#(I never actually use my dash but maybe I’ll stick around and follow people and semi-exist we’ll see)

[hau-and-lillie-and-gladion]

Something something, Liko having a heart to heart with Amethio and talking about how there are some things you’ll never know about someone until you talk to them, followed by Gibeon refusing to hear Amethio’s explanation and immediately kicking him out...

[rose2jam]

Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam

So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults.  I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever.  This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.

A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.  

So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something.  The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies.  But this Leader?  This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way.  Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered.  That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.  

Any of this sounding familiar?

Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others.  Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families.  Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in.  He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them.  I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.

So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever.  But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin.  Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside.  And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him.  Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader.  Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded.  Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above.  Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).  

Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.

Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters.  He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1).  Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be.  Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her.  (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well).  I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.

Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life.  And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical.  Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back.  For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental.  This friendship is everything.  Why wouldn’t he love her?

So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts.  Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life.  But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up.  Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black.  So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3).  And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat.  And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4).  What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.

Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience.  He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible.  During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place.  It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5).  But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6).  He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus.  On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily.  So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.

So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this?  He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers).  But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members.  McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol).  So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles.  As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with.  His dorm mates became his family.  So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily.  Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic?  Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?

On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8).  At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word.  He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds.  Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse.  So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.

Severus had been beaten down his entire life.  By Muggles and Magic Folk alike.  And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light.  He betrayed her as well, of course.  But he did try to show remorse.  And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.  

So.  Who does he have left?

I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here.  Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate.  For what?  For power, for a family, for a community.  For a world where he is no longer the weird one.  For a world where he’s respected, strong.  For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.

And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.

Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult.  Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House.  Maybe he was recruited directly.  Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life.  And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.

Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions.  There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play.  Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right.  (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)  

The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family.  Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult.  On the contrary, I feel sorry for them.  Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them.  Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”.  But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end.  They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.

I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953

Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116

It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.

Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart.  I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done.  But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.

Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany.  This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers.   There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2.   Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware.  As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family.  The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks.  Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?

Sorry.  Back to Snape.  There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation.  This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this).  Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.  

Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however.  In the end, he manages to break away from the cult.  The scales fall from his eyes.  In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off.  What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life.  He was brought back by genuine love.  Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.3) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART THREE

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: A little Iwa and Hoisuke sketch to accompany this chappie ❤ Thank you for all the love and support. My inbox has boomed since I last posted and I’m so grateful that it is being appreciated by y’all :,) <3 

ON TO PART THREE! Let me know what you guys think of this part :) xx

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART 

------

"Miss Y/N! You came!"

Hoisuke has a beam on his face the moment you step into the Iwaizumi household. That slightly calms your jittery nerves as you remove your shoes and step in, balancing the container of cookies in your hand.

"Hi Hoisuke," you greet back with a smile, "I brought your favourite cookies."

"Really?!"

"Really," you hand him the container with a grin, relishing as he oohs and aahs as he gets a whiff of the said baked treats. He beams up at you, "thanks miss Y/N. You're so cool."

"Not as cool as you are," you ruffle his hair and he giggles, before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you inside, "come, Daddy's warming up the pizza."

To be honest, part of you had combusted when you'd read over Iwaizumi's message repeatedly to make sure you weren't reading it wrong. The other part of you was screaming that this was definitely out of bounds and plus, could you consider this to be a sort of date?

No, of course not. Definitely not. He'd invited you over as a friend. And because Hoisuke liked you.

When you put it like that, it stung a little.

As Hoisuke drags you into the living space, you spot Iwaizumi grabbing for beers in the fridge and he nods at you, "hey."

"Hi," you reply, feeling a bit shy.

"The pizzas just got here," he says, chin jerking towards the pizza boxes already set upon the coffee table, surrounded by four plates, "a friend of mine is joining. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Uncle Tooru! He's the best volleyball setter ever!" Hoisuke adds with a clap of his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement, "do you play volleyball miss Y/N?"

"Nope," you singsong, "I can't even catch a ball."

"But you always tell us to do well in PE."

"Do what I tell you and not--"

"Not what you do," Hoisuke sings along and you can't help but laugh before ruffling his hair fondly, "at least I know you're listening in class!"

"I always listen to you, miss Y/N."

"Unlike his father," Iwaizumi points out while walking over to the pair of you and handing you a beer can, "whom he never listens to."

"But you don't listen to me, daddy."

"Wha--yeah I do."

"Noooo uncle Tooru had to beg you to invite miss Y/N over when I told you a hundred times!"

You burst out into a fit of laughter just as Iwaizumi hollers out, "wha--No! That's--"

"Uncle Tooru said that you should man up and invite her otherwise he'll do it himself," his son chatters on, oblivious to the redness rising in his father's ears, "what does man up mean, miss Y/N?"

"Okay that's enough babbling," Iwaizumi's hand shoots out to press down onto Hoisuke's head. He nudges it towards the couch, "bring miss Y/N to the living room. Scoot."

"But--"

"Now." His father scowls. His son scowls back and you try to shove down the round of laughter bubbling up your throat, for they look like the spitting image of each other and they probably don't even know it.

You reach out, tugging Hoisuke by the shoulder, "come on then. What movie are we watching?"

It makes you slightly giddy on the inside to hear such words fall from Hoisuke's mouth. If there's one thing you've learnt from being around children is that they never lie. That, coupled with the way Iwaizumi's face has reddened a deep shade of tomato, is enough to cause a small tingling in your chest.

Since Oikawa is goig to be late, the three of you decide on watching Harry Potter -- Hoisuke's current obsession at the moment -- while munching on too-greasy pizza and washing it down with beer, coke for the minors. It's been a while since you've watched the series, thus finding yourself cheering and hollering along with Hoisuke which feels like you're seeing it for the first time all over again.

Multiple times, Hoisuke would turn and beam up at you, sometimes hugging your right arm and burying his face into your shoulder during action-packed scenes. You'd be lying to say you don't enjoy his warmth sticking to your side, sniffing the soft baby scent of his hair that still clings to him. The smell of childhood filled with innocence and maybe out of impulse, you pull him a little closer.

You're so immersed in the moment to notice the pair of coffee-coloured eyes are gazing at you with growing tenderness.

"Hellooo! Cool and Handsome Uncle Tooru is here!"

You jump at the sudden intruder's voice booming through the apartment, followed by Iwaizumi's scoff upon meeting your eyes. Hoisuke bounds up without delay, rushing to the door while crying out, "uncle Tooru!"

"Hi my beautiful boy!" Oikawa does not hesitate to sweep him up into his arms, kissing his cheek in affection and causing the child to giggle, "how's my favourite person doing? Has iwa-chan been treating you well?"

Hoisuke nods jovially, giggling some more when Oikawa pinches his cheek, "alright alright. You look dashing--oh, Iwa-chan! And this must be the famous Miss Y/N you've both been telling me about?"

You pink at his words but it doesn't faze Hoisuke in the least, "yeah! Isn't she pretty? She's the best teacher ever and her cookies are amazing!"

"H--Hi," you nod at Oikawa shyly, quickly avoiding his gaze to stop yourself from combusting with embarrassment. You've forgotten how beautiful this man actually is even though his reputation preceded him.

"Ahh it's nice to meet you Y/N," he flashes you a sweet smile, causing you to flush right down to your toes while you manage to stutter, "n--nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san."

"I see why Hoisuke and Iwa-chan like you," Oikawa turns to wink at Iwaizumi, "I approve!"

"Shut up Shittykawa," Iwaizumi scowls.

Oikawa gasps mockingly while covering Hoisuke's ears, "Iwa-chan! Not in front of the child and the lady!"

"I said fuck off--"

Oikawa's quick to slap his shoulder, hollering, "no swearing either! Oh gosh, excuse him Y/N. He gets very flamboyant whenever I'm around. If ever he does swear at you, it's just a matter of showing his affection."

You let out a laugh, spurred on by how red Iwaizumi's ears are, "I'll keep that in mind. I didn't know Hoisuke's dad was such a potty mouth," you say, narrowing your eyes playfully at the said man who scowls in return.

"Only when Oikawa's around," he states, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression that mimics his son's sulking.

"What's a potty mouth?" Hoisuke asks as he and Oikawa take their respective seats, the latter swiping a slice of pizza out of Iwaizumi's plate, who growls and kicks at his shin in turn.

The handsome man groans while you turn to Hoisuke, "potty mouth means someone who swears a lot."

"Like daddy?"

"Uhm--" you stutter, his response causing Oikawa to burst out laughing, "yes! What a bright little mind! Totally like your Uncle Tooru!"

Before Iwaizumi can bash Oikawa's head in, you hurriedly resume the movie with the excuse that the best part hasn't come up yet. That simmers down the atmosphere a little, all eyes now captivated by Harry Potter and his friends fighting against the ogre. Hoisuke gasps, nails digging into your arm as he latches on for dear life, all actions not going unnoticed by the pair of men.

"I like her," Oikawa mouths out to Iwaizumi, whose scowl deepens tenfold.

As per what the rumours stated, Oikawa is fun and easy-going to hang out with, a complete stark contrast to his best friend. You understand why people tend to gravitate towards him the more the evening wears on. It’s not just the fact that he puts you at ease and is naturally adept at making conversation, but it’s in the genuine spark of interest in his eyes, a look that says that he’s listening to you even if that might be faked on his part. It’s that expression stating that he cares, that makes you realize why Oikawa Tooru had been such a hotshot back in your high school days. 

So why do your eyes still manage to find their way to the brooding figure on the other side of the couch, who is filled with nothing but spiteful comments and sarcastic responses? 

Oikawa's little 'pssst' snaps your attention back to the present to find the sais man pointing at Hoisuke while mouthing "he's asleep." Indeed, your eyes travel down to Hoisuke's tiny figure slumped against your side and your mouth curves up in an affectionate smile.

You're about to shift him into your arms but Oikawa beats you to it, deftly slipping the boy into his arms and glancing between you and Iwaizumi with that same knowing smile that sets you on edge, "I'll tuck him to bed. Iwa-chan, buy me snacks would you?"

"Hell no--" Iwaizumi starts protesting only for Oikawa to walk out of the room, whistling softly without waiting for an answer. You sigh silently, pressing your lips together and glancing at Iwaizumi from the corner of your eye.

He averts his gaze, but not quickly enough, grunting softly, " wanna go?"

"To the convenience store?"

He nods, already moving to grab his jacket by the door as you scramble to join him while trying not to act so desperate to spend just a little more time with him.

The evening is colder than you'd expect, a mixture of wind and rain that makes him curse slightly while you hurriedly open up your umbrella the moment you step into the street. He nods, mutters a 'thanks' and guides you down the pavement where you jostle your way through evening strollers.

Quite surprised by the amount of movement on the street, you catch yourself asking, "is your neighbourhood always that busy?"

"I think there's a fancy fair around the corner," Iwaizumi sidesteps a man as he speaks, his shoulder brushing yours and sending warmth all the way down to your toes, "give me that."

Without warning, his hand engulfs yours holding the umbrella up and jumping at the contact, you quickly retract your hand, "thanks," you murmur, glad that the dark conceals the red splotches dotting your cheeks.

Your mind races to find something --anything -- to get you out of this awkward predicament. You'd die if he finds out how fast your heart is beating, "so uhm--Oikawa-san seems nice. You still keep in touch with him frequently then?"

"More like I can't get rid of his annoying ass," Iwaizumi mutters.

You chuckle, causing his eyebrow to quirk up, "what's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering whether Hoisuke will turn out like you when he grows up," you can't help but grin up at him, "you have a talent for dissing people."

"Only the ones worthy of my attention."

"Am I not worthy of your attention?" You tease.

He scowls down at you, "you're Hoisuke's teacher, that complicates things."

"In what way?" A passerby suddenly nudges against you and you stumble slightly, only to feel Iwaizumi's arm clasp your shoulder to steady you.

He's warm, your mind chants. And he smells good. Like citrus.

He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice your flustered countenance, "watch it," he barks out. Then, he turns back to answer your question, "how do I know you won't make Hoisuke fail his grade if I upset you too much?"

"Woah there mister. I didn't know I was that low on your list."

"That's not what I meant," he growls. A few weeks before might have caused you to fear his temper. But things are different now and you've come to know that it's just in Iwaizumi's nature to be so rough around the edges.

So you just bump your shoulders against him, flash him an understanding grin, and say, "I get it, hothead. No need to get riled up."

"What'd you call me?!"

Bursting into fits of laughter at how easily triggered he gets, you reach up to ruffle his hair, "down, boy--"

And that's when it hits you -- you are touching Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck.

Your hand drops like wildfire, body instantly cowering away with a furious blush, "I'm so sorry," you squeak out, "that was not appropriate I know--"

Someone else bumps into your back which knocks you straight into the said man's chest. His hands find your waist on instinct as he steadies you both and for a minute, the world stops moving. Nothing matters, apart from the fact that your face is pressed against his torso, his scent overwhelming your nostrils with bliss, his warmth making you melt ever so slightly.

"Asshole," you hear his dim hiss like an echo in the back of your head. Dazed, your eyes stay glued to his shirt in hopes that he won't notice your embarrassment, "s--sorry about that," you squeak out.

Only then do you feel his gaze slide down to your face. He asks gruffly, "you okay?"

"Fine."

Dear god. Someone kill you now.

"Come on," and before you can protest, you feel his warm hand wrap around your own as he tugs you along, ensuring that you are tucked into his side while he weaves through the throng of people.

You're glad he can't see your face, nor the way your pulse is racing underneath your skin.

And the more you gaze at the strength of his shoulders, the more you are hit by a crumbling realization:

That you might be falling for Iwaizumi Hajime, and that might be the worst decision you’ve made yet.

----

He tells you about his married life when you sit outside the convenience store that evening, about how young and inexperienced he was, and how it had ended on pretty bad terms.

The fact that he even opens up about the topic surprises you, but nevertheless, you want to hope that it's his way of showing that your relationship isn't just tied by Hoosuke.

“Why...” you hesitate slightly, tentative, unsure whether one word will cause him to clam up, “why did it not work out? With you and Hoisuke's mother?” 

It is to be expected that you are met with his silence. It’s stoic and filled with warning, and you quickly scramble for an out, “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” you bow your head and bite your lip. 

“She wanted more.” 

His words catch you by surprise. You blink, before looking up at him. He doesn’t look away.

It takes a moment. Then, he murmurs: 

“She wanted more...of everything. Things I couldn’t give her.” 

It stuns you, that he’s so outright. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have anything to say, and you don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he continues thickly, “she was never satisfied with what I gave her. Always complained that I wasn't enough of a man to sustain a family," he pauses, "I think she was envious. She worked in a big corporation as a financial auditor, and her friends -- well, they all live pretty decent lives. So when we always had our arms full with cleaning up after Hoisuke, they went to get cocktails and eat sushi. I guess she felt like she was missing out somewhere along the line."

It's not the things he says, it's more about the way he says it, voice so thick with emotion that you can hear the tears about to fall from his lips. Your own chest aches with sympathy and your fingers ache to reach out to just hold him.

But you're not that close. You know it's not within your boundaries.

Iwaizumi chuckles before your mind can form a coherent answer, "sorry. Didn't mean for it to get depressive."

You turn to look at him, gaze at the way the streetlight dances over his side profile and down his jawline, "You don't have to say sorry, Iwaizumi-san," pausing and unsure whether you should go on, you decide it's worth the risk, "and while I don't blame her priorities, well, ...was money really such an issue that she left you and Hoisuke behind?"

He shrugs half-hearted, "not my place to say. I was labelled the cheap bastard that wasn't worth shit when she decided to sleep with her ex."

Disgust coils in your stomach, but you decide on letting the anger simmer silently in the pit of your stomach. You don't realize, however, that your fist is clenched so hard into your lap until the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers flutter over your own.

You look up in surprise only to find his dark orbs searching your face, "hey," he murmurs out quietly, voice surprisingly soft, " s' okay."

You flush against the chilly night air, "sorry," you mumble, "I just-- I know how it feels like. Not to feel like you're enough."

He doesn't respond, only watches you intently. You continue, "my boyfriend cheated on me back in college. I didn't know about it, until six months later."

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and his fingers tense over yours. Your throat feels scratchy, "so I know the feeling."

"Asshole," is what slips out of his mouth. You chuckle half-heartedly, though with the way he isn't pulling away from your hand makes you feel warm and giddy on the inside.

You'd like to think that this little bit of time spent together has brought you closer, if only to share your woes. But one thing's for sure, you think to yourself as you slowly walk back to Iwaizumi's flat now that the crowd has thinned out, Is that you both have Hoisuke's best interests at heart.

And that is your top priority that you should not forget. Even if you can feel your breath tug in your chest every time your eyes linger a little too long upon each other's.

----

Ha, who the hell were you kidding?

It’s almost impossible to put the certain dark-eyed, dark-haired scowling face of a man out of your mind as the next week comes by. It’s even harder when Hoisuke is more than intent on spending time at your desk in-between classes, chatting on about what he and his father were up to throughout the week. And though you restrain yourself from asking too many questions burning at the back of your tongue, you can’t help but be drawn to the small snippets of Iwaizumi’s life as presented by his son. Even if it’s presented by his son.

So why do you find yourself back in his apartment the very next week with flour all over your clothes ans currently coaching Hoisuke to make figures with his clumsy five-year-old hands?

"This is hard miss Y/N," Hoisuke pouts, arms dropping to his sides, "can't you do it?"

"But that would be no fun," you nudge him playfully as you work on your own little cat figure, "all you need is patience, practice and love."

Glancing at the clock above Hoisuke's head to see that it's already past six in the evening, you wonder where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have disappeared off to. They hadn't told you anything, only that they were picking up some groceries. You guessed it was merely the thought of baking that made them so reticent.

"Don't worry miss Y/N. Daddy's coming back soon," Hoisuke says, as if knowing exactly the thoughts occupying your mind.

"Where did your daddy go anyway?" You decide to play along and ask casually as you move behind Hoisuke to help him mold tiny fingers.

"He and uncle Tooru said that they wanted you to taste the food from the sushi place they love," he then adds casually, almost like an afterthought, "daddy said you looked tired."

He said what now? Your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

The sound of the door opening grabs your attention, revealing a dishevelled Oikawa in the doorway with grocery bags hanging from his arms, "we're back with food!"

"Uncle Tooru! Look at the cookie I'm making!" Hoisuke doesn't hesitate to tug onto Oikawa's shirt and drag him to the kitchen counter to marvel at the little misshaped man. Dusting your hands onto your apron and turning to help Iwaizumi, your step falters upon noticing the undecipherable expression shadowing his features.

"Iwaizumi-san?" You blink.

It's gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl, "sorry we're late," he murmurs as you help him with the takeaways. You try not to think too much into the way he'd been staring, but your own heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe--

Stop. You mentally slap yourself. Stop it right there.

Similarly, Iwaizumi is having the exact same mental debate.

Don't get him wrong. There isn't anything he loves about the fact that you've just created havoc in his kitchen. Had he insinuated it when he'd asked about your famous cookie recipe? Maybe. But shit man, call him old and cranky but the amount of cleaning up after the mess in his kitchen is something he isn't looking forward to.

But that small nugget of stress instantly melts away the moment he lays eyes on you and Hoisuke, together. Hoisuke is giggling, you are holding onto his hands, maneuvering them so as to make a semblance of a human limb. You're both dusted with flour, pink in your cheeks, and Iwaizumi swears his heart is going to drop out of his chest.

"Daddy daddy! Wanna see the man me and miss Y/N made?"

"That miss Y/N and I made," you corrected out of impulse, grinning as the child repeated what you saie with no less conviction, and Iwaizumi forced himself to move towards his son with nonchalance, "let me see."

Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't be inviting you over so casually like it's a weekly thing. And maybe you don't even want to be there. Maybe you're just doing him a favour because you pity him. That's enough to make him sick in his stomach.

But this thought dissipates the more the evening wears on and the more he catches your soft eyes, the motherly affection you radiate towards his child, the gentle giggles falling from your mouth.

Iwaizumi wants it. He wants it so bad his heart aches.

And Oikawa seems to know exactly what he's thinking. Or maybe he's too obvious.

"This is so good," you groan in satisfaction while digging into the takeout sushi. Oikawa doesn't hesitate to pipe up, "right? Iwa-chan literally dragged my butt out of town for th-- fuck!"

He howls, clutching his leg where Iwaizumi had kicked at it in growing irritation and when you look at him in confusion, he feels his face grow red, "don't listen to him."

"Uncle Tooru, you're a bad man. You said the F word," Hoisuke chimes in, "it's okay though, daddy. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The redness of a fire engine can't compare to the flush riding the back of his neck. He wishes for the ground to swallow him at this very inetant, though his lips do quirk up in a smile seeing you burst out laughing before ruffling Hoisuke's hair.

"I see the way you look at her," Oikawa tells him a few nights later upon meeting up at the gym where they both train a few nights a week. It is also one of the few times where Hoisuke stays at his mother's place.

Iwaizumi grunts in response. He turns his head away to focus on his pushups, but if his best friend can deduce from his face alone, then that's an obvious way of showing his embarrassment when he is past the point of denial.

"She likes you too you know," Oikawa casually throws in, wiping the sweat from his face as he straddles a rowing machine, "she's like an open book."

