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cryptidvoidwritings · 3 years ago

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6. July | Human AU

*throws into the void*

It was the sort of summer day that made you want to lay on a wood floor with about a million ice packs and a distinct lack of movement because anything beyond breathing only served to make you hotter. Alonzo was pretty sure that dancing in this heat qualified as cruel and unusual punishment, but the show wasn’t going to wait just because of a heatwave.

If it was sweltering outside, the rehearsal studio was that much worse.

The afterthought room (widely suspected to have been a couple of old storage rooms before the concert hall added dance to the programming) had two windows that cracked maybe an inch when opened. It was crammed with bodies: Bodies stretching, practicing steps, trying to very move without touching each other (mostly because touching might just cause spontaneous combustion). The usual chatter that would have otherwise pervaded was gone, though the occasional half-hearted mutter broke the silence every so often. Alonzo was just happy he’d gotten in early enough to stake his territory by one of the windows.

The studio door opened, admitting Munkustrap and dance captain Quaxo; Munkustrap talking while Quaxo made notes on an iPad and nodded. The room stopped moving and stood at attention.

“Morning, all,” Munkustrap said. He was already sweating. Alonzo sympathized. “We’re about ready to take the stage. Gus is going to take us all on a quick tour at 10. Then we’ll have a couple of hours to get used to the set and we’ll do a walkthrough after lunch.”

The room swelled in various acknowledgments and the company returned to wrapping up their warmups.

Munkustrap picked his way over to Alonzo and smiled in greeting. “Excited to see the stage?”

“It’ll be a welcome change from Shoreditch[1]. Certainly can’t be worse than this.”

Munkustrap laughed. “True.”

The wall clock struck 10. Tugger walked in, arms spread wide as if presenting himself to adoring fans. (Even the heat couldn’t stop the immediate series of greetings in various pitches and levels of excitement, though the usual hurry was subdued.) The golden-haired man moved through the room offering winks and bumping fists or hips. It was fascinating to watch the entire company promptly forgot about their previous care to not touch each other.

Alonzo followed Tugger’s path. “Figures he’d be late.”

“Hm?” Munkustrap followed Alonzo’s gaze to Tugger. “Oh. No, we came together. He’s been around.”

“You’ve been here for how long?”

“At least as long as Quaxo.”

“Did he use any of that time to practice? He hasn’t been in at all since I got here.”

“You haven’t been here the whole time I have,” Tugger’s voice interjected from behind Alonzo, causing him to flinch violently, “Just because you haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing important things.”

“I’m sure,” Alonzo said tightly.

“We all know I’m here to look good and sing better, anyway,” Tugger grinned.

Gus poked his head in to announce their backstage tour, saving Alonzo from needing to reply. As they headed through the winding halls and wings, Alonzo kept as casually far away from Tugger as possible. He inspected every part of the stage where the taller man was not and was peering at a portion of pipe that could be crawled through- certainly not at Tugger’s back- when Mungojerrie’s face was suddenly very close to his own and grinning at him.

“You tryin’ ta set Tugs on fire?” Mungojerrie asked.

“What?” Alonzo blinked. He dragged his eyes back to the pipe.

“You been starin’ at him for like, the last twenty minutes when you think he’s not lookin’. Kinda cute.”

Then Mungojerrie skittered away to his twin, waving his hands at her. Alonzo felt exhausted just looking at him. Unwilling to be caught out watching Tugger again, he moved to stage left to check the bed frame and maybe climb it; as he did, he caught sight of wild golden hair disappearing through the wings. Tugger was unaccompanied and nobody seemed to be aware that he’d left.

Alonzo frowned. He paused for a second, then followed.

Tugger left backstage, heading past the dressing rooms, wardrobe, and the wig room. There was something... off that Alonzo couldn’t put his finger on- even beyond the fact that Tugger was bunking off the start of tech week. Tugger slipped into the studio and Alonzo saw the lights go off through the window in the door.

He sidled up to the door. Even peering into the small space it took him a moment to clock the other man- Tugger was curled against the wall in the darkest corner of the studio, eyes closed, sipping at a tiny paper cup of water.

Alonzo went in. “Tugger?”

“‘Lonz?”

“You disappeared. I came looking.”

“Knew you liked me,” Tugger said.

His lips attempted to lift at the corners but the best he could manage was a tired, pale imitation of his usual brilliant smile. Everything about his posture was tired. His eyes didn’t open.

“You don’t look well.”

“Heat headache,” Tugger shrugged. “‘S the humidity. Light hurts. ‘Straps knows.”

Alonzo huffed. He kept his footsteps light as he approached. He knelt in front of the other man and rested a hand on Tugger’s ankle to announce himself. The hand that wasn’t holding the tiny paper cup came to rest on Alonzo’s.

“You should have said, idiot,” Alonzo muttered.

“Wasn’t that bad earlier.”

Which meant that he hadn’t wanted anybody to see his perceived weakness or ask for help, the stubborn man. Alonzo sighed. “You need anything?”

“A nap in a dark place?”

“Don’t know if we can leave for a nap,” Alonzo said. He squeezed Tugger’s ankle and went to his bag. Buried at the bottom of his bag was a scarf that he kept at the ready for emergency stuck-in-an-over-air-conditioned space purposes. It was thin material, but it would block ambient light from the curtainless windows. He filled his water bottle at the cooler and ran some cold water onto the scarf as well.

Tugger was squinting at him as he returned. One eyebrow tried to lift in amusement. It almost made it. “Time and place, ‘Lonz?”

Alonzo snorted. “Hush. You need dark. Lean forward a bit.”

Tugger did so. He made a soft noise of relief when Alonzo laid the damp part of the scarf over his eyes and temples. Keeping a hand on Tugger’s shoulder to hold him in place, Alonzo swiveled around to sit next to him. He held the water bottle to Tugger’s lips and waited patiently for Tugger to drink from it. When his golden-haired moron finished, Alonzo set the bottle aside and maneuvered Tugger down until his head was in Alonzo’s lap. The fact that Tugger moved without complaint confirmed how poorly he was feeling.

“Better?” he asked, stroking a fingertip just along the skin at the top fold of the scarf.

“‘S nice,” Tugger mumbled.

Alonzo dragged his nails into Tugger’s hairline. He trailed his fingers down that long neck, feeling sweat-slick skin jump under his touch. Tugger rewarded him with the slightest of pleased hums.

“I’ll wake you for lunch.”

“Before th’others?”

“Yes, ridiculous man, before they come back.”

An hour later the studio door screeched open and startled Alonzo out of his doze. Munkustrap stood there; he grimaced apologetically but didn’t seem unduly surprised to see Alonzo. (Alonzo wondered if Tugger had told his brother or if Munkustrap just guessed.)

“Thought it would be quieter.” Munkustrap said softly. “We’re almost done for lunch.”

Alonzo looked at Tugger, who hadn’t even twitched. He hated the idea of waking Tugger, but he had promised. He didn’t look at Munkustrap as he placed his fingers lightly on Tugger’s temples and started massaging careful circles, increasing the pressure just a little every few seconds. It didn’t take long for Tugger to shift and stretch out his long legs. His breath hitched sleepily.

“Morning,” Alonzo murmured.

“‘S it lunch already?”

“Mmmmhm. Munkustrap is here.”

Tugger waved at the door. Alonzo watched sweat-damp skin gleam as it stretched over his muscles.

“Doing better?” Munkustrap asked. “Everyone is still pretty sedate but you know how lunch gets.”

“I’ll survive it,” Tugger chuckled.

Alonzo was pleased to see his smile wasn’t so strained at the edges this time around.

Munkustrap smiled. “I’ll start rounding everyone up. You have 15 tops.”

He was gone in a heartbeat. Tugger shifted and made as though to reach for the blindfold. Alonzo caught his arm. The lithe man turned his face towards Alonzo’s chest, eyebrows lifting. The start of a smirk was curling at the corner of his lips. Alonzo lifted his legs to bring Tugger closer and bent down to kiss that smirk away.

“Hello to you, too,” Tugger hummed when they parted.

“You good?”

“In all ways,” Tugger purred.

Alonzo bit Tugger’s bottom lip. He traced the delicate brow ridge, down his nose- tugging the scarf lightly as he did- and over his lips. Tugger’s tongue darted out, catching the tip of Alonzo’s finger. Alonzo allowed Tugger the lick and then kissed him again; more insistent this time. Tugger’s lips parted further and his tongue slid languidly against Alonzo’s. A hand cupped the back of Alonzo’s head and tangled in his short, black hair while they shared long, slow breaths.

They pulled apart only when they heard distant chatter coming down the hallway.

“This keeps you pliant,” Alonzo mused, slipping the scarf from Tugger’s head.

Tugger’s eyes fluttered open and warm honey met Alonzo’s gaze. “Taking notes?”

“Observation for later.”

Laughing, Tugger sat up. He rolled out his neck and shoulders slowly. “Walk me through the end of the dance?”

Alonzo nodded, getting to his feet and taking the starting pose of the final section. Tugger got into place at his side and they began to work through the moves; Tugger humming the music to keep the beat. Alonzo licked his lips absently, reminding himself of Tugger’s taste, and hoped that later came sooner.

[1] I am led to believe that this is a rehearsal space in London

#CATS #stage cats #cats the musical #rum tum tugger #alonzo #munkustrap #mungojerrie #human au #altugger #altugger week #fanfiction #hi help i have no idea what i'm doing #(yes the human au cats are dancing cats i did say i have no idea what i'm doing)#call it pg13 i guess #sfw #it's just kissing and innuendo #summer altugger week

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mirohlixie · 4 years ago

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Never Enough (Hyunlix) Pt. 1

Pairing: Felix x Hyunjin Word Count: 2.4K Genre: AU, love, dystopia

Synopsis: In a world where being different from the conventional gender and sexuality rules means death, the gay youngster Felix struggles to hide his true sexuality. He is doing well until he meets Hyunjin, an undercover hitman hired by the government to get rid of all the "different" people in hiding. The moment the two meet each other, both of their lives change forever, but will it be enough?

Content warnings: AU, homophobia, discrimination against LGBTQ+, explicit language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~He looked up from his notebook, out of his window. The wind was blowing and rain was falling out of the sky in thick drops. The poor boy got bored from being inside all the time, but the weather wasn’t very forgiving. It had been like this for a couple of days now and it didn’t look like it was going to change soon.

“Felix,” a soft voice called from downstairs. “Do you want to come down for tea?” It was the same old story every day. He’d be in his room, usually reading or working on song lyrics all day. Some time afternoon his mother would start to wonder what he was doing up there all the time, and call him down for tea. He always said no, like he was going to do now. He simply didn’t feel like being among other humans.

All Felix longed for was to take a long walk, anywhere. Just him and nature and no other people. A place where he could be alone with his thoughts without feeling like it was a sin to even have them cross his mind. Because that was what his thoughts were: a sin. A boy like him should not be thinking about the things he thought of. Even better, it was forbidden. If anyone ever found out about the words dancing in his mind, he’d have to pay with his life.

At first, Felix had been pretty good at hiding his thoughts. He’d be among his family and laugh and have fun with them. However, as he grew up, he found it harder and harder not to let the words slip his mind. The safe storage that was once his head slowly began to deteriorate. His subconscious longed for the freedom that would come with the exposure of his secret. However, that moment could never exist. He didn’t want to die. Not because of this.

“Please Lix,” his mother called again. “You’re never downstairs anymore. You’re withering away in that room of yours. Wouldn’t you like to be with us just for a little? Just one cup of tea?” Felix knew his mother would keep asking until he’d give in, and he couldn’t give in.

Especially today his mind had been like a time bomb. Every time he looked in the mirror he had to withhold himself from saying those forbidden words. From saying those words that would essentially cost him his life. He could not even imagine what it would be like if he was among others. If his reflection alone was already enough to make him break, then what would a living human being do to him? How would he ever be able to resist their curiosity?

“No,” he called down. “I’m about to go on a walk,” it was an impulsive excuse and he hadn’t known why exactly he’d thought it would be the perfect one. However, now he’d already said it and had to follow through with the plan. He hopped from his bed and quickly put on a pair of shoes. He looked out the window, sighing when he saw the rain, and sprinted down the stairs to put on a coat.

“In this kind of weather?” His mother questioned, raising an eyebrow as she saw her son appear in the hallway. “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

“I know, but I like the rain,” Felix lied. “So I’m going on a walk. I’ll be back before dark, mom,” he zipped his coat and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before walking out the front door.

The cold wind hit him in the face like a brick and he had to take a deep breath before he could find the courage to actually walk down the driveway and leave the perimeters of his parents’ house.

“I like the rain,” he muttered to himself as he pulled the hood of his coat closer to his face and started to conquer the strong winds fighting for dominance over him. “I’m such a bad liar.”

It was empty in the streets, which was perfect. The last thing Felix needed now was encountering someone he knew. He wanted to be alone. Completely alone. The rain started to get less intense the more he walked, which was a welcome change. The wind still stayed the same, pulling at his clothes and trying to push him back towards his home.

He loved the thundering sounds the moving air brought with it. It completely masked any other sound coming from him and his surroundings. It made him feel safe; safer than he was at home. Safer than he was anywhere.

Here he’d be able to speak his mind without care. Here he’d be able to be himself just for a second. He took a deep breath, looked around him, and smiled a little before uttering the dangerous words.

“I am different,” he whispered at first. Fear grabbed him by the throat as he checked his surroundings again, afraid someone would’ve caught him anyway, but there was nobody there. “I like men,” he elaborated. “I am a sinner because I like men instead of women,”

To Felix, it was hideous that this detail about himself could cost him his life. Unfortunately, it was the truth. Having a sexual and romantic attraction to people of the same sex was not allowed. Falling for or having a relationship with someone of the same sex was not allowed.

It was crazily old-fashioned and absolutely the highest form of discrimination, but yes; your sexuality could get you killed. If you were pleaded guilty of being "different", it meant immediate death, as ridiculous as that may sound. No trial, no bail. If there were enough grounds to convince the government you were gay, you were done for.

Not only men loving men or women loving women suffered this tragic and brutal fate, but every person who was different. Every person who didn't fit the standard boxes of society, the standard boxes being women loving men and men loving women. There was no room for nuisance.

Why these rules existed in today’s day and age? Nobody knew. The simple answer was that it had always been like that. People who were different were a threat. People who were different didn't have a right to walk this earth. To them, the lives lost did not matter, which was absolutely disgusting in Felix’s opinion.

To them, it was merely a way to make sure the earth wouldn’t get overcrowded. The way Felix saw it, they were just scared of change. In ancient times it had been normal to be a man romantically involved with another man. It was the modern-day society that had made it into a sin. The few people who rejected this idea and showed resistance awaited the same fate as these "different" people. Nobody was safe, so it was better to pretend you agreed with it.

Felix's parents also lived by these rules, so ever since Felix found out his preference wasn't towards women, he'd hidden from them. They couldn't find out, or they would probably report him to the state. Their own son meant nothing to them if he was different.

Of course, tracking down every single "different" person was difficult, and seemed nearly impossible, since you’re not exactly born with a sign on your head that says you’re different. However, the government had its ways to track you down, may it be legal or illegal. These ways were sneaky and far from agreeable. You never knew who you could trust and who not. Living in this world was a true hell for people like Felix, but there was nothing they could do.

“I’m fucking different!” Felix shouted into the wind, knowing nobody could hear him here with the wind raging around him. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you accept the terms and conditions of this task?” The lady on the phone had asked him for the tenth time. “Are you sure you are willing to take this task upon you and deal with the consequences that may come with it?” Hyunjin had nodded before realizing she would not be able to see that.

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said. “I accept all of it. I am ready, I promise,” he’d looked at the booklet that had fallen onto the doormat this morning. He’d been waiting for it for a while now and today had been the day it had finally arrived. He’d almost jumped when he’d heard the sound of the booklet hitting the fabric. It was dumb and he knew that, but to him, this seemed like the only option.

It was fucked up, Hyunjin knew that and would never try to deny it. However, he needed the money he’d get out of it. Not for himself, but for his mother. His dear mother, the woman who’d raised him to be the man he was today, was a sickly woman now. She’d been diagnosed with a rare disease that could only be helped with expensive treatment. Without the treatment, the chances she’d not see the end of the year were very big. If she did get the treatment, it would give her the rest of her life back.

That’s all Hyunjin wanted for her; She had to see him grow up. She had to see her grandchildren grow up. He couldn’t lose her, not in a society like this one.

“Ten grant,” he’d whispered to himself. That was what he’d receive if he went through with this. It was enough to pay for his mother’s treatment and her medicine. It would be enough to keep her alive. It would cost him a part of himself, but that would be worth it if he was able to save the woman who meant the most to him. But was ten grant enough in exchange for a life? Because that was what this task entailed…

The task he was about to accept, was that of a hitman. The government granted rewards of ten thousand dollars to those who were willing to go undercover and find out which members of their society did not follow the law concerning sexuality. Well, those who found them received only three thousand. Those who then also managed to end those so-called moles would receive the full ten grant. His job would be to be among the people and find out who was hiding their true, forbidden sexuality and to simply end their lives.

The government needed undercover hitmen like this because there were way too many moles for their normal police forces. The standard procedure was execution in the name of the state, according to the legal methods, like they to criminals who got the death sentence

These hitmen were different. Their methods were technically illegal, but if they got caught, they would be let off again before they could even go into trial. The government would close their eyes for crimes like the murder of these moles as long as the hit-man had an official permit given to them by the state. These hitmen were highly necessary since there was no way the government could punish every single mole, and other than that they'd gotten better at hiding their true nature as well.

“Then I would like to congratulate you with your permit,” the lady on the phone had said. “You know how it works. Find someone you think is suspicious, figure out whether they genuinely are or not, and then eventually end their life. Send the body over to the morgue and receive your ten grant. Try not to get caught. It's such a hassle to make them drop the charges,” she’d explained once more. “If you have any questions, do call us. The last thing I would like to add, is that the most important aspect of this job is instinct. Make sure you follow it. Don’t be a fool. Don’t ignore the signs.”

“But how will I be certain if it’s one of them?” Hyunjin had questioned. That’s what the moles were often referred to: them. Not us, but the other.

“You will know,” the lady had assured him. “I promise. I have to move on to the next call now. I wish you much wisdom and luck, Hwang Hyunjin. We are looking forward to seeing your first catch soon,” and with that, she’d ended the call. Hyunjin had sat on the couch and contemplated the idea for the rest of the morning, fumbling around with the permit that had just been activated in his hands.

Was he actually going to kill someone only because of their sexuality? He knew they were deemed evil. They were different, that's what everyone had always been told over the past centuries. They didn’t deserve a place in this society, according to the government. It was never completely explained why this difference from the rest was such a bad thing. They were still people, weren't they? Was he really capable of taking another human’s life?

He shook the thought off as he was walking outside in the rain with his hood pulled over his hair a couple of hours after the call. He needed the money, so he was going to succeed. He didn’t care how much it would cost him, or how long it was going to take him to find someone. He was going to try the best he could and that was all he could promise right now. After all, it would take a while before he’d find the first person, wouldn’t it? They were called moles for a reason.

That’s what Hyunjin thought before he saw him; the person who would change his life forever. The person that truly caught his attention. At first, he thought he was just looking at the back someone who had lost his mind, yelling meaningless words into the wind, but when he listened more closely, alarms should’ve started to ring immediately in the back of his head.

“I’m fucking different!” The figure with the blonde hair yelled into the wind, probably thinking nobody would be able to hear him over the loud thundering of the air. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!” Hyunjin bit his lip. Bingo, he thought. This was going to be easier than he’d expected.

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let-it-show · 3 years ago

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Safe and Sound

Hello hello! This here little ficlet was written for wonderful @junglekiing who had been looking for writing of their Tiger!Elsa AU that would also be FLUFF. Here we have Anna and Elsa in a moment to themselves, and Elsa makes it clear how happy she is. ------- Every single day Anna learned something about the friend she had taken home with her from the woods. Hybrids were uncommon in Arendelle, even if a handful were known to live and work in the kingdoms. Those individuals were part of the community and as much as they intrigued Anna, she could never get herself to approach them and ask them a deluge of questions. She had so many! But, well, she also was always teaching herself to squish her excitement aside to avoid being rude, and so she tried to stick to the books so could find about them. The books never prepared her for Elsa.

