#witch-hobble

[atamascolily]

There is a tendency I see in PMMM analyses and discussions to treat the witches simply as monsters that can be overcome with sufficient force regardless of other circumstances--and thus Homura's failure to ever win against Walpurgisnacht on her own terms is something that could be easily fixed with more firepower and different tactics. And while there's nothing wrong with this interpretation, it's not one that particularly interests me, either.

What I like about PMMM and what makes it so engaging for me, is that it can be read on multiple levels--both as a literal journey and as a symbolic one. In-universe, witches are the shadow selves of magical girls; is it really so surprising that they also serve as narrative foils to those who face them, thus making victory or defeat as much of a character issue as a tactical one?

It is not a coincidence that Mami Tomoe, a girl who was forced to grow up too fast and who could have wished to save her dying parents but didn't, meets her end at the hand of a particularly childish and immature witch, a lumpen, misshapen doll that transforms into a clown--a girl who never grew up, who could have wished to save her dying parent but didn't. Mami, an experienced veteran who wiped the floor with the Rose Witch and her familiars earlier, is completely caught off-guard and is eaten alive by a witch who embodies all of the issues she herself struggles with and has yet to overcome within herself.

Yes, Mami was careless and overconfident, which led to her doom--but she had also fulfilled her role of introducing Madoka to the world of magical girls. On a narrative level, her death was necessary--not only to free Madoka from her impulsive promise to become a magical girl too early in the story, before she'd learned all the facts and could make a fully informed decision, but also to teach Madoka one final, horrific lesson about what life as a magical girl is really like.

This is not to say that AUs where Mami survives are wrong or missing the point--I've written them myself and I love them! (It helps that Mami's survival is usually the result of someone else's interference, not something she accomplishes on her own.) Nor do I mean to suggest that Mami's death is a moral failing on her part--merely that I think that Charlotte represents Mami's own particular brand of kryptonite at that particular point in her life, one she might have been able to survive if she had been able to move beyond the psychological issues hobbling her.

Meanwhile, Homura is able to easily defeat Charlotte, because metaphorically she's moved beyond the childish worldview that Mami is still stuck in. From that same symbolic perspective, it's this relative level of maturity, as much as her time stop and pipe bombs, that allows her to win.

Likewise, it is not an accident that the next witch Madoka encounters is one that specializes in extracting the memories of its victims, trapping Madoka in a spinning carousel as she is tormented by her own grief and guilty conscience over Mami's death. She is freed by Sayaka, who has moved beyond such angst by her decision to take on Mami's role as an idealized magical girl protector. Later on, Sayaka's descent into dualistic thinking is symbolized by her fight against a witch whose world is literally black and white--whom Sayaka defeats, but only at the cost of pushing herself dangerously to her limits.

As with Mami, Sayaka's death is directly tied to her own psychological issues--in this case, by her incredibly strict rules about how magical girls should behave and her refusal to cut herself any slack whatsoever. Her metaphorical self-denial results in literal self-denial, and her death as a magical girl and rebirth as a witch.

Then we come to Walpurgisnacht, a witch made of cogs and gears--the one witch Homura cannot beat, no matter what she does. Homura is stuck in her loops, unable to imagine a future beyond them, increasingly isolated from any meaningful connections or relationships--Walpurgisnacht may be the "fool that spins in a circle", but so is Homura. The inside mirrors the outside; when we watch Homura fight against Walpurgisnacht, we are also watching Homura's struggle with herself. Unlike Mami and Sayaka, Homura's magic allows her to fight this battle over and over again--again and again she is forced to retreat and start over, unsatisfied with the results and determined to do better next time. She doesn't die, but she doesn't win, either--instead, she's locked into perpetual stalemate with no end.

Madoka, however, is able to see beyond the vicious cycle represented by Walpurgisnacht and thus easily and repeatedly defeats an enemy that Homura cannot, regardless of her relative power levels in any given timeline. It's probably too simplistic to say that hope triumphs over despair--and yet, that's exactly what happens, every single time. Homura has numbed herself through repeated exposure to where she no longer feels hope or despair, thus existing in perpetual stasis with her purpose the only thing driving her. Paradoxically, the one thing she needs to do to win is the one thing she cannot do--and the thing that Madoka can do all too easily.

(This is not to say that Madoka doesn't have her own issues--she does!--just that her issues are different from Homura's, meaning she's not tripped up by this particular obstacle in the same way that Homura is. And it's not that Homura's struggles were pointless--they were what allowed Madoka to get to point where she had both the power and the knowledge that she could save everyone, including Homura.)

Homura's final battle with Walpurgisnacht shows Homura going to insane lengths, including a wall of C-4 explosives inside a refinery, a flaming oil tanker, and a submarine with Type 88 Surface-to-Ship missiles--none of which has any lasting effect on Walpurgisnacht whatsoever. That episode goes to great lengths to show that Homura's approach to fighting Walpurgisnacht fundamentally isn't working; I don't think adding more nukes would help.

The one time Homura gets the closest to her happy ending is the one timeline where she and Madoka fight and fall together--the one timeline where they are shown as equals, and the one where they debate becoming witches together and destroying the whole world before Madoka thinks better of it. This is also not a coincidence. If there is ever to be a truly happy end to this franchise--or an end at all--Homura and Madoka must be equal and willing partners, not one protecting/sacrificing themself for the other again and again. It is also likely that they will remake the universe in the process, through the combined power of their mutual wish.

[It also wouldn't surprise me if that line foreshadowed future plot elements--after all, Madoka technically became a witch in the final episode of the TV series (she got better, thanks to the nature of her wish), and so did Homura in Rebellion--but we shall see if the series ever follows up on this.]

This is why I'm so excited that Walpurgis no Kaiten seems to be laying the groundwork for Homura creating her own enemies and her greatest enemy being herself--once again, making the metaphorical literal. I'm excited about the prospect of Homura getting a do-over with Walpurgisnacht, which would represent a chance for her to confront her narrative foil one more time, and show us how her character has changed. Though it may play out on a larger stage, the real battle will be inside Homura's mind and heart--and, I would argue, always has been. The only way the outcome will change--the only way we can move beyond what's been and into something new--is if/when she changes.

I want to be clear that there's absolutely nothing wrong with the strictly literal interpretation of witches, and I think people should write what they want to write; if that's the story you want to tell, then go for it! For me, however, I find it far more compelling--not to mention richer and truer--if the actions and words on-screen correspond to the characters' emotional and psychological journeys, and there's no question that this preference how I interpret media in general, and PMMM in particular. And it's not that I think Homura couldn't defeat Walpurgisnacht in an AU scenario--merely that any story where she achieves this victory without changing in any way or addressing her own psychological issues in some fashion removes exactly the elements that drew me to this series in the first place.

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm analysis

[octoberclidan]

Doing Something About It

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request: Hi love your stories btw!!! I was wondering if you could do a request… on where the reader constantly teases dean with naughty texts and finally does something about like hard core smut please and thank you 🖤🖤

Note: 18+ only. Do not read this if you're under 18.

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was sitting at a table in a motel room, flicking through a book on vampires. She was currently on a hunt with Sam and Dean, a large vampire nest, but she was stuck in the motel after spraining her ankle the day before. She had her leg propped up and had her phone on the table, waiting for one of the guys to ask for some lore info. She was bored out of her mind. Vampires were her speciality, and yet she was reduced to acting as nothing more than a source of information for the time being. She hadn't even sprained her ankle while hunting, she'd tripped over a rock while getting out of the car in the motel's parking lot. A rock. Dean had made himself red in the face from laughing at her while Sam had carried her into the motel room. Sam was always sweet to her, while Dean constantly teased her. She teased him too, he was her best friend after all. If she was seriously injured she knew he'd be at her side in a heartbeat. He'd even tried to sell his soul to save her once. She knew he loved her. She loved him too. Being laughed at for having a sore ankle wasn't always appreciated though.

Neither Sam nor Dean had needed to call her for anything. Why would they? They must have taken down hundreds of vampires at this point; they knew what they were doing. She sighed, turning over another page with some more information that she already had catalogued away in her mind, when she glanced over at her phone. She smirked to herself and grabbed it, settling back in the chair and deciding that she was going to have a little bit of fun. She quickly opened her messages and went to her text history with Dean, laughing to herself as she read back over a recent conversation they'd had about Sam's defensiveness over kale.

[Y/N]: Guess what I'm doing right now in our motel room?;)

She didn't have to wait long for Dean to respond.

Dean: [Y/N], I'm in the middle of staking out a warehouse, not now.

[Y/N]: I got bored, so I decided to try on some of your clothes. That red flannel of yours feels very nice on my skin...

She waited a moment for a response. This was a common game for her, she loved teasing him. It was only teasing, they'd never actually done anything. Dean also, surprisingly, wasn't one to tease back. He'd flirt with random girls in bars but he didn't flirt with [Y/N]. She figured she just wasn't his type, and although she'd had a crush on him when they first met, she was content with friendship now. She did still like to tease though.

Dean: You better be joking [Y/N], I only brought one extra flannel on this case.

[Y/N]: It's so soft. It feels really nice. It's so long, it covers me completely, I don't even need to wear underwear with it...

She giggled as she watched a little 'Dean is typing' text pop up, but was confused when it suddenly stopped with no text. Her confusion didn't last long when a notification from Sam came in.

Sam: Whatever you're texting Dean, quit it. He's all flustered and distracted and I need him focused. We're about to head into the nest, I'll text you when we're on our way back. Behave.

She sighed but texted him back to wish them luck, then set her phone down and decided to try and hobble over to the bed and try to relax until they were finished with the hunt.

***

Sitting across from both of the Winchesters in a diner after yet another successful hunt, [Y/N] was nodding along to something Sam had started ranting about. Something to do with how the witch had messed up a certain line from a certain spell, but she wasn't really listening. They'd just spent the last week stuck in a small town, endlessly researching how to kill this particular witch; the last thing she wanted was more witch-talk. She glanced over to Dean, and she tried to hide a smile when she saw his vacant expression. He was also nodding along mindlessly as Sam went on, staring at the food that had just been placed on the counter that was almost certainly destined for their table. She wouldn't be surprised if he drooled when the waiter grabbed it and started to head towards them. He eagerly took his plate from the waiter, staring at the burger in front of him like he'd been starved for days. As Sam continued to ramble on, [Y/N] looked down at the phone she had on her lap beneath the table.

[Y/N]: Jesus Dean, wish someone would look at me like you look at that thing

Dean felt a buzz in his pocket just as he was about to pick up the burger, pulling him from his trance. He huffed and set the burger back down, reaching into his pocket to pull his phone out. He quickly read the text and glanced up at [Y/N], immediately trying to decipher her expression. She was clearly trying not to laugh, so he settled on glaring at her and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Before he could be interrupted again, he grabbed the burger and took a bite, moaning into it. [Y/N] stared at him, a sudden flash of heat spreading through her lower stomach down through her thighs. Is that what he sounded like in bed? What would that moan feel like against her neck? Her lips? Her inner thighs? Her...

"[Y/N]?" She blinked and looked to Sam. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah". He voice came out as a whisper and she cleared her throat. "Yeah, why?"

"You seemed zoned out". He shrugged and took a sip from the smoothie he'd ordered. "So I was thinking about this one word she said in that spell where she..." Sam continued to ramble on about the witch as [Y/N] heard Dean moan into his burger for a second time, this time pulling back to lick his lips. She looked down at her phone again.

[Y/N]: Do you want some alone time with it? Those noises you're making, I feel kinda jealous

Dean's phone buzzed and he looked up at [Y/N], maintaining eye contact as he pulled his phone out again and unlocked it. He glance down to read the text before looking back at her, but this time, her face was serious, no hint of a joke. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was oblivious to their private conversation, and began typing something back.

Dean: Think you could pull those noises from me Sweetheart?

She looked at her phone as soon as the message came in and felt her cheeks heat up. She liked to tease Dean a lot, but him teasing back was new and unexpected. He usually just rolled his eyes and told her to 'keep dreaming'. She quickly put the phone away and tried her best to ignore Dean and listen to Sam, but she was concentrating so hard that she couldn't keep up with what he was saying, and she kept having to force herself not to look over at Dean. She knew he'd be smirking at her.

***

It was late when the three of them arrived back to the bunker from a run in with a demon. It hadn't gone overly well, and the three hour drive back had been silent. As soon as they got out of the car, both Sam and Dean excused themselves to their bedrooms. [Y/N] decided she needed a bath to try and destress, and quickly made her way to the bathroom. She pulled out a basket that she kept in a cupboard under the sink, placing a few candles around the bath and lighting them, enjoying the floral scent they gave off. She turned off the lights to enjoy the dimness of the room, and once the bath was full of steaming water, dropped a bath bomb into it, momentarily mesmerised by the fizzing and colours. She set her toiletries down on the side of the bath and shrugged out of her clothes, setting them on a counter before stepping into the bath and letting herself be absorbed by bubbles and heat. She leaned her head back and rested it on the edge of the bath, and was just about to close her eyes when her phone buzzed. She reached out to grab it, and was surprised to find a text from Dean.

Dean: Where are you?

[Y/N]: Bath, why? Is everything okay?

Dean: Bath? And you choose now not to be a tease? Come on Sweetheart, I expected more from you

She stared at the text and frowned at it. Was he being serious or sarcastic? She couldn't tell. He'd been in a bad mood since the hunt, she didn't expect him to be up for any teasing or flirting this evening, she didn't think he'd even want to talk at all until the next day. Maybe it was the heat and bubbles going to her head, but she prepared what was going to be the most forward message she'd ever sent him. She sent him a photo of her knees sticking out from the bubbles. She didn't send any text with it, because she felt like whatever she said, it could be too forward. She felt nervous as she waited for a response, and a cold shiver ran through her when she saw he'd opened the message. Only moments later, the bathroom door opened.

"Dean!" She gasped, covering her breasts as he quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, hoping the bubbles would cover the rest of her. He stared at her with an unmistakable hunger in his eyes and slowly began to walk towards her, daring her to break eye contact first. "What are you doing in here?"

"What am I doing in here? I'm finally doing something about it". His eyes finally fell away from hers, only to land on her hand which was covering her chest.

"Doing something about what?" Her cheeks were heating up under his stare, she felt very exposed but admitedly excited at the same time. She never imagined Dean doing something like this. Well, she had actually imagined a situation like this, but she never thought it would actually happen. Dean Winchester was staring at her naked body, and he wanted her.

"The teasing, the flirting, the desire. I've had enough, I cannot keep ignoring it. You thought I'd be satisfied with a photo when the real thing is just down the hall from my room?" He chuckled, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up and off over his head. She allowed herself to look at his shirtless body. She'd stared at Dean's bare chest and stomach plenty of times before. She'd touched him while stitching him up after hunts, but this was different. He wasn't showing himself to her out of need, this was something he wanted. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out, dropping it to the floor before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. She couldn't keep her eyes off him as he slowly hooked his boxer briefs with his thumbs and pulled them down, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach. Now, this was something that [Y/N] had never seen. He was putting on a show and she was giving him her full attention.

She'd assumed he was well endowed judging from the looks she'd seen from girls leaving his car in the early hours of the morning whenever he hadn't come back to the motel room. It was different actually seeing him though, already hard and knowing it was because of her. "If you want to come clean and tell me you don't want this, and that all the teasing meant nothing, then now is the time". She finally looked back to his eyes and shook her head at him, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze as he leaned over her. He knelt down beside the bath, and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, his gaze softening. "I want to kiss you". He almost whispered, and she swallowed nervously, conscious that the bubbles were slowly starting to disappear. "The teasing, do you know what it does to me? Do you know how many cold showers I've needed to take because of you? How many embarrassing situations you've put me in with your texts while I'm out somewhere?"

"No". She shook her head. "I didn't think you liked me in that way".

"Are you kidding? Look at you, you're gorgeous [Y/N]. You're my best friend, I don't want to fuck that up, believe me. But I can't take it anymore, I want you. Please tell me you want me too". His hand dropped to her neck, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw. His green eyes were sparkling, reflecting the bubbles and flickering of the candles, and she found herself completely lost in them. She didn't even realise that she was leaning in towards him until his eyes closed and their lips touched. He brought his other hand up to grab the other side of her neck and he quickly deepened the kiss. She could feel the desire from him, it was like he just couldn't get close enough to her. She dropped her arms from around her chest and grabbed his face, water splashing back into the bath as she did so. The sound caught Dean's attention and he pulled away from her to look down and her now completely exposed body. He groaned and slid a hand down to lightly pinch one of her nipples before he began to grab and grope at her, listening to her moans and watching as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the side of the bath.

He suddenly let go and stood up, and she opened her eyes to see him reaching for her shoulders, pushing her forwards gently to give him room to step into the bath behind her. He carefully grabbed either side of the bath and lowered himself in behind her, slotting her in between his legs. Once he was seated, he wrapped his arms around her, either hand grabbing a boob each and pulling her back to lay against his chest. She lay her hands on his thighs either side of her and leaned her head back onto his shoulder, moaning as he leaned in to kiss her neck from behind. She could feel him hard against her lower back, and he slowly ground against her, the water in the bath rippling back and forth as he did so.

"Dean". She moaned as one of his hands started to glide down over her stomach, sinking beneath the water.

"Shhh, just let me take care of you". He mumbled into her neck. Her grip on his thighs tightened as his finger flicked over her clit and began stroking up and down over her entrance. He began to nibble at her neck and continued to massage her breasts with one hand as he slipped a finger inside her, groaning when he heard her gasp. "Fuck". He mumbled before grabbing her thigh and lifting it up, hooking it over his own to give him better access as he slipped another finger in and began to circle her clit with his thumb. Only a few minutes had passed but she could already feel that she was close. He kept pumping his fingers in and out at a steady pace while keeping his thumb on her clit and his other hand alternating between her nipples, his tongue and lips exploring her neck and shoulder. There were so many sensations at once and it was all Dean. He was everywhere, and before she knew it her orgasm released waves of pleasure throughout her body, the heat from the water only prolonging it. As he felt her tighten around his fingers he murmured encouraging words to her, trying to get it to last as long as possible.

