#and a tiny figure of a tree frog that is about the size of this kiwi. whom I have named françois because that is a good name for a frog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qitwrites · 3 years

Text

⬅ Previous || 11 || Next ➡

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It’s a cold Saturday morning, and Kaminari can’t find his hoodie anywhere. He briefly looks through his room, the common room, the dishwasher (because it’s happened before and no, he would not like to comment), and the courtyard before deciding he’s probably lost it. Just as he starts to make his way back, with plans to stop by Ashido’s or Kirishima’s room for a spare jacket, the jingle of a machine stops him in his tracks.

It’s the sound of a dryer that’s completed its cycle.

Kaminari doesn’t remember the last time he did his laundry but decides its worth a look anyway. He ventures into the laundry room, and when he sees the familiar shade of yellow, slightly worn out and well-loved but vibrant yellow nonetheless, he picks it up from the basket and beams.

‘How did you get here?’ he muses and puts it on with a satisfied sigh. He doesn’t question why the hoodie is so warm, or why it smells like fresh detergent, or how it’s way too big in pretty much every single way. He just decides that it’s his and leaves for his room.

Satou, for the life of him, cannot find his yellow hoodie.

It was in the laundry basket when he’d left to go grab a glass of water, and it’s gone by the time he gets back. It’s a whole ass mystery honestly.

It’s too cold to be without a hoodie, so Satou decides to borrow one from Kouda for the time being, and figure it out later. Kouda hands him a purple one with chewed up drawstrings and a front pouch pocket that sheds lint, and Satou gives him a huge grin as thanks.

This works out fine for everyone so far, but then Kouda drops some milk on his only other hoodie an hour later, and he can’t ask for the one he gave Satou back because Satou hasn’t found his either. So, Kouda just goes to Shoji and asks if he has any jackets to spare. Shoji, ever the minimalist, has a limited collection of clothes, but there is a sleeveless jacket, dark and warm, on a hanger in his closet that he happily hands over to Kouda.

Shoji is a pretty warm-blooded person, but the day is quite cold. When Tokoyami sees him shiver once, almost imperceptibly, he goes to his closet and pulls out a sleeveless moto jacket, dark as midnight and lined with faux fur. It isn’t really Shoji’s style, but he appreciates the gesture and shrugs it on. It’s warm and smells like nothing, and they go back to watching a YouTube documentary on Tokoyami’s floor, with Dark Shadow curled up nearby.

Dark shadow has the biggest soft spot for Tsuyu, so when Tokoyami is in the common room chatting with Iida and Ojiro later in the day, Dark Shadow sneaks off towards Tsuyu and tells her Tokoyami is feeling a bit cold, and happily takes the offered green jacket. He hides it away from Tokoyami the best he can.

Tsuyu, with her frog like disposition, does not do well with the cold. In fact, it’s one of her biggest vices, so the minute her jacket is gone, she feels herself seize up. Jirou walks by a few minutes later to see Tsuyu curled up on the couch, not moving and dressed too lightly.

‘Tsuyu,’ she shouts, rushing towards the green haired girl while pulling her hoodie off. She gently nudges Tsuyu into the material of her maroon hoodie, and Tsuyu finally exhales, warmth seeping into her extremities. She gives Jirou a happy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she croaks, and Jirou pats her head before plopping down on the couch next to her.

Jirou feels the cold soon enough, even as she snuggles into Tsuyu, but she doesn’t want to go to her room and pull on another jacket. She’s having fun watching a music concert on TV while others talk in the space around them. It’s homely, and she’s scared of breaking the moment by leaving, because they don’t get moments like this very often. Moments where everything is normal, or as close to normal as they can get, and the air is calm and the dust settles in random pools of sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. So she just sits and waits.

Bakugou shows up 45 minutes into the concert, a black and orange hoodie draped over his arm. He leaves it on the couch next to Jirou as he walks over to the kitchen to refill his bottle, and because Jirou lives to irritate the ever-loving shit out of Bakugou, she simply picks the hoodie up and pulls it on. The material is soft and cool and smells of fabric softener. The sleeves are more worn out than the rest of the hoodie, tiny holes and jagged corners littering the cloth sporadically. Tsuyu gives Jirou a nod of approval, and she returns it with a cocky smirk of her own.

Bakugou takes one look at the back of the couch, one look at the girls, one more look at the back of the couch before he snarls, exploding the bottle in his hands and spraying water everywhere.

‘I’ll KILL you.’

‘Try me,’ Jirou taunts drily, not moving her eyes from the screen. Tsuyu protectively curls into her, and the two slump lower into the couch.

Bakugou takes one step towards them when Kirishima, sunshine Kirishima, Bakugou tamer Kirishima, the lord and savior Kirishima steps into the room, takes one look at Bakugou’s expression, another at Jirou’s frame covered in black and orange before shrugging off his green hoodie and stuffing it over Bakugou’s head, wrestling him into it. The blonde yells and kicks the whole time but lets it happen because Kirishima’s hoodie is warm, slightly oversized, ridiculously comfortable and smells safe.

‘You’re going to train right?’ Kirishima asks with a wide grin. ‘Let me come with ya! I’ll let you beat me up as much as you’d like.’

Bakugou snarls in Jirou’s direction one more time but surprisingly relents, pulling Kirishima away by the collar of his shirt.

‘Clean that shit up,’ he shouts over his shoulder at Jirou, referring to the exploded water bottle in the middle of the room.

‘Ok mom,’ she shouts back, and sniggers at the yells of fuck you and shitty hair let me go I will end her. Messing with Bakugou is the best. She waits for the hour mark to pass on the concert before getting up to find a mop and a dustpan.

Kirishima and Bakugou train for upwards of 2 hours, oscillating between working their quirks till their bodies ache and sparring without their quirks to strengthen their bodies. Their fights look like they’re dancing, so attuned are they to each other’s movements, so familiar with each other’s fighting styles, it’s almost art. Bakugou is faster, more agile, and hits where it hurts, but Kirishima is an immovable, unbreakable wall, taking hit after hit and pushing back, standing strong, giving as good as he gets.

They’re drenched in sweat by the end of it, and Bakugou pulls on the green hoodie as the cold seeps in, giving Kirishima a feral smile.

‘Shouldn’t have let ears steal mine,’ he smirks, before sauntering over to the vending machine to get himself a hot drink. Kirishima just shrugs with a smile, and lays down on the ground, slowly stretching out his hamstrings. He’s always run a bit warm, so the cold isn’t anything unbearable, and he doesn’t mind Bakugou wearing his hoodie. The blonde doesn’t do well in the cold at all, so he’s a lot more manageable when he’s warmed up.

Kirishima twists to the side and something under one of the exercise mats catches his eye. He rolls over to it and picks it up and finds an off-white jacket roughly in his size. He feels like he’s seen it before, so he just shrugs and pulls it on. It’s a nice thick material, and fits just right, maybe erring on the side of tight around his shoulders. Bakugou comes back, cocks his eyebrow at the jacket but doesn’t say anything.

He throws a drink at Kirishima and starts walking back to the dorms. Kirishima smiles at the warm coffee in his hands and runs to catch up, launching into a story about a kitten, a tree, and a stupid idea.

‘Can we drop by the gym? I think I left my jacket there,’ Ojiro says to Tenya as they walk towards the main entrance. Tenya had expressed his desire to go out for a walk, and Ojiro, who’d been in earshot, had decided to tag along, having felt cooped up from sitting inside the dorm building all day. Iida agrees enthusiastically and they begin walking to the gym, passing Kirishima and Bakugou on the way.

It isn’t until Kirishima is out of earshot that Ojiro realizes the guy is wearing his jacket, and when he watches the red head walk into the dorm, he decides he doesn’t really mind. He didn’t want the jacket back cause he’s feeling cold per se, he just wanted to make sure he got it back. He can pick it up from Kirishima later he decides.

‘On second thought, I think I’ll look for it later,’ Ojiro murmurs, and Iida shoots him a confused look. They start moving away from the gym, heading down a well-worn path often traversed by the students and talk about upcoming hero movies and its easy and fun and the sun is bright not harsh. It’s a perfect day for a walk.

Iida and Ojiro get surprisingly into their conversation that they don’t even notice someone is yelling at them and when the earth just sort of vanishes beneath Ojiro’s feet, he yelps out loud.

He looks over to see Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and then there’s black tendrils wrapping around their hips as they’re yanked back. Looking down, Ojiro’s stomach whoops at the wide chasm, as if at the edge of a cliff. He might’ve been super invested in his conversation with Iida, but there’s no way they missed the edge of a cliff, right? Also, was there always a cliff here? What the hell?

‘Guys.’ They look up to see Midoriya standing there, pulling them up with his black whip. He’s like a guardian angel, but he’s still not great with it so when he yanks them up, they land pretty hard on their sides, and Ojiro lands in a mysterious puddle of water, effectively soaked to the bone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Midoriya gushes, rushing towards them. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to put you guys down so hard, are you alright?’

Iida gets up, fortunate enough to not have landed in a puddle of water and straightens his glasses. ‘What is going on? Where did this cliff come from?’

Midoriya shrugs. ‘The land seems to be giving out weirdly. I was out here doing some strength training and the land just crumbled away. It reappears after some time. Also, it’s not a cliff.’ He points at the spot he just pulled them from. ‘Seems like a quirk, some kind of illusion one. The land had given away and the fall is steep, but it’s not a cliff. Just looks like one.’

Ojiro’s head spins with the random assortment of info, but he has more pressing problems to deal with. His soaked shirt is making him shiver, and it feels icky against his skin.

‘Oh, you must be cold,’ Midoriya notices immediately, and before Ojiro can say he’s fine, Midoriya shrugs off his All might hoodie and holds it out for Ojiro. ‘You can pull your shirt off and use this for now! It’ll suck if you get sick.’

Ojiro almost says he’s ok, but he’s getting colder and colder and the hoodie looks so warm and inviting so he decides screw it and peels his shirt off, shuddering when the cold air nips at his skin. He quickly tries to brush off any stray droplets before tugging on the hoodie, and sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in. Midoriya is like a furnace apparently, and it’s wonderful. He gives the green-haired man a warm smile.

‘Thanks man.’

‘No problem!’ Midoriya says. ‘I think I’ll go back to the dorms and give everyone a heads up about this, maybe tell Aizawa-sensei as well. Will you guys be ok?’

‘We will be fine,’ Iida says, hands rigidly gesticulating in the space between them. ‘Ojiro and I will survey the land around and see if there’s anything we’re missing. We will be careful, so do not worry about us Midoriya.’

Midoriya flashes them an easy smile and with a wave, he makes his way back to the dorm.

Midoriya loves that hoodie, an old All Might piece that’s a tad big for him but warm, warmer than most of his clothes. He’ll ask Ojiro for it later he decides, slowly trekking back to the dorms. The whole floor giving away and light playing tricks business seemed more silly than villainous, but anyway, it made sense to bring a teacher into the loop to deal with it accordingly.

As he walks back to the dorms, the sweat on his body cools and chills him to the bone, and Midoriya misses his All Might sweater with a vengeance. Rubbing his hands along his arms, Midoriya picks up the pace and sighs in relief when the dorms come into view. He’s maybe 150 meters away when a familiar voice calls out to him.

‘Midoriya.’

Todoroki looks comfy and fashionable in a beige coat, a white shirt, and trousers paired with semi-formal shoes. Midoriya puts it together and realizes he’s coming back from one of his hospital visits, and gives him a warm, familial smile.

‘Welcome back, Todoroki. What’s up?’

Todoroki nods at him, smile small and hesitant, but there. It’s so much progress from where they started, like he’s thawing and cracking the ice around his soul.

‘Just got back. What are you up to? And why aren’t you wearing a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?’

For Todoroki, the jacket is more for show than a necessity, considering his temperature quirk. He’d once told Midoriya that by using clothing to regulate his body temp it allows him to conserve energy, but overall it wasn’t too much of an effort for him to regulate himself on the daily. It’s all so fascinating, and Midoriya has like 4 pages worth of notes on this alone.

‘It’s a long story,’ Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures for the dorm entrance. ‘Should we head in?’

Todoroki nods again, and Midoriya starts walking, trying to find things to talk about. He knows Todoroki’s hospital visits leave him feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little drained. He’s deciding between a new hero analysis he did about Sniper and a puppy rescue video he watched on Instagram when a coat is placed over his shoulder, extra warm on the left. He startles at that, turning to look at Todoroki with wide eyes.

Todoroki acts like he’s done nothing and starts the conversation instead. ‘On the way here, in the train, I saw someone wearing a tomato costume. I am confused, to say the least.’

And they don’t speak of the jacket. Midoriya slips his hands through the sleeves, pulling it around himself tightly and laughs at the imagery in his head. Todoroki’s soul thaws a little bit more and they walk to the dorm, contemplating why anyone would be in costume outside of Halloween.

They part ways when Midoriya says he wants to talk to Aizawa, and Todoroki heads to his room in a lighter mood. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence once he talks to Midoriya. Though, if he’s being honest, that seems to be the case with most people that speak to Midoriya, with the exception of Bakugou.

Todoroki settles into his room for the evening, content with just reading his manga and maybe getting some homework done when he hears a knock on his door. Bookmarking his spot in the manga, Todoroki walks to the door and opens it to find a grinning Sero.

‘Hey man, got a minute?’

Todoroki nods, and gestures for Sero to come inside.

His friendship with Sero is strange. It’s strange because it’s effortless. Sero doesn’t push him to talk or open up, he doesn’t question him, doesn’t stare at him because of his dad, doesn’t ask about his scar or his family, doesn’t really say much at all. They share comfortable silences, and Sero shows him new music, new clothes, and new stories. Todoroki, in turn, shares his mangas, advice about training, and his love for Soba.

Sero walks into his room and sits at the low table, placing a cloth bag on it. When Todoroki sits in front of him, he pushes the bag towards him.

‘For you!’

Todoroki’s eyes shoot up in surprise and he carefully opens the bag. Inside he finds a jacket, made from a cloth that is brick red, the material cotton soft and breathable. It’s cut like a short kimono, and the patterns are simple and subtle. It looks very much like the clothing Sero normally wears, kinda bohemian.

‘Mom sent me a care package, and I think I talked about you a lot on the phone, so she included this for you as well! Apparently she found it at a nice boutique or something.’

Todoroki isn’t used to friends, much less gifts from said friends. Something inside his chest shifts, and he hugs the jacket to his chest.

‘Thank you.’ His voice shakes just the slightest bit.

Sero’s laugh is warm. ‘Try it on man! I need to take a picture and send it to my mom or she’ll think I kept it for myself.’

Todoroki pulls the jacket on slowly, and Sero whistles low.

‘Damn, looks so good! The shoulders fit nicely too. Do you like it?’

Todoroki nods. ‘It’s very comfortable. Please tell your mother I said thank you.’

‘Fo sure, fo sure. Can I get a picture?’

Todoroki is awkward as all hell when it comes to pictures, but he agrees, and Sero takes one mercifully quickly. When they both stand up, Sero walks over to him, throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close for another picture. Todoroki throws up a peace sign, something he’s seen the others do just to have something to do with his hands.

‘This one’s real nice!’ Sero says, admiring the photo.

‘Send it to me later.’

Sero reaches out for a fistbump that Todoroki returns. ‘Sounds good yo. I’m gonna get going, I’ll catch you later yeah?’

Todoroki nods and with that, Sero leaves his room. Todoroki belatedly realizes that the jacket smells like Sero- like sandalwood and fresh tea. Perhaps his family smells like that. The thought twists that little something in his chest even more.

Tonight is act-like-bakugou-will-only-cook-for-himself-and-eat-the-“leftovers”-that-can-somehow-feed-the-entire-class night and Sero loves to stand by the kitchen isle and contribute with his stellar sense of humor. Watching Bakugou create mini-explosions and scream bloody murder is just a bonus.

When he gets there, the blonde is already working on dinner, clad in a green hoodie that looks a lot like the one Kirishima wears. Sero takes a seat by the kitchen island and pulls his phone out to scroll through some memes when he suddenly finds himself assaulted by a face-full of glitter.

Gasping, Sero leans back in his chair and falls on his ass, the glitter coming with him. He hears shouting and laughing and someone saying You have, and please excuse my French, pretty shitty taste Monsieur and Sero is so confused.

When he pulls the lump of glitter away, he realizes it’s a jacket, a sequined jacket that’s a bright, bright gold. It’s soft in his hands, and the inner lining feels like actual silk.

‘What-‘

‘It’s Aoyama’s,’ Kirishima says, pulling Sero to his feet. ‘I got here right when Bakugou yelled you fucking walking disco ball little shit and Aoyama decided throwing the jacket was the way to go. Clearly,’ Kirishima gestures at him, ‘he missed.’