Since returning to the castle with her and inviting her to stay, Anna's curiosity was constantly through the royal roof. Everything the part human, part tiger woman did was fascinating, even when it shouldn't be. Elsa licking a cut on her hand instead of cleaning it like a normal person? What! That was so strange but she liked it. Elsa helping her wash dishes even with those bizarre part human and part cat hands? She had to take it in!

On a particular day, Elsa had lounged on the library couch in the sun with Anna and closed her eyes.

That in itself wasn't unusual. Elsa was still adjusting from a nocturnal life to time her own schedule with Anna's. She'd been stuck to her side since that day they returned from the woods, and Anna had no complaints there. She was reading one of her favorite stories during some afternoon downtime and Elsa loved to just exist with her. She couldn't read herself, not yet.

Elsa's head was leaned against the back of the couch, the rough pads of her feet - her paws - whatever - against Anna's thigh where there was a split in her green dress. Her tail dangled over the front of the couch and the end of it twitched every now and then. A pillow was held in her arms, both hands digging in as though she were kneading. Elsa was clad in an elegant, sparkly blue dress she'd made herself with her own powers.

Because of course she had powers, weird icy ones. Anna had no idea if that was normal, but it sure was their little secret and drew her to Elsa even more.

Anna sighed with contentment and set her hand on the top of Elsa's foot. "Sleepy thing," she said quietly, smiling.

Then she startled as her words were quickly followed by a soft response. "I'm not asleep. I'm quite awake, thank you."

"O-oh! Sorry! I'm used to you drifting off...this must mean you're making it through the day better, then!" That would be great! Anna had been able to coax Elsa into snuggling with her, something the blonde had been terrified of at first because she didn't want to hurt Anna. When no harm had come, Elsa was eager to curl up with her. Anna wasn't sure what they were, yet, but she knew she wanted to sleep through a whole night being held by her. "You're not tired at all?"

"No," Elsa answered gently. "Just...safe."

Anna blinked and lowered the book she had been reading. She turned to look at Elsa, her eyes still closed. "Safe?"

"Safe," Elsa repeated, then opening one eye to look back at Anna. "We big cats only close our eyes and truly relax when we feel very, very safe."

"But you sleep in the day all the time!" Anna blurted, before covering her mouth with her hand. "I mean, I'm not judging or something-"

Elsa laughed. The sound felt just plain GOOD. It tickled her heart with warmth. "I know. I know. That's where you have to remember I'm not all cat, and I know I need to rest and sleep no matter what. But rarely have I ever allowed myself to relax, like this."

"Oh." Anna lowered her hand from her mouth, feeling a bit silly.

"It feels wonderful," Elsa murmured, and that one eye closed again. "It feels...like the weight of the world has slipped away, and I can simply be."

"I love when I feel like that." Anna didn't feel like that too frequently as she was Queen, but she handled the stress well enough to be able to relax.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. "I have not felt like this is many, many years. I was on my own for a long time when you found me, Anna."

Anna had learned snippets of Elsa's past here and there. She knew she had left her family for some reason, and sometimes caught that she was outcasted. At the same time, she had also picked up hints that-that Elsa herself held some sort of powerful position in her family. In her herd...no, that didn't seem right in her head, did tigers even have herds? What would a group of tigers be called anyway? A stripey surprise?

Her thoughts were distracted when Elsa spoke again. "I never....never thought it could be like this again, either."

"Elsa!" Anna's heart felt like it exploded, or imploded, or whatever. "Why? Did you really think you'd always be alone in the northern forest?" Anna had completely closed her book, Elsa's soft, fuzzy foot gripped in one hand.

"Well...yes."

At that answer, Anna swallowed and made an immediate and very firm decision. "You'll never be alone again! Elsa, I swear, as long as I am alive and Queen, and those two are the same because I think I only stop being Queen when I'm dead, UNLESS- nevermind, I don't know where I'm going - I swear you will always be a part of this castle. Of this family. This...family of you and me and that snowman you made a couple of weeks ago who keeps popping into the kitchen unannounced, which reminds me, the staff who know about you are family-"

Something swatted Anna's ankles. "Anna, Anna hush, I get it." Elsa lightly got her with her tail one more time. "I'm honored you would trust me so much and accept me and I...well...I..." Elsa opened both eyes again, the striking blues rendering Anna speechless. "...Thank you, for everything, for your patience and kindness. I love...I love...being here," Elsa said and as the last two words came out, she seemed to lose a little steam.

Behind a locked door in her mind there was more struggling to come out and even someone as bubbleheaded as Anna could see that. As much as she wanted to draw it all out at once, Anna knew she couldn't force anything. And she wouldn't.

"I love having you here, Elsa. Always felt a little empty before, and now...um...well, it doesn't."

"Hmm. 'It' meaning the castle?" Elsa asked her, releasing her pillow with one hand and reaching toward Anna. The fingers on her other hand dug into the pillow in a hastened rhythm, almost excited.

"Meaning...a lot of things..." The castle, her heart, her life, and time as a whole. Elsa felt like the piece Anna often felt was missing, though the tail was a surprise. The ice was...also a surprise. Anna took Elsa's hand, her cooling fur always kind of blowing her mind.

Elsa pulled slowly, drawing Anna down with her on the roomy couch. The sunlight danced on the cold glitter of her blue dress, making her strange friend even more beautiful than she usually was. That was an amazing task; Elsa was absolutely stunning.

Both women shifted as Anna laid her head on the pillow Elsa held, resting just below her chin. Elsa adjusted briefly to kiss the top of Anna's forehead and Anna felt tingles all over her body. She wanted more, she almost ached for more, wanting to kiss Elsa in honest. She had kissed her on the lips a couple of times and it was chaste, but set off sparks. However Anna was patient.

Elsa's arms wrapped around her and casually started undoing her elegant, regal bun. Anna didn't stop her. She never really like wearing it; it was a little tight. Some viewed her double braids as childish, though.

Elsa thought they were cute and would bat at them.

"I've never felt safer than I do right now," Elsa whispered, and Anna smiled.

"Good. You're safe. And...you'll always be safe. I-I know how to use a sword." Anna immediately felt silly. Why did she say that!?

"And I can use ice. May we never actually have to use our skills in such a way, but I'll always make sure you're safe as well."

Somehow Anna hadn't know how much she needed to hear that. She had no idea until it went right to her heart. She had never really been concerned about being protected and kept safe, but hearing such words from the person she clearly adored, well...

She didn't know what to say. Elsa had that effect. No one else was quite so successful at leaving Anna speechless, but Elsa could do it without any effort. Anna didn't even want to respond and not in a bad way. She felt good. She felt like that need to push words, to comment, to ramble, it was soothed. Not every thought needed to be voiced, and not every moment even needed a thought.

"I'll always keep you safe," Elsa told her again, her fingers stroking her hair, the very tips of her claws like heaven against her scalp.

Anna closed her eyes. Just like Elsa, she felt safer than she ever had before.

#Frozen AU #Elsanna #ficlet #Tiger!Elsa #Anna

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

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This is Rigged | KSJ

~summary: just a night in with your friends, courtesy of your boyfriend. Although he may have a slightly different grasp of the rules to you... lion shifter!Jin x reader ~word count: 1.9k ~shifter au, domestic fluff Rating: pg ~warnings: basically nothing, ...the game is rigged? allusions to Lion King spoilers, that’s not a real warning but better to be safe haha ~a/n: this is my secret santa gift for the incredible Eva @aroseforyoongi!! I really wanted to write something you would like as a huge thank you not just from me, but from everyone at the net for being such an amazing team mom! Joining @thebtswritersclub is honestly one of the best things I’ve done this year and I appreciate all the hard work you put in to make it so amazing💖😊as for this fic, I have never written a shifter au before, but I couldn’t get over this idea, so I went with it. I hope you enjoy it!

“If you guys win?”

“You give me a kiss,” he said, smirking (you wish you could call it infuriating, but really, who were you kidding? It was endearing).

“Is that so?” you popped your hands on your hips, “and if I win?”

“Then… I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “I see. That is a good incentive. You’re on.”

Indulgent smile spreading onto his features, Jin leaned down with his lips puckered, but you ducked out of the way, holding him off at the shoulders.

“Not until I’ve won later!” you laughed, running from the kitchen and leaving him to fume loudly behind you.

“Yah! Don’t make me get my claws out!” he called.

But you knew he was already collecting up the dishes to wash.

Jin was sure he had convinced you to let your friends come for games night. In reality, you were going to say yes no matter what – they were your friends – but the promise of some love from your boyfriend was definitely worth stalling for.

To be honest, he was probably more than happy with giving you the love anyway. Aside from the obvious fact that he was your boyfriend, you had been working hard this holiday and he wanted to spoil you.

So some love, from him and from your friends, was certainly in order.

You knew his tactics for cheering you up. He probably knew you knew. But it didn’t matter – they worked perfectly every time, just as your ways worked for him when he was stressed or down. Good food was a must, and usually you two would end up on the couch as you stroked your fingers through his mane, hearing his deep purrs to affirm his lighter mood.

Of course Jin’s plan to make you feel great was a little more elaborate than that, only allowing you to snatch hugs while he called your friends and prepared what he called ‘nibbles’.

Eventually, you resigned yourself to stealing the snacks, although this didn’t go down well with Jin. After what must have been the sixth time he caught you sneaking away some popcorn, he promptly attacked you with a bear hug, pinning you onto the sofa while you squealed with laughter.

“I should have known,” you giggled, “all I had to do to get your attention was steal your food!”

“Okay, I get it,” he conceded, “let’s wait here until they arrive.”

Peppering your face with kisses, he slid off you and tucked you against his side. Though he flicked on the TV, neither of you paid much attention to it as you swung your legs over his lap and curled up against him, content with each other’s presence until the doorbell sounded.

Tae rummaged in the little basket Jin had prepared, eventually producing a card, being sure to cup his hands and hide it from sight. A smug smile stretched across his mouth.

Tucking the card into his pocket, he swaggered forwards to stand in front of you all; you were spread across the two sofas, according to which team you were on.

And so it began.

“A movie!”

“4 words!”

“First word…”

As he bent his knees, the shouting started straight away. Trying to focus on him instead of laughing at your friends, you watched as he settled in a crouching position.

“Kneeling!”

“Stooping!”

“Floor!”

“Why would it be the floor, Hobi?”

“Maybe it is, you never know!”

“It’s not the floor, look, he’s shaking his head!”

“Hey!”

Two ears had sprouted from Taehyung’s head, and now fuzzy stripes made themselves known on his face. Curling his fingers, he made a pouncing motion as he showed his claws.

“Scary?” Jimin guessed first.

“Hunter!”

Suddenly the frown melted from your face, the answer clear to you.

“Crouching! It’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon!”

Clapping his hands, Tae stood back up again, a proud smile coming your way. As he squeezed back in beside you on the sofa, you glanced at Jin. But though you had expected him to glare back at you from fear of losing your little game, however pointless it was, instead you were met with a cocky quirk of the eyebrows.

However, the way Yoongi’s eyes widened when he read his card gave you back some confidence. His cheeks turned bright red, but he huffed anyway and positioned himself in the middle of the room.

“I-I don’t know how to…”

“Yes you do Yoongi,” Jin urged, “get on with it.”

You weren’t sure you had ever seen a bigger eye roll than the one Yoongi gave, but he complied anyway.

“Okay… one word! Film?” Joon started, leaning forwards and studying Yoongi’s gestures.

“Nonono, that’s a musical,” Jungkook interrupted.

Yoongi nodded and moved on. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he turned to the side and started strutting, swishing his butt about with his hands on his hips. For someone who looked as embarrassed as he did right now, he was really going for it.

“Sexy!”

“Scarring?”

“Oh my god, is it Burlesque?”

“You’ve watched that?”

“It’s not Burlesque, look!”

The next to resort to shifting, Yoongi was now prancing around in a circle with his tail in the air.

“Tail! Bum!”

“Cat-rocity!”

“Jin, shut up-“

Even though you knew he was the most versatile shifter of the group, it still surprised you when he jumped and landed as a tabby cat, then a black one.

“Cheating! Cheating!”

“Hobi, Tae literally shifted in your round too.”

“I know! I know!” Jungkook leapt from his seat, hand dancing in the air, “It’s Cats! Is it Cats?”

“Yep,” Yoongi replied gruffly.

Turning back to his fully human form, he crossed his arms tightly as he sat back down.

“This is rigged!” you complained, “Charades is so much easier when you can change shape!”

“We can only change to one animal,” Jin replied as he got up to hand the basket back to your team.

“Sure does come in handy when your card is Cats, though,” you quipped in return, but Jimin had already got up.

Turning your attention back to the front, you watched as he swooped into the air, suddenly a small bundle of wings and feathers. Of course, he apparently had a tailor-made card as well. In fairness, it was quite entertaining.

Stopping in mid-flight, he brought a wing across his chest (over-dramatic, even as a bird) and flopped to the ground, landing in human form again, eyes closed.

“Death!”

“Getting shot!”

“Floor!”

“Hobi, what films do you know called ‘floor’?”

Back on his feet, Jimin was sticking his tongue out, waving his hands at the side of his head.

“Rude!”

“Childish?”

“A… a dead child!?” (he had fallen back to the floor)

“Time’s up!” Jin exclaimed then, eliciting groans from the three of you who slumped back on the sofa.

“Come on guys, it was ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’” Jimin got to his knees, “see? Mocking… bird… killed…”

“Too hard,” grumbled Tae.

Jin’s team was up next, and although they guessed Kung Fu Panda correctly, you thought it a fitting consequence that Joon was now stuck with fluffy black ears on his head. Usually a bear shifter, he clearly didn’t find it as easy as Yoongi to change it up.

Refusing to look at your scheming boyfriend, you focussed hard during the next round, not liking the fact his team was drawing ahead of yours.

However, their next turn crashed and burned, not without an intensely heated debate about the differences between Spiderman and Antman and how to suitably portray them.

Next up, you reached for a card, hoping you didn’t get a difficult one. If Jin could manage to fix the cards for the shifters among you, you hoped he would go easy on you.

Apparently not.

Despite not being able to change shape, you thought you acted out the Wolf of Wall Street pretty well. Jimin guessed it just in time, thankfully before you resorted to any of the… well, more explicit content.

Perhaps Jin had been hoping for that, you thought, smirking back at him as you took your seat.

By now the other team were back around to Yoongi, who, handily, had to act out the Cat in the Hat.

It didn’t take long.

From here on in, the game devolved into Jin’s laughter and your groans as the cards magically got harder for your team. Seriously, how can you go about Pulp Fiction in charades?

And then there was Jin, roaring in all his majesty and putting an imaginary crown on his head. There was no need for Jungkook to look so proud when he guessed the Lion King, anyone could have seen that. You were surprised at how long it took them, Jin having to throw himself from a cliff screaming and howling for them to guess it.

But who were you kidding? Of course your boyfriend was going to try to sabotage you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t having a good night, mind completely away from your work.

By the time you waved your friends off, you had laughed yourself sore at Hobi’s silly guesses and Jin’s dramatics, stuffed yourself with the damn nibbles and were ready to fall into bed and sleep happily.

On leaving the shower later on, you found Jin already waiting for you in bed. Seeing you, he grinned – that endearing infuriating grin – and spread his arms wide.

“Where’s my kiss, then?”

“No way!” you scoffed, sitting on the edge of the bed with hand over your heart, “you rigged that game!”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You liar, Mr Lion-the-Witch-and-the-Wardrobe. We totally would have won!”

“But you didn’t,” he smirked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, only to be assaulted by light tickles to your sides.

“Hey!” you gasped, suddenly finding yourself underneath him. And gosh, no matter how long you had been dating this man, he never failed to make the blood rush to your cheeks.

Triumphant smile adorning his face, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. They lingered there, and only pride stopped you pulling his face closer still. When he eventually pulled away, a grin spread onto your face.

“Ha! You kissed me! I did win!!”

Eyes widening almost comically, a look of anguish quickly took over Jin’s face.

“Aargh! Nooo!” he cried, melodramatic as always as he flopped back to his pillow.

The sound of your laughter was all that followed as you climbed into bed next to him, satisfied when his arms circled your waist to tug your closer. Until he started trying to pull you over to face him.

“Give me a kiss!”

“Nope!” you laughed, “I won!”

A valiant effort was made on your part to squirm away from your boyfriend, ending with several kisses to your face and neck as he aimed for, and missed, your mouth. Coming in breathless gasps, your laughter rang out in the dim room.

“Spoilsport,” he muttered eventually, though he failed to sound genuinely bitter.

Finally dissolving, you hid your giggles in his chest as you settled in his arms. It was only once your eyes slid shut that he whispered into your hair.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Pulling away to look at him, even in the low light, you smiled widely.

“Of course I did! Thank you, Jinnie.”

(It’s safe to say you both kissed each other, in the end)

Thank you for reading! To Eva, happy holidays and I hope you liked it!💞

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine

My main masterlist here

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kieraelieson · 4 years ago

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Centaur AU 6

Thomas was woken by the sound of a barn door opening, and an exasperated “there you are.”

He blinked, trying to sit up and figure out where he was and what was going on. He was practically cuddled up to Emile, who was also just waking up, and Remy went to stand between them and the man at the door.

“Who are you, and what do you want here?” Remy snapped, hands on his hips.

The man rolled his eyes, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a thick envelope. “I’m one of the Authier’s lawyers. I was supposed to draw up and finalize an agreement with Thomas this morning, but I have to be somewhere by 10 and it’s a bit of a drive.”

Thomas stood up, looking for the clock and wincing when he saw the time. 8:43. He was supposed to be at the stable by nine. Ugh, that was the danger of sleeping away from an alarm clock.

“Um, thank you for coming, I’m sorry I wasn’t available earlier.”

The man just looked him up and down, probably noticing every wrinkle and bit of dirt and hay. “No, I expected it. Mrs. Authier does like to hire people that ‘play the party’ so to speak. I’ve drawn up the agreement already, I just need your signature.”

“What, um, what does it all say?” Thomas asked, trying to rub his eyes with it being obvious.

“To summarize, you may either stay in the stable or in the bunk room with the other employees, free of charge. Your centaurs will be able to stay there and eat and receive medical care free of charge as well. You will be paid double what you are now, but will be considered ‘on call’ twenty-four seven. The other eight hours of on call will pay for your housing and your centaurs. If your centaurs get registered for any kind of public engagements the prizes for those will go to the Authiers, and it will be allowed to be assumed that they are owned by the Authiers. However, you still are the legal owner, and retain full possession, provided you allow the pretense to continue. You will decide whether or not to register your centaurs in anything at your own discretion, though if you choose to do so they will have the same advantages as any of the Authiers’.”

Thomas’s mind was more than a little spinning, but it sounded relatively ok. He didn’t really want to register Remy or Emile for anything, and everything else seemed good.

“O-ok.”

“Excellent. Sign here, and here, and here. I’ve had a key to the bunk room delivered to the stable. And also here is a card. You are allowed to use it for any discretionary purchases for the centaurs, provided you keep a record of those purchases and deliver the record to me monthly. Here is my card, the number is on the back.”

Thomas’s mind was still spinning. He just managed to nod and sign and accept.

The lawyer smiled. “Thank you, Thomas. Please call me with any questions or problems.”

And then he left. Leaving Thomas feeling like his brain had been stuffed with cotton.

“That… was a lot.” Emile said.

“You’re sure he isn’t all sneaky and tricking you?” Remy asked.

Thomas just shrugged helplessly. “I… need a shower.”

He took a quick shower and then packed a backpack as quickly as he could, rolling up a blanket and a pillow and shoving them into a pillowcase. That’d be enough for tonight, and he would have more opportunity later to get more of his things.

“Oh, no, I have to get those things for Patton too. Ugh… I’m gonna be so late.” Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face. Well, he was trying his best. He could make it. Maybe late, but he’d make it.