"You ready for me?" He asked after she relaxed back into his arms. He pecked her shoulder and ran his hands up and down her arms.

"Yes. God, yes Dean".

"Come here then". He manhandled her, though gently, turning her around and ignoring the water splashing over the side of the bath. She straddled him as he sat up and grabbed her hips, grinding her against him as she dropped her forehead against his. "Ride me [Y/N], I want you to ride me". His voice was deep but there was a slight whine to it, like he was begging while trying to keep an authoritive tone. He helped to lift her up in the water and she reached down to grab him, revelling in his moan as she slowly stroked him a few times before lining him up with her. She slowly sat down on him, both of them holding their breaths until the backs of her thighs hit the tops of his again. They both sighed in relief; it was a perfect fit. She held onto his shoulders as she lifted up slightly before sitting back down, the feeling of the water around her waist tickling slightly as the last of the bubbles popped against her skin. Dean was moaning as she lifted up again, he held her hips and pulled her forwards before pushing her back as she sat back down, trying to maximise the feeling of being inside her as much as possible.

He let his head fall back, leaning against the back of the bath and pulling her down on top of his chest as she continued to ride him. She let her hands drop from his shoulders and began exploring his arms, his chest, and his stomach, feeling the muscles underneath his skin tense as she moved. They were slow for a several minutes until he gripped her hips more tightly, stopping her and holding her in place before he thrusted into her, both of them groaning at the harder sensation. She lay down on his chest, pressing her breasts against him and began to kiss his neck and jawline as he continued to thrust into her. "Fuck, I'm close".

"So am I". She whispered into his ear and kissed him again as he reached back down to her clit and started circling it again. She could feel another orgasm building up, and although Dean kept his thumb on her clit steady, he was starting to chase his own orgasm with his thrusts becoming sloppier and firmer. Once she came again and moaned into his neck, he could feel her squeezing him, and he came inside her. He didn't think he'd ever cum that hard before and it lasted longer than he thought was possible, the sensation filling his entire body as he stopped moving and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. She could feel him softening inside her as she kissed his cheek and he wrapped his arms around her waist, just holding her. "That was..." She trailed off, not knowing exactly how to describe what had just happened.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was". He opened his eyes and looked up at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gazing into her eyes. He reached up to press another kiss to her lips and then kissed her nose, pulling a giggle from her. "We're definitely doing that again".

The end

Dean taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @angelwiththeshotgun

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean x reader #spn fanfic #shirtless dean #dean winchester supernatural #dean smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #spn smut #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn reader insert #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #dean winchester x you #supernatural smut #dean x reader smut #smut #teasing

[blackmarketfruitrollups]

Bad For Business (Howl Pendragon X Fem!Reader)

Warnings: None really, just a fluffy little drabble

Knock knock

"Who could that be?" Y/n muttered, setting aside the bread dough she'd been kneading and wiping her flour covered hands on her apron. She started making her way through her cottage towards the front door, dodging the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling and speaking quietly to herself. "I'm sure the sign out there says closed."

You see, Y/n worked at an apothecary, or more accurately lived in an apothecary. She lived in a small little cottage toward the edge of town, her property surrounded by a fence covered in rosebushes. Behind her home was the garden in which she grew the herbs and other medicinal plants for her customers, often being occupied by her grouchy cat Snips.

Speaking of which, here he came now, the old black cat hobbling towards the front door on his three remaining legs to see what the commotion was about.

Knock Knock

Once they both had arrived at the door Y/n unlocked and opened it to reveal two children, a boy and girl who looked to be around ten. They both seemed nervous, the girl hiding behind the boy as he shifted on his feet looking rather skittish.

Snips poked his head around Y/n's legs and yowled at the sight of unfamiliar guests, making both the children jump and look at him frightened.

"Can I help you two?" Y/n smiled, gently pushing Snips back into the house and out of view with her foot.

"Uh, well-" the girl started before the boy cut her off.

"We've come to see the Wizard-" he paused, looking her up and down before continuing. "Uh Witch Howl. I'm assuming that's you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes and smiled softly, shaking her head with a chuckle. "I'm afraid I'm not."

Both the children looked dreadfully confused, tilting their heads at her.

"We were told to come down this street, they said it would be obvious were the wizard lived." The boy stated.

"We came here because we assumed the wizard would live in a scary looking cottage." The girl piped up.

"A scary looking cottage?" Y/n laughed again. "Well what's so scary about it?"

"You have gargoyles out front." The boy deadpanned.

"I saw bats in those trees." The girl pointed towards one of the trees in her front yard.

"Oh that's just Frank and his family." The woman said, waving it off.

"You have a black cat roaming around screaming." The boy stared pointedly behind her legs at Snips.

"Your shutters are painted black-" the girl started again.

"Alright, alright I get your point." Y/n stopped them. "Would you believe this is the eighth time this has happened this week?" She sighed, then smiled softly.

"The Wizard Howl lives across the street."

"You mean in that place covered in lights and flowers and pinwheels an-" the boy started listing.

"Yes that would be the one." Y/n laughed. "There you will find the great Wizard Howl. And please, tell him he needs to put up a sign. I run an apothecary, people already assume I'm a witch and this isn't really helping."

She waved to the children as the walked back down her front path and out the gate. Shutting and locking the door she turned and looked to Snips who was laying lazily in a windowsill with one eye half open.

"I tell you that man is bad for business. Well, I suppose incase those kids forget I'll tell him to put up a sign myself over supper. Well c'mon Snippy, I've got food to finish."

#fanfiction #fluff #x reader #x fem!reader #x plus size reader #howl x reader #howl pendragon x reader #howls moving castle #studio ghibli #drabble #fluffy short #x reader fluff #howl pendragon #cottagecore #x reader cottagecore

[addisonnie]

hinge and uhaul 2

summary: your second date with ellie!

warnings: cursing, making out, fingering…not proofread soz

an: WAAAAH i wrote smut wtf….. I need to shower now. Don’t be mean if it’s bad but definitely tell me how I can make it better this was my first time writing it im sorry if it’s bad pls be nice to me😭

part 1

————

Ellie Williams is definitely a witch.

She must’ve slipped a love potion into your martini or crafted a voodoo doll of you because there is absolutely no reason as to why Ellie should be on your mind as much as she is. The short peck you shared with her in the back corner of a dingy bar is burned into your memory, you don’t have to put in any effort to remember how she tasted. How she felt. Hell, even how she smelled—and she smells wonderful, by the way.

Okay, so she might’ve only dropped you off outside your dorm building twenty minutes ago. It’s perfectly reasonable to still be thinking about the kiss, right?

After she pressed that short kiss to your awaiting mouth she looked at her watch and sighed, “listen, it’s getting pretty late. Let me take you home?”

You nodded and let her drag you in circles around the bar to bid goodbyes to her friends, one hand tangled with her fingers, the other circles around her bicep. And then, she led you through the parking lot toward her borderline totaled car. Is that thing even street legal?

She opened the passenger door for you and drove you home with a firm hand on your knee, thumb doodling patterns into your skin.

And then, you were home.

It’s been twenty-five minutes since Ellie dropped you off after the first date and the only thing you think that could possibly purge her from your mind is sleeping. Unless she decides to infiltrate your dreams, too.

————

A couple light knocks on your door quickly jolt you awake. You drag your palms across your eyes and run a hand through your hair before sliding out of bed. Shit—no pants. Dina’s bed is empty and you’re sure she won’t mind if you use her throw blanket as a makeshift robe, draping it over your shoulders and hugging it across your body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hobble over to the door and pull it open without bothering to check through the peephole. Aw, fuck.

Ellie stands in the doorway, well, she leans in the doorway. Her shoulder is pressed up against the doorframe and her hands are slung in the pockets of her corduroy Carhartt jacket.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you up? Not—not that you look like you just woke up. You look great, of course.” She’s much more sheepish than she was a few moments ago, it’s cute.

“You definitely woke me up. But that’s okay! What’s up?” You open the door wider and take a step backward, silently instructing her to come inside.

Ellie follows you further into the room after shutting the door behind her. She takes a moment to look around your room before leaning against the side of your bed, facing you.

“Honestly? I just wanted to see you again. I thought you’d be awake at—“ she checks her watch, “five in the afternoon. But I was clearly wrong.”

The two of you giggle, a dramaticized gasp leaving Ellie’s lips when you playfully shove her shoulder, “naps are a thing, yanno.”

She stops laughing after a moment and smiles, “are you busy right now?”

“I am now.” She smirks at your response and tugs on the blanket around you, “put some pants on and let’s get going then.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing, “how did you—“ her chin juts outward and she’s looking down at your legs. A large hole in Dina’s blanket exposes your upper thigh and hip, the pink lace of your underwear sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck me. Good thing it was you at the door, I guess.” Ellie shakes her head and laughs, “turning around now. Wear something comfy. And warm.”

While she faces the other direction you quickly survey her outfit. Black converse, gray sweatpants, a fitted black top, and her jacket. Okay, comfy.

You drop the blanket wrapped around you and slip on whatever pants are closest to you, tugging on a baggy cardigan, “okay, no longer indecent.”

Ellie chuckles and turns around, “alright, pretty baby. Grab a blanket and a pillow, not Dina’s shitty, ripped one.”

Ellie must’ve been googling ‘what names can I call someone to make them horny.’ Pretty baby. Pretty. Baby? You could shit your pants and vomit. Fuck—you’re sweating. Grab the pillow to distract yourself.

“‘Kay. Got it.” Ellie smirks and stretches her hand toward you, “let’s get going then, hm?”

—————

This is definitely not Ellie’s car, that much you know. Her piece of shit Honda was practically stuck together with glue and duct tape. This truck was nice, really nice actually. Is she a criminal, then? Grand-theft auto? Being so goddamn sexy?

“It’s my dad’s. The truck. I bribed him with a 24-pack and a pre-roll so he’d let me borrow it. Or so he’d get really drunk and not realize I hijacked him. Whichever, really.”

You laugh and turn to face her, “ah, so I was right. Grand-theft auto.”

Ellie scoffs and squeezes your thigh as a warning, “it’s hardly a crime. That grouchy old fuck owes me, like, way more than one night of borrowed truck-time.”

You stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to drop the angry act and crack a smile. Her face pinches up under your stare and she turns to the side to quickly smile before turning back to you, regaining her composure.

“You totally just laughed.”

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You laughed. I saw it.”

Her hand swats at your thigh, “…how do you feel about corn dogs?”

You splutter out a laugh and cough, patting your own chest to try and calm down.

“Corn dogs. Do you like them?” Ellie enunciates each word with a squeeze on your knee, “yeah—yeah I like them. What kind of sicko doesn’t like corn dogs?”

She wordlessly turns down onto a dimly-lit dirt road, the car shaking and groaning as it overpasses multiple potholes. The road goes on for a beat before opening up into a massive field, two large white screens are placed several yards apart in the grass and cars littered the lawn before the screens. No way she’s taken you to a drive-in! A shitty little one-story building sits nestled by the tree line, it’s practically folding in on itself, and the old yellow paint can hardly even be called yellow anymore because of the filth covering it. It manages to look homey, though.

“I hope you like movies. I wasn’t really sure what you like…so I just got tickets for that new scary one. We can sneak to the other side if—“

You cut her off and wrap your fingers around her hand on your thigh, “it’s perfect. Really.”

She blushes and tucks her chin into her shoulder, “I’m glad.”

—————

Ellie parks mostly in the back, only a couple cars parked further behind you.

“Here—take my card and grab us some snacks while I set up the truck bed.”

You blink at her and take a quick glance to her outstretched hand, “Ellie, be so for real right now. You’re not paying for gas, tickets, and food.”

She immediately rolls her eyes and moves to jut her hip out, placing both of her hands on her hips, “I’m not doing this with you right now. Take the card.”

Before sparing her a second glance you take off in the direction of the yellow building, gripping your own debit card between your fingers. Ellie practically squeaks out of shock as she watches you bolt away from her, “hey—what the fuck!”

She’s immediately running after you like a madman, yelling your name and laughing when she watches you stumble over your untied shoelaces. Her long legs quickly lead her straight to you, and she has to skid to a stop to be sure she doesn’t plow straight into your back.

You’re panting while trying to speak with the man behind the counter to give him your order and Ellie quickly wraps her arm around your middle,

“Hey. Two corn dogs, one large blue raspberry slushie—two straws. And…one funnel cake!” She lightly shoves you aside and slams her debit card onto the counter, “nice try, sweetheart.” She winks.

Little. Fucking. Shit.

“Not fair. You’ve got more leg than I do.”

“Hush. Help me carry this back to the truck.” She passes off one corn dog and the large slushie, smiling when you take a large gulp, “good?”

You smile at her, “delicious.”

—————

Ellie is halfway sitting up, her back is resting against the pillows in the bed of the truck, both of her legs spread and outstretched. Your head is resting on her shoulder and the leg closest to Ellie is resting over her lap, the other bent up to your chest. A comforter rests over your laps, underneath, Ellie has one arm wrapped around your waist, the other is draped across the leg you have thrown onto her lap.

You can clearly tell she’s not watching the movie anymore; Ellie is not as discreet as she thinks she is. Her entire face is turned and facing downward to look at you, it takes everything in you to not turn and lock eyes with her. She can tell, too. She knows you’re actively trying to not look at her, and she proves that point further when she drags her fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. Her fingers pause for a moment, gauging your response. When she notices you’re not moving to yank her hand away, she continues further.

Long fingers sneak under your gray sweats and walk to rest on top of your clothed mound. You suck in a breath and bend the leg laying in Ellie’s lap, spreading your legs further. Her (fucking massive) hand snakes down to cup your pussy and you squeak, shuffling your back further into her chest. A chuckle rumbles in her chest and she nudges her nose into the crown of your head, “look at me.”

You gulp and continue to face straight. Bad move. Ellie doesn’t like that response, she begins moving her hand out of your pants before you jerk to grab her tattooed wrist.

In a low tone, she says, “I told you to look at me, pretty girl.”

A flood of wetness immediately spills into your panties and you whine, shoving her wrist back into your pants. When she obliges, you turn your head upward and to the side, looking right at her. Ellie doesn’t speak to you, she immediately turns her head down, pressing her lips into yours. She’s kissing you like a bitch in heat, it’s messy, wet, and downright filthy. Her tongue slides along your bottom lip over and over, practically begging that you open your mouth. When you deny her that sweet salvation, her teeth graze over your lip until they sink into the cherry flesh, biting harshly and tugging. You whine into her mouth and she sucks it in immediately, already feeling drunk off your sounds. Determined to drag another whimper from you, her fingers drag over your underwear-covered pussy and press harshly onto your clit.

Your lips detach from Ellie’s when you let out a moan, Ellie gives you a minute before she whispers, “let me touch you. Can I?”

You don’t even nod before leaning forward to kiss her again for a moment before she pulls away, leaving your lips to chase after hers.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it, pretty.” She nips at your cheek.

“Please.”

Ellie tuts, “not enough, peanut.”

You whine and shuffle under the blankets, your hand shoves down into your sweatpants, fingers pulling your pink panties to the side. Ellie’s hand is tugged back toward your core and your fingers and immediately push her fingers to drag over your sticky folds.

“Please fucking touch me.”

Her mouth is back on yours immediately while she moves to circle her fingers around your tiny hole. You cry into her mouth and reach across your body to grip her head in your hand. Ellie’s middle finger dips into your core before spreading your wetness up and down your core. Her ring finger joins the other and immediately slides to be knuckle-deep in your pussy. For a moment, she doesn’t move her fingers, she lets them rest inside, warm and wet. Your teeth nip at her bottom lip while you hit your hips forward, whimpering into her mouth at the feeling.

She smiles messily into the kiss and moves her fingers out before slowly sliding them back in. Her fingers drag tauntingly slow against your walls, the stretch of her thick, long fingers has you careening at her every movement—but it isn’t enough.

You whimper into her mouth and wriggle in her grasp, moving your hand to tug at her wrist, she briefly pulls her lips from yours to laugh at your antics.

“Okay, baby. I got you.” And then she’s off. Her fingers slip in and out of your pussy at a pace you could surely never set yourself. They’re fast and slick, hastily rubbing in all the best places. She scissors her fingers inside of you while pistoning in and out and you pull away from her mouth again to turn your head and bury it into your shoulder.

Ellie presses a wet kiss to the crown of your head while her other hand snakes across your waist to circle at your little clit. Her pointer and middle finger tightly swirl over your clit while her other hand was busy sneaking in a third finger. The stretch makes you gasp and grip at her wrist, not sure if you could take it or not. Another light laugh leaves her lips while she shakes your hand off, “you got it.”

She fucks her fingers into you at a reckless speed, her other fingers rub and pinch at your clit and Ellie thinks you might combust if you clench on her fingers any harder. Your juices are leaking into her palm and spreading all down the globes of your ass, and the wet sounds coming from your dripping cunt are surely loud enough for the families all around you to hear. She can feel your hole fluttering around her fingers and she quickly fucks harder into you, determined to have you gush all over her fingers. With one last pinch to your clit, your orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

Your body convulses for a moment while Ellie’s fingers still piston in and out of your cunt, chasing you through your high.

She presses a kiss to your head as her fingers come to a halt, “good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your cum is glistening on her fingers while she brings her hand up to her mouth, sucking two fingers into her mouth. Her eyes bore into yours while she suggestively licks on her fingers, maintaining eye contact as she holds out her third finger for you to wrap your lips around.

You comply, sucking your sweet taste off of her finger and moaning when it hits your tastebuds. Ellie watches you with blown pupils and chokes out a whimper when you nibble on the pad of her finger.

You pull off with a pop, “this was a really good second date.”

Hell fucking yeah it was.

