#By he/him again in order to not draw attention to themself

[little-doggy-girl-kisser]

is this a safe space to share by bad kids sexuality headcanons?

Adaine: transfem, ace lesbian (she/her) Fig: non-binary, bisexual (they/them) Kristen: non-binary, lesbian (she/they/he) Gorgug: transfem nb, bisexual (they/she) Riz: acearo (he/him) Fabian: transfem lesbian (she/her)

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"i wanna Be Cool, but only if you want me to."

"want to impress you"

synopsis// everyone knows that basketball is the way to someone's heart.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 3.8k

contents// college au, basketball au, mutual unknown pining?, friends to lovers?, gojo is a loser, obligatory this is for you and misses

notes// lu wanted a basketball au so lu gets a basketball au. also obviously inspired by the basketball scene in jjk s2 anywho this is just kinda short n goofy :p also inspired by the song i wanna be cool by super whatevr. also i have no idea how basketball works and only ever played for fun so ermmm if anything is wrong bring that up with the universe !

Shoko unwillingly finds herself sitting on a random bench in the boys locker room, her arms crossed as she glares at the two boys in front of her.

“Why did you guys drag me in here?”

Geto speaks up first: “In my defense, this is all on Satoru, and I have no part in this.”

“You still dragged me in here, did you not?”

“…Yes.” 

“Then you took part in it.”

Gojo smiles as he smacks Geto on the back. “Exactly! You’re my accomplice.”

Shoko rolls her eyes. “Again, why did you guys drag me in here?”

“A presentation!”

“A presentation I have nothing to do with,” Geto chimes in as he takes a seat beside Shoko.

She briefly raises her eyebrow at Geto before directing it toward Gojo. “A presentation?” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t see a projector or anything worth presenting here,” she says, looking around the room unamused.

“A presentation minus the actual presenting part...”

“So you dragged me in here just to talk to me?”

Geto leans in and whispers, “He actually wants to ask you something.”

Gojo stomps his foot like he’s about to throw a tantrum. “Geto shut up!”

“Can you just hurry up, Gojo?" She asks impatiently. “It reeks of axe body spray in here; I think it might actually kill me.”

He ignores her dramatics because, honestly, she’s not wrong. “You're coming to our game tonight, right?”

“I mean, yeah? Who isn't? It's the biggest game of the season.”

Geto adds, “That's what I said!”

“Do you know if Y/N is going?”

“Is that what you seriously dragged me in here for? Why didn't you just ask Y/N themself? You guys are friends, are you not?”

“Well yeah!” Gojo mumbles sheepishly, “But when I asked, they said maybe...”

“That means no,” Geto says quickly through a cough, as if trying to cover it up.

Gojo hears anyway and outstretches his arms toward Geto as if trying to draw attention toward him. “Exactly!” He then brings his hands in front of his face in a praying motion and begs, “Shoko, please!”

“Oh my fucking god, I don't know why you don't just ask them out already.”

“That's what I'm trying to do! But in order to do that, I kinda need them to go to tonight's game.”

Shoko glares at Gojo for what feels like forever, and Gojo glares back like they’ve suddenly entered a staring contest, and it’s Shoko who breaks eye contact first.

She sighs and pushes the hair out of her face as she mumbles, “God, you're lucky I'm tired of both of you pining after each other.”

“Thank you, Shoko!” he beams. “Also here.”

Shoko takes whatever Gojo is handing her and holds it up, her eyes slightly wide as she inspects it. “…Is this your jersey?”

He nods, fully confident within himself now that Shoko has agreed to drag you to the game, but tilts his head at her because he has no idea why she’s confused. “Yeah, I want them to wear it?” 

“You make me sick to my stomach, fine.”

“Shoko, do you wanna wear my jersey?” Geto suddenly asks.

She stares at him blankly, as if to ask if he really asked her that, knowing damn well she does not like him like that and she has a girlfriend, though after a few moments he finally gets the hint.

“Oh my god, not like that; I just want someone supporting me too.”

She sighs in relief, “Oh, thank god, don’t scare me like that, but yeah, fine, I’ll wear it.”

“Wait, what the hell?” Gojo exclaims, drawing Shoko’s and Geto’s attention back to him. “Shoko, would you have worn mine if I asked?”

“No.”

“What?! Why the hell not?”

“I like Geto more than I like you.”

He glares at her and quickly points out, “You're lying; if that was true, you wouldn't be helping me!”

Shoko simply shrugs and mumbles a small “bye” before getting up and leaving.

Geto stands up and takes his place next to Gojo, softly patting his back as he whispers, “Dare I say this ends our lifelong debate on who's superior?”

Gojo shrugs his hand off of him and speaks harshly through clenched teeth, “Shut. Your. Mouth.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“Why would I want to go watch a bunch of sweaty men fight over balls?” You mumble offhandedly, focusing your attention on netflix playing on your phone rather than on her.

“Ok, Y/N, first of all, there's only one ball, and second of all, did you forget Gojo is on the basketball team?”

You quickly turn off your phone and sit up, clasping your hands together in your lap. “….Have I ever mentioned that basketball is actually my favorite sport?”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters under her breath, pinching her nose bridge. “You're so obvious; why haven't you told him yet?”

“Are you insane? Gojo is hot, and on the basketball team, do you know how many people he already has crushing on him? I'm literally just another name on that list.”

“Sure,” she nods, “But the difference is that you're his friend too; you have more of a chance than anyone else.”

You sigh and frown at her. “Doubt.”

Shoko shakes her head, knowing that you two could spend all day here in your dorm debating whether you have a chance or not, but that’s not what she’s here for, so she’ll let you believe what you want, knowing that (hopefully) Gojo pulling whatever it is he wants to pull will prove you wrong.

“Whatever, put this on,” she says, throwing the jersey at you.

You catch it, your mouth slightly agape as you stare at it curiously. “…Isn't this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, is it?”

“Shoko.”

“Can you just trust me?”

“I'm literally just gonna look like another one of his groupies," you say, disdain and disappointment lacing your words as your eyes dart back and forth between her and the jersey.

She smiles, and it’s off-putting because it’s not her normal smile; no, you know, this is the smile she only wears when she’s about to drop a bomb on you. “Difference is that that's his actual jersey.”

You freeze.

“What?”

“I’ll save you a seat. Bye,” she says as she walks out of your dorm.

The slam of your door restarts your heart, and suddenly it and your mind are racing at 100 miles per hour, and the only thing you can do is word vomit despite the fact that Shoko is gone.

“What do you mean by that?! What do you mean this is his actual jersey?!” You run and fling open your door to yell out into the hallway, “Get back here!?” 

Shoko is a good bit away at this point, but she still hears you call out for her and acknowledges that with a wave, yet she still keeps walking away, and you're stuck in your doorway with your chest heaving. You look back down at the jersey in your hands.

Holy shit.

Not only is this a jersey with Gojo’s number on it, but it’s his jersey. How did Shoko even get this? Did she just take it without him knowing? Too many thoughts are in your head, but there’s only one that keeps overlapping the others, there’s only one that’s consistent, only one that electrifies every neuron in your body:

Holy shit, this is Gojo’s jersey.

Fuck the questions and fuck the answers you know you won’t get; the only thing that matters to you right now is that you have and are about to wear Gojo’s jersey. You have to be dreaming; really, that’s the only logical answer, but holy fuck, if you’re dreaming, you do not plan on waking up anytime soon—or ever.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The two teams quickly start filling up the court and taking up their respective spaces as they warm up, but Gojo, being Gojo, isn't doing that. Instead, he’s standing on the sidelines, looking in at the crowd of people starting to take their seats for the game, and his heart is racing as he searches the crowd for you, and it drops when he inevitably doesn’t find you, but he’s not discouraged, not yet at least, because the game hasn’t officially even started yet, so there’s still time for you to show up.

There’s still time.

He has to keep reminding himself that the whole time he’s warming up—now that he’s actually being forced to, though it’s a half-assed warm-up—he and his coach don’t even know whether what he’s doing could be considered a warm-up in the first place. The game is about to start any second now when Geto approaches Gojo.

“Nothing?” 

Gojo’s head drops as he reluctantly shakes it.

Geto hums and searches the stands for you, but when he doesn't find you either, he tries to find the next best person, Shoko, and it's quite easy to find her considering she’s wearing Geto's jersey.

“Shoko!”

She looks down from the bleachers and sees Geto staring at her as he gestures toward Gojo, and she knows he's trying to ask where you are, but in all honesty, she has no idea either. She shrugs, and even from as high up as she is, she can hear Geto groan before grabbing Gojo by the shoulders and forcing him to look at him.

“I'm sure they’ll come, dude.”

Gojo blankly stares at Geto, an eyebrow raised skeptically, as if to say, really? but before he can verbally reply, their coach comes over and removes Geto’s hand from Gojo’s shoulder to place his own hand there.

“I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, fix it.”

Geto and Gojo tense up at his tone, full of nothing but pure determination. This isn't him asking; this is him demanding that Gojo get his shit together.

“This is the biggest game yet, and I'm not gonna let you and some petty college drama get in the way of that. You're our best player. Act like it.”

Gojo can only nod. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and it's like his throat is closing, but he tries to will the feeling away. Though his reaction is enough for his coach, who starts walking off.

Geto stares up at Gojo with his eyebrows knit, concern lacing his voice, “Gojo...”

Gojo shakes his head and takes a deep breath before flashing Geto his signature smile. “I'm fine, Geto; cmon, we got a basketball game to win.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To be totally honest, the reason you were running so late to the game was because you were mentally shitting your pants the entire time you were getting ready. For a good chunk of time, you just sat on your bed with the jersey laid out in front of you, staring at it. Just staring at it, that's all. Because yes, even though you said fuck the questions and fuck the answers, you very much could not do that, not when too many questions and unknown answers were flooding your brain like a dam had cracked. You think you probably would've stayed like that all day and night, missing the game entirely, if not for Shoko spam calling your phone.

“What?”

“Don't 'what' me, where the fuck are you?” She snaps through the phone.

“Uh, getting ready?”

“Y/N, the game started twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh shit,” you say, hopping off your bed and quickly grabbing the jersey.

“Yeah, oh shit! Get your ass down here!”

You don't bother saying goodbye; instead, you quickly hang up, throw the jersey on as fast as you can, and bolt out the door. The halls are empty as you race through them, and you're not surprised; everyone is already at the game—everyone but you—and you speed up your pace just a smidge more. God, you're an idiot, missing the best game of the season—okay, you don't actually care about that. God, you're an idiot, missing seeing Gojo and maybe getting answers on how Shoko obtained his jersey—that's better.

You get to the gym in record time, slightly surprised at how quickly you got there, but you ignore that as you try to catch your breath before walking in and try to prepare yourself for the amount of noise that will assault your ears when you do. You can already hear how loud it is; the walls not doing very much at all to muffle the yells of people. You walk in and wince slightly at the noise as you look around for Shoko. She immediately finds you and waves her hand in the air for you to find, as does Utahime, who's sitting next to her. You smile and quickly make your way toward them, apologizing to the people you pushed through to get to them in the first place. You take your seat next to Shoko with a sigh.