Sero laughs and holds up the jacket. He turns it in his hand and takes a closer look at the fit and the material. Considering it’s Aoyama, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the jacket is actually the perfect balance between tacky and really, really nice. Sero looks over at the two blondes yelling at each other, Bakugou brandishing a spatula while Aoyama threatens him with his navel laser and Sero just shrugs and pulls the jacket on.

It fits like a dream, comfortable on his bones, the length perfect even on his tall frame. He adjusts the sleeves and is surprised by how deep the pockets on the inside are. When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him.

Sero clears his throat self-consciously. ‘What?’

‘It looks good on you Monsieur,’ Aoyama says with an actual sparkle in his eye.

‘Damn Hanta, looking like a whole-ass meal,’ Kirishima cheers, and even Bakugou has a quirked brow. He gives him a small nod and then snorts, ‘Still looks like a shiny voltorb.’

‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Sero grins, shaking his torso this way and that. The light catches in these fun and trippy ways, and Kirishima playfully shields his eyes. Aoyama bounds over to him and winks. ‘That’s not all.’

He runs his hands up Sero’s arms, and the gold glitter turns to silver, and Kirishima squeals.

‘That’s so cool!’

Sero runs his own hand up the sides and he feels like a child again, and it’s amazing.

He looks at Kirishima. ‘Want to try drawing a penis on the back?’

Kirishima howls, Bakugou throws a spatula at Sero, and Aoyama looks rightfully horrified. He lets Sero take the jacket anyway.

Iida is not happy when he finds Aoyama in a sleeveless jersey when its cold enough to see your breath, so he lectures him for a good 4 minutes before handing over his track suit jacket. Aoyama wears it with a grumble of All my twinkling has died a painful death.

Uraraka drapes her shrug over a napping Iida sprawled across the couch after a long day, belly full of Bakugou’s amazing food. She pulls his glasses off and keeps it on the table, tucks the sleeves against Iida’s body and hopes the make-shift blanket works.

Mina thinks Uraraka’s outfit is missing something and throws a denim jacket on her from her own closet, a cute cropped piece with some artfully placed rips. Uraraka beams at it, digging her hands deep into the front pockets and posing for a picture.

Momo watches this happen and shyly offers her own chunky sweater to Mina, asking her to make an outfit around it. Mina smashes the challenge, and the end result is so good that Momo insists she keep the jacket, claiming she can honestly just make her own, even though they both know she won’t, because, you know, Momo is the most conscientious person ever that actually cares about the economy.

When the night winds down and everyone finds themselves sprawled over the couches and each other, Hagakure follows Uraraka’s example and pulls her bomber jacket off before draping it over Momo and herself, a make-shift blanket. Momo huffs out an amused laugh and pulls the invisible girl closer. The night is cold, but the common space is just warm embers and crackling fires and the smell of smores.

And finally, just before bed, Shinsou decides to tackle the mountain of clothes on his chair. He hangs the jackets, folds the pants and shirts, and rolls up the socks. At the very bottom of the pile is a well-loved, slightly faded but still ridiculously bright yellow hoodie that belongs to the one and only. Shinsou huffs in amusement, and proceeds to pull it on before climbing into bed.

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It doesn’t really end though.

84 notes · View notes

bookshelf-in-progress · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed. “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs. But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

#arateph #fairy tale retelling #sci-fi

46 notes · View notes

sohin-ace · 3 years

Text

Doppio - Frog Princess

Fairy tale AU and lots of love for my small man.

Doppio dragged his feet across the garden, restless and desperate. He sighed and whined to himself, taking the opportunity of being all alone to voice his pain and concerns, something he was never allowed to do.

"Aww jeez... This prince life isn't made for me..."

He huffed again and tugged at his very uncomfortable, gold adorned collar that was almost suffocating him.

Doppio looked around him, sure enough, the tall trees surrounding him did a great job at hiding him from the potential workers on the castle grounds that could possibly be looking for him.

He could finally have a little moment for himself and sneak out, maybe to cry to himself a little bit.

"O-ow... That still hurts..." The boy whined and rubbed on his bruised fingers, the results of angry professors punishing him for each mistakes he made. "I'm no good, I can't do anything right..."

That's right. Prince Doppio was a clumsy and anxious boy who lacked capacity in every domain. He always tried his best and obeyed every and each order, he wasn't undisciplined, oh no, young Doppio was a good boy.

He was just bad. He hardly managed to keep the required straight stance for more than ten seconds, was better at petting the horses than at riding them, couldn't follow etiquette at all, or protocol, was extremely forgetful and sadly, mother nature did not grace him with the strongest physical traits a young man his age was expected to have.

"Tch... Trish was so popular everyone courted her and she was so easy to marry, but me... No one would want to marry a good-for-nothing like me..."

He angrily kicked some rock and held his back that cracked at the movement, in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and sobbing at the sore feeling. That last lesson of fencing went so terribly wrong, how did the others do it?

"I'm so tired... Why meee...?"

"Ribbit!"

"Huh?" Doppio was startled at the very sudden but intriguing croaky sound and approached its direction near the pond.

He couldn't see anything at first, but then a tiny little creature jumped out of its hiding place. Doppio's honey eyes widened and he quickly wiped his warm tears, crouching down towards the animal.

"A frog!" He exclaimed happily, almost like a small child, new to the world. "Hi! You're so tiny, what's your name?"

"Ribbit!"

He knew very well the animal couldn't respond to him with actual words, but just the feeling of having even a one-sided conversation soothed a bit of his loneliness down. He cupped his hands together to invite the frog in, and the animal obliged by jumping on them.

He looked down and observed the chubby little creature. It had the cutest, roundest eyes, almost sparkly in the dim forest light, its green color was so bright and homogenous, there weren't any marks or patterns that frogs usually had on their skin. Even its limbs were tiny and soft, Doppio couldn't help but pet it with one careful and shaky finger.

"O-ooh! Oh my god!" He squealed uncontrollably. "You're so squishy!"

"Ribbit ribbit!"

The quiet and high-pitched croak felt so pleasant to his ears, it meddled with the sound of the water next to him and made him feel so much at peace. He loved to hear that cute sound and how the frog's belly puffed up like a balloon with each croak.

"What are you? A boy or a girl? I'd say you're a girl because you're super pretty and have a tiny voice."

"Ribbit Ribbit! Ribbit Ribbit!"

Doppio gasped loudly. "D-did I get it right?! Oohh yes!! That's so cool! Well... Not like I would have minded if you were a boy... Or both... Wait, do frogs have genders? Oh it doesn't matter."

The young prince felt like this frog was currently the only thing keeping him sane. He had no one else to talk to, there was no one who actually cared for his own well-being and he had no friends.

The only real person to actually show him some kind of recognition and love was none other than the King Diavolo himself. But even his sweet words and affection seemed somewhat back-handed and laced with pressure and severity.

"You know, you're lucky, little thing..." Doppio started with melancholy. "You don't have to worry so much about your life... I'm bad at everything and I'm all alone... I don't know what to do..."

"Ri-rib, ribbit!"

"Even if a nice princess wanted to marry me, I would turn her down because she would deserve better... Sometimes I wish I could disappear..."

"Ribb-ribbit!"

Doppio's eyes softened on the small frog. That's how sad and pathetic he was. Talking his problems out with a frog.

"Why do I feel like you actually understand me...? Thank you for listening to me and being my only friend."

Without even thinking, he lifted the small frog and brought it towards his face, giving it the tiniest of pecks. He smiled at how weird the feeling was, the animal was cold and slightly humid, a bit sticky too which he did not mind surprisingly.

He sighed and looked up mindlessly before his eyes were suddenly striked by a blinding flash of light.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

The light flashed brighter and brighter, coming from the frog in his hands. What was going on?

Doppio could only drop the creature and shield his eyes with his arms desperately as the frog sparkled like a thousand fireflies and grew in size.

The boy squinted his eyes shut and fell back right onto his butt before he felt a strong weight pressing on him, the mass eventually pinning him down onto the ground.

"U-uughh..." He groaned and rubbed his head, a sharp headache from the harsh light hitting his sensitive eyes still slowly fading.

He looked down only for his eyes to widen like saucers. He couldn't believe what he was currently witnessing and thought that maybe he went blind from the flash and was hallucinating right now.

The weight on top of him revealed to be the figure of a girl laying unconscious. He couldn't see her face buried in his chest, but he could make out her beautiful hair, smooth skin tone and the very frilly green dress she was wearing.

And that wasn't just any dress either, the golden ornaments, the tulle, the silk, the lace, the satin... That was an expensive dress, was she...could she be... A nobleswoman? A baroness? A...

...A princess?

"A-aah..." The girl moaned quietly before pushing herself up, not without struggle and Doppio gasped.

"A-are you okay signori-..." The boy could barely finish his sentence and only mumbled open-mouthed nonsense.

He was beyond mesmerized at the beauty who had just ever-so-slowly lifted her face up to look at him. Her shining wide eyes, her innocent glossy lips, her rose dusted cheeks and her hair framing her perfect face made him believe he just stumbled into some sort of forest Goddess.

"Ah-I... U-uuhm.. Y-you...uh.. W-ah-...eh... I-I'm..." He stammered awkwardly, his brain melting like ice in summer as his face and ears burned a crimson red, his breath catching in his now dry throat.

"Ah! My stars!" The girl gasped as she hovered over the immensely flustered prince. "I am so sorry! I must be crushing you!"

The young girl fretted anxiously before trying to scramble over on her knees and straighten herself up to give the poor man some much needed space, but as soon as she did, she was hit with a wave of dizziness and lost balance again. Doppio was quick to sit up and catch her against his chest, wrapping careful arms around her.

"A-are you okay, miss? What happened to you? What's going on?" The boy asked worriedly, regaining his composure slowly.

"Ah y-yes... It's just... It's been so long since I've been glamoured..."

"You've been... Glamoured?" Doppio couldn't be more confused than this, but the girl explained further as she leaned back slightly.

Her name was Y/N L/N, daughter of the King L/N. Many years ago, she had been the victim of a curse cast by the one and only sorcerer Dio, who was overcome by fury and rage against anyone affiliated with the Joestar Empire, or those who refused to become one of his pets, casting spells after spells, and curses after curses.

"He turned me into a frog and swore to me that nobody would ever come to save me from my demise... But you..." Y/N looked up at Doppio's honey eyes and couldn't help the tears pooling at her eyes.

She was free, at last.

"I was all alone... And you came here... My savior..."

Her soft voice cracked with thick emotions and she stared into Doppio's golden eyes with soft ones, her vision blurred by warm tears. Doppio gasped lightly, moved by her story and she shyly wiped her tears.

"A-ah, forgive me! How shameful of me, to weep in front of a prince like this... I'm just.. So..."

"No, princess, don't apologize." He gently held her wrists to pull them away from her timid face. "You have the right to be overwhelmed... Nobody's here, besides... I cried too, earlier, in front of you. Nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

She sighed dreamily at his gentle words and soft touches, the now more confident boy stirring her heart. "What is your name, my prince?"

"Doppio." He gulped, stiff as a rock at her saccharine gaze and tone. "Doppio Vinegar."

"You're a good person, Doppio..." She breathed out, her words dripping with warm sincerity. Doppio's heart could only skip beats at each and every one of her actions.

The boy may be clumsy and bashful, he surely wasn't dense. He well knew he was deeply falling in love with this frog princess, but something in him told him she may not be completely disinterested in him either, despite his overall appearance and personality.

But maybe, just maybe, it was because she didn't know him enough. She didn't know this extent of his foolishness, how worthless of a man he truly was. This was the perfect opportunity for her to just push him away and run back home, only to never see him again.

But against all he could have ever expected, he was completely shaken out of his low self-esteem filled transe when he felt her leaning her delicate hands and head against his chest, closing her eyes and relishing in his warm hold still on her.

"Prince Doppio... I feel so safe when I'm in your arms... I'll forever be grateful for granting me my deepest wish..." She lifted her head just enough to look at his blushing freckled face, his mouth agape. "How could I ever reward you?"

Was she... Really serious? Nobody has ever told him they felt good around him. Nobody has ever felt safe around the small and skinny man that was Doppio. Could he be strong enough for her?

Well one thing was positive, he didn't want to let her go, and if he had to eat razor blades to protect her, he would do it without batting an eye.

She actually wanted to, or at least seemed to, stay with him. She felt grateful, for him, of all people!

He hoped she wouldn't hear his heart go feral in his chest. She would do... Anything for him? Could he be selfish? Could he ask the inimaginable? Would she say yes? He wouldn't force her but... He would love to think about himself only, just this once in his life.

He had nothing to lose.

He gently grabbed both her hands in his surprisingly big ones, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin, as if to want to imprint his love onto her.

"Ma-... Marry me, Princess Y/N!" He confessed with loud yet clear determination. "Please, be mine! I will cherish you like my most prized treasure, you will never be alone and feel unsafe again! I promise my entire life to you, please promise me yours!"

She widened her eyes at his sudden assertiveness and his strong, meaningful words. The pink boy in front of her shook her heart in so many ways, and she had already lost everything to Dio in the past. She had absolutely no reason to deny, now did she?

The girl smiled bright and slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, only to immediately wrap her arms around her hero's neck, nuzzling her face against him lovingly.

"Yes! I accept... my sweet Doppio."

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #golden wind #vento aureo #doppio vinegar x reader #doppio x reader #doppio vinegar #doppio #x reader #reader insert #jojo part 5 #part 5

101 notes · View notes

thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 10 [Camping/Trapped]

Hhhhh I am so behIND SCHEDULE

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

Omega shifted on her pile of blankets, trying to get comfortable. Pillow’s quiet snores were all she heard as she stared tiredly into the darkness. Her salamander friend hadn’t stopped growing, and he was beginning to take up quite a bit of space. He was more of a “Bed” than a Pillow at this point. His large tail swung around as he dreamed, the appendage catching her in the side. She let out a quiet cough, pushing the heavy tail off of herself. Enough was enough. She obviously wasn’t going to be getting any sleep like this.

Grabbing her favourite datapad, she jumped down onto the floor, not worrying about the slight noise that came as a result. Almost everyone was out gathering needed supplies, leaving Wrecker as her sole guardian for the night. Wrecker was, as usual, trying to sleep off his headache. Omega wandered throughout the ship, eventually deciding to curl up in the pilot’s seat to read. The seat dwarfed her, and it still amazed her that, someday, it wouldn’t seem so big.

The datapad’s gentle glow was soothing, but the story it held wasn’t all that long. It was a children’s story about a little Porg that was different from his other siblings. She loved this story, because at the end the little Porg found a family that loved him, even if he looked different. After she’d reread it a few times, Omega set the datapad down and stared out of the windshield. The night brought a sense of calm to the planet they had been staying on for the past week, and as much as she loved the energetic hustle and bustle of the marketplace during the day, a break was always nice.

Her eyes widened as she spotted something that she’d never seen before. A blink of light appeared before her, just outside the protection of the windshield. They glowed for a moment, then faded, then appeared again. Omega sits there, watching the lights in wonderment. Then, one lands on the glass, and she sees that it’s a bug that’s glowing.

“Whoa.” Omega breathes.

She wants to see the fascinating bugs up close, so she opened the Havoc Marauder’s door and steps out into the warm night air. She walked around to the front of the ship, staring in delight as the blinking insects flit around her. One lands on Omega’s nose, blinking every few seconds.

The young girl giggled, the light shining in her large brown eyes. The insect slowly lifted off, its tiny wings buzzing slightly. Omega followed after it, wanting to see where the little bug was going.

The glowing animal led her beyond the ship, and more and more bugs joined them as they neared an open field. Nocturnal flowers bloomed under the combined glow of three moons, and unseen animals chirped in the trees. Omega ran her hand along the tall, soft grass, feeling the dew that had formed. A frog jumped out of the grass, its bulbous throat expanding as it croaked. Omega, who had only ever seen the animal in datapads, crouched down and stared in awe at the smooth amphibian. The frog croaked again, hopping into the grass again. She followed it, hopping as it had. She giggled as she jumped up and down, her head popping up above the grass every few seconds.

Suddenly, her foot slipped, and Omega yelped as she began to tumble downwards. Rocks and roots scratched up her skin, and to top it all off, she hit something hard once she reached the bottom of whatever ditch she’d fallen into. Coughing, she rolled onto her side, wincing when she felt her shoulder scream in protest. Biting her lip, she used her legs to maneuver herself into a sitting position. Now that she was no longer face down in the dirt, she blinked, taking in her surroundings. Within seconds, she spotted something white laying in the dirt. Confused, she peered at it, leaning forward. It looked like…

She gasped, scrambling back.