#IM SORRY #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut

[aaroleswapau]

Do you have any swap!franziska art? Wanna see more of her design

i unfortunately don't have any polished art of her bc i think when i drew this, my swap au hyperfixation was starting to wane, whoops! these are just some very quick sketches of what i wanted her new thing in the swap au to be.

(i will be putting old art of her old design if you want to see it under read more pftt [unfortunately not a lot of them bc i wasn't vibing with the old role i gave her so i wasn't drawing her a lot 😔])

oki doks, now time for a lore dump!!!!! (copy-pasting what i wrote on the bird app a long time ago):

ok, so the thing is, i gave a bit of redd white's role to mvk. my reasoning for that is since he's the one who killed gregory (who has mia's role), he'd have to take on that role too. when characters don't have any like, "exact" foils for their roles to be swapped with, i either make them stay the same or hobble some roles together. mvk's case was the latter.

so mvk runs a private eye that's connected to the prosecutor's office (he's corrupt bc have you seen that guy) and franziska happens to be working there.

mvk also happens to be one the people responsible for covering up the details about mia's death.

i wanted to change franziska's job from my first version of her bc she doesn't really have a connection to the supernatural, so i just gave her a job that works closely in the covering crimes too.

but yeah, fran has to meet gregory, and then she gets framed by redd white

and she's furious about it, of course! that fool works under her father, how dare he put the blame on her!

with how fran is supposedly cooperating with gregory, i think mvk would've really wanted her to catch the fall even with how much he cares about his daughter. he's an 'end justifies the means' kind of guy.

i don't think fran realizes until swap!jfa that it was her father who purposely tried to frame her and the one who ordered to kill gregory.

i think she'd feel really torn by that and the guilt with how miles defended her before knowing all that would've ate her up (the fact that gregory is dead, no spirit channeling or anything makes this more fucked up for them i think agfhhjh)

however, i still haven't figured out why franziska would agree to talk to gregory if he's investigating mia's death, and i'm not quite sure why gregory would've been investigating mia's death in the first place bc unlike mia in the regular verse, he'd have no connections to her case at least

(that would probably require some aai duology knowledge that i do not have right now ASKSKS)

my brain isn't fully working right now so i can't fully ramble on about her design, but i did think it was important to make her dress eccentric; and i know that everyone dresses eccentric in aa, but particularly that one point in turnabout sisters where april may should've remembered maya bc she dressed weird? i wanted the same for franziska ASKSKS roast her old-timey gothic looking ass!!!!!

and from my recent drawing of her, i think if i were to draw like, a polished ref for her, i would like to show the fact that her make-up is severe. again, 'eccentric' or whatever pftt

i originally had her be like a witch, some sort of seer who could communicate with the dead through her crystal ball. scrapped that and changed it bc it was just not digging my dudes asdghd a shame tho bc i'm rather fond of her big-ass veil witch hat thingy

#ace attorney #den's aa roleswap au #franziska von karma #aa swap au asks #aa swap au art

[catswashorrible]

Fixing a Broken Wing. Kaz Brekker x GN!reader

Word count: 1419 Warnings: Minor injury description. A/N: Thought I'd start posting here as well as Ao3! Hope y'all like it. We need more gn fics. No pronouns or y/n are used for the reader! There aren't many physical descriptions either!

The frigid air was harsh on the looming city of Ketterdam. Nightfall broke on the horizon, and the tapping of a cane echoed from an open window. The usual ruckus of the Barrel was dimmed by the racing thoughts of a singular slimy bastard: Kaz Brekker.

You were an investment of his–A sly one from the Menagerie. Your silent nature and singing blades kept you labeled as an honorary Crow. You were sent on a venture for Heleen, but you were supposed to meet back with Kaz at dawn. Since dawn, Kaz had waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

An unfamiliar prickle ghosted the back of Kaz's neck as hours flew by without a whisper of you. You were never late–not for him. The corner of his lip curled into a humorless smirk. Was he so blind to have faith in Heleen to consider keeping you safe?

With impeccable timing, a soft thump came from inside his bedroom. The thumping was followed by a low croak; Kaz could've sworn you were just a large toad. You harnessed the rest of your strength to push yourself up, just enough to slump against the wall.

Kaz paced towards the bedroom, his familiar hobbled steps echoing on the wooden floors. "You're late. You better have a damned good reason for falling behind. I'd like my investments close at hand," His familiar rasp grumbled. As he approached the room, he let his eyes fixate on you. His eyes were like flint as he observed your physical state, his gaze flickering over all of your wounds with expert precision. Your tale had been a messy one, it seemed.

Silently, Kaz stalked toward you, kneeling to your level. He pressed the silver crow's skull of his cane to your chin, tilting your head lightly, cataloging each wound with a veteran's eye. Slashes, bruises, wounds - all painted a sordid story across your flesh. "Heleen?" He asked, nearly deadly silent.

You parted your cracked, bloodied lips to speak, but nothing came out. Your throat was rough and raw. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as your eyes threatened to close. Luckily, Kaz's cane supported your chin. If your head began to lull, he would use it to angle it back up.

Kaz scowled. No one would hurt one of his own. He always made sure of it. "You survived. That's all that matters." Reaching into an inner pocket, he plucked a small vial from it. He held it to your cracked lips, his voice leaving no room for denial. "Drink. It will help your throat." And perhaps loosen your tongue enough for you to share more. Heleen could wait; his prized weapon came first.

You took in a shaky breath, parting your lips and tilting your head up. You drank the amber-tinted liquid, your face contorting into disgust as it hit your tongue. "Saints, boss, what the hell is that?" You groan, still holding the liquid in your mouth.

A ghost of amusement flickered in Kaz's eyes to see your disgusted reaction, fleeting as quickly as it came. "Effective medicine tastes of punishment," Kaz replied flatly in his salt-bitten rasp. "Consider it penance for troubling me with putting you back together. Now swallow." He uncorked a waterskin from his belt to wash away the bitter taste of ginger and cloves. He held it to your lips, tilting your chin up with his cane. His cold gaze studied your face with keen precision, filing each of your hurts.

Your heart pangs with guilt at Kaz's words. You swallowed the liquid begrudgingly. It stung your throat momentarily before a cooling sensation washed over the tender flesh. You made fleeting eye contact with him, and you swear you felt your stomach twist. "I went to meet with a client near the harbor... I think the old witch wanted to be rid of me," You hissed through bloodied teeth. "I should've known it was trouble. I could hear the rustling of Kruge." You met Kaz's eye again, and as he took a sharp breath in to speak, you blurt out: "Please don't send me back."

He listened to your story in chilling silence. Heleen was a traitorous worm in Kaz’s eyes. Ice ran through his veins as you murmured your broken tale, freezing over some long-forgotten well of mercy. When you finished, he opened his mouth to speak but froze when you interrupted him with a shaky plea. "You won't be," He whispered. The ghost of the broken boy gazed out at you through Kaz's eyes, understanding the unspoken between you two. "I wouldn't send you back if my life depended on it." 

Kaz rose in one fluid motion, looming over you like the vengeful raven his reputation had painted. His cane slipped from beneath your chin, causing your head to drop slightly. He stalked over to the small sink across the room and filled a ceramic bowl with water. Gloved hands darted around, grabbing various rags and containers. He moved back to you slowly and silently, gingerly placing the items on the floor beside you. Then, he slipped off his coat and neatly laid it down on the railing of his bed frame. He knelt once more, quick hands soaking the rag.

The silence between the two of you was deafening. Kaz’s slow, shaking breaths would slice through it occasionally, putting your mind at ease. He wrung out the excess water from the cloth and, with a trembling hand, he pressed it to a wound on your forehead. His care for your well-being seemed to trump his fears about getting too close to you. You grunt quietly as he cleans your injuries, but he makes no attempt to be any gentler. 

He put the cloth back in the water and rinsed out the crimson substance that’d once coated it. You couldn’t help but notice his encased fingertips never broke the water’s surface in the bowl – A trick he must’ve learned all these years. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he angled his head down to clean off the rag. 

He drew a handkerchief from his vest pocket and lifted a small earthenware jar from the floor. In a swift motion, he unscrewed the top and set it on the ground before dipping the cloth into the contents – a soothing salve developed from hard-won experience to ease battered flesh. With a sharp breath, he leaned a bit closer, smearing the substance into your wound.

It stung … and stunk. Your nose scrunches as the scent burns your nostrils. “What is it with you and foul medicine?” You manage to grumble before he silences you with an icy glare through his eyelashes. 

“Would you rather be infected?” Replied Kaz, arching an eyebrow at you.

“No.” You stare back at him.

“Figured,” He whispered, the corner of his lip tugging into what most would consider a lesser frown, and to you, a smile. “You’re no use to me damaged.”

Kaz’s hands soon lowered as he finished coating your wounds in the substance. He leaned back immediately and scanned over your face once more. He took in a slow breath before he stood once more. “I will leave these with you to work on any other areas my eyes can’t touch,” He murmured. “I will leave you the room.”

Your eyes follow his form as he stands and runs a hand through his hair. His dark eyes flicker over you with a softer expression now—something underlying. “Very well,” You murmur.

As he turns to exit the room, he pauses and calls your name.

You turn to meet his gaze once more. “Yes?”

“The Crows will carry your name as they do mine,” He rasped. “No force in this world will send you back against your will. You have my word.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words. Your chest was swelling with warmth, or perhaps you were bleeding internally. Your wall was breaking. It was dangerous. 

“Thank you, Kaz.” His name rolled off your tongue so easily like honey dripping onto warm bread. You rarely used Kaz’s name – You always opted for ‘boss’ or ‘Brekker.’ At this moment, however, Kaz deserved to be Kaz.

Kaz’s upper lip twitched slightly as you spoke his name. He felt his breath catch in his throat, hearing the way it so easily slipped from your mouth. He tightened his hand around the silver crow handle of his cane. “Rest,” He murmured before he made his swift exit, leaving you alone in the warm lamplight of his bedroom.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #no y/n #six of crows #kaz brekker fanfic #hurt/comfort #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse #fanfiction #touch aversion #i sniffled a bit writing this

[greedyhoneyz]

Days After Last

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: anakin skywalker x reader .ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: "there is no death, there is the force." life returns to the soul of one once beloved. ೃ࿔*:･cw: angst. death? claustrophobia? rising from the dead. fluff at the end. .ೃ࿔*:･author’s notes: really wanted to write another story for anakin, it has been time since ive written one for him. this is a a sequel to till death do us part but can be read as a standalone.

In pure blackness, stillness came. It rippled across her skin, its bitterness pumped through her blood, its chilliness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. The air was heavy with the scent of impending dread; the silence was only splintered by the howling storm. But then, a faint stirring, a flutter of eyelids, and a gasp of breath shattered the quietude. 

(name’s) eyes shot wide, her vision blurred and shrouded by darkness. Fright clung to her skin as her hands frantically padded against the walls around her. Each breath she took burned her lungs with the anguish of deprivation.

She fought against the oppressive weight on her chest and with trembling limbs and the beat of her heart pulsating through her ears, pounded her fists against the lid above. Torment and despair fuelled her movements as her desperate screams fell on deaf ears.

With a final surge of strength, (name) willed her willpower, her muscles strained and pushed against the lid. It slowly creaked open and a glimpse of silver light filtered in. 

A wash of air sifted in and caught (name) between bated breaths as she carefully rose to hands and knees. She clawed her way out of her tomb and wobbled onto her feet. 

The dim light unveiled an empty scene, eerie and bitter, yet pristine. 

Bewilderment had struck (name) numb.

She shivered, nerved by the questions whirling through her mind as she gawked at the stained glass window staring at her from above. 

It was her, she was sure. She, in the finest of garments and the brightest of colours. Muralised as if death had come before her.

She stumbled forward, her steps unsteady and erratic and hastened through the dimness. The world around her no longer seemed familiar. It was distant, foreign. 

With each trembling step, (name) journeyed from her coffin and hobbled towards the grey, stony doors. She willed it open, her hands wilted and flung herself to the greater outdoors. 

The horizon stretched out before her. The sky, a wollen grey, swirled in steady ripples. The thickest fog covered the sky as thousands of liquid globes conjured across the planet's floor. 

Step by agonizing step, (name) ventured into the unknown. Alone in the morning gloom, guided by one thought. 

Anakin.

Faces blurred together in a maelstrom of confusion and commotion, and yet she paid them no heed, as she screamed. “Anakin!”

Over and over, she screamed his name, her lustrous gaze lost with fright as she wept. Icy droplets cascaded over her skin like a million tiny needles, the cold seeping into her bones, sending shivers down her spine.

She pressed on, her yells shadowed by the disbelief of strangers as they gathered around the town square, watching. 

“Anakin!” (name) screeched at the top of her lungs, her throat hoarse. “Anakin!”

In a fit of hysteria, (name) stumbled to the floor, her face to the pavement. She lay still, nestled beneath spattering raindrops and pleaded wretchedly, her bloodshot eyes cloaked beneath her eyelids as she clawed at the earth beneath her. “Please…please…bring him…” 

“Bring me Anakin!”

The woman, wrapped in the finest of garments and with eyes that seemed to hold anguish, lay in the centre of the square, drenched, chanting in a language unknown to those who gathered around her. Some whispered that she was a witch, while others dismissed her as simply a drunkard lost in a haze of intoxicated delusions. But as the woman's chants grew louder and more hysteric, a sense of unease began to settle over the crowd. Her wails seemed to hold a power all their own, a rhythmic cadence that pulsed through the air like a beating drum, sending a coldness through the souls of those who listened.

A single man, his face shadowed by the hood of his dark cloak, found himself drawn to the soporific chants of the woman. He, a stranger amidst the crowd, braved a step forward and approached the woman. He peered at her from beneath his hood and stared down at her face, taking in her features as she wept. 

The woman’s eyes locked onto his, and in that moment, her chanting ceased. She clung to his leg, clawing at his cloak and pants and pined at the stranger. “Help me,” She begged sullenly, her voice was soft and filled with profound sadness.

The stranger, a man of few words, dropped to his knees. His hood staggered across his hair, draping behind his head to unveil the face of a man struck with shock. At a loss for words, the man watched, frenzied, as the woman sobbed. He eased a hand from his sides and placed a careful hand on the woman’s shoulder. 

She jolted and let out a deeply troubled yell, visibly repulsed at his touch. She stumbled back, clambering on her hands and knees and nestled into herself, tucking her head into her chest and folding her legs beneath her. 

The man, promptly, stood to his feet and waved his arms as dismay settled amidst the gathered townspeople. He paid them no head and motioned his fingers, and one by one, strangers shadowed by their dark cloaks emerged from the crowd.

They followed his commands and approached (name), her body sheltered within herself. They grasped her, two men at each arm and heaved her overhead as she thrashed and screamed. The strangers were unrelenting, the faces stern beneath their hoods.

They carried (name) away, and her chants of restlessness and sorrow faded into the distance, leaving behind a palpable sense of unease as the townspeople watched the strange figures disappear further and further from their view. 

And as the storm clouds above howled and wept, the memory of the strange woman, the strange man, and the strange figures lingered on for as long as her chants echoed through their minds and rippled through the air. 

Thunder quenched the planet’s earth with cocoons of black and dagged patterns of silver. From the temple windows, flashes of light ricocheted from the heaven ceiling in sporadic internals, and a dark rumbling bequeathed a percussion of hail. 

From behind the fabrics of drabness and solitude, Anakin Skywalker stalked through the halls of the Jedi Temple with a heavy heart. It drummed through his ears with a rhythmic pulse and followed in beat to the clatter of his dark boots. 

He navigated through the corridors, his eyes fixed ahead, alert. With each step he took, his dark cloak swished with power and persistence whilst his mind clustered in thoughts of dread and panic. He wore a scowl, his eyebrows tightly furrowed together, and his nostrils flared. 

“Anakin,” 

Obi-Wan spoke with words littered with disbelief and apprehension. He approached the young man with a careful hand and walked in tune with the rhythmic thumping of his feet. “You mustn’t approach her with haste.”

Anakin halted but hadn’t turned. “And why shouldn’t I?”

Exhaling deeply, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and hung his head. “She isn’t the same,” he breathed carefully, raising his head. “She doesn’t remember–”

“Me?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, a tremble glinted in his voice. “No…. No. She calls for you”

“Then I must come,” Anakin’s voice tinged with concern. “I must see her.”

At the end of the long corridor, a door stood. Behind it, laid his wife, in flesh and blood. 

He believed it true. 

Without hesitation, he pushed it open, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Master Skywalker, Master Obi-Wan, you've arrived.” Master Varik was a man of few words, stern and firm, yet he spoke with an earnest sense of glumness and unease. He approached the two men with a distant glimmer clung to his eyes.

“The princess is resting.” He declared sharply, his hands tightly plastered to his back.

“Is she alright?” 

“Yes,” Master Varik nodded. “She’s cold, confused but fine. The medic has assured me so.”

“Where is she?” Anakin attempted to wrestle his impatience beneath a tone layered with respect and prestige, however, his anger overtook and ruptured the quiet gloom that surrounded the three men. 

“Master Skywalker, I must warn you that this is not the time for our emotions to run free. We must be patient; by the stars, the princess has returned…from the dead. But she is greatly disturbed; we mustn’t send her into a frenzy.” 

“I…understand.” Anakin dropped his shoulders, defeat inflated his being and looked heavenward.

“Come.” 

Swiftly, Master Varik twirled and waded through the halls of the temple. The final door stood at the corner of the hallway and opened to unveil (name). 

“...my stars…”

Lost in her thoughts, (name) stood by the temple windows and gazed at the cityscape. Her delicate features bathed beneath the soft glow of its city lights, casting a dreamlike quality over her as she peered out into the night. Her beauty, her damp dress, and the way her eyes glistened with unspoken emotions, spell-bounded Anakin.

As he watched her, a sense of melancholy and longing passed over him. He longed to touch, to hold her in his arms and chase away the shadows that seemed to haunt her. 

