#HE HIDES HIS FACE IN THE FUR OF HIS CAPE IF HE GETS TO THAT LEVEL OF EMBARRASSMENT 😭

[slimeyalt]

omg technos tail is the best thing abt this im sorry

the voices screaming at techno "PIE EAT IT PUMPKIN PIE EAT IT PIE"

the headcanon techno has a little tail n it wags if hes happy like a little puppy >>>>>>>>>>

-slime

When you make pumpkin pie but you live 20 feet away from a pig who has over 1,000 scent receptors and also loves pie

Inspired by the bedrockverse rp series: [x]

.Click for quality. Don’t repost to other sites.

[allfearstofallto]

You are Made to Greet them When they Return Home

Yandere! Forced marriage x fem! Reader head canons

Ft: Childe and Scaramouche

Synopsis: Your yanderes require the domestic pleasure of being greeted by their wife when they return home.

Word Cound: 1k

TW: yandere, obsessive themes, forced marriage, NSFW themes, mentions of previous abuse/punishment

Childe

“Master Childe has arrived home,” a maid said after knocking gently on your bedroom door. A notice to anyone else, but a warning for you. A warning telling you to be your most joyful and happy self, to be ready for your husband that had a temper that could change like the flick of a light switch.

Your nicest dress hugged your body, a satin slip in his favorite shade of blue. It barely went past your plush thighs, something too cold for the typical Snezhnaya air, but perfect for the inside of the estate, which he kept warm for you.

Scurrying down the stairs, your heels clicked against the floor. No matter how many times you'd done this, your heart wouldn't cease beating like a drum. The fear and the worry all sat deep inside your chest and made you tremble, but you tried to not show it on your face.

Arriving at the door to the home, you stood there obediently, as you'd been told to do time and time before. You and a few of the house maids. And almost right on cue, it opened.

For the briefest moment while the door was open, you could hear the sound of the wind howling outside, like screams of the night. A little snow blew through the door, and tickled your toes, but it melted as quickly as it showed up. All that stood there now was him.

Snow covered his coat and frosted the tips of his orange hair, but he still had a beaming smile on his face, overjoyed to see you. “My angel,” he said sweetly at the sight of you.

You were pulled into an embrace, his gloved hands still wet from the elements. He kissed your cheek, his cold red nose tickling you, and you tried not to notice the blood splatter near his neck that he didn't clean off. No matter how domestic he tried to make your life together seem, he could never truly hide what he did for work.

When he pulled away from the hug, you began to take off his cape. No maid was allowed to do this, as he said that undressing him was a job for his wife and his wife alone. It was a heavy, white piece of clothing, with black fur on the nape. He'd always smile at you as you undid the clasp, his height dwarfing over you to the point where you had to reach up to touch his neck.

“Was work okay today…” you gulped down saliva nervously as the cape fell into your hands, the weight of it making your arms sag just a bit. He had a questioning look on his face, raising his eyebrows while his smile began to falter ever so slightly. He wanted you to say the rest. “Was work okay today, m-my love?” you barely managed to force yourself to say those words. You could already feel the bile rising up from your stomach, but the content look on his face told you that he was happy regardless of how strained you sounded.

His large cape was handed to a maid to be cleaned and she ran off without word of orders. You weren't the only one scared of Childe in this house, you were just the one who had his attention.

You didn't even get the chance to completely turn and face him again before he was wrapping his arms around you and resting his body against you in a dramatic display of his fatigue.

“Work was tiresome!” He groaned while placing many unwanted kisses on your cheek and neck, “But my beautiful wife will make it all better, won't you?”

Scaramouche

Such a beautiful, vibrantly colored kimono was nice for special occasions, but it only weighed you down in these instances. The multiple layers piled on top of each other were a pure sight for eyes, but absolute hell to wear. Especially for someone who wasn't native to Inazuma.

You struggled to drop to your knees in front of the door. It felt like all of these layers were swallowing you whole, and with one wrong move, you wouldn’t be able to get up. Not without assistance at least.

The lighting outside illuminated his silhouette through the translucent white, paper of the sliding door and you hurried to make sure you were in position.

The second you heard it click and slide open, you bowed your head down before him. Your palms against the floor, thumbs in the shape of a triangle, and your forehead pressed against the ground. You'd practiced this position a million times before, with him studying your figure to make sure you got it right each and every time.

“We welcome you home, my lord, Scaramouche,” you said with your head still angled towards the floor. He merely hummed at your greeting. A hum was good, it meant that you hadn't displeased him yet.

You were to stay in this position until he told you to rise. Some days he did it immediately, so that he could begin to kiss and undress you like an animal in heat. Other days, he would leave you there to see how long he could keep you on your knees before him. Those days were hell, the weight of the kimono made it feel as if you were suffocating, drenching yourself in sweat. But you knew better than to move an inch. Being crushed by heavy fabric was better than any punishment he'd given you before.

You could hear the sound of him shuffling, taking off his shoes and putting away his jacket, then finally, you heard the familiar jingles of him lifting his ornate hat off of his head, and handing it off to a maid who also stood beside you.

“You may look upon me,” he ordered.

You rose up, but still stayed on your knees in front of him, finally meeting his gaze for the first time today, “Greetings, my lord. Did the day treat you alright?”

“My day was the same as usual,” he muttered while stepping past you and up the stairs, “Meet me in the bedroom, and bring tea as well.”

