You! Are! History!

I drew some of Pit's fabulous adorable poses from his battle cry in Chapter 5. I love him so much.

There were more, by the way, but I got tired after inking and coloring two. Have all five sketches under the cut:

genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!

♡༚࿐ 🇩‌🇮‌🇱‌🇺‌🇨‌

let’s get something out of the way first

diluc is not a jerk

sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem

in my opinion anyway

i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie

i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll

a major factor here is the time and place

in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name

however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!

I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way

and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.

listen to this while reading!

If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.

A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.

By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.

Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.

“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”

Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.

♡༚࿐ 🇽‌🇮‌🇦‌🇴‌

listen to this while reading!

my very polite baby

like sure, he’s straightforward

but he be treating everyone with respect

you might be wondering why that matters

well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name

names play a major part in xiao’s past

with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such

so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames

although if he were to use one it would probably be dear

it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”

it does sound quite formal at times though

Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.

It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.

If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.

Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.

Or so you thought.

You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.

“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.

Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.

♡༚࿐ 🇨‌🇭‌🇮‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌

in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames

in fact, he barely uses your name!

sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name

of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing

I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby

ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?

I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him

he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit

as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.

listen to this while reading!

Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.

And on time.

As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.

Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.

Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.

“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”

♡༚࿐ 🇿‌🇭‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇱‌🇮‌

favourite peepaw

also prefers using your name rather than nicknames

but he’s not completely against them

he finds them quite nice actually

and he actually enjoys being referred by one!

like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"

he'd look so content oh my lord

in my opinion anyway

he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!

you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree

and he'd go "you're my one and only love"

no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.

listen to this while reading!

Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.

So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —

“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.

“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.

Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.

And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

♡༚࿐ 🇰‌🇦‌🇪‌🇾‌🇦‌

avid user of nicknames

partially because he finds them cute

and partially because he loves teasing you

he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you

like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses

saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”

he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure

sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly

side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously

listen to this while reading!

There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.

Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.

There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.

The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.

“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.

You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.

“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.

It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.

♡༚࿐ 🇦‌🇱‌🇧‌🇪‌🇩‌🇴‌

my favourite elevator boy

doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either

i see him as an action speak louder than words guy

and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that

he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??

so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you

for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??

he’d call you things like little star

or baby or lovebug

i think it really matches his vibe ngl

listen to this while reading!

The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.

Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.

Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.

But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.

You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.

“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”

“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”

♡༚࿐ 🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌

ok now for venti

i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??

i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys

but for venti even more so

he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly

nonetheless, he loves using pet names!

i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )

so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them

oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time

he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.

with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3

listen to this while reading!

“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.

Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.

A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”

“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.

“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.

“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.

“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.

He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were. 

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort. 

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter. 

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did. 

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession. 

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding. 

All words that had never been used to describe him. 

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself. 

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.” 

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder. 

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before. 

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you. 

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad. 

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit. 

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe. 

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are. 

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing. 

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different. 

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction. 

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling. 

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth. 

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?” 

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat. 

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all. 

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave. 

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it. 

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.  

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze. 

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now. 

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take. 

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily. 

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first​

So @musicfeedsmysoul12 made that post answering a fic title prompt, with the whole "izuku has a quirk that gives him a tail", they specifically mentioned a monkey tail. I love monkeys and I love Izuku so of course I tacked on and ended up assigning a monkey type, as well as aspects of the quirk, and how it changes/affects Izuku. Of course, I had to draw at least something for it. Doodles for Monkey Quirk! Izuku! Featuring a quickly put together design for his hero costume.

(Click for better quality)

The original concept technically belongs to @musicfeedsmysoul12 and the anon who sent the prompt, but I was the one who added everything on about the quirk so under the cut I added some details, world building, and timeline changes that I thought of while I was drawing.

Quick warning, I wrote a lot.

I mentioned the monkey type he'd be most like are Capuchins, but that's more just a base of what the quirk is like, and not exactly what it replicates. Kinda like Hawks and Miruko. Hawks is named after just that, a hawk, but his wings don't have any specific bird-like features or patterns aside from having feathers. He really strays far from that, actually, with how the feathers work. Same with Miruko, she's not based on a specific kind of bunny or hare. She just has the standard ears, legs, and senses of one.

His body type would definitely be slimmer than canon Izuku, as his body had to adapt to the fact that he's constantly twisting and bending to get where he wants. Canonically, Izuku's body is a little too... I don't want to say stocky, but it's certainly not lithe. Make no mistake, this does not mean he lacks muscle. He has a lot more muscle in middle school than canon Izuku did at the time, this comes from constantly having to carry and swing his own body weight.

His entire body is covered in a thin layer of fur, but it's absent in his heels, palms, and under fingers on both his hands and feet. Fur would get in the way of gripping.

I kind of debated on which parent he gets the quirk from, because a mutation quirk like that has very low chances of being one a person can get with parents with non-mutant quirks. I decided on Hisashi. First of all, the idea just wouldn't leave my brain, and it was too cute. I headcanon Hisashi with white hair, so he'd just be this big fluffy white monkey and I couldn't let that go. Second, I think it'd be an interesting way for class 1A or others to learn about Izuku's dad in America by trying to speculate where Izuku got his quirk from. Sure, their face shapes are similar, they're both kind and emotional people, and both have green hair, but Izuku how the hell did you inherit a monkey mutation quirk from a low-range attraction one??

Honestly, I don't think Izuku would really have as many problems with bullying in this AU. Yes, people have speculated that mutant quirks are not exactly welcome wholly with open arms i the MHAverse, but Izuku's quirk is pleasing to look at. He's cute, and the quirk is actually pretty dang helpful. While people would poke fun at him, calling him hairy, or treat him like an animal or pull at his tail, it's certainly not enough to warrant suicide baiting. He'd definitely be self conscious of his quirk and appearance though. Honestly, most of it would be led by Bakugou like always, so it's not that anyone really sees Izuku as bad or anything of the sort, they're just following Bakugou's lead.

I also don't think he'd have the nickname Deku. Mutant quirks (or at least mutant features of quirks) had to be something that a person was born with, because honestly I find it very hard to believe that someone's body can change so drastically like that. That's bone that's actively changing and molding, not just skin, hair, cartilage, and brains. That would cause some serious health concerns, even in a world with powers like quirks. So Izuku was never really "useless" to Bakugou. He was helpful, he could climb trees other kids couldn't to get stuck toys. He could hear things even teachers didn't know about even through loads of kids yelling. He wouldn't have any reason to be called useless, because he earned the knowledge that at that time, he was more capable than the other kids. Maybe something like Ape, Gorilla, or even going really derogatory and referring to him like he's a freak in a circus act. Juggles, Freak, Hairy, Caveman. Those sorts.

I imagine Izuku would practice martial arts here, much like Ojiro. His quirk would certainly help him. He's be stuck close-range, with his fists and feet (and tail) so he'd have to learn how to actually fight, as opposed to people like Todoroki, who can blast fire and ice from a safe distance away. That's why he wears the fingerless gloves on his hands and feet in his hero costume, to protect the skin and fur if he's fighting or gripping. Bonus brass knuckles attached to the gloves on his hands for when he wants to throw a punch.

I don't see any possible way he could get his dreams crushed by All Might, much less have such an important question that would require him to grab onto his leg when he jumps. So Izuku more than likely doesn't get One For All, at least not before UA, if he ever does. I also don't think Izuku would idolize All Might so much. Yeah, he'd still admire the guy, but he'd probably be more focused on people like Hawks, Gang Orca, and Miruko. They have mutant quirks like his, they're people he can actively look up to. So even if he did have his dreams crushed by All Might, it certainly wouldn't affect him as much as it did in canon (not that it did much anyway lol, Izuku went right back to jumping into fights to save people)

The original prompt said that Ojiro would be a partner for Izuku, but I see some missed opportunities for ships with Shoji, or Tokoyami. Hell, I could even see it working out with Sero, Kirishima, and Asui.

Shoji and Tokoyami probably faced some bullying for their appearances. Shoji literally hides his entire lower face. Izuku would definitely be able to connect with them. Sero, in the fandom, has been called a Spiderman bootleg more times than I've drank water in my entire life. He'd definitely try to swing around for faster mobility and who best to help him with that than Izuku? They would so easily bond over teaching each other swinging tactics. Kirishima... it's kind of hard to put that into words, it just really feels like it could work in this AU. He;d be like a stable perch for Izuku, is I guess part of my thought process. And for Asui, well, she didn't have many friends in middle school. People often saw her as disturbing because of her struggle to express emotions through her face. Izuku faced something similar. The two would understand one another.

Though I still really like Ojiro pairing here too. Izuku would probably help him feel noticed, and we all know how compassionate and caring the greenette is. He'd be great for Ojiro.

Izuku would probably go for being an underground hero here? I also see him easily making it to at least the top 20 when he graduates, his quirk is pleasing to the eye and he's already great hero material in every way. But I also think he'd be an expert at sneaking into places that would normally be locked from access to heroes, seeing as he can pull and hold himself in places he could hide better in. I guess he'd be a twilight hero. Not quite underground, but not quite limelight. Just treading the line between them, kind of like Sir Nighteye.

That's all I have so far, but I love this so much. I definitely want to expand more on it and I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up writing something for it.

Unprofessional

Hawks is paralyzed with anxiety. You’re a student doing your work study at his agency, and you have to step up. After you defeat the villain you have a conversation with him that turns into something less than professional.

pairing: hawks x student!reader

word count: 1600+ 

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: like one curse word, slightly suggestive

a/n: reader is obviously aged up, so like a 3rd year. i maybe, perhaps, probably should’ve done this prompt with tamaki, but i was so soft for hawks today everyday. we don’t really know him as the anxious type, so sorry if it’s out of character. this is my first fic so please go soft. hope you all enjoy a lil’ insecure keigo, because lord knows it's not a common occurrence.

-

“I let people down. It’s what I do.”

“Oh, shut up would you.”

You would normally never speak to your senior in such a manner, but you were mid-fight and there was no time for any form of self pity. Never let the villain break you, right? Sweat was forming on your forehead as you gradually realised that Hawks wasn’t going to take the lead in this battle. His head was clearly somewhere else.

Doing your work study at his agency meant you had seen your fair share of the hero. He was intelligent, fairly cocky and absolutely spectacular at his job. You were enamoured by him, to say the least. You had seen the dualism of Hawks; his fun and flirty side, but also the cool and calculated part of him which he usually hid behind his easy-going facade. He was more complex than he led people to believe. But seeing him like this, filled with self doubt, drained of conviction, on the edge of giving up. It was a part of him you never imagined resided in the great hero. And it almost scared you. Almost.

A dagger flew past your face by an inch. The adrenaline in your body made you quicker and stronger than usual, allowing you to single handedly keep up with the villain. Hawks was in the air, too occupied by his own feelings to engage in the battle beneath him. What had gotten into him? You desperately used the alley walls to propel you away from the relentless attacks. You knew you needed help, but you weren’t sure if you could count on Hawks in his current state. Casting a quick glance to the sky you saw his feathers lightly falling to the ground around you. It gave you a marvelous idea.

You had always been susceptible to energies and different frequencies in the air. Many people thought it was a load of New Age-bullshit, but your quirk proved otherwise. Not only could you pick up other peoples’ feelings easily, making some think your quirk was mind reading, but you could also direct your energy into other people. This meant you could induce certain feelings in others, such as comfort or even a warning. You know the thing we call gut feeling? That’s kind of what it felt like receiving your energy. It wasn’t a direct order or command, but rather an abstract inclination. Easy to go along with, but also easy to disobey. 

There was of course more to your quirk than that, but this aspect would be crucial to your plan.

Rather than trying to console Hawks, you took advantage of his apathetic state and used it to give you access to his feathers. You had thought about this before, combining your quirks, but his wings were his everything and you were surely going to be met with resistance if you tried to manipulate them in any other situation. But this wasn’t just any situation. Hawks seemed to be immobilized by anxiety and you had to do something.

You used your quirk to grant you access to a few of his feathers. That would be enough. In an instant they flew to your side, as if they had been yours all along. You used them as stepping stones in the air in order to get close to the villain. If you ever lost your balance, another feather would quickly steady you or pick you up to a safe distance. You fought like this for a while, taking a few blows but landing a lot more.

Hawks was still in the air, but now his attention seemed to be back in the real world again. Specifically, on the relentless fight in the alley beneath him. He watched your body move swiftly and vigorously in the air, almost as if you were dancing. Albeit a very violent dance. He had scouted both you and Tokoyami after the sports festival, but had actually paid more attention to your fellow classmate. Birds of a feather, right? But he watched you now, landing punch after punch on the villain and he couldn’t help but feel awe. You weren’t pro but you were a dark horse, so much more talented than people gave you credit for. And also, you were so beautiful like that, dancing on his feathers.

He watched you land the final blow which effectively knocked out the villain. You fell back against the cold alleyway, a panting mess and red feathers stuck in your hair. With your head toward the sky and eyes locked into his, you beckoned Hawks to come down. He was by your side in an instant. You both looked at each other, not really knowing what to say.

“Are you oka-”

“I’m so sor-”

You both began simultaneously, making you laugh a little.

“You go first,” you said with a tired smile. Hawks slumped down closely next to you, dragging a slow hand through his hair, suddenly too afraid to meet your eyes. What could he possibly say after the way he acted? What words could make up for the fact that he, your supervisor, left you completely alone in the face of a threat. The shame he felt was beyond words. His anxiety had gotten the best of him and you suffered the consequences. He had truly let you down.

Hawks’ silence was so loud. You didn’t need your quirk to identify the inner turmoil he was currently facing, so you spoke up. “If it wasn’t for your presence back there, something really bad could’ve happened.” He turned to you. “Your feathers saved me, you know.” You said, as you looked ahead. Your gaze traced the graffiti while Hawks eyes traced you. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going through, but you need to know that you being here in the world, in the streets of Japan, even in this disgusting back alley, is so valuable.” It was you who couldn't look at him now, but you continued.

“You said you let people down, but the only one saying that shit about you is yourself.” His attention was fully directed at you and it was intimidating, to say the least. You didn’t see it, but something in his golden eyes was glistening right then. Something in him was coming back to life again at your words.

You let out a breath as you continued, “Hawks, you’re smart. You out of all people should know how much you do for the world. How much hope you ignite in people, in me.” You activated your quirk and directed as much of your admiration and sincerity as you could into him. You physically saw it working in his widening eyes and held breath. He was so close, so warm. “Is that…” he put his gloved hand over his heart, “...your doing?” he asked, referring to the feeling in his chest. The light in his body. You just nodded quietly, wanting him to solely focus on your feelings. You really had admired him as a hero for a long time, and as of lately, as a person too. He was brilliant and you hoped he could feel it.

“And what about-” He inched a little bit closer, “-this sudden urge I have to kiss you? Is that your doing too?” he referred to your quirk with a smile, cockiness on his lips. “Are you trying to seduce me? That’s not very professional, you know.”

“Actually, Hawks…” you said slowly, taken aback because- “that’s your doing.” He was not expecting that. You could tell that he was surprised, so sure that it had been you coming onto him. A faint blush rose on his cheeks to counter the cockiness of his smile. With your own cheeks dusted with pink from his confession, you repeat his earlier statement, “That’s not very professional,” trying to joke away some of the tension.

He was startled, for sure, but he regained his posture quickly. Feeling like his usual self once more he retorted with a quiet, when have I ever been the professional type, before he softly connected your lips. It happened fast. Both of you knew it shouldn’t have happened at all, but it felt too right to pull away. He sighed against your lips. You barely had time to respond before it was over.  He was attracted to you, but he wasn’t stupid. If anyone were to find out about this it would mean trouble for the both of you. He had been good at keeping his composure, purposely spending more time with Tokoyami to prevent himself from doing anything abnormally inappropriate. It had been going smoothly up until now. Up until he realised that you were actually irresistible.

“Fuck.” His tone was low, voice mixed with too many emotions for you to read. “What’s wrong?” Did he regret kissing you? You could understand that, it was inappropriate, but the thought broke your heart nonetheless. Hawks suddenly seemed so unsure of himself. He started apologizing, talking about how yeah, I’m not the most professional hero around, whilst dragging his hand in his hair again, but I still shouldn’t have done that. You could clearly pick up on his newfound anxiety when he started talking about you leaving his agency and how I would completely understand it, you know? What I did was- and then you decided you’d had enough.

Your hand met his chest and he immediately quieted down. You went for it. When your lips met his again it told him all he needed to know. His worries rolled off of him as your mouth parted, letting him know exactly how okay you were with this. You could feel his need from the pleasure that was practically radiating off of him. He had thought about you for so long and to feel you melting against him like this made him wild. But eventually you pulled away, brimming with adoration. He was breathless. You were speechless. And you realised that things were now indefinitely changed.

a mourning dove

here it is! a little late, but this is my @secret-sanders-sized gift for @roseof-alltrades3 ! 

i apologize for the lateness! i was so excited to work with your prompt that i ended up biting off more than i could chew and writing quite a bit more than planned! still, i hope that you like it! <3

warnings: blood, capture, fear, referring to a person as an ‘it’, random jerk giant

-

Logan was in the middle of breaking seven different rules when he was almost caught by a human. 

He’d been frustrated with his teacher, who refused to even consider the possible benefits of human technology, and with his best friend, who got upset at even the mention of humans being anything but dangerous, evil creatures. Nobody ever listened to him, not about the things that mattered. He’d seen some of the tools humans had, and he was certain they could benefit greatly from studying them! 

