#given that its a small village anyone who was looking for him would have been able to claim him by now so we're keeping him

[boot-prints]

And to think we worried about how they'd get on 💛💛💛

#pippa #oskar #we found oskar in the woods about a month ago and kept him in quarantine while we tried to find his original folks #given that its a small village anyone who was looking for him would have been able to claim him by now so we're keeping him #bloods just came back clear for fhiv so now hes allowed into the rest of the house and he has immediately decided pip is his new favourite #shes an old labrador but she seems very happy with this rapidly growing child chilling with her #luna is taking longer to come around but she takes a long time to adapt to changes of any sort

[auspicioustidings]

For the 1k requests/suggestions:

Druid!Soap who's protected the lands faithfully and ferociously for years, and Reader, the nature god/goddess/diety/spirit of those lands, decides to reveal herself and reward him for it?

Could go in any direction you want, pure fluff or darker or smut or anything! Just the first idea I had

Ok so you know how you said it could be darker or smut? Got carried away with this one :') This is just feral PWP that was written in one sitting and Johnny is mean as shit in it so pls HEED THE CWs.

Foul Magic

Words: 2.8k

CWs: Non-con, heavy smut, threatened bestiality (sort of, it's a Druid-ey shapeshifting hybrid thing and I have no clue how to CW that)

He was your greatest protector, had been for a decade now. When John MacTavish had offered himself to your service he had been a reckless teen, already an expert at spilling blood. You were no Silvanus, only a simple forest spirit with your own forest to tend and a handful of followers amongst the bordering villages mainly made up of the hunters and foragers who benefited from your kindness. 

“I will pledge myself tae ye for 10 years forest spirit” the young man had called out in the midst of the trees, “and in return I ask that once my service is complete ye reveal yourself tae me.”

It was a strange offer. You had never had anyone pledge themselves to you before. People left offerings certainly, made small shrines, but you had never had a sworn protector. A Druid, you thought, you could make him a Druid. You could finally test what your magic could really do.

Human lives were such short things that you didn't fully believe he would complete the 10 years. The life of a Druid was solitary and hard. He took to it with a violent fury that took your breath away. Never before had the soil been so sustained on the blood of those who sought to plunder its treasures without the proper respect. Every boon afforded him, John took and wielded as if born to hold such power. 

He was magnificent. Bear like in his strength, wolf like in his ferocity, fox like in his cleverness. And all too soon the 10 years was up. You had made a deal and would have to hold to it if you wanted to keep him. And you did want to keep him. The thought of your Druid leaving your forest made the flowers wilt around you.

He strode into your Grove, a man now. He was broad and full of scars proving his devotion to your protection, his hair shaved in at the sides but left long in the middle with braids shot through. You were fascinated by how strong he had become, muscles functional and snuggled under a layer of fat as proof of your care for him, tartan fabric held to his body with only clever pleating and a belt. 

“I have served faithfully for 10 years as was promised, I’ve come tae collect what I’m due.”

“And I hope in those 10 years you have enjoyed my patronage.”

He turned to see you, an ethereal thing made flesh for him. Fucking finally. He strode forward as your fond, soft smile turned to a look of fear, his hand bunching up in your hair and yanking you to look at him. You found that when you tried to shift to another form his magic, the magic you had given him, was weaving through yours to try and block you. The thought that you would be as helpless as some human maiden was horrifying.

“If ye had any sense at all, ye wouldnae have given me all yer power. Did ye really think I’d serve ye for ten years just tae look at ye?” he spat, venomous and unlike the Druid that had spoken worship on the wind to you all this time. “Fucked plenty of virgins in yer wee forest right under yer nose, had them gagging and crying, but none of them have satisfied what it is I really wanted. Been thinking about your tight wee nymph cunt being good and broken on my cock since I could use it, and I am a very patient man when it comes tae the things I want.”

You glowered at him, feeling your magic slide against the wall he had built and glancing off. He grinned an awful beastly grin and threw you to the floor, the slam of your knees on dirt unfamiliar and unpleasant. 

“You cannot do this. Please John, see reason. You are a protector of this place!”

He laughed and circled you, putting a boot firmly to the centre of your back and kicking you down so your face landed in the soil.

“Aye, I was until today. 10 years was the agreement, and now I take payment. Arse up, present properly for yer protector, least ye could do after all this time.”

He surely couldn’t mean to mount you like some beast. The idea that he meant to violate you at all was already unthinkable, but to do it in such a violent and debased manner was unforgivable. 

“You will not do this!”

You flared your power and he shoved it back, forcing it to act against you. He controlled it, the sickening pulse of your own magic being twisted as your body cracked and shifted. It was wrong, some half shift that felt unnatural. You heard the tear of the thin gossamer gown draped over you as something ripped through it. He laughed meanly and you howled in pain as you were grabbed by what you realised was a tail to force your hips up for him. He had done a disgusting thing with your magic, keeping you in your human form with the tail of your wolf form purely to torture you. It was forbidden to do such a thing, to create some new creature outside of nature in any way. You could feel hot tears spilling over as he wrapped the tail around his fist, pulling and twisting horribly. 

“Ye going tae behave? Or dae ye need to find out what I can dae to my own form?”

The implication was horrible. You scrambled with a sob, bracing your knees and moving yourself to present the way he wanted you to. 

“Aww, dinnae want a nice knot?” he said as he leaned over you, pressing his body to yours so his hot, wet breath was panting in your ear. “Maybe ye’d prefer something else.”

His foul magic invaded you again and you could see how your nails sharpened. Your hand barely started to shift into the paw of a snow leopard and you immediately started to plead. If he fucked you using that kind of cock you would surely be torn to shreds.

“P-please! Your cock! Just yours John, I want it.”

“Aye? I dinnae ken if I’m convinced. Maybe it’d be good to get my barbs in ye, fuck you bloody.”

“No please, it… it wouldn’t fill me properly if it wasn’t your human form. Wouldn’t be able to breed me like I want. Please fuck me with your cock John, I want it so badly” you sobbed, bile rising at your own words.

He laughed in dark delight, the hand gripping painfully at your tail letting go to plunge two fingers into you. It felt like you were being penetrated with a hot poker with how little warning he had given. You choked through breaths as your shape twisted back to yourself, tail painfully deforming and the formation of paws reversing. 

“Good thing yer body is backing ye up. So fucking wet and messy already little slut, knew ye’d be drooling for my cock.”

He noticed how you were taking shuddering breaths, clearly fixating on a spot in the distance to try and dissociate. That wouldn’t do at all and he ripped apart what was left of the thin gossamer so he could bring his open palm hard to the meat of your ass. He knew by how you squealed that nobody had ever taken a hand to you before and it was delicious.

Breaking you was all he had ever wanted, it was all he thought about when his cock was deep inside some new needy cunt or tight arse or wet mouth. He hated how after they would try to keep him as if he was something to be owned by anyone else. He had lost count of the lives he had taken from losing his temper over it. But now that he had you crying in the dirt, pussy throbbing around his fingers, he wanted to savour it. 

Your nails clawed at the ground and you tried to get onto your hands and crawl forward when his fingers left you and instead he buried his head between your legs. His grip on your thighs was painfully tight, yanking you right back into position with your arms collapsing back under you, face down ass up. 

It was too much, his tongue was wet and squirming and hot and inside you. He meant to devour you, to ruin you entirely. You had about braced to be fucked, but not for this, not for the intense spark of heady desire that came from this. 

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew ye’d taste sweeter than anything else” he growled against you as he released one thigh to get his fingers on your clit, needing to get you wetter to sait the thirst for your arousal that was burning through him now. “Dae ye taste good everywhere?”

“J-John! Ah you can’t, not there” you babbled as he licked up to your rim, diving into it with the same enthusiasm as he had your pussy. 

It was disgusting how he tongued up the slick that was weeping from your cunt to drag it to your ass, plunging his tongue in and out of your hole and driving you absolutely mad. This was debauched. The trees were creaking and groaning around you, powerless to help their mistress.

“Tell me ye fucking love it.”

“Stop, please!”

“Fucking say it” he growled, sinking his teeth into the same flesh he had slapped earlier. 

You screamed, sure he must have used that horrid magic again to sharpen his teeth to that of a predator with how you felt the skin break, his tongue lapping at the trickle of blood he had earned himself. 

“I love it” you said quietly, ashamed.

“Use your fucking words.”

The threat of his teeth was still there, they were scraping against your clit.

“I love your tongue in my ass! It’s perfect, thank you so much, making me so w- making me so wet” you moaned out, feeling your cunt clench with the shame of knowing it wasn’t quite a lie.

“Good girl” he purred, the praise vibrating through you. “Should reward ye naw? What dae ye want?”

There was a dark warning laced in his tone. You knew there was a wrong answer and you wouldn’t dare to give it. If you pleaded for a stop to this he would do much worse to you than if you pleaded for the less painful option.

“Want to cum on your mouth, want to cum on your cock in my pussy.”

“Mm? Whose mouth? Whose cock?”

You squeezed your eyes shut against the utter humiliation this human was making you face.

“Yours… master.”

“Atta girl.”

He laughed behind you before bringing that sinful mouth to latch onto your clit. He sucked hard and then lapped at it like a beast until you were squirming only to then go to your opening and make sure he got every drop of sweet liquid drooling out of you. It was torturous as your body betrayed you over and over again, pliant and gushing for him. He kept you on the edge of euphoria for what felt like hours before you broke.

“Fuck! Please master, want to cum!” 

The panting moans were brainless, you were so desperate. He cooed at you, his tone saccharine even as his words were degrading.

“Needy wee slut, cannae keep your legs closed can ye? Disgusting bitch tae let a man do this tae ye. Bet ye dream of walking into the village and letting everyone have a go at this sloppy cunt.”

“Only you master, please please please!”

“Aye, only me.”

His tongue which had been wild before was now lethally precise, the tip of it flicking rapidly at your throbbing clit. As you felt yourself crest he wrenched one of your arms to put your own hand there while he removed his face. Out of some hedonistic instinct you started to play with yourself to make the orgasm last, so stupid from the pleasure that it took a moment for the pain to sink in as his cock was forced inside you to the hilt.

Johnny was in rapture. Forcing himself in while your poor cunt was fluttering and clenching on nothing was almost painful from how tightly his cock was being squeezed. Your body was panicked, pleasure and pain at their height at the same time making you so incredibly tight and hot for him. Fuck, the way you were pulsing around him it was almost like getting a blow job, the ripple of wet pressure making him howl out his pleasure against your screech of pain.

He had already so thoroughly broken you that when he started to fuck you at a brutal pace you just drooled and cried and babbled. The distinction between pain and pleasure, what you hated and what you loved, was completely erased. It was all the same liquid heat inside of you that was demanding this. Demanding for you to be fucked savagley into the dirt, for you to take everything he had to give you. Demanding to be bred like the bitch in heat you were.

“I ken sweetheart, ye need tae earn it. Cum around my cock again.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying out loud and what thoughts were your own anymore as your clumsy fingers slipped around on your clit, trying to create friction despite the smooth glide from how much you dripped with arousal. You could feel the stickiness on your fingers, feel tendrils stretching lewdly in a connecting strand whenever you moved them away from your skin.

“Fucking dae it, cum on my cock!” 

It was a lightning storm of pain versus pleasure ripping through you as he adjusted to slam into that spongy spot inside you that set off every nerve ending over and over with no reprieve. At the same time he began to absolutely brutalise your ass with his open palms, violent and unrestrained. There was a gush of liquid as you came, screaming your throat raw.

John had never felt so powerful. You had been reduced to a squirting, screaming mess underneath him, a fucking animal begging in the dirt. He handled you how he liked, went as hard as he wanted. Any human would have broken. Any human would have fucking died with how he finally unleashed the beast inside of him, finally married violence with sex the way he had always wanted. 

“That’s it, fucking daft bitch, stupid wee brood mare, made tae fucking take it!”

You were begging again, nothing left in your brain but the desperation to be bred by a strong male. He was happy to do it, loyal protector that he was. Happy to give you exactly what you whined and mewled for, slamming home and cumming deep inside you. He fucked you through his own orgasm. He fucked you even when it was painful. It wasn’t until his cock finally slipped out, spent and struggling to find any purchase when he wasn’t fully engorged given how fucking sloppy you were.

He pushed you away after, leaving you a pile on the floor panting and ruined. Sitting back on his heels he had to take a moment for the dizziness from what had just happened to subside. Time for him to get out of this forest he supposed. He was not welcome on this land anymore. As he stood he took stock. While his kilt simply draped again to cover the sticky mess you had left on his skin and the dirt on his knees was easy enough to dust off, your gown was torn to shreds, your body beaten and bruised. He was perhaps a little surprised when your eyes opened and you blinked at him.

You felt the delicious strain of the most satisfying fuck of your life, only opening your eyes when you heard him get to his feet. Oh, he thought he was leaving. His eyes lit up with confusion and a tiny spark of feral delight as vines erupted from the ground to ensnare his ankle. Silly boy, thinking you powerless. If you had truly imbued him with the amount of your power he had deluded himself that you had, his human body would have burnt up and been dust on the wind years ago. It was laughable that he would have been able to block your magic.

“Did you truly think I didn't know your intentions from the start? Oh John, you are mine” you said with the fond bemusement one might have for a grumpy child. “Now come and perform your duty to your mistress, I am hardly done with you.”

#mhairiwrites #cod au #john mactavish x reader #look I wrote this all and read it once #and I'm not even sure it makes sense #really the voices wrote this one and I cannot be blamed

[satoru-is-the-way]

Spoilers for Avatar 2!!

Avatar! Rick Quaritch x Navi reader

"Given Enough "

Series Master List

Tag list: @the-wanderer-2022 @zootsutra @anyzandy   @kneelingforvillains @dioriez @mylovelyreblogs @dinobae-replyacc @voodoogoul @freshmoneyalmondathlete @thedumboneforsomereason @world-dominating-kitty @scarletpines

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angst, Mentions of Dead, Killing in a sort, depression, and maybe some more not sure I'll add it I find one!

Also lowkey not proofread lmao. ..Also this does Include Mayan language and such because me trying to represent my peeps. Love you fam...but low key had to add the flying bison 😭 y'all don't @ me

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 -Flying is lesson one

Quaritch wakes up only to meet (Y/n) beautiful eyes gazing down at him. Yesterday felt like a dream. He never imagined himself to be in this position. But anything to make Jake Sully pay for his sins. “Lik'en,” She said. He looked confused at her. “Get up.” (Y/n) repeats in a more annoyed tone. “We will have to teach you our language. You are like a baby. You know nothing of our ways.” This earned a simple eye roll.

“So I assume we will be going over the language barrier today?” He stood up slowly standing a whole foot taller than (Y/n). Mastering the language would be the hardest part; everything else he figures would be easy. In the marine core, they trained him for many scenarios, but the likes of Pandora had not been one. But how hard could it be? “Unless you have something else in mind, princess.” He grins a flirty tone. (Y/n) looked down. 

