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slytherinboysappreciation · 2 months

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We need more tom riddle and male reader. Like yall know tom is a charmer and the prince of Slytherin sort of stuff but then he found out abt this guy who is also prince-like from Hufflepuff (can be another house or wtv) and Tom's like "Hm, i wonder what's this guy's hiding, imma find out" so Tom did tryna find his secrets but when Tom use Legilimency, all he can found out are the reader thinking abt silly stuffs like "what kind of food i should try today" or "that guy's socks cool" or "shit, this flower's yellow, imma made it into a bookmark >:]" or "Imma dye my hair white using this spell i found from an old book from the restricted section, i wonder if this'll kill me– whatever" idk basically reader is a dumb typa guy who just... doing what he likes 😭 m sorry if this confusing lmao i tried my best to explain

Scatterbrained - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Hi, anon! Thank you so much for the request! I went with a more airheaded sort of approach so I hope that’s okay. I incorporated as much of your request as I could, and I hope you like it!

This is completely unedited, so please be nice! 💛 No use of Y/N. Sentences in italics are the reader’s thoughts. GIF is not mine; it was found on Pinterest, link here

Part 2 here

CW: Tom being a bit of a stalker; suspicion; nonconsensual thought reading; reader is just a bit of a scatterbrain; flirting; fluff; Tom being slightly emotionally aware; Tom is a little mean towards reader; kissing; Tom’s nefarious plots

1384 words

Tom Riddle was the Prince of Slytherin. Everyone knew it. Everyone respected it.

Even the Gryffindors, for all their talk of bravery, cowered when it came to confronting Tom.

He was the top of every class, the teachers’ favorite, the star Head Boy that everyone admired. All the girls wanted him. All the boys wanted to be him.

And then…

There was you.

Tom first met you in Herbology class in fourth year. You were almost unnoticeable at first. Just a languid, easygoing Hufflepuff boy with a warm smile and a friendly manner.

But more importantly, you were utterly unafraid of him. You’d even helped him care for his baby mandrake.

Tom was immediately intrigued. So he started following you around. Secretly, of course. But the more he follows you around, the more he starts to suspect.

You’re… too nice. The kind of guy to offer help and genuinely mean it. The kind of guy to help you with your homework and give you homemade cookies as a confidence booster.

Perhaps in mockery of Tom, the Hufflepuffs start calling you their prince. Prince of Hufflepuff. The boy who should be Tom’s rival, except you’re just so nice.

You have to be hiding something. No one is that nice normally. You have to have some hidden agenda. Some dark secret behind your sweet demeanor and comforting smile. Tom is sure of it.

Once fifth year starts, he comes armed with a secret weapon. The true key to figuring out your intents.

Legilimency.

Tom holds off at first, waiting for the perfect opportunity. And then… it happens.

You’re down by the Black Lake, picking flowers with your friends to make into bouquets for the prefects.

Tom watches as you laugh, as you playfully tease one of the girls. It makes his chest tighten and his jaw clench. Now is his moment, the perfect chance to truly find out what you’re thinking.

Tom silently casts the spell, causing you to wince and rub your forehead. He barely notices, too lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

Ow, my head…

Oh, I should grab those flowers. They’d be perfect for him…

She has cool socks…

I wonder if I can press that flower and make it into a bookmark…

Oooh, clovers! I wonder if there’s a four-leaved one…

Tom stops the spell, his head spinning.

You were so… scatterbrained.

Your head is full of fluff and nonsense. Tom can barely make sense of it all. He ends the spell, staggered by the revelation.

You have no ulterior motives. You’re so genuine because there’s no room in your head for anything otherwise.

Tom stares at you, lost. He doesn’t know what to do now. You’re not malicious or manipulative like him. You’re just… something else.

As you turn to grab a flower, you spot him. Instantly, your face brightens. A huge smile spreads across your face as you wave eagerly at him.

Tom slowly waves back.

You turn to say something to one of the girls. She nudges you, grinning. You rub the back of your head bashfully, and start heading up towards Tom.

He watches you, a bit surprised. You still have your bouquet of flowers, holding it out all nice and stuff.

On impulse, Tom casts Legilimency again. You immediately wince, but quickly shake off your pain.

Ouch, what is up with my head today?

No, focus! Be calm. Be cool. Be smooth…

Oh god, it’s him. He’s so perfect…

Compliment him somehow. Tell him he looks nice!

“Hi, Tom,” you smile warmly at him. “You look nice today.”

Tom’s cheeks warm against his will. “Thank you.”

Oh my god! Is he blushing? He’s blushing! He’s so cute…

Hurry, give him the flowers!

Merlin, he looks so cute…

Tom’s cheeks redden further. He awkwardly coughs into his fist, trying to quell the sudden thrill in his chest.

“Oh, um, here!” You hold out the bouquet of flowers. “I made this for you.”

Tom’s heart does an unfathomable flip-flop of excitement. He takes the bouquet gently, running his fingers over the colorful blossoms. Bluebells, white clover, twinflowers, and pink primrose. “For me?”

“Mhmm! I made it myself!”

Tom smiles, a small slight thing. But the way your thoughts explode at the sight of it makes it widen a bit more.

OH MY GOD!! He’s so cute!!

Look at his smile!!

God, I wanna kiss him so badly…

Mmm… kissing…

Tom panics a little, the mental images you’re coming up with overwhelming him. He stops the spell immediately, flustered and blushing.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he stutters out, tripping over his words in a way he wouldn’t have before.

You beam and nod. “Of course! I’m glad you like them.”

Then you walk back to your group, humming happily with the biggest smile on your face ever.

Tom gazes down at his bouquet and turns away, his heart thumping in his chest.

So you were a bit of an idiot, but somehow that didn’t bother Tom. He strolls back up to the castle, thinking deeply about you.

His reactions to you were… unexpected, but not particularly surprising. You were a handsome boy, after all.

Perhaps a different sort of investigation was required.

You seemed to like him quite a bit, and Tom isn’t opposed to the idea. But he’ll have to be quick going about asking you out.

Your kindness and genuineness haven’t been unnoticed by others, and Tom’s well aware that not everyone interested in you has the same intentions he does.

He’ll ask you out tonight, after dinner.

With that resolve in his mind, Tom enters the castle, a pep in his step.

Tom finds you in the library after dinner. You’re huddled over an old tome, muttering something under your breath. You’re so caught up in reading that you startle when Tom clears his throat.

“Oh! Tom! I didn’t see you there!” You beam up at Tom.

He gives you a thin smile back. “What are you reading?”

“Just some book I found in the Restricted Section.” You say blithely. You point to the page you’re looking at. “I found a spell for hair dyeing and wanted to try it out!”

Tom looks at the page. “Unicorn hair and ashwinder eggs? Where are you going to get those?”

You shrug. “I dunno yet. I’ll find them somewhere.”

Tom stares at you. “You’ll find them somewhere? You don’t just find ashwinder eggs and unicorn hair.”

You frown a little but shrug, clearly undeterred. “I’ll work something out.”

Tom sits down next to you, trying to comprehend the stupidity of your words. “You have a death wish.”

You blink and tilt your head. “I just wanna dye my hair, is all.”

Tom rubs at his face, forcing himself to stay calm. There’s no point in getting annoyed when he hasn’t even accomplished his goal yet.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he casts Legilimency on you, bracing himself for the onslaught of unbridled thoughts.

He seems upset.

Oh, no. I gotta do something…

Quick, say something!

“Tom?” You ask softly.

He sighs and gives you a weak smile. “I’ll help you dye your hair using a safer spell.”

You brighten immediately. “You will?!”

Yes! I’ll finally have white hair again!

“On one condition.”

Oh.

You nod. “Okay…”

“I’ll help you dye your hair if you go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.”

Go to…

You tilt your head. “Like, on a date?”

Tom swallows. “Yes. On a date.”

Your thoughts explode with giddiness. Tom jolts a bit, ending the spell as his head aches from the force of your happiness.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes! I’ll go on a date with you!”

Tom relaxes and gives you a small but genuine smile. “Let’s go dye your hair then.”

He gets up, but pauses. On impulse, he leans down and gives your cheek a slight kiss. You’re frozen in your seat for a moment, stars in your eyes. Then you scramble to your feet and follow after him.

There’s no doubt you’ll be his now. And then he, and only he, will be able to enjoy your sweet stupidity.

He finds himself inwardly grinning at the thought. A date at Hogsmeade is only the first step. Soon, he’ll make you his perfect, scatterbrained boyfriend.

And then he’ll be unstoppable.

#tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #male reader #divider by cafekitsune #evie’s requests

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khaleesiofalicante · 1 year

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MEMORANDUM FROM: J. C. HERONDALE, NEW YORK INSTITUTE TO: ALL INSTITUTE HEADS IN RE: HAIR

Greetings, fellow Shadowhunters, Downworlders, and in-the-know mundanes. Jace Lightwood Herondale here, your favorite Shadowhunter and three-time winner of the Golden Stele for Most Attractive and Sinewy Institute Head[1]. Recently it has been brought to my attention that I have been the victim of a terrible slander. I present this report today, to be sent in fire-message format to all Institute Heads worldwide: to correct the record, yes, but more importantly to provide a more thorough survey of the relevant information regarding the New York Institute and its main officers. I. SITUATION REPORT As you know, a schism has caused our homeland of Idris to be occupied by an insurgent, reactionary faction of Nephilim. This has severed the Clave’s ability to enter Idris and to engage in normal governmental operations. As a result, the New York Institute has become a much more central and important location than ever before. Not only are we now the home office of the Consul-in-Exile, the Headmaster of the Shadowhunter Academy-Also-in-Exile as well as the Warlock and Werewolf representatives to the Council, we are also the closest Institute to said Academy and therefore charged with its defense. As such, the interests of the New York Institute can be said to truly be commensurate with the interests of the Clave at large. II. THE SLANDER A most dire accusation has been made against me, and in doing so, it has impacted the morale of my Institute, which, as per §1, is of utmost importance at this precarious time in Shadowhunter history. Specifically, I have been accused of DYEING MY HAIR.

III. THE RESPONSE The accusation is, unfortunately, not more specific than this. It is unclear if the accuser means to suggest that I merely add artificial highlights to my hair, or that I use dye to alter its natural hue -- or much more dire allegations. That I, perhaps, actually use bleach to lighten my hair to the blond color for which it is famous across six continents, or even that I might have need to mask the appearance of early-onset gray hairs. Let me be clear: none of these have any basis in fact. My hair is and has only ever been its own natural shade and tone, inherited genuinely from my parents and untouched by any treatment or modification by magic or chemical. Its thick texture, gentle waves, and brilliant luster are merely the result of good fortune and a regular regimen of washing and conditioning. To suggest otherwise is to undermine the cause of the liberation of Idris and to weaken the resolve of our allies. A few, more given to conflict resolution than I, have tried to find a position of compromise, suggesting that it is possible that my hair has been positively affected by the experiments my father performed on me as an infant involving angel blood. It is true that I cannot fully rule out the possibility. But I strongly doubt it, and I believe you should as well, for one can find (through rigorous searching) hair that is nearly as superb as mine even among the mundane population, who obviously have not benefited from any such magics.

IV. RELEVANCE TO THE NEW YORK INSTITUTE AT LARGE While the slander has been directed solely at me, the other main representatives of the New York Institute are also aggrieved, and feel strongly that an attack on the hair of one of us is an attack on the hair of all of us. To that end, and at their request[2], I want to provide reassurances regarding the current status of the hair of all of us here. I hope that it will offer comfort and optimism in this dark time. I have provided a helpful letter grade for each of those mentioned here, using the standard measure where “S” is the highest grade, followed by A, B, C, D, F. My own hair will be used as the S-tier standard. CLARY FAIRCHILD If anyone on this list qualifies for the highest tier, it is of course Clary Fairchild, the co-head of the Institute and my constant beloved. Her hair is of the finest red color, shining gold in the light and flowing around her face in waves that only serve to highlight the natural blush of her cheeks and the freckles which so fetchingly decorate her face. To look upon Clary is to be reminded of the beauty given to us by the Angel; to run one’s hands through her hair is to weep with the beauty of this world. RANK: S SIMON LOVELACE Unfortunately, Clary’s parabatai’s hair has suffered greatly, perhaps the most of any of us, with the rupturing of the Clave. Out of sorrow and discontent he has, unwisely, been dedicating a significant portion of his time to his rock band, in which he plays the electric bass guitar alongside several mundanes (of no other consequence). Under the wretched influence of these mundanes, he has made an attempt at lightening his own hair to create an effect he described to me as “kinda punk and a little emo, but also not.” I cannot tell you what this is intended to mean: only that applying bleaching agents to his previously completely acceptable brown hair has turned it an unpleasant color which Clary has labeled “chromium green.” For the moment, he looks as though he has a dead snake on his head. Both Clary and Isabelle have volunteered to shave the green out of his hair entirely, but he has so far avoided their clippers and announced he will wait for it to grow out naturally. All of us here are looking forward to his full recovery in time; rest assured that, like the loss of Idris, Simon’s appalling appearance is only temporary. RANK: D (under normal circumstances: B). ISABELLE LIGHTWOOD As in all things, Isabelle Lightwood’s hair is immaculate and worthy of the great admiration it inspires. The contrast between her and Simon Lovelace is always quite striking, but never more so than now, as her appearance lights up each room she enters while his prompts questions about possible chemical spills and comparisons to a fictional mundane character known as “The Joker.” (Again, his situation is temporary, and we trust he will be restored to full strength soon.) When braided and set for battle, Isabelle’s hair inspires her allies and strikes fear into demons. RANK: S ALEC LIGHTWOOD Here we have a curious situation, it is true that Alec Lightwood’s hair is the parabatai to my own. As such, it is attractive, steadfast, brave, and rousing. Alas, while the hair itself is fine material, he simply WILL NOT TAKE CARE OF IT THE WAY I TELL HIM TO. No matter how many excellent products are gifted to him, no matter how many times he is lured into a fine salon with a promise that it is actually an arrow shop, the Consul continues to look as if he cuts his hair in the dark with nail scissors. And yet - allowances must be made. Our Consul struggles beneath a heavy burden of responsibility, by which I mean he has two children who constantly put gum in his hair. Considering all he has to face, I cannot but feel that the hair of Alec Lightwood is hair that one would not hesitate to follow into battle, which is what truly matters. RANK: A MAGNUS BANE At this moment in time, Magnus Bane, the Consul’s husband and warlock representative to the Council, has hair that cannot be achieved through mundane or even Shadowhunter means. Though largely black, it is shot through with flecks of gold, and at the tips it faded smoothly to an electric blue that closely resembles the color of his own magic. As always, Magnus takes a look that might not pass muster on a lesser man and makes it not only his own, but a target of envy from all around him. It is widely believed (though denied) that such an effect is what Simon Lovelace was hoping to attain in his recent unlucky tonsorial experiments. That the effect of his hair can only be created so perfectly with the use of magic does not diminish what Magnus manages to achieve here. RANK: A CHURCH THE CAT While the oddly long-lived cat known as Church is currently residing in the UK under the care of others, he was a longtime resident of this Institute and is still considered by most of us here as a kind of unofficial mascot. Recent photos have confirmed that, as befits a cat of the New York Institute, Church continues to have a fine, rich coat of the slate-blue color normally associated with his Persian breeding. Despite his usual bad temper, he is a fastidious groomer and keeps himself free of mats and unsightly tufts of shedding fur. His color is set off by his luminous gold eyes, which provide an excellent contrast. His coat presents an excellent picture when seen as a whole, but special consideration should be made to its greatest details, namely the slightly lighter color between his toes, and the tufts that rise from his owl-like ears. RANK: S V. CONCLUSION I hope that the thoroughness of the information contained here has brought reassurance and inspiration to all those who receive it. To sum up, my own hair has never been better, and remains entirely natural in its source. The state of the hair of the New York Institute is strong, and with the exception of a single mishap, which we are recovering from, we foresee only positive developments in the domain of our hair in the months and years to come. Yours in the Name of the Angel, Jace Herondale [1]This award was created by Clary Fairchild and is presented once a year on my birthday by a jury consisting of only the most discerning and aesthetically informed Nephilim available: specifically, Clary Fairchild. [2]Or at least, with only their mildest objection. Note: From Cassandra Clare’s newsletter on 01/04/2023.