"You don't know that," Iwaizumi hisses as he bends his arms, lift them with another grunt.

"Oh yes I do. And if you're smart you'd do something about it before someone else comes in to swoop her away."

As annoying as he is, Oikawa has a point. The nagging thought eats away at his subconscious mind the more Iwaizumi turns his feelings over in his hands. Despite this, he invites you out with him and his best friend one Saturday night and is mildly surprised that you accept so quickly.

"How have we never met if you went to Aoba Johsai?" Oikawa asks while munching on a french fry. As per his request for greasy comfort food, they'd ended up dragging you to one of their local eateries that make the best burgers in town, "would've noticed a cutie like you."

You can't help but roll your eyes, grinning, "simple, I didn't have any talent. I sang like I was deaf and had two left feet. And don't get me started on sports."

"You could've been a cheerleader," Oikawa smirks evilly, causing you to swat him and reply, "unless I wanted to come out of high school with two broken legs, which I did not."

"Good thing anyway, Iwa-chan hated those cheerleaders with a passion," Oikawa nudges him, "whenever I'd get bombarded with them he'd just scowl and they would scurry off like ants. They were scared shitless!"

"As if you didn't like watching those cheerleaders," you throw Iwaizumi a smug, pointed look with raised eyebrows, to which is scowl deepened. But you're used to it at this point, it doesn't even make you flinch.

"They were annoying and whiny. Why would I like them?" He muttered into his strawberry milkshake. A surprising revelation, considering his bitter, rough countenance.

"Cause they were hot."

"Cause they had long legs."

You and Oikawa blink at each other before you burst out laughing. Iwaizumi merely rolls his eyes, "idiots," but his mouth says otherwise, tugging up in amusement.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Oikawa-san?" You ask aa you munch on your burger.

"Bah, girlfriends don't agree with me."

"He's too much of a playboy to get himself a girlfriend," Iwaizumi mutters loud enough to reach your ears and you snort at the dagger-eyed stare Oikawa throws him, "I can't just give that," he motions towards his figure, "hot bod to anyone, Iwa-chan!"

"Mine's hotter than yours."

"Shut up! Why are you always so mean to me? You know I've been working my ass off for those back muscles!"

Your snort causes your milkshake to spurt from your nose and as Oikawa yelps and scoots furthest away from you, Iwaizumi doesn't hesitate to thrust a bunch of clean napkins in your face, chuckling deeply as he eyes you with the same fond amusement he's been denying himself of in the last few weeks.

Is it selfish? To want more of you than he can have? To feel the naked throb of his fingers that ache to reach out and just tuck your hair behind your ears?

Of course it is. If he does that, he'll cross a line he isn't quite certain he's ready for yet.

Daddy, do you really really like Miss Y/N? Hoisuke's voice is as clear as water that same evening, after he's tucked his son in, after all lights have dimmed in his flat and he sprawls atop his bed with heavy eyelids and a content stomach.

Yes, he thinks to himself as his eyes slowly slip shut, I think I do.

Fuck.

-----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi​ , @evesmores​ , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ , @paintedstarres​ , @okadaxo , @michaki​

[mqnasluvr]

heya ! i heard you were new around here, could i request headcanons of enemies to lovers with kaeya and childe ? any pronouns are fine ! they’re so annoying i hate how i love them nevertheless,, thank you belladonna and take your time <3

enemies to lovers | kaeya alberich

pairings; kaeya x gn!reader

mentioned; jean

warnings; enemies to lovers but it’s pretty one sided, spoilers for kaeyas backstory, no beta we die like men, a lil bit of kaeya slander im sorry i had to, gn! reader

word count; 2k

a/n; where did kyquu go? :( i hope they at least see this.. i didnt finish childes part but i wanted to push this out as soon as possible. :(

kaeya

to put it simply, your relationship with kaeya was... tiring.

you had been close to kaeya and his younger brother for years, them being your closest and most trusted friends throughout part of your childhood and teenage years. but that all came to a halt when the former admitted to being a spy from khaenri'ah.

in no way or form did he expect for you two to forgive him— but actually seeing your broken and betrayed faces hurt him more than he thought it would, and the image still haunts him to this day.

you had separated yourself from the two brothers. although diluc didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t want to pick between them ( even though you really should’ve ). that decision was too hard for you to make.

for years, you stayed out of touch with kaeya as he continued to climb the ranks within the knights of favonius, and you followed, much to your dismay. you worked hard to become a knight, and you weren’t going to quit just because of some bad blood between you and your superior. ( props to you for maturity )

he wanted nothing more than to reconnect with you, and maybe even diluc— but that was wishful thinking. diluc ragnvindr was a stubborn, hardheaded man, and getting past that exterior would be no simple feat.

so, he opted for ( not so ) subtly courting you— giving you the occasional wave whenever he saw you walking through mondstadt, offering to help you train ( although you declined every time ), and other small things. you question why he chose to do this now of all times, after half a decade of not speaking to each other.

you weren’t sure how to feel, but it made you agitated. not seething with rage, but it did annoy you to see his lazy grin whenever he walked into the angels share and saw you sitting in the corner of the room. it annoyed you whenever he did that stupid two finger salute before walking off, and archons, did it annoy you when he patted your shoulder after sparring as if you were the best of buds.

then why did your thoughts never stray from him?

that question, you couldn’t answer.

and so, you resorted to treating him like he didn’t exist. it was rude, but you couldn’t really think of anything else. avoiding him like the plague was the one thing you were good at.

as if things couldn’t get any worse, one of your worst nightmares came to fruition.

“jean, please. why can’t i do this mission with you? why... him?” you were basically at the acting grand masters feet, head in your hands and pleading up at the woman. she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

“i’m really sorry y/n. but i’m too busy with other things, and kaeya happens to be available. you know an ordinary knight wouldnt be able to take this mission,” her guilt worsened when you looked up at her with ( fake ) tears in your eyes. she kneeled to your height.

“i don’t know of your history with kaeya, but please, just put it aside for this one mission. it shouldn’t take you very long.”

jean helped you stand to your feet, the frown etched into her face growing deeper when she saw your shoulders slump. “alright, fine..i’ll try-”

“jean! have you seen y/n— ah, there they are,” kaeya waltzed in without so much as a knocking, making you jump in surprise and shoot a glare at him. he flashed you a lazy grin.

“speak of the devil..” you muttered.

“are you ready to go? we don’t have much time.” the mission you were assigned was to gain intel on what the fatui were planning. to get said intel, you had to sneak into a gathering held by the fatui. the dresscode was rather expensive— more expensive than anything you owned— so to help you out, kaeya took the liberty of purchasing an outfit for you.

kaeya dropped it into your arms. “change into this. don’t want to show up to a party wearing uniform, do you?”

“thanks...” your face felt warm from embarrassment, but you did have to admit, that was considerate of him.

he laughed and waved his hand, shaking his head. “let’s get going, yeah?”

—

you finished getting ready with the help of jean. she sent you one last apologetic gaze before walking you out the door, waving at you both.

kaeya didnt even hide the fact that he was checking you out. his eyes raked over your attire, before sticking his arm out for you to hold. “my, my, you look quite impressive, y/n. is everything suited to your tastes?”

you huffed and walked past him. “the corset is too tight, and the shoes are too small.” you were only half lying— the corset was a bit uncomfortable to move in, but he got your shoe size down to a T. how? you didn’t really want to know.

“if that’s the case, i can loosen it for you-”

“no.”

kaeya laughed it off, and you only grew more irritated. “come now, y/n. don’t be so stiff.”

“i am perfectly content with being stiff, thank you. now hurry up, i want to get this over with,” you muttered the last part.

you didn’t want to admit that you were struggling to take your eyes off of his attire. he was clad in a white suit with blue complimentary colors to match your own outfit.

you rolled your eyes. ‘of course he’d get us matching outfits.’

but, you didnt find yourself minding all too much.

—

the party looked like any other party— fatui agents littered all over the residence, along with guests in fancy clothing.

you tugged on your sleeve, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. but on the outside, yourself and kaeya blended in pretty well.

because kaeya was such a well known figure, he had to change up his looks a bit. no eyepatch, ( i know, so uncharacteristic ) and he used contacts to change his eye color to a darker shade.

he also put that disgusting rat tail away.

so he didn’t look completely different, but he looked different enough.

...the change was nice.

you couldnt help but feel watched though. but that was to be expected. even though you felt somewhat secure in this situation, anxiety rests for no one. it rested in the pit of your stomach dormantly, waiting for a moment to bloom.

looking around the ballroom, kaeya found people dancing in the middle. deciding that it was better to at least enjoy the party before leaving, he stood in front of you and held his hand out, bowing.

“may i have this dance?”

“who do you think i am-”

kaeya flashed you a cautious glance, head nodding towards a fatui agent who was keeping their eye on the two of you. holding back a sigh, you placed your hand in his. he grinned.

“thank you,” he said. you grunted quietly and held back a roll of your eyes as he dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.

“attention whore,” you muttered, feeling warmer as he placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you in closer.

“you wound me, y/n.”

“you deserve it. i wish i could slap you.”

he stayed quiet. maybe too far?

you shook your head. no. there was no way you we’re going to let yourself feel sorry for him when he was literally a spy.

but he feels honest enough.

sure, his intentions at first were.. questionable. but he’s changed for the better. kaeya has been in mondstadt for years now, and khaenri'ah fell ages ago. his love for mond shouldn’t be doubted for a second, even if he hides it quite well.

before you could look up and make sure your words didn’t hurt him too badly, he leaned down near your ear.

“we have to go.”

“what-”

“i’ll explain later, but we have to go,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd.

you didn’t notice, but several of the fatui agents were watching you. you didnt change your looks as much as he did, opting to use simple touch-ups to make yourself more presentable. but it wasn’t enough.

“hey!” one of that agents shouted, and kaeya turned his head back to see how close they were. like he suspected, they were following gou. they pushed through the people, even going as far as knocking one man over, just to catch up.

you hurried your steps along with kaeya, almost sprinting to keep up with him. his grip on your hand was firm though. you two dashed up the stairs onto the third floor of the residence, where the bedrooms were. offices, libraries, bedrooms— they were all there. kaeya picked a random one and shoved you both inside.

it was a red themed bedroom, the lights dim with papers scattered along the desk on the other side of the room. “it seems we’ve gotten lucky,” kaeya joked, skimming over the papers. they were letters, between the fatui and some unknown source. kaeya stashed them in his jacket.

you didn’t understand how he could joke at a time like this. you still arent in the clear and you could hear rapid footsteps coming upstairs. “kaeya—!”

“you know how you said you wanted to slap me?” he said while tucking the last bit of papers into his suit. he didnt even give you a chance to answer. “you can, after this.”

you were confused, but when he backed you up against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, that confusion turned into anger, then more confusion, then understanding.

sighing when you finally caught on, he pulled your body closer to his and you wrapped your arms sround his shoulders. he tugged and nipped on your bottom lip, and if you didnt know any better your knees would be knocking. he was almost too good at this.

suddenly, an agent— a female one, this time— barged in. “have you— hey! take that shit elsewhere, lovebirds!”

kaeya hid your face in his chest, grinning lazily at the woman. his lips were swollen and his eyes were lidded. the woman blushed.

clearing her thoat, she held up a picture of you. well, moreso the back of your head. “have you seen this individual?”

he stared at the woman, then glaced down at you. “..sorry. i’ve been busy, i haven’t seen anyone of the sort. wish i could help,” he shrugged, and the ladies blush worsened. “o-of course..” she muttered, before closing the door and locking it.

kaeya snorted at the irony. he looked back at you, who was still touching your lips with your fingers.

“was i that good?” he chuckled, and caught your hand when you moved to slap him. his laughter died down and he looks oddly serious.

“y/n, we need to talk..”

“...no we dont,” you turned your back to him. he put his hand on your shoulder.

“yes,” he sighed. “we do. i know you didnt want to do this with me-”

“kaeya..”

“-and really, i understand. but i’ve changed, and i know you’ve noticed. i dont want you to hate me forever-”

“kaeya-”

“and you can’t-”

“kaeya!” you nearly yelled. he finally stopped talking over you. “i don’t want to talk about this right now. can you just drop it?”

“then when?” he narrowed his eyes. he laughed humorlessly when there was no reply.

kaeya’s eyes softened the longer you stayed silent. he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a hug. “...sorry.”

“could you please shut up,” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly.

“i know you’re wary right now. but all i ask for is a second chance,” he pulled away and hend your hands together in his. “...please.”

it was an odd sight, seeing him this vulnerable. then again, there was a good chance he was faking it to get on your good side but.. for some reason you found it hard to believe that. he looked truly sincere.

you groaned.

“you better not make me regret this.”

[tastyykpop]

Hiii Congrats on reaching the milestone💕💕love your blog btw!! Could you please do a Taeyong smut where he is kinda cold to her before but confesses after he becomes very jealous??

Hii ty so much u have no clue how much this means to me🥺

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ

Pairings: tsundere!taeyong x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: d/s themes, jealousy, possessiveness, marking, praising, a dash of spanking, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex

I finished this at 4am so it's not edited 💔

"Lee Taeyong!!" You chased the dark haired boy down the side walk, never turning to look back as his name was called, "Wait for me please!"

He scoffed. Luckily you couldn't hear him. "What an annoying brat." Taeyong continued on, still ignoring you and your protests of him walking away.

Running as fast as you could to catch up was easier said then done. You held boba and your food from a nearby fast food restaurant in one hand, Taeyongs in another with your purse flopping against you. You wouldn't be in this situation if Taeyong scare you into holding his food for you, threatening you with a cold stare.

Yes, you and Taeyong are friends. It's odd because of how cold and almost rude he is with you, but you're somehow friends, at least you think you are. Some people say he's got a soft spot for you but you're not too sure anymore. One day hes calling you an idiot for not taking care of yourself and the next hes rolling his eyes at you and telling you to fuck off. Coming to the conclusion that maybe he only thinks of you as a friend, you started pushing him away recently and hung out with another friend of yours. Too bad because you may have had feelings for Taeyong too. Something about him made you want to stick around even though most of the time he didn't want you around.

"Goddammit Taeyong...wait up!"

As annoying as it was to be running with food and drinks in both hands, the most annoying part had to be the purse. It was big, heavy, and swayed with every step, bumping into your left arm ever millisecond. Why couldn't you just man up to Taeyong before?

"Bastard."

"Did you say something?"

"Huh- what!? When did you-" you tilted your head upwards to meet Taeyongs arched brow and impatient face. How did you not realize you caught up?

You pushed his food and drink into his chest and grumbled, "Here." And without waiting for Taeyong, you readjusted your purse and walked to your house with expectations that he would follow.

Taeyong frowned yet tailed you like a lost puppy.. He didn't have any plans catching up to you or telling you to wait for him and just admired you from behind. He liked the way your hair bounced over your shoulders with every step, the way your hips swayed as you walked. He even liked how long the skirt made your legs look even though you were tiny compared to him. Taeyong liked you without a doubt, but he wouldnt actually tell you that.

"Are you coming?" You opened the door to your house. Taeyong didn't answer, only pushing you out of the way and beelining it to the table where he placed his food and drink. "I'll take that as a yes..." you sigh.

Placing your food gently on the table, you sat across from the male who eyed you up and down but with no expression crossing his face.

"Y/n." Taeyongs stern voice startled you as you almost choked on a boba pearl. "Whats on your neck?"

"My neck?" Softly, you touched the side of your neck before realizing what he meant. Yesterday, that friend of yours that you've started hanging out with asked you to hang out. And little did you know, hanging out didn't mean just watching movies or joking around. It soon turned to small touches, then kissing, then making out. Before you knew it, he was kissing and sucking your neck, creating the purple mark that now painted your skin. "Oh...it's nothing. Just a bruise."

"What are you stupid? Your telling me you just happened to bruise your neck? Dumbass."

"Then why did you ask if you already know?" You mumbled.

As you took the biggest bite from your burger, Taeyong had to speak up again, "I hate it."

"Its a good thing it's not on you then isn't it."

"I think you would look better covered in my marks." His voice never faltered and you were sure he was joking. Taeyongs always been straight forward with you, but this seemed like a joke, it had to be a joke. Your mind was playing tricks on you and this is what you wanted to hear. It can't be real.

"You're kidding right...?"

"Completely serious."

"So you're...jealous?"

"Stop asking so many questions." He said coldly, shutting you up quickly, but the smirk on your face still lingered.

"I just think it's funny that a small mark on my neck could make someone as cold as you are, jealous." You say, confidence flowing out of you out of nowhere and this time, Taeyong went quiet. "Its cute."

"Cute? You know what's cute is me bending you over this table and fucking the life out of you so you only remember my name and who owns that cute ass."

Heat rose to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, and maybe Taeyong could tell but youre sure your face was starting to show a hint of red, "Now I know you're just bluffing."

Taeyong rolled his eyes, "Come here and shut that mouth, I'll show you I'm not." It had to be the way his voice growled that made you suddenly get out of your seat and stand before the man. It's easy for you to be flustered but it's also easy for you to obey someone that shows more dominance and Taeyong- well he was just overflowing with it.

"We're gonna have a little fun, yeah?" He smiled devishly, "You trust me right?"

"Y-yeah, I m-mean we are f-friends."

Suddenly, your body was bent over the table and your wrists were bound by Taeyongs hand. If you wanted to escape, Taeyong wouldn't let allow it, so you were locked in place.

God, the way this position impacted Taeyong to the point where he just wanted to fuck you all day and night. With your skirt barely hiding your pretty pink panties, he could easily get off by himself at the sight. He didn't need to do that though, he had you after all.

"Did he touch you?" You hear him say, voice low and frightening, enough to paralyze you from moving and speaking. But to his dismay you didn't answer. Moreover, hesitated to answer because of the tone he used. "I asked you a question." He growled, "Did. He. Touch. You."

A soothing hand ran up the sides of you skin, it was cold, almost like a vampires touch compared to your warm skin. "Y-yes."

Taeyong stopped, "Where?"

"Why does it matter?" You say, finding your confidence again though that won't last since your bent over the table with your ass in Taeyongs face.

"I dont want you to remember his touch, only mine. So I'll touch any place he touched." He continued touching where he could reach, the hand binding your wrists let up and rested on your ass as if about to spank you. "Now answer me."

You grumbled and arched your back as a way to tell Taeyong to shut up and fuck you. The pain of something not filling you up was unbearable, you even thought about slipping your fingers inside dripping cunt for relief. "Stop asking me questions and fuck me please."

"God you're so annoying." He spoke. "Im not going to fuck you until you tell me. It shouldnt be that hard since you're so confident." Taeyong pulled you up by your hair and forced you on his lap where your back was pressed against his chest. You couldnt look him in the face, too afraid that you'd break into a blabbering mess.

"H-he touched m-me," you grab Taeyongs hand with hesitation and placed it on your panties that covered your leaking hole, "here."

Almost positive Taeyong could feel your juices soaking through your panties, you pulled your hand away letting his own linger where you needed him most.

"What did he do when he touched you here?" His middle finger went along the slit of your cunt, dragging up and down gently.

"N-nothing."

He crooked his head before pushing your panties to the side and dipping two fingers in, "He didn't do this?" As you body arched into him, he was able to go deeper and finger you slow enough that you were sure it was teasing. And the pain of wanting to be filled up slowly disappeared but not enough.

"N-no, he d-didnt." As he began picking up speed, you cursed a threw your head back. You cried for more, struggling to stay still in his lap and his fingers worked magically inside you.

Taeyong loved every second of this. To finally see you melt in his arms literally when you could so easily turn him down for this. And he'd like to think he was the only one who could make you feel this way. Make you whimper and whine and call out to him for more. He was the only one for you.

"Please T-Taeyong, i want you to f-fuck me so bad," with a third finger slipping inside you, you moaned uncontrollably at the pace. Though you weren't stuffed like you would be with his dick, it was obvious Taeyong knew how to work his fingers to make you act this way. "Please, please, please..."

"Where else did he touch you?" He ignored your please.

It irked you how he didn't bat an eyelash at your desperate self. If you had your confidence again, you would have taken his dick out and sat on it without a question, even so you knew Taeyong wouldn't allow it just yet. He wanted you to fall apart before he even started.

"Mmm Taeyong-" you moaned with content as his fingers curved against your walls, "H-He touched m-my ch-chest."

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek trying to hide the smirk that formed, "Guess ill just do the same." His free hand worked its way to your mounds where he proceeded to grope you and brush over your sensitive buds. The combination of his fingers inside you and his hands fondling your boobs was sure to bring your to an orgasm soon.

"Youre so beautiful." Taeyong mumbles into your ear, "so fucking perfect."

As carefully as can be, his fingers pulled out of you as a string of your slick connected to his three fingers.

So delicious, Taeyong thought, everything about you was so delicious.

You were flipped around so you faced Taeyong. This time, you didn't look away from him or hide your face from him. Instead, you maintained eye contact with the pretty boy below you before you suddenly pulled him into a desperate and needy kiss.

His heart beat faster than before. His ears burning as his face was flushed. You kissed him. You, the girl that he's been crushing on for years finally kissed him. It only took his jealousy to make this all happen.