That was clone trooper armor.

Panicked, she pressed herself against the side of the ditch. She tried to get to her feet, but a sharp pain in her lower back had her sliding back down. Her breaths came in shallow pants as she curled up into a ball, hoping beyond hope that her lack of movement might save her life.

A long, tense moment passed, but the clone trooper showed no sign of movement. Afraid, but curious now, Omega crept forward, her body shivering in pain as she moved. Now that she was closer, she could see that, like the armor of the Bad Batch, there were stripes of colour on this clone’s armor. Lines of blue decorated the scuffed white suit, and she found herself reaching out to touch them. The paint was chipped in some areas, and she could feel scratches in the armor. Whoever this was, they’d been around for a while.

She paused for a moment, trying to sense with the Force what exactly she was dealing with here. No buzz of danger had appeared, and she actually felt a pleasant, warm feeling in her chest. This person, it seemed, was not unknown to the Force, and it seemed to like him. Deciding to take the risk, she used her good arm to remove the clone’s helmet. She needed to find out why he had collapsed here, and to check if he was even alive. Breathing could be hard to see under plastoid.

She was surprised to see that the man’s hair was blonde like hers, and she wondered what gene had been modified in the two of them to give them both the unique hair colour. Placing the helmet aside with care, she saw a small prick of dried blood on the clone’s neck. Had he been shot with something?

Omega pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, holding her breath as she waited. There was a good chance that she was touching a corpse right now, and that idea didn’t sit right with her.

Lub dub… lub dub…

Oh good. Not touching a corpse.

Exhaling in relief, Omega sat back down, hissing as the pain in her lower back started up again. As much as she liked the high level of movement her normal clothes gave her, perhaps she should start looking into ways of making herself a suit of armor. With all the trouble she got into, it might be worth the effort.

The nighttime animals sung all around her, and despite her less than awesome situation, she smiled. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t in total silence, two things she was very grateful for, even if her company was a stranger who could, at any given time, wake up and decide to kill her.

Actually, maybe she should take his blaster.

Just as she started to reach over, a sound made her freeze. Something had just stepped on a stick.

Moving into a crouch, Omega peered upwards towards the ditch’s ridge. The tall grass swayed, obscuring her sight. She kept staring, sure that she had heard something. However, when nothing appeared, she looked away, easing herself back down into a sitting position, rubbing at her sore shoulder. Distracted by her pain, she failed to notice the growing buzz at the back of her mind. Until, of course, it became a screaming alarm bell that was yelling “LOOK OUT, MORON!”

Omega’s head snapped up as a snarl shattered the night’s calm existence. She flinched back as a lithe figure leapt down into the ditch. It looked like a long Loth Cat, bigger in size and sporting a thin, spine-covered tail. The animal stared at Omega, it’s large, silver eyes making her tense up in fear. It considered her for a moment, then turned towards the downed clone. It opened its mouth, saliva dripping down its fangs.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not eating him!” Omega yelled, grabbing a nearby rock and throwing it at the cat. The feline hissed, jumping back. It growled at Omega, its tail flicking back and forth.

The command to get back passed through her head, and she listened to the instinct. Her body made its displeasure known as she threw herself away from the animal, landing on her back as a spray of quills embedded themselves into the dirt. The pain stunned her for only a moment, but it was for longer than she could afford. A weight appeared on her chest, pressing down on her collarbone. Curved claws pricked her skin, causing beads of blood to seep into her shirt.

Omega yelped, trying to kick the cat off with her good leg, but the animal simply scratched the limb with a hind paw, slicing the skin of her knee open. Tears pricked at her eyes as adrenaline kicked in, her body going into panic mode. Her brain shoved the memory of one of Hunter’s lessons into her immediate thoughts, and she swung her fist up towards the cat’s face, trying to catch it in the eye. She managed to land a hit, and the animal screeched in pain. Its head jerked back, and she punched it again, this time in the throat.

The large feline fell back, allowing a bleeding Omega to put some distance in between them. Her body shook as she tried to figure out what to do. She didn’t have much time; the animal was already rolling back onto its paws. She reached out, trying to connect with the Force. If she really did have a connection with it, than she should be able to do something!

A feeling of strength and power rippled through Omega suddenly, settling in the palms of her hands. It felt as though she could grab anything within a few feet of her, although she wasn’t quite sure how. However, she didn’t have a chance to try, as the cat was now coming at her again, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. Terrified and out of options, she focused on the cat, closed her eyes, and swung her hand to the side as hard as she could.

The animal yowled in shock, flying into the wall of the ditch. Stunned, and now feeling tired, Omega stared at the animal, her eyes wide. She… she had done it! She’d used the Force!

The cat shook its head, whipping around to snarl at Omega. The girl’s excitement disappeared. Apparently, she hadn’t used it well enough to dissuade the predator. Omega shrunk back, too hurt and tired and scared to think of another plan. The feline dropped down, its eyes locking onto her as it pounced forward, jaws open wide. Omega shut her eyes and covered her face with the arm she could still use, awaiting the attack.

…

But it never came.

Instead, the sound of a blaster being fired made her open her eyes and lower her arm. The cat was on its side, unmoving but still breathing. She looked to her left, and there was the clone, holstering his blaster. She felt relief wash over her when, upon noticing her, the man didn’t move to shoot her too.

“Are you alright, little ‘un?” His voice sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

Omega nodded, not sure she could do much else.

The clone stared at her, his head tilting slightly. He blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right.

“I’ve seen a lot of clones in my lifetime, but never one that looked like you.” He smiled at her, before looking around cautiously. “Where did you come from? Are you runnin’ from the Empire too?”

“I-I am, but we’re not in any danger right now!” She said, stuttering a bit. Her pounding heart was making speech difficult. “I’m here with my family.”

“Family?” The man asked.

Omega’s cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. “S-sorry! I meant my squad, not family...” She trailed off a bit at the end. Were they a family? Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech were all brothers, but she was something different, a clone that was even more different than they were. What was she to them?

“Your squad? What’s your squad number?” The other clone, who was getting to his feet, offered her a hand as he stood. She took it, not minding when he supported her with a second hand when her legs wobbled. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and she was starting to feel exhaustion seep into her muscles.

“Omega! Omega, where are you?!”

Omega looked up, a smile coming onto her face.

“Wrecker!” She yelled back.

“Wrecker? Wait…” The other clone seemed to come to a realization just as Wrecker appeared at the edge of the ditch. The enhanced clone tensed at the sight of someone holding Omega, before he realized who exactly he was looking at.

“Rex!” He cried, his face lighting up.

Omega felt Rex laugh, and she turned to look at him. The blonde was smiling and shaking his head.

“Of course.” He said, looking at Wrecker with a grin. “Of course it’s you crazy bastards.”

“You know him?” Omega asked, not really sure who she was directing the question to.

“Oh, for sure! Rex is an old friend of ours!” Wrecker said. “Now get up here so I can hug ‘ya!”

“I would, but this little one is hurt. I doubt she can climb out on her own.” Rex said, letting Omega lean on him. Side by side, they almost looked like they were a father and daughter.

“Oh kriff!” Wrecker cursed, just now noticing the bruises and cuts. “Hunter’s gonna kill me- what happened?!”

“A cat tried to eat Rex, but I distracted it.” Omega said, finding it hard to stay upright. “Then it tried to eat me.”

“While I’m not glad you got hurt, I must thank you for keeping that thing off me. You’re a very brave and very strong girl, Omega. Those Quill Prowlers are quite scary. I’m surprised you didn’t get hi-!” Rex cut himself off, looking down at Omega’s boots. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Omega and Wrecker asked at the same time. Omega looked down.

There was a quill sticking out of her boot.

“Oh.” She said, before promptly passing out.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega whump #omega bad batch #wrecker bad batch #captain rex #rex clone wars #tw animal harm #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[10]

18 notes · View notes

lupinlongbottom · 4 years

Text

Practically a Weasley pt. 1.5

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Writers block gets the better of (Y/N). Her loving boyfriend, Charlie, now on the brink of baking genius, plans to get her out of her funk. With a war looming above the world, it seemed only fitting the path that lay before the couple. This path also happens to rhyme with ‘hoping’.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A few swears, nothing major.

A/N: AH! Eloping! Feelings! Charlie! To say I got sappy in this one is an understatement my dudes. I haven’t had this rush of inspiration for a fic in forever. Seemed fitting Dragon Boi once again pulled me from it’s clutches.

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Epilogue

The sweeping hills and dipping valleys of the reserve went on seemingly for miles. Patches of greenery freckled with the fairest pinks and yellows of the wildflowers surrounded the dragon sanctuary, enveloping the tiny village of wizards and dragons alike. Various cottages were sprinkled along the dirt paths, the gentle sloping of their roofs matched that of the hills in the distance. Upon one of the quaintest cottages, an open window allowed the aroma of a freshly baked pie to escape.

“Cherry?” (Y/N) groaned, stretching her arms above her head. She had been cooped up in the study, feverishly working on her next book.

“Nope,” Charlie hummed, rubbing the light dusting of flour off his apron, watching the white powder sprinkle to the floor. “Apple.”

“Damn. Here I thought coming out of my dungeon would allow me to reap the benefits of my favorite pie,” said (Y/N), wistfully looking at the pie, now sitting on the windowsill. “But I guess not.”

“We were out of cherries, flower,” Charlie laughed. “Maureen’s wife had some extra apples from her tree, brought them into work yesterday. I figured a pie is a step in the right direction to get you out of your creative funk. Besides, you know I love to bake.”

“Creative funk?” laughed (Y/N), weaving through the counters to reside closer to the pie. And perhaps her boyfriend.

“You said so yourself,” the clatter of dishes hitting the sink rattled throughout the kitchen. “You’ve been trying to write that book of yours for months now.”

“I never said creative funk!” (Y/N) exclaimed, more laughter trailing the end of her words. “I just can’t figure out where to take the story next. My mind has been preoccupied—”

“I know,” Charlie motioned to his maroon smock, tied just above his hips. “You really can’t get enough of me in this apron, can you?” His brown eyes flickered mischievously.

“Preoccupied with the war, Charlie,” (Y/N) cocked her eyebrow. “I thought that after the move, being closer to the dragons and you, of course would’ve helped my writers block…”

“My poor princess, locked away in her tower, day in and day out, plagued with a terrible curse,” Charlie sighed, hand clutching his chest. “If only her valiant and ruggedly handsome prince could help… perhaps, with a pie, made with the love of a thousand men!” Now on one knee, Charlie motioned to the pie, resting still on its perch in the window.

“But will a pie slay the dragon along the way? Or will the prince do the dirty work himself?” (Y/N) mused, playing along with Charlie’s fantasy.

“Flower, you know how misrepresented dragons are in the media,” He mumbled. “I could never slay the dragon protecting you, after all,” He rose to his feet, inches away from his girlfriend. “They only protect the finest of treasure,” He leaned in for a kiss, capturing (Y/N)’s lips with his. The crisp taste of apples danced between the two, as Charlie couldn’t resist a mid-baking snack. (Y/N) laced her hands around his neck, feeling his hands do the same to her waist. “Well,” He paused. “That and the eggs.”

“You’re an egg.” She rolled her eyes, continuing their kiss. This was truly the domestic bliss they’d dreamed of.

“I’m sorry that you’re having a rough time with your work,” Charlie whispered. “The Order is doing all they can at a time like this. I’ve been working non-stop, recruiting other members for our cause, protecting the dragons. No one expected it would escalate the way it has.”

“I know you’ve been working hard,” (Y/N) mumbled, releasing herself from Charlie’s grip. “Hell, this is your first day off in about a month,” She motioned to the pie. “And you spent it baking for me, when you could’ve—should’ve been resting.”

“I can rest when I’m dead,” He felt the icy look (Y/N) had shot him in that very instant. “Which I’m not planning on doing anytime soon, don’t worry.”

“All I can do is worry, Charlie. You and your family are apart of something great, something that can help end this war. What am I doing? Writing children’s stories? Living in my own little world and pretending the world isn’t going to shit?”

“You know how I feel about you joining The Order,” Charlie’s hand moved to the back of his neck, as if holding his head upright, the tension growing. “I want to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to argue about this again. You know I’m a more than capable witch,” This time, it was (Y/N)’s hand flying to her chest, making a point. “I want to help. I want to support you.” The air in the kitchen was growing thicker, the words lingering around them.

“I’m not saying you’re not capable, love. Don’t you think I know that more than anyone? I just want to protect you!” Charlie blurted, not intending to raise his voice.

“Then protect me!” She huffed, voice cracking. "Let me be by your side! You can’t protect me if you are hundreds of cities away, can you?!”

Charlie was silent. The gravity of his girlfriend’s words hitting him square in the chest. “You’re right,” He mumbled, voice low. “You always are.”

“Glad you could come to your senses,” (Y/N) crossed her arms. “I hate fighting you on this, but you need to know how important it is for me to be by your side. Through all of this.”

“You’re right,” His eyes flicked upward, meeting (Y/N)’s. “I want—no—need you standing by my side.”

“I’m very persuasive, I know that I can help recruiting new members! I can pack my bag in two ticks if you can tell me where your next meeting is!” said (Y/N) excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“No, not just that,” He shook his head. “I need you standing by my side forever. Especially after this war.”

“Well of course I will. I’m your girlfriend, Charlie.” (Y/N) giggled airily, slightly confused at her love’s sudden seriousness.

“You need to be more than that,” Charlie shook his head again. “Let’s go to the courthouse, right now! Change our titles.” He laced his fingers through (Y/N)’s, tugging her towards the front door.

“I’m not following?” She glanced at Charlie, fumbling to put on his brown leather boots.

“You want to stand by my side forever, yeah?” (Y/N) nodded. “Let’s go get bloody married, then.”

“Married? Right now!?” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, shifting between both of her boyfriend’s own rapidly.

“Right now.” He nodded, only ever so slightly.

“Are you mad? Do you have a fever?” The back of her hand reached Charlie’s forehead. He pushed it away in jest, sitting upon the last few steps of the stairs.

“I’m not mad! What’s stopping us?” Charlie grinned, finally lacing up his boots successfully.

“For one, a lack of a proposal?”

“Alright, then,” Charlie moved from the stairs to his knee, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. “Will you marry me?”

“Well of course, but—”

“Consider yourself proposed!” He laughed, the sound echoing throughout the cottage. “Put on some shoes, let’s go get married!”

“I’m hardly dressed for a wedding,” (Y/N) motioned to her pajamas, a green top and light pink sleep shorts. “As a matter of fact, neither are you!”

“You look ravishing as always, flower,” He sprang to his feet. “Besides, you love the apron.”

“I do,” (Y/N) sighed, momentarily distracted. “This is all happening much quicker than I could’ve imagined.” She laughed, a hand running through her hair.

“But you’ve imagined it before, yeah? Let’s go and do it,” Charlie clasped his hands around hers, looking (Y/N) dead in the eyes. “You mean more to me than anything in this world. I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to either of us and I didn’t make you an official Weasley.”

“If you died I could’ve married Fred or George,” (Y/N) chuckled, merely teasing. “But you’re right. I suppose tomorrow isn’t promised. Let’s get married.” The two share a kiss. Softer than their kitchen escapade earlier, somehow sweeter than the apples before. “But please give me five minutes to change.”

The trip to the courthouse was quick, thanks to their Apparition. Hardly any wait to fill out a marriage license, not many couples were getting married on a Monday afternoon. Charlie rapidly filled out his portion of the license, almost letting the ink flow directly from his heart into the quill. (Y/N) filled it out just as fast, freezing only at the place where she needed to sign. In a beat, she let her name hit the tip of the quill, tracing itself onto the paper.

(Y/N) Weasley

“Alright you two, let’s make this quick,” said the judge. He was a short man, round in every sense of the word. “As much as I love doing these… ‘end-of-the-world’ weddings, I have some chocolate frogs to attend to.”

“Jim, we’ll repay you in plenty of chocolate frogs, I assure you,” Charlie laughed. “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“In my few years of knowing you, Charlie, short notice is the normal amount of notice,” Jim chuckled heartily. “But I’ll take you up on those frogs.”

“As you should,” (Y/N) nodded. “Charlie may need a reminder, though.”

“Well, with a beautiful wife like you, Charlie won’t have much to worry about,” Jim smiled. “Alright. Stand together and listen to me…”

The judge began to speak, reading from a small booklet about the size of a deck of cards. The words flowed into the air, though neither the bride or groom cared to pay attention. Their focus was solely on one another. Charlie granted (Y/N) the five minutes she had requested before, allowing her to change into something more bridal. Close enough to it, anyway. An off-white dress, glittering with small pink roses, growing larger near the hem. She looked ethereal, the very definition of a bride.

