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jkabbi · 4 months

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bewitched | 01

╰┈➤summary: Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

╰┈➤pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

╰┈➤genre: cf2l, fluff, angst, magic au

╰┈➤warnings: just cursing and salem being a menance. also, jungkook hot ass back

word count. 8.4k

╰┈➤note; hi! this is my first fanfic and i was very nervous about publishing it. i had this idea for a while and i need it to share it. the fic has some touches of my favorite series (sabrina the teenage witch) but the plot is different and the characters (apart from salem).

alsoo, english isn’t my first language so writing this was a challenge but i hope its okay ;)

and thats all, i really wish u enjoy it and please be nice, this is my first time and im scared😭😭

next.

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You consistently gravitated towards a wardrobe painted in familiar tones and patterns – greens, browns, blues, and yellows – with a penchant for clothing adorned by botanical or floral designs.

Yoongi used to make fun of you for it, although there was never a day that he didn't tell you that you looked good.

It was difficult to explain but your affinity for the colors could only be explained by your abilities.

Since you were little, you used to spend days in the sun in the grass, surrounded by trees and grasslands.

You loved playing with the butterflies that flew around or watching the birds that sang and flew freely. You used to talk to the fish that swam through the rivers or to the rabbits who hid in their burrows.

Your obsession with plants also did not diminish with the passage of time; Always worried that the flowers in your aunt's garden were well cared for—including the plants of other neighbors around—you used to water them, sing to them, and prune them.

Surely that obsession guided you to own your own flower shop.

You also used to have great pride in having so much knowledge of them, especially when you were a little girl, since you used to help the ladies in your neighborhood with their plants, giving them advice and tips to take care of them.

Especially one, who was your neighbor next door.

Mrs. Jeon was a pleasant woman, with pretty features and very affectionate towards you.

She was a housewife and had two children; Junghyung and Jungkook. Although you didn't interact much with them.

You still remembered the day the Jeons moved into the house next door.

It was summer and you were returning from your adventures in the forest near the neighborhood, where you talked to the small animals and encouraged green life to grow.

When you turned onto your street, you could see a large moving truck in the house next to yours. Curious, you arrived at your front yard and watched as the movers walked in and out of the house with furniture and boxes.

Before you could watch a family get out of a family car, your aunt Binna called you from the entrance to go take a shower for lunch.

Reluctantly, you left, not before taking a look back.

Years later and you still have the same feeling of warmth that you received every time you remembered the past.

“Why are you smiling at the shovel?”

That's where your memory lane ends. Behind you was Yoongi, who had a small philodendron in his arms.

“Why couldn't I smile at the shovel?” you retorted, leaving the shovel on the counter and sitting up.

Yoongi chuckled, shrugging casually. “I've always known you have a few screws loose. Feel free to continue charming the shovel.”

Mirroring his smile, you quipped, “Thanks for the endorsement, my esteemed companion. You'll be the honored guest at our shovel-themed wedding.”

Setting the plant by the large window, Yoongi fetched his water sprayer from his apron pocket. “I feel truly appreciated,” he replied, misting the green leaves.

From the spacious wooden counter, you opened your laptop, checking the latest email – an order for an outdoor wedding floral arrangement.

“We've got another order,” you informed from your seat.

“For what occasion?” Yoongi abandoned the sprayer, approaching curiously.

“A wedding,” you replied, studying the details.

“Another one?” Your friend leaned beside you.

You shifted for him to read the screen. “At least they're giving us four months," you nodded.

“And the payment is good,” you added. “Our end-of-year getaway might happen after all.”

Yoongi smiled beside you as you bounced with excitement. It might not be a lavish affair, but you cherished the yearly trip with Yoongi and his partner to a quiet seaside town.

A serene ambiance enveloped the place, with only a handful of individuals, and in winter, it turned into a magical haven.

(It was also a place full of magic, but that was a detail that you left hidden)

“Well, in any case, we should celebrate,” Yoongi stood up, heading towards the door to switch the sign from open to closed.

You stretched in your seat and agreed. “What's on the agenda for today? I was thinking of bringing some cakes from Jimin's favorite bakery for our movie night.”

“Oh, about that..." Yoongi hesitated, “Jimin texted me. He's inviting a friend from his college days to join us tonight. Is that okay? I mean, I know you're not a fan of meeting new people, and if you prefer, I can suggest postponing the gathering to tomorrow.”

Taking the broom, you looked at Yoongi affectionately. “It's fine, Yoongs. If he's Jimin's friend, I'm sure I'll get along with him.”

Worry etched Yoongi's expression. “Are you sure? I mean, in the hierarchy of friendships, you come first. Jimin could easily rearrange his plans for us tonight and meet his friend tomorrow.”

Giggling, you enjoyed seeing how much Yoongi cared. “Don't worry. I'm a big girl. I can handle Jimin's college buddies.”

Yoongi smiled in relief. “Alright, but do let me know if you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“Okey dokey,”you said, raising your palm.

“Okey dokey,” Yoongi replied, giving you a high-five.

The relentless July sun bore down on your head.

Frustrated by the forgotten hat at home, you silently headed to the bakery.

After buying Jimin's favorite cakes —a mixture capable of putting you in a diabetic coma—you headed towards your friends' apartment, which was a few blocks away.

Your friends' neighborhood was your favorite place to visit.

It was a residential area, which was always in perfect condition.

Grand and expansive, the houses stood adorned with enchanting gardens—a sight that never failed to captivate you. Each residence was meticulously maintained, but it was a particular house that unfailingly left you in awe. A colonial masterpiece, it boasted a white facade adorned with vibrant red tiles. Cascading vines adorned the balcony, reaching down to the floor in a display of elegance. What truly set it apart was the magnificent garden, a vibrant canvas of fiery-hued flowers and exquisite sculptures. It spoke volumes about the refined taste of the person fortunate enough to call it home.

Having successfully banished any lingering awe, you reached the enchanting street where your friends resided. Courtesies exchanged with the concierge, you gracefully entered the awaiting elevator, confidently selecting the sixth floor with a soft chime resonating in the enclosed space.

Underneath your composed exterior, a subtle current of nervous anticipation flowed.

It wasn't a matter of feeling overwhelmed by strangers; rather, your unease stemmed from a lack of familiarity with personal social interactions, even though you navigated such dynamics daily in your professional life.

Your inclination leaned toward maintaining a small, close-knit circle of friends, an approach that steered you away from embracing new connections. However, the person you were about to encounter wasn't just a mere stranger but an integral figure in Jimin's life. You were steadfast in your resolve not to burden Jimin with the dilemma of choosing between friends, an ardent desire to avoid becoming a source of disappointment.

Driven by the profound aversion to letting down your friends, you made a conscious decision to present a facade of normalcy for the impending meeting. It was a commitment to navigate through the evening with an air of ease, recognizing that, in the grand tapestry of life, this was merely a single night – a challenge that, with resilience, you believed you could gracefully overcome.

As you reached the designated floor, you traversed the pristine, white hallway, and with a gentle knock, you announced your arrival at the penultimate door. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing Jimin's golden locks.

“____!” he exclaimed, “I'm thrilled you could make it!”

A wide smile graced your face. “It's wonderful to see you too. I brought some pastries.”

Jimin reciprocated the smile. “If I weren't gay, I'd definitely kiss you!”

Amused, you laughed and stepped into their apartment. The ambiance of Jimin and Yoongi's residence exuded a youthful yet elegant charm, reflecting both your best friend's personality and that of his partner.

“Come on, Yoongi is busy preparing some meat on the balcony,” the blonde guided you.

“Ah, you've made it,” Yoongi greeted. “I thought you'd be melting in this heat.”

You snorted, “Don't even mention it. I absorbed the last rays of the day's sun on my way here.”

“I offered to pick you up by car,” Yoongi scolded, brandishing his grill knife.

You playfully dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “I know, I know. But I didn't want to distract you, and besides, I enjoy the walk. It adds a magical touch to the whole experience.”

“You're unbelievably stubborn,” Yoongi teased.

To that, you simply shrugged your shoulders, embracing your determined nature.

“What's the heated discussion about?” Jimin interjected, holding a couple of beer cans.

“How intolerable this brat can be,” Yoongi grumbled.

Jimin chuckled, extending a can towards you. You graciously accepted, and the blonde headed to his boyfriend, delivering the other can.

“By the way, Yoongles mentioned you invited a friend from college,” you remarked.

Jimin settled beside you. “Oh, yes, I apologize for not informing you earlier. I know you're not a fan of mingling with strangers, but Yoongi assured me everything is fine.”

You nodded. “No need to worry; I'm perfectly fine with it.”

Jimin visibly relaxed. “Great! You don't have to stress about anything. My friend is not only nice but also incredibly funny.”

Smiling, you inquired, “Were you two very close friends?”

Jimin reclined in his chair, looking at you with evident happiness.

“The connection we shared was extraordinary. Despite his initial shyness, he gradually transformed into a popular figure. Sadly, we lost touch after graduating, and a year ago, he embarked on a global adventure. Now, he's back,” Jimin revealed, his eyes reflecting the depth of their friendship.

“That's truly wonderful. I've always dreamed of an extensive journey myself,” you shared.

Jimin nodded, disclosing, “I followed his captivating journey through his Instagram. His photography gained significant acclaim.”

“Photography, you say?” you inquired.

“Yes, even though his academic focus was in computer science,” Jimin explained, sipping his beer.

“That's remarkable. I'm genuinely happy to hear that his life has taken such a positive turn,” you remarked.

Jimin's emotions seemed to shift. “He's been through a lot, and witnessing his growth brings me immense joy.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, prompting Jimin to leap up.

“It must be him!”

“He appears quite excited.” You noted, then turned to your friend, who was occupied with browning the meat.

“Yes, Jimin told me that his friend had a crisis and that's why he left for a year. Apparently he's a good guy and you know how Jimin is, too sensitive with those he loves.”

“Jimin has been an exceptional friend. I consider myself fortunate to have crossed paths with him,” you expressed sincerely.

A look of profound affection from Yoongi reinforced the warmth of the bond you shared with both of them.

“He's equally delighted to have you in his life, Bub,” Yoongi assured, a sentiment that brought a genuine smile to your face. In a life where you consciously kept your circle compact, the presence of Yoongi and Jimin proved to be the most precious and enriching.

In the midst of your conversation with Yoongi, the imminent return of Jimin momentarily slipped your mind. The air was filled with a blend of voices, among which Jimin's curiosity stood out.

“It's very quiet living here! Are you planning to look for something similar?” You heard Jimin’s voice.

However, the response was drowned out as the balcony door swung open with a resonant creak. Gathering mental fortitude, you adorned your best smile in anticipation.

“Hi, I’m…” you couldn't finish your sentence because you froze.

As you faltered in your attempt to introduce yourself, a sudden surge of paralysis gripped you, freezing your words on the precipice. The room hung suspended in a disconcerting silence, amplifying the tumult within. The boundary between jest and reality blurred, leaving you grappling with a maelstrom of emotions – the impulse to scream, the yearning to shed tears, and an inexplicable urge to escape. Your body, however, betrayed you, caught in a rigid state, joints locked, breath arrested, mirroring the stillness of your heart.

Swift to recognize your distress, Yoongi deftly intervened, redirecting the unfolding awkwardness.

“Hello! I'm Yoongi, Jimin's partner,” he declared, striding purposefully towards the newcomers. To diffuse the palpable tension, he continued, “And this is my best friend, ____,” punctuated by a subtle nod from you.

The newcomers responded with a tentative smile, their composure visibly unsettled. The girl, attuned to her boyfriend's wandering gaze on your figure, diplomatically interjected.

“Hello! I'm Jiwoo, Jungkook's fiancée,” she proclaimed with an air of gentle formality. The weight of the term "fiancée" lingered, resonating deeply in your thoughts.

Jeon Jungkook has a fiancée.

Jimin orchestrated the seating arrangement, placing them beside you. In this surreal juncture, Jungkook introduced himself, his voice an echoing remembrance from the past. Summoning the courage to meet his gaze for the first time since his arrival, you found your breath arrested by the sight of his face, an unsettling pause enveloping the room.

Standing before you was a man whose stature surpassed your recollection, a towering presence accentuated by his impressive height and robust frame. Cascading down his shoulders, his once-familiar dark hair now framed a countenance marked by the passage of time. The revelation of an intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his arm became apparent, unveiled by the sleeves of his short black t-shirt.

Yet, it was the constancy of his gaze that struck the most profound chord within you. Despite the exchange of words with Jimin, his doe-eyed stare remained unwavering, anchoring your attention in an unsettling and unwelcome connection.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, unable to endure another second in the shared space where their gazes lingered, you gracefully excused yourself. A swift retreat led you to the refuge of the bathroom, seeking solace within its walls as the echoes of their continued scrutiny lingered in your wake.

As your anxiety reached a fever pitch, its palpable effects reverberated in the environment. The handwash faucet, seemingly responding to your heightened state, unexpectedly opened by itself, and the bathroom window flapped vigorously, propelled by an unforeseen gust of wind.

With your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest, you managed to slide down the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, seeking solace on the floor. The overwhelming pressure pushed you into a state of vulnerability.

Recalling the advice from Aunt Yoon's lessons, you instinctively covered your ears with your hands and shut your eyes, resting your head on your knees. Familiar voices echoed in your mind, guiding you to find composure amid the storm of emotions.

In an attempt to regain control, you focused on slow, deliberate breaths. As you exhaled, you directed your attention to the bathroom light. With a graceful sweep of your hand, you extinguished its glow, enveloping yourself in complete darkness, except for the soft illumination seeping through the window.

Within this shadowed cocoon, you conjured a small halo of light with your hands, orchestrating its gentle movements. This newfound distraction allowed you to redirect your focus, creating intricate animal shapes within the luminous halo.

Gratitude welled up as the calming effects of this self-imposed light show permeated your senses, coaxing your pulse back to a more manageable rhythm. Amidst the mental whining for teleportation powers, a shadow beneath the door brought you back to reality.

A delicate knock followed, the sound reverberating through the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Bub?” It was Yoongi.

Contemplating your next move, you acknowledged the inevitability of leaving the bathroom sanctuary. With a sigh of resignation, you rose to your feet and opened the bathroom door, prepared to face the outside world once more.

In the clarity of the room, your friend's worried expression was evident.

“Yes,” you managed to respond, your voice carrying a subtle tremor.

Observing your condition, Yoongi's skepticism lingered, although he refrained from pressing the matter further.

“I don't feel very well. I suspect it was something I ate. Can you excuse me to Jimin and his guests? I don't want to appear rude,” you admitted, attempting to convey sincerity despite the weakness in your words.

Yoongi maintained a neutral expression, nodding in acknowledgment. “I'll go get my keys. Wait for me here.”

Your immediate protest burst forth, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No! I'm sorry, but I believe it's better for me to go alone. It's not too late, and the fresh air might alleviate my discomfort.”

Raising his eyebrows, your friend expressed concern, “Are you sure you're okay? Should I take you to the hospital?”

Offering a reassuring thumbs-up, you dismissed the trembling in your hands. “Everything is fine; I just feel a little dizzy and tired.”

Before Yoongi could interject, Jimin's voice echoed from outside. “Go,” you urged tensely, “I'll be fine. Just excuse me from Jimin.”

A complex array of emotions played across your friend's face, showcasing his inner struggle. After a few contemplative seconds, he sighed. “Okay, go, but be careful. Let me know when you arrive, and if you feel unwell, don't hesitate to call.”

Embracing him briefly, you departed the apartment swiftly, propelled by a sense of urgency that matched the pace of your footsteps.

With a hasty nod to the doorman, you left the haven of your friends' neighborhood, exhaling a sigh of relief. Under the cloak of night, you found solace in the anonymity it granted, allowing a cathartic scream of frustration to escape into the open air.

Unmindful of the sidelong glances from passersby, you surrendered to the maelstrom of emotions within. The night became a silent confidant to your inner turmoil, and the unbridled tears mirrored the tempest of feelings that engulfed you.

Despite knowing you should control yourself, especially since today's forecast didn't include torrential rain, you ignored this. You didn't bother hiding your magic, which triggered a downpour the moment you left Jimin's apartment.

Facing the reality of your evasive tendencies, you couldn't deny the stark truth about your emotional susceptibilities, a trait often criticized by Aunt Yoon as a vulnerability. In your solitude, your tear-streaked face and swollen, reddened eyes painted a vivid portrait of vulnerability—a deviation from familial expectations. Yet, in this nocturnal moment, it was only the gaze of strangers that bore witness to your emotional upheaval.

As you reclined in the bathtub, contemplating the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, a whirlwind of emotions engulfed you. Surprisingly, Salem, your usually mischievous cat, lay perched on the bath chair, radiating an uncharacteristic air of understanding – a stark departure from his typical penchant for mockery.

It dawned on you that Salem was privy to the intricacies of your history with Jungkook, intimately aware of the emotions that resurfaced during the encounter. His unspoken support, though unexpected, held a unique depth, a testament to the unbreakable bond between you and your feline confidant.

With a deep sigh, you decided to share more details with Salem, letting your feelings spill out like water from a broken dam. “I never imagined he would come back into my life. Not after all this time,” you confessed, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Salem listened intently, his green eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he mused, his tail swaying gently.

You nodded. “I just wish I could have been more composed when I saw him. Instead, I froze like a deer caught in headlights and ran away.”

The cat brushed against your arm, a gesture of reassurance. “It happens to the best of us. Emotions are messy, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You couldn't argue with that. Jungkook's presence had stirred up a whirlwind of memories, both happy and painful. “I thought I had moved on,” you admitted, running your fingers through the water absentmindedly. “But seeing him again brought everything back.”

Salem, ever the sage advisor, offered his perspective. “Moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the memories without letting them control you.”

His words resonated with you, providing a sliver of clarity amid the emotional turmoil. “I know, Salem. I need to face this too, even if it feels like reopening old wounds.”

“I'm surprised you accepted this so quickly,” your cat confessed.

You sighed slowly, playing with the soap bubbles.

“I have to, apparently Jimin adores Jungkook. That means I'll have to run into him at least one more time,” you growled.

Salem laughed, throwing his head back showing his white fangs.

“You talk like it's strange that Jungkook is charming to everyone.”