#I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS #tmi gang #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #jace herondale #clace #alec lightwood #magnus bane #clary fairchild #isabelle lightwood #simon lovelace

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thecryptidgrey · 8 months

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As an avid lover of his Dark Materials I have yet to see a BG3 daemons concept and that is a Crime. So here are some Thoughts below the cut :)

(Also something something about the representation of religion in HDM and how it correlates to BG3's depictions of faith and trauma. I have the Idea but I am too tired to do much with it; may return to the thought later.)

Shadowheart- a borzoi. Elegant, spooky looking, dramatic. Borzoi don't make much vocal noise but are very playful- instincts surpressed by Sharrens that thrive with the party (see that very cute night orchid scene specifically). Generally very sweet, loyal animals, like SH when you get to know her. Plus they look amazing.

(Act 3 spoilers- I also appreciate that she'll match it when she dyes her hair. Seems suitable dramatic for her.) Anyways, I also really like borzois and think it's be funny af to see in them trotting around in game like the weird willow tree ghost things they are.

Lae'zel- Githyanki don't have daemons; she finds them baffling. Very impractical to carry one's soul on the exterior, although perhaps an efficient companion in combat to have someone you share instincts with. After much discussion by the others she decides for them if she did have one it would be a red dragon. Nobody argues with that.

(She does decide she'd have to prove herself worthy of such a beast first, and if she trusts Tav admits that maybe she'd like if Vlaakith could give her a daemon bond with her future dragon. Would she get a dragon if she became Vlaakith's chosen? Idk, she would now.)

Karlach- Tieflings also don't have daemons. She wants one wholeheartedly. The party finds her a magic ring that allows her to summon a familiar- she gets a direwolf puppy as enthusiastic and adoring as she is :)

Said ring is obtained somewhere in the Shadowlands after she gets the cooldown upgrade so she can hug it as soon as she has it. Also it grows up absolutely massive. Its paws are the size of its head when it's a puppy. All the better for cuddling with!

Gale- Tara. Wizards, sorcerers, etc, tend to have magical creatures as familiars. This AU he had Tara since the beginning. He still summoned all the other weird shit he did as a kid, just with Tara's help. She is his voice of reason and holder of the braincells; he gets to keep one and it's all about Mystra. She's protecting the rest from its corruption. He gets them back when the party convinces him to tell Mystra to go fuck herself.

(I do chew upon the trans Gale headcanon sometimes. If anyone wishes to muse with me on how daemons, which are typically of the opposite sex to their human, would be incorporated into that, please do.) Edit- pls see comments for very illuminating interpretations of daemons and gender!! Very cool stuff!

Wyll- lanner falcon. Medium sized yet formidable bird of prey, the head of which was often depicted on Egyptian gods like Ra and Horus. Beautiful, noble and nimble creatures (good for a dexterity based build, which I focused on for him alongside charisma).

Mizora's pact significantly lengthened their tether; her devil-form punishment broke it and weakened their bond significantly, much to their distress- they hate to be out of vision of one another as a result. Halsin, Jaheira and especially my Tav Cerewyn helped him adapt to and understand the new tether.

Druids and their daemons are based on the His Dark Materials witches, who have significantly lengthened bonds. Druid bonds are just as strong in markedly different ways; each is more independent and their personalities more distinct. I will definitley expand more on this; I adore Wyll and really want to do his character justice. He's the knight in shining armour but he also made a deal with a devil to be said knight, so, y'know. His daemon should really reflect that complexity.

Astarion- luna moth (changed when he turned- he can't remember what she was before.)

Beautiful in a fragile, showy way. Short-lived. Desperate for the light. A silkmoth; silk for embroidery. He resents her for being such a reflection of the self he tries so desperately to hide yet is fiercely protective of her, so beautiful and soft and hopeful- moths exist to seek light, craving it like he longed for a knight in shining armour, like he yearns for the sun.

Cazador liked to pin her wings.

(I love my sad wet cat very much and so as payback for hurting my soul he is subjected to the tragedy that is my attempting to be poetic :) )

Halsin- bear. Druid daemons reflect their favoured Wild shapes. Strong, steady, reliable, protective. Optimal shape for snuggles, very nice and warm, overall :) vibes to look at and be around. (Bear is not present for That Scene. That Scene and daemons are not up for discussion, you degenerates. Thank you <3)

Jaheira- Eurasian lynx. Struggled a bit on this one- didn't think any of the wild shapes suited her as a daemon- so looked up the national animal of Romania (supposedly Jaheira's accent?) for potential inspiration. Got the lynx, which seems perfect. Medium sized, elegant, very dignifed and deadly hunters who inhabit forests. Notably very quiet and hard to track. Endangered, which resonated with me because of Jaheira's status as one of the last of the Old Guard, so to speak. Nocturnal, which I like because we meet Jaheira in the shadow-cursed lands. Ambush predator, which just goes with my Gloom Stalker build for her. Overall seems perfect for the legendary druid.

Minsc- Boo? Fuck knows man, Minsc gonna Minsc. I spent way too long thinking about Jaheira and now I don't have the energy left. If Gale can have Tara, Minsc can have Boo. I do love Minsc so I will be back to expand on him if the mood strikes me but also I think maybe I don't need to? Daemon Boo just seems Right. Will consult Minsc's backstory and update later if necessary.

Minthara- yet to recruit her so uncertain. Displacer beast seems apt, maybe? Something felinoid would really fit her tbh. Elegant and lethal, very aloof but loyal once you've got her. Input would be appreciated.

My Tav, Cerewyn, just in case ya'll are interested- a raven named Gwyn, short for something I haven't figured out how to spell yet.

Clever, calculating, very blunt and sarcastic to balance out Cere's generally stoic, quite, calm demeanour. Sharp eyed bird for a sharpshooter ranger's daemon. Cere is a beast master ranger/ druid of land multiclass; ravens are summonable both for wild companions and familiars and are a wild shape (Cere's preferred wild shape too).

A common species but not to be underestimated and generally unpredictable, which suits her. She romances Astarion and both she and the raven think he and his luna moth are the prettiest things they've ever seen. They're also very patient and perceptive of trauma due to (Extensive Backstory), so they're more than happy to take their time with earning his trust. Astarion is very appreciative of all the shiny things the raven likes to bring him, and also that it clawed one of Cazador's eyes out for daring to speak to Astarion like That.

CONC.; symbolism is fun and also painful :)

Daemon names are a work in progress; the muses gave me this then said lol nope and fucked off before I could ask them for appropriate names. Might post them with some sketches of the party and daemons together?

(I wrote this in Notes app at an ungodly hour with fuck all editing. It is incoherent, but if anything is genuinely incomprehensible, please tell me so I may at least try to fix it. Much love <3 if you made it this far you get to know I welcome suggestions for NPCs to give daemons next!)

First edit- I misspelled quiet so many times omfg

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darkjimxn · 2 months

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Chapter 4: The Evil Twin

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter this time! Unfortunately I won't be able to post another chapter in a while because I have my exams currently, but I should be free by the end of the month! Until then I'll probably post more for The Crab Cult since I've already got a few chapters in the drafts lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

“Guess again, princess.”

Guess again…? What was that supposed to mean?

The man standing before you was clearly Jimin. But how had he managed to dye his dirty blonde hair into a rich purple in a matter of minutes? How had he managed to change his bright blue eyes into a menacing dark red? Did he magic himself to change his appearance? But why would he even do that in the first place?

Questions upon questions started to pile into your mind, only adding to your confusion, until a single memory bulldozed the pile to the ground.

‘Wait! You have to tell me,’ Jungkook had gasped, ‘is it true you have an evil twin? I’ve heard so many rumours about it. And I swear I saw this guy that looked just like you in class earlier!’

Jungkook’s words, which had been disregarded as silly rumours at the time, suddenly came to mind as the realisation dawned on you.

Perhaps his words weren’t as silly as you thought.

Your gaze raised to the man standing before you, studying him before you spoke slowly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Jimin’s evil twin, would you?”

The man paused, his eyes just barely widening for a moment before he laughed. It was a chilling sound, scattering goosebumps all over your arms as it bounced against the walls of the dim, empty hall. While Taehyung’s gaze had felt icy and unwelcoming, this man’s laugh felt like a deadly warning.

“Evil twin?” He repeated once the laugh had tapered off, tone now laced with apathetic amusement, “no one has ever said that to my face before.”

He studied your form for a moment, gaze travelling from your uniform to the wand in your hand to your features before finally raising to meet yours once again.

“Judging from your lack of trembling, you’re either wildly ignorant…”

The evidently fake amusement suddenly vanished from his face as he took a step forward, leaving just a breath’s worth of space to lay between you both. You could feel the edge of your uniform brush against his own as you felt your chest rise in irritation.

“Or you’re extremely dumb,” he finished, his voice low and simmering alongside his unwavering eyes.

His desire to intimidate you was as clear as day.

But you would not be so easily intimidated, so instead you met his gaze confidently as you forced your expression to remain unfazed. Who did he think he was to send you a hidden threat? Principal’s son be damned, he would learn what happens when you’re pushed to your limit.

You brought your hand to his clothed chest before giving him a forceful shove, hoping to create some distance between the two of you. He didn’t move as much as you would have liked, barely half a step at the most.

“I’m neither, so I suggest you stop throwing words like that around so carelessly. Do you even know who I am?”

You regretted the words the second they had left your lips, cringing as you realised how they might have sounded. They implied that you were like every other elitist here, hiding behind your parents’ money and power. But that had not been what you meant.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s brother didn’t seem to realise that.

He gasped dramatically, bringing his hands to his mouth as his voice dripped in sarcastic fear, “oh my, you’re right! I should know my place shouldn’t I?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes.

“Tell me, which mommy and daddy will put me behind bars if I speak to their princess badly, hm?”

“I’m not talking about my parents,” you snapped, irritated by his condescending tone, “it’s me you should be worried about.”

A scoff sounded at the back of his throat, as if you had said something unbelievable. You hated how annoyed that made you, so much so that you were ready to end this conversation and head to your room.

“Whatever,” you said, gaze momentarily taking in the bright moon standing proudly outside the hall’s window, “what are you doing here in the dead of night?”

Jimin’s twin crossed his arms over his chest as he raised a challenging brow, “and how is that any of your business?”

“It’s my school,” you deadpanned, “if you’re about to blow it to bits, I’d like to at least be aware that a celebration is in order. Now care to explain?”

The ends of lips twitched, “you know I could ask you the same. What are you doing here all by yourself, at a time like this?”

“Do you always answer questions with another question?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

The both of you stared each other down, yours a seething glare while his was filled with cocky amusement. You seemed to have met your match when it came to stubbornness, and you had to admit you were far from amused.

“Is this a twin thing?” You spoke sharply, “you’re a complete jerk while your brother is just slightly more tolerable?”

You noticed his amusement vanish at your words, leaving behind a hard expression that tore through your gaze. You got the feeling that he was thrown off by something you had said.

“... slightly more tolerable?” He repeated slowly, eyes calculatingly sharp all of a sudden, “ that’s not usually how people describe my dear old brother.”

“I called you a jerk too, which last time I checked was much worse,” you remarked, not understanding his suddenly excessive interest.

“Did you hurt Seokjin?”

The randomness of the question had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out a stupid, “what?”

You didn’t understand the connection between calling him a jerk, calling Jimin tolerable, and hurting Seokjin. Whatever was going on in the mind of the man before you, you couldn’t possibly tell.