Charlie’s bride.

“…and I suppose the two of you have vows?” Jim huffed, glancing up from his book. “Or did you not get that far?”

“Well, I suppose we didn’t have time to write anything down,” Charlie motioned to his apron and chuckled. “But I reckon I could come up with something now.”

“I could too. I’ve drafted mine a few times before,” (Y/N) flushed, glancing down. “Only to help with writers block, of course.”

“I’ll start,” Charlie grinned, gently grabbing (Y/N)’s hands. “(Y/N). My gorgeous, courageous flower. I never thought, nor did I ever dream I could find someone as witty or as tenacious as yourself to love. Blimey, I hardly imagined loving anyone more than dragons if I’m being honest.” (Y/N) chuckled, rubbing her thumb across the back of Charlie’s hand. “Honestly, when I learned that you were best mates with my twin brothers, I thought perhaps you were a bit deranged. But I learned that of the three of you, you’re the one that carries their shared braincell.”

“Hey…” (Y/N) muttered, taken aback slightly.

“I’m only half joking, love,” Charlie beamed. “But, besides your amazing good looks, I love you for your heart and soul. I promise to always take care of you, to prepare your favorite tea when you’re cold. I promise to cuddle you when you’re sick, even when you say you don’t look cute. I’ll even promise to indulge your wildest fantasies, putting this apron on whenever you ask. Even if it’s the only thing I’m wearing,” Another chuckle. “I love you, (Y/N). I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you.”

(Y/N) could hardly keep the tears from falling. A gentle droplet rolled down her right cheek, hanging delicately on her chin. How could she ever top the sap that flew from his lips? Surely her drafts of her vows were written in a dream-like state, normally jesting to herself a reality that wouldn’t come to fruition until much later. Hardly could she imagine standing in the quaint shack—the reserve’s excuse of a courthouse—sharing these feelings with Charlie. But, she had to try.

“Charles Septimus Weasley,” (Y/N) croaked, barely able to recite his full name. He flinched at the mention of his title. “No amount of divination could’ve predicted I would end up becoming a Weasley. I admire the little things about you. Your beautiful brown eyes, warm as the morning sun, ready to accept me at any moment. The never ending list of scars and burns that litter your skin in different patterns, stories of your bravery and kindness,” Her thumb stroked against a seemingly simple scar on the edge of his finger, relaying her point. “Your dedication to your family is the strongest sense of truth that comes from you, Charlie. Hell, how many people would willingly break into a school to rescue a dragon, all to help their younger brother?”

“Not many.” Charlie boasted, puffing his chest slightly.

“Your sense of humility is solid too,” (Y/N) quipped, smirking lightly. “I promise to always be your shoulder to cry on, especially when the dragons ignore you more than usual. I promise to never let you fall too deeply asleep on the couch, always welcoming you back to our bed, even if your feet are colder than the Dementor’s breath,” Another chuckle. “But, above all, I promise to love you, Charles Weasley. I’m dedicating my life to stand by you, through this war and beyond. I love you.”

It was Charlie’s turn to weep. How long had he been crying? Surely (Y/N) crying had been the stepping stone to get to his current emotional state. A sniffle was heard between them, causing the couple to whip their heads towards the noise.

“In all my years,” Jim sneezed, filling his handkerchief with snot. “I have never seen more beautiful vows. Normally it’s the same, rushed shtick. But you two,” he sneezed again. “You two are perfectly in love and I just—”

“Jim...” Charlie started.

“Let me do my job, Charlie!” Jim cautioned, holding a single finger up. “Now, the answers seem obvious, but for legality reasons I need you to answer after me,” Charlie’s ears perked up. “Do you, Charles Septimus Weasley take (Y/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife? Through sickness and—”

“I do,” Charlie professed, eyes not leaving (Y/N)’s for a second. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have said all that sap before, no?”

“Right,” Jim scoffed, a bit annoyed. He turned to (Y/N). “Do you, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) take Charlie to be your—”

“I do!” (Y/N) chanted, too eager to allow the judge to continue.

“Where was that sense of urgency when reciting your vows?” Jim mumbled, flipping through his book. “Seriously, the one part I get to do…” He took a deep breath. “Well, by the power vested in me by the Wizarding Council, I now pronounce you man and wife. You can, uh, kiss the bride.”

Charlie wasted no time kissing his blushing bride. It was the moment he had dreamed about since laying eyes on (Y/N) in that coffee shop only a few years prior. The promises of their love were overflowing between the two in their shared moment of pure bliss. Never had a kiss felt like this, like a growing spark begging for release. Neither of the newlyweds wanted to part, remove themselves from this moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” a woman sang, momentarily stunning the couple out of their bliss. “Congratulations.”

“Ah,” Charlie faltered, face surely shining with the brilliance of roses. “Thank you, Maureen, for being a witness on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” She cooed, waving her hand. “I’m honored you thought of me, Weasley. I’m also glad my lunch break lined up for your happy day,” She laughed. “When the two of you have an official ceremony, make sure to keep Lauren and I on your list, yeah?” Maureen clicked, quickly signing the marriage certificate before exiting the small courtroom.

The certificate was handed to the receptionist, who didn’t seem jaded by the quick marriage that had taken place moments prior. She smiled up at the couple. “I’ve seen plenty of weddings here, but you two,” She paused. “You two give me hope in these dark days.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) stammered, touched by the stranger’s words. “Thank you, to both of you,” She motioned to Jim. “I assure your payment in chocolate frogs will be arranged promptly.”

“A woman of her word,” Jim cackled. “Shame she’s taken.”

“Taken she is.” Charlie responded, placing a gentle kiss to his wife’s knuckles, his fingers still interwoven with hers.

The couple decided to take the long way home, enjoying the purple sunset that blanketed the valley. In almost no time at all, before the sun dipped beneath the earth, the newlyweds entered their cottage. The aroma of pie not yet left the quaint building.

“Shoot,” Charlie mumbled. “I was supposed to carry you across the threshold!”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” His wife laughed. “We’ve been going against tradition anyway. What’s one less thing?”

“I just want to make our wedding day memorable, flower,” Charlie stroked (Y/N)’s hair. “But I suppose I could just carry you to our bed?”

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“We have to consummate it at some point.” Charlie grinned, eyes slanted down towards his wife.

“I’ll take you up on that, my husband,” The new title rolling off her tongue almost mockingly. “But we should have some of your pie first, no?”

“I suppose so,” He hummed. “We should have a proper dinner, I wouldn’t want to spoil dessert.” Charlie’s hands trailed down to (Y/N)’s sides, quickly grabbing a handful of her backside.

“Charlie!” (Y/N) gasped, watching her husband retrieve the pie from the windowsill, acting as if nothing had happened. Before he could shut the window, an owl flew through the crack, landing on the counter.

“This doesn’t look like a letter from The Order…” said Charlie, grabbing the purple envelope from the owl’s beak. In an instant, the owl flew off, back to where it had come from.

“What does it say?” (Y/N) asked, drawing closer to the counter, curiosity growing stronger.

“It’s a wedding invitation. For my brother, Bill,” Charlie laughed, continuing to read. “Blimey! Set for the first of August!”

“I guess this war is causing everyone to jump the gun and get married, huh?” (Y/N) smiled.

“At least we did it before Bill,” Charlie mirrored the grin. “That’s something I can hang over his head until the day I die.” He lifted (Y/N) up onto the counter, sealing her lips with his.

“But,” (Y/N) fought the kiss. “The pie?”

“Consider my appetite spoiled,” Charlie mumbled against her lips. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip before continuing. “I’ve decided that I want dessert first.”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) moaned, deepening the kiss, hands pulling at Charlie’s hair tie, letting his unruly locks fall into her fingers. She tugged lightly.

“(Y/N),” Charlie groaned, enjoying the sensation. “We should move this to the bedroom. Have to tire you out for a good night’s rest if we’re to travel to France tomorrow.”

“France?” (Y/N) panted, pulling away slightly.

“For The Order recruitment.”

“But I thought you said—”

“—and I was stupid for saying anything of the sort,” Charlie agreed, placing hot kisses down her neck. “You had said so yourself, my family is apart of something great,” More kisses. “You’re part of that family now, yeah?”

(Y/N)’s eyes glistened with tears, threatening to fall. She shook her head, determined to not cry any more that evening. She held her breath, a realization struck her. “My stars! Your family!”

“Not exactly a good way to keep the mood going, love…” Charlie continued, working his way across her collar.

“What are we going to tell your family?” (Y/N) gasped. “My family! They hardly know we’re living together, let alone eloped!”

“That’s the excitement of eloping, isn’t it? Not telling our families?” Charlie paused his ministrations, looking at his wife. “But I suppose our families didn’t know about our relationship until a few months in anyway, what’s the harm in keeping this our little secret for a bit?”

“I suppose…” (Y/N) trailed, recalling the passionate feelings their past secrecy had given them. “I suppose it could be a bit of cheeky fun.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Charlie beamed, planting a wet kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, lingering for a moment longer. “Come on, indulge your husband.”

“I just might,” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck, allowing him to pick her up like he had previously lamented about missing out on. Bridal style. “My dear husband…” Her voice fell to a whisper, leaning in to sing sweet nothings only Charlie could hear.

“Keep the apron on.”

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart123 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @missmulti

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @crescent-ia , @phantom-pheonix , @dccomicnerd-world , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

#Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley x you #hphm #charlie weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #charlie weasley imagines #dragon boi #hogwarts #fanfic #fluff #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #charlie canonically doesn't have a middle name so DAMNIT i gave him one #it's his grandfather's name ya heard #also yay love and stuff

740 notes · View notes

notfunnydean · 3 years

Text

SPN Advent Calendar Day: 25

Aaaand that’s it! Thank you to everyone who participated in the advent calendar this year or read my stories! It was so stressful but still a lot of fun! See you next year again hehe!

Prompt: Santa Claus Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: Christmas Curse / Dean gets cursed Word Count: 975 Summary: Dean finds something cursed in one of their Christmas boxes, when Castiel touches it, Dean vanishes. Where could he be? Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823264/chapters/69401313

“I don’t get why we have to clean everything here.” Dean grumbles, only to sneeze a second later, when he takes another box from the shelves and the dust settles in his nose. God, sometimes he hates the bunker.

“Sam said Mrs. Butter put the christmas decorations in here and I’m sure Jack would enjoy seeing them again.” Castiel says easily and gets another box himself, too.

Sadly not all boxes are filled with holiday decorations, some have really weird witch stuff in it. Dean had gagged, when he’d seen something like frog legs in one of the boxes and thrown that one far away. Yikes.

“So far we haven't found much.” Dean says, but this time he really is lucky, because on the next box is written ‘Christmas wonder’.

“What?” Castiel asks, when Dean grins widely.

“I found the Christmas wonder - whatever that is.” Dean says and he hopes it’s something really cool. Maybe it’s a tiny little tree that then would grow up to his full size? Or maybe it’s something to eat? Hell even a good recipe would be nice.

“Well that does sound like something we’re looking for.” Castiel says and Dean opens the box, he’s super excited.

“What the fuck.”

It’s only a tiny Christmas ornament. Nothing else. Dean pulls it up at the string and shows it to Castiel, who raises his eyebrows in question. Dean shrugs.

“Christmas wonder - my ass. This is just a tiny Santa.” Dean says and he feels the disappointment deep in his bones. At least the little Santa looks cute and they do need stuff for the tree, so why not start with this.

“Oh Dean wait!” Castiel says, but Dean is already throwing the Santa ornament towards him and Castiel catches it more out of a reflex. Not like Dean on the string.

There’s a loud noise and then the only thing Castiel can see is thick red smoke and there's glitter everywhere. Castiel almost screams, but instead he falls to his knees, the little Santa on the ground.

Dean is gone.

“And you’re sure you can’t find anything about it?” Castiel says for the hundredths time today and Sam shakes his head. They’re both tired, exhausted and cranky. Dean is still gone and they don’t even know where to start.

“I looked everywhere and nobody heard of this before. Not even Rowena and she’s Queen of hell.” Sam says and slowly something different settles in their bones. The knowledge that maybe Dean won’t ever come back.

That they lost him again.

“It’s my fault, because I touched it.” Castiel whispers slowly and he would never forgive himself. He still had so many things he wanted to tell Dean.

“We’re looking into it tomorrow again. Just for now go to sleep. I can barely hold my eyes open.” Sam says and he closes his laptop. They hadn’t slept at all last night, so it’s no surprise that they need a break.

“Yeah.” Castiel whispers, but he knows he won’t sleep this night either.

“Cas?”

Castiel is still frozen, when he hears Sam behind him. It seems like somehow the bunker decorated itself during the night. There are lights everywhere and in the middle of the library is a huge tree.

“I have no idea Sam.” Castiel because he didn’t do that. He had asked Jack too, but Jack had denied and then went on with making breakfast, while Castiel is still standing in the library, trying to figure this all out.

“And the present?” Sam asks and that is really a good question. Under the tree is a huge present, wrapped very nicely in red wrapping paper. There is nothing on it, no name, not tag.

“Should we open it?” Castiel asks, because he feels a strange pull towards it. His hands are itching with the need to open it.

“But… be careful.” Sam whispers and Castiel nods. There is a certain magic in the gift, at least he can feel that, too. Castiel grabs his angel blade, just to be sure.

Just as he comes closer, there's a soft melody and then he sees a card on the present. Castiel opens it.

Sometimes wishes come true on Christmas.

Castiel gasps and then hastily opens the present. He even lets the card and angel blade fall to the ground and then tears the wrapping paper apart. The box opens slowly.

“Cas?” Dean sounds mostly sleepy and he rubs his eyes.

“Oh god Dean!” Castiel says and he helps Dean out of the box. Dean is wearing a big red bow on his head, but otherwise he seems just fine.

Castiel can hear Sam and Jack behind him now, but he doesn’t really care. Instead he hugs Dean as tight as he can. God, he had thought that he had lost him. But Dean is here safe and alright.

Dean hugs back and Castiel presses his cheek against Dean’s.

“What happened?” Dean mumbles and Castiel can’t let him go yet. Sam behind them chuckles.

“Well seems like you got cursed by a christmas ornament and were made to be Castiel’s present.” Sam says and he actually smirks at them. Castiel breaks the hug, when Dean starts to squirm in his arms.

“Oh and… and do you like you present?” Dean whispers and he sounds so shy. Castiel’s heart aches for him. He had waited so long for this and now that it’s finally here, it seems like all the words have left Castiel.

“I love it.” Castiel answers, because he’s sure that is his only chance. Dean’s smile loses the nervous touch, instead he looks so happy.

“I… Cas, I love you too.” Dean says and there is so much hope in his eyes. Castiel barely hears the footsteps behind them, obviously two people leaving.

But he focuses on something else.

He kisses Dean.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #spnadventcalendar2020 #destiel writing #deancas #my art

11 notes · View notes

cookiescr · 4 years

Text

Cat

(Happy birthday!)

Xadia, even divided in half, was enormous. It was the size of the five human kingdoms put together; there was plenty of room for vastly differing biomes, such as arid sandpits like the Midnight Desert, or lush forests like the one hosting the Silvergrove. Each of those biomes were full of flora and fauna that were adapted to the terrain. Amaya was aware of all this; that was how nature worked, and she had experienced nature back in Katolis well enough to understand these concepts.

Unfortunately, she was unfamiliar with much of the magical fauna native to Xadia. There were some that were relatively easy to identify, given their similarity to Katolian animals- a deer with antlers that glowed when the moon was up was still a deer. But some were harder to guess, like the six-legged serpentine creature that she was told was a type of frog. She's fairly certain frogs aren't supposed to have fangs, but it did jump onto a tree and grab a visibly-vibrating beetle with its tongue, so she didn't press the issue.

But learning about Xadia's fascinating creatures was not Amaya's focus; she was needed in more important matters, like training new human and Sunfire soldiers, protecting caravans of supplies being sent from and delivered to Lux Aurea, and supporting her girlfriend, both emotionally and with her new duties as Sunfire Queen. Rebuilding Lux Aurea took so much work.

Currently, she was on her way back to the palace; Janai had asked her to go to the university to deliver some boxes of books that were found in the castle basement, as many of the university’s books had been lost in the destruction. It was also a nice chance for her to say hello to Kazi. While she wouldn't say the two of them were friends, they had been quite friendly to her while she was a prisoner. Besides, they were becoming good friends with Gren. Kazi was happy to see her, and offered her an oatmeal raisin cookie. The cookie was dry, crumbling apart, and burnt on the bottom, but they had tried their best. She appreciated the sentiment, if not the cookie itself.