"You don't understand how much I love you," he unbuckled his belt, "I cherish every minute and every second I spend with you," soon his pants were unbuttoned, "I can't stand seeing you with someone else," He slipped his dick inside of you with ease, a moan falling from both of you, "Even if you don't love me back, I still fucking do."

You couldnt find words to speak. Your mind was running but not thinking. If you spoke, you weren't sure if it'd be babbling or moaning because of how hard Taeyong fucked up into you. "I-i lo-" No, you couldnt say it back, not while being fucked into a whole new galaxy.

Taeyong on the other hand, was anxious yet pounded into you, enough to bring tears to your eyes. He wanted you to speak, he wanted to hear those three words come out of your mouth, but all he got was your adorable moans and sighs. Yet he wasn't complaining, they sounded lovely apart from the skin against skin. He's just overthinking.

"Youre doing so well, baby." His voice slowly fading, you were so lost in the feeling that anything Taeyong said, went out the other ear.

"F-feels so g-good. Want m-more..." Your greedy hands tugged at Taeyongs locks, but you weren't the only one being touchy. Taeyong was also kneading the plush skin of your ass, giving small taps before digging his nails in, making you whimper.

"Youre so needy baby, huh? So cute and needy for me." He slapped your ass playfully. The smirk on his face was evident that he loved every second of this.

"F-fuck yes, i-im so needy f-for you." You cry, "Youre t-the only one who c-can make me f-feel t-this good."

Of course he is. And Taeyong couldn't be any happier hearing that from you. It gave him energy to fuck harder while now holding your hips still like you were his personal toy. You struggled with keeping the hold on his hair. Your light tugs now harsh pulls but Taeyong didn't mind, in fact he liked how his head was forced to look at your beautiful face.

"Pretty girl." He leaned over the slightest bit and sucked on your necks sweet skin as you tried bouncing on his cock along with him thrusting up. "How much do you love this cock?" He questioned against your neck.

"S-so so much, Taeyong!" Your hips stutter and you know youre close but refuse to faulter, "Y-you h-have the best c-cock."

Taeyong moved back from your neck and grabbed your chin, "Are you ever going to let that guy touch you like that again after this?" You shook your head quickly. "Good girl."

"Im g-gonna cum." You say and without a single thought or word, your body shook as pleasure washed before you. Still, though Taeyong was on the edge of cumming himself, he kept the quick pace from before. But you were so sensitive from the orgasm, and even started screaming Taeyongs name. It wasn't pain, but pleasure, very sensitive pleasure that could easily make you cum a second time.

Seconds before you were about to feel another wave, Taeyong shot his seed deep into you, thrusting slowly as he came down from his high.

"D-did you mean what you said?" Taeyong breathes heavily and raises his brow in question, "About you loving me."

"Duh. I love you, idiot. I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it." He rolled his eyes. That's the Taeyong you knew. "And what about you? Are you gonna say something or leave me hanging."

"I l-love you t-too." You say quickly. "I mean it."

Taeyong smiles a real smile before patting your head like a puppy and lifting you off his dick, "Lets get you cleaned up, baby, then we can talk about planning a date."

"A date??"

"Mhm," he smirked, "but not after a round two."

[spacedikut]

(nearly) lost love ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “hi idk if you’re taking requests but if you are i’d love to read something where the reader ends up getting hurt somehow (maybe by an unsub) and is in the hospital and spencer is super worried about her and maybe confesses his feelings for her bc he thought he was gonna lose her?? idk just something super fluffy with a little angst if you’re up for it” 2890 words

a/n: im gon na be honest idk how to write angst so i just went where the story took me????

masterlist

Spencer was proudly stood in front of his geological profile in the Austin precinct when the frantic call was made over the comms.

“Agent down! I repeat, Agent down! We need a medic!”

It was Morgan’s booming voice, firm and commanding, and Spencer first felt relief knowing at least Morgan was safe. But fear follows, prickling through his entire body when, oh no, someone on his team has been injured.

Morgan kept his comm connected. Spencer could hear all the chaos on the other end – he picked up that JJ was counting bodies, there was at least four medics requested, and, the most gut-wrenching for Spencer, was listening to Morgan repeat variations of, “Stay with me Y/N. Don’t close your eyes – listen to me, baby, stay with me, Y/N!”

You. You were the agent down.

You, who, less than two hours ago, laughed at your own joke so hard you couldn’t get it out. You, who made plans with him to go shopping for Halloween decorations that weekend (which Spencer was way too excited about, by the way). You.

You, who Spencer recently realised he’s in love with.

Why does he feel like this is his fault? He knows, logically, it isn’t – the obvious reason is because Spencer wasn’t there (which, a little voice in the back of his head says well maybe if you were there this wouldn’t have happened…) and it’s likely that this is entirely the ubsub’s fault. He attacked and you were the unlucky target.

But the history of Spencer’s love life shows there is a definite risk to being associated with him.

Is this the world’s way of telling him he shouldn’t love you? He shouldn’t tell you he loves you?

Was the big speech Derek gave him, the month they spent building Spencer’s confidence up, all for nothing? Because Spencer’s cursed?

This isn’t about you, Spencer, he thinks, angry at himself. God, you’re hurt, injuries still unknown, and he’s floundering because he’s convinced himself he’s cursed.

“Reid? You there?”

It’s Morgan, still talking through the comm, and it knocks Spencer out of his head. “Y-yeah, I’m here. Y/N? Is it Y/N? Is she okay?”

Morgan’s voice is calm and collected, as always, “Hey, kid, chill. She’s with a medic on the way to the hospital. You wanna-“

“I’ll meet you there.”

Spencer dashes out of the room.

+++

When he arrives, Hotch and JJ are waiting for him at the entrance. JJ expected Spencer to be worried, a little agitated, but she didn’t expect him to look so dishevelled and distressed. His hair, usually so well-kempt, sticks up in all directions. He abandoned his jacket and satchel at the station, obviously in a rush, and now his shoelace is untied and it’s giving JJ anxiety.

“Reid,” Hotch greets.

“How-“

“She’s fine, she’s okay,” JJ immediately says. Spencer has always said JJ knows exactly how to soothe him. “A nasty knock to the head, but she’s been taken care of and she’s resting now.”

Spencer’s whole body sighs in relief.

He sounds fragile when he asks, “Can I see her?”

JJ gives a small, bittersweet smile, then gestures for Spencer to follow her. He stays close, basically standing on her heels, the entire way to your room, where Emily is leaving.

He struts straight in, acknowledging no one, intent on seeing you and seeing you only.

You lie there, lifeless. All he can hear is the haunting sound of the heart monitor, combined with your chest minimally moving up and down being the only signs you’re alive. You’ve lost all your usual colour – Spencer recalls JJ mumbling something about you losing a lot of blood – and the whole sight makes his stomach lurch.

He walks in, and walks right back out.

Everyone shares looks of bewilderment. He did a complete 180, hardly sparing you a glance, and ran straight into the hospital’s bathroom where the team hears the distinct sound of retching.

Derek sighs and follows him. Their gazes meet: Spencer’s head barely lifting from the toilet bowl, Derek shutting and locking the bathroom door with pitying eyes.

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer starts.

“Don’t apologise. How you feeling?”

He groans in response, leaning against the wall. He begs himself to not think about all the germs and diseases that are probably infesting his body as they speak – his heart stings too much in his chest for that.

Spencer swallows the stone in his throat, grimacing at the remnants of bile, “Seeing her like that..”

“I know.”

“I never thought I’d see her like that. I’ve never wanted to see her like that and-and.. I couldn’t be there to protect her and help her-“

“None of this is your fault, Reid. It’s not your fault, or her fault, or anyone’s fault except the guy that did this. And he’s dead. And she’ll be fine. Please,” Derek warns, “Don’t guilt yourself into mayhem. I know you, and I know her, and all she wants is for you to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up. If not, or if she finds out you’re beating yourself up over this, she’ll kill you, man. With her bare hands.”

Derek’s smirking at the end of his speech because he’s right and Spencer knows it too. And Spencer can’t refrain from grinning a little at the thought of you, just gaining consciousness, and leaping from your bed to smack some sense into him.

You’re incredible. Which both pains him and makes him fall for you harder.

When Spencer rises and starts swirling his mouth out with water, Derek gives him a firm pat on the shoulder and leaves, Spencer not far behind.

This time, he won’t run out of the room like a weakling. Because it’s you and you need him to be there for you.

It’s what you’d do for him. And before that thought can go any further, he’s taking a deep breath and opening the door.

You’re still resting, looking exactly the same as when he first saw you, and his stomach jumps into his throat again – it pains him to see you like this.

But Penelope is leaning over you, fingers brushing your hair back with the trademarked tenderness that is Penelope Garcia. You’ve always called her your Fairy Godmother, your guardian angel, the true love of your life.

Maybe you’d rather see her when you first wake up.

So he stays back, lingering by the entrance of the room, until Rossi nudges him and he stumbles to the top of your bed. Right by your face, your oh-so-gorgeous but bruised face, and Spencer stares.

He can’t explain how glad he is that you’re okay. You’re here, a little beaten up, but he knows that in a couple days, maximum a week, you’ll be back in the bullpen with your quirks and nudges and warmth that is so you and he’ll never let anything come near you again.

(He knows he can’t actually do that. You wouldn’t let him. But he still thinks it, because he loves you and he’ll do anything for you)

The team silently agrees that Spencer will be the one to stay with you. At least until you wake up.

(Why? You might ask. Because you drunkenly told the girls that you’re convinced the closest thing to heaven on Earth would be waking up and Spencer Reid being the first thing you see every day. Ever since, they’ve committed themselves to trying to set you two up)

Spencer sleeps next to your bed, cramped in the uncomfortable and tiny chair, until about seven am. Then he recites some books in his head, just to pass the time. Then Penelope calls.

“I’m on my way with baked goods, Doctor. Would you like me to pick something up for you and the sleeping beauty?”

Spencer goes to decline, before looking at you, “I think Y/N would appreciate a burger. Maybe two.”

Garcia hums down the line, “You know, she’s always been full of good ideas. I’ll buy too many burgers then be on my way. Kisses!” Then hangs up.

In the meantime, Spencer scrolls through your conversation on his phone. He’d never been one for texting, or technology (notoriously), but you always send him things you think he’d like – maybe an article (he’s read every single one you’ve sent, even the one about the monkey using a frog to masturbate), a picture of a cute dog (this one looks like you, spence!!!!!!), and anything else that catches your eye.

For example, a comprehensive list of way too many “why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes.

They’re your kryptonite. Even after you explained the joke to Spencer, in depth, he still doesn’t quite understand the appeal. But you love them.

So he reads them to you.

He knows you can’t hear him. Being asleep is obviously very different to being in a coma, where people have claimed to be able to hear the people around them, but it passes the time and eases him a little. Cause he also knows that if you were awake you’d be chortling away, happy as can be. And that’s how you should always be.

Happy.

Spencer hopes he makes you happy.

Damn, he loves you.

Damn.

He has to tell you he loves you.

It feels like this need, this obligation – if he doesn’t tell you when you wake up then when will he tell you? The next time you’re injured?

The thought sends him reeling.

No matter the outcome, you need to know. He needs to tell you.

“Why did the rooster cross the road?” He reads aloud, “To cockadoodle dooo something.”

He’s cheesing at his screen, at the audacity and stupidity of these jokes. But they’re sweet, just like you, and they take everyone prisoner when it comes to making people smile.

“That was a good one.” You heh.

Your voice is croaky after not being used in hours, but it’s still the same dreamy voice Spencer loves to hear.

You’re awake. And already smiling, which is one hell of a win in Spencer’s book.

“Good morning.” He whispers.

“It’s morning?” You ask, moving your head slowly to see outside your window. “At least I got a full night’s sleep for once.”

“Should you really be joking in your condition?” Spencer teases, leaning to fluff your pillow when you wince.

You exhale deeply, “And what is my condition, exactly?”

“You look as sexy as ever, buttercup.”

Garcia’s grinning from the doorway, Derek the same from behind her, two bags of food in her hands.

You’re ecstatic when you say, “Penny!” Trying to hide the pain when she hugs you. You’re too happy to see her to turn down her love.

She dishes out the burgers and, as expected, you ask if there’s another in there for you. You chomp happily, despite the dull ache still present, chatting jovially with the three of them.

Penelope gets caught up in telling you about the most recent documentary she saw. When he notices, Derek nods towards the door, making Spencer furrow his eyebrows in confusion. What does he want?

Derek does it again and Spencer gets it. He lifts from his seat the same time Derek does, saying nothing until they’re out of the room and the door has shut behind them.

“I’m gonna make Penelope leave-“ Derek begins, and Spencer stutters.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

Derek chuckles at Spencer’s reaction, “Kid, everything’s fine. You just gotta tell her.”

Spencer doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t know what Derek’s referring to. He peeks through your door’s window, staring directly at you as you giggle at something Penelope says.

“Do I?” He ponders. “It could-“

“Nope. We’re not doing that “it could ruin everything” spiel. You’re an adult, she’s an adult, and adults don’t play around with feelings like this. Tell. Her.” Derek’s got both hands on Spencer’s shoulders, grip tightening and loosening sporadically as he talks. He looks like a football coach giving a pep talk before the big game, and Spencer feels invigorated.

“Alright.” Spencer nods once, “Let’s do this.”

“I will remove Penelope Garcia from the premises.”

They nod at eachother and move back into your room.

+++

When Penelope is pulled from your room by Derek, stumbling and muttering and stuttering, all you do is blink in confusion.

“What’s going on there?” You say, speaking out of the side of your mouth, as if you’re sharing a secret.

Spencer doesn’t answer. You turn to look at him, another question on your tongue, but the words die when you see his facial expression.

It’s so tender. So soft, and gentle, the littlest of smiles on his lips as his cheeks darken.

“If I tell you something really dramatic right now, do you think you could handle that?”

Your head tilts, brows furrowed, looking far too endearing with your bandaged head.

He clears his throat, “I just-just need to make sure it won’t overwhelm you.”

You don’t know what to expect, but you agree anyway. Is this why Derek and Penelope left?

“I vomited when I saw you in bed. In this bed. In hospital.” He begins.

“Oh, thanks, Spence,” You tease.

“No- no. Hear me out!” He gives a little laugh, hands coming up in defence. “I don’t have a script, and statistically, both men and women speak around sixteen-thousand words a day – I want these ones to be special. Because you’re special.”

You’re still visibly confused. You clasp your hands together in your lap, “I’m listening. You have my full attention.”

Having your full attention is terrifying and electrifying at the same time. Spencer wants you to know that.

“You make me feel things, you know.” He reveals, “Things I’ve only ever read about, fantasised about – you know… things.”

This is going terribly. For a man who’s read the dictionary more times than he cares to count (he does care to count – twenty two times), he is very much struggling to explain himself to you.

Deep breath. From the start.

“It’s alright, Spence,” You console, hand resting on his closed ones. “Take your time.”

He does. He takes a few more breaths. “I don’t know where to start so- so bear with me.”

“Always.”

Why do you have to make his heart race like that?

“What?”

Oh. He said that out loud.

Well. Might as well repeat it.

“I said,” Louder this time, “Why do you have to make my heart race like that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“No. No- I like it. I like you, that’s what I’m trying to say. Maybe not like since Derek told me we’re not in high school, kid,” He lowers his voice to impersonate Derek, “But the l word is scary, especially when I don’t know how you’re gonna react. But whatever you say, however you react, we’ll be okay. I know we will. I just need you to know how you make me feel and how-how good I think I’d treat you, I guess.”

It feels like your silence goes on forever. Then you quietly ask, “And how do I make you feel, Spence?”

“Like I’ve never felt before. I meant it when I said you make me feel things I’ve only read about – you’re so easy to love, you know that? Infuriatingly so. And you’re so open – I think that’s what drew me in at first. You knew nothing about Doctor Who, but you heard I was asking around for someone to go with me to that convention and you said you were available if I wanted you and I… I had to practice how to ask you in the mirror for three days straight. Of course I want you, Y/N. I think I always have.”

His voice is timid when he asks, afraid of what the answer might be.

“Do you think you want me too?”

“Are you crazy?!” You cry out.

The volume makes Spencer jump. Then he registers what you said and slumps, rejection seeping in.

“Spencer-“ You say, exasperated, “You’re the most incredible person I know. I tell you all the time cause I mean it.” You give a short laugh, “How could you even think that I wouldn’t feel the exact same? I’m kind of obsessed with you, Spence.”

The shock on his face melts into pure joy. Is this really happening? You..

“I want you an embarrassing amount, Spencer Reid. I always have and I always will.”

He doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he leaps forward and smashes your lips together. It’s messy and a little clunky, teeth hitting together and mouths unable to stop grinning, but it’s perfect. Everything you could’ve asked for in your first kiss with Spencer.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

And he thinks the exact same of you.

He pulls back, heart racing and entire body burning, strong hands cradling your head. It doesn’t take a profiler to realise the two of you, foreheads leaning against eachother, are the happiest you’ve been in a long time.

“You taste like burger.” Spencer breathes, soft and low.

You giggle. “You taste like coffee and burger.”

His lips quirk, raising an eyebrow, “You like it?”

You hum, rubbing your nose against his, “I like it a whole lot. I like you a whole lot.”

Spencer kisses you again.

And again.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

[pattysplaceofplaces]

Carmen discovers Diamond Haber. Once she realizes it isn’t a VILE cover, what does she think of the clothing line?

-Anon 1

Whoops…

[Author’s Note: Annoooonnnn 1 How are you? :D]

     How nostalgic. To be at a fancy party in order to catch a thief. Yet there was no longer VILE. It was just some wannabe famous thief, this would be a piece of cake.

Carmen strolled around the ballroom that appeared to come out of a fairytale. Someone obliviously walked past her. They lacked the class and confidence of a VILE operative. She went to follow them until someone else took her attention. 

In three years she looked so different, carrying an aura of maturity and embracing a more defined version of herself. The girlish pink streaks were gone from her hair and so was her weapon of choice: The hair sticks that could electrocute others with the heart shaped button on it. Her dress was a breath of fresh air yet void of crazy colors. 

Never mind that! She could focus on the amateur thief later, this was a bigger risk. Amelia was smart, a great manipulator with a twisted mind. Like they say there’s a blurry line between genius and madness.  There was no doubt that if she wanted to rebuild VILE she could. Carmen stalked closer in order to hear her. She was with a group of people who decorated themselves with fancy jewelry and designer clothing. She had her arm linked with someone: Dash. They all raised their glasses and Amelia spoke. “Thank you to all my sponsors and wonderful employees for their support. This is only the beginning to a new era of fashion. To Diamond Haber!” They clinked their glasses together and took a sip.

Yeah that was suspicious. Knowing Amelia and her lust for disarray there was no way it was just a clothing line. 

Carmen kept a close eye, waiting for the right time to confront Amelia. She could call Julia and alert ACME yet it was risky she couldn’t let the ex operative know she was onto her. 

“Please excuse me,” Amelia put her glass down on the counter. “I’ll be back.” She left the group with a polite smile and embracing Dash with a kiss on the cheek. She walked out of the building and Carmen followed suit. They leaned against the building, their smile immediately dropping. “Do you mind?” It took the girl in red a moment to realize that they were talking to her. The tone caused her to scoff and take a few steps closer. “Do you mind? What do you think you’re doing?” Amelia raised a brow. “Umm…Attending a party? What do you want me say?” There’s no way she believed that. “Cut the crap. What’s your plan next? To bail them out?” Realization hit Amelia like a freight train. “Ohh that’s what this is about?” She crossed her arms. “You know, I’m actually offended. Like really, really offended.” 

Carmen knew what that meant. Amelia was eerily intelligent yet her biggest flaw got in the way of that: Her bipolar behavior. “What makes you think that I would want to go back that?” She moved closer. “You really think I’d endanger Dash’s life?!” Her hands clenched into fists. “You think I liked being Cleo and Maelstrom’s pet!? Their dance monkey!? Their asylum patient!?” She let out an animalistic growl that caused Carmen to put her hands up defensively. 

Amelia rolled her eyes and went back to the doorway. “If you’re looking for HeartAche, you won’t find her.” She walked inside and her tense shoulders slumped in the warm building. Carmen didn’t blame anyone, not Amelia or herself but maybe she should at least try to make amends. She had more time on her hands perhaps she should use that to make some friends. She placed a tan hand on the huffy girl’s shoulder. “Need a model?” 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Winter Solstice

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Seven

A JSE Fanfic

Well after last week’s brief foray into writing for a different fandom, we return to the septics once again. The FM!septics to be exact. It’s the winter solstice, meaning there are holidays to celebrate! Chase, Jackie, and Henrik have a great day that totally doesn’t become suddenly serious near the end haha nope just fun times all around with some world building and character development :) Enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The day dawned cold and snowy, but nobody at Wyvernlair cared. Not when today was the winter solstice. This was a time for celebration! And with all the people in the camp, there was bound to be a big party. Preparations had been ongoing for the past few weeks. Food was made, games were planned, and time was set aside for those honoring the various holy days. When the day itself dawned, normal duties were put on hold so that everyone could join in. 

Chase woke up at sunrise. He had a quick breakfast—light, since there would be a lot of food at the feast planned for that night—and strolled about, taking in the changes. Everyone was bustling about as usual, but now they chattered with excitement. Some people had hung decorations outside their tents: replicas of snowflakes made from white-painted sticks, candles with carved designs set on the ground, pine branches and snippets of other winter-blooming plants scattered about. Combined with the white layer of snow, it was quite beautiful.