“What did I miss?” you ask, leaning forward slightly just so you can look at both Utahime and Shoko.

Utahime has a small grimace on her face, and Shoko merely motions toward the scoreboard, and the minute you look, your jaw drops. Gojo’s team was losing. No. Losing isn't even the right word here; they were getting absolutely destroyed. They had zero points—none at all. You look back toward the two girls in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

“Gojo is literally sucking so much ass that it's throwing everyone else off,” Utahime says with a shrug before glancing down at your clothes. “Are you wearing his jersey?”

You clear your throat awkwardly and look away, ignoring the smirk on Shoko's face.

“So, uh, do we know why Gojo’s sucking ass?” You ask after a brief moment of silence.

“Nope,” Utahime responds with a shake of her head.

“I do,” Shoko says nonchalantly.

Your head snaps back toward her. “What? Why?”

“Yeah, you didn't tell me either!”

Shoko rolls her eyes and ignores both of you as she loudly calls out to Gojo, who, by some grace of god, hears her over the hundreds of other people yelling for him. Gojo’s eyes immediately find hers, and he watches how she subtly jerks her head to the side, and like some angel descended from the heavens, like a god showing itself in a moment of dire, he looks and finds you sitting there in his jersey, and he can't help the smile on his face, can't help how just your presence lit a fire underneath him, can't help how just seeing you gave him his pep back in his step.

Gojo finds Geto’s eyes on the court and nods determinedly. They are winning this game, whether it's the last thing Gojo does. He's not going to look like a fool in front of you. So that's exactly what Gojo does. Once the second period starts, Gojo steals back the ball with a new sudden ease, and by halftime, he’s gotten the team caught up to the other one, starting the third period with a tie.

“How the hell did he do that? I thought you guys said he sucked!”

“Aw man, I was rooting for the other team,” Utahime says, frowning, and you have to resist the urge to chew her out in defense of Gojo.

Shoko shrugs. “He was till you know…”

You stare at her blankly. “No, I don't know, actually. Care to enlighten me?”

“No, I do not,” she says before turning to Utahime. “And don't worry, they're only tied; there's still a chance the other team will win.”

Utahime cheerfully hums as she rests her head on Shoko’s shoulder. “You’re right!”

“Don't encourage her to root for the other team?!” 

Utahime sticks her tongue out at you, and before any of you can say anything else, a loud buzzer rings across the gym, indicating a point was made, and to your delight, it was for Gojo’s team. For the rest of the third period, it was just buzzer after buzzer as Gojo’s team took back their rightful place on the scoreboard, completely smashing the other team into the ground, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. Watching Gojo in his element was doing detrimental things to your crush on him, only making it worse, but you can't even seem to care. Shoko looks over to you and laughs.

“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes.”

You scoff. “Shut up!”

Down on the court, they had just started their last two-minute break between third and fourth period, with the coaches gathering their respective teams into a huddle.

“Alright guys,” Gojo’s coach began, “Keep your heads in the game; we’re taking this victory home, got it?”

All the boys nod hurriedly, and the coach leaves them to do what they need to before the last period starts, but Gojo doesn’t let them get far.

“Whatever fucking happens, I'm getting that last score, got it?”

Everyone on the team exchanges uneasy glances, and Geto rolls his eyes and sighs before apologizing for Gojo.

“He just has a plan and wants to do something, guys.”

The boys nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“If you guys mess this up for me, I swear to god, I will make you wish you were never born,” Gojo says with his usual smile, but in this case, all his smile does is make him seem feral.

Geto slaps Gojo across the back of his head and huffs, “He doesn’t mean that, don't worry.”

“Oh, I fucking mean it.”

“Gojo, shut the fuck up.”

Before anyone else can say anything, the timer goes off, and into the last minutes of the game they go. As the game goes on, everyone is on the edge of their seat, even if deep down they know who will win. You and Utahime are no exception to this, but apparently Shoko is.

“Why the fuck are you guys on the edge of your seats? It's obvious we’re gonna win.”

You go to glare at her but can’t even hold your stare long enough because you're so enthralled by the game. “Still, it's so nervewracking!”

Utahime laughs. “I'm only on the edge of my seat because I want the other team to win.”

“Why are you such a hater, dude?” you ask defensively.

Utahime doesn’t mind; she knows all too well about your little crush on Gojo, so she doesn’t take offense to your tone. “When it comes to Gojo, I'm always a hater.”

You finally find it in you to glare at her. “I hope Shoko breaks up with you.”

She rolls her eyes and glares back. “Oh, haha, you're so mature.”

You say nothing but stick your tongue out at her childishly, and she does the same, to which Shoko groans and rolls her eyes before grabbing both of your heads and turning them to face the game.

“You can fight after the game; there's only a few seconds left.”

Gojo glances at the time and realizes it’s now or never. He finds that Geto has the ball and calls out for him. Geto, on the other hand, hesitates to pass him the ball, with a look on his face asking if he really wants to do this, and Gojo can only nod. How could he not want to do this? This is the only thing he can do; it's not like he knows how to ask someone out the normal way, so this will do; it has to. Gojo tries to control his breathing as he makes his way to the hoop, the ball dribbling in tune with his heartbeat, and nothing matters to him in that moment except you and scoring—his surroundings completely drowning out. Everyone holds their breath waiting for him to shoot, and right before he does, his eyes lock onto yours.

“This is for you, Y/N!” He yells out as he shoots, and…

And he misses.

Horribly.

And there's no chance for him to redeem himself because the minute the ball hits the ground, the buzzer goes off, indicating the end of the game, and everyone seemingly ignores whatever the fuck he just did and erupts into an uproar at the fact that they won regardless of Gojo’s miss.

“What-“

Shoko slaps a hand over her mouth, attempting and failing to hold in her laughter. “Did he just fucking miss?”

Utahime is hunched over, her head between her knees, laughing. “Oh my fucking god, he's an idiot!”

You blink, not moving, not saying anything, but with how hard Shoko is laughing and Utahime leaning against her as she laughs as well, Shoko ends up bumping into you, and she instantly grows quiet, her head snapping toward you.

“Oh, why are you still here?”

“Huh?” 

"Why aren’t you down there?” she asks, pointing down to the court.

“Am… Am I supposed to be?”

“Uh duh!” Utahime speaks up, peeking out from behind Shoko. “He made that shot for you! Well, he missed that shot for you.”

“Oh,” you say blankly. “Oh. Oh shit.”

You stood up abruptly, and with how fast you went down the bleachers, you almost tripped once you made it onto the ground. You quickly catch yourself, and the moment you look up to find Gojo, he’s already standing right in front of you.

“You're-you're wearing my jersey,” he says breathlessly, but not in a I-can’t-breathe way, more in a holy-shit-my-crush-is-actually-wearing-my-jersey way.

You swallow thickly and nod. Your gaze flickers down to the jersey before going back to his face. “I am.” 

“You are.” 

“What was that Gojo?”

He seems to grimace at your question. “Ah, well, you see, I was actually gonna say if I make this, you owe me a date, but that’s a really long sentence to shout, and what if I didn’t make it? That would’ve been so embarrassing.”

You laugh under your breath. “Gojo, you didn’t make it regardless.”

He frowns. “Don’t remind me.”

You smile and push a strand of hair stuck to his forehead out of the way, watching how he blushes furiously at your touch, and it makes your heart swoon. Who knew the confident number-one basketball player could crumble so readily under your touch?

“You know, I’m still more than happy to owe you a date.”

He smirks as he pulls you closer toward him by your waist and coos, “Yeah?"

“Yeah… But get the hell off of me, Gojo; you’re sweaty and you stink,” you grumble as you push against his chest, trying to free yourself.

Gojo ignores you and pulls you in closer (if even possible), his body engulfing yours as he rubs his face against yours, making sure his sweat rubs off on you too.

You struggle against his hold. “Gojo gross!” 

“Sorry, I can't hear you over the people. What are you saying? Hug you closer?”

“Gojo, don’t you dare.”

You hear him chuckle before rubbing up against you again, and you groan but stop resisting, which he hums happily at before starting to pull away. You watch how his face abruptly twists into feigned disgust.

"Ew, Y/N, get the hell off of me; you’re sweaty and you stink,” he mocks as he pushes you out of his hold.

“I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn’t be going on a date with me,” he singsongily says.

“Yeah, not anymore,” you mumble with a wry smile as you start walking away.

“Hey, wait, Y/N, come back!”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[envysparkler]

What do you think each of the bats go to "I'm to bored to pay attention to you speak" doodle is?

(for instance I'm a corner squiggle truther)

Brucie: surprisingly good caricatures of annoying board members in said annoying board meetings. Lucius keeps them in a folder.

Batman: surprisingly good caricatures of annoying Justice Leaguers in said annoying Justice League meetings. Clark always steals them after to frame them.

Tim: his doodles inevitably turn into embellished Robin Rs, so he sticks to dismantling pens to avoid the embarrassment. (the doodling started long before he was Robin.)

Dick: doesn't draw. does paper origami. can make impossibly tiny cranes. no loose sheet of paper is safe from him. once did it to a document Bruce was supposed to sign. that board meeting certainly wasn't boring.

Jason: stick figures in a variety of situations. post his return as Hood, most of the situations end with the Joker somehow dying. graphically (pun intended). Harley keeps a collection of them.

Damian: absurdly vivid and detailed pictures of whoever is around him. the others wait with bated breath to find out who he's drawing so they can steal the picture to keep for themselves. Tim did it once and Damian nearly burned down his room to get it back.

Barbara: Fibonacci spirals. freehand. (the GCPD absolutely used to think that Gordon was part of some secret conspiracy because they kept cropping up on his paperwork.)

Steph: fancy Ss in different styles. sometimes colored. occasionally, if she's really bored, they'll involve glitter. when she brings out the hot glue gun, things have reached critical boredom.

Cass: mimics whoever's closest. is absurdly good at it too. and not by looking at what they're doodling but by watching their hands. once managed to copy Damian's drawing perfectly and only then realized he was drawing her. (copying him drawing her copying him drawing her copying him--)

Alfred: "I am not paid to doodle, Master Bruce." (it's elaborate cakes.)

Bonus Villain Edition:-

Selina: cats. always cats. occasionally diamonds. but usually cats.

Talia: flowers. not generic ones either, but fully detailed with shading and everything. Bruce glanced over once (in a boring League class, Ra's kept the resulting caricature) and was unsurprised to find her drawing nightshade.

Deathstroke: the Titans all picked up on Dick's habit of paper origami and Slade refuses to admit he does it too. he destroys all the ones he makes. (there's some safely hidden in a fortified safe house. every now and again, a new tiny crane joins the collection.)

Harley: Rorschach Blots.

Ivy: "waste paper? for doodling??"

Joker: the one and only time some bright Arkham psychiatrist decided to have the Joker try 'art therapy', the psychiatrist ended up being committed themself and the warden ordered all sheets of paper in the vicinity burned.