“No, first we eat and then we ride.” She comments. Quaritch follows her. She tossed him a rather odd fruit-like food. It resembles a dragon fruit but on a much larger scale. “Lesson one is flying.” Quaritch chuckled.

“I already have that down with my Ikran.” He bit down on the fruit taking in its sweet flavor. He truly liked Pandor and could not wait until it belong to them. 

(Y/n) chuckled also eating her fruit as they walked through the village. “No, I am talking about another animal. Bigger, stronger, and faster than any Ikran. We use the Ikran for many tasks. But  Kamimaljuyú has another way of flight. They are part of our clan and have been since the dawn of time.” She called out for her Ikran who soon arrived along with Quaritchs. “We have many sub-villages in our large domain. However, these creatures live farther out to the east.”

“SISTER!” Called (Y/n)’s younger brother landing beside her Ikran. “The Mamífero Ka’anal’s have just given birth hurry!” Quaritch has never seen anyone this happy before. He took a mental note that these Mamífero Ka’anals could be a weak point in this clan. He nods over to (Y/n) and they both take off flying deeper into the clan’s territory. Quaritch knew he hit the jackpot landing here. If he could mate with the Princess all of this land, people, and warriors could be his to command. “Hurry before the children find their soul animal.” Her brother, Balam, smiled. Quaritch’s eyes widen and his ears go back once the large creatures come into sight.

The humans had very little information about this creature. He could remember the small paragraph written over these ‘Sky Bison’ in human terminology. They were large animals of the sky, they belong to the air clans, every ten years they could be seen on migration, and they would disappear into the mountains never to be seen again. They land next to other Ikrans. He noticed many children possibly around 9 years old gather at the edge with food in hand.

“What the hell are they?” He asked. (Y/n) smiled softly seeing the baby Mamífero Ka’anal’s fly around their mothers. 

“They are the Mamífero Ka’anals Great warriors in the sky. Or as your people might call them Sky Bison’s as they resemble an earth creature. They are part of our family.”

“Why are the children here?” He asked, walking closer toward the edge. An animal like this in a war would be unstoppable. 

“In our tribe when children turn a certain age they are given more responsibility and utilities before they reach adulthood. Such as this. New Mamífero Ka’anal’s are brought here. The child and the Mamífero Ka’anal bond for life. Much like the Ikran, they will never have another owner. But if their companion dies they can ever fly again.”

“What do you mean by never flying again?” He asked watching the newborns fly down to the Navi children. They were so small and innocent, weak. An easy target. (Y/n)’s ears lay back thinking of the sad times a Navi died before their sky bison. “Did…I say something wrong?” He touched her hand. 

“No, it is a very sad time. We bond with the Mamífero Ka’anal for life. It is more than a connection to an Ikran. They become part of our family, we are friends for life on a spiritual level. If we are in danger they can sense it and vice versa. Our bond with them is sacred and blessed by Eywa.  If a Mamífero Ka’anal dies we can never choose another. But if a Navi dies before the Mamífero Ka’anal’s…” (Y/n) paused, “The animal gives up their will to live. It’s cruel and unfair how they work differently. They will lose all motivation to fly, live, and be happy. They will not eat or drink. Normally to avoid the torture of starvation we perform a ritual in front of Eywa and kill the animal in a humane way before we return them to her. Then they can live in eternal happiness alone alongside their companion.” (Y/n) whipped the tears which fell from her large (e/c) orbs. He felt bad not for the animals or Navi but for seeing her cry. The colonel shook his head trying to stop feeling sympathy for the enemy. Her beauty meant nothing in the end because his goal is to kill Jake’s whole family. 

“Hey, Princess, don't cry. In the end, they are happy, right? They don't suffer anymore. They are returned to their family.” He tried to comfort her which seemed to work. “So…do I get one?”

“Yes, but there are very few adults. Sadly in some cases when a Navi child does not make it to age, there are some who are left over. It is harder to bond at an older age. Mainly catching them but I can help you with that.” She clears her throat. “First be thinking of a unique call.”

“So these Bison respond to a certain call?”

“Yes, they do. Watch and listen.” (Y/n) cupped her hand over her mouth calling out to her bison (this sound). The colonel listened and looked to see the bison come for their master. Soon the large creature called back, flying towards the floating land. “Hurry!” She yelled running towards the edge of the floating rock before jumping off. 

“Fucking hell!” He yelled before following the Navi princess. How did she land smoothing on top of the Bison? "SHIT!" He yelled, landing with a thud on the animal's back. She laughed and walked up onto the large creature's head connecting her queue to him. He gripped onto the bison's fur. 

"Áramà! My beautiful girl! I want you to meet someone." (Y/n) smiled as the bison flew down to the ground below. 

"Was jumping off the cliff necessary?" 

"For dramatic purposes…Yes it was." She laughed jumping down. Quaritch follows examining the animal. He looked for weak spots. This creature would be a nightmare to fight. "Áramà this is Rick Quaritch." (Y/n) said. The Bison leaned over sniffing the Colonel. 

"Hello there. Áramà is it?" He was supposed to treat this animal like a native. It seemed intelligent. Rick noticed the silent communication Áramà had with (Y/n) maybe their bond is on a spiritual level. "So girl where is the other at?" He asked reaching up to pet the female Mamífero Ka’anal. She looked at Rick before glancing at (Y/n) making a few sounds that sent the Navi into laughter. "What's so funny?"

(Y/n) chuckled," She said she cannot wait to watch you fail." The colonel looks at the bison and huffs. 

---

Currently (Y/n) , Rick, Balam, and Áramà are above an unclaimed bison. "So Balam , she is your sibling?" 

"Yes I am younger though. Now focus. You have to drop down and make the connection quick." Balam instructed. "Or else it will not work. Just try and think gentle happy thoughts when connecting. Calm and command the Mamífero Ka’anal. When you are done I will help you fly him." Balam said. Quaritch nods looking at (Y/n).

“What do you say, give me a kiss for good luck, princess?” This caused (Y/n) to smirk and move closer lips near his. Quaritch felt his heart race ear going back.

“I said dont call me princess.” She then pushed him off. Quaritch yelped, falling off Áramà and turning around to land on top of his bison. It was quick how much the beast began to thrash around in an attempt to get Quaritch off his back.

“Ts'a a wóoli' yéetel beet le vínculo!”(Hurry and make the bond!) (Y/n) yelled.

“WHAT.THE.HELL.DOES.THAT.MEAN?” He called back. This was much harder than some Ikran. This beast had strength. Quaritch refused to let an animal make a fool of him. He needed to focus on the mission. With one mistake it would all crumble. With a loud war cry, he leaped forward and connected his queue to the Mamífero Ka’anal. The bull instantly settles down. “That’s it, boy.”

Balam dropped down chuckling,” Not bad for a human. I am surprised you didn’t die.” (Y/n) soon lowers her bison so they are riding side by side. 

“Now give him a name.” She smiled.

“How about Pup?” He asked, causing the siblings to chuckle.

“I like it. Now come on. Let’s teach you how to fly. They are much different from an Ikran.” (Y/n) smiled. 

---

It was now nightfall and Balam returned to the village on his bison leaving Quaritch and (Y/n) alone. The pair lands on the ground side by side before descending from their bison. “So how did you feel about lesson one?” She asked, nudging his shoulder. The colonel had trouble admitting he enjoyed today. Enjoyed being with the Navi princess. Also, her brother was not so bad, her complete opposite. 

“I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy myself. Today was a different one for sure. Pup here is rather pleasant. It is so odd how…I understand him even without being bonded I feel him. Hear him. Know what he knows.” Rick did not know Navi could truly be this emotional. Have connections not only with their forest but animals. 

“Well, then tomorrow we are going to dive deeper into more traditions and our way. Including our language which you desperately need to learn.” 

“So then I get my kiss?”

“Tch, in your dreams.” She blushed.

“I am counting on it, princess.”

Chapter 3

#Spotify #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #na'vi avatar #avatarmovie #jake sully #neytiri #sully family #colonel quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch #Avatar x navi #way of water #avatar x you

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More of little bat!mom !!!????

When you slipped into the dining hall to eat, a table of male agents near the door lowered their voices just slightly and made a conscious effort not to look at you.

Two days ago, there had been... an incident with a male agent. One that looked at you and thought you were fair game. He'd tried to prey on the cult programming. Capitalizing on your need to feel safe. He hadn't made it far, but. Far enough that when he cornered you and you were frightened enough to scream, the Rangemaster. A surly old man with a grey beard and dark eyes- who looked like a grizzly bear who'd been taught to walk on his hind legs- had put the other agent in the medical wing.

Since then, you'd hidden in your room. Not even answering the door for Abbie. Or any of the other female agents that had been given responsibilities to care for and train you.

They breathed a small sigh of relief when Agent Cooper walked through the door behind you.

They can't hear the conversation. You seem to be telling her you wanted to do something. And Cooper was listening intently, smiling a little at whatever it was you had held in your hand. _____

Cooper took your hand on the other side and squeezed gently. She had little sisters in her life before. They'd driven her nuts. She's hated having to take care of them. But. That was before the family fractured. Now, she'd have given anything to have them steal her clothes. Or wake her up too early for breakfast.

So now, holding your too warm little hand as you walked over to talk to James, the grouch ass rangemaster, she wanted to protect you.

"James?" Cooper said clearing her throat. James sat by himself. Reading between bites of food. And when he heard tiny footfalls and Cooper's soft voice he looked up frowning.

"What?" he growled.

Cooper frowned at him when you flinched away from him, ready to strike but James softened, just slightly. "76 wanted to give you something," Cooper said, explaining for you.

"What-" James broke off when a small hand thrust out with something in its fist. And reflexively, James held out a massive paw. Some long buried, primal instinct to do with children and villages roaring to life when he realized how very tiny you were up close. And just how easy it would have been for the adults in your life- for that scum bag two days ago to hurt you.

And when a bracelet- with braided thread and tiny wooden beads. Made big enough to fit his thick wrists- fell into his out stretched hand, all he can do is stare at it for a second.

"Thank you," you murmur. You don't make eye contact. You don't look at him at all. Eyes focused on the table. Like you're afraid of him- James is used to people being frightened of him. But. This is different.

"You don't have to let anyone hurt you," he said feeling lame. And before he can think of anything else- anything better- to say, your hand slips out of Cooper's and you're gone. Slipping through the nearest exit door.

And as Cooper followed you, James watched. Before looking down at the bracelet you'd put in his hand and slipping it onto his wrist. Smiling just a little. It had been 20 years since anyone had remembered his birthday. And he knew he wasn't going to take it off- even if you couldn't have known.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #batmom!reader #ask answered #minors dni

[crypticandmachiavellianaugustine]

In my defence, I have none

Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Summary: Elain deals with some ugly feelings in an unhealthy way. Elain centric.

Warnings: ANGST, hurt with only a tiny sprinkle of comfort, self destructive tendencies, mentions of alcohol, suicide ideation, negative self talk, toxic Elain.

Might delete this later, honestly I am not sure if I like it. I was writing a soft fic about them going on little dates but then this monstrosity appeared in my mind like a prophetic fever dream. English is not my first language so don't think too badly of me.

___

Elain Archeron was wandering around Velaris, emptiness in her heart.

She didn't know if what was plaguing her mind was a vision with some sort of significance; or if it was her imagination and the representation of the foul thoughts she had been having. Decaying overgrown gardens.

Seven months of courting. Seven months of letting warmth, like she had never experienced before, into her life. Seven months of Lucien Vanserra filling most of her days. Until her mind betrayed what they both had been nurturing between them.

She had thought of drastic ideas, the sort of things that had only occurred to her right after she had been made, when she had been uttering broken sentences up in the House of Wind.

Her name, as much as she tried to forget it, continued to form in her head as well as the hushed and soft voice of her mate as he talked about her.

And Elain's own voice, a malignant version of it that only spoke in her thoughts had whispered words of irrational jealousy in her ear. Even the seed of doubt could grow big and strong if her own hands tucked it gently in the land of her mind.

So she had avoided him, after speaking kind words of comfort for his loss. Not following him when Rhysand had sent him away to perform his duties as emissary. Making herself scarce every time he returned to Velaris, in a more effective way than before they had started courting.

Walking on the banks of the Sidra she wondered if anyone even thought that her sweet and forgettable self was capable of nurturing such dark concepts in her pretty little head. Elain had been a doll her whole life, she could disappear in the role until everyone simply believed that despair could not touch her in any way.

Was she something more than a beautiful thing? Had she ever been anything more?

As a human she had been a toy to dress up for her mother. And later in life, when she lived in the cottage dirt poor with her remaining family, had she been a doll even then? When men from the village watched her rapaciously, as if she was the defenseless little mouse she often felt like. She had felt their words sticking to her porcelain skin like mud. As if they had the right to taint her days, because she was in misery and with a father who could as well not exist, as if her circumstances made her a toy to break for fleeting amusement.

Then her life had turned upside down for the third time and she had given her heart and hopes to a man who would crush them under his boots not long after. After a king for an experiment had boiled her bones alongside her older sister's and forced them to become completely different creatures. The one offence she had been able to take revenge for.

Greysen had thrown her away. Azriel had called her a mistake. And Lucien... He was her mate but he already had his great love and it was not her.

Elain could not tell how many stab wounds her heart could take anymore, how her heart was still beating and not decaying like a bird fallen from its last flight. Would the end of things even gift a weightless flight to a small, disappearing thing?

Cold rain was falling on the city of starlight, a small kindness from the sky, a mask for her bitter tears.

Pride prevented her from walking to his apartment and look for comfort in his arms, pretending that her sorrow did not exist. That would have been easy and safe. Gentle, not jealous, not capricious, not possessive. Just like the Elain everyone saw and loved. No, the rain and the cold were small luxuries she would allow herself, to wash away her most abominable feelings in the anonymity of a city that was taking shelter from an unpleasant autumn evening.

It felt liberating and devastating, to know that no-one would come looking for her. She was the only resident of the Town House, she had avoided her mate for two weeks, her sisters were living their lives with their families. And when the morning would come, after a night of rain, she would tend to her poor garden and to her beaten heart.

Elain would be alright in the end, she would go back to her polite and cheerful ways. A few hours would be enough to swallow the bile of knowing that not even for her mate she was the most important. The one.

She felt ashamed of her jealousy against a female who had died tragically long before she was even born, but even all of her self awareness could do nothing against the sickness in her stomach at the very thought of her.

Elain felt like a child standing in front of all of her suffocating thoughts. Would anyone even understand why she felt that way, except for maybe her sisters? She was a high fae but her soul was still so terribly human. She still resonated like a mortal, all chaos and uncertainty. And there, in darkness and rain she felt as if she was still just a girl, living in a humble cottage, looking up at the sky feeling small and lost, wondering what will become of her.

Maybe if she found refuge in a tavern and drank herself empty, like Nesta had done in the past, she would understand something that she was clearly missing.

Elain needed something to stop her mind, or she would be forced to claw her heart out of her chest to make it stop hurting.