Yet, Chase felt a pang somewhere deep in his chest. Last year, he’d spent Longest Night with his family and the rest of the village. There’d been town celebrations in the square. He helped Quentin carve his first candle. And now? Now, he didn’t know where his family was.

“Chase!”

He was snapped out of his melancholy thoughts when he heard someone call his name. In the middle of turning to see who it was, that ‘someone’ barrelled straight into him. “Oof!” He was about to respond, but found he couldn’t, because he’d been wrapped in a tight bear hug.

“Sorry, did I knock the wind out of you? Sorry!” Jackie was too full of energy to notice he apologized twice. He gave Chase one last squeeze before breaking off the hug.

“It’s okay, just give me more warning next time.” Chase took a minute to catch his breath. “Well. Happy Longest Night, then?”

“Happy Longest Night, then!” Jackie repeated. He whirled his cloak around dramatically. It was still red, but slightly nicer, with a fur lining. His wolf mask was pushed back, sitting on his forehead. “You know the plan, right? We’re having games all day. War games, dice games, card games—a few strategy games, too, the ones we have the boards for in storage. Then there’s the feast later, and the Dark Vigil tonight.”

“Yea, I understand,” Chase said, a faint smile on his face. He couldn’t help it; Jackie was contagious. “How many people will be at the Vigil?”

“A fair share. Schneep won’t; he does something at moonrise instead.” Jackie shrugged. “Are you planning to do any of the games? What about archery?!”

Chase laughed. “No, no, I’m not good enough to compete in a war game. I’ll probably just drift around and join in where I can. Do you think anyone will be playing Luck of the Deal? I’m very good at that.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s good at Luck of the Deal. That’s the whole thing about it, it’s luck.”

“You don’t know that. There’s skill involved, too,” Chase insisted.

Jackie patted his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Hunter. It’ll be some time before everything really gets going. Anything you want to do before that?”

“Umm...” Chase thought about it. “Well, is there anything I can do to help with the feast preparations? That’s usually a community thing, isn’t it?”

“Well we already have a lot of volunteers for cooking. They’ve already gotten started, in fact.” Jackie thought about it. “But if you want to help, you could put your hunting skills to the test in the surrounding woods. Always good to have more food than less, on these occasions. People would eat their plates, if it was possible.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I know that. Amabel would eat us out of home on Longest Night. She must’ve gotten her appetite from Stacia’s side of the family.” Saying their names, the melancholy threatened to return.

“Honestly? I have a confession.” Jackie leaned closer. “I’m one of those types, too.”

“Oh? Somehow, that makes sense.”

“And somehow I’m offended.” Jackie gave him a playful shove. “If you want to go ahead, you know where the shortbows and arrows are. Oh!” His eyes widened as he remembered something. “But try not to shoot any pigeons. Those are important.”

“Important?” Chase put the pieces together. “You mean...messenger birds?”

Jackie nodded. “I don’t expect anyone to send messages on the solstice except for an emergency, but there might be some arriving that were sent a fews days, or even a week, ago. It takes a while to fly across the island.”

“Got it. I won’t shoot any pigeons.” Chase shook his head, a bit in awe. “Messenger birds.” He’d heard of them, but never seen them in use. Somehow, they seemed almost as magical as actual magic. Getting letters sent across the kingdom in a matter of days? That was amazing. “I’ll just head out, then.”

“Good luck, Chase!” Jackie said cheerfully, waving as he turned to leave. “Be back before noon, that’s when the fun will start!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

If possible, it was even colder out in the forest, away from the magic heat of the dragon bones. Chase clutched his jacket tighter and made sure his hat was securely on his head. He doubted that he’d find any animals out here. By Longest Night, most of them were hibernating. But it was worth a shot.

Snow crunched under his feet, so he slowed down, carefully placing every step so it wouldn’t make too much noise. There wasn’t a lot of foliage to hide behind in the winter, but he had made sure to grab a white jacket from storage to help him blend in. He’d also turned his hat inside out so that the red ribbon around it didn’t show. After a while, he found what he thought was a good spot to wait. So he settled down, nocking an arrow so it would be ready to fly at any moment.

The world became very still. The only sound he heard was his breath, accompanied by the small puffs of mist that breath caused in the cold. He made sure not to move a muscle.

Until there was a sudden sound. Footsteps, very light, being pursued by much heavier ones. His eyes darted towards the sound. The bare branches of a bush rustled, and suddenly a streak of brown fur dashed out in front of him followed by something much larger—

Chase reacted, letting go of the bow string and loosing the arrow. It shot through the air and landed solidly in the brown furry something. Shocked, he laughed in the rush of actually shooting something moving that fast. But then a voice cried, “I knew it!”

“Wh...?” And Chase finally noticed what the large something pursuing the small animal actually was. He looked up from his position near the ground to see...Lukas. It took him a moment to recognize him without his usual fox mask, but once the brown-auburn hair and tall longbow registered, his heart immediately sank with dread. “What are you doing—”

Lukas took an arrow out of the quiver on his back and nocked it, aiming at Chase. “Did you think you could take me out when nobody was looking?! Claim it was an accident?!”

“What in the world?!” Chase stood up. Slowly, of course, he didn’t want to get skewered by that massive arrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to play dumb, you just tried to kill me!”

“I was shooting the rabbit!” He pointed at the small animal, which was, in fact, a rabbit.

“A likely cover story.”

All of a sudden, Chase felt hot rage rise up his throat. “I know you hate me but you don’t have to be an idiot about it!” he burst out.

That seemed to take Lukas by surprise. He blinked, and lowered his bow slightly.

“I don’t know what kind of trust issues you have or where they come from, but I’m sick of you always acting this way! I’ve been here for almost a full season now, and you still act like I’m about to stab you in the back the first opportunity I get! I know, you’re probably thinking something like ‘he’s playing a long game to get everyone to trust him,’ but let’s be honest, you’re just looking for any justification to be like this. I wouldn’t trust someone like me in your position either, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. You don’t have to like me, you don’t have to trust me, but elders be damned, you don’t have to stir up this much trouble for Jackie and Henrik and everyone else here!” Chase ran out of breath and was forced to stop. He waited silently for Lukas’s reaction.

For a while, there wasn’t one. Lukas just...stared at him. Then he lowered his bow fully, putting the arrow back in its quiver. “What are you doing out here?” he asked in a carefully-neutral tone.

“We have some time before the real celebrations start, so I thought I’d help out by trying to find more food for the feast,” Chase explained. He walked past Lukas and picked up the rabbit, trying not to feel sad. Something about shooting rabbits made him feel guilty. Maybe he respected how hard they worked to stay alive, running so swiftly. Or maybe he thought they were cute. “What are you doing out here?”

“The same thing,” Lukas answered.

Chase snorted. “And you decided to bring that monster of a bow for hunting?”

“It’s more powerful than yours,” Lukas retorted.

“Yes, but it’s also heavier and more cumbersome. I remember my second day here, Holly said that big bows like that were more suited for long range, while shortbows—” Chase waved his bow as an example. “—are better for mobility. Look at all these trees. Do you think you’re able to shoot long range in a forest? Not to mention if you miss, you’ll end up burying your arrow in a tree with all the force you need to fire it. That’ll just be a pain to pull out.”

“I know all this,” Lukas said irritably. “But I’m most familiar with this style of bow. I can make it work.”

“Maybe if you weren’t stomping around the woods,” Chase muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You were running after the rabbit. Bad idea; you’ll never catch up with them. It’s better to wait and let the animals come to you. If you have to move, be quieter about it. And slow. Conserve your energy; animals get tired faster than humans.” Chase glanced downwards. “You’re wearing heavy boots, I see. Those will make a lot of sound no matter how much you try to be quiet. And your clothes stand out, too. Especially that red band on your wrist. It’s bright and you have to hide it. Like I did.” He turns his cap right-side out again, letting the red ribbon show.

“Hmm.” Lukas eyed him. He did that quite a lot, but somehow, it felt different this time. More...respectful. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned away.

“Um...right.” Now that Lukas was leaving, Chase felt the sudden energy that had filled him starting to fade away. “I’ll...see you at the celebrations, then.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand in acknowledgement, not stopping as he headed back to camp.

Well...that wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Lukas clearly didn’t think worse of him. And he had managed to shoot a rabbit, something he’d rarely done in all his years as a hunter. Though he’d only done that because the rabbit was too busy running from Lukas to notice him crouching nearby. So really, he should thank him.

Maybe later. For now, Chase headed back to camp, ready to join in on the festivities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   

By the time Chase returned to Wyvernlair, the festivities were starting to get underway. Games, mostly. People gathered in circles playing cards, or in threes playing dice, or in pairs playing board games. Others clustered around the players, watching the game and shouting encouragement. Some food was already prepared. Plates of sweet buns and meat pies were passed around. Chase grabbed a couple buns as he looked around.

But though the camp inside the circle of dragon bones was crowded, most people were out on the combat field. That was where the war games were set up. Chase decided to stop by for a moment. Even if he wasn’t going to participate, he wanted to see how things were going.

Targets were set up for archers to test their skill. People had grabbed close-quarters training weapons and were sparring, onlookers cheering on their favored winner. Someone had dragged over a rock and a large branch, setting up a makeshift see-saw that people were standing on top of, trying to knife-fight without losing their balance. Chase shook his head at that particular event. He himself had some scars on his hands from knife-fights as a young man; they really weren’t worth the bragging rights. 

There was an especially large crowd gathered around one particular sparring match. Chase stopped, edging his way into the mass of people as he tried to see what was going on. Wait a minute...was that Jackie?

Indeed, Jackie was one of the sparring participants. And he was easily outclassing his opponent. He easily danced around jabs and swipes, not striking for a while, then jumped forward and hit his opponent on the side with his wooden practice sword. The crowd cheered, and the two participants backed away, shaking hands as they parted. Chase could’ve sworn he saw money change hands among the watchers.

“Anyone want to go for another round?” Jackie called to the crowd. “Doesn’t have to be to the first contact. What about to the ground?”

At that, a tall man grabbed a practice sword from a nearby rack, stepped forward, and announced, “I accept the challenge!” The crowd cheered again. “To the ground!”

Jackie grinned. “To the ground! Someone give us a count!”

In unison, the crowd started chanting, counting down from five as Jackie and his opponent started circling each other. Chase joined in. “Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Clash!”

The two men immediately started going at each other with the practice swords, jabbing and backing up, swiping and dodging. The new opponent tried to make use of his height advantage, but Jackie was just too fast. The sparring lasted a few minutes and the crowd was enthralled for every second. Until Jackie managed to get behind his opponent and knock out his legs, making him fall to the ground. The crowd cheered. The opponent got up, looking no worse for wear and in good spirits. He shook hands with Jackie before leaving. Now Chase was sure he saw people exchanging money.

“He’s got skill, doesn’t he?”

Chase looked up, and saw Holly standing beside him. “Oh. Yea, he’s really good.”

Holly laughed. “That’s an understatement. You know he trained at Fíornear Field?” Chase nodded. “Well, so did I. But he could beat me in a fight nine times out of ten.”

“Really?” Chase asked, interested. “That many times? I thought it would’ve been closer between you two.”

“Everyone does. I say it’s the size difference. But what Jackie lacks in height, he makes up for in practice and sheer determination.” Holly watched as Jackie started sparring with another opponent. “Anyway, Chase. Come to watch or try your hand?”

Chase laughed. “No, no, just watching.”

“Well. In that case.” Holly leaned closer. “Care to try for chance?”

“You mean betting? Don’t tempt me.” Chase shook his head. “Besides, I can tell that betting against Jackie is a waste of time and money.”

“Doesn’t have to be at this spar. There’s many more war games to be had. I hear there’s axe throwing.”

“Axe throwing?” Chase perked up. “Alright, I have to see that. Lead the way.”

Holly laughed, and the two of them left, heading towards a set of targets. Indeed, some people had taken up throwing axes at these targets. Not competing against each other at the moment, only themselves, and also showing off for the passersby. Chase watched as one of the axe-throwers hit the center of her target. Then, surprisingly, he recognized the axe-thrower. “Nemet!” he called.

Nemet turned around, smiling at him. “Hello, Chase! How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. What are you...uh...I didn’t know you threw axes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it so unexpected?”

Chase shrugged. “Well, you’re a doctor.”

“I am. I am a doctor who likes to throw axes.” Nemet picked up a throwing axe on the ground beside her. She held it back, paused to aim, and threw. It landed right next to the last one she threw. Holly and Chase clapped, impressed.

“Wanna shoot something, Brodyson?”

Chase yelped in surprise at the voice that came from behind him. He spun around to see Tripp grinning up at him. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Maybe,” Tripp said. He was tossing a rock back and forth between his hands. Getting bored of that, he threw it to the side. Magically, the rock curved around, shooting for the target, where it bounced off the handle of one of Nemet’s axes. “Ah, almost a bull’s eye. Anyway, wanna shoot something, Brodyson? We could have a triple competition, axes versus arrows versus sorcery.”

“Hmm.” Chase considered it. “You know I had only planned to watch, but...that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t let him pressure you if you don’t want to, Chase,” Nemet said.

“No, do let him pressure you, I want to see this!” Holly insisted.

Chase laughed. “Alright, fine. Just a few rounds.”

Though as the afternoon passed, those few rounds stretched out into many. Chase had never been one for war games, but somehow, he didn’t mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Eventually, of course, came the main draw of the winter celebrations: the feast. The people who’d volunteered to cook had been preparing food all day, and shortly before sunset, declared it ready. Instantly, a good half of everyone dropped what they were doing and headed over to the cooking fires.

Chase wasn’t sure what to expect from the feast. Wyvernlair didn’t use tables for food, so would everyone be standing around with plates? But it seemed as though they’d found tables, if just for today. Probably borrowed from storage. Some of the meat stayed on the skewer, roasting over the fires to keep it hot until someone wanted it. But most food was lined up on the tables, free to take. Sweet buns and meat pies, of course, but also preserved fruits that had been kept for a special occasion like this, and tarts covered in sugar, and pumpkin pie, and roasted potatoes, and more than could be counted.

Everyone ate until they couldn’t anymore, washing down the food with water, juice, and ale. Chase savored it, mingling and talking with the other Phantoms. And for once, he didn’t feel out of place here.

Time passed. The sun set. And as the feast died down, most people began talking about the Dark Vigil, the ceremony used to honor the Elder of Dark and thank them for protecting humankind from the shadows. Chase yawned. They’d be holding that in the center of camp, where a spot had been cleared specifically for that purpose. But it would be some time before everyone was ready. So, Chase decided to slip out. He headed towards the outside of the skeleton, away from the noise and bustle.

The stars were beautiful tonight. It was clear, without any clouds fogging the view, and the moon was nearly full. Chase leaned back against the bone and stared upward. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to appreciate the world lately. It was all busy, working with the Masked Phantoms. But it was nice to slow down for a moment.

Some minutes passed in silence. Then, he heard footsteps approaching. And then, a small thud, the sound of stumbling, and a muttered “Shiesse!”

Chase looked over towards the sounds, already grinning. “You doing alright there, Henrik?”

With a huff, Henrik emerged from the darkness. “I would be better if I know no one heard that,” he muttered.

Chase laughed. “Anyway, how’re you doing? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, I am fine.” Henrik leaned against the bone next to Chase. “I have been stuck in a dice game for most of the evening. I almost missed the moonrise.”

“I see. Jackie told me you had to do something around then. Is it like the Dark Vigil?” Chase asked.

“Similar, in ways. Different, in others.” Henrik looked up at the sky. He pointed upwards, at the moon. “She is beautiful tonight, yes? I never understood why your Elders never come from the sky.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I understand there is the Winged Elder One, but they are for more weather, yes?” Henrik kept his eyes fixed skywards. “None of them are for the heavens.”

“Well why would they be?” Chase shrugged. “The sky’s beautiful and wonderful. But it’s so far away. We live on the earth. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with what’s down here?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Henrik sighed. He reached down his belt, removing his flask and taking a drink.

“Oh—” Chase started to say something, then stopped. It would probably be rude to ask, wouldn’t it?

Henrik looked over at him, and guessed what he was about to say. “Yes, I am still taking the medicine. It is...not something that goes away.”

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Is okay,” Henrik said, giving him a small smile. “You are polite about it, so I do not mind.” He returned the flask to his belt. “Ah, though I am afraid I must change the subject now. I just remembered. We managed to get the materials for more plaster this week. So you can finally have a mask of your own!”

“I can?” Chase repeated.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Henrik chuckled.

“I did? I didn’t mean to. It just seems a bit...unreal.” Chase had left his borrowed mask, the hedgehog one, back in his tent. Most people had—or at least he assumed they had, since most of them were walking around without them.

“Yes, I understand.” Henrik nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to wait?”

“Wait no, I didn’t say that—”

“I am just making sure.” Henrik playfully nudged his shoulder. “You will need to choose an animal, you know. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Oh right. I forgot about that part.” Chase thought about it for a moment. “What about...a deer?”

Henrik raised an eyebrow. “A deer?”

“Is that not allowed? I mean, Tripp’s mask has those ram horns so I figured antlers would—”

“No, is not that, I just suppose I did not expect that.”

Chase shrugged. “I like deer. They’re good animals. Um...do I have to make the mask myself, or...?”

“You can if you want, but if you’re not artistically inclined, someone else could do it easily enough. It’s not that difficult if you are...” Henrik trailed off. He was staring out into the trees, eyes fixed on a point. “Chase. Is something moving there?” And he pointed.

“Hm?” Chase peered into the darkness. Indeed, he could see the faint movement of shadows. “Oh, yea. It’s probably just an animal.” He paused. “That’s...getting closer?”

They looked at each other, but unsure what to do with this information, just turned back to watch the animal get closer. And closer. It was too small to be a threat, but Chase felt Henrik tense anyway. Eventually, the animal got close enough to make out what it was. “A...cat?” Chase asked, confused.

“A cat,” Henrik agreed.

“What’s a cat doing all the way out here?”

“I am not sure...” Henrik said slowly, brows lowered as he thought through the possibilities.

The cat continued its course, walking in a straight line up to the two of them. Chase crouched down and held out his hand. “Here, kitty.” Once it was close enough, the cat sniffed his hand. Then, satisfied, butted its head against it. Chase laughed. “Y’know I haven’t met that many cats. When I was young, maybe about twelve, Pastor Cait had a cat. We joked about that, since her name was so similar, ha. But it’s gone now. I don’t think the town had another cat since then. A couple dogs, but no cats.” He reached out and petted it. And after a few seconds of that, scooped up the cat and stood. “Does someone here have a cat?”

“No, there are no animals in camp,” Henrik said, still puzzled. “Does it have a collar?”

Chase checked. Difficult, given that the cat clearly didn’t like being held and was wriggling a bit. “Yea, right here.” He pointed to a braided leather collar around the cat’s neck. “No name, though. For the cat or its person.”

“Well. It is cold and snowy, and even with that fur, I don’t think the cat enjoys being out here,” Henrik stated. “Maybe we should take it into camp? We have that fire set up in the skull now, that could warm it up.”

“Good idea.”

The two of them headed back, passing between the dragon bones and into the main body of Wyvernlair. By now, the festivities were starting to die down. Games were ending, and a lot of people were getting ready to attend the Dark Vigil. Chase and Henrik walked quickly by, since the cat was really struggling against being held by this point. Luckily, it hadn’t used its claws yet, but Chase could already feel them digging into the fabric of his jacket.

They reached the skull soon, passing through the gap where it joined the rest of the bones and ending up inside. It was almost empty here. Except for two people and several birds. Chase blinked a bit at the surprising sight, but then remembered what Jackie had told him that morning. So these must be messenger birds, then. There were about seven of them, pigeons in a variety of colors; white, gray, brown, spotted. Actually, Jackie was here, too. Along with Ana, who Chase had figured out by now was the head of organization at Wyvernlair. They both seemed rather impatient, quickly putting away documents. Probably heading to the Vigil like most others.

Ana looked up, noticed Chase and Henrik, then turned to Jackie and said, “It’s your best friend and his best friend. They have a cat.”

“They have a what?” Jackie spun to look at them. “Oh elders, you have a cat. Where’d you get a cat?”

“It just wandered up,” Chase said. “We thought it might like to get out of the cold—ow!” The cat dug its claws into his skin, managing to pierce the jacket, and Chase instinctively opened his arms. Of course, the cat landed on its feet, and trotted over to the side of the fire, which was slowly dying but still giving off a lot of heat.

“I’ve never seen a cat like that before,” Jackie muttered. “That’s a really unique pattern, isn’t it?” The cat was mostly a brownish off-white, but its ears and tails were dark gray, almost black, and the tail had rings of lighter gray. Its legs were striped with light brown, and it had markings on its face of the same color. Big blue eyes stared up at the strange people.

“Oh!” Henrik’s eyes lit up. “I had not noticed outside! It was fairly dark. Oh, you are a pretty kitty, aren’t you?” He slowly approached the cat, and when it didn’t run away, bent over and started petting it.