[floofanflurr]

Hi yes I would LOVE to hear you ramble thank you

EHEHHEHEHEH THANK YOU SO MUCH!

For context to anyone else reading, I’m going to be talking about the Papyrus - Genocide Route Confrontation comic I just made and posted!

(For anyone else waiting for an ask response! I haven’t forgotten! I’m very backed up! SORRY FOR ANSWERING OUT OF ORDER I JUST REALLY WANT TO RAMBLE)

Ramble under the cut!

OKAY SO I SUPPOSE I SHOULD START OFF WITH CONTEXT! I got the song “Control” by Halsey stuck in my head for Undertale. And! Sure, it would work great for a player controlled Frisk, but the main lines that REALLY got me were:

“And all the kids cried out ‘Please stop you’re scaring me’”

“I can’t help this awful energy”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

And OKAY. SO OKAY. In the song it’s a back and forth- but what if they were both Frisk? Just… this scared little kid, who doesn’t know any other way to save themself other than puffing up and making themself dangerous before anyone else.

They were hurt, so now they are GOING to hurt others. Because they’re terrified.

And Papyrus. PAPYRUS MY BELOVED. He’s so unbelievably brave and wonderful and I always have his geno route confrontation in the back of my head. I always see more art where he loses. Where he’s killed, and it’s not even a hiccup in Frisk/the Player’s run. Just a victim in the sadistic persons game.

But despite how infrequently I see art of him winning compared to being killed—how many runs does he actually stop? A lot.

This comic was my love letter to Papyrus and his character in game. Because he’s wonderful. He knew exactly what he was getting into but he did it anyway.

He had to have been terrified.

SO RAMBLE ABOUT COMIC DETAILS!

This was so fun to do, thematically! Typically for a comic, I try not to do straight on or straight sideways panels too much, because that’s not very dynamic. But it served a purpose here!

Every panel you see from the side is what’s actually happening. But then we get the POV panels—which are what Frisk and Papyrus are seeing. Here’s the first couple of pages for reference!

So! The sideways views are accurate. They’re both shaking. Papyrus is sweating… and, if you zoom in… Frisk is crying.

But then we get into the POV panels- the first one which is a more realistic skull that we are looking up to see. Because I’m sorry, and I love Papyrus(and sans), but an animated skeleton IRL (before I had the context of loving Undertale) would be TERRIFYING. And he’s so much taller than them!

The sweat and nervous expression is still there, but it’s smaller. Harder to see. Frisk isn’t seeing that through the snow and terror.

And this is just as biased in view as the next thing we see—what Papyrus sees when he looks at Frisk. Dust covered hands, gleaming red eyes. (But, if you zoom in… They’re still crying. But Papyrus isn’t really seeing that. And because he’s taller than them, and because of the thick snowstorm, he can’t really see their expression.)

So I had a lot of fun with the snowstorm and POVs. Drawing attention to what I want you to see.

Fun fact about a sobbing grimace- it sure looks a heck of a lot like a smile if you can’t see the eyes :)

I was relying on readers to be biased towards Papyrus on the first read through! Seeing what he does. Aka, not noticing just how terrified Frisk looks. (I recommend a reread to check out those cues tbh. It was very fun.)

And stars, I love Papyrus. He’s confronting this mass murderer, and they look fucking scary. He’s terrified, but he’s doing this anyway.

And then… the snow clears. And we see from Frisk and Papyrus’s perspective again.

Papyrus isn’t so scary. And… he’s scared, too.

And Papyrus sees Frisk. Really, truly, sees them. And realizes exactly what’s going on. If he hadn’t kneeled down to hug them, he wouldn’t have gotten that straight on expression of their face. Frisk wouldn’t have seen that he wasn’t so scary

He doesn’t try to dodge when they run at him. He has no way in hell of knowing that they won’t hurt him. But as they rush at him, he can’t see the same demon he did before. All he sees is a scared little kid who is trying to hurt other people before they’re hurt, too.

And then. And then, because Papyrus cares so much, and because Frisk is shaking and scared, and they don’t want to hurt him. They just want to not BE hurt.

He gives them a hug.

He doesn’t know if they’re going to drop the knife. But he does know this-

They need someone to not hurt them. To look at them and offer mercy and for it not to be a trick.

This little kid needs a gosh damn hug. And even if he dies because of it, Papyrus is going to give them that hug.

And Frisk doesn’t actually want to kill anyone. But… other than Toriel (who betrayed them!) this is the first kind touch they’ve had since they fell. And this is the first monster that didn’t try to hurt or kill them.

Stars I just fudging love them so much.

BUT YEAH, I PLAYED AROUND HEAVILY WITH POVs and the concept of the snowstorm blocking the view. IT WAS SO MUCH FUN.

one last bit of ramble! There are lyrics that go with the different panels! So LEMME JUST SHOW YOU THEM

Im bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

There’s a few others but there’s a 10 image limit on mobile, and these are the most important ones.

BUT YEAH. FUN TIMES!

The song lyrics line up with what Frisk is thinking and feeling! Which contrasts nicely against the actual comic, because the reader is mostly seeing what Papyrus is feeling/thinking.

THANKS FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE! …also if you’ve made it all the way through this long post, here, have a cookie: 🍪

[krispdreemurr]

so disclaimers before I begin: I have been semi-consciously avoiding anything but the most basic of takes on ch3 bc i am allergic to writing other people’s characters where they can see. so this is just me and my dear friends beyond I think I saw another lesbian tenna and liked that. also none of this is like “how I think canon will be” it’s just for funsies

so, Mike! (she/they)

[art thanks to @everyone-needs-a-hoopoe ! please behold their pop filter. they’ll bap you with it.]

mike and tenna [he/him but in a lesbian way] are old colleagues, working on the same all-consuming dark world tv network together. tenna quickly became the shining star holding it all together, while Mike stuck mainly to backstage work. she was honestly content with that; she was always better at making other people shine than being seen herself, and was happy with that.

(continued under read more)

however, as time passed and Toriel irl stopped watching TV and so on, Tenna got frustrated and increasingly status-conscious and more and more worked up. he wanted so badly to draw attention back and to be known again, and it was kind of eating him up inside.

mike took it on themself to try and fix things.

she did research, she went exploring, she wandered far backstage… and eventually, of course, she met a man.

she came back to Tenna with tips and tricks, better understandings of the world, and Tenna, caught up in his own world, took Mike’s new passion as being about Mike wanting fame herself. he was more than happy to oblige his old friend, and got her an air slot and an interview show. this was… not what Mike had wanted, at all, but she was too caught up to not go along.

and for a while it kind of worked? with the Insights Mike was getting, she was able to run an incisive, sharp show, probing at the deepest secrets of her guests. tenna seemed delighted by it all, encouraging mike to put on more of a character and go further and further, while meanwhile the man in the dark encouraged Mike to look further and further for answers.

and during this time, through the man’s guidance, she even made a friend! she helped him get his ads on air and told him to never give up on his dreams, and he told her to never stop getting bigger and to push herself beyond any limit she thought she had. they were close companions, and definitely didn’t enable each other’s worst tendencies or anything.

it wasn’t sustainable, though. finally they burned out. on air, they went into a long rant about all the truths of the world, swinging wildly between false tv-ready personas, less and less coherent, until Tenna cut the channel and ordered them out.

she’s been on the fringes and in the backstage since, trying to find some truth, some way to make things right again. she remembers one thing the man told her - that there was a power that could be used to restart from the beginning and tell the story all over. maybe if she got another shot, this time…

when the three-four heroes appear, she’s on their side, at first, or at least providing neutral ground. she wants to get Tenna and the Lightners to talk it out and make it work. when that backfires, though, well. maybe they have some demands to make of Kris.

object-wise, she’s mostly just part of the TV nature, but she takes some from a radio newscaster Kris fell asleep listening to on a long drive sometime in the distant past. her Secret Boss Speech Quirk is that she can only ask questions - she’s a microphone, her role is to amplify what others are thinking, not to make her own thoughts known.

in terms of “things to make Kris have a meltdown” - I’ve talked a lot about kris having to choose the flashy showmanship of a dark world over a quiet night with a friend, about how despite everything they hope that by being the hero and leader they can be known and loved a little… but a role in the spotlight that doesn’t suit them is always bound to crush them in the end. mike is proof that forcing yourself to be something you’re not to earn love and affection from those you care for is always going to end with you being even more alone than before.

there may also be room for some parallels of her and Ralsei, with her frantic wants to help, smooth everything over, and be loved. admittedly I've thought less on this angle but like Ralsei does deserve his own parallel weird themlet

she really needs better taste in women.

[reigenkills]

no Muerte x Reader? fine (thanos voice): i'll do it myself

ella enchanted + red riding hood reader, Death having a laugh

EDIT: PART TWO LMAO | PART THREE 💀 | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | 7 | 8

EDIT EDIT: AO3 CROSSPOST

EDIT EDIT EDIT: WHOEVER WANTS TO BE ON A TAGLIST FOR THIS PLS PUT IN THE REPLIES

"I'm surprised you actually tried it."

You wince, instantly holding yourself still in the pose of dropping a match into a bowl full of spell ingredients. There is a fire burning in said bowl in front of you, but your shadow stretches ahead, looming over you, the summoning circle, and the stolen grimoire.

"It wasn't supposed to work," you say.

"It wouldn't have," says the thing casting the physics-bending shadow. "But I'm curious why you did it anyway when you knew it was a dud."

You eye the grimoire with a grimace, pride twinging in sympathy for the witch you'd stolen it from. She was a big-name witch too, real infamous in her circles. Of course you knew she was bullshit the second she started talking about being able to undo your curse, but some of her work is legit; and she might have tried to turn you into a toad, but you're slightly offended on her behalf.

There's a sniff (what? who just does that?) and then the shadow tilts its head. "Something's wrong with you."

"Isn't there with everyone?"

The shadow ignores you, instead stooping down - and a shot of fear bolts down your spine at the sudden wash of cold that hangs close to your back. There's that sniff again, and then, a voice right beside you says: "Oh, you're cursed."

Great. Rule number one of being a mercenary, never let your enemies smell blood. Or fear. Or uh, your curse, but apparently this guy can sniff that out somehow.

Then again, you should have expected this when you got roped into catching fucking Death.

It'll be a quick job, they said. Twenty minutes tops after snatching the great Evil Witch's spellbook and finding the spell to trap Death. Nevermind the fact that every witch worth their broom calls themself an Evil Witch these days, of course, and you had to go through several hundred censuses to figure out which one was your mark.

And then there's the fact that you're supposed to be catching Death. Fucking hell.

"Curious," says Death. Honest-to-goodness Death. What the fuck. "If you knew it wasn't going to work, and if you're already headed my way with that curse, why go through with the spell?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"I'm Death, not Knowledge," he says. "Trust me, you'd know the difference between me and that nerd any day."

To your mortification, you can't stop the godawful snicker that joke gets out of you. You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Death snorts. "Tell me."

"I was ordered to trap you," you automatically say, and then clench your teeth in frustration, frowning. This damnable curse of yours.

"Oh?" Death moves, smoothly gliding from behind you to your side; the movement instantly draws your attention to him and - oh shit.

