “your room is next to this one.”

his eyes rounded in mock innocence. “really? i hadn’t noticed.”

your nose crinkled in distaste as you glimpsed down the hall. “what of my old bedroom?”

“someone else is staying in there,” his arms folded across his chest. “alina starkov, the sun summoner.”

“oh? it’s to be expected, i suppose,” you bobbed your head, stepping to explore the room. “why create another staged cage when you already have one ready?”

“what?”

you observed the flowers by the bedside and plucked one out to tuck it behind your ear. “you like to give your prized cattle the very best so they may feel important, no? it makes it so much easier to subdue them.”

“what? prized cattle? alina’s not— you were never—”

while he wrestled for a response, you continued to inspect the room before happening upon a locked door. “where does this door lead to?”

“my room,” aleksander cleared his throat, recovering from your accusations.

you froze, your hands twitching, before you tore away from the door. “your room?”

“my bedroom, specifically,” he clarified. in that moment, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“why would anyone want to have a room connected to yours?”

looking into a mirror, aleksander fixed his appearance. “well, i assume these rooms were designed with my future lover in mind,” he replied.

bitterness rang throughout your body as you barked out a laugh. “your lover? to think you wouldn’t jump at the chance to house your precious sun summoner here. what? was there a snag in your plan to seduce her? a boyfriend back home?”

at his silent admission, your jaw dropped. then, genuine laughter erupted from you, causing you to lean on the bedpost. your knees nearly gave in until you saw his glare. you took deep breaths and tried to stifle your amusement behind your hand.

“i’m sorry. it’s rude to laugh,” you surrendered. while your giggles subdued, he remained silent. aleksander’s reflection was eerily still, his eyes far away from reality. when you stepped towards him, he broke from his stupor and made for the door.

“rest up. you have a full day ahead of you tomorrow.” he began closing the door when he paused just before it shut. “goodnight, [y/n].”

well, that was odd.

✵✵✵

with the sun high in the sky, aleksander walked with you to the training grounds.

“do all new recruits get escorted by you or is this arrangement special?” you walked beside him with your hands linked in front of you. you sported your new deep blue kefta with white detailing.

“i can’t risk you disrupting alina’s training with your spitefulness. whatever i may or may not be planning for her, she’s still ravka’s only hope of banishing the fold,” he said. “my accompanying you is a precaution as well as your formal introduction to the second army.”

as you approached your destination, you spotted multiple grisha huddled in a ring. two of them were fighting in the middle.

“you teach them physical combat now?”

“you’d be surprised how often we lose grisha to drüskelle because they’ve tied their hands. they cannot always rely on their powers,” he droned.

off to the side, you spotted a burly man. “you have a shu training them?”

aleksander looked down at you, “he used to be a mercenary. i think you’ll find him adequate.”

“i think you’ll find i’m already above your training,” you whispered as everyone turned their attention to you or, rather, aleksander.

the shu made his way over and bowed, “general kirigan, i had no idea you would be joining us today.”

you see a girl peek her head out from the corner of your eye, her face lighting up at the darkling’s entrance.

alina starkov. i see she already holds some sort of affection for him.

the general raised his hand, “please, botkin. i am only here to introduce everyone to our newest member, [y/n]. they’re a gravity summoner.”

at the sound of your name, you reverted your attention to the crowd and gave a small smile. placing a hand on the small of your back, aleksander guided you to the center.

“actually, i was hoping you could evaluate their combat skills.”

you whipped your head around, staring at him incredulously. he didn’t change his diplomatic smile when he met your eyes.

“that is no problem, general.” botkin faced you and gestured to the crowd. “please, choose your opponent.”

your eyes scanned the crowd before you smirked inwardly. “if it’s no trouble to the general, i would like to fight him,” you requested. “i’ve only ever heard how powerful general kirigan is and, well, if he is the standard…”

the grisha around you looked at you as if you were insane. you peeked through your lashes at aleksander whose eye was ever so slightly twitching. before botkin could voice his disapproval, aleksander shrugged his kefta off.

“why not? i can’t remember the last time someone challenged me so bravely.”

you grinned as you threw off your own kefta. out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun summoner pushing her way into the circle with a dazzled look. botkin warily lifted his hand. “no using your powers. only your fists and wits.”

you nodded and took an offensive position. botkin threw his hand down, “fight!”

you dropped down, doing a low spinning kick, and swept aleksander off his feet. he landed on his back with shock evident on his face. you then pressed your knee onto his diaphragm and gripped his sleeve. grinning, you gave him a cheeky smile.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had you on your back,” you said in a hushed voice.

with annoyance written on his face, he grabbed the lapel of your shirt and pulled you off him. he trapped your arms by your sides as he straddled you.

“because you always liked it when i was in control,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. you thrusted your left hip up, effectively throwing him off balance and freeing you. you both scrambled to stand. aleksander crept closer to you and threw a punch. before his fist made contact, you blocked it and gripped his arm. you threw him over your shoulder and stepped on his shoulder joint. he groaned under the pressure when you leaned down.

“it’s a good thing i came to my senses then,” you said. “yield.”

he narrowed his eyes before you shifted your weight onto your foot. with the discomfort and pain rising, he quickly tapped your calf. you moved off him and offered a hand. he begrudgingly took it, allowing you to pull him up. the grisha stared with open mouths. you sheepishly smiled and hurriedly put your hands behind your back.

“i apologize, general kirigan. it seems i didn’t know my own strength,” you said in deceiving shyness.

he smiled tensely and slipped his kefta back on. “no, i am glad you are so advanced. it makes it all the more assuring that you are with us for the war effort.”

you bowed your head and brushed the dirt off your kefta, shrugging it back on. without another word, he left, alina following in his wake.

botkin clapped his hand on your shoulder. “you are an impressive fighter. where did you learn?”

“shu han. i lived there until hearing about the sun summoner.”

the man looked surprised before nodding. “your fighting style did appear familiar.” after that, he left you to be greeted by the others.

they were mostly friendly, some talking nonstop about how you defeated general kirigan. you just brushed it off as him going easy on a new recruit. you noticed another girl, a squaller judging by her kefta, glaring at you before stalking off.

“don’t worry about her,” a voice said. you turned to see none other than alina starkov herself. “apparently, she hates anyone that’s a threat to her spot as general kirigan’s favorite.”

“she must be delusional because there was nothing about that interaction that hinted at favoritism,” you snorted as you held a hand out. “[y/n].”

“i heard. i’m alina starkov.” she shook your hand with a bright smile. “it’s nice not to be the only new person.”

you returned her smile, “it all does feel rather isolating, doesn’t it?”

she laughed and nodded. “my friend, mal, and i never really liked grisha. they acted like they were the elite.”

ah, is mal the boyfriend?

“if i’m honest, i don’t like them either. i actually ran from ravka when i found out i was grisha,” you said honestly. “i guess i couldn’t run far enough.”

her eyebrows lifted, “oh? where did you run?”

“shu han. a nice place once the villagers get to know you.”

she tilted her head with confusion etching her face. “don’t they, you know, kill grisha?”

you scrunched your nose, “not as much on the outskirts. but, it gave me more reasons to hide my powers.”

“does that mean you’ll have to take lessons with baghra too?”

your shoulders tensed at the mention of the older grisha. you put on a grimacing smile, “i suppose so.”

oh, baghra’s going to kill me when she sees me.

with knowing eyes, alina grabbed your hands. “don’t worry. she’s a bit mean, but she does help you control your powers. 100% success rate, i hear.”

you nodded, patting alina’s hands, before withdrawing yours to your sides.

“alina!” two girls called. they waved their hands to usher her over.

alina looked at you apologetically. “sorry, i’ve got to go. lessons with baghra, actually.”

you sent her off with a wave. “it’s fine. it’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

she grinned, “right. i’d really like to be your friend, [y/n].”

you couldn’t help but soften at her words. “we already are, alina.”

her grin grew wider before she departed with her other friends, leaving you with your thoughts.

so full of life, that one. no wonder aleksander’s drawn to her. the brighter the light, the darker the shadows. let’s just hope he doesn’t snuff her out.

taglist: @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott

continue to chapter three? yes

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #grishaverse fanfiction #aleksander morozova x reader #boreal star

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

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The Strings That Bind Us ~ The Reunion

Summary: A Male Foreigner is found and captured on the outskirts of the village & brought before Mother Miranda & The Four House Lords. Upon waking - the male comes face to face with Angie - Donna's Living Puppet - and instantly recognizes her before calling out for Donna herself. Just who is this male and who does he know Donna?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Male OC (Vulcan)

[Unknown Place - Unknown Time]

He didn't remember where he was. He doesn't remember how he got here. All he does remember was that he traveled to Romania to search for something precious that he lost years ago. He happened to stumble upon a rather destroyed-looking village that basked in the shadow of an enormous castle; the village itself looked as if its residents all rose at once and abandoned it and all their possessions.

The man walked through the frozen dirt streets of the village with a black, hooded cloak upon his shoulders & the hood upon his head; revealing only his chin and his mouth to the elements - occasionally, his breath with leave his lips and freeze in the cold winter air. He continued to walk around until he stood in the middle of a multi-crossroads, unsure of which way to go. He stood still until he lifted his right hand - revealing a ring on his finger but this ring was different.

The ring was not made of gold or silver - nor was it made of titanium or brass - this ring was more fragile than that for the ring was made of porcelain. Its smooth white surface shined even in the low sunlight. He brought the ring to his lips and kissed the cold surface of it as he tried to keep himself from crying as the memories came back.

'I'll find you and I promise I'm going to protect you - both of you.'

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of twigs breaking and snarling - he looked around and saw a creature unlike anything he ever saw before - it was humanoid but its skin was grey, it has a mouth full of sharp teeth, and it the noises it made - it was almost wolf-like. He wanted it to say it was a Lycan but it looked nothing like what a Lycan would look like. There were more and more snarls - he looked to see he was now surrounded by these Lycan Rejects. That's when his 'Fight or Flight' instincts kicked in but he's never been one to flee - he never ran from a fight when he sensed something he cared about was in danger. His ring was in danger of being shattered if those things got a hold of him and he would be damned if he let anything shatter his ring. He reached behind his back - under his cloak - with both hands and withdrew two daggers with black blades and silver handles.

"Bring it." He snarled as he dashed into the line of creatures and began to slaughter them left and right until they all laid dead at his feet and his blades were soaked in blood - still dripping from the curve.

"Well - that was an interesting show to watch. I didn't think you could slaughter my lycans with knives like that and still be standing. You're strong as hell, my friend." A voice called out from behind him. He turned to see a tall man wearing a hat with a green coat - he had grey hair that was complete with a beard and circle glasses. He held a massive hammer constructed out of gears and other metals - speaking of metals, the metal that surrounded him on the ground began to levitate around him with each step he took. The stranger took a puff of the cigar he was smoking.

"You call those 'Lycans'? Please, don't make me laugh. Also - who the hell are you?" The cloaked man asked.

"Oh - you're not a local! That's even better." The hammer-wielder smiled as he pointed at the cloaked man - sending a pole flying at him at high speeds until it stabbed through his cloak and into his shoulder, making him grunt and drop one of his daggers; which then got pulled into the strange man's magnetic field.

"Mother Miranda's gonna love you." The man smirked as more metal began to encompassing the cloaked man, trapping him in a metal cocoon of some kind. Before the metal fully took him, his armed hand covered the ring to prevent it from facing the impact of the metal. Soon - began to slip into unconsciousness.

[Unknown Amount Of Time Later]

"I'm telling you - this bastard slaughter my entire squad with these daggers." A familiar voice called out.

"Well - it's obvious your little 'game' would be more of a 'hunting game' to him. I think I can find a better use for him." An elegant feminine voice called out as a response.

"Oh, and what use is that? Using him to make the next brood for your bloodline? Please - he's a hunter so he goes with other hunters and if it takes to him better then he can be the alpha I was looking for." The familiar voice said again.

The unconscious man began to stir awake & opened his eyes to see...wait...It couldn't be her. The familiar large head and thin body with thin limbs, downed in a wedding dress-like attire complete with a veil. He looked at the doll - not in familiar - but astonishment and...was that hope that she saw in his eyes.

"He's awake!" The doll called out as she looked at the other people in the room.

To the left, seated in a chair - a rather tall woman dressed in the look of a royal lady. If he was to guess, she was the owner of the large castle he saw when he first come here.

Across from her was the man who trapped him - his hammer resting by his legs as he saw on a pue of some kind.

To the left of him, more tucked away in the shadows was a small figure, cloaked in fabrics as if to hide his appearance.

Across from him, seating in a chair was a figure downed in black attire, wearing a dark veil over their head, the only part of their body was their hands - by the look of those hands, that person was female.

'I've seen those hands before.' More hope filled his heart.

In the center of it all was a woman - she must have been the leader of it all.

They were talking about something - but the man couldn't care less, when he saw the doll walk away he hurried to his knees but couldn't get all the way up because of the binds but he could use his voice.

"W...Wait...Angie...Angie, is that you?" The man asked.

This caused everyone to stop talking and looked in his direction - including the doll, who was completely confused.

"How do you know my name? Have we met before?" Angie asked as she slowly moved closer to the bound male, who shook the hood off his head to reveal his looks.

His skin was tan but it was a bit paler due to being in the snow for so long. He had short black hair that was wild and free, his eyes...they were amber - burning bright with an unknown emotion.

"Yes, we have; decades ago but you were...alive like this..." His eyes widened as he began looking around. "If you're here then...Donna? Is Donna here too?! Donna?!" He began calling out - almost like a worried spouse looking for their other half.

Everyone looked at the man before looking at the veiled figure sitting to the left of the leader.

"Do you know him, Donna Dear?" the raven-masked woman spoke.

The man's breath caught as he heard her words and looked at the veiled figure who rose from her seat; Angie ran back to her and stood by her side, clenching her dress in her hands like a child holding their mother.

"Donna..." The man spoke softly - tears began to build in his eyes as he tried to rise to his feet - only to be stopped by the binds and cuffs that kept him down. He glared at the restraints and began pulling on them.

"Good luck with that. You're cuffed up ti-"

*CLANK!*

Everyone's eyes widened as the binds holding the captive were shattered, allowing him to stand at his full height.

The Hammer-Wielder jumped to his feet and summoned his hammer to his left hand as if he was getting ready to strike him but the man didn't care - he kept his eyes on Donna, who looked in his direction.

"Donna...I...I found you. After all this time, I finally found you." The man's voice cracked as he spoke with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

"Just who are you? How do you know us?" Angie spoke from her place. The man smiled at the doll.

"It's been decades, Angie. It's only natural you don't remember me...after all - you weren't as alive as you are now when we met. My name is Vulcan and I've been searching for you and Donna since the day you guys disappeared." The man - Vulcan - smiled at Donna, who still said nothing, and slowly raised his hand - revealing the porcelain ring on his finger; Donna and Angie gasped at the sight of it.

"I kept it, Donna. I kept this ring just as I kept my promise." Vulcan slowly staggered towards Donna and Angie - completely ignoring the looks the Noble Lady and the Hammer-Wielder were giving him. He took the single step in his way and was now standing before them. He blinked - letting the tears fall from his eyes as he reached out and took Donna in his arms; hugging her as he rested the tip of his nose on her head.

"I'm here, Donna...I won't leave you, I promise." Vulcan sobbed.

Donna - who was silent for the most part - slowly reached her hands up and returned to hug as she clenched his cloak as if he would disappear - as if this was all a dream.

"Vulcan." She spoke as she nuzzled her head into his broad chest with a weak sob of her own.

[End]

#resident evil 8 #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x male reader #donna beneviento x male oc

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sunshinelikesavatar · 3 years

Text

Here We Are

In which Zuko crashes a ship, ends up very far from home, and meets a Water Tribe woman and her firebending son.

AO3 Link

Lightning blinded Zuko as he scrambled across the small deck of his ship, desperately trying to tie everything down. It would have been hard enough with the storm raging (seemingly out of nowhere), tossing his ship around and threatening to send him to the bottom of the sea, but now—now—

He wished his uncle were here. He wished he was far from this ship, curled up with a scroll as he listened to a storm rage outside, dry and warm. That his mother was alive, that his father wasn’t cruel and callous, that his country wasn’t fighting a pointless war—that he could secure his belongings before he lost them to the waves that crashed over the deck—

The rope that tied him to the ship had saved him at least twice already, and as his feet were swept out from under him again, he clung to it as he was thrown against the mast. He gasped as the breath was knocked out of him and desperately tried to stand. Another wave filled his mouth with saltwater and he coughed and hacked and tried to brace himself against the wood behind him. As the ship tilted, though, he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, clipping his temple on something as he went down.