If she really wanted to be petty, she thought, she could always disappear. Run to the Continent and get lost in shimmering old cities. Would anyone look for her then?

Shame came again, taking her breath away and forcing her to lean her forehead against the cold black stone of a building. How could her pettiness make sense for such unwarranted fragility? She wished to be different, to be the actually kind person everyone always saw. Maybe if she had been different she would not walk the city in that weather, she would simply be with her mate in that rainy night exactly like the first one they had spent together, two months before.

Elain wished for a life of expressing her darkest feelings instead of allowing them to devour her from inside. She wished to not be a proper lady, to live like a wild creature in the woods, to show up at a ball where nobody knew her and be unapologetically herself.

For months she had acted like herself. Laughing wholeheartedly and talking without restraint, relinquishing in the fact that Lucien was her mate, starting to understand that he was meant to be her person, the one always at her side unconditionally. Her perfect other half.

She could easily ruin everything, make sure that between them there would be no winners. Hurt him like his confession, meant for sharing a full of agony page of his life, had hurt her. Would he even see it coming, from her? Probably not, he had been so trusting in sharing his story, handing her his heart and breaking hers in the same moment. Elain did not wish to live with a ghost from the past, she did not want to be the one he settled for and if renouncing to him would give her that kind of peace she was ready to consider it.

It was childish, she was aware, to think like that, to whim for a scenario she had made up. She had been simmering in her mind long enough to convince herself that if the other female would have still been alive, her mate, the one who belonged to her, would have chosen Jesminda and not even tried to pursue that bond so rare and sacred for his people. In another life Elain would have been unwanted even by the one who should always long for her no matter the circumstances. Maybe deciding to acknowledge him all those months before had been a mistake, maybe she was not ready yet and maybe she would never be mature enough to not feel betrayed for what did not happen.

Elain was exhausted, cold was settling into her bones and laying her to sleep like a snow covered flower.

Purchasing a bottle of wine and drinking it while wandering around seemed perfectly squalid and totally appropriate for the occasion. So she did. Wander and drink, thinking about all of the times she had bitten her tongue instead of saying what was going on in her mind, what kind of life was that?

In the morning she would go back, to the place she was calling home and to her quietude, after allowing herself the luxury of being inadequate for a little while. In the morning Elain would make something beautiful, to force life to be worth living again. If she had to perform then the world needed to perform for her as well.

At dawn she would be frivolous and soft for her audience and allow them to make anything they wanted of her. Elain the naive sister of the High Lady and the Valkyrie. The foolish gardener who existed on the periphery of everything as if she was already too old to live. The silly baker who, along with her pastries, often gave away pieces of herself for free.

And his heart, thunderous in her ears, would become a tolerable companion again. Soon she would gather enough courage to be in his presence and not viciously strike to kill. At the end she did have something in common with her sharpest sister. Until then she would retrace her steps to find where her damage came from, why was she so sweet and so vindictive.

As the rain started to hit her harder with its glacial drops Elain found shelter under a porticus, cold stone becoming the only bed she felt like she deserved at the moment. Would they send her away for being the cause of so much shame in only one night?

Anger flared up in her heart, inexorably directed at herself, at her family, at her mate and at his lost love. Chucking her bottle of wine against one of the pillars had felt good for a moment, Elain had never allowed herself to express anger in such a way. Even when some shards of glass flew back to her, scratching her skin, she continued to feel numb. That was what heartbreak did to an unwise girl, it made other kinds of pain disappear.

Sliding on the floor again, not minding the street's dust tarnishing her dress, Elain felt empty enough to fall into something similar to sleep, his heart tormenting her still. It felt as if the highs of alcohol were still clouding her mind when someone picked her up, the familiar rhythm of his heart now beating directly into her ear. Elain didn't bother to open her eyes. Maybe if she ignored him, his presence would turn out to be just a dream and she would be left alone to deal with her thoughts in any way she deemed necessary. Maybe the feeling of winnowing away and the warm lights of candles were only her imagination. Maybe the scent of cinnamon, books and apples of his apartment was just a deception from her weary mind.

And still Elain felt him lay her gently on the couch and walk away, the sound of flowing water coming from the other side of his home.

She laid there, pain and shame turning even the simple action of breathing uncomfortable. As she slowly opened her eyes, Elain found her mate observing her, the sorrow on his face clear as day.

Lucien seemed perfectly composed as he silently cried. She wanted to rage. Anger and disgust, those were the emotions she had expected to read in his expression; for her irrational jealousy and for her insensitivity. She did not want his tears nor his pity. Once again she contemplated doing the unexpected by ruining everything without an ounce of hesitation or regret. Elain did not speak as he cleaned the scratches she had caused by carelessly tossing away her wine bottle, nor did she react when he healed them all with a gentleness that was infuriating. She did not utter a single word as he carried her to the steaming bathtub on the other end of his apartment and set her down in the water after reverently taking off her the, by then, unsalvageable dress.

A few weeks prior they had chatted away and laughed in that bathtub together, as the sunlight, a rare occurrence in the Night Court, shone through the windows carrying a promise of tranquility.

Now there were no words or smiles, just silence and his hands gently washing her hair. Elain felt like crying as he poured warm water on her hair and back, the cold that had settled in her bones beginning to ease up. A sob escaped her lips as she whispered.

"Are you angry at me?" It was a question she had asked a countless amount of times during her life. And after Greysen had thrown her away, that sequence of words had become habitual on her lips.

"No," he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She looked away, finding it almost impossible to believe.

"Please don't ever do this again, I would not be able to bear it," Lucien continued, his lips still pressed against her head.

"Your feelings had been devastating tonight, my lady. I had felt them all. Nothing that happened before I came to you matters. Nothing is more than you. You are my everything, don't ever doubt it again".

The pain in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast with his warm hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Elain could not hold back her tears anymore, starting to sob softly and continuing until she was tucked away in the safety of his arms, wearing his clothes, surrounded by his scent. Laying on his bed and not on the cold stone she had planned to sleep on just a few hours prior. Still there was a part of her that continued to exist restless, unfamiliar with the concept of peace and wary of it. In the morning she would be herself again and he would spend the rest of their long lives proving her everyday that she was his to cherish, to unconditionally love. His heart would always belong in her hands.

#elain archeron #elucien #elain archeron fic #elain archeron angst #elain archeron centric #lucien vanserra

[stargazeraldroth]

Balanceswap: A Bittersweet Reunion

Summary: An event that takes place in my Balanceswap AU. After running away from the self-proclaimed Destroyer, Dream seeks out his twin brother. Though the two are glad to see each other after so many centuries, the reunion isn't quite as pleasant as Dream had been hoping for. At least Nightmare seems to be happy... maybe a little too happy... and Dream has Mental Health Problems (TM).

Warnings: Platonic yandere character, mental health issues.

Word Count: Around 4,281 words.

Dream wasn't sure if he was going to regret this plan or not.

He knew his life was far from perfect. He'd been aware of that fact ever since he was a child, living under the shade of the Tree of Feelings. Although life had never been anywhere near perfect for him, he enjoyed it regardless. Sure, some moments were harder than others, but he needed to keep going. That's what he's been telling himself since his days in the village, when he would get faced with hurtful words and thrown objects simply for existing. And it's what he still told himself now, when he was constantly on the move, hopping from one place to the next.

Dream looked up from the table, his hand coming to a halt. Everything was still quiet in the tiny, rundown apartment they'd moved into, save for noises coming from outside its thin walls. It wasn't like anyone would be coming by, anyway. This part of the town had been largely vacant for a while, from what Ink could gather. They would be safe here for a few days, assuming there weren't any unexpected searches from his brother's forces. It wasn't likely, given that this was a predominantly negative AU, but... they'd been caught off-guard before. And, from Ink had told him, Nightmare could be very, very persistent in his searches.

Nightmare...

He hadn't really seen his twin ever since that fateful day. Back when he was so naive and trusting, despite his own hardships. He still remembered it as though it was yesterday; how Nightmare told him to pick his favorite apple from the Tree, and even helped him reach the branch to do so. That same apple, black with purple undertones, now resided in his ribcage, concealed from the world. The last Black Apple remaining from the Tree's branches, just as the last Golden Apple resided in Nightmare's body. They had both changed so much since they were children.

Nightmare was now a prominent, highly influential member of the greater Multiverse. A high-ranking member of an organization that was simply referred to as The Council. Or, rather, that's what Ink referred to it as. Dream didn't know if it had a different, more official name. But regardless of what it was called, it was an incredibly important group in the Multiverse. It was significant enough for the Protector of the AUs to be involved with it, too, even if he technically wasn't an official member. But beyond that, Nightmare also had a group of his own. From what Ink told him and the bits he was able to gather from old newspapers, they worked to bring relief to those who were suffering. That was the simple version of it, anyway. He wondered... if Nightmare was able to move on from his bitterness regarding the village and its people.

Dream... wasn't sure how he had changed, but he knew he had to have. Even if it was something small and insignificant, he had to have changed at least a little bit. But maybe his changes weren't for the better, either. He didn't know if he was considered a criminal or not, but given his close association with Ink, it was reasonable to assume he had some kind of bounty. He hadn't done anything wrong, but... it seemed even existing was a crime when it came to him. Nightmare would tell him that it was only because mortals were stupid and didn't understand his importance, but even so...

Once he was done with his letter, he read it over with what lighting he could get from the moon. Everything seemed right... he just hoped Ink wouldn't be too upset with him when he woke up in the morning. Setting down the pencil, he grabbed the bag he'd prepared and headed towards the door. Resting a hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. The self-proclaimed Destroyer was still in a deep sleep on the couch, having insisted that Dream took the one bedroom.

Dream felt as though he was betraying Ink, in a way. He'd been nothing but kind to Dream ever since he initially rescued him from his brother's castle, even if taking care of another person was difficult work. Ink barely even had the means to properly take care of himself; aside from having to stay in rundown or abandoned apartments like this, they had no real way of getting any money. Ink insisted he didn't actually need to eat in order to live, so any food they did manage to get was given to him. He felt... bad. Like he was nothing more than a hindrance or inconvenience. It didn't help that he was one of the primary reasons they had to frequently move from one place to the next. His negative aura risked giving their location, should Nightmare be looking... and based on what Ink's told him, Nightmare was always searching for him.

I'm sorry, Ink... but I need to make this decision for myself.

~~~~

When Nightmare took the rest of the Tree's fruit and turned into... whatever he could be called now, Dreamtale- the world they called their home- changed with him. He could feel the oppressive intensity of positive energy as soon as he stepped foot through the portal. Though he cringed, he moved forward, determined to see his self-appointed mission through.

He wouldn't lie to himself, the place was beautiful. It almost looked like something out of one of the fairytales Nightmare would read him when they were children. Everything was so bright and colorful. It looked like a place where people would want to live- and, judging by the amount of people he'd seen so far, it was precisely that kind of place. Everyone seemed so content and happy, but maybe that was because of the abundance of positive energy. Regardless of whatever the cause might be, it brought him an odd sense of peace to know that his brother's domain had become a safe haven for people of different backgrounds. He wished he had been around to watch it all happen.

"Excuse me?" An ethereal, airy voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you lost?"

The Guardian turned around to face the one who spoke to him. Rather than being met with a human or monster, he found himself looking at... something else entirely. He wasn't even sure how to describe them. They appeared to be delicate and elegant, carrying themself with grace. Their eyes reminded him of a skeleton monster's, but rather than being met with dark sockets and glowing pupils, he found himself looking into what he could only think of as pools of warmth. A pair of pristine, feathery wings was attached to their backside, like those of an angel. The only familiar part of their figure was their uniform. It seemed to be a classical maid's uniform, with a skirt that reached their ankles and long sleeves.

"I... I..." Dream stammered, trying to find the right words. "I'm looking for... m-my brother..."

"Were you separated? I can help you find him again," the servant offered. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

"W-Well... you see, um... he's... he's... N-Nightmare, the... Guardian...?"

Dream gave an awkward smile, hoping he sounded at least somewhat believable. He wasn't lying, but the idea of Nightmare having a younger brother could be a bit... unbelievable for a number of reasons. He didn't actually know what information was available about him. Did people... know about his existence? As more than Ink's little sidekick? He supposed the maid's response would tell him all he needed to know. If they didn't, then maybe that was an indicator as to how Nightmare felt about him now. Maybe... Dream should've thought harder about this before deciding to leave.

What if... Nightmare didn't want him around? It's been centuries since they last saw each other... Nightmare's life has changed since then. He had a kingdom and people to take care of now. Unlike when they lived in the village, Nightmare was willing to look after these people and take care of them. He shouldn't... have to worry about him, too. Could he even bring anything new to this place? Was there anything his presence or involvement would benefit? What good could negativity ever bring? Feeling negative emotions was inevitable, of course, but would it not be in everyone's best interest to minimize how often they feel them?

He wasn't sure when he had last been consistently positive- while it's true it isn't exactly in his nature, being made from negative energy, he could still feel things like happiness and love. But he didn't feel them as strongly as he used to, if his positive feelings were ever strong at all. There were so many people who felt those things stronger than he did. What could someone like him, who was a physical embodiment of unwanted feelings, possibly bring to a community? What could someone like him do to prove that he had a right to stay?

Nothing, he realized. His aura would undo everything these people worked to achieve. Even if he had an iron grip on his aura at all times, keeping as much negative energy trapped in a bottle as he could, he had his limits. It wasn't helped by the fact that he had hardly any training when it came to his powers. His abilities were completely different from Ink's. Without proper training to control his aura and minimize its effects, he would continue to hurt people simply by being around them. He posed a risk to their happiness and well-being merely by existing. Coming here was a mistake.

He'd be nothing but a stain. A constant reminder of their pain and suffering. He needed to leave before he could hurt anyone, and before he intruded on Nightmare's new life.

Dream flinched when he felt something touch his head. He looked up from the ground, trying to meet the servant's eyes. He hadn't even realized he started crying. He must look so stupid and pathetic, crying in a place where he wasn't wanted in the first place. But there was no sign of contempt or disgust on the servant's face, nor did their aura become darker. If anything, it became... lighter? He didn't think it was possible.

"You're Dream, aren't you?" The servant asked, giving him a kind smile. "His Majesty has been looking for you."

Dream took a step back, reaching up to rub away the tears in his eyes. Ink told him that Nightmare was, but... how likely was it that the reason behind that was something good? If it wasn't for something bad, then why was Ink so insistent that they move locations before he could find them? He'd taken notice of Ink's tendency to get paranoid and resort to extremes, but Nightmare was his brother. Surely Ink would be able to take that into consideration, even with his anxieties... unless he had a good reason to suspect that Nightmare would want to hurt him.

If there was one thing he learned from the villagers, it was that people didn't need to have good reasons to hurt others.

"Young one, where are you going?" The servant asked. "You do not need to be afraid. I will not bring you any harm- none of us will."

Dream shook his head. "Don't lie to me! You... you're just pretending to be nice!"

Before he realized what he was doing, he turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction, away from what he could only describe as a servant made of light. He barely registered the servant's voice as they called out to him, too focused on returning the way he came and escaping from this place. If he was lucky, he would be able to make it back to that AU before Ink could wake up and read his letter. It was a slim chance, but a chance regardless. He just needed to get out of Dreamtale, preferably without having Nightmare tracking his every movement.

Unfortunately, it seemed his escape wouldn't be as smooth as he'd been hoping for. A knightly figure, tall and shaped like a skeleton monster, stepped out just in time to block his exit. He wasn't sure how the others at the castle found out so soon. Was there some sort of telepathic bond? It sounded highly unlikely, but... well... according to Ink, he was still around the mental age of a child. However relevant that statement was. The important thing was that more people were becoming aware of his presence, something that could end up spelling disaster for him. Not only were more knights starting to show up, but those Light Servants were as well. How were there so many of them!? They were... too similar to each other, almost like perfect replicas. It was unnatural.

Despite the fear pumping through his bones, Dream could feel his energy and strength beginning to drain. Normally, his soul would be able to provide him with the minimal amount of negative energy he needed to keep himself going. But the structure of Dreamtale- and its emotional balance- was drastically different from what he was used to dealing with. There was simply too much positive energy for his soul to counter, and its effects on his body were already showing. He could feel himself slowing down, the aches in his legs growing by the minute, if not the second.

Finally, his legs gave out under him. He groaned in pain as he tripped on his own feet, falling against the hard pavement of the walkway. By the time he managed to pull himself together, the others had caught up to him. He threw his arms over his head, preparing to shield himself from any incoming blows. It was a survival tactic he'd learned and used back in the village.

But instead of being met with violence, he was carefully pulled close to one of the servants. He slowly opened one of his eyes to glance at his surroundings, finding that the ones who caught up to him were whispering things to each other. Though he couldn't catch everything over the pounding in his head, he did hear them inquiring about Nightmare's whereabouts. The Light Servant glanced down at him, taking notice of his drained condition. Standing up from the ground, they adjusted his position in their arms, almost like they were holding a baby or a cat over their shoulder.

"Shh... it's okay, little one. Just close your eyes and rest easy," the servant said in that same sweet, soothing voice. "Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?"

Dream gave a small nod. It wasn't necessarily the sunlight that was the problem, but... regardless, the servant shifted their wings so that one was covering him, blocking out the sunlight from his eyes. A warm feeling washed over his body a moment later, seeping into his bones. Achiness turned into exhaustion and, with some gentle coaxing from the Light Servant's embrace, he drifted off into the blissful darkness of sleep.