Of course, he’d only caught glimpses of those tools because he’d gone past the borough’s boundaries… far past them. But his point still stood! 

Incensed by being disregarded, Logan had abandoned his daily tasks to find his way to the edge of the woods again. Now, he was searching the forest floor for any possible human artifacts he could bring back as evidence to support his claim. 

Unfortunately, most of what he’d found was trash. Human litter tossed out of car windows or blown in from nearby fields. Logan grimaced, angling his wings to bank left, away from another shiny wrapper he’d mistaken for metal. 

Though their creations were interesting, Roman did have a point. Humans themselves were rather repulsive, in both mannerisms and appearance, what with the lack of wings. He almost pitied them. Almost. 

Distracted as he was by scanning the ground, when he finally caught sight of the human, it was just as the giant creature was crossing the boundary into the woods, only meters away. He froze for a moment, seized by some primitive instinct that overrode his logical mind screaming to flee before he was seen.

The human’s eyes flicked in his direction, and then promptly tripped over a stray tree root and toppled over with a yelp and a loud crash. The ground seemed to almost vibrate with the impact. 

Shaken by the quick movement, Logan finally managed to break out of his terrified haze and snapped his wings to swiftly dive towards the nearest branches for cover. He was going too fast to manage his usual precise landing, but managed to slam chest first into a thicker branch and cling to it, tawny wings tucked up against himself.

“Oops,” the human mumbled, picking a twig out of his bangs absently. “Sorry for the scare, little birds.” 

He didn’t give the trees around him more than a cursory glance before continuing over to a nearby birch, settling easily at the base of it and pulling the shoulder strap of his bag over his head. Logan breathed a near-silent sigh of relief, letting his death grip on the branch ease slightly; it seemed like the human had mistaken whatever glimpse he’d caught of the winged tiny as a bird. 

Still, the scare was enough to make his heart beat like it was trying to jump right out of his chest. He began to edge slowly along the tree limb, trying for a branch that extended behind the human’s field of vision. A leaf fluttered down, shaken loose by his movements, and he followed it with his gaze to where the human was sitting with a strange, rectangular device in his lap. 

Logan bit the soft inside of his lip. He should go back to the borough, warn Roman and the other guards of the human wandering near, especially after such a close call, but… 

Below him, the human opened the rectangle up, forming a right angle that was almost like an open book held sideways. He hummed a cheerful tune as the inside panels of the device suddenly changed color. Logan locked his legs around the branch, peering down. The human hadn’t seen him, and was very intent on the device, so it couldn’t hurt to take a bit longer. 

For the next hour, he watched curiously as the human pressed on the bottom rectangle, which was full of small square buttons that clicked, sometimes hesitant and sometimes so fast that it seemed as though he wasn’t even looking at what he was pressing. 

More intriguing was the way the bright, color-changing part would respond to the button pressing, small black lines appearing on a white background or entirely new scenes flashing into existence. The device seemed to glow, like a light reflected by water or one of the boroughs enchanted lanterns, but he could find no source for the light to be reflecting from, and everyone knew humans couldn’t perform enchantments. 

By the time the human stretched and changed the square back to a dull black, it was beginning to grow dark. The human closed the device back into its original form, and tucked it into his bag with easy motions. Logan sighed in disappointment, brimming with questions. He wanted to know everything about that strange technology- how it worked, what it was used for, where the human got it- but his only source of answers seemed done for the day, packing up and rising to his feet. 

After all, it wasn’t as though he could speak to a human. He’d be killed on the spot, or worse, captured. He watched as the tremendous creature yawned, displaying a mouth with teeth large enough to bite him in half, and shuddered. He was fairly certain humans weren’t that barbaric, but it was still unnerving to see. 

It was only once the human had vanished back over the hill that Logan finally felt at ease enough to stand on his branch, spreading his cramped wings a few times. He sent one last longing glance at the place where the human had last been, and-

Wait. What was that? 

He glided down to the oddly bright colored shape on the ground, landing a few feet away and glancing over his shoulder warily, suspecting a trap.

Nothing jumped out at him, though, and when he prodded the odd rounded rectangle, it didn’t do anything but sit there like a rock. He cautiously reached out to touch it, lifting it up into his arms and inspecting it closely in the dying sunlight.

It was lighter than he expected, more like an acorn than a rock, and made of a smooth blue material that certainly wasn’t wood or spidersilk cloth. He ran his thumb along the hard surface, finding a strange divot in it, and pressed his thumbs against the line. It gave slightly, and Logan grinned victoriously as the shell of the device cracked open to reveal… another smaller and more angled rectangle within.

He blinked at the shine of metal, wondering what in the world the purpose of such a tool could be. It wasn’t sharp enough to be a knife. Was it made to open something? Some kind of human key? 

A low hoot echoed nearby, and Logan stiffened, squinting at the bramble nearby in the low light. Roman would be having a fit by now, and it was too dark to do more investigating anyhow. 

Pulling the shell-cap loosely back into place over the metal, he ran a few feet and then took off, flitting between the trees back to the borough boundary lines. 

Taking care to avoid the night patrol, he kept the human item tucked closely to him as he reached the small aspen that held his home in its trunk. Luckily, he lived fairly far from the crowded borough center, and nobody took note of him slipping quietly in through one of his ceiling entrances. 

At least, that was what he thought until he touched down on his bedroom floor and heard someone clear their throat pointedly behind him. He whirled around, not entirely surprised to see his best friend standing there.

Roman was the son of the king and part of the guard, well-known and well-liked for his charming personality and looks alike. He had broad red hawk wings that flecked with gold whenever he cast enchantments, and many of their small town would sigh with longing or admiration whenever he passed by. 

Logan wondered how many of them would still have crushes if they knew how much of a worrywart their prince was. 

“Roman, what have I said about entering my home without permission?” he scolded automatically, his grip tightening on the item.

“Maybe I’ll actually listen to that when you start listening to the elder’s rules,” Roman shot back, his hands on his hips and his wings distinctly ruffled with his annoyance. He squinted at the bulky item in Logan’s arms. “What is that?” 

“... A human artifact,” he admitted, already drawing himself up in defense of his prize. “I found it, and I intend to study it.” 

“Oh, and I suppose that it was just laying around within borough limits, huh?” Roman scowled at him for a moment, before dragging a hand over his face. “Logan, you can’t keep doing this! We both know stealing from humans is dangerous.” 

“I wasn’t stealing. The human left this behind,” Logan defended, turning away to set the device on the floor next to his bed. 

“The human? As in, a particular one?” Roman’s voice went up a pitch, and Logan hid a wince. 

“I meant whatever human left the device. There was no human in sight when I retrieved it, of course. I’m no fool, Roman.” 

It was technically mostly the truth, but he was careful to keep the tips of his wings still anyhow, since they tended to flick around when he told lies. Roman sighed, looking caught up in his own thoughts. 

“Right, of course.” It was the closest they got to apologies, admitting the other was right. “I just wish… maybe we could meet up and work on spellwork more often? It’d keep me from worrying about you, and I miss when I had a decent partner to spar with.” 

Logan pulled his wings tight against his back, irritated by the guilt welling up inside him. “I’ve told you before that I cannot help you progress any further. I have imparted all I can in theory work, and you have already surpassed me in terms of casting, traditional and freeform. There is no sense in having me present to sit around uselessly when you are busy working on bigger and better things.” 

“Oaks above, Lo.” Roman swore, ruffling his hands through his hair in frustration. “You’re not useless.” 

“Of course I’m not,” Logan sniffed, staring intently at the device to avoid Roman’s gaze. “I am simply better suited to spend my time researching other matters to help the borough, namely the potential of human artifacts, regardless of what you or our mentor are so set on believing.” 

“Ugh! I don’t know why I even bother when you never listen!” Roman groaned, hands dropping to his sides.

Logan scowled. “I am listening, and that’s why I know you’re being ridiculous. I don’t need to be under constant supervision. I can take care of myself.”

“Fine, then! Keep dropping feathers in wolf dens, see how long it takes for one to hunt you down.” Apparently fed up, Roman flared his wings up and launched himself upwards, exiting through the skylight. Dramatic as always. 

Logan shook off his lingering unease with an absent flap of his wings. He refused to let himself linger on his friend’s ominous analogy, choosing to instead refocus on the mysterious item. 

He would be fine. Humans weren’t wolves, anyways. 

-

The next day, Logan found himself once again heading for the edge of the woods, the device strapped securely to his lower leg. 

He’d spent hours fiddling with the thing, attempting to understand how it worked to no avail. He’d considered taking it apart by force or trying more dangerous experiments, but ultimately he only had the one, and he didn’t want to ruin something that could potentially be vital to proving his point about human tech.

At least, not before exhausting all his other options, which included seeing if the human had another one, and if Logan could catch a glimpse of him using it. It was a long shot, particularly since he wasn’t even sure if the human would return at all, let alone happen to use a duplicate of this item.

Still, he had to try, and so he spent a few hours staking out the treeline from the leafy branches above. Taking the odds into account, he hadn’t honestly expected the human to return, so he was more than surprised when the giant actually did appear, several hours earlier than the previous afternoon as well. He leaned in to watch as the human scoured the forest floor, holding a black box to his ear and speaking to it. 

“No, I remember having it in my bag at the end of class, for sure. It has to be around here somewhere, because this is the only place I went between campus and home, and I already searched my whole car!” the human said, voice growing more distressed as he went on. There was a pause, faint sounds coming from the box. Logan wondered if it wasn’t some sort of communication device. 

The human took a deep breath, settling down onto the dirt for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s a very nice professor. If I explained, I’m sure I could get an extension to redo the work, but that’s not what I’m really worried about.” A sniffle. “That thumb drive isn’t my normal school one. It has a bunch of old family photos stored on it, and I don’t have them saved anywhere else. If I can’t find it…” 

With a pause to take a deep, shuddery breath, the human managed to keep from crying. “I’m just going to keep searching, okay? It’s kind of windy, maybe it got blown a little ways away or something. Yeah, I promise to stay safe. Are you sure-? Okay. I’ll text you when I’m done here, then. Thank you… bye.” 

 Logan watched as the human took the box from his ear, tucking it away into his pocket and beginning to sweep his hands over the dirt again. Searching, Logan was fairly sure, for the device currently tied to him. He stuck his leg out to look at it, studying the size. It certainly didn’t match up with any of his body parts, but for the human… he supposed it was vaguely thumb-sized. 

Thumb-sized but somehow containing something important to the human, something relating to his family. Logan felt a traitorous sting of guilt, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he’d known the human would miss the item when he took it, not with its size. And there was no way he could return it now. Could he? 

He supposed if he managed to place it just right… and maybe, if he was lucky, the human would do something with it to check that it still functioned, and Logan would finally have at least one question answered. 

His desire to return the item was purely scientific. It had nothing to do with how the human had to take breaks from searching to push his glasses up and rub at his eyes with the back of his hands. Nothing at all.

His plan came together simply enough; the human was traveling from tree to tree in a line, apparently not sure which one he had sat under the day before. Logan remembered, of course, that it was the birch next to the log with the oyster mushroom colony, and knew that the human had already passed it. He flitted over to the birch in question, climbing down the branches until he was as low as he could get.

As soon as the human was a solid four trees away, he dropped to the ground, banking with his wings to slow his descent. He stumbled slightly upon meeting the dirt, and hurriedly ducked so the tree was between him and the human, heart pounding in his ears. He took a deep breath. 

There was no reason to panic. Humans were dangerous, yes, but he wouldn’t have to deal with a human so long as he was smart. He was always smart, therefore, nothing to worry about. 

Checking to make sure that the human was still occupied, he hurried over to a boulder entangled in the tree’s roots. It was prominent enough that the bright blue of the device’s shell should stand out noticeably against it. He carefully laid the device on top of the rock and then took off, returning to the treetops. 

He was careful to conceal himself thoroughly in the branches, well aware that the human might find the sudden mysterious appearance of the ‘thumb drive’ suspicious. He certainly would, but he knew that humans were generally as ignorant as they were huge, so he wasn’t overtly worried. 

The human continued to search further and further, enough so that Logan began to worry that he’d bypass the tree entirely on his way back, but luck was on his side. Shoulders drooping with defeat, the human turned around and headed back the way he’d come, only to stop dead at the sight of the thumb device sitting innocently atop a rock. 

He blinked, and then rubbed at his eyes for a moment as though wondering if he was seeing things. The thumb device remained real, and he knelt to pick it up with a growing smile, opening the case to check the metal inside with ease.

In the next moment, his head snapped up to search the woods around him, and Logan was careful to remain completely still, not a feather out of place. As expected, the human didn’t spot anything, and Logan watched as he rose to his full height, feeling a small twinge of disappointment as the device disappeared into his pocket.

Unexpectedly, the human spoke. “To whoever is looking out for me, thank you very much!” 

He placed a hand over his heart and did an odd little half-bow, eyes curious, and then waited a few moments before straightening again and beginning to walk back along the path out of the woods. As he left, he held that little black box up to his ear again and began to talk into it after a few moments’ delay.

“Virgil, I found it, I found it! I don’t know how, but I think a friend helped me…” Logan’s feathers ruffled slightly as the conversation continued outside his hearing range. 

What a ridiculous human. It was almost a shame Logan would probably never see him again.

-

“Hello, little bird!” A cheerful voice called out, nearly making Logan topple off his perch. 

He clung to the wood beneath him and peeked through the leaves, eyes widening in disbelief as he confirmed that it was, in fact, the human from before. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you that, since we weren’t formally introduced!” the human continued, spreading a blanket along the ground in front of the birch to sit on. “My name is Patton Hart!” 

He paused, and the only response was distant birdsong. Patton seemed undeterred.

“Well, little bird, I’ve deemed this area my lucky spot, so I hope it’s okay that I study here!” He pulled his strange color-changing rectangle out of his bag as he spoke, and Logan couldn’t help but lean forward with interest. 

“Thankfully, I was able to turn my final in on time with the files from the thumb drive! It worked perfect, so thanks for keeping it safe for me!” 

Logan perked up, immediately spotting the small blue thumb drive- or rather, half of it. The shell had been opened, and the metal part was plugged into the large rectangle. So it was a key! 

He waited for the human to elaborate on how it worked, what it unlocked and what it’s purpose was in conjunction with the rectangle, but he seemed content to sit and work in silence. Logan opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed again. He may have broken many of the rules already, but this one would put more than just him at risk. 

No, he couldn’t talk to the human… but he could listen.

Scolding himself for leaving his notebook at home, he settled in to watch the human study, noting certain patterns or phrases the human used whenever he started off on some random tangent addressed to “little bird”. As far as nicknames went, it was... tolerable. 

What made the encounter even more interesting was that when the human packed up to leave, he left something behind again, this time on purpose, going by the “Freely given, little bird!” he had announced before leaving. Logan had spent a good while agonizing over whether or not to approach such an obvious trap, but in the end his curiosity won out.

When he dropped down to the ground to investigate, he found that a small, embroidered piece of cloth had been set out with a variety of objects on top. Some he dismissed easily, like the oversized human food- undoubtedly drugged or poisoned- and the simple carved toys, but others were more intriguing. 

Of course, there was no way he could take anything back to his home, not now that the human was likely waiting for that exact thing. He couldn’t remain here to investigate either, seeing as the sun was setting and he could get… immersed in his work. Anything could sneak up on him.

Deciding on a compromise, he took the objects that interested him- a small white cylinder with an orange protrusion, and a band with a metal face- and carried them to a nearby abandoned woodpecker nest inside a sturdy trunk. Once they were safely tucked away, he resolved to study them in the morning and headed home. 

His evenings were strangely quiet without Roman there to laugh and tease. The heir was still giving him the cold shoulder, not that Logan had done anything to rectify the situation. Having Roman keep an eye on him would make his daily excursions all the more difficult. That was all that mattered. 

The next morning was spent fiddling frustratedly with the items he’d taken, trying to understand how the switch triggered flickering light, what the light was meant to do. It wasn’t near warm enough to burn, so was it simply a light source? It was so dull that he’d need several to properly light up his room, let alone a human home. 

The face of the band was no better, covered in symbols that clearly held some sort of meaning, and moving parts that continued unpausing in a cycle around the center of the symbols. It reminded him vaguely of a sundial’s rotations, but he had no way to guess the meaning of the human writing. 

When he went to see how the human reacted, however, he found that not only was he completely unconcerned by the missing items, but even enthusiastic to see what had been taken.

“Are you a curious one, little bird?” he asked, carefully clearing the other objects away. “That little fake candle and the watch… I guess you’re light on time, huh?” 

Logan watched as his human grinned brightly without explaining his words at all, and bemoaned the fact that he’d gotten a human that spoke in riddles. At least he knew what the items were called. 

The next day, his human left more objects, none of them wooden toys. He wondered if maybe the human was conducting an experiment of his own, with how what he brought seemed to build off the few that Logan selected to take. Excluding the food, which was always replaced with new food despite the fact that he’d never touched it. 

His hidden nook got crowded quickly, and he expanded it to a few other trees, careful to keep the precious items safe from rain or mold. 

His curiosity about his human also grew with each passing day, learning small things about him from his daily chattering. He was going to college, which was what he was studying for, and he lived with another human named Virgil. He was incredibly forgetful, and whenever he forgot an item, he would politely request it back and then count down from sixty with his back turned and his hands covering his eyes. 