His last thought before unconsciousness took him was somewhat nonsensical, all things considered:

I hope the tea set doesn’t break.

With a sigh, Zuko nuzzled down into the pillow. What a strange dream that had been, so violent. It felt so real, though. His body hurt and ached like he’d really been thrown around in a storm, and his throat even felt raw, like he’d been coughing up water.

Which is when he started coughing, coughing until the muscles of his chest were spasming and involuntary tears from the pain were leaking down his cheeks and sparks flew between his teeth. Trying to stand to get a drink or something didn’t work—he got as far as kneeling before he had to curl forward, forehead pressed into the pillow. He wondered if he’d die like this, alone and hacking out a lung.

A cool hand rested on his shoulder, incredibly soothing. As it moved, rubbing up and down his back, the urge to cough subsided. That hand should have frightened him, but he was so relieved and distracted from his diaphragm no longer attempting to eject itself from his body that he just focused on breathing, gasping in deep gulps of air.

Exhausted and realizing that he had no idea what was going on, he turned his face on the pillow to blearily blink up at the person kneeling next to him with his good eye. There was a fire lit behind them, though, leaving him only with a person-shaped silhouette. They had been kind, though—this was obviously not his room nor his cabin on the ship, and he was laid out on something comfortable. Warm and dry and not clinging to rope hoping the sea wouldn’t swallow him whole.

He tried to say thank you, but all that came out was a hum. The cool hand on his back moved up to his face, brushing back his hair. “Do you want water?” a woman’s voice asked him and he managed a nod. It took a bit of effort, but between the two of them they managed to get him sitting back on his feet as a cup of cold water was held to his lips.

It was not any easier to see the face of the woman helping him, but he supposed it didn’t matter too much. He cleared his throat, wincing at the burn of it, and rasped out, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he reveled in the ease of his breaths before shifting around to lay down again, bracing himself with his arm as he went. Curling into the warmth of—were they furs? It felt like furs, soft and fluffy—he told himself he would just rest a little while, just for a few minutes.

Katara watched the man as he slept, considering his face.

He was much more relaxed than he had been when she rescued him from the crashed remains of his boat. She was glad he’d woken up for a little bit to cough the water out of his lungs, even if it had left him crying (and breathing out sparks, and hadn’t that been a surprise?). Gently, she brushed her thumb against his unscarred cheek, wiping the tears away.

This was not a circumstance she could have foreseen. The only Fire Nation ships that came down to the South Pole were navy ships, armed and threatening if not outright invading. This man’s boat had been much smaller, made of wood and not metal. The broken boxes of supplies showed only the normal things one would expect to see on a personal boat: food, clothes (no armor), some trinkets and weapons, an oddly extensive collection of play scrolls, and a carefully packed tea set.

She had sent Kallik to gather up all the things he could and leave them just outside their hut so he wouldn’t disturb the man’s rest. In this particular case, she thought with a frown, perhaps it was for the best that her hut was on the outskirts of the village.

Because it was indeed a Fire Nation man currently sprawled on her bedding, a firebender, nuzzling cutely into the pillow. Pale skin and black hair could be Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation, but those brilliant gold eyes only came from one archipelago, and it wasn’t like earthbenders went around spitting sparks. So here he was, a Fire Nation man, horribly scarred and burned but born of fire nonetheless. The other villagers would not have dragged his limp form from the wreckage to save him, would not have healed his obvious head wound with waterbending or given him comfort as he cleared his lungs, but she had the beginnings of a very, very stupid plan stirring in her mind, and it required the cooperation of a Fire Nation man such as this.

Satisfied that he would rest easy, she turned her attention to his clothes drying by the fire. They were nicely made and no doubt the thin and light fabric was practical near the equator, but the weather further south required wools and furs. Shaking her head, she pulled out an old parka that had recently been given to her from one of the kinder grandmothers of the village and started to mend the obvious problems. If her plan was to work, this man would need a parka, sturdy boots, thicker pants and tunics—all the necessities, really. Even if all signs pointed to him not trying to end up here in the first place.

It was a while before Kallik poked his head through the door and grinned at her before turning his gaze to the sleeping man. He tiptoed over to her and settled by her side. “I got all the stuff I could and put it in the boxes by the door, like you said,” he whispered. “But Mom, who is he?”

She smiled at his impatience, smoothing a hand over his black hair and kissing his forehead. “It’s a surprise, sweetie.”

Kallik rolled his golden eyes and flopped against her. “Ugh, mom, I’m seven now. I’m too old for surprises!”

“Now that is just completely untrue.” She held the fur of the parka a little closer and pursed her lips. She’d probably need to patch the next tear…she set it aside for now, though. “Come on, help me with the bigger things in the wreckage and let him sleep.” Kallik pouted but followed her out.

The next time Zuko woke up, he was feeling much more alert. He could feel the sun’s energy zipping through his blood, high in the sky, calling him to wake and move and get on with the day.

A woman sat by the fire, stirring a pot of something. She turned to him as he pushed himself to a sitting position and smiled. “Hello,” she said, her voice kind and open. “Are you feeling hungry?”

To say he was confused would be to understate the situation. She was...Water Tribe. Very obviously Water Tribe, with dark skin and hair, bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed clothes that looked to be made of thick wool. The hut they were in was lined with hides, with Water Tribe decorations and stylings. And as far as he was aware, people of the Water Tribe didn’t exactly get along with the people of the Fire Nation.

His uncle had told him before to never look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth, though, so he merely nodded and took the bowl of stew and hunk of bread she passed him. It may have been the effect of surviving the worst storm of his life (he was pretty sure that hadn’t been a dream), but the food was absolutely delicious and he did his best to eat every drop, balancing the bowl on his legs as he used the bread to sop up the soup.

She let him eat in silence, putting a lid on the pot and pulling out some sewing. He watched her work, apparently unconcerned with the strange man sitting no more than four feet away. She was patching the knees of a small pair of pants and making tiny, precise stitches with a smile on her face. When he finished, putting his bowl on the ground by the fire, she put aside her sewing and turned to face him.

“My name is Katara,” she started. “You’re in one of the Southern Water Tribe villages at the South Pole.”

He couldn’t help the incredulous “What?” that burst out of him. What was he doing so far south? Had the storm really blown him so far?

She bit her lip and continued, “Also, your ship is completely wrecked.”

Dismayed, Zuko spluttered. That ship...that ship had taken up all his savings for the past six years to buy, and the first time he took it out for more than a day, he wrecked it?

“No one here knows how to fix a boat like yours,” she was saying, “So even if it wasn’t just firewood at this point, you probably couldn’t leave in it.”

He couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders. This had been his great escape, his plan to start a new life far from his father and sister. A truly inauspicious beginning, he thought with a scowl.

The woman, Katara, got to her feet and brushed off her tunic. “I have a canoe, though, and could take you to a nearby island if you wanted.” And he was baffled by her generosity, to do so much to help a stranger from a nation at war with hers. Before he could thank her, though, she said, “But I do have an alternative proposition for you.”

He leaned back, narrowing his eyes at her. It had been too good to be true after all.

Holding her hands out to the sides, she simply said, “You could stay here.”

And that was...not what he had expected. He cleared his throat, sure he’d misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

She sighed and pulled her braid over her shoulder to tug at it. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how to sell this to you. To make a long story short—”

Which is when the door to the hut burst open. Years of instinct had him jumping to his feet, arms in ready position. He let them drop as he saw it was a child. “Mom, Mom, Mom, I figured it out, you have to see what I did, I—” The child—a boy—turned to him with—

Golden eyes.

Oh.

He felt a bit sick. He wondered if his conclusions were hasty, though. Maybe...maybe she had happily married a Fire Nation man, who just happened to be out on a trip or something. During a war. In which he knew that there had been several raids on the Southern Water Tribe around the time of this boy’s likely birth date.

Katara’s smile was warm, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she steadied her son from his rush inside. “Kallik, I told you, play outside until I call for you.”

That seemed to startle the boy out of staring at him (at his face, at his arm, and people always seemed to stare) with wide eyes. “Oh! But Mom, I had to show you right away—” He held out his palms, cupped together, and furrowed his brow. A tiny flame popped into existence above his hands. It was, objectively speaking, a sad and flickering little thing, nearly entirely red with lack of heat and threatening to go out with each puff of air as the boy said, “Look, I figured it out! I made it on purpose!”

Which implied that there wasn’t a firebender around to teach him the most basic of firebending skills, such as, say, a loving father figure.

And Katara smiled and hugged her firebending son, kissing his hair. “Sweetie, great job! I knew you could do it! You’ve been practicing so hard. I’m so proud of you.” The boy beamed bright as a sunbeam. Then she laughed and gently pushed the boy out of the hut. “But I was serious about you playing outside! We’ve got some boring grown-up things to talk about.” Kallik groaned and whined but made his way out the door.

It was pretty easy to fit together the few pieces he had. He’d heard about this sort of thing, of soldiers who had so little honor that they would...would…Swallowing (his throat still hurt but he tried to ignore it), he looked at Katara again.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Well, um, that’s my son. He’s...he’s just turned seven and he started...well, firebending.” Biting her lip, she looked towards the door. “There have been a few accidents recently. Nothing deadly or anything, but he gets so excited, and, well…” Here she mimed an expanding fire. “You know.”

He did know. It was something every new little firebender had to learn to deal with, how to temper the flame in your heart so it didn’t burn the world around you. Usually, there were family members, neighbors, teachers, friends, all sorts of people to support them.

Not here, though.

“I’m not...there’s no one here to help him. And I do want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

He almost asked about the boy’s father before he decided that was a terrible ideaand he should not ever bring that up ever, what’s wrong with me? “And you think I could?”

She wiggled her hand in a so-so kind of way. “If you were just here as a teacher, that would be easiest, but the village would hardly accept that. They almost turned me away just because of Kallik.”

Which also implied that this was not her home village, which meant she had either run away, been sent away, or her family was dead and she was alone. All of those options were heartbreaking.

“But...they don’t know the circumstances of Kallik’s, um...of Kallik.” Her face started flushing as she continued, “If I could pass you off as, um, my h-husband, only just able to join us here, that would p-probably work.”

There was already one glaring hole in the plan, though. “Most firebending teachers have both arms,” he managed to get out, turning his gaze to the central fire pit. As it often did whenever it came up, the space where his left arm had once been felt overly conspicuous.

Her hands were wrapped tightly around her braid now as she steadfastly focused on something on the floor. “That might actually, uh, help. You wouldn’t seem as...threatening, that way. And I don’t mean for you to teach him to fight, just to help him control his bending.”

He wondered how he would have reacted to that as a teenager, angry and desperate to prove himself to a father that didn’t care, that he didn’t seem threatening to a village of peasants. And he tried to remember and hold on to his uncle’s words of support, that losing an arm didn’t make him less of a man or a firebender, no matter what people thought. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. “So you want me to live here with you? Pretend to be your husband while I teach your son?” And was he actually considering this as a serious possibility? He hadn’t really had a plan besides “leave the Fire Nation,” after all.

“It sounds so dumb when you put it like that,” she muttered, “but yes, basically.”

And wow, there must be something fundamentally wrong with him as a person, because he didn’t even think before saying, “And it won’t bother you to have a...a Fire Nation man around all the time? With...with how Kallik, um…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Actually, he was fairly sure he should just burn up into ashes on the spot for bringing up the thing that was probably the most traumatic experience of this woman’s life.

Katara was looking at him with eyebrows scrunched together before she gasped and her eyebrows flew up. “Oh! Oh, um, no, that’s...ugh. I’m just so used to talking around it.” She took a deep breath. “Kallik isn’t my biological son. His, uh, real mom, she saw his eyes and decided she didn’t want him. I don’t blame her for that, the situation was terrible. I was supposed to...I don’t know, I don’t really want to think about it. But I...I couldn’t just...leavehim somewhere, and I knew no one in my tribe would want anything to do with raising him after everything, so I...left, I guess. Just sorta packed up and…” She gestured around them at the hut. “Here we are.”

Here she was. A woman who’d left her home and family to raise a son that she hadn’t birthed, a son that had Fire Nation blood singing in his veins.

“That’s what moms do,” he heard his mother say, softly laughing by a pond of baby turtleducklings.

“I think of you as my own,” he heard his uncle say, his hand warm and heavy and comforting on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “Can I think about it?” Because yes, he would actually be considering this as a life path. “Maybe take a walk or something?”

Katara bit her lip and moved to one of the chests lining the walls, opening it and rummaging around. “I would like to say yes, absolutely, but people are going to ask who you are as soon as you or I go outside. I’d rather have the story straight right from the start, whether you’re my, um, my husband or just a stranded sailor or something.”

Which made sense. So instead of standing in the sun like he wanted to, he sat next to the fire and stared into the coals. And then he thought and thought and thought.

Katara was almost giddy. He was considering it! He was considering her sort-of silly plan to teach Kallik firebending!

As she sorted through clothes, putting together a pile for the man—

Oh, wait. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

The man blinked up at her, startled. “Hm? Oh, my name.” He sighed. “Okay, I’m going to be honest with you too. Just so, you know, no misunderstandings.”

Her stomach started to sink. Was he a criminal or something? Her hand went to the lid of her waterskin, ready to pull out water to defend herself. She hardly knew this man, what had she been thinking?

“I’m running from my family. My dad, he, uh, he did...this.” He gestured to his whole left side and Katara had to swallow back bile. “But he’s been pretty clear that as long as I don’t draw attention to myself or try to mess with anything about the war, he’ll let me...you know, live. So I can’t use my real name.”

She almost asked who his father was before thinking better of it. A powerful (terribly, horribly powerful) bender, apparently connected with the war—likely a general. The “who” didn’t matter so much. Instead, she nodded. “That makes sense. Do you have a name in mind?”

The still-nameless man groaned and rubbed his face. “Maybe Li? There’s a million Li’s…”

Katara laughed. “Well, you might as well pick a name you like. Do you like ‘Li’?”

His grumpy glare very clearly said ‘no.’ He sighed and let his eyes wander around the hut, long fingers tapping on his knee. “How about...Kuzon. Yeah, that’ll work.” He met her eyes and bowed with fist held in front of him. “My name is Kuzon.”

Feeling a bit like she was playing a game, she bowed as well, hands braced against her thighs in Water Tribe fashion. “A pleasure to meet you, Kuzon.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile before he returned to staring at the fire.

At length, after she had straightened up most of the hut and started the non-essential mending, he groaned and twisted around, cracking his neck and stretching. He was like a seal-cat stretching in the sun, she thought with a grin.

With a gusty sigh, he turned to her. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

She blinked in surprise. “You will?”

Nodding, Kuzon got to his feet. “Yeah. I didn’t really have much of a plan besides ‘get away from my psycho family’ to start with anyways, and I like kids. I wouldn’t mind helping you and Kallik out here for a while.”

Certain her grin was a bit too gleeful, she bowed in thanks. “Thank you! And once Kallik has been trained, I’ll help you get wherever you’d like to go, okay?”

He bowed as well. “Sounds like a plan.”

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed Kuzon’s hand and ran out the door. “Let’s go tell Kallik the good news!” She heard an incredulous laugh from behind her, but he ran with her.

They found him on the rocky beach by the wreckage of the ship. “Kallik!” she called, waving him over. “Kallik, I want you to meet Kuzon, he’s—”

Three figures came around the side of the wreck, other villagers. Katara felt her words catch in her throat as she saw their eyes watching with interest. Whatever she said would certainly spread like wildfire throughout their little village. And she realized, as she felt the warmth of Kuzon’s hand still in hers, that she hadn’t really thought this all through.”

“Um, he’s...he’s your f-father.”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #my writing

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mushroom-cartel--writing · 3 years

Text

to be [a]sundered

Summary: Kugisaki Nobara is blessed. She will never know.

Relationship(s): Kugisaki Nobara & Reader, Kugisaki Nobara/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc. Oh. And the comment section.)

There’s manga spoilers in this fic alongside headcanon.

So far, out of my menial amount of JJK fics, this one has probably been the most enjoyable to write. With Nobara’s background I can play around because it’s just there.

|||

“I’m going to Tokyo,” she says. Come with me.

“No.” Can’t, sorry.

Mahito touches her soul.