~~~~

He couldn't feel his body. Not like he should be able to, at least. Something about it was... different. That much was clear in how he struggled to open his eyes, or how there was a certain numbness to his body.

When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he found himself in a completely different place from where he fell asleep. It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was in a bedroom of some kind. The bed itself was bigger and comfier than any he'd had before, and it felt... clean, if that made sense. He tried not to be too fussy about this kind of stuff, considering he used to sleep on the ground as a child, but sometimes he could tell the beds he slept in weren't taken care of for a long time. Still, it was better than sleeping on the hard floor, so... he wasn't used to having a blanket that was this thick or warm, either. It was... nice.

"I see you're awake." A hand reached out from his bedside, brushing a finger against his cheek and poking him gently. "Did you sleep well, brother?"

'Brother'.

Reluctantly, Dream looked to his side. Next to him, there was a radiant figure much like those otherworldly servants he encountered before. Nightmare was watching him carefully and, though his one visible eye held nothing but warmth, something was peculiar about his aura. It was brimming with positive feelings- happiness, most notably, but also eagerness and love. There was even a hint or two of satisfaction. But behind that, there was something else... something darker... was he concerned for him?

"Don't look so confused. Did you think I wouldn't be worried about you?" Nightmare asked. "You're not used to this kind of environment. Your soul's response to the change was to turn your body to stone. It's a miracle you even woke up at all."

"... Where am I?" He asked in return.

"You're in your bedroom. Did you think I wouldn't take care of you?"

"I don't... what? Why would I have a...?"

"... I've been hoping you would be able to live here someday, you know. I admit I might have gotten a bit carried away with it and prepared a room in advance... but it turned out to be the right thing to do! You're here now, with me... where you belong."

"But... I... I have to..."

"You have to what, Dream? Right now you should be resting. Your body's going to have a significant loss of energy due to how much positivity there is."

"I need to... let Ink know I'm okay..."

In his goodbye letter to Ink, though he said it would be possible he'd come back depending on what happened, he also said that- should he decide to stay with Nightmare- he would still try to keep in touch with him. Nightmare didn't seem to be quite pleased with this information, his expression turning unreadable for a moment. With the lack of expression, Dream turned to his aura, trying to latch onto anything that might indicate his mood. But what was previously readable (to a certain extent) was now rigid and harsh, like an invisible wall. The older twin moved to pat him on the head, a smile returning to his face. But it didn't have that same warmth to it. As though it was simply for show rather than actually meaning anything.

"We'll talk more about that later. For now, just get some more rest until you can adjust to the environment."

Dream watched in silence as Nightmare stood up from his chair, headed over to the door and left the bedroom. He could hear the faint sounds of a conversation between him and some others, perhaps some servants or something, but he couldn't make out any specific words. Hopefully, the 'later' that he spoke of wouldn't take too long... Dream didn't want to sound impatient, but it was... kind of urgent. To him, at least. He knew Nightmare had other priorities and things to take care of.

Actually... now that he thought about it, he didn't necessarily need Nightmare's help in writing a letter to Ink. Maybe he would need his help when it came to delivering the letter, but he could at least get his message started, right?

Time seemed to prove him wrong.

Whenever Nightmare was absent from his new bedroom, there would always be at least two of those special Light Servants on standby. They would tend to Dream's every need if he asked them to do so. Even though he never asked for anything, the servants seemed to take it upon themselves to provide him with whatever they could. They were so proactive and attentive that he didn't even need to ask them to do anything; any potential wants or needs were taken care of before they could even be realized. The only request that couldn't always be immediately fulfilled was when he wanted to see Nightmare. It was understandable, given his brother's position and responsibilities, and he didn't mind having to wait. And yet, despite his insistence that it was fine, the Light Servants were always far too apologetic for the inconvenience.

Whenever Nightmare did come to visit him, Dream tried to bring up the subject of delivering a message to Ink. But whenever he did, Nightmare either pretended to have not heard him or changed the subject. It was strange. Almost as if Nightmare didn't want him to say anything to Ink ever again. While it made sense from Nightmare's perspective, with Ink being the Destroyer and all, he knew there was more to Ink than that. It wasn't like Ink was malicious with his destructive behavior or intentions. From Dream's understanding of his motives, anyway.

"Nightmare, I want to send a letter to Ink," he said again. "I already have an idea of what I want to say. I just need help delivering it."

"You're still pushing the matter? Oh, Dream..." Nightmare sighed. His tentacles coiled for a moment, expressing his displeasure. "Don't you realize it yet? You don't need to talk to Ink anymore. The only person you truly need is me."

"But... he's my friend." Frowning, the smaller Guardian tried to sit upright. Being bedridden sucked more than having to sleep on a dirty, old mattress. "I promised him I would let him know I'm okay."

"But why would he care?"

"... What?"

"Think about it, Dream. You're the Guardian of Negativity and he's the Destroyer of Worlds. He's a wanted criminal on the loose, a horrible influence! But besides that, he was only using you. I know who you are- despite everything that's happened to you, from the villagers to Ink, you still have a good heart. You don't like violence or fighting, and you especially don't like hurting people. All Ink does is hurt people. You know what the Omega Timeline is, correct?"

"Y-Yeah... Ink told me about it..."

"Then I'll assume you're aware of all the displaced people living there. People who were forced to relocate to a new home because of Ink. How do you think they felt? While it is true that negativity is necessary, there's a good kind of negativity and a bad kind. Just like how there's good positivity and bad positivity."

"... You don't have to talk to me like I'm still six."

"Well, I don't know where you are in terms of mental age."

"But... but Ink does care about me! I know he does! He's been looking after me this whole time! He's made sure I'm fed and he's been trying to help me with my powers! If you just let me, I can show you he isn't as bad as you think!"

"He's wreaking havoc and destroying worlds because of one temper tantrum he threw in the past. I won't say The Creators are saints or have pure hearts- that's an impossible feat, even for someone made from pure positive energy- but they don't control how Ink or Error live their lives. That's for them to decide. The Creators can make worlds, write a guideline story, and make changes as they please, but we have our free will. Everyone gets to make choices in life, and Ink made his."

"But he has his reasons!"

"And the villagers had their reasons for how they treated you. Does that make their actions right?"

"W-Well... no, but-!"

"It's the same for Ink. How many people has he hurt or killed, Dream? How many people have had their families torn apart and their lives ruined because of him? You need to think about these things. His actions aren't excused just because he's hurt by The Creators' choices."

Nightmare let out a heavy exhale, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes. When his hand fell back down to his side, he gave Dream a small smile.

"I don't mean to make you upset. But you need to realize that Ink isn't someone you should be associating with, regardless of what he might've told you about his motives."

With that, Nightmare looked at the clock in the room.

"It's almost your bedtime, anyway. Here, I'll tell you what: I'll... bring this up to Error after the next meeting with the Council, okay? We'll see what he has to say about it and if he thinks it's safe to do so, then I'll let you send him a letter."

Dream thought for a moment, but soon nodded. "Okay... but you have to promise! Pinky promise!"

"... Of course, Dream."

The two brothers locked their pinky fingers together for the sake of the promise. Once the younger Guardian was put to sleep, Nightmare stood there for a moment, watching over his sleeping form. When he finally left the bedroom, he was met with one of the Light Servants, as his brother fondly nicknamed them.

"Your Majesty, about the promise... do you truly intend to keep it?" They asked. "What should we say if the little one asks?"

"... No, I don't intend to keep it," Nightmare confessed. "Dream's heart is too big for his own good. Ink can't be trusted- that much is obvious to anyone. He'll just have to live with how things are going to be from now on. How things should have always been."

The two shared some more brief words before Nightmare finally departed for his own chambers. As he walked, the Guardian of Positivity couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. A smile came to his face, but no one would be able to see the glint in his eye. He truly hadn't been expecting Dream to come back to Dreamtale on his own. He thought he would've had to take him by force. Perhaps it would be a bit harder to keep him around, given his insistence on staying in touch with Ink, but... Nightmare had faith. Dream could be gullible and naive, but he wasn't stupid.

In the end, Dream would make the right decision. He was sure of it.

#balanceswap au #stargazer writes #dream sans #nightmare sans #cross posted on ao3 #it's finally done omg #deleted scene: ink and error breaking into the castle and kidnapping (rescuing) dream #the original ending line had such malicious vibes #it was basically nightmare saying that if dream made the “wrong” choice he would be more than happy to make him see the error of it #it sounds so devious like he'd hurt dream #he wouldn't he loves dream too much to hurt him

[gigagendergt]

Bleak Drought, Part 1

The result of a poll committed a long time ago.

The ground under Cornwall’s feet was red and stained the air with dust.

He was used to the clouds his movements produced— being fifty or so feet tall— but the drought had brought an exceptionally horrific water-squeeze over his land and his people, and even the ground wasn’t immune. Where there used to be desert flowers and sagebrush and small stunted Joshua trees, there was nothing now but an open expanse of dust.

A vulture flew past his temple, stopping to rest on his shoulder. It sagged and almost fell. He stopped— he had no water to give it.

Cornwall was heading south, towards the edge of his land-territory, where he knew a convoy of merchants had been passing. They were expected over the last few days but hadn’t arrived. The caravan had been carrying vital supplies for the three towns and ten villages he looked after— medicine, seeds, potatoes, corn, and water. Even greater, his townsfolk had been weaving clothing in hopes to trade it for enough money to buy condensation machines: machines that could save their lives.

Summer was coming, and the brutal heat was harder to bear by the day.

Cornwall himself needed no water, and heat didn’t phase him. He didn’t eat or have bodily needs. He was part natural machine, part ahuman avatar— he was an entity rarely found and rarely understood. The exact words for what he was didn’t exist in any human language. Because of this, and his size and strength, humans were afraid of him.

Cornwall didn’t resent this. Instinct was instinct. They sensed that he was dangerous and he was.

The people residing in his territory understood that Cornwall came with the land. He helped them live and protected their villages, and in return, they practiced sustainable agriculture and respected his animals and his territory.

Cornwall lifted his hand and caught the vulture with two fingers. It lay still in his grasp. Bringing it towards his face, he blew on the feathers and they ruffled. The vulture was dying of thirst.

Droughts were part of the environment and the environment was his, but this was no natural drought.

The vulture’s body changed and shifted as it rotted away in an instant. Instead, a tortoise slowly untucked from its shell, adjusting to the new life it’d been given. It waved stiff, lethargic legs. Cornwall lowered it to the ground and gently placed it out of his path.

He did what he could, when he had the means. Not everything could be saved.

As he carried on, he returned to a peaceful state of mind, and nothing existed behind the strides of his footsteps and the leagues of desert he passed and left behind.

…..

Mad Jack was a hardy man, but this night was threatening to take him.

He’d been traveling with a merchant caravan into Construct territory— stupid even by his estimation. He knew better than anyone not to go where the roaming giants lived. But Jack was a frontiersman and he’d spent his life facing various forms of extremes. He craved them. Pushing further and further into the wilderness was his way of trying to reconnect with his heritage.

It was also a dare. If he died, perhaps that would atone for some of it.

The caravan had been attacked some ten miles from the border by weirding-wolves. Strange electrical fusions that resembled animals, the wolves had appeared out of the dark with a crackle-hum and set their business, which was the business of death.

Jack, however, was no stranger to it.

The first wolf crackled through the body of a merchant and left him convulsing in death-throes. Jack reacted before the merchant hit the ground. He drew his electric crossbow and sent it careening through the wolf’s sparkling core.

Secret machinery crunched and fizzled, and the wolf brushed out of existence as quickly as it had come.

“This is why I hate bureaucracy,” he said to the merchant, who lay still.

Jack had corralled the survivors into one of the remaining caravans and spent the night outside, holding off the wolves. They’d recognized him as a frontiersman and changed tactics, attacking in waves, flashing in and out of existence, trying to catch him off guard. His skills had been tested to the limit. Even now he sat, muscles shaking in exhaustion, against the caravan and waited. The wolves had ceased their onslaught and retreated somewhere in the immediate vicinity. They were watching, no doubt. The second he fell asleep, or let his guard down, or stopped to eat or drink, they would roll in again.

When they did, he was dead.

His tongue stuck dry to the roof of his mouth and he swallowed. Hours and hours without water. How many died out here in the wastes from thirst? Too many. He might join them.

The weirding-wolf came from his right faster than he could react. His hands were sluggish, tired, muscles twitching. It tore the crossbow out of his hand before he could blink and was at his throat.

The wolf crackled out of existence just as the teeth were closing, the blade of his electric knife embedded in its core. He swore.