The first time he did this, he was sorely disappointed, seeing as there was no way Logan would fall for such a trap, not even when baited by Patton calling him shy, which he most certainly was not. 

The next day, however, found his human delighted by the return of his ‘keychain,’ and Logan continued to tell himself that he was simply being practical, since the item had no discernible use. His human’s smile had nothing to do with it. 

Eventually, he started to get sloppy. When things were too large, he snuck them back home. When Patton lost his keys and did his customary turn-around-and-count gesture, he dropped them from the trees and fluttered barely a safe distance away to watch him reclaim them. Worst of all, he became… almost relaxed in Patton’s presence. 

This lapse in caution was the only explanation he had for what happened next. 

He had been running late, held up by one of his teacher’s lectures, and so cut through a swath of trees nearer to the road in order to arrive at their customary meeting spot. 

Once he got close, he spotted something glinting in the grass. Normally, he’d assume it was another stray bit of litter and move on, but with Patton, one never knew when the human would accidentally lose something, or where. He sighed and dipped down to land, squinting at the… wire? Next to a pile of sunflower seeds? 

Distracted as he was by the unnatural sight, he didn’t notice the top netted part of the trap until it slammed down on top of him, triggered by the shifting plate underneath his feet. 

The impact knocked all the air from his lungs, leaving him wheezing and thrashing weakly under the mesh. He forced himself through a breathing pattern, over and over until it no longer felt like he was choking on nothing. His overwhelming panic calmed momentarily, he shoved against the trap with his wings, grunting in frustration when the bound edges of the net didn’t even budge. 

There was no question about it. This had to be a human trap, and he didn’t want to be in it when the human came to collect. 

A bit more desperately, he wrapped his hands around the edges of the trap’s thick wiring and pried at it, cursing when his foot slipped and plunged through the holes in the bottom netting. 

Before he could wrench it free, he felt a distant, rhythmic rumble in the ground. It grew louder and closer, and a chill ran down his spine as his movements became frantic. 

As soon as the giant boots creating the noise stepped into view, his whole body froze up, as though back in the clearing on the first day Patton showed up. 

Seeing a human from the ground was so much worse. His body began to tremble uncontrollably as the human approached the trap with easy steps, each one heavy enough to trample him into dust. 

The stranger was wearing a dusky camo jacket and bristle across his jaw, but Logan’s attention was entirely riveted on the long, serrated hunting knife in his hand. 

“Shh, little thing. You’ll be f-- what…” 

Logan heard the exact moment the man realized that he hadn’t caught a bird, and he resisted the urge to curl into a ball and hide behind his wings as a huge gloved hand approached. It gathered the netting of the trap up into a makeshift bag with him stuck in the center. Logan writhed against the hold, his breathing becoming quick and shallow once again as he stared at the knife. 

“Easy, little thing,” the hunter muttered absently, turning his hand this way and that to see Logan’s ensconced form better. “What are you?” 

Logan shuddered at the fascination in his eyes, pushing out against the net despite the fact that there was no way he could beat those massive fingers. 

His silence cracked as soon as those same digits pinched down roughly on his wing, spreading it to its full wingspan. 

“Agh! Let go!” he yelled, body shaking as the muscles in his shoulder were overextended. The man released him, more out of surprise than anything else. 

“You can talk? Incredible!” The man prodded at him again. “Go on, say something else.” 

Logan opened his mouth to say something that he would likely regret, but a different voice spoke first. A familiar one.

“Hello? Is someone over here?” Patton asked, pushing a low branch out of his way as he peered over at the hunter. 

The hunter jumped, and for a second Logan believed he’d be shoved in a pocket, but the man seemed to decide showing off took precedence. He held Logan out slightly, net and all. “Take a look at this!”

Patton stepped closer, the furrow in his brow growing as his gaze fell onto Logan. His body vibrated harder with terror, betraying him easily at the sight of two humans looking at him. 

“Um, did you… catch him?” Patton asked, voice hesitant. 

The hunter barely seemed to notice. “Sure did… I was trying for-- well, it doesn’t matter, this is better. I think it can imitate human speech!” 

Logan felt another shudder run through him, and Patton’s soft brown eyes found his. 

“I think… I think you should let him go,” Patton blurted, surprising all of them. He drew himself up, nodding once. “You’re not supposed to be hunting here at all, anyhow.” 

The hunter’s grip on Logan tightened, and a strangled whine escaped his throat without his permission. “Man, you actually pay attention to that conservation notice? This place is abandoned, park rangers haven’t checked on it in years. Finders, keepers as far as I’m concerned.” 

“That doesn’t apply to people that can talk!” Patton protested, stepping closer with his hands lifted placatingly. “Look, just let him out, okay? I won’t report you to the authorities if you take your traps and leave.”

The hunter snorted, gesturing vaguely with his knife. “Yeah, right. I’m a careful guy. They’re not going to find anything that I don’t want them to find, and with the money that this,” he lifted Logan slightly, “will bring in, I won’t have to worry about cops anyways.

“You don’t have any leverage over me, so turn around and mind yourself before you get in trouble,” the hunter finished, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away. Logan, ironically enough, felt a thrum of panic at leaving the other human behind. He wasn’t entirely sure that two bickering humans were better than one malignant one, but it certainly felt that way at the moment. 

Footsteps thumped loudly behind them, and the hunter whirled on his heel in time for Patton to catch both his wrists, Logan grunting as he was tossed about in the net. 

“What are you--?”

“Let him go, now!” Patton was frowning, arms visibly straining with the effort it took to keep the other man’s hands still. Logan stared down at the dizzying drop beneath him, wondering if it would kill him on impact if he was dropped now.

“You little--!” The hunter pried his knife-wielding hand free, and Logan watched as Patton swung his now unoccupied hand back and slammed it against the side of the hunter’s head, cupped right over his ear. 

The man cried out and fell back, his grip on the net loosening, and Logan felt as though he was near heart failure as a new pair of hands gently closed around him, prying the trap away from the hunter. 

Patton - for who else could it be - brought his hands close to his chest and bolted, making everything around Logan bounce rhythmically. He eventually pressed close to one of those large palms and clung to the edge of a finger, his head aching with the abrupt motions. He’d been ‘rescued’ from one human, but now he was securely in the hands of another. 

No matter what Patton said, he was still a human. It had to be some sort of trap, some long con that he was trying and failing not to fall for. 

The movements came to a stop with one final thud as Patton’s knees hit the ground, breathing heavily. Moments later, the hands surrounding him cracked open like a bird’s egg, sunlight pouring in. 

Above him, Patton was flushed with exertion, and he was still breathing deep as he spoke. “Are you okay, little bird?” 

His face creased with concern as Logan stared up at his giant features, body frozen like a deer before a mountain lion. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. It’s gonna be okay.” 

It was a ridiculous claim for a human to make, but he found himself relaxing fractionally anyhow. 

“I’m gonna- um, take this off of you, okay? I’m gonna get you out of there, don’t worry.” Patton shifted him delicately to one palm, wincing at the way Logan’s wings flapped ineffectively, and began to carefully pry the net open. The trap which had given him so much trouble was barely an obstacle for a human. Logan shifted uncomfortably as Patton untangled it.

“How- how did you know?” he asked, since his mouth had never known when to stay quiet. To Patton’s credit, he didn’t even blink at the question or the tiny winged person it had come from.

“It was just a guess!” Patton offered, a grimace crossing his face briefly. “I normally feel like I’m being watched when I’m out in that clearing, but today there was nothing, so… I got worried. Oh, unless you’re asking about the ear clap. My best friend signed me up for a self-defense class, because I… uh, ‘have a marshmallow heart’ and I’m ‘exceedingly liable to get into trouble,’ allegedly.”

It felt like a fairly accurate assessment. 

“There we go,” Patton managed, finally getting the net completely open. Logan bolted for the exit before he could change his mind, spreading his wings as soon as he was in the open air and gaining some distance before turning. 

Patton hadn’t moved from his spot. He was smiling, bright like his smiles when Logan helped him, and Logan couldn’t help but flutter a bit closer and return the gesture, so grateful for this strange, kind human. 

“Glad… I’m glad you’re okay,” Patton said, and then winced, a hand dropping to his side. 

When he pulled his hand away, it was glistening with blood. They both blinked at it for a moment, smiles faltering, and then Logan followed his gaze down to where a dark stain was spreading slowly through his shirt and jacket. He realized suddenly that Patton, one hand busy keeping Logan secure and the other busy boxing the hunter’s ear, hadn’t gotten away from the man unscathed. 

In the process of rescuing him, his human had been stabbed.

“Oh,” Patton said weakly, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell into a dead faint.

Fear Didn't Enter His Thinking

Fandom: True Grit (2010)

Characters: Rooster Cogburn; Mattie Ross; Tom Chaney; LaBoeuf; Ned Pepper

Warnings: Gun shootings; threats against a child

Summary: Rooster Cogburn was the meanest marshal around. He was pitiless, double tough, and loved to pull a cork; fear didn't enter his thinking. Except when, one day, it did. And all because of one stubborn young girl that somehow wormed her way into his hard heart.

I recently watched the 2010 version of True Grit (as well as the original 1969 version) and I almost forgot how good the story was. I like both versions, but I think I like the remake just a little more. It doesn't seem as dragged out, some of the settings look a little more drawn from the 1860s-70s; plus, you can't go wrong with Jeff Bridges. Speaking of, this movie has one scene that wasn't in the original: when Mattie is being kidnapped by Chaney, Cogburn calls her by her real name, rather than his nickname for her.

Partially-drawing from that, I thought of how that scene might have gone in his POV, from when he woke up to find Mattie gone, hearing her shot, and to after he's forced by Ned Pepper to leave. I don't think he's too OOC here, seeing as he sounded legitimately worried for her when he found her being actually dragged away by Chaney.

It took Rooster a while after waking up to remember where he was and what he had been doing. All the whiskey he drank the previous day resulted in a headache and dry mouth the following morning. Past experience told him not to sit up until he had most of his wits about him; otherwise, his head would be spinning, and he risked whatever he ate and drank coming back up and onto the ground.

He curled his lip with a soft growl when he finally remembered what he had been doing for the past several days: wandering through Indian Territory, on the hunt for Tom Chaney and Ned Pepper. The former was for that stubborn sourpuss of a girl, Mattie Ross, on account of her father being killed by the man. Part of the reason he even agreed to the job was because Chaney had apparently been working for Pepper. Kill two birds with one stone, collect more than one reward.

Except he probably wouldn't get any reward now. They had missed their chance of ambushing on Pepper and his gang, thanks in no small part to LaBoeuf, and the trail had gone cold. Though he had been blasted drunk to the point of challenging LaBoeuf to a shooting contest and drunkenly singing as they rode onward, he knew when he had been licked. But it seemed the girl didn't, as she had continued to insist they were getting somewhere. Just before he passed out the previous night, he heard her declaring she wouldn't be going home without Chaney, dead or alive.

He sighed as he finally sat up, slow as he could, and gently shook his head. As much as she was a pain at times, he couldn't help but admire her, even if it was just a little bit. True to her word, she hadn't complained much, if it all, on this trip. And she had already proven herself to be smart and stubborn, to a fault. She was like the daughter he never had.

No, it was more like she reminded him of him.

Speaking of, he didn't see her at their meager camp. He wondered if she had made off with LaBoeuf, or if she set off on her own to find Chaney. No, her horse was still tied up next to his. And a wooden bucket was missing. He wagered she had gone off to fetch water while he was still asleep. How long would it take though? She couldn't have been gone that long. Unless she got stuck somewhere.

He sat where he was, trying to think of how to explain further to her that he was not continuing on this wild goose chase when he heard a shot. His eye widened as he looked off in the direction of the shot, headache forgotten about. It sounded like it came from the river.

His stomach sank as he stood to his feet, but he somehow knew it wasn't beginning to churn because of his hangover.

He walked in the direction of the river, still keeping a lookout for the girl. But as he continued on, without any sight of her, he began to feel... worry. Which was very unusual for his character. He had a reputation for not fearing much of anything, if it all, and he stuck by it. But not today.

“Mattie?!” he yelled out. It barely registered in his mind that this had been the first time he referred to her by her real name, rather than 'Baby Sister' as he had been calling her previously. His heart began to race as he wondered what sort of danger she would be in to warrant shooting her pistol. Especially when he had warned her, the first time they met, that she was liable to fall back upon shooting said pistol.

“I'm down here!” he finally heard her shout back. And she sounded excited. He just barely heard a man groaning something about being shot. “Chaney is taken into custody!”

Chaney? She found him? Seeing as she was so gun-ho about getting him, and knew him down to the black powder mark on his face, there was no doubt in his mind that she had indeed found him. And apparently shot him, seeing as she didn't sound like she was the one in pain.

She had found him... and was all alone with him! And he would bet that Chaney was armed himself, and wouldn't oppose to hurting a child; he did shoot her father in cold blood, after all. This made him run faster through the trees until he could finally see the river.

In said river, he saw two individuals, one smaller than the other. He had seen them just in time to see the larger one hit the smaller across the head and begin to drag them away. “Help me!” a voice cried out.

“Mattie!” Rooster screamed as his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. But he managed to not stop in his tracks. He ran through the brush and light snow, and between the trees, as fast as he could. He thought about drawing his own gun, but realized it would be a foolish and dangerous decision. He ran the risk of hitting Mattie; or winging Chaney, who may proceed to use Mattie as a human shield.

Just past Chaney, who continued to drag Mattie to the other side of the river, two men emerged from the trees and began shooting his way. “Marshal!” she pleaded as he returned their fire. But he was forced to jump back when one of their balls hit the tree right next to him. By the time he looked again across the river, it was pretty much too late.

As he continued to shoot at them, Chaney succeeded in getting Mattie across the water. One of the two men came out and grabbed her. His eyebrows furrowed as he recognized the woolly chaps he had pointed out to Mattie the night they were ambushing the dugout: Ned Pepper.

But before he had time to aim at him, another shot whizzed past his head. And within minutes, the third man was creeping back into the trees. And they were gone.

Rooster stood still by the river, still holding his piece in case any of them had recognized them and returned to finish him off. “God dammit,” he grumbled under his breath, brushing his long hair out of his eye. “Dammit, Baby Sister.”

As much as he wanted to chew her out, whether or not she was with him, he knew it wasn't her fault. All she had been doing was fetching water, as evident by the wooden bucket now floating down the river. Chaney just so happened to be right there.

She had been right, they were close.

When he heard footsteps hurrying his way, he whipped his pistol around again. But the only person he saw was LaBoeuf, holding his hands up with a bewildered expression. Rooster rolled his eye as he dropped his arm. “Wha' happe'?” the other man asked, still slurring around his half-bitten off tongue. “I hear' a sho'!”

“Rooster!” a different voice yelled out. Though it wasn't Mattie this time, he still recognized it. “Cogburn! You hear me?!” After a few silent seconds, he called out again, “You answer me, Rooster! I will kill this girl! You know I will do it!”

Thinking quickly on his feet, Rooster yelled back, “The girl's nothing to me, she's a runaway from Arkansas!” Even as he claimed that, he felt downright dirty saying that. Even if he denied it until his deathbed, his heart knew the truth: Mattie meant something to him. She had, somehow, wormed her way into his cold, hard heart during this journey.

She claimed he had true grit, but he wondered if she knew she had it as well, and in spades.

LaBoeuf nearly charged at him, enraged, but froze when Rooster held his hand up. He fixed him with a stern expression, clearly telling him to wait and be quiet; he held up one finger for good measure.

“That is all very well! Do you advice that I kill her?!”

A lesser man would have told him no, or even urged him not to. But Rooster was not only tough, but smart. “Well, do what you think is best, Ned!” he answered as he slowly walked back in the direction of camp, already thinking of how to get both himself and Mattie out of this mess. LaBoeuf followed, still looking confused, but luckily still quiet. “She's nothing to me but a lost child! Think it over, first!” he advised.

Ned Pepper wasn't stupid either, he knew this very well.

“I have already thought it over! You get mounted, double-fast! If I see you riding over that bald ridge, in the north-west, I will spare the girl! You have five minutes!”

“There will be a party of marshals here soon, Ned! Let me have the girl and Chaney, and I will mislead them for six hours!”

“Too thin, Rooster! Too thin! Your five minutes is running! No more talk!”

“Five minutes,” Rooster scoffed, turning back around and running back to camp. “I'll need more than five minutes, damn bastard.”

“Wha's goi' o', Cogbur'?” LaBoeuf asked again.

“Baby Sister went down to the creek, and apparently ran into Chaney,” he explained as he saddled up Beau as fast as he could.

“Cha'ey?!”

“She managed to shoot him, but he dragged her off before I could get down there. And he is with Pepper, for sure.”

“'ow wha', Cogbur'?”

“I'm gonna take her horse with me to that ridge,” he said, pointing in the direction Pepper had yelled for him to go, “and you are gonna find your way to their camp, secure Chaney if he's there.”

“Wha' bou' you?” He began to saddle Mattie's horse—Little Blackie, if he recalled correctly.

“After I see that they see me on that ridge, I will double-back, tie her horse in the woods, and handle the rest in the meadow. I reckon they'll be down there, headed off to avoid the party of marshals I said would be coming.”

LaBoeuf's eyes widened when he realized the full intentions of the older man. “Tha's suici'e!”

“I know what I am doing. You just keep an eye on B—“

“—Cogbur', I mus' sugges' a differe' course.”

“Well, if you have any brighter ideas, let me know!” Rooster shouted angrily as he mounted Beau. When the other man remained silent, he snorted as he snatched the reins of her horse out of his hand. “Just stay with Mattie! Understand?!”