“Jimin is only rude to people that hurt Seokjin,” Jimin’s brother explained, still harbouring a lethal gaze, “if you hurt Jin, and Jimin was rude to you, it would explain why you’re not a fan of him.”

“What does that ev-”

“I asked a question,” he said sharply while cutting you off, “one I’m expecting an answer to.”

Despite the fact that he had interrupted you and his tone had become threatening again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. All you could do was stare at him with a confused expression, wondering where this conversation had gone.

“No,” you answered finally, “I didn’t hurt Seokjin. I hate your brother because he’s annoying. That’s all.”

“I see,” he said, lost in thought for a moment before the amusement sunk back into his features. This dude was going to give you whiplash at this point, “in that case, you seem to have caught my attention, princess.”

“Am I supposed to be honoured?” You scoffed, “I could care less what you think of me.”

“I’ve already wasted more than enough time with you here anyway. Blow up the school, don’t blow up the school, I don’t care. Just stay away from me.”

You turned around and started walking away, but not before adding for good measure, “or you’ll regret it.”

Jimin’s brother watched you walk away curiously, a thought lingering at the back of his mind. You had just pushed against one of the heavy doors when he turned and crouched in front of the Tree of Life.

A soft bang, reverberated around the hall, causing you to pause in your escape and face him once again. You were met with the view of Jimin’s brother bent over the floor.

Except, the floor was no longer the pristinely smooth marble tiles organised throughout the area. Instead, a large tile had been pushed upwards, almost like a trap door. You moved closer, peering deeper to find a set of stairs travelling downward, directly under the Tree of Life.

Your gaze flitted to Jimin’s brother, who was staring into the deep abyss thoughtfully.

“They say this trap door leads to an ancient and long since abandoned lab that used to belong to Park Bogum, the creator of Elitist Academy,” he said, “you must know about the rumours surrounding him…”

“Regarding his affiliations with Counterbalance.”

You paused, cautiously taking in his words.

Most people lazily referred to Counterbalance as dark or black magic, but that was an overly simplified term to describe a thing that was much more complex. While Life magic was the magic that essentially sustained the world, Counterbalance was the magic that countered it to keep it in check. Sure, that inherently didn’t make Counterbalance evil in itself, but the magic had been associated with so many horrible things that have happened in the past that some have made the association anyway.

“How do you know that? Why do you know that?” You asked.

“Why?” He countered, pushing himself off the ground to face you, “are you scared?”

“It’s dark magic. If you’re not scared, you’re just stupid.”

Jimin’s brother gave you a devilish grin, one that you found both irritating and unnerving at the same time, before he stepped towards you. The two of you were close once again.

“Wanna come with me?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “did you not hear what I just said? There’s a reason why attempting to manipulate Counterbalance is forbidden.”

“Yes, the reason being cowardice,” Jimin’s brother said with a scowl, “dark magic is simply a different type of magic we’re not yet familiar with. If we keep hiding from it, we’ll always cower in its shadow.”

“So tell me, are you coming or not?”

He was crazy. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain why he seemed so interested in potentially entering a Counterbalance lab. And as much as you pitied the insane, you were not going to let them lead you by example.

“Forget it,” you said immediately, stepping away from him, “if we get caught, we could actually get expelled.”

And then I’ll have to go back there.

“Do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

You turned around and stormed towards the door to the residences but, just like last time, you only managed to push the giant door open before you paused.

Technically speaking, you’ve only ever read about Counterbalance magic very briefly in a few textbooks here and there, while your tutors would barely even mention the topic if at all. Yet, here Jimin’s brother was, giving you a first-hand opportunity to look at an entire dark magic lab?

This was a once in a lifetime experience.

You hated just how curious these things could make you sometimes, especially knowing the horrors that have been caused by misusing Counterbalance. The stuff shouldn’t be messed with, history had taught that lesson enough times.

But… one little look couldn’t hurt, could it?

It’s not like you were actually going to try to manipulate dark magic, you knew that would be crossing an unspeakable limit. But what harm could just looking around to satisfy your curiosity do?

Very slowly, you detached yourself from the double-doors and walked back to the Tree of Life, trying your absolute best to ignore the smirk Jimin’s brother had on his face as he eyed you.

“Changed your mind?” He asked innocently, failing miserably at hiding his smug expression.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, turning towards the trapdoor.

“Let’s get going.”

It was clear the walls making up the passageway were the roots of the Tree of Life. You could feel the familiar rough texture of its bark as you descended the spiralling staircase behind Jimin’s brother cautiously, ready to bolt if he tried anything. You obviously didn’t trust him fully, unsure of the exact reason why he had invited you along. But you didn’t bother asking knowing that he probably wouldn’t have given you an actual answer anyway.

Instead you continued to feel your way down the pitch black space, focusing on not tripping, though the thought of Jimin’s brother falling because of you put a satisfied smile on your face.

A few minutes later the passageway opened up into a large cavern, the walls still clearly made of bark. But the bark was different, with a dark brownish, blackish colour that made it seem like it was rotting.

To your left, carved into the wall of bark, was an array of bookshelves holding a number of leatherbound and worn books, while to your right stood a long table full of various lab equipment and trinkets. You scanned a wooden test tube rack holding four vials filled halfway with a glowing turquoise substance and a tray filled with a number of oddly coloured and shaped stones. A large textbook was sprawled next to it, open to a page depicting a number of trees followed by blocks of text. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

Next to the table was a large cauldron, filled to the brim with the same glowing turquoise liquid in the vials, bubbling atop a flame. Brows furrowed, you brought your hand over the raging orange and maroon fire, confirming your suspicion: the flame had been magicked to only heat the cauldron. With everything being wood in the room, it was a wise choice. The sides of the cauldron were dusty as well.

Your gaze shifted back to Jimin’s brother, who was scanning the room just as curiously as you had been. His eyes missed nothing as they jumped from one small detail to the next.

“Well?” You said.

“Well what?”

“What do you mean well what? Didn’t you come down here for a reason?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “that’s none of your business.”

You watched him turn away to pick up one of the books on the long table. He was the one that had brought you down here for who knows what reason, what was the point of being so secretive? You were going to see whatever he was down here for anyway.

Jimin’s brother set the book down, moving onto the vials in the test tube rack. He gently picked one up with his hand, and it was only then when you realised that they were gloved. Brown cloth gloves with golden rims encased both his hands while reaching a little above his wrists, a marked difference in uniform compared to the rest of the student body. Was he a germaphobe or something?

He turned to the rest of the things scattered around the table, shuffling through them. It didn’t take a detective to know that he was clearly looking for something.

But then again, what did it matter to you? You weren’t here to help him, so you turned around and went back to inspecting the other side of the room. Whoever had been studying in this lab seemed to have a special affinity for plants. There were plant specimens everywhere. Samples of different types of tree bark were hung on the wall in a frame with writing giving the descriptions of the trees they had come from, while another table separated by a movable partition held a number of different plant roots that had been dissected like a cadaver. You’d never been very interested in botany, so the evident obsession with plants had kind of dampened your interest in the place.

Once you had finished searching the area, finding nothing but more and more botanic experiments, you turned to Jimin’s brother in disappointment.

“I’m not seeing anything dark magic related,” you said crossing your arms, wondering if he had just brought you down here as some kind of prank. It seemed unlikely, but you still couldn’t help but wonder.

Jimin’s brother sighed frustratedly as he set a piece of black tree bark down, “I know.”

His tone told you that he probably had not been expecting this either. Clearly he hadn’t found what he was looking for.

“You sound disappointed,” you noted.

He didn’t answer as his gaze stayed fixed on the table, waves of frustration clearly radiating off of him. You weren’t particularly curious about what specifically it was that he had failed to find, but there was still one question that you were curious to have answered.

“So, since whatever your plan was clearly just failed, mind sharing why exactly you asked me to come down here with you?”

Jimin’s brother just stared at you, lips forming an unamused line.

“I’m not stupid,” you pressed further, “you wouldn’t have brought me here if not for a reason. So just let it out, what did you want from me?”

A slight smirk twitched against his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, “and they say I have trust issues…”

“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” You said incredulously, finding his growing grin wildly irritating, “fine, I guess I’ll just start guessing then.”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think it through.

“Ah, I know. You’re going to use me to fulfil your plan of becoming the most powerful magic user in the world with the help of Counterbalance,” then you added, “oh right! And also to kill your twin because you’re the neglected brother that never got as much love and attention as him. How close am I?”

Jimin’s brother could only try to stifle his amusement.

“You’ve watched one too many fantasy movies, princess.”

“And what would I accomplish by murdering my brother?” He said while tilting his head, then he added sarcastically, “although, I have heard arms and legs sell for very high these days. How much do you think-”

The quip died on his tongue as the sound of a door opening suddenly reverberated around the room, freezing the two of you in place. Your gaze snapped to where the sound had come from, but you were just met with the wall of the cavern.

“Wha-” You were about to ask, but Jimin’s brother grabbed your arm with a gloved hand and quickly dragged you behind the partition you had noticed from earlier. The two of you leaned against it, the most hidden you could be in this room.

You peeked over his shoulder, still confused as to why noises were arising in the room when there was no one there, until the wall shimmered and distorted slightly to reveal a person walking through it.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

Ms. Kari?!

Ms. Kari, with her dirty blonde hair and wired glasses walked through the almost rotting black bark walls of the cavern like it was nothing, chatting intently with someone on the phone as she failed to notice the two of you.

But didn’t Jimin’s twin say this place was abandoned decades ago? What was Ms. Kari doing in a Counterbalance lab?

You glance at Jimin’s brother for a moment, and it was clear that he was thinking the same thing.

“Yes, yes, I’ve planned out the tasks,” Ms. Kari spoke into the black cellphone, “do you really believe me to be an incompetent teacher?”

You watched her walk deeper into the room, but, the more she did, the more Jimin’s brother had to step backwards to avoid being seen. That forced you to take a step back with him.

“I’ll have them complete by tonight,” she went on, continuing to walk deeper into the room, “don’t worry, they’ll cover everything we need.”

Jimin’s brother took another step backwards, but there was nowhere for you to accommodate him. He had backed you into a wall, causing you to feel rough, black bark against your back while his clothed back was pressing against your chest. You stood caged between him and the cavern wall, simmering in anger at the unexpected position. If you didn’t like having to listen to men, then being touched by one was something you loathed to your core.

But by then, thankfully, Ms. Kari had stopped walking further into the room, instead pausing in front of the large bookshelf.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodbye sir,” she said, before evidently hanging up.

After putting the phone away, she turned to the bookshelf, studying it intently.

“Hmmm, now where did I put it…?” She muttered.

You squirmed as Ms. Kari began searching through the bookshelves, clearly uncomfortable in your current position.

“Is it this one…?” She continued to mutter, picking up an old, brown textbook, “no… I need the whole layout, not just a section.”

Jimin’s brother frowned as he felt you moving behind him, wondering why you couldn’t just stay in one place. The more you moved, the more dangerous it was going to be for you. He blew out a quiet breath, itching to tell you to stop but unable to as Ms. Kari took a step closer to the partition.

You, on the other hand, had to force yourself not to shove him off of you. He had taken another step backwards as Ms. Kari took another oblivious step towards the partition, despite there being no space to do so. That left you even more squished against him.

It was driving you insane.

You refused to be in this position anymore. You had to get him off of you.

Jimin’s brother turned his head slightly, wondering if he could quietly step to the side a bit so you’d stop touching him.

But then he flinched as he felt your hands brush against his back.

You scowled as you felt him move against you once again.

Okay, that’s it, you both thought furiously.

“Stop touching me!” The two of you blew up at each other.

You froze, panic seeping into your mind as you realised just how screwed the two of you were now. Jimin’s brother was no different. His jaw hung open in shock before his head snapped to where Ms. Kari was.

“What on Earth-?” She muttered, turning around.

But before her gaze could land on either of you, Jimin’s brother instantly turned towards the partition and gave it a strong shove. You watched in horror as the solid partition toppled over, falling midair for not more than a second before it collapsed…

on Ms. Kari.

“Did you just push a whole partition on top of a professor?!” You whisper-yelled incredulously, your mouth hanging wide open in shock.

But Jimin’s brother simply turned to you after making sure Ms. Kari was down and hadn’t seen the two of you, “quite whining, we need to get out of here before she sees us.”

His gloved hand grabbed your wrist before dragging you alongside him as he ran up the stairs.

The two of you didn’t stop running until you had entered the residences, panting like crazy when he finally let your arm go. You and Jimin’s brother’s breaths filled the hallway for what felt like forever as you both desperately attempted to catch your breaths.

But once Jimin’s twin seemed to have achieved as much, he whirled to you in anger.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, rage laced in his tone and expression.

“Me?!” You said, indignant, “what did I do?”

“What did you do?! Next time you want to run your hands all over me, maybe try therapy instead?!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy that had his entire body pressed against mine. You couldn’t have moved a little?! Clearly personal space is a subject needed for your next therapy session!”

Jimin’s brother scoffed, “that’s what I was trying to do, but guess who’s hands made it impossible?”

“Maybe next time I will let you touch me,” he snapped, “then we’ll see just how much you enjoy what happened to you, princess.”

You immediately grimaced, his words feeling like a swarm of spiders crawling up and down your body. There it was. There was one of those disgusting sexual comments that men seemed to love to throw around carelessly.

“You’re disgusting,” you said, putting as much of your repulsion as you could in your words before scoffing, “and I’m leaving.”

You stormed into an elevator, immediately slamming your fingers against the button to your room's floor before repeatedly pressing against the button that would close the elevator doors. You wanted him nowhere near you.

Jimin’s twin, on the other hand, stood for a moment, his expression a perfect picture of confusion as he stared at the now closed elevator doors.

Disgusting…? He thought, wondering why you had seemed so repulsed by the comment. It took him a second more to come to the realisation, his lips pressing into a straight line as he did.

