entomology class is so much fun i love *checks notes* staring at a mountain of dead insects and trying to identify them without screaming crying or throwing up

Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.

I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.

Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.

The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.

You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.

When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.

@onenicebugperday

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @winterandwords “lets not talk about this” days ago.

Gonna use Nuisance for this, since that’s the next one on my formatting list.

My words are: fill, fall, feel, and fail.

Your words are: seize, shout, stand and shrink.

And I’m tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @nanashi23​ and @whumping-in-the-wings​

If you want to! Can be WIP or already posted things, whatever! :D Also if everyone who wants to do this sees this, consider this an open tag as well.

Content warnings for below: Uh, blood. A sprinkle of broken bones. :)

Fill

Merridy flinched when Cedric cleared his throat, her fingers trembling around the bag. It wasn’t hers to take. She should hand it to him. If only her body would obey her will.

“It’s filled with lavender. Against moths,” he said.

Merridy nodded, as if she didn’t know that. As if she hadn’t watched her mother sew dozens of those, and fill them anew each year. As if she hadn’t stolen one of those to use as a pillow for her wool doll; the same doll that was now stuck in some soggy bag in a broken shed in some back alley, together with the rest of her meager belongings.

“You can keep it,” Cedric added, his tone as cold and indifferent as before. “Doesn’t belong here anyway. Now please, hand me the rest.”

Fall

He loved a view such as this, seeing with his own eyes what he could usually only touch with his magic. Layer upon layer of earth, never meant to see the light of day. Protruding rocks, pale, broken roots, dark streaks of clay and the jagged edges of slate. He let his perception brush over them as he lowered his gaze. The view at the bottom of the hole was charming in its own way. 

A body was splayed there, the lower half buried under a heap of rubble. Crimson rivulets had found their way across the ground, pooling under broken limbs. The man’s chest still rose, but weakly, blood foaming at his mouth with every breath. A shame; the falling rocks must have crushed a rib or two.

A faint shudder rippled the ground, starting at the opposite side of the sinkhole. It wouldn’t reach Cedric, he wouldn’t push it far enough for that, but it was a more than adequate reason to retreat. Someone called out to him again, shouting at him to hurry, but he couldn’t very well hurry, limp and cane and all. Luckily, the ground calmed down again, and he made it unscathed to the group of onlookers.

“That was reckless, man,” someone scolded him.

Feel

Of course it was Cedric. In his left hand, next to his cane, he held a piece of linen; once pristine white, now sprinkled with blood. In his right hand, he held a knife. It was strange, a completely surreal part of her thought while she couldn’t take her eyes off the blade. In all the stories, she had never heard of him killing someone with such mundane methods.

“Please, please don’t,” she whispered, curling up as if that would do anything to protect her. “Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” For ruining his things with her blood. For trying to get away. For being in the wrong place at the wrong time and causing him this much trouble. “I’m sorry, please… please don’t kill me.”

The following silence was anything but reassuring. She flinched when he moved, burying her face in her arms, sure every moment now she’d feel her skin split under cold metal. He didn’t attack her, though, or even touch her. Instead, he sat down in front of her with a sigh. Merridy didn’t dare to look up.

“Why do you think I want to kill you?” he asked.

Fail

And there was no fucking way it should ever have been in her possession.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

Merridy’s eyes were half closed again. “Got it… for… for… you.”

There was still the hint of a smile on her lips, despite her bleeding out on his fucking sofa. For him. For him. Cedric could have screamed. It was his fault, but in a way he had least expected.

“You did what?” He didn’t want to shout, but it had come out louder than intended. “How? Why?”

He had spent weeks trying to find a way in. Weeks after which he had been convinced the only way was to either find a trustworthy chaos mage with the right domain, or to infiltrate the staff that was hired to help with big receptions. Yet here she was, a little bookworm and failed pickpocket, just… getting it for him.

Tethered Together. Aaron Hotchner x Black Fem!Reader

Genre; Angst.

Warnings; Past Life Themes, Mentions of Murder and Violence, and also HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Synopsis; A woman from Aaron’s past is back. Only, he’s sure he’s never met her a day in his life.

↳ ❤︎ Heaven’s Baked Goods (Masterlist) ❤︎

↳ ❝ Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.❞⁣ -Søren Kierkegaard

Hotch was used to transfers coming in and out of the BAU, new Agents weren’t hard to come by so when he came into the office to see a woman, about 5’2 with light brown skin and a purely black 4C afro dressed in a grey pencil skirt and blazer over a white blouse, he wasn’t alarmed. Ready to greet her, he walks over to where she, JJ, Prentiss, and Reid stood conversing. When he finally saw her face he was…stuck? She seemed familiar in every way, like he’d somehow known her and the way she smirked when she saw him didn’t make it any less unsettling.

“Hi, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. I’m the current unit chief”. He kept his composure when greeting her, his face as stoic as ever. She seemed confident in herself, her lips glossed in a matte red lipstick accentuating her E/C eyes that were done up with a sharp winged liner and black smokey eye that made her eyes sit low. She was definitely something Hotchner had never seen before, and something was pulling him to her. Like a moth to a burning flame.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/ln. I’m the new transfer from sex crimes”. Her voice was smooth, sultry, with a twinge of a southern accent. She was so effortlessly a goddess, it almost made Hotch weak in the knees. He wasn’t aware for a moment that he had been standing there foolishly while she held her hand out expectantly for him to shake. He only noticed when Garcia walked in and clocked him looking like a damaged robot.

“Hotch. Sir. I’m no genius named Reid but I’m pretty sure the lady wants you to shake her hand”.

JJ and Prentiss giggled while Reid looked to Morgan who’d just came in and witnessed the oddity of Hotchner’s behavior.

“I’ve never seen Hotch flustered before. New girls got skills”. Hotch snapped out of it and cleared his throat, shaking your hand which he noted was perfectly manicured with red polish as well.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough start. Welcome to the team”.

Your eyes on him gave him goosebumps, your lips curled into a half grin, “It’s quite alright, thank you Sir”.

When he finally walked away the team was baffled by his behavior, Rossi and Elle walked in confused why everyone was chattering away like some big thing had just happened. Y/n just watched, knowing her arrival might’ve shaken things up. For them and Hotch.

“Do you think he knows her”? Garcia asked JJ when Y/n was out of sight.

“He has to, right? That wasn’t like Hotch. He looked nervous”.

“Well, I mean… The new girl is kinda like Morgan, Jaje”.

Morgan looked up when his name was mentioned and raised a brow, about to respond when Reid cut in, “Unnaturally attractive”?

Garcia sends a grin his way, “You get me”.

“Excuse me”? Derek gave them both a head to toe stare down before scoffing, when the rest of the team started to chime in and agree, “You’ve gotta be kidding me…Whatever, let’s get to work”.

“Look at him, he’s literally straight off of a romance novel” Reid said to Garcia as they walked into the meeting room making Morgan smack him upside the head.

~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~ + ~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~

While waiting for everyone else to board the jet, Aaron looked particularly out of it, made no better when David sat in front of him, which Aaron knew meant he could tell something was off and was now going to force it out or yank it out with his own profiling skills. Something he had really started to resent about his job was the ability to profile anyone, even in their daily lives.

“She’s really shaken you up, hasn’t she”? Rossi asked, connecting his hands and resting them on the table, “So, how do you know her”?

“I don’t. That’s the problem”.

“For someone you don’t know, she sure had you working up a sweat, Aaron”.

“It’s. She seems so familiar, David. It’s like we’ve met before but I’m struggling to remember where”. You had walked onto the plane by then and while looking for a seat, Rossi does the worst possible thing, in Hotch’s eyes. He gets up and pats his old friend on the shoulder, winking.

“Salut. Y/n, you can sit right here”.

You came to sit with Aaron, and although his features didn’t show it— Ya boy was nervous. He couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly where he’d known you from, but he knew for certain that you reminded him of a past lover, maybe? One things for certain, Hotch had never been intimidated by an unsub but goddamn was he intimidated by you. You just…looked like you knew something he didn’t. Like you had a secret to tell.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion” The same soft, sultry, southern belle voice graced his ears, leaving a shiver to slither down his spine. You gave him a small little smile, barely creeping up to your cheeks; The mysterious aura you gave both intrigued and deeply unsettled Aaron, to the point he almost felt breathless speaking to you. Like, suddenly…Everything disappears but you and him.

“You’re fine. We’re about to go over the cases again”. Hotchner cleared his throat for what seemed like the sixth time that day, trying to force himself to speak without stumbling. When had he ever stumbled? He thought back, and the only instance he could think of is when he first met Haley, and when he last saw her. Other than that, he couldn’t think of a moment where someone had him so speechless, and grasping for words.

When the rest of the team was finally on the jet, Hotch couldn’t be more ready to get to work.

“Let’s start. Garcia”?

You glanced at him, and smiled a bit before paying attention to Garcia.

“The first victim is Laura Heldings, 18, Freshmen at Maryland Institute College Of Art, she was a cinematography and film arts major, her roommate found her beaten and bloody inside their dorm after coming back from a party”.

“This is overkill, rage at it’s finest. Look at this against the next 3 murders”. You were the first one to speak up, ready to show your skill to your new team and make a good first impression, “Kelli Lauwdings was beat but not to the extent that Laura was and there’s a gunshot wound to the head but for the next victims Rosie Dewitt and Josene Poland weren’t beat at all, just shot point blank in the head”.

“First kill shows rage meaning it probably wasn’t premeditated, and this was the killing that set them off. Maybe it happened after our stressor? The second killing was a test run and the other two were after our unsub finally fleshed out their method of choice”, Prentiss furthers your theory and nods a bit in agreement with you.

There wasn’t a pattern in victims, one Black, Asian, Middle-Eastern, and Hispanic. All women, from the same art college. Wait, from the same art college? Before you could speak up, Garcia’s face comes back up on the screen and she does not look happy, a grimace on her face as she displays a picture; A woman, white, lying on the ground of what looked like a dorm room wearing a striped green tank top and undies, a gunshot wound to the head.

You’d bet all your money that she went to Maryland Institute College Of Art just as the other women, too.

“We need to hit the ground running. Y/n and I will go to the first crime scene, Reid to the ME, Morgan and Elle, I need you at the latest scene, Prentiss, Rossi, and JJ? Baltimore PD. Everyone got it”? Hotch gives everyone their instructions for when you land.

↳

….

I can still hear her voice fresh in my mind. Time is funny, life is funny. I can still see her smile, unaware but knowing that she knew more than me, and I wanted to know what. It was like all my focus went into finding out what she knew. How she knew.

Our cases get murky, and it was her first one. She never lacked confidence though, hell she was probably the smartest in the room, besides Spencer. That air of mystery always seemed to shroud her, when she spoke her eyes stuck to me, staring through my soul like she knew me through and through like a book, which when it came down to it? She did.

“Okay, so it all boils down to the first victim but what it is it”? JJ huffed, looking at the victims board with squinted, concentrated eyes.

“Laura Heldings, we know she’d graduated from Yorktown High School in Arlington, Virginia. You know what? Mavis”. You let out a little scoff and sit back like you knew you had done it.

“The bestfriend”? Elle asked, eyebrows creased.

“Think about it, when we talked to Mavis that day what’s one thing that stood out”?

Morgan stood up straighter as everyone clocked what you were putting down. JJ speaks, having the same eureka moment, “When she was telling us about her and Laura’s friendship, she told us that she was supposed to be going with her to Maryland but when she got accepted…”

“It said that she was on a waiting list”. Prentiss finished.

“We profiled that there was personal fuel filled rage during the first murder. What if this is our stressor? Laura asked Mavis to help her move, and the wound of not immediately being accepted set Mavis off. The other five murders can simply be boiled down to trying to eliminate more people so she moves up the list faster and Mavis gaining an addiction to the thrill”.

Reid’s makes his way over to the board.

Hotch listens intently before standing up to get on his bulletproof vest, “We need to know who’s above Mavis on that wait list. They’re the next target”.

Y/n got to the room of Alecia Smith before we did, and when we caught up Y/n was telling Mavis to put the gun down when two shots went off. Mavis went down, and so did she. Shot in the stomach.

She was stable for awhile, and our last conversation will live in my mind forever. She held on long enough to lessen my unease at not knowing just why she was so familiar.

~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~ + ~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~

“You don’t know who I am. Do you, Aaron”?

We were sitting in her hospital room, I stayed back and sent the rest of the team home to freshen up and get sleep. Her eyes, though reflecting exhaustion were beautiful. I’d look into them and feel myself getting lost, they seemed to hold the answers of the universe.

“I wish I did. Are you finally going to tell me”? I raised a brow, to which she smiled that sly knowing grin. Eyes like a feline stalking prey when watching me. God, I was in a trance.

“Do you remember what we promised each other in our past lives? Je te chercherai pour toujours, mon cher. I’ll search for you forever, my dear”.

When she said it, I could feel memories flooding back. I could see each life past through like a film, and in each film the ending was the same. We promised to find each other again. When she saw that I remembered, her smiled seemed to get bigger. I fell in love all over again. She was happy, I could tell cause her eyes disappeared with her smile like they’d done in each life. Like they’d done when we danced paris, or when we kissed under the moonlight on a cruise in spain. She asked from me one thing.

“Now that I’ve found you. Can I kiss you, Aaron? It’s been so…long”.

Looking back, I should’ve known then that she wouldn’t make it. I think she knew as well, because a tear slipped from her eye which she quickly wiped away after asking me for a kiss. I guess I knew in my subconscious that this was the last chance I had in this life to kiss her again. I didn’t hesitate when I leaned in and kissed her. I could taste her tears as they fell while we kissed, and she whispered one last thing to me that night.

“Jusqu'à ce que nous nous revoyions, Aaron” she said before hugging me tightly.

She didn’t die then. It was the next day, something went wrong; They said it was an infection, turned sepsis, it spread so fast she didn’t get to feel any pain before she was gone.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if she knew all along that this would happen. If she knew how each of our lives would pan out.

In this one, I looked to the moon. The one I knew she loved to sit under. I looked to the stars, the ones that made her eyes glow each time she saw them.

I looked, and I hoped she saw me. Kissing her ring up to the universe, I feel a tear on my cheek when I start to say it.

“Till we meet again, Y/n”.

Until we meet again… Je te chercherai pour toujours, mon cher. I’ll search for you forever, my dear.

↳ ❝He touched my soul long before I knew what his hands felt like.❞⁣ -Nicki Rowe

~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~ + ~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~

A/N; trolling my readers by making tear-jerking angst and then laughing about it in my warnings is my new aesthetic. i thought it up when i was high. so, blame high heaven for the bitchiness. <3

[A4A] Christmas Lights with Mothperson Partner [Mothperson speaker] [Mini script] [12 Days of Scriptmas]

AN: Hello and welcome to Day 1 of the 12 Days of Scriptmas! I’ll be posting mini scripts from now to Christmas Eve (I decided to start a day early). I’m also trying a new format without (.) because they look kind of messy. Hope you like it!

Google Doc

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely.

Synopsis: The listener has a surprise for the speaker, a mothperson. The surprise is a train ride through Christmas light displays! For the mothperson, this is the perfect Christmas gift. 

Key:

[SFX and Action]

Break - Listener response

(...) Longer pause

(Voice instruction)

Word Count: 517

—

MOTHPERSON

(Muffled) Ah’m waw e-muff.

Sorry. My scarf was in the way. I said I’m warm enough.

I’ve got my hand warmers, fluffy coat, and wing covers. I think I’m sufficiently bundled.

Yes, I’m sure. You asked me all the way here, baby.

Hehe, it’s okay. I’ll let you know if I get cold, okay? I promise.

Wow, the park is so pretty in the winter! The sky is so clear you can see all the stars. Not like in the city…

So, now that we’re here, do I get to know what my surprise is?

Close my eyes? Ooh, okay. Lead on!

[Footsteps]

(Giggles) This is so exciting!

[Train whistle]

Wait, is that –

(Gasp) Oh my gosh! What a cute little train! Are we going on a ride?

Oh boy! Come on, come on, let’s go! I’ve got dibs on the window seat!

So, where are we going?

A Christmas light show?! Oh my gosh, really?!

My favorite part of Christmas is the lights! Oh baby, thank you so much! You’re the best partner ever.

[Train chugs]

Ooh, it’s starting. Here, hold my hand. I want to share this moment with you.

(Slow breath)

(Softly) Woah. So beautiful…

(Flattered) Hehe, oh stop it. You know I was talking about the lights. But y’know, as pretty as the lights are, you shine much brighter.

Hey, it’s Christmastime! I can be corny if I want; it comes with the season.

Babe, look at that display! It’s a waving polar bear! Hi, polar bear!

…Hey baby?

I think I might be getting just a little chilly. Can I share your blanket? I promise I won’t nibble on the edges this time.

Thank you!

Yeah, yeah, you told me I’d get cold. But now we get to snuggle up! And my fluff will help keep you warm, so it’s a win-win.

There, all cozy.

Look, rainbow lights! They look delicious!

Uh, yeah. Don’t you ever wonder what light tastes like?

Well, I do. I bet the red ones taste like spicy mint!

Woah, check out the pattern on that display! It’s like the lights are dancing. It’s almost… hmm… it’s almost hypnotic…

Huh? Oh, sorry. I spaced out.