Two others already at his left, midair, leaping. He bodied one and pierced the other. The latter dissolved in a crunch: the former bounced off his pulse armor. No time to rest: they were rushing him, all of them at once: coming in waves and bounds and ethereal charges. He knew he was dead by the taste of ozone alone. Too many.

There was a huge noise, a great booming sound, and the wolves vanished. Electricity crackled this way and that above the ground. The hair on his neck stood straight up. Goosebumps broke over his skin, and he looked up and saw the construct, saw the massive silhouette and the weight of it, and collapsed on the dust in front of him.

The ground shook, then shook again. A shadow fell over the moonlight and engulfed Jack in deep darkness. He hissed in a breath, hissed it out. His heart was pounding in fading adrenaline. The exhaustion was setting in— How long had it been? Four hours? Five? His body could only support panic for so long— and he tried to push himself up but couldn’t, arms shaking.

The great foot of the monster came down in front of him, and it squatted low, a huge hulking shape in the darkness. A hand loomed out above and he flinched, cowering.

“Easy,” a voice said. It was a voice of wind and rain and dry-desert crackling. It was unstoppable nature: ultimate power. It was the weight of the world.

It touched him, a curious press of a finger, and its touch was like god. He curled into a ball with what remained of his strength and stayed there. He barely felt the bruises closing, the thirst ebbing, the broken ankle that healed wrong snapping back into place with a jolt. Everything was numb in comparison to the touch of that finger. His pulse armor dampened, extinguished in an instant. He saw the electric knife short out.

“A frontiersman,” the voice said. “Interesting.”

#g/t #gt #gianttiny #giant/tiny #gt community #giant tiny #g/t community #gt writing #g/t writing #gt story #g/t story

[superloves4]

In your eyes the mirror of mercy

Characters: Maglor & (ROP)Galadriel, Gen Chapters: 1 of (hopefully) 3 Summary: While searching for Sauron after following a lead to the Southlands, Galadriel stumbles onto the last person she expected to ever see again: her cousin, the kinslayer Maglor Fëanorion. TW: None I think? Some violence and reference to it at most. Song recommendation: Mercy Mirror - Within Temptation A/N: Not my best work but I had to share the vision!

Ch.2 Ch.3

Also on AO3

The Song beckoned him, it had done so in the past and he followed it, well acquainted with its ways, these had been small reminders, food, drink, bed, as if trying to keep him alive for as long as possible. He didn’t question the Song.

He’d always come back to the shores then, just strong enough to continue. And he’d walk  and walk  and walk

The Song he’d sing and the Song was within him carrying his words on the wind and through water. He didn’t question why.

And so, Maglor continued.

And he’d walk and walk and walk

At times he wasn’t truly... there. He didn’t feel quite the same when he Sang now. But if he dared to slip into numbness and just forget, the Light would be there again, shining onto him and reminding him who Maglor was and what he had done, that nothing he’d ever do would be enough to make up for it.

And he’d walk

Maglor followed the Song to a village in the Southlands. He’d camped a little way outside the village and observed it long enough to discover there was an elven settlement in those parts but with so many years of peace the keepers had dwindled to barely more than two, it made avoiding them much easier, the villagers didn’t like elves but it didn’t matter anyway, he always made sure to go undetected.

When the sun had risen he’d sung a little and garnered the money necessary for a meal as was his usual whenever he wanted more than a fish or nearby vegetation, that was, whenever he actually had food at all. He probably looked nothing like the prince he’d once been, maybe it was better that way.

He bit into his bread.

Whenever she closed her eyes it felt like she was back in that room, staring at Finrod’s corpse. She knew she had to move on and her body begged her to let it go, that the further she went the easiest it would be for her to crumble, Galadriel didn’t have to do this, it wasn’t her burden but she took it anyway, because no one else would otherwise.

Even if it meant watching as Gil-Galad and Elrond’s looks of concern turned to suspicion, because no talk of healing or memory of the blissfulness of Valinor and her childhood could help her now.

And so she’d walk.

Keep the path, keep the search, keep the fight.

And if it wasn’t enough for anyone else, if they truly believed that if she just sought the Valar’s forgiveness she’d be welcomed back, that she’d be healed, because leaving was all she had now, still she’d thread on.

She’d walk and she’d keep the anger.

Galadriel had left at night, as soon as she could gather her things, and left no letters, it didn’t matter if she was alone, if Gil-Galad was truly worried he’d have helped, he would’ve given her more than words trying to lead her to take the next ship, she didn’t care.

In her last search, she had received a new lead and she wasn’t about to give it up, the group of orcs spotted in the Southlands could be everything she was searching for, she’d take anything at this point.

When she arrived, several days later, with little rest in between, there were many things Galadriel had imagined to find in the Southlands.

Sauron had been the preferable choice but hardly a reasonable one, she knew as much. The orc commander leading the group she’d heard about and getting everything she needed from him had been the next best thing. And of course, getting rid of a group of orcs had always been a good idea regardless of whether it progressed her quest or not.

What she never would’ve thought was that she’d hear his voice.

Of course she’d remember his voice, Makalaurë had never been shy of hiding his voice, be it in their grandfather’s halls or in the battlefield, he’d long been defined by it, how could she ever forget.

But he was dead. Everyone said he was dead.

Jumped into the ocean, the last of the silmarils clutched in his hand so no one could have it.

Makalaurë was dead.

But when their eyes met, the reflected light they shared was impossible to hide especially with that ratty cloak he was wearing. So many emotions she saw on his face but she was too stunned to try and decipher them, she did, however, see him recoil. And she saw as he ran away.

In her stupefied state she didn’t even truly react, she noticed the small crowd that had gathered to listen was now dispersing with some curses thrown her way.

She ran.

The boiling anger resurfaced and she dedicated all of herself to the pursuit, the absolute gall he had, running away! Maglor clearly recognized her and knew what she’d do. And he thought he could just run away??

After all that he’d done...

She drove any thought away and continued, it may not be the evil she’d come to capture but it meant the mission in the Southlands had not been a waste, the last of the Fëanorions would be finally brought to justice.

She pursued her cousin to the edges of the town, Maglor didn’t seem interested in blocking her path, and all his efforts were placed on speed and avoiding objects, something she, in her armour, had more trouble doing. Yet, despite his head start Galadriel had overtaken him far easier than she thought.

And when she tackled him to the ground she realized why, she could feel her cousin’s bones stretched onto flimsy skin, gone were the muscles of a fighter, and when she turned his face around to look she saw how sunken his cheeks were. Maglor looked like was barely holding himself together!

“What happened to you?” she asked in horror, none of her previous, more important questions crossed her mind.

“Well, a she-elf, as beautiful as the last orc I fought, decided to throw her whole body weight on me right after lunch!”

Galadriel bashed his head on the ground.

“As nice as ever, Artanis!” he complained but couldn’t even do anything as his words had thrown her back to the moment and she remembered to tie his hands.

Only when she was sure he would not be able to do anything did she allow herself to get up and truly confront him.

“How are you alive?” she asked her most pressing question.

He stared at her befuddled “I’d have to have died in the first place for you to ask me that”

“Do you have any idea of the situation you are in? Or have you finally gone truly mad?” she spat out, her desire was to hit him again but she still needed to interrogate him “Answer my questions or you will regret it”

“Forgive me, Artanis” he answered with a saccharine smile and an overly flippant tone “I’m not in the habit of taking seriously the threats of toddlers!”

She paced the area, reminding herself that she needed him alive for punishment, before replying “It’s Galadriel and you know it”

“Ah, yes, right, Galadriel,” he shrugged, Galadriel made the mental note to tighten up the ropes and make it impossible, and in the same tone as before asked her “On that note, where’s good, ol’ Celeborn, I don’t see him with you, thought he might have wanted a cheap shot as well”

Galadriel’s insults died in her mouth and her body flinched, but she continued, it was better to focus on the task at hand than indulge Maglor’s stupidity.

“Is Maedhros alive as well?” she asked and he looked away, the smile finally falling from his face, Galadriel rejoiced that at least something seemed to affect this strange new version of her cousin.

“Only if you believe one of us could survive falling into a fiery chasm”

“What have you done with the silmarils?”

He gave her a scathing smile and his tone turned back to insolent “Nelyo had his when he died and I threw mine into the sea and have been wandering the shores ever since, of course!”

She violently grabbed him by the hair “TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

“Oh my, little Artanis doesn’t believe me, why might that be?” he had the audacity to laugh at that.

And watching him bend from the weight of his own laughter, fey and deranged, Galadriel decide that questioning Maglor would bring her nowhere, he deserved any horror the Valar deigned to inflict upon him. There barely was any of the cousin she had known in that body anymore.

She tied him to her horse and made sure to ignore any word he said, be it a mumbling, a string of mockery towards her, or all of his strange new songs. The port city they arrived in was nothing like the Grey Heavens and its boats could not compare to Cirdan’s ships, but for her plans that would be all they would need.

Maglor stared at her as she got the boat ready, Galadriel had never felt unsettled by him before, although she had often felt a sense of desolation she had not been able to place until the end of the first age, at that moment, however, with this Maglor that was no more than a stranger, her inability to understand him unnerved her.

“So,” he finally said, his tone neutral “you have truly decided?”

“Yes,” she answered, avoiding looking at him “I’m taking you to Valinor and to the justice of the Valar”

He hummed and nodded.

Maglor looked at the sun setting, he wasn’t singing but music followed him anyway, he seemed to take one last deep breath of Middle-Earth before sitting near the edge, his still bound hands hugging his legs. They started moving, his eyes stared at the deck unseeing and he started quietly singing again.

After about an hour of that, Galadriel snapped “Is that all you can do now?!”

He turned his head to the side, looking at her unblinking “Mostly”

That made her pause, unlike any previous remark, this one seemed to be actually genuine and it made her re-evaluate what he’d said before.

“Maglor?” she asked slowly “Where have you been, truly, all this time?”

He smiled and any semblance of truth disappeared from him “You don’t seem to trust me very much, I’m rather short on answers that would satisfy the great Galadriel, which one would she prefer,” he continued enthusiastically “that I have been secretly plotting to destroy all the remaining Eldar? Or that I have been begging forgiveness to the stars of Varda?”

“What I know is that you are still impossible to deal with.” she growled and decided to leave him to his own devices, let him deal with his broken mind, she refused to care further.

“Aww! Thanks! I’m flattered!” he told her, she pretended not to hear it.

Silence filled the space once more, the stars were twinkling reflected on the sea and Galadriel stared ahead for sight of Valinor even if she knew it wouldn’t be for a while.

“What exactly is your plan for when we get there anyway?” Maglor spoke so suddenly that Galadriel didn’t even ignore him.

“I will tie you up the emergency raft and leave you to float down the rest of the way by courtesy of Ulmo” she gave him a mocking smile this time.

“Not your best plan,” he remarked but she said nothing, she knew that what she was doing had been impulsive but it had to be done, still he stared at her “I didn’t know you were a soldier now”

“When the host of Valinor arrived I refused to stand aside any longer” It wasn’t a question but she answered anyway, remembering the moment she became a commander “Everyone was dead then, my father was there and all I could think was that I was about to lose him too. And in the end, he had to leave anyway.”

She glared at Maglor “And the family I had left was too busy destroying everything they fought for, I was alone”

Maglor pulled up the cowl of his ratty cloak “Oh? You’re telling me we are family after you disappeared into Doriath?”

“After you killed my people!”

He was staring up at her with another sardonic smile, the shadows from the cowl making his eyes appear brighter in the darkness, and when he spoke, his voice held a shade of power.

“Are you threatening me with a dagger, Artanis?”

Every move or line of dialogue he did seemed devised to anger her, leading to their current predicament of Galadriel pointing her brother’s dagger at Maglor’s throat. Even the implicit accusation was maddening.

He couldn’t possibly believe their situations were in any way similar, that she was anything like him.

“Do you truly know what you’re doing, Galadriel?”

She wanted to answer, she was going to answer; when they were distracted by the call of a bird and their first sight of the blessed realm they were born into so long ago.

And it was beautiful.

From where she was standing she could see the white shores of her memory, of her days playing at the beach with her mother, her father braiding her hair so that it wouldn’t tangle in the water, and Angrod and Aegnor teasing her for getting it dirty anyway. Finrod had been there, laughing along but still helping her remove the algae stuck on her head.

Had her brother’s all been re-embodied yet? Would Celeborn be there?

If she just let the ship reach the harbour, would she be able to see them? They would be so surprised, no notice had reached them and yet there she was.

Would her mother still welcome her even after she left despite what had been done to the Teleri?

Her head swirled with possibilities and she felt a tear fall, Valinor was so close she could touch it.

“Galadriel?”

She turned the ship around.

Maglor hit the railings hard, Galadriel was only mildly conscious of that fact, hearing his groans of pain like distant noise as she put distance between them and the undying lands. She heard as he called her name but she couldn’t answer, it felt like her throat had closed and her body rushed to escape.

Dark clouds were beginning to close the sky, keeping the light of the stars away from them, the darkness was a heavy contrast to her memories of Aman but with the wind picking up it didn’t matter.

“Galadriel!”

She rushed from one part of the ship to another as the rain began to fall, she threw her armour to the ground so she could run better, Galadriel didn’t even know if Maglor was still there, he could’ve fallen in the water and be drowning right at moment and she wouldn’t know.

It quickly became evident that they were about to be caught in a storm, the rain felt like punches on her skin and the wind brought the sea upon them. Galadriel screamed when the ship lurched to the side and only her hard acquired quick reflexes kept her from seeing Ulmo’s realm.

The tempest raged, threatening to turn the ship and its passengers into the sea’s newest relics. Galadriel was holding on for dear life to some rope when she heard it.

When she heard his voice.

Maglor stood then on the prow by the figurehead, his voice drowning out the howling of the wind and cutting through the waves, after so many years it was easy to forget how powerful Makalaurë’s voice truly was. But the important thing was that it was working.

Her voice joined her cousin for the first time since before the destruction of the two trees, she may not have the natural inclination for Song as Makalaurë and Findaràto had but she could make up for it with Power.

Singing in unison the ship evened and the unforgiving sea didn’t touch them, even the wind seemed to vanish. In that moment Galadriel truly believed they could weather out the storm, perhaps it was that vanity that changed everything.

In the middle of that tempest, light shone upon them.

Maglor paled and screeched, the Song was broken and a wave hit them, causing the mast to break.

“Maglor!”

Watching as her cousin covered his head and thrashed around the breaking ship, shaking violently, evading the light of Gil-Estel.

“Maglor! Please!” she screamed at him, forced to hold on desperately to the railing, she tried to sing but even her words froze in the cold storm “Please! I can’t do this alone!”

But Maglor didn’t respond, still convulsing and begging the stars.

“MAGLOR!”

A wave enshrouded them.