Kugisaki Nobara is blessed.

She will never know.

The first time she introduces you to her friends, Saori nearly gouges your eye out with a sugar spoon and Fumi spills the contents of her cup across the table.

“I have cake,” you say, offering a cutesy box to Saori who’s still got the sugar spoon trained on you. “It’s baumkuchen. An old acquaintance gave it to me for free but I figured it’d be too much for just one person.”

Nobara, giggling, just offers you a seat and asks for more tea.

On the outskirts of the village there is a shrine.

They say it houses a god that blessed their lands long ago and watches over them to this very day; they hold a celebration in its honour every year, a small share of the harvest season’s best crop is offered up to appease the god.

Her grandparents say it houses a malevolent wonder-terror who feasts on the soul of its worshippers once the sun goes down; her grandparents say the aforementioned god and malevolent wonder-terror are one and the same, born from a wish made by humans.

You laugh when she tells you the crap people have come up about your home. (You appreciate the free food, though.)

You are not a god or something malevolent. You’re you.

Not quite divine but too powerful to sniff at.

Humans cannot see or sense you. Not even those who can bottle their negative energy, the ones you occasionally see passing through the village. Usually, you have to will yourself into existence. But she can regardless.

Spirits, the weak and strong, good nor bad, fear you. Your presence sets their survival instincts off, running immediately when you try to approach them. She has to give chase and incapacitate them for you when the hunger becomes agony.

You taught her well, it seems.

Too well.

Mahito touches her soul and it burns, burns, burns.

Kugisaki Nobara was barely old enough to be out on her own, but her grandparents trusted her to stay safe. The village was small, everyone knew each other, word spread fast, so if something happened to her on her small excursion… Well, no one would come looking for her, would they?

It was a lie when she said she was just going out to play with friends at the park.

Nobara didn’t have friends.

All the other kids were boring. She didn’t like their company. Whenever there was a big gathering, she’d try her best to avoid them and hide from the adults in bushes.

Despite knowing this, her grandmother let her go.

She hated being cooped inside with nothing to do and today was perfect! The humid air made her clothes stick to her skin but at least the wide-brimmed straw sunhat she snatched from her grandfather’s shed protected her from the sun’s wrath. It meant her peers would be over at the river halfway across the village; people wouldn’t go back to working on their fields until it cooled down a bit later in the day; they wouldn’t see her; and she’d be on her lonesome.

She wanted to laugh to herself. Everything was coming together.

Finally, she could check out that place she’s been meaning to visit ever since she first heard of it: the derelict shrine.

Her grandmother warned her to stay away from it, lest she give her name away by accident to the being living there and have her life stolen, but Nobara, inwardly, thought it was a load of cow dung. She’d die? Hah?! It was all superstition! (She would never admit it did spook her a bit.) Besides, things like vampires and witches and ghosts didn't exist in the first place. She’d be fine.

Humming with a skip in her step, Nobara made it to the shrine in due time.

“Hello?”

“Why hello there!”

She took everything back.

You had to be a ghost with the way you snuck up on her soundlessly. You kept insisting you weren’t. You glided along the floor.

You had to be a ghost. And now you were serving her snacks and tea. Inside the shrine. Inside what was, supposedly, your home.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she voiced aloud.

You stared at her, face deadpan, and poured hot water over your hand. She watched your skin scald. “Does this answer your question?”

Kugisaki Nobara at five years old was a bit of a skeptic, contrary to her personal beliefs.

“No. Not really.”

11:25 PM →

You emerge from the gaping hole where her left eye was blown out alongside a good chunk of her head, something writhing and fierce and oh-so familiar.

Ah. Right. This feeling; this foreign dread dawning upon him, piercing Mahito innermost; your dull but irritated eyes trained on the cursed spirit akin to a lizard eyeing up a cockroach. You’re like him, possessing a soul that absolutely cannot and should not be touched.

Shit—that means she too—

Hahahahaha.

You don’t even need to spare him another glance. You know what he’s thinking. You know what he’s done.

You won’t be as lenient with him as Sukuna was.

But here’s the thing. Although a student may surpass their teacher one day, the teacher might not relay all that they know to the next generation to ensure the safety of their student and those around them. However, Mahito is nothing to you. Itadori Yuuji, on the other hand, is important, so you grab him and throw the boy behind you.

“Reverberate,” you intone, bearing the exact same wounds as her.

His senses are heightened a thousandfold, but not nearly are they even close to yours.

You shove a nail of hers into yourself, saying, “Plunge.”

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, hurtshurtshurtshurtshurTshURtsHURTS.

“Quietus.”

“We’re soulmates, you and me.”

She bursts out laughing. “Like from those cheesy dramas?” Nobara asks. Because. She needs to know. Whenever she’s around you, everything feels… right. It’s hard to articulate. Her heart doesn’t rush when you graze her skin but the particular spot where contact was made always tingles with a reassuring warmth; you’re real, not a fabrication of her imagination. She doesn’t fantasise about you like the way her peers do with the object of their affections. Your very presence makes her comfortable. “Are you having second thoughts?” she jeers, poking you hard in the ribs. (She’s still bitter about your decision.)

The intended jab has no effect.

“No,” is your reply. “What I mean is that your soul and mine are the same. If something happens to you, I’ll know.”

“What? You think I’m gonna be some part of a demonic summoning ritual where I’ll be a human sacrifice?”

“Time and distance makes no difference.”

“So if I just say the word…?”

“That… that’s not what I…” You sigh and scrub the gunk from your eyes.

How are you supposed to explain the whole situation to her?

Oh, yeah, about a couple aeons ago there was a being who tore themself in two—one part immortal, the other mortal—in order to understand their reason for existing. Their immortal self would be stagnant and observe their mortal self who would continuously live, die and reincarnate, until the latter, under their own volition, sought the former out and then a conclusion would be made between the two on whether or not they would remain as separate entities or rejoin together as one again.

Your original self (you and her; her and you) wasn’t great at planning ahead, that is plain to see. They didn’t think about the consequences, they just wanted an out. And fast.

Well look at you now. Distorted beyond reason. You’re an exercise in self-destruction. You stopped considering it being a miracle that you could wake up every morning by yourself and do what you wanted: the novelty was short-lived. You want to die but you’re at the point where it’s easier to convince yourself you do not than to focus on how you will off yourself somewhere that no one (and nothing) can find your undecayed corpse because the company you keep will become worried if you let the happy facade slip.

“Never mind,” you mutter.

She was ten when she first saw the skull.

It tumbled from your billowing sleeve as you rummaged around your pockets, rolling to a stop at her feet.

She lifted it up. “Whose is this?”

It was a weird skull, not like those she’d seen in her textbooks. She thought of asking Fumi about the skull later, when school started back up, but the idea was literally snatched from her mind when you saw exactly what she was holding.

In your hands, the skull seemed smaller. Inconsequential. Another another weird quirk of yours: carrying around random things. Maybe it was a model? You told her to forget about it and stowed the skull away—back into your sleeve—and dragged her along the beaten path you insisted on walking.

The next time, she was thirteen and helping you clear up your home. Fumi was there too.

They’d been going through a closet stuffed full of old junk and out the skull tumbled, right into Fumi’s lap. Rightfully so, her friend screamed. It took you several minutes to calm the poor girl down, her view of you now askew. Nobara was on your side when Fumi tried convincing you whomever the skull belonged to deserved a proper burial out in the forest and you refused.

No matter how hard she tried, you would not budge.

And that was that.

(From then on, whenever you made yourself visible to Fumi, she regarded you warily before seeing the way you looked at Nobara like she hung the stars and the moon.)

The last time the skull made an appearance in her life, Nobara had just turned fifteen.

A strange pair of men were at her door at the crack of dawn, rousing her grandparents, which prompted them to drag Nobara out of bed at such a god-awful time of the day. They all sat at a table soberly, discussing her future while Nobara found her attention gravitating to you.

You were playing with a stray cat in the garden, its stomach presented to you eagerly so soon after it deemed you safe, and making the most disgusting cooing noises she had ever heard to it with a dopey grin.

It was only at the call of her name that her head snapped back forward.

Yaga Masamichi was a strange one, tinkering so openly with a corpse in front of her deeply superstitious grandparents, but, strangely enough, it was his companion, a shock of white hair and bandage, that caught her eye. The young man was looking your way.

Not at the cat pawing up at thin air. Oh no. The blindfolded stranger’s gaze was dead set on you; she saw his brow raise minutely as Yaga and her grandparents continued talking, her tools of trade that was cobbled together from old sheds and the local hardware store bared flat on the table; she watched him watch you rub the cat’s belly before you lifted it high into the air like a parent would to their child. It was obvious what the situation playing out was: you had caught on to the stranger’s sighting of you long before she did. To emphasise the fact, you even babbled to the cat, “Higher, higher! Oopsie-daisy!!” before letting it back down and nuzzling it against your face, affectionate and close.

Yaga only noticed the change in atmosphere when the cat’s meows suddenly went quiet. But the other one (white hair, bandages, feels wrong, rotting flesh and fresh) grinned, slapping an enrollment form on the table.

“You. Leave that thing behind when you come to our school,” said Gojou Satoru, his introduction earlier all pomp and a wellspring of positive energy memes a stark comparison to now as he continued watching you, all but ignoring her grandmother shouting up at him to stop spouting nonsense.

(“What drivel! My granddaughter surely won’t—”)

She went back to spacing out in your direction.

Without hesitation, you dropped the cat into your gaping maw and swallowed it whole in one gulp. The first cursed spirit you managed to catch by yourself. Your ability at masking your aura was improving. That was good.

The skull peeked out of your hoodie’s pocket, the many orbits winking at her.

Screw the rules, you were coming with her whether the bureaucracy liked it or not.

At this rate, she’s going to die for sure.

You know what to do.

You’re one and the same. If Mahito touched one half of your original self and corrupted it, reason dictates that giving her body (the container) yours will fix her. But there’s a problem.

The implosion practically ruined her chances of survival, reducing it to null.

Not even a high grade sorcerer could hope to reverse the damage. Bone is a special material. Bone takes time to be cultivated or to grow. For a jujutsu user, especially, a substitute of different material won’t cut it. Bone, like the soul, contains an essence of sorts, it’s one of the few natural conductors of negative energy humans can have.

Your point: bone is not easily replaced.

Kneeling over Nobara, you grab from the air the object you were entrusted with over a millennium ago for safekeeping.

“Oi, oi, oi, you. You. Freak-god-thing.” You regard Itadori Yuuji with disdain. Or rather, the lone eye and accompanying mouth that’s on his cheek. “Is that what I think it is.”

“What? Are you objecting? Or worse—obstructing?”

“I don’t know about you or the brat, but you’re gonna fuck up the girl if you do that.”

“And since when did the King of Curses grow a heart?”

“I fucking didn’t, you prick.” The eye manages to scowl without a brow. “I’m just saying… You are sending her to condemnation.”

“Says the finger shagger,” you retort. The mouth disappears; Itadori Yuuji has an indescribable expression on his face but you know he won’t try and stop your hare-brained idea, he wants what you want.

You know what you’re doing.

You’ve had to do this a few times before.

It will work.

“Hello?”

A child? Who in their right mind would—

You freeze in your tracks. It’s them, your mind exclaims. It’s them. Them. Them. Them.

… Her.

You walk up behind her, beaming.

“Why hello there!” you chime, so, so happy.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #nobara x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen

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alittlebitgoofy · 3 years

Text

Glass wings - chapter five (lemonjuice)

i'm back back back again with more gay fairies and this time we have a gay elf and another gay pixie, very fun!! i'm excited to finally get jan and rock into the mix >:)

thanks to my dearest @dollalpaca for betaing and putting up with my lack of commas. it's a lot to deal with

ao3 link

Time felt like it was floating; maybe it was the hazy morning air, or the warmth that was enveloping her, but Lemon had never felt so comfortable. She was somewhat aware of the body intertwined with her’s. Cracking her eyes open, she saw Juice still pressed into her side. Soft breaths tickled her collarbone, Juice’s head having not left her shoulder the entire time they’d been sleeping.

Lemon couldn’t bring herself to move and risk disturbing her friend, she had a feeling Juice wasn’t the best at letting herself sleep, always opting to do things than give herself time to rest. It was an issue she couldn’t press for fear of making things awkward, only try to subtly influence. She looked calm, peaceful for once; the blonde showed no signs of waking up any time soon. Even when she was relaxed, Juice had a natural frown, her face never seeming fully happy apart from the rare, softer moments that happened. The night before was one of those, something where the air around them was different, things came out easier and it felt as if nothing in the world mattered, only their company.

It surprised Lemon how easily she fell into the grasp of another person—she’d spent so long pent up, alone by her own choice but regretting it more day by day, powerless to stop the torment she put herself through.

Then Juice came around, giving her someone to really connect with. Finally, a friend.

Juice woke up some time while Lemon was busy in her own thoughts. She stayed still at first, melted into Lemon, not wanting to move from the comfort she offered. Her half-asleep brain could only process that the warm thing next to her was good and needed to be kept around.

After pulling Lemon slightly closer than before, Juice didn’t budge. She set her claim, curled up in bed with Lemon, and refused to leave or even slightly mess up the current situation. Lemon was brought back to reality by Juice shuffling as much closer as she could physically manage, her affection not going anywhere any time soon.

“Morning, Juicy,” Lemon spoke softly, not yet ready for the day, still fighting off the sleep. The response she got was a soft hum, not having processed the greeting, however wanting to appear as if she had.

“G’morning, Lem.” Juice’s tone was rough with tiredness, her words muffled by her head still burrowed into the pixie’s shoulder. Her speech was less annunciated, just about not slurring together in fatigue.

It didn’t take too long for them both to fully wake up. Lemon, having already been fairly alert choosing to stay in the blissful state of Juice’s affection. (but enjoying Juice’s endless affection) The latter needed a few more minutes to wake up, before engaging in a conversation. Within a few more minutes, Juice moved her arms from Lemon, startling the pixie. She sat up, eyes still heavy with tiredness, though a lot more alert than before.

Eventually, Lemon followed suit, the pair quietly preparing for the day ahead of them, a morning routine made easier with the company of another person. Juice stared at Lemon quizzically as she only ran a hand through her hair and shrugged.

“Do you not brush your hair a lot? Are you one of those people who don’t need to? Or is it just something you dislike.” Lemon paused, how did she explain that she despised brushing it until she had to, for no real reason? It just made her uncharacteristically angry.

“I don’t like it, I have too much hair and it’s a pain to brush it all out, so I don’t if I can get away with it, which I could have before you pointed it out.” She childishly stuck her tongue out for emphasis, while Juice struggled to hold back the laughter at her usual dramatics.

Lemon wanted nothing more than to run when she saw Juice pick up her comb, glancing between it and her hair curiously. The fairy made her way to her side, nudging Lemon to see if she was allowed to do so. Lemon wanted to say no, but something about Juice’s soft expression melted her into accepting with no fuss.

It didn’t take long before Lemon grunted at the pulling of her hair with the comb to detangle it. It was a horrible feeling, all the more reason she despised that thing. Juice tried to be as gentle as she could, but she had to be more forceful to get out any knots. Lemon became more docile as they went along, her hair becoming a lot less messy, though still as fluffy as ever. Lemon found herself enjoying the soft contact of Juice, steadying her head with a hand leant against her neck, or running her hands through the hair to check she hadn’t missed anything. It made her body warm in an unfamiliar way, but something she would crave again all the same.

Juice smiled proudly at the finished product and Lemon hummed in satisfaction. Running a hand through her hair, the pixie flashed a grin, happy with the result. The blonde took the opportunity to fluff up her hair like how it usually was, running her hands through it to check the neatness all over.

That was the only reason, not that she enjoyed being in such close proximity with Lemon or anything.

---

Although it had gotten easier, flying with Lemon was never a good idea—she would zoom off at a speed that Juice could hardly keep up with. Thankfully, the pixie had decided to rest on her shoulder, making herself comfortable as the fairy flew them further on.

“There’s something over there!” Lemon jolted, gesturing to the right, sounding uncharacteristically serious. Juice shot her a confused look, not sure what caused the sudden outburst or why her eyes were so trained on the direction she had pointed to.

“I can feel something, I don’t know what it is, but I need to go check it out,” Lemon said quickly, flying off of Juice’s shoulder and deeper into the surrounding forest.