Hey, you’re the one who took a moth to a light display show. You know how I get.

(Flustered) Adorable?! Well – I – I wouldn’t say –

[Kiss]

O-of course my antennae are twitching; you’re making me all flustered! Kissing me out of the blue like that. You know exactly what you’re doing.

It’s alright, I don’t mind the teasing too much if it’s from you. That just means I get to tease you back even more later.

Just wait. Once we get home, I’m going to make you all blushy and red!

Seriously, though. Thank you for taking me to see the lights. I’m having a spectacular time. Everything is so bright and colorful; it’s like I’m in a wonderland! And the best part is, you’re here with me.

Oh, there’s that blush. Looks like I didn’t have to wait until we got home.

Told you I’d tease you back.

[Kiss]

Happy holidays, baby.

END

Day 12 - Can you hear me?

@febuwhump

Summary: Cahir only almost dies at Stygga Castle thanks to Yennefer and Ciri. Travelling through space, Ciri takes the badly wounded knight to Kaer Morhen. Months later, Yennefer and Geralt arrive at the keep to check on their friend, only to find out that there are still some lingering after-effects from his injuries.

Chapter 1: Can you hear me?

Somebody is shaking him by the shoulder, lightly, carefully. A gentle hand touching his cheek. A touch like the flutter of a butterfly's wings in the darkness. No, butterflies don't fly at night, must be a moth. However, it feels too wondrous to be a simple, drab-coloured moth. Perhaps he should open his eyes to see for himself? But they feel so heavy, his eyes, heavier than the heaviest lead. He feels weak too, too tired to move a single muscle. Why is he so damn tired? His head hurts, too, a dull, throbbing ache which makes it difficult to concentrate and discourages from initiating any move as movement would certainly worsen the pain. The darkness has a vague orange tinge to it and the touch feels comfortable, lulling in a way. His head must be resting on something soft and warm which also feels quite comfortable. Not a pillow, something else, something he cannot put a name to. It even smells nice, flowery. All in all, not really an incentive to fully wake up, not like as if he was lying on hard, uneven rocks or in a muddy, stinking ditch. Maybe then he would try harder to clear the haze from his mind and open his eyes. But, as it is, why would he even want to wake up? He starts to drift deeper into sleep again.

"Can you hear me?" A female voice like from afar. More shoulder-shaking. Little by little, slowly, almost reluctantly, he is becoming more aware of his surroundings once more as consciousness is returning. He feels the grass under his hands and there is the gurgling, burbling and rushing sound of a fast-flowing, nearby brook. The brook. He was out fishing, wasn't he? For trout. There is lots of it in the little forest stream not far from the Witcher keep, and Vesemir likes trout. But why on earth is he on the ground and feeling this - shitty? 

"Cahir, can you hear me? Cahir?" 

Cahir, that must be his name. It sounds right, familiar. Like the female voice. It has a familiar ring to it. He has heard it before, often. Full of irony, bickering and swearing. At the same time melodious, dark velvety, teasing, enticing, both dangerous and safe, arousing yet soothing. Like the flowery sweet but wild scent of his not-pillow. And suddenly, he remembers. Lilac and gooseberry. Shiny, luxuriant black hair, perfect red lips, magnificent deep, purple eyes - eyes one can get lost in. Forever.

With difficulty, Cahir blinks his eyes open. 

"Yennefer?" 

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44249164/chapters/111729082

Sequel to 'If I don't make it back from where I've gone': https://archiveofourown.org/works/42241590

Have you considered writing a "Truth" fix-it with Marinette admitting her secret to Luka? Maybe he could be a confidant like Marianne was for Fu.

Truth was having a terrible, awful, rotten, very bad day. If he could use his powers on the universe, he would've asked what he did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It started with his girlfriend keeping a secret from him concerning her ditching their dates, then escalated to Jagged Stone - who'd been his idol for years - turning out to be the father who abandoned him, and now he was fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir in Marinette's room after he’d been told by multiple people that Marinette’s supposed “secret” was that she was in love with Adrien, as if he hadn’t already known that and they just wanted to mock him.

His civilian self had never been never someone to presume, but now it's all he could do. Marinette must've ditched him because she didn't really love him, Jagged probably never even felt bad about abandoning him, and despite Adrien never even trying to win Marinette's heart, he was just better than Luka in every way, because the rich model with all the connections Marinette could ever want would always outmatch the "guitar boy" who worked a part-time job, lived on a houseboat, and had parents who either kept secrets from him or flat-out didn't want him.

Had it not been for his akumatization working to drive him towards a goal without interference, he would've cried. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and think the whole thing was just a bad nightmare, with dating Marinette just being brief highlights of it that kept getting shot down with a reminder that he wasn't good enough.

He wanted it all to be over.

Chat Noir was still trying to banter with him, but Truth wasn't having it. While going after Ladybug first wasn't ideal, as she was the smarter out of the two, it was easier to get rid of Chat Noir and deal with the heroes one at a time.

Thus, when Ladybug had run across the room to use her Lucky Charm, Truth acted. He managed to grab Chat Noir and throw him into the chest that Ladybug had been hiding in before, then locked it tight to prevent Chat from escaping. That done, he went after Ladybug, who was stunned but nevertheless prepared to fight. Chat Noir being out of the picture didn't impact her ability to fight, but Truth had Pharo on his side to knock Ladybug around when it was too hard to get a spotlight on her.

Finally, he managed to tackle her, her lying on her back and him pinning her arms down. The chest nearby rattled in protest, but Pharo shined its spotlight on it, preventing it from moving anymore.

Truth watched as Ladybug looked around for a method of escape, but she came up empty. Her eyes widened in the realization that... this was it. This was the end.

"Now," Truth said, clamping down harder on her arms as he leaned down, "tell me the truth!"

Ladybug tried to shut her lips tight, but he could see her struggling, her body shaking as she tried to free her arms to stop herself. It was only a matter of time.

Then, her mouth opened, and out came the words, "I love you, Luka!"

He froze, his fingers twitching in his confusion while he could only stare down at her in shock.

"And I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I wanted to tell you - I always wanted you to know - but I couldn't, and you deserve so much better than a hero who can't give you the time you deserve!"

A cold realization washed over him in form of a shudder. Those words could've been interpreted in so many ways, but he was the only one who registered their real meaning: that Marinette was Ladybug, her "ditching" had been her needing to fight akuma, her keeping secrets had been out of a desire to protect him, and he—

...He had only caused her more problems by getting akumatized, being no better than all those that had interrupted their dates. She loved him, and he gave into Shadow Moth to go against her.

Ladybug continued rambling, oblivious to his internal crisis, "You're incredible, and I just love you so much. I knew you were special from the day we met, when you called me—"

Truth clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from spilling any more secrets. He could feel Shadow Moth's influence in his mind, demanding that he remove his hand, but Truth ignored it, just as he'd been ignoring so many of his commands. The energy from akumatization that once made him feel powerful now made him feel disgusted with himself, guilt swirling in his gut and making him regret everything.

He reached up with his other hand, grabbing at his necklace and tearing it off. Ladybug's brows rose at the crunching of his akumatized object, and the last things he saw were the akuma flying free and Ladybug's expression turning to something...

thoughtful.

—————

Marinette de-transformed in a nearby alleyway and headed down towards the Seine, having not yet processed all of her feelings from that day. She had a little time left, given that Luka had quietly asked to walk back home himself, but she’d gotten no closer to clearing her mind since leaving her house. She was still a jumbled mess of "what if"s and "but maybe"s, and ultimately knew that it was going to be a matter of essentially winging it and just saying everything that she had on her mind.

As she approached the Liberty to wait for Luka, she paused as she noticed another figure already standing there. After all, Jagged Stone wasn't exactly someone you could not notice.

Before she could debate on whether to approach him, Jagged seemed to sense her and glanced over to make eye contact. She stiffened, only able to wave awkwardly and pretend like she didn't know why he'd be there.

"Hey, frockstar," Jagged greeted tiredly, his smile not quite reaching its usual lengths. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She walked over, standing next to him and staring in the direction where Luka was going to come from. "I need to talk to my boyfriend."

"Ah." It took a few seconds for the words to actually register with him, at which point Jagged turned to her, mouth agape as he grabbed her shoulders. "My son's your boyfriend?!"

She didn't quite have the energy to feign total surprise at the “son” comment, but she didn't have to. Jagged immediately pulled back without really looking at her, regaining his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"You... wouldn't happen to be able to put in a good word for me, hm?" He grinned sheepishly, jabbing at Marinette with a hopeful elbow. "Haven't exactly figured out what I'm gonna say yet."

She was torn between being upset with him on Luka’s behalf and feigning sympathy because it was not only none of her business, but she was in a similar boat and felt like she had no right to judge.

She went with the latter, smiling weakly and jabbing him back. "That makes two of us." Then, she frowned as her nerves came back. "And... anyway, I don't know if he'll want to keep being my boyfriend after tonight."

For once, Jagged didn't pry or ask questions, the atmosphere probably felt even by him. They just stood there, waiting.

After a few minutes, Luka finally walked into view, staring at the ground and seeming defeated. Marinette felt ill at the sight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her capris to find a sense of stability.

Should she approach him? Let Jagged go first? Or, maybe that would seem evasive, so—

She felt a pat on her shoulder, looking up at see Jagged urging her forward with his eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or consider him to be the evasive one, but Luka's akumatization was also mostly because of her and thus it only made sense for her to go first.

She ran the distance to get to him, Luka glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and stopping as she got to him. The usual light in his eyes wasn't there, and she had to force herself to even say a simple, "Um... hi."

"Hey." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, Marinette."

"Huh?"

"I got akumatized, and I was in your room when I woke up." His brows furrowed with uncharacteristic anxiety. "I didn't have to hear the song to know what the notes were. I must've gone after you."

Marinette blinked, having not even thought about him feeling guilty over the whole thing. She shook her head, reassuring, "No no! I mean—you told me to run! You didn't go after me, not really!"

She wasn't technically lying; he never sought her out to her knowledge, and even as Ladybug, she'd always had to chase him.

Luka sighed in relief, though his expression didn't change much. "I'm glad."

He met her gaze again. She yearned for the way he used to look at her like he wanted to get lost in her forever, but his eyes soon darted elsewhere as he noticed Jagged Stone standing not too far away.

Marinette tried not to get discouraged, stepping back into his vision and waving her hands to try and divert his attention. "Ah—don't worry about that! Look—" She paused, needing a moment to breathe, then lowered her hands and shifted to seriousness. "Can we talk? And walk? It's... really important."

She couldn't imagine the conclusions he must've been coming to in his head, partly because he didn't voice any of them. His eyes merely searched hers, seeking nothing in particular.

"Sure, Marinette," he agreed.

She managed a smile, happy that she made it this far at least. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped herself at the last second and simply walked past him, Luka taking one look back at Jagged before following after her.

The walk was tense and quiet, the only sounds coming from the evening ambiance and their footsteps. The uncertainty of it all gave her anxiety, but she'd been sure of that uncertainty since she first decided to talk to him about this.

Because, whatever the future of their relationship was, it would be in his hands.

—————

As they arrived at her intended destination, Marinette heard Luka briefly stop behind her, perhaps processing where she just took them. It was the Canal Saint-Martin, also known as the place where they'd first agreed to date, and now it was potentially the place where they'd break up as well. Marinette vaguely pondered if that would be for the best, like the memories would just cancel each other out and Luka could forget about it altogether if he wanted to.

Nevertheless, she walked over, glancing at the bridge for reference and sitting in roughly the same place she’d been all that time ago. She then tossed Luka a hopeful look, and he walked over to sit next to her.

Steeling herself up, Marinette took a breath, inhaling until she couldn't take in any more oxygen and then exhaling for just as long. At least a little more emotionally prepared than she was before, she finally spoke up.

"I...I'm sorry, Luka. I'm sorry that I got you akumatized—" She saw that he was about to interject and cut him off. "—and I know you don't blame me, but it doesn't matter—I mean—it does matter, but I'm still sorry anyway, okay? You had a right to be hurt and maybe if I'd explained myself better, then things would’ve been different."

He still seemed to want to argue, but was holding himself back so she could continue, which she appreciated.

"It's not that I didn't trust you. If anything, I—I trust you more than anyone else. You've never betrayed me and I know you'd never tell anyone if I told you my secret. You understand me even when I'm being the disaster that everyone laughs at - everyone but you - and..."

She sighed, pulling out her phone and navigating to her text conversation with him. Mentally wincing, she tapped on the photo of her Adrien wall that Ziggy had sent, then presented it to him. He leaned in to make sure of what it was, then looked back at her, clearly not understanding where she was going but knowing it wasn't her being spiteful or rubbing it in.

She said as much, "You don't assume anything, like when you got sent this dumb picture. I know it was obvious that it was an accident, but you didn’t have to go with it and you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you got mad, but you didn't. Whenever I'm stammering and being an idiot because I'm scared or nervous, you don't judge me for it or think that whatever comes out is what I actually mean. That's so important to me, Luka, you have no idea."

She settled the phone between them and kept the picture on-screen. Her gaze flickered down to it, silently encouraging him to look at it too, then glanced back up at him.

"How much do you know about fashion?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the sudden question, but answered anyway, "Only what my sister's ever talked about."

"Do you know why fashion trends die so quickly?" When he shook his head, she explained, "Part of it is the over-exposure. When people hear about what's in at the time, suddenly everyone starts wearing whatever it is, so everywhere you look, you see it, and then people get tired of it."

There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, Luka looking back-and-forth between her and the phone like he was piecing a puzzle together.

She confirmed it for him, "That's why I have so many. I don't feel that way about him anymore - I don't think I ever did - but I just don't know how to act around him. I hate how the whole idolizing thing took over my life and I already tried everything else, so I figured this might work." She groaned. "And of course it blew up on me and you got sent that without any context. Of course."

He gave a look of concern at the exasperation in her tone, but she tried to ignore it, not wanting his sympathy.

"My point is..." She gestured vaguely at the phone. "I stammer about him, but it's not because I'm in love with him, it's because I've never really been his friend and I don't know how to do it. I'm not dedicated to him and I'm getting better at not doing the stuff I used to."

His eyes flickered again and she wondered if he was thinking about that day on the Liberty where she was late to Kitty Section playing, where she ignored Adrien entirely. Just for emphasis, she tapped her phone and deleted the picture, adding on, "I'm only dedicated to you, Luka. I—"

She shifted in place, hitting the wall behind her feet a few times with her heels to ease off the anxiousness. It was so much easier when she’d been Ladybug, though granted that she was under the influence of Truth's spell at the time. She and Luka were dating, yet she was sure he'd ask her to end it, making putting herself out there all the scarier.

"I..." She met his gaze. "I love you." He gaped at the confession and she continued on, "I love you like I haven't loved anyone else before; definitely not Adrien. It's the kind of love that actually makes me happy, and comfortable, and my life is better with you in it."

She bit her bottom lip, hands curling into fists at the tight feeling in her chest. She turned, placing one hand on the ground as she began to push herself up, her other hand landing on Luka's shoulder to wordlessly insist that he didn't have to stand with her, so his gaze merely followed her as she moved.

"But that's the thing." She took a few steps away, back turned to him as she stared up at the sky. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the words in her throat, but she nonetheless admitted, "I don't think it's mutual."

Luka's voice took on a sharp, offended tone. "Marinette—"

She spun to face him, cutting him off, "—and I know that you're going to say something sweet and heartfelt about how everyone has a place in your life and then something about how bad notes can still make good songs, but... Luka, you don't understand."

She turned away from him again, this time pacing as she counted off events. "Bullies and liars target me, and sometimes that means going after people I care about. I'm clumsy and a stuttering mess and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made that I couldn't have even seen coming. It seems like I draw bad luck wherever I go; I mean, your mother is one of the most chaotic people I can think of, so you'd think she'd get akumatized a bunch, but it was only the day I showed up that she did. Even the other boys who only loved me for a little bit either got akumatized over it or became an anxious mess until they found out who they actually liked, and that last one would've at least been really useful to think about if I'd just made the connection back then, but I didn't!" She paused, then met his eyes with a pained expression. "And then there's you."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped in place, not knowing whether to be touched or not by the fact that he either hadn't noticed or was pretending not to. Throwing her arms out, she explained, "Things go bad whenever we hang out! I already mentioned your mom, but then there was the ice rink; even without me getting distracted when all you were trying to do was make me feel better, there was an akuma and you probably got frozen solid by him. When we were hanging out on the Liberty, Adrien just happened to show up on that day with Kagami to turn me into a mess, and then Desperada came to make everything worse."

Marinette couldn't remember when she'd started thinking about such things or feeling guilty for everything that ever happened. There was just a point where it felt like she was always apologizing for something, no matter how small it was, and stuff being her fault became par for the course by then.

"Then, both times you got akumatized, it was because of me—and I know you don't blame me, but I'm always involved! You were ready to leave the TV station, but because I tried to put up a fight, Bob Roth threatened me and that was your last straw. Today was the same thing; you were already upset about what happened with your dad and then it was me who sent you over the edge!" She shut her eyes tight, the memories painful to relive. "You're always putting up with me, Luka. You put up with me crying all over you and even dropped your guitar for it, and then you had to protect me from Miracle Queen's mind control! I'm supposed to protect you!"