She must not know.

His gaze dropped to the floor, the dim hallway reflecting his mood suddenly.

She must not know just how horrible my touch really is.

You flung the door of your dorm open, letting it slam shut behind you.

You couldn’t believe that bastard. Sure, this school was full of disgusting men like him that said stuff like that all the time, but still. How dare he talk to you that way?

You could feel the rage slither down your arms, making your hands shake. That kind of degradation always seemed to unlock a different kind of anger in you. One where you didn’t know whether you wanted to go back down there and make him beg for your forgiveness or go into a shower and aggressively scrub his words off your skin till it’s bright red and raw to the touch.

You should’ve made him pay for a comment like that when you were down there. But you were also very much aware that you needed to leave in case Ms. Kari was searching the halls for the two of you.

“Y/N!” A voice behind you suddenly called. You turned to find Jimin walking into the living room, a bright smile on his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I came back and you weren’t here… I was about to call the principal.”

For a moment, all you could do was just stand and stare at his face. You knew they were twins, but… him and his brother looked exactly identical. If Jimin were to dye his hair and wear contacts, you wouldn’t doubt for a second that it was his brother standing before you.

What an unnerving thought.

“Why does it matter?” You finally asked, tearing yourself away from searching for some kind of non eye- or hair-related feature that could distinguish them apart. You were mildly aware that your anger from earlier was unintentionally seeping into your tone, “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. You don’t own me.”

But Jimin just smiled, “of course, we’re all adults here. I just meant that I was worried, that’s all.”

His smiles and concerns only seemed to add to the frustration that was building up in your chest. On one hand you had a twin telling you innuendos while on the other hand you had one giving you fake worry. You were tired of it. Tired of this entire day altogether.

“I’m going to bed,” you announced, your tone suddenly soft from your exhaustion- both physically and mentally.

You made your way to your bedroom door and paused for a moment, facing Jimin who was still standing in the living room, “and don’t bother getting worried every time I come back a little late. I can handle myself, as I’m sure Namjoon told you.”

Finally, you turned around and walked into your room, but not before Jimin called from behind you.

“You’re my roommate, of course I’m going to worry about you!”

“You can’t be serious!”

You stared at Principal Park with a scowl, wishing your glare could burn right through him, but he ignored it easily, choosing instead to sit composedly at his desk as he gave you a calm and collected expression.

“I apologise Y/N, but even if I wished to I could not,” he explained slowly, as if you were some kind of wild animal that needed to be tamed. It made you want to wipe that calm expression off his meticulously kept face.

“All I’m asking for is to be put into a different cohort, any other cohort. I can’t be in classes full of men, it’s… not… healthy for a young woman like me,” you said, words laced with a hint of desperation, “if anyone can do it, it’s you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Y/N,” he said, tilting his head in sympathy, “you of all people should know how important it is that you are educated suitably. Your classmates and yourself must learn differently compared to the rest of the students in this school. The success of our future depends on it.”

You stared at him helplessly, a mixture of rage and hopelessness churning uncomfortably in your stomach.

“I understand that you wish to be in a cohort with individuals more similar to yourself, but in a way your current classmates are similar to you as well, don’t you think? You will be leading the future generations together after all. Perhaps this experience will prepare you for the relationships you will have with them once you take on your roles.”

“And besides,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear, “just because you are being placed into different cohorts, does not mean you are barred from befriending students in different cohorts. In fact, I encourage you to mingle with the other students of this academy.”

You watched Principal Park push himself into a standing position, giving you a bright smile that reminded you of Jimin’s, “now, I must attend a meeting at the moment. If you still wish to continue this conversation then we may schedule a meeting for another time, but I must reiterate that my answer will not change even then. Is that clear?”

Your jaw ticked as you chose to stay silent, knowing that saying what you really wanted to say to him would probably get you expelled. Instead, you levelled your tone before replying.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I hope you settle well here, your father and I are good friends. I genuinely do wish the best for you, Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you forced out through gritted teeth.

Once you were dismissed, you turned around and left his office, immediately entering into the main hall with your arms crossed over your chest. You didn’t know if it was his head you wanted to bash into the wall or your own. That would still be less painful than the years of suffering you were about to spend in this academy.

You uncrossed your arms with a defeated sigh, choosing instead to shift your focus on the empty hall in front of you. It was too early for students to be wandering the area at this hour. Most were still in the dining hall eating breakfast and conversing with friends. Your conversation with Principal Park had effectively wiped your appetite, and you didn’t have any friends that you could hang out with anyway, so you let yourself enjoy the view of the Tree of Life instead.

There was something calming about looking at the Tree. You didn’t know whether it was an effect of the Life magic coursing through its branches or just the beauty of it in general. The sunlight flitted through the stained glass ceiling to fall on its soft petals, making them glow light colours of blues and pinks. Even its trunk was a proud chestnut, a stark contrast from all the dark mahogany scattered around the walls and ceiling of the hall.

You gravitated towards the towering structure in awe, choosing to settle onto the stone barrier encompassing its base. They’d made the barrier just perfect for students to sit on and relax, and you couldn’t help but feel that this was a better spot for relaxation than any library or dining hall in the academy.

But your reverie was interrupted when the double doors of the main hall suddenly burst open. Your gaze snapped to the doors to your left, watching them shake as the doors slammed against the wall behind them. From here you could see the dining hall containing a bunch of students all gasping and speaking frenziedly with each other in hushed tones.

The reason the doors had opened seemed to be a male student, who was stumbling into the main hall after shoving through the double doors weakly. You scanned him in surprise as he continued to stumble further into the hall until he tripped on his own feet and collapsed to his knees.

He looked like he had been beaten pretty badly as a bruise encompassed the right side of his jaw and a painful groan escaped his lips. You tried to figure out who he was, but you couldn’t seem to make out the entirety of his face.

You stood up abruptly, eyes widening at the scene before you in confusion.

What was going on?

Next Chapter...

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everybodyknows-everybodydies · 6 months

Text

“Well,” says the woman at the foot of the bridge, sheepishly swiping a windblown lock of dark hair out of her mouth and tucking her hands into her sleeves, “I was told you have a library.”

Faralda’s expression does not change. “Many educational institutions do, yes.”

“Some of the collection dating back to the Second Era?” A nervous, crooked little smile. “Middle Third is the earliest I’ve handled. But—er—your archivist said—”

“You’ve spoken with Urag?”

“Yes!” She goes to dig through the bag over her shoulder, a flash of some delicate floral design sewn carefully into the inner lining. It matches the pattern twined around the ends of her sleeves. “Or, well, written. Letters.” The stranger offers a neatly folded sheet of familiar letterhead.

Faralda takes it. No doubt on closer inspection: it’s Urag’s distinctive, sparse handwriting. Halfway down the page—gentler on finer leather detailing. If you’re ever in the area (ha!) stop by and take a look, but the effect should be the same on a darker dye.

Then, on a fresh line: Tell Laghra the new frames are nice.

She folds it back. The woman gives her a wider smile, hopefully swaying back onto her heels and then forward onto her toes again, unbalanced. “I brought my own glue. Just in case, I mean. Not water-based, so I didn’t think I’d have as much trouble maintaining efficacy, but the first time it got dark coming up this way I did lose one of the littlest jars—is it always so cold at night or just this time of year?”

“Always, I’m afraid.” Glue. Not quite what she had been expecting to hear. “And what is it you do, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, this and that,” she takes half a dizzy step to the side (more stagger than step, really); “tried a matchmaking service for chickens, but that’s not much of a living. Hard to, uh, make hens meet.”

Something twitches across Faralda’s face and evulses an ungraceful sound out her nose before she can stop it. She flattens her mouth into a straight line.

The wind, suddenly, seems very loud.

“…no, you’re right,” the woman scratches awkwardly at her cheek with a pained grimace, “that one wasn’t ready yet I think. I’m—I do book repair and conservation. Down at sea level, mostly; do you mind if we sit somewhere?”

---

“I think Urag’s new assistant had more glue with her than she did food,” Mirabelle says, holding up a form and squinting at the looping penmanship.

“Perhaps it’s edible in a pinch.”

Amusement tugs at the corners of her mouth as she flips to the next page, eyes flicking up to meet hers for just a moment. An ink stain on the knuckle of her ring finger, half-faded, matches one on her other thumb, as though she’s been idly rubbing at it. “…her closest emergency contact is on the other side of the Druadachs. Remind me to check rush rates for couriers that way, would you?”

As though she’ll forget to do so herself. Unlikely. “Do you really keep track of those?” Faralda raises a brow from the other side of the desk, hands clasped behind her back.

“Of course. Yours is not especially nearby, either, you know,” she shuffles the forms and then taps the edge of the stack on the desk to straighten them, “but I have been meaning to have you update your file—”

“There’s nothing to update.”

“Hmm.” A lesser woman might be swayed into unnecessary protest by the well-practiced look of patient skepticism Mirabelle gives her. The stray dark lash on her cheek undercuts the overall effect, just a bit.

She holds her gaze, unswayed.

“You’ll still have to sign it again.” Mirabelle stands, going to add the new file to the drawer. “You spoke on the way in, yes? What did you make of her?”

“An interesting background.”

“Oh?” She turns expectantly.

Faralda, straight-faced, says, “You should ask about her chickens.”

#writing tag #Kharish gra-Shatul #how long does it take her to make someone laugh: part one (<- don't take this too seriously lol)#(would you believe I've been sitting on this one for a bit mostly bc I can't find anything solidly delineating #where the mountain range changes names. laying out maps on top of each other like 🔍)#anyway. speech level not 100 but Humor Is Often In Short Supply Here :')#flings some silliness into your yard and cycles away to go to bed!

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vdragon-creations · 19 days

Text

TMayNT Day 18: Human Version of The Turtles

Day 18 of @tmaynt Prompt: Human version of the turtles!

So these took a bit longer then i expected to, but most of that was due to trying to get the skin colors right! A lot of folks head canon the turtles as POC's, mostly in reference to RISE and MM. But I could really see that in about all of them honestly. So I hope this looks good!

(Side Note: Am whiter then sour cream guys, with the most color I have in my fam is Cherokee native on my sperm donor side. I'm using this as practice for more skin colors. Any tips and critique you might have would be nice.)

But, with that out of the way, I wanna talk a little about my thought process with these designs! I wanted to go with them being mixed race, mostly Asian with either a dash of African American or even Latino in there. And I was trying to lean more on the 2003 TMNT as my main inspiration for these guys! As well as a few headcanons younger me had when I was younger about what they would look like! So let's get into each one!

Leo: I knew that with him, I still wanted to give him a more obvious "Ninja" look to him! Especially since, they're humans in this AU and not Turtles, I don't think Splinter would be HAVING to teach his sons martial arts as they wouldn't really NEED to defend themselves. Still tho, seeing how much of a father's boy Leo is, I could see him wanting to learn from him anyway. Just out of principle. He's got dark bluish gray eyes, and keeps his long hair in a ponytail! I complete his look with a scar along his shoulder and cheek. (Perhaps a childhood accident. Rough housing too much with Raph.) I also sprinkle a few freckles on his shoulders too, cause...they cute! QvQ

Raph: Now, you know this kid is a little punk. He's defiantly the rebel of the family! I knew I wanted to give him a ripped vest from the beginning, and I added a scar on his face as well. (Probably from the same rough housing with Leo, idk.) Also, you will never convince me that this boy doesn't have a piercing, or maybe a tattoo somewhere hidden. (Splinter would kill him if he ever saw it, after all he nearly did after the piecing and died hair.) But, despite all the roughness, he's topped off with pretty green eyes, freckles, and a tiny little beauty mark right on his jaw.

Donnie: Oh my baby boy! He's defiantly the most plain looking out of his brothers. Plain purple sweater and glasses, he doesn't scream outrageous like Mikey! And why should he? He's too busy with building things in his spare time to give a shit about looks! Shown by the oil stains on his shirt, really messy hair he keeps in a low ponytail, and eyebags so big that if it weren't for his (Admittedly) pretty golden eyes, you'd think he only had dark sockets on his face. And of course, cute nerdy freckles pepper his face! (Cause I'm predictable!)

Mikey: By far the most colorful (and obvious) out of his brothers! Splinter wasn't too happy when he and Raph both decided to dye their hair and get piercings, but it sure didn't stop them! Mikey really wanted to embody the "Surfer Dude" look, and he sure pulled it off! Long Blonde hair? Check! Shark Tooth Neckless? Check! Rad Shades? Double Check! (Rarely actually worn tho, gotta make sure the Dudes & Dudettes see those beautiful bright blue eyes!) He also started carrying around a set of headphones that Donnie made personally for him!

Maybe I'll revisit these guys at a later date, cause I do really dig the designs! And I think they would make they're own neat little AU! (I may even toss my OC Sasha in there some day! Been wanting to make a few human versions of her anyway. Hell, in some versions she was a human starting out anyway. So tis very needed!)

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headspacedad · 6 months

Text

excitement time

so - how many of you don't watch your feet when you walk around inside your house? And how many of you go barefoot in the same conditions? I want you to remember your answer.

Because this morning I got up and wandered into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and looked, naturally, back the way I'd just come. Now, my eyes aren't the best when I first wake up and I thought to myself: 'self, that is one big ass piece of fabric lying there in the doorway you just came through'. Because Sam, you see, likes to chew fabric and so I'm used to small pieces of it scattered everywhere thanks to his hole-punch jaws. But this - this was big for a Sammy scrap of fabric and it was -

pointy.

Lots of pointy in fact.

'There is no way' I thought, still seated, 'that that is a spider. It's not round enough.

But it sure as hell looks like a spider with those legs.'

I'm from Florida. In Florida we get Bugs. There's a lot I can deal with. Not happily but I can deal. Careful, I lean forward a little bit and squint and yeah - that's not spider.

Also yes, it is Very Definitely A Bug.