When she found a trash receptacle to dispose of the inedible cookie, she moved to dump it in but paused; did it... move? Was something alive in there? Given the magical nature of everything in Xadia, it was possible that something in there was alive when it shouldn't be, or that the trash itself had become a singular entity and gained sentience. Amaya's hand hovered over her sword handle- or rather, where her sword would usually be, if she were wearing her armor. Since she hadn't intended to encounter any danger within Lux Aurea itself, she was wearing casual clothes. She quickly cursed herself for being so unprepared.

Something poked its head out from behind the receptacle, not from within it. Something with little ears, beady eyes, a tiny nose, and fur redder than Gren's hair- well, except for its legs, which, quite amusingly, looked like they had black stockings on. It was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen, only beaten by her nephews as babies. Although, that was challenged when it stood up on two paws, the other two stretching up above its head as it waddled towards her.

Amaya looked around to see if there were any nearby elves who could help her with the creature, but the street was practically empty. It was noon, so most of the elves in Lux Aurea were probably having lunch. Sunfire elves liked daily schedules and punctuality, and Amaya had always liked that about them. Sure was a minor inconvenience right now, though.

The animal didn't seem hostile, so she bent down to look at it closer. When she offered it her hand, it landed back on all fours to give it a sniff, its fluffy tail moving to match its body's movements. It looked soft, and not especially dirty, so she gave its head a careful rub. Oh, how soft! And the animal didn't mind the attention, especially when she went behind its ears. So, as Amaya had gathered about the animal: small, friendly, playful, likes petting, digs in garbage, too flexible to be a dog (hopefully), uses its tail to balance...

Why, it must be a Xadian cat! Even Lux Aurea has strays, apparently. Or maybe the strays are new, since so many previous pet owners were lost... No, that didn't bear to think about.

The cat clearly didn't have a collar, so she assumed that meant it also currently didn't have a home; pet cats usually weren't so familiar with seeing trash cans as a food source, after all. And it would be a shame to leave such a cute kitty alone to starve on the street...

If the cat made any verbal protests against being scooped up, Amaya didn't hear it.

Paperwork, ever the bane of those cursed to experience it, was among the most important and worst parts of rebuilding Lux Aurea. While they had once had vast resources and great wealth to operate with, nearly all of it was lost to the destruction. Now, Janai had to figure out how best to divide up what was left.

Of course, any spare or unused items in the castle's various cellars, basements, and storage rooms were given away where it would be most needed- old clothes, sturdy dishware, warm blankets, tucked-away boxes of children's toys, anything that could assist or comfort the people- her people- was handed out to them, or put where they could access them.

After that, she had the matter of actual resources, like wood, various metals, food, and money. Money was the biggest source of concern. She had sold or traded anything particularly valuable but not notably useful (Khessa had apparently been far fonder of sparkly jewelry than Janai or their brother had been aware of), but still, there was never enough to go around. The builders must be paid for their labor, but they can't do any labor if they're starving because the farmers weren't paid for their food. But if they pay the farmers first, where will they put the food? Many of the storage vaults, including several of the magically-enhanced ones that can preserve food for years, were damaged or destroyed in the attack. Yet there was still the matter of the guards who were helping her maintain order in all this mess, and the smiths who had so quickly begun work on dearly needed tools, nails, and steel toes for boots- they must also be compensated for their labor.

Far from last, far from least, there are families starving, homeless, and grieving, so many lives disrupted and upturned- and she was responsible for all of them. She hadn't even time for her own grief. Luckily, she had Amaya by her side, to carry out her will as her right hand, and to help her come to terms with her loss. Right now, Amaya was helping with delivering goods across the city; not the grandest job, but she needed to know they would arrive at their intended destination, but most of the guards were already busy with, well, guarding.

Perhaps she could organize a meeting between the builders and the farmers. If she could get the builders to agree to build for the farmers first- er no, wait, get the farmers to give food to- or, wait, was it... Augh, she was starting to confuse herself. But there was no time to take a break to clear her head, so she'd have to keep going. What was it that each of them wanted? Well, maybe if the builders agreed to let the farmers be paid first, the farmers would agree to lend the builders some of their draft beasts. But, if that failed, then-

Janai's caravan of thought was knocked clear off the road as Amaya slammed the door open. No matter how many times Janai asked her to just pound on the door and open it normally, Amaya liked the surprised looks on everyone's faces as she barged into a room as loudly as she could. Or as loudly as she hoped she could. All the same, Janai stood up to greet her. "Ah, you're back! How was..." She trailed off, looking at the strange animal her beloved girlfriend was gleefully holding up, like a child showing off their newest toy. "Amaya, what is that?"

Amaya shifted the animal to rest across her left arm, so she could use her right hand to pinch next to her cheek, pull it back, and let it go. What? She knew Amaya was having some difficulty identifying Xadian wildlife, but how could she mess this one up to such a degree? Surely they had those in Katolis, and Amaya should be familiar with them already?

"Amaya, that is not a cat. Where did you find that?"

#omygod anon #thank you so much i cannot stop smiling this is so fucking cute #esp the part where amaya found the red panda #like aaaaaaaaa #janai #amaya #janaya #fic #thank you thank you litrally #i am so happy this made me so happy #submission

89 notes · View notes

motheatencrow · 1 year

Text

bug game minipost (as of jan. 2023)

heyhey! since the last one i've discovered new bug games! this post won't be... as "in-depth" as the other one since a lot of these i just have not played personally but they look cool so i thought i'd share :]

(remember that this is as of jan. 15 2023 so if any game unreleased game on here is now released, it may have been after the date that this was made)

there will only be 2 categories this time around: released games and games to be released/are being developed

under the released games, i will also be stating if i have finished the game, played them, or simply heard of them (can range from “i have the game wishlisted”, “owned but not played”, literally only heard of it, etc.)

i will be doing the following if possible!:

- i will be providing brief comments for what i think of each game (this is my opinion of each game!! everyone has their own tastes and its alright if you dont agree with what i say! and in no way is my comments for each game professional/an attempt to critique the game in any way ksfhskjd)

- what the gameplay is like (sort of. im not really good at explaining LMAO)

- where you can find these games (game websites may be linked if available instead!)

visual warnings for this post: gif/image heavy, bright imagery click here for the text-only version!

let's begin!

released games

antadin [dx] - available on steam (dx) and itch.io (original); heard of - i've only watched manlybadasshero play the [original] game but i think it had a good story for how brief it was! excerpt from the game page: "- A short and tightly told little rpg, matching the size of the characters whose faith you decide. // - Lots and lots of choices, affecting the gameplay and story. // - Traverse a truly unique world of fantasy, insects and twisting gods. // - Try to uphold the virtues of the noble order of the antadins."

hive mind by R3 Games - available on steam; heard of - just saw this game as i was lookin for new bug games. here's an excerpt from its page: "Hive Mind is a hectic hive management co-op, from 1-4 players. You and your bee friends are desperately trying to fill the remaining honey cells before winter arrives while simultaneously keeping the hives morale above the brink."

berry - available on steam (full game) and itch.io (game jam); finished - a short and charming game where you're a spider trying to reach the top of a mountain! there are different endings depending on how much of something you collect and there's lore attached to each one! an excerpt from its page: "Berry is a short orthogonal 3D platformer centered on delivering light bullet-hell challenges and precise projectile manipulation using its unique web-orbiting systems. Fight unique bosses and unlock new abilities in this tiny Metroidvania adventure!"

the following is a bunch of games by Sokpop Collective i have not played any of these games so i'll only be putting excerpts about the games from their pages

new colony - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "New Colony is a weird, short narrative game about an ant who has to start an ant colony. // Around 15 minutes of gameplay // Be an ant & have fun with your ant friends // Drag bread around // Summon the Dark Lord"

bombini - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "Bombini is a short game about bees trying to survive, collect pollen, sustain your hive, and watch out for spiders!"

spider ponds - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "Weave a web, catch prey, and discover the forest's secrets. Move along webs, sprouts and trees, eat flies to replenish your stamina, and follow a mysterious figure to see the end."

frog struggles - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "Frog struggles is a short action game about bugs that live in a pond, watch out for hostile bugs, water, and the big frog... // 10-20 minutes of playtime. // Fight other bugs with a stick. // Collect various pieces of fruit. // Become friends or foes with other tribes. // Big frog with a big tongue."

ginseng hero - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "Ginseng Hero is an action-adventure game about bugs surviving in a miniature world. You play as a beetle that goes on a trip to find a cure for a loved one. Explore a cute miniature world, obtain various weapons, and use them to defeat flies, ants, and beetles in a physics-based melee combat system."

kochu's dream - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "Kochu's Dream is a 3d bug action-adventure game. [...] Meet a cast of variably friendly animals, find various items to become stronger, and chase an elusive, mischievous fairy into an enormous tree stump... Can you find a way to turn into a human again? Or will you stay a bug... forever?!"

white lavender - available on steam and itch.io; heard of - "White Lavender is a challenging adventure game with RPG-elements. Become a bug, fight other critters, collect powerful items such as pencils and teaspoons, meet cool characters, and up your fashion game on a journey to brew a special tea!"

that is the end of the Sokpop Collection games

birdgut - available on steam; finished - a partially agonzing platformer game where you're a deformed bee that gets eaten by a bird and you must find a way to escape. after beating this game i believe i could beat path of pain in hollow knight (i have not attempted it yet at all as im currently writing this jflkf). definitely worth a look if you enjoy platformers with a bit of challenge, trying to find secrets, and like collecting all achievements/are a completionist!

bugged dungeon - available on steam; heard of - a puzzle game that plays around with your ability to move. you'll gain the ability to use "a" to go left, you'll lose the ability to go left, you'll start with being able to press "w", you'll start without the "w" key, and so on! an excerpt from the game page: "Dodge obstacles and solve puzzles in this ZX homage! Help Bumble undo the curse on his family, and re-gain your controls one by one in each of Bugged Dungeons’s 20 brain-bending rooms."

tales of fire - available on steam; heard of - an excerpt from the game page: "Tales of Fire is a short story-driven game, embark on an adventure to bring fire to your ant village or else they all die to the cold winter breeze. Platform your way through mushrooms, escape from evil spiders and make friends along the way. Can you save them?"

to be released/in development

insectarium - steam page - if you enjoyed collecting bugs in animal crossing (like me) then this game will probably be the one for you! an excerpt from the page: "You’ve just sunk your life savings into buying the local Insectarium! Once the lifeblood of the town and its economy, someone stole all the bugs from the Insectarium in the dead of night, and the town never quite recovered. Now, years later, can you be the one to restore the Insectarium to glory and revive the fortunes of the town?"

underfoot queens - steam page/itch.io page - a management game revolving around growing your ant colony! an excerpt from the game page: "Underfoot Queens is an ant themed 4x where you will lead your species across generations. Explore, forage for food, expand your colony, fight off competitors, and survive the elements on your path to evolution. In the end, only the most adaptable species will survive."

the last humble-bee - steam page - an excerpt from the game page: "A bee with a broadsword discovers the meaning of bravery. Drift through a de-saturated world and hack and slash hordes of dark enemies to find friends, treasure, and inner-strength. Experience freedom, persevere overwhelm, and overcome isolation in this action rogue-like RPG."

tracks of thought - website - an excerpt from the game page: "Welcome aboard! A bad case of mass forgetfulness plagues the passengers! It’s up to you to embark on a journey of self-discovery shaped by your own personality. As a lost ladybug, talk to everyone on board and uncover the train’s secret destination in a wholesome, card-based, talk-'em-up RPG!"

#image heavy #gif heavy #bright colors

6 notes · View notes

tisfan · 4 years

Text

For Want of a Nail

Title: For Want of a Nail Written by: @tisfan 3023 and @27dragons 3033 Tony Stark Bingo Square: (tisfan) May Adopted: Centaur AU Fantasy Bingo (both): Magic is Mundane Rating: teen and up Pairing: Winteriron Triggers/warnings: human/demi-human relationships Tags: centaur au, meet cute, culture discussions, references to abuse Created for: @tonystarkbingo, fantasy bingo

Word count: 3909

Summary: The centaur, Bucky, is traveling to the witch coven to get the herbs needed to alleviate his herd-mate’s cough. On the way, he throws a shoe. Centaurs don’t usually associate much with humans, but what choice has he got?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928297/chapters/60328990

If it had been any other day of the year, Bucky might have been enjoying the weather. It was warm, but breezy, so sweat dried on his flanks, cooling him as soon as it formed. The sun was out, there were some light clouds, and it had rained the night before, so everything smelled sweet and clean.

But it wasn’t any other day of the year. It was two days before the Summer Solstice, he still had more than fifty miles to go, and he’d just thrown a shoe.

He picked the shoe up from the side of the road where it had landed when that last dubious nail had gone wobbly.

The shoe itself was not in terrible shape, but even if he had a hammer and nails -- which he didn’t -- there was no way he was flexible enough to shoe his own rear hoof. He was bendy, but not that bendy. He didn’t even think Natasha was that bendy.

He’d passed a small town about a league ago, and he was pretty sure he’d seen smoke when he passed it, which usually indicated a smithy.

Centaurs didn’t spend a lot of time in human towns, unless they had to. So Bucky had never stopped at the myriad villages and townships along the path from where he and his herd lived in Brooklyn, all the way out to the coven of healers and witches, even though he made the trip four times a year. The herbs Steve needed to calm his cough were rare, and preparing them was even harder. It required a witch. And a sacred holiday.

But there was no way he could run another fifty miles while missing a shoe. He was just going to have to hope that the town did have a blacksmith, that the blacksmith knew how to make shoe nails, and that he knew how to put a shoe on a centaur.

“Haybales,” Bucky swore. He tucked the shoe into his satchel, turned around, and limped back the other way, trying not to put too much weight on his left hind leg, and taking care to not stumble on his right front leg. It was like trying to canter and eat apples at the same time. Possible, but not recommended.

Almost an hour later, he managed to stagger into the village.

People stared at him, and no wonder, as he was moving like a horse with tetany, limping hard to one side, and then to the other.

“Blacksmith?” he demanded of the nearest human who got close enough to him.

“Down that street,” she said, pointing. “Toward the end, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” he said, offering one of the small metal things that humans used. Coins, Bucky’s herd stallion called them. Centaurs didn’t trade in things so useless, so he really didn’t remember the value of them.

Her eyes widened as she took it. “Thank you, sir.”

Right. Bucky shrugged. Apparently the yellow ones were the higher value coins. Stupid, human things. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to ignore the aching in his hocks, and thudded down the human road. It would have been easier to walk in the grass, but humans didn’t put much value in grass. Follow the smoke. And as he got closer, the ringing sound of metal on metal.

Finally, he made it, and all but started to cry of sheer exhaustion, but he wasn’t a colt to cry and wail, so he settled himself as well as he could. “Ho, the blacksmith!”

“Two shakes!” The hammer kept ringing, a slow, steady beat, for another minute or two, and then Bucky heard the loud hiss of hot metal that had been quenched. Another thud and some clattering, and the smith emerged, wiping the sweat from his face. “Aye, what’s the-- Oh!” He stared up at Bucky with suddenly-wide eyes. “Hello, stranger.”

Bucky huffed. He wasn’t so very strange. If anything, the tiny little human who emerged from the smithy was strange, with his goggly eyes stuck in his hair, and the smears all over his clothes and skin, and… well, there was no denying that clothes were pretty strange, in and of themselves. But humans were always wearing clothes, so maybe, to them, centaurs were the odd ones.

“I require the services of a blacksmith,” Bucky said. “And perhaps a farrier.” In centaur herds, the job was the same; work metal into shoes and nails, attach them for their herdmates. But Bucky had heard that some humans worked metal for other things. The centaurs often had to trade for more specialized metal parts and pieces.

“I can fit shoes,” the smith said. He looked Bucky over, sharp-eyed, zeroing in on the unshod hoof. “How long have you been walking on it like that?”

Bucky scowled. “It was loose when I left the herd, but our blacksmith was away. It only kicked free maybe three or four miles ago?”

The smith grunted. “Not too bad, then. Do you need a new shoe? That might take me a little while; centaur hooves are wider than most of the dumb stock our farmers keep.”

“I found it,” Bucky said. He couldn’t have left it behind. Among the herd, he and Steve were the lowest ranking, had the least amount of grazing space. If he’d lost the shoe, he would probably have had to hire the smith to remove the other three and gone shoeless for a season or two while they scavenged for cast off human made items to melt and trade. Steve had nailed the right front shoe on for him a few times when it came loose. He pulled it out of the satchel he wore across his chest. “I have human coin.”