He recoiled at the volume of her voice, then furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to process something particular about what she said.

"I'm supposed to make you happy, and I can't. Out of all the people in Paris who should be able to keep you from getting akumatized, it should be me, and all I've done is hurt you. You're the calmest person I've ever known and then I came along and gave you feelings you didn't ask for. Sometimes—" She shook, choking briefly on the words. "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better for you if you never met me."

Luka's gaze sharpened. He didn't reply, but turned fully to her, pushing himself up as if to approach.

However, she stepped back, his look then flashing to hurt. She took a breath, expression determined as she said with her whole chest, "I'm Ladybug, Luka."

He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes blinking rapidly at either the reveal itself or the way she’d so firmly said it.

"I'm Ladybug," she repeated quietly, this time with an ache in her voice, "and I'm telling you not because I trust you—I mean, I do trust you—but I also believe in you; that you wouldn't sell me out to Shadow Moth even with all the mind control in the world. You've always had my back and supported me even when I didn't deserve it, and I want you to know. It's dangerous and I don't know what'll happen and I'm scared but I want you to know it." She put a hand to her chest. "I'm the one who has to save Paris whenever something happens, and that's why I always had to ditch you. I'm the one who messed up and lost you your identity as Viperion. I'm the new guardian of the miraculouses, and the kwami don't even listen to me; they invaded my privacy and it was one of them that took and sent you that picture."

She realized that her vision was staring to blur and looked skywards, trying to fight back tears.

"I-I'm not a normal girl. I can't be a normal girlfriend, or give you everything you'd want out of a normal relationship. It's my fault that you got akumatized because I just—I wanted you. I wanted to be in a relationship and go on dates with you, but Ladybug isn't supposed to want things. She's supposed to be selfless and only worry about everyone else, but... you made me happy, and I wanted more of that. You were the first person I really felt like I could be myself around without being scolded or lied to and I thought it would be okay..."

She noticed him moving and quickly turned her back to him, at least able to let the tears fall now without him seeing them.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I always think I can handle things but then it goes wrong and I end up hurting people. If I'd just gone home the day of the music festival instead of complaining about Adrien not being around, then none of this would've happened." She sighed in frustration, wiping her eyes clean of tears, and she was so focused on forcing her words out that she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. "I-it's okay if you want to break up, Luka. It wasn't fair that I kept you in the dark, and I understand if you're mad, or you want to date other people, o-or if you don't love me anymore—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as a pair of arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her against a familiar, warm chest that had an unfamiliarly pounding heartbeat. She tried to look up at him, but his hair was shadowing out his eyes and left only his trembling lips visible. In fact, his whole body was shaking, as if it were winter and no amount of layers could keep him warm.

"L-luka?" she called, confused.

"Stop," he begged quietly, the hug tightening briefly to give her a squeeze. "Please."

"But..." She trailed off, acknowledging the request. She'd never heard his voice just break like that.

"You've already sung your part of our duet, Marinette. Now it's my turn." He paused, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "I'm glad you told me your secret. I know you're worried about me being in danger, but it makes me happy that you can rely on me now. Music boxes aren't meant to stay shut, and you deserve someone who you can open up to, even if I hate that you have to mute yourself in the first place to keep everyone safe."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was okay and it was just her job, but kept quiet to respect his earlier request.

"My life isn't worse because I met you," he murmured, an unspoken plea in his tone that told her to never think that way again. "I felt things with you that I never have before. My song started out as a flatline, then we met and you made it move. Music isn't exciting if it doesn't change but you did that for me. What you might see as bad notes is my passion for you, and I won't apologize for it or make you apologize for messing up just like every person does. I'd never wanted someone before you, and even if you never wanted to date me, I'm grateful that I got to know you; to fall for you."

Marinette blinked in an attempt to stop oncoming tears, Luka pulling her closer for comfort when she whimpered.

"All that mattered to me is when we were together, just the two of us. That's when your melody plays the clearest and when I get to see you. Those two weeks when we were preparing our music video were some of the best two weeks of my life because I got to see you in your element. I've accepted every break in the tempo because I've heard you, I've heard the Marinette you've wanted to be, and I want to be there for every beat of it." Then, he exhaled, adding with a somber tone, "I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under, or how awful things are and how impossible it must be to sing when you can't even take a breath without something going wrong. I just... I want to help you be happy. I don't care what you, your kwami, or anyone else says; you're allowed to be happy, Marinette, and I'd drop a thousand of my guitars if it meant that you get to play happy notes one more time."

She let out a sob, blushing pink as her hands unconsciously raised to rest on the ones around her waist, Luka sighing in content and nestling further against her.

"So I don't want to break up with you, Marinette. Not at all. I just want to find ways to make it easier on you - on both of us - and if that means finding ways of planning our dates around akuma attacks, or not planning at all and going wherever the rhythm leads, then that's what we'll do."

She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help voicing, "W-what if... what if it doesn't work? What if I have to bail on you every now and then? People will think—"

"I was never worried about that," he retorted immediately. "I'm a Couffaine. My clothes are ripped, I carry my guitar in the basket on my bike, and I live on a boat. I stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago."

He was unbelievable. Marinette didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. He just held her there, his heart still beating against her back but now serving as something to calm her.

"The only opinions that matter in our duet are yours and mine," he said. His hold loosened, though hesitating like it was physically painful to release her. He let her go nonetheless and held his hands out in front of her, palms facing the sky. "So what about you, Marinette?"

She stared at his hands, then slowly raised her own to hover over them. She breathed up, then slid her fingers across his palms until their calloused fingertips met, neither making any move to pull away.

"I...I want to make it work," she whispered, leaning back against him. "I want to be with you, Luka. I'm at my best when I'm with you. I just..."

She stopped, knowing that he would have an argument for anything she said. If she apologized for the failed dates that she can never fix, he'd argue that it'd be worse to leave things off a sour note, and that not every good song starts out good. If she tried to suggest other people for him to date or imply that it'd be easier with someone else, he'd say that his guitar plays only for her and he wouldn't change that even if he could.

"...I'm sorry," she said, smiling her first genuine smile of the night. "I won't doubt myself anymore."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling too. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Do—do you?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick with emotion.

Wanting to see his face, she slowly dropped their hands and turned to face him, silently hoping that she didn't look awful from her earlier tears. However, to her surprise, she noticed that Luka's eyes were watery despite his smile, just like her. Realizing something, she raised a hand to her shoulder, where his face had been hovering over ever since he'd hugged her from behind.

It was wet.

"Oh, Luka..."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. He returned the gesture, squeezing her lovingly and giving her back a few rubs that she responded to with a happy hum. They held the position, the warmth of the hug completely negating the slight chill of the night air.

Even when they pulled away, it wasn't far nor for long. Marinette wasn't sure which of them initiated it, but one moment they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. It had been long overdue and she idly thought that it was better than she would've imagined their kiss at the cinema to be.

She breathed in his scent, her fingers blindly reaching up to slide into his hair. She almost felt like crying again, though this time in relief that everything had actually worked out for once and they were kissing without interruption. Even though Luka was more subtle in showing his emotions, she could tell that he felt the same from the way his hand on her back shook, practically vibrating with happiness.

The kiss eventually broke with a soft click, though she kept her hands on him for the sake of stability. They were both breathing a little hard from the emotional toll of the conversation yet not necessarily in a bad way.

And the love in his eyes - the life that she missed so much - was back. She honestly thought she wouldn’t have seen it again and she was tempted to just keep kissing him in relief, part of her aware that he definitely wouldn’t have minded it.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, hesitant to break up their wordless exchanges of love. She knew what revelation was waiting for Luka back at his houseboat - maybe he'd already guessed it - and she wanted to be there for him, so she asked carefully, "Do you... want me to come back to the Liberty with you?"

Eyes half-lidded, he gave her a soft smile and gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you want to sleep over?"

She nodded. "Mm, I'd like that."

Holding hands, they began making their way back to the Liberty, the ambiance of the night finally coming through to soothe them. Marinette glanced down at their joined hands, then at the wide smile on Luka's face, the latter clearly caused by the former.

She looked ahead at where they were walking, pretending that she hadn't just been admiring him. "We could always go out for breakfast together. That might work out."

"That sounds amazing." Luka feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Maybe Shadow Moth doesn't like mornings?"

Marinette squeaked mid-giggle. "You'd think that'd be the case from the name, huh?"

He chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand, and the conversation remained light from there. Any bad feelings from the day had evaporated, leaving only smiles and hope for the future in its place.

Everything was going to be okay. For once, Marinette could truly believe that.

anon request - READER X AZRIEL - sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you want! I got a bit carried away in my own idea of Azriel being supportive but protective at the same time!

some hurt/comfort with Azriel where he and the reader get in a huge fight over protecting Elain (like they travel to a different court and Azriel is overprotective) and then the reader goes scouting to also cool down a bit and they get ambushed, the reader gets injured and the mating bond snaps. Hope it's not too much trouble!!

Elain was absurdly still as the conversation played out. Conversation being a loose term for the shouting happening around her. You didn’t leave her side though, even though your anger flourished while they spoke as if she wasnt there. Azriel was packing her things, shoving them haphazardly into a bag. The bag that Feyre had given her from their first trip down to the markets after Elain had started acting somewhat normal again. The happy memory seemed so distant now, compared to the anxiety ridden emotions that played about in the room.

“We are not going to the continent.” Az’s tone shift was abrupt, a snap of anger leaning into it. He tied the top of the bag closed and set it roughly atop the living room table. The scattered odds and ends of survival gear and weapons scraped against the wood. You watched the stare down between the high lord and his shadowsinger patiently. Waiting for your moment to speak rationally to them.

Rhys’ power roiled above, his eyes did not hide his frustration with his brother. His gaze was simmering with that dark power he possessed. Azriel did not back down. “The continent is the only place that may be safe. If the King finds out she’s a Seer he will never let her go. We can’t risk losing her as a hostage.”

You knew she would be a hostage too. Feyre would never let her sister be taken without a fight. Rhys knew his mate well enough to know not to risk just Elain, but Feyre too. Cauldron knew what Nesta would do if she were in that room during the conversation. Likely spitting fire and shoving Elain out the door to wherever she seemed to think was safe. Thankfully, both sisters were scouring deep in the library for any way to help win this battle.

Azriel did not break eyecontact with his brother as he made to speak again. You interrupted before he could make the situation worse. “I have somewhere in mind.” You spoke softly, urging the staring contest to end. Azriel looked away first, and you were surprised at that. His eyes met yours with something like relief. “Autumn. We have Eris on our side if we’re caught. I have a spot we can stay until-” Azriels scoff sent anger shooting through you. You clenched your teeth together to keep from lashing out at him as he had been doing just moments before. 

“Autumn is possibly the worst place we could send you right now. We’re on the brink of war with them potentially being on Hyberns side. We would be sending you straight to Hybern himself.” 

“Exactly. It’s stupid and they would never expect it.” 

“You’re not going. Beron exiled you. Don’t you remember what that means?” He looked at you with actual concern now that he knew you were serious. As if you had been injured and you were speaking a different language.

“It means we will be safe from Hybern when they come here to look for Elain. Isn’t that the point?” You wrapped an arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. Az couldn’t argue with that. The other courts were not an option, as it would be harboring a target against one of the Night court Allies. And Winter court was nowhere to be spending the night. Not many survived the night there without shelter.

Rhys’ sigh was long and exhausted. Left without another option, he nodded to himself. He held out a hand and summoned two necklaces, both with pendants of black onyx that shimmered in the firelight. Az’s brows pinched together at the sight of them. The dull glow behind him shone through his wings, highlighting all the delicate structures there. You found his wings more beautiful than the enchanted stone Rhys handed you.

“Hybern won’t be able to sense your magic. Keep these on.” 

Azriel was already tensing, his fists balling at his sides ready to make it physical if Rhys refused to listen. He knew with his entire being that something was off. Something would go wrong this night. His shadows warned him of something. And he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried. “Rhys-”

“And you will be going with them. Keep them company while Feyre and I investigate just how many ships and forces they plan to bring.” He ordered in that indisputable tone of the high lord. With only a hint of friendliness. He gave Az a long look before turning back to you and Elain. “Do not take those off.” The nodded to the necklaces and started to winnow. Elain stood abruptly, startling you. 

“Thank you.” She said softly to the high lord. He seemed taken aback for a second, before giving her a gracious nod and finally disappearing. You rose to Elain’s height and took her hand in yours. It was warm, welcoming. “We’re going to be fine.” You promised, not caring if Azriel saw the care you gave her. She had been there for you just as you needed to be now. She had practically kept you alive with her soft humming and reading to you when you were at your worst after being exiled. 

 “I know.” She said, voice soft as rose petals. But that dark power within her were the thorns of that pretty, perfect rose. The reason Hybern even knew to look in Velaris for Elain. That cauldron calling power that she couldn’t control to save her life. You grimly smiled at her.

“We need to leave.” Azriel ordered, tone neutral. Just a warrior needing to move troops.

“Let me get your bag.” Elain said, giving you a squeeze of her hand, disappearing up the stairs. Leaving you with the brooding Illyrian. You grimaced in his direction. He ignored you as best he could, hoping that the time for babysitting would pass quickly. He had always found it strange how you and Elain moved like magnets together. Found the soft way you comforted each other somehow upsetting. He paced quietly in front of the fire while you gathered your gear. Two small blades - one for Elain - and your sword. You rubbed at a speck on the hard steel of the sword. 

Perhaps his lack of family had made that rivaling jealousy turn into hatred for the display of affection. He contemplated to himself. Had he become cold to everyone? Too harsh? Had the darkness he possessed taken him over? He tore his eyes from your short sword and locked them with yours. The thrill he felt wasn’t from anger or terror. His cheeks flushed slightly and you fought the grin that you wanted so badly to flaunt at him. The innuendos regarding the sword that you wanted to say were cut off by that look he gave you.

“Do not get into a situation where you have to use that.” He warned with a stern look. You couldn’t help the angelic smile you gave him.

+

The smell of rotting apples and decaying leaves was all you needed to sense to know you were home. You took in the court border slowly, adjusting to your orientation after being winnowed. Elain clutched your hand tightly, the bag in her other hand quivered only slightly from her shaking. Your hands became slick with sweat at the familiar sights and smells of Autumn. You hadn’t been back since being exiled.

“We wont be able to have a fire.” Azriel stated, gazing towards the sky. It was far too clear of a day out to risk it. The slight chill in the air filled your stomach with dread for the night to come. 

“This way.” You pulled Elain along with you, leaves crunching under your feet as you entered Autumn court. She didn’t move. Her eyes were blank, staring lifelessly into the orange and yellow forest. “Elain?” You asked softly.

“Five foxes will die tonight. Three more in the morning.” 

Her words sent a chill down your spine.

Az took the lead, territoriality putting himself a few paces in front of you. He wasn’t subtle about it either, occasionally jogging ahead to scout for any enemies around piles of bramble when you came across it. 

By the time you found your hideout, you were fed up with waiting for him to give you the all clear everywhere you went. You let you go of Elains now calm hand and stormed into the small shack with familiarity. Azriel hissed and seethed when you lit a lantern inside. “Get over yourself, Shadowsinger.” You laughed, taking in the small piece of home you made for yourself long ago. 

It indeed was a long time ago when you’d last been there. But it still felt homey to you. The small space was just big enough for a stove, the table you’d found, and a bed pushed against the far wall. The fireplace hadn’t been used in years. Soot marked small animal prints along the light plank floors.

The dusty blankets on the makeshift bed were pocked with holes from mice and moths. The fireplace was nearly caved in on itself. The bramble covering that acted like a second roof was growing through the actual roof in some places. But it was still home. Your small exit from the world when things got too tough. Even after being exiled Beron hadn’t known about this place. He would have had it destroyed if he did know of it.

Elain pushed in passed Azriel. His shadows went wild. Searching every surface of the cabin. The long beams of the floor were hardly visible through the darkness he brought. 

+

You knew you should have brought more blankets. You held back the teeth chattering as best you could, letting Elain sleep. She would need all the rest she could get. You could tell she’d been tired after the days walk. She rested peacefully under the layers while the wind shuddered the leaves outside. You pulled your coat tighter to your body. 

“This was a stupid idea.” Azriel muttered from the corner. He didn’t seem cold, but the dark curls of shadow wrapped around him protectively. While you were left with nothing more than a coat. Your own magic couldn’t save you from the stormy wind, the necklace Rhys had given you also weakened your power enough that you couldn’t use it. Even in your homeland. It bothered you endlessly, feeling so useless in such a dire situation of needing to help Elain. 

“Then maybe you should just leave.” You barked back simply. He didn’t have to come in the first place if he was going to be so bothered. 

“I just mean-” He sighed, and sat on the creaky old table that took up half the small kitchenette. “We could have done this better. We could have planned… Differently.” 

“We didnt have the time. We’re here now, so we just need to deal-”

“I know that. I’m just bothered that you’re so recklessly looking for danger everywhere we go.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m from here Azriel. I know what areas are dangerous.” 

“Maybe once.” His eyes were not angry when he said it. They were full of pity and doubt. Your rage spilled over, and you were ready to shout. Ready to scream at him about what a piggish idiot Illrian he was being. But Elain turned over, sighing softly to herself. 