Remy and Emile had also packed up a few things, and Remy was wearing the ‘carry-saddle’ when Thomas got back. It was a cobbled-together thing, an old saddle with hooks and straps on it. Thomas was able to hang his backpack from a hook, and tie on the pillowcase bundle.

“Do you mind if I ride, Emile?”

“Not at all,” Emile said, holding a hand down to help pull Thomas up.

“We have to stop at the pet shop on our way, I promised Patton a rat cage and toys.”

“They have rats?” Remy asked, screwing his face up.

“Not loose, not for much longer. I have to get a cat too. And probably cat supplies. Are you good with carrying all that?”

“Not the cat, but I can carry the rest.”

“If the cat’s in a carrier, I don’t mind,” Emile said.

Thomas agreed readily. A carrier would be a good thing to have anyway.

It felt strange to rush through a pet store, almost wrong, and he was a bit surprised they just let him adopt a cat when he was so frayed and hurried, but they did. He got an old, black cat that seemed calm. He didn’t want anyone to worry about a frisky little kitten darting around underfoot.

Everything packed up, they were finally on their way.

When they arrived, Thomas opened the door, alarmed to hear soft sniffling and Roman speaking softly but harshly. “...and that’s why you can’t do that!”

“Whoa, hey, can’t do what?” Thomas asked, careful to keep his tone gentle.

Roman frowned, crossing his arms and turning slightly away. “Can’t talk. Not when it’s not safe.”

Thomas looked to see Patton rather teary, holding his arm, but not in the usual embarrassed-type pose.

“What happened?”

“Oliver did,” Virgil said, his tone dark and bitter.

Thomas turned to see Virgil in Logan’s stall, smushed between him and the wall.

“Ok,” Remy said, “I’m sick of this dancing around. What happened, completely, and who’s this asshole?”

“Oliver is the Authier’s… I think nephew,” Patton said quietly. “He came in earlier and was mad about Virgil being in Logan’s stall. I tried to get him to leave, but he got mad at me too.”

Patton moved his hand to show a red wheal on his arm.

Thomas set the carrier down immediately, rushing to get the cream.

“But then why would you fuss at him?” Remy asked sharply.

“Because he could avoid getting hurt like that if he just shut up!” Roman snapped. “And the whole thing wouldn’t have happened if everyone was following the rules!”

“Yeah, like victim-blaming is helping anything,” Remy said caustically.

“That’s not-- If they do it right it does help!”

“Remy, Roman, please,” Thomas said firmly. “Don’t argue.” He gently tended the mark on Patton’s arm, and the stable grew very quiet and still, only Emile coming over to be on hand to help Patton, and to subtly direct Thomas’ attention to Roman.

Once he was done Thomas turned around to Roman, who backed up a step, a sudden, but genuine fear flickering through his eyes, especially when Thomas opened his stall. Things were clicking together in Thomas’s mind, things Roman had done, had said, as well as certain behaviors he recognized as being similar to Remy a long time ago.

Thomas moved slowly, deliberately, holding out a hand to Roman.

Roman stared at his hand, eyes wide and alarmed, before finally reaching out tentatively to take it.

“Roman,” Thomas faltered seeing the repressed flinch, but took a breath, almost sure he understood the situation. “You’re trying to protect your friends.”

Roman made no response.

“It’s worked for you before. You made sure that by following all the rules and laying low that you were safe, and you just want them to be safe too.”

There was a tiny nod, and Roman’s face pinched, the slightest glimmer of tears in his eyes.

“You did well. I’m sure they all appreciate you trying to protect them. You did enough. They’re safe now.” Thomas echoed some of the words Roman had said to him the day before, and Roman blinked tears back, scrubbing away the one that made it past. “The things you protected them from are not right. Not ok. Not at all. I’m throwing out all those rules. You don’t need to keep them anymore.”

Roman took in a shuddering breath, looking like he was trying hard to control his emotions.

“I’m going to be here for you all as much as I possibly can be. You don’t have to be strong for them all, you can call me and I’ll help, ok?”

Roman nodded, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Roman?” Patton said. Emile had moved close to him, and it seemed they had talked about something.

Roman nodded in acknowledgement that he was listening.

“Thank you for trying to protect me. Protecting all of us.”

Roman shook with a half-sob, turning away and trying to hide his face from all of them. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“But… you… also hurt me, with the way you were doing it.” Patton said hesitantly.

A ragged sound tore out of Roman’s throat. “I-I know. A-and-- and I’m sorry. I thought-- I thought it would be better, cause I could-- I’d just fuss at you-- but the humans hurt you!”

Roman suddenly turned, and Thomas stepped out of his way, Emile moving Patton’s door, and Roman crashed into a hug with Patton, shoulders hitching with sobs he tried to keep quiet. “I’m so sorry, Patton. I-- I never wanted to hold you back, I just wanted you safe…”

Patton hugged back tightly.

Thomas figured they’d appreciate a bit of privacy, at least by not having him staring, so he started unpacking things carefully and quietly. Remy also seemed a bit ashamed, and very quietly helped.

There was a soft rustle, and Thomas saw out of the corner of his eye, since he was still trying to not stare at anyone, that Virgil and Logan were having some kind of conversation composed mostly of stares and touches. It was slightly odd. He was used to those silent conversations, when he’d seen them before, being mostly facial expressions and hand motions. He was beginning to realize that something, though what he had no idea, was going on that he was missing. Something with Logan.

And then Logan spoke up, clearing his throat and drawing attention to himself. “I would assume that the two of you are Remy and Emile?”

“Yes, we are,” Emile said politely. “I think we may have arrived more suddenly than was expected.”

Logan nodded. “Indeed. We hadn’t been aware you were coming at all.”

Emile shot a look at Thomas, who raised both hands. “I didn’t really know either, I’m kinda flying by the seat of my pants here. I’m… I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable for you guys though. I should’ve found a way to make sure it was ok first.”

Logan nodded slowly, looking like he was rolling information over and over in his mind. “I see. I don’t believe any of us would strongly object to new stable-mates.”

Virgil shook his head a little in hesitant agreement.

Roman and Patton weren’t full hugging anymore, standing pressed against each other side-by-side, much like Logan and Virgil, though much more evenly sized. They were holding hands though, and both were trying not to look as teary as they were.

“It’s fine,” Patton said. “I’m happy to have new friends.”

Roman just nodded, a hand covering his face as he tried to calm down.

“I’m glad,” Thomas said, his mind whirring a bit trying to figure out where was best to put Remy and Emile so that no one would argue, but then he stopped abruptly. He was literally treating all of them like pawns in his mind right now. “Um, where do you guys think would be best for Remy and Emile to stay?”

There was a lot of looking back and forth between the centaurs. Apparently none of them had considered that yet.

“We can stay wherever is most convenient,” Emile said.

Gradually all the stares converged on Logan. He frowned slightly. “I believe it would be best if Remy was not near Virgil or Roman. And I think it likely that the two of you would prefer to be closer to each other. And seeing as the rat cage was intended to be mounted in the stall adjoining Patton’s, there will be less room there. It seems the best option would be if Remy was housed in the stall next to mine, and Emile next to Virgil’s.”

There were nods all around, though Remy’s was more hesitant.

Emile tried to lessen the tension by walking into the stall suggested for him and looking around. He then looked around the rest of the barn. “You only have standing beds here.”

“That is correct,” Logan said.

Emile just nodded, looking around the stall some more. “Thomas, would you help me make a straw bed?”

Thomas nodded quickly, hoping that doing something helpful would release the tension he was feeling. “Yeah, absolutely. And I think we need to make one for Logan too. He isn’t supposed to be standing up nearly as much.”

Logan blinked. “I am curious as to how you could make a bed sufficiently comfortable for sleeping out of straw.”

“I’d love to show you,” Emile said cheerfully, smiling at Logan.

So for the next hour or so Thomas hefted down the rectangular bales of hay, and Emile helped stack and arrange, and eventually tore a few open for a softer top layer. Finally, Thomas got out some heavy blankets to lay over the top, noting that to have enough he was using all the blankets there were in the closet.

“This is the last one, but I can buy more. I’ve been given permission to buy whatever you guys need.” Thomas said.

Logan looked at the bed suspiciously. It took up a good half of his stall, and Virgil had had to leave while they made it. But then slowly, carefully, he knelt and flopped to the side, and then let out a long breath with so much relief in it Thomas felt a sudden pang of guilt for not having remembered to get him more pain medicine right away.

Thomas sat down on the floor outside of his stall. “I think the vet is coming back sometime this morning. It’s mostly just so she can prescribe medication so you can get better. And then after that, I think you all have a mostly free day. Patton has something this evening, but the afternoon is fine. So I think I’ll go shopping to get whatever you all need. I’d really like it if you mostly just laid around for the next bunch of weeks, so is there anything I can get you? Books maybe? Or craft supplies?”

Logan squinted at him suspiciously. Thomas tried not to worry, or to get defensive, but it seemed he’d gone and said something dumb or unknowingly hurtful again.

“You are unaware that I am farsighted.” Logan said, his tone perfectly flat.

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Yes. Yes, I was completely unaware. Patton has glasses, why wouldn’t you, if you needed them? Did they break?” He caught himself before he just rambled endlessly and shut his mouth.

Logan just sighed. “I think you’re a good person Thomas.”

Thomas was caught entirely off guard by the sudden change of subject. “Um… thank you? I certainly try to be.”

“But you’re also quite unobservant.”

Thomas frowned slightly, but just nodded.

Logan raised his voice just slightly. “And we’ve made matters worse by assuming the opposite of you in both cases.”

There was a slight acknowledging grumble from behind him.

Thomas just nodded again, hoping to figure out where this was going.

“I believe my glasses are somewhere amongst the paperwork,” Logan said. “And I would greatly appreciate books to read.”

Thomas nodded quickly. “Yes. I’ll see if I can find them.”

He shuffled through the paperwork until he found a pair of glasses, vaguely remembering having seen them before, and assuming they were a backup pair for Patton, as they looked almost exactly the same.

“Are these them?” He asked, handing them to Logan.

Logan put the glasses on, and nodded, studying Thomas’s face, and then turned to look at Remy and Emile. Then he laid back and seemed to fall asleep very quickly.

And now all eyes were on Thomas again. He’d have to get used to this.

“Um… I guess, let’s set up the rat cage, and then hopefully the vet will come, and if any of you want anything, let’s get it all on a list for me to go get it?”

There was a general nodding and a couple ‘thank you’s, and Thomas forced a confident smile onto his face. Maybe he didn’t have everything under control, but he was certainly about to do his best.

#my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remy sleep #emile picani #character!thomas #centaur au

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

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Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you!

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

Yeah, especially humans.

Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

Right about noooow…

…

Now?

…

Well, it didn’t work.

Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

Which was exactly what they were doing!

Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

….But…

But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

Not yet, at least.

[~*~]

Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

“I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

“What was that?”

Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

“What.” He eloquently offered.

“I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

“Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

“You like tickles.”

The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

“What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

“Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

“Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

“Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

“Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

Hey now, what.

“What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

“… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?”

‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

“Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

“Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes’ expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

“I can’t.”

“Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

“Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

“Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

“It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

“Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

“TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

A devious plan shinned in his head.

Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

“No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and d i e.

And he was loving every single second of this.

“Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

“Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

“Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

“Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

“Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

[~*~]

Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

#Happyyy dayyyyy <333 #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's Au #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Patton #I just realized the title sounds like that cartoon Go Diego go. Not changing it looool xDDD #Ticklish!Virgil #Soft and Playful tickles #Cute #This is so cute because they're precioooous #Tickle fic #Tickle fanfic #Kanene's Art #Sanders SIdes Human AU #<3 #<33 #I really liked writing this one <33 #Sanders Sides tickles

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmate Shenanigans Part Two (Electric Boogaloo)

Good morning (or at least, I’ve started writing this in the morning! Who knows when I’ll complete it)!

I’m continuing my Soulmate AU Tomfoolery (you can find part one here)

Prompt #2

There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.

Warnings for death mentions, and temporary major character death

World Building

Everyone blames the mad scientist.

Which is fair. When someone makes billions of clocks in about a weeks time, each declaring when everyone in the world (including people who wouldn’t be born for decades) would find their soulmate, it’s considered to polite to stick around to answer questions

Instead, Logan disappeared to who-knows-where and left everyone else to pick up the pieces.

Rude.

Ever since the early 1910′s, the clocks have existed, one for each person. When any kid is born, the first thing a new parent does is rush to the register to see when they’ll meet their soulmate. It’s a big deal.

If your child isn’t going to meet their soulmate in the next 13 years, they are told the exact number on their 13th birthday

Philosophers have been enraged by all of this. Is free will a thing? Is existence a lie?

Non-philosophers will often close their curtains when they see a wandering philosopher, which are easy to identify by their look of abject confusion and plucked chickens.

Characters

Remus: Remus pretended that he didn’t care about who his soulmate was when his 13th birthday rolled along. He wasn’t the best actor.

His brother seemed happy when he found out that it would be sixteen years until he found his soulmate. 29 wasn’t a bad age at all, considering that some people would have to wait until they were old and in a nursing home, or would never even meet their soulmate at all.

Remus waited for his parents to tell him. They gave each other nervous looks, and he was convinced for a few seconds that he didn’t have a soulmate after all.

The actual answer was much weirder

526 years. 526 years until he met his soulmate.

Remus said a silent thank you to his soulmate for making him functionally immortal. After all, that meant that he’d survive until then!

HE WAS IMMORTAL

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Now, whenever someone would try to say something like, “Why do you like serial killers? Planning to become one?”, he could just look them dead in the eye and say,

I’m going to outlive you, Brian

(On an unrelated note, Brian disappeared a few months later. It actually wasn’t Remus’s fault, surprisingly. One minute, he was at a museum, the next, gone)

Remus would be fine with never finding his soulmate, honestly. Connection is nice, but being eldritch is more fun.

Virgil: Virgil didn’t want to be immortal

Sure, he wasn’t a fan of dying in practice, but in theory he didn’t want to live to over 250!

His family and friends were going to die, and he’d have to live through it. And for what? To meet a soulmate? Who gave a fuck? Virgil had never wanted a romantic relationship in his life, and he didn’t think that a 526 year wait was going to change that.

He was determined to find his soulmate early so that he could live a normal life like a normal person who doesn’t cause additional distress to the wandering philosophers.

Plot

It was easy to find Remus. Local Child Will Live To Over 500 makes a good headline, and Remus wasn’t one to shy away from attention.

When Virgil was 16, he packed his bags and ran away from home to go meet his soulmate. He didn’t ask Janus how he got the bus tickets, but he did ask him to tell his parents that he’d be okay.

Virgil knocked on the door, and waited. Someone who looked almost exactly like the news site photo answered. The conversation went something like this:

Virgil: So, YOU’RE Remus McFricking Sanders-

Roman: Nope, not him, whatever he said isn’t my fault.

[Roman slams door]

Virgil was pretty sure that he had, in fact, met Remus, and he was just being annoying. Roman believed that his brother had just manage to piss off yet another person.

Virgil retreated to a restaurant, and looked up the photo on the news article, just to make sure. No denying it, that was him! Same eyes, same hair, same general face-wait.

Remus had a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. The guy who’d greeted him at the door had definitely been in less scrapes than his soulmate.

Whoops.

Meanwhile, Remus had a plan to avoid Virgil at all cost. Virgil had tried to shy away from press attention, but he tracked down a photo eventually.

And when his brother told him that some emo with “awesome” eyes had turned up on the doorstep looking for him, he had a bad feeling.

Well, spooky boy wasn’t going to cost him his long future.

And so the dance began.

In one corner, Virgil, who had spite, stubbornness, and a deadline on his side (he had to get home to his parents eventually)! Never discount a spiteful Virgil!

In the other corner, Remus, who has nothing on his side but fate. Fate, however, has a sense of humor, and Remus read enough old myths as a child to know that whatever happens can’t be changed by petty human actions.

Virgil tries breaking and entering many times, each failing in a more ridiculous way. He is a careful, but Remus is practically Kevin McCallister in terms of traps, and he fails to meet his soulmate face to face all day and all night.

They do get to have some verbal exchanges, which are pretty much

Virgil: You think you want the existential hell of immortality??

Remus: Oh, fuck off, I’m going to have the best vampire aesthetic!

Virgil: The vampire aesthetic is wonderful, but can we do everything for aesthetic?

Both at the same time: Yes. Yes we can.

And then Virgil is herded out of the house by Remus’s pet rats.

However, the final encounter goes a little differently. No witty quips, just Virgil picking the lock of yet another window, and then a very specific sound.

Have you ever heard a stubborn emo get pulled into a portal in the spacetime continuum?

It’s a distinct sound that is along the lines of loud crash-The fu-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

Remus didn’t give a second thought before diving into the portal after him. If he had, he would have thought hey, this’ll probably bring us face to face, something I’ve been avoiding or maybe jumping into random portals in a stupid idea or I’m going to grab a weapon before just running at it. But his first impulse was to make sure his snarky soulmate hadn’t died, so into the portal he went.

The Year: 2550

The Portal: Glows a lot, thank you for asking

The Reason: A mad scientist has only one thing left to lose, and is terrified as it slips away

Logan: Logan was a geek at heart. He loved science, in both theories and practice. He probably should have toned down his obsession with Nikola Tesla. He wanted to travel to the sky, and touch the stars, and watch time like a film reel.

Time travel was his passion. If people could travel across the physical seas, why not the metaphorical ones of time?

It was pure luck that he actually figured it out, but figure it out he did. Logan loved his creation.

He wanted to create a million inventions, but more importantly he wanted Patton to see them all.

If there was one thing he loved more than science, it was him.

The two kept each other from drifting off into the stars, or sinking into the dirt because they’re too afraid of being rude. One of Logan’s favorite memories was he and Patton running through the St. Louis fair, giggling at terrible puns and sharing a quick kiss out of sight, before catching the next exposition.

Patton was kind, and caring, and knew how to talk to people to get them to like him, and was just good. He was good.

Logan dealt only in facts. And it was a fact that it would have been better, more fair for Logan to have died in the fire.

It was a fact that he didn’t (even though it felt like it sometimes). It was a fact that Patton had been the one to notice the smoke. It was a fact that the love of his life waited for a few seconds in the doorway, trying to call the cat out. It was a fact that, after Logan was out of the house, he turned around to see the doorway collapse.

He found a way back into the house, but it took too long.

Fact: Humans can only endure severe smoke inhalation for a few minutes before dying.

Logan took one look at his time machine, somehow still undamaged. He’d never tested it before, but he really didn’t have a choice, so he kissed Patton on the forehead and stepped into a portal.

Back To The Plot

Virgil and Remus immediately knew that they were in the 26th century.

How? There was a sign!

Hey! If You Happen To Be A Time Traveler, This Is 2550! Check In With The Lord Cerebrum To Know More, Unless You Don’t Have A License, In Which Case

You Know What Happens

They don’t have much time to mull over this before Remus tries to murder Virgil. He’s not IMMORTAL any more, and it’s not FAIR, and it’s all HIS fault!

This is where we enter the Rivals To Friends (While On The Run From Time Management) section

Remus and Virgil have many adventures escaping from Time Management, while learning to appreciate the other as a friend. They are platonic soulmates, after all!

But Time Management is nothing if not patient, and the boys are caught eventually (you know how it goes. You forget to check around for listening ears, you use 21st century slang, and suddenly a single “yeet” and a “same” get you dragged before the Lord Cerebrum)

A Handy Dandy Guide To The Year 2550 (transcript from the Handy Dandy Infomercial Station)

Hey, time travelers! I know that everyone likes zipping around the time-stream and seeing what the fates throw at them to keep them from murdering their grandpa, but we have to do this by the Rules!

If you break the rules, you know what happens

The Year 2550 is protected by Logos Industries’s time dilation filter, to ensure that no one gets the wrong idea about going free range!

If you have a license, just proceed to the Lord Cerebrum to get your stamp of approval and philosopher disguise for the maximum positive effect! After all, Logos Industries needs funding to protect us all!

If you don’t have a license, you’ll see the Lord Cerebrum too!