“Lemon! You aren’t going alone, slow down,” Juice sighed, following Lemon as fast as she could and hoping the pixie didn’t fly into anything in her sudden burst of energy. The pixie paused, fluttering her way back to the shoulder and directing Juice from there.

They flew decently far out, to the outskirts of the village where a few people lived, who didn’t like living in the main town area for whatever reason. Upon spotting a house in the distance, Lemon’s eyes lit up. That was it! That was the thing she could feel. There was something inside that house that was drawing her to it, and she needed to find out.

---

Jan sprung back to consciousness at an alarming rate. No grogginess, only a sudden burst of energy that startled the person leaning over her.

Before her brain could catch up as to why there was a concerned elf in a cloak staring at her, something pulled at her. The sensation was willing her to leave the little cottage and venture into the surrounding woods, though that seemed like a bad idea.

“Hey! Don’t just leave! You’re not really in the state to—!” The elf threw herself to grab the pixie as she jumped off of the bed, before stumbling to the floor atop the other girl, her voice failing as they collided with the ground.

“Are you alright? I know you fell quite hard, but you just jolted up all of a sudden and it was terrifying,” the other girl spoke slower, a lot quieter that time. She struggled to hold eye contact, seemingly scared of Jan. It was a lot to realise someone may be intimidated by her, but the pixie tried to keep herself as small and harmless as possible in response.

“I’m okay, everything hurts, though. I’m not quite sure what happened.”

“Well, you see. I accidentally shot you down from the sky with my bow, because I saw you and got scared, I thought you were a predator and defended myself before properly looking,” meekly, the elf mumbled out an explanation.

Jan felt herself stifling a giggle at how adorable the person in front of her was. She looked too nervous for Jan to want to poke fun at her, but the way she blushed, the tips of her pointy ears turning pink, was too cute. Although the situation wasn’t good, the pixie couldn’t help but stare, taking in every aspect of the pretty girl.

Oh no. She couldn’t be—

Jan blinked a few times, shaking the thought from her head before it could finish. The idea of emotionally bonding with some random person who accidentally injured her was ridiculous. She was cute, it didn’t go any deeper than that. She also was the reason Jan couldn’t keep her balance right now, yet that seemed the furthest worry from her mind.

“It’s fine, I’m not that hurt.” A skeptical look made Jan laugh, although being hit by an arrow was painful, she hadn’t had too many bad injuries. Minus the pain all over her body, but that wasn’t a problem when her attention was focused on something; or rather, someone else.

Before their conversation could continue, a loud bang startled the pair. Jan felt the pulling sensation even stronger now.

Something was demanding her attention.

She had to follow it; her body decided that for her. She walked out of the house with the panicked elf quickly pacing after her. Jan idly wondered if she was always so panicky, or if this was something far too out of her comfort zone, leaving her almost unable to function.

“Wait, it’s here! Her!” A high pitched squeak of a voice spoke far too loudly for someone of her size. In a flash of yellow, Lemon fluttered in front of Jan.

Their expressions mirrored each other, shock and confusion soon morphing into excitement, upon realising their shared species. It was one of the first times Lemon had truly been left speechless.

“So you’re the one who gave me that feeling? You’re a strong little thing.” Jan inspected the small creature in front of her. Lemon only shrugged in response, not too aware of exactly what was happening, intrigued nonetheless. There was something about the soft lilac eyes and hair of the girl in front of her, that made her feel comfortable.

Lemon shifted into her human form, staring Jan down much in the same way she had just done. She couldn’t figure it out, but the woman had a comforting energy. It reminded her of something she hadn’t felt in a long time, but she couldn’t let herself linger on that thought.

----

“So, you’ve never met another pixie?” Jan stared at Lemon in shock, the raw energy emanating from her being completely untrained was almost inconceivable. Lemon shrugged, not seeing it as a huge deal, despite her excitement to meet another pixie.

“Yeah, I mean, I grew up around fairies, so it’s kind of similar, but I don’t know much about pixies.”

“Well, we need to make up for lost time! I bet you barely know how to use your powers. You can teleport and levitate things, but can you feel emotions, or sense energy? You’re close enough with Juice to connect with her if you tried. I’m not sure how it would work between a pixie and a fairy, rather than two pixies, but it’s definitely possible.”

“Connect? How so?”

“It’s just a thing pixies do; we get close enough to someone and a link develops. It can be trained to sense general energies, but you’re tied to the energy of another person. So, you could be able to feel Juice’s feelings, and reach a deeper understanding of each other.”

“That sounds so cool! How do I do it? What else can I do? Can you teach me?” Lemon’s eyes sparkled with so much excitement, that Jan felt herself soften; Lemon was so earnestly energetic and eager to learn that saying no wasn’t an option.

Juice watched on with a smile—Lemon finding another pixie was something she’d mentioned wanting to do in a passing conversation, since she knew so little about herself. There was something about seeing her so happy that made her heart squeeze, Lemon deserved so much more than what she got.

Lemon was incredible, although Juice couldn’t find the words to communicate it. She wouldn’t admit how much she adored the little troublemaker, but she would never stop being thankful she met that idiot.

Rock nervously approached Juice, feeling they had similar energies. The fairy jolted in shock at a soft greeting, but they soon got into a conversation about the pixies. Juice was happy to share what it was like to be close to one, as Rock realised that Jan was likely to stick around. She would find it hard to leave for the time being due to her injuries; the elf quietly hoped to herself that she would stay.

Juice quickly found a kinship with the elf based on their shared awkwardness when it came to social interactions; her anxieties settled as she realised the elf had the same issues. Their discussions flowed surprisingly easily, as they waited for the two pixies to calm down their enthusiasm.

“So, is the intense energy just a pixie thing?” Rock cocked her head, curiously glancing between the pair and Juice.

“It must be, Lemon doesn’t know how to sit still—he’s always got to be doing something, or she’ll complain about being bored. It’s kind of fun, though; she keeps things exciting.” Juice’s eyes fell back onto an excited Lemon, her face growing into an involuntary soft smile.

Rock noticed something in the way the smaller girl looked at her, but decided not to mention it. It wasn’t her place to comment.

“Juice! Jan’s gonna teach me how to use my powers, isn’t that cool?” Lemon giddily bounced back to her friend, eyes gleaming with such excitement, Juice felt her heart warm with how happy she seemed.

Lemon deserved so much more than she got, and Juice was going to do everything she could to make sure that happened.

#rpdr fanfiction #glass wings fic #fantasy au #lemonjuice #jock #sportkura #Jan sport #rock m sakura #lemon x juice

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kaisquawks · 3 years

Text

Blood

They called it the vessel, just so because it was a vessel of destruction. It had killed so many people across their fair country. Leaving naught in it’s wake, save for a blood stained ground. Avarice was young and heeded the warnings of the adults in the village. She stayed indoors when it got past suppertime, she didn’t stray far from the house when she played during the day and always locked her bedroom door. One night she awoke to a horrible sound, a woman was screaming, then silence. Another scream, most likely a man, silence again. Closer, she recognised Miss Callaway, her neighbour, voice talking, then silence, a short scream and silence again. She quietly left her bed and made it like her mother had said to do when you get out of bed. She could hear more voices now, the village was waking up. She hid under the bedframe her blanket hanging over the side, obscuring her from view. She was clutching the doll her mother had made her, fashioned after the duchess governing their province. She could hear her parents talking now, suddenly she heard her mother scream, silence, her father started to say something in a quiet voice she’d never heard him use before then, silence. To her surprise nothing tried to open her door, she didn’t have to climb out the window like her father had said to do. She hated climbing out the window her legs would dangle and she scraped her knees last time. The screaming and silence pattern continued long into the night, until the silence was no longer interrupted. Avarice did as any good girl would do in her situation, she went to bed and slept until morning.

When the sun woke her the next day she had briefly forgotten the events of the previous night. Still rubbing her sleepy eyes she wandered into the kitchen and found it was covered completely in blood. The fireplace, the pots, her mothers favourite apron. Everything was drenched in sticky congealing blood. It smelt awful and she decided to go outside to get some fresh air. This did not help as the morning sun was warming the blood all over the ground in the village, it smelt worse than what was in her kitchen. Feeling overwhelmed she trotted past the village square her feet sticking to the ground as she went out to the paddocks where Mr. Baltimore’s sheep were. They bleated expectantly at her, there was no hay stack for them to munch on this morning. She remembers hearing Mrs. Baltimore shouting last night. She pet the sheep until they realised she wasn’t going to feed them and scattered about the paddock nibbling on what was left of the spring grass. She picked at the grass, hungry but not wanting to go back into the kitchen. Fly’s were starting to collect around her feet and she decided to walk down to the small river next to Mr. Baltimore’s farm. She dipped them in the water and watched the blood float down the stream in translucent ribbons. Once they were clean she wiped them with her nightdress and sat by the bank throwing peddles. She was still hungry. From across the paddock she could hear shouting, normally she would stay away because it was probably the school boys making a ruckus. But she was bored and hungry so followed the voices. Eventually she stood on the outskirts of the village again, dreading the smell of blood. However it did not dissuade her for long. She marched along the street the blood having dried more now, until she saw a collection of armoured men, knights she realised, on horseback. One of them noticed her and pointed, all the men stood to attention and drew their weapons, they were aimed her. Why? she thought, knights were meant to protect little girls. The one that had noticed her dismounted at the order of one of the fancier looking knights, he had a flag on his spear. The knight approached her slowly weapon still pointing at her, she stood still and didn’t move. When he got close enough she spoke.

“I’m hungry.” She stated hoping he would understand her predicament, to punctuate this her stomach growled. The knight stopped moving and looked back at his friends, they were talking amongst themselves.

“Hungry for what?” One of them shouted, he was shorter than the others. She smiled.

“Breakfast, I have eggs and milk.” She replied, the knights started talking again and lowered their weapons, she could hear bits of their conversation now that they had stopped whispering.

“Well they didn’t say it could talk, or that it looked like a little girl.” There was another little girl? There was only little boys in her village, she got excited.

“Can I meet her? I’m sure we’d be fast friends!” The knights stopped talking for a moment then a couple of them chuckled.

“Fast friends, more like fast dinner.” One of the older knights muttered.

“We should probably search for more survivors before we move on, this-” He pointed at Avarice.

“-hasn’t happened before, we can question her about what she saw at the Duchess’ Manor.” Avarice started jumping up and down, she’d never met the Duchess, only her stories from her mother.

“I would like that very much! I want to tell the Duchess about my doll.” The knight closest to her removed his helmet so she could see his face, it was a her. Her expression was soft as she kneeled down in front of Avarice.

“Alright but first we need your name, I’m Valery.” The knight held out her armoured hand.

“I’m Avarice nice to meet you!” She took the offered hand with hers and shook it vigorously earning a chuckle out of Valery.

The knights spent around an hour looking for other people in the village but found no one, it wasn’t a surprise, What was though, was Avarice.

“Why was she spared? It’s killed girls her age before why is she different?” Avarice was on the back of the lady knight’s horse and was playing with her doll, Valery had retrieved it from her bedroom upon request.

“I don’t know Daniel, I saw her room too, her door was untouched it hadn’t even tried to enter.” Valery replied. She had given Avarice some rations to chew on which the girl had devoured surprisingly quickly.

“Halt, I smell iron.” The knights horses all stopped and it was true, Avarice could smell that familiar scent. She held her nose.

“Proceed with caution, it’s never been active during the day but we must remain vigilant.” They resumed pace the smell growing stronger until they rounded a fork in the road. Before them was a near identical sight to Avarice’s village. The ground once again stained red, the only living creatures were curious foxes and birds. Attracted by the smell of blood but confused by the lack meat. However, unlike last time, they saw a figure standing in the square. It was motionless and hard to make out it’s details as it was exuding a blinding white. The knights froze.

“By god, is that it?” The older knight whispered, they waited in tense silence. It didn’t move and gave no indication it would. Suddenly Avarice noticed a chicken wandering near the horses. She loved chickens and wiggled free of her seat on the horse, her legs dangling off the side of the saddle. “Oh no.” she said it’s just like the window, before she fell and felt a sharp stinging sensation in her knee. The noise snapped Valery’s attention to her.

“Avarice no!” She whispered loudly but the thing had already started moving towards them. Valery dismounted immediately scooping up the little girl in her arms. The other knights made a defensive line preparing for the worst.

“Run!” Was all they heard as they both sprinted into the forest lining the village, Valery knew in her heart it was in vain, her fears cemented when she heard her comrades screams. They didn’t make it far before Valery’s hand was ripped from Avarice’s and the little girl was blinded by something. She wiped her eyes seeing that light tearing into what was Valery, all the while she shouted why at it until she couldn’t any longer. Avarice walked closer to it and felt something wrap around her throat, it wasn’t painful.

“Did you care for them?” It asked her in a voice like thunder, Avarice didn’t know what it meant.

“Who?” She asked honestly.

“Who else child?, your parents, village, those knights and this one.” It replied holding up the torn figure of Valery. Avarice thought for a moment, her mother said she cared for her and she would say it, but Avarice also said she cared for other people, people she didn’t know well. They always seemed upset when she’d say that however. Her mother explained only special people could be cared for, but she cared about everyone then.

“You are as I thought, without.” It said, and suddenly the body of Valery disappeared in a bright flash, more blood fell to the ground.

“Farewell, Peccatum.” It’s voice rolled that last word around like the rumble from a rain cloud. And just like it had done to Valery, it vanished, leaving Avarice alone again, and again she wasn’t scared, just hungry.

Commentary: This piece was intended for the week 3 ‘Role of the Reader’ task. My intention with this piece was to present a trope that I personally hate. People with Autism (like me) find it difficult sometimes to grasp the concept of empathy and so I created Avarice, her name literally meaning sin or greed. In my understanding of what I wrote, I made it so the ‘vessel’ didn’t need to kill her because she didn’t care about people in the way people cared about her. The vessel, as I the Author wrote, was intended to be perceived as the desire to hurt people through their bonds with others. There was a reason it would kill one person at a time. An example being Avarice’s mother who is killed and then she can hear her father talking and he is killed shortly after. The Vessel wanted things to see it kill the things they cared about. After killing her parents it didn’t understand why it couldn’t sense fear in Avarice and left her to continue onto the next town. Even when Avarice watched the Vessel kill Valery she doesn’t grasp the situation. Which was supposed to mirror the trope of Autistic children not feeling for the ones they should love. Which is blatantly untrue. I didn’t enjoy and still don’t enjoy the trope so it was interesting to write something I hate seeing in media.

#Blood tw #blood #original writing #my writing #writingblr #this was the second half of my folio also capped at around 1500 words #I also included the commentary because like I said I hate the no empathy trope so wanted to clear that up

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naly1109 · 4 years

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Your Lovely Wicked Soul

Witch au, Reader X Bang Chan feat. Stray Kids (Narrator's POV)

Summary: Y/N is well known and beloved amongst the people of her home village. Being a powerful Witch, she helps the people using her Gifts to increase crops, heal the sick, and protect the townsfolk and other favors. When her Grandfather sends her away to save her from the misfortune of becoming the awful King’s bride, he sends her across worlds into the hands of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the tyrant King.

Dhornna= Familiar of a Witch that manifests from the Witches powers in the form of an animal. They speak only when they deem necessary.

~Prologue~

“Take this twice daily to increase your vitamin intake. You’re with a child, so it's important that you stay healthy for the baby as well. I know it does not taste to your liking, but you cannot keep ‘forgetting’ to take it just because you don’t like it.” Y/N hands the mother-to-be the herbal mix with a stern look as she walks her to the exit of the small clinic that has doubled as her’s and her Grandfather’s home for the last nearly 21 years. On Y/N’s first birthday, her parents were killed by bandits while traveling to visit a neighboring village. Her Grandfather then took her in to raise her in her parents stead, training her to become the amazing Witch she is today.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! I feel so much more at ease knowing that you’re here to help me through these trying times.” The woman, named Gailee, responds with absolute relief. She is only two years older than Y/N, but she is already married and expecting her third child. She turns to put down Y/N’s Cat Dhornna, Nolai, and grabs the medicine pouch from her hands.

“I’m glad that you find comfort in my care this time around as well,” Y/N smiles, “I can’t wait to meet this little one! Something tells me you’ll be getting that little girl you’ve wanted.” Y/N giggles at the older woman’s reaction, her eyes going wide with glee and excitement. Being a Witch ment Y/N’s gender predictions were always correct, so the woman knows there is truth to the statement.