LaBoeuf nodded numbly. “Good. They went across the creek. I reckon that's where their camp'll be. When you find her, stay there!” Without another word, he set off in the north-west, leading the black horse alongside him.

Untold Tales of Spider-Man 08: The Liar – by Ann Nocenti

I enjoyed this story a lot but objectively it’s very mixed.

Peter Parker watches off and on as a spider spends the day making a web. Later he watches as she waits patiently for a moth to be trapped, feeding on it. "How could I have anything in common with her?" Peter thinks. He both admires and shudders at the spider's "round-the-clock surveillance." And the web itself: "Her beautifully constructed home is also a death trap...The spider's elegantly poised web is a lie." Peter jumps up and destroys the web, then feels guilt about it, knowing the spider will just create another. "She can't help it. Lie or die."As Peter starts to leave, he receives a visit from Aunt May. She tells him that Empire State University contacted her because he missed several days of classes. She also asks if he washed something red at her house. Peter was gone for three days, confronting the Red Skull in Algiers and he washed his mask at May's place but he lies to her, telling her the school made a mistake and that the red came from a nosebleed.

At ESU, Ms. O'Grady, Peter's advisor, tells him that she talked to Aunt May about his absences and that May didn't seem to know about that. Peter tells her that May's memory isn't what it used to be. Ms. O'Grady tells him she's sorry to hear that. Peter thinks, "A big one. The two this morning to Aunt May were little enough, but this lie is a big one." Ann elaborates, "The little fibs are like annoying black moths, fluttering at the edges of his consciousness; shadows that flit about and dog his heels, they haunt him when he least expects it. The big ones are like rocks tied to his feet, that he has to drag with him wherever he goes."

Through the course of the day, Peter promises May he'll join her at 4PM to help with groceries and makes a date with Mary Jane over a fudge sundae at 6PM. Now he tells Gwen he'll join her for a 5PM revival showing of her favorite film, "Casablanca." "How," asks Ann, "will he pull this off?"

Not long after lying to his history prof to explain being late for the class, Peter is at the market with May. It is a warm day but he sees a man in the parking lot in a wool cap. Lying to Aunt May about needing to make a phone call, he leaves her in the market and changes to Spider-Man. He re-enters the market just as the thief pulls a gun and tries to rob the place. Spidey easily takes care of him. The store manager gratefully offers him "a cart of food, on the house." Spidey takes a look at May and says, "Hey, I just ate. But it looks like this poor woman got the worst fright. Maybe you could take care of her?" Which makes him look like an altruist when he's actually just helping out his relative. Back home, Aunt May tells the story to Peter for the third time. Peter notes that the story never changes. She tells it straight, never embellishing. She is grateful to Spider-Man but notes that his manners are terrible. "I just wanted to thank him properly. But he just turned his back on me!" When Peter tells her he has to meet Gwen at the movies, she comments that she thought he was meeting Mary Jane. "Oh yeah. Did I say Gwen? I meant Mary Jane," says Pete as the lies mount up.

At Casablanca, Pete enjoys sitting next to Gwen. "She's like a warm bed you don't want to get out of in the morning," he thinks. But he still needs to meet Mary Jane. So, telling Gwen he has to go to the bathroom, he slips away. He joins MJ for ice cream during which she almost lets her "party mask" slip when she refers to her repressive father. Peter notices a large bird in the sky and realizes it is the Vulture. Coming up with yet another ridiculous lie ("I promised this guy, I'd help him move his birds...he's got a pet shop, and he's got a big delivery of birds.") Peter promises MJ he'll be back in 20 minutes. MJ doesn't seem to mind. In fact, Peter thinks that she is acting as if she expected this. But he doesn't think about it long. He has to change into his Spidey duds and tackle the Vulture. 

Unfortunately, the Vulture has recruited four partners and provided them with wings. The five Vultures beat him up, carry him into the air and drop him over the river, too far away from any buildings on which Spidey can web-swing. As he falls, he realizes his identity will be revealed after his death. "They'll all know what a liar I was. A lowlife fibster with a devil's tongue. A mendacious arachnid. A lousy deceitful cock-and-bull jerk. A two-faced stinker." Then he passes out.

While unconscious, he dreams about his Mom and Dad, telling him conflicting stories about their impending trip; the trip that leads to their deaths. "I was three years old when I noticed the first little lies," he thinks, "By the time I was six, nothing quite added up...All those lies. I guess they thought they were protecting me. Benevolent lying. I know all about it."He awakens seventeen feet above the water. There is a tug boat right below him and he webs the smokestack, saving himself, ending up in the river, then climbing up onto the tug. The tug's captain, Gallager, tells him he saw him falling and swung around to help. As they sail back to port, Spidey notices how capable Gallager is and he envies his straightforward life. "What do you think of liars?" Spidey asks him. Gallager replies that it depends on what kind of lying, adding that he lies all day. "Every time I give an order," he says, "it's to save the ship but risk the man. ..They trust me and I send them to risk death with every command...Well then, a few lies along the way aren't really lies, are they? Not if you bring all your men home alive." Spidey thinks about this as Gallager docks his tug.

He gets back to MJ who asks him if he had a nice swim. "What swim?" he asks, then he notices that his bookbag, containing his costume, has created a puddle on the ground. MJ, playing along, kicks at the puddle and says, "Rained while you were gone."From there, Pete returns to the movies, tells Gwen he couldn't find their seats in the dark and watched the rest of the movie from the back. "What a perfect ending," Gwen says. "Yeah," Peter replies, "I love happy endings." "Gwen looks at him queerly, then smiles. They walk on silently for a while. Soon, it begins to rain."

Let me say up top, this is the best Spider-Man story of Ann Nocenti’s career.

This is owed to the prose, dialogue and over all narrative being fairly straightforward and not told as through you’d skipped a beat. Everyone sounds like a normal person ( for a super hero story) and there are no weird lines making you ask ‘who talks like this?’

I should also point out the subject matter of this story is something Nocenti has explored in her other Spider work as well as her famous Daredevil run, chiefly through her most enduring creation, Typhoid Mary.

The theme of the story, as the title implies, is lying. Lying is practically systemic in super hero stories as characters maintain their secret identities.

It’s an interesting idea to expand upon that idea and examine the psychological ramifications of lying upon the individual and the impact it might have on their interpersonal relationships. For example could lying about your identity cause you to become a habitual liar about other things? Could this seep into that age old human story of the unfaithful lover?

That’s what Nocenti explored in her Daredevil run when she had Matt Murdock (ironically, or appropriately depending upon your POV, a lawyer and Catholic) cheat on Karen page with Typhoid’s alter ego; she was in fact lying to him at the same time and having an affair with the Kingpin at the same time.

In her ‘Return to Mad Dog Ward’ storyline in the 1990s Peter lied to MJ and Aunt May in such a way that MJ mistakenly believed he was cheating on him and considered running off with someone else.

In an even earlier story she did, a back-up from Web of Spider-Man Annual #2, she had Peter endure a nightmare where he was haunted by the fact he lied all the time.

Personally I think her focus upon the subject, especially in regards to cheating, raises some uncomfortable questions about her personal life, but I’m not interested in that right now.

The problem with all those stories and this one as far as Spidey is concerned is that she…goes way too far.

The fact is lying can and does take a toll on Spidey but it doesn’t open him up to lying as second nature about anything. He lies to protect his identity and anything else he lies about is just what any of us might lie about in the course of our lives. He hasn’t got ‘a problem’. And the idea it’s rooted in his parents being spies is pretty ridiculous and a massive reach.

I think what’s most problematic about this story in regards to the theme is that Peter would absolutely NEVER knowingly cheat on a woman. He’s just not that kind of person and yet here he is on 2 dates with MJ and Gwen at once like it’s a sitcom or Superman IV: the Quest for Peace.

In terms of Spider-Man’s personality and characterization this is just more evidence that Nocenti simply never grasped the character. Which is a shame given how she has written more Spider-Man stories than any female author ever; though Houser might’ve overtaken her by this point.

Her idea that Peter’s ‘problem with lying’ stems from his parents is also kind of contradicted by various stories that establish Peter was just too young to even remember his parents. This in particular includes ASM Annual #5 which she references in this story. I’m not going to hold that against this story too much because honestly no one keeps Peter’s parents consistent.*

Other continuity hiccups include when the annual happens in relation to Peter meeting Captain Stacy and MJ’s job as a go-go dancer.

However, this book has by now long established that these stories are not meant to fit into 616 canon but more a generalized idea of Spidey’s canon. If you try putting this story into strict continuity Peter was firmly interested in Gwen over MJ and the Betty/Veronica choice he had had been resolved for a good while.

This story though is meant more to touch upon the Betty/Veronica aspect of the Romita era and admittedly 2 dates at once seems like a typical Archie story. If you accept this as just a general AU version of Peter and don’t try to compare him to his canon characterization this is a perfectly legitimate idea. By  extension the psychological complexity of this story works if you treat take this story in isolation or in isolation of the anthology as a whole.

Nocenti DOES to her credit explore the theme very well, the scenes with his parents and their lies resonates very well and speaks honestly to childhood hurts.

The hints that MJ knows Peter’s identity and her own family history are done very well. They are subtle, romantic and in fact so good I WISH there was a story that played with the idea. Although it does contradict later stories because Peter clearly suspects MJ is aware of his secret but ignores it.

It’s ironic actually that those scenes ultimately make this more an MJ story than a Gwen/MJ story in spite of that being the point of the narrative.  Nocenti just charcaterizees her very well and even does Gwen a service. She is very much the early days Romita Gwen and there is a wonderful passage comparing the two and likening MJ to the sun and Gwen to the moon. I never thought of that kind of dichotomy but (before she became a water works) it’s a brilliant observation of the two women. She also does a great job of capturing the flirtatious nature of Silver Age MJ.

However, where this story falters (evene when taken unto itself) is in Noenti likening spider webs to ‘lies’ and the scenes on the boat.

For the former she is just over reaching. ‘What a tangled web we weave when we first choose to lie and deceive’. It’s a famous phrase but it isn’t actually saying a spiders web is akin to a lie. It’s saying the ACT of lying is like the ACT of spinning a tangled web. An insect isn’t metaphorically ‘caught in a lie’ when it’s ensnared in a spider’s web.  Yet that’s what Nocenti goes for at the start of the story.

And the stuff on the boat is just…I don’t know what it means. The lies Peter engages in in are simply not comparable to the lies the boat captain engages in. Even if you lean hard on the idea of Peter lying about his identity for the greater good, what has that got to do with lying to MJ and Gwen?

Regardless, I think this story is mostly well told for what it is and I very much enjoyed it in spite of the mischaracterization.

*Personally though I defer to Stan’s stories that state he was too young to remember them.

YOUR TALENT MAKES YOU WHO YOU ARE. YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF IT

BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: this is truly the season of returning members and we’re thriving lads ! Jill, I am so happy to welcome you back to walt. your app for Tiffani was brilliant. you have so much passion and love for this character. I know she’s in good hands and that you’ll bring so much to her. I’m excited about what you’ll bring to the dash with this feisty pixie ! Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.

It’s a pleasure to meet you…

Jill, 30, eastern, she/her :)

My favorite fruit is raspberries

I love swords

I know more than I ever wanted to about Shakespeare’s history plays

No triggers!

Are you positive you can be active?

Yes, I’d been planning a return to rp to give me something to do during my day job once I was done with this season’s rep shows… and then covid happened…

How did you stumble upon Walt?

Walt was the first post that came up when I typed “Disney rp” in the tumblr search so I took it as a sign

Did you read the rules?

Yup!

Are you sure?

rfp

Character you want?

Tiffani Belle

Please describe the character for us

Baseball caps and glitter. Those were the words to describe Tiffani Belle as she was growing up. Born to a well-off family, Tiffani was the only girl her age growing up in her neighborhood. The boys all gave her the nickname Tink, because she was the tiniest of their playdate crew. The tiny blonde swelled with pride, and quickly had every single one of them wrapped around her little finger. She could get down and dirty with the rest of them, but she knew that being a girl made her special. She spent her childhood days fixing her friends’ bicycles, collecting grass stains on her clothes, and convincing all the boys that because they were friends, she should be their first kiss. (Somewhere in her childhood bedroom, she still has the contract they drafted on that day in first grade when the boys lined up to peck their lips against Tiffani’s.)

Tiffani took to the role of leader quickly. It wasn’t necessarily a control thing, but Tiffani liked to be in charge, and she really liked for things to go her way. She was headstrong from childhood onward, more than willing to use her leadership skills and stubbornness to fight for what she believed in – whether that be later bedtimes with mom and dad, or returning tater tots to the elementary school lunch menu. They were a kid favorite, potatoes were good for you and ketchup was technically a vegetable, and they deserved to be eaten!

Getting to high school wasn’t much different for Tink. Now she was a little fish in a big pond, but being small had never held Tink back before. Tiffani made sure to make her name known early on in her high school year. As the weather was getting warmer, Tink stood on top of the cafeteria table, white tennis shoes squeaking against the plastic table top, mini skirt almost dangerously short from that angle, and demanded students be allowed to eat their lunches outside. They had gorgeous weather half the school year, it was their right to be able to enjoy the outdoors, and their medical need to soak up the Vitamin D. Administration caved, and Tink was class president for two years after that.

But the older she got, the lonelier Tink became at the top. The girls all wanted to be her, and the boys all wanted to date her. Well, the ones that mattered anyway. But as the years went by, the more Tink became a leader and the boss, and the less she had any actual friends.

Fairy wings and pixie dust. That was when everything started to change. Puberty for Tiffani had started on the early side. She took it in stride, loving to be first in everything. She was the first in her grade with boobs (small as they may have been at the time) and she flaunted her period to her classmates because they were still girls but now she was a woman. What Tink wasn’t prepared for was the pain that started in her shoulders one evening. She’d spent the day with some of the boys switching between doing pushups and sitting on top of them while they did pushups. Tink loved to show them up whenever she can, reminding them that just because she was small and a girl didn’t mean that she couldn’t do just as many reps as they could. So she’d thought nothing of the pain, writing it off as having pushed her body a bit too far that day. But the pain didn’t dissipate, and it was a few days later that she saw them: iridescent wings starting to poke from her shoulder blades. The oddities multiplied from there. Tink didn’t know anything about what was happening (she knew how to use the internet, she’d figure some things out), but she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone. Not if she was going to stay on top. So the top became even lonelier.

Meeting Pippin Pan changed everything. He transferred to her school, and Tink saw something in him. Saw that he was a leader and an adventurer like herself, and to top it off, Pippin wasn’t immediately intimidated by her. In fact, she was sure that he saw an equal in Tink just as she saw him as an equal to her. The two became attached at the hip, a couple of teenagers at the top, and Tiffani would do anything for Pippin. Anything. He was the first person she told about her abilities, and he was the first person Tiffani had any real romantic feelings for. He made her heart race, and she was ready to see what was on the opposite end of their friendship.

Turns out the only thing there was disappointment. When the Darlings came to town, Pippin became fascinated with them. So naturally Tink hated them. She hated Wendy, she hated Jane, she hated that Pippin wanted anything to do with them at all, and she hated that she still needed Pippin as her best friend and her right hand. She hated that she’d shared her secrets and her heart with him, and he dared to care about anyone other than her. Green had always been a good color for Tiffani, it really brought out her eyes, but jealousy consumed the girl and their relationship never truly recovered.

Soon after she met Hook, and Tink was no longer concerned with friendship or Pippin or being a leader. What had leadership gotten her? After all these years? No, true leadership would come later. Tiffani Belle would take the world by storm one day, but Hook new about revenge. Hook stirred a darkness within her, growing out of that jealousy, his silver tongue and clever words working their way into Tink’s heart and mind. He could help her get Pippin back, and everything would go back to normal. But the blonde might’ve been in too deep. She connected with Hook in a way she’d never connected with anyone before, told him all of her secrets, gave him all of herself; he listened, was a comforting presence, and give Tink the push she needed to make sure stupid Wendy Darling was out of the way and Pippin would be hers again.

But the prank went too far, the Darlings wound up in the hospital, and something about that night opened Tiffani’s eyes. She was alone again, but that old spark – the one that was there before boys and feelings became involved – was ignited once more. Of course, everything had changed. She could never go back to the girl she was, not if she stayed. She told her parents everything, her entire side of the story, and even she couldn’t bring herself to argue when the decided to ship her off to Walt.

Second character choice

n/a (but I may also have plans for Honey Lemon and the return of one Rita Holden)

It’s time to see that sample para.

cw: pixie dust related flying/broken bones accident

Perfect. Everything was perfect. And then those stupid Darling children came along and ruined it.

What did Wendy Darling have that Tiffani didn’t? Tink had power, popularity, imperfection. Tink had magic: she could fly, she could shrink, her pixie dust could make Pippin fly too. But perfect little birdy Wendy Darling came along and none of that mattered anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.

Well fuck them. Tink had found a new companion and new friendship in James Hook. With him she didn’t need to be a leader anymore. She could follow and learn and love him instead. Not real love, of course. Real love was bullshit that got her nothing and nowhere. When she was eventually back on top again, with the Darlings out of the way, love would be an emotion she would let nowhere near her tiny body. The wasn’t room anymore for love. Just like there wasn’t room for the Darlings.