Have a Handy Dandy Time :)

Back To The Plot

The boys are led through a menacing government facility, taken to see the Lord Cerebrum. They try to ask questions, but Time Management is rather disinterested in their fleeting existence, so nothing much gets answered.

The final destination is a computer room, where the Lord Cerebrum sits. His form was half hologram, half skin, his age unchanging for 526 years, and recognizable at first sight to Remus

Lord Cerebrum, aka Brain, aka Brian: Hey, Remus, what exactly did you say about outliving me?

Brian: Brian was a dick. There’s no other way to put it.

He and Remus used to be friends, sticking brand new phones in water to see what would happen and planning out pranks (they made their history teacher think that she was being haunted by the ghost of Charlemagne!), but things changed, and by 8th grade his dickishness was on full display

It was really easy to get away with being cruel to Remus. He naturally unnerved people, and anyone in a position of power immediately knew he was trouble (which was true), so when there was a conflicting story between a star student and the kid who poured ketchup in the principal’s desk, you can guess who’d always get believed.

Brian was a dick, but he was 13. He could have grown later in life, regretted his ways (or at least stopped), but instead he touched an antique time machine on a museum tour of the Clock House (home of Logan, the famous inventor of soulmate clocks).

He’d been planning to snap off the handle and pin it on Remus (or maybe Roman for variety), but instead

Crash-what the-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

And Brian arrived in the year 2520, the first of many time travellers.

He became a celebrity. The parts of him lost in the wormhole were quickly replaced with state-of-the-art holograms, and his fame went to his head.

Thirty years of good marketing later, he was the Lord Cerebrum. And when a desperate mad scientist came crashing through a portal of his own, it was easy to get him to work for him under the promise that Brian would let him save his “Patton” once he made some technology for him.

He recognized Logan from the museum. He knew who’s fault it was that he was trapped travelling through time, whirling through the portal, praying and promising and in the end just screaming. Brian knew who was to blame for the fact that he couldn’t tell how much of his body would stay when the power went out.

So the tasks got longer and more complicated, Patton dangled like a carrot over Logan’s head.

Fact: Logan would never win, and someday Brian would get tired of this game and there would only be one genius left in 2550.

Back To The Plot: Virgil punched the Lord Cerebrum in the face. He didn’t know all of the context, but his best friend seemed not to like the guy, and he seemed evil, so he punched the overlord in the face.

Brian was offended, and abandoned all plans for a monologue in favor of leaving them to die.

The most fitting way to do away with a time traveler is to send them everywhere at once. It’s an awful death, one where molecules are slowly lost as the traveler in question hits walls and trees and memories.

The duo managed to survive five or so timelines, before the machine miraculously shut off. A mad scientist ran into the room, unscrewed the vents in the walls, and told the teenagers that they’re late.

Things are explained as they escape the facility.

Things

Logan needed a way to break the time dilation filter. He did the math (which he tried and failed to explain to the boys), and it was determined that Remus and Virgil had the most butterfly effect capabilities to influence this particular event

Basically, removing them from the timeline changed things just enough for Logan to find the chink in the filter’s armor.

The duo’s job is done, and Logan is only sorry that he didn’t find them earlier to get them home.

Back To The Plot

Everything seems like it’s going to be fine, and the duo are almost able to go home, when the Lord Cerebrum finds them.

CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN

An Ending

In the end, Brian is sent to the 22th century, the year where nearly all of humanity were turned into giant rats for some reason

Logan found his way back to the 1910′s, and used the 26th century technology to heal his love. The time machine burned in the fire. Good. Space travel was where it was at, anyway.

Virgil had so much explaining to do to his parents

Remus knew that no one would believe him. Roman did.

Virgil and Remus stayed the closest of friends. They dressed up as vampires for Halloween. They stuck together. They got to grow up.

More soulmate shenanigans, amiright?

#sanders sides #ts sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #logicality #platonic dukexiety #time travel #soulmate au #beware the drafts of march #soulmate shenanigans #unsympathetic brian #i don't know why this random shorts character is awful in my mind #i'm sure he's a perfectly nice fictional character #i love writing #fan fic #sanders side fic #sanders sides fic

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upstartpoodle · 4 years ago

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So since I’ve been taking forever with both Moving Forward and various fic requests that I’ve been working on, and because I’m starting to run seriously thin on ideas for edits, I’ve decided to post a few extracts of my other various WIPs because this may be the only way they’ll ever see the light of day whilst I try to get around my writer’s block. This one is from my selkie AU, another extract of which can be found here.

Tagging @ticketybooser, @harry-leroy, @forcebros, @lashbrook11 if any of you are interested! :)

***

From there they progressed to dancing. Or rather, the room at large progressed to dancing. George, however, progressed to hiding in a shadowy corner in the hope that his presence would be overlooked, and he would not be called on to make a fool of himself in front of what seemed to be the entire county’s worth of young girls. He had no talent for speaking with women—even less so than he had for speaking with men, and aside from which, he doubted any of them would wish to dance with the upstart grandson of a blacksmith when there were many far more desirable prospects at hand. Frankly, he had been snubbed quite enough for one evening and had no intention of inviting any more scorn upon himself. His uncle would no doubt be displeased, but, faced with those hordes of strangers, he found that he did not particularly care for Cary’s opinion.

He soon realised his mistake when his awkward hovering at the edge of the room brought him a little too close to the vicinity of old Agatha Poldark, lurking in a chair in a shadowy corner and, with her customary black dress, hunched way of sitting, and beady eyes fixed unwaveringly on his uncertain progress along the wall, reminding him, not for the first time of the rowdy, squawking crows that Ambrose often took to barking at as they perched in the trees of Cardew’s grounds. She was watching him with that sour expression that he had come so accustomed to seeing on her withered face whenever she regarded him, and with a mounting sense of discomfort, he made to move away from her. The old woman, however, did not seem satisfied with allowing him to remove himself from the unpleasantness of her company, as she called out to him in that familiar harsh croak before he could make his escape.

“Not dancing, boy?” Her eyebrows were raised mockingly, her lips twisted into a nasty smirk, and in an instant, George desperately longed for the luxury of simply ignoring her and walking away. He did not dare give her any ammunition with which she might further disparage him, however, and so he turned back to respond to her, trying to keep any evidence of his disagreeable mood from his face.

“I don’t much care for it, ma’am” he replied politely but briefly, hoping against all hope that she would take pity on him and recognise that he was in no mood to converse with her that evening. That, however, he knew was a ridiculous hope. The foul woman knew damn well what she was doing—if anything, she seemed to find great entertainment in causing him distress.

“Don’t you now?,” she scoffed at him, eyeing him up like a cat playing with a mouse. “And why would that be, I wonder?”

“Must there be a reason, ma’am? I am simply not partial to it” George replied, masking his uneasiness under his courteous tone. He was not sure yet what game the old woman was playing, what point she was trying to prove. Still, there must surely be one—nobody would have cause to look so smug when simply making innocuous conversation.

Agatha snorted derisively.

“What pretty manners you have,” she sneered. “Quite the excellent performance. But then, your family has always been excellent at pretending to be something they’re not, haven’t they?”

George bristled at the insinuation. Throughout his friendship with Francis, Agatha had had little compunctions about hiding her contempt for his family and their ambitions, something which he thought was mightily unfair of her, considering she had never worked for a scrap of anything in her extensive life.

“My father had aspirations, ma’am,” he said calmly; he refused to rise to her bait, to prove to her that he was just as coarse and uncivilised as she expected—and indeed wanted—him to be. He would not shame his family—or himself—in that way. “He strived to better our lives, not falsify them.”

Agatha’s lips curled in disdain.

“Aspirations of grandeur, perhaps,” she returned. “But I wasn’t talking about your father, boy. I was speaking of your mother.”

George blinked, momentarily thrown by the strange turn of the conversation.

“My—?”

“Yes, boy, your mother,” Agatha snapped. “I don’t believe for a moment that you don’t now know exactly who and what she was. I know you…changed. It seems you take after her in more than just looks.”

It was as if someone had plunged a shard of ice into his stomach. How could she know? How could she—? But of course she knew. She had known about his mother before he had, and though Ross had kept largely silent on the subject of the Incident, clearly Agatha had not received the same treatment regarding the matter. That then begged the question: how many other people had he told? How many people would he tell? And more significantly, how many people would she tell? How many people would she crow to that the upstart grandson of a blacksmith that had latched onto her nephew was a—was—

“I don’t—” He didn’t truly know what he meant to say to her—to deny it, to argue her point—but, whatever he had intended, she cut him off sharply, only interested in her own venomous diatribe.

“She turned up at that beach, shameless, naked as the day she was born, as all her kind are, but once she met him, she was quite happy for him to dress her up in those fligs and filallery like a child’s doll and put on a pretty smile for his neighbours.” She sent him a pointed look at his borrowed coat, her twisted smile in equal measure scornful and triumphant. “Clearly, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”

George stiffened, fighting the urge to fiddle with the cuff of Francis’ coat. He couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to rail at the horrible old crone for the insult to his mother or to melt into the floor with shame at the jibe at himself. Still, he knew he could not allow either of those urges to win. It was clear she wanted to rile him, and he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing that her words had upset him.

“Is there something you want, ma’am?” he asked, his voice tight and controlled as he tried to keep the caustic note out of his voice.

Agatha threw her head back and cackled. George glanced cautiously around the room. He was sure she was drawing attention to them, and that was the last thing he could bear at that moment. If one of them overheard…if they even suspected—

“Still won’t speak your mind?,” she sneered. “I know you want to. You’re just like her, dressed in the cast-offs of your betters with your pretty words and false smiles, desperate to fit in with humanity. But I know what she really was underneath that porcelain mask—a deceitful whore who wormed her way into your upstart father’s affections—”

“My mother was not a whore,” hissed George before he could stop himself, “though you are most assuredly a witch.”

His words had the effect of silencing her for a few blessed seconds, but his relief was short-lived, as her malevolent smirk transformed into a victorious grin, and he realised exactly what he had just said to her.

“So the kitten has claws after all,” she crowed. “And here was I thinking you were just Francis’ docile little pet. It seems your manners aren’t quite as sweet as you’d have us believe.”

#poldark #poldark fic #poldark au #selkie au #george warleggan #agatha poldark #fic #mine #my fic #sfw

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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Crimson Shadows 2

Jercy Vampire AU: Percy

masterlist; information post for fic

I was debating whether i should change traditional things like greetings but then i realised this is my fic and im writing it for purely self indulgent purposes so like i could if i wanted. Thanks for joining in on my hedonism! Please enjoy.

Perseus steps onto the creaky wooden floor of his ostentatious 16th century mansion and mentally reminds himself for the two-hundredth time that he needs to get someone in to fix it. The worst thing about being immortal, he has come to learn, is that he procrastinates everything ten times harder. At least his teenage self would be impressed with his tactics, even if his mother was rolling in her grave.

The house is unusually quiet for an Orion morning and he strains his already sonic hearing to catch the sounds of silent footfalls and bustling bodies. But the wind rushes through the space and there are no other noises. A flutter gives in his chest as he steps into the kitchen to find breakfast waiting for him and a note folded neatly next to it.

Hey Doc,

Twins have gone to Bharatanatyam class and Hoku went to the beach. I’m just picking stuff up at the grocer, be home in a jiff.

- Keeya

He releases a breath and sits down at the table with a smile. The delicious smell of eggs and blood hit him as he takes off the cover to reveal a plate of eggs benedict, hash-browns and a small glass of ichor. He shoots down the blood, content to let it work through him as he gobbles down the heavenly breakfast. He knows Keeya cooked because she was always experimenting with food, always in here creating dishes and making them beg to eat whatever is giving off that sublime smell. Just as he cuts into a hash brown he hears the door shut and hurried footsteps rushing towards him.

“To the Sun,” Keeya flurries into the kitchen, face blocked by brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with what he’s sure to be her latest concoction.

“Amongst the Stars,” His lips twitch in amusement, “Early morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep so i-” Her voice muffles as she busies herself packing items in the pantry, “-thought I’d start on breakfast but while i was looking for an eggs benny recipe i came across this golden cake and-” Her head pops out of the pantry, black eyes flashing with excitement, “Doc when i tell you i almost died right there, it sounded so good. Anyway of course i had to leave immediately to get all the things we didn’t have.” She finally collapses onto a stool across from him and takes a breath.

He hides a laugh and waits for the rest of the story, because with Keeya there is always more.

“Anyway i get to the shop-” She starts. He covers his inescapable laugh with a cough. “And they don’t have desiccated coconut. Can you believe that? I mean it’s the main ingredient in the damn cake. So I was panicking a little because it’s the closest shop open at that time, the others I'd have to take a train for which is so inconvenient?” She gives him an incredulous look. He nods seriously; inside he is fighting off giggles. “But they found some in the back, thank the stars, and then I just grabbed a few things because it’s ‘make your own pizza’ night and I think some people from the Araw house are joining us.”

“Sounds fun, is Elouan going to be here?” He pops the last bit of poached egg in his mouth and looks at her expectantly.

She makes a disapproving face, “No, he’s off with his new partner. I don’t trust them at all.”

“Why?” Perseus is on guard immediately, fingers curling, hair sensitive, and gums stinging with the need to unsheathe his fangs.

“Their vibe is off,” Her nose scrunches up, “Like they’re used to getting into trouble and bailing out.”

“I’ll tell Elly to be careful but maybe go with him next time Kee,” He suggests, a tentative look in his eyes as her own widen.

“All we’ll do is argue, and besides, he hates me hanging out with his friends.”

“Ever asked him why?” He has a feeling about it but he’ll never voice it. No, the two can come to their own conclusions. After all, they had forever to figure it out.

“I don’t care why. He’s a dick and I'm not interested in anything he has to say.”

He shrugs but leaves the conversation, and the kitchen, so Keeya can do her thing. He has some admin to do anyway; a dreary task but one that must be done all the same. Besides without the twins and Hoku the house is absurdly silent, so he needs something to occupy himself.

His study is actually a little desk situated in their library. It’s his favourite room in the house for the opulent fireplace that stays lit through Baridi and serves as a soot-slide in Caldu, and of course the books which although he doesn't read many of, remind him of his mother. He has been alive for almost three hundred years and there is hardly a day that goes by when he doesn’t think of her. For every part of him that isn’t human, there’s a part of her that makes him so. He stares up at the portrait of her hanging near the doorway, painted by a friend long gone and with a loving smile gets to work.

He sorts, and signs, and stamps, and notes in an endless cycle until finally his finances are in order, his donations are chequed and his letters are sealed. He’s sure Hoku will groan endlessly about receiving yet another letter under their pillow and try to explain that email is much more convenient and faster for everyone. Perseus tilts his head to the ceiling and watches the stars dance as he plays out the conversation in his head.

“Doc, I really appreciate the effort you put into sending us letters but this is not the eighteenth century, just use email.”

“Hoku i like the letters, they’re personal and calming to write.”

“Doc, emails are more convenient and i can take them anywhere.”

“Okay I’ll stop giving you letters. I’ll just give the others.”

“What? No? That’s a terrible idea. I still want my letters.”

And they would have the conversation every month without fail. It is a rather amusing part of the routine and sometimes Perseus purposefully makes Hoku’s letters a little longer, just to bother them. A secret best kept as such, but funny nonetheless.

“DOC!” A voice screams through the house, shattering his ear drums.

The twins.

He steps out of the library, and half jogs to the source of the noise, which he discovers is coming from the entertainment room.

“To the Sun, you two.”

Serafina looks up first, her brown eyes shining with never-ending energy. The anklets on her feet jingle as she runs towards him and slams her body into his. He holds firm as he catches her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Amongst the Stars,” She mumbles, face buried in his shirt.

“How was Bharatanatyam?”

She gasps, stepping out of his embrace and squealing with delight. “Doc we have to show you what we learnt! Aaru come!” Her dark eyebrows knit together as she focuses on her brother.

“Tusa Aarush.” Perseus smiles, squatting down so he’s level with the boy. A little hand, the colour of cherry wood, reaches up to give him a high-five. A standard greeting for the quiet brother; a complete opposite to his outgoing sister.

“Aaru are you ready?” Serafina comes to stand beside them, after setting up the sound system.

He nods and moves so they’re in the middle of the room. Quickly they do the opening prayer before Serafina bounces to the sound bar and presses play. The sweet, sturdy music fills the room and then they're going through a whole routine. Stamping their feet in a rhythm that matches the beat perfectly. Aarush pinches his fingers and fans them out. A closed flower opening, he recognises. They do a series of moves all impressive and beautiful, before the music fades and they pose, breathless with exertion and excitement.

He claps enthusiastically and opens his arms for hugs. “You did wonderfully!” Serafina slams into him. Aarush gives him another high-five. “When is the performance?”

“Not for a long time Doc.” The little girl says, as if he should know this. She heads off to fiddle with the speakers.

“In two months,” Aaru answers. His voice is clear and even. He is quiet but not soft. “In Pluto.”

“Ah, I'll make sure I have it down in the calendar.” The little boy's face lights up like a stadium and Perseus’ heart clenches with love. The twins had only been living with him for half a century but within the first year they had him completely wrapped around his fingers. Their claimed age is ten but their true age is one hundred and two. He found them shivering behind a dumpster in Orman, their skin stretched across their bones and that rabid look of underfed vampire in their eyes. He had taken them in and given them blood and a bed for the night, which turned into a week, and then a month. Before he knew it he was bringing them to this house in Roshani where they had immediately fallen in love with the city and made it their home.

“Fina, i’m going to shower.” Aarush states and without further flurry he leaves.

“Is everything okay with classes? All of them, not just Bharatanatyam.” Perseus asks the talkative twin.

“Yes,” She nods, unclipping her anklets. Her voice lowers, serious bleeding in. It is hard to forget their age, true or claimed, when this happens. Because suddenly their bubbly little girl who flits around the house and talks your ear off and throws herself into everything with the vivacity of a ten year old, disappears. In her place is the century old girl who has experienced more of life’s pleasures and hardships than most of the world can only begin to imagine.

“We’re covered for everything. And Aaru starts teaching a new linguistics course on Monday so he’ll have some cash to fling around. Although,” She rolls her eyes, “We all know he’ll just put it in his account and let it sit like a fat cat.”

He laughs, flicking her nose at her distaste for her brother’s complete lack of spending. “He likes to invest in stocks and give it away. You know he doesn’t hoard.”

“I know i know,” She grumbles, scrunching her nose, “I just wish he’d spend some on himself.”

“I think he thinks you spoil him enough.”

“I don’t spoil him nearly enough. Most times I try to buy him something and he just shuts it down. Like last Draco i tried to buy him that new puzzle he was talking about and he just slammed my laptop shut.”

She looks so put out he can't help but giggle, and when she scowls at him for it he pulls her in for a hug and kisses her head. “He likes to do things with you. Maybe try getting things you guys can do together.” She brightens at that, and he can see the gears turning in her sharp mind. “Alternatively, save up all the buying for special occasions like Birthdays or Turning or Koro day.” She hums in acknowledgement but her thoughts are still going a mile a minute so he steps out and lets her work it through.

The house is alive again: Keeya is still in the kitchen, and by the sounds of it Hoku too, begging for something. Elouan still isn’t in and he cannot stop the trinkle of worry that falls between his ribs. Trying to keep it out of his mind he walks towards the noise and is greeted by the site of countertops covered in dishes filled with all sorts of delights. The smell is enough to put him in a coma. And Hoku sits on the counter, pale blue eyes puppy-wide with pleading. He glances to their wrist and sees the sunshine yellow band. She/her today then. It gets exhausting, she had told them, to continuously have to announce yourself to the world, especially when you didn’t know how the world would react.

“Hoku,” Keeya sighs, “I am not giving you the poli until you go and change. You smell like seaweed.” The coconut-stuffed pastry pockets sit on the counter, still piping hot from the oil they had just been fried in.

“Awww come on Kee, i just need one. I’ll pass out in the shower if i don’t get it and then it’ll be all your fault.”

Keeya’s eyes roll so far back he’s worried she’ll get them stuck behind her sockets. But they roll forward and give Hoku a very pointed glare.