#maglor copes with regret by being a bitch #silmarillion #the silmarillion #maglor #feanorians #galadriel #lotr rings of power #rings of power #rop #lotr #he's so awful I love him #silm #my writing #I think I got Galadriel ok #could've gone harder I suppose #lord of the rings #horrible cousins #elrond will show up in the third chapter #rewatched rop just for this

[shatteredsilverwing]

A Fleeting Sanctuary (Pt. I)

Hello, it's me, ShatteredSilverWing!

It had been quite a while since I've written anything but I still hope that you will enjoy the first part of my "A Fleeting Sanctuary" fiction!

It was supposed to fit into one post, yet there were so many ideas swirling through my head that I just couldn't stop, so I had to split it up in the end.

Also, I took most of my inspiration from the writings of @crisiscutie so most of the credit for the idea goes to her!

Enjoy!

Words: 785

Characters: 4.337

Content warnings: slight angst, mentions of anxiety, pregancy

Oh, how dumb you were for thinking that escaping Shinra with your beloved together would grant you eternal happiness; free from their strangling clutches. But you should have known that they would end up finding both of you sooner or later, since they had their eyes in every nook and cranny on the planet Gaia. Sending out spies was a daily routine for them after all. You knew; you were one of them once.

On that day, Sephiroth decided to go hunting early in the morning, so you had been alone at home with your lovely daughter. You thought about preparing lunch with her together, so you went into the kitchen with her to set up everything. Your daughter was very young, but she was already well-versed in how to use a knife, which is why you gave her the particular task of cutting the vegetables into bite-sized pieces. You, in the meanwhile, filled up the pots with water and sometimes looked out for her, giving her support when needed. The two of you were smiling, laughing and even making teasing jokes at each other, and it filled your heart with joy until it was ready to burst to have her with you.

You felt so insecure back then when you figured out that you had been pregnant. At that time, you and Sephiroth had just found a suitable place within a cabinet in the woods, not very far from its inherent village. It was a small, humble village, so you gave it a risk to stay here and giving into the illusion to have found a sanctuary here.

During the first trimester of your pregnancy, both of you had to face many several obstacles, especially between you two.

Sephiroth, who never wasted a thought on becoming a father in the first place, was filled with anxiety and a jumpiness you had never seen on him before. He was always ready to protect you without hesitation; fighting off anyone who dared to trouble you. His nerves were constantly on edge and the only times where he felt at ease was when he could drift off to sleep while being embraced by your yet fragile body.

When you had reached the second trimester of your pregnancy and your belly started to grow, most of his anxiousness got washed away by the joy he felt when he saw your body blossom.

The rest of his troubles and trepidations left his mind entirely when your daughter finally saw the light of the day. He had been at ease and a loving, caring father ever since.

And you felt the same after you gave birth to her. Though you had still pondered a lot about you even being able to become a capable mother, the happiness you felt blew away all your insecurities. And given time, it became natural to you being a mother. And your daughter became one of the most precious people you could have ever asked for in your life. The other, being your beloved Sephiroth, of course.

Just as you had finished to stir-fry the freshly cut vegetables with your sweet daughter together, a loud and sudden bang reached your ears.

"I'll open the door! It's probably Daddy!", your daughter shouted with glee as she was already dashing to the front door.

"Sweetie, wait!", you shouted back, drying your hands on a towel and running after her.

How often had you told her not to answer the door when she's alone at home or none of her parents were currently available to do so.

To her daughter's luck, it had always been either a kind villager, who regulary offered their help with your growing in the backyard, or her much-loved Daddy who just came home from hunting or training.

Unfortunately, this time, it was neither of them.

Your heart paused in fright for a moment when you realized who was standing in the doorframe: A tall, bald man wearing a black suit. The fact that he's wearing sunglasses didn't make him look less intimidating, neither did his leather-gloved hands.

The expression on your daughter's face changed in an instant while she hesitantly took a few steps back before she ran back to you.

"Mommy...", she whimpered while she hid behind your long, silken skirt; shutting her eyes tight.

There was no mistake: This guy was a Turk, an elite even, directly sent from Shinra's General Affairs Division.

How could this even be...?

The utter shock in your bones made your legs tremble in panic. Your breath ran shallow, making you feel dizzy while the pounding of your heart made you feel nauseous.

Failing to find the words to speak, your opponent began to speak first.

#final fantasy #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ff7 #ff7 turks

[weministertomonsters]

Piper And The Vampire

This (unfinished as per usual) story is 3.5k words long and heavily inspired by the Interview with The Vampire TV series, but whether that's obvious... Probably not.

─────────────── · · · · ✦

I was in a world of trouble that all began because one boy couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. But all stories have to start at the beginning if they are going to make any sense, so that's where we'll begin.

I was eleven when my father fell from his horse and got his head smashed in. He didn't last long, nobody can when your brain is turned to a pink pudding and won't stay in your head where it should be. I was the unlucky one who found him, and he was still moaning in the ditch with flies all buzzing around. I ran home, hollering the entire way.

"Mumma, it's Papa!" I yelled, crashing right into the kitchen.

She smacked her floury hands on her apron. "Where he at? Coming home from the bar? Still there and fighting again?"

"No, he's in the ditch. His head's all crumpled like a pumpkin someone forgot in the cellar."

She looked grim and vaguely sick like I had told her I'd found someone's cow sickening in the woods. "Good Lord help us," she said, picking up her skirt till I could see her brown shins.

She greased her legs and arms every morning with shea butter, and her skin shone as a result. She wasn't white-skinned and golden-haloed like the angels in the Big Church windows, but she was my angel. Tall, imperious, and often untouchable. Now she ran down the worn road leading from our cabin to the rest of the village. I followed her but she said over her shoulder, "Call the Doctor."

"I've already seen him, Mumma! Can't unsee that," I protested, eager to be a big girl.

"In case there's saving in him yet," she responded in a flurry of movement, disappearing down the hill.

Satisfied my Mumma wasn't trying to shield me from any perceived horror, I ran to get the Doctor. He didn't live far because, in such a small town, one person's backyard was another person's front yard. Even our house, which was considered "out of the way", was still visible from the middle of the town.

I could hear the Doctor say, "Geez, Louise, can't a man eat his supper in peace?" to his housekeeper as I thumped up the stairs and past the cocker spaniel on the porch and busted in through the grand blue door.

"The devil doesn't stop his deeds for anyone, Doctor Carney." She replied, sensible as always, turning to me. "Now, what's wrong Miss Piper?"

"My Papa's hurt real bad. I don't think he gon' make it but Mumma said I should call you," I heaved and gasped for air.

Despite complaining seconds ago, Doctor Carney practically flew off his chair with nothing but his case of medical things which was always within reach, looking like a hero in a comic book as he leaped on his horse that was also waiting in the yard at almost any given hour. I watched from the window, guilty about feeling excited. Or was it fear that tightened my ribcage and caused my heart to thrash in its cage of bone? I couldn't tell.

"A glass of water, Miss Piper? You look like you ran the whole way here."

I gulped down the water, relishing the slightly sweet taste. I thought it was almost as good as the stream early in the morning, the same cool and clean-tasting stuff.

"I should go back," I said but Mrs. Louise put a hand on my shoulder. "Now, how about you stay on? It's getting dark out there and I don't want you walking home alone."

I could tell it was because she didn't want me to see my father in his current state. I was going to tell her that I'd been the first to see him and there was no use keeping me but she brought a tall glass of milk and a plate laden with sticky brownies from the kitchen. I forgot to say thank you for the treat and that thought would keep me up for a long time later that night. When Doctor Carney came back, it was with a wagon borrowed from the Smiths and I knew this because of the streak of black going up one side. The oldest son of the Smiths had started a fire for fun and it got out of control and almost took the wagon with it.

My Mumma jumped out the back as soon as it stopped. She had been crying so it didn't take much else to know that my father hadn't made it. She wouldn't have cried otherwise. There my Papa was, tucked in the back of the wagon and wrapped in a musty sack. His shoes stuck out over the top because he was taller than the sack was wide.

"I'm sorry," Doctor Carney said awkwardly as he dismounted, and the way he said it made it unclear whether he was expressing sympathy or apologizing for wrapping my father in a feed sack.

"So, he's dead," I said somberly. "What we gon' do for bread now?"

Mrs. Louise looked a little appalled at that, glancing in uncertainty at my Mumma who laughed in an odd, wet way and hugged me tightly.

"It's the shock," she said. "She'll be bawling her eyes out tomorrow."

"I will not! I like my eyes," I retorted but my Mumma was already pulling me away.

"The wagon, Mrs. Maarten?" Doctor Carney said, showing up after he'd hauled my father off someplace.

The cellar perhaps; kids always rumored that the dead bodies shared the cellar with his milk, potatoes, and preserves because it was the only place cold enough to keep them for burial. No one else had a cellar or those that had one didn't want dead bodies in it.

"I'll come for the wagon tomorrow," she replied over her shoulder. "If the Smiths need it now, that's too bad."

"Are you sure walking alone in the dark is fine? We can always send the manservant along with you," Mrs. Louise called after us.

"It's not the works of man I'm afraid of but the work of the devil," Mumma retorted.

"Mumma, you making yourself sound weird," I complained.

"I've seen what happens in the dark and this ain't nothing yet, my dear," she responded.

That was my first hint that she thought something else other than a horse had happened to my father.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I had been right to worry about bread. As bad a father as mine had been, he at least brought a loaf of bread home when he came home from work. That way, even if we had nothing but stale bread and watery milk to go with it, we still had something to eat. Money doesn't come cheap and it doesn't grow on trees, so Mumma had to go and find work. The first week consisted of her leaving early in the morning, coming home worn to the bone, and shaking her head in defeat.

Right when the pantry was scraped clean and things were beginning to feel desperate, she came home on a Saturday evening with a strange glow in her eyes and a pocketful of cinnamon hard candy.

"I've got a job, Piper," she declared, dividing the candy between us. "Things gon' look up now."

"When do you start?" I asked.

"Monday and it'll be long hours. Will you be able to take care of yourself?"

"Heck, I've been cooking and cleaning since I was nine, Mumma. I can handle it. 'Sides, I'll be at school most of the day myself," I ducked the incoming swat for cussing and felt very grown up and independent.

The first week was a slow one. Mumma didn't get her first pay until Friday and had to buy from the general store on credit. She hated doing that and so she bought the absolute minimum; bread and milk. On Sundays, we might get invited to a friend's house for dinner, and there I would gorge myself on potatoes and chicken, and cornbread. After school, I had another three hours to pass before Mumma came home and I was left to my own devices. I'd usually play with the dolls I made of straw and old strips of cloth and eat doorstep-thick slices of chewy bread with a dollop from the last jar of preserves.

One day she came home with something all wrapped up. The pantry was now truly empty and all I'd had for breakfast was the end of the loaf with the last glass of milk. My stomach felt like it was turning inside out to start digesting my other organs.

"Did ya get a gift of potatoes from the Sir?" I asked excitedly, spotting the package. "We having potatoes for dinner?"

"Hush up. It ain't no potato. It's a baby." She gently pulled back the cloth so I could see what I'd thought was the tops of a bunch of potatoes was instead a skinny baby.

In light of my crushed hopes, I wasn't exactly welcoming. "Well, kinda looks like a potato to me."

"Piper. Mind your tongue now."

"But it does!" I insisted. "Brown and wrinkly and half-starved looking. Like a dud potato. How did you find a baby anyhow?"

"I ain't having your attitude today," she sighed and walked inside.

"It ain't attitude!" I hollered back, miffed but repentant. "I'm starving is all."

I knew I'd finished the milk that morning. What was she going to feed it? Was it her or him? I was too distracted by the dull thunder in my stomach to care. The baby began to cry and I sat on the porch and listened to Mumma try to hush it up, thinking of how hungry I was.

After a couple of minutes, I went inside. Mumma was changing the baby's diaper.

"It stinks in here," I announced.

"This poor thing was by the roadside in a saddle blanket," Mumma said in a hushed voice because she had finally got the baby to settle. "Hungry with a wet diaper. No one in sight. I have no idea what happened."

"So, what we gon' do for food? The baby needs to eat too."

"I got paid today. Would you run by the store? With any luck, Gran-Mae will still be open and you can buy us something. Two cans of milk for the baby and whatever else looks good for us. You just be sensible, okay? Don't come back with your pockets filled with nothing but candy," Mumma said.

I took the gold coins with a whistle and skipped out the door, biting down on one just like a shopkeeper who wanted to make sure their gold was real. For the six minutes or so it took me to get down the hill to the general store, I felt rich and pretended that I was heading down into town to buy a fine horse. Black with white socks, like Doctor Carney's horse.

Gran-Mae was on the small porch of her store, sweeping dirt out of the cracks in the floorboards with a short stick broom. She could bend well for her age and her backside pointing at me looked like the rump of a friendly cow.

"Gran-Mae? You still open?" I called.

"Now if it isn't Piper Maarten!" She hooted, straightening up and bracing her hand on her back. "I'm closing up, but you come on in."

She bustled through the doors she hadn't locked yet. Lucky that, because she had more than three padlocks on that door and it would have taken forever to open them up because they were all damaged by the rain and rustier than the gates of hell.

It was like stepping into a cluttered heaven that smelled of so many good, heavy scents. I sniffed as quietly as I could manage and caught scents of maple syrup and soap, brown sugar and earthy potatoes, and baby carrots. The oily block of cheese on the counter wafted enticingly in my face, so close I could just lean over and chomp into it.

But the real exciting part was Gran-Mae's candy jar. It had caramel twists and cubes of cinnamon hard candy and bulbs of cherry chew squished next to tacky peppermints, a chaotic jumble of colors that was a feast to my eyes.

Gran-Mae used to give free candy out to the kids, especially when they had gotten hurt. She had to stop when five-year-old Vernon Akson down the street figured jumping off the roof of his parent's barn last summer to get hurt bad would earn him a mountain of candy. Even Mumma and I could hear his screams and he never walked quite right after that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"You come here, child, and I'll nail your head!" I growled. "What you been doing in the kitchen?"

"I ain't eating anything!" Willy yelled back, scampering to the porch and making a dash for the oak tree out front.

"Then why are the pie toppings lookin' skimpy?" I retorted. "Get outta the tree, Willy."

We ended up keeping the baby. Not sure how, but Mumma got a little extra money from the Sir to care for the brat. Maybe she asked. A little extra always goes a long way and with some candy, I was bribed into grudging acceptance of the baby who had quickly grown into the most impulsive, excitable seven-year-old I'd ever known. With Mumma working, I became a mother of sorts, something I didn't think I was cut out for.

At fifteen now, I was wiry and taller than most of the girls in my class and felt as much out of place with them as I looked. I could always hang with the boys though because even my skirts couldn't get in the way of my love of climbing. However, Sundays sure did. Dressed in my nicest brown skirt, there was no way I could go climbing after Willy without ripping it.

"Willy," I sighed. "We gon' be late if you carry on."

"You ain't whippin' me no more?" He asked hopefully, coltish limbs wrapped around the branch he was clinging to.

"Nah, there ain't enough time. Come down and get dressed. Mumma is gon' be here any moment with the Sir."