And as she turned away, Anakin felt his heart swell. No longer did she wear the face of a body devoid of colour from the decay of death. She was warm in colour, alive and free from the solitude of her shadowy tomb. 

“…Anakin.” (name) breathed out slowly, boring her eyes into his own. She reached for him, limping forward, and wailed, her steps faltering. 

Falling into him, her sobs wracked her body with convulsions. She shuddered under Anakin, his arms carefully swarmed around. He squeezed her tight, her soiled cheek to his hard chest and looked on begrudgingly. 

(name’s) voice was muted as she began, but slowly grew inches louder to a careful whisper. “It was so dark.” Sob. “I couldn’t breathe.” Sob. “I looked for you.” Sob. “I swear I did, I swear–”

“It’s okay.” Anakin soothed faintly, his voice hinted with tenderness and compassion. His gentle hand combed across her back and scored across her head as she leaned into his embrace. She clung to him, her tears staining his cloak, Anakin held her close. 

As minutes stretched into hours, the intensity of (name’s) tears began to cease, and her breathing paced to a stammered rise and fall as she nestled into a void of peace in Anakin’s embrace. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, but filled with bliss. 

“....Anakin,” She whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with contentment and lured a fatigued smile to her face. “I found you.”

He cupped her cheeks in his hands and bored his eyes into hers. His eyes glimmered, and his hopeful gaze shone down at (name) as he carefully reared his head. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, rubbing at her satin skin and fluttered his eyes shut as (name) slowly lulled herself to slumber. She slumped against his chest, her head tucked into the crook of his neck and whistled a melody of soundless snores. 

With his arms swaddled around her, Anakin enveloped her slumber with an embrace brimmed with longing and oddity. He looked on at the city walls, disbelieved yet content as the molten sky hissed and howled erratically, and a torrent of rain reigned hell over Coruscant. The clouds above that gathered, in colours of greys, blacks and silver, pulsed with bold streaks of lightning, steady and strident. 

#black!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

[kookygranger]

Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Love isn't always enough. Steve disagrees.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, reader gets in a verbal fight with steve, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2.4k

Author's note: That’s it for this little series! I’ll still be thinking about lover boy Steve and his witchy gf (me) for the rest of the summer while I down sweet iced tea, so please send through any questions, ideas or PJ Harvey lyrical prompts if you’d like me to turn them into blurbs! 

Series Masterlist

Chapter Five: To Lift Above

It began with small incidents.

A look from strangers, as you’re buying a loaf of bread and that peanut butter Steve likes at the grocery store in town. One that judges without even knowing you, deciding you’ll always be a subject in the rumour mill.

Whispers as you walk past people in town, hand-in-hand with their golden boy.

How could he be with her? He must be under some love spell. She keeps him trapped up in that house. He’s always with her, following her around like a lost puppy. She must’ve hexed him.

Steve Harrington would be better off without that witch.

After your uncle died and you were employed by the library you spent a lot more time in town, but ultimately you still kept mostly to yourself. You may have felt restricted growing up in that house, but it was a safe space – certainly now after you’d transformed it into a proper home and Steve had brought light to the darkest corners of it.

And when the glares and slights got too much, you could retreat. Find solace in your books and soft cushions, in the perfumed garden full of life and forgiving nature.

But Steve, enamoured as he was, would find you time and time again. You didn’t think much of it at first, more than happy to welcome him into your space where he fit in just perfectly – like he always does. But the whispers eventually wore you down.

Maybe he was spending too much time away from his life. Maybe he should be having drinks after work with the rest of his colleagues, playfully pestering Robin at the bar instead of being curled up on the couch eating takeout because you couldn’t handle going out.

Maybe he should be dating a normal girl that wouldn’t turn him into a town pariah. That wouldn’t drag him down to her level.

After Steve’s close call, you watched over him in that hospital bed. The wheels turning all night, small incidents only fuelling the fire.

Steve Harrington would be better off without you.

You knew he wouldn’t back down easy. He would disagree of course, probably even change your mind with that charming smile, so you had to be smarter. You had to take his ability to fight back, fight for you, out of the equation.

Then the opportunity presented itself in the form of a spell.

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident, Steve recovering under your blankets as you played nurse, using his injury as a way to keep some distance. And as much as it pained Steve, he thought that’s all it was. He thought your refusal to turn cuddling into anything more and the faraway look in your eyes that hardly ever met his anymore was a symptom of the scare you’d endured. That you were still spooked and just being overly cautious of his wellbeing.

It wasn’t until he came across an open spell book one day in your library, after hobbling downstairs to find the novel he’d bookmarked while you were out, and noticed the matching ingredients gathered on the desk around it, that he finally realised where your mind had been going.

You call for him an hour later, when you come home and find the bed empty upstairs. He hears your feet padding around the house until your head peaks through the library door and you spot him sitting on the chair at your desk.

“What is this?”

You step into the room. “What do you mean? I thought we had that discussion about my books. I’m a witch remember.”

He hates the bitterness that word seems to hold on your tongue. Like it’s a slur rather than a gift. Like you could ever be anything other than a miracle.

“Please don’t condescend me.”

You falter, a frown creasing your face. “I wasn’t trying to–I’m sorry.” He watches you shrink in on yourself when your eyes flicker between the book and surrounding evidence. “I just think it would be for the best.”

“What exactly?” His hand brings the book closer to him, eyes scanning the contents before landing back on you. “What are you planning to do with a memory-wiping spell, huh?”

He’s angry, and you know he’s already worked it out. But he needs to hear you admit it.

“I was planning to make you forget me, Steve.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, scared to initiate this conversation you were trying desperately to avoid.

His jaw clenches, and when his voice comes out steady, you know he’s trying his hardest to still be soft with you. “Can you please explain to me why on earth you would do that?”

Your eyes squeeze shut at the first sign of burning, head tilting upwards to avoid a spill over your lash line. You take a deep breath in, confessing on the exhale. “You shouldn’t be with me. You deserve someone else, someone–better for you.”

“I disagree.” You hear the chair creak as he stands up and your head snaps down, body instinctively ready to reach out to him in his injured state before you stop it. “That person doesn’t exist. Next.” He gestures for you to continue, so dismissively that your blood begins to boil. “What are your reasons?”

You huff, “My reasons? How about the fact that you can’t walk down the street with me without getting dirty looks! How about when you miss out on spending time with your friends from work or going out with Robin because you’re stuck here hiding with me?”

“Stuck? How am I stuck? You realise I can make my own decisions, right? That I choose to be here with you because I want to. It is the best part of my day. Coming home to you. Waking up with you beside me. I don’t give a shit, what any of those small-minded people think.” His arms gesticulate so passionately you’d be concerned about his injured rib if you weren’t so preoccupied with getting your own point across.

“It isn’t enough.”

Steve’s shoulders deflate, he could feel his heart shattering. “What do you mean?”

“You’re giving up too much Steve.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I am. Besides, even if I was, I’d give up everything for you. I love you.”

You bite your lip, tears finally spilling over, hot on your flushed cheeks. “You think this is love?”

He frowns, “What else could it be?”

“Lust. Desire.”

He scoffs, “I know you don’t believe that. You’re just scared.”

You shrug, taking a step closer to him. “Maybe I am. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

“Yeah, it means that this is real.” He mirrors you with a step forward.

“Okay, then. What if it is love–”

“If?” He scoffs again, hands finding his hips in defence.

“Is love really enough? It can’t always be.”

“What else is there too it?”

“Many things Steve.” You’re almost whining, begging him to see your point of view.

“I don’t get it. Of course it’s enough. There’s no point in existing without you.” He steps closer again, bridging the gap with a gentle but grounding hand on your arm.

“You did before.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “It was nothing like this. And it wouldn’t ever be the same without you.” His free hand reaches up to wipe the tears off your face. “You’re scared I get it.”

You sniffle as you lean into his touch. “Aren’t you?”

“I was to begin with. I never knew I could love so intensely, and it scared me. The thought of messing this up,” he shakes his head eyes burrowing into yours, a crease in between his brows, “but not having you at all is a way worse fate. I’m standing here because I love you, and nothing can take that away. Not even your spell. You can’t make me forget how I feel.”

You laugh wetly, softening as you turn pliable under his touch. “Are you trying to undermine my magic Steve Harrington?”

He embraces you fully for the first time in weeks, nuzzling into your hair and kissing the side of your head. “I’m just tryna’ say you can’t control how other people feel. And you sure as hell can’t keep me away.”

Your arms reach around his torso and you cry into the warmth that is him.

“Steve.”

He grips you a little tighter, “I love you.”

You bury your face in his neck, voice muffled but full of conviction. “I love you too.”

***

Halloween 1993

The crinkling of plastic is what alerts you to his presence. He stops mid-chew when your head snaps up from the paper bag you were grabbing another packet from, hand literally caught in the candy jar.

“Steve!”

“It was just one.” He defends through a mouthful of chocolate, backing away from the plastic bowl of sugary treats. You walk over with a bag of lollipops and he smirks, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I think you’ve probably got enough to treat the whole town baby.”

You sigh, and pop the plastic bag in your hands, tipping its contents into another bowl. “I just don’t want to run out.” You mumble as you crinkle the empty packet in your hand before throwing it in the trash, but Steve still hears it. “Don’t need to give them any more ammunition to the egg the house.”

Steve frowns and you offer him a strawberry lollipop from the bowl before he has a chance to say anything. He grins, unwrapping the clear plastic over the candy quickly, smile never leaving his face as he sucks on his prize. An exaggerated pop and a corny line leaving him, “Mmm, almost as sweet as you.” Before he kisses your shoulder.

“Steve.”

He chuckles as you look away from him, burning up under his attention, squeezing your hip. “What? Where’s the lie?” Another kiss to your cheek, sugary sweet and you’re giggling like a child with a bag full of candy.

You’d dressed in your witchiest attire for the first Halloween without your uncle in this house. The first Halloween with Steve in it.

You wanted to let the people of this town see that there was nothing scary lurking in between the lavender and chamomile flowers. Just the tacky decorations you’d spent half a day putting up. You’d even dusted off an old, pointed hat you found in the attic belonging to one of your ancestors. Steve couldn’t hide his surprise when you’d come downstairs looking like a character from a children’s book. “Thought I’d get in on the joke.”

As the evening bleeds into night, and you still haven’t been visited by a single one of the children you can hear screaming and laughing beyond your garden gate, your hope of them taking your olive branch deflates.

You take your hat off, quickly wiping a tear away as you move inside and Steve’s heart breaks. Why won’t they give you a fucking chance? They don’t deserve you.

He bounds down the street, imaginary chain mail and armour glinting under the setting sun and finds some familiar faces in the fathers on his crew. He’s clapped on the back and welcomed into their circle, one of the older men asking the cause of the frown etched on his defiant face.

“It’s my girl, she’s a little upset that no one’s stopped by to trick or treat. I know it’s out of the way, but she’s done up the whole front of the house and it looks awesome. Even got full-sized candy bars, which I told her was too much.” He waves in the direction of your house.

“Full-sized candy?” A child dressed in a pirate costume runs up to the group. “Dad, can we go there?”

“Of course. Let’s go to Steve’s.”

When the door thuds shut behind Steve you don’t look up from your position on the couch, instead sinking in further and soaking up any stray tears with the sleeve of your dress.

“Baby, where’d the candy go?”

“It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.” Your voice is small compared to Steve’s boisterous shout as he locates the goods.

“Thought you said I couldn’t have any.”

You shrug even though he can’t see it, “S’not like we need it.”

The doorbell chimes as he makes his way back through the house, grinning. “I don’t know about that.”

You shake your head, “It’s probably just some kids daring each other to ring the door.”

Steve thinks you look a lot like the little girl in the window as you sit there hugging your knees, his mind flashing back to the bats and screams and your warm presence. He thanks whatever higher power might’ve brought him to your house that night, even if it was just Tommy Hagan’s misguided machismo.

His voice is gentle, “Why don’t you come help me get the door.”

“Steve–“

“Baby, c’mon. Just trust me.”

You huff because you know you’ll never not trust that smile and follow him to the front door. When it creaks open to a chorus of high-pitched trick or treats, it takes you a second to register what’s happening. You blink when a little girl tells you she likes your costume, taking in the group of children on your doorstep with open arms holding out candy-filled bags and the parents giving Steve a wave from the bottom of the porch steps. A smile takes hold of your face, one of the brightest Steve has ever had the privilege of witnessing and you spring into action. You dish out handfuls of candy to each child, who squeals out delighted thanks and compliment every one of them on their costume.

Steve holds the bowl for you, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back the whole time until the children bound back down the front steps and he waves to their parents. An older gentleman smiles your way and thanks you and you return the sentiment as they all head off back down the garden path.

When the door closes on their excited chatter, you pull Steve in by his shirt collar for a deep kiss. His free hand resting on your waist when you lean back and whisper.

“Thank you.”

He’s dusted pink like it’s the first time your lips have ever met, his hand reaches up to your face, thumb swiping across your cheek that was sticky with tears just moments ago.

“I love you.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #firefighter!steve harrington #witch!reader #she writes

[drdemonprince]

I read Anna Biller's (director, writer, set designer, and basically everything-er of The Love Witch) new novel Bluebeard's Castle. And I really found it to be quite the addictive and enchanting read, though all of the criticisms of the book that you'll see on Goodreads and Amazon are completely legitimate.

The book very much does read like a screenplay -- there are long descriptions of interior design and costumes, sometimes positioned in the middle of a scene in ways that break up the emotional momentum, to a hilarious effect. For example, in one sequence the protagonist is considering a gruesome vision of suicide, and then looks in the mirror to admire her hobble skirt and reflect that she's looking very sexy.

Some of The Love Witch's less charitable viewers didn't understand the way Biller's work sweeps from the grand and romantic to the self-involved and frivolous, but it's clearly intentional, and it works on the page for me just as well as it did on the screen. You just have to have the irreverent, glamorous toxic girl sensibility for it. If you love the way Lana Del Rey mixes the high and low brows, the tragic with the prosaic, you'll lap it up here too.

In some cases, Biller's descriptions do feel like placeholders, or are so generically written that it would make perfect sense in a script (because there is an entire team working on the film that can bring a "sexy" dress or a "lovely" piece of furniture to life), but which falls flat here. Because I know Biller's aesthetic style so well, when she tells me that room is sumptuous or well-appointed, I can picture precisely what she means, and most of the time she is so specific with her descriptions of outfits and accessories that you can easily conjure what she's going for. At some random moments, though, things are underwritten and demand that you as the reader fill in the details she normally provides.

Bluebeard's Castle is the story of a contemporary romance novelist and converted Catholic virgin, Judith, who falls under the seductive spell of an aloof, gruff, emotionally volatile Baron's-son, Gavin, who sweeps her off her feet following a fated encounter at a wedding. After a whirlwind romance and a hasty wedding, Biller's protagonist moves into a remodeled castle with her brooding lover, and the cracks in his shining armor begin to show. The charm of the love interest is something of an informed attribute; you have to believe the narrator that he is handsome and dracula-like (or believe that she believes it) in order to allow the story to move along. Since this is a tragedy rather than a romance novel, I think that buy-in is relatively easy to provide. The sex scenes are largely left to the margins as well; this book isn't meant to titilate but rather pull you into Judith's rich, sad, delusional inner world.

Some of the most positive reviews of Bluebeard's Castle describe this as a novel about how and why women find themselves entrapped within abusive relationships. As someone who has been in abusive relationships, I think this truly is where Biller's writing excels -- and she truly gets what it's like to become romantically and sexually addicted to someone who is bad for you to a degree that is almost embarrassing to see oneself reflected in. She truly gets it -- the way you excuse small violations, blot out any consideration of your own consent, justify unexpected outbursts from your partner and then take steps to prevent them, the way you must romanticize every single tender moment, rewrite the gradual conditioning of your own behavior as yourself becoming a canny, subtle manipulator of the situation, and color in between the lines of a truly unfulfilling existence with grand narratives and self-serving lies.

It's not a pretty portrait -- Bluebeard's Judith has a fanciful, inconsistent mind, constantly swapping between admitting to herself that her husband has mistreated her, and seeking refuge in religion, fantasy, alcohol, sex, and self-negation in order to convince herself that such abuses did not really happen, or don't really matter. She also uses other people -- leaning on her sister and a former romantic interest, the respectful, reliable doctor Tony -- extracting as much attention and support from them as she possibly can when she and Gavin are in a rough patch, then abandoning them entirely the moment he returns to her. I think a reader who hasn't been in an extended abusive relationship will probably find Judith infuriating and unsympathetic. But as someone who has done and been all of these things, I feel incredibly exposed by Biller's narrative, in a bracing way. It's like a shot of cold water to the face.

Many people will justifiably write this book off as melodramatic and arch, but I think it perfectly nails the alluring drama of being wrapped up within a terrible relationship dynamic. When you're being abused and you deeply love your abuser, you are absolutely fascinated by their unpredictable emotions and your own love -- you think constantly about how you might elicit the treatment from them that your heart longs for, you're reading into their every gesture and expression all the time, and you're inventing satisfying explanations for your situation in your head all the time. It's an isolated, deluded life, but it's pleasurably intense too sometimes, and those of us who fall prey to it often have some deeper longing for connection and passion that makes us easier to prey on. Biller really understands that.

If you adored The Love Witch, you'll probably have a lot of patience for this book's flaws and feel appropriately targeted by its strengths. Sad girls, Virgin Suicides fans, BPD baddies, Jane Eyre lovers, grown up former Twilight readers, and all kinds of other pitiful glamorous freaks will enjoy it.