Meanwhile, Ana was bored, and anxious to leave. She looked at Chase, and her eyes lit up with a strangely sly expression. “Hey, it’s Chase, isn’t it? Do you mind helping me open this?” She held out a small tube made of metal and leather. “I’ve been trying for a while, I think it’s stuck.”

“Um..sure,” Chase said warily. Was this going to be a joke of some kind? He took the small tube and turned it over in his hands. There was a door on the side of it, and after some effort, he figured out how to open it. Out fell three items. Two folded pieces of paper, made of pressed wood pulp and therefore pale brown, and a rolled-up piece of vellum tied with twine. “What’s this?”

“Messages,” Ana said, grinning. “Can you see names written on them?”

Chase looked down at the items, sorting through them. There was writing on the folded papers, but...well, it could just be his lack of reading skills, but it looked like absolute nonsense. “These are names?” he asked doubtfully.

Jackie and Henrik looked away from the cat, noticing the exchange between Chase and Ana. “What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“These words written here, these are...names?” Chase shook his head. “I’ve just never heard names like this before. Um...here, I-I’ll try to read them. Uh...” He squinted at the writing in ink on the two papers. “This one is ‘Ee-uh-oo-koh’ and this one is...um...‘Ffssehffmuh.’ I think? The handwriting could be—”

Henrik’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he was right next to Chase, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly. “What is it?! The two papers?! Which one is—that one, can I see that one?”

“Whoa, hey, calm down!” Chase leaned back. “You mean this one?” He held out the paper with the ‘Fsefma’ name on it.

“Yes!” Henrik snatched it up, then retreated, unfolding it.

Jackie leaned over his shoulder, then grinned. “Oh, I see. Vsevna sent you a little letter, didn’t he? What’s it say? Is he confessing his love?”

“Shut up, Jackie,” Henrik said, holding the letter far away from him so he couldn’t read it. “Is just another report.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, with your name on it. Come on, Henrik.”

“That does not mean anything.”

Chase, listening, raised an eyebrow. “So...I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I think I can figure out that this Fsefna person—”

“Vsevna,” Henrik corrected.

“...Vsefna—”

“Vsevna. It is important that you voice those sounds.”

“He’s the person you’re pining for, huh, Henrik?” Chase pressed on.

Henrik was slowly turning red. “I say nothing.”

“Right,” Chase said, grinning. “So, who is he?”

“He’s another one of the Phantoms,” Jackie said, sensing that Henrik wasn’t going to answer. “He and Yuko—that’s the other name on that second paper. Last we heard, they were in the Southern Moors with the rest of their crew. They said they’d scout it out for a bit more, then move on. These are probably their reports. Or...Yuko’s is a report, at least.”

“Shush,” Henrik muttered. He retreated a few steps away from the others, clutching the letter. As he passed Ana, he shot her a glare. “You make Chase open that on purpose.”

Ana just smiled. “Same results, right? Anyway, that’s the last capsule. Do you mind if I head out now?”

“No, go ahead, Ana. Send Harrison to take care of the birds,” Jackie said. She nodded, and left the skull. He then looked at Chase. “Uh...can I have the other two things?”

“Oh right.” Chase forgot he was still holding the other paper and the vellum scroll. He handed them over to Jackie, and the metal tube as well. “I’m surprised. That’s a lot for a bird to carry.”

“Well these guys are trained for it.” Jackie gestured at the pigeons, now strutting around the table. “Especially Mokin here, who had this stuff.” He patted the wings of a particular pigeon, mostly white but with brown wings, which had strangely curly feathers. “They all deserve the best seeds before we send them out again. Anyway.” Jackie unfolded the paper with Yuko’s name on it, scanning the words written there. At first, he looked excited to get a letter from this person. But the more he read, the more serious his expression became. “Henrik.”

Henrik looked away from his own letter, picking up on the tone in Jackie’s voice. “What is it?”

“I...read this while I open this scroll.” Jackie passed Henrik the letter, then began working on the twine knot holding the vellum shut.

Henrik read the letter quickly, and soon his expression matched Jackie’s. “Oh. Oh, Schwestern. Oh, no.”

Chase started to back up, feeling he shouldn’t listen to something like this. But Jackie noticed him leaving and said, “No, it’s fine, Chase. We should tell everyone this, anyway. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“What is it?” Chase asked anxiously.

“Well...you remember we told you about Marvin, right?” Jackie said slowly. “About how he went out on his own and we sometimes get reports of him?” He waited for Chase to nod before continuing. “This...was a report about him. Apparently, he was in the Moors. But...he didn’t just cause chaos and leave. He’s been...caught.”

“Caught?” Chase repeated numbly.

Jackie managed to untie the twine, and unrolled the vellum, scanning what was written there. He nodded grimly. “Yep. You know what this is?” He turned it around so Chase could see.

“That’s...a royal declaration, isn’t it?” Chase asked slowly. He recognized the format, and the royal seal in the corner. “Um...‘The King...announces a...mighty...triumph.’”

“You do not have to keep going, Chase,” Henrik said bitterly. “There are better words to read than that.” He took the declaration from Jackie, glancing at it for just a moment. “I see. Marvin is accused of attempting to kill the King and some other nobility. They caught him in the act, and now...they plan to execute him. Four weeks from now.”

Jackie looked over at the cat, now sitting and licking its paws, and gasped. “Henrik. You don’t think that’s his cat, do you?!”

“What? I suppose perhaps. But if it is, how did it get all the way up here?” Henrik sounded puzzled. “It takes a week or two to get to the Moors from here, and that is for humans on horseback. For a cat...”

“Wizardry?” Jackie guessed. “I don’t know, it was just a thought, since he likes cats so much.”

Everyone fell silent. Henrik looked back at the royal declaration, reading it slowly, taking in the information. “So...how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?” Jackie asked.

Henrik stared at him in surprise. “Well, we have to rescue him, of course.” Jackie didn’t say anything. “Do not tell me that you’re going to let your grudge stand in the way!”

“No, it’s not that!” Jackie protested. “It’s just—you read the letter, right? Yuko said that these declarations were sent everywhere. Since when has the King announced his next move like this? Everything he does, he does in secret. I mean, damn, the Phantoms are just rumors, and we’ve been taking serious action for years now. He’s hushed up so much, why wouldn’t he just make Marvin...you know, disappear? Why a public execution?”

“You think it is a trap,” Henrik stated.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted.

“That is fair, but if it’s a trap, who is he planning to catch? If he wants information about us, he could get it from Marvin.”

“But Marvin hasn’t been part of the group for a year now! His information would be out of date.”

“This does not change the fact that there is no guarantee it’s a trap in the first place. Perhaps he wants to strike fear into the population. Given his actions, it seems likely.”

“If it does turn out to be a trap, though, we can’t afford to lose anyone!”

Chase coughed awkwardly. Jackie and Henrik jumped, then turned to him, looking embarrassed to be fighting while he was still there. “You know...I don’t know if I have any place in this. I mean, you two are in charge, after all. But...I think you should try to get him back.”

Henrik and Jackie looked at each other, then back to Chase. “Are you trying to say something?” Jackie asked.

“I just...” Chase paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I don’t think...you should leave someone behind. He was still part of the Phantoms, right? Didn’t he help create it? A-and weren’t you three...Well. You don’t have to talk to him after we rescue him, but it just doesn’t seem right to leave someone behind in this situation. I know you had your fight and all, but maybe...this could be...you know.” He paused. “Also, I want to know if this cat is his or if some random cat just wandered by.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, that would be good to know, wouldn’t it?” He sighed, and his expression fell, becoming serious as he was lost in thought.

Henrik leaned closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jackie. Chase is right, this does not mean he is rejoining the group. You do not even have to go. But...we should do it. Marvin does not deserve this.”

After a moment, Jackie nodded. “You’re both right. Of course. Even though he was an ass last time we talked, that doesn’t mean I want Marvin dead.” He took a deep breath. “But we should prepare for the possibility of a trap. Just in case.”

“Of course we will,” Henrik assured him.

“...Hey. Chase.” Jackie gave him a smile. “Thank you. I-I don’t know what it is about you, but you know what to say. It’s really easy to talk to you about stuff like this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Chase said, returning the smile. “But, um...I think the Vigil is happening soon, so if we want to go—”

“Shit, I almost forgot about that!” Jackie gasped. “Henrik, I don’t want to leave the cat alone, can you look after it or something?”

“Don’t worry, I will take it to my tent,” Henrik said. “You two go and...is it alright to wish you fun? In a ceremony like this?”

“Come on, Schneep, you’ve lived here for over a decade, don’t talk like it’s so strange to you,” Jackie chuckled.

“I think it’s fun,” Chase said.

“Well, you two go have fun, then,” Henrik said. “I will see you later. Tomorrow, if not tonight.”

“Thanks, Schneep.” Jackie gave him a quick one-armed hug, then headed towards the skull entrance. “Let’s go, Chase. We don’t want to be late.”

They almost were. The Dark Vigil was about to start when they arrived, shuffling into the crowd. Everyone stood in a circle around a set of candles, one blue and the rest black, which were in turn set in a circle around several smooth, round pieces of black onyx. Three people stood inside, lighting the candles.

After the candles were alight, everyone sat on the ground, clashing a bit as they all tried to make room. Then once everyone was sitting with their legs crossed, the three in the center started the Vigil. They spoke the traditional lines, describing the Elder of Dark—their vague appearance, their actions, their history with the other Elders—and finished it by thanking them for their guardianship. Everyone joined in on the final part: “As you stand and watch vigil, so shall we this night.” And then silence fell.

During the silence of the Dark Vigil, each individual offered their thoughts about those who needed protection. In the past, Chase had asked for his family to be alright. For them all to stay healthy and happy. Today, he asked for that again. He wished, silently, desperately, for them to be safe. And not just them, but everyone else who had disappeared from his town, as well as all the other mountain towns that had been destroyed. He thought about Henrik and Jackie and all the other Phantoms he’d met here, and wished for them to have luck in this fight against the King. He thought about Marvin, someone who he’d never met but who was dear to his friends, and wished for them to be able to rescue him.

As Chase stared at the candle flames, he thought he saw...something. He wasn’t sure what. A shape in the smoke. The shape of a four-legged animal, with...antlers. A deer.

Then as was the tradition, the candles were extinguished, and the night was left in darkness.

[ironwoman359]

Okay smart ass. How come you and the other big blogs aren't saying shit about the racism and other problematic things happening in the fandom? Specially when almost all of you were always ready to put your opinions on something as petty as fans criticizing Thomas for how he wears a skirt.

Well, I cannot speak for other ‘big blogs’ because, while I am friends with some of the people who run the blogs that you’re lumping into the ‘big’ cateogory, we are not a monolith. We don’t have a secret group chat where we all decide “today we shall talk about Thomas wearing a skirt and ignore racism on purpose.” I can offer speculation that perhaps more people quickly added their own two cents on the skirt thing because when compared to everything else that was going on in the world, both on tumblr and off it, it was such a simple thing to digest. Everyone was craving something simple at that time, so it was an easy, cathartic thing to jump in and say “hey, don’t be mean in people’s inboxes” and proceed to stop thinking about almost just as fast. Anyway, like I said, I can’t speak for other people, only for myself. So since you apparently want me to, I’ll speak for myself. 

“How come you and the other big blogs aren’t saying shit about the racism...”

I am white. It is not my place to speak over poc about racism. It is my place to reblog their posts, elevating their voices without commentary. That is something that I learned this year, and it is something I intend to continue to practice. I do recall making one post in early June, about not using the b/l.m tag on fanart posts, but after seeing several poc express that they wanted white people to talk less and listen more, I elected to make no more original posts about the subject and stick to reblogging without comment. If you’re looking for some good posts about racism in the sanders sides fandom, here are a few good ones. Though most of the posts about racism that make their way across my dash and subsequently onto my blog are less fandom focused and more broad. 

“...and other problematic things happening in the fandom?”

This is where I must repeat what I said the other day; this could relate to any NUMBER of things, and unless you are more specific I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you talking about callouts for specific creators? There were two that happened over the summer that I know about, but A) again, those were about racism, so I chose not to muddle the conversation with my voice, and B) the works being discussed in those situations were works I was personally unfamiliar with, and thus did not feel like I had enough information to state an opinion publically (which again, as I understand it, would have been unneccessary additions to an issue I have no authority to speak on). 

So maybe you’re talking about the Twitter callouts, or the situation with the artists for the Storytime Madlibs video? Again, I felt as though I lacked sufficient need/information to make any statements about those issues. I have a twitter, but I barely use it, and don’t use it for the fander community at all. I had NO IDEA what any of that stuff people were talking about was, and still don’t, and since I don’t use Twitter and am not in that community, it seemed pointless to speak about. That is not to trivialize any hurt or harm that was caused or experienced during those events, just to say that I have nothing to do with them, which is why there’s nothing about it on my blog. (The joke I made about fandom twitter was supposed to be universal and relate to how all the twitter discourse these days seems to be a rehash of tumblr discourse from five years ago. Bad timing on my part I guess, oh well.) And, being 100% honest here, I don’t think I even watched the Storytime Madlibs video. If i did, I don’t remember much about it. I know that when it came out that the artists were underpaid, I reblogged one or two posts about how content creators should not be put on pedestals and are not perfect, but the rest of that situation was centered around the artists involved in that video, and since I was not one of them nor did I know any of them personally, it seemed like something that again, I shouldn’t bring up because I didn’t know anything about it. From what I understand, a solution is/was being worked out, but I haven’t heard anything recently. 

Or by ‘problematic things’ do you mean the existence of remrom, or unsympathetic sides, or how I’ve been in this fandom for over 3 years and our anon hate problem has never gone away, or the rampant purity culture, or the pervasive ageism, or literally a dozen other things, some of which are genuine issues and some of which are simply differing opinions being handled with all the grace of an elephant on roller skates? I’ve said it over and over again on this blog, but this fandom is not perfect. No fandom is perfect, but this one in particular has a reputation for being ‘pure’ and ‘wholesome’ for some reason; a reputation that it has never upheld by the way, because, shocker, fandoms are made of humans, and humans are not flawless porcelein dolls. We’re incredibly flawed creatures, and mistakes are inevitable. The sooner we all accept that and start treating our mistakes as an opportunity to learn and grow and do better next time instead of a signal that we were always worthless pieces of garbage that had no chance to do anything other than fuck up, the better off we’ll all be. 

And may I reiterate: look outside this website for a minute. There is SO MUCH going on in the world right now, every single one of us is utterly exhausted, we are suffering from a massive traumatic event, several massive traumatic events at once, actually, forgive me if my attention is spread a little thin at the moment. 

I’ll readily admit, there have been posts in the past several months that I’ve seen, read, and then not reblogged. Often this is because I feel as though the post that I am seeing does not have the full picture, and that it would be irresponsible to reblog only that part of the ‘discourse.’ And most of the time, I just don’t have the mental energy to go looking for the full story on whatever the Issue of the Week is. And I shouldn’t have to. Because at the end of the day, what I put on my own blog is my business, and no one else’s. There’s not some rule list that magically appears once you pass 1,000 followers that tells you what you must and must not do as a blogger. I am not required to weigh in on every little thing that happens in this fandom just because a lot of people in it follow me, and in fact, NO ONE is obligated to reblog something regardless of how many followers they have. If you are dissatisfied with the posts I make and/or reblog, you’re welcome to unfollow, there’s no rule that says you have to stay. But my energy is so limited these days, and I’m not going to devote what little free time and headspace I have to figuring out the ‘Correct’ take on fandom discourse.

I’d like to end by once again reiterating what many have said beffore, that racism is not the same thing as fandom discourse. It is always my goal to not speak over the voices of poc, and if in this post I have done that in any way, I’d like to apologize. Poc are welcome to DM me so that we can discuss it in any such instance, whether on this post or any other from the past or that comes up in the future. I am still working on unlearning racism, and know I am likely to make many more missteps on that journey. Stay safe out there everyone. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

- Chapter 8 -

A small group of sects unexpectedly announced that they wanted Wen Ruohan to adjudicate a boundary line dispute – some were affiliated with the Jiang sect, others with the Jin, and they wanted a neutral party. Wen Ruohan was pleased, even smug, that they had chosen him rather than the Lan sect, which with its righteous reputation was more typically called upon to mediate for the other sects.

“Maybe none of them have a good argument,” Nie Huaisang mused. “They’re all awful, and they want someone more self-absorbed than either side to broker something out.”

“Not everyone is awful, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, tucking the blankets around him. “Most people are good. Besides, there are some pretty renowned sects involved, so even if it’s true, you shouldn’t say it.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “But da-ge –”

“Time for medicine,” Nie Mingjue said firmly, and lifted the bowl to his lips.

Nie Huaisang had a mild case of food poisoning, causing a stomachache, vomiting and a low-grade fever – Wen Qing had determined that it wasn’t infectious, but also, rather grimly, figured out that the source of the illness was most likely a particular treat that Nie Huaisang had generously shared with both her and Wen Chao, and sure enough they were both bedridden less than a day later. Luckily, Wen Qing had had enough time to boil the base for the medicine they needed, and while he wasn’t at her level, much less the now-absent Wen Ning’s, even Nie Mingjue could follow directions well enough to add the final ingredients right before serving.

(Even Wen Zhuliu, who remained Wen Chao’s bodyguard despite their best efforts, had fallen ill, except his version had been significantly worse – more or less non-stop emissions out both ends, and out of self-preservation Nie Mingjue had insisted that he remain in the servants’ quarters far away from all of them.)

Nie Huaisang finished drinking the medicine, making a face that only went away when Nie Mingjue stuffed something sweet into his mouth to help get rid of the taste. “Will you be all right helping out?”

“Of course I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “I haven’t forgotten how to help host a party.”

“No, I meant…”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. Normally, Wen Ruohan had enough concern for his face to prefer that Nie Mingjue avoid showing his own shortly after he’d been insolent enough to warrant punishment, but due to the food poisoning they were short on young masters to greet all the incoming people – and their guests were too important not to be greeted by someone with status.

“I’ll use some powder, it’ll be fine,” he said. “And anyway, even if someone notices, it’s not like they would be bold enough to comment; they’re here to ask Sect Leader Wen for a favor, after all. Who will even pay attention to me long enough to notice?”

The answer, Nie Mingjue swiftly learned, was Yu Ming, a crotchety old grandmother from Meishan Yu in Sichuan who didn’t like the food (not spicy enough), her chair (the first one was too rickety, the second too soft), her peers (idiots, all of them), her drink (they’d served tea and she wanted wine, and then later on it was the other way around), and, most problematically, was one of the more influential sect leaders on the Jiang sect’s side. Not exactly someone they wanted to offend by providing inferior hospitality.  

Nie Mingjue ended up abandoning his now habitual corner in the back of the room to dash back and forth dancing attendance on her, run ragged and breathless by all of her demands.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise when she approached him in his corner during the banquet’s dessert course, and he straightened up at once, saluting politely. “Sect Leader Yu,” he said, suppressing a desire to moan and maybe beg for mercy; his legs were killing him. How this managed to be worse than serious saber training he had no idea, but it was. “Is the dessert not to your liking? I can get you something cool instead –”

“Sit down, boy,” she growled. “The crystal cakes are fine, and I’m tired of looking up at you. How tall are you? Six chi?”

“…five and a half, maybe five and three-quarters,” he confessed, sitting down obediently. At this point, she could tell him to jump out a window and he probably would – she had a very sharp walking stick and no hesitation about waving everywhere. No sympathy for her miserable victims, either.

“And you’re how old?”

“Seventeen.”

“Slowed down yet?”

“…not yet.”

She huffed. “That’s all we need, another Nie giant. I told your father that he was making a mistake, marrying a woman that needed to duck to get through doors…that how you got that black eye?”

“Huh?” Nie Mingjue said unintelligently, still caught by the mental image – he scarcely remembered his mother, having been very young when she left, but it was nice to think that it wasn’t just the perspective of having been a toddler that had made her appear quite so towering. “Oh, I – uh – training accident.”

Yu Ming squinted at him. “Same training accident that dislocated three of your fingers and a kneecap, did a number on your ribs, and cut your back up so bad that you need bandages and –” She inhaled. “– at least two doses of bai mao gen to replenish the blood lost?”

Nie Mingjue opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. Finally, yielding under her glare, he muttered, “I didn’t dislocate my kneecap.”

He might’ve preferred that, actually. Dislocations could be shoved back into place with relatively little issue; he’d sprained it, instead. A bad fall from when he’d shamefully broken and tried to run from the Fire Palace, futilely seeking safety, a place where he neither had to hurt people nor be hurt himself.

Not that such a place existed in the Nightless City, of course. He’d only been dragged back after, as he ought to have expected, and then things had gotten much worse, but he hadn’t really been thinking his actions through at the time.

“Dislocated, not dislocated, whatever. Has to be something, the way you’re dragging that left leg of yours behind you when you trot,” she said practically. “You’re a rotten liar, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Many people,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of them currently in bed with food poisoning, except for lucky Wen Ning away at the Lotus Pier and miserable Wen Xu now stuck standing by his father’s side, pretending to smile. “Does it matter?”

“Matter? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Other than going and applying more powder, there’s not much I can do about it even if it does offend your sight,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, reasonably enough in his view. “And no matter how many times or ways you ask it, the answer’s still going to be ‘training accident’, whether or not you believe me.”