“REALLY!” Gailee exclaims. “Oh thank the stars! My little Ramson and Lornick are so rambunctious! I was worried I would be stuck with another boy just like them! Now I’ll have a little girl who will be soft with me!” Gaile embraces Y/N with appreciation, then turns to stroke Nolai’s head, and leaves.

Y/N sighs as she closes the door behind the pregnant woman. She turns and looks at her Cat Dhornna with a small smile and asks him, “Do you think I’ll be married soon, Nolai?” The Dhornna simply blinks at his master and gives a small, uninterested meow. Y/N shakes her head at the Cat, not surprised by his response, and heads to the kitchen to begin preparing for dinner.

Y/N is grinding up some herbs for the chicken when she hears her Grandfather coming in from the back garden. “I’m here in the kitchen, Gaba!” she calls out.

“How was the appointment?” he asks with a conversational tone, walking into the kitchen sink to clean the dirt off his arms.

“Gailee is doing great, and her baby is healthy also, you can feel her kick in there!” Y/N says with a small smile on her face. Her Grandfather watches her happily as she goes on about how soon the village will see the joy of yet another baby this year. He absolutely adores his Granddaughter, for she is all he has left. He watches the light of the setting Sunstar from the window play with her eyes, her unusually colored eyes, the only visible indication of how powerful a Witch she really is.

“You do such a great job, Y/N. I’m sure your parents are beaming with pride amongst the stars at how wonderfully you’ve grown.” He steps forward to embrace her. Y/N never knew her parents, but according to her Grandfather, they were very powerful Witches as well, and held great standing amongst the Witch community. Witches are not common but are well known, and villages often rely on the help of a Witch’s Gifts for crops, medicine, protection, and other favors they may be inclined to request, although some Witches powers can go above and beyond those capabilities. “I have received a letter from the Royal Circle to inform us that someone from the Circle will be visiting us tomorrow at evetime. I think they are coming here to seek you out to be part of the Witch Society.” he finishes before stepping back and placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders with a distraught look on his face.

The Witch Society is a group of the seven most influential and powerful Witches in the Kingdom, assigned by the King when he is crowned. The current King, unfortunately, is a tyrant who finds enjoyment in taking lands for himself and killing anyone who denies him anything he wants. Despite knowing this, many Witches still covet the positions of the Witch Society. Y/N is not one who is willing to follow the malicious King, for she knows that the King is demanding that the Witches of the Society use their Gifts to practice in the Dark Spells. The Dark Spells are a dangerous thing to practice, and each Spell casted from the Dark Spells shortens a Witch's lifespan, if it doesn’t kill them right then. Which is why King Talmas is looking for his fourth replacement since the start of his reign eight years ago.

Y/N shakes her head in denial, defiance in her features, “No! I will never work for that nasty tyrant who is unworthy of being called King!” Y/N’s Grandfather knows she hates the idea of working for a man willing to hurt his own subjects for his own personal gain, but he still convinces her to be cordial with their guest for tomorrow evening. Even so, he already has an idea for if things go as bad as he had foreseen for tomorrow.

The next morning, Y/N and her Grandfather wake with the rising Sunstar, and begin to prepare for the expected guest to arrive. While Y/N leaves to get what will be needed for dinner, her Grandfather stays behind to “tidy up the clutter of their home”. What he is really doing is preparing for what he knows is to come. Y/N’s 22nd birthday is in only 89 days, and on that day, a truth will be revealed to her that will put into motion a grand change to their world. He knows that she will be mad at him for a while, but she will come to forgive him when she understands the necessity of his actions.

Y/N’s Grandfather, Lessio, is a rarity amongst his kind, a male Witch. Of the small population in the Kingdom of Trysolia, only six percent are Witch, and of that six percent, less than about one percent is male. And Lessio’s son, Alstar, was also a Witch. Alstar fell in love with Y/N’s mother, Ailynn, another Witch, who possessed vast power and knowledge of Spells. The pairing was rare due to the sheer number of female Witches to the small number of male Witches, and most, like Lessio, married regular human women in hopes to increase the chances of a son, even a non-Gifted one. Lessio was one of the lucky few. As a result of the pairing, Y/N was born to become one of the most powerful Witches in history, although she has yet to fully come into her powers, Lessio knows it’s only a matter of time. So he knew this day was coming. The day when members of the Royal Circle would seek her out. Lessio tried his best to postpone this inevitable event by moving Y/N to the small village called Old Stone Village, on the outskirts of the Kingdom, and raising her incognito. Being a Foreseer Witch, he knew what was to come, just like with his son and daughter-in-law. But this time he wasn’t going to be too late.

Y/N arrives back from town with what she needs for dinner, and a light lunch for her and her Grandfather, a little before noontime. She calls her Grandfather to come in from the back entrance to eat. After eating, they finish up the house work and Y/N goes out to meet her best friend since they were toddlers. Ember is a Witch as well, her mother is Witch and her father a human.

“Y/N!” Ember calls out when she sees her approaching the makeshift shelter they made using the trees when they were eight. Truthfully, Y/N did most of the hard work, much to Ember’s disdain.

“Ember!” Y/N runs up to her friend, Nolai running ahead to greet Ember’s Rabbit Dhornna, Makil. Y/N always loves spending time with her only friend growing up. Being the only Witch children in the village, they could understand each other how no one else could. So many memories made here in the trees they grew together. They had used their Gifts to intertwine the branches together well above their heads and around them, to shield from the Sun and harsh weather. Y/N hugs her friend and stands back with a smile. “I brought some of the herbal fruit tea blend your mother loves. I know your parents anniversary is in a few days, so your mother can make this for your father.” Y/N finishes with a bright look in her eyes, handing her the large jar of ground up, dried herbs and fruits she pulled from her Storage Cloak. The Autumn weather is cold so both girls have on cloaks and fur boots over their lady pants.

“Oh, Y/N,” she giggles, “you’re always so thoughtful! I’m so thankful to have you as my friend!” Ember pulls Y/N in for another hug. The girls then walk into the shelter to sit and converse comfortably, while their Dhornnas play together.

“How are you enjoying working with children?” Y/N asks her friend. Ember began working in the school to help nurture the minds of the children by making learning more entertaining for them using Spells. It was an idea presented by Ember at the community meet earlier this year to improve the learning rate of the children who seemed to be having trouble focusing. Many of the community members agreed instantly, but a plan needed to be established on how to use Spells to aid in the learning process for the children.

“It's going great! Now that we finally got our plan into motion, we are seeing great results!” She beams.

“Our plan?” Y/N’s brow raises questionably at her friend.

“Oh. Um... Erinnek and myself. He’s a brilliant man with revolutionary ideas. We’ve been working hard to get this idea in motion and we’re both really proud!” Ember finishes quickly with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Uh-huh. And could the reason my best friend is getting flustered over mentioning this ‘Erinnek’ man be because she has developed somewhat of a liking for said man?” Y/N asks, her voice going up in octaves at the end to taunt her friend. Ember’s violet eyes go wide, and her face and neck flush scarlet at the mention of her possible feelings towards the older man she has been working closely with these last several weeks. Ember blushing was always Y/N's favorite Ember face, because it always highlighted the freckles on her face, lighter in color now due to the Autumn season. Y/N always envied Ember her freckles.

“I’ve told you! It's not like that! I simply have a deep respect for his intellectual outlook on matters!” Y/N can’t help but laugh out at her friend's reaction, making her friend chant a quick Spell to send a brief gust of wind just strong enough to ruffle up Y/N’s long, silky tresses.

“Hey!” Y/N laughs, wordlessly returning the gesture in kind. Y/N’s Gifts advanced beyond needing to use a chant to cast Spells a few years back. An astonishing feat which few Witches accomplish, and it gathered the attention of some of the Witches from the neighboring villages.

Ember laughs, and asks, “Is there anyone you like, Y/N?”

Y/N stops to consider her friend’s question. As she thinks about it, she realises that she has never really developed that sort of relationship with anyone of the opposite sex. She was always so busy helping with the sick and tending to the lands with the villagers and helping her Grandfather with any crazy, new Spells he wanted to try. And of course training. Y/N was already very powerful by any standards, but her Grandfather always told her that she has so much more potential than even he could imagine. She went along with it, even though she thought he lost his mind while trying to count the stars.

“No.” Y/N finally answers after a few moments of silence had passed while she pondered her answer. “I haven’t really interacted with anyone in that manner so I can’t say that I see myself with anyone in that sort of setting.”

Ember watches her friend and feels sad for her that her life has not been her own. “Well, I’m sure there is some handsome man out there waiting to capture your heart, Y/N. Look at you! You’re Stunning!” Ember arms gesture towards her friend in a wordless attempt to help her see her beauty. Y/N is tall for their kind, but still small by normal human standards. Her curvy body is slim and toned in all the right places from the multiple jobs she takes on, working her body in different ways. She has long, thick, flowy hair that reaches her hips and frames her form wonderfully. She has beautifully shaped lips, and delicately arched brows set above striking and unusually colored eyes. Ember sometimes envied Y/N for her eyes.

Y/N lets out a snort. She was always told that she is beautiful, that she looks exactly like her mother but with different eyes. “We’ll see how your theory plays out after tonight.” Y/N then turns to her friend with a serious face, “Gaba received a letter yesterday informing him that we are to be welcoming members of the Royal Circle. It does not state specifically who we are to be expecting or for what reason they come, simply that they will be here this eve.” Y/N finishes when she sees the questioning look on her friend's face.

Ember inhales and exhales audibly. She knows her best friend’s views on how the Royal Circle is currently operating. And Y/N would rather take her own life than to be forced to work for the awful and selfish King. “What are you going to do?” she asks, “You can’t decline him. Everyone knows what happens when he is denied what he wants.”

Y/N hangs her head, her heart feeling heavy. “I don’t know.” she states, sounding slightly defeated. “I know of all the things he has done, but I fear what will happen to Gaba if I run away. He is too old to go on the run and go into hiding.”

Ember hugs her friend in an attempt to comfort her, her heart reaching out to her best friend. She cannot imagine the turmoil Y/N is feeling at this moment, nor did she envy her in this instant, for she shares Y/N’s views on the corrupt Members and their King.

Ember finally releases Y/N and looks her in the eye, “I’m absolutely positive that your Gaba has something planned so you don’t have to live that awful fate.” she states reassuringly, stroking back some of Y/N’s hair. “Your Grandfather cherishes you too much to allow you to burden yourself with the weight of someone else’s malicious will.” Y/N looks up and smiles at her friend. Before she has the chance to respond to her encouraging words, the sound of a horn pierces the early evening air, indicating that the members of the Royal Circle have arrived in the village.

“Well that’s my sign telling me to head home before the Members arrive at my door.” Y/N stands and readjusts her cloak around her. Ember stands up to embrace her friend, then it dawns on Y/N. “This may be the last time I see you for a while,” She whispers to her friend. Both their hearts clench in pain at the idea and they tighten the embrace.

Ember is the first to reluctantly break the hug. With teary eyes, she looks at the greatest friend in the world and says, “I don’t think so. You’ve been stuck with me for almost 20 years, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She attempts to laugh but it comes out as a soft sob.

Y/N strokes her friend’s cheek and smiles warmly. “I’m absolutely sure about that as well. You’re my Star Mate.” With that, the girls say their farewells and head to their respective homes. Y/N runs all the way and makes it in time for the Members to arrive.

Y/N and her Grandfather both wait in their front lawn walkway while the carriage comes to a complete stop and is prepared for the members of the Royal Circle to exit. While it is being prepared, a man on a black stallion rides up to them and dismounts.

“Where shall we store our horses?” the man asks Lessio. Y/N’s Grandfather guides the man and a few others with horses to the small stalls that housed your horse and Grandfather’s Horse Dhornna, Maize, and helps them get their animals situated and returns in just in time for the Announcer to make the introductions.

“Announcing the King of Trysolia, His Royal Highness Talmas!” the man in royal red announces as the King descends the steps of the coach. Y/N eyes widen at the announcer's words.

‘What is the King doing here himself? Just for me?’ Y/N thinks to herself. It was almost never heard of for the King to leave his castle. It's unnerving for Y/N to see the King here himself, and it is her first time meeting him. He is young, only having been 15 when he ascended the throne, and undoubtedly, very handsome, with thick, curly locks of dark hair styled back to reveal a strong brow over piercing, brown eyes. He has a sharp, prominent nose and full lips with a perfect Cupid’s bow. Y/N may have fallen for him based on looks alone if she wasn’t already aware of his horrid personality.

The King steps away from the coach to allow three other persons to exit, three women. The man in red announces that they were Members of the Witches Society, Y/N forgets their names as soon as they are spoken. She is too focused on trying to keep her mind from wondering and thinking up worst-case scenarios.

After the Announcer finishes the introductions of each person in the coach, Y/N’s Grandfather steps forward to speak, “Welcome, Your Highness. This is quite the unexpected visit, to what do we owe the honor?” Y/N’s Grandfather speaks the question circling her head as well.

“Well, I heard that there was an extremely powerful Witch living on the outskirts of my kingdom and decided to have a look myself.” he says in an irritably attractive voice. He turns his head toward Y/N and looks her up and down. “And I’m glad I did. This little Witch is quite stunning.” he finishes with a dimpled smirk that Y/N would’ve found attractive if it were not for the words that accompanied it or the man who wore it. “I see the tales I’ve heard about your eyes are true. Although seeing them for myself, I’m still in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful they are to behold. You must be a very powerful Witch indeed to have eyes this rare in color.” His voice laced with something Y/N could not identify.

Y/N clears her throat to speak, “Thank you. I have dinner prepared for you and your party if you would like to eat. I made duck with potatoes, carrots, and onions with an autumn themed sauce.” She tries her hardest to hide the discomfort the King gives her with his leering eyes.

“I would be more than honored to eat your home cooked meal. We have been on the road now for three days to reach this village. I’m sure our stomachs will be appreciative.” The King states. Y/N nods and ushers the King and his entourage into her small home followed by her Grandfather.

Y/N’s Grandfather allows for the King to take his seat at the head of the table and takes the one on the other end. His party takes seats around the table, a guard on either side of the King, two of the females on one side and the other on the other side. Y/N is thankful that there is enough seating, with eight people to seat, one more person and someone would be stuck standing while eating. Y/N takes the duck and vegetables out to the table and goes back for the bread rolls and chilled tea she made earlier that day, then takes her seat on her Grandfather’s right. After dinner, the King requests that the business they came for be conducted in the sitting room. Everyone follows Y/N’s Grandfather out of the dining hall and into the sitting room.

Once everyone is seated, one of the members of the Witch Society begins to explain their reasoning for their visit so far out from the comforts of the capitol. “We came here today to recruit Y/N into the Witch Society. We’ve heard many stories about what she has accomplished and, knowing her lineage, we know she would make a great addition to the Society in serving the King to better our Kingdom.”

“How would you know if I would be a great addition if you are not even certain of what Gifts I possess? For all you know, I could simply be able to communicate with animals or make plants grow.” Y/N states with purpose, her stubborn streak showing. “And in what ways, pray tell, are you and the King improving our kingdom? By denying the people the medicine that they need? By demanding they turn over all their crops and animals and leaving them starving through the winter?” Y/N finishes with heavy sarcasm lacing her tone and a fake smile on her face.

The King simply smiles at Y/N’s display at stubbornness, seeing it as a challenge he will gladly accept. “Y/N, I’m simply doing what I see fit to make sure my kingdom profits.” he states nonchalantly, like he is making a comment on the weather, then adds with more interest, “Plus, anyone could tell just by looking at the unusual color of your eyes that you’re no ordinary Witch, but one who possesses tremendous power. And I fully intend on having you as part of the Society,” King Talmas smirks upon seeing Y/N’s glare fully focus on him, “or as my wife.” he adds before she can respond, chuckling when her expression changes to one of complete shock.

“Your Highness, is that an offer?” one of the Members asks, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“Oh, I never say what I don’t mean and always want what I say, especially on my birthday.” King Talmas says, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as she throws mental daggers at him. “The Kingdom doesn’t have a Queen, why shouldn’t it be a powerful Witch like Y/N? With a Witch like you by my side, I could expand my rule beyond the current borders with little resistance. And you could help me further by expanding my life span.” He finishes with a cocky tone.

“I do believe I will have to decline your offer. I have no interest in being a member of your corrupt Witch Society, nor do I desire to be married to a tyrant that plays with the well being of his people for his own personal gain. And lastly, I will not allow you to stay in my home and continue to speak to me as though I am an object to be used at your disposal. So I suggest you leave while I am asking kindly.” Y/N manages to maintain a steady tone despite her inner fury.