So instead, you clamped down on that burning anger and walked out. And of course he decided to try to follow you. He made it a few steps outside the cabin before you turned on him, ready to roar. “Be safe at least.” He tossed his red jeweled dagger to you. Your heart squeezed, choking you up slightly. You brushed it away as best you could before he could see. You couldn’t yell at him. 

So you took the dagger and walked briskly away, into the brush of autumn forests. Laced with the smell of heavy fruits and warm trees. Leaves fluttering in your wake as the wind tossed with ease. 

You held his knife close at your side the entire aimless walk. Then, the sound of twigs snapping and males laughing heartily made you pause. 

Far to your east was a dull glow beyond a knoll. You backed away slowly. Trying to be as soundless as possible in case they could scent you. The breeze whipped at your skin, blowing in their direction. The trees above you shuddered sharply, and you swore as a heavy weight fell upon your shoulders.

+

Azriel paced in the kitchenette, his shadows swirling around him relentlessly, waiting for a target. It felt wrong letting you go. It felt like letting his hope sink. His shadows even seemed upset about it, as they now whipped around him angrily. 

He swore he was going to run a rut through the plank floor. He sighed, glanced to Elain’s sleeping figure and forced himself to sit. You had the dagger. You were capable. You knew the area and knew what you were doing. He tried his best to soothe himself. It didn’t help much.

The old chair creaked under his weight, and he smiled. For someone who claimed they couldn’t work around the house, you were quite the crafter making such a nice hideaway for yourself. He finally took a moment to pause, and actually look at the cabin.

The stove may have been older than he was. The missing burners on top were replaced with a few forks placed carefully around them. The ancient shelves were dusty, along with all the jars and cups atop them. Cobwebs spotted the entire house, but his shadows had gotten rid of most of them after the first one clung to his face upon walking in. 

Then he came to the table he sat at, the four unmatching chairs circling it. The table itself was solid oak, he could tell that much. But he wondered how you’d gotten it inside at all. Out of curiosity, he pulled on it. It didn’t budge. His eyebrows knitted together, and he stood slowly. The curiosity consumed him. He gave the table another tug. Still, no movement.  

He crouched down, and noticed the planks around the single leg of the table had been cut out. Then he noticed the intricate roots weaving their way up the trunk. The table wasn’t just a table. It was an entire tree - or what was a tree once… And you’d built the entire cabin around it. His awe was quickly quieted by Elain.

“A part of you is missing. The foxes will die.” She muttered sleepily, her eyes blank. And he lay back down as if it hadn’t happened. “Elain?” Azriel called. Dread, cold and stinging coarse through him. “Elain?” He asked quietly, approaching her side. She flung the covers from her lithe body. Azriel jumped back, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s okay, its me.” He calmed her, noting the wild look in her expression. 

“Find yourself.” She breathed, her eyes going wide with concern. Azriel’s heart sped, and he felt like he’d been dunked in a cold ocean of dread. Terror drug him under the deep waves and threatened to drown him the first chance it got. He took Elains hand and started walking the direction you’d left. 

Leaving behind the supplies and the living table that you’d created.

+

A glance at the oversized uniforms told you all you needed to know. The fox sigil pinned to their tunics proved that the uniforms were stolen from Autumn soldiers. Your blood boiled. Elain had been right. But they would die. Five of them, at least. But you had only glimpsed at three so far. You tugged at the ropes that bound you. Firm, and not able to be broken.

Their campsite was large, and full of small boxes of different fruits. Several different types of weapons leaned against their low lying tents. And with how many scars their fae leader had, you knew the rest of their story in an instant. Bandits. Filthy trade merchants that lived for thievery and making a quick gold mark.

And you’d be worth their weight in gold once they turned you in to Beron.

“We’ve got a live one!” The male shouted to his comrades. They cheered drunkenly, their voices carried far by the wind. Their fire sparked and popped against the blue night sky. And you knew that your death may not come in glory of battle, or in the name of your home. But in being stupid enough to be caught by bandits. You could have died that instant if it would mean you didn’t have to feel that kind of shame.

The male cut the opal from your neck, and you felt your magic explode from you. Your thoughts were racing, searching. Finding something cold and dark in the depths of your mind and tugging on it. Then, it was a live beast beneath your mental hands. It coiled and rose, ready to strike. 

The same one cut a long line down your cheek with the blade that had just cut your only protection against Hybern from you. You prayed to the mother that Hybern was too busy to notice a small blip of magic from an Autumn fae like you. You hissed in pain as the blade stung its way down to your neck, stopping at your collarbone. 

You pulled on that coiling beast that called to you. Beckoned it to find you, to help you from this pain. Maybe you were begging for death, or at least unconsciousness so you wouldnt have to feel the pain anymore. The male stood back to let another scaled lower fae get a look at you. His tongue lashed out over your bloodied neck. He hummed in approval, letting his forked wetness slither across your wounds.

You felt them seal and itch with every pass as he took your blood. “Good.” the one with the blade ordered, then… to your dread, he pulled a glowing rod from the fire. They would brand you. Then take you to the high lord. Only after they’d humiliated you though. The males clucked at your involuntary reaction. They huddled close around, waiting for the screaming to start. Their excitement coated the air with a tangy adrenaline filled scent. 

You reared away from the burning metal as best as you could. The ropes around you seemed weaker now that you had your weak magic back, but still too constricting to do much with. 

You closed your eyes as the glow approached your chest. It warmed your face with the heat. They were going slow on purpose. Wanting to savor your reaction. It made your stomach go queasy. You hoped you would pass out. Better yet, just die of the agony. That way Beron wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing you himself. 

There was a thump, and sizzling. You cracked open your eyes, waiting that searing pain to hit you. But it didnt. The males stood back, bewildered. Across the camp in the dull glow of the fire as the one that had been lowering the branding stick to you. It was speared through his chest, pinning him to a tree. His mouth gasped, eyes wide and glowing a haunting orange from the fire. You would never forget the sight of it. The smoldering that came from the tree behind him as the hot iron burned into it. The wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing. 

Then, the gasp and thump each male that Azriel incapacitated before you. Elain stood at the edge of the trees, her eyes still puffy from sleep. Azriel kept the kills quiet and concise. None resembled the one pinned to the tree, now sagging under the weight of death. No, the rest of them had easy deaths at the hands of one skilled at dealing killing blows. The wet splatter of blood leaving a body pulled you back to the scene in front of you. Az’s scowl as he cleaned his blade was that of a warrior who had seen much worse. Done much worse. 

“I told you not to fucking-” He snarled, his hands on the rope at your wrists. He stopped though, and stared. The shadowed light of his eyes seemed to be blooming with awe. You couldn’t look away. The beauty in the deep irises, the way small freckles played about his dark skin. All new and exciting things you’d never noticed before. His scent alone was like a punch to the gut. 

Him. Azriel. It had been him to find you. Him to respond to that silent plea that you so badly needed to be heard. He was that coiling darkness that had saved you. Your breath was a gasp, and you nearly fell to your knees before him. 

+

His hands didn’t work anymore. The world stopped turning all together. His heart was no longer his own and his soul belonged wherever you were. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a foreign court’s borders. It didn’t matter that Elain trembled in the corner of the clearing. He was yours, and you were his. 

He vowed it, for eternity that was how it would stay. He’d never leave your side again. Never choose to be without you for as long as he may be alive. His very being was now shared. With you. His soul intertwined your yours, wrapping delicately around your earthy light that contrasted his darkness so perfectly. If you were the sun he was the moon, always chasing, always following and living in your light. 

The words weren’t needed but he managed to utter them. Around a shuddering breath and a shattering explosion of love he managed it. “My mate.”

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

So how the heck do the Avengers pay for stuff, and how rich are they?

So, in the wake of “Falcon and the Winter Soldier” There’s a lot of debate about why Sam didn’t seem to get paid well for his work in the Avengers (at least in the MCU continuity), and this has got me thinking: we’ve got no evidence that the Avengers are, financially, anything but a hot mess. So lets break it down, Avenger by Avenger, using real-world pay scales for the ones who have jobs.

Tony: a billionaire, so clearly he’s a financial genius, right? Well….. his actions say otherwise. He’s shown to be wildly irresponsible with his money. He inherited a lot of wealth form his parents which was managed by the first Jarvis, Obadiah, and Pepper for him, he buys and then gives away not just woks of art, but entire collections by major 20th century artists on a whim, destroyed his own cars and home without concern, he tanks the value of his own company in the first Iron Man with a bad press interview, gets kicked of his own bord of directors, and ultimately, in Iron Man 2, gives control of his company to Pepper. He’s insanely rich, and insanely smart, but man, he’s not smart with his money. So all the cool stuff, his suits, the Avengers tower, the facility up-state: that’s all paid for by him, but Pepper is holding the purse-stings.  So, does he pay the others? We have no evidence for most of them… but we do with Spidey. Peter Parker is in the Stark Internship Program a euphemism to hide the fact he’s training and mentoring him as a super-hero, but I find the wording interesting: he refers to Spidey, his surrogate son and chosen heir, as an intern. I.E., Unpaid.  I’m guessing this is Howard’s influence over him, some sort of ‘make you own way in the world, son’ attitude, but  if he’s not paying Spidey, is he paying anyone else? He certainly pays for stuff super heroes suits and things, equipment, fuel, the base, but does he pay anyone a wage? No one ever mentions it. You think it would come up.

So, if he’s not paying them a wage, where do Avengers  (and thier allies) get their day-to-day money from, and are they rich? Using google and https://www.federalpay.org, lets find out.

Cap: Well, before Civil war, he’s a shield operative, and he presumably still holds his military rank: he’s a US Army captain, with (well) over 40 years service, so USD$88,142.40 per year, with $237.71  drill pay (pay per drill you have to do on weekends, on leave or outside of normal service) and $175.00 per month hazard pay (which I bet is interesting) on top of that. As a WW2 veteran, he’d be eligible for a war pension if he:

Was not discharged for dishonorable reasons; and,

Served 90 days of active military duty; and,

Served at least one day during wartime ("wartime" as determined by the VA); and,

Had  countable family income below a certain yearly limit; and,

Is  age 65 years or older; or

Regardless of age is permanently disabled, not due to wilful misconduct.

As he’s still receiving 90k per year, he’s ineligible for a pension as his countable yearly income is above the limit.  So if shield pays him in accordance with his rank and years of service, about $90, 600 per year incuding hazard pay.

After civil war, he’s a fugitive on the run, so presumably flat broke. I’d asume he gets his pension returened to him after the snap.

He’s also just gone from the 40’s to the present day, so 70 years of inflation probably makes buying things very confusing for him: everything would seem insanely expensive at first. He’d also not know what the correct prices are for anything invented after 45. You might get used to how much more expensive food and coffee is, but how much is a smart-phone worth? $200? $2000 $20000? Who knows? I bet the others have to facepalm a lot when he either refuses to pay for what he sees as clear price-gouging, and at the same time regularly pays insane amounts of money for goods and services because he doesn’t know better. He also has no known assets other than his pay: he rents an apartment making him one of the few American males in his age-group who isn’t a home-owner

Thor: Does Asgard even have currency? It’s depicted like a “Crystal spires and toga” type utopia with no poverty: even working class Asgardian’s like Scourge seem to be pretty well-off and want for nothing, so he’s from a post-scarcity society where actual magic is a thing. His “Another” coffee cup smashing and the fact he doesn’t have a computer of phone in Ragnarök might indicate that, no, he just doesn’t have, need or understand money. Splitting a bar tab with him must be a nightmare. His breakdown post snap indicates he’s got some cash, but not a huge amount, and is probably skiving of Valkyrie and the other Asgardians.

Banner: Okay, so a PhD could make you a lot of money from patents… in pharmacology or engineering. Theoretical physics? Not so good. And if Banner did have any patents, they’ve probably been seized under eminent domain by the US military.  At the start of The Hulk film, he’s working a entry-level factory job at a botteling plant in Brazil. The minimum wage in Brazil is 1069.62 Real per month, that’s 12,835.44 Real per year, or around $2437.79 US per year, before everything goes wrong for him! He then runs off to India, works for Tony for a bit and then gets shot into space. Spidey may actually make more in allowance than Banner does, and Banner is a gown ass man with bills to pay: I’d imagine he loses a lot in ripped clothing.

Natasha and Barton: Pre Civil-war, both are government spooks, so how well does that pay? The salaries of CIA Intelligence Analysts based in the US range from $25,838 to $685,701 , with a median salary of $125,340, so let’s assume that Shield pays in a similar range: $685,701 per year for Director Fury, around 125,000 for Natasha and Cliff, which explains Cliff’s nice, middle-class mid-western home. Post civil war, presumably not great: we know that Natasha spends a lot of her savings running and hiding all across the world, and Cliff takes a deal and presumably lives of his savings, pension and his wife’s income.

Rhodes: Full USAF colonel with over 10 years service? $105,562.80 per year, plus $293.23 drill pay per drill and $175 per month hazard pay, and because he’s team Stark and not Team Cap in Civil War, he’d not lose any of that. He presumably also gets an injury pay-out after his accident. After T’challa and Stark, he might be the best paid avenger.

Dr Strange: spends all his money he made as a surgeon on trying to cure his hands: spends literally his last dollars heading to Nepal to train. Wong even jokes with him about their lack of worldly money when asking for a tuna-melt. But, can use illusion to make people think he has money, and his home and clothes etc. come with the job, so in the same boat as Thor in that he has no money, but needs none AKA, he’s a bastard to try and split a restaurant bill with.

Wanda and Vision: No know source of income, just sort of live in Tony’s hose and eat his food, and on top of that Wanda goes on the run after civil war… yet they can stay in fancy hotels in Edinburgh, a relatively expensive city, and Vison apparently bought them a house to retire in, so one of them has some source of money. Maybe Tony gave Vision years of back-pay form when he was still Jarvis, or maybe the vison has a day job, which is, frankly, hilarious. Could you imagine him as a barista? I can, and it makes me very happy.

Scott Lang: I’d assumed he’d be super, super broke, but apparently the average pay for a private security consultant in the Bay area is $85,430 per year. Not bad. Pity he gets sucked into the quantum realm just as his business is taking off, so presumably, flat broke again.

Bucky: no known income, and I doubt Hydra paid him for being the Winter Soldier so he probably has no savings, but he should, technically, qualify for a military pension. As a single veteran, he’d be  eligible for federal tax-free pension of up to $1732 per month, or $20,784 tax free per year. Not much for someone who lives in NYC. He may also be eligible for medical benefits over the loss of his arm. Whether or not he got to see any of that money given how confused his life has been over the past 10 years is unclear, but on paper he’s eligible.

T’challa: He is, quite possibly, richer than Stark, and as an absolute monarch pays no tax and has access to his Nation’s vast wealth in vibanium. It’s good to be the king!

Captain Marvel: USAF captain, and a test pilot; the test pilot school only accepts applicants with a service length of less than 9 years 6 months (10 years six moths of helicopters) as they don’t want older applicants. With 8 years service, $79,538.40, plus drill pay and hazard.  However, no know (human) pay since 1990. Flat broke.

Guardians of the Galaxy: no data, but I’m assuming “Cowboy Bebop” levels of perpetual never-ending poverty given the way they choose to live. I’d also assume Rocket has taken all their cash into some sort of Ponzi scheme of his own creation, because just look at him, of course he has.

Spidey: he’s got about $10 of his aunts’ money at any given time, so he can buy lunch… which may in fact be more than Banner or Lang, and we know it’s more that Strange or Thor.

 So, here the big one: how rich or how broke is Sam?

Sam Wilson: annoyingly, we’re not directly told what rank Sam held in any MCU film. USAF pararescue “Maroon berets” are generally NCO’s (but there’ are officer-ranked pararescue) , and he’s seen working on his wings at one point, where as officers don’t generally work on or maintain airframes. He’s shown wearing a Nation Air guard grey while jogging at one point to confuse the matter further. The general consensus on redit is he’s a former USAF tech sergeant (E-6). But how long was he in the air force? With six years service (the minimum sensible time he could have served to work in pararescue based on his age), that would be $41,464.80 per year, plus drill pay and hazard. As Anthony Mackie, the actor that plays him, was 36 as of Civil War, and assuming the character is the same age, and assuming he retired from the air force that year, and he joined the USAF at 17, the youngest you can join, he’d have served 19 years, giving him a pay of $51,566.40, the maximum pay you can get at this rank before promotion to Master Sergent,  but meaning he left just before he’d qualify for the 50% final salary pension you’d qualify for after 20 years. Which seems weird. So let’s assume the character is one year older than the actor that plays him and served 20 years (ages 17-37), that means Sam has a military pension of $25,783.20 per year (20,784 of it tax-free), plus any injury benefits. He councils other veterans, but doesn’t get paid for that. He also chooses Team Cap in Civil War, so would become a wanted criminal, and so lose his income between 2016 and 2018, and then gets snapped and has no income for 5 years, which would destroy his credit rating. Like the rest of Team Cap, he presumably gets his post snap pardon, and goes to work for the US government at his former pay and rank. However, given how Captain John Walker treats him as an equal, it’s possible he’s been promoted to a captain when the  hired back, giving him a pay of between $54,176.40 to $88,142.40 (with 20 years experience, depending on if they take into account his prior service or not, and how much prior service he has), but either way, he’s just starting this as a new job after being legally dead for 5 years: no savings, and no credit.