“Get your ass out of my kitchen and go and shower, you irritation!” She scolds; rendered a little ineffective by the flour smeared across her cheek which is a startling contrast to her brown-scapolite skin.

“You are the absolute worst.” Hoku sulks as she slides off the stool and trudges to the entrance. "Tusa Doc.” The sigh is heavy and he struggles to keep in the laughter threatening to spill past his lips. It is never a dull moment in the Aarde House. Perseus collapses onto the stool Hoku had just vacated and lets loose the smile he had been trying to hide. Keeya returns it with one of her own and then launches into a conversation about her latest creations.

Hours later they had moved from food talk, which made him unfathomably hungry, to her teaching, to his own escapades and ideas. She laughed as he recounted the night out he had some weeks ago and the beautiful blue-haired person he had taken a bodyshot on. But soon the sun is sinking to the city floor and the people in the house emerge from their various rooms to congregate in the kitchen, which serves as the house hangout spot. Keeya had packed most of the food away, save for a loaf of fresh bread and the poli Hoku had been begging for. She puts the kettle on and starts up the coffee machine, chattering away as she did.

Aarush shuffles into the room and immediately takes up a spot next to Perseus. Serafina and Hoku walk in next talking about knee pains and sore feet.

“Did you guys bother to put ice packs or kinaesthetic tape on?” Keeya raises an eyebrow. They both stick their tongues out at her, and move to sit on the opposite side of the table.

“Hoku,” Aaru settles his brown eyes on her, “Will you teach me how to do the splits? My Bharatanatyam teacher says i need to learn to be more flexible.”

Hoku is already nodding enthusiastically, “Of course A, i can absolutely teach you. But you should know flexibility doesn’t come from doing the splits it comes from muscle control and ligament manipulation.”

“I read up about it but i don't feel confident enough to try on my own.”

A gleam enters Hoku’s blue eyes, “You should come with me to a ballet class. Elouan is doing piano for us next week in preparation for our concert coming up. We’ll be able to get the studio to ourselves for a little while.”

“Sure,” Aru shrugs, “Sounds fun.”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Serafina tugs her twin's sleeve, looking at him with hurt in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides Hoku teaches ballet I figured she’d be the best bet for me.”

Serafina looks like she’s going to say something, argue maybe, but then the last of their little household walks in and conversation drifts.

“Past the Moon, Elouan,” Perseus smiles at the oldest of the group, save for him.

A floppy smile transforms a pasty face. As he hobbles towards them, leaning heavily on his walking stick, he mumbles a round of greetings.

“How are you?” Keeya asks once he’s settled into a chair next to her.

“I could do with some food and maybe some blood but otherwise just peachy.” His moonlight white curls fall into his face and he pushes them back absentmindedly.

“Can we finally have the poli now?” Hoku glares at their baker, rebellion already flashing in her blue eyes.

“Dig in you little heathen,” Keeya shoves the plate towards her and they all descend.

Tea and coffee are passed around as well as small glasses of blood for any of them that need it. Perseus and the twins refrain, having had their fill at some point during the day but they happily dig into the coconut pastry and drink copious amounts of coffee.

“So,” Elouan says around a mouthful of poli, “Who’s coming with me to the Red Queen tomorrow?”

“Me!” Hoku shouts immediately. Ever the party animal.

“I’d love to.” Keeya mumbles behind her tea, suddenly shy.

“No thanks.” Aarush pulls a face and goes back to stacking the knives into a precarious tower.

“Fina? Doc?”

“I have to work on stuff for varsity but maybe next time.” Serafina shrugs a shoulder, her brown eyes glazing over as her mind goes back to working a mile a minute.

“I’ll let you know after our dinner tonight. I think some of the Houses want to call a meeting tomorrow to discuss funding and housing in a few cities.”

“You should invite them along,” His white eyebrows knit together in thought, “You guys should invite anyone you want.”

“What’s got you so friendly?” Keeya gives a suspicious look.

“Arrow said they wanted to meet you.”

Her face pulls into something resembling horror, “Uh never mind i think i have stuff to do, maybe next time.”

Elouan pins his honey eyes on her and they look more like the sting of the bee than the gold of the nectar. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t trust them.” She bites out, setting her mug down with a hard crack.

“You don’t even know them. You’re just being judgmental because they’ve turned a few innocents.”

“It’s not just that Elouan,” Where he is the sky, Keeya is the earth. “They are leading you to the dens and soon you’ll be following in their footsteps.”

Perseus was content to ignore their argument and continue talking to everyone else or eating his way through the feast, but that angered whisper steals his attention. “You’ve been going to the dens?”

“I went twice and i didn't even do anything.” He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not about what you do El,” Keeya’s voice is lethal with fury, and worry. “It’s about what gets done in there.”

“It’s not safe Elouan. Not only for you but if something happens you put a target on all of our backs. And I will not have you endangering anyone in this house just to look cool for your new partner.” There is no compromise in Perseus’ hard green eyes.

The younger vamp sees this and nods once. “I won’t go to the dens again, Doc.”

“Right now that we have that sorted,” He leaves no room for further say on the topic, “What do you need us to do for dinner before the Araw House gets here, Kee?”

He sees her hide the emotions still burning in her eyes before she claps her hands and puts them to work. And when the members of the Araw house arrive there is no lingering anger suffocating the kitchen. It is bright and loud and messy. It is home.

“Tamo, tamo, everyone!” Musical greetings come from the front of the house and a few seconds later Drew Tanaka and Charles Beckendorf appear in the doorway, as radiant and deadly as always.

Drew looks devastating in a blood red jumpsuit and a gold choker glittering at her neck. Charles has a hand wrapped around her and looks just as sinful in an emerald green suit lined with the most startling azure. His wedding band glints in the soft yellow lights of the kitchen and the two rubies encrusted in it match the band around Drew’s finger.

“Towards the Moon, old man,” Drew sits down with the grace of a dancer who has been perfecting their art for centuries.

“Who are you calling old man?” Perseus scoffs, “I’m only one month older than you. Besides Charlie is the old man.”

The subject in question rolls his eyes and shoves both their shoulders, flashing his fangs. His wife just laughs waggling perfectly sculpted eyebrows that suggest more than any of them are willing to interpret.

“Where’s the rest of your chaotic crew?” He motions to the lack of people that usually surrounded them.

“They’re all busy tonight, something about the Safe Haven Sound.” Charlie shrugs, “I’m actually surprised none of you guys went. It was apparently some big event.”

Hoku makes a face that means trouble. Nobody stops her. “It’s mostly for new vamps trying to enter the world. There’s a lot that can go wrong. We tend to stay away.”

Drew turns to her sharply, “Who runs it?”

“The Underboss.” Hoku makes another, more disgusted face.

“Actually,” Keeya says quietly, “It’s the Underboss’ lackey that runs it. The Underboss just owns it.”

“Ugh i hate that slimy little shit more than my ex.”

“Hoku,” Serafina frowns, “Give Luke some credit. At least he was hot.”

Perseus lets a smile loose at that. “Octavian is not ugly, he’s just ghaunt.”

“Doc,” Elouan raises a brow, “He is a ghost.”

“Literally? Aarush frowns, the first thing he’s said since their guests arrived.

“No,” Drew has a contemplative look on her face, “At least i don’t think so.”

“He was part of the Trials.” Charlie adds “That’s what i’ve heard anyway.”

Perseus shudders inwardly as he remembers those dark times. Power-hungry people, people who had no right to participate in their world, had taken it upon themselves to try and create their own supernatural creatures. It was a horrible, terrifying time for humans and duniyarall alike. They had stopped it before it had become the war it intended to be but it was deemed unethical to kill the products of those experiments. So, even today, a century and a half later, there are still Triallers- as they had been so creatively named- roaming, existing, living. For the most part they seem to be peaceful, despite being created for violence, but there are some like the Underboss’ lackey that still give an off-vibe; like feral is just around the corner, one blink away.

“How about we make some pizzas?” Keeya interrupts their conversation before they dive into what will inevitably become a two hour discussion.

“Let’s!” Serafina claps her hands, and Hoku matches her as they hop up and dive towards the fridge where cut and readied ingredients sit.

The evening is chaotic, and bright and full of laughter. They discover that between all their years of life, none of them had ever learnt how to toss pizza dough. Charlie and Keeya make a deal to go to Italy and learn before the decade is out. Drew sees the trip as a chance to get a tan in the beautiful Italian heat, and be fed delicious food straight from her husband’s hands. They make the most of the evening, a rare and peaceful one that recharges the energy in them like bolts of lightning. Perseus hasn’t felt this content in many many moons.

Soon enough, however, it is just Elouan, Charlie, and Drew sitting on the velvet couches of their lounging area, chatting quietly as they sip various expensive liquor.

He looks at his friends, the gentle glow of the chandelier striking their features. They are beautiful. It is a warm kind of beauty, noticeable in the softness of an expression, or the happiness of a moment. They’re angelic.

“Doc?” Elouan drags him out of his quiet admiration.

“Sorry?”

“Drew and Charlie were just discussing what to do about the hotel on Palace road,” The moonlight caught in his hair ripples as he speaks. “They wanted to find out if you’d be okay with extraction?”

Perseus nods, considering the angles, the necessities

“I don’t feel it’s right to go in armed.” Charlie looks around the room, that composed intensity washing over them. “They’re children, and they’re probably scared.”

The frown between Drew’s perfect brows deepens. “I heard there’s cubs and sangrinos inside.”

“Who’s getting them food? How do they leave? What’s keeping them there?”

A loud ding sounds from someone in the room, and Elouan scrambles to reach his phone. The screen is bright in the dimly lit space and he has to blink hard to adjust his eyes, but then he lets out a curse and rushes towards the door, leaning deeply into stick as the anger worsens his limp.

“Everything okay El?”

“Just Arrow.” He waves it off, “I’ll be back before sun.”

Perseus just nods, watching as the large wooden doors slam shut behind the vampire. When he hears the front door bang, he stands, bowing to his guest in a sign of quick return and steps out of the room in search of members of their household.

“Keeya, Aaru.” He calls from the parlor.

They arrive within seconds, her with a face mask on and her dressing gown half tied, and him with charcoal smudges on his cheeks, and a loose paper in his hand.

‘Doc?” Keeya frowns, sensing the urgency in his aura.

“Elouan just stepped out to help Arrow. Please will you two trace him, make sure he isn’t going to the dens. Don’t make yourself known until you know it’s safe.”

“Armed?” The steel reflecting in Aarush’s dark eyes calm Perseus’ nerves.

“No.” He doesn’t need to cause trouble with the Underboss. “Just make sure Elouan is okay. No violent blood is spilled tonight at your hands.” The volatile expression on the little vampire’s face lessens only a fraction. They both nod at him and disappear into their rooms to ready themselves.

He goes back to the lounge, and continues his discussion with his friends. When he hears the front door close, the quiet click echoing in his mind like a drum, he tells Charlie and Drew what is happening.

Drew, ever the mother, is immediately righteous, demanding she send out some of her pack as scouts. Charlie just holds her hand and looks to him with that expression that so often graces his face: how can we help?

Perseus smiles at Drew and her anger, understanding how she feels. “It is okay Tanaka,” He reassures her. “I’ve got it covered. We should talk about the children.”

She growls, and he can hear the wolf in her throat. “You will let us know if you need help Perseus.”

“Yes,” Even Charlie looks adamant, unstoppable. “We will not be in the dark again. Not when it comes to our own.”

He breathes, and it has taken two centuries to get here. To this moment. “I will ask for help if the time comes.”

“The Underboss is holding them in the hotel, and bribing them with food to join her army.” Just like that they move onto the next problem. The next call for help.

“Well then,” Perseus grins, and it looks like the first signs of destruction, “i guess we’ll be paying the Queen a visit.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elouan my love what are you doing????? Also: Who do you think the Queen is? *sus eyes*

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

@msdrpreist; @sparkythunderstorm; @aalikun; @crazy-stupid-bean; @queen-of-demons-and-hell; @pjo-hp-things; @nishlicious-01; @spoopylucy; @larrikin-is-a-himbo; @cyra04; @leydiangelo; @elecsinnerz

#crimson shadows #part 2 #jercy vampire au #jercy #percy jackson #pjjg series #pjjg fanfic #Ciara's ocs #OCs #original characters #drew tanaka #charles beckendorf

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seerofmike · 4 years ago

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i feel like a huge portion of kpop fans are gay fetishists attracted to the idea of quote unquote feminine men and thats why theres so much bullshit

YES okay. okay let me rant for a minute. let me preface this by saying i am NOT a kpop shipper at ALL. this is going to be long so i’ll put it under a’ ‘read more’ because i’ve been holding it in for TWO FUCKING YEARS BABY!

being mlm in boygroup kpop fandom is literally so exhausting. 99% of the people who ship real life human men from boygroups are fetishists and i will tell u why

obviously we all know of a ship in a fandom where the characters' personalities are twisted to fit the heteronormative view of "top" and "bottom" --one character is hypermasculine (top) and the other one is feminine (bottom). there are typical traits associated with both. the ‘top’ is scary or mean or angry or serious while the ‘bottom’ is emotional or bubbly or shy. while this is egregious, at least its fictional characters. their personalities can be simplified or exaggerated and it doesnt cause any real life harm.

im going to define what i think of as a fetishist: a non-mlm person who overly sexualizes gay men/men they think are gay/gay ships, and forces them into heteronormative roles for their own pleasure. its not even limited to cishet women. plenty of non-mlm lgbt people do this too and its like disheartening. so anyways

enter the kpop fandom

i may be incredibly biased here because one of the most affected members [of bts] is my favorite kpop boy, but oh god is the ‘personality change/simplification’ thing AWFUL here. i do not go out of my way to find fanart or see fanfic threads, but being in the bts fandom, u will inevitably see it and i REALLY wish i didnt

so anyways. my favorite boy ever is hoseok. he is sweet and hardworking and very passionate about dance and he can be serious when needed, but ultimately he tries to be very lighthearted and will consistently laugh or make jokes or do something funny when the other members feel uncomfortable or awkward (mostly during english-speaking interviews). he kisses the members on the cheek a lot/hugs them a lot/cuddles them a lot [this is important for later okay]

of course, theres a lot more to him because he is a multi-faceted real life human being, and i don’t know him personally, but that’s a general idea of what he’s like, okay?

SHIPPERS will have you think differently. some video got popular on youtube ""proving"" that hoseok is a sadist (which is just clips of him jokingly playfighting with the younger members), and the video depicts him as secretly mean and serious, and shippers will use that to say "hoseok is a total top!" and then most fanart or imagines or fanfic threads you see are top!hoseok, using this imagined 'hoseok is a sadistic dom' narrative to fuel their fiction, because SOMEONE has to be the top, so they twist him into this hypermasculine mean person (and probably feminize the 'bottom' of their ship but more on that later)

EXCEPT it is not just fiction. this narrative bleeds into REAL LIFE. you have new armys who dont know anything about the shipping scene, and yet somehow the narrative of hoseok being a secretly mean, sadistic person has already made its way into them. in real life, hoseok likes rainbows and wearing nail stickers and putting glitter in his hair. yet people in the fandom will say shit like "hoseok hates femininity" "hoseok would never wear [thing] because he's a dom"

sometimes on twitter you have ppl like me who say uh actually you guys are really weird and this is fetishy and in real life hoseok is very nice and not sadistic at all, you will UNDOUBTEDLY get comments like "omg hoseok isnt cute/nice when will yall learn he’s secretly like [x] and [x]". you could post a video of hoseok with a puppy titled "wow cute" and u will get like 2 clowns in ur comments going 'hoseok isnt CUTE hes a sadist’ . i wish i was joking but i am not. they will do this for EVERY action hoseok does. he cannot blink without people twisting it into a sexual thing

[also, side note: its funny that, since hoseok is one of the least popular members and therefore one of the least shipped members, he is often the odd man out among pairings, and is assigned 'the straight one' by default, and 9 times out of 10 people who assign him 'the straight one' do all this 'dom daddy hoseok' shit.

which just goes to show that this is indeed a matter of heteronormativity.]

so anyways arguably the most popular ship with hoseok is with yoongi, sope. this absolutely happens to other ships probably but im just using them as an example because i see it the most, being a hobi stan

yoongi is very calm and thoughtful and kind and sometimes appears to be cold/having a bad attitude but its just because of the way he speaks, which is very bluntly. again hes a multi faceted real human and i do not know him personally but thats generally what hes like.

god the fandom. treats him SO BAD. so horribly. he's shorter than hoseok. he's shorter than hoseok and people will exaggerate that literal 1 inch height difference so bad and people will turn his whole personality into shy and blushy and In Love With Hoseok, so in love with hoseok that ‘he gets sad’ when hoseok doesn’t kiss him/hug him/or whatever and IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE.

ANY time hoseok or yoongi do ANYTHING together at ALL, people will ALWAYS push the narrative that hoseok, being the mean sadist he is, is 'hurting' yoongi for not returning his undying love or whatever. hoseok did a vlive where he made bracelets for all the members and he considered putting a cat charm on yoongi's but ultimately decided not to because he was having difficulty and oh my GOD sope stans twisted it into 'hoseok HATES yoongi, yoongi would have been so happy, he would have worn that all the time, hoseok isnt affectionate he hates being close with other people after all :(' which is LITERALLY not true because hoseok gives all his homies good night kisses but okay! whatever fits your narrative!

PEOPLE ACTUALLY HATE HOSEOK BECAUSE OF THIS. BECAUSE OF A SHIP. BECAUSE OF THE MANUFACTURED NARRATIVE PUSHED ONTO HIM BY FETISHISTS SO HE COULD FIT INTO THEIR HETERONORMATIVE ‘TOP’ ROLE. not to be all wahh wahh hoseok is one of the least popular members BUT THIS IS LITERALLY A CONTRIBUTING FACTOR.

everyone """headcanons""" hoseok to be a top so they will make him a MEAN HYPERMASCULINE person. everyone """headcanons""" yoongi as a bottom so they will make him a SOFT UWU HYPERFEMININE person. shippers are literally pigeonholing the two of them into fujoshi-esque roles for jack-off material.

anyways this all boils down to: gay fetishists will do anything, ANYTHING, to twist characters or real life fucking people to fit their heteronormative view of top and bottom. top=mean and masculine, bottom=soft and feminine. hoseok is a real life human being. yoongi is a real life human being. they both have real life human personalities, and yet shippers twist their personalities into the opposite to fit their narrative, to the point where nonshippers will genuinely view the two of them as something theyre not.

you have tons of armys that theorize that hoseok's happiness is just a mask he puts on to hide a cruel nature. on twitter. on youtube. in fanart and fanfiction. you have tons of armys that truly believe that, despite literally all the evidence, believe he hates being cute, he hates being happy, he hates the members, and hes secretly a dom daddy fuckboy who wants to bend yoongi over a table. hes a real life human being and fetishists doing their fetish thing has real life consequences.

the same is true for bottom!hoseok stans: they overexaggerate his more cutesy personality traits and he does have a 'feminine' figure i.e. he has a rly small waist but they will overexaggerate that as well and give him huge hips and its disgusting but dom!hoseok is far more frequent with far more devastating consequences so i used that as an example but they’re both bad.

people who """"headcanon"""" [like actually headcanon/firmly believe and not just joking or lighthearted] that members are gay will force these types of roles onto the members. if someone genuinely believes that like, yoongi is gay/bi/whatever, and then try to force this subby soft uwu persona onto him, they have no respect for gay people. they dont. gay people are simply objects for their fantasies. their view of gay people is so one-dimensional and so driven by fetishists’ ideas that its actually disheartening.

and god bitches will deadass be homophobic yet still ship real ass human idols. not just for bts specifically but all boygroup fandoms. sometimes when you search up an idol's name, [idol] gay will be trending--whether it be because of people saying "im gay for him" or whatever, and a LOT of cishet people will try 'clearing' the searches because being gay is bad or something. people normally ‘clear’ the searches if something like [idol fat] or [idol ugly] are trending, which im telling you so you know the context that people only clear the searches when bad things are happening.