"What red eyes you have," you whisper, freezing under the brightness of his stare. With his hood pulled over his head, they're about the only thing you can see of his face, save for his snout, and the rows of large, sharp, teeth.

"The better to see you with, my dear." Death grins. "Was that your curse?"

"What was?" You swallow. "I'm just not used to meeting new people, I'm a nervous blabber."

"Tell me the truth."

"Yes, it was," you say, and then make a noise of frustration, clenching your fists.

"Look at that." If it were possible, Death's grin widens, effectively baring his teeth not even two inches away from your face in the process. "Isn't that interesting?"

"It's really not."

"Oh, but it is," he says. "How'd you get it? Parents not pay off their debts when it was due? Throw a rock at a bird and anger its patron? Or did you cut out the middleman and piss off fae?"

Spitefully, you keep your mouth shut, teeth grinding together in the effort. Death only snickers, narrowing his eyes in amusement.

"I could always just ask you to tell me," he says. "I don't have to be polite to someone who was trying to trap me."

"I knew it wouldn't work."

"You tried it anyway," he says. "And if you're gonna blame it on your curse, then let me understand exactly how this works."

Your gums are starting to hurt from how hard your jaw is clenched. Your glare up at him as pettily as you can manage, but the motherfucker doesn't look away, doesn't even blink while you glower at him.

Fucking eldritch entities.

You sigh.

"I was…cursed," you say, then, amend: "Gifted by fae when I was a baby. The gift of obedience."

"Because?"

"...cause she thought it would be a nice gift," you grumble. "Except - you know - that's nice when you're like, five or something, but not when…" You make a haphazard gesture with your hand.

Death eyes you up and down, though his gaze lingers over your shoulder and above your head, like he's seeing something only he can sense. You try your best not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

After a while, he says, "Pat your head."

Your hand automatically flies up to pat your head.

The piece of shit has the gall to laugh.

"Asshole!" You get to your feet, kicking the bowl of still-burning summoning ingredients at him. Who gives a shit if it's Death. The ass just laughed at you after telling you to pat your head like a chump. Sadly, he barely has to pay attention to dodge the metal bowl as it flies past him.

"You had to run around looking for that witch and nearly get turned into a worm," Death says, "Because of a gift of obedience?"

He breaks into another round of cackles at that, all seven feet or so of him doubling over in laughter. Your hands twitch for one of the guns in your holster, but no matter how irritating he is, it's probably not a good idea to shoot Death.

"Very funny," you seethe.

"It is," Death says, "It's hilarious."

"Yeah, well, let's see you laughing when someone figures out they can tell me to try and kill you or whatever," you grit out. "I can't control it, you know."

"Mm. I'd just tell you to not do that, after you tire yourself out. Way more fun that way," he says, snickering.

He turns to where the remnants of the ingredients bowl have scattered, still burning away - because the magic might have been wrong, but it's still magic, so the damn things haven't burnt to ashes yet - and inclines his head down towards it. The flames instantly snuff out.

"Stop trying to trap me," he says, and you instantly feel the command contradict your last directive, strain against it, and break it down. Your limbs loosen; you unclench your jaw. "You should probably move continents or something. Far Far Away still has mercenaries."

"You're not gonna kill me?"

"I don't kill," Death snorts. "I collect. The affairs of the living aren't my concern - until they are, at least. Some kid getting their curse used against them hardly concerns me."

The wording has you narrowing your eyes at him again. "And my…employers?"

He grins again, and you wisely back off at the sight of his teeth. "That's up to me to decide, isn't it?"

"I guess," you say. "You need addresses or anything?"

"Nah," he says. "I'm Death, kid. I'm everywhere."

This time, you snort, crouching to pick up the grimoire on the floor and tuck it under your arm. If you're gonna move continents to a place where nobody knows your curse, you're gonna need way more leverage than you usually do. "You just said you weren't Knowledge - "

You blink as you straighten, finding yourself alone in the barren, empty room. There's no looming figure, no overly bright red eyes. Just you.

You were visited by Death and he didn't kill you. Laughed at your plight, yes, but you're alive and kicking.

Probably best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a wolf in the maw. Whatever. You should start packing and getting the hell out of here.

[byanyan]

@gnarledbite sent:ㅤHe hands them a simple box wrapped in red paper. Inside is a new sharpening block, and a new butterfly knife. The handles are solid black, but the blade is a different story. It's iridescent, with markings carefully etched into the metal resembling some of the simpler tattoos adorning the teen's hands. “Tempering it so the metal turned those colors took… three tries? It's not paint or coating, so it won't chip or flake off.”

ㅤthey're already confused the moment the box is in their hands. it's christmastime, sure, but a gift? for them? from garrett, whom they've been little more than a nuisance for? the unexpectedness of it is plain as day in their features, caught too off guard to even attempt to conceal it as they stare down at the present. dark eyes flit momentarily up to the other kindred's face, as though to make certain that there isn't some mistake here, then return to the bright red paper.

with an air of caution, almost like they're sure this is some sort of trick and they're waiting for the twist, long fingers begin peeling the wrapping paper back to reveal the box beneath. it seems normal enough once they've pulled it free, so byan progresses to the next step and lifts the lid off too, only to draw to a pause at the sight of what lay inside.

it's... amazing. the blade of the knife alone is gorgeous, the colours shifting in the light as they turn the box slightly, but it's the markings that have been engraved into it that really catch their attention. images they'd recognize anywhere, ones they can see mirrored this very moment across their fingers and the backs of their hands, carved into the metal of a knife. for them. struck dumb as they are by the surprise, they almost miss garrett's words. part of them wishes that they did, because the realization that comes with them tugs their wide-eyed stare up to his face, alarmed

ㅤㅤ" you— "ㅤthey start, but their voice catches before they can get much more out. clearing their throat, their gaze quickly drops back to their hands as they take a moment to let things sink in a little more.ㅤ" ...you made this? "

having some of their tattoos engraved in the blade is already a lot, especially with how accurate they are. the ones chosen might be some of the simpler ones, but even that would have required to notice them, to pay attention to what are ultimately quite small details, in order to replicate them. him purchasing a knife and having those designs etched into it is already a large amount of thought and effort to put into a gift, but if he's actually made the entire thing himself? and it took three tries to get it right? that's just... that's too much. it's too much to waste on them, so much more than they're worth when all they've done is invade his home, steal his things, and cause him trouble.

ㅤㅤ" what the fuck. "ㅤfeeling that familiar tightness tucked just beneath their chin, that sensation which always foreshadows tears, the distinct urge to flee flares up. for a long moment, they consider acting on it, their fingers twitching as they come so close to shoving the box back into garrett's hands and turning to run off. for a long moment, they simply stand there in a silence that practically vibrates with their intense, conflicting emotions.

ㅤㅤ" this is so... —you shouldn't've... "ㅤtwo sentiments begin and die on their tongue, and byan pauses again to swallow thickly. they can feel it, that threatening sting in the corners of their eyes, and they know that if they let those tears fall, they'll be thick and red and even more mortifying than crying in front of someone has ever been before. it can't happen. they're already embarrassing themself enough as it is. clearing their throat again and giving a quick sniff, they draw a steady, if unnecessary, breath in and stand up taller as though to play off their entire reaction thus far.

ㅤㅤ" i, uh. i didn't know you could do that. that's really cool though, an' this— "ㅤa gesture to the knife and sharpening block, neither of which they have yet managed to pluck from the box,ㅤ" ...this is... i mean, i dunno what t' say, this is dope as hell. "

[demigod-of-berk]

Hours til Sunrise

Ed only has a few hours to plan their escape from the reform academy. Then they can finally be free together.

Using this as a sort of brain refresher after working on a much bigger completely unrelated fic lol

Read on AO3!

 Ed walks away from the cliff side positively glowing.

 He doesn’t have the advantage of hiding behind his beard anymore so it’s a challenge to keep the grin off of his face so he doesn’t draw attention to himself. But every time he wills it away it sneaks back gradually until it’s once again pulling at his cheeks.

 He kissed Stede.

 Stede kissed him back.

 They were running away together. They were going to China.

“You make Stede happy.”

 He holds those words close and tucks them right next to his heart where they easily make themself home.

 It scares him a bit, how willing he is to throw everything away just to be with Stede. He would have stayed at the academy. He would have served the king for twenty years if it meant Stede would be safe, being able to stay by his side was just an added bonus.

 Izzy said the only retirement people like them get is death. Blackbeard for all intents and purposes may be dead. But Edward Teach was very much alive.

 He had kissed Stede and Stede had kissed him back.

 Ed is still mulling over a plan by the time dinner comes around. He’s played out several different scenarios in his head, ranging from a horrible demise to eternal promises made.

 He’s come up with a few realistic options but he keeps in mind that even though Stede has come a long way, there are some things he’s still not ready for. Everything has to go perfectly. If the English catch them then all bets are off and their Act of Grace will likely be voided.

 He could tell Stede was still a bit apprehensive about the idea, despite being the one wanting to escape when they first arrived. Ed just chalked it up to Stede finally coming down from the adrenaline rush of it all. The fake heads idea really hadn’t been all that terrible

 The Revenge was the first option. It should still be nearby, but it would be too risky. Besides, he wouldn't want to put Stede’s crew or his old crew in danger. Which left the second option. They’d likely have to stowaway onto a ship.

 But first things first, they had to get out of here in order to get on a ship. He pays attention to the guards and a few of the trainees, filling away who might be useful.

 No one bothers them during dinner. Either no one wants to cross the legendary Blackbeard or they don’t know who he is. Both are fine by Ed, he gets to have Stede’s presence all to himself.

 Stede makes a not so subtle face down at his food. It doesn’t look much different from what they had on the ship but it completely lacks any flavor.

 They share a look and Stede gives him a shy smile. Ed wants to hold Stede’s hand, to wrap his arms around him and never let go. The kiss on the cliff side had only been a taste and Ed craves so much more. For now though he sits with his thigh brushed up against Stede’s.

 It’s surprisingly easy to bribe one of the trainees that’s placed on night watch to look the other way and to also wake Stede when the time is right, at least one of them should get some sleep.

 He finds Stede in bed with the covers tucked up to his chin.

 “Where are you going?”

 “Oh, I got to go mug a guy for a dinghy,” he says, a smile once again plastered across his face. “I’ll see you down there.” He gives Stede’s arm a reassuring squeeze before he leaves.

 They’re so close and Ed can’t help how giddy he feels. He rambles a bit more than he means to. He can’t help it, this pleasant warm feeling that’s been growing in his chest is eager to get out, to be shared with someone, anyone. The recipient just happens to be the guy he’s currently mugging for the dinghy.

 He secures the dinghy to an abandoned dock. There’s still about an hour before their agreed meeting time. Plenty of time to get some money and a change of clothes for the both of them.

 A bit later he breaches through the brush once more, expecting to see Stede waiting for him. He looks around and listens, but there is only the wavy reflections of the moon and the soft lap of water on the shore.

 He paces for a bit, excitement and anxiety thrumming through him. Ed can wait.