Everyone in the room is taken aback at Y/N tone towards the King. There are murmured responses from the other guest like “Is she stupid?” or “The audacity to deny the King in such a manner!”

The King narrows his eyes at Y/N, clenching his jaw and flexing it to show his distaste with her response. “Very well. I have no second thoughts on doing this the hard way. Forcing you should be easy enough. Take her.” the King demands of the guards.

Before they can complete their first step toward Y/N, her Grandfather casts a Spell to bring everyone in the room to a stand still to buy time to get his granddaughter out of there. “Hurry, Y/N! It won't take long for the Members to break the Spell and come after us!” He grabs her arm and leads her out the back door, Nolai following close behind. Lessio is one of the other few Witches of their time that is able to cast Spells without the use of a chant.

“Gaba? Where are we going?” Y/N questions when she sees her Grandfather leading them into the woods. The cold air makes their breaths visible in the waning light of the LunarEarth. Y/N is thankful she remembered to grab her Cloak before being led out the back door.

“Just trust me, Y/N. I’ve planned for this.” is all he responds. Y/N is slightly shocked at his response but doesn’t press further while he leads her through the woods. They walk for several minutes before coming to a clearing. The clearing seems to have an odd pattern at the center of it. “Take this book.” Lessio hands her a large book wrapped in elk skin. Y/N’s eyes widen when she realizes that it is his Grimoire. “Please stand in the center of the clearing, and grab your Dhornna.” Y/N places the Grimoire in her Storage Cloak and does as he asks. Picking up Nolai, she quickly walks to the center of the odd patterns. As she walks through, she attempts to make out the patterns she sees on the ground, but in all her studies, she’s never seen this combination.

Once at the center, she turns to face her Grandfather. As soon as she makes eye contact with his steel grey eyes, he puts up a barrier around her to keep her there.

“What?!” Y/N exclaims, reaching her hand out towards the barrier, only to have it push her hand back. “What are you doing, Gaba? I’m scared!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N!” her Grandfather calls from the edge of the circular pattern, “I have to do this. This is the only way I can protect you and put you on the right path. I’ve always known you were destined for great and amazing things, but not here while that tyrant is after you. I hope you know I’ll always love you.”

Y/N eyes begin tearing up as realization dawns on her. He is sending her away. Away from her home, from her friends, from her life, and, worst of all, from him. Her only living kin. The one person she could always rely on. She fights back her tears and asks, “Where are you sending me to?”

Her Grandfather shakes his head, “I cannot say, only two people have travelled there before but didn’t live to tell of what was there. But I know I'm sending you to someone I know can help you.” Before Y/N could ask more questions, they heard the voices of the guards and Members approaching them. “We’re out of time! I’m going to begin the Spell!” Her Grandfather begins the Spell and light starts to come out of the patterns, which, unfortunately, helps lead the King and his entourage to find them.

“HERE THEY ARE!” One of the guards shouts. Soon the whole squad is surrounding them, followed by the Members and, lastly, the King.

“Thought you could get away did you, little Witch?” the King says with disdain in his voice. “You’re not being as obedient as I had originally hoped you’d be, but that's fine, I like a challenge.” King Talmas then instructs the head of the guard to command them to shoot down Y/N’s Grandfather.

Y/N sees the guards all raise their bows with arrows and aim them towards her Grandfather. “NO!” she exclaims, then wordlessly casts a protection barrier around her Grandfather, just in time to deflect the arrows already flying at him. “Gaba, let down the barrier! I’ll go with him!” Lessio ignores her and continues the Spell, even as arrows hit the barrier Y/N has up. “GABA! DON’T! HE’LL KILL YOU! I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN!” Y/N shouts out, tears beginning to overflow freely. The pattern begins to glow brighter, indicating that the Spell has been initiated.

Lessio turns to his beloved Granddaughter to look at her one last time, giving her a smile filled with all the love and warmth he holds for her, “I will always love you, Y/N. I’m proud of who you have become. And I know you’ll change the world.” Y/N feels her barrier falter as the Spell begins to pull her away, giving out just before it can stop an arrow from hitting her Grandfather in the chest. The Spell finally pulls her through with great force, but not before she witnesses two more arrows hit her beloved Grandfather.

“NO! GABA!” Y/N yells just as everything goes black.

Only a brief moment passes before Y/N feels her body thrown down onto a hard surface, it gives out and collapses beneath her, causing her body to hit another surface just as hard. Y/N groans and sits up, rubbing her backside. She opens her eyes to be met with eight curious faces staring at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi! I really hope you all enjoyed this Prologue to my first fanfic! There is so much more to look forward to, so I hope you all stay until the end!

#witch au #supernatural au #stray kids #stray kids bang chan #stray kids changbin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee felix #stray kids han jisung #stray kids yang jeongin #stray kids kim seungmin #stray kids imagines #skz

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ridiasfangirlings · 4 years

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Cute wolf ear Yata yes please *^* So imagine Fushimi is like this traveling merchant making his own way in life, he ran away from his village as soon as he was old enough to be on his own and he's been traveling by himself ever since. His mother is this really skilled trader who briefly quit her profession when she married her genius husband Niki, only to leave both her husband and son once she realized what a shitweasel Niki was. Everyone in the town hated Niki, who was a genius but refused to use his intellect for anything besides pranks and teasing his young son. Even once Niki died Fushimi could tell that he wasn't welcome in town, a few townspeople tried to act like they would watch over him but Fushimi knew they were only doing so because it made them look good and really no one cared about him. Once he had enough money saved he bought a cart and a horse and set off on his own, traveling from town to town and never stopping anywhere for long.

One night he's sleeping in his cart on the outskirts of the village, even though it's cold out and Fushimi dislikes how uncomfortable the cart is he still never sleeps in actual villages. He's curled up on himself shivering when he suddenly feels this warmth around him, it makes him sleepy and he actually manages to get a decent night's sleep. He wakes up the next morning to find a cute wolf boy wrapped around him, Fushimi's immediately up with a knife in his hand demanding to know who this stranger is and why they're in his cart. Yata yawns as he sits up, he's totally naked and his ears and tail are obvious. Yata wonders why Fushimi's pointing a knife at him, like you know without me you probably woulda frozen to death. Fushimi snorts and says some shrimpy wolf isn't enough to keep someone from freezing to death, Yata's like don't call me shrimpy even as he stands up and proudly proclaims himself this great red wolf who protects the village. Fushimi snorts and says Yata's some stray idiot who stayed here too long then, like obviously this town isn't the type now to need to ask any kind of guardian deity to watch their crops so Yata's likely been useless here for ages. Yata tries to deny it but eventually he ends up having to grudgingly admit that Fushimi's right, he came here a long time ago and now he wants to go home. Fushimi doesn't see what that has to do with him and Yata grins as he's like because I'm letting you be the guy who takes me back.

Fushimi's immediately like no thanks get out of my cart, Yata's all come on I'm a great wise wolf offering to help you you should be thankful asshole. Fushimi says Yata's just a stowaway and Yata kinda has to scramble to convince Fushimi not to kick him out, like I swear I can help, a skinny guy like you probably needs protection right I can do that. Fushimi shows off all his hidden knives and says he doesn't need protection, especially from a shrimpy wolf, and Yata's like maybe I should just eat you okay how about that. Fushimi eventually agrees to at least take Yata to the next town, tossing a cloak at him and telling him to get dressed and keep quiet or else Fushimi really will push him out of the moving cart.

So at first their relationship is super antagonistic, Fushimi doesn't have any interest in Yata and Yata's starting to think maybe he should find another cart. But then they get to town and maybe Yata gets to see Fushimi's merchant skills, like despite his bad personality Fushimi's a really amazing merchant. At one point though his bad attitude starts to get him in trouble and Yata steps in, like Yata's outspoken honest personality helps smooth things over and get some potential clients to agree to trade with Fushimi because they take Yata to be trustworthy. Fushimi grudgingly admits that Yata was helpful and Yata's like see we could be a great team, you're an amazing guy and I could help you be even more amazing. No one's ever called Fushimi amazing before and he finds himself agreeing to take Yata a little farther at least.

Soon they're basically traveling everywhere together, Yata trying to get info about his hometown Homra in between work. Fushimi finds himself getting more and more on edge though the closer they seem to be getting to Homra, like he's starting to get used to having Yata there and he doesn't want Yata to leave him. Yata's starting to have his own misgivings too, like he really wants to go home but he also feels like Fushimi is someone he can't leave alone, without Yata there to make sure he eats and sleeps and doesn't do anything stupid because he thinks he's smarter than everyone then who knows what kind of trouble Fushimi could get in (also imagine at some point Fushimi pisses off the wrong guy and gets kidnapped, Yata goes after him and Fushimi gets to see Yata's real form as this huge red wolf that starts attacking all Fushimi's assailants in order to save him).

#sarumi #Talking K #also more tiny fang Misaki pls *^*#imagine Fushimi getting to see Yata's full wolf form #Yata being like ha who's a shrimp now #Fushimi getting to ride on Yata's back as Yata saves him #Yata starts thinking maybe he can go home another time bc someone needs to take care of Saruhiko

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davyruiz · 3 years

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Escaping Evergone

The sun had set and so had his dreams. Kae looked out from the mountains, across the Blue Wave Forest and past the Once Again River. There was smoke coming from the rooftops and they signaled it was over. The moon was hanging high above and his love was no longer there.

It started back in Not Home Village. A place where travelers visit but never stay. Full of personalities and opportunities, the way station for lost souls was the place they met for the first time. Kae was but a shopkeeper and Stel was just a dancer. They used to stay locked in their places on opposite sides of the map.

Users and players would come and go. They met millions of others but this time felt different. In Evergone, not everyone truly lives for not everyone is born the same. For those born in Evergone, you are but a pawn in the game users play.

These players visit from outside Evergone and fulfill meaningless quests. They collect treasures, kill monsters, and win the favor of royalty. The non-user or nonus exist to help the users but rarely are gifted life of their own. When a glitch happens and a nonus is given life or a quest, they are quickly corrected by the Code.

Kae and Stel had forged their own paths to Not Home, never truly taking a moment to rest. There in the save space of Evergone, the two enjoyed a few nights together before deciding to travel to the Rumor Splice. They had been given a map from another glitched in Evergone who could no longer run from the Code.

Together, they traversed down the Once Again River and quickly learned of the twisted power it had. They had to take the correct turns or they would simply loop over again. The two worked together and they made their way to Karra Way. It was a tiny village that the Code rarely visited.

They needed some supplies to traverse up Cola Mountain and took the chance to rest. On the outskirts of Blue Wave Woods, they had their fill of food and readied for a tough journey ahead. In a coffee bar, there was a lone wanderer who had visited the Rumor Splice. They told the two of how it worked.

The Rumor Splice opened up once every few reset cycles. It would open up in different spots along the peak of Cola Mountain. On the map, they marked seven spots. The lone one mentioned how to tell where the splice might open.

In the air they will see miniscule sparks that look like fireflies. Once they gather, they will crackle like lightning before opening up to the outside world. Kae and Stel thanked the lone one for the information but before they parted ways, the lone one asked a question.

They pondered if the two were truly in love. The two did not know but knew they would escape Evergone together. The lone one laughed before whispering in Kae's ear. Only one can make it through the splice. With a wink and a smile, the lone one left the two to enjoy their drinks.

The next morning, Stel and Kae began to get ready when there was a sudden explosion. It was the Code. Arriving on their bizarre shaped ships and wearing pixelated armor, they moved quickly through Karra Way. It was clear they were not taking any chances. Codes rewrote anyone or anything that got in the way.

Kae and Stel escaped into the woods but not without being followed. Having to navigate the twisted neon trees of the forest was hard enough without worrying about the army of nameless drones. Kae had a plan. They made some marks and quickly hid in the trees.

The Code followed the marks and passed right under the two. Kae was almost caught when getting back down but Stel quickly subdued the lingering Code. As the sun began to rise high above, they made their way up Cola Mountain.

If their timing was right, the next reset cycle would bring with it the Rumor Splice and they could reach it before sunset. Kae and Stel moved quietly through the technicolor rockways, not wanting to wake up the Default Bats that slept during the day. Strange things on wings, the bats were always there.

They did not want to draw attention to their location. The Code was not far behind them and they hoped the different paths on the mountain would help keep the distance. Soon they were at the first spot on the map. The sun blazed high above but no sparks like fireflies.

Onto the next spot and the next after that. Just before reaching the fifth spot, they heard it. The distorted voices of the Code. They were surrounding the spot with otherworldly weapons and heavy armor. Their hope faded when they saw the crackles in the air. The Rumor Splice was going to open at that spot.

Kae and Stel knew what they had to do. First they lured some of the Code away from the others. They then disguised themselves in the armor to get close to the spot. Once it was open they would simply run in and escape. Only Kae knew he would not go with Stel.

He had wanted to tell them but he could not find the strength to. Kae did not want Stel to stay behind in Evergone with him. There was a part of him that feared he would if he knew about the splice. Another part of him hoped he would want to stay. Kae did not want to change the path Stel was on before they met.

As they waited, they whispered silly things to one another. The two had only known each other for a few weeks but it felt like ages. Kae wanted to know more about Stel. He wanted to know everything he could. Hear all the stories of the different users they encountered over their time in Evergone.

Just before sunset, a Code began to question Stel. Fearing he would be discovered, Kae distracted the Code. He began to act like he was glitching. Stel had told him about a time they saw Code glitch in the town where they danced. Kae tried his best to act like how Stel described.

It was enough for the Code to start questioning Kae. Soon the sound like crackles of a fire begin to stir. A thin line began to form in mid air. The Code did not stop their questioning of Kae. The Code grabbed him and removed his helmet.

It was too late. Kae and Stel began to fight the Code. The two worked perfectly together, as if speaking to one another without using words. The Code was fierce but Stel dodged and weaved gracefully. They took out a few of the drones when the splice began to open.

Stel called out to Kae who quickly knocked out a few more of the Code drones. There was too much Code to fight off and the sun began to set. As it slipped away, so did the splice. Kae saw Stel fighting their way to help him when he quickly called out and told them to go.

There was a sudden quiet. Stel stopped and Kae pushed away the Code. The two stood for a moment before Kae started saying goodbye. He told Stel how he felt in between jabs and dodges. Stel was suddenly grabbed by a Code drone and Kae had but one chance to save them.

He grabbed a recoder from a fallen drone and hoped he would not miss. Kae threw the powered up device at the wicked soldier, hitting it directly in the head. Stel stumbled before Kae said one last goodbye. The two kissed just as Kae pushed Stel into the splice.

The silence was engulfed by a powerful explosion. Kae screamed his apologies but Stel was gone. He was left with the fallen enforcers and his memories of the past few reset cycles. Kae will wait for the Rumor Splice to return and when it does, he will be ready to search the ends of the world outside to find Stel.

#rufous 13 #davy ruiz #short story #original #fiction #fairytale #magic #writing #story #short #love #adventure #sketch #hero #true love #gaming #gaymer #lgbtq #lgbtq pride #lgbtq community

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h4rin · 4 years

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dragon owner!chenle x dragon vet!reader - 1.3k

In a world full of heroes, villains, mermaids, vampires, werewolves, and all sorts of other creatures, it was difficult to live a simple life. For most of your existence, you had wanted to be taken away in the night(romantically, of course) by a vampire or a werewolf; to be their soulmate, to be loved by them forever as long as either of you lived.

Of course, that didn’t happen, and when you were seventeen, you decided on a more realistic career path. Having always had more empathy for animals than others around you, you decided to become a veterinarian. You moved from your small village to be closer to a large city a few days’ travel away, and set up shop just on the outskirts of the downtown area. Your specialty was dragons, and as the species became more common as a housepet, your practice was booked up weeks in advance.

There were no other veterinarians within a few miles of you, so you were quite popular. Your secretary, another human named Jisung, was strangely calm in these situations. You had been trying for months to find another doctor to work with you, your building had plenty of space, but the “trend” of being a dragon veterinarian had started to die out. Fortunately, that meant that more people were adopting dragons now, rather than buying them from breeders.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that people knew more about what they were doing with them.

On a rare slow day, you were relaxing in the waiting room, talking with Jisung about your weekend plans, when your door /slammed open. The bell atop it barely had time to ring before the person who had entered so suddenly spoke. “I need your help, I think Flamingo is dying.”