[never forget that time 'jungkook gay' was trending and bitches were like "lets clear the searches!" but their pinned tweet said some shit like "sub jungkook x dom jimin coffee shop smut au thread 🌈". bitches also be like i cant be homophobic i ship taekook]

and hoseok and yoongi arent the only ones affected ! we could get into why namjoon and jin (another popular ship) are often assigned 'dad' and 'mom' respectively, or the fact that gay fetishists not only twist members' personalities to fit their ship narrative, but will also force tropes onto them i.e. taehyung/jungkook shippers who will literally demonize jimin and call him a slut or say that he's trying to 'get in the way of' of taekook or 'steal' taehyung/jungkook but thats a whole DIFFERENT rant baby! racism/asian fetishism is also definitely a present factor in all of this but this focus was primarily on gay fetishism and heteronormativity.

oh my god i could also get into the severe transphobia/trans fetishism in this fandom too but this post is already long enough as it is

tl dr: gay fetishists will fetishize real life people and it has actual real life effects and we should ban straight women from shipping mlm

#nobody is going to read this but i just needed to let it out man #fucking hate bts stans #fucking hate kpoppies #fuck u if ur not mlm like actually

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twelvemonkeyswere · 4 years ago

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for the meme, yuck and also dancing dragons????

Hey Bots 💖!!!! Thank you for asking about these!! :D

yuck

oh dear. well, this one’s called “yuck” because that’s the feeling I had while planning it skdjskdj. it’s a 9.5k outline (with snippets and an added spreadsheet) for my “what if JB had met before the handchop in court and there wasn’t a war AU”, which is also my “Rhaegar lives but Jaime still kills Aerys AU.” It began as a sort of exercise in curiosity because I was interested in the question of “would JB pay attention to each other if they did not meet in the excrutiatng circumstances they met”, and how that would come about. It spiraled into me creating a whole AU to make it work skdskdj. It includes many self-indulgent things like JB meeting first at a ball for Jon’s birthday (he’s legit, but Lyanna’s still dead), JB working together to defeat a boar while in a hunting party, Brienne looking for the royal kennels and finding out Jaime is already there and is friends with the dogs, Brienne’s dad getting injured and Jaime stepping up to help, wet shirts, etc etc. The idea was for them to first butt heads as usual but slowly warming up to the other. I left it when it threatened to eat me alive a la Audrey II. It’s also one of the first times I was trying to write JB so I’d likely change many things now, but I’m still fond of some of the moments there.

Dancing Dragons

(thank you for asking about this one because this is another I really want to pull off!!!!! 💖💖💖)

This one started because I was thinking about the “feeding maidens to the dragon” trope, and how maybe that is a rule people have misunderstood for generations because humans have short lifespans while dragons could potentially live for millenia, so our scales (heh) for measuring time and our memories about events would be very different.

So in this story there’s a village that has been living since forever at the bottom of a mountain, and suddenly one day the mountain starts to tremble, and they hear roars coming from the mountain, and they realize there’s a dragon there. it had been so long since anyone had seen a dragon they thought it was all stories, so they turn to their annals, where their ancient wisdom is preserved. and it says the only thing worse than a dragon is a roaring dragon, because it heralds the coming of more dragons, and the only way to qualm them is to give them food. so it’s either everyone piching in (which they can’t, because winter is about to come) or feeding the dragon... people. But it has to be a maiden, and even then it might not work. so they select maidens, and they pull straws to decide who gets to be thrown into the hole. I wanted the story to focus on Hay, who is around 16 or so and she gets selected. the whole village is about to fight at the last minute because not everyone is okay with this idea, but others are scared their own daughters will get chosen. so Hay decides enough is enough, and that she will walk up the mountain herself, and figure out what the hell is happening if no one else is.

it turns out when she gets there, the dragon is nesting. she is moving rocks around and digging because she is preparing for a possible egg (like a turtle, she was also born in that mountain, and returns periodically to it), and she’s been roaring because dragons are very scarce, and she needs to try and find a mate, which is more diffcult with each passing century. Hay hears the dragon’s stories about the other maidens she had seen arrive to the hole. Her favorite story, though, is about how dragons court each other. It’s all about dancing. They swing and soar together in the air, not unlike macaws who mirror each other when they fly, and when the dragons finally connect, it is the most beautiful dance anyone could witness. Sadly, the dragon has never been able to actually see or participate in one, because she hasn’t been able to find another dragon in a long, long time. In the end I wanted the story to be about loneliness and the nature of stories themselves, and finding friendship and companionship in life, especially when a partner may never come.

There’s a bit after the read more in case you’re interested!

Come ask me stuff about my WIPs if you want!

Step by step she attempted the descent. She held with hands and toes to rocks and ledges. As she went along, the darkness receded, and once she thought she’d never see the end, her heart pounded faster in her neck as she distinguished the creature.

The dragon was so massive Hay couldn't make out its real shape until she got to the bottom. The sleek, long body twisted around and onto itself, like a curled up snake. The scales glittered, even in the poor lighting, and the wings held tight to the body. It was dark red, and when it didn't move it looked like the rocks surrounding it.

Hay watched from behind one of those rocks, agape.

From time to time, spasms jittered the dragon’s body, and the growls became stronger and harsher. It would soon scream again. Hay wondered if it would deafen her or kill her instantly. She realized she was hoping, instead of wondering, and felt sorry for herself an instant before the sound came.

The walls grumbled. Rocks and dirt fell from where the dragon growled, and then again as it pushed the debris to the side. Hay caught a glimpse of the face at last. Yellow eyes, long snout, vapor coming from the nostrils, and the bared teeth. The creature attacked the wall with renewed force, and it growled and scratched until another piece of rock fell to the ground. The dragon stopped, heaving through its warm body. Hay could feel the heat even from her hideout.

“Ha!” the dragon let go, twirling its mouth in a smile. Hay blinked rapidly. “Take that!”

Its voice was strong and powerful, full of smugness and satisfaction.

“Bloody stupid thing,” it murmured, pushing the rock to one side and making room among the dirt.

The dragon was carving.

“What the fuck,” Hay heard herself say.

The dragon’s face shot up from its work, twisted in a snarl. A batch of steam rose from its open jaws.

Hay covered her mouth with a hand, but the dragon was already advancing. The horrible, reptilian irises of its eyes widening and slinting as it searched among the dirt and residue.

Hay sank behind the rock, crouching with her face to the wall and willing herself to disappear into the ground. Rage shot through her then. She had come here to die and save her village, had she not? Yes, one part of her brain said. But how would the dragon know what she had come to die for?

She wasn’t able to dispute with herself this point as a puff of air resounded over her head. There was a sharp breath intake, and then another, and then another. Hay’s knees and hands were shaking nonstop, as the dragon followed the smell. The movement stopped, and Hay glanced up slowly.

The dragon’s eye was fixed on her, peeking from over the rock. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t get the sound through her chest.

“A human?” the dragon whispered. “What the--I’ll be--”

The dragon pushed the rock aside with its snout. Hay quickly turned around to face it, but found herself pushing her back against the rock wall.

“Hu-man,” the dragon said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Can-you-un-derst-and-me?”

Hay didn’t reply, awestruck.

“Damn,” the dragon continued, looking up at the edge. “How long did I sleep? Did you forget how to talk, hu-man?”

Hay kept gaping like a fish.

“Of course you wouldn’t know if you did,” the dragon shook its head. “What will I ever do with you.”

The dragon’s intonation was hard to follow, as the long snout moved in funny ways as it made an effort to form sounds. But they were human sounds.

Hay saw as the dragon tried to shift all its weight again to examine the cavity it had been making, and she stepped forward before she could think more about what she was about to do.

“Please have mercy!” she blurted. The dragon stopped, looking over the place its wings began. “Please have mercy of my town!”

The dragon furrowed its brow--or at least that’s what it looked like in the long, scaled face.

“Your town?”

“I’m a maiden!” Hay continued, throwing herself on her knees and extending her hands. “I’m not married, and I’ve never been with-with child.” She wasn’t sure why she was mentioning this, but the elders had thought it was important. “Please take me, but don’t take my people!”

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for death. She hoped it was quick, and as painless as possible. Maybe the neck would snap immediately, and she wouldn’t have to feel the heat inside the dragon’s belly.

Minutes passed in silence. She peeked an eye open. The dragon simply watched her, a combination of pity and awkwardness in the pitfire of its stare.

Hay coughed. “You’re not--you’re not going to eat me?”

The dragon blinked. Its eyelids were transparent and parted sideways, like a cat’s.

“No?”

#robotsdance #personal #tagged meme #thank you so much for asking bots!!!#sorry this is so long 💖#wendy writes

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Text

This Bites (Indruck)

The prompt for the 24th was: Midnight Ball. This one is NSFW, and a vampire AU, so there are mentions of blood (but nothing graphic).

Technically the ball begins at nine in the evening. Midnight is the highpoint, the turnover from October 30th to the most revered day of the year.

Indrid and the other residents of Sylvain Manor have spent the day preparing, decorating the halls and ballroom while removing inconvenient items such as mirrors (he’s grown used to not seeing himself in them, but he wishes to offer his guests the courtesy of not giving themselves away).

By nine thirty, the band is playing lively waltzes as couples spin across the floor and friends laugh in small clusters, sipping wine and tasting the various delights Barclay prepared. The cook is nowhere to be seen, but Indrid knows he’s snuck off to his quarters with a certain human, the werewolf unwilling to wait until midnight for his kiss.

His friend's starry-eyed love is the only reason he will ever permit a monster hunter anywhere on his grounds. Indrid is not a violent man by any means, but he will do whatever is needed to keep himself and the others in his care safe.

A downside to this approach is that he is warier of some of the townsfolk than he otherwise would be, and they in turn see little of him and think him aloof. Which is why he’s lurking in the corner at his own party.

An absurd, charming laugh catches his ear, and when he locates the source he’s certain his long-stopped heart restarts.

The man is dressed in a deep brown suit, cut to accentuate muscular arms and pleasingly strong looking thighs. He must be one of the local farmers, or perhaps a tradesman, as his shoulders and slightly weathered face point to work outside and his bearing lacks the self-satisfaction of a member of the aristocracy. He’s talking with Dani and her human girlfriend, Aubrey, smiling a little crooked when Aubrey tells a joke. Then another dance begins, and the two women excuse themselves to the main floor.

Indrid waits to see if someone else will approach him, not wanting to interfere if the man is here with a partner or a friend. But the man simply sips his wine and steps back into the corner out of the way of the widening crowd of dancers. Indrid inches along the banquet table, terrified of being presumptuous. Then the man adjusts his tie, no doubt from the heat of the large fire in the fireplace, showing a delicious stripe of neck.

A quick check of the future indicates his approach will be well-received, and he’s at the man’s side in four quick strides.

“May I have this waltz?”

“Uh” The stranger looks behind himself, then back at Indrid, “sure. Can’t promise I’ll be much good.”

“I am not known for my grace either, so we will make a fine pair. Shall I lead?”

“Only if you promise not to crash me into anyone.”

“I will do my best.” Indrid places a gloved hand on his hip, enjoys the warmth seeping through when their fingers link.

After two bars of the song, he says over the music, “since an introduction seems only proper, my name is Indrid. What is yours?”

“Duck.”

He grins; hearing that name was just as charming in the moment as it was in his head.

“It’s a nickname.” Duck steadies him with the hand on his shoulder as Indrid nearly collides them with another couple, “there, uh, there a reason you asked me to dance?”

Indrid cocks his head, “I wanted to. Cliche though it may be, I spotted you from the across the room and wished to know you better.”

“Oh” red blooms across his cheeks and he looks down, which causes them both to elbow an unfortunate passerby, “fuck, sorry. I, uh, well, just didn’t come here tonight thinkin anyone would be that interested in dancin’.”

“Not even the person who invited you?”

“Aubrey’s awful busy, wouldn’t you say?” He nods towards the two women trading kisses as they dance.

“Ah, of course. Well, I am certainly glad she brought you.” He hopes his smile comes across dazzling rather than predatory, a fine line he trips over more often than he’d like.

Duck meets his eyes, studies him a beat, then grins right back “Seems to me there’s plenty of arm-candy here already.”

“Yes, but I suspect you are far more than a handsome face.”

That laugh again, making Indrid melt like the candles, “Jesus, you get right to it don’t you?”

“Oh, ah, apologies, I did not mean to be too blunt.”

“I don’t mind, darlin. Like I said, just wasn’t expecting itoof, sorry.” Duck sends a chagrined glance at the man whose foot he just stepped on.

“Would you like to continue talking somewhere less, ah, perilous for us and everyone else?”

“Lead the way.”

Indrid chooses the gardens as their destination, annoyed when more and more clouds cover the moon, obscuring his view of the plants and--more importantly--of Duck.

“Damn, this is impressive stuff out here. Some of this is real tricky to grow.”

“Really? I must admit my own knowledge of gardening is limited to appreciating its results.”

Duck trails his hand up the trunk of what Indrid is mostly-sure is an Oak tree, “Takes all kinds of things to make a healthy garden. Healthy forest too. Too much light, too little water, the wrong place to try and take root, those kinds of things can make it hard for a plant to grow, same as a human.”

“I take it you have an affinity for helping one of those two categories grow.”

“Try to help both when I can. Love takin care of the forest, but Kepler’s my home; I wanna keep it safe, wanna see it grow rather than crumble away.” He moves to another tree, admiring it, and Indrid follows him through the grove, listening as he talks about the plants, about the town, about his work as an arborist. Duck makes him laugh, draws him into an involved conversation about the merits of different orchards and the manners of cats compared to ravens.

“You been in Kepler long?” They’re shoulder to shoulder now, strolling through the last, stubborn roses of the year.

“For a time. I wandered around quite a bit before arriving here. I had a run of, ah, of bad luck. Or maybe it was inevitable that I found my way here.”

“Eh, fate and shit ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Bitterness edges around his words, “and some folks give it more credit than it deserves.”

Indrid, futures and timelines churning in his mind, finds this statement perplexing and inspiring in equal measure.

“Fate being what it may, I think we ought to return inside” He points to the mounting clouds, “I’m certain we are about to be rained on.”

Duck sniffs the air, “Smells like it. Wouldn’t mind all that much except this is the only suit I own.”

“Can’t have such a lovely thing getting ruined.” Indrid purrs, taking Duck’s offered arm.

They make it to the top of the front stairs just as rain patters on the cobblestones, and two younger vampires vacate their seats by the fire the moment they notice Indrid eyeing them. Someone brings them drinks as they talk, Indrid too focused on Duck to notice who it was or what they gave him until he sips and discovers wine, which he does not like. Well, if nothing else, holding it will give him some way to occupy his hand and keep it from creeping up Duck’s thigh.

With the exception of occasional glances at the clock or around the room, Duck’s attention is on him the entire time. As the hands of time move closer to midnight, the conversation turns to Indrid’s hobbies and his fondness for art.

“I draw as well, for pleasure and, ah professional reasons.”

“You got any specialties?”

“A few. Would you like to see them?”

“Hell yeah.”

It’s a short trip up the stairs, Duck keeping their arms linked until they reach the door of his study, having to separate so Indrid can unlock it. As they enter, Duck spots the commission he’s been working on.

“You do portraits?”

“Indeed.” Indrid looks over his shoulder, “are you offering to model for me, Duck?”

“Depends on the kind of modelin.” Duck grins before turning to shut the door.

Picking up his sketchbook, there’s a click of a lock. Goodness, here he thought he’d need to use the rain as an excuse for why Duck would surely need to stay the night in his bed.

He’s debating the two sketchbooks, prouder of the plant ones but needing to be sure there are no disaster sketches in the mix, when Duck grips his upper arms, spinning them face to face.

“Indrid, look, we ain’t got much time. We gotta get out of here.”

“I...I do not understand.”

“Look, I don’t know who invited you, but this party ain’t what it seems. And, uh, I ain’t exactly either. This is a fuckin vampire ball.”

“And you are a…?” He’s certain Duck is not vampiric, but why would he tell him if he was human-

Oh no.

“I’m here on a mission, it’s a long story, but I’m a vampire hunter.”

Oh no

Indrid looks at the future, something he ought to have done much sooner, and steps out of striking range.

“I’m supposed to take down the vamp who runs this place, but I ain’t been able to spot him, which means he might know I’m here. I’m gonna make a break for town, and I want you to come with me. Indrid I, I can’t stand the idea of you bein where Baron Cold can get you.”

“I” he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, “I appreciate your concern Duck. But I promise you I’m in no danger from the baron. After all, I have no intention of harming myself.”

-----------------------------------------

See, this is why he kept telling Minerva he wasn’t cut out for this. Because not only has he been romancing a vampire all night without knowing, he’s been flirting with the guy he’s supposed to kill.

Indrid must have worn a glamour to disguise himself the last time he was seen in town. Duck’s been working from the wrong description this entire time.

“You gotta be fuckin kiddin me.”

“I wish I was.” Indrid’s lips twitch into a frown, “just as I wish you were joking about coming into my home to hurt me.”

“It’s gotta be done.” Duck says more to himself than to the vampire.

“No, it really doesn’t. For goodness sake, two minutes ago you didn’t want me to get hurt!”

“Yeah, because you probably put me under a fuckin thrall or some shit!”

“I did no such thing. Believe me, if you were under my thrall, you would know.” Indrid says flatly, only to hiss when Duck removes a stake from his trick pocket.

“It, it don’t matter. Because I ain’t under now.”

“Duck, you don’t want to do this.”

He doesn’t dare answer, in case the truth comes out. But before he can move, Indrid slides his glasses down his nose, revealing red eyes.

“You will not move.”

His muscles lock up, his feet turn to lead, and he gets bitter confirmation that how he felt about Indrid all night came from nowhere but himself.

“As I said, my thrall is very obvious.” Indrid plucks the stake from his hand, tossing it into the fire. Pats down his sides, roots through his pockets and the tops of his boots, muttering all the while.

“Foolish...distracted...should have known....rude human.” He punctuates the last words by hurling Duck’s sword (disguised as his belt) out the window.

“Hey, I ain’t the one bitin folks.”

Indrid whirls, snarling, “I have not nonconsensually taken anyone’s blood in years.”

“And you were gonna do what once you got me up here?” Duck manages to cross his arms.

“Show you my drawings! I thought you wanted to see them.” The vampire has the audacity to look hurt.

“I did.” The truth darts out before he can stop it, and so he covers with more annoyance, “But I don’t buy that was really all?”

“Fine, if you must know, I was going to suggest that you spend the night on account of the weather, and perhaps you would like to do so in my bed.”

Yeah, okay, he was definitely going to bite him.

“Just” Indrid hugs himself, “just go. I will let the thrall down, and not alert anyone to your presence.”

His body comes under his control once again.

A half-second before Duck moves, Indrid says, “Don’t you dare.”

Duck’s already committed to his attack, figuring he can at least subdue Indrid and get him into town. He doesn’t get the chance. Indrid grabs him and spins him with significant strength, slamming him into the bookcase. He can’t get his right arm free as it’s twisted behind his back, and the left is pinned, splayed out beneath Indrid’s gloved fingers. Apparently all the Chosen strength in the world can’t help him against a pissed-off vampire.

“That.” Indrid growls in his ear, “was not polite.”

“Would you knock it off with all that manners bullshit and just get it over with?” He mumbles into the hardcovers.

“Get what over with?”

“The thing you brought me up here for.” He turns his head, glaring at the vampire who, for his part, looks confused. Then he grins, bringing his mouth dangerously close to Ducks neck.

Cold, but very lively, lips connect with his, Indrid humming when Duck tips his head to deepen the kiss.

The vampire pulls back to nuzzle his cheek, “That was what I hoped for from you. But since you seem rather, ah, fixated on the biting..”

“AH!”

A chuckle vibrates up his neck as Indrid latches onto it, and Duck clenches his teeth, terrified that if he speaks, he’ll ask for more.

When Indrid releases the skin, the hunter stares at the bruise.

“There, there ain't any holes.”