 He figures maybe the lookout got held up in order to remain discreet. Hopefully Stede was at least getting some more rest out of it. Stede couldn’t have gotten lost, the location may be obscured but it wasn’t a long walk from the base.

 Eventually he lays on the dock and stares up at the night sky. He can’t wait to teach Stede all of the constellations on the way. He’ll take Stede’s outstretched hand and draw them in the sky when he doesn’t see them.

 Maybe they’ll even make up their own along the way.

 He kind of regrets not stealing another kiss before he left. But there will be plenty of time for that later. Ed can wait.

 Any minute now Stede would be here.

[fenmere]

Now that is awkward.

You're very flattered, of course, even if you're not a woman. To be conflated with what humans see as the caretaking parent is definitely a compliment. And in keeping with how you see yourself in your reasons for coming to this planet in the first place.

Though, it wasn't exactly a complimentary tone. But it had sounded reflexive, not deliberate, and the little hero had looked mortified upon hearing the word come from his mouth.

Everyone stopped to look at him, which probably made things worse.

"Ooh! That's good!" Crime-Cat declared. "Remember that, everyone. New form of address for the Deliverator! When we take over the world, you can call them Mom. I'll be Dad. I've got the shirts for it!"

"I didn't mean -" the kid blurted as you spoke at the same time.

"We are not taking over the world," you scowl.

"Oh, I know that, Sweetie," Crime-Cat says more gently, in tones meant more for you. Not performative, like before. "But you know they totally expect us to try. We are the world's biggest villains now, after all."

You smirk and nod and say a little louder, for the benefit of Crashslide and his team, "Well, it's not our fault most of their controlling governments are gripped by fascism." Then you look pointedly at the lead hero, Cromulent.

Crashslide, the kid, had successfully brought the fighting to a pause with his slip up, allowing for the conversation to happen.

It probably wasn't going to last.

It would be more interesting to delve into the psychology of the teenager to learn why he'd reflexively called a towering Kepekapean "Mom", but the situation dictates that you needle Cromulent.

His own pride and carelessness had been instrumental in bringing your late honeymoon with Crime-Cat to an abrupt and premature end by fighting with his teammates so heavily that the superprison you'd been ensconced in had been completely destroyed. And yet, here he was again, leading a team to try to round you up again.

As if he still had a duty to the U.S. his own actions hadn't alienated him from.

He was most certainly not acting on orders. None of them could be.

In fact, he might now be branded a villain himself.

"I really didn't mean to call them that!" Crashslide protests more loudly when you're done speaking, drawing everyone's attention again.

Crime-Cat can't let it go, of course. They may have named themself after the excavation equipment, not the animal, but they are very catlike in the way they like to play with others. "Oh, Darling, but a part of you obviously did. Why not roll with it? The Deliverator would make an excellent mother."

"My mom is not -" Crashlide stops mid sentence, glancing at Cromulent and Lady Ironside. He's aware he was just about to spill identifying information to a battlefield full of villains.

Both of the elder heroes nod in grim approval that he'd stopped himself.

T.A.L.O.N.'s best lieutenant, Windfucker, lands beside you, "What's going on, Boss?"

"Don't call me 'Boss'," you mutter.

"It's what I do. Why'd the fighting stop?"

"Crashslide here called my spouse 'Mom'," Crime-Cat chirps. "And we're all having a moment about it. Honestly, I think it could be a major turning point!"

"Not if you say it," you say, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. Every now and then, humans can make you feel embarrassed, and it's a little weird. You've been here for a decade and a half now and you're still not used to it.

The kid is obviously getting more and more embarrassed himself.

You look him in the eyes with a solemn and earnest expression, for a Kepekapean. You hope he reads you correctly, and you ask, "Would it be better if we just forget this and continue with the fight?"

"Ah! You are like my mom!" he shouts!

The teen superhero accidentally just called the supervillain “Mom”.

[caranelguild]

November 3 - 4, DY 26

Wondering what has become of their new prison guard ally, Farthybüt reaches out with a spell and makes contact. Tlaylok communicates that there was no one in the key room when he went to sign one out, and was caught red-handed when he decided to go behind the counter. He says he still has the key, but has been “caught.”

Farthybüt wants to go immediately to the rescue, but is convinced to remain for a short time while Zilybar and Lagoruth put their disguise kits to use. Dressed as a guard and made up to look like a weird orc, the hill gobin heads straight into the front foyer of the prison command center -

Where right away a commanding officer orders them to turn around and head to the northwestern wing (incidentally, the one containing Krell Hemmerling). The commander relates that all wings are being shored up in expectation of continued mischief. Farthybüt tries to argue that they’re on break, but ultimately turn around and leave - only to head around the circumference of the central tower until they get to another door. This one opens onto a small landing. A narrow stair rises ahead, a bustling and cramped kitchen lies to the right, and a door sits on the left. Farthybüt goes through this door and finds themself back in the foyer. They nonchalantly stroll across it towards the wide stairs at the far side, luckily avoiding the notice of the commander this time.

On the second floor, they come upon the gnome witch and join her for a cup of coffee, asking general questions about the current goings-on. Apparently, she is employed to upkeep the magical lights illuminating the command center; she is surprised to hear Farthybüt insist that the problems all arose from a gas leak.

After flirting for a while, they part and Farthybüt heads up the stairs. While heading for the open door to Sir Cromarty’s office, they hear a thwack from a door they are passing. Reaching out, they communicate with Tlaylok, who responds simply, “Ow!”

Farthybüt enters this closed room and is faced with a sinister scene. Standing over their wood elf friend, who is bound to a chair, are two burly individuals, one of whom is drawing back a billy club for another blow.

Farthybüt attempts to convince them to head downstairs to shore up defenses in the prison wings, but when one of the torturers is revealed to be in a role of command, this tact fails. Ultimately, it results in Farthybüt getting punched in the face for being insubordinate. Without a second glance at Tlaylok, the disguised hill goblin leaves the room and strolls into Sir Cromarty’s office, which is full of administrators discussing the scene.

Once again, Farthybüt tells everyone to go somewhere else and mentions the gas leak. They are generally ignored. This time, however, an underling is concerned that a uniformed guard has been tasked with delivering messages - she asks her overseer to accompany Farthybüt and take over their job so that the “guard” can return to more useful duty.

Farthybüt leads this underling, a woman named Margaret, back to the break room where they find the witch and an off-duty guard, a weathered elf lady. Farthybüt messages Zilybar with a spell, telling him where Tlaylok is, and then happily falls into conversation with the group in the break room - spreading misinformation about the gas leak and important information regarding the formation of unions.

Zilybar responds immediately and lets the others know where he’s going - straight back up the wall to the library with the kitschy skull cabinet. He arrives at the window and surveys the scene within. The gnome taps the glass to attract the attention of those inside, then hangs off to the side to hide.

When the official discovers the cuts in the glass that ZIlybar had made on his first excursion into the building, he pushes it out, bending the structural bars in the glass. He sticks his head out to look around, and Zilybar strikes with his rapier, slaying the official immediately. Blood sprays everywhere before pulsing thickly from the small puncture wound through the dead man’s neck.

The guard leaves Tlaylok and investigates his slumped companion, quickly noticing the blood and pulling the corpse into the room to check for signs of life. Zilybar uses the (literal) opening to swing inside, darting quickly for Tlaylok and cutting his bonds.

Tlaylok quickly pulls out the guard’s club and uses it to knock the torturer unconscious. “You came in through the window?” he asks.

Zilybar confirms that this is the case. Tlaylok communicates his lack of confidence in going out the way the bard came in, but says he can just head down through the building, since only the two people in here and the official who found him in the key room know that he is a person of interest (now that Sir Cromarty is dead).

So Zilybar slips back out the window and Tlaylok heads out the door.

Meanwhile, Farthybüt has been asked about their bloody nose, and they respond that so-and-so the official (describes him) is such an asshole, isn’t he? If he ever got skewered through the neck, that would be no more than he deserves, wouldn’t you agree?

The disguised hill goblin sees Tlaylok pass the open break room door. “Come on in, join us!”

Tlaylok is very startled by this invitation. He is concerned about Farthybüt being trapped in the building, but does not take them up on the invite - Tlaylok heads down the last flight of stairs and makes it to the building site.

Farthybüt is happy to continue their conversation, which grows more and more flirtatious with the gnome witch, until they are invited to join her in a secret cubby for a sexy activity - which turns out, to the goblin’s delight, to be sorting mixed buttons.

Their luck turns, however, when the commander from the foyer happens to discover them engaging in this hot and heavy practice - and then turns again as the commander tells Farthybüt to accompany them as they head elsewhere in the command center.

It becomes clear that the commander believes that Farthybüt has been sent by the owners of the private prison to inspect the facility while under cover. The weird makeup, the fact that Farthybüt is unrecognizable to this veteran of the system, the rumours that the higher-ups were planning something like this - it all lines up. “Figures it would happen on this, the worst possible day for it!” exclaims the commander, whose name is Guo’rocks. He asks Farthybüt what it would take to, y’know, smooth this over with the higher-ups. Can he buy Farthybüt’s loyalty somehow?

Farthybüt not only says “Absolutely, give me a letter of recommendation and the elephant gun from Sir Cromarty’s office,” but also suggests the cover story that will make all this go away.

“A gas leak, yessss,” says Guo’rocks, tapping his nose. “Yesss, that will work. Now,” he continues, “we must keep up appearances until the end of your ‘shift.’ Wouldn’t want anyone else catching on, you know. So you head over to the northwestern wing, hey, and meet me at the break room, say, when your shift is finished?”

Farthybüt relates that they’re heading back for Augleth in around half an hour, and they agree to meet at the break room then.

Farthybüt heads nonchalantly back to the kitchen build site.

Here, the motley crew debates whether to act immediately or continue to rest. Ultimately, though Farthybüt leaves them after the passage of half an hour, the rest, wounded and exhausted from the brouhaha in the mines, elect to rest and recover.

Farthybüt receives the gun, which tragically seems to require some sort of ammunition shell, and letter of recommendation, and then is escorted by the commander to the drawbridge over the river.

“I have a carriage and guards waiting just beyond the rise there,” explains the goblin when Guo’rocks wonders about the safety of traveling these hills at night. Farthybüt heads out of sight.

Evening, then night falls, and the majority of our party are bandaged and rested up, ready to finally tackle the actual prison break.

Ainsley disguises herself with magic and accompanies Roy and Lagoruth, dressed as guards, as they follow Tlaylok towards the wing containing Krell Hemmerling. Zilybar and Indros are left in the kitchen.

At the gate to enter the northwestern wing, our adventurers are stopped, and not recognizing the majority of the party, the door-steward becomes suspicious. She is quickly slain, but in the final moment she manages to clap her bloody hand upon the alarm button.

Lagoruth immediately turns to the brass pipes of the communication system and puts on his best lady guard voice (it’s very bad). “False alarm, everyone! Accidentally put my coffee down wrong!” He then scrambles to find the switch to turn it off.