A golf-ball sized bug

before you added the legs.

Well by now I'm not happy, very carefully getting some pants on, not looking away from it. It hasn't moved and its sitting there in the middle of the floor so I'm thinking its dead (bugs have a weird habit of crawling out into the middle of my floor in this current place I'm staying before they die). That thought - I have lived a long life upon this earth and I am not about to get stupid now when it comes to a giant bug I don't recognize that might be dead but might not.

Briefly, probably longer than I should, I consider attempting to clear the doorway the bug is blocking to get my cell phone to take a picture because 'holy shit, I need a record of this thing, mostly to share with friends to gross/creep out but also, perhaps, to identify it later'. Luckily, my non-social media side of my brain kicks in and points out that just because its not moving now doesn't mean it won't be moving soon and if I take my eyes of this thing and it disappears I'm going to have to take my rabbit, put him in my car, and then lose my security deposit because I'm going to have to burn the entire trailer to the ground.

I find a nearby box of hair dye and carefully position myself in my well honed 'cockroaches always run just as the box drops' position which means I'm ready to immediately leap onto the toilet lid. I slam it down. The bug is crushed underneath the box!!

But is he really? Because its a box of hair dye, not a book. There are a lot of light things in a box of hair dye, it doesn't have a lot of solid weight behind it. I do the grind and twist method with it. Then I very carefully lift an edge, ready to retreat to the sink top this time. The bug is dead! Very squished and very dead. I am triumphant!

I still have no idea what the bug was.

Taking my sister's advice, I type "Big ass North Carolina bug" into the search engine of my laptop and hit images. I regret hitting 'images'. I persist. And there! There it IS! Sure enough - it is, indeed, a big ass NC bug'.

It's a Camel Cricket.

I'm going to put it under a read more because I love you, dear followers and potential stranger.

That was what was in the doorway of my bathroom. That I did not see, as I walked with my bare feet into the bathroom. Somehow some guardian angel somewhere, caught my foot just enough to have me step over this thing and settle down, soles of my feet unmolested.

I also feel I should point down that, last night, before the BAB was found in the bathroom, Sam, sleeping under the covers of the bed with me, woke me up thumping. I reached down, patted his head and then eventually moved him when he kept thumping at me. He went back to sleep. I went back to sleep. The night was very dark.

For my own sanity, I chose to think Sam was thumping, something he never does, for an entirely unrelated reason.

#big ass bug #bug #camel cricket #it was a cross between a spider and a cricket #and my life will never be the same

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dinnerbug · 2 months

Text

An introduction

(Because I just noticed I haven't done one)

If you can't be bothered to read see highlighted sections for shortened but still understandable information

My name(s): Dinnerbug!

Both just bug or dinner work too if you want to shorten it down, and I'm also very open to Nicknames :D

My pronouns: It's (very) complicated

Sometimes She/Him feels right, sometimes He/They, sometimes They/It. But I really am not sure, so any combination of those works for me!

Things I think people should know about me:

I don't care who, what or where you are, I don't care what you believe. As long as what you like, believe, identify as or do doesn't harm anyone (harm anyone innocent that is) then you do you. I'm sick of people bullying eachother over nothing and I've worked on myself to break that mindset of 'I don't like that so it's bad'. To put it short, I'm a very accepting person and I'm only judgemental towards assholes (edited to add this because I feel it's important and I forgot it when I first made this post)

Interacting with people online like this is very much me going outside of my comfort zone, I am very anxious and I have very little self-confidence. If you interact with me in any way, be it a message, comment or ask and I don't reply, I'm probably just drowning in anxiety trying to figure out what to reply with. So if something like that happens I'm so sorry if I respond late, it just takes me time and it is not your fault. Also sometimes I start writing weirdly formally and I have no idea how I developed that habit

Miscellaneous facts: This is gonna be long

I tend to ramble a lot in posts like this I am so so sorry lmao (moved up for convenience)

I am autistic

I am british

I am asexual

I am non-binary

I have aphantasia (it sucks)

I love LORE

My favourite kind of fanfics are the kind where all my relatable favourite characters go through severe emotional turmoil and/or get hit into a wall with great force.

I can ride a bike

My favourite games are Minecraft and Portal 2

I love puzzles

I have an amazingly terrible sleep schedule. I will often be awake until 4am and asleep until 3pm, or often I won't sleep at all

I hope to learn to draw so I can interact with my favourite fandoms better and perhaps even make some friends

My hair is (was* will re-dye it soon) dyed

My favourite colour is black (boring I know)

My favourite word is No

My favourite foods are pizza, pasta, cheese and coconut

I'm very detail oriented

I don't tend to ship characters much

I'm so terrible at introductions that I have to mimic other people's ones and they still end up bad

I am very paranoid

One of my most common nightmare themes are zombie apocalypses, usually triggered by seeing zombie related content online within the past 2 days

Characters with fully black eyes (as in the whole eyeball) make me very uncomfortable and I always avoid eye contact with them

I am also very scared of the dark

Fandoms I'm in and actively interact with: If any fandoms I list here are stereotyped negatively I promise I'm a nice, chill person and I just want to enjoy things peacefully (list may change over time)

Hermitcraft

(my favourite hermits: Grian and Mumbo)

Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

(my favourite characters: Leo and Donnie)

Avatar: the last airbender

(my favourite characters: Zuko and Iroh)

Sonic the hedgehog

(my favourite characters: Shadow, Sonic and Rouge)

The amazing digital circus

(my favourite characters: Jax and Ragatha)

Ninjago

(my favourite characters: Garmadon and Zane)

#intro post #this took longer than it should have

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jadeleechisagoodboy · 2 years

Text

I’d love to join your club!

A short Nature-Lover!Yuu & Jade fanfic.

Yuu and Jade meeting for the first time and quickly becoming buddies. Takes place mere days after Riddle’s overblot.

This is basically exactly how I imagine my yuusona and Jade meeting, so I wrote Yuu’s personality as being pretty similar to my yuusona’s (upbeat, enthusiastic), but I avoided physical descriptions.

No warnings, They/Them pronouns for Yuu

———

One week.

It had been one week since Yuu had tumbled out of a floating coffin and found themselves in a strange, unfamiliar world. And they were already in desperate need of a break. Luckily, with Ace finally allowed back in his own dorm, and Grim apparently too exhausted from the events of the past week to cause trouble, they found themselves with some much needed down time.

After making sure Grim was still conked out on the couch, the prefect slipped out of Ramshackle and headed straight for the botanical garden. Immediately through the glass doors, they inhaled the muggy air, thick with the scent of soil and greenery, and the tension drained from their body as a happy sigh left their lungs.

Avoiding the area where they’d had their unfortunate encounter with the Savanahclaw house warden a few days ago, Yuu began to meander along the winding paths, taking their time admiring every single plant.

After awhile, they came to a path that branched off from the main one. Curious, Yuu followed it and came to a sort of work space. Metal racks holding potted plants and various gardening and science equipment acted as walls dividing each work station. Most of the “rooms” were empty. A few had half finished projects that had been left to sit overnight. And only one had a student continuing his work after school hours.

As Yuu was passing by, they glanced briefly at his table, and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Whoa…”

The teal-haired student lifted his head to look at them.

“Ah— Sorry! I just— I’ve never seen a mushroom like that before,” they apologized.

A small smile graced the students lips. “Are you referring to this one?” He asked, picking up a medium sized mushroom whose round cap was dark green in the center, gradually fading to lime green and then yellow around the edge.

“Well, all of them, actually,” Yuu said sheepishly. The colorful array of mushrooms and various plant clippings the student had laid out in front of him was unlike much of the flora from Yuu’s non-magical world. “But that one is especially pretty.”

The teal-haired boy’s smile reached his dual-colored eyes that time.

“I agree, it is very beautiful,” he said, looking at the mushroom with something akin to pride. “Would you, perhaps, like to know some facts about it?”

“Really?!” Yuu exclaimed, their demeanor brightening instantly.

The student chuckled fondly at their enthusiasm. He set the mushroom down and reached under the table to pull out a second lab stool for the prefect to sit beside him. Yuu eagerly took the offered seat, and listened as he began go through his knowledge of the fungus.

With each nod, hum, and excited question from the prefect, the student seemed to grow marginally more excited as well. A hint of warmth shone in his yellow and olive eyes, and as their conversation expanded to include the other specimens on the table, his smile also widened enough for Yuu to spot the tiny points of his sharp teeth.

“You know… if you like nature this much,” he said, “you should consider joining the mountain lovers club.”

“There’s a whole club for that?” Yuu asked. The student chuckled.

“Yes. We went on our first hike yesterday. That’s where I found all these specimens,” he said. “We also make dishes using foraged ingredients.”

Yuu gasped. “I’ve always wanted to try making wild flower syrup! Do you also make other stuff?”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah, like, using natural materials to dye fabric, using pine needles to weave little baskets, that sort of thing.”

“Well, we can certainly try. Does that mean you’ll join?”

Yuu hummed, tapping a finger against their chin. On one hand, they were already very busy… adding club activities to their other responsibilities could be hectic, but on the other hand, spending time in nature and doing little crafts sounded like the perfect way to relax. “Sure!” They decided. “I’d love to join.”

The students face brightened with the widest smile they’d seen from him yet. “Wonderful! I’ll bring the registration form to your dorm tomorrow,” he said.

“Okay. That reminds me, though, I should probably get back before Grim wakes up,” Yuu said, standing up to leave, “but it was really nice talking to you!”

“I had a nice time as well,” the teal-haired boy said, standing up and smoothing out the front of his lab coat. “I look forward to seeing you during club activities.”

“Me too, uh… What was your name…?”

“Oh, I apologize for not introducing myself,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “My name is Jade Leech.”

~ End ~

———

I kind of envision this being the first part of a longer, slow burn, Jade x Yuu fanfic, but who knows if I’ll ever get around to writing more for it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #jade leech #twst jade #twst fic #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfiction

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mako-neexu · 1 year

Note

Same person who sent that arknights/FGO idea from a while ago but here's another one 😁 the doctor and Romani talking about their wards but before Romani leaves he asks the doctor to tell Ritsuka "good job but take it easy sometimes okay? You've worked hard enough" if they ever meet before dissapearing from existence again.

ANON IM GOING TO JUMP ON YOU BTW i rushed this so bare with me (dies) i initially wanted a convo between two doctors but then... i lost braincells www so have this instead/???? TvT I present to you my first ever cheesy crossover fic between the two gacha games i play. im so very weak for roman...

—

How should they go about this?

The Doctor taps their fingers against their arm, both crossed in a pondering manner he habitually uses whenever he has to negotiate with a high-ranking individual.

It was familiar by now, though merely because deep inside, it was practically muscle memory for them to be able to convince and deceive anyone.

Doctor hums lightly, moving forward to lean against the railing of the landship alongside the dark-haired boy and the orange-red haired girl.

Their stay was soon going to end, with the unknown organization calling themselves ‘Novum Chaldea’ preparing to return them home after a month of life here as Operators of Rhodes Island.

It was a bit sad… considering they and the many people living in the landship had grown fond of the two Casters who were not from this world.

They had already said their goodbyes, each of them promising to visit once more and fight alongside them.

“Welp, no use getting sad over this!” Gudako laughs, her hair whipping around her face like silk fluttering in the air. “After all, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Gudao sighs with a smile and turns to them, “Yeah, sometimes, there’s cases where we randomly end up in different worlds while sleeping. So who knows? We really might get to visit again.”

Doctor smiles, reaching out to nudge the boy’s arm with a fist, “Rhodes Island is happy to welcome you both with open arms then.”

The atmosphere turns a little solemn. Perhaps it was the sunset. Perhaps it was the fact that they all knew that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again after this.

While the boy had a peaceful expression on his face, the girl’s own was conflicted. The two of them had bonded with so many people here that it was understandable that the pain must be near indescribable for them.

“You know,” Doctor says, eyes downcast as he looks at the dry soil of the ground beneath the ship, “In case Kal hadn’t yet offered, you both can stay here as just staff.” The only thing they could hear was the soft blowing of the wind and their voice.

The two ‘Casters’ had told them of their story. Of a world where Grail Wars exist, hundreds of ghosts summoned to fight alongside and against, the world burned except for handful of people including them, forced into committing repeated mass genocide all for the sake of their own survival-

The Doctor knew what that man’s words had meant as soon as they were told about Gudao and Gudako’s stories.

It was near unbelievable, but considering that they have their own brand of ‘magic’ and technology, they and Kaltsit had been the first ones to believe their origins. While Kal had her own reasoning, the Doctor’s own had been different.

“The two of you are young, barely into adulthood even and you both are forced to dye your hands with the blood of your allies and foe alike.”

Who were they to say that when they have former child soldiers of their own, and current children at that, employed as an Operator to allow them treatment to slow down the effects of their Oripathy.

But they still have a chance to do something for these two.

“‘Retreat is a victory itself. Nobody would fault the two of you if you decided to stay here.” Where no grail war, no ‘Servants’, no forces out there would enforce upon them a cruel position.

Gudako smiles. It was a bright yet sad one. “Thanks for the offer, boss. But-”

“-We want to take back our world, no matter the cost.” And Gudao finishes for her.

The Doctor stares at them, takes a good long look before shaking their head good-naturedly.

…No matter the cost, huh?

It’s seriously like that man said.

Before they could say anything, a blue hologram of a little girl appeared before the two Masters.

“Gudao, Gudako! The rayshift will now start in five minutes! Be ready for my countdown, okay?”

“Yep. Thanks Da Vinci.” The two replied before the connection was cut off.

The two turn to the Doctor, all smiles and solemn goodbyes, “Thanks for taking care of us here, boss.” Gudao says, his arm wrapping around Gudako’s own.

They cross their arms with a half-hearted huff, “I hope the both of you take care of yourselves. The medical examinations we conducted with you guys for the past weeks had all of the medical team worried.”