You gave him a knife-sharp look. “Of course I know Jungkook is charming. I knew it from the first moment I saw him”

Your cat looked at you mockingly “I see that your jealousy is still active.”

You threw water at him, making him hiss at you.

“Careful with this beautiful fur, human girl!” Salem looked at himself, looking for any part of his body that was wet.

“I'm not jealous,” you replied.

“Yeah, of course,” your cat replied sarcastically. “As if you didn't suffer a mental breakdown every time Jungkook went to tutor that Cheerleader that you didn't like.”

You got up offended, spilling some water that overflowed onto the floor.

“For the love of Satan! Stop throwing water on the ground!”

You giggled but with a snap, you dried the wet floor without much difficulty.

“Better?”

Salem sighed irritably, but let it go. He knew that you were still affected by the events that occurred a few hours ago.

“I'm sorry,” you looked at him with your bright eyes, on the verge of tears. “It's just that I missed him so much and seeing him there was like my soul returning to my body.”

Salem nodded, his cat-like eyes focused on your trembling countenance. “I understand, although you must also remember that it's not the boy's fault that he hasn't seen you for almost ten years.”

You screeched in frustration. “I know! That's why I'm mad at myself." You clenched your fists. “I'm not being fair, I know.”

In seconds, hot tears of helplessness fell from your eyes.

You had cried so much that you felt like you were running dry, although you preferred to cry naked in your bathtub with your talking cat as a witness than cry like a loser in the streets with the pouring rain.

Salem nudged your hand with his head, a gesture that felt oddly comforting. A small smile played on your lips.

“I appreciate having you around,” you whispered gently. “Despite our occasional squabbles that resemble sibling rivalry, I find joy in having you as a part of my life.”

You and Salem remained in the bathroom, a peculiar duo bound by a history that transcended the ordinary human-pet relationship. The atmosphere softened, and Salem, with a twitch of his tail, broke the silence.

“You know, for a human, you're not half bad,” Salem teased, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “And for a cat, you're surprisingly sentimental.”

Salem nudged your hand playfully, “Only for you, _____. But don't let it go to your head.”

You chuckled, grateful for the levity he brought to the moment. “I won't. So, any plans on how to deal with the Jungkook situation?”

Salem feigned contemplation, his tail swaying side to side. “Well, we could start with not throwing water on the floor every time you're annoyed.”

You laughed, “Fair enough. I'll work on that.”

As you began to drain the bathtub, Salem leaped down, pacing around the bathroom like he owned the place. “Remember, we're in this together, Human. I'm not letting you face the Jungkook dilemma alone.”

With a smirk, you replied, “Good to know, Cat. Teammates, right?”

“Teammates,” he affirmed, and as you stepped out of the bathroom, you couldn't help but appreciate the unique bond you shared with your sassy feline friend. Little did you know, the challenges ahead would only strengthen the unspoken understanding between you and Salem, making your friendship an unexpected source of strength in the face of life's unpredictable twists.

Indulging in an emotional outpour in the midst of a torrential downpour probably wasn't the wisest choice, and now you found yourself grappling with the repercussions of that impulsive decision.

Pain reverberated through your skull like an explosive symphony, each beat an agonizing pulse. Swollen to the point of incapacity, your eyes resisted attempts to open, trapped in the clutches of the affliction tormenting your body. A relentless cough seized you, each convulsion intensifying the already distressing situation.

The warmth radiating from your skin forewarned of an impending fever, threatening to pull you into the abyss of its debilitating embrace at any given moment. As discomfort layered upon discomfort, your physical state became an intricate tapestry of misery, weaving together the threads of throbbing pain, swollen eyes, and an unrelenting cough.

The incessant playback of ABBA's melodic tunes only intensified the predicament. Feeling utterly disheartened and shrouded in darkness, you impulsively struck your nightstand, yearning to silence the persistently chirpy alarm – a feat that proved elusive.

“Salem!” you bellowed in frustration, confident your feline companion was alert. Typically, at this hour, Salem reveled in observing the morning skirmishes between your neighbors, perched contentedly by the window. After a brief pause, you sensed the delicate touch of small paws on the wooden floor, followed by a graceful leap.

“What happened to your face?” inquired your concerned cat, gracefully traversing the expanse of the bed. Emitting a weary sigh, you replied, “What do you think?!” dripping with ironic exasperation. “Could you kindly put an end to the ABBA serenade? It's throbbing in my head.”

“I thought you'd never ask. I was on the verge of contemplating a window escape,” Salem quipped and a welcome hush settled in as the music ceased, leaving behind a palpable tranquility.

“Your appearance is rather dire,” mused your cat. “I'll venture into Binna's ancient cookbook, see if there's a remedy for your congestion and eyes.” With that, your feline companion gracefully exited the room, leaving you alone with the weight of your thoughts.

A peculiar sensation enveloped you, a departure from the serene routine you cherished. Yesterday's surreal events disrupted your tranquility, plunging you into an unexpected maelstrom. As stress mounted, the realization dawned: today, opening the store was an improbable feat. You resigned yourself to the inevitable task of informing Yoongi about your illness.

Contemplating calling him, you hesitated, anticipating his inevitable arrival at your apartment. After leaving you to your own devices yesterday, the gravity of recent events ensured he wouldn't let another moment elapse without seeking an explanation. You understood the futility of avoiding the impending conversation; Yoongi's familiarity with you meant evasion was a futile endeavor.

The internal conflict intensified. While you sought to shield your secrets, not for your sake but for the safety of those around you, memories surfaced of the last time an unwitting innocent had stumbled upon your hidden truths. The stakes were higher, and the delicate balance between disclosure and protection hung in the uneasy silence of your apartment.

The internal turmoil dissipated with a knock on your front door, a sure sign that it was Yoongi. Despite your initial inclination to feign slumber and play ignorant, you dismissed the unfairness of such tactics. Struggling against your physical discomfort, you made your way to the door, relying on muscle memory to navigate the lock on the first attempt.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your voice laced with drowsiness. As the silence lingered, your anxiety mounted. “Tell me you're Yoongi and not a stranger.”

Assured by his familiar voice, you sighed in relief when Yoongi confirmed his identity. "It's me, Daisy,” he reassured, but concern etched his features. “What happened to you?! Do you need help?”

Before you could dismiss his offer, Yoongi's hands gently grasped your shoulders, guiding you back into the apartment. “You should have told me you were like this!” he exclaimed, a mix of frustration and worry evident in his tone. “Go to bed, let me prepare some herbal water and soup.”

Attempting nonchalance, you responded, “It's okay. Salem is taking care of it,” the words slipping out without much thought. Heading towards your room, you realized Yoongi wasn't following.

“What's going on?” you questioned.

“How is Salem going to take care of that?” Yoongi pressed, seeking clarification.

In a quick mental scramble, you conjured an excuse. “You know I like to joke about Salem being almost like a person,” you explained, hoping he would attribute your words to the haze of illness. Yoongi relaxed slightly, accepting the explanation. “Okay, let's go,” he agreed, unknowingly stepping into a web of secrets and feigned normalcy.

You found solace in the eccentricity of your speech and demeanor, knowing that Yoongi rarely took your statements seriously. “I guess this is about last night,” he remarked, momentarily halting your steps.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” you hesitated, reaching your unkempt bed where Yoongi dutifully set about fixing the disarrayed bedding, tenderly covering you.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, opening your eyes just a sliver, the figure of your friend a bit blurred.

“Why?” he inquired, settling on the edge of the bed beside you.

“For being a lousy friend,” you confessed.

Yoongi chuckled. “Why do you think you're a lousy friend?”

A lingering silence enveloped the room as internal debate raged on. The decision to divulge or withhold weighed heavily on your mind, yet the fear of losing Yoongi eclipsed the burden of guilt.

“Last night,” you began, releasing a fraction of the truth.

“I can't say I don't care, but the truth is, I don't know what happened with you last night.”

Observing your uncertain expression, Yoongi placed his hand atop yours. “It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but if you need someone to share those things with, you know you have me.” His reassurance offered a comforting anchor in the tempest of secrets and unspoken words.

“It’s not that! It's just that…” you blurted out, grappling to organize your thoughts. “It's hard to tell you this.”

Yoongi's expression shifted to surprise. “Is it something bad? Although it hurts me a little to think that you can't tell me things.”

“No!” you blurted out again. “I mean, it's not a bad thing, but it is a secret—something I haven't shared with anyone. I can't leave you with that weight on your shoulders. I care about you deeply, and this is a very old personal issue of mine.”

Yoongi sighed, his touch on your hand offering a reassurance. “I understand that you have secrets and everything, but I need you to trust me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Frustration welled up within you. You comprehended your friend's earnestness, and part of you yearned to unburden yourself, seeking refuge in his understanding like a vulnerable child. Yet, the weight of the secrets, particularly this one, loomed heavily.

“I trust you with my life,” you asserted firmly. “Don't ever think that I don't trust you. But this is delicate, and I don't want to put you in danger, okay? It's for your own good. I need you to understand.” Your hand found his, emphasizing the gravity of your words, seeking a connection that transcended spoken language in the complexity of shared trust and unspoken fears.

Yoongi's gaze lingered on the juncture where your hands met his. Your small, pale hands, adorned with various scars, each a testament to childhood mishaps, contrasting sharply with his own larger, slender fingers—resembling those of a pianist, unmarred by any blemish.

Having known you for about five years, Yoongi recalled his initial impression of you as a girl thrust into the adult world, seemingly vulnerable yet never to be underestimated. Physically unassuming, you harbored an indomitable strength within. Even on the brink of collapse, you seldom sought assistance, always striving to navigate challenges independently.

Your independence, strong will, and stubbornness were palpable, complemented by a warmth and genuine concern for your loved ones. Despite the tough exterior, Yoongi understood that you harbored a complex relationship with your family—a topic shrouded in silence, as if you had grown up in solitude.

Yoongi sighed, breaking the contemplative silence. “It's okay. I understand. But when you're ready, please tell me. Otherwise, I don't know how to help you, kiddo.” Despite your persistent self-reliance, he emphasized his commitment to ensuring your well-being.

The unspoken bond between you and Yoongi transcended mere friendship; it was a pact of mutual support, a promise that echoed in the intertwining of your hands—a connection that conveyed a shared understanding even in the face of undisclosed burdens.

Giving him a warm smile, you say, “I've got you, Yoongi. When the time's right, I'll spill all the beans. I Appreciate you rolling with the punches in my life and being the constant in all the chaos. You're my rock, Yoongi.”

A spark of anticipation ignites within you, and you can't help but feel a renewed sense of connection. You eagerly await the day when you can share your truths with Yoongi, not just because it's necessary, but because he's earned the right to know the intricacies of your heart. Until then, the unspoken bond between you two will continue to strengthen, paving the way for a future where your shared trust transcends the undisclosed burdens you carry.

The weight of the term "coward" bore down on you, a bitter truth you grappled with. In refusing your friends' invitations, you felt the sting of guilt, recognizing the unfairness of your actions. Yet, each declination seemed like a desperate attempt to shield them from the mysterious reality you were living.

Deep down, you were keenly aware that Yoongi harbored suspicions about your enigmatic secret and your reluctance to join gatherings since Jungkook's return. But so far, he chose to maintain a respectful silence, understanding the complexity of your situation. You knew that inevitably, you would have to face them or reveal the truth, a daunting prospect that loomed on the horizon of your clandestine reality.

Lost in contemplation, you found solace in the transformative touch of your magic on a calla lily's withered leaves. The visual metamorphosis from faded yellow to vivid green offered a momentary escape from the turmoil within.

The idea of visiting a neglected park to tend to the forsaken plants flickered in your thoughts. However, your recent weeks had dwindled into a mundane routine—shuttling between your apartment and work with little room for spontaneity.

Salem, your feline confidant, dismissed your cautious approach, deeming you a “scared chicken.” Yet, Salem wasn't navigating the unpredictable streets, fearing an accidental reunion with a former love entwined with his fiancée.

Seeking refuge in the familiar, your nights were painted with Gilmore Girls marathons, a shared ritual with Salem. In this routine, you found a fragment of normalcy, although Salem's affinity for reality shows, particularly the extravagantly dramatic ones, wasn't lost on you—typical of a devoted Jersey Shore fan.

On one of those nights, there you were, clad in bunny pajamas and cocooned beneath a soft, pink blanket. Salem, your feline companion, lounged nearby, sporting cucumbers over his eyes as he reclined in an armchair atop a plush pillow.

“I don't understand why Rory makes such a big deal about being with that cute boy,” Salem remarked, his feline skepticism directed at the TV screen.

You sighed, your attention captivated by the unfolding drama on the television. “Well, Rory is classified as a good girl, and he's a bad boy, as they say,” you attempted to rationalize the protagonist's actions.

Salem sighed dramatically, almost dislodging one of the cucumbers from his eyes. “These children today with their labels. That's not a bad boy! Having a bad personality and doing unexpected things is not being bad. In my human era, I used to set houses on fire for fun.”

You couldn't help but glance at your cat, suppressing a laugh. “Salem, the difference is that he simply behaves badly socially. You, on the other hand, wanted to dominate the world.”

Offended, Salem shifted, grabbing a corn cap and defiantly placing it in his mouth. “What's wrong with wanting to take over the world? I was honestly doing all you vapid humans a favor.”

You sighed, fully aware that attempting to alter your cat's worldview was a futile endeavor. Despite his occasional moral quirks, his loyalty to you remained unwavering, even if his ethical compass was a bit unconventional.

Salem chimed in, dismissing the idea of Rory choosing her boyfriend over the 'bad boy.' “Anyway, she'd be stupid to choose her idiot boyfriend over the 'bad boy,'” Salem quipped, offering his feline commentary on the TV drama.

Casually grabbing a handful of popcorn, you nodded in agreement. “I can't deny that. Jess is very charming.”

Salem burst into laughter. “You always fall for the character like him,” he teased, capturing the essence of your penchant for captivating personalities.

You shrugged, acknowledging Salem's astute observation. Personality, indeed, held considerable weight in your assessments. However, a somber undertone enveloped the room as your cat uttered, “Although Jungkook was a different story.”

Salem, quick to rectify any potential discomfort, clarified, “I mean, Jungkook wasn't a bad boy, but he was very charming.”

A bittersweet smile played on your lips. Salem's words rang true – Jungkook was undeniably charming. In fact, “charming” had been his nickname during your past relationship. His allure extended beyond his striking physical features to his dark, captivating eyes. Yet, it was his multifaceted personality that truly distinguished him. Jungkook, a gentleman and a hopeless romantic, possessed a charisma that left an indelible mark.

However, the charm didn't diminish his playful side – a penchant for competition and teasing that brought both joy and occasional exasperation. The memories of those moments played like a silent film, evoking a mix of nostalgia and the inevitable ache that accompanied thoughts of Jungkook.

Your talking cat, astutely perceiving the direction of your thoughts, chose to intervene. “It's late. My dream of beauty awaits me,” he declared, nonchalantly removing the cucumbers from his eyes, as if signaling the end of his entertainment.

You absentmindedly nodded in response. “Hey brat, you should go to sleep. Your dark circles are getting worse every day,” your cat stated, taking a few steps into his designated space.

As always, your cat's acerbic comments carried an underlying truth. Your dark circles, silent witnesses to your restless nights, had indeed become more pronounced. It wasn't that you were resistant to the idea of sleep; it was just that ever since the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, restful slumber had eluded you. Moreover, an inexplicable fatigue had settled into your bones, leaving your body more exhausted than usual.

The nightly escapades with Gilmore Girls and Salem's company, while comforting, couldn't completely mask the deeper anxieties that lingered beneath the surface. As you stood on the precipice between wakefulness and dreams, the echoes of the past and the uncertainties of the present converged, casting shadows that manifested as visible signs on your weary face.

Yoongi had mentioned his and Jimin's trip to his parents' house, but it only fully registered today when he sent a message reminding you that, for the day, you would be the sole occupant of the store.

Luckily, you were already en route, having woken up ahead of the alarm. Mornings held a special allure for you, a time when the world seemed brimming with possibilities. The birds serenaded from the trees, the plants stirred to life, eager for a morning sunbath, and people bustled about, preparing for their day.

Fortune favored you, as the day unfolded with a surprising calmness, sparing you from a hectic workload. Capitalizing on the tranquil atmosphere, you decided to close up shop early and head home, intending to invite your cat for a leisurely outing.

Salem, seemed overjoyed at the prospect, his daily entertainment having temporarily moved away—the neighbors next door.

You adorned yourself in a thin dress adorned with vibrant flower patterns, the perfect attire for basking in the sunny day. A diligent application of sunscreen followed, a necessary precaution for your sensitive skin.

However, Salem's animal instincts prevented him from roaming freely without a leash. Although not a conventional cat, his unpredictable nature necessitated a careful approach. As you prepared to take him out, the anticipation of a sunlit excursion filled the air, promising a serene interlude amidst the routine of your day.

“Do you prefer that we go to the park near the center or the one near this sector?” you inquired, capitalizing on the deserted streets to engage in a conversation with Salem.

Salem's tail swayed as he noticed bugs fluttering near some flowers. “Let's go to the one close to your friends' neighborhood. Let's take advantage of the fact that they're not in the city,” he responded absentmindedly.

Enthusiastically, you and your cat set off in that direction. The park near your friends' neighborhood held a special charm—beautiful, serene, and known for its delightful ice cream offerings.

Upon arrival, you witnessed the expansive park filled with families enjoying their leisure time. Opting to settle near the pet-friendly area, you and Salem joined the ranks of others with the same intention.

As you observed, puppies frolicked joyfully, engaging in playful antics, while cats gracefully navigated their designated climbing structures. Salem, for once, seemed poised for a predator's pursuit, his back raised and gaze fixed intently on the grass.

Seating yourself, you embraced the idyllic scene, the carefree interactions of pets mirroring the leisurely afternoon unfolding around you.

After a delightful stint at the pet-friendly section, you suggested to Salem that it was time for ice cream—an idea that sparked shared excitement. The ice cream stand in this park had a well-deserved reputation for its delightful treats.

As you traversed the park toward the exercise area, the ice cream cart came into view, attended by an elderly gentleman exuding warmth. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can you give me two ice cream cones, please?” You opted for the classic strawberry and vanilla combination, while Salem subtly indicated—keeping it hush-hush from the vendor—his preference for chocolate and cookie flavor.