It had been Hook’s idea, but Tiffani had latched on to his scheme, and now the time had come. He’d been able to get close to the Darlings in a way that Tink had been loath to do. She admired him for that, for his ability to hide that side of him in order to move forward with revenge. I would be harmless enough, just a simple scare to put the darling Wendy bird in her place. She wasn’t god’s gift to mankind, yet somehow she’d made Pippin think she was.

Digging through her closet, Tinkerbell pulled out the bit of pixie dust she’d been saving. She’d only ever used this on two other people before: Pippin and then Hook; but now she’d secretly use it on the Darlings, too.

She met up with Hook on the edge of town. The Darlings would be meeting him soon, then Tink would take care of the magic, and he would take care of the rest. Before she shrunk to fairy size, Hook’s hands pulled the tiny blonde in to him for a kiss, rough and raw and fiery and full of passion, striking the heat in Tink’s body that rose every time he did that. Who needed love and romance when there were people like hook who were so sexy and free of attachment?

Hidden from view, when the Darlings arrived and Hook started sewing his side of the plan, Tiffani silently sprinkled her pixie dust on their shoulders.

—What? —No—Hook wasn’t supposed to tell them how it worked. They were supposed to be shocked when they suddenly found themselves flying. A shock that would turn their lives around the way Tink’s wings had turned around hers.

Rage flared in Tink’s tiny fairy body, and she flittered toward Hook at a moment when the Darlings had turned away, but he flicked her away with a wave of his hand, and Tiffani darted to the ground as she tried to regain control of her wings. Too late she did, and she skid along the ground, crossing her arms in anger and disbelief. But she couldn’t revel in those feelings for too long, because then Hook was leading them away, and Tiffani would be damned if she let herself get left behind, now that Hook had screwed everything up. He was just like Pippin, dumping her for Wendy, and using her magic to garner Wendy’s praises.

She doesn’t like to think too often about the in between; about the events that lead to what happened next. But suddenly the Darlings were flying. Except they weren’t flying, they were falling. Falling from too many stories high. That wasn’t right, Tink’s pixie dust was fail proof. Perhaps it had worn off? She may have hated Wendy Darling, but she wasn’t in the murder business. Another sprinkling would do the trick. Reaching into her pocket, Tiffani withdrew her bag of pixie dust.

Pixie dust that wasn’t pixie dust.

Too late she realized that Hook had switched the bag, pulled her in for a kiss, wrapped his arms around her waist, and replaced her precious pixie dust (which was very much a part of her) with something else. And she could only stare in horror as the first bone cracked.

Anything else, love?

~

Yup!

How I make book covers + tips for you!

Hey people of Earth!

Around this time last year, I mentioned I would have a video up on how I make book covers/cover making tips, and to summarize: I did not do the thing, and this year old script is still sitting in my drafts.

SO, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and post a written version of these tips! Going to get straight into this because I imagine this will be rather long!

This post will be divided into 6 parts: finding inspiration, concept art, incorporating elements of design, composition, tools and software, and resources. Feel free to skip around to whatever section interests you most!

***Before we get started, really quick disclaimer. I am in no way a professional cover designer. Cover design is merely something I picked up on my own, and I don’t have any formal education/credentials in graphic design. So of course take my advice with that in mind. These are also just my personal thoughts and opinions. So take everything with a grain of salt!

1. Finding Inspiration

What’s the deal?

A really great way to start out in design

Finding cover designs or designers you admire may help you see what works technically

Helps nail down a style you like

In turn, can help you find your cover design style

What should you do?

Look at covers in your genre!

Whenever I design a cover, I take a scroll through Goodreads to pick up some inspiration in designs I personally love

I also love walking around my bookstore and taking a look at physical copies

Find a cover design you like, and point out the specific reasons you like it

Example:

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl was actually not an inspo cover for this edition of I’M DISAPPOINTED, but as you can see, things I liked from it spilled over into my own design. By pointing out aspects of graphic design you like, you’ll better be able to understand your style as a cover artist. 

Some personal thoughts:

I like covers that include a textured backgrounds, as seen in the collage below: 

So for the I’M DISAPPOINTED cover above, I included a textured background. I also love handwritten fonts/lettering, which I include in almost all of my book covers.

What I did:

Off-white colour from A List of Cages and Holding Up The Universe

Silhouette from Painless and previous cover design of I’m Disappointed

Speech bubble from Simon VS the Homo Sapiens Agenda and Say What You Will

Marker texture from A List of Cages

Obviously my thought process wasn’t to put 4 covers in a blender and thus create my product, ha, this is just an example for the ease of understanding!  

2. Concept art

What’s the deal?

Coming up with concept art is a super important part of designing a successful book cover. 

Acts as the skeleton of your book cover

Your book cover’s roadmap

Saves time/effort

Similar to an outline for a novel. 

Can be a very quick sketch, or full fledged design

I like keeping my concept art quick, but if this is your first cover, making a more detailed mockup can help. 

What should you do?

Sketch out book cover ideas once you get them/take notes of concepts you’d like to explore

If you can’t come up with concepts, take a look at your inspiration folder and pull concepts/ideas from covers you love

This does not mean copying another book cover (this is notttt a good idea!). BUT, pulling inspiration from elements you like on a cover can be helpful in generating your own concepts

You don’t have to come up with concept art (sometimes winging it works!) but I do recommend jotting notes down, and drawing out loose sketches when applicable!

Keep a list of ideas for book covers as you accumulate them (almost like a little vault of concepts lol) and reference them in the future!

Take a look at as many book covers as you can and make a list of elements you like and don’t like

This is one of the easiest ways to accumulate ideas/concepts!

Example:

^^^ Concept art for two book covers 

Likes and dislikes in book covers:

Of course this list is not my be all and end all (nor should it be), and obviously, I still use these things (besides clunky composition I hope!) in some designs!

3. Incorporating the elements of design

What’s the deal?

There are 7 elements of design: line, shape, texture, form, space, value, and colour. 

These sometimes vary depending on where you look, but this is what I was taught, so I’m going to be working off that!

Examples:

I’m going to go through them really quickly via an assignment I did for my comm tech class

Keep in mind this assignment is 2 years old and is only meant to give you an idea of what these elements are 

1. Line

Line is probably the most important element of design as every piece of art starts with one. 

There are various types of lines. You can have curved lines, straight lines, vertical lines, horizontal lines and so on.

2. Shape 

You can have more mathematical, geometric shapes, or more abstract, free form shapes. 

3. Texture

Texture is the feel of a particular surface. 

Texture in my opinion is one of the most important elements when it comes to graphic design, especially book covers. 

My favourite thing to see in book covers is texture, whether that be paper textures like construction paper, crumpled paper, wallpaper, lace, wall textures, paint textures, or marker textures

Texture adds depth to designs, and if there’s any element of design you focus on in this post, I’d highly recommend it be this one. 

(i’m biased but still)

4. Form

Form is almost like shape, except instead of flat objects, we’re dealing with 3-dimensional objects. 

I don’t often use it in my covers since I like drawings and flat shapes in my designs, but if you want to include objects on your cover, or any sort of 3D shape, this would be form. 

5. Space

The distance around an object, to put it simply

Space in covers can help emphasize what’s important, and what is less important, or can draw attention to a particular piece of your design. 

Examples of space:

Colour coding: yellow = space, teal = focal point/movement of viewer’s eye

In Twilight, the black space helps emphasize the main image, the hands holding the apple. 

This also occurs in the Red Queen book covers. The empty space around the crown draws attention immediately to the focal point

You can also lack space. In The Duff, the girl’s face is the only thing you can see on the cover. 

6. Value 

Is determined by how much light or dark is incorporated into design. 

Example of value:

A great example of value in book covers is on Alexandra Bracken’s Passenger. As you can see, the green at the top fades down in a gradient as more white is added to the centre. 

7. Colour

Light reflecting off objects

Can make certain elements of your design stand out

Why should you incorporate the elements of design into your designs?

Adds layers of depth to your work

Thus can take your cover-making skills to another level

Can help in producing ideas

4. Composition:

What’s the deal?

In my opinion, can make or break a design

Can mean clutter of things, OR too much or too little space between elements

Title placement  

Composition is sometimes subjective from design to design

What you can do:

Pay close attention to detail and spacing

Look out for natural shapes in your design you can fit elements into

Watch the linked video from Mango Street (one of my favourite photography channels) on composition

While photography and design are two different things, the tips in this video can also be applied to various ideas in design such as headroom and leading lines

Examples:

*Before I get into this, I want to make it clear that these examples are exaggerations for the purpose of showing you good and bad composition. If you make these mistakes, that doesn’t mean your design is bad, and again, I’m no professional. This comes from what I believe could be considered bad composition, but trust your gut. 

Example 1: Stick People

doesn’t effectively use space

no headroom for text

text is covering 200 element (looks very clunky)

text is cut off

No focal point

Can’t read the title

Textual elements are better spread out

Title is now focal point

Slightly imbalanced

200 element is distracting 

Addition of stick figures balances out cover  

Text follows natural shape of photograph

Removed 200 element makes cover look less clunky

Example 2: Sixteen Cents

Half the title is on a dark background

Lacks readability

Last name is cut off by window

Uninteresting composition (everything is on one line)

No movement

Title placement is better

Better readability

‘A novel’ fits under windowsill

Last name is smaller to avoid cutting it off

Still slightly boring

Uses free space of wall wisely

Title is easy to read

Text is shaped around photo elements

Gives the cover some movement

Example 3: Fostered

Title is covering the focal point (the girl)

Title doesn’t seem to be incorporated into the design

By moving title down, we’ve made space for the subject

Title placement makes cover look less clunky

Same composition as prior but image is colour-graded

Embossed title adds texture/depth

I’ve mentioned this a few times in this post: focal point. What is it?

FOCAL POINT:

Is defined as the main attraction of your book cover

This is where you want your readers’ eyes to focus

Focal points can sometimes define themselves in areas where more contrast happens to be

Doesn’t have to be the centre of the page. 

Keep focal point in mind for composition because if you put it in the wrong spot, you could end up drawing your readers’ attention to the wrong area of the cover. 

The point of most interest in a cover is the focal point, so if you want a particular subject of your book cover, such as a person, to stand out make sure you don’t make the other areas of the cover too high contrast or busy.

Framing subjects also helps, so be creative!  

The human eye tends to focus on areas with increased contrast so keep this in mind

Examples:

The Host

The camera has focused on the eye of the model, with the nose bridge and forehead shadowing each corner of the cover

Helps lead eye to focal point (the eye)

The Girls

Blue around the edges encircles the focal point (the girl), leading the viewer’s eye directly to her

Girl is also scarlet in colour, contrasting the background

The Hunger Games

Grey outlines on the cover lead straight to the mockingjay

Mockingjay is bright gold in comparison to the black background

Creates contrast, thus viewer’s eye is lead there

The Female of the Species

‘Straight’ composition

No particular focal point, viewer’s eye instead moves horizontally across the design

What should you do?

Use the natural shapes and outlines in your design/photo to fill your cover

Use your space wisely (see examples above)

Use leading lines to draw attention to your focal point

Manipulate text to fill empty spaces

5. Tools and software 

You do not need Photoshop to make a good book cover

I made my first book covers in GIMP, a free image manipulation program (kinda like Photoshop’s little brother)

This is the stick people cover I made in photoshop, and the same cover made in GIMP. 

Other tools you may want to use are CreateSpace’s cover templates. 

You can find these through CreateSpace OR Bookow (my personal fave)

OPTIONAL (what I use):

Graphics tablet

I use the Huion H610 which I really enjoy! 

I use this to hand letter, draw silhouettes, create concept art, and so on

Paper and my Faber Castell India Ink Artist Pens. 

These are fine tip markers, and are what I used to create the text on I’m Disappointed 

Thin sharpies and pens will also do the job, and you can always clean any mistakes up in photoshop or gimp.

A scanner so I can transfer what I’ve hand drawn onto my computer

If you don’t have a scanner you can take a clear photograph on a camera or phone 

I also use a few custom marker brushes that now come with the 2018 version of Photoshop

The main one I use is Kyle’s AM - Watercolour Paper from the art markers set (you have to load these into Photoshop, but if you have PS 2018, you should have access to ‘em). 

(I’ve lettered everything in this post with that brush)

6. Resources

Here’s a list of amazing resources you might need when making your own book covers!

1. Stock image websites

Check out THIS post for a master list of my favourite stock photo websites!

Stocksnap.io

Unsplash.com

Pixabay.com 

2. Dafont

Is my main source for finding fonts

3. Goodreads

A huge resource I use to find cover inspiration

I’ll often browse the new releases section to look at new covers and so on

Easy way to narrow down the genre of cover you’re looking for, as well as the age category

4. Keyboard shortcuts 

Check out a masterlist for Photoshop HERE

GIMP masterlist HERE

Makes workflow super efficient

My fave I highly recommend in Photoshop is ctrl > shift > alt > e (merge all layers into new layer) 

I’ve made TWO custom shortcuts: ctrl > shift > o is now open as layer, and ctrl > shift > alt > r is now rasterize layer (these save so much time!)

So to conclude this post, I’m going to list out some of my favourite tips when it comes to cover making (sort of a reiteration of this post)

Add texture!

Texture is a super easy way to add dimension to your book cover

Try lettering with a paper and marker when starting out

I find this a lot easier than digital lettering!

Google is your friendddd

If you can’t figure out how to do something in Photoshop or GIMP, the internet is a vast depository of information!

Pay attention to detail

Cover design is alllll about the small details. Making sure you’ve centred something properly can seriously help in making your cover go from amateur to whoaaa who made thatttt

Get a second opinion

Been looking at your screen for 8 hours straight? Ask someone you know what they think of your design! I find this has sparked a lot of secondhand ideas!

If it doesn't work out, doesn't mean it was a fail

If a particular concept just doesn’t work, don’t worry! As you practice you’ll get better, and you can always revisit the concept for another novel!

EDIT: a really great suggestion from @sarahkelsiwrites: print out your design if you need a fresh perspective! You’d be surprised by what you notice on screen VS off!

So that’s it for this post! I hope this was helpful for some of you guys, I know it was looooong overdue. If it helped you out, let me know, and if you have any questions, feel free to send ‘em my way! :))

--Rachel

Perfection

A Roger Taylor x reader imagine that I came up with dealing with body image, I feel rather proud and happy with this imagine. 

@rogertaylorsbitontheside

Enjoy.