Commercial fishing vessels cost about 10% of their total value per year in maintenance alone. I can’t identify what sort of boat the Wilson’s have, but some quick googling indicates that the cheapest  15m long wooden in-shore shrimp trawler costs around $140,000, so that’s $14,000 per year in maintenance costs alone, minimum. And that’s a lower estimate, assuming the rest of the business is sound, which we know it isn’t.

So, in concussion, yes, Sam is in some serious financial trouble until he can re-build his savings and credit, but the scary bit is he’s not alone in that: he’s probably better off than Lang, Banner, Danvers, Strange, Thor, Bucky, Wanda and Parker. Only Clint (if he gets a full pardon and gets his full pension), Rhodes, Stark and T’challa aren’t in some sort of potential financial problems. That asshole bank teller was right: despite the fact it seems to pay well on paper, with a few exceptions, the Avengers financials are probibaly a mess. EDIT: Rocket is running the Ponzi scheme, if that’s not clear from context. The others know they have money somewhere, but not where it’s gone. And It’s been pointed out to me that as he’s technically a POW while he’s the Winter Soldier, Bucky is owed over 70 years back-pay, equal to over 3 million dollars, details in the notes.

not sure if this has been asked or written before, but what a about a 'sort of cryptid like farmer' and shane? a farmer that's just a little bit more on the non human side kinda thing, if thats alright

A special Spooktember treat for you guys- I hope you enjoy. Been saving this one until it was appropriately close enough to spooky season. Also- TIL that goblincore is a quite delightful aesthetic-read til the end to get the full ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* vibes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they’re feral AND charming.

Just Goblin Things

Summary: There’s something sinister in Cindersnap Forest, and Shane is the one to come face to face with the creature. What he finds is a more than just a little magical, and he can’t wait to discover more.

Trigger warning : very brief, vague insinuations of alcohol; general spookyness.

“Seb, how many more until we can go back to my house?’

“Just a minute, Sam. I can hear one croaking just over there…“

“Yoba, what was that!-look, there in the bush!” A flash of green had caught Abigails eye, followed by a loud scrambling noise. She pushed herself off the ground, using Sam’s shoulder as a boost, and leaped toward the sound, searching for its maker.

“What kind of frog was that?”

“I didn’t even see anything. Probably just some raccoon or something.” They watched Abby crawl around a small thicket of bushes, peeking in between branches as she went. “Leave it alone, Abby, you don’t want to catch rabies.”

“Raccoons don’t have green eyes, Seb,” she said, as she perked her head up to listen to a faint crinkling of leaves. “Listen, do you hear that? It almost sounds like.. hissing?”

“What, like a snake?”

“No, like a-AH!” Abby shrieked, and fell back. The two boys ran towards her. “No, get back, it might see you!” She was referencing the massive pair of green speckled eyes that were now accompanied with a gnarly, toothy grimace emerging from the bush. From it, came an ungodly snarling and hissing.

“Alright, time to go,” Seb yanked the two teenagers away from the creature, and they started to run. Once they had made it inside Sam’s house, the trio slammed his bedroom door and jumped on the bed. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to each other’s panting breath. Abby began to say something, but Sebastian interrupted, “we’re not gonna talk about it. Just don’t-nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. Got it?” Abby huffed in frustration, and protested with him, arguing that they needed to get back out there and figure it out. All Sam could do was stare at his floor, stunned at what had just happened.

The next day, Sam went to start his shift at the Joja Mart on edge from the night before. Shane was working the freezer when he spotted him-he had picked up a packaged of individually sealed pancakes seven minutes ago and was still staring at it, unmoving. “Uh, you alright, bud?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” His voice seemed far away, but he managed to finally move, making to put away the product. He turned to him, “Shane, you live in Cindersnap Forest. Have you ever seen anything… weird… there?”

“You mean besides Mayor Lewis sneaking out the back window and crawling around the house, thinking I can’t see him?”

“What?”

“No, never seen anything.”

“Well we did, Abby, Seb, and I, last night.”

“And?”

“Well, nothing really actually happened-it just scared us, really. Made a really ugly sound and showed it’s teeth to us. It must have just been some animal… but the thing is… gah, I can’t even say it.”

Shane tossed a bag of multipurpose detergent at him, demanding, “C’mon, say it.”

“Ouch, Yoba, alright. I didn’t tell the others, but when we were running away, I looked back and.. and well, I saw it run away and it was on two legs like a person.”

“Hah, okay you got me. There’s nothing in that forest, kid, don’t think about it too much.” Shane slapped the back of Sam’s shoulder, bidding him to just do his work, and went about finishing the stocking. He’d look over, occasionally, to see the golden-haired teen zoned into space again, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really care at that point; he just needed to get through his shift.

______________________________________________

Shane looked at his phone-11:26 PM. He’d gone out, not able to sleep, and forced himself to take a cold walk through the woods to avoid the saloon. Shivering, not just from the cold, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. He enjoyed watching the little sparkling fish swim, their silver scales glisten underneath the shallow water… Swishing and splashing and crashing-crashing? He flipped his body around to see the source of the crash-in front of the big tree, in a disheveled pile, sat the farmer. They were brushing the leaves out of their hair and dusting off their knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Goodness, Shane, you scared me.”

“You’re the one who fell out of the tree.”

The farmer finger-gunned, “You got me there,” and stood up, gathering the belongings that tumbled from their satchel.

Shane watched them, and smirked at seeing them covered in Earth matter-leaves, moss, dirt-it all seemed to have managed to stick to them as they tumbled down the tree. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” The farmer brushed off their apron and body. Dirt, rocks, and leaves fell from their arms, but the moss stayed firmly attached.

Now with a clear view, Shane could see that their skin wasn’t quite right. It looked jaundiced from their shoulders down, where the color faded to a sickly vibrant green down to their finger tips. The moss had attached itself to their elbows and seemed to grow down to their fingertips. As the farmer moved about, their arms coming in and out of scattered streaks of moonlight, he could almost see it blinking at him. Was it growing on their arm? He blinked trying to make sense of it, “No, no I meant your arms have-“

“Oh, Hey Franklin.”

Shane’s jaw hung open on his words. Emerging from the Farmers.. arm moss?.. emerged a little frog. It opened and closed its mouth a few times before letting out a tiny ‘ribbit’.

“Yeah, I found this little guy a few weeks ago and he just didn’t want to leave. He likes to come with me on our nightly mushroom hunts.” Franklin went cross eyed as he focus on a little bug flittering past before catching it with a satisfying crunch. “Oh, that was a good one, Frankie.”

“Okay I’m gonna go now,” Shane regained control of his jaw, resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to turn away.

“Wait! You’re not gonna tell anyone my secret are you?”

“Tell them what, that you keep a secret frog hidden somewhere in your arm?”

“No, everyone should know about Franklin, he’s precious. I meant-you know what, can I just show you?” The farmer reached out their hand in an offer for Shane to grab.

He hesitated-he only barely knew the farmer, having really only seen them run past him at full speed with a pick axe held high above their head-but he was in desperate need of a distraction tonight.

The farmer, seeing his reservation, offered up, “come sit down with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Well I’ll tell you some of my other secrets?”

He was in too deep now, his curiosity overtaking his tentativeness, “Alright.” He accepted their hand; his fingertips flexed atop their hand, cushioned by the lush, damp covering of green.

Holding his hand, they led him to their crash-landing zone under the tree, where they sat down. As the farmer sat, legs tucked into each other, Shane thought he saw their body hesitate mid-air for half a second. He then was sure that he saw a little fairy ring of mushrooms pop out of the ground with a glimmering puff of orange dust as the farmers body finally made contact with the ground.

“Please, sit.” Shane pretended to not be concerned, but the farmer smiled to themselves as they spotted him cautiously glancing down to the ground as he gingerly lowered himself to sit. Satisfied, the farmer opened up their satchel and pulled out their trinkets for tea-two wooden cups, a shiny silver teapot with a mismatched spoon, and a box of vials and jars. Opening, smelling, taking, and closing the little jars, they began to make the tea. The beautiful earthy colors of the roots, grasses, and leaves peeled out over the edge of the cups. Craning their body, they reached over to the other circle of mushrooms where they crashed, and plucked a purple one.

As they filled the teacups, Shane watched in horror as the they grasped a moth straight out of the air, ripped a wing off, and shredded it into the two cups. He hoped to Yoba the ‘tea’ was done, but they pulled out one final vial. Swallowing, he asked, “Who’s hair is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The farmer pick up the teapot, cradling it in their palms. As the silver started to glow red hot, the farmers hair flew up, standing straight when the teapot began to steam. They poured the hot water into the cups.

“Okay, I get it, I know what this is.”

“What is?”

“I just had a few too many today, and I’m actually just super hammered right now and it’s making me see things. I’m gonna go to bed, now”

“But I didn’t see you at the saloon today?”

“Well, no, but if I think about it too much I’m gonna freak out a little bit,” he pushed his hands off to stand, “so I’m just gonna say that this isn’t real and-“

The farmer reached out their hand to him once more. He stood, frozen, as he watched twigs emerge from their fingertips, growing into branches, followed by leaves, and finishing with a delicate flower unfurling inches away from where he stood.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Take it.”

“Take it? But it’s.. attached.”

“Just take it,” the farmer smiled.

He picked it, cupping it in his palms, and brought it to his chest. He watched in awe as the flower petals began to sway, and tiny white fairies sprouted from the pollen. Transfixed, he stood holding his breath as the hazy creatures danced around the petals.

While he watched, eyes big and lit up, the farmer quietly pulled out from their satchel a little carved wooden chair. While Franklin hopped down and plopped onto the chair, the farmer plucked another tiny mushroom, removing the stalk, and tipped a mini-portion of tea from their cup into the cap. They handed it to Franklin who busied himself with dunking his head in and out of the tea and screaming into it.

Shane, remembering his need to breathe, finally gasped and attempted to sputter something intelligible out, but just as he thought of a semi-formed sentence, the dancing fairies suddenly burst into a frenzy of colorful fire. They continued their elaborate dance until the last of them fizzled out, and there was nothing left of the dancing flower except misty smoke and white ash.

“You can keep that-here, pour it into here,” they handed an empty vial to Shane, “sprinkle it on your doorstep and it’ll protect you and your loved ones.”

He did as he was told, not even questioning it at this point-he wanted to know more and how and why and what. Finished, he sat back down, facing the farmer, watching them lift the teacup to their lips. “So uh, does the tree thing happen a lot, or just at night, because I’ve seen you during the day and it doesn’t look like that.”

“No, you’re right, see the thing is, it’s when I- HHREEEEEEEEEK!”

Shane tumbled back in shock, catching himself with his elbows and hands. The farmer had let out an awful screech, showing their (formerly enchanting smile) now fanged row of gnarly teeth. In an instant, their eyes grew and melted into dinner plate-sized puddles of green. Shane yanked his head to match the direction of the farmers leer, where he saw a scruffy-looking opossum attempting to sneak their grubby hands around Franklin. The caught-and foiled-thief returned the farmers screech with a feral ‘hiss’ of its own, before it clambered back into dark bushes.

As quickly as the transformation happened, the farmer returned to normal just the same, meeting Shane’s stunned eyes with their own-now regular sized-smiling eyes. “Can’t be letting Franklin become someone’s snack, now can we?” They laughed and smiled to themselves, giving Franklin a little finger pat.

He was stunned, again. He blinked his way around the farmers face and body, searching for something that would make sense of his feelings. Was it repulsion? Fascination? Perhaps even a little attraction? The farmers little twinkling laugh would normally be very charming to him, but the circumstances of it were overwhelmingly frightening… if not still partially alluring. He settled his searching to focus on their smile-they offered it up so freely to him.

The farmer had waited for him to get settled back into a relaxed position before they continued, “Now what was it you were asking me, dear?”

“I was asking about your arms, that they normally aren’t literal trees,” he stoped, “dear?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Would you prefer me to call you something else?”

“… no, that’s fine.”

They sat together for a few moments in silence while the farmer drank their tea, and Shane gathered the courage to at least sip the leafy moth water. (It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. He swished his tongue around his mouth to feel for any fuzzy winged remains, but couldn’t find any. It was smooth, and still hot. While he pondered, Franklin made a few flighty hops over to where his foot was resting, and jumped up onto his sneaker-he was trying to bite the laced up shoestrings.

He let out a little laugh-what a strange little animal. He looked up at the farmer and thought ‘what a strange little.. goblin.’ He let himself stare a bit-they didn’t seem to mind. They had taken off their hat by now, and revealed a pair of little pronged antlers that were hidden underneath. They were encrusted with clusters of crystals, which glittered with every turn and tilt of the farmers head. He continued to drink his tea, getting more accustomed to it with each sip, and watched the scattered moonlight refract off the crystals onto the ground. There, where the prismatic light met earth, a misting of teeny white flowers sprouted and bloomed. Shane had always been appreciative of the wonders of nature, but he had never seen it this beautiful. The farmer seemed connected to the earth, each breathing life into the other. It was humbling. And it-they-were beautiful.

The farmer finally caught his eye, and looked down, now a bit embarrassed. They didn’t mind the scrutiny-it wasn’t out of judgement, they knew, just curiosity. Truth be told, the feeling was more of self consciousness than anything. It was always daunting to show anyone their true selves, but to Shane? His gaze was so honest and searching that it was intimidating. Still feeling his eyes on them, the farmer briefly looked up through their lashes to give him a shy smile, and then turned their attention to the lake.

Shane broke the silence, “Any other goblins in their you wanna tell me about,” he motioned to the lake.

“Nah, that lake is occupied already.”

“Ah, I was just playing. Of course, it’s occupied with fish.”

The farmer was silent

He turned to them, only slightly panicky, “With fish right?”

“Mmhmm yeah fish, lots of fish.” They pursed their lips tight and took a nervous sip of their already empty tea.

Shane squinted to the water, studying it, and caught a glimpse of some bubbles rupturing on the distant surface. He scooted closer to the farmer.

With the shoulders pressed up against each other, the farmer reassured him, “Don’t worry, I got you,” and took hold of his hand.

Shane eased his body deeper against their shoulder with a sigh. He took a peek at the farmer’s face just in time to see an attractive blush warm their cheeks. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the tops of their knuckles. They sat together, watching the lake, while the moon rose higher in the sky.

“Did you call me a goblin?” The farmer broke the trance.

Shane let out a hearty laugh, “What other kind of magical creature sneaks around in the dark and scares neighborhood children?”

The farmer returned the laugh, and finger gunned once more, “you know what, you got me there again, Shane.” The pair filled the foggy air with the sound of their laughter, pushing their bodies still even closer together.

“If you don’t want your cover blown, you should probably stop doing that, you know, screeching at teenagers.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the farmer said with a small growl and a wink.

It was Shane’s turn to blush, now. He looked down at their hands, still cupped together, and smiled. “What other magic secrets do you have?”

“ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* Let me show you.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “

Me: I’ve got some time and motivation on my hands! Maybe I should work on one of my immediate projects, like putting the finishing touches on my RQBB piece, or making some headway on my TMA BB piece, or editing the next chapter of the DND AU...

Me: *writes a 5k opener for an au that’s basically The Owl House*

------

“Again.”

Jon held still and kept his eyes shut. Everything ached, his head most of all; the slightest movement sent lightning bolts of pain through his skull. Even now it throbbed like a quiet threat behind his closed eyes.

“Get up, Jon.”

He couldn’t. He was done. Wasn’t that obvious?

“I don’t have time to indulge you. I know you can do more. Now get up.”

He couldn’t.

“Open your eyes, Jonathan.”

That was a simpler request, at least. He could do that much, couldn’t he? He could open his eyes. It barely counted as moving.

Dutifully, Jon forced his eyelids apart. Punishment was swift; this time the pain was so intense that he couldn’t even scream, only curl up tighter on the floor with a strangled whimper. The polished tiles were cold against his face, but they did little to soothe the ache. Warm liquid trickled from his closed eyes; when had he started crying?

Across the room, Jonah sighed. “Already? We’ve barely scratched the surface, Jon. I expected another hour from you, at minimum.” Footsteps echoed against the floor, and Jon tensed in spite of the pain, but the hands that picked him up were gentle. “Come now. Our work is too important for me to indulge you like this. For Titan’s sake, your endurance was better when you were a mere child.”

Jon kept his eyes shut, and hated the part of himself that wanted to curl up again, apologize, and promise to do better. The ache was beginning to recede, just barely, but he kept his eyes shut. If he opened them too soon, then Jonah would take it as a sign that he wasn’t as tired as he behaved.

“Can you make your own way back?” Jonah asked, steadying him by the shoulders. “Or do you need help?”

Jon’s blood ran cold. That was a dangerous question. If he chose to go under his own power, then Jonah might change his mind about letting him stop. But he didn’t want help. His limbs felt like wet clay, and there wasn’t a single muscle in his body that didn’t hurt, but at least they were still his.

“I—” HIs voice cracked in his dry throat. “I can—I can make my own way. Th-thank you, Jonah.” He held his breath.

After far too long for comfort, Jonah sighed again, heavy with disappointment. “Alright, Jon. Get some rest. We’ll do better in the morning.”