After all, the results they gathered and concluded had been vague at best. But they made sure that the two were in perfect shape even if it's just the outward appearance.

But-

“We’ll do our best! No promises, though.”

Doctor’s eyes flit from their pocket to the two of them.

A beat. One, two…

Their gaze softened, and so did their tone, “And I don’t mean that from Rhodes Island and myself alone…”

Then, he pulls out a pair of white gloves they knew to have been recognized by the two judging from the gasps and astonishment in their gazes.

Doctor hands it to them, unable to meet their stares, “That man… He said he was proud of the both of you, how you made it this far with everyone despite the odds. But he also wanted for you both to take it easy. Rest if it gets heavy, move forward even if you no longer have a path.”

The hands that took the pair of gloves were shaky at best. And the Doctor could see from the corner of their eyes that Gudao and Gudako’s eyes were shiny.

…That man must have been what he is to Amiya.

The only difference was that their doctor no longer exists.

Reaching out, they patted both the teenagers’ heads in a similar way he had done so with Red and Ifrit.

“Good job.”

—was that man’s message to them from a dream they had before Gudao and Gudako came to Terra.

As a physician themselves, death was a familiar and intimate concept. Loss and grief follows second.

To think that the man laid his life down to pave the way for these two…

The two clutched at the gloves, no doubt that it was drenched by now.

But Gudako suddenly shot up and cried, “H-How did you see him!? H-He’s no longer here- that would be impossible! U-Unless-”

Doctor shook their head, “I met him in a dream. When I woke up, the gloves were sitting on my desk.”

Da Vinci appeared once more, the hologram now occasionally interrupted by static, “Alright! Thirty seconds left. I’m sorry commander, but we need them to be still now.”

They nod as their hands slip away from the two Masters’ heads. “He’s a kind man.” They smile at the memory of fluffy peach hair bouncing from embarrassment, gloved hands shooting up to rub his nape in a sheepish manner, “Your doctor, that is.”

The proud blush on the two was endearing. “W-Well, he’s the reason why we’re able to push forward.” Gudao imitated the same manner as that man’s habit.

They rest a hand on their hip, amusement filling their smirk, “I suppose that’s why you prefer to call me boss rather than my primary title.”

“Sorry! It’s just that that title holds a special place in our hearts.” The red-haired girl laughed.

“It’s fine,” They respond with equal emotion, fifteen seconds left. “But I wish the both of you luck.”

From them, from Rhodes Island, from Closure, Amiya, and Kaltsit—

As a blue light came from above and engulfed Gudao and Gudako, the Doctor waved them goodbye

“And his wish was to see the both of you happy.”

#please kill me if doctor is ooc #arknights #fgo #fate grand order #dont kill me for grammar mistakes #romani archaman #urk implied ig #guda #doctor

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pangolinheart · 8 months

Text

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 27 - SOLE

When it comes to conversation partners, you could do worse than Rhiki! You could also probably do better, though....

(Oof this one was rough! I'm sooo tired and it took me forever to stumble upon an idea for this prompt, which I wouldn't have at all were it not for the help of @avalon821, @akirakirxaa, @elliewiltarwyn, @dragoon-mid-jump, and others! Now I am going to bed... Finally....)

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, nonsense Characters: Ardbert, Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light) Word Count: 1,164 Content Warnings: None

Ardbert told himself again and again that he should be thankful. He was thankful. He had been on the verge of coming undone, of fading away entirely, when fate had seen fit to pluck him from the precipice’s edge. His curse had been lifted! For the first time in centuries there was someone who could see and hear him, even if it was just the one person. How long had it been since he last heard the sound of his own name? It had been even longer since he had felt the stirrings of genuine hope.

He was thankful, truly. It was just….

She talked so much.

“You know, I keep thinking about dying my hair,” she said as she looked into her inn room’s vanity mirror and re-fastened one of her small braids. “But I can never decide what color. A long time ago I thought about white, but white just seems so played out, doesn’t it? Plus, all of the other Scions have white hair. Have you ever noticed that? Hmmm.... Maybe silver? Red? Or maybe something bright, like teal! But then, if I dyed my hair, do you think I would have to dye the fur on my tail, too? I mean, is it better to pretend it’s natural even though everyone knows it isn’t, or should I just own the fact that I’ve dyed my hair?” When she was satisfied the braid was secure, she turned her head either which way, examining herself before glancing up at him. “You know, I’ve never thought about it, but can you do anything with your hair? I know you don’t have a corporeal form so you probably can’t cut it, but if you wanted to, I don’t know, muss it up or something, could you? Honestly, you should try it! I bet you could look a lot more roguishly handsome if you did something different with your hair!”

Internally, Ardbert sighed.

She was supposed to be his salvation, but occasionally he found himself thinking that she was a little more like purgatory. Penitence for his sins. She talked constantly. Sometimes he thought about concealing his presence, or about abandoning his newfound companion to wander the Crystarium, but he had to admit there was something nice about talking to someone again. Or, rather, being talked to again. Most of their “conversations” amounted to her vocalizing random thoughts that he expected she would have been having anyway in his general direction. She didn’t seem to expect or require much input from him, and he wasn’t sure if she even wanted it. She was, for the most part, content to ramble to herself, with him as a silent spectator. Sometimes he would contribute a few words, or answer a question if he was able, but not often. Perhaps it was for the best: he wasn’t really sure what to talk to her about, and his conversation skills were probably rusty anyway.

“How many different colors of Amaro do you think there are?” She wondered aloud as they passed the rookery. At first he had been worried people might think she was losing her mind, talking to thin air as she was, but most of the Crystarium’s residents didn’t pay her any mind. They seemed to assume that she was merely musing to herself, if they noticed her talking at all. “I don’t mean, like, ‘moss green’ as opposed to ‘swamp algae green’ – I mean actual different colors. Chocobos come in a lot of different colors, though I suppose only a few usually occur naturally. The color of chocobos’ feathers actually depends on their diet, so if you feed them the right grains and vegetables you can make them all sorts of colors! All of the amaro in the Crystarium are dark green, but I saw some red ones in Lakeland. Do you think there are any that have magenta fur? Or pastel blue? Wait, does that stuff count as fur? Or feathers? I’ll have to look more closely the next time I’m on one. It’s very soft, either way!”

She never talked about anything important, of course. Or anything too personal. She didn’t talk about how she was adjusting to life on the First, or how she felt about what the Crystal Exarch had asked of her, or what her plans were for slaying a Lightwarden. It was possible she would be willing to broach such topics if he asked, but she never seemed to bring them up in her running commentary. The closest she came to sharing her deeper thoughts on their situation was complaining – about being tired, or about the aggressive wildlife, or about the Exarch. Mostly, she just chatted about whatever thoughts popped into her head, no matter how inane or frivolous. It could occasionally be entertaining, but at times it could also be annoying. And yet, he still chose to spend most of his time shadowing her. She was the sole person with whom he could communicate, and, under the circumstances, he supposed he couldn’t afford to be too choosy. It wasn’t as if she was terrible company. Just… a little much.

Evening was coming on quickly, and he followed her as she wandered towards the Crystarium’s market district. She languidly perused the different shops and stalls, waiting for something to catch her eye rather than seeking out something specific. Their ambling took them within sight of the Last Stand, which must have made her think of food, because she said: “What do you think I should have for dinner? Any recommendations? I suppose food has probably changed a lot since you were alive, so maybe you’re no better off than I am, but is there anything you remember being good? Specific dishes? Spices? Types of cuisine?”

Oh? She’d paused long enough for him to say something. Come on Ardbert, don’t let this chance go to waste!

“Hmmm… well, it’s a bit hard to remember what things taste like, but Renda-Rae always liked baked megapiranha from the Greatwood.”

She pulled a face. “Bleh! No fish! I’ve eaten as many fish in my life as I’d like to, thank you very much! Unless fish on the First taste and smell completely different…?”

“Probably not,” He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, I was always partial to some old-fashioned roast ovim, but I’m sure you’ve had that already. I seem to remember that they used to make some sort of rice dish in Kholusia. It didn’t have fish in it, but the sauce was made from squid ink, of all things. Maybe that sounds mad, but I think I remember being pleasantly surprised by it. It might have had mussels in it, though. What was it called…? Something ‘negre’ I think?”

“Oh! That sounds good! I don’t mind shellfish – they’re not really fish, you know? I wonder if they still make it! Let’s ask! I’d offer to give you a bite, but something tells me it would go right through you! Get it?!”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #shadowbringers spoilers #shadowbringers #ardbert #rhiki tag #auggie writes #rhiki is a menace in so many ways

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jedipoodoo · 2 years

Text

Secret Kingdoms Part Two (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Warnings: Reader gets threatened by the guards, Hunter gets a little violent on them

Read it on Ao3!

Serenno was cold. Count Dooku had graciously gifted “Princess Padme” a suite of stone rooms, two stone-faced maids, and two stone golems for guards to make sure you didn’t escape. One of the maids lit a fire in the tiny iron fireplace while the other laid out an outfit for you.

“Dinner is in an hour.” She said.

The two maids curtsied, and left without a word. The guards shut the door with the ominous clanking of a complicated lock, and your throat went dry.

An hour. An hour to plan an escape.

No, not yet. You knew the path from the courtyard to this room, but that was littered with guards and prying eyes. Everyone would see you, you couldn’t escape. Perhaps dinner would give you a better chance of studying Dooku’s foreboding castle and finding an escape route.

The dress was purple, with ruffled sleeves and a high empire-waist. Padme had always looked good in rich purples, and the royal family of Naboo had plenty of purple robes. This dress was a poor imitation, a badly dyed dress. You would know, you had dyed many fabrics before to make Padme into the best version of herself.

Getting yourself ready for a banquet should be simple enough, right?

You managed to take care of your hair so that it looked somewhat presentable, but you didn’t know how to style your own hair in the elaborate styles that Padme and the ladies of the Naboo court used

The dress was so heavy, perhaps the dye hadn’t really finished drying yet, and the gold woven into the sleeves was itchy, scratching at the skin of your arms. Did Dooku really think this was appropriate for a princess? Padme’s skin was so delicate this would have given her a rash, but your skin was worn and weathered by years of hard work.

Dooku fancied himself a king, but there was no substance behind his appearance. You’d just have to find a way to show his people.

The maids returned in time to close your dress, the sleeves made it difficult for you to reach the ties in the back, and the two silent guards walked you through the castle, leading you to the Banquet Hall.

The giant wood doors opened with an ominous creaking, and the hall was quiet.

Your heart raced with your mind. Was this supposed to be your wedding, would Dooku marry you before you had the chance to be rescued or could think to say no. You wrung your hands, palms slick with sweat, and the guards led you forward.

Thankfully, it appeared from the food and people seated at the long tables who couldn’t take their eyes off you, that this was an actual banquet.

The guards led you down the center of the Hall towards the table at the head of the room, beneath a grand stained glass window. It was hard to make out the image with the darkness of night outside, but it was certain to be magnificent in the sunlight.

One of the guards grunted, and you jumped, realizing that you had come to a stop at the throne, where Count Dooku was seated.

He stood from his throne, and you bowed your head, still terrified of being caught in your act.

“My Lord,” you whispered, in your best imitation of Padme.

Dooku stepped forward, taking your chin in his gloved hand to make you look up at him. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined, Princess. And more submissive than the rumors said.”

Your face flushed with heat. Padme definitely had more gumption in her than you did, Dooku must have been expecting that, but you still had no idea how you were going to escape! Better to let him think he had the upper hand until you had a trick or two up your sleeves. Your incredibly itchy sleeves.

Dooku raised his arms, stepping around you to address his people. “Tomorrow evening, I shall wed Princess Padme. In the morning, we shall launch our final attack on Naboo!”

Cheers errupted from Dooku’s court and your stomach sank. Marrying Padme would secure Dooku’s hold on the Naboo throne, but a swift and unmerciful attack would eradicate any resistance the people might still harbor to their new king. The one problem Dooku hadn’t foreseen was that you weren’t Padme, and you took a brief bit of pleasure at the thought that Dooku’s plot had already failed.

Dooku gave you a sickly sweet smile as the people went back to stuffing their faces.

“Enjoy yourself, my dear,” He took your hand and kissed it, “With you on my arm, no one will dare oppose us. The world is our to command.”

You had seen plenty of men like Dooku in the Naboo court, enough to know that when he said “we”, he truly meant “me”.

Despite the Count’s invitation to enjoy yourself, the two guards stayed at your back. It wasn’t like you were inclined to get to know the people plotting against your home anyway. You were shown to a seat next to Dooku’s, and servants brought you platters of pheasant and quail eggs, complete with frosted pastries and shiny fruits.

All this, and the people of Serenno were starving. It made you sick.

Even the gray-faced maids and butlers who served you looked gaunt and thin, watching as the Lords and Ladies stuffed their faces and spilled the leftovers on the floor. One maid even got desperate enough to take a bit of apple that landed next to a Lord’s boot. He smashed her fingers beneath his heel.

Dooku laughed. “Good show, Gunray!”

The squash-faced Lord laughed with his friends, toasting to their Count.

“Ah, your highness, you must meet my friends,” Dooku taunted you, “Lord Gunray of Nemoidia, and Archduke Poggle the Lesser of Geonosis were two of the first to offer me their support. My endeavor to take over Serenno and now Naboo has brought them much profit.” Dooku indicated the two to you.

You’d heard of Poggle before, he and the queen of Geonosis had insisted on a larger trade deal in Naboo, but King Ruwee thought it ridiculous to open weapons trade in the middle of peacetime. Geonosis had cut off all trade with Naboo after that, and Padme had suggested trade with the kingdom of Kamino instead.

“And of course you know Captain Ohnaka and his men from Florrum,” Dooku waved his goblet towards them. The mercenaries were drinking and dancing on the table, but Ohnaka seemed to be the only one who wasn’t enjoying the party. When he caught sight of you, he glared.