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

It never used to be in his nature to care about things such as that. And yet as his eyes found themselves transfixed on watching her frame as she stood in front of the mirror, he couldn't help but wonder if those things were also what she found herself worrying about like he did. Roger had never paid mind to the idea of body image until he hit his twenties when he really started to look at himself from a different angle and wondered if this was right; if he was right. No one else cared, no one else ever mentioned or referred to his body or how he looked other than the fact some people thought he was attractive, but even then they didn't really refer to his body. He knew the thoughts he was having weren't due to the way others looked at him or how they saw him, it was how he saw himself through his own deep blue orbs that always found themselves transfixed when looking in a mirror or passing by his reflection. His eyes searched her features as if he was scanning her for something he didn't yet know what, but he wasn't finding it. That little glimmer in the eyes that showed worry or emotion of self-doubt when she gazed at her figure he was always so enamoured by. Unlike his own. Roger admired the way that she never seemed to make a comment or give a look to reference that she wasn't happy in her own skin. Every time she looked in the mirror she saw perfection staring back at her and so she should. Roger admired every crevice of her body and there wasn't a fault he could find with her. The drummer felt like he had missed out on something because his eyes could never look at his own body and skin the way he could with her own. He didn't possess the power to look at himself and think he was perfection or think who gives a fuck, this is me. It had never been how other people had seen him. Roger had little problem with the people in the past who mistook him for a woman because that was mainly due to the blonde shaggy hair he had at the time. He was always fine and confident about his hair and those comments were brushed off and left behind in the past where they belonged. No one had told him that the way he looked wasn't right or that he seemed too skinny or too fragile or simply wrong. That was always his own doing, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the attitude of who cares, it always slipped through his grasp without his permission. "Rog, you okay?" His head snapped up to catch a glimpse of her face, seeing she had caught him drifting off into a world of insecurities and burning feelings he couldn't rid himself of. Her sparkling eyes burnt into his own with a gentle passion, her smile making his heart flutter like the wings of a bird as he gazed up at her in a mix of adoration that was faltered by his insecurities dampening the mood she had almost lifted. A dampening feeling swelled through him at the notion that she didn't have any faults in his eyes, even her smile seemed like it was made with perfection itself. Why couldn't he see himself through the same vision he saw her? Why was his self worth trying to reach the ground? "What do you think of yourself when you look in the mirror like that? I... I can't see anything but perfection in you and that's how you seem to see yourself- which is right but... I can't do that." Roger wanted the power she possessed, it hurt so much to hide away the feelings that appeared every time he saw his reflection staring back at him. Those few vital moments when he tried on an outfit or changed his hairstyle and felt a wave of ease rush through his veins at how he looked. He craved those seconds because they never lasted. The longer he looked at himself the more insecurities rose and the more imperfections he could start to pick out in the way he was. "I..." (Y/n) had to think for a moment of how best to respond to that. Those feelings of self-doubt didn't get to her in the way they got to others because (Y/n) had learnt what self-love meant and how to get it. She knew that perfection was in the eye of the beholder and that not everyone was going to agree on what perfection meant or really was. But if she could find it in herself to see how she was as perfection, then why should it really matter if no one else saw her in the same light? It was her body she was living in and it was her choices she was making in life, no one had the right to say how she looked was wrong and if she loved herself as being her personal ultimate form of perfection then technically she was right. "I think that this is who I am, and I like who I am and how I look. Come here Rog." Reaching her hand out (Y/n) waited patiently for the drummer to compose himself. Watching as he crawled from his position laid on the bed to grasp her hand tightly in his own, allowing her to pull him so he was stood in front of the mirror at the side of the bed. Positioning him so he was directly in front of it, her body right behind his own, head resting on his shoulder as she stared up at him in such a loving affectionate way he felt he didn't deserve. "Tell me what you see." Her voice was so delicate and quiet like a feather floating in the breeze. Her tone encouraging as she gently urged him to speak out about the fears plaguing his mind. Maybe Roger didn't want to tell anyone how he really viewed himself. No one would have thought at a glance or even knowing the drummer that he would have such feelings about himself in this way. That there was a part or possibly many parts of himself that he didn't like. He had such an air of confidence around him that covered up the feelings he pushed away deep inside to where almost no one could reach but himself. "I see... fragile bones." His words surprised the girl standing behind him, her eyes locking with his own in their reflection as she urged him to carry on. Watching as he slipped off the unbuttoned black shirt hanging from his shoulders so he could scan his eyes over his body as if it were a map he was picking at. "Bones that stick out at the edges through pathetically pale skin that feels and looks like paper, giving no protection at all. I see so many fucking bones that make me feel sick." Gripping the waistband of his jeans with such gentleness and ease that contradicted his words Roger slipped the jeans down his thighs just a little. Exposing his hipbones that protruded at the sides and made themselves known against the top of his boxer shorts. (Y/n) couldn't deny Roger was skinny, his frame was rather... lanky, was the word that came to mind. He had muscle, but there wasn't much and it wasn't eye-catching. His arms and legs were thin, rather like matchsticks but not in a way that was totally unhealthy. His ribcage could be seen when he moved in certain ways or sucked in his stomach or a deep breath but that still wasn't on the edge of unhealthy. He had a stomach that wasn't virtually flat but wasn't really noticeable at first glance either. His skin was very pale though, and maybe he didn't feel comfortable in his skin that felt like tissue paper to him. How he felt like he was going to break his skin with a simple scratch because of the way it looked to him. "I see arms and legs that look long and too thin. I can see a body that doesn't look right to fit the person hiding inside." "Why are you hiding?" "Because I don't want people to see the look of discontent in my eyes if they caught the real me looking at myself." Roger could walk around anywhere at any time and play it off. He could flip his hair over his shoulder and give a kiss to the cameras, he could strike a pose like a model and give a cheeky smile to anyone who caught his eye like he was looking at them and them only in the world. He could give off the air of confidence he had harboured from watching so many other people have the real deal. He could mimic how they seemed when they looked at themselves and he could tell himself that he wasn't the only one feeling like this and he knew it was true. But it still didn't make things better that he felt he was hiding away in his mind because if people saw how he really looked at himself in the mirror they would become concerned very quickly. Roger bowed his head to look at his feet, though he seemed to be simply staring through them. He couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't stand and pick out everything he hated or disliked about himself because it hurt. It hurt him so much to know that he didn't look at himself the way he looked at the person standing behind him who he loved with everything that he had. To know that he couldn't look at himself in a positive light and yet he could look at his friends and family and rant all day about how they were perfect or tell them all of their good points. His eyes allowed him to see the beauty in everyone but himself. His setting was forced onto the defaults and he couldn't seem to change this. The strings holding (Y/n)'s heart in place had been violently snapped, allowing her organ to fall into the abyss of her stomach and weigh down there as she saw the floods of tears now falling down her drummer's face. A look she had once had but had found how to rid herself of. If (Y/n) told Roger of all the things she loved about him, that wouldn't serve to rid him of this feeling because it was personal. No matter how much she wanted to help him by ranting about his smile that brightened her day, or his eyes that were so captivating yet blinding at the same time. Or tell him about how his body was one of his best features because he wasn't like everyone else and he didn't seem to want to be up until this point. She had seen him strut his stuff like a pro and the times when he actually enjoyed showing off whether that be showing off his outfits or just his personality. But telling Roger this wouldn't help to change how he saw himself because it was personal. Roger needed to be the one to see himself in a way that he could deal with, to see himself as someone who may have imperfections but who also was perfection in his own way. "Rog, sweetheart look up." Her words weren't stern or ordering, but more pleading. Begging the drummer in a tone that sounded so defeated yet willing to help, something that made his heart flutter and crack at the same time. Pressing her fingers to his chin, (Y/n) ever so delicately lifted his head so that he was back to looking at the pair of them in the mirror, mainly at himself. His shoulders quaking as his chest shuddered with silent sobs that were just waiting to be released like the tears that had broken the damn in his eyes. "Tell me what you see." A look of confusion flooded Roger's features as he took a moment to sniff, trying to compose himself and his thoughts but it didn't seem to be working very well. Had she not heard him when he reeled off how his body image was something he disliked very much? Was she simply asking for more reasons why he hated how he looked? Did she find this amusing to put him down, was it lifting her up at the same time? "I did-" His words were cut off by the light shaking of her head. "You told me half of what you have the ability to see. I want to know that you can look at yourself and see something other than a personal imperfection." She saw the wheels turning in his mind before his eyes set back to his reflection staring back at him with wide glistening eyes. She felt her heart jumping up in her chest when a look came into Roger's eyes she hadn't seen before especially when looking at himself like this. He seemed to scan himself over, working out what was something he could say that he hadn't already picked out. Something he could tell her that he was truly happy to look at whenever he gazed into the mirror or a reflection in a car or shop window that he passed by. Something that showed him that he was okay to look the way he did. (Y/n) could see the little things popping out at him and yet he had not voiced them to her. She had to know that Roger possessed the ability to look through a different lens, to look at himself in a way that showed his own self-worth. Deciding to help him out a little, she wrapped an arm around his rather petite waist, her head staying perched on his shoulder as her free hand moved out. Her index finger grazing over his skin causing a slight shiver to flutter under his skin that she felt just under her light touch. Her finger moving to brush a strand of hair behind his ear, fluttering around his hair as a hint before grazing around his eyes. Then trailing down his nose and around his lips, adding slight pressure to his dusty rose lips before her finger trailed further down his neck in such a loving way that reflected the look in her eyes as she gazed at him. Her hand running over his skin, fluttering like butterfly wings over his exposed hips and down his leg before she wound her arm around his waist, pressing herself flush to his back and waiting for his reply. "I see... deep ocean eyes that aren't reflected through glasses enough." He started, the way he spoke the words so delicately showing this was not a fault he was picking with himself. Roger did need glasses and he didn't wear them nearly enough like he should. His eyes watching how she nodded, the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips as she urged him to continue, her plush lips pressing to his shoulder lovingly. "I see features that usually display some kind of grin that... isn't displeasing." Roger had to admit when he got to see many of the photos that circulated round from the many parties Freddie was frequently throwing, or when he got to see recordings of when they were practising and recording songs in the studio he seemed to fall in love with his own smile. He liked how he could look cheekily into the camera or scrunch up his nose and crinkle his eyes as he smiled at whoever was recording the moment for him. "My hair is fine, I never have a problem with how it looks, and I guess my nose is fine too. I don't mind my features, they don't bug me." When looking at himself in the mirror it was usually what lied below his face that seemed to draw all of his negativity towards himself. He could style his hair in any way or wake up with a bed head and he would leave it because he thought it looked fine, great even. His face was never really a problem unless he had the very rare black eye from a rare bar fight that had happened once or twice in the past. He couldn't see imperfections when it came to his face. "I guess I don't mind my hands or wrists... I like the way the drumsticks look flowing between each finger when I twirl them." It had taken the drummer a little while to perfect spinning the drumsticks between the spacing of his fingers in record time so he could hit the next beat. That was something he was proud of and he did like how it looked to do that and go straight back to creating the beat that the rest of the band played and sung to. "My ribs don't really stick out a lot which is good." Roger didn't have to worry that he was on the underweight side because those a lot of bones stuck out, he had a stomach that wasn't sinking inwards and ribs that weren't protruding at every angle they could. His whole ribcage wasn't on display which was something he was relieved about. "My thighs aren't too bad I suppose." He sighed in a way that didn't show discontent, but rather a neutral feeling that was beginning to flow through his veins. "There are so many more positives you have and can pick out when you look closer that outweigh the negatives you spot straight away." Roger had looked at himself in the mirror, but whenever he did he always jumped to what he deemed was wrong with how he looked. He could never stare at himself for long because he hated to know how he was displeased with himself and simply wanted those feelings to disappear. If he took longer to look then maybe the positives would jump out at him, and he could learn to find those perfections first before diving into the negatives. "Perfection is individual. You can still have flaws but also deem yourself as your level of perfection because perfect doesn't mean no flaws, it means being beautiful or clever or just being you despite your flaws. Define yourself by your standards Roger because you are perfection to me and I wouldn't love you any other way." Turning his body around so that he was still in her embrace Roger delicately placed his hands either side of her face, tilting her head upwards before he placed his lips to her own. An overwhelming sensation of love spreading through his bones that was almost suffocating but in the best possible way. Maybe it would take a little time for him to be able to see the perfection before the flaws when he looked at himself, but that didn't matter. Roger could set his own standards, something he hadn't thought of before. He could decide if he was perfect in his own eyes and he could finally master the power to look at his own body and feel that he was comfortable with it. After all, perfection is as they say, in the eye of the beholder.

Vitamin Sea

Chapter 1

Josie bites her lip as she looks at the ship that will take her to Antica. Ruk flitted his wings in his cage.

“Don’t worry, sweet one. You only have to stay in there until we are settled. You can come out once we get to our cabin,” Josie whispered lovingly to the bird.

She looked to her parents. They had been thrilled when she told them she wanted to study at the Torre Cesme. She was nervous about going away for so long, but she was excited to see more of the world.

Yrene steps forward first. She wraps her arms around her daughter and pulls her in tight.

“I am so honored to be your mother. I am going to miss you terribly, but I want you to know how proud I am of you, Jose. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

Josie squeezes her mom tight. “I am going to miss you, Mama. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Little Flower.”

Josie takes a note out of her pocket and presses it into her mother’s hands. She kisses Yrene on the cheek and runs over to Chaol. Her father is in tears as he hugs her.

“Papa, don’t cry,” Josie says to him even though she is just as teary eyed.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. You have already accomplished so much, and I can’t wait to see how far you will go. Make sure you remember to write us at least once a week. Nesryn wrote and assured us that she would be at the docks to greet you when you arrive. Did you pack everything?”

“I’ll say she packed everything.” Ress piped in as he jogged up to them. “Did you guys see how many bags she has? I don’t think she left us any of the books in the study.”

Josie spins around. Ress was grinning ear to ear.

“I didn’t think you would make it,” Josie exclaims as she flings herself at her brother. He catches her and hugs her before setting her back down.

“I couldn’t miss seeing my baby sister off as she deserts me for warmer weather.”

She scoffs and smacks his arm while he laughs and ruffles her hair.

“Don’t you mess up my braids,” she warns.

“Hey! I didn’t run all the way here for a lecture.”

“I’m glad you made it! I have something for you,” Josie says as she takes a package from to top of her luggage. “Don’t open it until I’m gone.”

Josie jumps as the boat signals that it is time to depart. She rushes to grab Ruk’s cage and put it on top of her things to wheel onto the boat. She looks to her family and gives them one last hug. Chaol helps her get her things together and onto the boat where one of the crew helps take them to her cabin.

“I love you, Papa.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Safe travels. Write to us when you make it to Antica.”

Josie takes a small package out of her jacket and hands it to her father. He puts it in his pocket and kisses her on the top of her head before turning and heading back to the rest of their family.

She looks back at her family all gathered to watch her depart. She waves at them and doesn’t stop until they are specks in the distance. Then she turns to the front of the ship and looks at the open ocean ahead of her.

——————————————————————

As Josie enters her cabin, she notices a pile of books on her bed. She walks over and sees that there is a note laying beside them from Dorian, or Uncle Dorian, as she refers to him.

Dear Peanut,

I wouldn’t want my favorite bookworm to run out of reading material on her trip. I will send more once you reach Antica. Your favorite chocolates are in the top right drawer in the desk. I sent the chef Sayed Faliq’s blueberry tart recipe, and he promised to make them for you. I also had perches placed around the room for Ruk. I am so sorry that I was not able to send you off with your parents, but hopefully this makes up for it? Safe travels, Peanut. Don’t forget to write!

Love,

Uncle Dorian 

Josie smiled and placed the note and the books on the desk. She turned to where Ruk was sitting in his cage. He was admiring himself in his little mirror that dangles in the cage. Josie walked over to him and opened the door to his cage. She placed her hand in and offered him a finger.

“Step up, Ruk. You can come out now.”

Ruk hops up on her finger. Once he makes it out of the cage, he starts flying around the room. He finds a perch near the window that he particularly likes, and makes himself at home. Ruk starts singing while Josie starts unpacking some of her things.

Her cabin is small, but private. She knows that Dorian secured her a private room in the upper levels of the living quarters. She told her parents not to fuss, but she supposes she never made Uncle Dorian promise not to.

“With me, Ruk,” Josie calls to the bird, “let’s go explore the ship.” The bird flits down and lands on her shoulder. He nuzzles up to her neck and chirps happily. They set off to explore their home for the next few weeks.  

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

It does not take long for Josie to get into a routine. She reads the books Dorian gifted her until the late afternoon, then she heads to the kitchens to help the chef prepare dinner for the crew and guests.  Josie befriended the ship’s chef, Petyr, the first night she was on the ship. He came up with an ultimatum that if Josie helped him prepare dinner, he would let her have extra dessert. Josie does not turn down dessert. Ruk likes Petyr because he will let him snack on berries.

After about a week, Josie starts feeling restless. She has already finished reading most of the books that Dorian gifted her. She decides to head up to the main deck for some fresh air. Ruk hops on Josie’s head and starts chirping as they start to climb up to the main deck.

As they step out onto the main deck, Josie notices that some of the crew have gathered at the front of the deck and are doing combat drills. There are a few of the King’s guard scattered among them, and Josie is pleasantly surprise that she recognizes one of them. Aeron looks up just as she starts walking in his direction.

“Josephin? What are you doing here?”

Aeron was one of the kingsguard that worked at the castle. He was a little older than Ress, and they had trained together when they were younger.

“I am on my way to the Torre Cesme. What are you doing on the ship? I thought you were stationed at the castle.”

“I put in a request with your brother to be transferred to the Naval Unit. I want to see more of the world,” he replies with a shrug. He laughs and adds, “It seems like you and Ruk do as well.”

Ruk sings and puffs out his chest at the acknowledgement. Josie laughs and nods in agreement. She bites her lip and looks up at him. 

“Is there any chance I could train with you guys? I am getting restless cooped up in my cabin. I promise not to make you look too bad,” Josie smirks.

Aeron laughs and hands her his sword. 

“Of course you can train with us! It would actually help us out a lot. We have uneven numbers so we have been having someone sit out of the pair drills.” 

He leads her over and introduces her to the others. She trains with them until late in the afternoon. Aeron asks if she will come back the next morning, and she agrees. She adds morning training with the crew to her daily routine. She finds that the rest of the trip flies by.

—————————————————————-

Please let me know what you think!

Birds of a feather, pt. 2

[Pt. 1]

The blizzard had come. As it was said to have. The thickly falling curtain of snow in the early morning hours had only picked up in its intensity and volume by middle day. And by the next day, it was a complete and utter white out. The temperatures plummeted and, as estimated, the complex machinery making up the Respawn machine all but iced over, becoming a large, useless hunk of cold gears, solidified oil and stalled computer circuitry. 

There wasn’t much that could be done for those residing on the aptly-named base called Coldfront. High up in the mountainous alpine region, all they could do was wait out the blizzard and hope that, in a few days to, quite possibly, a week, the roads would be cleared so they could get to town. That’d be the only way they’d be able to restock their supplies. Shipments from MannCo were bound to be snowbound  at this point.

An exhausted sigh came from the bleary eyed doctor. He was already on his second mug of coffee, and he could finally recognize the subtle sensation of becoming alive.  He had stayed up far too late last night. He had been far too engrossed in his little project of experimental madness, he hadn’t realized that by the time he was done, and the results could finally be penned down, it was nearly four in the morning.

Never would he regret the lack of sleep. After all, he had sacrificed sleep in the name of science. And that, of course, would always  be an exceptionally noble and worthy cause in his mind.

His unkindness squawked about in their excitement. Aldous, despite being sleep deprived, had laid out a few of their favorite toys and puzzles. Snowy ‘off days’ meant that the ravens had an extra long play period. The clustered cloud of corvids occupied themselves, much to the doctor’s relief.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like  his unkindness, or that he was annoyed  with them. In all actuality, he considered himself to be a father.  A father... with four rambunctious, rebellious, and highly intelligent children under his wing. This late in the game he could never have children. And, if by some miracle he did  have kids (never happening), he doubted his ability at being a good father. At least, with the ravens, he could still have that feeling that he was doing something right in taking care of them, raising them all from tiny, abandoned hatchlings to the sleek, smart, and sassy adults that they were now. They could be his children, and he was their father, not  owner. 

But today... he just didn’t want to be  a father. He was far too exhausted, and his coffee was working, albeit slowly, taking its sweet time in waking him up. He was a little late on taking his medication and, as a result, was having a hard time being patient, letting it do its thing. 