[klbwriting]

Our Strange Duet

Chapter 8: Jealous

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Jason is moody for six weeks but gets his cast off and a new feeling arises in YN

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

I wasn't jealous before we met Now every woman I see is a potential threat And I'm possessive, it isn't nice - Mamma Mia

It was a long six weeks for everyone in the penthouse as Jason was unable to do much besides school and provide Dick with home-based assistance as Nightwing. He was irritable, snapping at everyone, even YN sometimes, and just downright sulky. Dick constantly would look at YN and ask if she still wanted to put up with his bullshit, to which she would just shrug and say something about it being annoying but sometimes the real Jason came through and that made it worth it. Like when he made dinner for them, hobbling around in front of the stove, listening to music, and sometimes, if he thought no one was looking, dancing as much as he could with the cast. Or maybe when he was reading something really interesting, and YN would just lay her head in his lap and listen to him read quietly to himself. Those moments made her remember that Jason wasn’t just some vigilante with nothing to do, he was a person, and he was struggling. She remembered her mom being this way, so angry some days, so sad others, but the moments in between are the ones that were most vivid in her memory. She held out hope that whenever she thought back to this time, she would just remember the good things, like Jason singing her to sleep some nights or them meeting up before theater practice to kiss backstage. Jason took these moments to heart, knowing he would remember them, needing them these things to make this time not feel so wasted, make him not feel so useless.

The only thing Jason really could do, was research that drug that Maroni had gotten into the streets. He, Dick, and YN had all come up with a plan to at least get information directly from the source. YN contact Sal, offering to start trying to learn his business, maybe join him. She put on that she was nearly homeless, needed help, was desperate enough to start the work. Sal had gladly accepted, and she spent weekends and sometimes evenings with Sal and his cronies, learning things about both Sal’s underworld business and his legitimate cover business. It bothered Jason that she was being thrown into that world, but she wanted to help, and they didn’t have much of a choice, they needed a contact. YN was a good sport about it, coming back with real information for them, working hard to be helpful. Dick often asked Jason if he had asked YN to officially move in yet, wondering if her eagerness to be useful was something rubbed off from Jason or her need to feel like she wasn’t a charity case. Jason wasn’t sure, but he was terrified of asking her to stay. Of her saying no, telling him that she wasn’t going to stay long, that he wasn’t what she wanted for the long run, so he never asked, skirting the question with excuses or just running out of the room as fast as he could hobble.

All the stress from school, the musical, and being a coach vigilante was clearly getting to the breaking point when Jason got his cast removed. He was fitted with a boot and given another 2 weeks before he could be free of it. Just two more weeks and he would be back out there, being Red Hood, actually doing something that mattered in the city. It was giving him something to hope for, but he still felt so pathetic, and everyone noticed. And as older teenagers do, when they see someone who clearly needs a night to blow off steam, the theater group decided to have a party. Halle, the junior playing Christine, had an off-campus house that she shared with a few other theater people, so she volunteered to throw a party specifically for Jason getting his cast off. She announced it at Friday practice that the party would be that evening and Jason of course had to come. YN was off in the wings, having come back from the music area to tell Jason she could find another way home, she was needing to stay late, when she heard about the party.

“If you can’t come, I’m not going,” Jason said, folding his arms as he leaned against the backstage wall. She sighed, seeing him picking absently at his sleeve while his other hand scratched at his elbow. Nervous energy was pretty much wafting off him. He needed a night off to let off some steam.

“I will come, I will be late, go have fun,” YN said, gently rubbing his arms, making him instantly put his hands on her hips and pulling her close. He leaned his head to hers. “I’ll only be another hour and then tomorrow you have to listen to my arrangement of ‘The Point of No Return’ and sing to it so I know its working out right ok?”

“Anything you want sweetness,” he said. “You promise you’ll come?”

“An hour Jason, now go have fun. I promise it won’t kill you,” she said. Jason smiled a little and kissed her gently, a hand holding her face after he pulled back. “I have to get back, love you, now smile and have fun.” He couldn’t help smiling a little before heading off to join the rest of the cast.

Jealousy wasn’t something that YN had a lot of experience with. She had never expected to experience it, she didn’t really date in high school, beyond Jason, and she never had trouble with losing out on parts during theater, she understood her limitations most of the time. But the raging fire that she was feeling when she entered the party and saw Jason, Halle, and Mike, the guy playing Raoul, doing a terrible karaoke version of ‘The Boy is Mine’ but singing it to Halle, was completely new. She had no idea how to control it, letting it fester as she grabbed a drink and sat down in the back of the main living room. Theater nerds were a strange lot, their parties weren’t always loud music and drinking to excess, a lot of times it was karaoke or random jam sessions with food and maybe a few beers. YN had been to a few of these in high school and normally she participated, but right now she didn’t feel like it. She was quiet, pretending not to be there until the song ended and Halle kissed Jason’s cheek before Mike’s and that kind of set YN off. She had been so understanding of everything and this wasn’t something crazy, not like they were making out in front of her, but something snapped inside her. All the stress of dealing with Jason’s mood swings, with him being hot and cold on their relationship, overflowed and she stood up, moving towards the door, getting out of the house and into the cooler night air. If this is finally what made him happy, if Halle’s attention was what made him happy, then she would walk back to the apartment that night.

“YN?” she heard behind her, Jason coming down the front steps of the house. “Hey, I saw you…why are you leaving?” She stopped and looked at him, those eyes seeping into her and melting the iciness that had settled over her heart.

“I see you took my advice to have fun…” she said, folding her arms and looking at her feet. Jason looked confused, why did she seem mad about that? Then it dawned on him, another girl, hanging off him, getting close. O, o jeez. No one had ever been jealous about him before, and he felt both pride and guilt. He hadn’t meant to make her feel that way, but he couldn’t lie, he wanted to see how jealous she was, his ego liked that idea.

“Ya, well we thought it was funny, you know the whole fighting over a girl thing…” he said. “It was just supposed to be cute, Halle thought it would be fun.” His rambling and shrugging in an ‘ah shucks’ sort of way seemed to just annoy her more.

“Sure, well I don’t want to cramp your style, get back to your fun. I’m going to see if I can help Dick or something,” she said, turning and starting to stomp away. Jason reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. She stumbled, catching herself on his chest, hands settling there as she looked up to see him smirking down at her. He looked smug and it was both hot and aggravating.

“Sweetness are you jealous?” he asked, leaning in a little. She glared at him, but it was half-hearted. “You know I will follow you home right now, if you’re not at the party then I don’t want to be there either.”

“I’ve never seen you like that…you looked happy, I don’t remember the last time you seemed happy,” she said softly. That stopped him in his tracks, his smile dropping. She thought someone else made him happy? And she thought that she didn’t. O fuck he had been such an asshole. He had been so focused on pouting and self-pity that he hadn’t noticed her efforts. She always tried to make him laugh, finding all his favorite movies to watch, listening to him read, sometimes for hours, not moving so she didn’t disturb him. She brought him snacks, for fuck’s sake, she was going into Sal Maroni’s world to help him and Dick.

“YN, I’m sorry,” he whispered. She looked at him confused. “I should have noticed that I was being so awful to you, and you were just trying to help me. Let’s go home, I don’t want to go back to the party.”

“No, I want to go, I want us to have fun together. No more of you stewing in your self-loathing, you’re Jason fucking Todd and you should be proud and happy about that. And if you’re not, be happy you have a loving girlfriend who literally deals with her asshole dad every day for him,” YN said. Jason took a step back at the venom in her voice.

“I wouldn’t be happier with anyone else. No one else has done so much for me, well no one but Dick but I doubt he kisses like you,” he said, which caused YN to burst out laughing, making him smile. “Alright sweetness, we’ll go back to the party, only if you agree to move in and stop the whole trying to get a job and move out thing. You’re mine and you’re staying with me. Or, if you want, I’m moving with you somewhere, maybe somewhere we could have more privacy…” he trailed off as his fingers ran down her sides to yank her closer. She let out an adorable squeak of surprise before he kissed her deeply, her hand weaving into his hair.

“I’ll move in, I won’t try to leave anymore,” she said as Jason, ignoring that they were right in front of a house full of college kids, kissed to her ear and down her neck, hands finding purchase on her ass, squeezing. “As much as I’d like to continue this, we are being watched…and honestly I never thought of voyeurism as hot unless you were in your other outfit.” Jason stilled, now having an entirely new thought in his mind.

“When I get this boot off that is happening, I know a few places it would be fun to make you melt in,” he whispered, pulling back and taking her hand to head back to the party.

After a couple hours Jason got a text from Dick, telling them to get home, they needed to talk immediately. Jason found her, pulling her close and kissing her ear. He whispered what Dick texted, freezing a fake smile on her face she looked at him, nodding.

“Going somewhere?” Halle asked as they started to leave. Jason smirked, pulling YN back to him.

“I’ve been trying to take her home all night, finally wore her down,” he said. It was sleezy, and very unlike Jason to talk like this but Halle just shrugged, probably assuming he had been drinking. YN just laughed and shook her head.

“I’m getting him home before he drinks anymore, he’s heavy and I can’t carry him,” she said. Jason shrugged and they headed back to the apartment.

“Where have you guys been?” Dick asked as they came in. Jason explained about the party and Dick looked a little impressed that they were doing something normal instead of trying to search for a criminal hideout or something. He showed them his computer where Barbara was on camera.

“Hey lovebirds, just found all the evidence we need against Maroni,” she said. YN let out a sigh of relief, maybe she would be free from that man finally.

“What’s the catch?” Jason asked, always knowing that good names came with pain in the ass news. Barbara nodded.

“We can see the data, but I can’t copy it or screenshot in. It can only be copied from the computer in Maroni’s office,” she said. Everyone looked at YN who deflated. She knew she could get it, but she would probably get caught so they discussed a plan to make sure she got away with the data, all the while making sure Maroni would think he foiled her plans. Pain in the ass news, am I right?

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jasontodd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #strangeduet

[purpletyrant]

They move in a hobbling line, coarse hoods drawn up to their horns. Even in the shade, they all look identical. Their movements perfectly mirror one another, and only by their shadows can she be certain that they are not one person. Orchidee watches them bob in a slow procession to the dark hutch, with its windows all obscured by thick growths of vine. Eubora follows the direction of her stare. “The Eunomiads,” he says - as if this answers everything. “The reason you’re permitted to be here. Don’t stare. It’s rude.” Orchidee blinks. “Are they sisters?” Eubora gives her a withering look. “You’ve not retained your studies.” It’s true that in the weeks before their departure, Eubora lectured Orchidee persistently on the history and politics of the village they’d call home for the next year. The trade language spoken in that region, their traditions and etiquette, and yes, the leadership responsible for the settlement’s isolation – all of it was taught to her in hours of insufferable study. He did not even permit her respite on the final journey. At some point, the brown and green blur of trees out the carriage window became far more interesting than Eubora’s voice. The Eunomiads vanish into their home, and Orchidee stares at the door after it shuts. Eubora lifts the silver handle of his cane and gently nudges her gaze in a different direction.

Kobolds have five sexes – and the fifth is exceptionally rare. Initially hatched from normal eggs of the other sexes, this sex is self-reproducing and will result in a lineage of clones. Kobold legend holds this sex as infallible, and as a result they are the ruling class of any settlement with a kobold majority. It’s expected that successive generations will take over other settlements or found their own partnering communities, but the leaders of Cybele’s village have hunkered down into a codependent pod of miserly and suspicious old women. As a trio, they are known as “The Eunomiads.” In recent years, the Eunomiads have expelled non-kobolds from the community and shut it off from its neighbors. The result is a village that is failing to subsist. With death and hunger on their doorstep, Cybele’s sister Gwydion is one daring member who has successfully fled. Why are the Eunomiads doing this? One of them is experiencing prophetic dreams of the forest’s destruction, a “White Death” that will sweep over them if they do not fortify themselves. Eubora and Orchidee are brought in to keep the village from collapsing, with its former allies arranging diplomatically for the unicorns to be accepted. Because Cybele’s family has already been deemed “tainted” by outside influence due to Gwydion’s escape, they are tasked with taking in and caring for the guests from Lafossa.

^^^ pasted all that shit from deerword lore doc 👍 i wrote the prose off the dome, so its not part of anything longer. i wanted these three to embody the three witches trope... two of their poses are actually referenced from artwork of baba yaga, lol

#deerwood tag #the eunomiads #kobold #anthro #furry #scalie #oc bullshit #mad artz #ive gotten so used to tagging on sheezy the last few days im all out of whack

[kitt357]

When Belos makes you forget who they are, mini one shots:

Came from a post I made a while ago, how I think the coven heads can't date cause it'll distract them.

Characters included: Raine, Darius, Adrian

Raine:

Raine waited by the airship loading bay. You were supposed to be returning from a mission, but so far, there was no news. They sat and watched scouts run around, orders being thrown about all over the place. They were early, but they wanted to surprise you and congratulate you, even if it went badly.

Soon, the hours rolled by, and they began to worry, playing their violin, to calm themselves, and to think what could be going on. Until a scout captain tapped their shoulder, pulling them out of their trance.

“Head witch. Emperor Belos wants to see you.”

“What for?”

"He didn't say. Please follow me."

They stood, not before taking one final glance at the loading bay, seeing it empty out, before leaving and heading towards the throne room. 

The doors opened, Raine was barely able to see each foot in front of the other, let alone Belos sat, hunched, fingers digging into the arm rests, on his throne at the other end of the room.

As they got closer, doors slamming behind them, making them jump, they saw you. Laying on the floor, wheezing for breath and yellow glowing veins littered your body. Raine sped over, dropping to their knees beside you, holding you close, shaking you.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?"

“Ah Raine. There you are.”

“What did you do to them?”

Belos rose from his throne, and got closer. Raine, held you tightly, glaring with hurt at you, not letting you fall from their grip, refusing to look Belos's way.

“Just a simple spell. Erasing you from their memories.”

He grabbed Raine’s face, forcing them to look at him. They dropped you in the process, but when they tried to reach for you, Belos threw Raine back.

“They were a distraction. I allowed it at first cause they motivated you, but now they're nothing more than a cheap distraction. I had to take action, otherwise you’d fall behind, and I can't have that.”

Belos stood tall, towering over Raine, as they crawled back slightly.

“I do hope you understand.”

Raine was suddenly halted, as a red aura glowed around them and was flung back, taking them out of the room, watching your form get smaller and smaller the faster they were dragged down the hall until the doors closed.

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

You awoke in your quarters, body aching. You tried to stretch, but winced in pain when you tried to raise your arms. You rubbed your wrist, looking ver at your desk to find a note, and curiously hobbled over to it.

The note was from Emperor Belos, congratulating you on your most recent mission, and that the Scout Captain had to take you too to your room due to your hard work. It made you feel proud, knowing that all the hard work was beginning to pay off, that even the Emperor recognised it.

You would've jumped up in joy, but you felt too exhausted. Your body felt like it had ran all across the body of the Titan. Slowly, you grabbed your clothes and got dressed, as the note also said there was a coven head meeting today.

It was more like an observation along with a few other scouts proficient in a type of magic that’ll be useful for future missions. Yours was bard, you had seen the coven head a few times, they were fairly new, possibly been working for six months or so, but you had yet to speak to them properly, rather than through letters or indirect messages through scouts. You hoped you'd be able to speak to them today.

But your hope went away the minute the meeting was over. You knew the head witch didn't like people, but they didn't even look in your general direction when you greeted them or when they left. Even the other coven heads flashed you a glance of sympathy, or pity, you could never really tell.

You decided to follow them, needing to discuss notes and plans for an upcoming mission, but they disappeared without a trace, leaving you standing there in the corridor beyond confused. They only just left, so they couldn't have gotten far, so you trekked down the corridor, asking scouts if they had seen the head witch, with only having no every time.

You huffed in annoyance until a creak caught your attention. Behind a painting, was a dark narrow stairway. Somewhere in the back of your mind told you you'd been here before, it felt so familiar, so you followed the steps up, as you got closer, you could hear the sounds of a soft melody from a violin.

It sounded beautiful, peaceful almost, if not for the sad tonal shift every so often. When you opened the door, there sat the head witch, sitting on the balcony.

You knew better than to disturb them, but you summoned a flute, and played along, not knowing where the urge to play came from, let alone the song.

They turned upon hearing your instrument and gazed at you with shock and surprise, before smiling softly and continued playing alongside you.

"It's a lovely song. Did you write it yourself?" You asked after a while of silence when the music stopped, sitting beside them, staring at the skull of the titan.

"I did. It was for someone special to me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Immediately feeling regret, you stood, wanting to leave. They grabbed you hand softly, pulling you back.

"Don't be, it was nice to play it with someone after so long." They turned to face you, the tips of their ears burning a light red.

"How did you know what to play?"

"I'm not sure. I just felt like I heard it before and was drawn to it." You scratched your head, unsure yourself of your own answer, but the head witch laughed.

"Music does make you feel that way. You're very talented."

"Oh please, no where near as talented as you head witch."

"Please, call me Raine."

Darius:

Darius sat, quietly waiting. You had been summoned to the throne room, but you didn't say what for, only that Belos wanted to speak with you. He tried to convince you to send an illusion, if anything should happen, but you held his hand told him not to worry, that you'd be fine.

But that was an hour ago, Darius knew Belos well enough that something would've happened, using your own mind against you. So when the doors finally opened, he leapt up. You walked out, scratching the back of your head, and Darius saw red, assuming the worst and bolted to you.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" He asked, holding your face gently, but you jumped back in surprise.

"Head witch?"

"Its alright, you don't need to pretend anymore."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you mean." You took his hands off your face gently, placing them at is side, only having a confused look plastered across your face.

"What?" He looked at you in disbelief, you weren't a good actor, better than Adrian, but not by much, so the look and your tone was very real.

"Excuse me." You brushed past him, walking away and disappearing down the corridor. Darius clenched his fists, and stormed into the throne room, causing the doors to slam, Belos sighed at the scene.

"What did you do to them?" Darius yelled, abomination goo beginning to float around him.

"Calm down head witch, you'll only hurt yourself." Belos said all to calmly.

"I did what must've been done. You knew the rules, yet here you are breaking them. I knew you were rebellious, but I thought your time as head witch would've shut that out." Belos stood from his throne, walking towards Darius.

"May I remind you of what happens to witches who rebel?"