“Yes, Jonah,” Jon replied, faint with relief, and waited.

He was met with silence.

“Have you changed your mind?” Jonah said, after a moment. “If you’d like to continue…”

“No,” Jon replied. “No, I’m—thank you. For letting me stop. Just…” He held his hands out in a blind plea. “It’s my eyes, so I need…”

“Ah, of course, how could it have slipped my mind?” He heard a faint rustle from Jonah’s robe, before warm, smooth wood was pressed into his waiting hands. Jon swallowed another sob of relief. “There you are, then.”

“Thank you,” Jon repeated, and turned toward where he hoped the exit was.

The shape in his hands shifted. Smooth wood became downy softness, before the feeling left his hands and landed gently against his face. Soft wings brushed his cheeks, tiny legs grasped the bridge of his nose, and the world returned to him.

He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could see the room once more: the library’s main room, a vast space where he and Jonah did most of their work. He could see Jonah as well, watching him with the weary patience of a parent indulging a child’s tantrum.

Jon looked away, muttered his thanks again, and limped out of the room.

Even with a closed door between them, the weight of Jonah’s scrutiny never left. Not helping the matter was the wallpaper that, currently, was openly tracking his progress through the countless eyes hidden in the intricate pattern.

That was the downside to navigating with these eyes; when he used his own, he couldn’t see the Beholding that soaked every nook and cranny of the manor. At least then he could pretend that closed doors and distance meant something.

It was a long way from the research wing to his quarters—their quarters—and Jon had to pause several times for a moment’s rest. By the time he reached the last flight of stairs, he was shaking from exhaustion, and strongly considering the benefits of simply curling up in a corner of the hallway and falling asleep on the floor. Jonah certainly kept the carpets plush enough.

His borrowed vision went hazy for a moment, and soft wings beat gently against his face. Jon braced himself against the wall as another powerful headache washed over him, closed eyes be damned. His face was wet with tears again.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Alright. Just a bit farther.”

The mask of wings left his face in a sudden flurry of beating, leaving him blind again. Jon bit back a cry of alarm and stayed where he was, leaning against the wall. He wouldn’t leave—surely he wouldn’t. He’d be back. Maybe he was just…

Before he could work himself into a proper panic, he heard the door at the top of the stairs creak open. Familiar footsteps came tumbling down the steps.

“Fuck, Jon,” a familiar, wonderfully welcome voice breathed out, and Gerry caught him before he could fall.

Jon made the rest of the journey leaning heavily against him, blind and trusting. He could feel gentle puffs of air against his face, fluttering wings that didn’t quite touch, and smiled gratefully.

Eventually Gerry deposited him in a chair and went to retrieve something—from the potions stand, going by the clatter of glass vials. Less than a minute later, one of them was pressed into his hand.

“Here. Need help drinking?”

Jon shook his head. “I can manage. Thanks.” He downed the potion and was rewarded by a receding headache. His eyelids were so sticky that he had to massage them open, and his vision came back in blurry patches, one piece of the room at a time: A single table and chair by the kitchenette. Two beds shoved together in the far corner. The sparsest alchemy array on the Isles. Gerry's face, watching him with open concern.

"Do you know how much you lost?" Gerry asked.

"What?"

Gerry gestured to his face, and Jon mirrored the motion until he found rough, sticky stains streaked down his face. He was confused until some of it crumbled off at his touch, and he looked down to find flecks of congealed blood clinging to his fingertips. "That's probably not good."

"Yeah, Jon," Gerry sighed, short and forceful with held back anger. "Probably isn't." He moved off to the kitchenette, and returned moments later with a damp towel.

Jon cleaned his face, sighing in relief at the coolness against the lingering ache. He put the now-soiled towel aside, eyes finally clear, and caught the briefest glimpse of amber eye spots on coppery wings before their owner alighted gently on the side of his head.

"Yes, of course," he said, reaching up to stroke one of the moth's large downy wings. His familiar nuzzled his finger in return. "Thank you, Atlas."

"He alright?" Gerry asked grimly, already checking the moth for any sign of damage.

"Jonah had him for the entire session," Jon replied. "No overt threats today, he just… didn't let him go until we were finished. So. Could be worse."

"Could be a lot better," Gerry muttered.

It will be, he carefully didn't say. Soon, it will be.

It wasn't safe to talk like that. Not here. Not yet.

After Gerry coaxed food into him, Jon crawled beneath the covers and curled up as small as he could manage. Patched and mended blankets didn’t offer any more protection than the walls of this place, but huddling in the dark made it easier to pretend that Jonah couldn’t see him here. It was the only way he could make himself sleep, these days.

When he awoke to Gerry’s gentle shaking, Jon found that he hadn’t moved so much as a finger in his sleep.

Without a word, he slipped out from under the blanket. The light in their quarters was dimming as twilight approached. Gerry barely glanced up from the book he was reading at the table as Jon shuffled to the kitchenette and the kettle.

Casting the spell was a simple matter of well-practiced sleight of hand, disguised beneath mundane activities. One spell circle traced idly by Gerry’s finger against the page as he turned it, the other drawn in the air as Jon waved away the steam. They never did it the same way twice, nor with any regularity by day or week or month. If it became a pattern, then Jonah might catch it.

The spell slipped into place smoothly, with none of the clumsy ripples of their earliest attempts, and Jon let out a shaky sigh. They had to assume that Jonah was always watching—but now, if he was, all he would see was Gerry reading at the table, and Jon drinking tea at the kitchenette. It was a routine they had set long ago. It was exactly what Jonah would expect to see.

Titan willing, it would be enough. They couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“It’s almost ready,” Gerry assured him. “Everything’s in place. All we have to do is wait for the moon’s alignment to power it.”

Jon ran his hand absently over his arm, scratching at the pockmark scars that dotted his skin. Some of the ingredients had cost them dearly to procure. They likely wouldn’t get another chance on any of them.

When he looked at Gerry again, his friend was watching him with something indescribably soft in his face. “It’ll work, Jon.”

“And if we’re caught?” Jon blurted. “We can’t hide this ritual behind false visions. He’ll sense it no matter what his eyes tell him.”

“Once it’s cast, it won’t matter,” Gerry said with grim satisfaction. “We’ll have our out. And where it leads, Jonah won’t have any of the power he does here.”

Jon took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides, nails digging deep into his palms.

Gerry’s eyes never left him. “What’s on your mind?”

Swallowing against the thickness in his throat, Jon struggled to find an answer. “Is it—is it wrong that I’m afraid?”

“Jon, no—”

“I didn’t want to be here,” Jon went on. “I never wanted—ever since I came here, I’ve wanted to leave. And now we finally have a chance. Why am I afraid?” Gerry opened his mouth like he was about to reply, but Jon couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. “It’s not like I’m safe here. Today wasn’t even that bad, compared to… it wasn't that bad.” A bitter, ragged laugh tore itself from his throat. "He pushed me until I bled from my eyes, and he was happy to keep pushing, and all I can think is it wasn't that bad. Why am I afraid to leave?" His voice trailed off. Atlas’s wings fluttered against his head, mirroring his agitation.

Instead of answering, Gerry held out his arms. Jon walked into them without hesitation.

“You were a kid.” With his head on Gerry’s shoulder, his hand to his heart, and Gerry’s arms holding him close, Jon felt surrounded by his friend’s voice.

“I was nearly eighteen,” Jon protested. “Hardly a child.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve been here too long not to be scared of what’s out there,” Gerry reminded him. “And it’s not like we’re escaping out the front door. We don’t really know what we’ll find on the other side.”

Jon’s hand curled into a fist against Gerry’s chest, and his other arm tightened around him. If they did this right, then their exit strategy would dump them into an entirely new world, of which Jon had only ever read old books or heard second and third-hand stories. A fresh wave of apprehension seized him.

Not for the first time, he let himself be desperately, pathetically grateful that he wasn’t doing this alone.

“Can you keep it together?” Gerry asked, still quietly gentle. “I just—I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But I can’t do this alone. This is a two-person job at least, and—”

“Of course.” Reluctantly, Jon pulled back to look him in the eye. “I’m not going to give up at the last moment. You can rely on me.”

Gerry smiled. That was a rare thing, these days. All the more reason not to lose his nerve. Once they got out, Jon was going to spend the rest of their lives giving Gerry every reason to keep doing it.

“I know,” Gerry replied. “Now come on. Let’s finish prepping before we run out of twilight.”

***

“You know,” Gerry whispered late at night, as Jon settled himself into the curve of his body. “By the time I left home, I’d passed up five chances to escape.”

Jon listened in silence. He was never quite sure what to say when Gerry talked about how he grew up. Nothing felt like the right thing to say. Luckily, Gerry never seemed to expect him to say anything at all.

“Those are just the ones I was looking out for, at the time,” Gerry went on. “Couldn’t tell you how many I just didn’t see.”

“You were a kid,” Jon murmured back.

Gerry scoffed into Jon’s hair, and Jon smiled. “Don’t you turn my words back on me. How dare you.” A moment later, “But… you’re not wrong. I was a kid. She was all I knew. I didn’t know who I was without her.”

Safely out of Gerry’s line of vision, Jon allowed himself a thoughtful frown. It was different for him, wasn’t it? Gerry had been born his mother’s son, but Jon had been someone before he was Jonah’s… whatever he was. Student, research assistant, test subject, prisoner.

Before, he’d been the son of parents he barely remembered. He’d been the grandson of a woman who did her best until he drove her to give up on him, and a coven leader came to her with a kind smile and a promise to take away her burden. And now…

And now he wasn’t any of that. Because there wasn’t anything for him to go back to. The only way out was forward, into the unknown.

“I figured it out in the end,” Gerry told him. “You will too. I know you will.”

“I might need help with that,” Jon admitted. “I could use your expertise.”

A soft huff of laughter jostled him. “I’m gonna be in the same boat as you, you know? I’ve never been to the human world.”

“You still know more about it than me,” Jon pointed out.

Gerry was quiet for a moment. “He didn’t tell you anything?” he asked eventually. “It didn’t take much to get him talking, when I was running around with him.”

“Only a few things. His family, his brother, some of his favorite foods. It was all we had time for before we parted ways.”

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Gerry sighed. “The human world sounds amazing—if even half the things he told me about were even real.”

Jon laughed softly. “I know what you mean. Can you imagine someone actually swimming in the ocean? It would strip the flesh clean off your bones.”

“Not if the water’s cold and non-corrosive. Which it apparently is. People swim in the ocean all the time. It’s a thing. They take their kids and everything.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Jon stifled a yawn.

“It was weird, you know?” Gerry went on. “The things he’d talk about like they were nothing. Sometimes he’d say just the wildest thing, and he’d look at me like I was crazy when I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… trying to think of one I haven’t told you before…” Gerry hesitated. “Did I tell you about how mornings in the human realm just… make water?”

“You mentioned something about the rainwater being cold,” Jon replied.

“No no, this is different. Titan, how did he explain it…” Gerry hummed thoughtfully. “Something about how, when it’s cold enough, everything’s covered in little droplets of water in the morning. The air just… does that. Makes water out of nothing.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“Can’t remember,” Gerry admitted. “He showed me a picture, though. Water droplets on a spiderweb. Looked like tiny little diamonds. Dunno what kind of face I was making, but he laughed at me.”

“Rude,” Jon murmured.

“Still not sure I believe it.”

“Maybe we’ll see it for ourselves. One day.” One day very, very soon.

Gerry’s only reply was to run gentle fingers through Jon’s hair, again and again, until Jon finally fell asleep.

***

The moon sat at its apex, round and bright and wreathed in blue fire that seemed to dim the stars around it. It was the first thing Jon saw when Gerry gently shook him awake.

He stirred, wincing when his movements jarred his injuries. Most of the day had been devoted to Jonah’s experiments, and Jon had fresh wounds to prove it. The burns on his face would heal without scarring, but his right hand was still wrapped in liniment-soaked bandages. Jon avoided putting any weight on it as he rose to a sitting position and pushed back the blanket. The sight of the moon, burning brightly in celestial alignment, chased away any lingering weariness.

They cast their usual cloaking spell with less caution than usual. It was only a stopgap measure at best, a few minutes’ safety to get everything in place. The table, chair, and alchemy set were pushed aside to clear the floor. With steadier hands—Jonah had been focused on Jon today, leaving Gerry a day of respite—Gerry borrowed Jon’s staff to draw the circle. Atlas alighted on his place at the top of the staff, colors fading as he shifted back into wood, and the symbols glowed brighter. Jon fetched each component from their hiding places around the room, and began laying them out amid the lines that Gerry was tracing.

They worked quickly, not speaking, barely breathing. For all their planning, there had been no time to practice. They would get only one chance, and no more.

And so, there was no time or opportunity to brace themselves before Gerry drew the last line, and Jon poured the last drop of Titan blood, and the circle caught the moonfire blazing through the open window.

The spell ignited, and the sheer force of clashing power nearly knocked them both off their feet. Their flimsy cloaking spell shattered, exposing them to Jonah’s sight, but it was far too late to turn back.

Jon had barely regained his footing when his own magic, coursing through the spell circle alongside Gerry’s, was caught in the moonlight’s amplifying effect. For a single, glorious moment, for the first time in years, Jon felt magic—wild magic, covenless magic—coursing through him. He smelled fire and earth and sea air, felt wind against his face, sensed the distant light of stars above them, tasted blood in the back of his throat as drumbeats pounded in his ears. Every sensation rushed him at once, melding together into a storm of color and music. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt.

And then the coven brand on his arm blazed, burning away the storm until only the Beholding remained.

It seized him mercilessly, knowledge clamoring its way into his head all at once. It was a confusing mess, so many sights and sounds and thoughts that he couldn’t have picked out a single one among them. But in the end he adjusted, the stream became more focused, and his mind was his own once more.

At the center of the circle, a seam formed in the fabric of the world. It split neatly down the length of it, opening wide into a ragged doorway.

Jon’s heart leapt. They had been planning this for years, researching in secret, sneaking and lying and stealing to get the components together, and yet—only now did he realize that he had never expected it to actually work. The fact that it had, that freedom lay only a few steps from where he stood, was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Jonah was on his way, he realized absently. It wasn’t just the inevitability of it; even without his focus on the river of knowledge flowing through him, he couldn’t help but catch a few drops. One of them showed their captor flying up the stairs toward their quarters, wild-eyed and intent.

“Gerry,” he said. “We have to—”

Another scrap of knowledge slipped into his mind, like a dagger between his ribs.

“Jon?” Gerry’s voice sounded far away. Everything was suddenly muffled, even the portal. Even the Beholding, swollen with moonlight, felt far away. The whole world was contained in a single, inescapable truth.

“We can’t.” The words slipped from Jon’s mouth. His hand closed on Gerry’s arm. “Gerry, we can’t.”

“Jon, let go, the portal’s right—”

“It won’t work.” Jon squeezed his arm. “It won’t—there’s not enough power. It’s not stable enough for both of us. As soon as one of us goes through, the spell will fall apart and the portal will close. It won’t work.”

Gerry stared back at him, face suffused with dismay.

Dismay, but not surprise.

Jon’s heart sank like a stone in mud. “You knew.”

“Jon, there’s no time for this, now let go—” He was pulling away, prying Jon’s fingers from his arm, and the portal was within his reach, and Jonah was so close to their door.

“You knew,” he repeated. “How long have you known? How long have you been lying?”

“I had no choice!” Gerry shouted over the crackling, ringing din of the spell. “There was no other way! What was I supposed to do, sit here while both of us wasted away? What other chance was either of us going to get?”

The worst part was, Jon couldn’t bring himself to be surprised, or even all that angry, really. Of course this was going to happen. It was simply the culmination of his entire life, thus far. His parents, his old friends, his grandmother—and now Gerry.

Maybe it was just his lot to be left behind.

Across the room, the door rattled. Jonah called to them from the other side. Jon barely heard either.

“I…” His throat grew thick. “I understand.”

“Jon, I’m sorry,” Gerry said desperately. “I wish there was another way.”

“No, I—” He really shouldn’t be crying. This was a happy thing, after all. Gerry was going to be free. “At least—even if it’s just one of us—”

Gerry smiled through his own tears. “I’m really gonna miss you,” he said.

“It’s not fair,” Jon blurted out. “We were supposed to go together. We were supposed to see it together!”

“When has any of this ever been fair?”

Tears gathered in his eyes until Jon blinked them away. His last sight of Gerry should be a clear one. “Please don’t forget me.”

The door rattled again, and Gerry choked back a sob. “Fuck. I could never. You’re not the sort of person anyone just forgets.”

Before Jon could reply, Gerry lunged forward. Not toward the portal, not toward freedom, but to Jon. The kiss was fast and clumsy with desperation, but the hands against the sides of his face were ruthlessly gentle.

“I love you,” Gerry whispered. “Don’t look back.”

Jon blinked back his tears, confusion cutting through the grief. “What?”

Gerry curled Jon’s hands around the staff and threw him into the portal.

He fell through the riot of color and music, too shocked to scream as the image of Gerry shattered into pieces above him. The light winked out, and Jon fell into the emptiness alone.

***

Jon landed hard, though not nearly hard enough for how long he must have been falling.