When you heard the familiar click of the bedroom door closing, you breathed a sigh of relief. You'd made it through another moment with him, but still rose to your feet with hesitance. Making it through the greeting was the first part, now you'd have to manage in the bedroom.

[michelleleewise]

Fire and Ash...

A Long Live The King Tale

Pairing: King Jotun Loki × Asgardian female reader

Warnings: there shall be angst here, not so much this time though, self doubt, accusations, political drama, self esteem issues, breastfeeding. I think that's it, if I missed anything let me know.

Summary: you hoped the birth of your son would bring you and Loki closer together, but as he continues to pull away you know he's hiding something from you.

A/n- I'm a bit rusty with all of this, be gentle 😁💚

Part one ~ Part two-

You rolled to your side gripping your stomach, your eyes shooting open as your incision throbbed. "Norns!" You whisper yelled hearing someone coming towards you. "My lady, do you need something for the pain?" You heard, looking up seeing Norendra standing over you, concern lacing her face "y...yes, please, this is....unbearable." You gritted trying to breath through the pain. "I'll be right back my lady." She said with a soft smile before hurrying off.

As she left a soft coo sounded from the corner of the room, turning your head you saw Loki, dressed every bit the king he was, in his long flowing forest green cape, and his perfectly fitted tunic and leather pants sitting straight up "does he ever relax?" You whispered as your eyes traveled up seeing his head slumped forward, when a small green bundle held firmly in his arms moved catching your attention making you look down into his lap. "Vali." You whispered, smiling see his full head of black hair, his bright azure skin glowing under the soft candle light.

"Alright my lady, I have something for the pain." You heard, unable to pull your eyes away from Loki and your son "how long has he been here?" You asked feeling a tear escape your eye traveling to your hair "the king has been here since you slept my lady." She said making your head snap to look at her "he hasn't left?" You asked scrunching your eyebrows together "no my lady, not once." She said uncorking a small glass vial "now drink this, it will help." Noreandra said holding the bottle out to you "thank the norns, you are an angel." You said grabbing it, downing it all on one gulp. "Good, now rest you will need your strength." She said taking the bottle from you. "Thank you norendra." You said looking back to the two most important people in your life "it is my pleasure my lady." You heard her say as your eye lids began to droop, feeling sleep begin to take you "I love you....both of you." You sighed as your eyes closed, sleep taking you away.

One month later-

You rolled to your back, the soft cries from the other side of the room pulling you from your sleep "loki...would you..." you trailed off reaching your hand out to find the bed empty, the sheets cold telling you he had been gone for quite some time. "Loki." You called out slowly sitting up as the cries became louder. "Alright little one, I'm awake." You sighed rubbing your eyes you pulled the furs back swinging your legs over the side. Standing up you shuffled across the room peeking into the crib "vali dear what's wrong?" You cooed rubbing his belly when his small crimson eyes opened looking up at you full of tears. "Come here sweet boy." You cooed gently picking him up you cradled him in your arms rocking him back and forth.

Is someone hungry?" You asked hearing him whimper "ok, let mommy get settled." You said taking a seat in the chair by the fire when you heard a knock on the door "come in." You called out when Alrik came in holding a tray "I have brought you breakfast my queen." He said setting the tray on the bed "is everything alright?" He asked looking you over "yes, he's just hungry...would you hand me that?" You asked pointing to a small green blanket on the bed. He walked over picking it up holding it out to you "I can go if you wish." He said as you draped the blanket over your shoulder "no...please stay." You said looking up at him seeing him smile "very well." He said taking a seat on the bed.

The two of you sat in silence as you helped vali get settled "where is he?" You asked plainly, looking up seeing Alrik looking everywhere but you "he is with king Thor in the throne room my queen." He said making you sigh "well, atleast he's here I suppose." You said when Alrik's head snapped to you "he hasn't spoken to you has he?" He asked fidgeting with his tunic "about what Alrik?" You asked furrowing your eyebrows "it's not my place to say my queen, you must ask him." He said looking down. "Well when will he be done with thor?" You asked seeing him squirm "they have had a bit to drink, the king is rather full at the moment so I am unsure." He said looking up at you "unacceptable." You said standing up, pulling little Vali from under the blanket "here, burp him and I shall return in a moment." You said gently handing your son to Alrik "i....I am unsure..." He said hesitantly cradling your sons head in his large hand

"It's easy, here I'll show you." You smiled positioning Vali on his chest, his head resting on his shoulder "now gently pat his back, ill be right back." You said as Alrik nodded. You walked to the wardrobe seeing every shade of green imaginable, smiling at the memory "a queen must wear her kings colors my love." He had said winking before pulling you into a deep kiss. "That feels like an eternity ago." You sighed, running your fingers across the silk and lace, remembering how things were when you first returned to jotunhiem after the battle with odin. "Why have things changed Loki?" You whispered feeling resentment begin to fill you "well If you can disregard me, I can do the same." You said pushing aside all the green seeing a deep purple velvet dress with fur accents you had had made shortly after your return "perfect." You said smiling, slipping it over your head you looked in the mirror seeing it still fit perfectly, your eyes traveling to your hair seeing it a mess "well that won't do." You said grabbing Loki's brush off the vanity you did your best to make yourself look presentable.