Belos summoned his staff, a red aura surrounded it, and images of petrified witches flooded Darius's mind, making him wince and grip his head in pain.

"I'll allow a mess up like this once, but no more."

Belos walked out of the room, leaving Darius standing there. Belos had wiped your memory of him, or most of them. He knew someone he could go to, but the idea of talking to him on a personal level made him nauseous.

"You want me to send you to their mindscape so you can repair their memories?" Adrian stood in the doorway of his office, barley awake.

"Trust me, you're the last person I want to go to but-"

"But I'm the only one who can do mind magic." He stated smugly.

"Vitimir can make a potion, but it'll take too long."

"Hmm." Adrian pondered, placing a finger on his chin.

"Sorry, no can do."

"What why?" Darius stepped forward, but Adrian placed a finger on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Mind magic is complicated. For all we know I could make things worse. Besides, you don't want to be seen as a traitor, do you? I know what your plan is, I could very easily report it." His tail swayed in anticipation, and Darius stood there dumbfounded, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Sorry old friend." Adrian shut the door in his face and he sighed rubbing his hand down his face.

"Adrian always make other peoples days so much worse." Your soft voice broke him form his thoughts and he rapidly turned to face you.

"That's why I try not to talk to him." You laughed a little, but gasped when the stack of paper nearly slipped from your grip.

"Usually I don't, but unfortunately I needed to." Darius took some of the papers from you, easing the load.

"Anything I could help with?"

"You look like you've got enough in your hands, but either way, sadly not." He looked at the ground, and began to walk away, but looked back at you.

"Well come on."

"Oh, you don't need to do that head witch, you've got far more important duties than mine." You said catching up, about to take your work from him when he handed it to an abomination.

"Trust me, if I had work to be doing right now I would be." He walked off, head held high, clutching his cape. The abomination held out a hand, wanting your papers, so you reluctantly gave them to it and followed after him.

You both sat down in a work booth, Darius presenting you your favourite drink, which you sipped happily away at. Somewhere deep inside of you wondered how he knew, and why he had a small smile on his face when you exclaimed your excitement the drink, but the quicker the thought came, it went, a red glow coming from your sigil, suddenly confused what you were curious at.

Adrian:

Adrian rushed to the healing wing, shoving whoever was in his way to the floor. Panic rose in him, struggling for breath as he slammed the door open.

"Where are they?"

Hettie walked over, hands raised, trying to stop Adrian from storming over.

"They're here, but you need to stay back. We don't know what condition they're in right now."

"I don't care. I need to see them. They need to know I'm here."

He tried pushing himself off Hettie, but her grip was too strong. He soon gave up, breathing jagged as she got one of the nurses to fetch him a chair.

Hours passed by without hearing of anything, he crunched the note he had received in his hand. A note from Belos, stating that he would've been in big trouble, but has decided a punishment fitting for him, with the necklace he gifted you attached to it. Adrian wrapped the necklace around his hand, and brought it up to his mouth, trying to calm himself down.

Some of the other coven heads stopped by to see how he was doing, and if there was any news, most of the time, it was Darius. He didn't like Adrian at the best of times, but still felt somewhat sorry for him. They knew of Adrian's secret relationship with you, and all agreed to keep it secret, since Adrian had actually begun to work hard and wasn't as much of a pain in their side as usual.

They asked him what had happened, as all they heard was that you were in an accident on a mission but he told them he didn't know either, sounding defeated.

Adrian's foot bounced up and down against the floor at rapid speed, until Hettie opened the door, giving him a saddened look.

"How are they? Can I see them?"

He jumped off his chair, tail flicking around nervously, but Hettie only came closer and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"They're fine, but there's a small complication."

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't remember anything recently."

"So what? Not remembering missions isn't that bad." Adrian said, sounding unsure when he mentioned a mission.

"Adrian. They don't remember your time together."

Adrian's face fell. Surely she was joking? Her face will break with a crack at the lips, and she'll howl with laughter. But she never did.

"We asked them the last thing they remembered, and they said it was a coven meeting to introduce us to the new golden guard yesterday. "

"It was two years ago." Adrian barely whispered, taking Hettie's hand off his shoulder, staring down at the floor.

"You can still see them, but just be prepared. It's going to be hard, for both of you."

"Why don't they remember?" Adrian's eyes widened, knowing it had something to do with Belos, but he couldn't figure out what, it was all to much for him to think about.

"We don't know yet."

"Well, don't just stand there it's your job. Just figure it out."

When he pulled back the curtain gently, he saw you, smiling and talking with some of the nurses. A small grin tugged at his lips. You were always kind and chatting with others.

Hearing the curtain being pulled back, you turned to face the head witch, confused, but welcomed his presence.

"Good morning, head witch. Dont tell me you've got the common mould too?"

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

Hettie and Adrian sat down with you and gently that you weren’t here for mould medicine.

You told them you were just in a meeting and were told you fainted, but when Hettie continued to explain that happened tow years ago, you became frightened. You didn't know what they were talking about, or why the illusion coven head was here.

Seeing the panicked look on your face, Adrian told her to stop, and its best you got some rest. So he left you that evening, telling you he'd back tomorrow, but when you questioned why, he couldn't answer.

As Adrian walked back to his quarters, Belos passed by down the corridor, making him stop in his tracks.

"This is what happens when you can't follow orders Graye. Disobey me again, and I'll make sure their fate is set in stone."

He slunk down the corridor. He failed a mission, and you were being punished, Belos just barely allowed you two together when he saw a difference in his work, but warned that if he failed, he would be punished. Adrian didn't sleep that night, every time he closed his eyes, nightmares filled his head.

The next morning, Adrian came to your hospital room, looking slightly more dishevelled than he usually does. You asked if he was alright, but shut it down, telling you he was fine. Over the course of the day, he filled you in on everything, at first you didn't believe him, but seeing the way he acted and the way he talked about old memories, convinced you, so that evening he took you home, to get you back into some form of normality.

Adrian summoned the construction head witch to create an extra bedroom and shower for you, so to not make you uncomfortable, but to hopefully trigger some memories or at least t get you used to your old life again. You looked around Adrian's room, the colour blue splashed everywhere. But you saw photos, missions, or even nights out of you two together. You held them in your hand, but you just didn't feel anything or a sense of remembrance.

Soon, months flew by, Adrian, still determined, you became close again, like friends, but he started to worry if this was what you wanted. He asked you one night if you still wanted to live with him, have time figure things out for yourself, feeling like he was keeping you prisoner here. But you chose to stay, telling him that although it's been small things that came back to you, you knew there's something about him that made you want to stay.

He accepted your response but always held that offer out to you, which you understood.

You said good night to each other, and closed your door, leaving him standing in his living room, hands in his pockets. He sighed and turned to play some music and tapped his foot along to the beat. It was your favourite song. He played it from time to time when you were asleep.

"I feel like I've heard this before."

Your voice pulled him from his trance, and he turned to you, slowly walking closer, fiddling with your hands.

"It was your favourite. It's a nice song, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful."

"We used to dance to this all the time" He rest a hand on top of the speaker, as you stood next to him.

"We can if you like? Dance to it I mean."

He stared at you, but nodded. You took his hands and gently swayed, you leant your head into his shoulder and took the lead, much to his surprise. He wrapped his tail around your waist as you moved, with him following your movement.

It was enough to give him something to hold onto.

#the owl house #the owl house darius #the owl house adrian #the owl house raine #the owl house darius deamonne #the owl house adrian graye #the owl house raine whispers #toh #toh raine #toh darius #toh adrian #darius deamonne #adrian graye #adrian graye vernworth #raine whispers #coven heads #darius deamonne x reader #adrian graye x reader #adrian graye vernworth x reader

[ariel-seagull-wings]

The GOOSE-GIRL AT THE WELL

@inevitablemoment @professorlehnsherr-almashy @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @faintingheroine @amalthea9 @tamisdava2

(A german folktale collected by the Brothers Grimm)

There was once upon a time a very old woman, who lived with her flock of geese in a waste place among the mountains, and there had a little house. The waste was surrounded by a large forest, and every morning the old woman took her crutch and hobbled into it. There, however, the dame was quite active, more so than anyone would have thought, considering her age, and collected grass for her geese, picked all the wild fruit she could reach, and carried everything home on her back. Anyone would have thought that the heavy load would have weighed her to the ground, but she always brought it safely home. If anyone met her, she greeted him quite courteously. “Good day, dear countryman, it is a fine day. Ah! you wonder that I should drag grass about, but everyone must take his burden on his back.”

Nevertheless, people did not like to meet her if they could help it, and took by preference a roundabout way, and when a father with his boys passed her, he whispered to them, “Beware of the old woman. She has claws beneath her gloves; she is a witch.” One morning, a handsome young man was going through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds sang, a cool breeze crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. He had as yet met no one, when he suddenly perceived the old witch kneeling on the ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already thrust a whole load into her cloth, and near it stood two baskets, which were filled with wild apples and pears.

“But, good little mother,” said he, “how canst thou carry all that away?”

“I must carry it, dear sir,” answered she, “rich folk’s children have no need to do such things, but with the peasant folk the saying goes, don’t look behind you, you will only see how crooked your back is!”

“Will you help me?” she said, as he remained standing by her. “You have still a straight back and young legs, it would be a trifle to you. Besides, my house is not so very far from here, it stands there on the heath behind the hill. How soon you would bound up thither.” The young man took compassion on the old woman.

“My father is certainly no peasant,” replied he, “but a rich count; nevertheless, that you may see that it is not only peasants who can carry things, I will take your bundle.”

“If you will try it,” said she, “I shall be very glad. You will certainly have to walk for an hour, but what will that signify to you; only you must carry the apples and pears as well?” It now seemed to the young man just a little serious, when he heard of an hour’s walk, but the old woman would not let him off, packed the bundle on his back, and hung the two baskets on his arm. “See, it is quite light,” said she.

“No, it is not light,” answered the count, and pulled a rueful face. “Verily, the bundle weighs as heavily as if it were full of cobble stones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead! I can scarcely breathe.” He had a mind to put everything down again, but the old woman would not allow it.

“Just look,” said she mockingly, “the young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woman, have so often dragged along. You are ready with fine words, but when it comes to be earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing loitering there?” she continued. “Step out. No one will take the bundle off again.” As long as he walked on level ground, it was still bearable, but when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled down under his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and ran, hot and cold, down his back.

“Dame,” said he, “I can go no farther. I want to rest a little.”

“Not here,” answered the old woman, “when we have arrived at our journey’s end, you can rest; but now you must go forward. Who knows what good it may do you?”

“Old woman, thou art becoming shameless!” said the count, and tried to throw off the bundle, but he laboured in vain; it stuck as fast to his back as if it grew there. He turned and twisted, but he could not get rid of it. The old woman laughed at this, and sprang about quite delighted on her crutch.

“Don’t get angry, dear sir,” said she, “you are growing as red in the face as a turkey-cock! Carry your bundle patiently. I will give you a good present when we get home.”

What could he do? He was obliged to submit to his fate, and crawl along patiently behind the old woman. She seemed to grow more and more nimble, and his burden still heavier. All at once she made a spring, jumped on to the bundle and seated herself on the top of it; and however withered she might be, she was yet heavier than the stoutest country lass. The youth’s knees trembled, but when he did not go on, the old woman hit him about the legs with a switch and with stinging-nettles. Groaning continually, he climbed the mountain, and at length reached the old woman’s house, when he was just about to drop. When the geese perceived the old woman, they flapped their wings, stretched out their necks, ran to meet her, cackling all the while. Behind the flock walked, stick in hand, an old wench, strong and big, but ugly as night.

“Good mother,” said she to the old woman, “has anything happened to you, you have stayed away so long?”

“By no means, my dear daughter,” answered she, “I have met with nothing bad, but, on the contrary, with this kind gentleman, who has carried my burden for me; only think, he even took me on his back when I was tired. The way, too, has not seemed long to us; we have been merry, and have been cracking jokes with each other all the time.” At last the old woman slid down, took the bundle off the young man’s back, and the baskets from his arm, looked at him quite kindly, and said, “Now seat yourself on the bench before the door, and rest. You have fairly earned your wages, and they shall not be wanting.” Then she said to the goose-girl, “Go into the house, my dear daughter, it is not becoming for thee to be alone with a young gentleman; one must not pour oil on to the fire, he might fall in love with thee.”

The count knew not whether to laugh or to cry. “Such a sweetheart as that,” thought he, “could not touch my heart, even if she were thirty years younger.” In the meantime the old woman stroked and fondled her geese as if they were children, and then went into the house with her daughter. The youth lay down on the bench, under a wild apple-tree. The air was warm and mild; on all sides stretched a green meadow, which was set with cowslips, wild thyme, and a thousand other flowers; through the midst of it rippled a clear brook on which the sun sparkled, and the white geese went walking backwards and forwards, or paddled in the water. “It is quite delightful here,” said he, “but I am so tired that I cannot keep my eyes open; I will sleep a little. If only a gust of wind does not come and blow my legs off my body, for they are as rotten as tinder.”

When he had slept a little while, the old woman came and shook him till he awoke. “Sit up,” said she, “thou canst not stay here; I have certainly treated thee hardly, still it has not cost thee thy life. Of money and land thou hast no need, here is something else for thee.” Thereupon she thrust a little book into his hand, which was cut out of a single emerald. “Take great care of it,” said she, “it will bring thee good fortune.” The count sprang up, and as he felt that he was quite fresh, and had recovered his vigor, he thanked the old woman for her present, and set off without even once looking back at the beautiful daughter. When he was already some way off, he still heard in the distance the noisy cry of the geese.

For three days the count had to wander in the wilderness before he could find his way out. He then reached a large town, and as no one knew him, he was led into the royal palace, where the King and Queen were sitting on their throne. The count fell on one knee, drew the emerald book out of his pocket, and laid it at the Queen’s feet. She bade him rise and hand her the little book. Hardly, however, had she opened it, and looked therein, than she fell as if dead to the ground. The count was seized by the King’s servants, and was being led to prison, when the Queen opened her eyes, and ordered them to release him, and everyone was to go out, as she wished to speak with him in private.

When the Queen was alone, she began to weep bitterly, and said, “Of what use to me are the splendours and honours with which I am surrounded; every morning I awake in pain and sorrow. I had three daughters, the youngest of whom was so beautiful that the whole world looked on her as a wonder. She was as white as snow, as rosy as apple-blossom, and her hair as radiant as sunbeams. When she cried, not tears fell from her eyes, but pearls and jewels only. When she was fifteen years old, the King summoned all three sisters to come before his throne. You should have seen how all the people gazed when the youngest entered, it was just as if the sun were rising! Then the King spoke, ‘My daughters, I know not when my last day may arrive; I will today decide what each shall receive at my death. You all love me, but the one of you who loves me best, shall fare the best.’ Each of them said she loved him best. ‘Can you not express to me,’ said the King, ‘how much you do love me, and thus I shall see what you mean?’

“The eldest spoke. ‘I love my father as dearly as the sweetest sugar.’

“The second, ‘I love my father as dearly as my prettiest dress.’ But the youngest was silent.

“Then the father said, ‘And thou, my dearest child, how much dost thou love me?’

“ ‘I do not know, and can compare my love with nothing.’ But her father insisted that she should name something. So she said at last, ‘The best food does not please me without salt, therefore I love my father like salt.’

“When the King heard that, he fell into a passion, and said, ‘If thou lovest me like salt, thy love shall also be repaid thee with salt.’ Then he divided the kingdom between the two elder, but caused a sack of salt to be bound on the back of the youngest, and two servants had to lead her forth into the wild forest. We all begged and prayed for her,” said the Queen, “but the King’s anger was not to be appeased. How she cried when she had to leave us! The whole road was strewn with the pearls which flowed from her eyes. The King soon afterwards repented of his great severity, and had the whole forest searched for the poor child, but no one could find her. When I think that the wild beasts have devoured her, I know not how to contain myself for sorrow; many a time I console myself with the hope that she is still alive, and may have hidden herself in a cave, or has found shelter with compassionate people. But picture to yourself, when I opened your little emerald book, a pearl lay therein, of exactly the same kind as those which used to fall from my daughter’s eyes; and then you can also imagine how the sight of it stirred my heart. You must tell me how you came by that pearl.” The count told her that he had received it from the old woman in the forest, who had appeared very strange to him, and must be a witch, but he had neither seen nor hear anything of the Queen’s child. The King and the Queen resolved to seek out the old woman. They thought that there where the pearl had been, they would obtain news of their daughter.

The old woman was sitting in that lonely place at her spinning-wheel, spinning. It was already dusk, and a log which was burning on the hearth gave a scanty light. All at once there was a noise outside, the geese were coming home from the pasture, and uttering their hoarse cries. Soon afterwards the daughter also entered. But the old woman scarcely thanked her, and only shook her head a little. The daughter sat down beside her, took her spinning-wheel, and twisted the threads as nimbly as a young girl. Thus they both sat for two hours, and exchanged never a word. At last something rustled at the window, and two fiery eyes peered in. It was an old night-owl, which cried, “Uhu!” three times. The old woman looked up just a little, then she said, “Now, my little daughter, it is time for thee to go out and do thy work.” She rose and went out, and where did she go? Over the meadows ever onward into the valley. At last she came to a well, with three old oak-trees standing beside it; meanwhile the moon had risen large and round over the mountain, and it was so light that one could have found a needle. She removed a skin which covered her face, then bent down to the well, and began to wash herself. When she had finished, she dipped the skin also in the water, and then laid it on the meadow, so that it should bleach in the moonlight, and dry again. But how the maiden was changed! Such a change as that was never seen before! When the gray mask fell off, her golden hair broke forth like sunbeams, and spread about like a mantle over her whole form. Her eyes shone out as brightly as the stars in heaven, and her cheeks bloomed a soft red like apple-blossom.