“O-of course,” You stammered.

The doors swung open, and you foolishly hoped it was the Naboo Army, led by Hunter, swarming to your rescue at Padme’s insistence. But only a tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked figure stood in the doorway, two longswords strapped to his back.

“Ah, Grievous, so nice of you to join us,” Dooku toasted him, but the rest of the room went silent again, but a distinct feeling of terror was evident in their eyes and pale cheeks as the hulking soldier made his way down the banquet hall.

“My liege,” He knelt reverently at Dooku’s feet.

“Rise, General Grievous, what news do you bring from the front?” Dooku took a large bite of pork.

Grievous coughed, and his voice came out with a wheeze. “Our campaign bodes well, five villages have surrendered to Serenno, and our spies have discovered Naboo’s camp, led by Duke Kenobi.”

Your blood froze in your veins. Even if you wanted to look away, you couldn’t. You couldn’t even scream in protest of the horrors that were being done to your people.

“Very good, Grievous. Oh yes, this is my bride-to-be, Princess Padme of Naboo. I assume you are familiar with her kingdom?”

Grievous turned to look at you with yellow eyes, and chuckled. “You have a lovely kingdom, princess. Pity to see it all go up in flames.”

Hunter left his horse in the canyon. There wasn’t much cover without it, but a strange man on a horse barrelling towards Dooku’s castle would gathered even more suspicion. Hunter and his brother’s wore little armor aside from a chestplate and shinguards, as spies they needed to move quickly and quietly. This way, he looked more like a traveling ranger rather than a Naboo soldier. He was counting on that to get him into the castle. If Dooku was collecting soldiers for hire, he could pretend to offer his services.

As a mountainous kingdom, Serenno had a smaller population than Naboo, but there were still people bustling about the market. At least half of those people, however, bore Dooku’s eagle crest, indicating their alliance to the Count-turned-would-be-King.

The tavern he found was sparsely occupied. He ordered a mead to catch his breath, and the barmaid gave it to him without a word, greedily snatching up the coins he gave her.

Hunter tried to listen as best he could, no one could best his tracking skills, but the people of Serenno just weren’t talkative. With the exception of sipping on mugs, not a sound was made. Even outside it was quiet, despite the occasional squawk of a bird.

Hunter sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. If they were this reluctant to talk to each other, how could he get them to talk to him?

He had to get inside that castle somehow. He had to. He had to find his lady, he had to save you.

A large, firm hand clapped him on the back, almost sending him falling forward into his drink.

He whirled about and drew his knife, half-expecting a fight, but Wrecker grabbed his wrist.

“Easy there, stranger, you’ll take someone’s eye out.” Wrecker chuckled. He slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “You look like a man who could use a job. Why don’t you come with me?” Without waiting for Hunter’s repy, Wrecker dragged him out of the pub.

Wrecker could make himself feel at home wherever they went, and his confidence made people glance over even his wildest of habits. As he and Hunter easily slipped outside, Hunter found their other three brothers waiting for them.

“How- what are you doing here?” He hissed.

“Act natural, keep moving,” Crosshair hissed, indicating the direction of the castle. Wrecker kept his arm around Hunter to keep him from running away again.

“I’m not going back, not without her,” He insisted.

“We know,” Echo rolled his eyes, “Why else would we be here?”

Hunter blinked, but his feet had to keep moving in order to keep up with Wrecker. “What about Skywalker? And the-”

“The Princess is in good hands. It isn’t as if Skywalker is going to let anything happen to her,” Tech said, “I gave them enough medicine for them to make it back to camp.”

Hunter glanced up at the wall of the castle as they approached the front gate. Crosshair led them in a sharp turn into a dark and gross alleyway between two houses. They had a good view of the castle, but a nice hiding spot from which to plan.

“So you’ll help me, then?” Hunter shoved Wrecker’s arm off of him.

Tech rolled his eyes, adjusting his spectacles. “Well, of course we weren’t going to let you run off and get yourself killed.”

“We were promised a suicide mission to rescue the princess and save the kingdom. Pulling her highness from a river is hardly so exciting. And of course, you can’t take all the credit for killing Dooku.” Crosshair jabbed his finger in Hunter’s face.

Hunter slapped Crosshair’s hand away, “I’m not going to kill Dooku. That’ll just make things harder. I need to save her.”

“Hey, no one said we couldn’t blow up a few things on our way out!”

Everyone hissed a “SHHH!” at Wrecker, as if that was much quieter. They were all silent as a group of Dooku’s knights passed, making sure they weren’t discovered.

“Well, Hunter, what have you got?” Echo asked.

Hunter glanced at the turrets.

“There’s a catapult on each corner of the wall, but they’re all stationed outward. Once we get inside, they shouldn’t be a problem.

Crosshair took an arrow from his quiver, testing the fletching between his fingers, “How many guards on the walls?”

“Four on each side, counted them myself on our way in,” Tech said, “Though by the positioning that we can see from here, I would estimate that the back wall is guarded by a total of six guards. That could indicate either the Count of Hunter’s lady has their room there.”

“We can go in through the east wall, it’s closest to the castle, and fewer guards,” Hunter said.

Crosshair grinned. “Leave them to me.”

“How many men total in the city?”

“They patrol in groups of three, and I counted five different patrols earlier. I would say thirty, and then about fifteen more for the castle itself.”

Wrecker struggled to contain his gleeful laughter in their darkened alley corner. “I like the sound of that!” He said, cracking his knuckles.

“While it is true that the majority of the Count’s army will be stationed close to Naboo, we cannot discredit any other tricks he may have up his sleeves,” Tech reminded them.

“We know,” Hunter said, “That’s why we’re moving fast.”

The Count escorted you back to the suite after the banquet had gone long into the hours of the night, ignoring the paleness of your face. You were exhausted, and what little of the decadent food you managed to eat to keep your strength up didn’t sit right in your stomach.

At the doors to your suite, the guards took up their positions again, and Dooku gripped your hand with the intention of cutting off your circulation.

“Rest well, my princess, I cannot wait for tomorrow evening.”

You couldn’t say a word as the Count brought your hand to his lips. He kissed the back of your hand, then paused, staring at your knuckles for a moment. Then without a word, he turned with a swish of his cape, his false crown glinting in the torchlight.

You entered your room without much more encouragement, grateful to finally get a moment alone, but the shivers in your skin wouldn’t leave. You sat with your back to the door, holding yourself in an attempt to keep from crying, though it wasn’t working very well.

You hated this. You hated all of this, from the emotionless guards to the ignorant nobles to Count Dooku himself. You hated Padme for leaving you, though through no choice of her own. You hated that Hunter had gone to war, and now had no idea where you were.

If he did know, though, would he bring himself to leave everything just to rescue you? He had a distinguished position in the King’s army, an irreplaceable one at that, and you knew that the safety of the whole kingdom hinged on the efforts of him and the brothers he led. He couldn’t possibly sacrifice that much for you, a palace maid, even if he did love you.

No, you would have to escape on your own.

You pushed yourself to your feet, shaking with each step. There were several windows along the wall, though they were much too narrow for you to squeeze through. All the same, when you tried to look out the windows, there was nothing below you by a steep drop down the smooth stone wall of the castle. You shivered as the wind blew through the cracks in the wall.

There were no clothes in the wardrobe, aside from a nightdress. Your wedding dress was probably still being finished. You pulled off the heavy, uncomfortable gown made for Princess Padme and threw it on the bed. You could move around much faster in your own shift that fit you perfectly, though it looked nothing like royalty.

It was behind the wardrobe that spiked your interest. The walls were made of stone, but the wall behind the empty wardrobe was made of wood.

Slowly, inch by inch, you quietly maneuvered the wardrobe away from the wall. Without numerous heavy gowns to weigh it down, it was actually lighter than you expected. Behind the wardrobe was a door, crudely boarded shut long ago, but the wood was dry and brittle, and ready to break.

With several splinters and broken nails, you quietly pulled the boards away from the door in an effort to not alert your guards, and carefully placed each one on the bed so that they wouldn’t clatter on the floor.

The door had no handle, but you used doors like this enough as a servant. With a gentle push where the handle might have been, the door slowly swung inwards with a low creaking.

You caught it quickly, staring at the entrance doors to be certain the guards hadn’t heard. After a moment of heavy silence, you slipped in and closed the door.

You were enveloped in darkness, but also with a rush of adrenaline at your newfound freedom. The passageway that was revealed was scarcely wider than you were, and so you placed your hands on the walls to guide you. Carefully, you stepped forward and immediately found a set of stairs. You began your descent into the dark.

Many castles employed such stairways and passageways, so that servants could go about their duties without interrupting the Lord and Lady. You knew the passageways of Naboo’s Royal Castle like the back of your hand, though it appeared the one for your royal suite in Serenno had been in disuse for some time. Your hand went through something slimy gathered on the wall, and you steeled your stomach. At least it was there. The wall was there, and the stairs were solid beneath your-

The corner of one step wanted there, and you tripped forward along several stairs before you caught yourself, hissing at the pain in your knees.

“What was that?” A voice echoed up ahead. You went still and silent.

“It’s probably the dungeon, again,” One disgruntled servant told the other, “There’s no telling what the Count has down there. He’ll be the death of us all.”

“Shh! Someone will hear you!” The skittish servant hissed.

You held your breath and managed to stay quiet until you heard their footsteps fading away. At the bottom of the stairs, you came across a hall connecting the first floor in secret. The servants had moved to the left, so you followed them, hoping to move quietly enough to keep some distance between you while following them to what was potentially freedom.

As you moved, you wiped some charcoal from the sparsely-placed torches over your face and shift to pass as a serving maid rather than the Princess you were taken for. That was something you were good at.

Up ahead, the two servants exited through another door like the one you’d entered through. You pressed your ear against the wood, listening for any noise on the other side.

“G-General Grievous!” The skittish servant exclaimed. Gooseflesh ran up and down your arms and you wanted to run, but you were frozen in place at the door. “What are you up to- how can we assist you, sire?”

The general exclaimed angrily, then coughed as he overestimated the strength of his voice.

“The princess has escaped, she’s not in her room, we think she may be using the servant’s tunnels.”

You had to get out of the tunnels. If Dooku was sending all his men into the tunnels, maybe you’d have some luck out in the open. You forced yourself to run barefoot down the hall, ducking around the corner before Grievous and his men could enter. As much as Dooku made your skin crawl, his general was the stuff of nightmares, the hulking beast who persistently chased you through the woods, and no matter how fast you ran, he was always right behind you.

You stumbled down another flight of stairs and came to a door that sounded quiet on the other side, you slipped out and shut it behind you. At least stone didn’t leave tracks when you walked on it.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and looked around. You were surrounded by empty metal fences that resembled the prison cart that was carted into the castle every few days, carrying all manner of disreputable fellow. You and Padme were never allowed to go down to the dungeons, but if you had to guess what a dungeon would look like, this would be it.

There was no torchlight, but the metal bars reflected the moonlight from the solitary window at the far end of the dungeon.

These dungeons didn’t hold any prisoners, except for a single dried skeleton. You shivered. Dooku didn’t tolerate those who stood out of line. You assumed his prisons would be full of rebellious serfs, but this was terrifying.

You picked your way through moldy hay and the remains of final meals, hearing the rats squeaking in the shadows. If you could climb up to the window, you might be able to slip out.

Your fingers brushed the wall to mark your terrain, and a roar echoed through the dungeons.

Was that a bear? A lion? You looked about the dungeon wildly. The cages remained empty.

The roar came again, no further, and no closer. You listened carefully. No footsteps approached.

You placed your hand against the cool stone. No roar. You pulled yourself onto the wall. No roar. You stayed still, another roar. This one sounded like when one of the kitchen cats got kicked aside by the butcher.

Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t after you. It was in pain. But you had no means to help it. You had to get out of this prison as soon as possible.

The uneven stone blocks provided the perfect ladder as you carefully picked your way towards the window at nearly double your height. You had almost made it, your fingers brushing the lip of the windowsill, when something grabbed your ankle.

You screamed, thinking of the skeleton in the corner, and your grip slipped. You fell backwards, crumbling to the floor at the feet of two of Dooku’s soldiers.

“Is that the princess?” One of them asked the other. You looked up at them in terror, trying to scuttle away from them. Your foot caught on a stone, sending a pang through your leg. You grit your teeth at the pain in your ankle. Oh no. Escape was impossible now.

One of the soldiers pulled you to your feet, two hands firmly on your shoulders, “Looks like we got lucky, Roger!”

“Roger, you think the General will give us those promotions we’ve been asking for now?”

“I can see the plumes now!”

These soldiers were…less than frightening, but the idea of the general wasn’t.

You didn’t have much left in your stomach, so there wasn’t much to vomit on Roger’s face, but it still made him shriek like a young nobleman.

The other Roger let go of you to help his friend clean up, and you ran in the other direction. Well, hobbled, more accurately. You ran past the servant’s entrance, that would make you a sitting duck in the tunnels, and up a couple stairs. That brought you to another torchlit hall, even and long, with another door at the end. Bunching your skirts in your hands, you ran as fast as your twisted ankle would let you. There was no point in subtlety now.

You reached for the door, and another roar shook the walls around you, sending you falling backwards in surprise.

The door opened in front of you, and you could hear the roar of pain much more clearly, as well as the rattling of chains.

“One more night should do it, and then we can release the starving thing upon the Naboo-”

Dooku stopped short, noticing you. The cloaked figure he was talking to quickly shut the door behind them so that you couldn’t see what was making that noise.

“My dear,” Dooku smiled calmly as you lay sprawled on the floor in front of him, “What are you doing out of your room, and in your underthings, no less?”

Your face flushed with heat. You felt humiliated, despite your valiant escape attempt. Dooku had you.

Roger and Roger ran up behind you, the clanking of their armor could be heard miles away.