"Well, that's as good as it's going to get I think." You said tossing the brush down walking out seeing Vali asleep on Alrik's shoulder "well, how do I look?" You asked holding your arms out "stunning as always my queen." He said smiling "flattery will get you everywhere." You said hearing him laugh. "I'm off to bring the king back, by whatever means necessary." You said putting your fur slippers on Alrik had made you "a...are you sure? It may be unwise to..." He trailed off as you glared at him "yes my queen, I shall stay here with the little one." He said settling back "thank you Alrik, wish me luck." You said walking to the door "he is the one who needs the luck." You heard him say as you walked out gently closing the door behind you "a force indeed." He said gently rocking Vali hearing him coo "I believe your daddy may not survive this night." He said hearing a soft giggle come from the sleeping babe.

You stormed towards the throne room, anger building in you with every step you took. "If he does not want me here, he is going to tell me." You said to yourself coming up to the huge wooden double doors when two guards stopped you "I'm sorry my lady, but the king is entertaining king Thor at the moment." They said standing in front of you "You will let me in, that is not a request." You said standing firm. "We have orders not to let anyone in my lady." The other one said as you looked between them. "As your queen, I demand you move." You said as the other leaned down "the king has not married you, and even if he had, you are no queen of ours." He said standing back up as you took a step back "I beg your pardon!" You yelled seeing the other guard jump "You may have given the king an heir, but that does not make you a queen, it makes you a harlot." The other one said as you stood speechless.

"I swear to the norns, if you do not open that door you will see Valhalla tonight!" You yelled stepping forward when the doors flew open "what is going on out here?" You heard, looking down seeing Loki standing behind the guards, his hair disheveled and his tunic loosened at the top "your moronic guards refuse to let me in." You said crossing your arms "what did you need y/n? I am quite busy." Loki said looking you up and down "drinking with thor does not constitute you being busy." You said seeing the guards look at ecahother "come inside, I will not discuss this in front of my men." He said stepping aside. "Yes, wouldn't want them knowing how much of a lush their king is." You snarked feeling his hand grab your elbow "y/n. Inside." He said pulling you in slamming the doors behind him. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked turning back to you.

"Well, your son woke me up, and to my surprise my....I don't even know what we are....was not in bed with me." You said waving your arms. "I am your king." He said matter of factly crossing his arms "but what more then that?!" You yelled pacing back and forth "You have not married me, you avoid me at every opportunity, you clearly aren't sleeping in bed with me, and you haven't touched me in months!" You yelled as Loki grabbed your shoulder "y/n. Keep it down, others do not..." He started when you pushed him off "do not what? Need to hear that I am merely a bed warmer? A nanny for your heir?" You asked feeling tears well in your eyes "no! Of course not, I love you." Loki said taking a step towards you. "Then why are you avoiding me Loki, what is happening to us?" You said feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

"Have you found another who is more suitable?" You asked as Loki grabbed your shoulders again "that is preposterous, no one can compare to you my queen." He said looking into your eyes, the bright rubies as beautiful as the first day you saw them "then what is going on?" You asked hearing him sigh. "I am sorry I have not been as attentive as I should be as of late, there is something I need to discuss with you which in honesty I've been avoiding." He said sliding his hands down your arms.

"Discuss what with me Loki? Talk to me please!" You pleaded watching him look to the ground. "Y/n, i..." Loki started looking into your eyes when a large bang sounded from further in the room "brother! Are we not celebrating anymore?" A loud booming voice yelled, turning seeing Thor leaned back in a chair, his leg propped on the table in front of him. "Not now thor!" Loki yelled as you turned back to him. "Celebrating what?" You asked as he shifted back and forth. "I do not wish to discuss it now y/n, we will speak later when I return to our chamber." Loki said walking to the door "Loki, if you do not wish me here I will leave." You said crossing your arms as his head snapped back to you "I have never said I don't want you here love." He said, his eyes softening as you walked towards the door.

"My king, I will not continue this charade...your men do not repsrect me, you do not seem to desire me anymore, and you spend more time with Thor then you do me." You sighed grabbing the handle of the door "y/n, my love let me explain." He said as you put your hand up "I will be expecting you in our chambers within the hour, and you will tell me what you aren't." You said opened the door "You must decide what it is you truly want Loki, and if it isn't I and your son then let me go." You said feeling tears building In your eyes "y/n, please..." He said taking a step towards you "we will talk withing the hour Loki." You said gently placing your hand on his chest, your finger tips feeling his heart racing "go deal with thor, ill be expecting you." You said quickly turning and walking out of the throne room.

You headed towards your chambers ringing your hands together "what if he doesn't choose us..." You said to yourself looking down the hall, the walls draped with tapestries of history long past "what if I am not enough for him?" You said making it to the door of your chambers "what shall we do vali?" You whispered closing your eyes you opened the door, walking inside you crossed the room, slowly peeking into the bed chamber seeing Alrik asleep holding vali tightly in his hands, soft snores coming from both of them. Smiling you quietly closed the door, sighing as you walked towards the fire, sitting on the chaise you once called your bed you looked into the fire dreading the conversation that you were about to have. "Better to know now I suppose." You said sitting back waiting for what was to come.....

@loz-3 @mochie85 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @crimson25 @mjsthrillernp @realmamabear79 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @libby-bibby @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @aniar4wniak @vileepponine @thegodofnotknowing @gruftiela @irishhappiness @prettymandy @emarich7 @buttercupcookies-blog @janineb86 @kittenhawkk @lovingchoices14 @dangerousblizzarddreamer @kathren1sky-blog @wolfsmom1 @kikster606 @francescaanoya @godofstoriesandtime-rp @sinsandguilt

[newkatzkafe2023]

A Y/N with chubby thighs! and maybe a very innocent personality but who loves to wear short skirts, please! including Sun Wukong and Black Myth Destined Wukong

Me arrodillo ante ti!