He lay in darkness and silence, wheezing softly as he regained his breath, gripping his staff until his fingers went numb and his injured hand screamed in protest. The air was cold and smelled stale. The light show from the portal was gone, but he could still feel its power humming beneath his skin, threatening to burst free.

After a while, Jon gathered himself enough to roll over. The floor felt like stone beneath his hands, relatively smooth but unpolished. With a grunt of effort, Jon planted his staff on the ground and pulled himself to his feet. It was too dark to see well when he opened his eyes, so he felt along the length of the staff until he found the shape of wooden moth wings at the end.

“Atlas?” His voice rasped in his chest. The wood turned to soft chitin, and Atlas took off from the head of the staff to flutter in frantic circles around his head, buffeting him gently when he flew too close. “Yes, yes—it’s alright. We’re alright.”

Atlas landed on his shoulder, and Jon’s eyes adjusted.

Was this the human world? For all he knew, the portal might have simply dropped him elsewhere in the demon realm. He was in a room, possibly a basement, judging by the clutter. Boxes sat in stacks and piles, some of them too full to close properly. Indistinct objects sat against the walls—an old mirror, frames wrapped in thick brown paper, a tall wooden clock that didn’t seem to be working. A thick layer of dust blanketed everything, untouched by fingerprints or footsteps.

He was alone.

Of course he was alone, he’d seen the portal break apart as soon as he fell into it, with Gerry still on the other side. Jonah had been seconds from breaking the door down, and now—

A harsh sob took him by surprise, and tears blinded him all over again.

Jonah had never set a clear punishment for escaping. And now, whatever it was, Gerry was facing it alone.

They weren’t supposed to be alone, they were never supposed to be alone. It shouldn’t have been him going through the portal, it should have been Gerry, why couldn’t have been Gerry, why couldn’t Gerry have been selfish for once in his life—

A distant scream rang out, shocking him out of his tears. Jon stared around, wide-eyed and searching, but the room was still. Then the ceiling shook with a crash, drawing his eyes upward.

“It’s above us,” he murmured. “Stairs—we need to find stairs.” Atlas took off from his shoulder, eye spots glowing in the gloom.

With an extra set of eyes, Jon found the stairs within a minute. He ran up them, his brand warming as he loosened the leash on his swollen magic. The door at the top of the steps was locked, but he Knew within seconds where to find a key. Atlas vanished from his side and returned moments later, clutching it in all six of his legs.

The door opened to an unlit hallway. Jon hesitated, took one last look back at the dark and cluttered basement, and hurried on.

He could hear more, now that he was really listening for it. Running footsteps, multiple sets by the sound of it. Shouting, always muffled and bitten-off, as if whoever was doing it was trying very hard not to. There were people in trouble—this was the human world, wasn’t it? Was it as hostile as the demon realm after all?

The hallway ended and took him up another flight of stairs. He expected to see light at some point, either artificial or from the windows. The last time he saw the moon, it had nearly blinded him. But instead, the darkness of the stairwell only seemed to grow thicker as he ascended, and reaching the door at the top did nothing to abate it.

At the very least, what he could see of the room he stepped out into looked more like the ground floor. There were proper floorboards, high ceilings, and windows that only showed faint outlines of trees against a dark, starless sky. The house was unlit, and his eyes refused to adjust. Jon drew a quick spell circle on his forehead with one fingertip, and magic poured into his eyes to light the way.

Shouting rang out again from somewhere above. Jon raced to follow it.

Around him, the house was in the slow process of falling apart. Ornate wallpaper hung faded and peeling, shreds of old rugs showed the ragged remains of color and embroidery, and broken shards of wood protruded from walls and doorways alike, as if any ornamentation set into them had been ripped out long ago. This must have been a fine-looking house once, but now it was a crumbling wreck.

Eventually the hallway opened up to another dilapidated chamber, this one a rotting front hall with its doors still standing ajar. Opposite them, the sagging remains of a grand staircase led up to another floor.

Jon had nearly reached the foot of it when he spotted movement at the top of the steps, and his vision went black.

For a split second he thought he’d lost consciousness, but the floor remained firmly beneath his feet. His breath came in short bursts of alarm as he drew another spell circle for sight in the darkness, to no avail.

Jon settled his grip on the staff, wincing at the pain in his burned hand. The bad news was, nothing that simple was going to let him see through this darkness. The good news was, it meant he knew what he was dealing with. He should have figured it out as soon as he left the basement and saw how dark it was. Stupid.

He could hear the others. Their running footsteps had fallen still, but the sound of panicked breathing was unmistakable. Someone was whimpering in pain with each breath. Someone else was whispering frantic reassurances. The darkness swallowed up everything else.

Jon hardly had to reach for his magic. It was brimming all the way to the surface, swollen from the storm of half-wild magic that had brought him here. When he drew a spell circle in the air with a tight whirl of his staff, it all came boiling up and out like a geyser.

Eyes opened everywhere—in Jon’s face and neck, along the length of his staff, in Atlas’s wooden face and wings, and in the choked air all around him. The darkness burned away as quick and clean as thin paper, revealing the scene before him.

There were three people now at the foot of the stairs, in such a state of panicked disarray that Jon could hardly tell whether they’d run or fallen down them. The larger of the two men had the others pushed behind him, backing away from the creature that menaced them, all three of them too frozen in terror to even attempt to cast a spell.

In spite of the glowing eyes that lit the room, a single wriggling mass of darkness remained, crawling and twitching toward its prey with wispy feelers that reached out to touch them. Sour air wafted from its body, filling the room with the smell of rot.

An acid shade. Nasty, hateful things that hunted prey by blinding it, then dissolving it while it was still alive. One touch was enough to melt the skin off your hand. Gerry still had scars from his last encounter with one.

Gerry.

The eyes blazed, and for the first time the brightness touched the shade’s slick hide. It recoiled, convulsing with a sound that was not a scream, but close enough.

Jon didn’t remember crossing the room, but he stood between the writhing mass of shadows and its would-be victims, so he must have. Fear warred with wild, directionless anger. He missed Gerry and hated Jonah. He remembered the feeling of lips on his, and the sight of his only friend weeping as his image shattered. Jon took all of it, gathered up every last drop, and poured it all into the merciless light of his swollen magic. He gave it all of himself, until it was blinding, until he could See every part of the room he stood in, down to every last crack in the walls, down to every convulsing wisp of darkness that made up the shade.

It let out another not-scream as it was utterly, agonizingly Seen.

And then it was gone, and Jon’s last drop of magic trickled out and left him hollow.

The darkness returned—not a demonic creature this time, but regular unconsciousness creeping up on him. He fought it as he turned and looked back at the faces of the people he’d saved. A round-faced man, so pale that his freckles stood out in his face; a woman with wide eyes and dark hair in disarray; and the second man clutching a corrosive burn that covered his arm, whose face—

—whose face Jon recognized.

“Danny?” Half-blind, Jon struggled to focus as the world grew smaller, and the darkness overtaking it nearly obscured the look of shock on the man’s face. “You found your way home?”

He lost his grip on consciousness before he could hear the answer.

Could you do like a Daniela (if she’s blonde in your head) x a girl from the village? But Daniela is actually a huge mess when it comes to confessing and the girls just like wtf? But Daniela’s a cutie so she just rolls with it? :) it’s a bit specific I know. Also no pressure if this doesn’t inspire you :)

I didn’t know if you wanted an ofc, but I hope you don’t mind if it’s a fem!reader 😭 I guess I need to tell people to specify if they DON’T want a reader insert, but please let me know what you think!

Not Myself Tonight

Moonlight peered through the edges of the clouds that blanketed the night sky, casting a beam across the frost bitten blades of grass and the cobblestone streets throughout the village. The sun had set just a bit ago, and the villagers knew quite well to be indoors by nightfall.

All except you apparently. You curse silently to yourself as nerves had your fingers jittery which prompted you to fumble with the key in your hands. It was your responsibility to lock up the tavern at night, and while the closing hours were reasonable enough to give you time to make it home, something was amiss today.

It felt like your clean up routine took double the time and effort. Every wiped down tankard that you put away would mysteriously find themselves scattered back along the counter. Confusion had you furrowing your brow, but after the third time, a slight growl of irritation bubbled in your throat.

You slammed the tankard down a bit more forcefully that time, and luckily when you spun around, they had remained in their places... but then the chairs that were propped upside down on the tabletops were arranged normally once more.

You blinked. What the hell?

Your eyes scrutinized every nook and cranny of the tavern, unsurprised when you saw nothing out of the ordinary. However, you knew something was off, and a cold sweat instantly broke out over your body. It took a moment for your brain to convince your legs to move forward.

After the last chair was propped back up for the night (your eyes darting along the walls the whole time), you turned to take care of the lighting, and caught sight of a single moth. It was almost as if it made eye contact with you because it immediately flapped its wings and took to the faint shadows hiding up in the rafters.

So now here you were, moon hanging high in the sky, and trembling as you struggled to fasten the lock. The fine hairs on your arm were standing on end, and as a shiver rushed through you, you dropped the key. Before you could even start to bend over to retrieve them, a giggle broke through the otherwise silent night, prompting you to whirl around, fist instinctively at the ready (handsy patrons had brought that reflex out of you).

A hand wrapped itself around your wrist with ease, but what surprised you the most was how... gentle the grip was. A finger grazed the inside of your wrist, and suddenly the familiar giggling returned and soothed the tension riddling your body.

“D-Daniela?”

“Who else would it be?” quipped Daniela, a playful smirk twisting her mouth.

You released a shaky breath, slumping back against the front door. A slow grin spread across your face as you examined her in what little light there was available. Her eyes repeatedly glanced between your eyes and your chest, bringing a slight flush to your cheeks. Her brow creased, almost like she was paying attention to something else entirely.

“Your heart is racing.”

You cleared your throat and asked, “Is it that obvious?”

Daniela moved closer to you, her shoulder leaning against the door next to you comfortably, her hand resting lazily on the doorknob.

Until the still unlocked door swung open behind the both of you, sending you tumbling to the floor. A soft “oof” couldn’t help but slip from your lips from the impact. Your tailbone certainly felt bruised, but what was more distracting was when you opened your eyes and noticed her breasts pressed gently against your own.

“If you were trying to get me to fall for you, all you had to do was say so.” you chuckled.

Daniela scrambled away fast at the comment, almost like she was burned. Her smile was replaced by a grimace and your stomach dropped at the quick change.

“Well maybe you should learn how to lock the door.” grumbled Daniela, her arms crossed and... was that a pout?

You physically shook your head to dispel the thought, and hoisted yourself from the floor, dusting your cloak off. You reached to pull the door closed, and locked it, your fingers lacking the tremor from before.

“You might be right about that.” You muttered, your mind circling back to the oddity of your closing routine.

A hand gripped your shoulder. It wasn’t forceful, but you felt the intent as her fingers pressed tight. As she speaks, you hear the frown in her voice before you even see it.

“I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

You pursed your lips. It was like she had read your thoughts, but it was also like she knew something you didn’t. Your eyes flickered to her, and saw that she suddenly had a wicked grin.

“Something as pretty as you should never be soiled.”

What the hell?

You stared into her eyes, glancing rapidly between the two. You hardly knew this girl really; She had kept to the corners of the tavern for the last month and a half, and it took that half for her to approach the actual bar top. She always wore the same attire — the black hooded robe that concealed most parts of her figure, but still offered a view of some good portions as well.

You would frequently feel her stares on your body. You hated to admit that you had gotten used to the feel of eyes grazing your form, but instead of feeling on edge, you found that your stomach felt warm. And if you had felt a different sort of warmth when she had finally spoke to you, well that was your business really.

“I...”

“You smell good, has anyone ever told you that?” Daniela questioned, her nose suddenly dipping into the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

What?

“I... no, I can honestly say that I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Well...” —wait, did her eyes dilate?— “You do,” Daniela finished lamely.

Her eyes averted, and her bravado was gone. You frowned, realizing that maybe she was shyer at flirting than you thought. You hadn’t seen her before she entered the tavern that first night, so you figured she didn’t have many acquaintances in the village. It dawned on you that she might keep to herself and this, you are out of her comfort zone. You smile as you take pity, and you know you can’t wait to find out who the real Daniela is.

“Well, a girl does like to hear it every once in awhile.” you joked.

Daniela’s gaze snapped back to you before she slowly grinned. Her hand rose up towards your face, but didn’t stop there. Her index finger gently hooked a lock of your hair before she twirled it around.

“Oh yes, I think you are perfect for me.”

“Yeah?” you whispered, dazed. Daniela hummed and nodded.

“You absolutely have to meet my family one of these days.”

What an interesting request, thank you anon! Thank you for your kindness, honestly it means so much to me when people are polite and friendly in their asks (asking how I am, employing good manners, etc.). I hope that you are having a lovely day too, dear anon - It’s 10pm and I’m posting this just before I start settling down for the night ^^