“I told you” Indrid lazily kisses his face, “I only do that with permission.” He gazes at Duck over the rims of his glasses, “is that something you wish to give me?” The hands lift from his wrists, the weight from his back, “or do you wish to depart?”

“I want” he rests his forehead against the books, “I want to, uh, to, know what it’s like. If you, uh, if you want toFUCK, ohgodohfuckAHhnnnn.” His whole body tenses when the fangs sink into the base of his neck, and for a moment he’s worried he’ll pass out in Indrid’s arms.

Then the steel in his spine melts, pleasure rushing in to replace it, dripping into every vein. His fingers flex and curl helplessly, Indrids hands too busy forcing Ducks chin up and clinging to his waist to hold them.

He’s never been this turned on in his goddamn life, and wishes he’d learned this about himself any other time but now, with anyone other than a vampire who has three hunters guilds, one assassin network, and two governors hungry for his head.

Memories bubble up beneath that wish; Indrid in the hours prior, laughing and smiling when Duck told stories or bad jokes. How at ease he felt walking in the gardens with him, as if there was nowhere else he was meant to be. The look on his face when Duck agreed to dance

He moans, squirming in Indrid’s hold, knowing he’s lost and unable to care that he has.

The vampire isn’t faring much better, groaning into the bite, the hand on Ducks shirt gripping tighter and tighter. When Duck gasps at a burst of pain the groans and growls turn to a purr, the teeth retracting from his skin and replaced by soft licks and gentle kisses.

“Is, is it always like that.”

“No. It is neutral to pleasant in most cases.”

“So what the, the fuck was that?”

“At a wild guess, you are discovering some new and interesting things about yourself.” Indrid grins like a fox that’s just been given free reign of a henhouse, “would you like to learn more? Or would you like to go?”

“More, fuck, Indrid please I, I’m-” he’s not certain what he’s trying to say, only that he wants Indrid to understand how badly he wants this.

Indrid kneels, sets a hand on the small of his back, “Stay.”

The vampire makes quick work of his suspenders and pants, yanking them down to his ankles. Black gloves land near his left toe just as cold fingers caress the back of his thighs.

“Mmmmmm, has anyone told you these” he squeezes, rubbing his thumb into the inner part of his thighs, “are downright sinful?”

“N-not for awhile.”

“A shame.” Indrid nips the left side of his ass, snickering when he swears. His right hand slips between Duck’s legs, rubbing his dick once before teasing up and down his folds.

“My, my, that is flattering. A handsome hunter, wet just for me.”

“Indrid, I swear, if you don’t stop teasin I'm gonna get my cross from wherever you tossed it.”

“I don’t think you are” Indrid rubs more roughly, neither touching his dick or sliding inside, “I think you are going to stay right here and let me sample this” he slaps Duck’s ass lightly, “for as long as I like.”

Duck giggles, “sample? It ain’t a whiskeyEEh, fuck, oh fuck me.” He thunks his head into his forearm as Indrid scatters bite marks across the sensitive skin. He’s not taking blood with them, seems content to watch the purple and red bruises as they bloom.

Three fingers push up into him and he yelps, surprised.

“You did ask me to fuck you.” Indrid’s tone is level even as the slick sound of his fingers fucking him fill up the room.

“It, it was, AHHnnn, a figure of, of speech, you, you fuckin-”

“Choose your words carefully, my sweet.”

“--unfairly good lookin, menace of a vampire.”

He’s spun fast enough to get dizzy, still trapped against the shelves by Indrid’s hands on his hips.

“I’ll show you a menace.” Is all he says before closing his lips around Duck’s dick, fingers still curving and thrusting inside him.

“You, y-you, fuck, and I got real different definitions of menaceOhhhhhh yeah, fuck yes, Indrid, that’s so good,” He cuts off into whimper when Indrid’s head dips down to bite his inner thigh. Threading his fingers into silvery hair gets him another bite and a moan of approval, Indrid continuing to rove his mouth between his dick and his thighs, sounding all the while like he’s enjoying a gourmet meal.

“Sh-shit, Indrid, I’m close, keep doin that, pleaseplease” just as the orgasm starts building, Indrid pulls away, sitting on his heels with his hands in his lap.

“Is somethin wrong?”

The vampire stands, hands caressing Duck’s hips, cock hard beneath his dress pants,“There are rules, sweet one. Humans who break into my home to kill me do not get to cum.”

Duck whines, only to have Indrid shush him like he’s a fussing dog before kissing him.

“I, however, do get to cum” He undoes his fly, “using whatever method I see fit.”

There’s a tremendous ripping noise as he grabs Duck’s left thigh, pulling it up to hook precariously around his hip, as Duck’s still-booted foot tears out the cuff of his pants.

“And you, dearest hunter, are the method I prefer.”

With that, he shoves his cock into him, dropping his head to kiss his neck as a Duck moans without caring who hears him.

“Goodness, it’s been so long since I had my way with a human, I, I forgot how warm it is.”

“Warm you up whenever you want darlin. Fuck, fuck” He tries to hold his own weight but it’s getting harder, as all he wants to do is go limp and let Indrid take whatever he wants. His head is swimming with the slap of connecting skin and the protests of the bookcase, with Indrid’s moans as the vampire noses his neck.

“Ah, this will do nicely.”

That same moment of complete tension, his body reacting to the teeth piercing his skin. He tightens around Indrid, weakly bucks his hips in search of release as the vampire switches to furious, sharp thrusts, releasing Duck’s neck with a messy gasp.

“Nmmm, I hate to stop, but I hate even more for you to grow weak and faint. After all, I need you awake until I am finished.” He presses Ducks thigh up, the angle borderline painful, as his hips stutter. Duck’s nails dig into the wooden shelf as Indrid’s words sink deeper and deeper into his core. He moans at the thought of letting the vampire fuck and feed from him until he passes out, of being helpless in a bed somewhere, his world starting and ending with-

“Indrid” he whimpers as the vampire cums, slamming all the way in and grinding with high gasps as he finishes in him.

Slowly, his foot finds the ground and Indrid holds him closer, both of them panting. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of his jacket.

“You really ain’t lettin me cum?”

“I believe my rules were quite clear.”

He sighs happily, the denial somehow just as pleasant to his mind as the completion would be. Indrid smiles as he presses a kiss to his temple, laughs softly when Duck gives one to his shoulder in response. He feels so safe here, Indrid draped around him, that reality’s return is akin to a knife in the gut.

“What happens now?”

“Well” Indrid pets Ducks hair, “as of this moment, there are two futures; you depart, are scolded by your fellow hunters and assassins, and return next week with the same goal that brought you here tonight. Or, you prove just as stubborn as you were earlier tonight, and come back to me tomorrow evening, heedless of your mission.”

“Seems to me there’s one of those you'd like me to do.”

Indrid steps back, still holding him but able to more easily meet his eyes, “There is one I would prefer, yes. But ultimately it is not up to me to tell you which path to take. Your destiny is yours to decide, even if you decide something that does not work in my favor.”

This is too heavy a conversation to get into with his pants down. Not when he’s not sure what the right thing for his town, his friends, himself is. Not when Indrid is still so close, smile blood-tinted but so tender Duck wants to tuck it away and keep it safe.

He knows what he wants, just not what he should do.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Indrid nods,guides him in for one final kiss, soft and sweet as a sunrise, “That is all I ask.”

-----------------------------------------

He watches Duck from the bedroom window, his figure growing fainter the further he gets down the road.

Then the human turns, pausing long enough for Indrid to realize he sees him. Not knowing what else to do, he waves.

Even from this distance, his night vision lets him catch the flash of that smile. The hunter blows him a kiss, which he pretends to catch.

And the futures of Duck coming back to him tomorrow night jump another twenty percent.

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #promptober #vampire au

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hey-hamlet · 5 years ago

Text

BNHA AU Ideas: Puppydog Tails

Also on AO3!

TL;DR:

Izuku manifests his quirk, and watches his old life burn in front of him in a matter of months. Scared the villains that killed his mother will come after him, he uses his shape-shifting quirk to hide in plain sight as Katsuki's dog. They keep each other safe and sane throughout the years, a duo people become uses to seeing as they jog down the sidewalk each morning.

Izuku doesn't just use his quirk to help Katuski. His heroic spirit can't be crushed so easily. In his wanderings, he meets and helps countless people, from heroes to Katsuki's future classmates.

Let's just say Katsuki's first day of school is a wild one.

basically, izuku is a shapeshifter, but can only change into different mammals. he needs to know their internal organ structure perfectly or he's in trouble too.

he manifests his quirk and quickly goes about learning some common but practical animals like a small cat, greyhound, mouse, bat and rabbit

he and bakugo are friends

his good times dont last long though, his mother is killed for a connection to a villain she didnt know she had (probably dad for one) and the villain group is after izuku as well

they don't know his quirk, he honestly hadn't gotten it registered yet

inko tells izuku to run, hide and be safe, right before shes practically cremated where she stands by a powerful fire quirk. izuku runs, shifts into a small dog and goes the only place he can think: the park he and bakugo play in

now, mitsuki is frantic bc inko's house is on fire and they can't find inko or izuku

katsuki doesn't know whats happening though, and she sends him off to the park in case they start pulling bodies out of the building. katsuki is happy to go, asks if he can bring izuku. mitsuki says izukuis busy

katsuki goes to the park and hears a soft whining sound, he finds izuku, hidden behind a tree, smelling like ash

izuku shifts back to a human and explains that villains hurt his mama and they want to hurt him too

katsuki, crying, tells him to change back into a dog. he'll keep him safe from the villains. izuku agrees, only if he can look after katsuki in turn.

they don't tell mitsuki. izuku is worried she'll get hurt, and part of his is also worried she knew about the villains and said nothing.

Katsuki and dog!izuku run back to the house, only finding charred bones where his mother had been

they both sob

mitsuki finds her son, sobbing as he clutches a tiny dog to his chest, seeing a sight so horrific she herself wants to throw up. when he asks if they can keep the puppy later that night, it's not even a question in her mind. of course they can. Anything to keep that broken expression off her son’s face.

katsuki changes after that. his best friend and friends mother apparently dead, he gets angry, but he's scared to go out where there are lots of people. he's scared of the villains that killed izuku's mum, scared they'll hurt them like they hurt inko

he goes to therapy. they quickly work out the dog is helping him cope, so izuku is trained as a therapy dog. he does astoundingly well, unsurprisingly.

katsuki ends up bullied for his service dog, but the amount they help each other is enough for him to be willing to put up and shut up

the only time he ever explodes is when someone hurts his dog, 'deku' and it's not like izuku sits idly by while katsuki gets hurt either

anyway, izuku likes to wander, whenever katsuki doesn't have school or is feeling particularly good, he'll go on an adventure, normally as a different animal

every animal he shifts into is green, so katsuki sometimes sees him when he's out and smiles

izuku's heroic spirit is undying, even as an animal, which kinda leads to him sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and helping out kids he thinks need the help.

he hears shouting and crying from the foster home down the road, sees a child muzzled

he goes hero watching as a kitten, sees the small child standing too stoic on the front lines as endeavour fights. he follows him home, whistling songs to the kid when he cries, perching on his shoulder when he sees him

ochako remembers the fluffy puppy with its massive paws showing up at her door when the power went out during winter, keeping her warm with its curly green-black fur

aizawa knows of the kitten that ages too slowly and keeps bringing troubled children to him

iida remembers the rabbit that used to race him on the tracks. without his quirk its was honestly a challenge

kirishima knows about a dark colour fawn that would always come over to him when he was upset and let him bury his face in its fur and cry

mina remembers the little green bat that nested in her hair and clumsily copied her as she danced, its colour making her feel better about her own

Tsuyu would often see a little green and black tanuki when she’d take her siblings out. It always kept them safe and out of danger and never failed to make her smile on a bad day.

he earns shinsou's trust as a too-small kitten, along with aizawa's (just out of school, learning to be an underground hero) , until he can drag aizawa to the house during the shouting. shinsou gets out, aizawa gains a son

shouto's best memories from his childhood are of the little cat that always showed up when he felt his worst, who purred like an engine in his arms and was never afraid of him

he also remembers seeing it the day he dyes his hair. its licks his nose

Even heroes know about the little green dog that watches from the sidelines. They’ve seen it drag civilians from danger, look for people in buried rubble and comfort crying children. It doesn’t often approach them, but it tends to do a little happy dance if they pet it, wagging its tail 1000 miles an hour if a hero so much as looks at it.

They call it little green, seeing him basically becomes a good luck charm. Even All Might feels a little better when he sees the little dog catching from the crowd, knowing it’ll keep some too-brave civilians safe from attacks and falling rubble.

When Katsuki applies for UA, his class doesn’t cheer him on. They whisper about the kid so angry, unstable and scared he brings a puppy to class. Izuku leans against Katsuki’s leg in support, unable to do anything for his friend. The teacher pays it no mind.

He’s told not to apply. He’s not normal or sane enough to be any help to anyone, they say. Katsuki flips them off and puts UA in all three slots on his form.

He takes Izuku with him on the day of the entrance exam. He tells himself it’s so Izuku can see the school at least once, if he doesn’t get in. Deep down he knows it’s because he’s scared and doesn’t want to be alone. Izuku doesn’t mind either way, he’s just excited to cheer on his best friend and get to look at some heroes.

He does leave Izuku with the teachers. He can take care of himself, but the idea of dragging him into a situation where he might accidentally burn his only friend? It makes him feel sick. Izuku understands. He’d do anything for Katsuki, but he was still scared to enter the exam location. He never did get over his fear of fire.

Izuku ends up in the monitor room. The teachers are trying not to coo over the too smart, too nice puppy. It’s All Might that recognises him.

“Is that, is that little green? The dog who always shows up at hero fights?”

Nemuri is ecstatic

“It totally is! I love that little guy! Hey little cutie, did you know you were famous? All the heroes around here love you!”

Aizawa, Nezu and Present Mic all separately notice that the dog honestly… he honestly looks flustered. Excited, yes, but almost sheepish. Aizawa draws some internal connections to the green and overly brave ‘stray’ kitten he’s seen his whole career. Nezu looks at the fur colour and thinks “quirked, like me. But was he always an animal?”. Present Mic sees the humanity in those eyes.

All three of them say nothing, filling the information away for later.

Katsuki ends up in the arena with Iida and Uraraka. He recognises both of them from Izuku’s whisper descriptions in the rare moments he let himself slip into human form.

Tall, broad, clearly the younger brother of Ingenium; that’s the stiff boy Izuku raced as a rabbit, trying to get him to loosen up and connect with those around him.

Round-faced, bright cheeks, fierce eyes and a body a little too thin from too many hungry nights? That’s the girl Izuku looked for when it got too cold, just to make sure he heating was working. She’d moved away from home, apparently. Izuku had found her new house and gave it a once over – if he figured it was safe, Katsuki would believe him. Izuku was the most paranoid person he’d ever met.

He almost went to say something. But Iida’s stern glare curdled his nerves. He shot back a snarl and focused on getting ready.

Back in the viewing room, Nemuri and Yagi are not so subtly fighting over Izuku. They are both trying to call him over, offer little bits of food, give him a good pat. It’s a little funny for Aizawa to watch as the poor pup ties himself in knots trying to please the both of them. He notes vaguely that he doesn’t take the food bribes from either of them.

Yagi is winning slightly, on virtue of being All Might, but Nemuri is not above begging a dog. It works shockingly well, with Izuku not wanting to upset a hero. She sends smug look’s All Might’s way as she triumphantly pats Izuku.

Mic yells start, the student's flood into the arena. Katsuki makes short work of the robots, racking up a score of 50 in almost record time. The teachers watch as ‘Deku’ clearly tracks his charge across the screen, whining softly when he pushes himself a little too far or gets a little too close to the robots.

Then the zero pointer is released and all hell breaks loose.

Katsuki sees Uraraka, trapped. He can’t leave her; not one of Izuku’s people. He’d never forgive himself for letting someone important to Izuku get hurt ever again.

He doesn’t realise Izuku couldn’t stand seeing him hurt, either.

He blasts the rubble apart, shielding Uraraka with his body, preventing her from being hailed with slivers of rubble. Uraraka sees not another student, but a hero, saving her when she thought she might die, selflessly giving up time to save someone he didn’t know. She vows to make it up to him, somehow.

It’s not enough, the robot looms too close. Bracing himself as best he can, Katsuki lets out the largest explosion he can muster, uncaring of the damage it may do to his wrists. If he gets crushed, his wrists hardly matter, do they?

The robot shakes, then topples backwards, overbalanced by the blast. Katsuki drops to his knees, both wrists dislocated. He’s hissing swears under his breath.

Uraraka sees a lump of rock flying to him as he sits there, prone from the attack that saved her life. She leaps towards it, leaving it weightless before it can hit him. The action leaves her hand red raw from the force of the rock.

Time is called. They both collapse.

Izuku is off of the door the second the explosion sounds. It’s so big it rattles the monitors in their room. Nemuri tries to stop him, reaching for his collar, but his collar doesn’t fit a mouse. He shifts into the smaller form, scampering out the door upon where he shifts into a greyhound.

He takes off full tilt towards his friend's exam arena. He's panicked and scared – the flash of fire and the pained look in Katsuki’s eyes have totally fried his nerves.

The doors aren’t open yet. He doesn’t care, shifting into a bat until he can clear them, diving down as fast as he can. He shifts again into a greyhound, racing though the robots – broken and sparking.

He sees Katsuki, jaw grit tightly as he fights back tears of pain, and Izuku lets out a pathetic whine, running full tilt towards his best friend, before lingering nervously in front of him, unwilling to touch him lest he hurt him.

“Oh get over here, Deku.” There are tears in Katsuki’s eyes still, but he’s smiling softly. Izuku shifts once more, into the softest dog he can, pressing against his friend as his tail wags like mad.

Present Mic calls time. If he was a solid 30 seconds late as he tried to process the whirlwind of chaos that little,,, dog? Left, well no one was going to notice. Other than Nezu, obviously, but the maybe-rat seemed just a confused as him.

Uraraka turns to her hero, only to see the little dog that would warm her on cold nights. She turns to him, wide-eyed. Izuku sticks his head over Katsuki’s shoulder, making happy yips at her.

Iida stumbles over, confused as to how a dog got in, confuses as to how he clearly saw it change between two distinct dog breeds in its quest to reach the prickly boy he’d seen at the entrance, who had just seriously injured himself to save a stranger.

The dog looks at him, then perks up. It gives a quick snuggle into its owner's hair before trotting over to him. It wags its tail. Iida looks on, confused.

Before his eyes, he watches the dog shift into what is unmistakably the rabbit he remembers from his earlier childhood, the one that would race him around tracks until it’s little legs couldn’t race anymore and would bound over to him as happily was a rabbit could.

He stares.

Katsuki watches this and laughs.

“I see you’ve both met Deku.”

#puppydog tails au #bnha au #bnha #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #iida tenya #midoriya inko #bakugo mitsuki #mina ashido #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #principal nezu #All Might #midoriya #bakugo #izuku #katsuki

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starkercrossedlovers · 5 years ago

Text

Deal with the Devil

Did I tell you guys about the Crossroads Demon starker au I’ve been thinking a lot about?

No?

Well...here you go...

—————

Peter has heard the rumors about this place told in hushed whispers and hidden behind hands, as though simply speaking the words will call attention to the creature that supposedly can be found here.

Dirt cakes beneath his nails as he digs, heedless of the rocks and detritus that scrape his skin and draw blood. It mats under his nails and on his skin as he digs, cold sweat on the back of his neck.

The battered tin lunchbox with Captain America’s shield on it serves as his container for his offering—a photograph of the summoner, graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, and yarrow, placed exactly at the center of a crossroads.

He shovels the dirt back over the box and climbs to his feet, wiping his filth hands off on his jeans, the back of his hand swiping over his mouth, smearing grime and rusty blood over his lips.

He’s not sure how long it’s supposed to take, but as the minutes tick by his despair grows; it was all just rumor and superstition. With a broken sob, he turns away, thin shoulders curling forward.

“Now now, it can’t be all that bad.”