OH MAN HERE WE GO!!!!🤩🤩🤩

(Lmk Wukong) He squealed upon seeing you for the first time. You so chunky and soft and he has the ugre to cuddle you so much, but uhhh he constantly has a blush considering your thighs. It gets worse with your pure and innocent personality and the fact that you would wear the shortish skirts he's ever seen. Wukong face would be as red as his cape whenever you had his face laying on your soft legs. His brain was fried the whole time🤤🥵

(MKR Wukong) Oh man he's gonna get so jealous so fast with being with someone like you. Your were always be so kind, and Patient with him. Then you being as squishy and adorable too reminding him very much of fruity. You also especially kill him with those cute short skirts of yours, making you ever more irresistible and he has to fight of other men and pigsy to keep you around.

(NR Wukong) Shamelessly looks at your thighs, even drooling at that. Your whole being is beautiful, soft, and cute and he can't handle you sometimes. What's a blessing and a curse was you having a love for skirts, short skirts for your chubby thighs to show themselves and being free. You would have Wukong drunkenly giggling with a ahem boner at the Wardrobe you got and he would never hate what you wear around him.

(HIB Wukong) Has a hard time looking at you Directly especially in your short skirt. You are slowly killing him with your soft body and thighs and what's worse was that you don't even know, and that is so not fair!!! You would have him fighting for his life when you were those damn short skirts especially when he's not sure if you even have underwear it's Doing some critical damage to his mind🤣 but at least he reminds pigsy not to try anything on you lest he wants to be porkchops👿

(Netflix Wukong) I'll be honest this boy didn't notice at all at first, but when he did oh man he's at a total lost. You dare walk around him with such exposed soft looking clean flesh and you even dared to wear short skirts around him and in public. Now he's normally good with Controlling himself but with you looked all squishy and yummy to him He's not sure how long that's going to be true.

(BTW Wukong) He's gonna tease you so bad,You'll be the one who's blushing🫢. Don't get it twisted. Your sexy short skirts and pretty smooth thick thighs are definitely testing his restraint and self-control, but he would totally hide his Arousal with flirts and teasing of you and your squishy form. Meaning he loves you and your Cuddly body.

(The Destined one) I see him having a habit of kissing your thighs, especially when you were short skirts around him. It shows that he's totally at peace around you, and in the little world you both share. He also like making you Squeak, moan, and squirm around him as his fur tickles you. You both especially enjoy cuddle sessions especially in the winter and Taking maps to together became your favorite couple's activity😴🥰

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🫂

[itsabouttimex2]

Mournful Blizzard

(Yandere Father Dark Cacao)

You aren’t in your room. You never are. Even with the new locks and chains, you always find a way to break out and slink through his castle.

Just because you aren’t where you belong doesn’t mean he doesn’t know where to find you, though.

He treks through the cold, uninviting halls of his castle, storming straight to the room of his “estranged” son, throwing the door open with fury in his eyes.

“I am getting entirely too used to hunting you down, and I-“

He cuts himself off when he sees you, because your condition right now switches his fury to concern.

He stalks closer, observing your trembling form as you curl under Dark Choco’s old blankets, every inch of your dough shivering without stop. He comes close enough to reach out and touch you, clicking his tongue as he does.

“Foolish child… you should have come to me at once.”

He pulls you out of his son’s long abandoned blankets, wrapping you up in his fur-lined cape instead. He takes your shivering form into his arms, lifting you easily off the bed. You’re entirely too easy to carry, and he wonders if you’ve been getting enough to eat recently. There’ll be time to amend that later.

He carries you back to your room, watching as you quake with each of his steps.

“Hiding away in your brother’s room instead of informing me of your illness… reckless, foolhardy child.” His tone is one of scolding, hard and cold. He puts particular emphasis onto illness, and you know exactly why.

He’s seen countless friends and comrades fall to the freezing cold of this land, dough cracked and split by the temperature. His own child, his remaining child, will not be one of the casualties of winter.

His thinking might be a bit extreme for what’s probably a minor illness that’ll pass in a few days, but to him? Safe is better than sorry. Safe is better than burying a child. Safe is better than losing the last of his family.

He steps into your room, his eyes narrowing at the picture on your nightstand. It’s Dark Choco, elegant frame decorated with white and black lace. Next to it is a picture of Caramel Arrow, feathers and bowstrings tangling around the frame.

You still miss them. Of course you do. Without them, you’re locked up all alone in this palace, your door hung with heavy locks and chains. You had long learned to pick them, but the fact that they were there was more than bad enough on it’s own. But your father was not willing to compromise your safety to satiate your desire for freedom.

He bundles you under the thick wolf-fur blanket on your bed, then retrieves another from your dresser, giving you two heavy layers of warmth. He doesn’t seem satisfied with those alone, but doesn’t push the matter. All he does is…

Reach out, and brush your hair from your face. You lean your cheek into the palm of his hardened hand, and he spends a moment dragging his thumb in circles around your cheek, savoring the contact.

He’s not the best father. But there’s no denying that he loves you. Maybe a little too much.