Just then, the floor patrol turns the bend and approaches. “Thought it didn’t sound like the regular steward!” says one, approaching Lagoruth, who tries to fill the window so that the approaching guards won’t see the dead guard behind him.

“Nah, I’m new,” says Lagoruth. “Hence not knowing where I was putting my coffee! Anyway, these folks are here to pick up Krell Hemmerling, say he knows something about what happened down in the mines.”

“Right, right,” say the guards. When the gate remains locked, the one, a tortle, gestures to Lagoruth and says, “Switch is under the desk.”

“Right yeah of course.”

Lagoruth remains in the gateroom as the others follow the patrol down the passage to Krell Hemmerling’s cell.

“I won’t cooperate with you,” says the dwarf.

“You will,” says Roy fiercely. “You’ll tell us all you know about the mine, and about the Yuigahama,” he says, name dropping their contact for this quest.

The dwarf cooperates.

Our four friends collect Lagoruth on their way from the wing, and are then joined by Indros and Zilybar as they approach the command center in the center courtyard. This group heads around the building to the back entrance, which leads to the mine, but they are interrupted by little Margaret, who comes out of the service door. She tells them that they’ve figured it out! It was a gas leak down there, believe it or not, and it’s her job to let everyone know the official findings.

Our adventurers nod sagely at this and leave her to her business. They enter the building and clamber down into the mine. Lagoruth decides to go first, entering the main chamber where a collection of intellectual-magical types are gathered, discussing what could possibly have happened down here.

Lagoruth attempts to distract them while the others sneak past the chamber. He fails utterly, and turns his failure into a bluff.

“Ah, what are these sneaking strangers doing down here! Aaaahh!” And he chases after them brandishing his whip.

The party sprints for the dead end shaft, where Roy uses magic to admit them past the real stone that the young wizard had conjured over the opening they had made. He then seals it behind.

A startled ex-prisoner greets them in the space beyond, and leads them back to the others. During the last eight or so hours, the wizard, with the help of others, has cut a stair into the wall of the pit, but it is still a matter of some time to ascend the distance to the surface, where Farthybüt is waiting for them.

The group of guildfolk and the newly liberated follow the hill goblin across their territory and rest in their sulfurous cave until the morning. The next day, they complete the journey back to Augleth, arriving in the evening. Krell takes responsibility for his erstwhile peers, and the groups part ways.

Evidently, a messenger was dispatched from the prison before the escape was finalized, as rumours are abounding in the city. The papers are full of speculative headlines and stories are being exchanged everywhere - meaning the single, well-produced puppet show in a park square about an avaricious cheat named Lord von Schmizschmark is not drawing in a big crowd.

Back at the guild hall, our adventurers learn that it has been under mischievous attack by thieves and miscreants in the few days they’ve been gone - attacks turned away and responded to by the capable guildmates present, but which are persistently repeated by other hooligans and petty criminals.

Also, it turns out that they have new neighbours! Tall, good-looking women in dark outfits have been doing dramatic renovations next door . . .

[imagineimpact]

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

[ramzawrites]

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt. 

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

[angrelysimpping]

Harem participants being comforted after being rescued?

Robin, Whitney, Syd, and PC probably have the hardest time.

Alex is fine, a bit humiliated, but mostly fine. More upset about everyone worrying about him.

Wren is okay. He is used to crazy bullshit around him. Will appreciate hugs and attention.

Wren has it the easiest. He's used to it. He...does need some cuddles, though. He might be used to wriggling out of tight places, but it doesn't mean he doesn't need comforting.

Alex is dying inside. Needs head pats and blow jobs and neck kisses and to get roughly fingered and be the center of attention.

They're ready to do anything you want in order to comfort you after getting you back from where ever you got whisked away to.

Whitney next, Whitney next. If they're in prison with Wren, it's better. Smuggler can take them under their wing and keep away the worst of the lecherous looks and hands. If not, Whitney is kinda, well, fucked. They try to make a name for themself. That whole, pick a fight so people know not to mess with you thing. But, look, Whitney's young. Not even 20. They're pobably going to get their ass kicked (and probably fucked).

Then the worst two. Sydney and Robin.

Robin is stuck in their head. They'd finally relaxed around the farm, but then going to the ubrothel? No, they can't deal with it. So, they shut down. Takes a lot of comorting to help them come back to themself.

Sydney...is bad. Also withdraws into themself. Doesn't want to be touched, doesn't want to be looked at. You'll have to draw them back out of their shell, again. Then Robin. Then Alex.

please, cuddles and hot coco and soft words and brushing hair back behind ears 🥺

[kakashifanrp]

Marks of the soulmates 1/2

Kakashi Hatake x reader

part 2 <- here

AN: Soulmate fics get to me. They are soo cute! Soo i decided to drabble down one. Most likely this is part 1.. 😅 most likely a oneshot or two shot. 

(a pic of the mark aswell, just because I liked this one mark)

Soulmates, it had been a thing for ages. Almost everyone had a soulmate, finding it was another story. When the ancient shinobies of the past were able to make the mark of the soulmates it made the search easier for many. A mark would appear on the left wrist, a mark that would only be identical to your soulmates mark. Girls normally made sure to keep a eye out on their chruses wrist between 16 to 18 years of age, it was then the mark would normally appear.

Yours however came around when you were 17 and a half.. Right after you had became a jonin, and your best friend since childhood turned his back on everyone. It was not that you hadn't tried to stop him... Or even try to make him stop ignoring everyone that cared for him.. But after he joined the Anbu it was back and forth, before the sudden conntinuesly ignoring everyone. After days of watching it all go down, you followed him.. Knowing it didn't only hurt you, but also the rest of your friends.

"Kakashi.. Stop for a secound" You had been running after him for 5 minutes allready, after seeing the sad look on Gui's face yet again after Kakashi ignored him, and only gave a cold stare. It had been the boiling point, watching this for years allready. You caught up with him and stepped in front of him, but in normal Kakashi style he just walked around you. This made you clench your jaw as you stepped in front of him again, placing your hands on his chest making him stop by force. "I have tried to stop you for 5 minutes now" You looked up at him, only to be greeted by the cold stare of his.

"Why are you doing this? Do you even see how hurt your friends are? We are worried about you baka!" frustration had been building up over the years, seeing him act like a cold hearted brat. "You really are annoying" Kakashi muttered unimpressed and pushed your hands off him. "didn't you just become a jonin? Isn't it time to act like it?" There it was.. The vemon in his voice again.. Like he hated your gut. "My rank has nothing to do with this, and you know it. I don't know what has happend to you lately, but damn Kakashi.. Saying hi once in a while would not kill you" It was a desperate attempt to make him soften up a bit, and stop throwing away everyone that cared for him..

"You are just pathetic.. Can't belive they let babies become jonin theese days" he scoffed as he started to walk away. "Soo thats what you think of me huh?" His words hurt, it always did when he was in a mood like that.. "Can you be annoying somewhere else, some of us has actual things to do" He spat, not even looking back at you as he walked away.

You remembered that day too well.. It was the day you knew you lost your best friend, and it crushed you.. Not only did he look down on your abilities as a jonin.. But he seemed to had a distaste for you as a person too. As if that wasen't hard enough, your soulmate mark appeared later that day. That was suppose to be one of the happiest day of your life.. To finally get the mark you had dreamed of and start the hunt for your very own soulmate.. But after the talk with Kakashi earlier in the day it only made you sad..

You looked down at your wrist as you walked. The flame like mark were still there, and you had yet to start looking for the matching mark. Had it only been as easy for you as it was for Asuma and Kurenai it would have been great, but you truly had started to doubt if that was even what you wanted in life. "NARUTO!!" you heard the scream from behind you making you lift your head to see the blonde boy running away from the pink haired one yet again. "Y/N sama! Help me!" Naruto ran up and hid behind you which did not stop Sakura one bit as she chased after him.

"hey, I am not a shield!" Being dragged into their fighting was never fun, at least when you knew how hard that girl punched. "Wait until I get my hands on you Naruto!" they run around you, Naruto trying to dogde, while Sakura tried to punch. "Ey ey ey, Didn't you two just pass on a team togheter, teammates don't hit eachother, or use people as shields!" You facepalmed yourself as you watched them. "He tried to call me his soulmate!" Sakura shouted, red in face from the anger boiling. "But what if you are Sakura Chan?" Naruto carefully stood behind you with a nervous smile on his face.

"Guys, why even worry about that stuff now.. It is like 4 to 6 years before any of you get a mark, that is if you even get one?" This caught Naruto's attention, giving Sakura a opening to punch him in the head. "Still, I know my soulmate will be Sasuke, not a Baka like Naruto" She crossed her arms, looking offeded as usual. "ow ow ow" Naruto rubbed his head where he was hit and looked at the two of you. "I almost feel bad for the sensei you guys got.. With this being how you act thowards eachother." you let out a soft sigh. "Kakashi sensei don't seem to care" with narrow brows you looked at Sakura. "Hatake, Kakashi? Is he your sensei?"

"Yeah, He made us to that stupid bell test..what a scarecrow" Naruto mumbled. You had heard he became a jonin leader a while back, but he had not passed a team soo far. "Scarecrow? That was a new one" You raised your brow, knowing Naruto found all kinds of nicknames for people. "Y/N sama, do you have a soulmate mark?" Sakura looked at you, and you nodded. She grabbed your arm, making you gasp in suprise as she lifted the glove a bit to look at it. "wow! Have you found your match yet? When did you get yours? Did it just appear? Was it magical like they say?" You looked at the girl with wide eyes as she studied your mark.

"breath Sakura.. It is just a mark" You shrugged, making her thighten her hold on your arm. You winced at the sudden strenght the girl had when she got annoyed. "It is not just any mark!" She glared at you. "ok, i got it when I was 17 and a half.. And no I haven't found my soulmate.. And yes it just appeared" You muttered and noticed Naruto looking at it too. "hmm.. Soo thats how it looks like." He tilted his head before his eyes light up. "Thank you Y/N sama" He smirked and dragged Sakura with him, taking her by suprise as she looked ready to hit again. You just stood and looked at them walking away in confusion, wondering what he even thanked you for..

Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke had gotten themself a mission, and they were not gonna stop until it was settled. The past week they had been looking at peoples wrist to see if they found you a match, Sakura had been soo happy to finally see a real soulmate mark that she had memorized it in detail and made a a drawing the three of them used to compare with. After a week they sat down defeated at Ichuraka's. "We have looked everywhere! No matches" Naruto whines. "Did you really think that was gonna be easy?" Sasuke looked annoyed.

"I was hoping yeah! It has to be someone in this town" Naruto took another bite of his ramen. "why do you guys look soo down" Kakashi sat next to them with a raised brow. Normally his students didn't hang with their heads while eating ramen. "Baka, Naruto! It can be from another village too! The mark is on people from all villages" Sasuke frowned and scoffed. "Mark? What mark?" Finally it seemed that the three students had noticed their sensei. "soulmate marks, what else sensei?" Sakura frowned. "aren't you three a bit too young to be worrying about theese marks?"