Before you turned your head, you started to speak. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not trained to help avians. I can refer you to another veterinarian, if you’d like.” You turned your head, eyes widening as you finally saw the animal in his arms.

A small dragon, most likely a Dragonette, was sleeping soundly in the man’s arms. Its scales were a light pink, one that matched the blush on its owners face as well as his hair. “Jisung,” you started, turning your head again, “do I have any more appointments today?”

“Nothing until four.” You glanced at the clock; it was barely eleven in the morning.

“Alright, come on back.” You stood up from your chair, stepping towards the back room and holding the door open for the young dragon owner. “Can I get your name?”

“I’m Zhong Chenle.” You blink.

The Zhongs had been dragon owners for as long as dragons had been in the country; there were even rumors that they had introduced them as pets in the first place. They were constantly showing them off in competitions, and to own a Zhong dragon meant to own a dragon of the highest rank. You had never heard the surname outside of that family, and had to assume that Chenle was related to them some way or another.

“And this is Flamingo?” He nods frantically. “Why did you bring her in today?”

The tips of his ears flush red. “She won’t hoard.”

You nod your head slightly. That isn’t uncommon for baby dragons, the only issue with dragonettes is that it can be difficult to tell how old they are. Most dragons grow a new horn every year that they live; others every decade, every century, but some don’t grow any at all. “Do you know how old she is? What have you given her to hoard?”

“I don’t know how old she is. She was a birthday gift last year,” you wince at that, “and she hasn’t grown any horns that I can see. I’ve given her lots of things; all types of gold, opals, diamonds...I’ve spent a few million dollars on her in the past month /alone.”

You nod again. “Can I see her?” You hold your hands out. Chenle hesitates for a second before carefully laying her in your arms.

You hold her cautiously, turning her over slightly to look at her belly. Counting the pure white scales that match her wings and claws, you quickly realize that she’s not quite a baby, but she’s not mature yet. Only three years old, she’s just learning how to hoard properly, and what she likes to hoard.

“She’s three years old,” you tell Chenle, handing Flamingo back over to him. “I wouldn’t worry about her not hoarding. Are there any older dragons at your residence that could teach her? Another Dragonette would be ideal, but any kind of hoarding dragon would be at least slightly helpful.”

“Wait, do some dragons not hoard?”

Your eyebrows raise. “Most tend to, but Drakes, Wyverns, and some Zomoks tend not to.” You let out a small laugh. “Sorry, I heard the last name Zhong and figured you’d know all about dragons. You must get that a lot, right?” You smile at Chenle, but he presses his lips together.

“Yeah, uh…” He trails off for a second, looking at Flamingo. “I wasn’t really focused on dragon studies in school, I was more interested in music. That’s why I just got her last year, my brother got one when he turned ten.” He looks up at you, a gleam in his eyes. “I’m learning, though! I want to take good care of Flamingo for the rest of my life.”

You smile at him. “Good! Dragonettes tend to live eighty years or so, so you probably will.” You laugh again. “Do you have any other questions? I still have a few hours before my next appointment.”

He pauses for a second. “Yeah, uh… are you sure nothing’s wrong with her? Mother said that her dragons all started hoarding gold as soon as they could open their eyes.”

You nod. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry! The gold doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters is how the dragons feels. If Flamingo doesn’t have an emotional attachment to gold, she won’t hoard it. I’ve heard of dragons hoarding everything from stuffing to wine glasses. I would only be worried if she doesn’t start hoarding in the next two years or so. Even then, it wouldn’t be that big of a worry, just take her to a few department stores and see what catches her eye.”

Chenle looks at you with sparkling eyes. “You know so much about dragons.”

“I studied them for so long, it’d be kind of weird if I didn’t.”

“Would you like to meet mine?” The words seem to tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Not mine-mine, uh, I mean my family’s! We have a whole hoard of Wyverns, a Drake, and even a Fuzanglong! He doesn’t come out of his cave much, but he’s really friendly, I swear!”

A grin breaks out on your face. “I’d love to! I’ve only met two or three Drakes in my time as a veterinarian, and I never even got a chance to study Fuzanglongs.”

Chenle smiles back at you, eyes transforming into crescent moons. “Alright, perfect! I’ll give you my phone number, and we can set something up whenever you’re free.”

You pull your phone out, handing it to Chenle as he does the same. After the two of you have added your own numbers to each other’s contacts, you trade phones once again. You slide it in your pocket as it buzzes. “That’s me!”

Flamingo wakes up, yawning and exhaling a little bit of smoke. She flaps her wings slightly, more trying to stretch than escape. “Ah, she’s up. I guess I should take her on a walk.” He pouts down at her before looking back at you. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

You smile at him. “Of course! I’ll text you as soon as I’m off work.” He flashes a grin back at you.

“Okay! Uh...bye!” He quickly walks out the door, muttering something to Flamingo as she starts to whine. The bell rings again, signalling his departure from your building, and although you weren’t in a bad mood when it rang earlier, you’re much happier now.

#chenle fluff #chenle #chenle scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenario #nct fluff #nct scenario #i love #this baby.#writing

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viewer-detachment-advised · 4 years

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Oh fuck it lets post Hood

~~~~~~~~~

The Wolf stood on the edge of the cliff side, staring intently below him. Nestled in a deep valley just beyond the hills was a town. More of a village, really, but the occupants of Earinheart would never admit to that. The air was crisp and cool. The wind blowing whispers of lost memories around him. In the town below everything was silent— save for the various taverns and pubs that stayed open all hours of the night. Their windows pouring out light and the sounds of laughter and loud music slithering between the cracks in the doors. The merchants and street hagglers of the day time tucked away in their homes and sleeping peacefully. The Wolf regarded the town with some distaste, a bitter longing shadowed by a deep seated hatred for what he’d lost. In the end, it had been his own fault, really. The Wolf often wondered what life would be life had things gone differently so many years ago…

~~~~~~~~

There once were two twins as different as can be. One was light and happy— the joy of the town. She thrived on music and laughter and the simple pleasures of human kindness. The other was colder— quieter. Preferring the shadows than the limelight. However different he may be from his sister, he was just as kind. You wouldn’t even know the twins were related had it not been for the fact that they shared a mother and lived in the same house. The only other defining traits of the twins was their ginger colored hair. Ironically this is how one of the Hood twins had gotten their nickname. Cressida Hood had been referred to as “Red” for as long as anyone could remember. Named for her striking ginger hair and crimson hooded cloak.

Her brother, Grayson, had been named by the village in a similar fashion. Gray, they called him, for his dark colored clothing and his affinity for staying in the shadows— and perhaps because it was also a lot less to say than Grayson Hood.

Despite their differences in appearance and manner the Hood twins were inseparable. Going everywhere and doing everything with each other. The shared the same friends and had the same likes and dislikes. Both had the same kind eyes and inviting smiles. However, even in these times people were quick to judge the twins less on personality and more on appearance. You could hear the shouts of joy as Red walked down the streets. People calling greetings and sharing jokes with her. Basking in her exuberance. But you could also hear the whispers that ensued in her wake as they caught sight of her brother. “Quiet”, they’d say. Too quiet. Unsettling.

Red was oblivious to these whispers, Gray was not. But Grayson Hood found that he didn’t care what people thought of him. He was more than happy to let his sister be the one everyone loved. His family provided him with all the love he could ever need, and that was enough for him.

The twins lived with their mother in a small cottage on the outskirts of town. Bordered by deep woods and long streams, their cottage was a rather quaint spot. An escape from the chaos of the rest of Earinheart. Their grandmother would come to visit every weekend. Excited to learn about what new adventures Red had gotten into and what new books Gray had read.

On one particular summers day, the twins mother got a letter in the mail from their grandmother. She seemed to have fallen grievously ill and would not be able to visit for the weekend.

“Oh my!” The mother exclaimed. “This is terrible news!”

Cressida, having just returned home, asked. “What is?”

“Your grandmother has taken ill! She won’t be able to visit this weekend!”

Cressida was shocked. Her grandmother was sick? This is terrible news!

“We should make her a basket filled with all of her favorite treats,” the mother suggested.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Red agreed. And the two set off to work.

Some time later, when the basket had been finished, Red pulled on her cloak and prepared to deliver the basket to her grandmother.

“Where is your brother?” Red’s mother asked.

Cressida shook her head, she did not know. Last she saw of her brother he’d been in the library. He’d told her he would catch up later.

“He’ll be along,” Red replied. Her mother nodded, not too concerned about the whereabouts of her second child. “Make sure you watch out for the wolves, Cressida. There’s been an increase in wolf related deaths recently.”

Her mother frowned at the bright red cloak Cressida had wrapped around her shoulders. “Perhaps you should wear a different cloak?” She suggested. But Cressida only shook her head. She had no fear of wolves.

“I’ll be alright,” she said. “Send Gray after me when he returns home.” Then she scooped up the basket and left in a swirl of scarlet fabric.

Not long after, Gray sloped into the small cottage. Arms laden with books from his day spent in the library. Setting his books down, he looked around the house. Where is everyone? His mother appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly and pulling him into a hug.

“I received a letter from your grandmother saying that she’d taken ill. You sister has gone to take her a care basket,” she explained. “Cressida said to send you after her once you returned.”

Gray nodded, turning back towards the door and preparing to head off again. As he pulled open the door his mother issued him the same warning she gave to his sister.

“Be careful of wolves!” His mother called after him.

“I will,” he said, and then he tugged the door shut behind him.

Their grandmother lived in a small house in the heart of the forest. The trees grew closely the further you went into the woods. The only way you could be certain to not get lost was by sticking to the worn down dirt path. Gray walked along the path, sending cautious glances into the thick trees. He had no intentions of being eaten by a wolf.

Eventually he reached his destination, breathing a small sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar house. Gray continued up the cobblestone walkway that led to his grandmother's door.

Standing at the top step of the porch, Gray noticed something odd. The door to the house was slightly ajar, the light wood beneath his feat stained a funny orange color. A sharp spike of panic shot through the boy. Quickly he pushed the door open, recoiling at the metallic taste that bit at his nostrils.

“Hello?,” he called. “Grandmother, Red, I’m here.”

He was met by silence. He journeyed further into the house. Chairs had been knocked askew and tea cups had been shattered. Later Gray would realize that he already knew what was coming before he entered the bedroom. But at that moment he had been shocked by the scene before him.

The room was in tatters. Ripped satin and broken floors were illuminated by the bright sunlight that was streaming lazily into the room. In the center of it all, on the bed, lay his grandmother; showered in wine colored liquid that ran fresh from the gashes in her chest.

The second thing he saw might’ve been worse than his grandmother. Laying on the floor, near his grandmother was his sister. Ginger hair dyed as red as the cloak she was named for. Falling to his knees, Gray crawled towards his sister. Cradling scraps of shredded fabric in his hands.

Now everyone knows that the universe has an odd sort of timing. Somewhat paradoxical in its abnormality. For at that particular moment, a huntsman had happened across the cottage. Eyes catching on the still open front door, and the unnaturally colored floor boards. He — as any good hunter would — entered the house, sensing something was wrong.

He entered the house slowly, posture stiffening as he saw the damage. He took out his axe. When he reached the bedroom he was greeted by a horrifying sight. Two motionless women lay in crooked positions, a boy in dark clothing kneeling over them. The huntsmans grip around his axe tightened.

“Murder,” he hissed.

The boy looked up. Eyes dark with heavy circles under them. The boy started to stutter out a protest, but the huntsman silenced him by swinging his axe. The silver blade making a perfect arc towards him. Gray just barely jumped out of the way.

“But I—“ he started. But the huntsman had no interest in anything he had to say.

“Murder,” he said again, this time much louder.

Knowing that there was nothing he could say to convince this man otherwise, Gray did the only thing he could do. He ran. He ran and ran and ran and ran. Until his lungs couldn’t take anymore and he collapsed against a tree.

Years had passed since then. Stories had been passed through dozens of people, twisting the actual events into things that had never happened. Some said it had been an act of vengeance. He’d always been different from his sister. Some said it was an accident. But there was one thing they could all agree on: Unsettling. The events at the Hood cottage had been unsettling.

“Wolf” they had started to call the boy who had done it. For the deep, jagged slash marks in the bodies. It hadn’t been long before food had started to go missing. And then animals. All found dead the next morning. It had taken even less time for the name to catch on. The Big Bad Wolf. A harbinger of death. A bad omen.

The Wolf looked over the village once more. His eyes falling on a small cottage on the edge of town, bordered by thick woods and lovely streams. He tore his eyes away, instead focusing on the food below. No one would have missed him anyways. The Wolf tore across the cliff side, racing towards the village.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the rivers. He looked different from the last time anyone had seen him. However one thing remained. That quiet, mysterious persona of a boy who lived in shadows. It was wrapped around and inside of him. Reflecting back in the moonlight in every different shade of, Gray.

#my writing #Hood series #prettt sure it’s a five book series at this point #is that a quintet??#not fandom #my OC’s #Gray Hood #Cressida Hood #little red riding hood #OUATfanfuckingupfairytales #this is what this blog is for tbh

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no-longer-an-alley-cat · 4 years

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A myth (or collection of myths) for a goddess of a particular pantheon heavily inspired by @thestalkerbunny’s “Grandmother Beetroot” comic.

Tabha is the goddess of familial ties and volcanoes. Within the pantheon she is associated more with the sun god, which means that she does not abide outright lies and does not kill.

Also worth noting: Rozia is the goddess of privacy, medicine, and magic, and the River Zed is domain of Zayla, an aromantic, asexual goddess whose preisthood serves a legitimate way for people to escape the obligations of marriage in this setting. ‘Jadda’ is an anglicisation of the Modern Standard Arabic for grandmother.

Jadda Tabha

Jadda Tabha lives high up on the slopes of the mountain, growing her crops in the rich volcanic soil. She does not live alone; the hunting cats and soaring eagles keep her company and she keeps many hives. When people ask her about what sort of company such wild companions can provide, she laughs and tells them that the creatures help her keep an eye on things. She never specifies what things.

Jadda Tabha has a mane of grey hair that glimmers with gold when the sun hits it. It frames her face like an old lion’s mane, making her stone-grey eyes seem fiercer and her olive-brown skin more weathered. This is merely an appearance, however, she is always pleasantly warm whatever the weather and gives the best hugs.

Like many old people, Jadda Tabha moves slowly. She makes her way down the mountainside at the same steady pace in torrential rain as she does in the blistering sun. Travellers who have accompanied her up or down say that the paths she knows are less steep than the ones they can find on their own. Children who take it into their heads to attempt to climb to the peak are guided back down in less time than it takes to organise a search party with their scrapes tended to and their fears soothed by a piece of honey candy.

If you make the journey up to Jadda Tabha’s hut, you can hear the magma inside the mountain bubbling away in the crater further up the track and it sounds almost like a huge cauldron. She smiles when people tell her this and says that she has no need for a cauldron that big, she is only cooking for herself. Much of the food she grows she gives to the village people — she says she plants so much to give the bees something to do.

It is easy to talk to Jadda Tabha. She is a solid presence.

Dependable.

Once she overheard a young man boasting that he would marry only the ugliest eligible person because they were sure to be grateful and not ask him to do work around the house. Jadda Tabha gave him a cream to rub on his face before bed that would surely make even the prettiest person grateful to marry him.

He did so but noticed no change, so he when he next saw Jadda Tabha in town, he accosted her. “The cream did not work,” he told her. “I haven’t received any proposals since I used it.”

“Ah,” she said in her slow and steady way, “what did you do in the waking hours before you used the cream?” The man spluttered that he didn’t see how it mattered, but under her inexorable stare he admitted that he had spent the days lying around his parents’ house and drinking with his friends. Jadda Tabha clucked her tongue. “The cream requires the sweat of a day’s labour to work,” she explained. “Do you have a patch of land to clear, perhaps?”

“Why?” the young man demanded, brash like young men often are. “What sort of medicine are you giving me that requires me to help it?”

“Would you rather I give you someone else’s sweat to rub on your face?” Jadda Tabha asked, and the man admitted that he would not.

And so he went to work, tilling the plot of land his ageing parents struggled with and applying the cream to his face each night. Each day he needed to do slightly more work to work up a sweat, and before the tub was half done he was tending to the farm all by himself and attracting many admiring glances from those that valued a committed partner who knew how to moisturise.