Equipped with your chosen delights, both of you sought refuge from the heat under the shade in the nearby area.

“There are quite a few humans exercising,” Salem observed between licks of his ice cream, which you held out for him.

You nodded, your mouth occupied with the delectable treat. In the vicinity, exercise platforms hosted several people, likely part of a group that gathered for communal workouts. The gusty afternoon wind played its part, occasionally obstructing your view as you contended with strands of hair billowing into your face.

Amidst bites of ice cream and the distant hum of exercise enthusiasts, you and Salem reveled in the simple joy of a sunlit day, punctuated by the sweet indulgence of shared treats.

The tranquility surrounding you shattered abruptly when Salem, positioned next to you, nearly dropped his ice cream. “What happened to you?” you inquired in surprise, brushing strands of hair out of your face.

As your vision cleared, you observed your cat, seemingly paralyzed by something in his line of sight. Following his gaze, you discovered the source of his astonishment—a muscular figure executing pull-ups on some bars. However, your fortune took a turn for the worse as you recognized the specimen to be none other than Jungkook.

His sweaty back adhered to a tight black t-shirt, elevating the temperature on your cheeks. While you had always been aware of Jungkook's well-maintained physique, your mental image had been anchored in his teenage years, not this embodiment of masculinity.

“Damn,” you and Salem echoed simultaneously. As you continued to gawk, your grip faltered, leading to the unfortunate demise of your ice cream. Yet, your attention remained captivated by the man before you.

An involuntary reaction stirred between your legs—a sensation dormant for far too long. However, the enchantment was abruptly disrupted by the barking of a large dog nearby. Panic set in; you were with Salem, and despite his mischievous tendencies in his golden age, he remained a cat.

Swiftly scooping up your feline companion, you used your magic to clean the fallen ice cream with a single hand.

In a near sprint, you attempted to escape the scene swiftly, but your efforts were thwarted as the same barking dog bolted towards you at full speed. Closing your eyes in fear, you clutched Salem tightly to your chest, shielding him from potential harm.

“Fuckin-!” Salem's protest was muffled as you squeezed him even tighter. Panicking, you beseeched the approaching dog, “Oh, cute little dog! Good dog! Don't eat my cat, please!”

To your relief, instead of feeling sharp teeth, the dog leaped onto you, licking you eagerly and wagging its tail with unbridled joy. As you cautiously opened your eyes, you found the little dog gazing at you happily, devoid of any malevolent intentions.

Before you could identify the source of the new voice, the dog leapt off you. “I'm sorry! I promise he doesn't have any bad intentions; he's just very playful!” the owner explained.

“Don't worry…” you began, only to be interrupted as you locked eyes with your unexpected savior. “Oh, it's you!” Jungkook exclaimed with unusual excitement.

Struggling to respond, you found yourself once again speechless in his presence. Jungkook, unaware of your rigid demeanor, continued, “Sorry about my dog! He's still a puppy and tends to be playful.”

Feeling claws digging into your stomach, you silently cursed Salem. As Jungkook spoke, you attempted to break free from your frozen state. “Hi, um... sorry, it must be because of my cat.” You finally managed to speak, avoiding direct eye contact. “Don't worry, I did notice.”

Jungkook's smile was blindingly bright, leaving you momentarily stunned. “He's cute,” he remarked, pointing to your chest where Salem was concealed.

Suppressing a laugh at the irony, you agreed, “Yes, although he's not much of a dog lover.” You gestured towards Bam, who was curiously sniffing around “He’s cute too”

“He is. Although his size can be intimidating,” Jungkook commented with a smile.

Unable to resist, you inadvertently mirrored his smile. “How old is he?” you inquired, curiosity piqued. Bam, a Doberman with a sleek, dark coat, stood at a height reaching up to your belly. He exuded an air of elegance and grace.

Jungkook's response drew an astonished gasp from you, “Almost seven months. I know, it's the same reaction every time I mention his age.”

A laugh bubbled from you as you adjusted Salem, his curious little head popping up from your arm. “Hello, little friend,” Jungkook greeted your feline companion warmly, fostering a comforting warmth within you.

You introduced Salem, playfully mentioning, “Unlike Bam, let's say he's not very young”.

It wasn't exactly a lie – you had known Salem since you were a baby, and according to your aunts, Salem had been a cat for quite a long time.

Jungkook extended his tattooed hand towards you, curiosity dancing in his doe-like eyes. “Can I pet him?” The sudden closeness caught you off guard, but you managed to reply, “Sure. He's not aggressive.”

Jungkook's gentle strokes on your cat's dark fur left Salem completely enchanted, purring happily in your arms. “Apparently, he likes affection,” Jungkook observed, his eyes locking onto yours.

You smiled shyly, your pulse quickening. “No. He only likes you,” you shared, attempting to bring a lightness to the situation. “He doesn't like people very much. Hopefully, he can put up with Yoongi.”

Jungkook grinned at your words, and before temptation could take hold, you squeezed your cat and smoothed down your dress. “I think it's time to go,” you said casually, concealing any nervousness. “It was nice seeing you.”

Surprisingly, Jungkook seemed momentarily taken aback by your swift departure. “Oh sure!” His cheerful tone dimmed slightly. “I'm sorry about what happened with Bam. I hope you had a good afternoon.”

You nodded shyly, uncertain if another encounter with the sweaty yet undoubtedly attractive Jungkook would be good for your heart.

“Well, I guess I'll see you on Wednesday?” he suggested, subtly trying to delay your departure.

“On Wednesday?” you asked with a feigned innocence.

Jungkook chuckled. “I guess Yoongi hasn't told you yet. We're having a barbecue with friends to celebrate my return to the country. It's at my friend's house where I'm staying, just a few minutes from here.” He shared this with a shy smile, “You're invited; I hope you can make it.”

Despite the initial inclination to decline, Jungkook's charm left you powerless to resist his hopeful gaze. “Okay,” you agreed after a moment, pulling your gaze away from his eyes to survey the surroundings. “I'll see if I can come.”

Jungkook's smile persisted, seemingly undeterred by your attempt at resistance. “I'll look forward to it. It's going to be a blast.”

You chuckled nervously, “Don't set your expectations too high.”

Jungkook, still smiling, leaned in slightly and said, “Hey, it's going to be a fun time on Wednesday. Good food, good vibes. You gotta be there!”

You chuckled, “I'll think about it. Can't promise anything, though.”

Jungkook, with a playful grin, countered, “Come on, live a little. We didn't meet properly last time, but I think we'll get along. I already like your vibe, and I can see that Jimin and Yoongi adore you”

You raised an eyebrow, “My vibe, huh? Well, we'll see. No guarantees, though.”

Jungkook, keeping it light, gave a casual shrug, “Cool. Wednesday it is, then?”

Despite your initial resistance, Jungkook's carefree demeanor and magnetic aura prove to be a formidable combination. Succumbing to the easy flow of conversation and the genuine warmth he exudes, you find yourself nodding in agreement. “Sure, Wednesday it is,” you reply, trying to downplay the subtle thrill that creeps into your tone.

Jungkook's smile widens, a playful glint in his eyes. “Awesome! Can't wait to hang out. It's going to be a good time, I promise.”

Internally shaking your head at your unexpected change of heart, you shoot back, “Don't get too excited! I'm just there for the food.”

As you walked away, the realization dawned upon you – you were in deep trouble. The echoes of Jungkook's laughter lingered in your mind, and the casual commitment to a Wednesday gathering now felt like the first step into a maze of unpredictable emotions. Somehow, in that lighthearted exchange, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the road you were on might lead to a place where your carefully constructed emotional boundaries would be tested.

#bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #yoonmin #magic au #bts fanfic #jungkook fiction #bts fic #jungkook fluff #jjk fic

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cryptidclaw · 1 year

Text

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is!

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place!

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish

Fish

Bass

Bream

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone

Apricot

Barley

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc.

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #?#Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

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taurgo · 2 years

Text

For those interested in the Sandman series (or getting others to try and read/watch it)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white power point presentation with the text “so you wanna read some “the sandman” (but you have no idea where to start and comic orders can be confusing)”. “A handy flowchart/ power point disaster for the curious, peer pressured and suffering waiting for the August 5th TV release date, from someone who cares a fuck-ton about this series and needs to yogurt starter about it. This is just a fan PowerPoint I spent way too much time on”. There are two green circular characters with smiling faces and limbs. One has a bowtie and a pointer for instruction./.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A flowchart that asks the reader if they are familiar with the story. There is the James Franco “first time?” image meme where there is a noose around his neck. A green path answering “yes” suggests “take a moment to reread anyways! (seriously it’s so good)”. A blue path answering “I am Jared, 19 (Don’t read) suggests “check out the Audiobooks (1&2). They cover volumes 1-6.” A circular green character with an open mouth says “James McAvoy voices the lead, what better reason is there?”. An Orange path answering “no” suggests “start with the original 10 volumes” and proceeds to the next page/.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A power point slide of the original ten sandman volumes with pictures of each cover and the reading order. The top of the page lists volumes 1-5; (1) Preludes and Nocturnes, (2) The Dolls House, (3) Dream Country, (4) Season of Mists, (5) A Game of You. The bottom of the page lists volumes 6-10; (6) Fables and Reflections, (7) Brief Lives, (8) Worlds End, (9) The Kindly Ones, (10) The Wake. To the left there are bullet points with the following information: “They cover the original run of 75 issues since the 80’s. Read in order there is an A plot and a B to Z plot they’re all relevant. If it’s a genre of story it is in this series”. An orange circular cartoon with a smiling face, a bowtie and a pointer says “Now that we’re familiar with the dreaming, let’s look at the bonus content where order doesn’t matter (too much)”. An orange arrow continues to the next slide. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A power point slide titled “additional stories and content”. A Flowchart prompt asks the reader “what’s your poison?”. A white arrow answers the prompt “give me more(pheus)”. The original poster suggests reading Sandman: Dream hunters, Sandman: Book of Dreams, Sandman: Midnight Theatre and Sandman: Overture. The original poster includes photos of the volume covers and two notes for Sandman: Overture. The cover of Sandman Overture is Morpheus standing in a flower field with his helm of power on. The first note says “WARNING: OVERTURE IS A PREQUEL FOR THE ORIGINAL SERIES” The second note says “THE ART IS ALSO INCREDIBLE LIKE IT’S NUTS Y’ALL they sell a gallery version I’d kill for”. A second white arrow answers “I want meta info on the development”. The original poster recommends the Sandman Companion and includes a picture of the cover which is yellow with a golden mask on the front. The original poster clarifies it was published in 2000, and says “this is a book and it is amazing (art, interviews, breakdowns)”. A third arrow answers the prompt, stating “I want more cosmic sibling drama and/or goth girls only please”. The original poster recommends Sandman: Endless Nights, Death: The High Cost of Living and Death: The Time of Your Life. The original poster provides images of each cover. Sandman Endless nights has two masks on the front cover one grey, one multicolored patchwork. Both Death comics have the image of a pale skinned, dark-haired woman on the front with a grainy picture overlay. An orange circular cartoon character with a smiling face says “wait that’s it right, I read everything now?” an orange arrow continues to the next page. /.End ID]

[Image 5 ID: This slide is titled “Oops Even More Content, Welcome to the New Age of The Sandman Universe”. The elmo on fire meme is visible on the right side of the slide. There is an orange smiling character with a bowtie and a pointer saying “Start with the Dreaming #1, It’s like a teaser chapter for a choose your own adventure in picking a story you want to read. This all happens after the original ten volumes (ish) YOU ARE WARNED”. The orange figure is pointing to the first edition cover where Dream and six individuals stand on the cover. An orange arrow points to the next flowchart prompt asking the reader “What did you enjoy most in the original series?” An authors note in the corner states “There is also a little crossover between characters in stories within the Sandman universe”. A Pink arrow continues to the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 6 ID: This slide has predetermined answers to the question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. The first directional arrow answers with “LUCIFER!” The original poster recommends Lucifer (2000) that is 75 issues in one volume and Lucifer (2019) in four volumes. Both images of the covers are included with lucifer on the front bent over and then holding a sign. A purple circular character with their mouth open says “Yes this series inspired the Netflix tv show”. A blue arrow answers with “That one John Constantine Cameo”. The cover is included with John Constantine smoking on the front. The original poster recommends John Constantine: Hellblazer (2019) in two volumes. A Red arrow answers “Actually you know what? Give me a better Harry Potter that’s not written by a TERF”. A red circular cartoon character with a bowtie and a pointer recommends Books of Magic (2019). The lead protagonist, Timothy Hunter is on the cover holding a large open tome. The red character says “Based on the 1990 miniseries written by Gaiman of the same name.” A Green arrow and a purple arrow with the options “Gods and Mythos” and “The Dreaming Inhabitants” are included and continue on the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 7 ID: This is a PowerPoint slide that continues to answer the flowchart question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. A Green arrow answers “Gods and Mythos”. The original poster recommends House of Whispers (2019) in three volumes. The cover of the first issue is included where a beautiful black woman stands in and holds up a mirror with a man inside it an a house in the background. The original poster provides a note saying “This one has divine feminine ™, family drama and some great queer representation. If you liked the Gaiman book Anansi boys, you’ll like this story”. A Purple arrow answers the question with “The dreaming inhabitants” which branches into three white arrows. The first arrow leads to the original poster recommending the Dreaming (2019) in three volumes. An image of the cover is visible with Dream and many inhabitants of the dreaming on the front cover spread around him. The author leaves a note saying this series includes “dream hopping. Giant moth baby. Absolute chaos”. A second white arrow leads to the recommendation of The Dreaming: Waking Hours (2021) with one volume. The cover is included and has Dream in the background with Lucien and Merv, and William Shakespeare in the foreground performing on a stage. The original poster leave a note saying that the story includes “Shakespeare, Shakespeare and Shakespeare walk into a bard… grad student pain. mages, nightmare and macbeth.” A third white arrow leads to the recommendation of Nightmare Country (2022) an ongoing series with four issues as of July 2022. The cover is included and shows the Corinthian in an American flag colored mask with his glasses partially removed. The author includes a note saying “The Corinthian gets a spin-off. So do other nightmares. Ongoing.” There is a purple circular character with a smiling face pointing at the Waking Hours cover, and a green circular character standing next to the House of Whispers cover. /.End ID]

[Image 8 ID: The slide is entitled “Congrats! You now have a good idea about where to start and what to read”. Next to this title is a teal circular cartoon that is smiling. The original poster includes a note that says “I could go into so much depth about why you should read it and why its great but its either do that or work on my master’s thesis and only one pays bills and its already 3 a.m. (frowny face).” A white arrow leads to a note that says “TLDR: THE ART IS GOOD, THE CHARCATERS ARE COMPLEX AND VOLUME TEN MADE ME OPENLY WEEP BECAUSE OF HOW GOOD IT WAS. IMACULATE ANTHOLOGY-esque STORY TELLING” a sub footnote says “I like this series so much I paid a guy for an advertisement of a sandman themed chess set that I have framed on my wall cause theres like no merch”. A green circular character that is smiling with a bowtie and pointer is standing next to the “preludes and nocturnes”, and “the dolls house” covers saying “season 1 of the tv show will be covering volumes 1-2 ish”. A picture of Morpheus in a panel with his hand outstretched from the comics is on the slide next to the “graphic design is my passion meme”. A large yellow crying emoji is on the slide with its hands in the air /.End ID]

#sandman #the sandman #sandman netflix #i spent an embarassing amount of time on this third grader presentation but my god i have feelings and i gotta share them #i dont care if this gets zero pickup i just remember when i was reading there was a lot of confusion about the order #morpheus #dream #sandman 2022

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jessamine-rose · 1 year

Text

♙ ♘ ♗ Chess Piece ♖ ♕ ♔

………..hi. I would like to present the side story to Disjecta Membra, a collection of bonus scenes + epilogue told from Pierro’s POV. Do enjoy this fic and suffer ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

A big thank you to @diodellet for her peer review, @frogchiro for her help in my Pierro characterization, and @seakicker for the fic inspiration!! I’m still questioning how I ended up writing for the Jester, and you can thank them for making it possible <3

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, coercion, blood, violence, death, psychological trauma, self-deprecation, alcohol consumption, Dottore is here, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader who is a fallen goddess, pre-release Pierro

♡ 5.4k words under the cut ♡

i. pawn

The entire forest is consumed by mist.

He walks down the path, maneuvering around the haze. As the mist shifts, he rushes to an unobscured patch of grass to elude its grasp.

Another blind spot. How many more areas are free from her surveillance?

Knowing his savior, she’d detect his location once the mist touches him. Despite their heart-to-heart conversations, the fact remains that his life is in a god’s hands. It would be good to know the way around the forest without her guidance.

Remain vigilant. If he isn’t careful, he may end up like the lost animals ensnared in her hunting traps.

After a few more blind spots, he finds a familiar stone path. The area is cleared of mist to reveal weathered gravestones and deep blue flowers. He walks along the perimeter and stops in the heart of the cemetery, where a veiled figure is sweeping the fallen leaves.

He hides behind the trees.

In her human guise, the God of Mist is indistinguishable from an ordinary human. Her expression is solemn as she cleans and greets each gravestone.

“Fane.”

“Kay.”

“Algos.”

“Charis.”

And so on. Such devotion to one’s followers is unheard of; then again, the mere fact of ______’s kindness sets her apart from the gods who destroyed his nation.

Her friends and followers are fortunate to have a peaceful resting place. If only he could say the same for his own compatriots.

The statues are next. She approaches the shorter figure and plucks the dead flowers out of its cracks. Her voice takes on a lighter tone.

“Pasithea, your flowers have outnumbered mine. I can’t tell if it’s because yours are multiplying or if mine are dying out. Either way, you’re as competitive as always.”

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. She lifts her veil.

The Khaenri’ahn peers closer at her face. This is an expression which he has never seen during their meals together. The smiles directed at him are usually gentle and uplifting, never this desolate. When she greets the other statue, her smile disappears completely.

“Hello, Oizys,” she whispers. “Happy birthday.”

He tenses. Despite ______’s assurance that she holds no grudge against Khaenri’ah, her loss is strongly felt. The Child of Night’s absence looms over them in the tableware he uses, the chores assigned to him, his next destination.

She checks his grave. “Not even a blade of grass? What kind of plant will satisfy you? You’re so picky until now.”

His gaze shifts to the statue’s Claymore. The weapon is real, bearing the telltale marks of a Field Tiller’s attacks. Just how many of his people were cut down by that blade?

“The Khaenri’ahn is doing well,” his savior continues. “It won’t be long until he leaves for Miseria. I know, you’d be furious…but what do you expect me to do? How could I leave that poor thing to die?”

That poor thing.

He can’t tell if he feels more relieved or offended by that statement.

“...I’m sorry.” She disperses the mist around the statue’s eyes, meeting its discolored gaze. Her voice shakes as she looks around the cemetery. “You…all of you know that, right?”

How long has she been weighed down by grief? Is this not the same person who claimed he would one day move on from the calamity?

All of a sudden, the mist rises. The Khaenri’ahn huddles closer to the tree to avoid it. Through the haze, he watches as ______ stomps on the barren grave and bursts into tears.

“Why did you even bother to come home?!” she shouts. “To see me one last time? To put a stop to my waiting? To…to punish me with the sight of your corpse?!”

Is this what will become of him? Will his vengeance ever amount to recovery?

The statue blankly stares ahead.

Her voice breaks. “It’s not fair that—why did it have to be you? When will it be my turn?!”

Or will he, too, live the rest of his life burdened by his own survival?

The Khaenri’ahn resists the urge to leave his hiding place.

For what feels like ages, the only sounds in the cemetery are the anguished cries of his savior. Still sniffling, she calms the mist and faces the statue again.

“I…I have to leave,” she says softly. She casts a strained smile at her friend’s likeness, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’ll come back with your cake tonight, okay? See you later.”

With that, the statue’s eyes are concealed once more. She sets her broom aside, and the Khaenri’ahn leaves the cemetery.

He is able to retrace his steps without difficulty, but the lingering pain from his injuries is debilitating. Before he can enter the temple, a hoarse voice calls out to him.

“What are you doing outside?” ______ approaches him, her veil back to its usual style. Under the sheer fabric, a frown crosses her face. “I thought I told you to rest.”

Does she suspect anything?

“I needed some fresh air,” he replies, keeping his voice light.

“I see…”

The mist swirls around them. The Khaenri’ahn meets her gaze, holding his breath.

The curiosity in her gaze gives way to concern. “Let me accompany you next time. I don’t like the thought of you wandering the forest alone. What if you get hurt?”

As though she doesn’t already fret over him at the slightest lift of a finger.

He walks past her. “You need not concern yourself with that possibility.”

Spoken too early. Pain suddenly shoots up his broken ankle, causing him to stumble. He almost falls, if not for ______ catching him.

“Are you all right?!”

How humiliating.

He avoids her gaze. “Thank you. You can let go of me now.”

______ is unconvinced. She keeps a firm grip on him and examines his new scars. “Let’s go inside, dear. I’ll check your injuries.”

“If you insist,” he mutters.

…Up close, his savior’s puffy eyes and dried tears are visible under her veil.

“Where were you, anyway?” he asks.

“Oh, me?” The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was just tending to the achlys flowers. Moving on, I’m baking a berry shortcake later. Would you like some?”

He hesitates. “That would be lovely.”

It is futile to offer comfort to someone who clearly refuses it. What could he possibly say to her as one who has just recently lost his own people?

No, that isn’t the right mindset.

If grief will not leave him, he must make it into what fuels his vengeance. Only after his weaknesses are burned away can he become strong enough to rebel against the divine.

He walks through the mist this time.

Only then will he be in a position to wipe her tears.

ii. knight

The religious art is disappointing.

Pierro studies the weathered fresco. It depicts a veiled figure hovering above a crowd of faceless followers, isolated by swirls of mist. The subject’s face is eroded beyond recognition.

She was wrong. None of her sacred depictions can compare to their model.

He touches the figure with a gloved hand. The image is divine, passive, untouchable. He doubts that the original face has the kind eyes and gentle smile from his memories.

“Sergeant Luda.”

A Fatui subordinate rushes towards him, bowing slightly. “Yes, Lord Harbinger?”

Pierro gestures to the fresco. “Extract this painting from the wall and include it in the list of artifacts to be transported to my personal estate. I expect no transit damage.”

“Noted, my lord! Do you have any other orders?”

“I have but one command. Demolish the temple before you leave.”

“Excuse me?” Luda’s tone turns doubtful. “You want us to destroy this place? All of it?”

He gives her a cold look. “Must I repeat myself?”

She bows again. “N-No! Forgive my blunder, Lord Harbinger!”

“That is all, Sergeant.”

With that, Luda quickly stands up and barks a few orders at her coworkers.

Pierro looks around the temple ruins. No mist hovers over ______’s old territory. Several Fatui subordinates are sifting through the debris for surviving artworks and relics.

Would she ever forgive him for erasing her existence from the world? Can he say the same for himself, with the knowledge that he is committing the crime against his homeland?

“My lord!” Another subordinate enters the temple and kneels before him.

“Lieutenant Daniil,” he says. “I presume that Agent Leonid has departed from the forest adjacent to Miseria.”

Daniil nods eagerly. “Correct, sir. According to my spies, Agent Leonid has made a full recovery from his injuries. He and the previous defectors have permanently settled in the city.”

About time that traitor left her company. “Punish the next traitor. The attackers need not follow them this time; just ensure that they reach the forest in a wounded state.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“That will be all.”

Pierro approaches the next set of scattered fragments. The old manuscripts have been reduced to yellow shreds. He pieces together what seems to be a quote by █████ herself.

“May you find refuge in every place where my blood has mixed with the air.”

He smiles to himself.

His savior is truly too kind for her own good. With how easy it has been to orchestrate a hostage situation, ______’s voluntary surrender is guaranteed.

He wonders if she will recognize him during their reunion—or even welcome him, given his new status as the director of the Fatui. If she doesn’t, he will still consider it a pyrrhic victory.

It is only proof that he has outgrown her mercy.

iii. bishop

Their reunion goes as planned.

It doesn’t take long for ______ to accept their new power dynamic. Prior objections aside, she quickly adjusts to her new life as the Jester’s partner. She is an elegant sight in her Snezhnayan dresses and Khaenri’ahn jewelry.

…Pierro does miss their peaceful days of home-cooked meals and friendly conversations. His darling’s fear and respect is as frustrating as it is gratifying. She isn’t afraid to challenge him with moments of petulance.

For what it is worth, she no longer addresses him as “dear” or her other patronizing pet names. At times, their double-sided arguments are quite engaging.

At any rate, his other objective has been achieved. The new resources acquired from ______’s relinquished territory serve more purposes than the Lord of the Hearth’s fire.

“Jester, I come bearing a report on our latest Archon Residue experiment.”

Pierro looks up from his signed documents. “Dottore, I expect impressive results since you took the initiative to request a meeting with me.”

The Doctor closes the door behind him, smiling. “You will be pleased to learn that we are making progress with the remains of the Goddess of Consciousness. Her powers have manifested in the test subjects, albeit their mental faculties remain incoherent.”

Pierro recalls ______’s last visit to Zapolyarny Palace. She didn’t seem to recognize the melody sung by the test subjects.

“Rectify that side effect immediately.”

“As you wish.” Dottore looks up from his research notes and glances at the empty sofa. “Is your darling currently at home?”

“Does her presence have any bearing on your report?” he asks sharply.

“No, it doesn’t. I was merely curious, given that I’ve only had the privilege of meeting her once. Oh, but I did find something very interesting in the test subject’s speech patterns.”

Pierro grips his pen. “Go on.”

“Imagine my curiosity when I noticed a recurring name,” he continues. “‘█████.’ The test subjects kept shouting that name—quite hysterically, I might add. Initially, I brushed them off as an insignificant friend of the deceased god until I made an important recollection.”

Dottore walks over to the sofa and runs his hand along the headrest.

“Do you remember our first meeting, Jester?”

“How is this relevant?” asks Pierro. “I recruited you in Sumeru and you eagerly accepted my offer. I can vividly recall your hysterical reaction to your new title.”

“No, after that. If my memory serves me correctly, you inquired about the House of Daena’s religious archives. After which I noticed a few ancient books and manuscripts amongst your luggage, most of which referenced a divine being known as █████.”

He knows.

Dottore adjusts his mask, a crimson twinkle in his eyes. “I did question your interest in that unknown god. If we can obtain the remains of the God of Mist, as we did with our current specimens and the Lord of the Hearth, I can use—”

“Dottore.”

The air grows cold. The Doctor pauses, meeting Pierro’s glare.

He puts down his pen. “You should know by now that I am not one to entertain baseless assumptions. Moreover, I must address your previous invasion of my privacy.”

“Oh?” Dottore approaches the desk, eyes wide. “I presumed that you could fill in the blanks for me, seeing how none of those ancient texts are listed in the Fatui’s libraries. Shall I ask your darling instead? I heard that you acquired her from the same location which sourced the new Archon Residue specimens.”

Enough of this.

“I advise you to watch your words, Zandik,” says Pierro. “My partner has nothing to do with your little investigation. I do not pry into your private affairs, particularly the Akademiya scholar you have been stalking, so it would do you well to reciprocate the gesture.”

A moment of silence passes.

“Of course. I know better than to pry into forbidden knowledge.” Resigned, Dottore picks up his research notes and flips to another page. “Before I leave, I have another report to share with you.”

Pierro picks up his pen. “Proceed."

“In seemingly unrelated news, I have the results of the chemical test you requested. For the most part, I identified common household substances in the carpet samples you sent me…apart from one compound.”

“And that is?”

“Among the chemical components, I found low traces of Archon Residue.”

So his suspicions were correct.

Dottore’s smile returns. “I wonder how such a substance ended up in your estate. But given your earlier admonishment, I won’t pry into the matter any further.”

Pierro gives him a stern look. “If you have nothing more to report on, you are dismissed.”

“Very well. I bid you a good night.”

With that, Dottore places the research notes on the desk and leaves the office.

That explains the information from his spies.

Pierro reads the second report.

He did find it quite odd that ______ requested an extensive tour of the estate and was later seen with a bandaged thumb. So she had claimed her prison in his absence.

How clever of her.

It was wise of him to lock the doors to his personal quarters. Until it is necessary for him to divulge his awareness of her scheme, he should avoid formal meetings in his estate.

Despite his irritation, he can’t help but feel impressed.

Well-played, ______.

iv. rook

The replicated festival is a success.

Since her birthday, his darling has been more docile. The smiles directed at Pierro are more soft, cheerful, paired with brighter eyes. Their dinner conversations are more relaxed.

However, her kindness remains a double-edged blade.

“Hello, little ones.” ______ crouches down in the snow, a warm smile on her face. “May I know your names?”

The children eagerly crowd around her, small hands grabbing at her dress and veil. One child takes advantage of their eye-level position to play with her necklace, to which she laughs and lightly scolds him.

“No, you can’t have it. It’s from—wait, don’t pull the chain!”

He should have kept her at home.

“Lord Harbinger.” The orphanage caregiver gives Pierro a nervous look. “If the children are bothering your partner, I can send them to their rooms.”

He turns to face them. “There is no need. You may proceed with your report on the next batch of recruits.”

“Thank you for your leniency, my lord!”

Pierro casts a final glance at the courtyard. His darling is managing the children quite well, all things considered. After saving her necklace, she carries the offender and lifts him high above her head. Her laughter has never sounded more lively.

What a heartwarming sight.

He will allow it, so long as she doesn’t object to their fate.

*✧･ﾟ

“You appeared to be in high spirits earlier.”

“Are you referring to the orphans?”

The bedchambers feel less empty with ______’s presence. She lies on her side of the bed, an enthusiastic smile on her face.

“They were adorable! Those precious lambs asked me to participate in all sorts of games. You should have seen little Damien; he kept running around and ‘defeating’ me with a wooden sword.”

Damien Morozov, eight years old. Already shows promise in swordsmanship.

Pierro hangs his coat in his wardrobe. “Are you partial to the company of children?”

“I guess so.” She takes off her veil, eyes dimming. “I used to play with my young followers often. Why do you ask?”

“I was merely curious. You were quite eager to entertain the orphans’ antics.”

Would she be as loving with their own children?

Pierro unlocks the drawer. His old Khaenri’ahn attire remains in good condition. He can still remember the time ______ mended his clothes, requesting permission to cover up the holes with her embroidery. Every little star and diamond seemed to breathe new life into the fabric.

If he is ambitious enough, he can envision it clearly. A new set of embroidered clothes for a smaller frame. A family portrait displayed in their manor. Tiny pupils shaped like four-pointed stars, sparkling with innocence. His darling’s gaze filled with love and devotion.

“Pierro? What are you looking at?”

He closes the drawer. “That is none of your concern.”

______ gives him a suspicious look. “If you say so.”

Now is not the time to entertain such delusions.

The divine rebellion has barely begun. Likewise, so long as his darling remains an unwilling captive, he would be a fool to imagine any semblance of a happy family with her.

It is a tempting thought, however.

Pierro locks the drawer and approaches the bed.

For whatever reason, his darling has morphed into her true form. Her skin is dusted with gray dots and swirls resembling mist. A clear reminder of her divine nature.

His gaze stops at her wrists.

Even with her divine markings, her bruises are evident. The same can be said for the dark blemishes on her hips and knees.

He observes her exposed face this time. It was quite satisfying to provoke those honest expressions out of her. He couldn’t get enough of the look in her eyes.

Neediness, trepidation, absolute submission. All for him.

His hand slams down on the pillow, a few centimeters away from her head.

“Pierro?” She startles, turning her head to face him. “What is it?”

He doesn’t offer an explanation this time, just leans down and kisses her. His other hand pulls down the neckline of her dress.

“Hey…ah! Stop!”

She lightly shoves him, only for her wrist to be easily pinned to the mattress.

Pierro pulls away, ending the kiss. His other hand traces the curve of her chest, eliciting another soft gasp. “Have you taken your contraceptive recently?”

She looks away, biting her lip. “I…”

He puts his hand under her chin, tilting her face upwards. “I asked you a question, ______.”

His darling looks so powerless beneath him. So easy to break. To desecrate.

She nervously meets his gaze. “I…I did.”

“Excellent. Then I don’t need to hold back.”

He sets his own mask aside and kisses her with more fervor.

The Old World is no place for the future of Khaenri’ah. Until absolute peace has been achieved, that dream will have to remain a fantasy.

Until then, his darling’s affection will solely belong to him.

v. queen

The Snezhnayan winters are becoming more frigid.

“Is the temperature of the room to your satisfaction?” Pierro drapes another blanket over his darling’s shoulders. “Inform me if you need another blanket.”

She gives him an exasperated look. “There is no need to coddle me. My human vessel isn’t that frail, you know.”

Says the person who once drowned him in blankets and hot tea on a rainy day.

“The nights will be colder at this time of the year. There is no harm in looking out for your physical health.”

“Then the same can be said for you.” Despite her earlier remark, she wraps herself in the blanket. “Even I can’t stand the Snezhnayan environment. Don’t you get sick of the cold?”

Pierro glances at the window. Outside, another blizzard paints the sky with swirling snow. White, frigid, nothing like Celestia’s sea of flames.

“I am rather impartial to this nation’s climate,” he replies, returning to the sofa.

A chessboard sits on the low table, along with a bottle of fire-water. ______ empties her glass and refills it to the brim.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I did not take you for one to overindulge in vices.”

Another glass finished. “You drank nearly as much as I did.”

“I know my limits.” He confiscates the bottle and hands her a glass of water. “That is enough wine for you. Any more, and you will make a fool out of yourself later.”

She rolls her eyes, but drinks it and lowers her veil. “All right. Shall we continue our game?”

Regardless, he will be the sole audience to her inebriated theatrics.

“If you are so confident that you can play with a clouded mind.”

His attention returns to the chessboard. ______’s opening move was a direct challenge. No mercy, then.

He moves a black pawn. “Disregarding the climate, you have become well-adjusted to Snezhnaya. I must commend your growth over the previous year.”

“You think so?” She stares at the chessboard, assessing the pieces. “That isn’t a big achievement, seeing how all I’ve done is behave in the estate like a model prisoner.”

A model prisoner who remains strategic.

“I beg to disagree. From what I have seen, your current conduct and level of education are befitting of your new status.”

The expression under her veil is doubtful. “You’re just being nice. My studies, this dress, the title you gave me…it doesn’t make me any more worthy for the New World.”

Her next move is clumsy.

Pierro easily counterattacks. “I shall be the judge of that.”

The game continues. Chess pieces are toppled. With each sequence, the influence of alcohol becomes more apparent. ______ begins to mumble, sway slightly, make bad moves.

“Another loss.” She frowns at her toppled king. “No fair…how are you so good at this game? How many victories would that make for you?”

Pierro touches her cheek. He can feel her warmth through the fabric of his gloves.

“You should rest,” he decides. He places the chess pieces back in their original squares. “Can you walk to the bedchambers on your own or shall I escort you?”

“What a chivalrous offer,” she scoffs. She gathers the sacrificed pawns, only for the pieces to slip out of her loose grasp. “You are insufferable, you know that? Impossible to comprehend…”

He might as well take advantage of her openness. “Why do you say this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” ______ rests her head on her palm and peers at him with glassy eyes, chess pieces forgotten. “For starters, while you have been concerned about my health all night, I have no doubt that you will scold me tomorrow and make me study despite my hangover.”

“You wouldn’t have to suffer from a hangover if you had drunk less wine,” he shoots back.

She shakes her head. “Honestly, I can’t figure you out. One moment, you’re absolutely cruel and strict towards me; next, you make me so happy that I almost forget our arrangement. It makes me feel so conflicted, the way you treat me…I hate it.”

“So why do you endure it?”

“Huh?”

The office feels more humid. Perhaps she had involuntarily raised her mist.

Pierro holds her arm, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You claim to be a weak deity, yet my research states otherwise. And despite your powers, you have never made an attempt on my life—both in the past and in the present. Why is that?”

She stares back at him, eyes wide behind her veil. “That…”

He glares at her, strengthening his grip. “Are you truly as foolish as you are kind? Or does your mercy stem from pity towards that poor thing you saved all those years ago?”

For a few seconds, his darling is silent. She looks away, her arm limp in his grasp.

“Of course not. I…I just don’t want to get in your way,” she mumbles. Her gaze trains on the medals displayed on the wall. “You’re amazing, you know that? You became stronger…found a new purpose in life…now you’re actively changing the world for the better.”

He could get drunk off her praise.

“So it would be a shame if you lost it all because of me,” she continues. Then she shakes her head, smiling. “But what am I saying? You will never let that happen, no matter your fondness nor gratitude towards me.”

He lets go of her arm. “There is no use in reflecting on that theory.”

“Really now? If the Tsaritsa ever viewed me as an obstacle, would you kill me for her?”

Would he?

When was the last time he found himself at a loss of words? As far as he can recall, it was years ago—back when the Tsaritsa posed a similar question.

“The God of Mist? I did not know she was still alive. So she saved you in the past, and now you intend to overthrow her and keep her for yourself.”

Pierro cleared his throat. “I humbly request your permission, Your Majesty. Apart from the elimination of a potential threat, the subjugation of █████ will provide the Fatui with a new territory and invaluable resources.”

“Yes, and I imagine that you recognized every possible benefit prior to this discussion,” she said knowingly. “You have my permission. I trust your judgment.”

“You have my gratitude,” he replied, bowing.

“Oh, but Pierro?”

He looked up to face her. The Tsaritsa was the opposite of his previous savior—pure, sacrosanct, a kindred spirit who had chosen the path of vengeance and revolution. From her lofty throne, she couldn’t look more divine.

Her gaze was cold. “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

Without hesitation, he kneeled before her.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“It is illogical to compare love and worship,” he finally says. “Do not ask a question you already know the answer to, especially one which you will likely forget in the morning.”

“All right.”

The look on her face shows pure understanding. Yet despite the tears welling up in her eyes—from fear? Disappointment? Heartbreak?—her smile seems genuine.

“I am glad to hear that,” she says, voice trembling. “Any other answer, and you would be no better than a lovesick fool.”

How did she appear during their first chess game? Compared to the savior of his memories, the god before him looks so fragile. Acquiescent. Openly vulnerable.

This time, she doesn’t protest when he lifts her veil. Pierro leans over the table and brushes his thumb against her flushed cheek, wiping away her tears.

“Rest assured, I will never allow such a situation to happen,” he says softly. “My final choice would not be without internal strife.”

After all he has endured, such a scenario would be the greatest loss in his life.

“And why is that?” she asks.

“Because above all, you are the only good thing left of the Old World.”

vi. king

“Pierro.”

“Psst, Pierro.”

“Rise and shine…”

“Wake up!”

At the sensation of the pillow hitting his face, Pierro grimaces and catches her wrist.

“What do you want?” he mutters, opening his eyes.

______ looms over him, eyes faintly glowing in the dark. “Finally, you’re awake.”

He turns to his side and glances at the clock. “Is it already past midnight?”

She gives him a bright smile. “Happy anniversary!”

No wonder.

Pierro lets go of her wrist and sits up, facing the window. The sky is still dim, on the cusp of twilight. The lingering darkness is dotted with stars.

“Did you feel the need to greet me as soon as you woke up?” he asks drily.

Despite her nightgown and bedhead, ______ looks full of energy.

“Yes,” she replies. A proud smile plays across her lips. “This marks the ninety-ninth time I said it first.”

“Don’t look so triumphant,” he tells her. He brushes the loose strands of hair away from his face. “It will take centuries for you to catch up to me.”

“I know. So have mercy on your dear wife and let me have this one victory.”

He might as well. These days, her celebrations are solely limited to their birthdays and milestones. For this day alone, he will let his darling have her fun.

He still hasn’t returned her greeting.

“Happy anniversary,” he says with a soft smile. “Are you going back to sleep?”

She shakes her head. “No, so neither will you. We might as well prepare breakfast now that we’re awake.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I saw the menu last week, along with what you planned for lunch and dinner. Wouldn’t you say that our banquet is too much for two people?”

At that, she holds his hand and intertwines their fingers. The dim light is caught in the pale blue gems of their rings.

“Of course not,” she smiles. “After all, we are commemorating the day I was shackled to you for all eternity. Such a tragic event deserves a grand celebration, doesn’t it?”

Pierro presses a kiss against her knuckles. “If you insist.”

How long has it been since their wedding? In her Khaenri’ahn gown, his darling was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Her happy tears marked her ultimate resignation.

His darling is extra touchy throughout their daily routine. Eye contact in the bathroom mirror. An unruly necklace clasp and corset strings. Fleeting touches as she helps him change into his own suit.

“You may open your gift after breakfast,” Pierro informs her as he puts on his mask. “I believe you will find it to your satisfaction.”

She turns to him, fully dressed. Her divine marks have faded into her human guise. She looks elegant, dignified, perfect for a Harbinger’s spouse.

“How exciting. After all these years, you never fail to surprise me,” she says. “I hope you are equally receptive to your own present.”

Pierro slips an embroidered handkerchief into his pocket, taking a moment to admire the new four-pointed stars. “I can only imagine what design you came up with this year.”

Their daily routine is over. Before they leave the room, ______ faces him and pulls him into her embrace. Her grip is strong.

“Hey, Pierro, how much longer until the rebellion ends?” she asks.

He wraps his arms around her. “Why do you ask?”

Thin wisps of natural mist swirl around them, weak and bloodless.

She leans into him. “Ever since the Fatui began acquiring the Gnoses, you’ve been even busier. Do take a break once in a while. And don’t put yourself in danger, you hear me?”

Her hands tremble. The mist rises, enveloping them in a cold haze.

“I find it insulting that you still entertain those fears,” he shoots back. He steps out of the mist. “As I said years ago, it will take more than a vengeful god or your antics to dispose of me.”

The mist disperses.

“I’ll trust you with that.” ______ releases him, a sincere smile on her face. “The sooner the New World is achieved, the sooner you can rest. And the more time I have with you.”

Under her veil, her eyes shine brighter than the stars. She is still speaking—his real name, whispered in such an adoring, reverent tone.

He should enjoy their special day while it lasts. Once their private party comes to an end, it will be back to work. Back to Zapolyarny Palace, his petulant Harbingers, Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, the future of the New World. But today, he can enjoy the present with his darling.

At the last whisper, he smiles and pulls her closer. Lifts her veil. Silences her with a kiss. Holds her gaze, staring into those hopeful orbs which reflect only him.

“I look forward to it.”

♡

Read the Author’s Note here!!

To think Pierro would end up with the longest, most twistedly wholesome side story…….how tf did that happen ;-; Also hahaha cheers to Dottore appearing in another Harbinger’s fic for the second time. Chemistry reference, anyone?? :>

Thank you to everyone who expressed their love for Disjecta Membra!! I didn’t expect so many ppl to like my version of Pierro and Savior! Darling, and I hope you all enjoyed Chess Piece. Do inform me of your suffering brainrot and consider sharing this to spread the Pierro agenda~

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @kocherry @mirdance @victoria1676 @mnemosyneechan @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @lcveaesop @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades @ansy-tea @oofasleep @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @elysiasfiance @frostedclementine

Thank you for your interest in reading!! @yandere-romanticaa @ddarker-dreams @cinnamonest @yanmaresu @gum-iie

#pierro #pierro x reader #yandere pierro x reader #yandere pierro #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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rosieofcorona · 2 months

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In the Blue Morning

BELOVEDS, a soft little Solavellan fic for you. Mostly fluff this time around to soothe the eternal, unyielding hurt. Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms.

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords ringing through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination.

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.”

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time.

“Followed by lealis, meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth–

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see.

And this will cost them, in the end.

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around.

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.”

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.” “I did no such thing!”

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning.

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently. “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew.

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

**********

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.”

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him.

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.”

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out.

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead.

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off.

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.”

“It could have been a tactical error.” “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.” “You could have moved him.” “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.”

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them.

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word.

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.”

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

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warrior-cats-rewritten · 9 months

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Warrior Cats Rewritten: Riverstar's Home

Version 1.1: Shadowsight and Whistlepaw have been added in! Also replaced Mossy Pelt's placeholder name.

Flutter is being taught Cool Fun Stuff by her uncle Ripple, she is the only family Ripple has left. Her parent, Squirrel, Ripple's sibling, died the day she was born. Squirrel is a tolly (nonbinary) and cause of death is purposely not specified.

Ripple is (lightly) scolded by Arc for wanting to swim and play in the pond at the Park. It gets him all wet, then no humans want to feed him or be around him. He doesn't care! Water is Cool!

Arc is the leader of the Cats Of The Park. He is a bit gruff, but he has a HUGE soft spot for young cats.

But not all is well, readers, for humans are kind of assholes. Their have been many complaints about the feral cat colony, especially after one of the cats broke into a home and stole some food. Twolegs are coming to capture cats!

A few cats are chased onto a roaring-path (thunderpath) and in an effort to save them, Arc jumps cleanly into the car window, making it swerve and miss the cats. He is thrown from the monster, and before Ripple can get get to him, he is killed by another swerving car, by accident.

In the chaos, sweet little Flutter is captured, and brought away from the Park with a bunch of the other cats.

Ripple jumps into the river, and gets away using a large tree branch, his paw occasionally paddling.

Fishing is hit and miss. He can catch minnows with ease, but bigger fish are escaping him for now. He finds Night and Mist, and learns to get better at swimming in moving water, though his looong fur looks hilarious to Night when she puts her head under.

Deciding to search for the missing cats, he heads out with Mist to search for them, but the Park is empty. They're gone. Undeterred but getting tired, they head home.

On the way there, they meet a handsome golden tabby tom with a single eye, and his young daughter, who looks like an eerie, very uncanny version of him. River Ripple can't look at her for long.

One Eye talks about his ex-make, Sun Spot, and how they fell out of love. Sun Spot took their 2 sons, Blue Eyes and Light. He wasn't bothered, his favorite was always Star Flower.

They bond, heavily. A lot goes unsaid between them that River Ripple will look back on with a mix of longing and horror.

More moons go by, the Sun Trail Followers arrive, Mist and Night are a bit apprehensive... But not aggressive.

They find a little group that was inspired by River Ripple's "heroism" (literally just giving a young cat a fish he caught) and beg to join. ANY side characters from Canon!Riverstar's Home are joining. It establishes that River Ripple is kinda put on a pedestal, but he enjoys being kind.

Any other side characters shown are getting reduxed as well. With lots of changed names. Also, the mythical 'Pumpkinpatch', who apparently doesn't exist, exists now.

Mist finally introduces River Ripple to his kits. He kept the youngsters at the Barn that Barley will one day inhabit. Since there is no obligation to stay in camp yet, he was effectively a proto-Daylight Warrior!

The kits are Smoke, Shadow, and Shine. They are renamed to Dawn Smoke, Deep Shadow, and Dazzling Shine. DS triplets!

River Ripple bonds heavily with them, and cares so much about them, the same way he does for Flutter.

After The First Battle, he promises to the lost cats that he WILL find them. He starts talking with Hawk, who, while he hates them, can't resist the idea of fucking up a twoleg's day. He leads River Ripple to a shelter cageplace, where the Cats of the Park are kept.

Trying to get them out is almost hopeless, until they crash into 4 loners. The first introduces himself as Nightheart, which Night loves the sound of. The second is Shadow Eyes, a very beaten up looking tom. The third is a small, skinny molly who just calls herself Whistle. The final cat is too shy, and her friends introduces her as Frosty Paws. Though Whistle and Frosty Paws are still very young, the group are clever and crafty, knowing stories about how other cats have been freed from cageplaces before!

They get into the mall, River Ripple gets trapped in the elevator of it, but Nightheart accidently pulls on a shiny red branch, and it rains in the building! A loud noise sounds! The twolegs panic and scatter, and the 5 get into the cageplace, freeing the Cats of the Park.

Nightheart, Whistle, Shadow Eyes and Frosty Paws say they have to leave for a while, heading down to Highstones.

Flutter is happy to be in the group, but sickness is spreading. She catches it after hunting a sick mouse [but she was so happy to use the skills her uncle taught her :( ] and it forces him to co-operate with the Clans. In the meantime, Gray Wing has joined and is becoming a problem. He is rude to Flutter about the Park culture, and trying to flirt with Storm Bird. Storm Bird and Night (who seriously thinks the name of that weird black cat was cool) are courts. Not yet mates, but flirting.

Star Flower gets cats killed, Flutter and Dawn Smoke nearly die until Thunder BURSTS in with the cure. He has found the correct Blazing Star.

After bringing Gray Wing with him to fight for their border and keep cats safe, watching Gray Wing defend Clear Sky with one breath and damn One Eye in the other for doing the same thing, River Ripple begins to put his foot, only to get slashed on the ear, ripping it badly. Storm Bird and Night kick him out. The rip in his ear is so bad that it completely changes the way his ear moves, almost like a river changing course...

(Book 5) One Eye is facing down River Ripple during a horrific blizzard. It's about the what if, the what could still be, the what must never be. When One Eye threatens Dazzling Shine, saying she isn't his real daughter, River Ripple lunges. The 2 toms break through the frozen river, and it is only due to his sheer love for the river, having studied its current and knowing every inch of it that River Ripple survives. He brings up One Eye's body, and Star Flower screeches at him, swearing vengeance.

(Book 6) Mist and River Ripple are basking on Sunningrocks when Deep Shadow swims up to them, the poor boy screaming about something horrible.

A cat they let in was working with Star Flower, and has just killed a young cat by poisoning food. River Ripple chases a cat fleeing camp, a Rogue they had let in who seemed to want to get close with Deep Shadow.

River Ripple chases the cat down when he notices they flee camp, calling for Star Flower, but when they get to the stepping stones, the cat slips, breaks their jaw, and drowns.

River Ripple swears this is the last time he is gonna have a meeting with the other cats to Tall Shadow, but he isn't completely sincere. On one hand, he is becoming bonded friends with plenty of others, on the other hand... He is having dreams of being dragged towards Highstones by his tail every night. He knows he isn't getting out of this, no matter how much he wants to stay out of things and remain peaceful.

They talk about the spirit cats message, all waiting for Thunder to arrive. When he does, he and Clear Sky get into a fight, and clouds cover the moon, beginning to pour rain. Flutter tells River Ripple that she is scared of what is coming, she can feel something bad is about to happen. She points out that Thunder is looking at Star Flower with a rage she's never seen from any cat. Star Flower is behind the assassinations, but Clear Sky won't believe it. Sky Petal is more reasonable, but she is taking care of 3 kittens, she is BUSY.

River Ripple is a witness to Thunder killing Star Flower, but he promises he won't say anything. They bury her near Sunningrocks while the river is still near frozen, accidentally digging a little too deep. One of those boulders is kinda loose...

He is given Bubbling Stream, and she teaches him about her Starclan connection. He teaches her about fishing, which she takes well to, but her true passion lies with shaping clay. Together, they create a little bowl and put herbs in it for Dappled Pelt, who is experimenting with everything she heard about from Frosty Paws and Whistle! Science lady meets young heaven-bound girl and who NEEDS to take a vow of no kits? Dappled Pelt absolutely loves Bubbling Stream immediately. River Ripple himself swears that he will personally train her the same way Arc trained him. He will raise her like a daughter, alongside his stepkids.

Flutter pulls him aside, telling him that she saw Nightheart and Frosty Paws again, and that she and Pumpkinpatch are going to go with them on their journey. River Ripple is sad, but he loves Flutter enough to let her go. He thinks of how proud he is of her, how much she's grown. She leaves with them, and her new mate, Pumpkinpatch.

He goes to Highstones and... Turns around. He can't do this. The dread is welling up inside him, maybe he should give the Leading Role to Night Hear-

He feels a hard pull on his tail.

Something unseen in the darkness of Mothermouth is dragging him to the Moonstone.

There, he receives his 9 lives, and vows to use them to help Riverclan how HE wants to with his OWN ideals. They may have blessed him but they don't own him.

He gets home to a happy announcement, Dazzling Shine is expecting kits with a lovely tom named Tulip Ear. Dazzling Shine is a pale gray dappled molly with short legs and bright yellow eyes. Tulip Ear is a thick furred gray speckled tom with amber eyes, a white belly, and curled ears.

Riverstar realizes that, though he has lost his home at the Park, he has made a new one, and his new family is flourishing. He might attend a Gathering later, maybe not. But he begins to formally train an Apprentice.

Epilogue: Riverstar is extremely old, on his deathbed. His great grandson, Shining Reed, is telling him all about the fun things he did on his first day out of camp when he suddenly begins to feel weak. He calls the little dark orange tom over to have a nap with him. Shining Reed cuddles up to him, and they fall asleep. At least.... Shining Reed does. Riverstar loses his last life as he drifts off.

He sees Frosty Paws when he opens his eyes, pacing and fretting over what to do. When she leaves the den, Riverstar gets bored, and rips up a dock leaf into the shape of a star, a little gift for the cat who helped him build his home. He puts it into her nest, and watches her shock when she finds it, shouting out to a cat named Mothwing that she found an answer.

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aceopmari · 2 years

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Mei Terumi w/a Hot & Popular Daughter Headcanon

Masterlist

A/N: I’m amazed at what crazy shit I can come up with in my sleep.🥴

Taglist: @ppg-artss @lovelygeniegirl1012 @mercymccann @kakeisumire @aoi-ajisai @mechmoucha @barbellina @nightingaleflow @bonchin @awhore4uchiha

TW: Suggestive themes, semi one sided age gap relationship with teen reader, seductive reader, drug use, character death, arranged marriage, pregnancy mention.

Characters featured: Mei, Kisame, Zabuza, Suigetsu, and Mangetsu, Gaara, Neji, Omoi, Jiraiya.

💄Lady Mizukage became so happy that she had found a man. She was confident that he would propose.

💄When he found out that Mei was pregnant with you, the man left her and she found herself alone once more.

💄Nonetheless, Mei didn’t hold it against you. She raised you and showered you with tender love and care.

💄Mei didn’t like how you mostly took after your father. But you were still beautiful inside and out as you inherited her charisma and curves. And not to mention those luscious lips.

💄The people of the Hidden Mist had lost their minds when they found out that Lady Mizukage had a beautiful daughter. Everyone in the village knew you and watched you grow up.

💄You were very popular in school and had many friends. Mei was even cool enough to let you throw parties at the mansion while she was away.

💄Someone had introduced you to edibles. All your friends watched you happily rampage through the mansion in just your bikini as you broke things.

💄Most people would freak out, but your friends and followers were in complete awe at your boldness.

💄”Y/N’s so COOL!”

💄”Let’s do drugs TOO!”

💄Ao (who was tasked to chaperone the events) didn’t like how wild your parties got. He didn’t seem to like you at all as he thought you were an entitled brat who always got off easy.

💄He was somewhat right though. Whenever something broke at your parties, Mei would instantly turn a blind eye on you and pin the blame on him instead.

💄You were sought after by many men who wanted your affection (as well as your life).

💄Girls around the world hated you out of sheer jealousy. Fellow young beauty, Ino Yamanaka hated you when you were crowned queen of the “Miss Teen Ninja” and the “Miss Ninja Universe” beauty pageants several years in a row.

💄You were more than a pretty face though. Thanks to your dear Mama Mizukage, you were very strong as you inherited two kekkei genkai.

💄Due to this, you earned the title of Beauty of the Bloody Mist.

💄 Mei saw how men were interested in you. Even men from other countries. Although Mei was a little jealous, she was determined to get you a husband.

💄 Mei had you dolled up by professional stylists who did your hair and makeup each morning. You also wore dark blue, revealing curve hugging outfits with fishnets. Whatever it took to attract a man!

💄”My beautiful daughter is looking for a husband!” Mama Mizukage announced one day.

💄Things got chaotic as word spread that you were looking for a man. You were constantly asked out at school. You felt somewhat guilty and responsible for the many male students who were failing as they spent their time in class either staring at your tits or passing you love notes instead of taking their tests.

💄Some guys in the village even fought for you to see who was worthy of your hand until they were covered in blood.

💄You were crushed with letters, chocolates, and flowers that were sent by men all over the world.

💄The craziness didn’t stop there. You even caught the attention of criminals. A sexy terrorist bomber from the Hidden Stone had you feeling smitten when he sent you a love letter about your artistic beauty…

💄…Too bad the tiny clay bird that came with it nearly killed you…

💄There were lots of attempted kidnappings by obsessed lovers who were desperate to marry you. Good thing you were strong enough to fend them off and escape. Didn’t do wonders for the trauma you felt afterwards…

💄”Have you chosen a husband yet, Sweetie?” Mei asked. You sighed as you grew frustrated with her persistence. “No mom, I haven’t…”

💄Mei smiled. “That’s okay dear! I found the perfect suitors from other villages! Have a look!” She said as she gave you three pictures.

💄You recognized each of them. One was Gaara. He was the Kazekage of the the Hidden Sand. He had a cute face and luscious red locks.

💄The next was Neji from the prestigious Hyuga Clan. He had the most beautiful eyes.

💄The last was Omoi, a close aid of the Fourth Raikage. His melanated skin was absolutely gorgeous!

💄”I’ve already arranged for you to travel to all three countries so that you can meet with them for your date!” Mei said happily. You widened your eyes. “You did what?!”

💄Mei already had your bags packed and had put you on a large boat to send you to each country.

💄You met Gaara first on your trip to the Hidden Sand. He was respectful and kind but so awkward and inexperienced.

💄You then went to the Hidden Leaf soon after for your date with Neji. He was so intelligent but very condescending. He indirectly called you a harlot as he wasn’t too keen on your skimpy choice of attire…

💄Finally you met Omoi in the Hidden Clouds. He was very funny but his overthinking nature was a huge turn off.

💄You returned home to the Mist just in time for supper. Mei was disappointed when you told her that you wouldn’t be marrying any of her top three choices. She became depressed, spouting out fears on how her own daughter will become an old maid.

💄Ao who was present at supper, decided to chime in. “Well maybe if you dressed like a proper young lady, you’d have a better chance of finding the right man to marry.” You were stunned by his words. You glanced down at your outfit.

💄Your dark blue curve hugging outfit resembled your mother’s only it revealed your cleavage, midriff, and legs. You frowned at Ao. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” Ao scoffed. “Well for starters, it’s too skimpy! It attracts the wrong attention from men.”

💄He shook his head disapprovingly. “Seriously, is this how young ladies your age like to dress? Back in my day…”

💄Ao rambled on. You flinched seeing a darkened, furious, expression on Mei who has been silent the whole time. She was absolutely fuming at Ao’s words. You shrunk in your seat as she gets up before walking over to Ao.

💄”Shut up. Or die.”

💄Ao screamed in terror at that. You didn’t blame him. Your mom was scary when she was angry. You shrieked a bit when she turned to you giving you a sweet smile.

💄”Don’t listen to him, Sweetheart. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Now hurry up and find a husband soon okay?” She said. You nodded nervously. “Okay, mommy.”

💄Not wanting to upset her further, you decided to survey your options here at home in the Hidden Mist.

💄 The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist were like family. They were your personal bodyguards who followed you whenever you left the mansion. One or two guarded you at a time. You didn’t like it as you just wanted to have freedom. But at least he was attractive.

💄You were walking through the village with Kisame when you heard some men talking.

💄”Hey it’s Y/N Terumi!”

💄”She’s so pretty!”

💄”I’d smash!”

💄You blush at the comments. Kisame sees this and smirks at you. “You’ve grown to be quite attractive haven’t you? Why, if you were a little older, I’d make you my woman…” he joked.

💄A few weeks later, you chased Kisame down in the misty forest when you saw him leave. “Why are you leaving Kisame?! Don’t go!” You cried.

💄Kisame stopped and turned around seeing your tears. “I hate to see a pretty face in tears.” He walked up to you and wiped your tears away with his large blue thumb before putting a finger under your chin to tilt it to meet his eyes.

💄”Come with me to discover a world without lies,” he said with a grin. You shook your head. He sounded crazy and too far gone. “No! I’m not leaving the village or my mommy!”

💄”Thats a real shame, Y/N…” Kisame said as he raised his sword at you. Before you could react, you had blacked out from the strike.

💄You woke up in your room on a comfy large bed. The first thing you saw was the relieved expression of Mei. “Oh, my poor baby!” She cried. She gave you a kiss on the forehead.

💄You groan as you sat up a bit. “What…happened?” Mei saddened. “Kisame attacked you before leaving the village. Chojuro found you alone in the forest.”

💄You frowned. So he did leave. Now you were left saddened. Both Zabuza and Kisame were among your favorites among the swordsmen. Mei saw that you were sad and pulled you into a hug. “I’m just glad your safe, Sweetheart.” Although you were sad, you were grateful to your mom for comforting you.

💄You decided you wanted away from all the drama. You went to hang out with your childhood friends, the Hozuki brothers.

💄Mangetsu and Suigetsu went on deadly missions to prove themselves as capable swordsmen, all while competing for your love.

💄Mangetsu was a friendly gentleman who made you feel safe. He gave you hand kisses and always told you how beautiful you were.

💄Suigetsu was funny and always showed you a good time. He was openly flirty with you, catching you off guard with his sexy smirks and winks.

💄When they came back from a deadly mission, you rewarded them both with cheek kisses. The brothers would then get on either sides of you and kiss your cheeks too. It was practically a routine with the three of you.

💄Suigetsu decided to be his cheeky self. “When are you gonna give me a real kiss, Cupcake? I think I deserve it after that last mission,” he winked. You blushed at that. Mangetsu glared at his sibling. “Be respectful!”

💄Suigetsu smirked at him. “Fine, I will.” He took his water bottle off his belt and handed it to you. “Want a sip?” You smiled and took it. “Sure! Thanks!”

💄You sipped the water, enjoying the cool taste. Suigetsu gives you a toothy grin. “Heh heh heh…that was our first kiss…”

💄You widened your eyes in realization as your cheeks flushed a deep red. You took your lips off the straw, stopping the indirect kiss. Mangetsu just glared at his brother. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

💄Mangetsu asked you out on a date. He took you to a quiet misty forest for a picnic. It was way more romantic than the ones you had with Gaara, Neji, and Omoi.

💄Your dear Mama Mizukage was over the moon when you told her about the date. “Has my baby found a husband from the Hozuki Family? I’m so happy for you, Sweetheart!”

💄”Mommy, we’re not getting married!” You say. Mei glared at you. “Nonsense! No daughter of mine will grow up to be an old maid! I’ll make arrangements immediately!”

💄Mei did just that. Mangetsu was officially your fiancé. He was ecstatic to have your hand in marriage. Men around the world went crazy as they were disappointed that none of them would have a chance to be with you. At the very least, you were happy. Mangetsu was always charming.

💄On top of everything, Mangetsu was just appointed as the newest member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, so he was closely by your side. He insisted to be the only one worthy of guarding you from now on.

💄Everything was happening so fast. Mei even started planning the wedding that you would have in a few years. Mangetsu was kind to take things slow with you.

💄He was there for you when you least expected it, like the one time he killed some thugs who were attempting your life while you were taking a bath. You were surprised when Mangetsu asked to join you.

💄”Don’t be shy. We’re going to be married anyway,” Mangetsu said as he started removing his clothes. He then joined you in the tub and even offered to wash your back. You let him.

💄You sighed blissfully as you felt the suds massage you. You moaned when Mangetsu reached his hands in front of you to wash your breasts. “M-Mangetsu…” you moaned.

💄He brought his lips to your ear. “When we’re married, I’ll wash you like this every night if you’d like…” he whispers huskily. You hummed in delight. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Mangetsu smiled. “I can’t wait to marry you!” You blushed when he brought his soft lips to your neck, lightly grazing it with his sharp teeth.

💄You and Mangetsu said your goodbyes afterwards. You walked in your room in just a towel and to your surprise you saw Suigetsu. He had broken into your room.

💄Suigetsu backs you into a wall and puts a hand under your chin. “I wanna marry you. Don’t pick my brother. Choose me,” he smiles.

💄Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel smittened. The fact that he broke into your room to propose alone was really hot.

💄Suigetsu leaned in close and stole your first kiss right then and there. He sunk his sharp teeth into your lip before soothing it with a slow and hot kiss to lick the blood away.

💄Your knees started to give out after the kiss. Suigetsu caught you before you fell to the bed. Your towel started to slip off but he grabbed it just in time.

💄”Stay away from my wife!” You heard. You both turned seeing Mangetsu at the door. He glared daggers at his brother. Suigetsu glared back. “She deserves better! Y/N’s mine!”

💄A fight broke out between the two brothers which resulted in your room to become wet. Mei heard all the commotion and entered the room, before telling both brothers to leave.

💄Mei races over to you, using a rag to wipe the splashed water off your face. “Are you okay, baby? Did it hurt? Are you pregnant?”

💄You stared at your mother in bewilderment as you blushed. “Mom! We didn’t have…we didn’t do anything! Sheesh are you trying to be a grandma?”

💄Mei’s eyes darkened as she deadpanned. “You mean…an old maid?” You sighed before you took time to comfort your mother.

💄Mangetsu had died one day on a mission. Suigetsu was there for you. The next thing you knew, you were engaged to him as your mother had made arrangements.

💄Suigetsu was overjoyed that he would be the one to marry you.

💄Dating him was a rollercoaster. Suigetsu paraded you around the village, with his hand on your ass. He wanted everyone to know who was gonna be your new man.

💄Suigetsu snuck into your room one night and jumped in the bed with you, before taking your innocence away. He was such an aggressive lover and you liked it.

💄”That was fun, right?” He asked afterwards. You giggled and blushed under the covers. Suigetsu held you close and gave you little nibbles and kisses. The two of you continued to cuddle in bed as Suigetsu talked about his dreams of taking all the swords and his future marriage with you.

💄He slept with you a lot after that. Despite the fact that you were both still young, Suigetsu was hoping to paint you with his seed and get you pregnant. Whatever it took to further solidify your engagement.

💄Mei always had pregnancy tests waiting for you after your sessions. It was really embarrassing as Suigetsu was always loud in bed.

💄The hurricane of a romance eventually came to an end when Suigetsu was captured by Orochimaru. You searched far and wide but you couldn’t find him. You were left heartbroken and lonely once more.

💄Mei was just as depressed as you. “Is there anyone who will marry my baby?” You hated seeing your mom all depressed.

💄”Why are you so concerned about rushing me into marriage, mommy?” You asked. “I don’t want you to be a lonely old maid….like me…” Mei saddened as tears welled up in her eyes.

💄You sighed before taking her hands in yours. “Mommy, you’re not an old maid. And marriage isn’t the key to happiness. You gotta find happiness on your own. And well if anything, at least we have each other right?”

💄Tears spilled from Mei’s eyes as she pulled you close for a hug. “Oh Sweetheart, you’re right…I’ve pushed you too far. I’m so sorry!” You rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

💄You pulled away from her and smiled. “You’ve been working so tirelessly. Why don’t you take time off of work? Let’s spend time together, just you and me, okay?” Mei smiled and nodded. “Alright, dear. If that will make you happy.”

💄You spent several days with Mei for a much needed mother daughter session. You did each other’s hair and nails and went shopping for makeup.

💄”You’re beautiful, baby,” Mei told you after you finished applying lipgloss. You smiled. “Thanks mommy.”

💄You were giddy with joy when Mei bought you a designer Vertachi bag. The smile on your face brought warmth to Mei’s heart. She gave you a signature forehead kisses, making you blush.

💄Later that night, you and Mei dressed up in your sleepwear. You brushed Mei’s hair. It was so long and pretty. After she did the same to you, you both went to her bed and chatted for a bit.

💄Mei gave you a sly smirk. “So tell me…how’s Suigetsu at night?” Your face flushes. “MOM!” Mei chuckled as you hurled a pillow at her.

💄After awhile you both turn out the lights. You slept close to Mei so that she wouldn’t feel lonely. “Good night, mom! I love you.” Mei smiled, a tear left her eye which soaked her pillow. She may not have been married, but at least she still had her daughters love. “I love you too, Y/N,” she said. She pulled you in close and you both fell asleep.

PART 2

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fairy-verse · 6 months

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I don't know if my inbox just straight up ate this ask, or if I accidentally deleted it, but luckily I'm smart and save all the questions in a word document when I answer them, so hah! I still got it.

If you want more in-depth descriptions of the different races, then please send individual asks for them.

evethepoptwist asked:

What do season fairies work for like what do they harvesting for, what do they make for their own little inventions and crafts, or how do they take care of animals by their own ways, depending on each seasons other than singing, dancing, laughter, etc. And can you tell us more about trolls, flower people, and mushroom people, and what do they do for the living? Since we barely know these guys other than talking so much about season fairies and the big folks

It is important to remember that the fairies mostly just create and work for the fun of it. Once they’ve made anything they require to survive for the seasons they do not belong to, then they’re free to just craft and create things that they love. They will harvest whatever food they can find within their respective season, and oftentimes trade with each other should they desire anything that belongs to the other seasons.

The animals care for themselves, but some fairies will take extra care in aiding them through life to ensure their survival, though it all depends on how much they love said animal. Most of the time, they will simply flutter around them and bring them as much luck as possible. Fairies possess an extra amount of luck compared to other beings, after all!

The trolls are night-dwelling creatures that hide in caves, holes, and makeshift homes that they create out of fallen trees, moss, sticks, and mud. Sunlight will turn them to stone, which is a painful process that cannot be undone. They prefer deer, moose, and rabbits as food, but have acquired a taste for humans, too. Fairies are mostly seen as tasty sweets to them. They have been known to create clothes and weapons, and they can speak to each other, though this is through grunts and growls. Most of the time, they fight amongst themselves and prefer solitude to companionship.

The flower people were born from the magic of the Luna tree on the Isle of Luna, and from said tree, they are granted immortality. They rarely leave the island, as what often happens to those that do so, is that they fall in love and will inevitably be cursed with heartache for eternity. They are the same size as fairies, and legend has it that they’re all blessed with the ability to communicate and manipulate the nature around them. No one fully knows what they do on the island, as no one has been able to cross the mist surrounding it.

The mushroom people are essentially just mushrooms with stumpy legs and arms that wander the forest floors. They will squeak, though no one yet knows if this is a form of communication or not. Sometimes, they may sit for hours and days without doing anything. They are popular pets among the fairies, especially the spring and autumn fairies.

There are also:

The Stonemen will appear as boulders, rubble, and mountains when asleep. The sleeping sisters are believed to be Stonemen who fell into a deep slumber many hundred years ago, and some think they will cause havoc once they awake again. This theory hasn’t yet been confirmed. Stonemen in general are peaceful and stationary, though when awake, they have been observed to find pleasure in watching fairies play together.

The small people/monsters look just like the big folk, only the size of fairies. They live in holed out trees and tiny houses on the forest floor. There are not that many of them on Fairy Island, as they’re not native there. They’ll live simple lives, preparing for winter, sewing clothes, creating fun projects they can play with, and sometimes even trading with fairies.

Gnomes are odd winter creatures that have their eyes hidden by pointy hats in the colour of either, red, blue, or green. They live in holes in the ground, though said homes look very cozy, often with a fireplace, a place for a kitchen, a big bed for the whole family, and such. They only come out once the snow lays thickly on the ground, and then they’ll collect sticks, frozen berries, and other trinkets they can find on the ground. Very little is known about them, though they’ll sometimes trade with the winter fairies.

Monster fairies can often be found close to Big Folk villages, and sometimes even in them. They like to settle within their attics for warmth, though there are still those who prefer to live in the forest away from them. Most can be found in Willoway Forest, though there are those who live in the Singing and Kval hills. They often steal food and clothes from the Big Folk. These fairies are the ones that look like variants of Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore, Temmie, esc…

Human fairies/Fae are in small numbers and can only be found within Ink’s domain, as he is the father of their race. They have blacked-out eyes and silvery blue wings, and they should never, under any circumstance, be trusted to make a deal with. Luckily, it’s difficult and extremely rare to ever meet with any of them.

#aufairyverse #utmv #ask for the fairy #general fairy info #either my askbox ate this or i accidentally deleted it #either way here you go!

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amberizedcasey · 6 months

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pac wakes up in a field of blue flowers, forget-me-nots, he remembers cellbit telling him about them, they mean maily remembrance, but there is also a myth of a man falling in a river and being dragged by the riptide while trying to gather flowers for his loved one

he quirks a smile, who would of thought that the same man who was once called a beast would have such a passion for things as fragile as flowers? he surely didn’t, but he is happy that he did

he gets up, his fingers touch the grass below him, they are quite wet, like it had rain in the night, he doesn't remember falling asleep there, his base in the purgatory was in a cave

his base in the purgatory wasn't anywhere near a field of forget-me-nots, no, there wasn't even a flower field anywhere in the purgatory or in quesadilla island

forget-me-nots meant remembrance, they are a simbol of what remains, a way to keep the memory of the ones that are not here anymore

that's what he was, right? not here, not alive

pac was dead

but he didn't felt dead

he felt free, he felt sad, a kind of sadness that he knew quite well, saudades, he didn't knew exactly what he missed, he didn't knew for how long he had being dead, for a start he didn't even knew how he died, at least he didn't felt pain, not that some could feel pain after being dead, but he hoped that he at least went peacifully

he once wish to die holding richas in one hand and fit on the other

he felt a bitter felling on his cheast that things may not have gone this way

luckly he didn't have much time to delve in his sorrow, no, he was busy trying to understand what had jumped on top of him

"PAI"

saying that he was frozen in place would be a euphemism, he was not even breathing, and for some reason he still felt light headed for not doing so even after being dead

"Richas, come on, filho, we don't want to kill him twice"

he heard some one slapping the person who spoke, but he could care less when his son was finally in his arms, holding him tight like he was going to escape

"He is not leaving anywhere, you know that, right?"

he opened his eyes, when had he closed them? he looked up to the face of the man he once called brother, his soulmate, his other half, mike

he tried to speak but only sobs left his mouth, mike was there, not bug eyes, not black cloth, no murderous intentions, just good old mike, still a litlle weird and insane, but he was his mike, and he was there, with him, and he wouldn't leave him, not anymore

he rushed to hug him, keeping richas between them, making a little dragon sandwhich, the kid laugh, oh how he missed his laugh, he laugh too, he cried and laugh, it was a cacophony of sounds, he felt more people joining in the hug, felps, forever, cellbit, they were all there, wet faces and red noses

they stayed like this for a while, tangled legs and arms, a pile of bodies laying in the field just like the old times when they were still living in the favelas on their first days on the island

the old times, they were so far away now, everything was, his memories were staring to get blurry, the good and the bads, but the mist important ones stayed, he remembers mike with a broken glass, he remembers looking at the stars on the roof of the orphanage, he remembers the breaze of fresh air once they escaped the prison, he remembers their adventures in the labs, he remembers the boat, he remembers his son first smile, he remembers the hide and seek games, he remembers giving fit a rose, he remembers

they eventually leave the ground and start walking through the field

he sees others faces, he sees baghera, he sees jaiden and carre, he sees foolish and tina, he sees mouse

he sees the eggs, the old ones and the ones he knew, he sees trumpet finaly in his dads arms, he sees bobby with his mom, he sees juanna and her dad, he sees tilin and their dad, he sees talluah and her dad, he sees leo with her dad, he sees chayanne with his dad, he sees dapper and pomme with their mom, he sees ramon with.. he sees ramon, and ramon sees him, he rushes to him, and he holds him

fit was alive, he thanks the gods for that, but he also wish he was here with them, he knows that this is very selfish of him, but no one can blame him for that, not when most of them wish for the same

for some time he stays there in the flower field, just hugging and crying, he cries so much, he doesn't even care, he doesn't think he ever cried that much, he doesn't know how much time he spent there, hughing his two kids, they where supposed to be two, he was supposed to have two

he had now

time passes diferent when you are dead, he knows that because he sees old friends faces and they say that they didn’t wait long for him, he knows that he will see the people he lost soon, so for now he will wait

he will lay on the field of forget-me-nots, he will hold his sons hands, he will lay his head on the lap of his best friend, and he will wait, that is all he can do now, and he is okay with that

#qsmp #pac #favela five #for now #bagi will die eventually #thats a crazy sentence #but yk what i mean

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startanewdream · 1 year

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#6 - DANCE, for @hinnymicrofic

Is this a canon missing moment? Possibily not, but bear with me.

The Burrow was eerily silent as Harry walked down. He wasn’t really paying attention, but as he passed in front of the bathroom on the second floor, the smell of flowers overwhelmed him; the door of the bathroom was ajar, showing the remains of the mist inside, and he knew that Ginny had just taken a bath.

The memory of everything they had shared that day — his birthday kiss — popped up in his mind, almost as if that hadn’t been the reason why sleep eluded him; his creative mind kept insisting in showing scenarios of what might have been if they hadn’t been interrupted—

Stop that, he told himself severely. They had broken up for a reason and that kiss — and everything else he wished they had done — would not change it.

He forced himself to keep walking down, and avoided looking in the direction of her room as he passed the first landing, even though he could see the light was up. But when he reached the kitchen, he realised that all his effort was for nothing; Ginny was there, mumbling to herself as she went around to finish a tea for herself.

For a moment, he just stared at her profile, at her face lit by the lights of the stove: the blue and red flames cast shadows over her face, made the brown of her eyes shine warmly, highlighted how gorgeous she was, standing there in her slightly too short nightgown, her wet hair combed in a quick braid. He could stay there and look at her forever, without tiring, but the minute that Ginny’s head turned to him, Harry looked away.

There was a moment of silence; he could still feel the feel of her lips against his.

“Do you want some tea?” She asked calmly, and once again Harry envied how she could pretend nothing had happened earlier that day.

“Sure,” he agreed, sitting on the other side of the table while she served two cups. “Thanks.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“I could use that.”

“Bad dreams?” She asked, with a sympathetic look that Harry couldn’t face.

“No, I—” I dream about you. “Just everything.”

“I know.” He didn't doubt that she knew. “I—”

But her voice shutted down as they heard the sound of boards creaking somewhere in the house, then a door being shut quietly.

Harry felt guilty at once; he promised to stay away—

“Don’t worry,” Ginny told him as if she could read his mind. “This is just Bill, probably.” She was rolling her eyes. “Something tells me he doesn’t care about the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding.”

He flushed with the implication in her words; Ginny chuckled.

“Well,” Harry tried, “it’s not midnight yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“So it’s your birthday still,” she noted, and for a second their eyes met; Harry thought about her birthday gift, at that blissful moment they shared, and he wished there wasn't a table between them, that he could pull her closer and—

He looked away.

“How does it feel, being seventeen?”

Harry breathed slowly. “I thought it would be different, but honestly, other than this—” He flickered his wand, turning on the lights of the kitchen. “It’s the same. You’ll see next year.”

He intended to say it with a smile, but a strange melancholy took control of him. Next year. He didn’t know if he would be there for her seventeenth birthday, he wouldn’t share her joy with silly spells, he wouldn’t give her a birthday kiss—

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she said, her voice bright even though her hands were gripping the cup tensely. “Fred and George won’t know what hit them.” He laughed, letting her words dissipate his worries. She rested her cup on the table. “I should go—I have to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow. Perks of being the maid of honour.”

“Why?”

“I have to look presentable—Merlin knows it's pointless, between Fleur and Bill this wedding will already exceed the quota of beautiful people—”

“You are beautiful,” he said without thinking, and even after he did think about it, Harry didn’t want to take his words back, feeling bold even as his heart was racing in his chest. Ginny hesitated for a moment, then she seemed to dismiss his words.

“That’s just makeup,” she said calmly. “You will wear one as well, cousin Barny.” She took a deep breath. “Save me a dance, will you?”

“I—I can’t.”

Her eyes betrayed her annoyance. “No one will know—”

“I will know. And this… this is hard enough without—” Without being close to you, Harry thought. Without sharing a dance with you fearing all the time that I won’t share anything else. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I—” Ginny forced a smile on her face; Harry hated it—they had shared too many happy, beautiful, truthful smiles before. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. “But there will be other dances.” And when Harry opened his mouth to remember that he couldn’t make any promises, her eyes blazed with defiance. “There will be, Harry.” She left no room for argument. “Good night.”

“Night,” he replied belatedly, watching her go away.

#Hinny #Hinny Microfic #Is this a DH missing moment?#Sort of

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somethingclevermahogony · 9 days

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Character Interaction Tag

Thank you for the tag (x2) @illarian-rambling , to keep this simple I'll just use one of my OCs. Posting this again because I accidentally posted before I finished.

Rules: post the OCs of the people who tagged you and one of your OCs and say how yours would interact with theirs

Katie's OC #1: Ivander Montane is a 30 year old corrupt detective from the trade city of Unity. He has blue blood and double-pointed ears, wears fancy suits, and walks with a cane. His estranged family runs the banks of Unity, however he left them years ago, and in doing so, broke a divine contract, which left him cursed to slowly and painfully be transmuted into mist over the course of many years. Personality-wise, he's kind of a privileged shithead. He's got the catty attitude and love of gossip of a middle school girl, and can insult your outfit just as acutely. He doesn't have a sincere bone in his body and is afraid of any form of intimacy. However, deep down, he really just wants a friend and to not be in pain anymore. Show him the slightest hint of compassion and he will crumble. His hobbies include being a hater, fashion, and marksmanship (he's a crack shot with a rune rifle). All in all, he's got the snark of a drag queen, the heart of a lonely noir detective, and a body that's been through a cheese grater.

Katie's OC #2: Djek Kagura is a young man (19 in the first book, 23 in the second two) with a shifty appearance, red eyes, and a constant squint due to poor vision. He grew up on the streets after his parents tossed him out to cut down on mouths to feed, only to later join the brutal Tunnel Wasp smuggling gang, which he later split from due to his aversion to violence and need to do what's right. As a person, he's always quick with a joke or snide comment, loves sarcasm, and lies like a fish breathes water. His bad habit is that he loves to annoy people on purpose. At his core is a deep sense of self-loathing and abandonment issues, but he covers these with humor. He tends to try to find peaceful solutions to situations and has a bit of a bleeding heart, even if he pretends to be tough. His friends mean the world to him and he's loyal to the point getting himself hurt in fights he can't win. Also, he's surprisingly in touch with people's emotions and always trys to make them feel better, even he does it with a bad joke or by irritating them to action. He has a weak form of sorcery, specializes in shadow magic, and has incorrigibly sticky fingers.

My OC: (As of the start of Book 1) Narul is a 23 year-old slave at the Palace of Labisa, the Great City by the Lake. He is a forestfolk, a person or group of people who have been mutated or altered by the effects of wild or ambient magic. His birth mother was a priestess, his father is a mystery. He was adopted by an enslaved woman as an infant, thus how he ended up in the servitude of King Hutbari. He is a giant of a man, literally, at just a hair under nine feet tall. He is additionally quite bulky, much much larger than even the biggest human. He is so large that the door into the slave quarters had to be reconstructed just to fit him as he grew up. Aside from his size he is also just a bit rough in appearance, hairy and broad, picture a DnD Dwarf, just sized way up.

He is inhumanly strong, a fact that causes him a great deal of distress. Because of his size and strength, Narul has the potential to be quite dangerous to normal humans, as he has been repeatedly reminded of since his childhood. Narul has a great deal of anxiety around his body and his potential to accidently hurt others, as such he is quite timid and careful. He has a tendency to mumble when he talks, which unfortunately due to his low voice, often makes it sound like he is growling.He is a gentle person, he likes flowers and abhors violence. He cries relatively easily and gets easily anxious or overwhelmed.Despite all of this he is fiercely loyal and kind. He doesn’t talk much but loves to listen to others.

His fatal flaw is a healthy dose of self-doubt and self-loathing. Narul hates his body, it scares him, and he believes that it scares others. He is often self-deprecating, though not in a joking way. He feels an intense jealousy towards those around him that are able to live normal lives and pursue normal relationships.

How they would interact: Ivander’s propensity for expensive clothes, his snarky attitude, and his privileged attitude is something that Narul is fairly used to, Ivander would fit in well with Labisian Nobility. Upon first being introduced, I imagine that Narul would be polite but ultimately not particularly interested in interacting with Ivander as a person. However, I think upon realizing that Ivander is having his own issues with his body (that pesky mist curse), Narul would begin to empathize. In a funny way, I think Ivander’s cocky exterior and his hidden longing for a friend would remind Narul of Ninma, and even though Ivander is older, I think some of Narul’s fatherly instincts would kick in.

Narul would get along fine with Djek. Personality-wise, Djek seems very similar to Narul’s adopted brother and best-friend, Suru. Both are witty, sarcastic, and quick to make a joke. The big difference between Suru and Djek is that Suru doesn’t have that sense of self-loathing. Suru is quite aware of his flaws and is happy with who he is, even if he isn’t happy with his situation (also Suru is a scrawny guy, with 0 magic and 0 fighting skills, Suru couldn’t hurt a fly not from want of trying, but because in a fight the fly would probably win.) Narul would enjoy having Djek around, so long as Djek didn’t pick on him too much. Narul would eventually try to help with that self-loathing, though with how awkward Narul is, and how deeply his own sense of self-loathing is, it seems doubtful how much he could actually help.

Tagging @roach-pizza , @mk-writes-stuff , @dyrewrites , @finickyfelix , and @kaylinalexanderbooks

#testamentsofthegreensea #writeblr #writing #fantasy writing #narul #oc #oc interaction #tag game

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

Text

"Cut!" | "Encore!"

a second part of "Cut" where it's the Others helping Roman figure out what's real and what isn't? Like a look into what continued support for Roman would look like. Maybe some creativitwins moments? – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, not being able to tell what's real

Pairings: none? platonic dlampr? romantic dlampr? literally who knows not me

Word Count: 4839

After finding out that Roman's been having such a rough time, the others rally around him for Act 2.

After learning that Roman had, apparently, invented one of the most sophisticated psychological torture methods Remus has ever seen without even consulting him, and using it on himself, Remus decides that no, Roman doesn’t get to pretend he’s okay for a little bit.

And if that means he has to politely bully Roman into taking care of himself, then that’s what he’s gonna do.

“Come on,” he coaxes, throwing Roman’s favorite red rain jacket at him, “let’s go pick some mushrooms.”

“Re, it’s fine, I don’t have to—“

“A-bup-bup!” Remus holds up a finger. “No protesting, or else I’ll sic Ollie on you and tell him you’re worried.”

Which would lead to the Kraken cuddling Roman for the next week or so. All in all, not a bad thing, but judging by how much the thought of it is making Roman cringe, a good enough threat to make him shrug on the jacket and pull on his boots.

Remus pushes the door to the Imagination open to reveal part of their shared forest, a mossy path twisting into the foggy depths of the trees. The door shuts and vanishes with a slight hum as they start to walk, the soft crunch-crunch of their footsteps accompanied by noises that might be echoes of their own movement, might not. Every so often a shadow will pass through the mist, some large and hulking, others too quick to name. Large moss-covered boulders periodically loom out of the shadows, marking their path.

Roman’s red coat dulls and grows more vibrant in equal measure, almost looking like a bloodstain in the midst of the dark green forest. He shifts to walk a little closer to Remus, their shoulders brushing. It makes the grotesque little spark in the base of Remus’s chest burn just a little brighter; Roman’s still that brave boy that needs to know his brother is right next to him after all.

Maybe it makes Remus reach out and take Roman’s hand. Maybe.

As they move deeper and deeper into the mist, a shadow covers their path, almost swallowing them. They turn as a hulking wolf melts from the mist, a soft growl greeting them as two puffs of air leave its nostrils. Roman smiles softly, reaching up with his free hand. The wolf rumbles again, leaning down to touch its nose delicately to his fingertips.

“He missed you,” Remus says quietly, “and all your fairytale shit.”

“I’ve missed him too.”

The wolf huffs, sounding almost like a laugh, as he nudges the both of them onwards. Up ahead, in between the trees, lies a small clearing. As they pass underneath the wooden ceiling, sets of mushrooms greet them with an almost unnaturally blue bioluminescence. These are the ones Remus uses to feed the baby implings, and Roman to make some of the more complicated healing stuff. The wolf sits on his haunches as Roman produces two baskets, handing one to Remus as he starts harvesting some of the larger mushrooms.

“Hey, Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus toys with a leaf between his fingernails. “Why’d you start doing that?”

There’s a rustle as Roman pauses, sitting back on his heels. A quick glance over shows that he’s fiddling with a small purple flower. Behind them, the wolf sighs, putting his head on his front paws.

“It was easier,” he says eventually, “than trying to figure out what to do in the moment. I could try it as many times as I wanted to figure out what was right.”

“But that’s not what we would do.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, it kind of was. Not you, necessarily, but the others? I had them down perfectly for a while.”

“…Ro…”

The wolf stretches his neck out to take the very edge of Roman’s hood delicately between his teeth. Roman lets him tug him to standing, then over to his side. Remus gets up too, coming to sit between the wolf’s paws as he scents Roman’s hair.

“You smell sad, apparently.”

Roman pats the wolf’s cheek. “It’s fine, really. I just pushed myself too hard.”

”You were torturing yourself.”

“That’s exaggerating it, Remus—“

“You were subjecting yourself to horrible experiences for no reason,” Remus says bluntly, “aside from being fucking stupid, that’s torturing yourself.”

The wolf snuffles in agreement, all but making Roman sit down in the cradle of its front legs. Roman goes and Remus has the oddly entertaining thought of Little Red Riding Hood where the wolf and the grandmother are one and the same.

”It just worked,” Roman says eventually, still holding the flower, “it worked, okay?”

“Until it didn’t.”

Roman sighs and the flower falls to the ground. “Until it didn’t.”

The wolf noses at Roman’s hair. There’s a quiet rumble as he makes himself comfortable, curling more closely around the two of them. Remus takes the hint and shuffles close enough to pull his brother into his arms.

“Don’t do it anymore,” he mumbles, “come here, or something?”

“…I’ll try.”

The wolf growls at the mists until they part, the grove of mushrooms glowing faintly in the heart of the forest.

***

Patton finds Roman curled up in the living room, nursing a cup of tea.

He’s been thinking a lot about what’s been going on recently, and at how much Roman had been bracing to get hurt every time something went wrong. With this in mind, he goes into the kitchen and takes out Roman’s favorite candy before walking over.

”Roman?”

Roman’s head jerks around. “Patton?”

Patton holds out the candy. Roman’s eyes widen for a moment and he sees his fingers twitch, before he looks back up.

“Is something wrong?”

A pang ripples through Patton’s chest but he forces himself not to wince. “No, kiddo, nothing’s wrong. I just thought you might want some candy.”

“O-oh.” Roman reaches out slowly, as if he’s waiting for the catch. When nothing comes, he takes it and tucks it safely into his lap. “Thanks.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“…sure.”

He half expects Janus to pop up. When he doesn’t, he takes a deep breath and sits on the other edge of the couch, looking at Roman out of the corner of his eye. Roman shifts a few times, clearly aware of his scrutiny, but he doesn’t say anything.

The clock ticks.

“Patton?”

“Yeah?”

“When…when we baked together last, what did we make?”

Patton frowns. “Last time…I believe the last time was chocolate chip cookies. For movie night.”

“Movie night, right.” Roman nods to himself a few times. “Thank you.”

“Would…would that be helpful?” He can’t help but push. “If I told you what else I remembered?”

“Not—maybe not right now, but if I need to ask you?”

“I can do that.”

They lapse into silence again. Patton tries not to stare too obviously at him. After a few long seconds, however, the words well up on the tip of his tongue and he can’t help it.

“Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“Can…I have a question for you.”

Roman shifts, turning to face him, the cup and candy balanced in his lap, almost out of sight. “What is it?”

“You seem…you seem like you’re afraid of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, probably to instinctively deny it, but he seems to remember that Janus can and will use that as an excuse to appear and smother him, so he closes it after a moment. Patton’s hands bunch and unbunch in the fabric of his pants. Roman looks away, his jaw working. His hand twitches on his cup again.

“It’s not that I’m scared of you,” he says finally, still not looking at him, “it’s…it’s more like I’m just…bracing.”

“For what?”

He winces again. “I’m—you know.”

“I don’t. Sorry,” he says when Roman flinches again, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be short with you, I just want to know.”

“You’re always short,” Roman mumbles, sighing a moment later. “It just hurts sometimes when I’m talking to you and I don’t want it to hurt. But I know that’s not your fault and I’m not saying it is, I know that’s something I need to work on, I’m not blaming you—“

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Patton interrupts with a hand on his shoulder, “shh, it’s okay.”

Roman hesitates for a long moment before leaning into it. His chest flutters.

“I’m sorry it hurts,” he says instead, “is there…is there anything I can do to make it hurt less?”

”Not really. I just have to unlearn the whole…” He waves his hand in a way that’s probably supposed to indicate the Imagination. “That thing first. The, um, the reality checks are helpful though.”

“I’m glad.”

They go back to silence again, but Roman breaks it first this time. “Can—is that why you came down here?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

“How did you know I was here?”

Oh. Well, that’s an easy one. “It’s sunny outside and you finished your project yesterday. I knew you’d want to be down here to enjoy the warmth.”

Surprise and relief flicker across his face and a small smile forms. “You…really remember all that?”

“Roman, you’re one of my special little kiddos, of course I remember. Aww,” he coos when Roman’s face starts to turn pink, “you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s okay!”

“Don’t do that, Padre.”

“Don’t do what?”

“No, no, no, that’s a trap, I know a trap when I see one. No, thank you.”

Patton giggles, shifting a little closer on the couch to lean against Roman’s side. The sunlight really does feel nice, not too hot, not too bright. His eyes drift closed, just enjoying the warmth of it.

After a moment, he hears the crinkle of candy wrappers and smiles.

***

Virgil finds Roman in his room, sitting on his bed and looking too sad, and decides nope, it’s cuddle time.

Roman barely puts up a fight, which means it’s really cuddle time if Princey can’t even muster up a half-hearted protest, and soon they’re wrapped up in blankets with just the top of their heads poking out. Virgil hauls him up until he’s tucked under his chin, running his hands up and down his back as Roman stares off into nothingness. Every so often, a tremor will run through him, and he has to soothe it away before that little friendly face comes back.

“Hey,” he mumbles when Roman starts to glare at his desk instead of just looking at it, “hey, hey, Princey. You stay with me, okay? Don’t chase the mean thought rabbits.”

Roman hums something back, rubbing his cheek absent-mindedly against Virgil’s chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

As soon as it comes out of his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to have said. Roman tenses up and almost pulls away, growing somehow bigger and smaller at the same time. Virgil has to warp his arms tightly around him a squeeze to even get him to relax.

“We don’t have to talk,” he says as quickly as possible, “that’s fine. We can just lie here. I’m not gonna leave, you’re okay, you’re okay, Princey, calm down.”

It takes way, way too long to get Roman back from whatever brink that question pushed him to, to the point where Virgil’s rolling them over so he can squish Roman into the mattress. Only then does he finally lose that wide-eyed thing, sagging into the plush mound of blankets and leaning into Virgil’s touch.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Princey, it’s my fault for asking that in the first place.” He leans down to rest their foreheads against each other. “I won’t make you talk about it, I promise.”

“‘S stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

Roman jerks his head. “That. That whole thing.”

“Why was it stupid?”

“You didn’t even do anything.”

Virgil sighs, shifting to prop himself up so they can talk properly. “As the Mindscape’s resident expert on freaking out about nothing—“

Roman snorts.

“—you’re fine, Princey. You…you’ve been having a bad time recently, so it’s all good.”

”..thanks.”

“Can I—and you can say no, you can tell me to fuck off, you have blanket permission to react however you want to this, not that you need it—can I ask why that question freaked you out?”

He braces himself for Roman to do anything from have a panic attack to hit him in the face—fair, honestly—but Roman just sighs, curling up in the lea of him. It’s…well, it’s kind of devastating.

“That’s the loneliest time.”

He frowns. “What’s the loneliest time?”

”Right before you tell someone what you did wrong.” Roman looks up at him. “Because they’re all concerned you’re upset, and then they hear why you’re upset, and then they don’t want to comfort you anymore.”

Maybe it’s because Princey’s unfairly good at describing things, or maybe it’s because Virgil’s paying attention to his emotional state right now, but he can feel the thing that Roman’s talking about. That cold swoop deep in his gut, the awful anticipation where you just know that they’re going to be mad or disappointed. The switch from having someone speak to you softly, that it’s alright, they’re here to help, it’s okay, to the cold as they pull away, as their voice hardens and their words grow sharper. How they’re going to tell you that you shouldn’t be upset, or that you deserve to feel bad, but you should focus on fixing your mistakes instead of letting you be hurt because you need to be.

Before he loses himself in the spiral of nasty brain feelings, he gives himself a small shake and hugs Roman tighter.

“You don’t need to be lonely right now,” he mumbles, “I’m right here. I’m right here, see? I’m not asking you what’s wrong, I’m not gonna be mad or disappointed, I don’t care. I care that you’re upset and you’re hurting and I want to help.”

Roman’s cold nose presses into the crook of his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Princey. If you gotta just sit with the hurt, I’ll sit with you.”

It takes a moment of shifting, but eventually Roman’s arms wind their way around Virigl’s waist and back. He squeezes. Virgil squeezes back. Some of the tension finally seems to bleed out of him, his eyes breaking from their stare to flutter closed.

“Oh, Princey,” he mumbles, half to himself, “you’re so tired.”

He makes sure the covers are pulled up around them and tucks Roman’s head against his. They’re probably not gonna be moving for a while.

***

Logan holds out a hand before Roman can pull out his usual notebook. “I thought we could try something a little different today.”

“Okay, what did you have in mind?”

Logan reaches into his binder and pulls out a thin sheaf of paper, annotated with red pen. “I’ve been looking at some of the comments recently, and I realized that I’m out of practice with performing close-readings of texts. So I thought that I could talk about my analysis of one of the works that you’ve done, and you could tell me how I did?”

Roman’s mouth falls open. He drops his pen. “You—you want to what?”

“I’ve fallen out of the habit of that sort of analysis, and I’d like to not lose it entirely, so—“

“Why mine?”

Logan blinks. “Well, aside from the fact that you are one of the only writers with whom I can directly communicate and receive feedback, you are adept at crafting well-written pieces that would serve as excellent examples on which to practice.”

“I—uh—um—“ Roman splutters for another moment. “I-if you want to?”

“Thank you. I’ve picked one of the shorter pieces from the collection you updated recently.”

”Oh. Uh, okay.”

”Would it be helpful for you to have a copy as well?” Roman nods and he passes over another copy. “That does have my notes on it if you’d like to read along.”

There’s a flicker of something in Roman’s expression as he takes in the sheer amount of red ink on the pages, but he steels himself and nods. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Excellent. Well, to begin with, I have to commend you on the efficacy of your opening line. It sets up the themes without being overt and it foreshadows the turning point that comes about two-thirds of the way through.” He moves down the page. “And the symbolism you’ve chosen really is masterful—taking the connotations of such well-known motifs and turning them on their heads, really incredible.”

“Uh—“

“I do have to ask: did you intend for the reading to be done multiple times? It’s habit for me; I find I develop greater appreciation for the writer’s craft upon a second read-through, but this one in particular, with the amount of parallels you’ve drawn begin the beginning and the end, it really does seem like—“

“Cut.”

Logan pauses, glancing up. Roman is staring at him, wide-eyed, his knuckles white on the edge of the table. The poor thing looks like he’s about to run away and Logan can’t stop himself from reaching for him.

“Cut,” Roman repeats, leaning away, “cut, cut!”

“Roman,” Logan says gently, “Roman, it’s me. It’s really me, I’m real.”

“But—but you’re being nice.”

Oh, Roman…

“N-not that you aren’t ever nice to me! You are nice,” Roman babbles, “you are, I just—I just meant that we’ve never done something like this before, and—and I just—I didn’t know—“

“Shh, shh,” Logan murmurs, trying to get his attention back, “can you look at me?”

Roman looks. Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he reaches over and takes Roman’s hands in his.

“Squeeze,” he bids lightly, “I’m here.”

Roman squeezes, an embarrassed flush coming to his face. Before he can apologize, Logan squeezes again.

“It’s okay. That was my error; I should have anticipated that you might react poorly to such a deviation from the norm. I didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s alright if it’s not.”

Roman swallows heavily. His gaze hasn’t left their hands. As Logan watches, his eyes start to grow damp.

“Oh, little one…”

“It’s fine,” Roman insists, freeing one of his hands to scrub roughly at his face, ”I’m just being dramatic.”

"You're dramatic a lot, I daresay we're used to it." His gentle tone undoes most of the bite in his words, but clearly not enough from the way the hand in his twitches. "You're real, I'm real, we're here at this table, that's all real."

There's a tremble to Roman's lower lip as he tries to take a deep breath and steady himself. Logan opens his hand again, waiting, until Roman slowly places it back in his. After another moment, he looks back up. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No," Logan says, firmer this time, "you are upset and rightfully so. You don't have to apologize for something upsetting you when you have no control over what will and will not trigger you."

"…okay."

"Are you alright to keep going? We can always stop if you'd rather do something else. I hear Remus has been working on his side of the castle, we could go walk around there instead."

"Is that okay?"

"Of course," he says, smoothly packing everything away, only for Roman to hold onto his copy of his story.

"Can I…keep this?" he asks, almost shyly. Logan smiles, ruffling his hair.

"Of course, little one. I'll be happy to talk about it whenever you like."

***

Janus opens the door, softening when he sees Roman standing there. "Hello, sweetie, what can I do for you?"

"I'm making a bad choice and I want you to know about it."

He blinks. Right to the point, then. "Do you want to come in?"

Roman nods sharply, stepping inside as Janus shuts the door carefully behind them. He doesn't move any further inside, lingering by the door, until Janus prompts him again. "I'm trying not to…do that thing again."

"That's good, I'm proud of you for that."

A quiet flinch. "In order to do that, I'm…writing it. Instead. Not it directly, but something—a vent thing to help deal with it."

"Alright, I think I understand."

"In order to do that, I have to…sit with it."

Janus frowns. "'It?'"

"The…bad stuff."

Ah. "I see. Are there other alternatives for—"

"I'm not here to help stop it," Roman interrupts, even as he braces for what he thinks will be a consequence for talking over him, "I'm here because—"

He cuts himself.

Something terribly sad strikes Janus then, as he looks at the little prince trying to summon his courage again: when was the last time they saw Roman chase what he wanted? Without fear, with reckless abandon, with the passion that they all came to associate with him?

Had it been before the wedding?

Before the callback?

When had Roman gotten to want?

"I'm writing to get it out of me," comes the mumble and Janus shakes himself out of his musing, "and when…when it's out of me…"

Oh.

"Come here when you're finished," Janus promises softly, "I'll look after you. We've been talking about doing makeup for a while now, I've got some stuff we can try."

Roman nods. His mouth twitches. And Janus can't help himself; he walks closer, reaching out to take Roman's hand in his. His gloves brush the familiar calluses, worn smooth from years and years of training, and he fits his fingers to the ones that feel the coldest. Roman's breath catches in his throat as he does, instinctively turning a little more.

"We can watch something too," he continues, still as though he's luring some skittish animal, "or just cuddle, if you want. I've missed one of my space heaters recently, you know Remus is much too squirmy."

Roman chokes out a laugh that's almost a sob. Janus squeezes his hand, daring to pull him closer. He wraps his other arm around Roman's shoulders, a sympathetic noise leaving him at the way Roman screws his eyes shut.

"We could go to the greenhouse too," he offers, and he sees Roman physically hold himself back from reaching out, "just sit there? The flowers are just starting to bloom, the cat that's found its way in there would be happy to have some cuddles."

"Stop," Roman croaks out, "I have to…I have to do it first."

"You don't have to be hurt to deserve comfort, sweetie."

"I think we both know that's not true."

Janus doesn't get a chance to address how devastating that sentence was before Roman's pulling away from his hold, mumbling a thanks, and walking into the hallway like a knight to a doomed battle. Janus watches him go for another second before he turns to the mirror over his dresser. He runs his finger carefully along the edge. Some of the gold flakes off onto his thumb and he turns it this way and that. Few of the bits retain any luster at all, let alone their original sheen.

Not for the first time, he feels a pang of regret for how he handled…everything. Especially with Roman. Remus accused him of using Roman's face as a launchpad to get himself in better standings with Thomas, and he didn't need to be Lord of the Lies to know that Remus was being as honest as they come. How much of Roman's disbelief of things was due to him? How badly did he shatter Roman's perception of reality that he felt the need to worsen it on his own? How could he have done things differently, what could he have done to avoid whatever this tenuous existence is they find themselves in now?

He gives himself a shake, dislodging the golden specks. There's no use dwelling on what's already been done. Roman has come to him to ask for help. That's more than he ever could have hoped for after all the two of them have been through. It's not up to him to determine what he could have done then, he has to focus on what he has to do now.

***

+1.

It's done.

It's done and it's out of him and he never has to think about any of it ever again and he closes his laptop and stuffs his phone into his pocket and stumbles out of his room in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants and he doesn't have to deal with the awful thoughts ricocheting around his head anymore and he's not going to the Imagination, he's not, he's not, he's not—

He almost doesn't realize he's made it to Janus's door until he's staring at it dumbly. He sees a hand lift up to knock on it—oh, that's his hand, he's knocking—and then the door's opening and there's Janus.

"Oh, sweetie," he hears faintly, "are you all done?

He nods and then he's being ushered into the soft dark room and there are gloved hands on his shoulders, guiding him gently over to the big overstuffed chair thing and Janus is tilting his chin up.

"Hey," he murmurs, and Roman blinks, "hi, sweetie. You look like you're in quite desperate need of a cuddle, is that true?"

He nods again, reaching up, only to let out a bewildered noise when Janus fully picks him up and carries him over to a bed of—oh, this must be where Janus keeps his heat lamp because all the pillows and blankets are soft and warm and it's like being put in the dryer in the best way possible. Janus chuckles when he mumbles something to that effect, lying down and wrapping all of his arms around him.

"Is that right, little prince? Are we putting you in the dryer so you can come out all clean?" He wipes a tear with his thumb, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Or are you going to be like Remus and fall asleep in the freshly clean laundry before I put it all away?"

"I heard lies and slander," Remus announces, appearing out of nowhere, only to coo at the sight of Roman reaching out for him. "Oh, hey, Roro, is it cuddle time?"

"Mhm."

"Remus," he hears Janus say, a little firmer, "I seem to recall a conversation about asking before we do things."

"I summoned him," Roman mumbles, "on accident, but he—I—"

"That's alright, then." Janus says, relaxing back into the pillows and scratching his fingers across Roman's scalp, "just wanted to make sure you were alright with it."

"Roro knows I'm the best at squishing people back into their meat sacks." There's a weight that he knows is Remus pressing carefully on his chest and legs, making him mumble sleepily. "You wanna take a nap?"

"…mm."

"You can fall asleep," Janus says softly, moving to lightly scratch his back, "I don't mind. You look like you could use it."

"That's rude, Janny, you saying he looks tired?"

"I'm saying that he's not been able to open his eyes since I picked him up."

Oh. That's true. Janus didn't turn the lights off, his eyes are just closed. But opening them sounds like work and everything is so soft and warm right now…

Wait.

Trying not to alert the others that he's awake, or that he's waking himself up, he rouses just enough to whisper cut.

Nothing happens. They don't fade, it doesn't get cold, nothing—nothing changes.

Then Janus lets out a quiet oh, sweetie, and Remus wraps his arms around his legs.

"We're real," Remus promises, "we're real and we're right here. Snakey has you, you're all good, we're all real."

"I'm right here," Janus murmurs, kissing his forehead—he wouldn't dare imagine that— "you're here with me, we're just having a nap, alright?"

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"Right here, Roro. We're not going anywhere."

There is such a strange feeling, Roman decides, about actually having the thing you dream about. You don't want to touch it, you don't want to ruin it by bringing into the reality you know. What if it decides it doesn't like it? What if it decides it doesn't like you? What do you do with a dream that wants nothing to do with you? Or worse, what if you do finally get your hands on it only to reveal that it was never worth dreaming about in the first place?

A hand gently tugs on his hair.

"You're thinking too much, sweetie." Lips brush his forehead. "Just close your eyes and rest. Let us take care of you."

"This is real," he can't help but mumble as Janus reaches out to turn off the lamp, "right?"

"Yes, sweetie, this is real."

From near the base of his ribs, he feels Remus nuzzle him. "Real as can be, Ro-bro. Now make with the shushy."

Roman dozes off in the warm pile of pillows and all he can think is encore.

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