Yu Ming poked his forehead with her finger, then his cheek. “And this is with powder,” she said, scowling and rubbing the remnants of it between her fingertips as if she hadn’t believed him that it was there until she’d verified it for herself. “If you won’t tell me anything other than ‘training accident’, will you at least tell me what you did to deserve this type of training?”

“I don’t remember,” Nie Mingjue said, and he really didn’t. All the thrashings more or less flowed together pretty well after a while, and in the end it didn’t really matter if he’d intervened on Nie Huaisang’s behalf or Wen Chao’s, whether he’d played whipping boy for Wen Xu or distracted attention away from Wen Qing – they were all close enough to be proper family now. What he did was nothing more than what you ought to do for those you loved, and he’d die before he forgot how to do that.

“Rotten liar,” Yu Ming said, maybe because she could tell he wasn’t lying, and spat on the ground. “It’s a filthy business.”

“I’m hardly going to disagree with you,” he said dryly.

“You might look a little less ragged if you did.”

He shrugged. “They say people can’t change their essential nature.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Blunt to the point of stupidity.”

“Say rather that you cut straight to the point,” she said.

“Well, you know, sabers have one blunt edge, one sharp,” he said, unable to resist a smile even if it pulled at the bruises around his eye. “I can be both.”

She was staring at him.

“…what?”

“You have dimples.”

“I’m…aware?”

He didn’t quite understand the calculating look Yu Ming had in her eyes – or, perhaps better said, he didn’t want to understand that look, and he was willing to put in a great deal of effort behind not understanding it if he had to.

“Do you want another crystal cake?” he asked her abruptly before she could say anything else. When she arched her eyebrows, he elaborated: “Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly ask me whether I was taking good care of you, being as you are after all one of our honored guests.”

Don’t tell me anything, he meant. Even if you pity me – especially if you pity me. He has ways to make me talk. He likes making me talk.

“…fine, then,” Yu Ming said. “You said something about there being something cool?”

Nie Mingjue suppressed a groan as he dragged himself out of his seat and headed to the kitchen to see if they still had any sorbet left over.

-

“– going to be tricky,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a nodding Wen Xu as Nie Mingjue walked by. “Lanling Jin isn’t fond of making decisions.”

“But they are fond of profit,” Wen Xu pointed out.

“The question will be if there’s a way to strike the right balance without giving too much away –”

Nie Mingjue decided to believe that they were talking about pornography. People said Jin Guangshan was into that sort of thing, didn’t they?

-

Nie Mingjue trained with Baxia at least once every day, and usually more. He found the repetitive actions calming, like an active form of meditation, and he was happy to sink into the mindlessness of physical exertion and forget his worries.

Baxia was warm under his hand, as always – he thought sometimes that she’d never quite adjusted to the warmer temperatures of the Nightless City, preferring as he did the cooler weather of Qinghe.

Perhaps, in time, she would forget it.

Perhaps, in time, so would he.

Forget the cool air filling his lungs, the crisp snap of an autumn day just about to begin; forget the smell of the forests and the feeling of gravel under his shoes. Forget the strain on his muscles from climbing up a steep cliff, the taste of an early snowfall on his tongue – the metallic tang to the water, the lingering smell of smoke in the air even when there wasn’t anyone around for miles.

It felt unforgettable.

But he knew that it wasn’t. In the face of time, all things were ground down into the dust.

He would be eighteen years old this year. Still a little shy of proper adulthood, an unlucky year, if luck had anything to do with his life any longer. He’d been here for four years, just shy of a quarter of all the years he’d ever lived.

Perhaps that was what made him melancholy.

Or perhaps it was only that he had been unable to light incense on the anniversary of his father’s death yet again this year. Wen Ruohan took particular pleasure in ensuring that he couldn’t – he had spent the first year unconscious, the second year immobilized, the third…he tried not to remember.

It didn’t really matter, he supposed, since he’d always agreed in advance that Nie Huaisang would light the incense on behalf of them both, both on the anniversary and on Qingming – they hadn’t ever been given leave to return to Qinghe to sweep their ancestral graves, not once, not even when some of the other sects had complained about the impropriety of it. No one ever paid attention to Nie Huaisang, underestimating how sneaky he could be, and so he’d managed it just fine. Still, the failure to do it himself tugged at Nie Mingjue’s heart, disappointed him in himself - in his failure to be a good son, just as he so often failed to be a good brother.

He sank back into his training by force of willpower.

His cultivation was increasing at an acceptable rate, he thought – shockingly fast by all metrics, but all of his teachers said that his foundations were good, steady as mountains, and his progression through each stage was smooth and unhindered by bottlenecks. The consequences of genius, they said with a shrug.

It was about the only thing that was going in an acceptable manner.

Ma Liyuan had fallen out of favor, as Wen Xu had predicted – she’d failed to remain pregnant despite repeated efforts, and Wen Ruohan took such pleasure in criticizing her for it that Nie Mingjue suspected he’d dosed her tea with contraceptives specifically to set her up for the failure, since he didn’t actually need more sons – but her usefulness remained, so she was married in with all pomp to Wen Chao’s household as a secondary wife.

(She’d been promised the position of first wife, and threw a fit when she realized the change, but Wen Ruohan had reminded her, sneering, that that had been when she’d been a pure and untouched maiden; she really couldn’t expect them to pay such a high price for secondhand goods, now could she?)

Wen Chao obviously had no interest in her at all – she’d tried, once, to make herself up and smile at him and he’d recoiled as if he’d seen a snake, then stared at her and said, “You’re joking, right?” – so she’d taken the next best option and sent her maid to seduce him in her stead.

Wang Lingjiao was pretty enough, with curves enough to make just about any man stare, and pretty cunning to boot. In a different world, a world where Wen Chao had fallen for his father’s nasty little tricks and become a stupid oversexed princeling, a waste of space that would have been incited into fighting against Wen Xu for the sole purpose of being crushed to prove some imagined point of about the necessity of cruelty, she probably would have been able to crawl into his bed and keep her place there without much difficulty.

Wen Chao was a bit of a romantic, after all, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

As it was, when her first few efforts at flirtation failed – or, well, mostly failed, given that Wen Chao held her hands in his own during a garden stroll in the moonlight and told her, with great earnestness, that she was very beautiful and it was such a pity that he wasn’t allowed to think of women romantically until he was fifteen on pain of utmost humiliation and also was she aware of the dangers of venereal disease – Wang Lingjiao pulled back and recalibrated her approach.

This time, she went for Nie Mingjue.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked her.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that a deliberate reference to what Wen Chao said?”

“No, just the same idea. I’m not interested.”

“That much is obvious enough,” she said, tossing her hair. “I want you to tell me what I need to do to get someone to be interested. I don’t want to be a servant any longer.”

Nie Mingjue was at something of a loss for words.

“There must be something I can provide,” Wang Lingjiao demanded. “Some service, some use…I’m a weak cultivator, but that clearly doesn’t bother you lot – your younger brother is weak, too, though I’m still a bit worse. I’m not as dumb as Ma Liyuan; I know there’s more you can sell in life than sex, even if that’s easier. What do you want? What do any of you want?”

Wang Lingjiao was from the Yingchuan Wang cultivation clan, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. A smaller sect, with too many children, but a standalone sect nonetheless; their children were born as gentry, not servants. No, they must have sold Wang Lingjiao into servitude, though whether it was to get an in with Qishan Wen or simply to get rid of a budding problem – and extremely beautiful young women with poor cultivation were often a problem, especially when their beauty suggested how their mothers had gotten themselves selected to be wives, or, more likely, concubines – he did not know.

“Do you mix your own makeup?” he asked, and she stared at him. “It’s very well done.”

“…yes,” she said, giving him a strange look. “I do. None that’ll fit you, though.”

He blinked, then laughed. “No, I don’t want any; the only use I have for powder is to cover up bruises when I need to be presentable. I just meant that it seems you have a steady hand at mixing things and judging proportions – A-Qing appreciates those qualities.”

“Wen Qing?” Wang Lingjiao asked, bewildered. “You want to send me to a woman?”

“She’s expressed before that she would like to have more female company,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao’s expression only got more fish-like as she gaped at him. “A fair while back, in fairness, but the numbers really are skewed fairly strongly against her. I thought you might get along. Be friends.”

“I’ve never had a female friend in my life,” Wang Lingjiao told him.

“I thought – you’re always chatting with the other serving girls…?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes as if he were being stupid. He probably was. Forget Qishan ways, the ways of the teenaged girl were utterly beyond his grasp.

“I don’t see what you have to lose by trying,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I’m not interested, Xu-ge’s too paranoid to get within touching distance of anyone he thinks has an ulterior motive, A-Chao isn’t allowed to touch women for a few more years –”

“Why is that?”

“He’s gullible, and has both questionable taste and sibling-inflicted trauma relating to brothels,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao wrinkled her nose, looking a little amused despite herself. “A-Ning isn’t the type to womanize, and Huaisang is too young. Also a vicious cutthroat when it comes to interpersonal relations, so who even knows what type of person he’d like, if any.”

“I’d noticed that about him.”

“In sum, A-Qing is your best bet,” he concluded. “And all the more so if you approach her in a business-like fashion: make clear to her what benefits you bring and how you’ll compensate for the drawbacks, be practical and reasonable, and you’ll do fine. Do well, and you won’t ever need to fear being sent back to Ma Liyuan – or to Yingchuan.”

Wang Lingjiao stared at him for a moment – she hadn’t expected him to be able to figure that out, he thought, since she was just clever enough to manage to puzzle out that he was the heart and core of their little group but not quite smart enough to realize why – but in the end she seemed to take his advice to heart, nodding and walking away.

He hoped Wen Qing didn’t kill him for sending her a terrible lab assistant.

[magnoliabloomfield]

Gally imagine part 2

Part one here

“Ah, shuck,” Newt complained after the sound of splintering wood. “Oy, Muppet!”

I turned to see him struggling to hold a broken post and the vines that had been supported by it.

“Run over to the builders and fetch a new post if they got one,” he instructed once he saw he had my attention. “Quick as you can, this is bloody heavy.”

My eyes widened. The builders? That’s- that’s Gally territory. Newt noticed me still on my knees in the garden beds and the look on my face. He rolled his dark eyes dramatically even as the corner of his lips turned up.

“He’s not going to bite you Muppet, you don’t even have to ask him for it, just ask anyone. Or just don’t be a wuss,” he shrugged, teasing me.

“I’d be a lot braver if I was another boy,” I grumbled as I stood up and brushed the dirt from my hands.

“No good, another boy would just get punched in the face, he can’t do that to you,” Newt grinned as I walked by him and toward the builders. I stuck my tongue out at him.

I took a few deep breaths as I walked across the glade. It’s simple, I told myself, just ask for another post. I rehearsed the line a few times in my head before I realized I was being a wuss. It might not be Gally I have to talk to at all, and dear god it was not that hard of a question either. I rolled my eyes and ran my hands over my face, none of my thoughts making my heart beat any calmer.

And luck was not on my side that day, because walking my way was Gally himself. After the initial lurch in my guts I realized this might be a good thing, I’m going one way, he’s going another, I’ll ask the question in passing and we’ll keep going our separate ways.

“Hi,” I called out tentatively. I raised my hand, he raised his brow. “Where can I find an extra post for the garden? One broke just now and Newt sent me to get a new one.”

I was so proud of myself for not saying anything stupid. Rehearsing it actually paid off. Now he’ll just point the way, tell me where and we’re done.

“I’ll show you,” he said before turning and heading back the way he’d come.

Oh no! He wasn’t sticking to the script! I faltered for a moment, almost tripping over my dashed hopes, and then caught up to him, trying to match his long legged stride. I was now walking with Gally. How did I get here? Why was he doing this?

I bit my lip and glanced around the glade, seeing who was seeing this. I chanced to look up at him and I could have sworn he was looking at me from the corner of his eye. I darted my eyes back to the ground ahead of me, praying I didn’t trip.

I kept wondering if I should say something, if he was going to say something, and most of all why, Why, WHY was he doing this?

A dozen or so yards felt like miles and a wave of relief swept over me when we finally reached some kind of shed. That had to mean this was close to being over. He ducked into the doorway and held it open for me. I panicked all over again. Alone in a room with Gally was a lot worse than just walking with him, I might never come out of the shed, at least not without a garden stake rammed through some part of my body.

“I figure with you working in the gardens you need to know this stuff,” his voice startled me, somehow I wasn’t expecting him to speak. “There’s some tools you might need, and here’s the wood you can use. What size post do you need?”

“Umm...” I was baffled by being spoken to like a trustworthy human being, but I managed to play it off as thinking. “It was the tomato plant so it’s taller than me, maybe a 6 footer?”

He nodded and reached for one in the corner, it was shorter than him which just made me marvel at his height all over gain. He handed the post over to me and I was actually smiling.

“Thank y- Gally, are you bleeding?” I looked at the red stain where his hand had just been on the post, my eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Yeah, I was heading to the med-jacks-“

He turned his arm and looked down at a long, fairly deep gash in his lightly freckled skin, blood dripping down into his hand and onto the dirt floor.

“Why!?” I interrupted him when I saw it all.

“Why was I going to the med-jacks?” He looked at me like was slow and a bit sad.

“No!” I closed my eyes as I shook my head, brow furrowed. “I meant, why did you bring me here when you needed to go to the med-jacks? You could have just told me where to go!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but I cut him off again.

“Never mind, just get to them already, geez!” I stepped out of the shed and waited for him to follow.

“It’s not that big a deal, stuff like this happens all the time,” he assured me like I was worried about him. “Besides I didn’t want you to get lost and bug me again about finding this stuff.”

I looked up at him sharply, wondering how he pulled off this Jekyll and Hyde act where he was vaguely human one moment and savage the next. He was looking down at me, his lips pressed together and one brow up as his head cocked to the side. It felt like he was observing me, waiting for a reaction, ready to judge me.

Gally was not an enemy I could afford to have, and in general it seemed to be the consensus that he was tough, bossy, and harsh. I wondered for a second if that was just how people treated him and not how he actually was.

“Well.. I’ll remember,” I finally started sputtering some words out, still not sure the impression I was trying to make, or what I might accomplish. “Thanks. And try holding your arm up as you go over there so you don’t bleed so much.”

His expression stayed the same but something in his eyes changed slightly.

“I hope you’re ok,” I blurted, surprising even myself.

I swiftly turned and started my trek back to the garden, carrying the post with Gally’s blood on it. I didn’t think Newt would believe me if I told him the truth about it, maybe I’ll just tell him I bashed Gally’s head in at the shed and left him there. See how that goes over.

Part three

[raendown]

A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?” 

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive. 

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out. 

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it. 

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years. 

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top. 

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that. 

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before. 

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.” 

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood. 

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!” 

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!” 

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns. 

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response. 

“I know that!” 

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?” 

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!” 

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk. 

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!” 

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!” 

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new. 

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him. 

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow. 

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings. 

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village. 

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket. 

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing. 

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault. 

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing. 

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat. 

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet. 

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot. 

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded. 

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface. 

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly. 

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that. 

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire. 

“Fuck off!” 

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable. 

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional. 

“Nnngg!?” 

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice. 

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!” 

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!” 

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position. 

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others. 

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else. 

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further. 

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.” 

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?” 

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life. 

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.” 

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist. 

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame. 

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before. 

[zhangboheng-moved]

i was tagged by jay @sebastianvettelsgender (ty 💕💕) to answer questions about my blog so >:3c

1. why did you choose your url?

because all-around world champion zhang boheng is the light of my life my precious angel my lil meow meow my reason for living my babygirl my everything <3 and i wanted to let the world know that 😤 (on a more serious note his gymnastics is genuinely captivating and i am obsessed with his work and want him to stick around for a long time bc he is So Beautiful)

2. any side blogs?

yes but they’re unfortunately both kinda dead 😭 maybe one day i’ll revive them or just merge them into this blog but for now they’re just sitting there gathering dust

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

since i was maybe 11 . . . ? so about 9 years !!

4. do you have a queue tag?

i actually don’t 😵‍💫 i just sort of spam rb either from my dash or from my likes whenever i have the time

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

THIS blog i started after i got locked out of my old one + i did it mostly for gym bc the olympics was happening and i decided this was the year i was gonna try and interact w online gymfans . . . my first ever blog i think i started for pkmn? i’ve had several for several fandoms though lol i had one dedicated almost solely to drag race for a while

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

see my answer to question 1 but ALSO: just . . . look at him. he’s the world’s cutest boy. the rainbow in his hair solved all my problems in life <3

7. why did you choose your header?

bc the worlds 2017 pbars podium is one of my favs they were all so cute . . . oleg getting them all to hold their medals up to their eyes was so sweet . . . and yuanyuan won gold in his debut worlds <3 also they’re just 3 of my favs in general <3

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

i actually don’t know omg?? probably something i said abt lewis hamilton that people agreed with idk 😵‍💫

9. how many mutuals do you have?

i actually don’t know !! i never keep track but i love all of you <3

10. how many followers do you have?

i . . . also don’t know lmao i don’t really look at the numbers 😭

11. how many people do you follow?

idk the specifics but 100% not enough. it’s like . . . double digits. if anyone has blog suggestions to follow (or themselves idm) pls hmu i need my dash spicing up again

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

oh probably loads skdhdks

13. how often do you use tumblr?

every day lol it’s kinda bad. multiple times a day since i have the app so checking it is like. dangerously easy

14. did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog?

nope !! i’m here for a good time and i don’t rly want to start any fights . . . tho i will lovingly bully my friends <3

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

i don’t really like them tbh,, they tend to feel performative and are usually vvv america-centric 😵‍💫

16. do you like tag games?

i love them omg!!

17. do you like ask games?

i do 🥰

18. which of your moots do you think is tumblr famous?

@lewishamlton for the gorgeous edits . . . @saintlysebchal too should be for the same reason. AND @sebastianvettelsgender ur 100% should be famous bc ur gifs are lovely and u single-handedly converted me into a valtteri fan and that means u should have influence over f1blr. also in my head @soviethorror is some sort of celeb just in general. u give off that vibe rat <3 also @woofwoofdaniel

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

no but i am accepting applications

no pressure tags: @soviethorror @urara-ashikawa @fushigidane @saintlysebchal @woofwoofdaniel and anyone else who wants to just say i tagged u bc i did in my heart <3

[words-for-holland]

Christmas Admirers Teaser |T.H.

Pairing: Fratboy!Tom x Reader

Summary:  Tom Holland and Y/N have never crossed each other’s paths in the 3 years of their college career. but can a silly letter change all that? 

Loosely Inspired by Dash & Lily and every other cheesy Hallmark Christmas Rom-Com Movie out there. 

A/N: This wont be a series but this story is going to be really long when it’s done but tbh not sure if Im really like how its coming...Ha...ha.. But I’ll still do a taglist for this when it’s completed so feel free to add yourself if you’d like.

Taglist

Wanna Play a Game?

All it took was one bright red letter and four words to intrigue the most beloved, foreign exchange student of New York University, Tom Holland. If his name sounds familiar to you, then you already know the answer to the question that just popped in your head. Yes, not only was Tom Holland a well renowned actor, he was also a student exploring the wonders of college along with his best friend Harrison. Some say he was only attending to prepare for a role, others say he did it to have his fun with sorority girls, and a very small percentage believed he was actually trying to get his degree in theater. Whatever the reason, college life suited him well, being the head of the Beta Gamma Sigma Fraternity, living the bachelors life with a new girl around his arm every week, but it was all the same...until he found that red letter sticking out of an abandoned shelf in the Potter’s Library.

He remembered it clearly, the day he found it. Tom had reluctantly arrived at the Library assuming his mates would be there to actually study for an exam they had this upcoming week. Lord knows if they didn’t pass this final with at least a C this semester, they would surely relive the nightmares with Professor Gonpu in the next. Yet to no surprise, none of them came and ditched last minute as the pool of messages started to flood his phone.

“Great.” Tom muttered to himself as he took a seat at the far right corner of the library. The area was empty, and as he slouched on the wooden chair and pushed it back, the boy hadn’t realize how close to the empty shelf he was. With a single thud, came a small red letter floating above and gently making its way down to his lap. The inviting words peaked his interest, and while he checked both front and back for a name, the letter should have been addressed to...there was none. He unfolded it and read it to himself.

Do you want a play a game?

You seem like the type of person that has nothing better to do, so let’s make it a little more interesting. I wont tell you who I am, but if I deem you worthy...I just might.

Still with me?

I’ll give you five clues to figure out this location. Everything you need is here in the Library. And...if you even think about using that phone, you might as well put this letter back where you found it. After all.. you’re in a library and it’s got all the information you need. Ready?

Tom looked at it puzzled by the words. “Do people actually do this shit?”, he thought to himself. He continued to read on, examining each clue and the 5 lines next to them.

1. You’ll find your first clue, deals with a tragic romance. He had all the money in the world but never ends up with the one he loves.

“Too easy.” Tom smiled to himself as he quickly looked for The Great Gatsby. He referenced the red letter seeing only 3 spaces for the first clue. “Jay” he whispered to himself, as he triumphantly wrote out the words.

2. Know what else is more shitty than dying and not having the love your life? Writing a depressing poem about the love your life dying. Or as Poe would imagine, a beautiful maiden by the sea.