[d4ndylionn]

Capitano with a chubby wife..(please im sick and tired of there only being yandere fanfics for him I absolutely despise it)

I hope to pass your standards with this one 🤧

Soft

In which the First of the Fatui Harbingers has a spouse, a chubby spouse <3

Warnings - nun (one freaky deaky author note)

The Captain with a chubby spouse who believes that being larger than the stupid beauty standard just meant that he could love and hold more of you, all he sees is you, so pretty, so elegant, and so much his.

It is only fitting that being the spouse of the First of the Fatui Harbingers, you get a fur cape much like his. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like you wearing it. Why? So he can share his with you each time you’re cold.

For the reason that Capitano wears his cape for warmth and to appear strong, you wear yours so that you could hide your body and feel less vulnerable. Sure, being the Captain’s wife means you were respected just as much as him but whispers tend to go around and your husband is not with you each time it happens.

You’re upset that you can’t use your own fur cloak that you hold a grudge against Capitano, ignoring him so much that he can’t help but deflate like a kicked puppy each time you avoided him. His best solution? Trap you in his arms and hide you in his own cloak, the soft fur tickling your face as he continues on with his day. It’s a win for him each time, he gets to hold you close AND keep you by his side throughout the day. Maybe sharing his things was a good idea.

With a hidden face, you can never tell what the Captain is thinking, but it doesn’t mean you can’t predict what he does on the daily. You know that when he inches closer to you so suddenly, you have to accept that he’ll pinch your cheeks with the gentleness of a butterfly’s wing flaps, he just looks at you while doing so and he thinks it’s very cute when you frown with puffed cheeks and pursed lips.

On days when he’s lucky, he can even manage to bite your cheeks, expect that when he bites your right cheek, he’ll bite the left one in a few hours, he never leaves a job unfinished. (Neither does he me 🤗).

When you don’t want to eat or finish the proper proportion of a meal, Capitano just doesn’t say anything and uses his pointer and thumb to press your cheeks together, opening your mouth so that he can gently spoon-feed you. He knows when to do so because the last thing he wants is for his beloved to be sick.

Capitano save me…

[awriternamedart]

“Macaque-”

“No, Wukong, you don’t get to worry about me anymore.” 

Wukong froze, eyes shocked wide as Macaque spat back at him, still clutching his upper arm. Thin, fragile lines of contempt lined his voice, fangs peering over curled lips as he straightened up.

“This is the fourth time, Macaque! What are you even doing?!” Shaking his head, Sun Wukong groaned before he pulled a chunk of hair, the gold flash echoing as it shifted into a roll of bandages. “I could smell the blood clear from my house!”

“I can take care of it myself.”

“Sure, whatever, now come on, you need to clean it out.”

“I know that.” Macaque bit back, recoiling as Wukong tried to reach for him. Smacking away the outstretched paw before he rounded around the king, Macaque kept the grip on his arm tight, purple glitching and fizzing away as glamor fell to reveal tattered clothes and a scarred face, eyebags deep under golden irises. His ears twitched as he turned away. “Leave, Wukong. You'll only make it worse.”

“Ouch.” And still, he trotted after him, slipping the roll of bandages into the fold of his clothes. “Cmon, Macaque, can you stop being stubborn for literally 30 seconds? It won’t even take a paragraph to write!”

Macaque just pulled his lips tight as they approached one of the many rivers, pulling off his cape and armor to tug the shoulders off of his outfit. 

Wukong couldn’t hide the wince that ran through his body. Macaque’s dark fur made deep scars all the more obvious, shocks of skin where fur will never easily regrow dotting his shoulders and back. He was just lucky that Macaque was very obviously ignoring him right now, casting his gaze aside before sighing and sitting next to Macaque anyway.

“I know I dont have the right to worry about you anymore but you aren’t giving me a choice here, bud-! You keep showing up with these cuts and bruises, even the little ones have noticed!” Macaque hissed as Wukong snagged his wrist to stop him from using his paw to clean the bloodied cut, easily breaking from his grasp as he went to rip another chunk off the end of his cape. “Tell me whats going on, if your in danger-”

“What, you'll get the kid involved in more of your fucked up shit!?” Wukong fell back as Macaque rounded on him, snapping before immediately recoiling with a grunt. Blood fell dark against his black fur, hard to notice if it weren’t for how big the wound itself was. “Just- just leave it, Wukong. You're the last person I want to see right now.” 

“Bud-!” Hesitation consumed Wukong. Ice gripped at his shoulders, halting him from reaching out- helpless but to watch as he turned away, slipping through his paws again, again- Just when he had just started to get him back-!

He grit his teeth. 

Macaque yelped when he was dragged back, fangs bare as he went to snap at Wukong- before cold water seeped into the wound, another hiss escaping his throat. The pressure wasn’t too heavy, just startling, gentle swipes to begin cleaning out the dirt and fur muddied in red. 

“Wukong-”

“Oh, shut up, Macaque.” It was just a slight grumble, Wukong’s gaze never once flickering up to Macaque’s face as he pulled away the cloth to dip it back in the stream, wringing out excess water before turning back to the wound. A brief moment passed before he returned to gently wiping away the grime left behind. “You can slap me later, relax.” 

And.. Macaque did just that. Tense muscle and tight shoulders drooped ever so slightly, just the slightest hiss escaping his teeth when he got a bit too deep into the wound- though he didn’t fight it. It had been so long since he had let someone else help him lick his wounds, yet it felt so natural to let Wukong help him out, this innate part of him just… felt safe.

