The dragon didn’t know what to think of the human.
It was weird enough that the kid didn’t scent of shifter. He was just human, human enough to almost make Wade’s nostril’s burn, just pure scent untainted by the wild that would accompany a shifters human half.
It was even weirder that he was this far up the mountain alone, with enough supplies to last him days, as if he didn’t want to be in the village during the spring mating season.
Which… if he couldn’t shift, that would actually make sense. Of course he didn’t want to be there for the spring.
Wade followed the human for two days before finally revealing himself just a little, and the look of shock on the boys face made him laugh for days.
“So which is it.” Peter dumped a pile of firewood close to his tent and squinted up at the dragon-shifter. “Were you scared into being permanently shifted, or did something bad and got stuck?”
Wade’s golden eyes narrowed at him, but Peter didn’t look away.
In the month since Wade had rescued him from the waterfall, Peter had spent almost every day on the mountain, only coming back to the village for more supplies. May was worried about him, his friends were starting to talk about how weird he had gotten– disappearing for days at a time, spacing out of conversations, acting dodgy when asked where he was going.
But Peter couldn’t stay away.
He was fascinated by the dragon. Fascinated and a little terrified and he had been building up his courage for the past two weeks to finally ask this question because Wade’s answer could change everything.
“It has to be one of those things.” he started stacking wood in the fire pit, breaking pieces of kindling to go on top. “My Aunt says there are only two reasons why a shifter stays force shifted and I need to know if you’re a weenie-puss who saw a rabbit and shifted so you could fly away or if you– you know.” he swallowed uncomfortably. “Gave in to your dragon side and killed someone?”
Did you just call me a weenie-puss?
“I said what I said.” Peter dusted off his hands and looked around for his flint. “So which is it? You got scared or you killed someone?”
Both of those things. The dragon said– thought?– Peter wasn’t exactly sure what to call it. I did both of those things. Have you seen a rabbit? Terrifying. Noting should jump that fast or be that fluffy.
“Okay.” An awkward laugh. “I have never seen a rabbit and thought they were terrifying and I’m more concerned about you killing someone.”
Not someone. The dragon crouched and eyeballed the pile of kindling in the fire pit. I killed nine men and then shifted and killed a few dozen more.
His mouth opened wide, a puff of smoke igniting into a column of flame, exploding the kindling and setting the logs below blazing.
“A few–few dozen more?” Peter stammered, watching the fire with more trepidation than awe. “Wh–why?”
They killed my wife. Wade’s gaze never flickered. She was innocent and they killed her. We were going to start a family together and they took her from me. So I killed as many as I could and when they started to overwhelm me, I shifted and killed the rest.
“I–you–um–”
I’d do it again too. The dragons claws dug into the earth. I don’t care about being stuck in my dragon form. I wouldn’t want to be human without her.
****************
****************
“So. The scars.” Peter tore into his–ick– rabbit. He was almost positive that Wade had given him a dragon-style grin as he deposited a rabbit next to the campfire for Peter to clean. “Are they from when you attacked? Or did that happen later?”
Later. A growl rumbled from the shifter. When I realized I couldn’t shift down, I went for the battlefield, thought I would kill as many from the other side as I could, and the archers tried to bring me down. It didn’t work, but it sure hurt like hell.
“And you can’t heal?”
I am as healed as I’ll ever be, I guess.
“Have you tried to shift back at all? After you stopped–stopped grieving?”
If your comment on one of my fics ever looks like this I’m going to go full Samara and come crawling through your computer screen to murder you.
readers like this are what make writers stop writing all together.
“sorry life sucks but you have to realize that the readers feelings are more important?”
FUCK OFF
When you see writers say “i hate readers” this is the shit they are talking about.
As a writer myself, I can honestly say that this comment was ruder than saying not to just say ‘update soon’. Like there are nicer ways to show how much you love it?
I know that I will get things that just say ‘update soon’ since I’m posting it, and I honestly don’t expect an epic poem as a response, but I would like more than those two words. Even if it’s as simple as saying “Oh my gosh I love ths so much, I can’t wait for more” it’s so much nicer than simply saying ‘update soon’. The tone is different and it shows that you care for it more, it shows more that you like this story versus the needy, rude tone of just two words. I quit writing for a while after I had someone always comment ‘update soon’ on the chapters of a fic I wrote. At the end, they gave a long comment at last, but it amount to ‘I hated this story, these characters were all ooc, but it was nice to see my favorite pair as the main plotline’.
Like I don’t comment on every new chapter my faves post, but I sometimes make myself focus my fangirling into a coherent-ish comment/reply/etc. So Readers, please try to give more than those two words if you comment. I promise it means so much more. It may even help the words come faster.
Steve curled in against Thor, nuzzling against his chest and then finally settling and closing his eyes. “Talking to the others is going to be the hard part,” he said quietly. “They’ll think you’re taking me away from everyone.”
“I would never,” Thor replied, kissing Steve’s head as they lay in bed, eyes closing as he held Steve. “I’m staying here with you, my love. With everyone.” he promised, fingers petting through blonde hair, relaxing into the bed and falling asleep as he held his lover. Morning came faster than Thor would have liked, and he tucked his face into Steve’s neck as the sun woke him up, groaning.
Steve chuckled softly, tiredly, as Thor snuggled in against him and pressed his face to Steve’s neck. “Hmm… Jarvis, can you black out the windows a bit, please?” Soon, the room was darkened again and he shifted, turning a bit to nuzzle at Thor’s chest. “Better?” he asked softly.
Thor gave a soft smile and pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Much better.” he rumbled, not opening his eyes. “I have missed laying next to you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” he explained. “Is there anything required of us so early?”
themusechronicles 