He smirked at the line, knowing fully well the poem that the mysterious letter was referencing, and quickly headed to the poetry section. Tom scanned the row of books, until the black book with white lettering caught his eye. Flipping through the broken pages, he found exactly what he was looking for. “In this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.” he muttered the lines, a smile slowly creeping up. Tom writes out the word “Lee” in the 3 lettered blank. “Tragic Romance, how typical.” he says to himself. Though his voice was laced with disinterest, it was Tom’s favorite poem, but he’d never tell anyone that.

It continued on this rhythm of deciphering clues and running around the Library like a chicken without a head to figure out what the letter wanted from Tom. He had been so focused that his plan to study for Gonpu’s final and meeting with the fraternity has completely flown out the window. As of now, Tom’s main priority was to find the answers to the letter’s puzzling challenge. Maybe, if he answered it, he would know who the mysterious writer was.

Then it happened. The last clue was solved, as Tom quickly wrote out the final word, examining his work and trying to make sense of what he found. There were no other instructions left on the letter which only made Tom more puzzled. It wasn’t a name. It wasn’t a thing. It was a place on campus. Jay Lee’s Coffee Lounge, the most serene coffee spot you’ll ever find in NYU. It offered all the essentials needed to focus and complete your work all with a side of great cold brew made in house. People say it’s NYU’s best kept secret, but really it’s because students will rarely go since it’s so out of the way.

He made it to the shop after thirty minutes, and stepped into the calm atmosphere. The smell of gingerbread lattes hit him once he opened the doors, and soft chatter between students filled the air. He looked around the area in hopes to find the person who wrote the letter. Perhaps they were waiting for him, but it was unlikely since Tom wasn’t even sure if the letter was written that same day. For all he knew, he could be wasting his time, and yet....it didnt feel like it. Almost as if he felt he was meant to be here.

“Mate, what are you doing here?!” Tom followed the robust British voice as he whipped his head to the counter. His best friend Harrison, dressed in a Jay Lee’s short sleeved shirt.

“Harrison? You...work here?” He asked voice filled with confusion. Not once did Harrison tell Tom about his side job. In fact it was almost offensive to think the blonde hair bloke would even it hide it from him.

“Yeah...I didn’t really tell anyone because well you know, it’s the last place people would expect a frat to be working in. Reputations and all...What about you? I didn’t think this place was your type of thing.” he asked.

“It’s not...” he paused for a moment, debating on whether to tell Harrison what he found. If it led Tom here, Harrison might know who wrote the letter. He hoped it was girl...God he really hoped it was. “Actually, I was at the library today waiting for you divs --”

“Oh yeah sorry mate.” Harrison looked at Tom apologetically.

“No, its fine really. But I found something interesting, and --”

“Tom, if it’s another blonde wannabe model, I --”

“Bloody hell, Harrison just listen to me. I..” Tom paused for a moment to quickly check his surroundings before pulling up the red paper. “I found this red letter. Made me go on bloody goose chase and led me here. You dont happen to know anything about this do you?”

Harrison took the letter and examined it thoroughly reading the lines word for word and the notes Tom made next to them. He was just as intrigued, but unfortunately shook his head, unsure of the answer to Tom’s question as well. “Sorry, Mate. I have no clue. Never seen anyone here writing out a red letter before.”

Tom held the letter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was this it? Did he really just waste a whole 3 hours in the library and 30 minutes worth of gas for nothing? “I just dont understand.” he muttered.

“Look if you really think the person that wrote this letter wanted you to be here, why don’t you just write a message in it and post it on the corkboard? Im working the entire week, so I’ll keep an eye on who grabs it and let you know.“

It didnt seem like a half bad plan, Tom nodded in agreement and grabbed a pen from his bag, writing his reply in the empty space, the mysterious writer was so kind enough to leave. He posted it on the corkboard, and turned back to his friend.

“Dont forget.” Tom pleaded.

“I wont mate.”

[hermits-that-craft]

Powers Au - Nurture

Foolish and Eret walk the streets of the city - L’Manburg, if they remember correctly. The pair of them don’t speak, Foolish’s blue-grey cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Snow falls to the ground, and Foolish shivers slightly. It’s been a few years since either of them had been in a place that has snows, though Eret’s always been able to cope with it better than Foolish.

Eret takes off her red cloak, pulling it around Foolish’s shoulders as they climb a fence. The building is derelict, abandoned, and has big red signs reading “WARNING: ASBESTOS. DO NOT ENTER” but beggars can’t be choosers, and the two orphans can’t afford be be mugged again. They can’t even afford to eat.

Foolish jumps over, following Eret into the decrepit building. He still shivers, but Eret’s cloak is soft, and retains the warmth that Eret put off. They always ran hot, suppressing their powers.

Both of them repress their powers. They know what would happen if someone found out what they can do. They’re only 12, they don’t want blood on their hands.

“Home sweet home.” Eret mumbles as they find a room, covered in old painting tarps. The door shuts and the window is boarded up, so Foolish pushes the rotting chest of drawers in front of the door, a temporary lock to keep them safe.

Foolish turns, looking at Eret as his ears twitch. Eret’s made a bed out of the paint tarps, smiling brightly. Foolish sighs, getting into the middle of the tarps. He takes the twin cloaks off, lying down. The cloaks work well as blankets, and the pair fall asleep.

---

Foolish ducks out of the abandoned house, looking for the richer suburbs. He never should have let Eret out by himself, they can’t afford the buy the bandages needed to mend Eret’s arm. They can’t afford to be separated either, so a hospital is a no-go. Who knows what would happen if the two orphans showed up?

Foolish follows a group of three with quiet steps. One has long, pink hair and a shirt that Foolish knows Eret would love, and he walks close to the road. He has a deep voice that screams arrogance. The one closest to the wall has a guitar over his shoulder and a yellow jumper on - even though it’s the middle of summer. The one in the middle, however, screams “power”. The man holds himself strongly, a pair of crows wings on his back. His suit is well made in a deep, forest green, and he carries a cane with gold on it. The cane alone would get Foolish some bandages for Eret, and enough food to last them a solid two weeks - maybe a month if they sell it instead of pawning it off.

The trio turns down an alleyway, and Foolish scurries after them. He ignores their conversation, reaching his hand out to grab the cane-

“Owch!” Foolish yelps, his arm twisted by the man with pink hair.

“What do you want?” The man growls, pulling Foolish away from the blonde one.

“My friend’s hurt, we need that cane!” Foolish struggles to get out of the mans hold. “He’s going to die! Please.”

“Techno...” The blonde one mumbles, glancing over Foolish. 

“Who cares about some kids friend, the parents should be able to look after it.” The guitar one rebuts. “C’mon Phil, we’ve been here long enough. Tommy’s waiting at home.”

“Let the kid go, Techno.” Blondie - Phil, aparently - orders, and Foolish is shoved to the ground. “Run home kid, you don’t want to get mugged, do you?”

Oh, Foolish realises, his brain finally catching up, these are criminals.

Foolish dashes out of the alley, listening to the men laugh. He can’t - he refuses to be caught, to be mugged and killed in an alley because of a cane.

Foolish never looks over his shoulder, never turns his head to make sure he isn’t followed as he dashes through tight corners and over dingy bins. He quickly finds the asbestos house that he and Eret squat in, jumping the fence with practiced ease. Foolish shoots up the stairs and into their little bedroom, the door slamming open.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

---

Wilbur leans against the door, looking over the pair of children sleeping on a dirty tarp. The little thief that attempted to steal from Phil is curled up around a small kid with a clearly broken arm.

“Are they orphans?” Techno asks, his hand on his sword. 

“Probably.” Wilbur shrugs, “Why’d Phil send us here.”

“Something about the kid’s eyes.” Techno shrugs. “Welp, I’m going to put them out of their misery.”

Techno walks over to the pair, his sword out. They were told to bring the thief alive, but the other is fair game. After all, they can’t have any witnesses, and any movement is going to make that one wake up. Techno’s sword touches the kids throat, and silver fire melts the sword, the kid suddenly awake.

Wilbur makes eye contact with the child, and sees that their eyes are pure white, glowing in the dark night. The thief wakes up as the fire spreads to Techno’s arm, and Wilbur feels paralysed, but if it’s fear or the kids powers he doesn’t know.

Techno’d dead in seconds, but those few seconds is enough for the thief to calm his friend down. The thief then walks over to Techno’s body, and Wilbur watches as golden water pours out of the boy’s eyes. The water - that’s way too much water what the fuck - surrounds Techno, and Wilbur’s twin shoots up, a strangled shout falling from his lips.

“Eret we talks about this.” The thief mumbles, though he keeps his back to his friend. “We promised no more of this.”

“He was trying to kill us.” the kid - Eret - mutters, glaring at Techno. “Is that the pink man who you tried to steal from.”

“I am.” Techno growls.

“Foolish, you promised you weren’t followed!”  Eret says, panic in his voice.

“How do you two feel about a job?” Wilbur asks, putting some of his power into his voice. Gold eyes glaze over, and Eret’s white eyes go glassy. 

----

“Get up.” Foolish spits out blood, holding his chest as Techno looms over him. “How do you expect to survive out there if you can’t win a simple fight.”

“I don’t need to survive ‘out there’.” Foolish snaps back. “I’m twelve. You said that we’d be going home. Why would ‘home’ be dangerous?”

“Because you and Eret are far too powerful.” Philza says, leaning against the door. “And anywhere you will settle will be dangerous. Eret’s undergoing similar training as well.”

“If we’re ‘too powerful’, than we should be able to just fight using our powers.”

“And be forced to kill and revive people?” Philza snaps, and Foolish flinches back, his eyes wide. “You haven’t even shown us what your powers can do. You both are holding out on us. We will get answers. Start again.”

Foolish stands, holding his arms up weakly. He’s not going to win. Not unless he snaps.

---

“Are those children?” Puffy asks Sam as the pair of them watch the Syndicate escape.

“Looks like it.” Sam turns to face his friend, before sighing. “Puffy, they look about Dream’s age, maybe younger.”

“Younger?”

“Puffy, calm down.” Sam puts his hand on her shoulders. “I’m sure that they’re fine.”

“It’s the syndicate. They’re being manipulated.”

“I’m not saying that they aren’t.” Sam agrees. “But you have to understand - we can’t save everyone, we have to wait for them to come to us.”

“I never want to fight children.”

“You used to.”

“Because I was one.” Puffy points out. “And you’re no better! You started younger then me, the only reason we aren’t in prison for vigilantism is because we were kids!”

“If they’re arrested they’ll be forgiven.”

“They won’t, Sam. It took years for Dream to be forgiven and he was nine.” Puffy points out, and Sam sighs.

“I’ll try and find the two so you can help them, okay? Stop being a mother hen.”

---

Foolish and Eret wander the streets, finally being allowed out without a handler. Well, it’s less that they’re allowed out, and more that the three men who could actually stop them have to attend a meeting, so they jumped out of the window and ran.

They aren’t running away, they know what happens to those who run. They’re just going back to their old house. They just want to see what’s happened to it.

If Foolish has to repeat that to Eret a few times, well then, that’s their buisness.

“Hello.” A woman says brightly. She has brown hair with blonde bangs, and a kind smile. “Are you two lost? You look confused.”

“We’re good.” Eret says, stepping in front of Foolish. The woman frowns, giving them a once over.

“Well, I’m Niki.” The woman sticks out her hand. “If you ever need me, I’m just in the bakery. I’ve heard the syndicate is around, I’d hate for you both to be kidnapped. There are rumours...” Niki swallows, giving them a nervous smile. “I lost my younger brother to them, I’d hate for anyone to loose you both.”

Foolish and Eret exchange a glance with eachother, before Eret gives Niki a large smile.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

---

Foolish screams as he watches Eret get hit again, the sickening crack of the cane breaking Eret’s legs and Eret’s silent sobs rips the teens chest apart. Phil stands over Eret’s limp body, blood on his cane and dress pants. Phil lifts his cane again, and Foolish screams, struggling in Techno’s grip.

“You shouldn’t have run.” Wilbur says as Phil’s cane hits Eret’s already broken legs. “This is your punishment. We told you that this would happen.”

“Not them!” Foolish begs, golden tears falling from his tear ducts. “Please, hurt me, not them.”

“Watching is your punishment.” Wilbur shrugs. “Do you think she needs to get hit again, Dad? I’m thinking another ten hits for Foolish’s outburst.”

“No, please, no more.” Foolish begs, his legs giving out underneath him.

“Twenty.” Phil says, his cane hooking under Foolish’s chin. The Syndicate’s leader lift’s Foolish’s head up to look him in the eyes. “If you loose count, we start again.”

---

“I’m sorry.” Foolish repeats, bandaging Eret’s legs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“We need to leave.” Eret mumbles. “Niki. We need to escape. You need to escape.”

“Not without you.” Foolish swears. “Never without you.”

“They’re using you for your powers.” Eret wipes the tears from Foolish’s eyes. “You go. Get out. I’ll wait for you.”

Eret takes a small pendant out of their pocket; a little gold, winged angel with emeralds for eyes; and presses it into Foolish’s hands. Eret called it his ‘totem of undying’, the only thing her parents left her. Foolish’s eyes widen, tears forming.

“I can’t-”

“Live for us.” Eret begs him. “I’ll see you soon. Live for us, Foolish. I’ll wait for you. You know that.”

Foolish presses his forehead to Eret’s. A gold streak forms in Eret’s hair, and silver coats Foolish’s forehead. Foolish opens the window, a silent promise on his lips as the life drains from Eret’s body, and Foolish disappears into the night.

----

Puffy sits in Niki’s cafe, her head on the counter. The store is closed, but Puffy sits, coffee in her hands, groaning into the bench.

“One of those nights, huh?” Niki asks quietly. “I thought you had today off.”

“Dream’s at Schlatt’s.” Puffy mumbles. “He told me to ‘have a date night’, like i have someone to go on a date with.”

“Well, I’m always free.” Niki winks at the woman, a bright red blush coats the heroines face.

“Shut up!” Puffy says, throwing her mask at Niki. 

The pair laugh for a moment, the air relaxed, before a crashing noise shatters their carefully manicured peace. The door to the cafe is open, a teenager sprawled on the floor. Niki gasps, quickly jumping the counter to get to him, as Puffy recognises the boy.

Though his forehead is an unnatural, metalic silver, and his eyes fading from gold to emerald green, this is undoubtably one of the children that Puffy had seen with the Syndicate. And now he’s lying on the floor, gold tears and red blood staining his body.

“They killed her,” He gasps, looking at Niki. “Please miss Niki, they killed her.”

“Who did?” Niki asks, and Puffy’s heart lodges itself in her throat.

“The Syndicate.”

---

The next few months passed by in a blur. Eret wasn’t found, and no statement or taunt was released by the Syndicate, so if Eret truely died that night, Foolish wouldn’t know. How many times does Eret have to die for him?

Ponk says that he’s in shock, and that since he had just escaped what is basically a kidnapping, he’d be in limbo for a while. Puffy and Niki both seem to recognise that limbo is actually just ‘a mental hospital because his mind is shattered beyond repair’, but Foolish doesn’t want to believe it.

Sure, he knows it’s true but he doesn’t want to believe it.

So when Callahan, one of Puffy’s friends, comes in carrying Eret on his back, the shock alone is enough to break Foolish from his trance. Eret’s legs are bent at an odd angle, and they’re covered in blood, but they’re alive.

The gold is cut from their hair, and there are bruises on their face, but they’re alive.

Niki follows Callahan in, a dangerous look in her eyes and blood on her shirt. Foolish can tell it’s not Eret’s, so he doesn’t pay it too much mind.

“Niki are you-”

“It’s the Syndicate’s.” She says blankly. “Fix Eret, Ponk. I don’t want to see that kid hurt again, so fix him up.”

And then Eret is gone from Foolish’s gaze, though Callahan and Niki stay. The deer hybrid lies down besides him, and Niki holds his hands as they wait.

Foolish doesn’t know if he likes being aware.

---

“You promise we’ll be allowed to see each other?” Eret asks, his hand clutched in Foolish’s, and Puffy’s heart shatters. These kids, these children have been hurt so much, and are so dependant on each other, that the idea of seperating them hurts.

“Of course.” Puffy promises, and Callahan nods. “We won’t seperate you, but the therapist says that the pair of you being so co-dependant is unhealthy. That why Callahan and I aren’t having a custody battle at the moment.”

What does that therapist know, anyways, Puffy grumbles to herself. These two shouldn’t be seperated.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Puffy nods, and the pair relax. They hug for a moment, lingering as though that moment will be their last, before Callahan and Eret hop into their car, and drive away from Puffy’s home.

Hopefully Dream will like Foolish.

---

Foolish likes Dream. He’s a fun older brother to have, if he’s completely honest. And his friends are strange, but fun. If Foolish had to be honest, though, he wishes that he didn’t have to cover for his brother so often. There are only so many times Foolish can distract Puffy before she eventually realises that he other teen is up to no good.

Not that Foolish thinks the woman is fooled, but still.

Foolish watches as Dream spits out blood, leaning on Foolish’s bedroom door, and the teen knows this is something he has to tell Puffy.

“Don’t you dare.” Dream warn, but Foolish just grins nervously.

“MUM! DREAM’S HURT!”

“You bitch!” Dream groans, but Foolish doesn’t feel bad, turning back to his computer. Foolish listens as his mother runs into the room, fretting over her eldest son.

Foolish gives Dream a once over, and he spies the relief on his brother’s face as their mother looks after him.

---

“Mum, come on.” Foolish complains, leaning dramatically on Puffy’s side. “You promised we’d leave in an hour”

“That was 15 minutes ago.” Puffy rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to be late to see Eret if we leave in 45 minutes.”

“But what if they’re early, or there’s traffic.” 

“It is the middle of the night on a Wednesday. There’s no traffic.” Puffy laughs. “And we’re picking up Eret, too.”

“C’mon, Fool.” Dream says, pulling on his jacket. “Just cause you want to see your partner-”

“I don’t like what you’re implying there”

“-Doesn’t mean that we have to leave right now.” Dream finishes, pinching Foolish’s cheek.

“Eret and I aren’t dating.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“So, you and George are?” Foolish quips back. “I mean you like him more than I like Eret.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, Mum needs to take us to the light show!”

“Boys! That’s enough!” Puffy says, laughing. “Okay, we’ll go now.”

---

Foolish watches as the fire licks at the apartment building, Eret and he having decided to go for a walk. They don’t dare step any closer - villains who set buildings on fire are dangerous to be caught by.

“Foolish,” Eret gasps, his hand over his mouth. “that’s Dream.”

And Foolish’s heart shatters, as he watches his brother put a sword through their mother’s stomach.

---

Foolish refuses to leave Puffy’s side, and Eret refuses to leave his, for the entire duration fo Puffy’s healing process. Cold anger washes over Foolish at the mention of his brothers betrayal, the betrayal too close, too personal. As though it had happened before. As though Puffy didn’t pour her heart and soul into making sure that Dream and Foolish were better people than the men who moulded them into weapons.

It takes Eret reminding Foolish that he’d become everything he hated to stop Foolish from hunting down his parricidal brother and killing the traitor himself.

Puffy and Callahan talk, Callahan’s hands moving too quick for Foolish to keep up with, and Puffy’s voice too quiet for him to decipher. He wants to know, Eret wants to know what the parents are talking about, but they have to ‘be patient’ and ‘not eavesdrop’.

The pair have vastly improved on the patience front since they were adopted.

Puffy walks into the room, Sam and Callahan - when did Sam arrive? - walking behind her.

“As I think we all know, you’re both aproximately seventeen, right?” Puffy begins, nervously looking to Sam and Callahan for support. “I want to give you both the opportunity to become heroes. I’ve spoken to our boss, he’s willing to let you both join early if you want to. It’s a free ride through university and you can live in the tower or here and-”

“What Puffy is trying to say, is that you’re both good people, and we want to give you access to the opportunities we had.” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

Eret and Foolish exchange glances, smiles on their faces.

“We’d love to.”

[hezurkubo]

When D’jinn meets Gene or “Dramatic Pot Twist!”

Hey there! Just wanted to start off by saying that in order to give this story the desired outcome I was looking for I added in some extra events that I thought could have canonically taken place during certain key moments in “The Last Adventure!” While we as the audience don’t know what happened to everyone else while the main characters were off driving the main plot along I still tried to come up with a side story that seemed plausible at least in terms of timing.

If I overlooked anything and it comes off as complete nonsense that throws off the original plot than please consider this an AU where the side characters play a more proactive role in kicking the butts of F.O.W.L.’s lackeys while our main cast took care of Bradford. This is mostly to satisfy my craving for a meeting that never happened in canon and I still hope that whoever decides to read enjoys this dumb story of mine. With that said.........

“SHABOOEY!”

That was all Gene managed to exclaim before he felt himself vanish in a dramatic flash. He found himself being dragged through the pocket void between realities, a place he’d frequented many times since his existence had been tied to the trinket he’d been forced to call home. While he had yet to feel the familiar power of the ‘Seal of Solion’ connecting him to his lamp, he knew it was only a matter of time.

 “Huh, wish I coulda at least thanked her for saving me. Guess now it’s back to the good ol...”