Willy shimmied down the trunk and thumped onto his feet. "Why is he coming anyway? I ain't never seen a Sir go to church."

"They do, they just go the big fancy one in the city yonder," I said as we went inside to wash up.

"Have you ever been to the city, Piper?" Willy asked, standing on an old apple crate to reach the wash basin so he could splash his face.

"Once, when I was real small, my Papa and I rode on his horse to the top of Windcreak Hill and I saw the city from there. It was half-dark and all the fancy lights were sparkling like fallen stars. Only got to see that once though, because afterward he started drinking and couldn't ride straight," I said, dragging the brush through my curls to try and force it all into a bun. "Then Mumma said I couldn't ride with him no more."

"Shame, I want to see the city too."

"It's nearly half an hour to Windcreak Hill on a horse. Your legs won't get you there and back in time for dinner even if you went at the lick of daylight," I said in what I figured was a kindly tone. "You need to wear a bow."

"But I wanna see the city!" Willy whined, enchanted by my description of it.

"When I get me a horse, I'll take you," I promised. "But only if you're good. Now let's find you a tie."

I went into the room he and Mumma shared to see if I could find one. Through the dusty window, I saw a fine carriage coming up the way. That had to be Mumma and the Sir.

My thoughts were interrupted by a splash and the splatter of water from the kitchen.

"What you did now?" I demanded, hurrying in.

"I was trying to brush my hair and the crate broke!" Willy said indignantly. "Wasn't my fault."

"At least you didn't tip everything in the basin," I mumbled, nudging him to the side and hastily throwing a dishcloth on the water. "We gotta go."

"But I'm bleeding," he fussed.

I checked his lip. "It ain't too bad. Suck it up."

Willy skipped out the door. "Come see, Piper! The Sir has a fine carriage horse," he said in his squeaky voice.

"Hush up or he'll hear you," I muttered.

The Sir came out first and offered a gloved hand to Mumma who took it graciously, trying not to titter. She looked mighty fine in her new silk dress and idly I wondered if she and the Sir were getting together or something. No way she bought that herself.

"Ready, children?" Mumma called.

The Sir stopped in front of us, his pink lips under his blond mustache dimpling into a small smile which slipped into a frown as he looked from me to Willy.

"Mon Dieu," he said. "Your lip."

"Banged it on the wash basin," Willy said, puffing up like he thought it was tough and cool to have a bloody lip.

"Most unfortunate," the Sir said, holding out his white handkerchief, which had a lacy edge just like a lady's handkerchief.

I groaned inwardly as Willy took it and smeared his blood and saliva on the cloth before trying to hand it back. The Sir laughed once and I snatched the cloth.

"I'll wash it and return it to you, Sir," I said with a curtsy.

"Oh, no need! I have plenty of those. Throw it away. Now, shall we?" He said, gesturing to the carriage.

In that high-up and big wheeled carriage, it didn't take long to get down to the church. Despite that, we were still a few minutes late, just enough that everyone was gathered in the churchyard and greeting each other.

"Nah," I said, shrinking back in my chair. "Everyone's gonna be looking."

"Piper," Mumma said, her eyes as brown as burnt brownies and her tone dry with a sharp warning edge.

Don't embarrass me in front of the Sir, her gaze said, it's an honor to sit in his carriage.

And it was, but all I was thinking about was how everyone would talk about us later. The girls at school would crowd around me asking questions and all the boys would make lame jokes. And the old folk would talk smack about Mumma over their Tuesday cards. Crickets, just the thought gave me a hot chill.

"You will never blend in, Piper. Best to learn that now," the Sir said bluntly, looking at me like he had guessed what I was thinking.

Looking at him straight on, I realized his hair came down to his shoulders, tucked coyly behind his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes. Something about him bugged me. Perhaps the hair or the way he sat, or his ability to deliver a rude line like that with a smile on his face. I rose to the challenge of that innocent smile.

"Neither will you, Sir. Respectfully saying, everyone is gonna talk about you and your fine horse and carriage and girly hair."

"Piper!" Mumma hissed.

The Sir laughed. "Let the girl speak, Marilyn. Honest opinions are so hard to come by these days."

"Marilyn? You call my Mumma by her first name? What's she to you?" I demanded.

Willy squirmed in his seat, impatient to get out and play.

I couldn't stand the Sir's lofty attitude and Mumma's cattle brand-hot gaze, so I threw the door open and stumbled out into the sunshine. I hadn't realized how dark the carriage had been with its draped windows.

"Now if it ain't the Maartens!" Pastor Wilkins said, walking towards us with his fat black Bible tucked under his arm.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Sir, though. He just stood and stared, as I'd expected. I edged to the side and waited with bated breath to see what would happen. I hoped Pastor Wilkins would tell him to leave. The Sir smiled and tilted his head up to the sky for a moment.

"Such a sunny day isn't it? It surely livens the senses."

"Indeed," Pastor Wilkins drawled, having recovered from seeing a white Sir in his mainly dark-skinned congregation. "You from Gaines by any chance?"

"The grand city, yes of course," the Sir said. "Shall we?"

"Welcome to our little town, in that case," Pastor Wilkins said.

Then he walked inside with him and that was that. I arched my eyebrows. Somehow, that interaction had gone differently than I expected. I had been waiting for a polite but brutally suspicious Pastor Wilkins because I knew that man was like a guard dog around strangers, but Pastor Wilkins only seemed happy to have a rich Sir in his pews.

Disappointed, I drifted inside. Only later would I realize that the unquestioned acceptance of the Sir was just a precursor for what was to come.

#vampire #original story #oc story #writeblr #writing

[zoezenii]

So Bree and her companions’ backstories have finally be revealed so I can show all these off now. (Fair warning these drawings are all quite a few years old lol)

Info about Bree’s backstory under the cut (tw for parental abuse, physical abuse, self-harm)

Bree was born in a small cottage, that rested at the peak of a hill, overlooking the village of Loch Bàs and the lake for which the village got its name. Her parents were two very miserable and unstable people who didn’t know how to take care of a child, but didn’t want the town to get into their business. As unapproachable and rude people, Bree’s parents, who were called Ida and Conall O’Malley, were kept at a distance from the town. No one daring to push or pry into their private lives.

With a small cottage far up the hill, Bree’s birth and the early years of her lives were spent without anyone except her parents knowing about her existence. As she grew older, Bree was taught by her mother to read and would often spend time studying and exploring the forest surrounding the entire village, cottage, and its fields. She was a bright-eyed and extremely clever child who read everything her mother had and occasionally would bring home on trips. Getting older, her parents also grew more and more unstable and abusive. Attacking and screaming at each other, as well as taking their anger and frustration on Bree.

Around the age of 12, Bree woke to her parents in a heated and aggressive fight. Her father hitting her mother and gathering his things as she screamed at him. He slammed the door shut, and after he did, Bree watched as her mother began to perform a magical ritual. (Bree was startled but also in awe, having never seen magic before.) Her mother performed her spell, which ended in her taking an ancient and magical dagger, and stabbing herself in her heart with it. The magic caused green flames to engulf the house but spread over everything, leaving it unharmed.

Bree’s father had been leaving town just before he caught on fire, those same green flames reducing his body to ash and bone. Moiré, the leader of the village, sought to investigate the magical power and put an end to whatever had happened. When Moiré entered the cottage, she found Bree’s mother dead, and it was only moments after studying the scene that she heard a noise in a nearby. Investigating, Moiré found the small, shaking tiefling girl, hiding in a small makeshift bed.

From that point on, Moiré took responsibility for Bree and raised her as her own. Bree was introduced to the town and given her own room, all the food she could want, and all the little, simple comforts she had not known before. She grew up under Moiré, who was strict but extremely loving to not just her, but everyone in Loch Bàs. Bree’s curiosity and interest flourished. She grew closer and closer to the small town and eventually became a well-loved, endearing character that was looked after by all.

Eventually she moved back into her parents cottage, after a tense argument with Moiré, in order to have her own space and a closer place to the forest she had grown up to love so very, very much. She wanted a place to study and be alone to read without any disruptions from the townsfolk or just town in general. She and Moiré completely redecorated the cottage and worked to make it unrecognizable, the place she had grown up w her parents.

The story of Bree’s departure from her town and how she met her patron, I can also share, but I will collect some art and maybe make some before I tell that next part~

#my art #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d #dungeons n dragons #dungeons & dragons #home brew #homebrew #bree o’malley #thoc #warlock #tiefling #dnd backstory #archfey #archfey patron #pink tiefling #tomelock #bree

[chierafied]

The Silence - Part 4 (SKW2022D4)

SessKag Week 2022, Day 4

And I've always lived like this Keeping a comfortable distance And up until now I had sworn to myself That I'm content with loneliness

- The Only Exception by Paramore

Exception

He had meant to keep his distance. Given how he’d honed his self-discipline, he should have been able to. He was not someone who gave into whims. He hardly had any of those, to begin with.

Except, of course, when it came to her.

The wind had carried her scent to him. She’d stood there, so close, with the sunlight in her hair, looking so beautiful that his heart trembled in surrender. 

How could he have stayed away?

Sesshoumaru had walked over to Kagome and greeted her. He'd basked in her presence, let her aura wash over him in a way that both soothed and settled. He had breathed in her scent, storing it in his lungs and memory. He'd gazed at her features, so luminous in the sun. Her blue eyes had had a distinct sparkle that the candlelight could not quite capture.

It had forced him to realise how much he wanted to see her like this, out in the daylight. Out in the open. Without the need to hide from anyone, as if what they shared was something shameful. 

As if he could ever be ashamed of her! How could he be anything but proud that such a powerful, courageous and caring woman had given herself to him?

The conversation they had engaged in had little meaning. It had just been an excuse to meet her, to allow himself a few more precious moments with Kagome.

Easily pleased, he’d told her, speaking of Rin. But the same description applied to him as well. He was content to simply stand next to her and exchange a few words with her.

It was getting tiresome to only visit her in secret, even though he'd chosen to do so to protect her reputation and to save her from Inuyasha’s ire. There were still two weeks before he would be able to visit her and somehow that felt like an eternity. Time had little meaning to a daiyoukai like him and yet it seemed to pass slower than ever.

Unfortunately, there was only one way out of this current predicament, and Sesshoumaru was reluctant to take it. Yet, he could sense it in himself now — that someday soon it wouldn't be enough to see her once in a moon. Yearning was already stirring within, a longing to be by her side every day. To wake up next to her. To sit together at breakfast. To talk with her in the afternoon. To love her into an exhaustion every evening, to hold her in his arms while she slept until sleep would finally find him too.

That was the life that he wanted. 

If only he didn’t need his Elders' permission to take a mate! Were he free to do how he wished, he would already be formally courting Kagome. Openly, without any thought for unnecessary secrecy.

But such was not the world. Everyone had their duties and obligations to shoulder. 

That day, even though he had spent but a few minutes in Kagome’s company, it was hard to leave the village. As he took to the skies, the further he got from that small, homely hut that Kagome had made her own, the more his heart screamed at him to turn back. To stay. And gripped with all of these impossible emotions, Sesshoumaru had already set his course before he realised it.

When his brain finally caught up with his actions and he understood where he was actually heading, he came to a stop. Staring at the mountains in the distance, Sesshoumaru hovered in the air. Hovered between the present and the future, the safe choice and the possibilities.

And that was why he had been reluctant to pursue this course of action before, he finally admitted to himself. He was was afraid that his request might be turned down and where would that leave him and Kagome then?

If he never dared try at all, would their relationship forever remain stagnant in the current limbo, never reaching the full bloom of its true potential? Now that was the risk Sesshoumaru couldn’t take. 

His jaw set, Sesshoumaru continued to travel west. He would go do what he had been avoiding for so long, what he rarely had any cause to do, to begin with. He would go to seek out his Elders. He would make his request and he wouldn’t leave until he finally would get what he wanted — the permission to take the woman he loved as his mate. 

---

Part Five

#sesskag #sesskag fic #sesskagweek2022 #skw2022 #skw2022d4 #chie writes #fic: sk #fic: The Silence

[mx-princey]

Honestly all of your story ideas sound good.... personally I think I'm most invested in your ocs story and I'm a bit curious about the premise for your animal crossing one? Mostly bc with ac stories I feel like there's an interesting amount of flexibility there agdhshdh

Ur always so nice thank u 😊

Actually thinking up Plotlines for My Oc (Tea) has been so difficult I've literally probably come up with and scrapped like 10 different plotlines since her creation LOL. At the moment I'm working on designing a few friends for her, a pair of twins whose designs will be based on insects. I want a story about people who are outcast and how isolating it can be to feel unwanted by the world, but also how much people who understand you are worth and can be like family. The setting is still up in the air but right now I am considering a post-apocalyptic setting which came about due to machinery in some way. Tea would be a robot that spent some time "awake" with her human inventor who she was fond of, before being separated and deactivated before being "woken up" after the apocalyptic event, having lost everything she knew and loved. She grapples with self-blame due to sharing an identity with the one's who brought upon the destruction, despite having no part in it herself. For her arc, I'd like her to realise that in fact, very vew robots had a hand in anything that happened and that 1. She has to stop making judgements on others based on archetypes and such, and 2. She has to move forward from her guilt and start to actually take action to make a better world, even if its just in small ways.

I've always wanted something a bit epic lol, but honestly all I have in mind at the moment is that she connects with those around her and helps people to heal and live a better life.

Maybe if I want something very climactic, something will happen that requires them to find a way off planet, and they try to save and take as many beings with them as they can, but of course can't save anyone. That could play into the themes of guilt and the idea that you should do what you can to help people, but you will never be able to do everything or save everybody.

I wrote way more than I meant to about that and I'm not even onto the AC-Inspired story yet... LOL.

The AC-Inspired story is a bit more recent so I haven't talked about it much, but the basic premise is that, when a person becomes lonely enough and makes a wish (doesn't have to be explicit, can just be a feeling) that they had a friend somewhere, and they fall asleep while going somewhere (ie on a train, bus, car, or god forbid driving) when they wake they'll be granted transport to and given a ticket to a village in a forest populated with other lonely people. This "program" has only recently started reaching out to humans, so most of the people there will be animal spirits from a world that functions like ours. Being in this place ambiently lowers people's hostility and makes it easier for people to open up and be understanding. Anybody there can leave at any time, but their ticket will glow when they're "ready" and confident enough to resume their normal life.

So far the character's I've thought most about are a workaholic who poured to much of his life into work and has found himself dangerously socially detached, which started hitting him especially hard when computers started becoming more advanced and his skills quickly started becoming outdated and unneeded. A jaded gay man who's never met anybody like himself and believed he was completely alone and a lesbian who was very active with her local queer scene but due to her high status felt she had to keep up appearances which kept her from expressing her true, admittedly silly self. A lady with pretty bad agoraphobia who spends her time making sure she "looks good enough" to be seen by people but then is constantly too afraid to go outside and be judged anyway. An old spirit who has lived in the village almost since it had been set up, whose love died before he was invited and who has never wanted to go back to a world without them, choosing to stay after his time to meet everyone passing through. A prostitute who genuinely enjoyed her work but was so afraid of being looked down upon for it she decided to build up a reputation as confident and self-reliant, to the point she would never let herself be emotionally vulnerable with everyone. Then there's the cat-spirit who set up the whole system, who seems outwardly confident and chipper, but has insecurities of his own about the whole project.