The smith shook his head. “Don’t worry about it; cost of a few nails won’t set me back too far, and you’re pretty enough to be worth it.” He flashed a grin up at Bucky as he took the shoe, running his hands over its worn edges with practiced ease. “What depth?”

Bucky held out one hand, showing off a broad thumb. “The length between this knuckle, and that one.” He kicked out with his left hind leg, groaning a little. “I think the frog’s bruised.” Stupid human roads and their stupid human rocks. He’d known a few of their herd who were able to afford fancy shoes, with a cover that kept rocks and dirt out. But then, some of them ended up lame anyway. Normal shoes did all right for him, and for Steve.

The smith frowned at that. “I’ve got some cream I can put on it that’ll help with the pain. And a pad, too. Come on into the shop, let’s get you fitted. Name’s Tony, by the way.” He glanced at the human-sized door he’d come through, then jerked his head and led the way around the side of the building, to where the smith’s forge was set under a roof with no wall. A hitching post stood to one side of the yard and the dirt had obviously been well-trampled by numerous hooves.

Tony. Huh. Bucky wondered if he was named for how tiny he was. But then, most humans were tiny, comparatively. “Bucky is what I am called.”

Tony twisted past the forge and reached into a barrel to draw out a handful of horseshoe nails. He held them up against Bucky’s shoe to check the fit, one by one. One nail got tossed back into the barrel and another selected. When he was satisfied, he held them out for Bucky’s inspection. “All good?”

Bucky swallowed. “You have a whole barrel full of nails?” Tony must be rich. He’d never selected nails before. They’d usually been made on the spot, the day he needed them, and sometimes driven red-hot into the hoof. Which didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable.

Bucky took up one nail and looked at it. It looked like a centaur shoe nail. “I-- I can’t tell,” he admitted. “I don’t usually look at my own nails.”

Tony shrugged. “Okay. Speak up if it doesn’t feel right, and we’ll figure it out.” He grinned again. “At least I can trust you not to try to kick me.” He reached up on a shelf and grabbed a jar. “This’ll help that bruise.” He tucked the nails and the shoe into the pocket of the leather apron he wore and made his way toward Bucky’s rear, one hand running lightly along Bucky’s side.

That was twitchy, and Bucky found himself flicking his tail at the light touch, as if Tony were a fly he could shoo off. Except, he didn’t really want the light, ticklish touch to stop. Not really.

“I’m not used to humans being so close,” Bucky complained. “But no, I won’t kick you.”

Probably. Assuming Tony didn’t do anything horrible, like pull his tail.

“Oh, sorry!” Tony jerked his hand away. “Habit, that. You have to let horses know where you are if they can’t see you. I’ve only met a handful of centaurs before. Sorry. I, uh-- Okay, can you lift the foot for me?”

Bucky twisted around, trying to see. Tony was right in that blind spot of his, where his own rump got in the way of seeing what was behind him. “Is there a stump?” He usually rested his leg against a leather padded tree stump so the smith could work on it. He picked up his leg, sighing with relief as the pain eased, and was shocked when Tony grabbed his hock and rested it against-- Bucky twisted further, trying to see-- it looked like the human had Bucky’s hoof held between his own thighs.

“Is that how-- you usually do this?”

“Sure,” Tony said easily. “Horses do not like having their legs held up; have to brace them somehow so they stay put while I put the shoe on. Which, now that I think of it, doesn’t make sense for centaurs for like four different reasons. What are you used to?” Bucky couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but he touched the bottom of Bucky’s hoof, little points of soreness where he was testing the bruise, and then there was something cool on it, like he’d stepped into dewy grass.

So Bucky found himself talking about the smith in his herd -- Rumlow, a big, brawny centaur with a liver chestnut coat. “It’s considered bad manners to kick another herd member,” Bucky told him, matter of fact. “And cowardly to move your hoof while the smith works.” He didn’t mention that he sometimes thought Rumlow took advantage of both of those things to be cruel. Getting shod didn’t have to be painful, even if it was never exactly pleasant.

Case in point: Tony, who rubbed the cream into Bucky’s bruised frog, then carefully fitted the shoe. “First nail’s the hardest,” he said. “I need three hands, I swear-- Okay, going in now; speak up if it doesn’t feel right.” The shuddery jolt through Bucky’s leg as the hammer struck home, the pressure in his hoof from the nail driving into it. But it wasn’t painful; the nail stopped well short of the sensitive places covered by the hoof. “Okay?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Bucky said. Tony might have needed three hands, but Bucky needed eyes on his tail, he could swear.

“Great!” Tony wiggled the shoe a little, testing its position, then placed another nail. “Off we go, then.”

It didn’t take nearly as long, Bucky thought. Although he wasn’t sure about that; he couldn’t see the sun, so it was nearly impossible to judge the time, but no more than a finger’s worth of shadow had grown before Tony was letting his hoof down with a cheerful, “how’s that feel?”

Bucky took a couple of tentative steps. It was always those few steps that had made him want to kick Rumlow. Hard. In the chest. But everything felt… pretty good, actually. No limping home and getting Steve to bring him a bucket of ale.

He could still use a drink, really. The whole thing was nerve-wracking and made him feel twitchy and shuddery like he’d gotten bitten by flies and needed a spare tail, or some mud to roll in.

“Very well, I thank you again,” Bucky said. He reached for his satchel and pulled out the handful of assorted coins. Sometimes humans would give them to the herd for pieces of their tail. Powerful charms could be made from them, Bucky understood. One winter, when things had been very, very bad, Bucky had plucked almost his entire tail bare to get enough herbs for Steve’s salve. He still had a few coins left from that. “Here, I-- I don’t know what these mean, but humans like them.” He offered the handful to Tony.

Tony shook his head. “It’s fine, really. Save them for the next time you need to trade with humans. The conversation was worth the price of a few nails.”

“You must be very wealthy,” Bucky commented, looking around the shop now that he was shod and feeling better. He probably wouldn’t go completely lame, which was good, and maybe the witches would let him rest at their coven before the long trot back to the herd. There were piles of tools, and stacks of bars. “Are these pure iron?” He touched one of the bars tentatively.

“Those, yes. Those over there are steel.” Tony nodded toward another stack. “Is that what your people trade in? Iron?”

“Iron, yes,” Bucky said, even if he’d never seen so much iron in his life. “And leather. Special wood for our bows. Iron is good. For arrowheads and tools. Awls and hammers and dig-rods. There’s a tool, we have one in our whole herd, that cuts wheat, swish, just like that! With an iron blade.”

“You’re using an iron-bladed scythe?” Tony said. “How... Even our poorest farmers at least have steel scythes.” He glanced around the shop, then stepped into the shadows and came back with a wheat-cutter. Its handle was shaped a little differently than the one the herd had, but the blade was much the same, except for being bright and silvery. “Steel doesn’t wear down as fast as iron,” Tony explained. “Stays sharp longer.”

“Ours--” Bucky said, reaching out as if to touch the shiny blade, but not quite daring to do so. “Ours is dark, and red, and the surface is… has little dings in it. It’s very old. Our herd stallion took it as a trophy of war, some two decades ago.”

Tony sighed a little. “Yeah, that’s not surprising. And if it’s red and pitted, it’s not going to last much longer. Take this one.” He held it out, then frowned and pulled it back. “Actually, I could lengthen the handle, since your shoulders sit a good three or four feet higher than a human’s. Be easier to use with a longer handle.”

“I couldn’t possibly trade for that,” Bucky whispered. “Not even if I picked my tail bare for three seasons.”

“Picked your-- This is a common tool,” Tony said. “Three gold coins -- well, four, if I’m going to change out the handle.”

Four. Of the yellow coins? And Bucky could have a tool that would make him rich-- a wheat-cutter, long enough to use comfortably? He could clear the fields in mere weeks, before the grain rotted and the bugs infested the stalks.

Bucky found a clear space on one of the shelves and started pulling things out of his satchel. A packet of clay-made arrowheads -- Steve had made those one year when they’d had a good fire going -- and several balls of thread, his trail rations, which were mostly just berries and honey, dried until they were sticky bars. There. At the very bottom, he had what was left of the coins, twelve, altogether. “This is what I have.”

Tony leaned in to look. He plucked a few coins out of the small pile, and then picked up the arrowheads, pulling one free of the packet and testing its edge with his thumb.

“Steve usually makes beads,” Bucky said, as if apologizing for the work. “Beads for luck, and beads for good harvest… beads.” He touched the one in his hair that hung there, tiny and beautiful, that was charmed to keep away owlbears, one of the centaur’s greatest enemies. The better the carving on the bead, the better the charm worked, and Steve was an expert carver. “These were-- because we need to eat sometimes, too.”

Tony frowned. “Why wouldn’t you eat? Especially if your Steve makes beads for harvest. Our hedge-witch, who blesses our harvests, she gets a share of every crop as soon as it comes in. More than she could eat in a year, truth told. She gives a lot of it to the orphans’ home.”

“Steve’s-- well, Steve is bad luck. Born under an ill-omen, too early. Sickly. He coughs a lot and has trouble breathing. He’s very slow, too. His legs don’t always work right. We have to pay the herd stallion just to stay in the herd. We wouldn’t be safe, alone. I’d have to leave him alone to hunt and to harvest.” Bucky shuddered. Rumlow had tried a few times to convince him to let the runt go, to leave him behind. But Bucky wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that. Steve was his best friend.

Tony looked shocked. “You have to pay to-- That’s awful. You and your-- what, brother? Mate? -- you need a new herd.”

“Steve’s my best friend,” Bucky said, a little defensively. “I don’t even know--” He knew there were other centaur herds, but getting taken in as two unmated males, one of whom was sickly? He doubted it would be easy, and Steve probably wouldn’t live long enough to find one, anyway. As it was, Nastasha and Sam took turns watching Steve when Bucky couldn’t be there. “Maybe next year. I still need to go to the witch coven and get herbs. We’d need a good, long, dry season to even start looking.”

And that didn’t even consider the possibility that, separated from their herd, the owlbears would come. Centaur meat was their favorite, and the owlbears were predation hunters. They would just keep coming, long after a centaur had gone lame.

Tony’s face twisted. “I suppose that makes sense. Still, if you and your friend wanted to come here, we’d help you.”

Bucky blinked. Live among humans. “Why?” he asked cautiously, his tail flicking a few times and his whole lower body sidled a little bit away from Tony.

“Why not? I like you, you seem like a good person. Your friend obviously has some real skill--” Tony held up the arrowhead he’d been fiddling with. “--and the town could always use another good hunter. And, quite frankly, your herd stallion sounds like a dick.”

It wouldn’t take nearly as long to make the trip from the herdlands to the village, Bucky thought. “I will ask Steve what he thinks,” he said. Because Steve had been very outspoken against the herd stallion -- which probably had added to their burden of tithe. And because Steve wasn’t going to live much longer if things didn’t change. Maybe this would be a good change.

“Are we allowed?” Because a human would never be allowed to live among the herd, even if there wasn’t precisely a rule against it.

“Of course,” Tony said. “We’ve got a couple of elf families, and there’s a satyr who works for the tanner, and there’s a clan of dwarves who-- well, they don’t live in town, but they’re pretty close by; they come in all the time to trade with us.” He cocked his head, considering. “Might cause a few problems because the buildings aren’t really designed for anyone with four legs, but we can probably work around that.”

It was worth considering. Bucky nodded. “All right.” He eyed the scythe greedily. “How long will it take, to make these changes? I must be to the coven by the Solstice.”

Tony looked down at the scythe thoughtfully. “You’re on your way out to the coven? Stop by on your way back and it’ll be ready.”

“I shall, then,” Bucky said. He sniffed a bit, and located a bucket of somewhat dirty water. He grimaced, but it was probably better than trying to drink out of the human’s trough they kept. “Can I impose further on a bucket or two of water?”

“Sure, water’s easy,” Tony said. He edged past Bucky to a small covered pit in the yard. He pulled the cover away to reveal a deep well, water sparkling at the bottom. Tony lowered a bucket on a rope and then hauled it back up and offered it to Bucky.

Bucky peered into the well. “Did you-- make this?” Humans were perhaps not so stupid after all. The herd drank from the river, and rainwater when it could be caught up in woven straw buckets.

“Well, not me personally; that well’s been here since before I was born. But I helped one of the farms dig a new well a few years back, so I know how.”

“I don’t think we could do that,” Bucky said. He wouldn’t fit in such a small opening. “But it’s amazing. How convenient for you.”

“Important to have water close by the smithy,” Tony said. “Fire being what it is. I have some ideas for ways to make it easier to lower and raise the bucket, when I have time to build it. Maybe over the winter.”

Bucky drank from the bucket, almost thirty swallows exactly, before handing it back, empty.

“You’re very kind,” Bucky said, “and very clever. Beadwork is not what I do well, but--” He plucked out one hair from his tail and wrapped it several times around his finger, rolling it into a ring. Closed his hand around it and concentrated. It wasn’t much, a simple cantrip that anyone in the herd could do. But when he handed it over, it was a shiny, slender band, the same deep red as Bucky’s coat. “If you have need of my aid, hold this ring and think of me, and I will hear you, and come.”

Tony’s eyes widened as he took the ring. “You’re really-- I mean, this is. I didn’t do that much, you know.”

“It’s cantrip magic,” Bucky said, closing Tony’s hand around it. “Any colt in the herd can do this much. If I show up and you’re facing a parliament of owlbears, I will probably not help you.” He laughed at that joke. No one would want to face a parliament of owlbears.

Tony laughed, too. It was a nice sound. “If I’m facing an entire parliament of owlbears, then I expect I’ll be lunch long before you get to me. Luckily, there aren’t too many near here.”

“No, perhaps not,” Bucky said. “Again, I thank you. I will return for the wheat-cutter in… four days time, barring unexpected delays.” He bowed, hand over his heart, extending one foreleg. Very formal. He rarely bowed to the herd stallion so low, but Tony wouldn’t know that.

Tony echoed the gesture, as well as a being with only two legs could. “It has been my honor to meet you, Bucky.”

“The honor is mine.”

A/n - Grass tetany is a horse illness that causes them to have muscle cramps, general lack of coordination, and “staggering.” It’s usually caused by a nutritional imbalance, or too much time being transported, or stuck in a small stall. Horses need to MOVE AROUND.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #fairytale bingo #winteriron #centaur AU #magic is mundane

44 notes · View notes

panfishonthefly · 3 years

Text

Fly Tying Friday: The Wee Frog

When it comes to topwater flies for panfish, anything goes. That is one of the things I love about warm water fly fishing. Panfish, bass, and other warmwater predators like pickerel and pike are not concerned that your offering is not an exact replication of the last thing they ate. If it looks alive and can fit in their mouth, they will often have a go at it.

The lack of demand for realism in fly patterns is one thing that sets warmwater fly fishing apart from trout fishing. We are far more concerned with matching the hatch and delivering a proper presentation in the trout world. Warm water fly fishing is a more rough and tumble affair. Fly selection based on whim and fancy can be just as effective as attempting to match what the fish are currently eating.

Looking into one of my warmwater fly boxes, you see a lot of whim and fancy. Garish colors like chartreuse, fluorescent yellow, bright pink don't often occur in the natural world. Based on the contents of my fly boxes, you would think that panfish live in a world filled with psychedelic colors. There is no doubt that these brightly colored, un-natural looking flies work. If they didn't, they would not take up so much room in my fly boxes. However, if you look close enough, you will find more natural-looking flies mixed in with that kaleidoscope of colors.

Maybe the decades spent chasing trout keep me coming back to more natural-looking flies that imitate the things that panfish eat. I enjoy tying and fishing patterns like damselflies and dragonflies, two essential food items for warm water fish. Also mixed in with the odd-looking foam and hair creations, you will find a smattering of flies that you can readily recognize as terrestrial insects like hoppers, beetles, and ants. The natural-looking flies that stand out the most are the frogs. My frog patterns are instantly recognizable as the amphibians that are meant to represent.

Everyone knows a bass or a pickerel has a hard time ignoring a properly presented frog pattern, but panfish? You can make the argument that most adult frogs are too big of a prey item to be eaten by most panfish. However, there are smaller species of frogs whose habitats mix with that of panfish. In my area, the Northern Cricket Frog is one such example. While technically a tree frog, it does not take to the branches but prefers a more aquatic existence. They are often found along the muddy banks of ponds and slow-moving streams. As an adult, they range in size from three-quarters of an inch to an inch and a half, which firmly puts them in the size range of something big bluegill would try to eat.

If you search the pages of this blog, you will find several small frog patterns that I tie and fish exclusively for panfish. Most are created using a foam or preformed body. The fly pattern in today's post has been teased in a few recent posts and on social media. Each time I show a picture of it, I receive messages and emails requesting more information on the pattern, so I figure it is high time I share it with the world.