"We are just trying to help a friend" Naruto looked at him. "a friend?" Kakashi looked at them even more confused. He remember wanting a mark when he was younger too, but after he got it he never really cared. "Is it a meeting here today?" Iruka walked in, ready to get his lunch that he had ordered. "Iruka sensei! Show me your wrist!" Naruto demanded making Iruka go pale. "ehh, what?" Sakura grabbed his arm and looked. "nope.. Not Iruka sensei either" She mumbled, as he retracted his arm. "ok what is going on?" He looked at the genin in front of him.

"We have been trying for a week now to find Y/N samas match" Sasuke shrugged, making it sound like it was the most obious thing ever. "we have checked as many in kohona as possible, but it is too many marks and no one matches the one she has!" Naruto almost screamed as he explained, clearly frustrated. "Y/N sama?" Kakashi looked at the three genin, not sure if he heard the name correctly. That name he had not heard in years. "ohh, I see.." Iruka rubbed the back of his neck. "your old classmate, Kakashi.. She helped out at the school from time to time"

"That joke was not funny Iruka sensei" Naruto side eyed him. "what joke?" Naruto looked at Kakashi, almost making the ninja uncomfortable. "I don't belive Y/N sama is that old" This made Kakashi almost shrink in his chair. "I am not even that old" He muttered, making Iruka laugh. "well, You guys should have good luck then" Iruka got the food and left as the genin finnished theirs. "Kakashi sensei, can you help us out on this mission?" Sakura pleaded, started to loose the hope. "Isn't that your mission to do?" He noticed the look in their eyes and sighed. At least they seemed to be working in a team, which made them stop bickering for once. "Ok, I help for today"

Sakura gave him the paper. "We need to find this mark!" She pointed at it, not noticing the wide eye on her sensei. "You sure this is the mark?" He frowned as he looked at the kids. "Yes! She showed it to me. Just remember she must not know about this" The young girl said sternly. Kakashi just nodded as he looked at the drawing, ignoring Naruto's stare. "We have not checked your arm sensei" He said suddenly as he grabbed the arm to look, taking Kakashi by suprise. "hmm" The blonde said as he looked between the paper and Kakashi's wrist.

"what are you doing?" Kakashi tried to retract his arm, but all three of them grabbed it to look. "it is a match?" Sakura looked up at Kakashi, before they let go of his arm. "But you are too old sensei.." The three genin frowned as they watched him, making him uncomfortable. "How old do you three really think I am?" He placed the paper down, eyeing the three kids. "Older than Y/N sama" Naruto said with a obious tone. "But you two are soo different.." Sakura voiced her thoughts before she started to go pale. "oh no, what If I get linked with that baka" She started to freak out, thinking about it. If kakashi sensei could have the same mark as Y/N, with how different they were... What if the was cursed with Naruto!?

"Y/N sama! Over here!" Naruto yelled, making Kakashi pull down his sleeve. You looked over and noticed Sakura's face. "whats going on.. You three looks like you have seen a ghost?" you walked over before noticing Kakashi. "I am doomed!" Sakura ran off making you look shocked. "Naruto, what did you do this time?" The blond glared at you before looking between you and Kakashi. "Nope, still don't belive it" He muttered, eyeing his sensei. This whole thing made you look at them all confused. "Do I even wanna know..."

"Are you as old as Kakashi sensei?" Naruto blurred out, still looking between you two. "Well yeah.. What about it?" This made Kakashi smile under his mask. "I told you, I am not that old" Naruto just shaked his head and started to leave. "Still don't belive it" You giggled a bit, only imagine the shock he must be in. "It could have been worse Y/N sama" Sauske gave your arm a soft pat before walking away. "Theese kids never stops to suprise me" You sighed and looked over at Kakashi. "Now I see what he meant with scarecrow" You mumbled as the expression on his face and hair could remind you of one.

"a what now?" He stood up and looked at you. "Naruto think you look like a scarecrow, I can kind of see it now" You smiled a bit. "You should have good luck with them, they can be a handful." You mumbled, remembering the last time you spoke with Him. "You don't have to say that twice.. They are gonna be the death of me, I allready know it" He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "oh, you don't know anything yet" You smiled and started to walk away, knowing he was in for it. "Where are you going?"

"I have guard duty today, soo off to my shift" You turned and looked at him. You studies him carefully, not sure how to read him at all.. And still a bit shocked he could talk at all. "Which side of the village?" He asked. "East side, waiting for a scroll delivery" He nodded. "I tag along then" You narrowed your brows a bit. "You tag along? Never thought I would hear that from you again, Hatake" You smiled and started to walk, letting him catch up to you. "well, it is a first for everything isn't it?" He keept his gaze on your hand, knowing you used to talk with your hands before. Maybe he was able to see for himself.

"Soo what is the scroll about? Since they need guards to greet it?" He played it off as he opened his book to pretend to read. "Well, I am not sure, all I know it is a delivery to lord 3rd" you shrugged as you lifted your hands a bit. Kakashi noticed the mark on your wrist as he stopped a bit. "Are you ok?" You stopped and looked over at him. "I gotta go" With a poof of smoke he was gone, making you sigh. "some things never changes.."

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you do the “reaction to first time being shown affection” but with the new vegas/fo3 male companions as well?

Romanced! Male! FO3 Companions and the first time they’re shown soft forms of Affection

Here is some more fluff for all of you lovlies! Man, I love doing these sweet prompts so dang much 😅  Seriously, if there’s ANY characters you want to see for this that I haven’t done, please please please don’t hesitate to ask, cuz these reactions are just good for my soul (... or Sole, eh? Get it?).

Fallout New Vegas (M! Companions) reactions are also on the way for this prompt as well, and should be done soon! 

Butch:

     Lone's eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the darkened vault 101 bedroom as they stretched their legs from beneath the thin blanket with a small sigh. A blush spread to their face as they felt their partner stir beside them, repositioning himself onto his back, an arm thrown up over his head as a deep breath escaped his lips. They turned to get a better look at him, smiling slightly at how peaceful he looked. Eyes still closed, mouth dangling open slightly, hair tousled about every which way upon his head as it crushed into the pillow behind him. Lone just stared at him for a while,  their heart beating insistently in their chest as they thought back on the events of their first night together… them and Butch… who would've thought? 

They would have liked to pin it on the way he's changed over the years they've known him, because certainly ten-year-old Lone would have scrunched up their face in disgust at the idea of having a crush on the self-absorbed bully. But… truth is, Lone's always suspected that their feelings towards the fellow vault dweller had been more… complicated than simple hatred, or simple attraction. No, these feelings seemed to go deeper than that, even before, when they were kids and he would get on their nerves constantly, or in school when they were teens who frequently argued with each other, they knew there was something more at play between the pair, though they never would have admitted it at the time. Now though, they couldn't believe they had ever seen him any differently as they gazed tenderly at their partner through half-lidded eyes, filled to the brim with affection for the man that lay beside them.

Lone tentatively reached up a hand, not wanting to wake him, but needing to touch him. They brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, running their palm over the top of his head and smoothing down any stray strands that stuck out. Pausing their movements briefly, Lone brought themselves into a sitting position, keeping their side of the blankets up to cover their bare body as they scooted closer to him and reached their hands out towards his head again. Though his hair wasn't all that long, they rarely had the privilege of seeing it void of product, which often made it difficult to play with. Lone decided to take advantage of this instance. They took three separate strands between their fingers, crossing them over each other a few times before twisting the end, willing the little braid to hold its shape before moving to another section and doing the same. A smile spread on their lips as they carried on with their little movements, leaving a handful of tiny braids in the wake of their gentle hands as they continued listening to him snore softly below them. 

As they grew less fond of the braided look, Lone smoothed each one out and began to thread their fingers upwards, giggling at their work as the entirety of his fawn-colored hair stood straight up over his slackened expression. Now if only I had dad's camera…

Their ability to stifle their laughter weakened, preventing them from suppressing the snort that escaped from them; the sound effectively jolting their companion awake.

"What the…?" He shook his head, attempting to expel his grogginess as he realized what had woken him.

"Why are you...? Wait, what happened? You laughin' at me?"

Lone nodded as another snort escaped them, Butch's confused expression now acting as the source of their second bout of giggling.

"Why? What happened?" He looked down quickly, trying to conceal any bare part of him that peeked through the thin Vault-Tec issued blanket. A panicked flush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to find the source of their amusement.

"No, no, it's nothing like that." They assured him, grabbing at his face with their hands to bring his attention back to their eyes, "Here."

Lone made a motion upwards, to try and smooth his hair down to a reasonable height, but Butch's own fingers followed, brushing the substantial mountain of silky locks that stood at attention atop his head before they could fix what they'd done. His eyes widened as he realized what Lone had been laughing at, shaking his head in an attempt to loosen the upright strands.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do ya?"

Lone smiled at him, shrugging as they prepared to answer him with some smart-ass remark, but he was upon them before they could utter a word. Their partner tackled them, pressing his lips to theirs as he forced them downwards against the mattress where he pinned their arms up over their head. When he had firmly secured their wrists in his grip, he released them from the kiss, now staring down at them smugly, a glint of triumph playing in his stormy blue eyes. Lone's heart beat raggedly in their chest as they breathlessly gazed up at their lover as he held them down. Though, to their surprise, he pulled further away from them and released his grip on their wrists, quickly bringing his hands down to their sensitive sides. He pinched his fingers slightly as he ran them over their ribcage, causing them to erupt into a fit of unbridled laughter, writhing underneath his cruel ministrations as he grinned wildly at them.

“How’s that for funny, huh, wise guy?”

Charon:

     “Tell me something.” Lone stared up at the stars as they spoke, Charon’s stiff shoulder brushing their own as he lay beside them at the top of the parking structure, his shotgun still lying across his chest, held firmly in his grasp.

“What?” His gruff voice inquired. Lone couldn’t tell if he was being short with them because he was still unsure about spending the night at the top of the ruined concrete parking structure, or if it was because he genuinely didn’t understand their request, either way, they didn’t mind clarifying.

“Just, tell me something about yourself. You already know almost everything about me, and we’ve been together a few months now, and yet…” They trailed off, trying in vain to coax a proper response from their companion.

“What would you like to know?” Lone sighed softly, but smiled in spite of themself, shifting onto their side so they could look over at him. The ghoul was laying rigidly on his back, his eyes remained trained on the sky, as they had been since Lone suggested he quit keeping watch and just relax with them as they stargazed. Well, he stopped keeping watch, but I don’t think he ever got to the ‘relax’ part.

“Well… what do you want me to know about you?” They asked him, attempting to draw an answer from him without using a direct order. Ever since the two had become involved, Lone had felt uncomfortable with the idea of holding Charon's contract. Well, truth be told, they had always hated the idea of him being forced to obey their every whim and order because they held some torturous piece of paper, but now it felt especially immoral.

Silence fell over the pair as Charon struggled with Lone’s request, half of him wanting to abide by what they said and begin the process of opening up to the person he felt closest with, while the other half grappled with the phrasing of their question. The shadow of his officially void contract rendered his own preferences obsolete as the years of habit continued to keep him chained to the false comfort of his own complacency. He was never allowed to want before.