His mind drifted across the various events of yesterday. During his morning smoke break he had fed the various members of the corvidae class that lived outside, on the base’s grounds. He had befriended them all, though the process of gaining their trust had been a long and winding one. Now, however, all his efforts paid off. Any time he stepped outside, they greeted him like an old friend. Anytime he fought in a skirmish, they recognized him (even with his mask, cowl and hat on), and they often flew high above him (safely out of harm’s way), just to watch over him and, he liked to think, silently cheer him on.

He was slowly beginning to realize it, but he had become an integral part of their big family.

Taking another sip of his coffee, he willed the conflict in his mind to quiet down. He glanced over at the book on his desk. It was shoved off to the corner. Ah, yes. The reference guide from yesterday.

Faintly hearing an excited shriek coming from one of his ravens (they must have completed a puzzle and was currently celebrating), he pulled the book close to him. He had a bigger, more extensive version of the same book, and he often transcribed all of the notes he took into that  one. But this one was a well worn, well thumbed through edition that he rather enjoyed. It came with a lot of memories. 

Idly flipping through until he got to the corvidae page, he admired how many beautiful birds graced the pages of that section. The corvidae were, in his opinion, far superior birds than the rest. While some birds, all around the world, basked in the fame and adoration showered upon them for their colorful plumage, or unique patterns, or lovely tittering song-calls... Aldous knew that the vanity of those birds didn’t matter. Were they as smart as a corvid? Were they as resourceful as a corvid? Could they survive like one? Communicate like one? Did they have personalities? Unique personalities, like ravens? Or crows? And did they forge long lasting familial bonds?

Of course  they couldn’t. They were lacking. 

Aldous knew his sap-hearted brother would bring up the fact that his  mourning doves mated  for life, and that they had strong, familial  bonds, too... but who really paid attention to his blathering on about those overgrown rats with wings? Not he, for starters. Turtle doves could never  be the superior ones.

Flipping another page, he lingered on the realistic image of the alpine chough. That was the bird he came across yesterday. He had done some research on the bird, and he had to admire its tenacity. For being a crow, it really was a brave little thing. It made its nests often on cliffsides, and displayed a sense of audacity that even Aldous had to admire. And it was loyal. According to his research, the bird, like his brother’s precious mourning doves, mated for life.  Monogamy, he recalled reading. Yes, that was the word. Monogamy.

He gently passed his thumb over the date he had penned in, next to the tiny drawn body of the chough. He recalled the memory of that brazen little bird hopping towards him, hoping to get some food. While the other ravens and crows were whirling about, high in the sky, in a display of aerobatic greeting, that little bird had been the only one to approach him first. It knew what it wanted in life, and it wasn’t about to waste any more time and dawdle about. It wanted it, and it wanted it right then.

Rebellious bravery. He admired that trait, too. 

“Rrrrk.” 

Pulled from his thoughts, Aldous was startled. He jolted a little in his chair before looking over at the grand, stately raven that perched on his desk. Well... it perched on the human skull residing on his desk. Rapustin’s bony cranium had always been the favored perch of his eldest raven, Poe. The raven was at least putting it to good use. After all, Rapustin was no longer using it. Correct? How could the dead  use their own skull anymore? No more thinking to be had. No more need for bones. No more cage for the floating, squishy brain matter. And, of course, before Rapustin’s scheduled execution (the reasoning was still a mystery to Aldous), the lumbering man had written in his will--- or whatever  it was that he had written this request-- that he receive the skull in order to ‘put it to good use’.

After all, what could be a more honorable throne for a raven? Nothing, Aldous thought. A human skull was perfect.

Too bad Rasputin didn’t leave him his brain  to study.

“Tsk. Silly boy.” Aldous gently pushed aside the reference guide, pinning his raven with an inquisitive stare. “Did you already solve the puzzles I put out?”

“Wuh, wuh.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Aldous audibly spoke aloud his amusement with an impressed, “all  of them?”

“Yes.” 

“Heh!” Pulling open the top drawer of his desk, he pushed aside a gun case and a bag of candies before locating another  type of bag. This one did not hold candy. It held treats of another kind. 

Pulling out the small sack, he rummaged through it before he selected what looked to be a medley mix of what he fed the corvids outside. “Such a clever child you are!”

Giving his ravens their daily treats were, by far, the best  part of the day. And as he watched Poe gobble his little reward up (right out of his hand, too), he glanced back at the reference guide. 

The alpine chough was on his mind. 

“...Poe.” Once the raven was done greedily gobbling up his reward, the doctor reached over and picked up the reference guide once more. He flipped a page so he could be back on the one with the chough on it. Showing it to the great, sleek black bird, he watched as Poe studied the picture. “What do you think of this bird?” Tapping the drawing of the chough, he watched as Poe’s throat feathers fluffed out. “It stayed with me yesterday.”

Poe took a moment to scrutinize the page. This meant that he rubbed his beak against it, and even attempted to nibble the page (resulting in a light, but stern, chiding from his human). After a moment the raven looked up at Aldous, letting out a funny sounding warble. 

“Mmm. I take that as you are indifferent  on the matter.” Closing the reference guide once more, he took a long, thoughtful sip of his coffee. His mind was quieter now, and he could think a bit more clearly. “The bird made me think and... I wanted to ask you something. I know you don’t really understand me--”

“Understand. Understand.” 

“--heh. Funny. You are very  funny.” Letting a short pause settle between his words, he picked up his train of thought with a well aimed, but hesitant, “fine, you understand me. I, ah... I had a thought  yesterday.” Aldous set down his mug and, instead, lifted his hand towards the raven’s beak. Poe reciprocated the action by gently rubbing his beak against his owner’s hand, letting out comforting noises from deep within its throat. “Am I not just a caretaker to you? Am I something different? Something more?”

The other ravens, by now, had lost interest in the toys and puzzles. They were now clamoring for any space on the doctor’s desk. If they couldn’t get a place on the desk, or books, or even the back of Aldous’s chair, they tried to settle in anywhere close. They were attention hogs at the most. Childish in this way, and in every way possible. But they were enjoyable  this way. They were... amusing  in the way that they were still very much like humans.

Or humans were like ravens. It was hard to tell at this point who was like who.

“Am I,” he continued, “a part of your group? Your unkindness? I ask this of all of you--”

“Ass.”

Aldous sighed heavily. “Even you, Roderick. You have all  taken care of me. Or looked after me in your own way. You have kept me company, made sure I’m not alone. You’ve entertained me, made me laugh.” He looked at each raven, each member of his unkindness. “There are... humans  that help me, too. Who look after me and who check up on me. My brother, and  my friends. Those close to me who care.” 

The unkindness quietly listened to him. Beady black eyes blinked up at him, their sleek, glossy bodies relaxed at the soothing sound of his comforting, familiar voice. 

“I never used to let anyone in. I used to keep a wall up. I kept people away. I frightened people off before they could get to know me better. And I made sure people hesitated or thought twice about visiting me. I enjoyed being alone because it was safe."

He couldn’t get hurt anymore. He honestly knew what some people thought of him. And, in some way, he admitted they had a right in thinking so. He had done some horrible things in his past, and he knew he had to stand up and take all the blame. No more running away. But then again, a lot of it was... unfair. Unfairly judged against him. And he’d rather not befriend someone if they were going to think of him as a dangerous monster.  He wasn’t. It was the stigma of what he had. He was sick, but that didn’t  make him a monster.

So he scared people away. He built up a wall. He flourished under the rumors and the made up names, all spoken against him, behind his back. He used it as a weapon and a shield, turning it all around and using it against everyone he could.

By keeping people away, he couldn’t get to know someone. It saved him the pain of finding out the disgusting, filthy truth of it all; that some people were no good in his life. He didn’t trust humans. He didn’t trust humanity. And he sure as hell  didn’t trust people, or society, as a whole.  He’d seen what a group of people could do to others. Sheep in a herd, lead blind by a shepherd who only lead them astray. 

He witnessed far too much pain wrought on one another, on innocent people, by humans. Humans were often far more dangerous than any creature of the wild. 

Aldous lapsed into silence, vaguely comforted only by the clicking and popping sounds his unkindness was omitting. He had half expected some sort of reply (even if were a mimicry of words he had used in the past). But, no. Silence. He figured as much. The ravens didn’t understand him. How could they? As fantastic as corvids were, they were still... only birds. Only birds, and nothing more. They didn’t hold the vast complexity of a vocabulary, or display a wide array of emotions. Not like what they  had. What humans  had. 

His ravens knew more than most, but that is because he spent time-- hours upon hours, days upon days, weeks upon weeks-- teaching them words both in English and Deutsche. Sure, the words were considered to be mere mimicry of things he had spoken. He didn’t care. He wanted them to know  the meaning  behind certain things, to understand  what he was getting at. He wanted them to know the names behind colors, and objects and certain concepts.

He wanted company, even when he longed to be alone.

“...Feh. Forget I said anything.” Going to retract his hand from Poe, he was surprised when the elder raven made a fuss. He watched as the raven stepped out with its foot, stepping onto his hand. “What is it now? No. No more treats. You’ve had en--”

It was then... that Aldous heard the eldest raven say something that he never dreamt he’d hear coming from him.

There were many times Aldous referred to himself as such a word, but only  in the company of his ravens. Never did he speak such a thing, or idea, around his teammates and fellow coworkers. He never spoke of it aloud to his brother, or even Alexei. They had no clue he referred to himself as such.

His heart stilled for a beat or two. His chest tightened.

“What... did you--”

The eldest raven-- the leader of the unkindness-- proudly moved up Aldous’s arm until he was perched on the man’s skinny shoulder. From there the raven lovingly rubbed the side of his beak against his cheek, feeling the slight stubble of a sleep-deprived night, and a rushed, discordant morning. 

This human was like a raven to them. Perhaps his wings weren’t as glossy, and they were a bit dull, maybe gray. Perhaps he couldn’t fly, and he was, forever, stuck to the limitations of the ground. And perhaps he was scarred and scary to most. Perhaps he was a little sick, too; a little too skinny, and a little too frail. But to them, he was--

“Father,” croaked the raven, once more.

Runaway {Pt. II}

Billy x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Read the first part here

The morning was newly birthed as the sun had just peeked over the horizon. The birds were barely awake and have yet to sing their sweet song of praises to the morning sky. Everything is nearly silent as you sit on the front steps of Hopper’s wooded cabin that he is allowing you to stay in with him and Jane. Hopper had just left a mere five minutes ago, leaving you and Jane there by yourselves until school is over and the two of you meet with the kids and Steve.

“Your nose doesn’t bleed.” Jane says from the doorway behind you.

“When I use my powers?” You shake your head, staring out at the colorful flowers and green leaves on the trees. “That’s only happened to me a couple of times, don’t know why.”

“Thank you, for coming.” She sits on the step beside you.

“I couldn’t sit back and hide knowing you and all your friends were in troub-” The stillness of the wooded area around you became almost unbearably eerie, as if someone were watching you and when you heard a twig snap your eyes flick up to see a giant black mass barrelling toward you and Jane. “NO!”

You throw your hand up and lean over Jane, protectively pulling her into your chest and getting between her and the black bear who is speeding toward the two of you. When everything is once again silent and you realize the bear hasn’t attacked you, you look up to see everything frozen. The bear is mid-stride, in the sky is a bird with its wings halfway open and unmoving but you and Jane, you both stand up and look around.

“Did you?” She asks looking at you then back at the bear.

“I think so. I also think… it’s wearing off.” You groan as your head starts to spin and you feel your nose running. “Let’s get inside.” You grab her arm and pulls her into the house, closing the door behind you.

“You’re bleeding,” Jane says, pointing to your nose.

Your hand slides across your nose and you look down to see the blood smeared on the top of your hand turn to a blurry haze. “Well damn,” you chuckle lightly. “Hey, I’m kind of- kind of…” You trail off as you attempt to stumble your way across the room before you passed out but the darkness overtook you way too quickly.

Groaning you slowly open your eyes as the pounding in your head subsides you see all the kids and Steve hovering over you, concern painting all their faces. Sitting up, you gently rub your eyes and stretch your tense muscles. Steve takes a seat beside you on the couch and gently touches your shoulder. You can feel the worry in him flow through his hand and into you and you wonder how can someone who doesn’t even really know you be so worried about you.

“Whoa, was I out all day?” You look around and see Jane nodding.

“What happened?” Max asks from where she sits on the floor across from you.

“I think I froze time.” You say quietly, more so to yourself than anyone else. “I’ve never done that before.” You shake your head and look down at your hands.

“Maybe it’s because you were in danger.” Will suggests.

“I’ve been in danger before and that’s never happ-” you cut yourself off as a thought begins to swirl in your mind.

“What?” Steve asks almost frantically.

“The only difference is Jane.” You look up at her. “I’ve always been by myself, but maybe -- just maybe -- when I touched you, you enhanced my powers. I know it kind of sounds crazy but it’s the only thing that would make sense.” “What even is crazy anymore?” Max asks.

“Can you do it again?” Dustin asks eagerly.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.” Steve shakes his head, worried that doing it again will result in you losing consciousness once again.

“Actually, I was wondering the same thing.” You stand up and walk to the door. “Let’s go see.”

“How are you feeling,” Steve asks as he pulls into an empty space in the Dairy Queen parking lot.

“A little tired but pretty damn good.” You smile, feeling accomplished that you managed to freeze time for a few seconds once again. Sure you passed out again but only for a few minutes this time. “If I keep working on it I may be able to do it for longer and without passing out.”

“Just be careful, okay,” Steve instructs as the both of you exit his car and head up to the doors.

“I promise.” You smile as you walk through the door he holds open for you.

You both get vanilla ice cream cones and eat them as you walk down the block to the arcade where Steve says they spend a lot of their time at. The whole walk there you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that for once in your life you don’t feel alone, you actually feel like a part of something. You also know that this won’t last too long, once you and your new friends -- hopefully -- come out the other end of the impending disaster awaiting you, you will have to skip town once again because you will go back to no longer being wanted or needed. It’s always an endless cycle of you helping someone and once the task is over they forget about you but you cherish the moments anyway.

“Thank you, for everything. You didn’t have to be so… friendly to me and it means a lot that you have been.” You say leaning against the light pole.

“That’s what friends do, right?” Steve’s smile drops as he looks at something behind you and when you turn around, you see exactly why he had that face.

“Hey, baby,” Billy smirks and juts his tongue out and licks his lips.

“Billy, it’s nice to see you again.” You smile, reaching out to gently touch his arm and he winks. “We were actually just talking about you, weren’t we Steve?”

“You were?” Billy asks, the smirk never leaving his face as he looks at Steve with a questioning look on his face.

“No, actually we weren’t.” Steve rolls his eyes and you shoot him a glare.

“Hey you guys, we-” Max walks out of the door and stops mid-sentence when her eyes land on Billy standing so close to you that the two of you are nearly touching. “Billy, what are you doing here?” She asks.

“Talking to my new friend here.” He winks at you.

“Yeah right, you don’t have good friends. All your friends are rude idiots.” Max scoffs.

“What’s up Max?” You laugh, turning your attention to her.

“Uhm,” She looks at Billy then back at you and Steve, “Nevermind.” She turns and walks back into the arcade.

“I’m going to go check on them… You okay?” He asks referring to you being alone with the guy he was hoping you could stay far away from.

You smile and nod as he sighs deeply, turning around and walking through the arcade doors. Sure, you had a vision that Billy was going to be fighting side-by-side with you and the others but you also have a thing for the blond-haired, blue-eyed teenager standing beside you with a wide smile. You turn to face him, head cocked to the side as you admire the beauty that is called Billy Hargrove.

“So, who said we were friends?” You question sweetly.

“Ya know, I just kind of hoped we were.” He says with a closed mouth, crooked smile.

“I don’t normally make friends with mullet wearing hoodlums but I can make an exception for one as attractive as you.” You flirt, unapologetically and Billy just eats it up.

“Lucky for you then.” He winks, “Because dates with me are pretty unforgettable.” He wraps his arm around your waist.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask, hoping to God that he says yeah.

“Kill two birds with one stone. Go out with a pretty girl and annoy the hell out of Harrington… So what do you say?”

“Okay.” You smile wide.

“Tonight at seven?”

“Pick me up at Steve’s.” You turn and walk into the arcade leaving a wide smiling Billy who is desperately attempting to mask the excitement in his face. He doesn’t know why but for some reason he really likes you.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Steve groans as you walk up to him and the group of kids.

“I have a date tonight. He’s picking me up at your place.” You take a seat on the table that the kids are all huddled around.

“With Billy?” Max groans out loudly causing all the kids to look at you with wide eyes.

“Billy, of all people you are going on a date with Billy?” Lucas asks exasperatedly. “Billy is not a nice guy.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” You joke but when you see the slightly scared look on the kid’s faces you put your hands up. “I’m kidding, I was just playing. There’s something inside Billy, change is possible for anyone -- especially Billy.”

“If you say so.” Will mumbles under his breath.

Deadly Red - Chapter 2

A/N: In this chapter, there are a couple of references to a one-shot I wrote titled ‘Side Effects’ (that takes place in the same universe). If you want to read it, the link is there, or, if you are unable to read it due to the content (or just don’t feel like reading it, which is fair enough), basically all that you need to know is that Patton takes a sort of mind-space specific antidepressant- they aren’t quite antidepressants, that’s just the best word I could think to relate it to- that the other sides don’t know about. The short story itself is obviously more in-depth and has more to it, but I’m not gonna tell anyone to go read it if they don’t want to but anyways I’m rambling I’ll shut up now

If you missed

Prologue

Chapter 1

Warnings: Minor food mention, blood mention, mentions of medication

(If there are any more, PLEASE let me know!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairings: Royality

---

I’m back on the path in the morning, now with a coat and bag- with food and a change of clothes, thankfully- that Elaine and Isabelle had given me. I hadn't wanted to stay for much longer, but I had to know what Isabelle was talking about. 

