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A young boy finally wakes up to the utmost joy if his parents after nigh a moon of being severely ill. He is well and animated, as if never even being struck with the unknown disease. And yet to the dismay of his family, he remembers naught of their names, their faces or even this world as a whole. Even his own name is alien to him.
Ten years have passed since then and Ballin Dulin still hasn't remembered his childhood on this star, but has slowly grown to accept his life here as it was. After all, it was much better than the childhood he did remember...
"She came all the way from the new world- sorry, Tural - to ask for my help! Can you believe it?"
"Without a doubt." thought Y'shtola as Arsay began to ramble with excitement over her upcoming adventure.
Now I love me some good ghoul fucking as much as the next person (hello new Hancock smut one-shot preview, you’re looking real nice)… but I ain’t gonna lie I followed you because of that Norm one shot preview and I am FROTHING waiting for that bad boy. Please gimme an update on that baby and tell me you’re posting it soon 👀
I am SOOOOOOOO sorry to you, Anon, and anyone else who followed for the Norm thing, since I've made you wait so long! :( I won't make any firm promises, just to be safe, but the Hancock one shot is wrapping up way faster than I anticipated, and the Norm one-shot is the next long-form piece in line in terms of priority. I won't say for certain it'll be up in the next few days, but I will say don't expect to wait much longer than that.
Thank you for your patience and your kind message to check on the status of it. I hope you like it as much as I do when it comes out! It's SO close to being finished.
I DO NOT KNOW. WHAT WATER LOOKS LIKE. I AM DOING MY BEST HERE OKAY.
So yes here is Rhen with her kitty on the beach. She likes to go to the ocean to escape the pressures of royal life (more on that later), and to practice her swordsinging. Lately she also finds herself daydreaming about the kind stranger who healed her and hoping maybe, somehow, she'll meet him again if she just keeps returning to the same spot. For her part, Softly does not mind the extra cuddle time<3
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Sorry for the delay, just had a hard time thinking of anything at first, but then this popped into my head. Fair warning: I could not stop giggling as I wrote this. It’s in no way meant to be taken seriously, just keep that in mind as you read. And without further ado, here’s my final contribution to SAW 2023!
~*~
Let Me Be Your Wings
Sherlock had no idea why he was the way that he was. Neither his memory nor his adoptive mother, Mrs Hudson, could provide any answers. All he could remember was a childhood spent climbing table legs and racing across tiny bridges connecting various pieces of furniture. Mrs Hudson had done her best to accommodate him, to make being so small a person living in an enormous world as easy as possible. But he’d known very early on that he was not where he belonged.
As he reached adulthood, he spent more and more time reading. Mrs Hudson had few books in her collection, but she made sure to put them within his reach, and though he was quite significantly smaller than them, he managed to carefully turn every page, devouring the words within.
That was how he made his first discovery of fairies.
Ever rational and realistic, he initially rejected the notion of any sort of magical being… but he couldn’t help but wonder. How had he come to be the only person his size, if not through magic? What other explanation could there be? As he often said to himself, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
Perhaps he was meant to have been a fairy himself. Perhaps something had gone wrong, resulting in his wings not growing or appearing, or however one came to have wings. Perhaps, he thought in his darker moments, someone had taken them. He might never know the answers, but he could not rid himself of the notion, nor the obsession. Day and night, he pored over the few books with information on the fae. Some presented that information as fact, others as fiction, but all had one similarity: There was a queen of the fairies, and she had the power to make a mortal one of their own.
His path was clear; he would have to find this queen of the fairies, and convince her to give him wings.
Sherlock told Mrs Hudson of his plan one evening, and predictably, he was met with concerns for his safety and pleas for him not to go. He presented his research and logic as an argument, and eventually, she conceded, only asking that he wait to leave until morning. A small concession to make, he thought, and easily agreed.
That night, however, as he lay in his walnut-shell bed, too excited to sleep, he heard a strange sound. He sat upright, holding his breath as he listened.
It was… a bee?
Sure enough, as he got out of bed and made his way toward the window, where the sound came from, he found a bee settled just outside. But that wasn’t all. The bee had a sort of saddle on it, suggesting that someone—or something—had been riding it. Sherlock hardly had time to process this revelation before the rider appeared, having pushed the window open just enough to slip inside.
And Sherlock’s jaw dropped.
A fairy.
She was a bit smaller than even him, clad in a dress that seemed to be made of flower petals, her opalescent wings fluttering at her back. Her eyes, wide and brown, landed on him, and her mouth fell open to match his. They stared at one another in silence for several moments, before she swallowed and put on a shy smile. “Hello,” she said in a soft voice.
Sherlock finally closed his mouth, but didn’t stop staring. “Who are you?”
“My name is Molly,” she answered. “What’s yours?”
“Sherlock. Why are you here?”
Her face fell a bit. “Oh, er, sorry… would you like me to leave?”
“NO!” he bellowed, then winced at his volume. She jumped back at the outburst, but she didn’t seem at all put off by him. In fact, she was smiling. Sherlock cleared his throat. “Sorry. What I meant was, you can stay… if you like.”
Her smile grew. “That’s a relief. Thank you.” Another silence settled between them for a few seconds, then her brow furrowed as she looked past him. “What happened to your wings?”
Sherlock’s stomach twisted. “I… I’ve never had any.”
Now her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not ever?” He shook his head. “I’ve never met a mortal who was the same size as me.”
“I’ve never met anyone the same size as me,” he countered, then more seriously added, “I’ve never really met anyone at all, come to think of it. It’s always been just me and Mrs Hudson.”
“Mrs Hudson?”
“My mother… adoptive,” he clarified unnecessarily.
Those brown eyes continued staring at him, but a slow smile spread across her elfin face. “Would you like to meet more people your size?”
His heart did a somersault in his chest, and he nodded. She held out her hand to him, but he hesitated, looking over his shoulder in the direction of Mrs Hudson’s bedroom. He’d promised to wait until the morning to start his adventure, and she would be terribly upset if he broke that promise… but this may be his only chance. Finally, with a deep breath, he stepped forward and took her hand.
“I don’t have any wings,” he reminded her as they moved to the window.
“That’s alright,” she smiled easily. “Let me be your wings.”