But the fair maiden was sad. She sat down and wept bitterly. One tear after another forced itself out of her eyes, and rolled through her long hair to the ground. There she sat, and would have remained sitting a long time, if there had not been a rustling and cracking in the boughs of the neighbouring tree. She sprang up like a roe which has been overtaken by the shot of the hunter. Just then the moon was obscured by a dark cloud, and in an instant the maiden had put on the old skin and vanished, like a light blown out by the wind.

She ran back home, trembling like an aspen-leaf. The old woman was standing on the threshold, and the girl was about to relate what had befallen her, but the old woman laughed kindly, and said, “I already know all.” She led her into the room and lighted a new log. She did not, however, sit down to her spinning again, but fetched a broom and began to sweep and scour, “All must be clean and sweet,” she said to the girl.

“But, mother,” said the maiden, “why do you begin work at so late an hour? What do you expect?”

“Dost thou know then what time it is?” asked the old woman.

“Not yet midnight,” answered the maiden, “but already past eleven o’clock.”

“Dost thou not remember,” continued the old woman, “that it is three years today since thou camest to me? Thy time is up, we can no longer remain together.”

The girl was terrified, and said, “Alas! dear mother, will you cast me off? Where shall I go? I have no friends, and no home to which I can go. I have always done as you bade me, and you have always been satisfied with me; do not send me away.”

The old woman would not tell the maiden what lay before her. “My stay here is over,” she said to her, “but when I depart, house and parlour must be clean: therefore do not hinder me in my work. Have no care for thyself, thou shalt find a roof to shelter thee, and the wages which I will give thee shall also content thee.”

“But tell me what is about to happen,” the maiden continued to entreat.

“I tell thee again, do not hinder me in my work. Do not say a word more, go to thy chamber, take the skin off thy face, and put on the silken gown which thou hadst on when thou camest to me, and then wait in thy chamber until I call thee.”

But I must once more tell of the King and Queen, who had journeyed forth with the count in order to seek out the old woman in the wilderness. The count had strayed away from them in the wood by night, and had to walk onwards alone. Next day it seemed to him that he was on the right track. He still went forward, until darkness came on, then he climbed a tree, intending to pass the night there, for he feared that he might lose his way. When the moon illumined the surrounding country he perceived a figure coming down the mountain. She had no stick in her hand, but yet he could see that it was the goose-girl, whom he had seen before in the house of the old woman. “Oho,” cried he, “there she comes, and if I once get hold of one of the witches, the other shall not escape me!” But how astonished he was, when she went to the well, took off the skin and washed herself, when her golden hair fell down all about her, and she was more beautiful than anyone whom he had ever seen in the whole world. He hardly dared to breathe, but stretched his head as far forward through the leaves as he dared, and stared at her. Either he bent over too far, or whatever the cause might be, the bough suddenly cracked, and that very moment the maiden slipped into the skin, sprang away like a roe, and as the moon was suddenly covered, disappeared from his eyes. Hardly had she disappeared, before the count descended from the tree, and hastened after her with nimble steps. He had not been gone long before he saw, in the twilight, two figures coming over the meadow. It was the King and Queen, who had perceived from a distance the light shining in the old woman’s little house, and were going to it. The count told them what wonderful things he had seen by the well, and they did not doubt that it had been their lost daughter. They walked onwards full of joy, and soon came to the little house. The geese were sitting all round it, and had thrust their heads under their wings and were sleeping, and not one of them moved. The King and Queen looked in at the window, the old woman was sitting there quite quietly spinning, nodding her head and never looking round. The room was perfectly clean, as if the little mist men, who carry no dust on their feet, lived there. Their daughter, however, they did not see. They gazed at all this for a long time, at last they took heart, and knocked softly at the window.

The old woman appeared to have been expecting them; she rose, and called out quite kindly, “Come in⁠—I know you already.” When they had entered the room, the old woman said, “You might have spared yourself the long walk, if you had not three years ago unjustly driven away your child, who is so good and lovable. No harm has come to her; for three years she has had to tend the geese; with them she has learnt no evil, but has preserved her purity of heart. You, however, have been sufficiently punished by the misery in which you have lived.” Then she went to the chamber and called, “Come out, my little daughter.” Thereupon the door opened, and the princess stepped out in her silken garments, with her golden hair and her shining eyes, and it was as if an angel from heaven had entered.

She went up to her father and mother, fell on their necks and kissed them; there was no help for it, they all had to weep for joy. The young count stood near them, and when she perceived him she became as red in the face as a moss-rose, she herself did not know why. The King said, “My dear child, I have given away my kingdom, what shall I give thee?”

“She needs nothing,” said the old woman. “I give her the tears that she has wept on your account; they are precious pearls, finer than those that are found in the sea, and worth more than your whole kingdom, and I give her my little house as payment for her services.” When the old woman had said that, she disappeared from their sight. The walls rattled a little, and when the King and Queen looked round, the little house had changed into a splendid palace, a royal table had been spread, and the servants were running hither and thither.

The story goes still further, but my grandmother, who related it to me, had partly lost her memory, and had forgotten the rest. I shall always believe that the beautiful princess married the count, and that they remained together in the palace, and lived there in all happiness so long as God willed it. Whether the snow-white geese, which were kept near the little hut, were verily young maidens (no one need take offence,) whom the old woman had taken under her protection, and whether they now received their human form again, and stayed as handmaids to the young Queen, I do not exactly know, but I suspect it. This much is certain, that the old woman was no witch, as people thought, but a wise woman, who meant well. Very likely it was she who, at the princess’s birth, gave her the gift of weeping pearls instead of tears. That does not happen nowadays, or else the poor would soon become rich.

#folklore #folktales #fairy tales #fantasy #literature #inspiration station #germany #brothers grimm

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 144- Exposed

Summary: The Rivendell bound group stops for a break. Thranduil and Raven clash again. She tries to help, per the request of an elven princess. Boromir tells the tale. The Elvenking has more words that Legolas disapproves of. The Prince is cornered. Thranduil has another intrusive memory. Spies are among them. Narcisse and Jo have a brief spat. A dinner and games are enjoyed, then a sensitive and shocking conversation is held. Jo feels bad. A repeated offer is made.

*Warnings* language, angst, child loss, mentions of death

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

It was almost high noon as the sun shone straight above the Bruinen River that sparkled like diamonds from the glowing orbs rays. The group consisting of elves, men, a dwarf, a wizard and a dhampir traveled along the rocky shoreline, finally free of the dark realm and about a quarter of the way to Rivendell, and all were ready for a brief rest. They stopped in a large sunny clearing, soaking in the much needed light, especially Thranduil, who was in the worst of moods, for your memory was becoming a curse to him.

As Raven dismounted the great white horse, her bad leg that wasn't fully healed yet, swung under the animal, missing the ground and on her ass she went. She had never had the luxury of learning to ride a horse when she was growing up, for she never needed to since she was able to fly.

Thranduil's brow arched high as he glared down his nose at her, then he too dismounted with a graceful glide to the ground, presenting no offer of helping her to her feet.

"Do tell me...just how is it that you are of vampire and witch origin when you cannot even balance on your own two feet?"

"You seem to have forgotten that my leg was injured by that little creep who is following us by the way. Just how is it that an ancient elf king such as yourself lacks manners?" she griped as he hobbled up to her feet.

"The only one lacking comportment is you with the discourtesy of your tone to me! And yet you also lack the ability to absorb my directive regarding it!" Thranduil barked as he neared her like a prowling cat, backing her against the horse.

"King Thranduil, may I have words with the girl?" Arwen intrusively asked, sparking a swift head jolt from him in her direction.

"Prithee, it would be quite gratifying." he snarled and walked away.

"Young one. I know the King is trying at times, but I would advise you to refrain from agitating him, for it will only continue to make things unbearable for you. You can change, he will not." Arwen acutely advised.

"But he has changed, in case you haven't noticed and not for the better."

"He has and have you, for the better? Even if he were his true self, his temperament would remain the same. Come and rest for awhile. The journey is still long and treacherous."

Raven was dumbfounded at how much Arwen's words got to her. Had she changed for the better? No...and who was Raven to judge the Elvenking after all she had done. For her to even realize that though made her think that maybe she was capable of change.

She made her way to sit down and watch the others from afar all sitting together in their own little clicks. Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli in one spot, then Arwen, Elrond and Gandalf in another, Thranduil went M.I.A, and then there was Tauriel, a misfit just like her, who also sat alone.

Raven decided to go over and sit by her, for she had not spoken with her yet.

"Hi..." she simply said to the pointy eared redhead as she cautiously sat down beside her at a distance. "I...I like your hair..."

Tauriel side eyed her, then stuck her nose in the air and marched off in a huff.

Raven's eyes glowered at her as she left. "What a bitch..."

She then got up and went back to Arwen. "You see? Why do I even try?"

Of course Raven was greeted by Elrond's devilish brows and a look that could kill that instantly made her regret going over there.

"Do you know how to prepare food?" Arwen randomly asked.

"I...ummm...kinda...I mean, it was always served to me but..."

All three stared at her, Gandalf puffing on his pipe.

"Oh...no...I mean actual food food...not...humans...oh god...just forget it..."

Raven went to walk away but Arwen's words stopped her.

"There are a variety of ingredients for a nice soup in this bag. Why don't you try and make a pot for all."

"Uhhh....o...ok?? Are you serious?"

"Very much so. Everyone is hungry. I was just about to prepare it, but why don't you give it a try?"

"Al...alright."

Raven began her duty, not having a clue in the world as to what she was doing, but it was soup. It couldn't be that hard, she thought.

Aragorn and Gimli both puffed on a pipe as well, as the dwarf entertained with his jokes.

Boromir stood at a small distance from the ranger and dwarf as he started a small fire for the meal that was being prepared. Legolas stood quietly for awhile and watched, then he broke his silence.

"Boromir...my apologies for overhearing the last night but I must confess that I know of your brother's relation of the Queen. He is Josie's brother? A twin if I heard correctly? Forgive me, but...how is this possible?"

Boromir was stunned as he turned to Legolas, then glanced all around to make sure no one else could overhear that didn't know. Finally, he decided to inform the Prince of his astonishing tale.

"It was the witch..." he began.

"I did not believe it possible or even true when I was faced with the knowledge. About a year ago, Faramir and father were having an argument, over something minor, but it was enough to bring forth what was inside of Faramir that no one knew existed, not even him. I believe my father knew who and what he was though and it all began to make sense as to why he treated Faramir so poorly for most of his life."

"Denethor knew? Did he always?"

"I do not believe he did at first. He remains tight lipped on it, which is why I chose to solve the riddle myself and verify what I later learned."

"You said it was the witch? Whom do you speak of?"

"The queen's mother. It all began as I said when Faramir displayed some form of magic. I had just entered the room to find my brother levitating in the air, frightened out of his mind and pleading for me to help him. He was up so high, I had to stand on a chair to pull him down. My father was both terrified and appalled. He fled from the room as I remained and comforted my very confused brother.

Later that evening is when I learned more than I had bargained for. I had found my father, drinking himself into a stupor and speaking with a loyal servant of many years who had also been my mother's midwife. I remained unnoticed outside of the doorway, listening to the entire conversation. Fortunately, because of his impairment, he spoke of everything, and that was the only and last time he ever did.

According to what I heard, my mother went into early labor while my father and I were away. I was only ten and he would take me with him on his travels. She had another boy, but sadly, the child was stillborn. My mother was inconsolable and terrified for my father to know, feeling she failed him and that he would leave her, or even more so, that he would blame himself for not being there.

A winter carnival had been passing through that very day and one of their travelers, a gypsy named Caroline, had went into labor and needed aid. Our people took her in and my mother's midwife delivered her...twins. A boy and a girl, both of red hair. The gypsy demanded to hold the girl and wanted nothing to do with the boy. To the midwife's surprise, Caroline ordered her to her to give "the little bastard" away and to never speak of it to anyone, or she would curse her. To prove her power, the witch gave her a little display of what she was capable of. The midwife watched her own breath forcefully flow out of her mouth as she choked on it. In terror, she agreed, took the boy and ran out and never saw the redhaired woman again.

My mother had heard the baby's cries and made her way to the midwife's chambers thinking her child miraculously lived. When she revealed to my mother what had occurred, it is then that Faramir was born....and the midwife was sworn to secrecy to never reveal it to anyone, not even myself or my father. For ten years, my father was none the wiser and believed Faramir to be his son, until my mother became terminally ill. She had confessed it to him on her death bed and I will never understand why she told him. Guilt maybe? But she made him swear he would still raise him as his own and my father's oath to her is the only reason he kept Faramir with us. None of that stopped him from despising him though, for the obvious reasons, that he was not his or my mother's blood and that he was a witch, or warlock to be more precise.

Faramir was never to be told as well, but it was inevitable for it to be known as his powers peaked last year. About a month ago, his magic seemed to have done just that. He knew I knew something and demanded I tell him because father would not. He barely spoke to him as it was. I told him I would find the truth, the whole truth and not just our father's drunken version....and that's when I went searching for it to find out who this woman was. I then ended up in Lorien only days ago to speak with the Lady Galadriel. She told me the answers I sought may lie in the fountain, but she warned me of the risk. I chose to take it, for my brother, for that he will always be.

The visions of the future came as I gazed into it, washing my reflection away. It was then I saw Faramir with an ageless beautiful woman of fiery hair. They were laughing and she called him brother as they embraced. The scenery. I knew it. It was none other than Thranduil's great halls, for I saw him there too and one other of similar hair and eyes to the King, but he was no elf, but a man and the Queen called him father. I then informed Galadriel of what I saw since I knew she knew of the Elvenking better than most. She confirmed to me of who the woman was. Thranduil's Queen, Josephine and told me who her mother and father were. It was such an overwhelming moment of happiness and sadness.

I then was told I could find her in Dorwinion, for she knew I was going to look for her. Legolas, I had left to find her only hours before you arrived to gather Aragorn and Gimli. Just as I reached the borders of Lorien, I came across Gandalf and Tauriel and when they told me where they were headed and why, I then knew my vision was of truth in seeing the King, for Thranduil had been confirmed alive. I then chose to go with them and aid in the rescue of the Queen's husband. I had to do it for my brother after seeing him so happy with his sister. It told me he would come to love her and be a very important part of his life and what was important to her would matter greatly to him. Aragorn knew everything, so I knew if anything happened to me, he would make it back and tell the Queen and Faramir the truth."

"I..I understand now." Legolas replied as Boromir sat down, feeling a bit lighter in his worries now that another knew. "It makes sense now, for Josie also came into her full powers at the same time. The Seelie queen, she even told Josie that there were two others she shared blood with, one in which she had recently found, a brother, Jace. He was there, in Jareth's Kingdom but did not leave with us."

"She...she has another brother? Does that mean that..."

"No...Jace is not Faramir's brother. he is a warlock yes, but he is Jareth's son with Ravenna, an evil witch Queen."

"But Jareth is not the one the queen called father, so how are she and this Jace siblings?"

Legolas sighed, knowing he had to tell him the awful truth, but he did not get the chance.

"That is because the goblin King is Josephine's father." Thranduil happily cut in as he walked up. "Quite fitting is it not for such a woman. Not even Jareth himself cares for her."

"Then who was the man I saw that she called father?"

"Another wretched warlock by the name of Julian. Jareth's brother. She knew of only him in her upbringing. He was of light but Jareth has turned him dark." Thranduil concluded.

"Just as he has you." Legolas retorted.

Thranduil's eyes slitted at his son, then he turned back to Boromir.

"This would only mean that Jareth is also Faramir's father. Such a pity, going from one dastardly father to another."

Boromir refrained from reacting the way Thranduil had hoped he would.

"It's strange though...this Julian...his eyes...I could swear they are of Faramir's."

"Josephine's mother was a whore. It is known she slept with Jareth while she was at Julian's side. He very well could be Faramir's father and Jareth is Josephine's. I have heard of such a scenario with intimate acts being in close proximity. Twins resulting, both with different fathers. It would explain why Caroline discarded Faramir so easily. She must have known who each child's father was and she only wished to keep the child of the dark one. It is also known that she ended all of her previous six pregnancies, all of girls, because she only wanted the powerful one, the 7th daughter, Josephine. She must have known she was carrying two and kept it hidden from Julian. She then had no choice but to deliver them both, for she would not risk harming her 7th daughter by trying to dispose of the boy before he was born. I am quite surprised she did not sacrifice the child upon his birth, for a malevolent witch like Caroline is known to eat her own young. Either way, she kept the wrong child as now I am adhered to her spawn."

"As well as the other that you once despised! And now you desire her and despise the one you love and that gave you a daughter, in which you would not have if Caroline had given her up. I can hear no more of this immorality!" Legolas raged and marched off with a compressed lipped Thranduil behind him.

"Legolas!" Thranduil barked as he followed him into the forest. "Did you think my ears did not hear of your meeting with the Seelie Queen? What business do you or that woman have with her?"

"This is what you wish to speak of after all that was just revealed? and that woman has a name. One you once could not get enough of speaking. Do you even realize or care that today is her birthday?"

"That ship has since sailed but it would seem it has not for you. Today is just another day, but it also seems it is not for you. Do you think I have forgotten your desire of my...that witch? It is quite clear you still do in your bold and brave defense of her to me."

"I will not speak of that with you or I may find myself speaking to you the way you now speak to others, for I have not forgotten of you and Tauriel either and now no one else will forget it either after you enlightened everyone of it. If anyone has forgotten anything, it is you that has forgotten who you are."

Thranduil walked up to his son and stood beside him, staring out into the wilderness.

"We will not speak of this no more. It is the past and shall remain there, for it cannot be undone, but the future...that can be changed. what we will speak of is Amara. Explain to me your business with her."

Legolas knew he was now cornered and had to tell his father of her entrapment.

"She is the one who informed me of your existence and where you were."

Thranduil's eyes slithered over to Legolas, moonstone eyes meeting moonstone eyes.

"And she just offered you this information out of the goodness of her heart? For she has none. I know Amara quite well, as you know, and she does not give such knowledge without it benefiting her. Tell me Legolas, what is the price that you have paid?"