He hated it so much.

“Soooo.. You gonna tell me why you keep popping up all bloodied or am I just gonna have to guess?” Startling out of his swirling thoughts, Macaque’s ears perked up before he glanced over at Wukong. The withering look in his eyes was enough to make Wukong snicker at the very least as he unraveled the bandage. “Oh, don't you worry bud, I can absolutely keep guessin until the sun comes up tomorrow!”

“Please don't, it's grating enough.” 

Wukong had to laugh at that, missing the slight smile on Macaque’s face as he ripped the bandage and tied it off. 

“Excuse you, there are tons of people who’d love to listen to me yap their ears off!” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Wukong.” A paw landed on his forehead, playfully shoving the king back as soon as the tie was done before Macaque went to stand up, pulling on one of his sleeves and simply tucking the other one away. His fur was still wet, ok, no way he’s dealing with it getting on his outfit more. Cleaning was a pain. “Maybe someday I'll actually believe it.”

“So where are you going?” 

“Who knows, somewhere where I don’t have to hear you anymore.” Macaque just shrugged, shaking his head and mane out. Ugh, his fur was so rough now- he hadn’t had a moment's break. Who knows who could be lurking now? Either way, he had to get back, now that blood’s stench wouldn’t stick to him to badly-

“Back to beating up threats behind the kids back, then?”

Macaque froze before he could open a shadow, paw still outstretched as Wukong stood up behind him, arms folded. The playful lilt in his voice had vanished, simply watching as Macaque glared at him over his shoulder. Something mournful took its place- something that lingered in the shadows of golden eyes, that made Macaque quickly look away.

“Bud, the kid can handle himself-”

“The world is more dangerous than ever. MK doesn’t need more hell on his plate- and I sure as hell don’t see you helping him out.” He spat at Wukong, growling in his anger. Adrenaline had made him more snappy than usual already but this- this was deeply seeded. “Someone has to do the dirty work so the kid doesn’t have to.”

“Then why does it have to be you, Macaque?!" 

Black fur puffed up, his tail swinging back and forth, back and forth. Wukong just watched, almost wanted to reach out- but he fell back on himself as Macaque’s agitation dropped, tail falling still. 

“Look, bud- I can’t stop you, I know that and all and I trust your judgment and everything but-” Wukong pushed a paw through his mane with a sigh, trying to pick out his words carefully- he wasn’t good at that, but he was trying, ok? He just.. 

He found himself just staring at Macaque. Yellow and black worn fabric looked back, dirty and well worn. The red cape he always wore was slung over the warriors shoulder, scars running rampant across his body- and those were just the ones Wukong could see. Just how many of them had he gotten for others, for MK, for.. He didn't like it. He didn’t like it one bit, but- did that even matter to Macaque anymore?

“...just. Just try not to overdo it. Get help when you need it.”

“....tch. Can’t even admit it.” With a gentle vwoomp, the shadow under Macaque’s paws dipped into purple-orange, something that surprised Wukong. But before he could say anything, the other just glared back at him, sadness lingering under his scarred eye. “...You're pathetic, Wukong.”

And before Sun Wukong could say anything, he disappeared, the shadow closing up on the ground and vanishing as if it were never there. The wind rustled among the leaves, the babbling rush of the river’s flow his only accompaniment as his shoulders sagged, pushing his mane from his face.

“...I know.”

-

Worry Is A Hell That Haunts You - awriternamedart

KoFi - Socials

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

I'm so thankful to find your blog especially since your Kalego fics are so awesome. Will it be possible to ask for a Kalego x Humanf reader something along the lines of something happening to the reader and Kalego needing to protect this weak and fragile human. I'm so sorry if you don't take requests! Also if you are busy then take as much time as you want! no rush whatsoever :) Thank yooouuuuuu

You knew it would happen sooner or later. You were surrounded by so many powerful demons, one of them definitely had to know that you were a human! And yet you were hoping that Balam or Dali would call you for a "serious conversation", but definitely not someone who can eat you up and not even choke!

You were shivering, but not from the wind and cold, even though you were on one of the school's open balconies. You couldn't even escape, because there is free air space on the side and back, and in front was your possible nightmare. Yes, if you were a demon, you would have been flying in the opposite direction from where Kalego was standing. But you're not a demon. You are a human being.

You ended up in the demon world on purpose. Even though you didn't think that ritual would work, you didn't say no when the demon Sullivan appeared and asked you to go with him. It looked like his grandson needed company.

In any case, no one is interested in the story of your entry into the demon world. It is much more important that you are ready to choose between your colleague and the infinitely fast flight of a stone down... the second.

You had a... strange relationship with Kalego. First you were afraid of him, then you respected him, then you were afraid of him again, then you admired him, then you were afraid of him… In short, he was the demon you couldn't help but be afraid of. He was strong, and he knew it. He did not hide behind smiles and playful phrases. He was serious and ready to jump into a fight if something happened.

This may have attracted you. Despite the rather cold attitude at first, Kalego was ready to teach you how to be a good teacher. He patiently explained everything you needed to know. It was even cute if you listened carefully, memorized everything the first time, and didn't ask stupid questions. And you didn't do it.

You even started to have some common interests with him! You were interested in absolutely everything in Hell, even the cute little cacti that Kalego grew. When the demon brought small potted flowers and proudly said they were "the little children of his primary child," you asked sheepishly if you could take one. Naberius looked at you for a long time, and then gave you a long lecture on how to take care of plants, and made you promise to take care of the cactus.