I'd learned that Roman had come into his room a week ago, and the shadows- as Isabelle called them- showed up very shortly after. That seemed to be about the time that the kingdom began referring to Roman as the King, as opposed to the Prince, which he'd always been- inside and outside his room- up until now. But why did he change his mind so suddenly? 

Elaine also told me that- despite the clear sky now- the blizzard I'd walked into when I came into the room was a common occurrence during the war. 

And from what I've heard, it sounds like Roman is losing.

---

The forest is surprisingly quiet. I'd expected it to be full of animals- birds, squirrels, rabbits, and the like. This is Roman's room after all. But the only sound is the wind- the snow doesn't even crunch under my feet- and even that is barely making a sound. It's... depressing. Roman's signature style has been drained of its usually flamboyancy and colour. 

He would be able to make winter comforting; decently warm and beautiful. But here, the cold permeates through even my coat, and the snow looks packed and dirty. The sky is grey, birds are silent. There's no trace of the usual Disney-like elements.

My legs get sore after an hour or two of walking- there's really no way for me to tell how long I've been out here- and I look around for a place to rest. A familiar clearing in the trees catches my attention, and I push back branches as I walk down the path. 

The fallen log is still there, covered in snow. The pond in front of it is frozen, but it's void of any patterns in the ice. Usually, during the winter time, Roman would make the water freeze over in delicate swirls and snowflake formations. The ponds would look like something out of a fairy tale, which I suppose in some ways, they were. 

I wipe snow off of the log and sit down, my feet sitting on the ground. They don't sink down into the powder; the snow is hardened. Everything that changed about Roman's kingdom has made it feel unwelcoming. I remember when Roman and I used to come into this clearing all the time. Whichever season it was, he would go above and beyond trying to impress me.

"I don't think there are a lot of pink leaves that show up in Autumn," I joke, picking up a rose-tinted leaf and twirling it. 

"Do you like them?" Roman asks. Even though there's a sure smile on his face, I can hear the longing in his voice. I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. 

"I love them," I reassure him, still admiring the leaf between my fingers. It's surprisingly soft for an Autumn leaf. Roman's shoulders relax, and he puts one of his arms around me. 

Above us, a flock of strikingly red birds flies into the clearing, all chirping the same song in unison. I look on as the lead bird flies forward, twisting and looping around- almost as if performing- as the other birds follow his lead, perfectly synchronized.

"They're so beautiful," I mutter, a small smile spreading across my face.

"Would you like to join them?"

My head lifts off of Roman's shoulder, and I turn to look at him. He has a knowing grin on his face. 

"Join them?" I ask. I cock my head, my eyebrows pulling together.

Roman stands up, holding out his hand. I grab it, and he pulls me onto my feet. Before I can ask what happens next, two huge red wings sprout out of Roman's back.

"Woah," I say, my eyes widening in awe. Roman grabs my other hand and flaps his wings, and our feet lift from the ground. 

"Why don't we just..." Roman readjusts his grip, pulling me up so that I end up sitting bridal style in his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and look out into the trees, letting the soft breeze ruffle through my hair. 

"It's really pretty up here," I half-whisper. "And the clouds look so fluffy, like cotton candy." 

"I'm very glad you like it."

I tilt my head up and squint. Behind the clouds... it looks like...

"Why is the moon so clear during the daytime?" I ask, pointing up into the sky.

"It helps me keep track of things."

I cock my head and wrap my arm back around his neck. "What kinds of things?"

"Well, I can only stay in here for so long. You know that. So when the moon becomes full, I know that I've been here for too long." Roman looks down and gives me a lopsided smile. "Luckily that's never happened."

"Luckily," I repeat, smiling back at him softly, feeling my eyelids drooping. "I love you, Roman."

"I love you too, Patton."

The moon!

I crane my neck to look up. The moon should be visible from here, but the sunlight is harsh despite the cold, and I find myself shielding my eyes. I look back down and put my hands on my hips. "Should I..." I walk up to a tree and grab a low hanging branch, tugging at it to make sure it's sturdy. If I get higher, maybe I could find the moon and get a better idea of how long I have. 

I hoist myself up, branch after branch, until I'm clutching onto the middle of the trunk. I stand tiptoe on the branch so my feet don't hang off the edge, and to get a tiny height boost.

The outline of the moon is just far away enough that I can't make out whether it's a crescent or quarter, and I lift my hand to climb higher for a better view. A loud crunch comes from underneath my feet, and the next thing I know, I'm on the ground.

Nothing is broken, but my leg hurts to the point where I don't think it would feel too nice if I tried to stand on it. My knee is scraped too, and a steady stream of blood soaks into my pants.

"Ah, shoot," I groan. I pick up my glasses from where they fell beside me. It's a wonder they didn't break from the fall, though there is some dirt on the lenses. No big deal, I just need to be able to see the contents of my bag. I could probably clean up my scraped skin with some water.

I grunt, pushing my torso up a bit more and twisting to find the bag. It didn't fall far, but it's just out of my reach. 

"Not a problem," I mutter to myself, leaning over to grab at it. I catch one of the straps with a finger and pull it toward me, revealing a black rat that had been sneaking around in the pockets. I can't see too clearly with the dirt on my glasses, but I can tell there's something in its mouth.

"Watcha got there, buddy?" I ask, pulling the bag into my lap. The rat lets out a squeak and falls onto all fours. I'm glad to see there are actually animals here at all. I rustle around in my bag, opening each pocket. "What did you take, huh?"

All my pockets seem to have what they're supposed to, until I reach into the little hidden compartment in the back. My pills are gone. My eyes widen and I turn to look at the rat. Sure enough, if I squint through the dirt, I can see that it has my little pill bottle in its mouth, dragging it across the forest floor.

"Oh no," I say. I lean forward a bit, and the rat steps back, regaining the space between us. "C'mon buddy, I need those." The rat starts to turn. "No, no no. Oh jeez. I-I have food. Do you want something to eat? Oh, jeez, no don't-" I reach my hand for the bottle, and the rat turns tail and scampers away.

I shove my bag off of my lap and push myself to my feet as quickly as I can. I ignore the pain in my leg as I run, trying to follow the rat, but it darts off the path and through a patch of bramble. I part the branches and rush through, the thorns scraping at my legs, making it harder to move. The rat is nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, no... no no no..." I whisper. I feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes. I blink them back, sinking to my knees. The pain in my leg has worsened from the thorns and running. 

Those pills gave me my drive. Without them... I usually can’t even get out of bed in the morning.

But then... why is there still that feeling in my chest? That confidence that’s barely there, telling me to ‘get up, get up, you need to find Roman’? 

I could brush it off as the last of the pill’s effects, almost worn off. But that explanation feels defeatist. I’m in Roman’s room. One of the positive effects has always been enhanced confidence. I can work with that until Roman and I are out of the room. I can get new pills later. But they’re not as important right now as my real goal. 

Even thinking that seems to make the barely-there confidence become stronger.

Enduring the pain in my legs, I stand up and go to find my bag.

---

My Other Fics

Tag List: @lilbit-gay @succanegg69 @emi-loves-them @logicaltimeink @thelogicalloganipus @monikastec @misstallip @aikogumi @pastel-patton123 @caffeinated-casper @confinesofpersonalknowledge @crofters-junkie @well-love-has-failed-me @callboxkat

Santa Rhysand

Holiday Fic Collection #3: Feysand - Baby’s First Christmas 

Requested by Anonymous

Cadewyn is baaaacckkkkkk !!!!!

Feyre wakes up Christmas morning to the same sound she has woken up to every morning since May—the sweet sound of her child crying. She's about to crack her eyes open and crawl from Rhys' arms when she feels a soft kiss laid across her eyelids. "Sleep, darling, I'll get him," her mate murmurs, sliding from the bed. 

The High Lady of the Night Court nestles down into her pillow, fetching a few more precious moments of sleep in her warm bed. When Rhys returns, he is holding their little bundle of joy, rocking him lightly with a soft hum. Feyre finally rolls over and smiles up at her husband and son. 

"Merry Christmas, boys," she greets quietly. She reaches her arms up and Rhys gently sets Cadewyn into her waiting hands. The baby smiles sleepily when he sees his mother's face. Feyre pulls him to her chest and he lays there happily, his tiny wings fluttering a little as he relaxes into her. His father settles down next to them, the sweetest of smiles gracing his features and Feyre would do anything to see that peace and happiness on his face every minute of every day. 

Rhys places a tender kiss on his son's head. "It's your first Christmas, Cade," he says, excitement beginning to light his eyes. "Should we go see what Santa left you?" The baby gives him a half-lidded look but one side of his mouth tilts up and Rhysand takes that as a yes. "Fantastic, let's go!" 

Feyre laughs as her mate scoops up the child and stands, practically running for the door before he stops and looks back at her expectantly. "I'm coming," she insists, finally pulling her legs out from the blankets and realizing that she's only wearing Rhys' shirt. "You go on ahead, I'll meet you." Her husband practically whines. "I think your brothers are down there and unless you want them to see me like this–" she gestures to her half naked body "–then I think you'll wait for me down there." 

Rhys' eyes drop to her bare legs and he nods once. "Don't take too long, I think I smell Cassian's pancakes." The High Lord grins, turns to his son with an excited gasp—prompting Cadewyn to clap his hands adorably—and takes off down the corridor. 

Feyre shakes her head with a little laugh. Those two are her life. Ever since Cadewyn was born eight months ago, they have been the happiest little family and it feels like nothing will ever change that. The Inner Circle fell in love at first sight with the new little half-Illyrian and are all taking their jobs as aunts and uncles very seriously. In the weeks leading up to today, the entire gang (even Amren) has been making sure that Cade's first Christmas will be fantastic.

Smiling to herself, Feyre pulls on some of her comfiest pajamas and makes her way downstairs where chaos reigns. Cassian is standing at the stove, pancake batter in his hair and flour all over his 'Kiss the Bat' apron. Amren and Nesta are scouring the presents under the tree, sorting them into piles which are scattered all over the living room. Elain is pinning a red and green bow into a very disgruntled looking Lucien's hair. Rhys and Mor are cooing over a crying Cadewyn as they struggle to strap him into the booster seat. 

Azriel appears from the shadows next to Feyre with his arms crossed. "I told them not to." Feyre's not sure which pairing he's referring to, but she sends him a long-suffering look nonetheless. 

"I'll take the baby, can you please make sure Cassian doesn't burn anything?" Azriel nods and moves swiftly towards his brother. Feyre marches over to her son, who calms down as soon as he sees her and both Mor and Rhys rush to buckle him in while he's momentarily distracted. 

"Success!" Rhysand exclaims when Cade is securely fastened. "I told you I could do it!" 

Mor doesn't look impressed. She sees Feyre and a huge smile overtakes her face. "Merry Christmas, Feyre!" Her words catch the attention of the others in the room and everyone repeats the sentiment. Mor envelops her in a hug. "The costume is all set," her best friend whispers in her ear as she gives Feyre a squeeze. 

"Thank you," she murmurs back as they part, "Now I just need to convince him to put it on." Feyre smiles at her sisters in greeting but walks right to her son, sitting down in front of him. "Hey, Cadewyn, are you hungry?" 

"What about today? Do you think he's ready for Christmas cookies today?" Cassian asks from the stove for the dozenth time. Azriel shakes his head resignedly. 

"He barely has any teeth yet," Nesta reminds, "I don't think he could get through a cookie." Cassian opens his mouth to say something more but his mate beats him to it. "And no, we are not going to chew it up before giving it to him like a mama bird." 

Cassian pouts playfully as he finishes up the breakfast and Nesta and Azriel try to pick drying batter out of his hair. Amren walks over to Feyre and hands her a small bottle with a bow wrapped around it. "The little monster's first Christmas present of the day," she informs. Feyre exchanges a glance with Rhys and Amren scowls. "It's not poison or blood. It's actually more of a gift for you two. The potion is mostly milk—with a couple additives—and it will keep him happy for the rest of the day." 

Feyre is still skeptical but she knows that none of the Inner Circle would do anything to harm Cadewyn, so she hands the boy the bottle and he drinks it gladly. "Thanks, Amren," Rhys says. The ancient just shrugs and walks back to her task below the tree.

Cade finishes the potion in record time and it takes effect right away. A subdued smile stretches his chubby cheeks and his right dimple deepens. Rhys just chuckles and unbuckles him, lifting him from the chair. 

"Present time?" Elain asks excitedly, coming over to grab her nephew. Rhysand hands him over easily and grabs a pancake for both him and Feyre. Everyone gathers around the tree and Cassian passes around the platter of pancakes for breakfast. 

Amren sits next to the biggest stack of gifts and grabs the one from the top. She hands it to Cadewyn in Elain's lap and Mor helps him rip open the wrappings to reveal a set of plastic training knives from Azriel and Cassian. Both Illyrians are grinning wickedly. 

"Never too early to start with the knives," Azriel defends, casually twirling Truth Teller as he and Cassian elbow each other jokingly. 

Feyre just rolls her eyes and takes the knives from her son. "I'll give them to him when he knows how to walk." The brothers aren't even listening anymore as they begin a contest on who can stuff more pancakes in their mouths. 

Amren passes the next present to Elain for Cade to open and Feyre slinks back to stand with Rhys. He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close. "I love this," he murmurs next to her ear.

"Me too," Feyre replies, leaning her head against his chest and smiling happily. Then Feyre remembers her plan. "Follow me," she says while everyone admires the set of booties Mor gave Cadewyn. The High Lady grabs his hand and starts pulling him from the room, Rhys following completely confused. They enter one of the guest bedrooms and—a Santa costume is laid out on the bed.

"No. No way," Rhys exclaims right away, already backing towards the door. Feyre clutches his hand tightly, pulling him towards the bed. "Cassian and Azriel will never let me live it down!" He pleads.

"Cassian is gonna wear it next Christmas and Azriel the one after that," Feyre counters. "You all get a turn." She picks up the red pointy hat with a white fur puff ball on the end and pulls it over his head. Linking her hands behind his neck, she leans up to kiss his pouting lips. "If you be Santa for the morning..." Rhys raises an eyebrow and she leans up to whisper in his ear, "I'll be Mrs Claus tonight." 

Her husband shivers as she lightly scraps her teeth along the shell of his ear. "Fine," he grumbles, stealing a kiss from her lips before extricating himself from her hold and marching over like a dutiful soldier to adorn the costume. 

Feyre smiles proudly and goes back to the living room to wait. Ten minutes later, Rhys appears from the shadows of the fireplace in all his Santa Claus glory—beard, belly, and all. Cassian literally chokes on his mouthful of pancakes when he sees his High Lord. Azriel thumps him on the back while he just stares in wonderment. 

Cadewyn, however, smiles brightly, clapping his hands. Rhys tromps over to him and grabs the last present from the pile. He takes his son from Elain and sits him on his lap, placing the present in his tiny hands. 

Rhysand catches Feyre's gaze and rolls his eyes, though she can still see the joy and laughter in his shrouded features. "Ho, ho, ho!" Her mate proclaims, causing Cadewyn to giggle while he tugs on the long white beard. "Merry Christmas, little boy, look what I've brought you!" 

Feyre walks over to kneel in front of them, helping Cade to pull out the tissue paper. She reaches in the bag and pulls out a 'Baby's First Christmas' ornament. She hands it to her son and he inspects it with comical concentration. 

Feyre had painted the ornament herself, after Rhys cut out the shape. It depicts the three of them inside a star frame. It has his name on the top and a quote on the bottom that says, 'Always dream, the stars will listen'. And on the back—which Rhys hasn't seen yet—Feyre wrote with ink, 'First Christmas, with a thousand more to come'. 

Rhysand reads the quote over his son's shoulder and looks up at Feyre with tears in his eyes. They have so much time that they never thought they would have—with each other and with their family. Neither Rhys nor Feyre forget how lucky they are every single day to be alive, to be together, to be happy. 

Clearing his throat, Rhys turns back to his son. "Let's hang that on the tree, shall we?" He lifts Cadewyn up and carries him over to the pine tree, already sagging with the weight of half a millennia worth of ornaments and decorations. Their family gathers around and starts to point to places it could hang. Finally, Rhys directs Cadewyn towards a small opening near the star topper. 

It takes a couple of tries but the baby finally gets it hooked on a branch and everyone cheers. Mor takes Cade to watch the snow falling outside and Rhys lopes back over to Feyre. He nuzzles her cheek with his rough beard. "I love our family." He places a kiss on her right cheek. "I love our son." Another on her left cheek. "I love you," Rhys murmurs against her lips and Feyre can only imagine the countless Christmas's they have ahead of them, and the endless love they will share together, with all their children yet to come. 

Holiday Collection Prompt List

Holiday Masterlist

Tagging: @aelinthemaassassin @eternally-reading @poisonbooknerd @pineandsnowandstars@rowanismybae @kaliejane26 @lizcantspell @dawn-courts-darling @rocknroarrrrr @nkling @dreams-of-feysand @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername @thereitisthatfamousscowl @rkjar1646 @my-ships-will-never-be-sank @mywritingbox (let me know if you want to be tagged in this collection!)