The Prince turned away from his father, for he could not look him in the eyes when he told him the cost.

"She...would not tell me your whereabouts unless I agreed to take her hand in marriage."

Legolas could hear his father's teeth grind and his eyes burning a hole right through him.

"My son will never be in union with a faerie! especially the likes of that one!"

"Adar...when we return to Mirkwood, I must or..."

"OR??"

"She was implicit of her intentions but I am certain she threatens of harm to your Queen."

Legolas expected his father to scold him for calling you that, but shockingly, he did not.

"No one coerces my son! And you! This is why you agreed to her terms?? Not to save me, but to save that dreadful witch!! If you think I have changed my son, you have seen nothing yet!"

Thranduil stormed off back through the forest, finding himself so angry, a sharp pain seared through his head as a memory of you struck him hard.

He saw himself on one knee before you on the banks of the Forest River, shirtless with a wounded shoulder from Malsin's arrow that he took to save you. Yanking out strands of his hair, he formed a makeshift ring and asked for your hand in marriage telling you that the day you were born was the most perfect of all days because it was for him and his for you. You had said yes as you cried and held your hand out for him to place the ring upon your finger. Thranduil felt the sting in his eyes of the tears he had in that moment and he told you that he would never let anyone harm you, that he put his life on it.

"aaaaaaAAAAAHHHH!!!" he squalled as he struck a bush with his sword, now realizing his anger was not of the web Amara spun around his son, but subconsciously of her threat upon you.

Raven's soup was piping hot and ready to be served. She was nervous, yet hopeful that all would like the concoction of broth, soggy lembas and herbs, for that is all she had to work with.

She even tried to be nice and took a bowl to Aragorn, who had made it well known of his dislike of her. Aragorn was a good man and even in his feelings of her, he tried to be polite and took the soup as she stood and watched him, anticipating his reaction.

The very second it washed over his taste buds, he cringed inside, for it was awful.

"It's good." he severely lied because her eyes had held so much aspiration.

She smiled excitedly and went to get a bowl for herself. As she did so, Aragorn quickly dumped it out into the rocks beside him.

Gimli on the other hand, wasn't so nice, mainly because of how she treated him back at the camp, but also because it really did taste something horrid.

"We may as well just eat salt by the spoonful." he said loud enough for her to hear him.

"W..what?? I did not put salt in there?? It is broth, lembas, some pepper and sugar for a little sweetness so it wouldn't be so bland!"

Arwen's brow lifted as she bent down and picked up the canister of the said 'sugar' that was now empty.

"Raven...child...this was salt. There is no sugar among these items."

All eyes were upon her in silence. "Oh...I...uh...I tried...well, I guess I screwed up again..."

"You can say that again!" Gimli griped.

"I..I told you all that I didn't have much experience in cooking!" she shouted and ran off to sit behind a tree and cry.

Legolas had just returned without the King and did a hard pass on the soup after witnessing all of their reactions. He then sensed something...something evil in the air.

"What is it Legolas?" Aragorn asked as he noticed the elf's concern.

He ran up to the top of some rocks so he could see out into the broad open distance.

His eyes locked onto a black cloud of something moving towards them from afar.

"What is that??" Boromir asked with frantic eyes.

Legolas soon realized what it was. The same thing that taunted he and you in Dorwinion on your way back from Narcisse's villa.

"It's Jareth's spies!!"

"Hide!!!" Aragorn shouted.

Everyone ran behind the boulder sized rocks and hid under the surrounding shrubbery as a superabundant flock of cacophonous black birds swarmed over them.

Once the sinister shadows were gone, the group got out and swiftly began packing up their things.

"We are being tracked. We need to go now!" Aragorn commanded.

Thranduil had viewed the disturbance from the trees and immediately made his way back to the horses by the river as did everyone else, finding a frightened Raven cowered under a tree.

"Pathetic excuse for a powerful immortal. On your feet, unless you wish to be dragged back to Jareth by the orcs that will soon come!"

"I...I...I..can't...." she blubbered as she peed herself at the thought of what Jareth would do to her.

"Hi!!" (Now) he snapped as he whipped his hand down to her.

Raven jumped and squeaked at his deep roar and took his hand.

"Nor-!" (Ride), the King shouted to all.

He yanked Raven up behind him and off they all raced through the forest this time, for being out in the open was now too dangerous.

 

Narcisse arrived back at his villa almost two hours later to find you in the outside dining area sipping on hot tea.

"Stephane! I was going out of my mind. Is everything alright? Is Leean..."

"Your sweet baby is fine. She is with Lola and Haldir. No need to worry my lady. All is fine."

Upon noticing his arrival, a punctual servant brought you both some wine and an appetizer plate as Stephane sat down at the table across from you, in which he quickly swallowed the vintage down. You of course, passed on the evil liquid after what it did to you the evening prior.

"It certainly don't seem fine? You look frazzled and...why did you feel the need to mention Haldir being with her?"

Narcisse smiled and scooted is arm across the table, taking your hand that you happily accepted.

"Jo, is it that odd for Haldir to spend time with Leean?"

"Well...no. It's just that...I've come to know you very well, and I can tell something is wrong. I mean, you took off with that guard like the castle was on fire and not to mention, my intuition tells me you're not being forthcoming."

Narcisse sighed and sat back. "Alright...Jo, I think it you that has not been forthcoming. Shall you tell me the entire truth of what happened when you found my horse or shall I tell it for you?"

Fuck...is all you thought. Charles must have spilled the beans.

"Well why don't you tell me what it is that you think you know."

"Josephine...." he simply said with a disappointed expression. You had come to learn that he only called you by that name when he was in a very serious mood. Still...you couldn't bring yourself to rat Garrett out even if Stephane knew.

"Alright then, since you choose to be coy. I know about what happened to the guards and I know how it happened. Keeping silent about Garrett is not helping his case, for I am having him searched for as we speak."

"What?? No! I swear to god if you or anyone harms him..."

"He will not be harmed if you give me good reason why, although I see no good reason that he came onto my lands and torched one of my men with his pyromaniac tendencies."

You flung up in a rage. "It is apparent that you aren't going to care what the reason was for you have already deemed him guilty because you despise him!"

Narcisse then stood up as well. "Jo, I have proof of what he's done but I would much rather hear it from you."

"Proof? What exactly did Charles tell you huh? Because he saw the exact same things that I did and it was not Garrett's fault!"

"Charles did not tell me anything. The cowardly other guard discreetly left a letter for me about the incident and is yet to be found."

"W..what? How is that...I saw him fall...."

"It would seem Garrett is slacking and not to mention, did you forget that the reason I was called to the castle is because two other bodies were found...one of them being the guard that you had a confrontation with in the dining hall...Jo...their hearts were ripped out. I don't know what sick game the vampire is playing but..."

"He did not do this!! He wouldn't! It is not his style!"

"He's a vampire Josephine! It is very much his style. He kills the bad ones does he not??"

"He does! and they were bad!! So what is the big deal? You should be happy that your deceitful guards were caught for it seems you have many of them! But he does not tear out their hearts nor leave them to be found! Common sense Narcisse!"

"He left the other guards did he not???"

"He...he did but...that's because he was ashamed that I saw what he did...and what he did was to protect me! Ask Charles! Your two traitorous guards were going to kill me AND your son because we caught them there with Arion!"

"Ahhh...and the truth shall set you free! You lied to me Jo! All to protect Garrett."

"I did and I would do it all over again! Those guards got what they deserved and the fact that you don't care about that part tells me of your truth! That you have wanted a reason to get rid of Garrett all along and now you have one, except that it's not justifiable! I meant what I said. If you or your men harm him, I am gone! I will hate you for the rest of my life! Take me back to the castle now!" you shouted in indignation and stormed off inside the villa.

"Jo...please...."

Narcisse knew he was now between a rock and a hard place. he then threw his napkin down and went after you.

Once inside, he found you putting your coat on and crying.

"Jo...please stay. Let's talk about this. We can work something out."

"If you will not take me, I will walk!"

"Jo, do not be ridiculous. It is too dangerous now and you do not have the pendant, remember?? Haldir does."

"The only way I will stay and that this can be worked out is if I have your word you will back your men off of him and leave him alone!! If you must know, he left for a reason and he is not coming back! So that should satisfy your vengeful little heart."

Narcisse watched you fall into the chair and cover your face as you sobbed which completely broke him in two.

He snapped his fingers at one of the guards and he promptly came over to the warlock lord.

"Take another guard with you and go back to the castle. Give Bash my orders to stand down on the search for Garrett. Proceed with caution, for there is still someone killing my guards."

The guard nodded and left, while your hands slid down from your face in shock.

"There. You see? My vengeful little heart isn't so vengeful after all."

"Just...like that...you're calling off the hunt..."

"If it keeps you from hating me and in my life, then yes. You...you mean everything to me Jo. If you just would have trusted in me to begin with..."

"But you just showed me earlier why I couldn't.."

"You're...right. I did. But I also let that other guard live because you asked me to."

"But...you knew I wouldn't want you to harm Garrett either Stephane!"

"You're right again...what can I do Jo? To fix this??"

"For starters, you can take me back to my child. This date has been ruined."

"It doesn't have to be. We shouldn't be outside for leisure, so yes, our trip will have to be discontinued, but..we can continue it here? Stay with me for a little while longer and let me show you the man I really am...and if you still want to go after that, I will take you back. Leean is safe. Haldir is staying in the room with she and Lola and you know he would never let harm come to her and the castle is on lockdown as well. Jo...I'm really trying here..."

His somber eyes stupidly sucked you right in. As much as you hated to admit it in that moment, you did care for him....and he definitely was trying like he said.

"Alright....I will stay, but only for awhile. As much as I know Haldir would die before letting harm come to Leean, I still am not comfortable with being away from her at a time like this. Not to mention, Haldir must be going out of his mind himself with worry."

"If it's of any significance, I would also die before I ever let anything happen to you or that sweet little angel."

Welp, he had you again. Right back in the palm of his hand. You knew what he spoke, he meant with every breath in his body....and every breath in yours made you cave.

"I...I know you would....and that means so much to me."

"Can...we just start over? Maybe go enjoy the dinner I have had prepared for you? It is still your birthday."

"What, you mean you did not cook it?" you grinned.

"No...that cake was a bit too tedious as it was...but...I did make sure that the courses will be to your liking. I pay attention, remember?"

"That you do."

Off you went to the private dining area with Narcisse and enjoyed a good two hours of wine, in which you merely sipped, food and talking. It was the first real meal you had eaten in awhile with all the craziness going on lately. And he was right, you definitely enjoyed the dinner which consisted of chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus, salad and more cake for dessert. A chocolate one this time with a vanilla pudding center.

You spent the rest of the afternoon practicing your skills at Narcisse's archery range with him, taking all of your frustrations out on the target as you pictured Raven's face, just as you did when Garrett had helped you practice your magic at his caste. You would always blame her for Thranduil's death.

Before you knew it, you had lost track of time and dusk was setting in.

"Stephane, I really should go back. I did not mean to stay this long."

"But you did stay this long because you were actually enjoying yourself for once. I will take you if you like, but I would advise against traveling at night. If Garrett did not kill those two others, someone did and they are still out there somewhere."

"But...they are only killing your guards, or it would seem that is what they are after."

"It would seem that way, but I am not willing to risk your life to find out. Come, join me for a drink by the fire."

He went to get the wine while you waited in the study, feeling a bit nervous, for you didn't know what this night was going to hold. So many thoughts plagued your mind. Should you stay or should you risk your safety and Stephane's to get back to Leean? What good would you do her if you were dead? She had already lost one parent and would never know him. Eventually you talked yourself into staying.

Stephane came in with a smile and the wine, then poured you a glass and handed it to you.

"Please Jo, have a seat. Relax. You seem tense. Do I...make you nervous?" he asked with a little arrogant smirk.

"No??" you lightly huffed and sat down, only making him grin more.

"So...tell me more about your bother Bash? Or brothers actually since you said you have more than one."

"Well...there are three of us. Myself and Bash obviously, the other is...dead."

"Oh...Stephane I..I am sorry..I..."

"It's alright Jo, no need to apologize. We weren't close and he wasn't a good man. I tend not to speak of him much, for he had done despicable things far worse than I have ever done."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You don't have to talk about him. I know what it's like to have a sinister sibling as you know."

"Yes you do. I suppose mine was like her. She was responsible for your King's demise and my brother...he was responsible for my father's death."

"Oh..I...I thought you said that man you fought was?"

"He was. He was put up to it by my brother. Rahl, or Darken Rahl he was known by, wanted this Kingdom, but my father would never allow it, for he knew what he was and knew he would ruin it and his legacy....so my brother had him killed...and then he planned to kill me as well so he could inherit the lands....but needless to say, I got to him first....then I took care of the man that killed my father. He did it all for money, for as you saw, he was a greedy gambling bastard."

"So, this brother of yours had that kind of money? I mean, I would only assume the price something like would require."

"He did...and he had my face."

"Ok, what? Now I am confused. Did he change his image with his power? and why would he want to look like you?"

"He didn't need to change his face. Rahl is my twin...and that man used to be my friend. What a better way for him to get that man to do his dirty deed. The man knew my lands and castle inside and out and was trusted not only by me, but my father, so it was all a perfect crime for Rahl to commit."

"Oh..my god. I...I remember now, you telling me once a long time ago you had a twin. I'm so sorry, I just forgot."

"No worries Jo. I remember that conversation and it was brief, not to mention, you and I weren't on good terms then, so I would not expect you to recall that."

"Well still...you remember everything about me. Guess I just feel a little bad that I would forget something like that."

"Don't feel bad Jo. My life isn't all of that great importance....Well, it would seem I have drank all the wine. I am going to go get more."

Off he went and you could tell by his demeanor that he was now upset over speaking of something that was clearly painful for him.

About fifteen minutes went by and Narcisse had not returned. You became a little worried and went looking for him.

As you walked the foreign halls, you found him standing on a patio, staring out into the night sky.

"Stephane? Are you alright?" you asked as you crept up behind him, completely startling him in his deep thought.

He spun around and then laughed at his own reaction.

"I'm so sorry." you giggled. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's just, you didn't come back and I..."

"You were...worried about me?" he asked as if it were hard to believe.

"Of course I was, especially with all that has happened...and...because I feel that I have upset you in making you talk about something you don't like to speak of."

"Jo...no...you didn't make me do anything. I...wanted to tell you. You're the first person I have ever wanted to tell anything about my life to."

"Well...you said that your life is of no importance. That is not true. It is important to me Stephane." you sweetly said as you placed your hand upon his, in which a soft electrical current flowed through through both of you.

He glanced down at your hand and you could see it in his face, how he was not used to affection or the magic that came with your touch. You then stepped closer to him and peered up into his fire lit eyes from the dancing flames of the brazier's on the patio.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course Jo."

"Well...it is still my birthday and I would like two things, if I may?"

"Anything your heart desires is yours my lady."

"Kiss me."

His eyes widened, then softened as they smiled at your unexpected request. Slowly, he placed his free hand on your cheek and leaned down. Your heart was racing as he neared your lips, then they united with yours so tenderly. Your lips parted, taking his mouth in fully, tasting the succulent mixture of wine and peppermint on his tongue as it softly touched yours. A slight moan escaped him as he tasted you back while inhaling your cherry scent through his nose.

You ended the kiss to his dismay, but with a a sensual smile.

"Well now. That was quite nice. So...what is the other thing you wish for my lady? I hope it is not for me to teach you to fly."

His grin was so alluring. Your hand was still upon his as you simply stated your next request and then you walked inside.

"A bath..."

@redeemer46

#lee pace #thranduil #thranduil and josie #king thranduil #the elvenking #fantasies #fairytales #magic #love stories #dark stories #witches #elves #arwen #boromir #gandalf #elrond #aragorn #legolas greenleaf #orlando bloom #thranduil fanfiction #fantasy fanfic #narcisse #craig parker

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Bump headcanon: he wakes up at around 3AM every night (technically morning but still) and does his own thing for a bit until he's tired enough to go back to bed. As an added bonus: I ship him with an OC, Hobble (who's a human) and many a night she gets woken up by this activity. One time she's tiredly scrolling on her phone, comes across a Fun Facts thing, finds out that the human realm's 'witching hour' got its name because 3AM was thought when witches (and other spooks) were the most active. Hobble, reading that and looking at Bump: Hm, checks out. Bump: ?

Lol, Bump being a night owl is so random and adorable.

I love this headcanon. ❤️

Him, probably:

(Bump is Soos, and Wendy is Eda [or one of his students] lmao).

#ask #asks #welcome-home-official #welcome home official #hieronymus bump #principal bump #headcanon #headcanons #writing #my writing #not my writing

[thoughtsroamguy]

I never really talked about it but the undead that we see in Bullets & Spells, there are a few reasons why I decided to not have them hobble around like you see with most undead people do. The first of which is kinda obvious, we’ve seen it before. You see one zombie, you’ve seen them all really. The only reason anyone gets killed by a zombie is cuz there’s a lot of them. The typical slow moving and uncoordinated zombie wouldn’t have been that big of a threat to Hollyhock and Witch-Hazel. Them moving at average human speed just ups the ante.

The second reason was because years ago I saw a photo set of Hayao Miyazaki (a founder of studio ghibli) and he was talking about how the walk cycle of some zombies this group was showing him felt like an insult to life itself. He said this because his friend has trouble walking and moves similarly. So he felt like it was calling him monstrous.

And I kinda got how he felt, until my mom had a stroke. She doesn’t walk that good anymore, so I really understood how he felt. So making the undead hobble around would’ve left a bad taste in my mouth. That’s why the reanimated ppl move that way, making them disabled on top of being the antagonistic force didn’t sit right with me.

#I’m not just flexing how much thought I put into this story but how personal I can be to me at certain conjectures #that said I do put quite a bit of thought into this story #I meant to post this a while ago but…well y’know #bullets & spells #hollyhock #witch-hazel #my work #my writing