One time a pair of feuding siblings came to her, a frosty silence hanging between the two broken only by pointed remarks made to a third party. It was difficult to tease out the reasons for the broken relationship, but Jadda Tabha was patient and while the siblings broke their silence to scream at each other she pieced together that a new baby sister was at the centre of the current storm. The elder sibling, having moved out before the arrival of the sister, accused the younger of trying to keep her away from the baby while the younger accused her sibling of trying to ‘steal’ her little sister from her.

“A baby is not a toy,” Jadda Tabha said, easily making her voice heard over the warring siblings. “Just because she can’t talk yet doesn’t mean that she’s an object to be stolen.”

“Yes, Jadda Tabha,” the siblings chorused, showing that they had been taught their manners, at least. But Jadda Tabha discerned that these were just words, and the sentiments here would not be so easily changed.

“Perhaps there is a way to test which of you is best equipped to play with this child,” she said carefully. “There are a few kittens I have been nursing after their mother tragically died. You will each take one and look after it for three nights; when you return them they will tell me which of you did the better job.”

The siblings agreed eagerly, enthusiasm waning slightly when Jadda Tabha presented them with a pair of fuzzy cheetah cubs rather than the housecats they had expected. After listening intently to Jadda Tabha’s instructions, they took the cubs home, each determined to procure the very best toys for the small creatures.

They spent their respective evenings keeping the cubs entertained with feathers and balls, but when night fell, they did not grow less active. They squeaked constantly and wriggled out of blankets, no matter how cosily they were arranged. They refused to eat, seeming to prefer instead to stand at the window and cry piteously at the moon. For such small creatures, they seemed capable of shockingly piercing cries. Finally, the younger sibling bundled her cub up and rushed to her other sibling, finding her in a similar sleepless predicament.

No sooner had she entered the home of her eldest sibling than the cheetah cub had wriggled itself free, flung itself on the other, and soon the pair of them lay in a purring heap. The eldest sibling silently made up a bed for her younger sibling and the two of them went to sleep as quietly as possible.

The very next day, they returned the cubs to Jadda Tabha.

“We see what you were teaching us,” the elder sibling said respectfully. “When we force each other away, we bring suffering.”

“And that something small and cute can be insufferable,” the younger added.

“I’m glad to see you are such fast learners,” Jadda Tabha said, lifting a cub into her lap. “Though I half hoped I could spend another two nights without little claws tearing up my floors.”

The siblings accepted the compliment and beat a hasty retreat before Jadda Tabha could think of more lessons that could be learnt by fostering cheetah cubs.

Once a young woman climbed the mountain to knock on Jadda Tabha’s door. She accepted the cup of honeyed tea that she was offered, but almost before the proper observances had been made she requested a healing balm. Her excuses about being clumsy and prone to accidents shattered on Jadda Tabha’s stony stare and before she knew it she was detailing her husband’s rages, how he told neighbours that she was crazy and made her half believe it herself, how he never hit her where it showed. Jadda Tabha clucked her tongue.

“Ah, child,” she said, “this is more hurt than one of my balms can heal. Why don’t you head east, where a temple of Rozia sits on the banks of the River Zed? They will be able to help you more there.”

“Oh, but my husband!” the woman cried. “He will be angry that I’ve been away as long as I already have been.”

“Don’t fret, child,” Jadda Tabha said, getting to her feet in her slow and steady way. “I will explain to your husband.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the woman said. But Jadda Tabha would hear none of it, providing her with provisions and sending her on her way before she made her own journey to the village. The young woman and her abuser lived on the outskirts of the village, so it was not as long a walk as it might have been. Jadda Tabha did not hurry, however, and arrived just as night began to fall.

As soon as the man heard footsteps on the porch he started shouting, only to stop and stare in disbelief when the door opened to reveal Jadda Tabha. “Where is my wife!” he demanded, scowling.

“Away,” Jadda Tabha said calmly. “I’ve come to tell you that she will not return for some time. Possibly ever.”

“Where did she go? What did she say to you? The dumb bitch is always lying,” the man sneered.

“I know a lie when I’m told it,” Jadda Tabha said, her grey eyes sharpening to something more like steel. “You should worry less about what she has told me and more about what you are telling me now.”

“Insolent old woman!” the man proclaimed and he moved to hit her, as he had learned that this was a way to escape truths that he’d rather not hear. This is not true.

And, particularly in the case of Jadda Tabha, a mistake.

The man screamed as his hand broke across the old woman’s cheek. “You would be better off beating the mountain,” Jadda Tabha said as the moon rose in the east and the air rang with the cries of night hunters. She sighed, looking down at him as he sat crying in his own doorstep. “Ah, what am I to do with you, child? The priests of the sun would have you do penance, the priests of the moon would have you hunted. Either way, you would end up dead.”

“Mercy,” the man begged and Jadda Tabha raised an eyebrow.

“You ask for mercy? You, who hurt those you think can’t or won’t hurt you back? Who spread lies to hide your misdeeds? You ask me for mercy? Very well.” Jadda Tabha stepped back, holding the man in place with her steely gaze. “Perhaps you will be redeemed, after all. But if you harm another living being, it will be the end of you.”

And with that, Jadda Tabha turned him into a bee; another worker for her hives.

It is said that if a person is being abused by their family or lover and can not make the trek up to Jadda Tabha’s hut, it is enough to tell the bees. Even if uttering the words is too much, it can be worthwhile setting up a hive. The bees are eager to earn Jadda Tabha’s forgiveness. They help her keep an eye on things.

#my characters #tabha #my writing #oc mythology

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monsterywriting · 5 years

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Demon Boyfriend (Dirrath) - pt 5

previous part

word count: 2,423

You vaguely remember being jostled around, someone shouting ‘be careful.’ You also remember someone spooning food in your mouth, you chewing and miraculously not choking as you faded in and out of consciousness.

When you finally woke again, you were laying in a tent you didn’t recognize, feeling very much as though you’d been dumped off a cliff. It was clearly dark out, a single lamp on a small table next to you that did little to cast light beyond the corner of the tent it occupied.

After trying and failing to convince your body to stand, you resigned yourself to twitching your fingers as you tried to regain feeling in your limbs.

Pushing the limits of magical ability was a risky feat. Performing advanced healing spells on nearly a dozen severely wounded adults after an already strenuous battle was an admittedly stupid endeavor that left you completely drained of any and all energy, magical and physical.

But you’d woken too early. Really, it was a miracle you were even conscious this early in your recuperation.

“You’re one stubborn bitch,” a thoroughly annoyed voice said from the darkness in the far side of the tent just as you were about to close your eyes again and try to go back to sleep.

Had you heard a voice coming from the shadows after just waking up at any other time, you would have jumped clear out of your skin and probably activate some fight or flight response. More likely than not fight.

In your current state, however, the best your body could muster was an agonizingly slow head swivel towards the voice.

Dirrath leaned forward, the lamp casting an orange glow across his features. The shadows and your own exhaustion cast the illusion of his demonic form you’d seen in the Queen’s study those weeks ago, your heart thundering in your ears in terror.

“Are you real or is this a nightmare?” Your voice remained almost unintelligibly raspy even after clearing your throat.

“Did you destroy the last remnant of your mind when you pulled your foolish stunt today?” Dirrath’s mouth twisted into a scowl and you were too weak to even appreciate that you finally elicited the same response in the demon that he had so many times before with you.

“Don’t get your undergarments in a twist,” you huffed, your words became slurred, “I’m not 13 for nothing. Us Princesses’re easily replaced. There’s twelve others. My position’ll be filled again before the end of the season.”

“I don’t care about your sense of martyrdom or death wish or what have you,” Dirrath grunted, his glamor flickering in what you were now certain was not a trick of the eye, his eyes burning red hot and flashes of rows of sharp teeth baring themselves, “I know you don’t care, but I have a deal to fulfill and right now that happens to be getting you to the castle alive. And so help me I will keep you from killing yourself if I have to- Are you even still listening to me?!”

Had you still been listening, you would have answered no. Of course, you were not listening to Dirrath’s lecture so instead you kept your eyes closed and continued willing yourself to fall back into oblivion Though no matter how much you tried, Dirrath’s annoying voice seemed to keep you from slipping into full unconsciousness, as though he was anchoring you in the conscious. Was he anchoring you there?

Before you could ask, a hand suddenly touched your forehead and your body flinched very slowly, your eyes reopening to see Dirrath standing above you. The hand pressed down, growing hotter until the warmth seemed to seep into your entire body, filling you until you felt as though it was searing you. But just as it became unbearable, the hand left your skin and you almost immediately felt the heat drain from you as though it was never there.

“What the fuck!” You howled, shooting up and reaching for Dirrath’s collar.

Dirrath stepped back out of your grasp, a smug expression on the demon’s face as it began to dawn on you that you were currently standing.

“What did you do to me?” You demanded, checking yourself for any sign of injury or magical tampering.

Just as Dirrath opened his mouth to answer, Olek hurtled into the tent, not even bothering to lift the flap and tackling the demon to the ground.

“Are you okay, princess?” Olek asked, his knee pinning Dirrath down while holding Dirrath’s arm twisted behind his back.

You wanted to laugh so badly it hurt, but that soon died in your throat once you noticed Dirrath’s form flickering even more than it had earlier and his expression was clearly murderous.

“You can let him go, Olek,” you intervened quickly, waiting with bated breath as the two men scrambled to their feet unceremoniously until it was clear they wouldn’t start an all out brawl in the tent.

“Olek, how long until sunrise?” You asked, walking towards the tent entrance and stepping out into the cool night air.

The camp was dead, only the patrolling guards up and walking around. You made your way to where the horses were kept for the night. The saddles and bags were often kept nearby in a tent, and you quickly found your bag and grabbed the box with your tent.

You still weren’t sure what Dirrath did to you, but you actually felt rejuvenated. Magically healing wounds always left the person feeling sore, as the physical effect of the magic still expended their energy. And you had been taught that this side effect was inevitable. And any magic healing you in the state you were in very well should have killed you. But you weren’t even so much as tired, sleep the furthest thing from your mind.

“It was actually just sundown a few hours ago, princess,” Olek told you once he caught up with you, arms raised as though expecting you to keel over at any moment.

You didn’t know where Dirrath disappeared off to, though you wouldn’t be surprised if he went to cool off.

“Good. We’ll leave at first light,” You ordered, walking out to find a space to set up.

“But princess, you expended a lot of energy today,” Olek protested, “We’re close to our destination, we can wait until you’ve fully recovered.”

“That’s exactly why I want to leave early,” you replied, stopping at an empty place and carefully opening the box, “The sooner we get to this dumb castle the sooner we can leave this gods forsaken kingdom.”

When Olek still looked unconvinced, you added, keeping an eye on your tent unfurling before your eyes, “I’ll be fine, Olek. It’s a straight shot to the kingdom from here.”

With that, you dismissed the captain and entered your tent, making a beeline to the bath.

The next morning, you were completely fine riding. In fact, you had hardly slept at all the night before, just laying in your bed until you finally decided to just get ready to set out. By the time the rest of the guards were up and beginning to take down their tents, you were packed and ready to go, even having time to take another bath once you ran out of things to do.

Your new burst of energy also meant that you could enjoy the changing scenery. The fields and occasional small villages became more densely populated towns. With these towns came more people, which meant word of the convoy spread like wildfire.

By the time you reached the second town, rows of people lined the street trying to get a glimpse of the foreign convoy escorting an unknown noble traveling through the kingdom. It was a distressing sight for Olek, who immediately tightened the convoy’s formation and remained on edge until the town was out of sight. Of course, the same problem remained in the next town.

You weren’t nearly as worried riding through. It was clear the people had no idea who you were and therefore couldn’t possibly pick you out from the rest of the group.

As evening approached, the rest of the guards had become mostly used to the gawking as the convoy passed yet another crowd of people all craning their necks to see the center of the group. You were more focused on the prospect of finally having a proper meal by this time tomorrow.

“I saw him!” The giggling tone made you turn to look at the two girls that were squealing ahead on the road.

Following their pointing, you realized they were actually referring to Dirrath. Snickering to yourself, you definitely saw why the people had come to the conclusion that the mysterious noble was Dirrath.

He’d stopped wearing his helmet since riding through the towns, and Dirrath definitely had the soft look of nobility thanks to the glamor; the unmarred skin, the long, silky hair—though you supposed that wasn’t actually a part of the illusion.

But the irony of the fact that the people were gushing over a demon of all things was downright hilarious. Fortunately, they were too busy ogling Dirrath to even notice you laughing to yourself.

As though he had a sixth sense for you making fun of him, Dirrath twisted around in his saddle to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

You shook your head, forcing a neutral expression until Dirrath scowled and turned back around. As soon as you were certain he wasn’t going to catch you, you went right back to laughing at his expense.

Once you finally composed yourself, you began to look around at your surroundings, mostly out of boredom. Even though the buildings grew further apart, you were just glad to finally take in something other than the wilderness and countryside that had taken up the majority of the journey.

But one building in particular caught your eye, a plan already formulating in your mind, a plan already formulating in your mind as the convoy passed through the outskirts of town.

“Absolutely not,” Olek said almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“It isn’t up for debate,” you told Olek cheerfully, standing in plain clothes as similar to the ones the townspeople wore you could find in your tent’s wardrobe, “Besides, the humans think Dirrath is me, so any assassination attempts will be on him.”

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s far too dangerous to go into town without weapons,” Olek said, sounding as though he was explaining to a child why they couldn’t have a toy they wanted.

“This isn’t Altruria,” you pointed out, “they were more curious than anything. And I’m sure the tavern won’t turn down the extra business if we show a sign of good faith. A bunch of foreign armed soldiers walking around town at night would call more attention than anything else.”

Olek eventually acquiesced, if only because you were downright determined—and it didn’t hurt the majority of the guard sided with you.

And you were right. The tavern you had seen was more than happy to take your gold—borrowed from the gift wagon—and serve your group all the ale you could want.

Olek and some of the older guards stayed back, most of them wary of the outsiders. You’d been given a strict curfew of two hours, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take full advantage.

Once word spread that the foreigners were back in a more social context, people flooded into the tavern all vying for the attention of your guards.

You clearly turned a blind eye, signaling with an ok sign to the guards that Olek would never hear of their exploits during the next couple of hours.

However, rather than join in on the festivities, you instead opted to remain in the corner learning to play cards with some of the regulars and get drunk.

“You’re terrible at this,” Dirrath said from across from you as you showed your frankly terrible hand.

You hadn’t even noticed when the demon joined in, more interested in your cup than committing the rules to memory.

You stuck your tongue out at Dirrath, “let’s see you do better.”

He turned his cards over with a smile, completely blowing the rest of the players’ hands out of the water. Various curses sounded around the table as the rest threw in their cards and left.

“Ugh, I thought I left Olek back at camp,” you groaned as Dirrath shoved his winnings in his satchel, “do you have to be a buzzkill all the time?”

“You should be thanking me,” Dirrath snorted, “I just earned back the gold you took from Roquechade.”

“I really don’t want to talk about him,” you sighed, sinking deeper into your chair until you were nearly eye level with the table, “And weren’t you surrounded by people earlier?”

“I’m a demon. I just made them believe Garreth was me,” Dirrath replied, pointing to the bar and indeed the guard was surrounded by people.

“Well, Garreth does make a more convincing noble than you,” you joke, not even Dirrath’s usual haughty attitude enough to kill your buzz.

“Why is that?” Dirrath frowned, looking annoyed.

“Besides the fact that you’re a demon?” You snort, looking around in hopes of making eye contact with one of the servers, “You’re hardly the princely type.”

“And what if I was?” Dirrath said after a long pause.

“What? A prince?” You scoffed, “I’ll believe I’m a direct descendant of the First High Queen before I believe that.”

“You know nothing beyond your mortal realm, princess,” Dirrath glowered.

“Ok then, why are you trapped in this mortal realm making deals to escort princesses from one castle to another?” You shot back, satisfied when you saw Dirrath avert his eyes.

“When demons are summoned, they are obligated to forge a contract with the one who summoned them,” Dirrath said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, clearly moping.

You almost began to feel sorry for him. At the very least, you felt bad that you never considered the possibility that Dirrath had about as much desire to be here as you. Maybe you did owe him a bit of an apology for being forced to help you.

“Hey, can demons get drunk?” You ask instead.

“With your kind’s weak alcohol?” Dirrath gave you a look of pure disgust.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grinned, waving down a passing barmaid.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #demon boyfriend #male monster #female reader #reader insert

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