But at the same time, you couldn't get rid of the feeling of fear that blooms in you every few weeks. Perhaps if you were a demon like him, you wouldn't be so afraid. But you were human, so just the thought that he could tear you to pieces in a second made you mentally scream and cry.

Besides, the problem was that you were very weak. Weaker than the average person. You won't even be able to escape from it!

W-what are my last wishes?.. I c-can't even think about it…

You were shaking, feeling that you were about to die not from the demon's claws, but from a heart attack. Your face paled, and you all shrank like raisins. If you were asked whether you want to be on the training ground now or stay here, you would choose the former.

Kalego silently looked you over with his heavy gaze, and you swallowed. F-for now... peace. And I just thought that my life was finally getting better!..

You screamed so loudly when something heavy landed on you that you could even shout above the wind. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to attack, but suddenly realized that the heavy object wasn't a weapon, Cerberion's claws, or a demon's hand. Was it... soft and fluffy?

You looked down and stared at your own shoulders, where an expensive-looking fur cape rested. You were opening your mouth to say something when suddenly the hood was thrown over your head and all the buttons were fastened, making it impossible for you to move.

He wants to steal me and eat me somewhere else!

You jumped up and down, but suddenly Kalego put his hands on your shoulders and forced you to turn around to face him. His eyes never softened or showed positive emotions, so there was no miracle this time either!

You felt heavy breathing on your face and knew that this was the end!..

–W-wait! – you screamed with all your might, feeling that you were starting to cough. You seem to have a cold. But what's the difference? You'll be eaten anyway! – B–before you do that, l-let me leave a last note! And, p-please bite me right in the carotid artery so that I die as soon as possible!..

Kalego suddenly tensed up, and you screamed in your head. M-I will be killed slowly and painfully!..

–What have you done, (Y/N), if I have to kill you? Did you fill out the paperwork incorrectly?!

–N-no, I did al-ll the reports right! I ev-ven double-checked them several times!

–That's great. So why should I kill you? Especially if I stick my fangs in your neck.

–B-because I'm human?..

It was... a mistake. You knew that as soon as you looked into the demon's eyes. They reflected a shock that seemed to break Naberius.

While Kalego was frozen in place and couldn't move, you quickly escaped from his grip and ran as fast as you could towards the exit. More precisely, you jumped, because the cape strongly constrained your movements. It wasn't that small, but it was heavy enough that you would have some difficulty moving around.

You somehow managed to open the door and ran out into the corridor. You threw off your clothes and ran towards the office belonging to Balam, but before you could run even one-eighth of the way, you sat down on the floor with incredible shortness of breath.

You've always been a weak person, and while looking for ways to heal your body, you decided to summon a demon... yes, it's a strange way to solve the problem, but let's not talk about it. Sullivan has agreed to help you, but only if you look after his "grandson" and keep an eye on some of the personalities at school. Well, you've kept your end of the bargain. All your major illnesses were cured, but you were still far from the physical state of a "standard person".

So you failed. Kalego literally caught up with you at a leisurely pace. You could hear his footsteps and feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, but you still sobbed in the middle of an empty hallway, as all the students had already gone home or were working in clubs.

You stare at the floor, watching the small drops fall on the wooden surface. Kalego didn't like crybabies, so you didn't want him to get angry before eating you.

When the demon stopped next to you, you wanted to ask him to do everything quickly, but you couldn't even get that out of yourself. You were ready to die, but suddenly Naberius picked you up in his arms, and you were almost in a second in one of the rooms in Royal One.

He threw you on the sofa, objects flew around the room. A minute passed, during which you were afraid to move, and then a cup of hot tea landed on the table in front of you, from which black steam was emitted.

Kalego landed in the chair across from you, and you might have thought he didn't hear what you said, but it was absolutely clear from the look on your face that he heard every part of your mistake.

–What are you doing? – he barked, and you almost fell off the couch. – You should drink your tea while it's hot. Do you want to get sick?! I've had enough of that time when you were lying in bed for two weeks after five minutes of standing on the street!

You sat down and touched the cup with trembling hands. A pleasant smell enveloped your nostrils and you swallowed.

The demon continued to stare at you with a hard stare.

–So... you're human?

–Y-you don't know? – you were shaking in a panic when he stared into your eyes. – I t-thought you knew! I t-thought you called me here to tell me I could dig my own grave with my own hands!

–I wanted to tell you I loved you!

–Wh-what?!

–What? – he looked at you not like a man in love, but like... your future homicidal maniac. – I needed to act quickly. Some of my colleagues, – he ground his teeth, – wanted to do it before I did. Of course, I would have preferred to invite you to a restaurant with good music and high-end food... but I didn't have the time. But it doesn't matter anyway, – his eye twitched as he looked at you. – (Y/N), you want to tell me that you're not just a weak demon, but a weak human, so the probability of you dying increases?! And yet you're constantly taking on a burden that some of my idiotic colleagues can't handle?!

You drank your tea in a hurry and hoped it was poison. There was a long lecture waiting for you, at the end of which you had to kiss Kalego so that he would stop scolding you, and after such an unexpected action on your part, you also fainted…

*+*

–What? Did she go into the woods? Alone?! – Kalego dug his fingernails into the table, leaving long footprints.