“Sir- Your highness!” Roger bowed, panting heavily, “We have- we’ve captured the princess!” He boasted.

“So you have,” Dooku raised his head so as to look down his nose at his soldiers.

“We-we’ll take her back to her rooms now, sir!” Roger said. He went to yank you to your feet again, but Dooku held out his hand.

“Allow me, gentlemen.”

He tucked his hunting gloves under his arm and held out his hand.

You weren’t doing yourself any good on the floor, so you reluctantly took his hand and let the Count help you up. Though you refused to look him in the eye.

Dooku wasn’t looking at you, though, he was studying your hands critically, running his thumb over your knuckles in a way that made you angry. You wanted Hunter to hold you like this, you wanted him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you to be so that he could help you treat your ankle and get the rest you needed.

You banished such inappropriate thoughts from your mind, how could you be so callous as to even think of Hunter seeing your ankles?

“I-Is everything alright, your highness?” You asked.

Dooku’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Take her to my rooms. Put two guards inside this time so that she can’t escape again.” He barked. Roger and Roger bowed, then each of them grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the exit from the dungeons.

Once you were out of earshot, Dooku beckoned his cloaked assistant forward.

“What is thy bidding, my master?” the wrinkled old sorcerer asked with a mischievous grin beneath his hood.”

Dooku grit his teeth. "Ask Captain Ohnaka why the princess has the hands of a serving girl."

Scaling the wall was easy enough once Crosshair had picked them off from a distance. They had ten minutes before their watch was replaced and the alarm was sounded. In that time, he had to track you down or they ran the risk of being captured.

He could smell the scent of the Princess’ soap, the one made of lavender picked right outside the castle. You were always up to your elbows in that soap to keep the princess and her clothes clean, rubbing your skin red and raw. Hunter closed his eyes for a moment, caught up in the memory. You asked him how he could possibly think you a refined lady when your hands were so rough. He’d simply splayed his fingers against yours, proving that his hands were just as calloused as yours from years training with a sword.

Even after days on the road, you couldn’t ditch that scent.

Hunter tied his hair back with his red strip of cloth to keep his vision unobstructed, “This way,” He crouched down in the shadows, leading his brothers towards where the scent was strongest.

Crosshair shook his head, but pulled another arrow from the quiver, “How does he do that?”

“The same way that you have elf-vision,” Echo snorted.

“Shh!” Wrecker hissed.

They were completely obscured from any other guards by the shadow of the castle. With the moon behind the castle, the only other light was the torchlight from the castle.

The large, circular stained glass that indicated a throne room or grand hall was darkened, but right above it was a window with a single flickering torch, that had to be the Count’s bedchamber.

Tech produced a coil of rope from his pack, and Wrecker tied it to Crosshair’s arrow. With a quiet “whoosh” the arrow embedded itself in the stone windowframe, and Wrecker pulled it taught.

Hunter took his sword’s scabbard and hooked it on the rope, testing his weight.

“Tech, Echo, you follow when I give the signal. Wrecker, Cross, you create a distraction, that should bring the guards out so we have a clear escape route.”

Wrecker nudged Crosshair, and Crosshair couldn’t hide the smirk that came at the mention of any damage to be done. If his aim was true (and it always was) they’d be able to just walk right out of the front gate.

Wrecker held the rope taught, and Hunter pushed off the arch, gliding along the rope to the window. He caught himself on the wall, and kept a firm hold on the rope until he found his balance on the windowsill. He pressed his back against the glass, hidden behind the thick curtain. Re-attaching his sword to his belt, he drew his trusty knife. Despite what he told Crosshair earlier, the idea of murdering the Count in his bed for whatever he’d done to you did sound quite satisfying.

He opened the window just a bit, enough for him to hear inside, but there was no snoring.

“Let go of me!”

His heart leaped. You were alive, and it took all his self-control not to barge into the room and scream your name.

“Orders are orders, ma’am. Count Dooku said we were to make sure you stayed here.”

“Good luck with that.”

Hunter heard you struggling and signaled to his brothers, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back much longer.

“Hey Roger,” one of the guards said to his companion, “What if we cut off one of her feet? Think she’d be able to run away then?”

You stopped struggling, and Hunter felt the blood drain from his face. Tech was only halfway across.

“Roger, I think that’s a great idea!”

You whimpered, as one of the guards held you still, and Hunter couldn’t take it anymore.He forced the window open, glass scattering across the stone floor as he threw his knife at the sword raised above your leg.

“What the-”

Roger didn’t have time to wonder what was happening as Hunter saw red, stabbing him in the stomach. He kicked the Roger holding you down in the face, crashing his head against the headboard with a crack.

Hunter landed in a crouch on the bed next to you, and quickly scanned the room for any more threats before he turned to you.

“Hunter?” you whispered with tears in your eyes, thinking this was all a dream brought on by the pain.

“My lady, are you alright?” He leaned over you, caressing your face with his hand.

“Better now,” You gulped, pressing your palm to his hand.

Hunter bent down, giving you a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him. Definitely not a dream.

“Ah!” You gasped as his knee brushed against your ankle.

“What? Did they hurt you?” he snarled, reaching for your foot. You quickly pulled it under your shift to keep your ankles from view.

“I, uh, tripped while trying to escape.” You mumbled abashedly.

Hunter couldn’t help a chuckle as he pressed his forehead to yours, “That’s my lady.”

“Oh good, you found her,” you and Hunter both sat up, unaware that Tech had made it into the room, and was currently helping Echo off the windowsill.

The bell tolled in the distance and you jumped, clinging to Hunter’s cloak.

“That would be Crosshair and Wrecker’s distraction,” Echo assured you, “We should get out of here quickly.”

Hunter took off his own cloak and tied it around your shoulders, “Lean on me,” He urged, plucking his dagger from the wall and giving it to you. One of his arms wrapped securely around your waist, cradling you to his side as the other hand gripped his sword.

“Wait, wait,” You urged Hunter and his brothers, “We can’t leave yet.”

“We have to if we want to get out of her alive!” Echo insisted.

“But Dooku has a secret weapon!” You told them, “He’s going to use it against our army tomorrow!”

The brothers looked at each other in alarm, and then back to you.

“Where is it?” Tech asked.

You gulped. “He has something, something down in the dungeons.”

Hunter nodded, “Lead the way, milady.”

Lady Luck (Prequel)

#HEY I WROTE SOMETHING #lizart writes #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #lizart speaks #tbb x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch hunter x reader #medieval au #fantasy au

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clacesource · 1 year

Text

From Cassandra Clare's Newsletter

MEMORANDUM FROM: J. C. HERONDALE, NEW YORK INSTITUTE TO: ALL INSTITUTE HEADS IN RE: HAIR

I. SITUATION REPORT

As you know, a schism has caused our homeland of Idris to be occupied by an insurgent, reactionary faction of Nephilim. This has severed the Clave’s ability to enter Idris and to engage in normal governmental operations. As a result, the New York Institute has become a much more central and important location than ever before. Not only are we now the home office of the Consul-in-Exile, the Headmaster of the Shadowhunter Academy-Also-in-Exile as well as the Warlock and Werewolf representatives to the Council, we are also the closest Institute to said Academy and therefore charged with its defense. As such, the interests of the New York Institute can be said to truly be commensurate with the interests of the Clave at large.

II. THE SLANDER

A most dire accusation has been made against me, and in doing so, it has impacted the morale of my Institute, which, as per §1, is of utmost importance at this precarious time in Shadowhunter history.

Specifically, I have been accused of DYEING MY HAIR.

III. THE RESPONSE

The accusation is, unfortunately, not more specific than this. It is unclear if the accuser means to suggest that I merely add artificial highlights to my hair, or that I use dye to alter its natural hue -- or much more dire allegations. That I, perhaps, actually use bleach to lighten my hair to the blond color for which it is famous across six continents, or even that I might have need to mask the appearance of early-onset gray hairs.

Let me be clear: none of these have any basis in fact. My hair is and has only ever been its own natural shade and tone, inherited genuinely from my parents and untouched by any treatment or modification by magic or chemical. Its thick texture, gentle waves, and brilliant luster are merely the result of good fortune and a regular regimen of washing and conditioning.

To suggest otherwise is to undermine the cause of the liberation of Idris and to weaken the resolve of our allies.

A few, more given to conflict resolution than I, have tried to find a position of compromise, suggesting that it is possible that my hair has been positively affected by the experiments my father performed on me as an infant involving angel blood. It is true that I cannot fully rule out the possibility. But I strongly doubt it, and I believe you should as well, for one can find (through rigorous searching) hair that is nearly as superb as mine even among the mundane population, who obviously have not benefited from any such magics.

IV. RELEVANCE TO THE NEW YORK INSTITUTE AT LARGE

While the slander has been directed solely at me, the other main representatives of the New York Institute are also aggrieved, and feel strongly that an attack on the hair of one of us is an attack on the hair of all of us. To that end, and at their request[2], I want to provide reassurances regarding the current status of the hair of all of us here. I hope that it will offer comfort and optimism in this dark time. I have provided a helpful letter grade for each of those mentioned here, using the standard measure where “S” is the highest grade, followed by A, B, C, D, F. My own hair will be used as the S-tier standard.

CLARY FAIRCHILD If anyone on this list qualifies for the highest tier, it is of course Clary Fairchild, the co-head of the Institute and my constant beloved. Her hair is of the finest red color, shining gold in the light and flowing around her face in waves that only serve to highlight the natural blush of her cheeks and the freckles which so fetchingly decorate her face. To look upon Clary is to be reminded of the beauty given to us by the Angel; to run one’s hands through her hair is to weep with the beauty of this world. RANK: S

SIMON LOVELACE Unfortunately, Clary’s parabatai’s hair has suffered greatly, perhaps the most of any of us, with the rupturing of the Clave. Out of sorrow and discontent he has, unwisely, been dedicating a significant portion of his time to his rock band, in which he plays the electric bass guitar alongside several mundanes (of no other consequence). Under the wretched influence of these mundanes, he has made an attempt at lightening his own hair to create an effect he described to me as “kinda punk and a little emo, but also not.” I cannot tell you what this is intended to mean: only that applying bleaching agents to his previously completely acceptable brown hair has turned it an unpleasant color which Clary has labeled “chromium green.” For the moment, he looks as though he has a dead snake on his head. Both Clary and Isabelle have volunteered to shave the green out of his hair entirely, but he has so far avoided their clippers and announced he will wait for it to grow out naturally. All of us here are looking forward to his full recovery in time; rest assured that, like the loss of Idris, Simon’s appalling appearance is only temporary. RANK: D (under normal circumstances: B).

ISABELLE LIGHTWOOD As in all things, Isabelle Lightwood’s hair is immaculate and worthy of the great admiration it inspires. The contrast between her and Simon Lovelace is always quite striking, but never more so than now, as her appearance lights up each room she enters while his prompts questions about possible chemical spills and comparisons to a fictional mundane character known as “The Joker.” (Again, his situation is temporary, and we trust he will be restored to full strength soon.) When braided and set for battle, Isabelle’s hair inspires her allies and strikes fear into demons. RANK: S

ALEC LIGHTWOOD Here we have a curious situation, it is true that Alec Lightwood’s hair is the parabatai to my own. As such, it is attractive, steadfast, brave, and rousing. Alas, while the hair itself is fine material, he simply WILL NOT TAKE CARE OF IT THE WAY I TELL HIM TO. No matter how many excellent products are gifted to him, no matter how many times he is lured into a fine salon with a promise that it is actually an arrow shop, the Consul continues to look as if he cuts his hair in the dark with nail scissors. And yet - allowances must be made. Our Consul struggles beneath a heavy burden of responsibility, by which I mean he has two children who constantly put gum in his hair. Considering all he has to face, I cannot but feel that the hair of Alec Lightwood is hair that one would not hesitate to follow into battle, which is what truly matters. RANK: A

MAGNUS BANE At this moment in time, Magnus Bane, the Consul’s husband and warlock representative to the Council, has hair that cannot be achieved through mundane or even Shadowhunter means. Though largely black, it is shot through with flecks of gold, and at the tips it faded smoothly to an electric blue that closely resembles the color of his own magic. As always, Magnus takes a look that might not pass muster on a lesser man and makes it not only his own, but a target of envy from all around him. It is widely believed (though denied) that such an effect is what Simon Lovelace was hoping to attain in his recent unlucky tonsorial experiments. That the effect of his hair can only be created so perfectly with the use of magic does not diminish what Magnus manages to achieve here. RANK: A

CHURCH THE CAT While the oddly long-lived cat known as Church is currently residing in the UK under the care of others, he was a longtime resident of this Institute and is still considered by most of us here as a kind of unofficial mascot. Recent photos have confirmed that, as befits a cat of the New York Institute, Church continues to have a fine, rich coat of the slate-blue color normally associated with his Persian breeding. Despite his usual bad temper, he is a fastidious groomer and keeps himself free of mats and unsightly tufts of shedding fur. His color is set off by his luminous gold eyes, which provide an excellent contrast. His coat presents an excellent picture when seen as a whole, but special consideration should be made to its greatest details, namely the slightly lighter color between his toes, and the tufts that rise from his owl-like ears. RANK: S

V. CONCLUSION

I hope that the thoroughness of the information contained here has brought reassurance and inspiration to all those who receive it. To sum up, my own hair has never been better, and remains entirely natural in its source. The state of the hair of the New York Institute is strong, and with the exception of a single mishap, which we are recovering from, we foresee only positive developments in the domain of our hair in the months and years to come.

Yours in the Name of the Angel, Jace Herondale

[1]This award was created by Clary Fairchild and is presented once a year on my birthday by a jury consisting of only the most discerning and aesthetically informed Nephilim available: specifically, Clary Fairchild.

[2]Or at least, with only their mildest objection.

#the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #clary fairchild #clary fray #jace herondale #jace wayland #clace #bonus content #magnus bane #isabelle lightwood #simon lovelace

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