Take care and stay safe 💛

- JJ x

~~~~~~~~~~

Le Comte de Saint Germain:

Comte is the King of comfort - If he sees you upset, he’s gonna whisk you away to bed to cuddle or to le thermae to relax.

He assures that the mansion’s moth problem is rectified immediately so that you won’t have to be scared every time you go down to the cellar or every time you have to clear out garret. 

If he notices a moth or butterfly near you while you’re spending time together, Comte will distract you and turn you attention elsewhere so you don’t have to see the winged beast. He’ll also shoo the bugs away before you even notice that they’re there.

Isaac Newton:

He thinks that its rather endearing really, and actually quite charming. That is of course not to say that Isaac will invalidate or belittle your fear, on the contrary, he will absolutely always support you, protect you and care about you.

Isaac will shoo the damned butterflies and moths away for you whenever you need him to without a second thought because he always wants you to feel safe, even if he thinks you fear is a little nonsensical.

He might try and get you to be a little less scared by showing you a biology textbook and explaining that the bugs that you fear aren’t dangerous. He’ll to educate you so you don’t have to be afraid anymore because, if he’s being honest, there is nothing Isaac hates more than when you’re uncomfortable or feel scared.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:

Mozart finds your fear hilarious at first - You’re so strong and powerful and you’re afraid of butterflies? He could fall down laughing at such ridiculousness. 

But when he notices how terrified you are, he’ll immediately step in to protect you. He’ll use bug spray (if he has access to it) or just his hands to shoo away the bugs. Mozart will apologise to you for mocking your fear and promise that he’ll always save you from moths and butterflies.

If you need to relax and calm down after encountering a moth or a butterfly, Mozart will bring you to the music room and play you soothing music until you can breathe a little easier.

New Frontier A Hollow Knight and Bug Fables crossover OC fic.

Full fic is under the cut!

PLEASE REBLOG!! MANY HOURS WENT INTO THIS AND I’D RLLY APPRECIATE THE SUPPORT!!

It had been a very interesting trip, taking the ferry from the continent Bugaria resided to the main continent known as The Outlands. Team Snakemouth, the heros of Bugaria were treated like celebrities everywhere they went. Everyone knowing them all by name and singing their praises, and if some weren't convinced of their greatness, many times bugs would contest them in combat and were quickly swayed into seeing their power. Vi especially enjoyed this attention.. being one of the first bees to truly venture beyond the Hive and find her place in the world as an explorer and rouge. The other two would often need to reel her in. Usually Leif did not mind Vi's more combative nature, so long as it wasn't a major risk.. though her pride is what both Leif and Kabbu would regularly keep in check. Leif appeared largely indifferent about their praise, but beneath his cold exterior, his friends knew he couldn't help but be grateful and flattered. Kabbu on the other hand loved the praise as much as Vi did, but unlike her, made sure to ground himself. If their mission around the legendary Everlasting Sapling taught him anything, it was that nothing was indestructible. Not the sapling, not his team, and certainly not him. After their first adventure however the one thing they all unanimously agreed on, was that they longed to continue their quests and even venture beyond Bugarias borders, and travel the mainlands.. The Outlands. They set sail into the world... the main continent.. the setting of their greatest adventures yet.

Team Snakemouth now walked on these ancient grounds.. and already the way they'd seen the world was beyond different than the world that came into view around them all. Chompy, the fourth and most beloved member of the team, who was resting comfortably around Vis neck and shoulders spread her autumn colored leaves.. taking in the bright sun. The other three gave a breath of pure awe.. The Outlands were full of rocky and mountainous terrain. Great mountains could be seen in the distance, their might and elegance seen plain and true even in the most distant horizons. "OOOUGH WHERE DO WE GO FIRST?! THE MOUNTAINS? THE PLAINS? THAT GIANT CLIFF?? OR- OR MAYBE WE COULD SEE WHATS OUT AT SEA OVER THERE!!" Squealed the VERY excited honeybee! "I'm not sure Vi! But my.. it is truly beautiful.. just as the tales foretold!" replied Kabbu. Looking just as giddy as Vi! The sun shining onto his iridescent green shell. "We feel like we've entered an entirely different realm. We can already feel an abundance of magic and energy here.." Leif remarked, spreading his navy blue and pale yellow accented wings. "Yeah yea, but can you imagine what kinda crazy treasure we could fine here? I heard this place is ancient as HELL!" "If I recall correctly Vi, The Outlands were settled eons before Bugarias continent was! It was filled with ancient scattered kingdoms." Kabbu knelt and placed his clawed hand on the ground, as if he were resting his claws on a monument of ancient history and peering into its secrets. "Hundreds of years ago, these lands were barren wastes. Polluted and corrupted with a dark substance.. These Outlands were once called The Wastelands, lawless and filled with mad bugs. That is why these scattered kingdoms existed. In a world devoid of life and law, someone had to do something." "Are these lands not still devoid of law? Law only exists in those kingdoms still we'd imagine." Inquired Leif. Kabbu stands back up and looks at his moth friend. "Well, yes and no. Some of the rulers of these lands keep an eye on the Outlands as a means of protecting potential citizens." Vi looked at Kabbu and raised a brow, "Jeez how do you even know all this stuff Kabbu?" "Well! If we planned on visiting this place, we might as well get to know it's history a little better." Vi shrugged, "Meh, fair. But hey, there's a lotta history in treasure toooo.~" "We anticipated a response like that. Lets not dally then. Kabbu, you know more about this place than either of us, do you know where we could head first?" Kabbu hummed wonderingly. "We could potentially head for the mountains, there are a fair few kingdoms there and we could stock up on supplies for the rest of our journey!" "FUCK YEA MOUNTAINS!!" Vi cheered, much to Kabbus displeasure hearing her curse like that again. "VI!! Watch your language!". Leif proceeded only to laugh.

It had been a long day, traveling to the base of the mountains. Bandits and beasts making attempts on their supplies and even their lives. Nothing they weren't used to really. Though there were a disturbing number of poachers. A dark stain from the Wastelands past economic practices; slaying bugs and selling valuable parts of them to the black market. Primarily wings, fluff, horns, hard shells and stingers, unique defenses of specific bugs, even certain pheromones to lure in bugs like ants. To say that their encounters with the poachers did not shake the group up a fair amount.. would be a dirty lie. They triumphed, but were still very on edge if they could harvest them. The sun began to set however, and the quartet was weary from the long day. Not a bad day, only a long one. Whimsy tainted by the reminder that the life of an explorer was still a dangerous one. Regardless, the team kept their spirits up. Knowing that the next day would bring great discovery! Following a nice meal and usual banter expected of their team, Team Snakemouth set up their temporary beds, and went to sleep for the night. Though one member of the team was far less of a deep sleeper than the others.. hearing faint, yet heavy footsteps, caused on of Vis antennae to perk up. She perked up, slowly looking around the area.. bathed in moonlight, yet sheltered from it in some areas with the rocks and shelter of the mountain and nearby terrain. But she could clearly see it. In the distance.. a tall, large and shadowed figure a fair distance from the team. It's silhouette was not one that Vi could identify, it appeared to have multiple horns, but the rest of its body held no defining traits. No abdomen, no wings, just a horned head and a long cloak.. as well as.. something spilling from its head that nearly dragged against the ground. Was... this even a bug? The lack of identifying features deeply frightened the bee. She remembered the last time she saw something like this. The reminder of the canniness of the Dead Landers shot a spine straight through her of pure fear and stress. This was... big. Not nearly as big as that.. thing with those large orange eyes was.. but it was still big whatever it was. Vi, now thoroughly terrified, slowly grabbed her beemerang and slowly approached the large rock that sheltered them from outside sight. Slowly she turned back to look at the figure. They appeared to sit down, back against the base of the mountain, sifting through items that Vi could not properly see due to the lighting. She squints to try and get a better look, before her heart was thrown into the base of her stinger. It looked at her. Two bright blue sparks for eyes stared directly at her. As quick as she could she immediately ducked back behind the rock, stifling any and every sound she made by desperately covering her mouth. Claws digging into her cheeks as fear overtook her. Dammit! Being stuck in this sort of situation scared the hell out of her, no, terrified her beyond words, but at this point she was starting to grow frustrated. They were fighters goddammit! Not cowards! Her and the others took out way worse than this, she- they could do this! So then why would her limbs not move an inch? Why was she still paralyzed with horror despite her frustration and rebellion against these intense feelings of fear?? She held her beemerang in a death grip, shaking intensely, which only grew worse when those footsteps began to approach once again. Move. MOVE! "VI! KABBU! CHOMPY! ON YOUR GUARD!" yelled out another voice. The familiar crack of Leifs magic smacking against the carapace of an enemy bug, as the large figure stumbled backwards with a grunt. Leif stood over his resting spot, glowing with that cold, blue magic. Kabbu and Chompy following suit. Chompy let out a horrendous roar, the chomper had grown in size since the teams first adventure, and while not as big as the mother she would eventually become, she was still quite formidable. Horrifyingly, the other "bug" let out an enormous and otherworldly sounding roar in response, as the appendages that came down its head flared up like black vines. Even Chompy recoiled at the sight. The creature leaped back, drawing a large sword and glaring with those bright blue eyes. "Vi!" Kabbu looked over to the trembling bee. "Come on, it's okay. Lets take care of this!" He held out his hand to help her up. Snapping out of her paralysis, she glared a serious look at Kabbu. "R-right!". The dark figure loomed over all four of them. Squinting at them as they readied for battle. "Four on one don't seem too fair.." it spoke.. it's voice, surprisingly normal sounding, though it had a sort of accent that struck the four as unfamiliar. "Yeah?! And NEITHER DOES SNEAKING UP ON A GROUP WHILE THEY'RE ASLEEP!!" Shouted Vi, anger and fear clear in her young voice. She threw the beemerang with all of her might, making a sharp CRACK as it made contact with the beast. It growled.. "I was doin no such thin' lil girl! I saw you gettin' a good look at me while I was lookin' through mah thin's!" Kabbus expression lightened a bit, "Wait- then maybe this was a misunderstanding?". The creature huffed, "S'fine. M' a big guy after all.. tend t'scare a few bugs out ere.. but since ya'll got up wantin' a fight then lets have one!" The creatures voice went from a gruff, tired and frustrated tone, to sounding as if it had all the energy in the world with the prospect of a battle. "BRING IT ON BIG GUY!! WE'LL WIPE THE FLOOR WITH YOU!!" Vi angrily shouted. Kabbu and Leif looked to one another, Vi's rage evident in her tone and posture. Kabbu and Leif knew there was no bringing her back from that, but they couldn't simply leave her to fight alone. They straightened themselves out once more. The creature turned out to be quite quick for its size, and it was able to take one hell of a beating. The Team would need to react quickly to block and chip away at its health. Saving Team Points primarily for healing and reviving, as well as low cost special attacks. Unlike The Everlasting King, it could heal but it could not steal health from them, and healing spent its entire turn. What sucked however was that his defense was high and his attacks hit hard. It was tough for sure, multiple times the team would go down, but they got right back up thanks to Kabbus pep talk and Vis shared stash. Eventually, for as long as the fight went on, it eventually ended with Team Snakemouth as the victors. As the beast finally fell, the light of dawn spilled over the land. Everyone was weary and very injured. The beast chuckled, "Good fight... hh..hhh.. ain't had one like that n' a while I gotta say. Good job.." "Who.. hhh. are you.?" "And more importantly WHAT are you..?" Kabbu asked before quickly being interrupted by Vi. With the light of dawn more of the beat became visible. Its horned head was an off-white shell, that looked almost like a mask, even the right side of it had a long crack that stretched from the top of its head to the base of its chin with some grass stains littering it in some places. It wore a black and grey patchwork cloak with a blue medal clipped to it and lastly, it's eyes. Not fully blue, in fact mostly black with blue pupils that looked like sapphire rings. What spilled down from its head however? None of the bugs could identify. It wasn't antennae, or fur, and while they somewhat looked like vines, they were smooth and black and even appeared to glimmer as if they were wet. "M'names Finnley. M' from a far away Kingdom ere.. betcha mighta heard uh Hallownest. But guessin yer not quite sure what I am thats- actually a toss up huehue!" Kabbu perked up a little bit. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but be excited. "I have heard mentions of that place, yes! But its whereabouts and information I am unfortunately unaware of." It was hard to tell, but Finnleys face appeared.. vaguely happy.. despite lacking a mouth and appearing more like a mask. "Well. S'where me n all my kind 're from. We're vessels, n all of us 'r siblin's too! Ya might actually run intuh a few'uh us out ere!" Leif canted his head slightly, "Vessels. An odd name for a species of bug.." "Yeah and how are ALL of you siblings?" Vi interjected, skeptical of Finnleys claims. "Well it's a long ass story, one ion't think you'd wanna hear all of from me. But you stick round long enough you'll find out soon enough. S'pretty common knowledge ere." Finnley perks up a bit. "Oh! Shit I should probably heal yall up actually. Er, gunna need t' hold yalls hands t'do it though, if ya don' mind." Leif extended his hand, aware of what this could be. He's proven correct when white energy swirls around Finnley, moving over to Leif. Patching up his wounds. Soul focus. An ability utilized by only gods, higher beings and powerful mages. Kabbu and Vis eyes widened. "Woah what the hell?? How did you do that??" Asked Vi, amazed. "Soul Focus." spoke Leif. "But we believed only higher beings, gods and powerful mages could do something like that.. we did not take you to be any of those things." "S'a long story, again, like I said. But ey. S'th' least I can do after scarin yuhs." Finnley chuckles before healing Kabbu, Vi and Chompy as well. "Thank you kindly Finnley. We should likely introduce ourselves as well come to think.. My name is Kabbu. This is Leif, this is Vi, and this.." he lifts up the chomper plant. "Is Chompy!". Finnley giggles again, stroking Chompys head with his finger. "D'aw! Cutie pie! S'one hell of a murder machine but a cutie pie nontheless." "We agree wholeheartedly." Agreed Leif. After a while of speaking, Finnley gave the group a map of the Outlands, as well as what places to avoid, and a list of hotspots to rest up and stock up before actually making it to a kingdom. "If yer thinkin' uh goin up t'the mountains, ah'd suggest goin t' Xhalyun. Eroanne's nearby Xhalyun too n both 'r cold as hell, but Xhalyun shit is a helluva lot cheaper than Eroanne, closer too." Finishing that thought he handed Kabbu the map, to which he made a delighted squeak of excitement. "Thank you kindly, Finnley. Despite first impressions I am very glad to have run into you!" Leif nods in agreement as Finnley lifts up his bag. "Ain't no problem sir. I wish ya'll luck out there. N hey, maybe if we meet again ya'll can tell me shit bout Bugaria. Been wantin t'head over there myself someday." "Oh you'd love it there! It's a wonderful place.." Finnley nodded, before kneeling down to Vi. "Ay kid, sorry fer scarin' ya." He holds out his hand and Vi raises a brow. "Let's battle again sometime aight?" Vi hesitates for a second before her usual smirk returns to her, placing her hand in his for a handshake. "Abso-goddamn-lutely heheh!! Better be a bigger challenge next time though!!" Finnley gave a great laugh and stood back up again. "You too kiddo! If you ain't gettin better ain't no damn point in it! I'll catch ya'll later uh?" "For certain. Take care." remarked Leif with a smile, as both teams parted ways.

As the towering Vessel took his leave.. he chuckled to himself.. "..Seeker.. Wanderer.. I wish ya'll could come with me when I go t'Bugaria.. I know ya'll'd love diggin' intuh th' place.." "...Maybe one day we will.. I'd love that."  

‘ COYOTE STORIES ’  STARTERS

from the album by the crane wives. feel free to change pronouns, etc.

KEEP YOU SAFE

' when i was a child, my nerves ran wild. ' ' with the risk of fall, i never climbed at all. ' ' my daddy always said "nothing worth doing comes easy." ' ' time is not your friend. time is not your remedy. ' ' no amount of waiting will make you brave. no amount of fear will keep you safe. ' ' the older i get, the more fears i collect. ' ' i carry them with me. ' ' what if the steps i take turn out to be mistakes? ' ' how can somebody like me learn to say "come what may?" ' ' your fears won't keep you safe. '

THE MOON WILL SING

' i could have been anyone else before you made the choice for me. ' ' my feet knew the path we walked in the dark; i never gave a single thought to where it might lead. ' ' i made a bed with apathy. ' ' my heart knew the weight: ten years worth of dust and neglect. ' ' make your peace with weariness and let it be. ' ' i loved you like the sun. ' ' i loved you like the sun: bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own. ' ' i shine only with the light you gave me. ' ' we could have had anything else. instead, you hoarded all that's left of me. ' ' i want to feel the fire that was kept from me. '

ALLIES OR ENEMIES

' the words i speak are wildfires and weeds; they spread like some awful damn disease. ' ' i swear i didn't mean what i said. ' ' forget it all. you caught me in a moment, weak. ' ' sometimes i just can't help myself. ' ' are we allies or enemies? ' ' this will be the death of me. ' ' remember when i could tell you not to smile when you were mad, and you would always crack? and we'd both be laughing in the end? ' ' now, you're not so quick to forget. ' ' all's fair in love and war, but i can't fight with you anymore. ' ' what happens now ? ' ' i'll admit i've had my doubts, but i want to be let in, not out. '

UNRAVELING

' i once loved a tailor who took eager care of me. ' ' sew together my loose ends with stitches neat and clean. ' ' my love is gone and i am left unraveling. ' ' trim my weeds and give me room to grow my flowers again. ' ' i am left here, withering. ' ' sand my rough edges, craft new and lovely things. ' ' i can't help the fracturing. ' ' i never knew that i needed you. ' ' i once loved a man who kissed me once before he left. tied me up in knots and said he'd soon return again. '

HARD SELL

' i'm trying to make something of myself. ' ' i feel like i'm working with barbed wire and moth wings, cause i can't really get ahold of anything. ' ' i'm one deep breath away from a breakdown. ' ' the world is hostile, and i'm fragile, and i need someone to kiss the cuts and tell me to keep trying. ' ' does everybody have it together or are we all pretending? ' ' is it really just me holding it together with one loose string that i can't stop pulling? ' ' i rip myself apart at the seams. ' ' i find one weak spot and start unraveling, hoping i can find a better me, a fresh new start buried under me. ' ' can we stop pretending now? '

ROCKSLIDE

' i know you want to plant your feet, but we best get a move on. ' ' i pray today my soul to keep. ' ' drop dead sprint now, my darling. ' ' don't look back now. ' ' just try to breathe. ' ' the monster's coming, and it don't care for you or me. ' ' we best get a move on. '

METAPHOR

' i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors. ' ' i've gotten good at living on someone else's page. ' ' i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments. ' ' you can't trust a single thing i say. ' ' i keep my closet free of skeletons because i'm much better at digging graves. ' ' i always dig up bones in your sympathy. ' ' i can't trust a single thing you say. ' ' don't look too hard, because you won't like the scars he left in me. ' ' i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape. ' ' all these words are sweet. and meaningless. '

THE HAND THAT FEEDS

' i've seen good men spoiled. ' ' their cries are a warning to everyone following. ' ' no man should stand to work all his days, and have nothing at the end of them. ' ' i've got no money but the change that jingles in my pockets. ' ' time? i am powerless to stop it. ' ' my papa was a howling man. ' ' my dear papa gave me lessons in regret. he said all that he'd done would be for nothing if i followed in his steps. ' ' my papa taught me how to hold, how to bare my teeth and growl. ' ' the hand that feeds deserves to be bitten when it beats. ' ' i may never be a rich man, but i can make sure that i am free. ' ' the rich man will never have me. '

LITTLE SOLDIERS

' it was a march towards ruin and despair, but we held hands all the while. ' ' i swear that i loved you. ' ' beneath the table, you would offer up my bones, and all the dogs would lick your fingers. ' ' i dragged you through every room inside our home, but you still held me at night. ' ' you still held me at night. ' ' i swear that you loved me. ' ' we didn't give up. ' ' we wouldn't dare surrender. ' ' it was an honest loss. ' ' i fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown, but you were already gone. '

SLEEPING GIANTS

' i feel the mountains shifting under me. ' ' the sleeping giants are finally waking. ' ' my pulse is clear, rushing in my ears. ' ' i hear something calling me. ' ' the moon is humming lovely melodies. '

OF EVERLONG

' out of the ocean, over the harbor lay no sons and lay no daughters. ' ' it was there i wrote a sad, sad song. ' ' if my lover will not heed it, take my voice and take my spirit. ' ' only my lover, not i, can keep my soul. '

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR

' on some level, i think i always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever. ' ' i tried to do the best that i could. ' ' i couldn't bring myself to hold you. ' ' it's a secret i keep tucked inside my chest. ' ' this heart of mine is guilty, not remorseful. ' ' there is love that doesn't have a place to rest, but it would've buried you if it had settled on your shoulders. ' ' a ship can never really love an anchor, so i did the only thing that i could, and severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor. ' ' there are times where i still wonder about you. ' ' you are someone i have loved, but never known. ' ' you'll never see the reasons i had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you. ' ' i am selfish, i am broken, i am cruel. ' ' i am all the things they might have said to you. ' ' do you ever think of me, and my two hands? '

NEW DISCOVERY

' i want to stand on the edge of the water and see horizons stretch on forever. ' ' i want to know that there are lands not yet touched by human hands. ' ' i want to be the one to find them. ' ' i feel like i'm lost in a desert. ' ' these steps i take won't go to waste if i'm moving towards something. ' ' i want to believe there's something left for me. ' ' i want to kindle a love that doesn't age, even when all the years carve lines into your face. ' ' tell me i'll be surprised. ' ' i want you to prove me wrong. '