Lone gazed at him, noting the hard expression adorning his scarred face as the internal conflict raged between his temples. Charon’s pale blue eyes became obstructed as his brow furrowed, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth in an effort to force his mouth to produce any words that could possibly provide an answer to Lone’s question.

The ghoul’s body shuddered as Lone extended their hand, sliding it over his chest before it came to rest atop one of his. They flexed their fingers, a suggestion to loosen his grip on the barrel of his shotgun, but he refused to budge. They kept the contact with him for a moment more, but as he showed no sign of yielding to their touch, they pulled away, rolling over onto their back once more.

Well, it was worth a try. Lone closed their eyes as their fatigue washed over them, remaining on the verge of consciousness as they awaited any response from their partner.

Instead of words, they felt a soft brush against their hand, and Lone peeked one eye open to witness the ghoul’s action as he pressed on, drawing his larger hand to rest over their own. Though the action was miniscule, Lone felt their breath catch in their throat as Charon slid his thumb over their skin soothingly. They hummed as a small grin graced their lips, shifting in his grasp so that they could entwine their fingers with his.

Lone’s expression dampened as they felt him pull away slightly, believing that perhaps they’d pushed their companion too far with their… official hand holding; but they were surprised as they felt his nails meet their wrist. He smoothed his fingertips up their arm slightly, before doubling back, capturing their hand fully in his own again. At that, Lone resumed their own comforting movements along his roughened skin. The ebb and flow of the pairs’ dancing hands seemed to coax something out of Charon, a sort of tenderness that Lone was otherwise unfamiliar with.

“I want… ” He started, and Lone held their breath, but continued running their fingers over his hand encouragingly.

“To tell you… it is no longer the contract that is binding me to you.” His movement against Lone ceased in his effort to continue speaking.

"At first, I did not think I would ever be able to separate myself from it. But now… the paper is obsolete. I'm loyal to you. I want you to know that."

Lone's heart leapt in their chest, as they felt tears of relief fill to the brims of their eyes. They couldn't say how long they'd been hoping to hear this from him, it was getting to the point that they thought they never would; that the dreadful scrap of parchment shackling Charon to his horrendous past would taint their relationship until the end of their days, but now…

A scarred finger brushed against Lone's cheek, capturing the tear that had escaped them in their moment of relieved contemplation. They turned their head, following his hand's retreat, and their eyes met his. A once stormy ocean now seemed to resemble a calm, pensive pool as he peered at them with a clarity he never thought he could have achieved.

Fawkes:

     Lone’s eyebrows drew upwards as they gazed sympathetically at the mutant. Fawkes was hunched over, his head buried in his large hands as small grunts of frustration pushed their way through his overlapping fingers. He’d been having flashbacks all day long, the brief snippets of his time as a human tormenting him in their fragmented incompleteness.

“Fawkes?” They tested. Lone hadn’t been able to rouse him from his state of anguish since the pair had returned to their Megaton home. Three hours ago. They rose from their chair, moving to sit beside him on the couch. Thus far, they had let him be, believing that the memories he was struggling with would either come back to him fully, or slip away from his grasp altogether, as they usually did. But this time they appeared to be more insistent and less comprehensible, rendering their companion aggravated and exhausted, and leaving Lone feeling utterly useless.

As they settled beside him, they brought a hand up to rest on his broad shoulder, feeling the pulsing tenseness of his muscle as his heavy breathing forced his shoulders to rise and fall raggedly.

“Hey,” They said softly, “I know it’s hard, but you have to try and let it go.” Lone brought their hands up to grasp at his, gently pulling them away from his scrunched up face.

“That’s not you anymore. You’re Fawkes.” They told him, looking into his strained eyes, “You’re free now, free from the vault, free from who you used to be, and free to make your own choices. To be your own kind of person.” Slowly bringing their hands down towards his lap, they continued holding onto them tightly as they tried to bring him back to reality, tried to ground him back in the present.

“You’re my closest friend, Fawkes, no matter who you were, I love you now. For who you are.” Lone’s words seemed to finally draw his attention to them, his weary eyes softening at the sight of them, as the present world around him seemed to solidify. They felt his hands squeeze theirs to the brink of being too tight, holding firmly enough to keep him tethered to this reality, and when they flexed their fingers beneath the intense pressure, he became aware of his actions, and ceased them. The mutant’s grip softened as he exhaled, finally letting his taut muscles relax beneath his ravaged, olive skin.

“That’s it. Welcome back.” Lone smiled up at him, their own relief evident in their softened expression. Fawkes slumped a little lower, his fatigue forcing his shoulders to slouch and his head to bow forwards, as he blinked away the last shreds of the past that stubbornly tried to linger in his mind. Lone saw his shrunken frame as an opportunity, and withdrew their hands gently from his grasp, bringing their arms up to wrap around his shoulders. The hug was a little awkward, with his position facing straight ahead on the couch and Lone seated beside him, not to mention his much larger frame, which proved to be difficult to fully embrace; but, after a moment, he managed to bring an arm around Lone in an effort to return the gesture, allowing them to sink further into the security of his chest.

The pair remained this way for a few moments, both pressing the other firmly to them as they relaxed into the contact and grew more comfortable. Fawkes was certainly unused to the action, but his contentment was palpable in the way he slowly gave into Lone’s touch, leaning his head against theirs and clutching at them just a bit tighter before finally slackening and pulling away.

“Thank you, Lone. It is hard to feel… lost for such a long time.” His usually gruff voice came out like tattered silk as it was softened by the emotion accompanying it, and they couldn’t help but notice as Fawkes’s hand remained settled over their shoulder, still seeming to steady himself with the unwavering contact.

“Lone, how am I ever going to repay your kindness when you continue to assist me in so many ways each and every day? Your friendship is truly unparalleled.” Lone smiled at that, chuckling slightly at the sincerity of his words.

“Some people just… need more help than others.” They told him, “I’m happy to keep helping you every day, even if you can never repay me for it. That’s what people do when they care about each other, Fawkes. Love isn't a commodity to be bought and sold, at the expense of one and the gain of another; it’s something you reciprocate on your own terms, something you give to yourself and others without condition or expectation of gaining anything in return.”

Fawkes nodded his head slowly, eyes unfocused as he thought through Lone’s words.

“If that’s the case… Then, right now, I vow to love you as you say I should. Unconditionally. And hopefully that will be enough.”

Jericho:

     The ex-raider collapsed with a groan, burying his head, face first, into the plush pillows atop their mattress. His rifle and bits of armor were strewn throughout the Tenpenny apartment, and Lone strolled behind him, trying to kick his things into a somewhat organized pile as they too tried to make themself more comfortable. 

Bits of armor clattered to the floor as Lone made their way to their shared bed, smiling exasperatedly at their companion, stretched across the entirety of the mattress, preventing them from settling beside him.

  I’m tired too, you know. They thought, releasing a puff of air as they considered how to go about solving this little problem of theirs. Lone tried dropping their bag beside the bed, the loud thud sounding as close to his ear as they could get it without physically hitting him with the sack, but Jericho didn’t even flinch. They clicked their tongue, peering around the room as they searched for a way to rouse him. As Lone started towards their shelves lining the wall of the hotel room, eyes set on the plethora of miscellaneous items they might be able to use to their advantage, a raucous snore erupted from within the plushness of their pillow-clad mattress. Lone groaned, turning about to face him before starting back towards the bed. Fine, you don’t want to make room for me? I’ll make it work anyways.

Lone approached the unconscious ex-raider, poking at the firmness of his back, testing, before hopping up in the air to land, stomach-first, on top of their companion. 

“What the shit?! The fuck you think you’re doing?” He grumbled through the thick fabric.

“Just making myself comfortable.” Lone shifted their hips and shoulders, settling themself more firmly onto Jericho’s back. 

“And you’re expectin’ me to put up with this shit?” He lifted his head, straining his neck to glare back at them questioningly. 

“I really don’t see what you can do about it, old timer.” Lone leaned forward, digging an elbow into the back of his ribcage as they brought their mouth to his ear. They felt him tense at the pressure, bringing one of his arms back awkwardly as he tried to find a grip on them. Lone swatted his hand away with theirs, leaning onto their other side to avoid his flailing limb. As he felt their weight shift, Jericho twisted his body in an attempt to overturn them, but Lone instead decided to bring their arms around his shoulders, clinging to him so that their body shifted with his as he tried to roll them off. 

“Mother fucker--” Lone began to giggle at his frustrated growls, as he rose, propping himself up on his elbows, with Lone still gripping him firmly, arms wrapped tight across his chest. He paused his thrashing, and Lone felt him shifting his head downwards, extending his neck to reach for something with his mouth… 

“Ow-- Hey!” Jericho took a part of their wrist into his mouth, biting down hard, causing their grip to loosen, and at the opportunity, he decided to throw himself backwards onto the mattress, effectively crushing Lone beneath him. They felt the breath get knocked out of them as he landed, now settling himself on top of them, grinding the back of his head into their chest in an effort to make himself more comfortable in the most obnoxious way possible. 

Well… that could have gone better, but hey, at least now I’m on the bed. 

“Alright, you win.” They said, their voice coming out strained due to the pressure on their lungs. 

“Damn right I do. Old timer… fuck you.” Lone laughed at that, reveling in the way he took their name calling so seriously. 

“Alright, alright. I get the point, can you get off me now?” 

“Nah. I think I like this. It’s real comfortable. Think I’ll just sleep this way.” Lone groaned at him, trying weakly to tousle him off their body before giving up with a loud sigh, being sure to blow their hot breath of frustration straight onto the top of his head. They felt his body shudder. 

“Fuckin’ fine, little tike, I’ll get off.” 

“Uck, don’t call me that.” Lone said as he rolled off of them, falling onto the mattress at their side. They peered over at him to see his reaction, pleased at the dark-eyed glare that bore into them, a glint of humor shining in their depths. 

“Look, I’m allowed to complain,” They told him, shifting onto their side so they could see him better. “You friggin’ bit me.” The ex-raider smiled deviously at that.

“Hmm. Yeah, I did. And I’m about to do it again.” With that, he lunged at them, an arm wrapped around their waist to hold them in place as his teeth met their neck. 

“Hey! What the--?” A moment later, the sharp pain dissolved away and was replaced by something soft as Jericho pressed his lips to the tender spot, soothing over the mark he had left. Lone’s eyes fell closed as his mouth moved up to their jaw, peppering kisses as it moved across their jawline to their chin, before finally drawing upwards to meet their lips. 

“I hope you know.” Lone heard him say as he pulled away from them, “This ain’t over yet.” They felt the mattress shift as he collapsed back onto it, and they smiled at his words, scooting closer so they could throw an arm over his stomach as they pressed their head to the crook beneath his shoulder. Lone meant to say something cheeky in response, but before they could utter a word, they felt themself dissolve into sleep as the soft sound of Jericho’s snores filled their ears.

Here is the original post with the Fallout 4 M!Companions

Here is the post with Fallout New Vegas M!Companions

[bokettochild]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like  Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”