Peter whirls and goes wide eyed at the man standing before him. He’s barely taller than Peter but much more muscular, broad shouldered and narrow hipped with inky black hair that’s tousled artfully. He cuts an impressive figure in a trim black suit, the shirt and vest underneath as black as his eyes, the only color in the whole thing the strip of crimson silk around his neck.

At his side are two great beasts-and Peter hesitates to call them dogs because he’s never seen a dog this big. They stand tall and proud, barrel chested and black as night and have the oddest crimson eyes Peter has ever seen.

Swallowing hard, he shifts uneasily on his feet, gaze caught by the man (demon?) across from him. The man smirks, slow and wry, “Come now, tell me what brings you here,” he encourages, voice low and smoky like the cigars his uncle used to enjoy.

Peter hesitates and then nods, hands fisting at the hem of his T-shirt, “I-I’ve heard you help people,” he murmurs softly.

He’s heard the stories; The man down the street who had cancer and came back from the crossroads cured. The woman unable to bear children, blessed with twins. The unsolved murder, suddenly solved when the man responsible walked into the police station and confessed.

He’s heard the stories but he’s not sure he believes.

The man nods and scratches the head of one of the beasts, “If you have something of value to trade,” he agrees.

Peter’s heard about this too—the trade.

A soul, usually, as the stories go.

“I, I don’t have money,” he stammers and the man laughs, and Peter swears he hears thunder in it, low and rumbling.

“Oh pretty boy, I don’t need money,” the man says with a laugh. He snaps his fingers and a wad of cash three inches thick appears in his hand, “Your petty human paper means nothing to me,” he says with a grin.

Peter gasps as it goes up in flames, a hundred thousand dollars, smoldering in his palm, like it’s nothing. Enough money to feed he and his aunt, pay the mortgage, hire a lawyer...gone.

The man’s eyes sharpen, “Now tell me what you want or let me go, I don’t like being summoned without making a deal.”

Peter swallows hard and nods, “I...I need you to help me. My uncle was murdered and they can’t find his killers.”

The man tilts his head and studies Peter, “And what? You want me to find them? Punish them?” he asks. “Perhaps flay them alive or torture them with their darkest nightmares?” he suggests with a smirk.

Peter shakes his head vehemently, gut roiling, “No! No, I want them to be arrested and tried for their crimes!” he says, voice trembling.

For the first time the man shifts, and Peter flinches, stepping back as he closes the gap between them inhuamnely fast. A hand closes around his jaw and his gaze is forced up to meet the ebony one above him.

Up this close he can smell sulfur and brimstone and smoke, and the hand on his jaw is inhumanely hot. The man smirks, “Don’t lie to me boy, I can see inside your heart,” he hisses softly, “tell me the truth.”

Peter is trapped, the demon at his front and the hounds behind him now, their presence threatening and hot, reeking of ichor and misery. He whimpers and trembles in the grasp of the demon—because that’s what he is, despite Peter’s best attempts at ignorance.

“I want them punished,” he admits, voice cracking with anger that’s been repressed for far too long. “I want them to in agony for what they did to my uncle and aunt when they broke into our home.” He’s panting now, sweat on his chest, burning with righteous fury, “I want them to pay.”

The man grins in delight, “Finally, the truth,” he murmurs, voice sibilant and low, mouth twisted as though he’s tasting some arcane delight. “And what price are you willing to pay?” he asks hungrily, gaze sweeping Peter’s lean form.

Peter trembles in his grip. He doesn’t know what to offer; he has nothing—no power or prestige, no money.

“My soul?” he asks weakly, dread threading through him.

The man smirks, all teeth, and then nods. “Do you know how we seal the bond?” he asks softly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

Peter shakes his head, swallowing hard, “Blood?” he hazards.

The man rolls his head in a lazy nod, “Most of the others do, yes,” he agrees, hand sliding from Peter’s jaw to his throat, grip firm but not too tight. “I however, would like something, a little different from you,” he murmurs, hot breath on Peter’s skin as he leans in, lips scant breaths from Peter’s.

His eyes are dark and glowing, like embers in the night, and Peter trembles, fear and anticipation leaving him breathless.

A kiss, he thinks, a kiss won’t be so bad, if that’s what the demon wants.

A small price to pay for revenge.

The demon laughs, as though he’s heard Peter’s thoughts and shakes his head, “No sweet boy, I want your body, your flesh, your seed,” he croons, running a hand down Peter’s chest to cup his cock, grinning when he finds Peter half hard.

Peter gasps and frantically tries to think of something else he can offer, but he knows he has nothing else to give.

He nods, and damns himself for eternity.

A breath later a hot mouth is against his, tongue sweeping and demanding, and the taste of whiskey and smoke fills his mouth. Pleasure suffuses his veins, makes him weak and pliant and the next thing he knows he’s being pushed up against the stop sign at the side of the road, the demon’s hand beneath his shirt.

Nails take over his skin and he hisses, mewls and arches into the touch, gasping as the demon rubs his palm against Peter’s cock. He’s aching and dripping, grinding into the touch desperately, mewling softly, please please please.

The demon laughs and then suddenly he’s naked, shivering in the October night air. The man flips him and pushes him forward till he’s bent in half, face flushed as his ass pushes backward.

“Mmm, I haven’t seen anything as lovely as this in a millennia,” the demon murmurs, trailing a finger down Peter’s back, sliding down to press against the tight furl of his hole, the pressure and heat of his skin ripping a cry from Peter’s throat.

The demon chuckles and withdraws, “Has anyone taken you little one?” he asks, voice soft and silky like whiskey. Peter shakes his head, thighs quivering as he waits for something else to happen.

“Mmm, then I’ll be sure to make it pleasurable for you,” the man murmurs, and Peter gasps because his fingers are back, slick and hot, rubbing at his hole while his free hand slides up the sweaty planes of Peter’s chest to toy with his nipples.

Peter yelps when they’re twisted, a burning pleasure blooming under his skin with each touch, the ache as relentless as the demon’s hands on his body. His cock jerks against his belly, drooling and dripping, splatters of it falling to the dusty earth below.

The fingers at his hole push in and Peter shouts, seeing stars as he’s stretched, the burn of it leaving him shaking and sobbing. Lips press to his neck and a low voice murmurs in his ear, “Good boy, you’re so good Peter.”

Peter keens as they’re spread, sinking deeper, and then they touch something inside him that has his cock jolting and his voice cracking as he shouts again.

Low laughter fills his ears, “That’s it pretty, scream for me.”

Peter can’t hold back his sobs of pleasure as the demon attacks his prostate relentlessly, crooning filthy words of praise in his ear.

“Oh sweet thing, I haven’t seen anything as beautiful as you since the Fall.”

“That’s it dear boy, take it.”

A tongue flicks at his cheeks, swiping up the salt of his tears. “Delicious,” the demon croons.

A hand tangles in his curls and he can’t help the gasp he lets out when his head is pulled back, spine arching. He pushes back against the fingers inside him, desperate for more, begging through bitten red lips for anything the demon will give him.

The fingers inside him disappear and he keens at the loss, whining and arching back, flushing when the demon laughs at his desperation. He hears the jangle of a belt and the rasp of a zipper and then something hard and hot is pressing against his hole, something huge and thick and he barely has time to look back before his head is being wrenched back around.

He’s seen it though—the demon’s cock. It’s flushed crimson and dripping at the tip, thick veins pulsing under the skin and Peter has no idea how it’s going to fit because it’s easily as thick as his forearm and nearly as long.

When the demon pushes in Peter shouts, spots dancing in his vision as he’s speared open, sobbing as it keeps going, hard and thick and impossibly hot.

It feels like his insides are being pushed aside, the bruising weight of it too much and he rocks onto his toes trying to get away, only to be pulled back and forced further down the length of the demon’s cock.

When it’s fully inside him he’s delirious, trembling and whining, incoherent with something that’s too sharp to be pleasure and too soft to be pain. The demon licks the sweat from his neck and laughs softly, “Sweet boy, it’s been an age since I had one as soft as you,” he whispers, and then rolls his hips back, the drag of his cock punishing and sweet on Peter’s prostate.

Peter’s knuckles are white where he clings to the metal of the signpost, palms aching at the sharp bite of the edges, and he cries out when the demon’s cock tugs at his hole, very nearly gone from inside him and yet still too much there.

“Hold on sweet thing,” the demon says, laughter in his voice, and then plunges in, Peter’s scream echoing into the night.

It’s too much; too hot, too thick, but his own body betrays him—his cock drools and he moans louder with each thrust, relishing in the burn of too much inside him.

He’s had a finger or two inside himself before but nothing like this—each thrust of the demon’s cock is like a punch to his gut, a punishing ache in his prostate that has him weeping, gasping for air through a raw, dry throat.

“That’s it little one, take it.”

The demon growls and thrusts harder, teeth latching to Peter’s delicate flushed skin, marking him outside as he reaches around to fist Peter’s cock, the stimulation sharp and furious and he wails, tears on his cheeks as he comes.

The demon howls and bites down, copper in the air and on his tongue as he fucks into Peter relentlessly, the drag of his cock on Peter’s too sensitive insides like agony, but he pushes back into it nonetheless, panting like a bitch in heat as the demon milks his cock dry.

The sudden spurt of heat inside him is followed by the growl of something in a tongue that’s twisted and sounds like hell itself as the demon marks him on the inside—his, for all eternity.

When the demon finally stills, Peter is shaking so hard he’d fall over were it not for the demon’s hands around his waist. Lips press to the nape of his neck and one of the hands on his hip slides up to cup his throat, rough fingers pushing at his jaw till it’s tilted and the lips find his once more.

He tastes blood on the demon’s lips—his blood— and he thinks dizzily that they’ve sealed this bond with blood, tears, sweat and cum and that perhaps it’s not just his soul he’s lost here tonight, but his mind and body too.

Peter gasps and winces when the demon withdraws, clinging to the signpost as he rearranges himself and then suddenly finds himself dressed and standing back in the center of the road.

His legs quiver and his body aches, but he finds that the throb is dulled—the demon’s work, perhaps?

The man in question looks no less impeccable as he did when he first showed up—as though nothing has happened. The great beasts are back at his side, drooling acid and breathing in great bellows that stir the dust.

The demon smirks and an odd, unearthly glow—like hellfire, Peter thinks giddily—appears behind his eyes.

“I’ll see you again, Peter Parker.”

“Wait!”

Peter lunges forward and then stumbles when the hounds growl menacingly. The man laughs, patting their heads, “Hush Dum-e, U, let the pretty boy alone,” he croons, smirking at Peter.

“Well?” he drawls, sardonic and lazy.

“I uh, what if I need you again?” Peter asks, wondering what the hell is wrong with him as he does. If this isn’t some hallucination, then he’s sold his soul, and been fucked within an inch of his life by a demon who he shouldn’t want to see ever again.

The demon quirks his head and then smirks, “If you need me, call me,” he murmurs, flicking his fingers—Peter gasps as a smooth piece of card stock appears in his palm.

The lettering is black and raised—Tony Stark, Knight of Hell.

When Peter looks up the man—Tony—is gone.

—————

The next morning there’s a story in the news about two men who stumbled into the police station, covered in wounds, screaming about hell hounds and a man with glowing eyes torturing them in the night.

The confess to the murder of Ben Parker and the assault of May Parker and are thrown in jail where their screams each night haunt the hallways—just as they are haunted by their crimes, each and every night.

Peter calls Tony’s name one night soon after and gets on his knees to thank the demon.

Vengance has never tasted so sweet.

———-

@starkerforlife6969 @starkerchemistry @sluttystarker @xarles56 @darker-soft-starker @peterparkers7evilexes @peterparkersapunkassbitch @peterparkerisaslut-x @peterr-parrkerr @sbiderslut @dollmeatpie (whose writing this was inspired by) @starkeroverload @thefaultinourstarker @cagestark @starkeris-infinity-worried @im-a-goner-foryou

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark #peter x tony #peter parker #nff #crossroads demon!tony #dark!peter #spooky starker #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #tw: murder #tw: assault #starcrossedtalks

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the-yellowturtle · 4 years ago

Text

ZKDD Day 30: Forever Family

Title: If One of Your Soulmates Told You to Go Jump in the River, Would You?

Rating: T (cussing, mentioned past character death, brief mention of infanticide)

Summary: Zuko always believed his destiny was tied to the Avatar, he just never thought it would be in this way. (Fruits Basket!AU)

Note: A/N can be found on AO3 (including a chart to figure out your atla zodiac lol) Also! I would appreciate feedback because I’m thinking of expanding on this idea more for the Zutara Big Bang :)

@zkdrabbledecember

A long time ago, the Avatar lived together in harmony with their twelve friends: the shirshu, the flying bison, the tiger seal, the jackalope, the dragon, the koi fish, the ostrich horse, the koala sheep, the winged lemur, the turtleduck, the polar bear dog, and the badgermole.

Unfortunately, those idyllic days did not last forever. Strife was brewing between the Spirit and Human Worlds, and only the Avatar was capable of restoring balance. There was no choice, but to leave the Spirit World and to live among the humans. The Avatar was heartbroken to be separated from their closest friends, but they knew they must do so, or great calamity would befall the world.

The Twelve understood why the Avatar must go, however, they could not bear to be parted from the one that had brought them all together.

“We will follow you. We will join you in bringing balance to the Spirit and Human Worlds,” the Twelve told the Avatar.

“Let us be together forever,” the Avatar responded with joy. “May we always find each other in every life.

From that day onward, the Avatar has always been accompanied by members of the Twelve. For there is nothing on this planet that is more powerful than the bond between the Twelve and the Avatar. They are destined to be together. Forever.

___

Everyone had always thought he was a fool for choosing to pursue the Avatar.

Zuko had been given two avenues to regain his honor, and he had opted to search for the mythical figure that had been missing for over a century. His crew detested his decision, and Uncle… Uncle was apathetic towards his efforts at best; most likely disappointed he could not relive his glory days through his nephew.

He knew others thought that he had given up, that he had never planned on returning to his place in the Fire Nation, that he was too weak and too much of a coward to hunt members of the Twelve. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He would gladly struggle and fight for as long as possible because he knew his destiny. His destiny was to capture the Avatar, and the airbender’s reemergence had proven him correct. It was only a matter of time now.

The first few attempts had gone astray, but Zuko had a good feeling about collaborating with the pirates to capture the waterbender to use as bait. It didn’t matter that Uncle did not agree with his methods, and that Zuko had to set off by himself with only a small squadron. He would prove Uncle and everyone else wrong; he had to.

___

When you were one of the Twelve, touch was the most intimate of things. Any form of embrace would trigger the transformation, so most Zodiac members learnt to dance around it; learnt how to get out of the societal norms that would so often lead to falling into other’s arms.

But Katara thrived on it. She patted heads, held hands, bumped shoulders, and kissed foreheads. She loved to touch others; to get as close as possible. She knew it was dangerous, but she loved it. She wanted others to know that she cared for them.

Before Aang, she had only ever been hugged by her family. Some of her favorite memories were of when her mom would let her transform and spend the whole day cuddling together in the furs. (Only under duress would she admit that Sokka carrying her around like a polar dog pup were also some of her favorites).

For her whole life, an embrace had only ever been a signifier of the utmost trust and affection. Hugs and cuddles were sacred, not a thing to be feared.

However, that was before Aang and before leaving the Southern Water Tribe and before seeing the wanted posters of rumored members of the Twelve.

That was before Zuko had snuck up on her, said that spirits awful line, and sent her careening back into the arms of one of the pirates. That was before time stopped for a moment and her stomach dropped and she thought to herself: fuck .

___

Katara expected to see a few things when she opened her eyes:

The puff of smoke from her transformation? Check.

Her pile of clothes on the ground? Check.

Pirates and Fire Nation soldiers charging at her? Check.

What Katara was never expecting to see —not even after a thousand years — was a poof of smoke similar to her own clearing up, and a turtleduck emerging from a pile of red and gold armor.

Before her mind could even form the question of what in the Four Nations just happened, one of the soldiers shouted, “Prince Zuko is a traitor! Seize him and the tiger seal!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the Pirate Captain sneered, “We’ll be the ones gettin’ the reward for the turtleduck and tiger seal.”

And then all hell broke loose.

With all of her might, Katara bounced her way between the fighting pirates and soldiers, biting and tail whipping as she went. She needed to get to the river; outswimming them was the only plausible method of escape.

She was almost there, the water practically touching her flippers, when she heard a familiar raspy voice command, “Get back! I’m your Prince!” followed by hisses of pain.

Zuko.

Her enemy. The boy who relentlessly chased them around the world, trying to kidnap Aang and destroy any chance at peace. And the boy, who apparently was one of her soulmates. One of the people she had shared countless lifetimes with maintaining balance. The boy who was near the water, but was too busy breathing fire at the advancing troops to notice his surroundings.

She didn’t know why he spent so long pursuing them when he could have joined them, but she did know that he needed some help. And Katara never turned her back on people who needed her.

So she screamed, “Zuko! Go jump in the river!”

___

Zuko did not know what was happening.

He did not know why one of his men stumbling into him caused a tiny explosion. He did not know why he’s suddenly the size of a cat. He did not know why he appeared to have a beak and a shell now. He did not know why his men were calling him a traitor.

Zuko only knew one thing: the spirits hated him.

So he ran because the men chased him. He screamed because they further besmirched his honor with lies. He breathed fire because they attacked him.

He was disconnected from reality; the only thing that felt real was the pounding in his ears and the churning of his stomach.

“Zuko! Go jump in the river!”

It was the waterbender. The tiger seal. She called to him from the river bank, slapping her fins against the water for emphasis. “Jump in the river!”

So he jumped.

___

There was a saying in the Fire Nation navy: A decent sailor knows the changes of the tides; a great sailor knows the cycles of the Twelve .

As important as the knowledge contained in the official seafaring manual was, it did not bring glory to their homeland. Any average Lee could spew off the fuel consumption rate of a Fire Nation cruiser; only the greatest of men could present the Fire Lord with a member of the Twelve in chains. And even then, only the best of them would be permitted to carry out the execution themselves.

Captain Zhao had been granted this honor thirteen times. In fact, he was the most successful hunter of the Twelve in the history of the Fire Nation. Not even the Dragon of the West, with a measly count of three kills, could compare to him. There was a reason the old man was wasting away on a dilapidated rust bucket, and Zhao was being heralded as the Zodiac Killer.

Yes, Zhao was quite proud of his accomplishments, but he wanted more. He had brought thirteen members of the Twelve to their knees before the people of Caldera City, but four of those had been repeats. And where was the glory in that?

No one had ever managed a complete set, but Zhao would most definitely be the first. The jackalope, koi fish, and turtleduck were the only ones left.

The jackalope was still at large in the Earth Kingdom, but was most likely under the protection of Omashu’s Mad King. After dealing with the Northern Water Tribe, Omashu would be the next stronghold to fall to the Fire Nation.

The koi fish had always been the trickiest of the Twelve to catch. This was not due to the koi fish being particularly intelligent or skillful, but simply because it was a creature cursed with terrible luck. Most parents were terrified when their newborn transformed into a fish, and by the time they realized what was happening; their fish child had already suffocated. As a result, it was impossible to know for sure how many incarnations of the koi fish had been reborn since the start of the Hundred Year War.

The koi fish of the Zodiac would be an excellent addition to his collection, but Zhao had it on good authority that there’s an even better prize in the Northern Water Tribe. Besides, it’s been at least two decades since the North had presented the Fire Nation with one of the Twelve, perhaps Zhao would come across a pleasant surprise during his expedition.

And then there was the turtleduck. After confirmation that the previous turtleduck had been an Earth Kingdom warrior, Zhao had been scouring the Poles for rumors. He had assumed the next would be of Water descent, but oh how shortsighted he had been.

How could he have forgotten how often Earth liked to mix themselves with others? The warrior had not been an Earth incarnation, but one of Air.

The current cycle was Fire. And after reading the memo on his desk about reports of pirates seeing a scarred boy transform into a turtleduck, he knew exactly who to look for.

Zhao had always enjoyed the hunt, but this was shaping up to be his favorite. It’s not everyday you get to kill a prince, after all.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #mine #had to repost this cuz it was being weird

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