Writing it now a lot of the character ideas are very cliche, but it is just a work in progress, and it is just a little story I thought up to help me through hard times. Ultimately it's about 1. Connecting with others, 2. Seeing everybody as equal regardless of background and in spite of differences, and 3. The fact that you can't stay with all the people you love forever. The third point is explored through the fact that even though you might make plenty of friends in the village, everyone has to return to their normal life eventually, but the experiences you had together will always exist as happy memories and the things you learned from each other will always be there to support you, together or not.

Also, the character inspirations in order are Raymond (I am not immune to the Raymond :|), Kyle, Katt, Kitty, Dobie, Tiffany, and ofc my boy Rover.

Annnyway its almost 5am and I should sleep now :P sorry if any of this doesn't make sense bc again its late and I took my sleeping meds a little while ago LOL

Anyway thanks for the ask goodnight and I hope u have a good day /)

[pleb-the-original]

Day 8: Centaur

(I had like 0 motivation for a long time as I could not come up with anything, but then I remember that fish centaurs exist and soon enough I finally got that burst. I'm kinda proud of the storytelling on this one, I hope y'all like it) My name was and still is Cohort. That is what I have always been, what I thought I never would be again, and what I have become once again. I was given this name when I was created. I was naught but small salmon, not knowing of the world I do now. The humans called me coho salmon but my compatriots called me Cohort. They plucked me from the rivers and saved me from a life of survival and made me into something more. We were in an age of piracy, they wanted anyone willing to follow them. I know now they picked me because I was unknowing, vulnerable to their ideas as I became what I was. We sailed the seas, some sharing a home in a place I would never see despite how it should have been my home. Others were like me, chosen from the waters to become higher in thinking and form. But we all shared the desire to hunt, for riches and for the thrill of the pillage. For the longest time, I was one with the horde. We stole many treasures and frightened humans like many would in that age; sometimes even joining with other crews. But over time, I do not know how but I began to see things differently. Treasure became stolen nothings, humans became victims, and my crew became nothing but the monsters that they would call us. One day, I had nothing. It was another raid, a regular seaside village. I remember everything, the scent of the salted sea and the blood mixing in a familiar way, the streets marked with sights of red from both sides. I was supposed to scout around looking for valuables. That’s when I saw him, a man. He cowered at the sight of me, but still he held steady, readying a pitchfork to my side to stab if I even made the smallest move. That was when I saw what we were doing. My friends said they saved me from a life of survival and peril, but we were causing that exact same misery onto people who did not deserve it. So, I tried to tell him I was sorry, I tried to tell him where we hid everything and why we did what we did. The last thing I remember before everything went away was the chill of the blade and the only word I ever understood from a human language: “monster”. Yet, I opened my eyes. I saw him, and despite never having known his name or what he was before I knew exactly who was in front of me. The great king Swift said that he had judged me to be a soul worthy of a great rebirth. I asked him how, as I was nothing more than a monster and a beast. He told me about how the greatest thing a warrior can do is realize when he has done wrong and atone. So he granted me a warrior’s afterlife. I was to serve in his court as an ichthyocentaur, the greatest kind of warrior. Others among the court would tell me about the great things my kind had done, we slayed the Mad King Razorfin, we protected that home I never knew in its infancy, we saved lives of all kinds. Sometimes I wonder if I am truly worthy of such a rebirth, every time I gaze back and see my still salmon tail. But then my new friends tell me their stories, some even coming from the same roots as I did. They still call me Cohort. But now it is a name I can be proud of, as I serve my eternal afterlife to the new great king Finley. My name was and will forever be Cohort.

#creative writing #writing #chimeraquest #centaur #ichthyocentaur

[familylightfox]

@reflections-of-mobius asked:

"You'll need to aim better than that!" Bless laughed as he dodged a snowball. It had been a rather pleasant day at the Inn- and now, it was shaping into a pleasant night. With a fresh round of snowfall, he'd convinced the others it would be worthwhile to have a snowball fight...and it may have slowly grown until it was all but a snowball war. "Even slowed down, I'm too fast~!" He snickered, only to yelp as he had to suddenly dodge a ball of snow that very nearly hit him. Temporary snow forts had popped up here and there, courtesy of the blur as he dodged throw after throw from the others. Node, who had retired from the fight several minutes prior, was now watching the remaining competitors with a soft smile- nursing some hot chocolate from the light of the Inn. "Wooooo!!!" He'd darted around the field, doing his best to stick to wider turns. Sadly, he still couldn't pull the hairpin maneuvers he had before- and that resulted in him undoubtedly being an easier target for Harmony and her teammates. Node had to bite back a snicker when Bless finally got struck- wiping out in a nearby snowbank out of surprise. "ACK--!" His yelp was quickly muffled by the white powder. Node shook their head. Just another night at the Inn, they supposed- as the weather gradually grew colder, and winter tightened its grip on the village. "Are you okay?" They called out across the field.- And were met with a thumbs-up suddenly popping out of the drift. Node couldn't bite back a small laugh at that. "I WILL HAVE REVENGE!" Bless called out as he burst from the snow, sending a wave of cold in all directions with a playful shout. "C'MERE!" And now he was charging towards the group of would-be victors. "Chaos..." Node chuckled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Getting a bunch of teenagers to join in a would-be snowball fight was easy. How in the source Bless had managed to rope some of the nearby residents was anyone's guess, but Volt was in agreement with his other partner on only participating for a short amount of time. He had a bit too much to do still around the Inn to prepare for the upcoming festival to step away for too long.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to watch from the porch while 'working' on hanging up a few more decorations.

Harmony and her teammates could be heard laughing every time they had been hit by a snowball. It was always followed by their calls before they would launch their counterattacks. As the night wore on, however, they had a devious plan.

One that involved waiting until Bless popped his head up that final time. They already had everything set up. The moment he began to rush towards them, it was his undoing and Volt had to laugh as he spotted it.

"Take this Bless!" Tangle was holding an iron lantern post tightly as Whisper and Buddy were directly across the way with the end of her tail.

Harmony was in the middle with the stretched appendage pulled back and a grin on her muzzle.

The massively sized snowball was being held back only by her hand, which she released with a howl of laughter. Even Volt nearly fell over as he watched the werehog disappear under the snowball. A look was given to Node to go along with his grin.

"I think point goes t' the teens this time."

#ask the hybrids #traveling the multiverse: ic #who needs a riot/start a howl: bless #quiet nights in quaint company: node #'cause everytime we touch/i feel the static: bless & node & volt #reflectionsofmobius

[lshark-cs]

Iron God Chapter 12 [Haode]

 CW ABUSE       Despite her initial misgivings, Pileated Woodpecker was not impossible to convince. She told Haode she would spread the word, as her contacts were numerous, despite Felltree being a small community. "Anyone and everyone who's lost someone to Styzia," she had assured him. "We outnumber them. We will have our justice."

Then she had given them three horses and sent them on their way. The mares they now rode had once belonged to the village's defenders, all of whom had been killed by the sabretooth-masked monster. Like Peck and her children, they were named after birds. Haode tried to keep himself calm in the saddle. Letting Gyrfalcon pick up on his fear would only spell trouble.

He looked between the pale mare's tufted ears and saw a log in the path. She jumped over it with ease. Behind him, Ido's mount refused the jump. Ido shouted. Sparrowhawk pranced and tossed her head.

Haode looked over his shoulder. "Stop pulling so hard on the reins. That's how you tell a horse to stop, not go."

Ido's mount lunged awkwardly over the log. Dakko followed on Blue Heron. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The Wash," said Haode. "Remember? The village below Styzia." "That seems like the last place we'd want to be," said Dakko. "Well, except Styzia itself."

"The Wash probably provides Styzia's resources, due to its location," said Haode. "Which makes it an ideal ground to sow unrest."

Ido interrupted. "What if those people sympathize with them?"

Haode kicked his horse and snapped his head around to glare at Ido. "Anyone who sympathizes with those demons is brainwashed. We'll expose the truth."

"And how?" Ido asked.

"The truth," said Haode, "is that those monsters committed unspeakable atrocities in order to kidnap a girl, just like they kidnapped all of their so-called warriors." He looked up. "She, like all of their captives, will become the Masters' weapon. Qila and Xigon will set her like an attack dog on any who defy what they claim to be the Iron God's vision. And the cycle of oppression will continue." He clenched his hands around the reins. "That's how it will be."

"Sounds good," said Ido. "Surely they'll listen."

Haode couldn't tell whether or not Ido was being sarcastic. He decided not to press the matter. When he heard a trickle of water, he turned Gyrfalcon and rode toward it. The boys followed. They let their horses drink from the creek, then Haode led them downstream along the bank. "This must drain to somewhere," he told them. "And it could be a bluehole."

They rode along the half-frozen creek for quite some time. Haode ducked beneath the snow-weighted spruce and fir branches. Prickly green needles tugged at his hood every now and then. Below, Gyrfalcon's hooves punched holes in muddy slush. Occasionally she would slip and Haode would grab her white mane, startled and then relieved as she regained her footing.

The stream led them into a mist-shrouded bog. The trees grew shorter and scrawnier before vanishing altogether. The ground went from slush to damp moss and pungent black peat. Their horses' hooves squelched in the muck. Haode looked up. The mire stretched on as far as he could see. He took a deep breath. The air was earthy and noticeably warmer than the woods.

Something rustled in the shrubs. Haode jolted and yanked the reins. Gyrfalcon threw her head up. When Haode saw that it was only a muskrat, his panic subsided. Then he heard a chuckle behind him.

Ido rode up beside him. "Boss, that was only a muskrat."

Haode reached over and smacked him.

Dakko scolded his brother. "Don't make fun of him, Ido."

Haode tried his best to ignore them both. "I don't see a bluehole yet, and I doubt we can reach the Wash easily without one." He urged Gyrfalcon forward, but she pinned her ears and backed up. He was about to yell at her when he saw something move in the fog.

Two shapes were drawing closer to them. At first, Haode thought it was a wild horse, though a bog was a strange place for horses. Then he heard it. Click-click. Haode's heart skipped a beat. Click-click-click-click-click. Then it panted and sniffed the air.

Ido shivered beside him and struggled to keep his horse still. "That's a funny looking horse, boss."

"That's a nack, not a horse," Haode whispered. "Don't move. It'll probably go away. They don't hunt when they're alone." He caught himself trembling.

The nack lifted its pale head and sniffed the air again. Its mane fell back to reveal two short, pointed horns. Its mouth was larger, with thinner lips and sharper teeth. Steam huffed from the beast's nostrils. Its large eyes seemed to stare straight through him.

"Huh." Dakko cocked his head. "That's pretty interesting. I don't think I realized nacks were a real thing."

"There's truth in every tale," said Haode. Then he yelled at the nack. "Get away! Go!"

The nack startled and fled. Its feet splashed through the murky puddles. Haode breathed a sigh of relief and hoped there weren't more of them.

Something wailed in the distance. Another nack, no doubt. Haode cursed. Its keening sounded eerily human. Gyrfalcon whinnied. Sparrowhawk fussed as well. Blue Heron reared up and then took off. Dakko screamed and fought to stay on. Haode kicked his horse and charged after him. Ido followed suit.

Haode yelled and urged his mount. He tried to cut in front of Dakko's horse, but Blue Heron was too fast. Over the pounding of hooves in the peat and their own shouts, Haode heard the cry again. Much closer. A nack with an almost blood-red coat leaped in front of them. Their horses stopped. Blue Heron slipped in the black mud and almost fell. Dakko sobbed. "What's happening?"

The nack's tail swished. It turned its head to reveal the deep red eyes of a Ferash Therall.

"You're one of us?" Haode asked.

It responded in the Ferash Therall tongue. "More or less." The voice sounded feminine. She picked one hoof up. It flattened and grew fingers. Human skin spread up the arm. "I take many forms."

Haode's eyes shot wide open. If this was who he thought it was, they were in even worse danger than he had feared at first.

The nack looked at her newly human arm, then at Ido. She changed her other front limb, then the rest of her body to look like Ido's. She leaned back on her hindquarters and shrank into a perfect imitation of Ido, right down to the clothes and the little tuft of hair that always got in his face. The only difference Haode could see was that this shapeshifter had the calm, smug expression of someone playing a game and winning. When it spoke again, it sounded exactly like Ido. "Why the fear, vultures? You're the ones who ought to be making me afraid, don't you think?"

Haode was too terrified to move. He barely managed to speak. "Channei."

Ido whispered to himself and rocked in his saddle.

"You know me, do you?" Channei grinned. "Then surely you know you don't stand a chance if I attack." When she noticed Haode reach for his reins, she added on. "Don't even think about running. I will catch you."

Dakko caught his breath. "You're being controlled, you know that, right?"

Channei laughed at him. "And you aren't?" She looked at Haode. Her hair vanished and she grew taller as she morphed to imitate him. He heard his own voice come out of her mouth and nearly fainted. "I'd love to rip all three of you to shreds right here and now but branding my arm hurts and you aren't worth it." Haode's mirror image sneered at him. "So instead, I'm here to pass along a message from my masters. Suppose I should look the part."

Half of Channei's hair turned black, and half turned gray. She grew even taller. Frighteningly tall. Half her face wrinkled like an old woman's. When she spoke, it was with two unison voices. "Whatever your reason for seeking Kolo might be, turn back now. This is your first and only warning." She pointed to the eye on the black-haired side. "We are watching. No threat to our family will go unnoticed – or unpunished. If you value your lives, abandon this pointless quest."

Haode clenched his jaw. "Kolo is my only hope." He rocked back and forth in his saddle. "She's the only way I can survive!" He glared at Channei. "Tell your masters that I'm not afraid of them."

"But you are," said Channei. "You're terrified of them, and it's making you sick!" She erupted in laughter and then stopped herself. "I'm sorry, it's hilarious to me." She changed to look like a young blond woman. "Do you really think a bunch of angry villagers will put so much as a crack in our order?"

Haode shivered. His wasting muscles tightened. "I know what will put a crack in your order."

"Oh, you want to capture me or something?" Channei shrugged. "Go ahead. I'm actually interested to see what happens." She lifted her hands up.

"Now, Ido," said Haode.

Bolts of lightning exploded from Ido's fingertips. They cracked through Channei. She jerked and crumpled to the ground. Her limbs twitched and seized.

Haode dismounted, grabbed her, and threw her up onto Gyrfalcon's back. He got back in the saddle and kicked his mount. "Come on, boys," he growled. "Let's find that bluehole." 

#original work #dark fantasy #fantasy #my writing #writing #web fiction #web novel #creative writing #iron god #original writing #writers #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity