#if I saw a bird like that in the wild I would cry I think
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just found out about the Cinnamon-headed green pigeon... holy shit how gorgeous
#holy christ#if I saw a bird like that in the wild I would cry I think#pigeons#Cinnamon-headed green pigeon#doves#columbidae#birds#colombar à cou roux#bee tries to talk#***#pigeon
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HEYOOO
so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying
Man he is so sweet
hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)
(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)
keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.
he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.
the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.
what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.
what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.
pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.
your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.
no, an instinctual feather did so.
you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.
there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.
“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.
sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.
no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.
“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.
keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.
your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.
“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.
keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.
you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.
“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.
he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.
keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.
“bad..” he gestured to himself.
“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.
soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.
you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.
kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”
keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.
but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.
the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.
your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.
it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.
#<3#tysm for the ask!!#i had a lot of fun with this one#finally writing after over a fortnight or so#back to uni work i go-#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami fluff#mha comfort#mha x gender neutral reader#my hero academia hawks#hawks my hero academia#hawks x gn reader#reverse comfort#keigo takami#boku no hero academia#mha hawks#takami keigo#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n
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Leo Valdez x child of Poseidon reader
Percy is your older brother, you came to camp a month after the war with Kronos and in that time you and Percy got really close
so obviously you were devastated when he went missing
you and annabeth are frantically searching for him in between days of on and off crying
One day she goes searching and you see other people with her you run up thinking one might be percy
its not. Three new demigods are standing in front of you
the first is TALL like skyscraper tall with blonde hair and blue eyes
the second a girl with choppy brown hair and changing eyes standing next to…a child?
At first you didn’t see the third person because he was on his knees panting
he looked like he just ran a 5k
he looked up and holy crap
he has curly brown hair that’s soaked from the lake, with the most beautiful brown eyes youve ever seen
you blush and look towards annabeth who looks at you questioningly
“I’m guessing you didn’t find him” you say solemnly “ no, I’m sorry” you nodded and started to walk back to cabin 3
you can’t stop thinking about the boy you saw
on the other side of things when Leo first saw you all his cheesy pock up line evaporated
he was at a lost for words as a beautiful girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes stared down at him
her face looked like she’d been crying and he had the urge to comfort her but he didn’t even know her name
he turned to annabeth and said “ who was that” she answered saying “ that’s y/n, Percy’s little sister, she’s been a mess since he disappeared
fast forward to after the tour and the claiming to the camp fire
you see the boy from before sitting with Hephaestus cabin so he must have gotten claimed
he looks up at you and you look away
when you look back he is walking towards you
he stops and says “ hi I’m Leo, but you can call me Super Sozed McShizzle”
that made you laugh which was the first time you had laughed in months
The rest goes as follows
“I’m y/n”
“ I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little sad, wanna talk about it”
”not really” you say getting up
you walk back towards your cabin
you didn’t mean to be rude but you felt like you were gonna cry again and you didn’t want to do that in front of everybody
you get back to your cabin and cry yourself to sleep
the next morning a knock wakes you up
when you answer there’s no one there but a rose is on your doormat along with a note
dear y/n I know your bummed about Percy and a little birds told me you like flowers you I took a wild guess at your favorite. - secret admire
you were stunned that anyone would do something so nice for you but the only thing you could think about was that they were probably still there
as a joke you say “ for reference f/f if my favorite flower”
you smile at the joke you made and go back inside
in truth you did feel a lot better now knowing someone cared
also how did he know you liked flowers?
switch perspective
leo had the grin of a mad man on his face
He gave y/n a rose and learned what her favorite flower was He felt like he was making progress at trying to talk with her
in truth he had no idea if she liked flowers or not he just went with it
ok I’m running out of room I’ll post part 2 on my profile comment anything you want to see
#leo valdez#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez fanfic#jason grace#piper mclean#heros of olympus#hoo#x reader fanfiction#child of poseidon#leo Valdez x child of Poseidon
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thinking of cicada lilly au and how tense things between "mr. moonlight" and "mr. sunshine" must have been in the beginning.
not only would they immediately recognize each other, but i can just imagine how they'd both be mentally freaking out the first time they saw each other. in an instant both of them are mentally screaming "what the fuck is he doing here!??" "holy shit he's alive!??"
and even after the truce incident things are still tense, less outright fighting, but a hell of a lot more awkward I'd bet. they're mostly talking about the kids they pseudo-adopted then themselves, but it's better than them fighting all the time. progress is progress, I suppose.
that is until how they found their respective kids comes up in conversation, and Wukong nearly has an aneurysm when he learns about Macaque getting tangled up with the bone demon and Bai He's "True Purpose"
referencing.
Oh def. At first the two "pets" were able to chalk their suspicions up to paranoia, but after one of them (likely bird!Wukong) witnessed the other un-glamour - it made things more overtly hostile.
Cus' like you said; "tf this guy doing here?!"
Especially from Wukong since in his memory, Macaque sorta died.
Even after their temporary truce to protect their respective "owners", they mentally weigh their options before getting chummy again.
Macaque in particular tries to leave entirelly one night, only to hear Bai He running around town yelling for Mr Moonlight for hours, tears and snot rolling down her face. He simply could not leave her knowing that he'd be depriving a lonely little girl her best friend and protector. Mr Moonlight calmly appears back at the restaurant's dining area that afternoon - pretending like nothing had happened. Bai He cried into his fur and held him tight, begging him never to scare her like that again. In his cat form he pretends Mr Sunshine doesn't exist.
Wukong considers flying away a few times just to get away from the awkwardness, but his successor is right here. And he's not entirely sure if can trust him alone with Macaque yet. So the bird occasionally screams into the certainly not-deaf cat's ears when he's feeling angry.
Eventually they do sit down on even terms to discuss what brought them to the same home.
Wukong: "Me first cus my kid is older."
Macaque: "Fair."
Wukong: "He's one of us."
Macaque: "...you're kidding me."
Wukong: "Yup! Nuwa made him directly and dumped him on me."
Macaque: "That's pretty wild... how come you didn't raise him yourself?"
Wukong, eyes sad: "I wasn't in a great place. All my friends were gone, our kingdom is non-existent, and I'm too much of a target to give the kid a normal life."
Macaque: "As normal as a stone monkey could get."
Wukong: "Yeah... so I sought out anyone from the old days that could give him a good childhood. And I found piglet's decendant."
Macaque: "What made you choose him?"
Wukong: "Honestly? Most of it was gut feeling. Then I saw him help calm down a toddler crying in the resturant and I just knew he'd raise MK well."
Macaque: "I suppose you weren't entirely wrong. He is a good father."
Wukong: "What about you? Why are you hanging around the little bug?"
Macaque, hesistating: "...I'm protecting her."
Wukong: "Why?"
Macaque, glares: "Wukong, hav eyou not considered Why I was able to come back to mortal world?"
Wukong: "I have, but what that has to do with Bai He?"
Macaque: "She's not a normal child either Wukong. Not us, but something else... When I was in Diyu, I was approached by someone offering my life in exchange for raising a baby girl to be their host when the time came."
Wukong, aghast: "You didn't."
Macaque: "I did. I accepted... but I sure as hell am not gonna let them get to her anytime soon. I sniffed out your old master's soul since I knew his power could protect her. Plus I saw him manage to wrangle MK and knew he could handle it."
Wukong: "So... what now? Are you just gonna pretend to be a cat for the rest of her life? Or are you going to tell her when this demon comes knocking at the door?"
Macaque: "I should ask you something similar. When is MK going to find out his cockatiel is the legendary Monkey King?"
Wukong: "We will learn one day soon. Just not right now."
Macaque: "You keep telling yourself that. And I'll keep to the tuna if it means the little bug stays safe."
Wukong: "Looks like we agree on one thing though."
Macaque: "And that is?"
Wukong: "We can't stand the thought of anything happening to them."
Macaque: "Hmm." *looks away and nods silently*
Note: this convo most definetely occurs on the roof of the restaurant building. Or else Pigsy would be smashing into the conversation with a broom thinking there's burgulars.
Macaque deliberately keeps it quiet on "who" he made the deal with cus he knows Wukong would freak if he knew it was the Bone Demon.
#cicada lily au#lmk aus#sun wukong#six eared macaque#liu er mihou#lmk bai he#lmk lbd's host#lmk#lego monkie kid
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I return with a short list of headcannons
Twilight has anemia. He is so pale despite being a farm boy and the only farm boy I knew who was as pale as him also had anemia. Give this boy some iron supplements pls.
You may think Wild and Hyrule are the problem children when together, but if you added Four it's as if you sent three overly hyper children into a candy store. Zero brain cells are to be found.
Every bird loves Sky. Every. Single. One. He has Disney princess vibes.
Warriors cannot sing for the life of him. You know Scuttle from the Little Mermaid? Thats what he sounds like.
Fairies love Hyrule and Time so much that it isn't uncommon to see the small balls of light attempt to "kidnap" them. (Which in reality is just them repeatedly hitting themselves against the two since they can't push them, and it's adorable.)
Time, in his youth, would starve himself since he was so used to eating very little. Malon threatened to throw a cow at him if he didn't start eating. Time hasn't starved himself since.
Wind believes babies come from storks and I will die on that hill.
Legend, despite what many others headcannon for him, is religious. I like to think that he doesn't worship Hylia, but Farore.
Twilight is also religious, but for the light spirits. I like to think that Ordon's religion is simular to our paganism.
All the Links (minus Legend and Wind) experienced horrible sea sickness when they first got on Tetra's boat.
Twilight has a prosthetic arm after his arm was cut off during his adventure. You know the "need a hand" joke? That's how he revealed his prosthetic to the chain. He threw his arm to Sky, causing the man to pass out out of shock and horror (since Skyloft hasn't made the medical advancements for prosthetics!)
Cats love the Links, even if Four is deathly afraid of them. It's because the remlets loved Sky back when they existed.
Thanks for sharing these I had fun reading them!! I’m sorry it took me so long to respond to ur ask, I wanted to make sure I had enough time to read through all of them and respond :)
- Oooh Twilight with anemia is interesting. I personally headcanon that Twilight has one of the darkest skin tones of the bunch, along with Sky and Hyrule, while Legend and Time are the two palest
- Four to me gives off incredibly responsible energy, but when you pair him with someone else, he goes nuts and gets real silly real quick
- SKY DISNEY PRINCESS REAL. That boy has sung and held out his hand and a bird has landed in it, I just know it.
- I actually have a fic series I wrote where Wars was just completely tone deaf but did not let that stop him from screaming along to the radio. I think normal Wars would secretly be a decent singer but be bad on purpose because its a skill he’s anxious about
- I headcanon that fairies will just it in Time’s hair and let him walk around and carry them, and that they also do this to Hyrule and Wild as well
- I have a similar headcanon that Time used to only live off of nuts and fruits and cried the first time he saw Malon kill a cow for food. He’s over it now, but he’s still upset if he has to see it happen and will not kill an animal himself
- WIND ABSOLUTELY BELIEVES THAT AND I THINK HE’D CRY IF SOMEONE TOLD HIM OTHERWISE
- As far as the Links and religion go, I don’t think any of the hate Hylia, I think some are a bit bitter but I think at the end of the day they all know its not her fault. And yes to Legend worshipping Farore and Twilight the light spirits!
- I would like to add that I don’t think Wild would get sea sick. But all the others? Dead. Gone actually. One boat ride and they’re on the floor. Sky’s been in boats before but he hates them
- Twilight with a prosthetic arm would be an absolute menace to society oh good god 😭😭😭 (I’m obsessed with this headcanon btw, i love it)
- CATS LOVING LINKS BECAUSE REMLITS LOVED SKY IS SO CUTE. TEARS IN MY EYES RN THAT’S ADORABLE.
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Thunder
(A dad shadow milk au fanfic)
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I woke up to a loud crash outside, followed by a kids muffled crying. As soon as I stood up to check on Vanilla, I was hit by a painful headache.
‘Jeez, did I hit my head while I was asleep or something’ I thought to myself.
I sighed, got out of my bed and started walking towards my sons room.
Pure Vanilla is very afraid of thunder. I still remember the first time he experienced a thunderstorm, gave me quite the scare honestly. Seeing my child sobbing and begging me to ‘make it stop’ was not something I prepared myself for that one afternoon.
Now that I think about it, it’s unusual for Nilla not to come running into my room whenever he’s scared. I wonder what made him stay in his room this time?
My thoughts were cut off when I realized I was now standing in front of Vanillas room. The crying and whimpering was alot more apparent now. I knocked on the door twice and for a moment it seemed like Vanilla had forgotten about the thunder. Leaving me with nothing but the sound of raindrops softly tapping against the walls and windows.
I was about to knock again when I heard a weak and shaky voice.
”D-dad? Is t-that you?” “Of course it is silly! May I come in?” There was a short pause. “Yeah..”
I slowly opened the door and saw a mountain of blankets on top of a bed. Although, it was not hard to see the very intense shaking coming from beneath them.
I walked up to the pile of blankets and sat next to it.
“Nilla? Can you please come out?” I asked quietly. His little head popped out shortly after. He looked like he was trying to hold back his tears (he failed miserably).
“Are you alri-” I couldn’t finish my question before Vanilla had tackled me into hug. I hugged him back and let him cry as much as he wanted. I silently watched him shake, cry and jolt every time lightning struck the ground.
After 5 minutes he seemed to have calmed down, his sobbing had died down to a occasional sniffle and he was no longer shaking.
“…are y-you m-mad?” sniffled Vanilla. I couldn’t help but be caught off guard by that question. Did he think he was going to be punished for being scared?
“No! Nononono! Blue bird, what makes you think I would be mad at you?” “I woke you.! *sniffle* Y-you told me-e not to bother you with my childish n-needs… I’m s-sorry!”
“What? When did I tell you that?” Did he have a nightmare? I can’t recall saying anything like that, atleast not recently.
“Yesterday, when you came back home from the meeting with aunt Sugar, Flour and uncle Spice a-and Salt. You came home later than you s-said you would, a-and you were so mad for no reason! I was a little upset that you came home so late, so I started l-lecturing you. You got very angry at me and started y-yelling at me.”
I listened to his little rant but it only confused me more. Heck, now when I think about it, I can’t even recall getting home from the meeting! Either way, it doesn’t sound like me in the slightest. Nilla must’ve had a nightmare in the worst time.
“Are you sure didn’t have a weird dream?” “N-NO! I swear you were acting weird yesterday! I-I can prove it! Your soul jam looked like it got an eye in it when you came back! Maybe it was your jam that caused you to act so weirdly!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. I mean I know kids have wild imaginations, but really?
“Why are you laughing? I can prove it!” Whined Vanilla.
I was left laughing even harder at that. “Sorry, sorry! But Vanilla, I promise you that there is nothing wrong with my soul jam.” “But—” “Now now, it’s time for you to sleep, c’mon let’s get you a glass of water and then we go to bed.”
It was too late for Vanilla to stay up and I knew for a fact that nothing is wrong with the jam. It was crafted by the witches afterall! They would never risk giving a cookie something that could harm them or make them harm others.
It was still raining, the sounds were comforting and helped me with my headache. It wasn’t thundering anymore and hopefully it won’t start again in a while.
I was filling up Nillas glass when I heard him speak.
“Dad?” “Yes?” “Can I sleep with you tonight?” “Of course, Blue Bird”
Eventually, I was back in my bed. But this time, I had my son in my arms. Vanilla was half asleep already.
“I love you, Silly-Vanilly”
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I apologize to anyone who actually read this 🫡
(I apologize for any grammatical errors, english is my third language so there is probably a lot of them :/)
#cookie run kingdom#pure vanilla cookie#white lily cookie#fanfic#shadow milk cookie#dad shadow milk au#crk fanfic
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Rises the Moon (Ithaqua×Reader)
AN: 3 posts in a row? More likely than you'd think! The next is probably gonna be dropped on New Years since I heard if you post too much at once, you can get shadow banned. Still, gotta feed you guys the few things I've written before I'm dragged back to school.
This fic was actually written in August for the Ithaqua server's Ithaugust. The prompt was "you forgot, but I remember." I was between hitting the reader with a car k-drama style or this, but luckily I ended up with this. Enjoy!
Word count: 2.0k words
TW: Mild violence, death, and yandere themes.
Summary: The sun god has always loved the deity of the moon. Even as galaxies collided and the stars died, he has loved them. But fate is not kind, ripping you away from him. Again, and again, and again. So, even if you cry, he can only apologize. He'd rather confine you in these walls than lose you ever again.
"What do you think of mortals, my sun?"
"They're selfish fools who yearn for more than they need, so easily consumed by greed."
"My, such cruel generalizations. Not all of them are like that."
"Perhaps, but can you truly claim that most are innocent?"
"I suppose not, but I believe in it."
"Believe in what?"
"The good in humanity. I'm willing to bet my life on it."
-
The ebbing and flowing of time was as inevitable as the pushing and pulling of the tides, taking with it lives and memories of the past. With each rotation of the sun, the rise of a new moon, and the occasional visits of comets and asteroids from beyond, life continued. Regardless of the pain and suffering of those who lived on, the world continued to turn, just as time continued to march on. Sometimes, Ithaqua wished it would just stop.
Thirty million, two hundred two thousand, and twenty three years have passed.
Twenty five human lifetimes have come and gone, each one leaving him more grief-stricken than before.
Every encounter with you was as devastating as the last, leaving Ithaqua yearning to see you again while praying he didn't. Every time he met you, you'd steal his heart again, as if you could steal something that was already yours to begin with. Yet, still, he'd fall in love with you again and again, lifetime after lifetime, like a fool.
Each life only really started when he met you, held you in his arms, and loved you. Then, tragically, horribly, unavoidably, his life ended when you died.
The first life had been fine, the two of you born as commoners in some civilization long past. It was a hard life of surviving the elements, fending off wild animals, and trying to just live in a world humans had not yet adapted to. Still, however difficult it was, Ithaqua treasured the memories of that life as it had taught him so much about humans.
Such resilient creatures, capable of persevering and creating. He saw just how brilliant they were, and just how stupid as well. They could take down animals twice their size and weight yet couldn't figure out how to navigate.
Incredible.
Regardless, sitting around campfires, singing songs, running in the fields and just living was invigorating. Ithaqua came to appreciate life and the small things within it; from the crunching of leaves to the chirping of birds, the blue seas and the cloudy skies. The views and experiences he'd never get to have as a god, the ones he'd never get to know or love as an immortal, even the very essence of fleeting lives became so, so very beautiful to him.
Humans were nothing compared to the gods, but when Ithaqua sat among them, talked to them, laughed with them, he came to find that you were right. Despite how difficult it was to live in this world, humans still held kindness for each other. They offered him food despite not having much for themselves. They offered him shelter despite not having much room. They offered him help despite needing help themselves.
Such complicated, foolish, yet oddly kind creatures they were, but that made them all the more charming. Ithaqua genuinely considered that the humans in this world were unlike the ones from the last, that they were truly good. They treated the two of you so well, and taught him so much.
The last lesson they ever taught him was just how far they'd go to ensure their own survival.
It wasn't something Ithaqua ever expected to experience, not when he had been a god his whole life. The rumble of the earth as it trembled under the stamping feet of hundreds of cattle shocked him. Fear bloomed in his heart as he saw animals he'd only ever regarded as sacrifices before becoming deadly, stampeding through the small village the two of you resided in.
He was lucky, or so many had said. Surviving such an experience by not being too close was a blessing. Yet, how could Ithaqua feel that way when you hadn't made it out safely? When he saw, from the cliff that watched over the village, that a man pushed you in front of the charging cattle to save himself?
The bitter taste of betrayal lingered on his tongue for a long time, even after he had killed the man and everyone whose negligence led to the incident.
The next life was kinder, as though the world itself understood he needed time to process things and feel better. When he met you once more, you had given him a warm smile and a hug.
Ithaqua held you for a long, long time. He breathed in your scent, listened to the steady beat of your heart, and slowly started to compose himself. He hadn't even realized how distressed he was until he found himself calm once more.
The two of you caught up, explaining what had happened in this life, what you wanted to do in this slightly more advanced time, and more. At some point, Ithaqua had to ask you if you still believed in the good in humanity.
"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"
He wanted to say the obvious answer. He wanted to point out the fact that you died in the last life because of humans, because of their selfishness, their incompetence, their betrayal. Yet, when he looked in your eyes, seeing them clear of any feelings of hatred, Ithaqua let it go. If you forgave them, he would too.
Really, it should've been more obvious to him that it was a warning.
The gentle days of sitting in the sun, playing in the river, and feeling the pure relief of having you back had made Ithaqua blind to such a hint. He simply went on with this life, living happily with you by his side.
Though extremely wary, Ithaqua came to trust humans once more. Naively, he came to believe that perhaps, the humans of this time period were better. Perhaps, they were more civilized. With less of a focus on surviving and more so on improving the quality of life, things were more peaceful than before.
Ithaqua relaxed as he once more laughed among humans, sharing new jokes, reciting old poetry, and learning new things that had recently been discovered. You always smiled so sweetly when you saw him interact with mortals, so he tried his best to be more social.
"Talking with humans is crucial! It helps stimulate the brain and be happier. We're humans now, so we need to keep in mind what they need to survive."
Ithaqua would've loved to disagree, claiming that this vulnerable mortal shell was not who he was, therefore his needs were not the same, but his stomach would always disagree. Still, he vehemently denied being human, even as he ate whatever you had made for him. At the least, Ithaqua knew he didn't need to spend time with others. You were more than enough.
The moments he had with you were treasured more than any others.
He shared the first snowfall of his life with you, the soft specks of ice fluttering delicately in the wind. They swirled around you two as you danced, laughing as the surroundings became blanketed in white. Ithaqua thought, once again, that the world was beautiful. But, perhaps that was just because of you?
However, it seemed like only when the wounds of the past had healed that tragedy would strike once more. This time, it was a more targeted murder, one where they were out to kill you specifically. Poisoned to death because of jealousy, because of someone who apparently loved him and thought that, somehow, he'd love them if they killed you.
The first winter of that year was tainted by the blood on his hands, soaking into the snow. Red seeped into the ice and polluted the otherwise serene beauty of the frost covered land, painting it in ugly colors that seared itself into his mind. However, compared to the sight of your cold, lifeless, glassy eyes, the once comforting and kind ones that shined like stars in the sky, it was no travesty.
No words in the world could express the pain in his chest or the severity of this crime. Not even if the heavens fell or if the world itself turned its back on its inhabitants, nothing, nothing at all could be worse than the sin of robbing you of your life.
Ithaqua's heart ached more than his frostbitten fingers realizing that, this year, he wouldn't get to dance with you. Not this year nor the next, or the next, not until he died and was reborn to start the cycle anew.
Even after the first betrayal, the first death, Ithaqua felt incredibly hurt that he was betrayed again by humanity.
Still, he pushed on.
For you.
Yet, with each life that passed by, you recognized Ithaqua less and less. You forgot things about him, be it his godhood or the memories you shared. You were starting to forget yourself, not remembering that you weren't human, that this wasn't how you were supposed to be.
By the tenth life, you didn't recognize him at all.
You remembered nothing about your past lives, nothing about your godhood, not even his name, nothing, you remembered nothing.
You forgot.
Still, he desperately sought you out. In each life, Ithaqua tried to get you to remember your past lives, the happy memories, the bad ones, even just his name or the stupid bet, anything. It would be fine if you remembered that time he slipped and fell like an idiot. It would be fine if you remembered how he tried to drown a fish. It would be fine if you remembered anything, anyone, just as long as you remembered.
But you didn't.
And, every time, you'd die.
Again. And again. And again.
You fell for the trickery of humans time and time again. To their cunning, their cruelty, their evil. No matter how he tried to save you, how hard he tried to convince you not to trust them, it never mattered. Everything he did was futile, only ever allowing him to miserably watch as you died again.
Once upon a time, Ithaqua believed. He thought it was possible that, in another world, another place, humans could be kind. They gave kindness so freely, offering assistance and support with smiles, but in the end, the results were always the same.
Humans could never be trusted, not when he- you had been betrayed in every lifetime.
…
Twenty five.
Twenty five lifetimes with you. Watching you get betrayed, watching you suffer, watching you die.
And yet, you remembered none of them.
It's no different this time, you see him and feel a connection, yet you don't remember him. You sometimes remember things about him like his favorite color, his favorite foods, even the things he hates, but it's always chalked up to instincts, nothing more and nothing less.
Ithaqua is tired. Tired of being forgotten, tired of being betrayed, but most of all, tired of losing you. So, there's really only one thing he can do. If you won't listen to his warnings, and if all of his efforts to protect you are futile, then the only logical option is to keep you away from humans.
It's not hard to get you away from them when you trust him with your life.
Delicately trailing a finger down your face, Ithaqua smiles. Blindfolded, chained, and trapped you may be, but you're still radiant in his eyes. Ever so brilliant and glowing, even within the confines of a dimly lit room.
"It'll be okay, my moon, all will be fine. Here, you are safe. No one can hurt you, and no one can take you away." Ithaqua drags his hand down your arm, watching you shiver. He pulls up the blanket on your lap to cover you more, humming lightly.
"You know, I'm quite a jealous man." He says off-handedly, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, the chain around your wrist clinking at the faint movement.
"Death has had you for so long... would it be so selfish of me to ask you to stay with me for eternity?"
If you don't remember, it's fine. After all, he remembers, and that's what matters. Ithaqua can remind you as many times as you need.
After all, you can't leave.
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Hi! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but if you aren’t that’s totally okay. I wanted to request a Remus Lupin x reader proposal blurb or oneshot? Based on this video I saw:
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CoVf3z8pE8Q/?igshid=NTdlMDg3MTY=
It’s just so cute and I imagined Remus. Love your works and account ❤️
Hi there darling! I’m not exactly taking requests now, those two little one shots just alternde the chemistry in my brain and they weren’t supposed to be even that long too. Thank you for your love <3
Remus Lupin x clumsy (probably neurodivergent) girl reader
But I don’t think that Remus would exactly be like that. He’s a shy man for a reason.
He would propose to you when it’s just the two of you. Away from people so you don’t feel pressured to say yes. To give you time to answer.
Maybe it would be on a walk in the woods. Which is nothing new. He loves taking you to woods when you get your zoomies. Running away from him to pick a random stick for Padfoot later. Pick a random flower and putting it behind his ear.
“Lean over, you’re like an Aphel tower,” you say as you grasp on his jumper, pulling him closer and down to yourself. He chuckles, “Eiffel tower, darling.” he melts under your clumsy touch when you want to put a little flower behind his ear. Your tongue unknowingly peaks out as you concentrate to place it just right.
You know that Remus looks a bit nervous, you can feel it in your bones even when his faces looks the same. But almost, the corners of his lips are twitching into a smile and something you think it’s a nervous smirk way too often.
You don’t question it, if he wants to talk to you, he will. You know it. Remus is like its own ecosystem exists on its own. If he would be and style he would be dadaism and maybe something bit of eco brutalism. Growing where people ruined it.
But his odd mood isn’t stopping you from trying to make him feel better. You run away from the forest path, trying to find one his favourite wild flowers. You find them, you always do. With a little trip over sticks and little “Ows.” and little “Are you alright, darling?” You find the perfect flowers for him.
Remus is nervous. Way more nervous than on his first school day, on his graduation day, on his first job interview.
Suddenly Remus is behind you. You feel his presence and you also hear him. You’re crouching down to pick up more wild flowers while you ramble some another fact you learned about his favourite flowers and then you get into random facts, as you always do.
“And in the Czechia they use nettle’s poison to makes oil for their hair. It’s not exactly a poison to human, it stings your skin,” you are turning around to face him, still crouching down. “…a lot and it leaves you with a very nasty rash but it’s not going to kill you…” you stop talking.
You’re met with a Remus kneeling on his knee, a homemade ring holder on his open large palm. He is nervously smiling, his rosy cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy, he’s carefully eyeing you.
Your mouth is ajar, for the first time in your life your brain stops. There are no other thoughts, no background noises that aren’t making sense. You feel the cold wind on your ears, you can feel it and not getting distracted by it. You hear the countless of birds singing their symphony just for the two of you.
You see Remus as he truly is. It’s like you can experience Remus with all of your senses and not getting distracted by anything.
You feel a bit odd with this no feeling thing and you start crying, little sweet tears are falling down on your cheeks that are harshly kissed by the cold wind.
“Remus,” you breathe out. You feel like everything what’s happening is clicking in your brain, only in one part and it doesn’t want to be understood in the other part of your brain.
“Y/n,” he nods. “I… I’ve been thinking,” he is lost in his words. “And I realised that I want to do this.” You look like a deer caught in the lights and he’s actually glad that you’re crouching down too. He feels more closer to you.
Your palms are sweaty and you hold tightly on the flowers for him. “Y/n, you’re the girl I want to marry… I want to spend the rest of all of my sunsets with you… marry me please, Y/n.” He can’t help it but he doesn’t ask. It’s a passion of his, you’re his passion. And of course he knows how to live without you, it’s a human nature to adapt to changes. But he doesn’t want to.
“I love you, and that’s all I really know, and I want you to be mine. We don’t even have to marry for real and bring government into our love, but I…” his hand is shaking a bit. “But I want this with you. I want us to wear our rings and I want you to be mine and I want to be yours and if this is something you don’t want…”
“Fuck yes!” Your brain is suddenly all alive again and in the next second you’re all over Remus. Remus falls with a soft thud into the moss behind him and with you all over him. Your hands are around his neck and you hold him tightly in your embrace.
You can’t let him go and you don’t want to let him go. You’re bawling your eyes out and your tears are drenching his neck. Your kisses are all over his cheeks, forehead, chin, eye lids and nose. You want to kiss him all over.
He wants to wake up everyday by your side. With you in his arms, in your arms, on your chest, with your head on his chest. He wants to feel your soft skin beneath his fingers and he wants your hair in his face. He wants to receive kisses from your chapped and dry lips. He wants to taste your kisses that taste terrible because of the chemistry in your new lipstick. He wants to taste your lipstick that taste like vanilla or strawberry or some medicine from your lip balm.
You want to be his, you want to wear his ring. You want him to be yours and you want him to wear your ring.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fanfiction#robies dialogues#headcanon of the day#remus lupin x reader fluff#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x you fluff#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x y/n fluff
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New fic idea? With no title yet? And I don’t really have a summary just yet, but basically it’s a voltron The Forest au (bc ive been playing way too much of that game). Think a bit like the tv show Lost? Or The Wilds? But with more comedy and it’s also pretty close to crack treated seriously, featuring Keith having to be the leader of a ragtag group of survivors as everyone slowly becomes more crazy than even he is. And Lance being a badass, and everyone being a badass really. Anyway, let me know if you think it’s interesting enough to post on ao3??
Also! I should note, Keith and Lance are strangers in this fic and I, for one, firmly believe that Lance would flirt with anything with legs if it wasn't for the fact that Keith and him were rivals in canon.
CW: A plane crash, minor injuries including bruising and a bit of blood, and a dead body
----
Keith’s head was ringing something fierce as he came back to a slow consciousness. God, maybe this was why he never slept on planes if this was the apparent outcome. He blinked out the stubborn weariness from his eyes. The sound -the real sound- slowly welled back up, birds chirping distantly.
…Wait, birds? Why would he be hearing birds on a plane-?
And that’s when he saw it. Over the tops of the shitty main cabin seats in front of him, between the useless dangling oxygen masks, there was a forest.
Not like out the window or like some fake painted on trees to make it not seem like they weren’t in a metal tube flying high in the sky. There was an actual forest filled with actual trees a good few rows in front of him, all framed by the broken-in-half plane.
Ok, no, maybe he did sleep on planes because that absolutely wasn’t real. Not a chance in hell. Keith sat up to try and find more evidence that this was clearly just a stress dream, only to cry out in abrupt stabbing pain from his midsection. He looked down, wincing as he pulled out his shirt slightly. He was met with his own skin painted with a mirage of angry purples and blues around the edges of where the thick seatbelt still held him in place.
A bruise. He had a bruise all along his lower stomach. Which would make sense to have if the seatbelt stopped him from going forward extremely abruptly. Like, let’s say, in the event of a plane going from some super fast speed that Shiro would know to an absolute and utter zero. And that only happened when…
In a second of what he would later convince himself was momentary hysteria, all he could think was, damn, looks like we aren’t making it to the connecting terminal on time.
He then much more rationally jolted forward in his seat again (and was greeted with the same sparking pain) at the fact that the plane had fucking crashed. What the fuck? What the FUCK?!
As quick as lightning, Keith undid the stupid seatbelt and turned to Shiro beside him. The man was still out like a light, but breathing, thank fuck. He checked diligently for anything seriously wrong (shrapnel, lacerations, currently bleeding anything- oh god, oh fuck? What was happening?).
Somewhere near Shiro’s hair and all across his nose area was covered in dried blood, a bruise forming around the former. That definitely meant a concussion, right? Keith wasn’t a doctor, he had no idea how to check that. The blood seemed to be slowing to a crawl, which was probably good.
There wasn’t anything majorly wrong on his body so it seemed. Or at least, there wasn’t anything wrong that wasn’t already wrong. His arm was missing, which sounded terrible until it was taken into account that it was his already amputated arm… From a plane crash… A different plane crash… Oh, Shiro was going to be so pissed when he woke up. Who gets into two plane crashes??
A groan coming from directly behind him derailed that train of thought. Keith whipped around to look at the source of the noise (much to his strongly protesting body). A tanned, narrow-faced guy somewhere around Keith’s own age was slowly blinking his way into consciousness just like Keith had. His face was full of freckles and what looked like only a few slight bruises from where Keith could see. Overall, the other… survivor looked to be in about as good a shape as Keith was.
Jesus, just the thought of saying ‘survivor’ was not really sinking in. They had survived a fucking plane crash. That wasn’t a thing that just happened, much less twice in Shiro’s case. He even joked that he was flying with Shiro because lightning never struck the same spot twice. Evidently, it fucking did. Maybe he shouldn’t have tempted the universe like that…
“Mullet?”
Keith refocused on the guy now staring at him, scoffing at the incredibly slurred and equally confused ‘nickname’.
“Are you… dying or whatever?” Keith asked.
The guy tilted his head, his face scrunching up at the question until he refocused on the mask sitting securely on his nose. He yanked it off as careful as a band-aid, watching it strangely as it bounced back up toward the ceiling.
The guy turned back to Keith, a silent question in his eyes. It seemed to answer itself though, as the stranger’s widening eyes filled with the soft sunlight trickling in over Keith’s shoulder.
“Ho-ly crow,” The other survivor shook himself like that’d get him to wake up. Keith understood the feeling.
“I… I think the plane went down,” Keith winced at his own statement. Obviously the fucking plane went down. No plane landed fine with only half of it left, especially not just the back half.
“Looks like it,” The guy replied hollowly before his face filled with alarm, “Oh my god! Hunk! Pidge!”
Blue Shirt (he really needed to learn this guy's name, but that would have to do for now) turned to his oddly named friends. Which was Hunk and which one was Pidge, Keith had no idea. They seemed to be like Shiro, alive but not quite up yet, if the sigh of relief Blue Shirt let out said anything.
The guy turned back to Keith with a lot more awareness, “What happened??”
“Like I said, the plane-”
“No, no, I don’t need the obvious! Clearly!” The guy frantically gestured over the seats, “I meant like, how are we even, you know?”
“Alive?” Keith finished, “I don’t have a damn clue.”
“And what about everyone else?” Blue Shirt asked.
Keith tilted his head.
“Like, the other people. There was a- a cute, little elderly couple right over there,” Blue Shirt pointed across the aisle, “Where did they go? Where did everyone else go?”
Probably thrown from the plane, Keith’s mind darkly supplied. He didn’t, however, want to come off as a complete freak to the only other survivor awake right now.
“Maybe they already got out?” Keith tried (and failed) to sound optimistic.
The guy frowned, seemingly trying to process that, “...Right. Okay. And they probably just left us because… because… Because! They didn’t know how injured we were, and that’s, like, a rule! Totally! You don’t move the injured people because their spines could be damaged and everything! Trust me, I’ve watched all of Grey’s Anatomy, even the truly bad seasons.”
Very trust-inducing, Keith didn’t voice. He nodded tentatively despite that thought.
Blue shirt stood- oh goddamnit, this was getting annoying, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Hm?” The guy stretched out in the aisleway, pain evident in his face, “Oh, um, right. The name’s Lance, but you can call me the man of your dreams.”
“W- what?” Keith definitely didn’t squeak that out. Also his face definitely didn’t go tomato red. Also his heart didn’t feel like it just had a palpitation. Also- You know what, shut the fuck up. How was he supposed to react to that?? Who realized they were in a plane crash and immediately f- flirts with the only other awake survivor???
Lance (the man of Keith’s apparent dreams, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-) grimaced in what looked like sincere apology, “Sorry, sorry, not the place. I think my head’s a bit, uh, scrambled, you know? From all this? Anyway, what’s your name, Mullet Man?”
“...Keith,” He dragged out of his mouth (stop fucking staring at the pretty guy who just trauma-flirted with you), “And it’s not a mullet.”
Lance put a hand on his hips, or tried to. He winced at the touch and let it drop, “Puh-lease. I spotted that thing the moment you walked on the plane. Shorter in the front?”
“I guess,” Keith answered tersely.
“And longer in the back?” Lance raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Ha! See, that’s literally the definition of a mullet: business in the front party in the-” Lance abruptly choked on the air, hand going to cover his mouth as his eyes went wide as saucers. He stumbled backwards, grabbing on to the flimsy blue seats to stop himself from falling completely, “O- oh my god.”
Keith stood ready to catch Lance, expecting to see him losing blood or something, “What’s wrong?”
With a face three shades paler, Lance pointed over Keith’s shoulder. Was… was he just now processing their wrecked plane? Even after they talked about it? Nevermind. Trauma was weird sometimes. That was what his old therapist used to say at least. Maybe it was still settling and that’s why Lance kept going on weird, unnecessarily long tangents?
“The plane crashed,” Keith repeated slowly like he was talking to a spooked deer, “Are you hurt or-?”
“N- no, Keith, look,” Lance demanded, voice shaking.
Keith turned in confusion to follow Lance’s eyes only to be meet with-
Oh.
Oh.
A woman -one of the stewardesses, Keith assumed by the neatly pressed uniform- laid dead-eyed in front of them. Her limbs were sprawled out, her head haloed by the bent edges of where the broken plane met the open air. Grimly, Keith thought that that made sense. Of course not everyone would survive a goddamn plane crash.
But then he noticed what killed her. It wasn't being tossed by the aggressive turbulence, nor was it the excess metal shrapnel from around the edge of their halved plane, no.
Glimmering there in all the glory of the midday sun was a bloodied axe buried squarely in the middle of her chest.
#voltron fic#the forest au#klance fanfiction#fanfic#keith voltron#lance voltron#shiro voltron#hunk voltron#pidge voltron#allura voltron#coran voltron#those two will eventually be in it#leader Keith#and everyone else is a little bit crazy#where are all the other survivors?#whats going on?#read and find out ooooo!#klance
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--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial
"I don't really think about which birds are which anymore," Aster muttered, tracing her hand against the open sky. "All I see are pigeons and crows where it may be."
The minutes passed with a strange abnormality; the scent of burning metal tainted the air with its reminder of what happened. A stray soldier saw her bright pink clothing and shot at her motorcycle, and the memories warped together like a broken record. And it continued playing.
Limping, Aster twisted her legs and moved herself closer to the bike, covering the damage with her hand. She took a quick look at the empty road, with it stark loneliness despite the paved nature of it all, hoping somebody would call out for her.
Instead, silence persisted, and her wound continued to fester. Aster slid the hem of her dress to hold it down, before hearing a sudden thud on the ground. As she punctured her thigh with her lacquered fingernails, a wild cry emerged from the highlands, and she stumbled.
Hoarse, but not smothered, a bird's cry made itself clear on the road. Aster took a quick glimpse at the sky, before trying to stand up to see where the creature might have fallen. Step by step, she adjusted her sock inside her sneaker, hoping a stray pin wouldn't make its way there. Step by step, her hands started to tremble.
A buzzing noise took over her head, as if she got struck down again and woke up to a cold, sterile hospital. Anonymous eyes would gape on her, like a bird in a new environment struggling to fly. Aster held down her ear, keeping it down, only to hear a honking sound approaching her.
#flash fiction#my writing#writers on tumblr#creative writing#fantasy#injury#speculative fiction#stranded
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a still-glowing ember (1)
warnings: g/t, injury, mild blood, fear of death, threats, jerkass behavior typical of pre-aa virgil, hopeless thoughts, fearplay, misunderstandings, hypothermia/cold, enemy to caretaker, i sucker punch a character into unconsciousness at the end of a chapter again, exhaustion/pain
-
It was only thanks to sheer dumb luck that Roman had found the tree hollow in time.
One moment, he’d been diving under the canopy and twisting through narrow gaps in branches, calling out taunts and laughing, the wind cool against his face and buoyant under his wings as he raced Remus to the other end of the valley.
The next, there was the cacophonous roar of thousands of raindrops pelting down, and he was abruptly losing altitude, his feathers growing soaked and dulling to a burnt-out black.
He’d glided towards the nearest tree, wobbling all the way, and just barely managed to grab onto a branch before a howling gale tore past, nearly dragging him right off his makeshift perch.
Roman’s face probably still had the imprint from how hard he clung to the bark, waiting for the winds to die down before scrambling down the branch to the trunk of the tree, only doing a cursory scan for owls before throwing himself into the relative safety of the abandoned hollow.
Once he wasn’t about to plummet to the dangerous forest floor below, he immediately started panicking about Remus. He wasn’t sure exactly when they’d been separated, just that he’d called some stupid nickname over his shoulder and received nothing but silence in return.
He tried to call for him, but his voice didn’t carry far in the first place, and amidst the shrieking of the wind and creaking of the trees, it felt like his words vanished into thin air the moment they left his mouth.
Roman tried not to imagine Remus’s words out there somewhere, a cry for help dragged far away with the dead leaves and the topsoil.
His throat was aching by the time he gave up, collapsing against the furthest corner of the hollow and wrapping his wings around himself to try and avoid the worst of the biting winds.
They should never have come out here, not even for something as harmless as a race. Every sprite knew it: in Fulmo Valley, storms hit hard, and they hit fast.
It was easy to dismiss the dangers when they were looking down at the valley from a bird’s eye view, content in the knowledge that even if one of the Big Folk that denned down there saw them, they could dart away in a blink.
It was a lot harder when he was flightless, only one wrong move away from being completely grounded, down on the forest floor where nearly any wild creature would have no trouble tearing him to shreds.
He shuddered, only half from fear.
The other half was from how utterly soaked he was. The temperature drop would have been a minor annoyance in other circumstances, but now? While he was drenched? He couldn’t create a spark in these conditions, let alone a flame big enough to bring him any warmth.
Roman attempted to wring his shirt out miserably, his hands already growing stiff with the chill. He didn’t even want to think about how cold it would get once the sun fell past the horizon.
He’d have to get out before then, or else he really would be in trouble. The storm wouldn’t last forever; once it cleared up, he could climb out of this damp hole and let the last few hours of sunlight dry his wings, and then find Remus and get home!
That was doable. Easy, even!
Roman shuffled his limbs in tighter, watching the rain continue to fall outside. All he had to do was watch the storm and wait. All he had to do… was…
-
When he next jolted awake, Roman was greeted with the undeniable purple-pinks of dusk falling.
“No!” he cried out pointlessly, struggling to his feet on half-asleep limbs.
Approaching the opening to his hollow only confirmed the truth: he’d slept past all but the final fleeting moments of sunlight.
His face scrunched up in pre-emptive dread, Roman flared his wings out and found that half of his feathers were still damp and the other half had dried stiffly into the smushed-up position he’d fallen asleep in.
He’d be hard-pressed to even reach the ground in such a state, let alone fly home.
For a moment, he entertained the idea of waiting til morning, using the hollow as a refuge and hoping that he could survive the night’s cold embrace.
But his magic was already sapped from keeping him alive during his last nap. It was only going to get colder from here, and his inner spark had barely sustained him this far. It would gutter easily in this kind of weather, and then his body would be all that was left of him, cold and curled up in a corner. The only ones to ever know what had happened to him would be the next owls to nest here.
Besides, Remus was still out there. No matter how recently they’d become un-estranged, he wasn’t going to abandon his brother!
The determination that flared up in him at the thought was almost like warmth, and he rode that high all the way to the edge of a branch, spread his wings wide, and attempted to glide to the next tree over.
Key word: Attempted.
There weren’t exactly thermals all the way down here, and without perfectly preened primaries, his flight pattern resembled less a smooth arrow reaching its target and more a propeller seed wildly spiraling down to the dirt below.
Roman crashed into the ground shoulder-first with a sickening pop, his wings held aloft to keep them from buffering his fall.
A broken arm was bad, but a broken wing was lethal, especially if it set wrong.
Once he’d thoroughly familiarized his face with the dirt, he finally stopped groaning long enough to push himself back upright, delicately avoiding putting any pressure on his limply-hanging left arm. It seemed like his shoulder was dislocated, not broken, going by how manageable the pain was when he wasn’t moving it directly.
Still, even the relief of his bones all being intact couldn’t take the sting off of the fact that he was now solidly on the ground, more exposed than he’d ever been in his life.
Roman swallowed thickly, tilting his head back and following the lines of the trees up, up, up until he nearly lost his balance and fell back over.
That was where he belonged. Not down here, scurrying about underfoot like some common field mouse.
Something rustled in the distance, and Roman snapped his gaze back to floor-level so quickly his shoulder twinged in protest.
Belonging or not, he’d be worse off than a mouse if he didn’t get moving. He clearly had a long way to go.
Time passed in a blur, marked only by the sky darkening and the world around him growing somehow even colder than it already had been. His pace slowed, bit by bit, right along with it. In the corner of his vision, he swore he spotted ice crystals forming on his soggier feathers.
When he spotted the flickering light ahead, his brain felt frozen-over, mind churning slowly enough that he didn’t think twice before staggering towards it. Fire sprites weren’t meant to be cold, certainly not for this long, and his spark was urging him towards the flickering shadows regardless of the source.
It could have been the beginnings of a forest fire, and Roman wouldn’t have cared so long as he could find a nice, well-stoked flame to curl up in.
When he got closer, the source became evident. An eerie light was radiating from a small ball of glowing purple flames, bobbing a few inches off the ground.
Roman couldn’t resist the urge to practically glue himself to it, letting the flames flicker around his wings and ease the sharp, icy pain that had been shooting through them with every step.
The flames weren’t particularly hot, more wispy and ephemeral than a natural fire, but they were built off of raw magical energy. Simply standing there and soaking in the ambient magic was enough to provide some energy to his inner spark.
For a few long moments, he clung to the flame, shivering and debating with himself the merits of trying to siphon from the magic directly. This much was enough to stabilize him and keep him from growing any weaker, but the moment he left it, he would be right back down to banked embers.
If he tried to drain the magic in it, though…
Other than being extremely impolite to steal others’ magic, constructs like these were usually used to mark something, and if he consumed it, whoever set it might be pissed. Especially since the caster was sure to notice the sensation of a construct flickering out.
But he was so cold. Surely, if he took it and then left, they wouldn’t go to all the trouble of tracking him down? Once they saw that the culprit had booked it, they would simply create a new one rather than waste any energy on hunting him down? Most fire-magic users were on the smaller, less territorial side, so his odds of getting away clean were good.
Once he found Remus and got them both home, he could recover his own magic stores and even come back to offer penance! Sure, it was rude, but it was a matter of life or death. Namely, his.
Decided, he dipped his fingers into the small bubble of magic at the core of the flames and began to siphon it into himself.
It always felt a bit strange to borrow someone else’s magic, the feel of it foreign for the few moments it took to convert into his own flint-strike energy. He wouldn’t be able to use it to iron out his wings until it did, but he figured he could keep hurrying along the ground until then.
That was fine. It would take the caster some time to reach this spot, so he wouldn’t be caught.
Though the wind had died down, the sound of rustling was still audible.
He wouldn’t be caught, he repeated to himself, his shoulders beginning to rise up apprehensively. He was just imagining it. There was plenty of time before anyone got here–
Behind him, there was a low, eerie cackle.
–unless the caster happened to be nearby already.
With dread already running icy fingertips down his spine, Roman slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder.
And then looked up.
There was an exception to the rule with fire types, he remembered as he craned his head back to meet two eerie glowing eyes and a pair of pointed ears.
Shifters were big folk, and fox shifters were just as territorial as their infamous lupine kin. In fact, they were known for frequently marking their territory borders out in foxfire.
What little color Roman had managed to regain abruptly drained from his face.
The shifter’s eyes narrowed with either glee or fury, both of which would make sense, since he had basically just caught a defenseless idiot stealing the magical equivalent of a big glowing ‘keep out’ sign.
With the reputation foxes had for trickery and playing with their food, neither emotion was particularly promising. Roman took a step back, his heart racing.
“Not so bold, suddenly?” the fox asked, dark amusement practically dripping from each syllable. “You seemed to feel right at home just a minute ago, little bird.”
The moniker made a shiver run through him; he’d almost prefer to have been called a thief outright. At least that would indicate that the shifter recognized some semblance of personhood in him. Birds, on the other hand– foxes ate birds.
Another step back, the temporary warmth of the foxfire already fading as he desperately tried to channel what little magic he’d stolen to dry his wings.
“You think you can just run away now?” the fox asked, a little bit of ire leaking into his tone. “Actions have consequences, you know. Did you really believe you could come into my home and steal from me again without paying the price?”
Roman opened his mouth, intending to put some of his earlier promises– he’d come back, he’d return it, he just needed the warmth for a little bit, please– to words, or even to ask what he was talking about, ‘again’, but he could only force a handful of nonsense syllables between his chattering teeth before the shifter cut him off.
“Or maybe you just thought I wouldn’t be close enough to stop you. Typical.” Now he was the one to move, a single step forward erasing any distance Roman had managed to put between them. “Looks like it’s your unlucky day, huh?”
Roman’s wings flared out as though they were in any shape for a takeoff, and he jerked back, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he automatically tried to retreat from the threat.
Those luminescent eyes seemed to catch the motion, every bit a predator sighting prey, and a sharp-edged grin slowly spread across the shifter’s face, the light of the foxfire glinting off fangs that looked as long as Roman’s forearm.
“Why don’t you try your little plan out anyhow?” he mused, dropping into a crouch fast enough that Roman had to muffle a yelp of fear. “Go on, then. You get five minutes before I come looking.”
The guy was toying with him. Roman wasn’t stupid, and he could literally see the fluffy grey tail twitching with anticipation behind the shifter. In his current state, it would be almost impossible for him to get away. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it wasn’t better to try and talk his way out of this–
“Go,” the shifter loomed over him, lips pulling back to transform the smile into something mean, and when he slammed both hands on either side of Roman, it was with enough force to snap bones.
The last bits of his self-restraint snapped, and he gave into the screeching instincts in the back of his mind, twisting on his heel and bolting away. His wings fluttered indecisively between tucking flat so he could run faster and rising up into a defensive mantle, half-expecting to be struck from behind before he’d even made it more than a few feet.
No blow came, though, only another cackle, this one higher-pitched and less human than before.
When Roman dared to steal a glance over his shoulder, there was no trace of the giant. All he saw was the tail end of a sleek, animal shape vanishing into the shadows of the trees around them.
-
Despite his best efforts, his pace began to slow after what felt like only moments, the icy air seeming twice as painful after that brief moment of warm respite.
Fight or flight could only get him so far, especially when his version of flight was a lot more pathetic than usual.
His wings were dried enough to fluff out, but the feathers were still heavily misaligned, and he certainly didn’t have the time for a preening session. As he was, he could only hop and glide for short, wavering distances. It was quicker than running, but barely.
For every step he took between glides, his shoulder was jarred painfully. Roman had taken to biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out at the harsher jolts. The fox could almost certainly track him down by scent alone, but he wasn’t about to make it easier by whimpering like a newly-hatched.
He barely noticed when his mouth started tasting like blood, too busy watching every shadowed cranny and rustling branch for any sign of those glittering eyes. He’d thought of trying to find another hollow, but they were all far above him now, and the shifter could simply reach in and snatch him up besides.
He kept moving, gritting his teeth against the temptation to drop to his knees and huddle against the cold. Almost impossible meant still possible, and there was no way he was going to give up when there was even a chance of success.
That chance was growing slimmer and slimmer, though.
By the time the low chittering laughter of the fox began to echo from what felt like every direction, Roman’s hope had grown thin, worn away by the cold and the pain and the futility of it all. He botched the latest glide, missing the landing and just barely avoiding toppling over by letting his knees hit the dirt hard.
His wings slumped, the edges of them gone completely numb alongside his hands and ears. The effort it would take to get to his feet just didn’t seem worth it. Not when he could hear the fox’s amusement fade into something like an agitated yowl.
The sound made the hairs on the back of Roman’s neck stand up, and he pulled his limbs in tight, wondering if the shifter was irritated that he hadn’t put up a good chase. He’d tried, alright? If he’d been caught on anything other than what was shaping up to be the worst– and last– night of his life, he would have left this cursed valley in the dust.
The near-silent taps of fox paws circled around him for a long moment, the shifter shaking his head agitatedly before shifting smoothly to the big, bulky steps of his more humanoid form.
“Do you have a death wish or something?” he bit out, as though Roman wasn’t screwed either way. “If this is a trap, it’s failed miserably.”
Roman squinted up at him, turning the words around in his head and trying to fit them together in a way that made any sort of sense.
“I knew sprites were birdbrains, but I didn’t expect you would forget how to fly,” the shifter continued, his nose wrinkling in frustration as he leaned closer and then reached out with one big, claw-tipped hand.
Wings drawing up like some paltry shield, Roman curled over on himself, his breath hitching in fearful anticipation, but there was no crushing pain. Even as calloused fingers wrapped around him, those sharp nails didn’t graze him, not even when his wings automatically gave a few struggling flaps.
Being plucked off the ground and lifted unwillingly into the air like a songbird in the talons of a hawk should have made his body stiffen up with fear, but all he could focus on was the sudden warmth of the grip. Despite himself, the tension began to seep from him, his limbs going heavy and lax.
The shifter sucked a breath in through his teeth, his brow furrowing as he lifted Roman closer to his face with ease. “You’re freezing,” he grumbled, as though he didn’t know, as though that wasn’t the whole reason Roman had ended up in this situation in the first place. “Aren’t you a fire sprite? What…?”
A fingertip carded through his feathers with surprising gentleness before moving to tuck his drooping wings against his back, making it easier to shift his grip up slightly. His hand opened up slightly to form more of a loose cradle than a fist, and Roman felt his head start to loll back.
He was exhausted in every sense of the word, his mind too fogged-up with encroaching sleep to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t been viciously murdered yet. Really, if he couldn’t stop it from happening, he at least didn’t want to be awake for it.
“Woah, hey,” the shifter said, and now that his voice wasn’t seething, he sounded shockingly normal. Most of the tales he’d heard about shifters painted them with a more feral brush, Roman mused as his eyelids began to droop. “Hey, don’t fall asleep. Are you listening? Don’t– hey, come on–,”
The grip around him tensed slightly in a delicate warning squeeze, one that was completely harmless to every part of his body except the dislocated shoulder that had, at some point, settled back against the giant’s hand. Even the slightest pressure sent spikes of agony through the injury.
He tried to twist forward, jerk away from the pain before the hold could grow any harsher, but the shifter’s thumb drew in closer as though to bar him from falling, and his shoulder smacked into it with enough force to make a sickening popping sound.
Roman let out a short, strangled scream, his vision whiting out with pain as he grabbed at the other arm as though to hold it still or claw away the stabbing pain in his flesh.
The shifter was swearing above him, voice low and panicked, and Roman was distantly aware of the palm under him flattening out and shallow breaths growing louder. He caught glimpses of a huge face far too close, wide eyes flickering over him, but he couldn’t even balk away without risking sending more of that agony shooting through his nerves.
“Okay, okay,” the shifter tried, voice too unsteady to be soothing, “I’m gonna fix this, alright? Just hold on.”
A familiar purple flame sprang to life around him, the magic open and unbound, and some insistent part of Roman shied away, trying to remind him of something important about the last foxfire he’d encountered.
“It’s okay, just take it. You definitely need it, it feels like I’m holding a feathery icicle. You can’t fall asleep until you’re warm, got it?”
The magic was staticky against his skin, a cure for the cold dangled in front of him like a will’o’wisp ahead of a lost traveler, and there was still a part of him that was shrieking about accepting, but there didn’t seem to be another option.
Every time he tried to let his eyes fall closed and succumb to sleep, he was jostled just slightly, enough to add a new twinge of pain to the aching waves radiating from his shoulder. The voice kept coaxing him, sounding all concerned but refusing to let him rest, and eventually Roman gave in and reached out for the magic.
It chased away the lingering chill like the sun’s rays banishing shadows, the strength of the heat borderline painful for a moment, before easing into a steady comfort. He turned his head against the warm surface beneath him, and this time, there was no objection as he sank into unconsciousness.
He’d deal with the consequences later, so long as he just… got to… sleep.
#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#ts roman#ts virgil#ts remus#sanders sides g/t#my writing#writing#a still glowing ember#asge#on god i cannot be assed to tag anything else rn fuck it#fic be upon ye
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Druid Tav Losing Control Over Wildshape
I don't watch Steven Universe but I've seen that scene near the end where Steven was under so much trauma from his childhood that he slowly loses control over his powers and starts transforming into a monster. I thought of that but with my Druid Tav.
They've been through plenty of traumatic events but they've always been pushed down because their friends needed them more.
It culminate to them losing control over their wildshape.
Druid Tav who suddenly has problems with wildshaping. They've been wildshaping for years but suddenly its getting harder to be in control
Druid Tav who wildshapes into an animal and soon after start behaving weirdly. Wildshaping has the druid acting like the animal but it still has their mind and consciousness
Druid Tav wildshapes and they start losing their senses. Starts acting like an actual wild animal and doesn't recognize their allies.
Their allies approach them wondering about their weird behavior when they snap at them with their teeth or swipe their claws. Surprising everyone.
The animal freezes as if realizing what they did and Druid Tav turns back instantly, apologizing. They are questioned for the act but Tav waves it off saying they got too carried away.
The more perceptive eyes notice Druid Tav not wildshaping as much as they used to. Even outside of battle they would lounge as a cat or fly around as a bird. Now that habit has changed.
Companions try to talk to Tav, ask if something was wrong. They want to help. But Tav continued to tell them nothing serious was wrong.
They make excuses, saying nature wouldn't allow them that day or they weren't up to it. Then during a difficult fight they are forced to wildshape and it seems to go fine until the fight is over and Tav still hasn't turned back. And they're still being aggressive.
Allies now have a hostile wild animal on their hands. They scream at Tav to turn back as they defend themselves. Wildshaped Tav backing away, acting more and more like a cornered animal. It dawns on their friend that something was wrong all along.
A friend braves getting close to them, trying to comfort and see what was wrong when Tav lashes out, injuring them.
Everyone is in shock and the cry from their friend spurns Wild shaped Tav back to normal, looking horrified at what they've done.
The atmosphere is tense. Tav sees the shocked and angry looks leveled at them but they're mostly focused on the injury they inflicted on their friend. It's too much. They turn and run away, ignoring calls of their name.
Later their friends try to learn what's doing this to them. Perhaps mind control? Maybe they hear from an older druid explain that sudden issues controlling wildshape is always rooted to an internal issue. You inner beast is acting out for a reason because it reflects the state of your mind.
One friend realizes Druid Tav was hurting a lot more than they showed. That their wildshape only lashed out because they were acting like a cornered injured animal, fear was the main emotion they saw in their eyes.
They search Tav out, even the one they injured. Tav was slowly getting worse. Guilt and self-hatred growing by the minute. They hurt their friend. The more emotional and distressed they get their human form gets more beastly.
Their wildshape starts to look wrong, flawed. Different traits from different beasts start merging into one. Like a chimera. They don't want to transform but the urge is too strong. They think their turning into a monster.
Their friends find them and they tell them to leave, for their own safety. Their friends don't listen. Tav has always been there for them when they never asked, it was their turn to do the same.
It ends with them just holding on to Tav as they turn into something monstrous. Tav is held as they wildshape into different beasts, crying and wailing. Realizing that what was influencing them was their own grief, their own trauma. Their wildshape was out of control because it thinks they were hurt, that they were still indanger.
Finally letting everything out, Tav slowly transforms back into their normal form. Their friends still there trying to comfort them despite the danger.
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Happy New Year Lovelies!
Well, happier for some than for others, it seems. Eagan Connolly is raising quite the fuss about the disappearance of someone named Will Monroe—details are light on who exactly Will is but apparently he's known to some as a local prostitute. If you see her hobbling around, maybe keep a wide berth, since they’ve been heard muttering to themselves in public. If it was something worth worrying about, the police or Mayor Nat herself would have informed us, of course.
We have multiple witnesses having seen what looked like a very upset Christopher Winters and a very concerned Jim Dunford in town the other day. They were arguing about what sounded like a cheeky New Years Eve kiss that they shared. Jim seemed to be trying to placate Christopher, who was not having it, shoving the man away and stalking off. No news yet as to whether Emma Dunford is aware of this. For all we know, this might be her way of having her cake and eating it too. Christopher and Emma are also expecting a child, which begs the question, is now really the time to try something new?
Speaking of their upcoming adoption, the baby’s birth mother has also been on her own romantic adventure. Josie Reigh and Gabriel Westfall are official, at least if the people overhearing her referring to him as her boyfriend are to be believed. The two seem to be quite happy with each other. Alas, not everyone seems to be as over the moon as they are. Nico Garcia stills seems hung up over Miss Reigh, which is no surprise, since he always was the more sensitive brother. He has repeatedly been seen intoxicated at the Sasquatch and was even heard propositioning one of their bartenders. One lucky contender who took him up on the offer is Jessica Sinclair. That girl's taste has always been questionable—but perhaps this is the one who will break her streak of heartbreak?
The younger Garcia brother isn't the only one moping and drinking his sorrows away at the bar. Theodore Collins has become the latest member of the lonely hearts club. Many have remarked he's been overly temperamental at work with some adding in that he and Kirby have officially called it quits. However, seems they're both quick to move on. Theodore was spotted hitting on Morgan Vovk, who took him home "as a friend"—you can take that as you will. Meanwhile, Kirby has been seen multiple times leaving the drive-in with Edward Langston. Now, sonsidering he should be focused on helping raise his goddaughter, you would think he'd reconsider his priorities. Kirby is fun but they're hardly the person you'd want around when you're trying to be responsible.
That's all for now, my lovelies. Remember: drink and flirt responsibly! You never know who's watching.
Love,
Auntie G
“Is it just me, or do the old folks at the retirement home seem happier lately? Is it just because of that new doctor working there or what?”
- Anon (37M)
“So, I hear there’s an angry bounty hunter in town, and word on the street is he’s after a big score. Guess it makes sense that he seems to have joined Val Moreno’s harem. He seems like her type. Good luck and godspeed to Connor Hastings, I suppose.”
- Hopeful Future Harem Member
“It appears like Duck Romero has been lassoed by Claire Forbes and is officially off the market. I saw the two of them on what appeared to be a date after New Years looking mighty cozy. Third time’s the charm, folks!”
- Town Bird Watcher
“Declan Sullivan seems to be sowing his wild oats, as he was seen kissing Peyton Wilson soon after a love confession to him by Artemis Hayes was overheard at a construction site. Never seen a boy high tail it out of a conversation so fast. Hey, I'm willing to be her shoulder to cry on any day.”
- Bob the Builder
"You'd be surprised how much shit gets talked about at the construction sites. You know that circus guy? Mercy Wainwright? Might've overheard him bitching about not getting to see his kid. That he might actually try to get custody of 'em. Not sure how the baby mama, Josie Reigh, gonna feel about that one."
- The 4th Property Brother
“Yeah, so I was having a drink at the Sasquatch when Hope McGillivray threw a drink in Floyd Blackward’s face. Guess he made a pass at her but you can’t blame a guy for trying. Dude’s still stuck in second place it looks like.”
- Day Drinker
“Although Halley MacGillivray and Saffron Aubert are now officially dating, Halley has been seen hanging out with Felix Berkowitz, Saffron's ex-fiancé. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Loyalty seems to be a concept that family struggles with.”
- Anon (22F)
"Hey, so I don't know if it was the eggnog at the party or what. But Edgar Wayne had a full meltdown at his own party. Looks like it was cause of Beverly Torrance, she went skinny dipping in this freezing ass weather with Elijah Atkins. I thought the rangers were suppose to help out folks not nearly kill 'em."
- Eggnog Lover
#eagan connolly#will monroe#christopher winters#jim dunford#emma dunford#josie reigh#gabriel westfall#nico garcia#jessica sinclair#theodore collins#kirby#morgan vovk#edward langston#raphael knightley#valeria moreno#connor hastings#mallard romero#claire forbes#declan sullivan#peyton wilson#artemis hayes#mercy wainwright#hope macgillivray#floyd blackward#halley macgillivray#saffron aubert#felix berkowitz#edgar wayne#beverly torrance#elijah atkins
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Dont Leave Me
Will Byers x Platonic!Reader
Stranger things 4 spoilers!
Request: I need some angst like a ship that is very wholesome that you thought they’ll have a happy ending and instead they got a sad one.
Will Byers x reader where the reader is a new girl in town just like Max, she would always carry a polaroid around. (Y/n) was good in wrestling due to her father who was a pro wrestler and moved to Hawkins to settle in.
They met in the woods, (y/n) was taking some pictures of flowers. She encountered Will, and it seemed that they keep hanging out at the same place. (Y/n) even helped him from the mind flayer where they meditated. Will always felt safe and peaceful around her.
The gang would even tease them for being close, even though they weren’t together yet, and in season 4 when they were rescuing Eleven, at the dessert.
She was shot and Will was the one holding her close as he was trying to stop her from bleeding. He was crying badly that (y/n) was still alive luckily and got her to the hospital. Will stayed by her side and he was afraid of losing her again. @oyasumimosura
A/N: AU where Will actually has a good friend that cares about him that isn’t just Mike ignoring him for El >:( REQUESTSARE OPEN (SPECIFIACLLY EDDIE)
Hawkins was never what you expected. When you were 12, you moved here with your parents, you weren’t excited by any means. You were leaving New York City behind. But you had to accept it, your dad was a pro wrestler and he was set to retire, and he didn’t want to be around the temptation of jumping back into the ring. So, it was agreed to move back to your parents' quaint small town of Hawkins. Your family had visited over the years, to see family, for holidays, but you barely knew anyone here you weren’t related to, it made going to school a lot scarier. Your dad, the ever protective, had taught you how to defend yourself, mainly for the possible case of mugging in the city, but also for his own piece of mind. To say you were a talented wrestler was an understatement, you were trained by one of the best in new york.
And so here you were, in Hawkins. It had been a few days since you started. You’d made a few friends, but nothing major, you still sat and ate lunch alone. To combat the fear you walked around the middle school, looking for any good spots to take pictures. A polaroid camera that was practically attached to your hip was your best friend, eventually you stumbled across a field in the back of the school. Just far enough for it to be calm, but close enough to hear the bell signalling the end of lunch. Smiling, You set your things down and began happily snapping the meadow, the wild flowers, the trees, a few birds, all until your camera had run out of film. Huffing, you sat with your bag and began to change the film, convinced you were completely alone, all up until you saw a pair of legs standing in front of you. Looking up in surprise you saw him, your eyes widened, before you could speak he noticed the pile of pictures beside you that had just developed.
“No way, these are amazing.” The boy smiled at you as he bent down and took the pile, gently flipping through them and admiring each one individually. You smiled at him.
“Thanks, it's just a silly hobby, I didn’t think anyone would come out here.” You spoke gently as he took a seat beside you “What's your name?”
“Will Byers, I’m in your history class.” He smiled
“Im Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.”
That is where your friendship began. The two of you would meet there regularly to talk and take pictures, Will even began borrowing library books to help identify the birds or the flowers that grew there. By the time you were 14 and had left Middle School, the two of you were nearly experts on every species you had come across in the small meadow.
Not to say there were downsides of the friendship, but there were definitely obstacles. The minute you found out about the Upside down, the demogorgon, everything Will had been through, you were petrified. This prompted a promise to him, that if things ever got bad again, you’d be right by his side.
When he was possessed by the mind flayer, you brought him to the meadow with Joyce and Johnathan, hoping that somehow that would help him. It did, eventually you broke through to him, only briefly, after spending 5 minutes pointing out the different plant life of the meadow. He looked up at you with scared eyes and repeated the name of some tree you had spoken to him.
“Y/N… I don’t want this, help me.” He muttered to you, the fear in his voice was evident. But it was evidence to you, Joyce, and Johnathan that he was still in there. You stuck by his side with Nancy and Johntahn through everything, through trying to burn the mind flayer from him, and to the minute he woke up. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. But you wouldn’t give up on your best friend.
After that, you became friends with everyone, you’d had wanted to meet them before that, but the opportunity never came up. They convinced you to play DND, start playing video games, Max taught you how to skate, you had sleepovers with her and El, and life was bliss for a while. All up until the events at Starcourt, when Joyce packed hima nd the rest of the family up to California.
It broke your heart to leave your best friend, but you wrote to him as often as you could. Visiting the meadow, and snapping pictures of whatever you could. Many letters had attached pictures of your friends, even of Eddie and Hellfire once you started highschool. The two of you had a scheduled phone call every sunday night, you’d discuss what had happened through the week in person, get any missed details from letters, and just talk, whatever you could fit into the 30 minutes your parents agreed on when Will moved. When Mike approached you about going to California on Spring Break with him, so he could visit El, and you to see Will you were ecstatic.
Right off the plane you practically tackled Will into a hug before saying your hellos to Johnathan and El, and the four of you were soon off to the roller rink. Things happened, like El smacking the bitchy girl in the face with a roller skate. You were shocked, but also proud that she could stick up for herself like that, also admiring her form when she threw the punch. Of course you’d taught her how to do that, what's the point of having a wrestler dad if you didn’t teach your friends self defence after all?
And then everything went south. The cops, the agents, El ebing taken to Nina, not exactly how you envisioned spring break, but then again nothing in your life since moving had been normal. Unexpectedly you found yourself in a Surfer Boy Pizza van, with Will, Mike, Jonathan, and Argyle ona rescue mission for El. After many arguments, and wrong turns, the five of you were tearing through the desert to the coordinates that Susie had found and you were close to the base. From the back you saw helicopters, people being shot at, and El, stood there with her powers back in full force. The five of you ran out of the van and tried to reach her as fast as you could. You were near the forefront, being a lot more athe;tically able than the rest thanks to your dad, one of the first to reach her as bullets were flying. She was concentrating on the helicopter that was shooting at her. Just before you reached her you shouted to her, a mistake on your part.
El’s concentration wavered just long enough for a stray bullet to hit you square in the shoulder. You let out a scream and fell to the floor. Though, it gave El enough anger to concentrate into her powers, and just as you hit the ground, so did the helicopter. All attention was on you. On the ground, writhing in agony. Willow was the first to reach you, he held you in your arms as you cried.
“Y/N! Y/N! Stay with me you're ok, you're fine i promise-” His voice was shaking as he held you, Jonathan was on your otherside with Mike, El and Argyle stood around you. Jonathan took his jacket off and pressed it hard against your shoulder and you let out another scream.
Will had tears in his eyes as he held you. He was shaking, trying to keep you conscious.
“We need to go, guys look!” Mike shouted, he could see the soldiers emerging from the bunker, without another word Johnathan scooped you up in his arms and with the rest ran to the van.
You were lying on El’s lap as she tried to soothe you, Will was a mess, MIke was panicking, Jonathan was desperately trying to stop the bleeding while Argyle drove the van out as fast as he could.
“Y/N, you’re going to be okay, okay? We’re gonna get you to a hospital, and you’re going to be fine.” He held tightly onto your hand as you grew pale, your breathing was hitched and you nodded, unable to speak.
Eventually, you were taken to the hospital. Some story was created about a rouge shooter on the road and the doctors had assured everyone you were going to be fine. There was still the world to save, and so Mike Johnathan and Argyle went off to do whatever they were doing, while Will stayed by your side in the Hospital. You were going to be fine, you just needed rest and time to heal. Will had never been so relieved.
He was sitting in the chair beside yours, you had been asleep and he was busy reading some sci fi comic he had found in the waiting room. When you woke up you rolled your head to the side and smiled.
“Hey loser.” You chuckled as he whipped his head up and smiled at you, he jumped and gave you a tight hug, quickly moving away after you let out a pained ‘Ouch!’, slightly forgetting the reason you were here.
“I was so worried. You can’t do that to me again Y/N I cant lose my best friend.” He stood over you, you gave him a smile and took his hand.
“Of course I won’t. Who else is going to document the wildlife of Hawkins for you while you're in california?” He chuckled and leant down to give you another hug, this time being wary of your shoulder.
#Will Byers#Will Byers x reader#will byers x platonic! reader#will byers imagine#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things imagine#stranger things 4 imagine
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Hades and Persephone
Disclaimer: this rant is not about fanfic - fandom is a free space and what the next person does is none of my business.
This is more YA and how certain works may influence and harm young, impressionable readers.
It's also about misogyny in shallow "feminist" retellings
I have work to do so of course I'm going to procrastinate in a very random way: Hating on the modernised, girlboss but actually misogynist version of the myth and turning the camera back to who the story is actually about: the bereaved milf Demeter.
Obviously, as a whole the Greek gods are not meant to be pillars of modern or even ancient moral values. And there's nothing wrong with imagining Hades as more than creepy uncle.
But reimagining this exact myth in a way that demonises the loving and concerned mother Demeter is misogynistic.
Won't get into how reimagining it as Persephone being not just wiling but the mastermind puts the "blame" of kidnapping and sa on the little girl and sounds eerily similar to how predators speak
The Hymn is a song of praise for Demeter, the story is not "told from her perspective" the story is about her.
And I often think it's done by people who are mostly unaware of any real knowledge of the myth outside of pop culture. That's not a dig, not everyone has the time, resources or even the want to read up on it.
But, maybe, if you're gonna write about something - even if you don't plan to stick to the original - a little research would help.
So here's most of the original story
(Translation by H.G. Evelyn-White)
The Homeric Hymn to Demeter
[Hades kidnaps Persephone while she in a field of flowers]
He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, (...)
[Persephone screams for help so loudly her voice carries over the Earth and reaches even Olympus but her father (Zeus) doesn't help because he agreed to it already]
So [Hades], that son of Cronos, of many names, who is Ruler of Many and Host of Many, was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot – his own brother’s child and all unwilling.
[In her 'final' moments, Persephone takes in the Earth - her natural domain - and yearns for it, her mother and Olympus]
And so long as [Persephone], the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope calmed her great heart for all her trouble...
[Demeter hears Persephone screaming, rushes to her and looks for her - completely distraught and wrecked by grief]
Bitter pain seized her heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands: her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea, seeking her child.
But no one would tell her the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. Then for nine days queenly Deo wandered over the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nectar, nor sprinkled her body with water
[On the 10th day Hecate takes Demeter to Helios, who witnessed the kidnapping, and Demeter pleads to him:]
"(...) Through the fruitless air I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare, sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently; though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you – for with your beams you look down from the bright upper air over all the earth and sea – tell me truly of my dear child, if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off .”
[Helios ultimately tries to comfort her saying Hades isn't a bad match in status but before that says:]
And the Son of Hyperion answered her: “Queen Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rhea, I will tell you the truth; for I greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Hades, her father’s brother, to be called his buxom wife. And Hades seized her and took her loudly crying in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom.
[Demeter is further saddened and enraged by the added betrayal]
But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the dark-clouded Son of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympos.
[Demeter disguises herself as a mortal and takes on the form of a weathered, 'elderly' (more likely middle aged) woman. She then goes to the city of Eleusis.]
Vexed in her dear heart, she sat near the wayside by the Maiden Well, from which the women of the place were used to draw water, in a shady place over which grew an olive shrub. And she was like an ancient woman who is cut off from childbearing and the gifts of garland loving Aphrodite, like the nurses of kings’ children who deal justice, or like the housekeepers in their echoing halls.
She meets 4 daughters of King Celeus (Callithoe, Demo, Callidice and Cleisidice) who are probably around the same age as Persephone and described as "like goddesses in the flower of their girlhood".
The girls don't know her - not just as the goddess but as a person - but nonetheless they worry about her and tell her to come into the town to be with other women, older and younger, who would "welcome [her] by both by word and by deed."
Demeter tells them her name is Doso, from Crete, and that she was captured by pirates and brought over but managed to escape. She asks the girls if there's any work in the household for a woman her age - including housekeeping, teaching younger women or nursing and rearing a newborn child.
[Callidice tells 'Doso' about good households that might be in need of help but says that in their own house, their 'elderly' mother - Metaneira - has just had a son]
She has an only son, late-born, who is being nursed in our well-built house, a child of many prayers and welcome: if you could bring him up until he reached the full measure of youth, any one of womankind who should see you would straightway envy you, such gifts would our mother give for his upbringing.”
[Demeter arrives at the house and Metaneira, who feels her prescence right away, gives up her chair despite being a nursing mother with her baby in her hands and the wife of the king.]
But the goddess walked to the threshold: and her head reached the roof and she filled the doorway with a heavenly radiance. Then awe and reverence and pale fear took hold of Metaneira, and she rose up from her couch before Demeter, and bade her be seated.
But Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of perfect gifts, would not sit upon the bright couch, but stayed silent with lovely eyes cast down until careful Iambe placed a jointed seat for her and threw over it a silvery fleece. Then she sat down and held her veil in her hands before her face.
A long time she sat upon the stool without speaking because of her sorrow, and greeted no one by word or by sign, but rested, never smiling, and tasting neither food nor drink, because she pined with longing for her deep-bosomed daughter, until careful Iambe – who pleased her moods in aftertime also – moved the holy lady with many a quip and jest to smile and laugh and cheer her heart.
*[Iambe is the slave of king Celeus but also daughter of the god, Pan and the nymph, Echo. She is the only one who made Demeter feel better.]
[Demeter accepts the offer to nurse and raise the Queen's son, Demophoon, and promises to protect him. However, still unaware that Doso is the goddess, Demeter, Metaneira is distraught when she finds out how Doso holds the baby (above or in) fire every night]
And the child grew like some immortal being, not fed with food nor nourished at the breast: for by day rich-crowned Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia as if he were the offspring of a god and breathe sweetly upon him as she held him in her bosom.
But at night she would hide him like a brand in the heart of the fi re, unknown to his dear parents. And it wrought great wonder in these that he grew beyond his age; for he was like the gods face to face.
And she would have made him deathless and unageing, had not well-girded Metaneira in her heedlessness kept watch by night from her sweet-smelling chamber and spied.
But she wailed and smote her two hips, because she feared for her son and was greatly distraught in her heart; so she lamented and uttered winged words: “Demophoon, my son, the strange woman buries you deep in fire and works grief and bitter sorrow for me.”
[Demeter literally drops/throws the baby (he's fine) and yells at Metaneira, the forces the town to become the site of the annual Eleusinian Mysteries which were performed in worship of Demeter and Persephone]
“Witless are you mortals and dull to foresee your lot, whether of good or evil, that comes upon you. For now in your heedlessness you have wrought folly past healing; for – be witness the oath of the gods, the relentless water of Styx – I would have made your dear son deathless and unaging all his days and would have bestowed on him everlasting honor, but now he can in no way escape death and the fates.
Yet shall unfailing honor always rest upon him, because he lay upon my knees and slept in my arms.
But, as the years move round and when he is in his prime, the sons of the Eleusinians shall ever wage war and dread strife with one another continually. Lo! I am that Demeter who has share of honor and is the greatest help and cause of joy to the undying gods and mortal men.
But now, let all the people build me a great temple and an altar below it and beneath the city and its sheer wall upon a rising hillock above Callichorus. And I myself will teach my rites, that hereafter you may reverently perform them and so win the favour of my heart.”
[Demeter throws off her disguise and leaves]
When she had so said, the goddess changed her stature and her looks, thrusting old age away from her: beauty spread round about her and a lovely fragrance was wafted from her sweet-smelling robes, and from the divine body of the goddess a light shone afar, while golden tresses spread down over her shoulders, so that the strong house was filled with brightness as with lightning. And so she went out from the palace.
Demeter is a MILF, a hottie, stop portraying her otherwise
[The temple is built but it doesn't cure Demeter of her sorrow and her depression causes a year without crops of harvest]
But golden-haired Demeter sat there apart from all the blessed gods and stayed, wasting with yearning for her deep-bosomed daughter.
(...)
So she would have destroyed the whole race of man with cruel famine and have robbed them who dwell on Olympos of their glorious right of gifts and sacrifices, had not Zeus perceived and marked this in his heart.
First he sent golden-winged Iris to call rich-haired Demeter, lovely in form. So he commanded. And she obeyed the dark-clouded Son of Cronos, and sped with swift feet across the space between.
She came to the stronghold of fragrant Eleusis, and there finding dark-cloaked Demeter in her temple, spake to her and uttered winged words: “Demeter, father Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, calls you to come join the tribes of the eternal gods: come therefore, and let not the message I bring from Zeus pass unobeyed.” Thus said Iris imploring her.
But Demeter’s heart was not moved.
Then again the father sent forth all the blessed and eternal gods besides: and they came, one after the other, and kept calling her and offering many very beautiful gifts and whatever rights she might be pleased to choose among the deathless gods.
Yet no one was able to persuade her mind and will, so wroth was she in her heart; but she stubbornly rejected all their words: for she vowed that she would never set foot on fragrant Olympos nor let fruit spring out of the ground, until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.
[Zeus sends Hermes to persuade Hades to let Persephone out to see her mother so Demeter will calm down, Hades basically has no choice and agrees but...]
And [Hermes] found the lord Hades in his house seated upon a couch, and his shy mate with him, much reluctant, because she yearned for her mother. But she was afar off, brooding on her fell design because of the deeds of the blessed gods.
And Aidoneus, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly and obeyed the behest of Zeus the king. For he straightway urged wise Persephone, saying: “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me: be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.”
When he said this, wise Persephone was filled with joy and hastily sprang up for gladness. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter.
[Hermes and Persephone go to Demeter]
And when Demeter saw them, she rushed forth as does a Maenad down some thick-wooded mountain, while Persephone on the other side, when she saw her mother’s sweet eyes, left the chariot and horses, and leaped down to run to her, and falling upon her neck, embraced her.
But while Demeter was still holding her dear child in her arms, her heart suddenly misgave her for some snare, so that she feared greatly and ceased fondling her daughter and asked of her at once: “My child, tell me, surely you have not tasted any food while you were below? Speak out and hide nothing, but let us both know.
For if you have not, you shall come back from loathly Hades and live with me and your father, the dark-clouded Son of Cronos and be honored by all the deathless gods; but if you have tasted food, you must go back again beneath the secret places of the earth, there to dwell a third part of the seasons every year: yet for the two parts you shall be with me and the other deathless gods.
But when the earth shall bloom with the fragrant flowers of spring in every kind, then from the realm of darkness and gloom thou shalt come up once more to be a wonder for gods and mortal men. And now tell me how he rapt you away to the realm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did the strong Host of Many beguile you?”
Persephone then tells her mother "(...) he secretly put in my mouth sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will." and recounts her kidnapping "(...) in his golden chariot he bore me away, all unwilling, beneath the earth: then I cried with a shrill cry. All this is true, sore though it grieves me to tell the tale.”
Still they're happy to be reunited
So did they then, with hearts at one, greatly cheer each the other’s soul and spirit with many an embrace: their hearts had relief from their griefs while each took and gave back joyousness.
[Zeus calls on Demeter and promises her, Persephone will stay with her for 2/3rds of the year and in Hades 1/3rd. Rhea, their mother also comforts Demeter and urges her to accept the peace offering and she does. She then goes to teach certain Kings and cities the Mysteries.]
The End.
anyways >>>>>>> over the same old child bride mary sue Persephone falling in love with old emo Hades who empowers her.
Like all myths there are other versions, I'm sure, but the version of Persephone said to be a frightening Queen of the Underworld actually predate Hades so how about adapting and writing that instead of some creep edge lord and his child bride flower crown princess
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Snow White or Snowdrop
I've been thinking more about the story Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It's such a famous fairytale, eclipsed only by Cinderella. It was also the story chosen for the first ever fully animated film. And that scene where Snow White makes a Pie with birds helping her, I always loved watching. Granted, the story and pacing is a little stale; which is understandable considering it was literally the first ever animated film. But the Visuals, I think, still hold up.
Anyways; as is well known, the Brothers Grimm are the authors of Snow White, along with many other pivotal fairytales. However, their stories were originally written in German. Their stories have been translated and retranslated by different people. The original German title of the story was Sneewittchen and later Schneewittchen.
In the hard copy of Brothers Grimm tales I have, published in 1940, the story is Called Little Snow White. However, I found an older version and translation where she is called Snow Drop. I'm not 100% sure why, as I am not fluent in German. However, perhaps the translator felt the name "Snow White" made no sense in English and opted for Snow Drop. The drop referencing the drops of blood (These stories have a weird pattern of mixing blood with something white like cream or snow and wishing for a woman). Thus may of been a localization choice.
Little things like this are good reminders about how things can get muddled in translation. But it's also important to remember localization is important. I don't think the 1938 Animated Film would of been as popular if it was titled Sneewittchen instead of Snow White.
Snow Drop (Snow White)
It was the middle of winter, and the snowflakes were falling from the sky like feathers. Now, a Queen sat sewing at a window framed in black ebony, and as she sewed she looked out upon the snow. Suddenly she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell on to the snow. And the red looked so lovely on the white that she thought to herself: ‘If only I had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window frame!’ Soon after, she had a daughter, whose hair was black as ebony, while her cheeks were red as blood, and her skin as white as snow; so she was called Snowdrop. But when the child was born the Queen died. A year after the King took another wife. She was a handsome woman, but proud and overbearing, and could not endure that any one should surpass her in beauty. She had a magic looking-glass, and when she stood before it and looked at herself she used to say:
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’
then the Glass answered,
‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’
Then she was content, for she knew that the Looking-glass spoke the truth.
But Snowdrop grew up and became more and more beautiful, so that when she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and far surpassed the Queen. Once, when she asked her Glass,
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’
it answered—
‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop is fairer a thousandfold.’
Then the Queen was horror-struck, and turned green and yellow with jealousy. From the hour that she saw Snowdrop her heart sank, and she hated the little girl.
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’
The pride and envy of her heart grew like a weed, so that she had no rest day nor night. At last she called a Huntsman, and said: ‘Take the child out into the wood; I will not set eyes on her again; you must kill her and bring me her lungs and liver as tokens.’
The Huntsman obeyed, and took Snowdrop out into the forest, but when he drew his hunting-knife and was preparing to plunge it into her innocent heart, she began to cry:
‘Alas! dear Huntsman, spare my life, and I will run away into the wild forest and never come back again.’
And because of her beauty the Huntsman had pity on her and said, ‘Well, run away, poor child.’ Wild beasts will soon devour you, he thought, but still he felt as though a weight were lifted from his heart because he had [3]not been obliged to kill her. And as just at that moment a young fawn came leaping by, he pierced it and took the lungs and liver as tokens to the Queen. The Cook was ordered to serve them up in pickle, and the wicked Queen ate them thinking that they were Snowdrop’s.
Now the poor child was alone in the great wood, with no living soul near, and she was so frightened that she knew not what to do. Then she began to run, and ran over the sharp stones and through the brambles, while the animals passed her by without harming her. She ran as far as her feet could carry her till it was nearly evening, when she saw a little house and went in to rest. Inside, everything was small, but as neat and clean as could be. A small table covered with a white cloth stood ready with seven small plates, and by every plate was a spoon, knife, fork, and cup. Seven little beds were ranged against the walls, covered with snow-white coverlets. As Snowdrop was very hungry and thirsty she ate a little bread and vegetable from each plate, and drank a little wine from each cup, for she did not want to eat up the whole of one portion. Then, being very tired, she lay down in one of the beds. She tried them all but none suited her; one was too short, another too long, all except the seventh, which was just right. She remained in it, said her prayers, and fell asleep.
When it was quite dark the masters of the house came in. They were seven Dwarfs, who used to dig in the mountains for ore. They kindled their lights, and as soon as they could see they noticed that some one had been there, for everything was not in the order in which they had left it.
The first said, ‘Who has been sitting in my chair?’
The second said, ‘Who has been eating off my plate?’
The third said, ‘Who has been nibbling my bread?’
The fourth said, ‘Who has been eating my vegetables?’
The fifth said, ‘Who has been using my fork?’
The sixth said, ‘Who has been cutting with my knife?’
The seventh said, ‘Who has been drinking out of my cup?’
In the evening the seven Dwarfs came back.
Then the first looked and saw a slight impression on his bed, and said, ‘Who has been treading on my bed?’ The others came running up and said, ‘And mine, and mine.’ But the seventh, when he looked into his bed, saw Snowdrop, who lay there asleep. He called the others, who came up and cried out with astonishment, as they held their lights and gazed at Snowdrop. ‘Heavens! what a beautiful child,’ they said, and they were so delighted that they did not wake her up but left her asleep in bed. And the seventh Dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour with each all through the night.
When morning came Snowdrop woke up, and when she saw the seven Dwarfs she was frightened.
But they were very kind and asked her name.
‘I am called Snowdrop,’ she answered.
‘How did you get into our house?’ they asked.
Then she told them how her stepmother had wished to get rid of her, how the Huntsman had spared her life, and how she had run all day till she had found the house.
Then the Dwarfs said, ‘Will you look after our household, cook, make the beds, wash, sew and knit, and keep everything neat and clean? If so you shall stay with us and want for nothing.’
‘Yes,’ said Snowdrop, ‘with all my heart’; and she stayed with them and kept the house in order.
In the morning they went to the mountain and searched for copper and gold, and in the evening they came back and then their meal had to be ready. All day the maiden was alone, and the good Dwarfs warned her and said, ‘Beware of your stepmother, who will soon learn that you are here. Don’t let any one in.’
But the Queen, having, as she imagined, eaten Snowdrop’s liver and lungs, and feeling certain that she was the fairest of all, stepped in front of her Glass, and asked—
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’
the Glass answered as usual—
‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’
She was dismayed, for she knew that the Glass told no lies, and she saw that the Hunter had deceived her and that Snowdrop still lived. Accordingly she began to wonder afresh how she might compass her death; for as long as she was not the fairest in the land her jealous heart left her no rest. At last she thought of a plan. She dyed her face and dressed up like an old Pedlar, so that she was quite unrecognisable. In this guise she crossed over the seven mountains to the home of the seven Dwarfs and called out, ‘Wares for sale.’
Snowdrop peeped out of the window and said, ‘Good-day, mother, what have you got to sell?’
‘Good wares, fine wares,’ she answered, ‘laces of every colour’; and she held out one which was made of gay plaited silk.
‘I may let the honest woman in,’ thought Snowdrop, and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty lace.
‘Child,’ said the Old Woman, ‘what a sight you are, I will lace you properly for once.’
Snowdrop made no objection, and placed herself before the Old Woman to let her lace her with the new lace. But the Old Woman laced so quickly and tightly that she took away Snowdrop’s breath and she fell down as though dead.
‘Now I am the fairest,’ she said to herself, and hurried away.
Not long after the seven Dwarfs came home, and were horror-struck when they saw their dear little Snowdrop lying on the floor without stirring, like one dead. When they saw she was laced too tight they cut the lace, whereupon she began to breathe and soon came back to life again. When the Dwarfs heard what had happened, they said that the old Pedlar was no other than the wicked Queen. ‘Take care not to let any one in when we are not here,’ they said.
Now the wicked Queen, as soon as she got home, went to the Glass and asked—
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’
and it answered as usual—
‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’
When she heard it all her blood flew to her heart, so enraged was she, for she knew that Snowdrop had come back to life again. Then she thought to herself, ‘I must plan something which will put an end to her.’ By means of witchcraft, in which she was skilled, she made a poisoned comb. Next she disguised herself and took the form of a different Old Woman. She crossed the mountains and came to the home of the seven Dwarfs, and knocked at the door calling out, ‘Good wares to sell.’
Snowdrop looked out of the window and said, ‘Go away, I must not let any one in.’
‘At least you may look,’ answered the Old Woman, and she took the poisoned comb and held it up.
The child was so pleased with it that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the door.
When she had made a bargain the Old Woman said, ‘Now I will comb your hair properly for once.’
Poor Snowdrop, suspecting no evil, let the Old Woman have her way, but scarcely was the poisoned comb fixed in her hair than the poison took effect, and the maiden fell down unconscious.
‘You paragon of beauty,’ said the wicked woman, ‘now it is all over with you,’ and she went away.
Happily it was near the time when the seven Dwarfs came home. When they saw Snowdrop lying on the ground as though dead, they immediately suspected her stepmother, and searched till they found the poisoned comb. No sooner had they removed it than Snowdrop came to herself again and related what had happened. They warned her again to be on her guard, and to open the door to no one.
[8]When she got home the Queen stood before her Glass and said—
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’
and it answered as usual—
‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’
When she heard the Glass speak these words she trembled and quivered with rage. ‘Snowdrop shall die,’ she said, ‘even if it cost me my own life.’ Thereupon she went into a secret room, which no one ever entered but herself, and made a poisonous apple. Outwardly it was beautiful to look upon, with rosy cheeks, and every one who saw it longed for it, but whoever ate of it was certain to die. When the apple was ready she dyed her face and dressed herself like an old Peasant Woman and so crossed the seven hills to the Dwarfs’ home. There she knocked.
Snowdrop put her head out of the window and said, ‘I must not let any one in, the seven Dwarfs have forbidden me.’
‘It is all the same to me,’ said the Peasant Woman. ‘I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one.’
‘No; I must not take anything.’
‘Are you afraid of poison?’ said the woman. ‘See, I will cut the apple in half: you eat the red side and I will keep the other.’
Now the apple was so cunningly painted that the red half alone was poisoned. Snowdrop longed for the apple, and when she saw the Peasant Woman eating she could hold out no longer, stretched out her hand and took the poisoned half. Scarcely had she put a bit into her mouth than she fell dead to the ground.
The Queen looked with a fiendish glance, and laughed aloud and said, ‘White as snow, red as blood, and black as ebony, [9]this time the Dwarfs cannot wake you up again.’ And when she got home and asked the Looking-glass—
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’
it answered at last—
‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’
Then her jealous heart was at rest, as much at rest as a jealous heart can be. The Dwarfs, when they came at evening, found Snowdrop lying on the ground and not a breath escaped her lips, and she was quite dead. They lifted her up and looked to see whether any poison was to be found, unlaced her dress, combed her hair, washed her with wine and water, but it was no use; their dear child was dead. They laid her on a bier, and all seven sat down and bewailed her and lamented over her for three whole days. Then they prepared to bury her, but she looked so fresh and living, and still had such beautiful rosy cheeks, that they said, ‘We cannot bury her in the dark earth.’ And so they had a transparent glass coffin made, so that she could be seen from every side, laid her inside and wrote on it in letters of gold her name and how she was a King’s daughter. Then they set the coffin out on the mountain, and one of them always stayed by and watched it. And the birds came too and mourned for Snowdrop, first an owl, then a raven, and lastly a dove.
Now Snowdrop lay a long, long time in her coffin, looking as though she were asleep. It happened that a Prince was wandering in the wood, and came to the home of the seven Dwarfs to pass the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain and lovely Snowdrop inside, and read what was written in golden letters. Then he said to the Dwarfs, ‘Let me have the coffin; I will give you whatever you like for it.’
But they said, ‘We will not give it up for all the gold of the world.’
Then he said, ‘Then give it to me as a gift, for I cannot live without Snowdrop to gaze upon; and I will honour and reverence it as my dearest treasure.’
When he had said these words the good Dwarfs pitied him and gave him the coffin.
The Prince bade his servants carry it on their shoulders. Now it happened that they stumbled over some brushwood, and the shock dislodged the piece of apple from Snowdrop’s throat. In a short time she opened her eyes, lifted the lid of the coffin, sat up and came back to life again completely.
‘O Heaven! where am I?’ she asked.
The Prince, full of joy, said, ‘You are with me,’ and he related what had happened, and then said, ‘I love you better than all the world; come with me to my father’s castle and be my wife.’
Snowdrop agreed and went with him, and their wedding was celebrated with great magnificence. Snowdrop’s wicked stepmother was invited to the feast; and when she had put on her fine clothes she stepped to her Glass and asked—
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’
The Glass answered—
‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,The young Queen fairer a thousandfold.’
Then the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so terribly frightened that she didn’t know what to do. Yet she had no rest: she felt obliged to go and see the young Queen. And when she came in she recognised Snowdrop, and stood stock still with fear and terror. But iron slippers were heated over the fire, and were soon brought in with tongs and put before her. And she had to step into the red-hot shoes and dance till she fell down dead.
#fairytale#folktale#snow white#snowdrop#magic miror#brothers grimm#food and folklore#pie#folklore#kitchen witch#November#name translation#klickwitch#witch#cottagecore
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