His thoughts were interrupted by a rather abrupt tug to the side through a sudden blinding light, giving Gene just enough time to let out a yelp before tumbling beak first onto a cold hard surface. Groaning as he got to his feet, the duck had to double-take as he got a first look at his surroundings. 

And it was, unfortunately, a very familiar site.

He’d become well acquainted with the row upon row of containment units in which the people F.O.W.L. saw as threats to their ‘final goal’ were imprisoned.

“Oh-keeeeey, so.... another dramatic plot twist, shoulda expected that in a ninety minute finale, though not so much for a short cameo appearance.”

Although he was pretty sure what would happen, and despite knowing the repercussions, Gene focused his power and winced in painful anticipation as he tried to will himself out of the current space he occupied.  

“Okey three, two, one...SHABOOEY!”

He felt a small spark of magic begin to bubble up within him, allowing him to hope that maybe he could....

ZAP!

The genie doubled over as a short but powerful electric shock coursed through his body. He had been unfortunate enough to witness others struggle for freedom and receive the same treatment, and while he doubted it’d be different for him he felt that he at least had to try. After all, he was magic and it couldn’t possibly hurt that bad....right?

He had been partially correct, but it was still VERY unpleasant.

Thankfully the shock wore off quickly, but rather than test his chances again he moved to the center of the cubicle and sat in the dark, drawing his legs into himself as he rested his arms atop of them and let out a sigh.

 “Guess old Blotty really made sure I couldn’t get out of dodge.”

“Not like I’d have a choice anyway...” Gene couldn’t help but think bitterly while resting the the bottom of his beak on his arm. He’d already exchanged one prison for another, so what difference did it make? 

Gene let the moments tick on by as he attempted to drown out everything else, which had so far been surprisingly easy despite being surrounded by people....

...And then, despite his best efforts, a familiar thought reared it’s ugly head.

Many of these people were trapped here because of him.

Because the Blot had used his power.

Because he had given him the information needed to capture them.

And he had watched helplessly, his screams for them to run drowned out by their own as they were zapped of their magic, easy for the Eggheads to swoop them up and bring them to this hopeless place while they waited to be done away with for good.

 And now Gene was here. He supposed it was fitting, as unwilling as an accomplice he had been in all of this, he still felt deep despair for having been used as a tool for the inevitable destruction of so many innocent lives.

And he would join them. Gene buried his head further into his lap, holding back sniffles as he felt his eyes stinging.

“...At least it’s roomier in here...”

“KA-BOOM!”

“Gyaaa!!! Bees!!! AAAHHH!”

The genie’s head quickly shot up, eyes widening as he took in the commotion echoing off the library’s lofty walls. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed to the front of his cell, pressing his ear against the glass. 

Someone was fighting out there, and from the sounds of it they were facing off against Steelbeak. 

The kid that had freed him, her friends were still fighting F.O.W.L.

Gene couldn’t fight the small smile that began to spread across his beak despite his teary eyes.

He would never be free, not even if he got out of here. But everyone else still had a chance. There was still hope that this could be made right.

“And the plot thickens!”

 __________

Faris Djinn watched helplessly from his prison as Scrooge’s allies valiantly fought against the rooster F.O.W.L. Agent. Clenching his fists to his sides, the desire to unsheathe his sword and join them against these honorless enemies boiled within him, but he knew it was of no use so long as he was trapped like this. Still, that gave him all the more reason to wish to help the group of birds somehow. This was finally everyone’s chance to escape! 

The canine warrior had been brought to this strange place after being ambushed and knocked unconscious by his cowardly foe, whom he had barely caught a glimpse of. When he woke up, he was surrounded by blocks of blacked out cubes in what looked like a giant storage facility. After about a day or two, he learned that his first assumptions had been somewhat true. 

From what he’d gathered through listening to hushed conversations exchanged while the security guards were busy, and from a few familiar faces detained with him, including his good friend Amunet, he came to realize they had been brought there because they had been labeled as dangerous by simply knowing or associating with Scrooge McDuck and his family. 

From close family members and friends to bitter enemies, or from good and bad to neutral, nobody seemed to be spared. It made D’jinn seethe at the injustice of it all, while villains such as the Beagle Boys and the infamous Magica de Spell may have deserved such treatment, this F.O.W.L. organization was indiscriminately locking away so many innocent people. He had even seen them lock up a couple of elderly ducks that could have easily passed as Scrooge’s own parents 

(Impossible, he thought, for a man of McDuck’s age)

 but not before the old woman had let loose a string of unintelligible words that D’jinn was pretty sure were some colorful expletives.

It appeared that the enemy had overlooked nothing, and any means of escape had been locked away along with them. The canine began to lose track of time as freedom seemed more and more impossible.

But D’jinn remained resolute that if anyone could pull off the impossible, it’d be Scrooge McDuck.

 Then, a strangely dressed duck decked in a dark flowing cape and hat swooped in, followed by his heavily armored companion, and while they were acting antagonistic towards each other the dog had a feeling they had come to help. His hopes soared even higher when Scrooge’s pilot crashed in after them. At last help had come.

Then that nefarious Steelbeak had chosen to fight underhandedly, controlling the Beagle Boys and the dread sorceress herself as the heroes fought valiantly back before being imprisoned as well, and any hope of freedom appeared to rest on the shoulders of Launchpad McQuack, Scrooge’s pilot.

 D’jinn winced as the poor duck was thrown about and beaten to the ground, unfairly outmatched in strength and numbers.

“Get back up!”

“You got this!”

As big and strong as he seemed in appearance, the warrior canine doubted the pilot could last at this rate, watching from the dark with urgency as he struggled to lift his head.

“Ugh... I’m sorry, I’m no hero...”

D’jinn shook with righteous indignation.

‘No! You cannot give up...!’

He couldn’t just stand by, there had to be something he could do to help, anything....

“That’s ridiculous! You helped inspire me to be a hero!”

He watched in anticipation as Launchpad gathered enough strength to look their way, unsure gaze focused on his friends as they encouraged him to keep fighting.

“And me pal.”

A new source of light brought their attention to the square that held the young red headed duck and the strangely proportioned robot child, both looking back at Launchpad with hope and confidence.

“Same here.” 

The prison above them lit up, revealing a familiar Moonlander.

“I as well, Earth Launchpad.”

The room quickly grew brighter as, one after another, everyone stepped forward to show the duck that they believed in him. 

And so did D’jinn.

His cubicle lit up as his hope returned.

“Blabbidy-Baloonersize!”

....Later....

Gene watched elated as scores of people poured out from their now-opened confines and began to wreak havoc on anyone unlucky enough to be a F.O.W.L. lackey. It was an unspoken call to arms, inspired by Scrooge’s pilot and, while the genie hadn’t seen what had actually happened, Steelbeak running away while screaming in terror was a pretty clear indication that the good guys were gaining the upper hand. 

Gene was so relieved that everyone had been freed, he almost missed Launchpad and company dashing towards the main entrance before slipping out of sight. 

He took another look around him, and couldn’t help but quirk the edges of his beak up in a mischievous grin.

  “Well.... dunno how long I’ll be sticking around for, might as well be part of the fun...”

“SHABOOEY!!!”

_______

There was low buzz followed by a click, and suddenly the front of his enclosure swung open. Eyes narrowing in careful focus, D’jinn stepped out from his prison and into what was quickly becoming a losing battle for F.O.W.L.’s remaining underlings.

Scrooge’s family had been triumphant, and he was now free to assist in thwarting what remained of their foes once and for all. The canine reached for his hip, unsheathing his sword and slicing it through the air before resting it with his arm against his side. The McDucks may be fighting greater forces, but that didn’t mean there weren’t loose ends to tie up.

“SHABOOEY!”

Ears perking under his keffiyeh, D’jinn turned to the side and lifted his head just in time to see something rather peculiar rounding the corner. It appeared to be a small duck, but he was gliding through the air as if there was nothing to it, a trail of smoke billowing from his lower body.

For a single moment, D’jinn lost his carefully guarded composure as his eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped.

It was as if all those fantastic stories he’d heard growing up had come to life in front of him.

He recalled the hushed conversations among a few of his fellow prisoners, all regarding the terrifying power the Phantom Blot wielded when he came after them. 

However, what now came to the forefront of D’jinn’s mind were their descriptions of the strange and obviously magical little guy smooshed to an impossible degree within the Blot’s gauntlet. He didn’t quite understand what they could be referring to, but now, despite his usually serious demeanor, D’jinn couldn’t stop the small bit of wonderment from rising up in him, momentarily forgetting where he was.

“Could it really be...?” 

A loud crash from above followed by a chorus of screaming Eggheads brought him back to reality. The warrior shook his head, scowling to himself for losing focus.

“No, I must not waver! The task at hand requires a warrior’s spirit!”

Sword at the ready, D’jinn quickly made his way towards the sounds of fighting, the lingering thoughts of his ancestors replaced with the challenge to come. He still chanced to glance back one more time at the spot he had last seen that duck, hoping that he’d be able to see him again once all of this was over.

....Later....

With F.O.W.L. defeated and it’s remaining agents scattered, everyone wasted no time in congratulating the heroes of the hour, rushing at McDuck and family as they made their way down the library tower. It was a whirlwind of joyful cries and relieved sighs as the exhausted but happy family meandered amongst the crowd, breaking up into teams to prepare for their departure.

With everything finally settling down, Gene casually sat in midair as everyone else began to disperse and make preparations of their own, all the while chatting amongst each other. He figured it must have been a sense of camaraderie that came with surviving such an ordeal, and while he wished he could fully indulge in the same feelings of comfort, he couldn’t help but feel on edge. 

The powers that bound him to the lamp hadn’t reclaimed him yet. 

He knew that couldn’t last much longer, whatever forces the Phantom Blot had used to disrupt the seal’s power and separate him from his prison

....no, home....

wouldn’t be able to hold on their own, now that the Blot was gone and Gene was free from any magic-proof confinement. 

Earlier, before the extra trepidation had sunk in, he did try to enjoy his temporary freedom for as long as it lasted. 

And oh, how he wished it lasted. 

The genie chatted briefly with the young sorceress that had freed him, but not until after she and a younger hummingbird finally stopped hugging the pink clad girl, who he recognized as the little spitfire who tied him up and interrogated him during the entertaining fiasco that was Donald’s wish for a ‘perfect family’. 

Despite the now growing feeling that this would all end soon, Gene had enjoyed himself. It was nice to just interact with others again and not be at someone’s beck and call. While he did like using his powers to have fun with mortals, there were more than enough terrible things he’d been forced to do, and the ability to simply be among people he knew couldn’t demand something of him was a rare reprieve.  One he probably wouldn’t be getting again.

Now, with the excitement beginning to wind down, Gene decided to take in the busy atmosphere, not expecting anyone to notice him up there with how preoccupied they all were. 

“Pardon me...”

The duck quickly spun around in midair, looking down and catching the sharp gaze of a rather serious looking canine all dressed in dark, save for a few splashes of red. He was staring up at him so intensely that Gene jokingly thought if he looked at him any harder lasers would shoot from his eyes.

“Hmmm... an interesting side character, guess a little more mingling wouldn’t hurt.”

Without missing a beat, Gene floated down from his place above the crowd to hover at eye level with the stranger.

 “Well He-llo there! Always nice to meet a new face!” he said eagerly, flashing a grin that he hoped came off as charismatic and giving a wink.

The dog’s eyes widened for a few seconds before returning to his serious expression. Trying to act nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm, the duck waved his arm to conjure a neon sign above him, his name spelled in blinking lights. Smile unwavering, he held out his hand.

“Name’s Gene! Nice to meet ya!”

The dog stared at the outstretched appendage, his hesitance causing Gene’s excitement to falter. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he was reaching out and gripping his hand in a firm but friendly shake.

“Faris D’jinn. It is an honor.” He said, head bowing slightly.

“Woah, an honor? Kinda formal, but I think I like it.”

Gene suddenly perked in realization. ‘Faris’, if he recalled, meant knight or horseman, and he couldn’t help but think how it suited the noble looking gentleman in front of him. And with a surname like ‘D’jinn’, well, why would the genie not find that interesting? He became so uncharacteristically lost in these thoughts that he almost failed to realize that his companion was staring at him a bit oddly, and he was suddenly aware that he was still holding his hand. 

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Gene hovered back slightly while relinquishing his grip, trying to hide how awkward he felt by widening his smile.

He was sure he looked half crazy.

“Well Mr. D’jinn, I must say it’s a pleasure to meet such polite and proper ol’ gent and- Ooooh!”

Gene was at his side so fast that the warrior nearly jumped away in surprise as the genie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity at the sight of his sword’s hilt peeking from his robes.

“Oh-hoho, that’s quite a blade you got there. It almost looks like... I wanna say late Mamluk dynasty, Burji maybe...? But that can’t be right, unless it’s a really good replica.”

If D’jinn was shocked by his educated guess he hid it well, although Gene did notice the dog’s brow raise slightly from were it was hidden under the hem of his headdress.

“You are quite wise, although I would not expect anything less from a great and mystical genie.”

Gene’s eyes shot up from the finely crafted blade to the canine’s face. The gaze that met him was serious but not in a way that came off as cruel or accusatory. Still, that look, accompanied by such a bold statement, made the duck want to buckle his knees and shrink into himself.

Just who was this guy?

“Are you not a genie?”

The duck suppressed the urge to gulp at the quiet forcefulness behind the simple inquiry. It was after all a sensible question, he did more or less fit the description of his kind, though he liked to think he set himself apart with his showman’s flare because, servant or not, he still liked seeing others smile.

Now, his inner showman was currently at a loss for words, opting for wanting to hide his face in his turban.

“Get it together Genester! You heard him, how ‘great and mystical’ do you think you look right now?”

Trying to shake of the awkwardness, he disappeared from D’jinns side to reappear in front of him in a puff of smoke. 

“Yessir! One-hundred percent bonafide and certified wish-granting genie, that’s me!” Gene exclaimed, conjuring up a laminated license that read ‘Certified Genie: Gene C. Baba’ complete with a photo of himself smiling awkwardly while donning a thick pair eyeglasses and suspenders.

D’jinn stayed unwaveringly quiet as the duck nearly shoved the card to his face.

“He he... yeah, funny thing though, the whole ‘wish-granting’ part of my deal is a bit... compromised at the moment. Y’see, only the holder of a genie’s lamp can control said genie, i.e., me” Gene pulled an arrow out of thin air and pointed towards himself “and big bad and Blotty left my lamp behind along with the rest of the lost treasure of Collie Baba when he sucked me into that fancy oven-mitt of his, you’d think with all his magical know-how he wouldn’t forget that important tidbit, right?” 

Why did he sound so nervous?

“And I tell you what, I’m glad I’m not strapped to that thing anymore...!”

D’jinns eyes widened as a grim realization dawned on him.

“So, it is true. The device the Phantom Blot carried with him, the one he used to steal the magic from those he hunted...”

“I swear it was totally against my will!”

The canine shook his head. “No, I heard of its use from other captives, some who were brought here months before F.O.W.L. found me. Gene, how long have they kept you prisoner?”

The genie awkwardly rubbed one of his arms, looking away from D’jinn as the mood shifted drastically. While he may had been a little uncomfortable before, now he wanted to focus on anything but the dog in front of him. He might end up saying something that would break his facade, and he couldn’t....

“Technically, was already a prisoner. Y’know, the whole ‘genie in the lamp’ deal.”

“What are you doing?! Stop talking before...!”

“It’s like, I dunno... I’m almost glad this happened...”

“Idiot...”

“I mean not that I helped capture all those people or anything, because I still feel real bad about all that! It’s just that, whatever he did, even after I escaped, I’m still here. This right now is the closest I’ve ever felt to being...”

A sudden feeling of a hand gently enveloping his own prevented him from saying anything else. Momentarily shocked out of his train of thought, Gene dared to look back at the stranger he had begun to admit his sadness to.

He expected to see pity, but the eyes that looked back at him held something different. They were narrowed and serious, but not like before. There was fire in that glance, and as D’jinn’s grip on his hand tightened it only seemed to burn brighter.

“You shall be free, that I promise you.”

If Gene’s eyes got any wider he thought they’d escape out of his head. Heck, there was a better chance of that happening than what the man in front of him had just said. 

“Heh, Being trapped in that pickle jar must’ve done a number on my ears. Y’know everything’s muffled in there, might not have heard ya right....” 

He tried to laugh, to call the his bluff.

The dog said nothing, nor did he change his  determined expression. He simply gave Gene’s hand a quick but firm squeeze, as if to reaffirm what he said. 

“But why....”

Just then, he felt it.

It wasn’t how he expected it to happen, but he knew.

A panicked glance down confirmed his suspicions as he saw a bright light spread from the tip of his shoes, gradually making its way up his body, a familiar emptiness growing with it. 

His time was up.

“No, please, it can’t be over yet...”

He felt D’jinn grab his other hand.

Even as he felt himself fading away, as he began to feel despair weigh him down further and any lingering hope drained from him, Gene again dared to look up at his companion.

He was greeted by the kindest smile he had ever seen.

 “Because, it is the right thing to do.”

 A single flash, and the genie was gone.

___________

D’jinn was left standing at the now-empty space in front of him, hands outstretched to cusp something that was no longer there as his smile disappeared, allowing the heaviness of the moment sink in. 

That silly little duck hadn’t been at all what he expected. The stories his grandmother told him painted a picture of genies as powerful and filled with fiery intimidation, as well as being wiser than any mortal born of flesh and bone...

“Technically, I was already a prisoner.”

  D’jinn’s frown deepened. Those words, they certainly weren’t spoken by some mighty cosmic being, but by a man, who could feel sadness and fear just like anyone else.   

D’jinn thought back to the story of his ancestor and a kind servant trapped for eternity, until she saw it in her heart to exchange that eternity for a lifetime of love and happiness. This was certainly a different situation, but wasn’t it still the right thing to do?

And those eyes.

The look of desperation in those beautiful gold-colored eyes as he vanished were now burned into his memory. It was a cry for help, and the warrior ached to answer it.

He had made a promise, and while it may had been spoken in a passionate spur of the moment, he would honor it.

Resolute, he scanned the enormous crowd, his well-trained senses focused and on high alert for any sounds or scents that would lead him to his quarry. The minutes ticked by as his stoic expression masked his growing apprehension. 

“There!”

It was faint among the throngs of people surrounding him, nearly undetectable, but his keen canine nose picked up on a familiar smell of dusty tomes mixed with the metallic scent of coins. With extreme calculation, he allowed his tracking instincts take the helm as he stealthily maneuvered through the crowd, ears perked beneath his keffiyeh for any signs of...

“Della, Launchpad! How’re the plane repairs comin’ along?”

Quiet relief washed over D’jinn when he noticed a familiarly distinct top hat poking out from the crowd near the library’s entrance. Making his way towards the fellow adventurer, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired the old man looked, uncharacteristically showing his age. 

“Scrooge, my friend.”

Caught off guard, the duck tensed so hard that he nearly lost his balance before turning to the canine in surprise.

“D’jinn? Bless me bagpipes that villainous vulture nabbed you too?” 

Scrooge shook his head as he adjusted his spectacles, expression shifting back to exhaustion, his browsed creased upwards in guilt.

“I’m sorry lad, you lot were all dragged into this mess because of me. I cannae imagine what you must ‘ave endured at the hands of those fiends.”

D’jinn’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hand on his chest, expression serious but sincere. 

“Noble Scrooge, the only true guilty ones are the villains you speak of, those who would seek to harm the innocent indiscriminately and use them for their own nefarious means.”

Scrooge’s sighed heavily at the canine’s statement.

 “Aye, like me poor darlin’ Webby.”

Like Gene.

“I have dedicated my life to righting such wrongs. I hold nothing against you my friend, I could not let such transgressions against an ally stand. That is why we are here. You have many on whom you can rely, and friends are part of the journey as well, are they not?”

Scrooge stared at D’jinn for a moment, absorbing the man’s insightful words before breaking into a gentle smile, eyes shining with gratitude.

“Thank you, I... needed to here that. I know I can rely on my family when I need ‘em, but it takes times like these to remind this stubborn old fool that ‘family’ can be many things.”

Scrooge silently laughed at himself.

“Sorry, been feeling a little more sentimental than usual.”

Nodding in understanding and knowing that he’d soon depart, Djinn decided to waste no time and reached into his robes as he lowered himself onto one knee, startling Scrooge with this sudden change in demeanor as he withdrew a blank scroll along with a quill.

“Not all has been made right, and my journey must continue.”

The look of determination that met the old duck’s gaze startled him with its ferocity.

“Scrooge McDuck, I simply need a moment to ask you some questions, and the rest will fall to me.”

Scrooge stared back for a moment, perplexed. His family would be leaving soon, and he needed to help them prepare. However, the weight of the severity in the canine’s request, along with the deep sincerity with which he’d said it, told him all he needed to know. Nodding in affirmation, Scrooge watched as D’jinn unraveled the scroll in front of them, quill raised and ready.

“I wish to know about the lost treasure of Collie Baba, and the lamp that is hidden there.”

I’m so sorry, that took MUCH longer to complete than I wanted it to, l have more projects planned and hopefully once courses are over they won’t be as bad. Also sorry for the poor writing quality, I’m kind of rusty. Still I hope that whoever took the time to read this found something entertaining about it. Thank you for your interest, until next time!