This pattern is tied using flat foam. I have tied small frog patterns using flat foam in the past but have never been entirely satisfied with them. Thin 2mm foam does not have the bulk needed to imitate a chunky little frog, and the thicker foam I have worked with in the past was tough to work with on the small scale in which these flies are tied.

After joining Semperfli's team of fly tiers, I was introduced to a new type of foam. Semperfli's flat foam is a closed-cell foam, but the air pockets or cells are larger than what is found in most fly tyers foam. This characteristic means the foam compresses easily. Their foam is also remarkably strong and resists tearing quite well. Because it compresses so well, I can use thicker foam, in this case 4.5mm, to create a frog body on hooks as small as a size 12. Combine a body made from this thick foam and Pat Cohen's Creature Frog Legs; you have the perfect panfish-sized frog pattern.

You could tie the fly very simply with just those two materials, but I like to add an underbody that adds a little sparkle and movement by using a material like Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs. It gives the fly a finished appearance along with added color, movement, and flash. Rubber legs are a must because a topwater bluegill fly without rubber legs doesn't feel right.

I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of warmer weather and the return of my favorite pastime, topwater fishing for panfish. There is something about bluegill taking a fly off the surface that puts a smile on my face every time. Finally, it appears my wait is over, and mother nature has warmed things up to the point that my favorite fish have returned to the shallows and a looking up for their next meal.

One of the things I love about fishing tiny frog patterns for panfish is the take. Bluegills often slide under a topwater fly and suck it off the surface with an audible slurp. Not the case with a frog pattern. They seem to know that this type of prey can elude them if they're not careful, and they grab them off the surface with a vengeance, more like the take of a bass. I am often surprised when a big bluegill comes to hand, mistaking the violent take for a bass.

Fishing Frog Patterns

When fishing frog patterns, I prefer to cast parallel to the bank instead of casting out into the middle of the pond. Frogs are found along the bank, seldom straying far from it, and this is where I find these flies to be most effective. My favorite way to fish them is to slip on a pair of hip boots or waders and walk out a short distance from the shoreline. I then slowly make my way along the shore, casting ahead of me as I move. My first cast will put the fly as close to the bank as possible. I then fan out my casts until I reach a point 10 -15 feet from shore. I will then move down the shoreline a short distance and repeat the process. Fishing from a float tube or kayak is also a good option for this type of fishing as you can bring the watercraft close to the shoreline and use the same method. Fishing from the bank is usually problematic as there are generally too many obstructions to grab a fly line or rid tip.

A plus side to fishing frog patterns for panfish is that you will attract predators like bass and pickerel. Even though a size 12 frog is not much of a meal for a bass, they seem to recognize an easy snack and seldom pass it up. I have found that pickerel are so fond of these tiny frogs that I refrain from fishing them in waters where they are present in good numbers as I lose far too many flies to these toothy predators. If tiny frog patterns are not part of your topwater panfish arsenal, they should be. Give them a try; you won't be disappointed!

Pattern Recipe:

Hook: Size 10 or 12 Firehole 618 or comparable hook

Thread: 6/0 Semperfli Classic Waxed Thread in the color of choice

Frog Legs: Cohen’s Creature Fog Legs size micro or mini depending on hook used

Underbody: Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs

Legs: Round Rubber

Body: Semperfli 4.5mm Flat Foam in the color of choice cut in a teardrop shape using a foam cutter or trimmed by hand with scissors, craft knife, etc.

Thread Treatment: Solarez Bone Dry UV Resin or Solarez Bone Dry Plus UV Resin

Tying Instructions:

The first step is to prepare the body. You want an appropriately sized teardrop shape piece of foam. You can cut the shape out by hand, but I like using a spider body foam cutter. The largest size spider body cutter produces a perfectly sized body for a size 12 frog.

Start your thread on the hook shank and wrap it down to the bend of the hook. At the bend, tie in your frog legs. Note: I add color to the legs before tying them in. I get the best results using fabric markers as the colors will not fade even after repeated dunkings in the water.

Optional: Before tying in the frog legs, you can add a small loop of stiff monofilament. This loop may help keep the frog legs from fouling on the hook shank (something that is seldom a problem on a fly this small), and it gives you a convenient tie-in point for adding a dropper. The legs are then added on top of the loop.

After tying in the frog legs, I bring the thread back towards the eye, stopping an eye length or two from the front of the hook.

Capture a small piece of the wide end of the foam body with thread wraps and lash it down to the front of the hook. When working with foam, don't use a lot of pressure on the first few thread wraps to avoid cutting the foam. Lightly trap down the foam with a wrap or two, then increase the thread pressure with subsequent wraps to further compress and secure the foam. Semperfli foam excels here as it compresses easily without bulk.

Once the front of the body is tied down, tie in a short piece of Straggle String right at the tie-in point for the foam.

Leaving the Straggle String in place, advance the thread to a point mid-shank and tie in a pair of rubber legs, bringing the thread back to the bend once the legs are secured.

Wind the Straggle String down the hook shank, careful not to tie down the rubber leg material. When you reach the frog legs' tie-in point, you can tie it off and cut away the excess.

The final step is to fold the body back and lash it down. Once secured, trim away excess foam (if using a foam cutter there will be a small tab of foam remaining), whip finish, and cut away the thread. A drop of thin UV Resin like Solarez Bone Dry protects the thread and keeps everything in place.

Note: There is probably no need to color the body as the fish likely only see the underside of the fly. Despite that, I always add some froggy-looking spots to the fly because I think they look better, but I doubt the fish care. I usually add custom colors once the fly is completed.

#Wee Frog #topwater #frog pattern #Micro Frog #foam bugs

3 notes · View notes

yeenybeanies · 4 years

Text

Drunken Cowboy? No, Shrunken Cowboy

hey anon? you know what’s up, pal. this isn’t an actual event that happens in the story canon with devin in the rdr world, but rather an au,, of an au lmao

red dead redemption | arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc )

1933 words

language warning

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

" Holy sh––Arthur? ”

The voice jolts the man awake, wrenching him from a very . . . strange and peculiar dream. Weird. He dreamed he was fighting off giant rats and frogs and snakes, and––and Dutch! Dutch was there! But he must’ve been as tall as a damn pine tree! He’d been looking down at Arthur with so much . . . disappointment . . ..

“ Arthur––hello? ”

Devin. Their voice seems unusually loud. It brings to his attention that, in addition to being a little groggy, he has quite the headache. Did he drink last night? Or is he just having a bad morning? Arthur sits up, shoving off the blankets that now seem to be smothering him. He looks around, feeling the chilly morning air on his bare skin. Hunh. He could have sworn that he’d worn a shirt to bed . . .. Hopefully his bare chest wouldn’t offend or startle the little lady . . ..

“ ‘m up, ‘m up, ” the gunslinger mumbles, a hand to his forehead. Man, his head is pounding. And his voice sounds a little funny . . .. Arthur grimaces. “ What’s all the fuss about? Did somethin’ hap–––woah! ” Woah indeed! Arthur blinks the sleep away and looks up to see Devin, as expected, but she’s not . . . tiny!

“ Arthur! Arthur, are you okay? What the hell happened––– ” The not-tiny being grabs Arthur’s face and turns his head left, then right, checking him over for any signs of injury.

“ Miss Devin–––? “ Their hands, now big enough to do so, squish his cheeks. Those cheeks, too, run a little pink at the contact and the proximity and his state of dress. “ M–miss Devin, how’d you get, erm . . . normal-sized? ”

They release him and lean back, dumbfounded, like they don’t believe what they’re seeing. Honestly, a part of them doesn’t. “ I’m not––I mean . . . I could ask you the same thing. ”

Arthur’s brows furrow, confusion quickly twisting his features. What is that supposed to mean? How is Devin suddenly him-sized? And why does he have this headache? Why is he so damn cold? He looks to his left, towards his table, and finds himself doing a double take.

Oh no . . ..

Oh boy . . ..

“ Arthur, I need you to stay calm . . .. ” Devin tries to placate, but even they don’t know how to deal with this situation.

The table Arthur is looking at––his table and his tent and everything around him––is fucking huge! It looks like––like he’s in that Jack and the beanstalk story and he’s crossed over into the world of giants, except this is his stuff in his tent!

Vocal cords frozen for the moment, Arthur can only try to stand––only to realize that the blanket he’s tangled in isn’t a blanket at all, but his shirt––his normal-sized shirt that apparently didn’t shrink down with him. And apparently neither did the rest of his clothes. Arthur glances down at himself and quickly pulls the fabric up, covering up to his navel. That pink in his cheeks is now a bright, bright red. Devin has a similar shade on their face, their gaze averted to allow Arthur some modesty.

“ I, um . . . I don’t know . . . what happened to you, but, um, you’re my size . . .. ” And naked. Devin swallows and takes a breath to steady themself. “ You’re in my world now. We should probably start by, uh, getting you some clothes. ” Soon. Not only would it save them both from this embarrassment, but it’d also stop Arthur from getting too cold. Tiny beings don’t retain much body heat.

Arthur’s words still aren’t coming to him. He can’t stop looking around, wondering what fresh hell landed him here, and what exactly it’s going to take to get him back to his normal. His attention snaps back to Devin, though, when he hears a tearing noise. The borrower has their fox tooth knife out, using it to cut through the giant shirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur laments that he likes this shirt, but there are far more pressing things afoot right now.

It doesn’t take long for Devin to fashion up some makeshift underwear and a simple toga-like piece for Arthur to put on. They turn around while he changes, and remain as such, even as he seems to struggle to figure out how to dress himself. He gets it eventually. His blush still remains as Devin faces him again, now the both of them at a bit of a loss for what to do.

“ ‘s this, uh . . . ” now some words are coming back. Arthur can’t stop looking around. Everything is so big. It’s making him dizzy, and doing nothing to help his headache. “ This is what you see, then . . . all the time, I mean. ”

“ Yeah. ” Devin spares a quick glance to their surroundings. They’re at the head of Arthur’s cot, fairly high up, relatively speaking. The clothing he shrank out of spans along the length of it, several times taller than either of them. “ This is how the world looks to me. We, uh––we should go. ”

“ I gotta be dreamin’ . . .. Naw, I’m definitely dreamin’. I was jus’ seein’ Dutch–––– ” SMACK! Caught mid-sentence, mid-word, Devin slaps Arthur right across the apple of his cheek. It makes him stumble. He gawks back at the borrower, bewildered. Ow. That was . . . quite the sucker punch.

Devin stares back at Arthur, just as bewildered. The redness had only just started to fade from their face, but now it’s back again full force. “ I’m sorry, ” they say quickly. “ Isn’t that, uh––isn’t that a way to wake someone up from a dream? I’m sorry, I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. ”

“ Shit, Devin. ” He rubs at the burning spot. “ If I was dreamin’, I’m definitely awake now. ” Which means this is actually happening. He’s actually, what? Three, four inches tall? Maybe three and a half, if he’s gauging himself based off of Devin.

“ I’m sorry. ” In their defense, they were trying to help. They take a breath and look over their shoulder, to the world beyond the tent. “ We should . . . we need to go. You probably don’t want to be seen . . .. ”

Right. God, no, the gunslinger would rather die than have one of the others find him like this, all miniature and wearing a god damn toga. He pats his waist, instinctively moving to check for his guns, but, of course, they aren’t on him. No, they’re right where he left them, nestled in their holsters on his belt, which hangs from a post at the head of his bed. There’s no way he’d be able to use them like this.

“ Come on. ” Devin takes his hand, pulling him from his thoughts. He takes just a moment to actually look at them. It’s never been possible to see them like this . . .. Were he in better spirits, he might chortle at the fact that he’s still taller than them. They lead him by the hand to the edge of the cot, where they previously snagged their hook into a loop in the tough canvas. A line of string hangs down from it, down to the ground far below. Arthur frowns.

“ Er . . . you sure it’ll hold? ” He takes a knee and gingerly tugs at the line, uncertain.

“ It will. And even if it didn’t, a fall from this high up wouldn’t kill you. Wouldn’t be fun, but you’d be okay. Doubt you’d have more than a bit of bruising, if that. ” They stomp the heel of their boot onto the hook and lean their weight onto it. “ You first. Quickly. ”

Oh, Arthur does not like this. He doesn’t like anything about this. Jaw tight, the shrunken man takes the rope, lowers himself over the edge, and starts his descent down to the ground below. It’s surprisingly easy, he finds. He doesn’t ever remember climbing a rope, lifting his own weight, to be anything other than tiring, but he’s hardly breathing heavily by the time he makes it down. And Devin––hoo, they make it look even easier. They descend the rope in a quarter of the time it took Arthur, and they shake it free of the canvas like they’ve been doing it their whole life.

Well, they have been doing it their whole life.

“ This way. ” Taking his hand again, Devin leads Arthur under the cot, and further under the wagon adjacent to his tent. The grass seems like a forest at this size––hell, it basically is in its own way––yet Devin moves so naturally through it. Arthur has always found it fascinating how Devin navigates their way through a giant world. Up close like this, it’s still just as fascinating.

After a bit of pushing through the grass, the pair come to a little clearing where it’s been pressed down and clipped. Arthur would guess correctly that it’s a miniature, Devin-sized campsite. They have a few bundles of fabric that he assumes is for sleeping, and a ring of stones with charred debris in the center. There’s also a sewn-up swath of burlap, no doubt holding more of Devin’s possessions.

“ This . . . where you live? ” He isn’t sure what he expected. It looks like a campsite Arthur might make when he’s away from the gang for a few days, minus a tent.

“ I have several different spots that I stay at. I don’t usually spend too much time at any one camp, and travel between them when I need to. ” They take one of the pieces of fabric, big as a blanket, and drape it over Arthur’s shoulders. “ I have some clothes at another camp that might fit you. You stay here; I’ll go get them. ”

“ Wha––now hold on, Miss Devin. I don’t––– ”

“ Hup––! ” Before he can finish his protest, Devin shoves a hand in his face. “ No. Arthur, this isn’t a discussion. I don’t know how you got here, or how you’re going to get out of here, but, right now, you are in my world. ” They let their hand fall and render him with a hard stare, holding it for a few extra seconds just to get their point across. Once they release it, though, they let out a breath and untie the wrap around their waist that holds their knife.

“ Hang onto this. I rarely need it anyway, since I know what I’m doing out there. If something does come by, you can use it to protect yourself. ”

Arthur hesitates, and almost turns down the weapon, but Devin’s features harden again. They shove it into his hands. It’s . . . not as heavy as he’d thought it would be. Up this close, Arthur can see the intricate carvings in the enamel more clearly.

“ Devin, I–––– ”

“ Most insects won’t mess with you, nor will mice. Rats can be more aggressive, but I doubt any will come by. They tend to avoid anywhere I’ve been recently. ” The borrower adjusts their pack and starts for the treeline––grassline?

“ Devin, wait––– ”

“ If anything does come by, you try to hide first. If that doesn’t work, then you run. If that doesn’t work, then you fight. ”

“ Devin! ” They pause mid-step at the clearing edge. Arthur sighs. “ Thank you. I know neither of us expected to, uh, deal with this today, so . . .. ”

They muster up a faint, genuine smile. “ Of course, Arthur. Just . . . just lie low and stay here. I’ll be back before sundown. We’ll figure this out together. ”

Arthur nods and settles into the pile of fabrics, wrapping himself up a bit more. He watches Devin disappear into the grass, and listens until he can no longer hear them moving, then takes to surveying his surroundings. It's dawning upon him now how small and vulnerable he is. How the hell do borrowers do it?

Devin deserves way more admiration than he already gave them.

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #rdr #arthur morgan #g/t rdr #devin clarke #hyena writes #hyena ocs

51 notes · View notes

shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Reflections

This is part 1 of the request. (Sorry it’s long. Even part 1 is long…) It got away from me and consumed me entirely. Naturally… and I wanted to try something a little different.

@ravenfan1242 I hope you enjoy :)

Raven slipped her thick white cloak off her face. She uncurled as she stretched out her petite form. She had awakened from an unplanned nap mere moments ago to find the sun had set. Just behind the treetops of the forest. The birds must have flown off to roost, as they were no longer chirping. The deer and squirrels had gone on to their herds and drays respectively. The rabbits to their nests. Raven knew it was time for her to take her cue from the animals to do the same.

She turned her petite body over in the warm grass, gathering her book into her cloth drawstring bag. Raven paused to point her nose upward. Towards the heavens. To observe. The inevitable handoff. The foreordained ball of fire’s descent from the sky. The sun acquiesced to the moon. And after the twilight, the fireflies awoke and made their existence known. The illumination of stars and shifting bioluminescent fire began lighting up a path for her.

As Raven walked, she was lulled into a ruminative state by the familiar sounds of the forest at night. Crickets chirped and owls hooted. Frogs croaked in the babbling water of the nearby creek. And small creatures rustled along in their bushes. Raven gazed up, as the moist grass grazed her ankles. She was distracted once more by the sky above. She often studied the heavens, the stars and the alignments of the planets. They had been hinting that something was to happen in her life. In this year of life, an event of great change would occur. She liked to think she was adequately prepared to face whatever it was head-on. She had armed herself with her wits and her knowledge. Raven hadn’t lasted this long on her own without being clever and resourceful.

But, it seemed that perhaps she had spent so much time anticipating what was to come. She didn’t realize it may have already. And was headed right toward her. Quite literally - in the outline of a blurry shape in the not too distant fog.

And it was nearing her steadily each passing second.

Whatever it was it had begun moving with intention. It couldn’t be good - whatever it was. Raven gathered her resolve and sunk to the forest floor. She crawled away quickly, clutching her hooded cloak. She slipped the hood over her head and tucked in her overgrown purple hair. Raven’s lip trembled as she watched it get closer. Raven had never seen a creature of that size or stature. Her body curved expertly around tree roots and bent over fallen branches as she slipped away. It was moving faster than she could silently slither along. It had probably noticed her and was trying to draw her out of hiding. As Raven backed into the base of a tree, she began to wonder if this was the stars had seen coming for her. Her undoing.

And maybe this creature was it.

Raven heard a nearby branch snap under the creature’s weight. That sounded really close. She turned her body. Crouching low as she glanced at the grass a few feet away, to see the size of its paws. At the very least she could assess which manner of animal or beast she was contending with.

But was it a creature at all?

Those… didn’t look quite like paws. They looked almost like… shoes. Boots - to be exact.

Scanning upward, she could make out a tall figure. And it was staring right at her. With intelligent and curious eyes. Human eyes.

It was…

A man. A real, man.

By heavens…

A strangled noise escaped her throat.

In all her time on Earth, she had not once met a man. And yet, here this one was, and he was standing right before her. Raven had read all about them. People. Men and women. She was aware of their existence, but as far as she knew, they hadn’t been made aware of hers. Unless…

Was he… here to hurt her?

He certainly didn’t appear to be dangerous. He looked rather harmless. Almost gentle. There was just something about his countenance she longed to trust. Her suspicious gaze softened as she took him in. The man had beautiful, azure eyes with thick, dark lashes. Luscious looking locks of inky black. And she couldn’t fail to notice his sculpted form under his clothing. Once more, Raven took in the tights and cape fastened like a cloak. Raven shyly fingered for own cloak.

It was oh so wrong of her, but instantly, Raven decided, she really liked looking at him. At this man. He was fascinating.

Rather prepossessing. Extremely so.

Raven silently observed him as he silently observed her.

His lips parted. Still watching her, some emotion lighting up his eyes. Astonishment… Perhaps because he had stumbled upon a girl in the forest. And intrigue…? He slowly bent his legs. Inch by inch, he dropped low to the ground, until his stance was mirroring her. Now they nearly were eye-to-eye. Mere inches apart.

Raven scooted to the other side of the beech tree. Putting a wooden barrier in between them. “It’s… alright…” A deep, kindly voice whispered. “I won’t hurt you.” Raising up an empty palm in assurance. “Hi…” He murmured, trying to approach her yet again.

In seconds, Raven repossessed control of her faculties. Realizing what was happening. This was the result of her allowing this dalliance to proceed for far too long. “You…” He froze in his tracks when she spoke. She must have sounded a great deal braver than she felt. “You are a human, are you not?”

He blinked several times. “Why, yes. I am a human… But -”

“You can’t be here.” She added under her breath, “And certainly not at this time of night.”

“Pardon me, Miss… I fail to see what my species has to do with my presence in this forest.” By his tone, he sounded like he found this whole affair rather amusing. By far more amusing than a human that had just encountered her should be. Raven, feeling the weight of his searching stare, realized that her hood had fallen, she drew it up over her face. “Unless… You’re not… human. Are you?” He inquired. By his tone it was clear he had figured her out. The astronomical twilight alone hadn’t obscured her features.

He knew she wasn’t.

“Oh…” Raven’s eyes grew fearful. The bit of braveness gone, when the reality had set in. “You really shouldn’t - have come.” She rose to her feet and drew back.

Tan fingers slipped through his jet black locks. He was kneeling before her. “I… must extend my sincerest apologies, fair maiden…” He got to his feet. “Surely you didn’t think I insinuated that there was anything wrong with your being different than I.” The man was smiling sheepishly at her. “We are both different are to one another.” The man looked somehow pleased that he had come across her.

He simply didn’t know any better.

“Well, I suppose that is true…” Raven began to say, she could see the logic in his words. But then, she remembered. Since he wasn’t going to leave, then she would have to. “But really, I must go - I need to go…” She turned on her heel. “Good evening.”

“Go?” He stumbled closer to her clumsily in his haste. “You don’t have to go.” The man sounded flabbergasted. “We’ve only met. I would like to talk - if that is alright.”

She shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand. I can’t talk to you… At all.” Raven had to insist upon this. “I need to leave - and you should as well.”

“No, wait. Please don’t go…” He implored her, the bright blue begging her. “Surely, there is nothing wrong with us - talking…?”

But Raven couldn’t stay. She shouldn’t be around him. And she shouldn’t be talking to him anymore than she already had. “You don’t understand. Please -” She started to flee, but not quickly enough. Something happened. Something unprecedented. A hand reached out for her. As if he were trying to make her stay. His fingertip grazed her wrist. Her chakra stone flashed red. “Ahh!” She grabbed her throbbing head, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Extraordinary…” The man gasped at her. “I knew it… That something would happen on this day…” He breathed in wonder.

What did that mean?

—————-

“P-please, sir, you need to go - now.” Her head bowed low as the pale maiden tried to breathe properly. Raven clutched the nearest tree trunk for support.

“Not a chance, fair maiden.” The man started. Rather valiantly. “You are hurt and I am a gentleman. There is no manner in which I can abandon you.”

“You are not hearing me… T-that has not ever happened… It’s not safe -” She gripped the tree, turning her body away from him. “No - don’t!” She squeezed her eyes shut in alarm. Opening them when she felt heat on her body.

He placed a couple of fingers on her forehead above her chakra, and below. Checking to see if she was alright. “Christ… you are quite warm.” She tensed up at the sensation of his skin on hers. No man had ever touched her before today. Let alone twice. “And…really - soft…” He added to himself under his breath. Then, he eased her gently. “It’s alright, I’ve got you… I think I saw a stream ahead.”

He took her hand, being sure to take her arm - and just her arm - as he guided her down the tiny leaf and rock-lined creek that fed into the nearby stream. His warmth was almost…comforting. It was strange. “Here, please, sit down.” Raven lowered herself down onto the grass, trying to keep her body steady. “You need to drink.”

The pale girl nodded and motioned to the bag that slid out from under her cloak. He widened the drawstring and fished around, before he pulled out a worn, wooden cup. He bent low toward the surface of the water to skim it, before he handed it to her.

They sat in silence for a moment as she gathered her bearing, calmed her mind, and drank the water. When she finished a cup, he refilled it for her. And handed it off. Over and over this continued. Until she paused to speak. Her chakra stone now slightly cooler. But unbeknownst to her, the stone had changed from its usual blackberry color to a blackened blood red.

“Thank you.” Raven managed. The man nodded and smiled. “You are… a gentleman.” Raven touched her forehead, feeling much more like her usual self. Aside from the fact that she was in the company of a human. And what about that human? He had actually helped her. “So… you could tell… Just by looking? What - I am…?” She stared down, wiping residual droplets off her lips.

“It’s obvious…” The man in tights gestured to her body clad in the white cloak.

Raven shook her head. “It is so obvious to you and yet you didn’t run from me? Like I told you to?” She asked. All of a sudden very annoyed with him for being so foolish. To put himself in danger over her.

He rose a black brow. “Run from you? No. I would never run from you…” The man sounded like he couldn’t believe she would suggest such a thing. But this was hardly trivial. “Did you expect me to simply leave you there to wallow?” He seemed upset by this.

“Yes!” The pale girl cried. That was what she wanted him to do. Why couldn’t he understand? “You certainly should have. Are all human beings this stubborn?”

The man looked aghast, as if the prospect of abandoning a lady was so improper, it would wrinkle his tights. But then, he gave her a little crooked smile. His eyes twinkling. “You forest dwelling creatures think you’re so scary to humans. Clearly that’s a myth… I mean you, for one, are hardly frightening.” The purple eyes looked confused. Was he playing with her? “So are you a kind of fairy or - or perhaps a nymph?”

She almost snorted at the absurdity of that question. Why, he had to be joking! “Why - would you think that…?” Raven couldn’t even finish that sentence.

Preposterous.

“Because, maiden, though you are petite, you don’t exactly have the ears one pictures on an elf.” The man’s face was matter-of-fact as he pointed to her ears, as if it were obvious.

Raven covered her pink ears self-consciously. “I didn’t suppose I had elfish features. Though my features are quite different.” She retorted.

“Your features are quite different indeed.”

“Indeed,” Raven sighed. On this matter, she had to agree. “I’m sure that the sight of being like myself was a bit of a shock. It must have been rather jarring for a human.” After she said this, Raven groaned internally. Feeling rather foolish. But of course to a man so stately, it had to have been a surprise. She half considered slipping her hood further over her face.

“Surprising, yes. Jarring? Hardly.” He scoffed. “Quite the opposite. I didn’t think that there could be a woman alive so…” He smiled and paused like he couldn’t believe he had to vocalize this. That he was a little embarrassed to tell her something he seemed to find obvious. And so he whispered it to her. “Enchanting…” Raven gaped at him. He looked her straight in the eye, his tone heartbreaking in its softness. “Beautiful.”

Raven’s heart wrenched. The effect that this man had on her. Her chest twisted and chafed at the earnestness and desperation of his voice. And because of the truth she knew.

What a lie.

She wasn’t enchanting. Not by any means. She wasn’t a fairy or an elf. Not even close.

But he looked as though he really believed what he was saying.

Out of all the creatures he had stumbled upon in the forest, why her? She was the last one any unassuming human should have encountered. She was the deadliest one.

Of all.

—————-

“Me…?” Raven swallowed. “You think that I’m -” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat his words.

The handsome stranger’s eyes traced her form appreciatively. “Why, yes. Of course you… I don’t see any other maidens in this forest. And none with great glowing gems on their foreheads either. I have been awfully rude, haven’t I? Not introducing myself… What is your name, nymph?”

Nymph… She wasn’t a -

“Raven. And yourself, kind sir?” He really was convinced that she was some harmless creature that tended to the forest. But why hadn’t she corrected him?

“I am Dick. I am very pleased to meet you, Nymph Raven.” He reached for her hand, and grasped it, and then… pressed his lips to it. His eyes never once breaking her gaze.

What in the…?

“Oh - ” She fell backwards in surprise. Her hand ripped from his grasp. Her face was much warmer than her forehead had been before. And her heart was pounding out of control. What was happening to her today? Was she losing it? Or was this what the stars had predicted?

“S-sorry. Force of habit…” Dick apologized. Even through her apprehension, she noticed he did that a lot. Making apologies. “My mannerisms are very…human.”

“Why, of course they are… I wasn’t expecting -” Raven cleared her throat, deciding at that moment to change the subject. “Do you live around here? The forest doesn’t often get visitors and certainly not around these parts.”

“Oh, in the village, do you mean?” Dick asked. Raven nodded quickly. Agreeing though she had never been. “Something like that, yes. It’s quite nice… It gets rather routine and predictable every now and again. There’s no one there as interesting as you…” He too cleared his throat. And then, took her cue to breach a different subject. “Do all of your kind look like you, Nymph Raven?” Dick smiled.

This man was so trusting. And so unassuming. Thinking that she posed no threat.

“N-no.” It was the truth after all.

“I figured not.” He smiled at her again. Stretching back in the grass. She stared at his long legs and strong body splayed out in front of the stream.

Raven nervously twirled a long lock of purple around her slender fingers. Something she didn’t often do. “I mean - I wouldn’t know. I’m the only one like me around here…”

“Oh… I see.” Dick’s tone shifted. It sounded sad. “That must be rather… lonely for you, Fair Raven.”

And she felt a mixture of sadness along with many other things. But she could admit it, as this was just her life. Her path. The way it had to be. “Sometimes. But it’s better this way.”

Dick didn’t believe her. “Being alone is better? Surely, it can't be.” He kept sliding closer to her and she did her best to subtly inch away whenever she could. Even though he seemed keen on placing himself in danger she, however, wasn’t particularly keen. “Maybe you’d never met anyone worth having around…”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” the pale maiden admitted. “Though I’ve been alone for so long…” She turned, whispering. “How am I to know of anything else…?”

“Everyone needs someone. Everyone needs… a friend.”

Such a simplistic view. But so honest.

Honesty and openness.

She could use some of that in her life. And she could use -

“A friend…?” Raven murmured. Wondering again if she had heard him correctly. “I’ve never…had a friend.” But why would he want her to be his friend? “I don’t even know what a real friendship entails.” Not outside her books or her poems and novels. And not one between something like herself and… a man.

“If you would like to work up to that title… For now we could call ourselves acquaintances. O-or companions.” He sounded positively eager at the prospect. But friendship was something more than she could ever give him or anyone.

She had to discourage it. Raven paused, listening to the sounds of the stream before them.

“Companionship - that’s a very human trait, wouldn’t you find, Sir - Dick?” She tilted her head. Narrowing the intensely purple gaze.

“No. It’s not solely a human trait, Nymph Raven.” Dick insisted. His own eyes surprisingly serious. “Every being on earth needs some form of it.”

“But, I’d never considered myself one for it…” Raven countered.

“Until our meeting, you mean?” He just wasn’t going to let this go. His ideas of friendship. A friendship with her.

“Though until today, I’d never even met a human before…” Raven reminded him. And it was a very fair point.

“Really? How am I doing for my kind?” He had pivoted in a way she had not foreseen - once again.

“Whatever do you mean, Dick?” Raven asked innocently.

The blue eyes peered curiously at her. “Am I… what you expected?”

“You are only human I ever met. I had no expectations,” Raven replied flatly. “I assure you that, Dick.”

“Oh, Fair Nymph… I doubt that very much. If I am to leave your forest tonight, you must leave me with something.” He grinned, sounding eager all over again. She found she didn’t mind the sound. Of Dick’s elation.

“Well alright…” Raven realized that perhaps she could play along after all. Just a smidgen. After all, she had never done this before. “You smell better… than one would expect from a human.”

Dick threw his head back, bellowing out full, hearty laughter. It was a lovely sound, she had to admit. It filled her with indescribable mirth like she’d never known. She closed her eyes to memorize the sound. This was the only time she would get to indulge in something so rich. “Scent aside… Does the lady have anything else to say about me?” He tapped his cheek playfully. Cocky grin creeping onto his countenance.

The low rumble of his voice… The piercing stare. There were words for it, and the way it made her feel, that came to mind. Ones she didn’t normally use.

Inviting.

Seductive.

Thrilling.

It made the petite maiden question everything she thought she knew. About humans. About herself. Whether they should interact. Under her cloak, Raven placed a hand on her chest. The feelings from his words. How he had selflessly helped her. Raven had never known that a man could make her feel such strong emotions. She had read tales of such, but not seen it in her own story. Not once had she thought that it would grace the pages. Now she knew.

Maybe it could.

She stared at herself echoed in his bright blue eyes. She wanted to believe in this dream right now. On this night. The kind smile made her want to believe. “You’re… interesting.”

She received an echo from him. “Interesting…”

With dancing fingers, he skimmed the surface of the stream. Next to him, Raven watched her reflection wavering in the ripples. The ripples grew bigger and bigger until they expanded the opposite ends of the stream. Then, Dick… gazing upon her water-bound reflection, stroked its cheek. She saw her the image of her own purple eyes growing bigger and bigger. And she clamored to feel her own face as a flush appeared on it.

How she had considered allowing him to touch her true face in such a fashion.

She was so aghast that she barely registered his words. “Interesting enough to… have around… possibly?” Dick slowly stood. And then, he bowed to her. He gave her a stunning smile. “May we meet again, Fair Raven.” And at last, Dick slipped off into the night, hopefully in the direction of that mysterious village, where his friends and companions lay at rest in their beds.

“Impossibly…” She whispered, her gaze unfocused. The hand he had kissed touching the warmth on cheeks. She closed her eyes, shelving any notion that this could ever be.

“Goodbye, Dick.”

56 notes · View notes