–I don't think it's such a big deal, – Shichiro shrugged. – Plus, she's with Iruma-kun and his friends. I think they're being protected by the Demon King, – Balan snorted. – So it's unlikely anything will happen to them.

–They may be protected by the Demon King, – Kalego began to speak and started walking towards the tent's exit, – but that doesn't mean he's protecting (Y/N)!

Naberius went outside and breathed in the fresh air. It's been a long time since he found out you were human. Kalego proved that his feelings were real, so he couldn't let his love do any hard work or risk herself. He'd rather die than break his promises... at least that kind of promise.

At the moment, the demons were in a "wilderness survival" class that lasted for several days. The camp was set up a long time ago, but the students had long since dispersed and explored nature. They could only return to the main camp if they were seriously injured or unable to handle the situation on their own.

"But they did something similar during Harvest Festival!" Well, that's true, but then they were in a controlled forest where there was a lot of food and relatively predators. Right now, they were surrounded by completely wild nature and quite strong monsters.

Even though the territory was still under the control of the demon teachers, the forest wasn't under their control. And so Kalego couldn't let you get hurt, much less die. You were weak even relative to other people. You wouldn't survive as a demon here for a day!

Naberius looked around the campsite, at the teachers who were giving advice to students who came to ask for help or receive medical treatment. Kalego froze for a second, and then Cerberion appeared next to him. The dog knew your scent very well (after spending a lot of time with you, it's impossible to forget that), so it instantly led its owner along the right route.…

Initially, you were just planning to take a walk with Iruma and his friends. Photos... more photos! Sullivan might not be able to attend these classes, but he wanted to see everything. So you were forced to work as a cameraman/photographer/babysitter and something else. But you didn't complain. At least it was all so funny and fun!..

And then you're suddenly lost and left in the middle of the forest with nothing but a camera…

You shivered as a light breeze brushed your skin. You were never a strong person... which is why you summoned a demon to help fix your health. Unfortunately, Sullivan didn't know how to do this completely, but he could show you the wonderful world of magic! You couldn't refuse!

If you knew there were so many dangers here, maybe you wouldn't have agreed… On the other hand, if you didn't go here, you wouldn't have met Kalego! So it wouldn't be so bad…

–Apchee!

You sighed and looked at the snot that was running out of your nose. Lowering the camera, you took out a napkin and quickly blew your nose. You could get sick from any little thing, which is why Kalego sometimes looked like an overprotective mom, and not like your partner.

You look around for Iruma and his friends. You were distracted by some bright berries, and the energetic children ran far away from you. You coughed a couple of times, feeling a slight sore throat. You opened your mouth to call out to them... but you definitely called out to the wrong person instead…

You sensed someone's presence and turned around. You turned your head... and saw a huge monster that clearly wanted to taste human flesh!

You swallowed and tightened your grip on the napkin. You tried to use the defensive artifact that Kalego gave you... but something told you that it would be better and safer to start running!

And so you did. You turned around, dropped your napkin, and ran as fast as you could from the monster that was already drooling. Remembering your PE lessons at school, you used all your strength to escape from danger as quickly as possible…

Except that you were still a weak, pathetic person, and your opponent was a huge monster that had more eyes than you had hair on your head, so you definitely wouldn't be able to run away from it. Even if you weren't... human.

Your breathing quickly faltered, your legs began to give out, and you almost fell several times. Cold air filled your lungs, causing you to cough more frequently, drawing the monster's attention. You could feel your heart beating fast somewhere near your temples. It took time to use the protection... you wouldn't have had time!..

The ground behind you shuddered, and you fell... straight into familiar hands. Turning your head slightly, you looked at the ground split in two. The monster growled and tried to get closer, but a single snap of his fingers caused it to bend under the Cerberion's claws.

You watched as the creature that tried to kill you... was destroyed by a huge amount of magic.

You were about to apologize for foolishly putting yourself in danger when Kalego pulled you closer to him and frowned. You could feel his entire body tense up. In the next second, he turned around and used magic, the lightning hit the monster that jumped out of nowhere.

–Looks like they have a better sense of smell than demons, – Kalego smiled wryly as he looked at the monsters. – They were able to smell the wonderful smell of human flesh... – you trembled at the words. – But I'll have to disappoint them, – the demon held out a hand, and the Cerberion opened all three of its mouths. – Because it belongs only to me!

The sounds of battle filled your ears. Roars, screams, more screams... you could hear Cerberion moving from side to side, lightning piercing the air... The unpleasant smell filled a small part of the forest, but Kalego pressed your face closer to him, so soon you stopped feeling anything with your nose.

The battle wasn't long. It just couldn't be that long. Naberius wouldn't let some pathetic monsters defeat him. Kalego leaned over and looked at you, and you heard a soft, relieved sigh. He gently lifted your head, holding your chin with two fingers…

–Where's your brain gone?

You felt your cheeks being squeezed hard by two fingers. You tried to get out of the demon's grip, but it was useless. Kalego put one hand on his belt, the other he continued to hold your face. You waved your arms, trying to get free, but it was all useless.

Naberius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked at you, still trying to wriggle out of his grip, and then finally let go. You shouldn't have gone far. Kalego draped his warm cloak over you and then held you so close that you could hear the sound of his heartbeat.

In his arms, you finally feel the warmth you've been dreaming of for so long. Your light cloak definitely didn't save you from the coolness of the forest. It was safe and comfortable in his hands. You would give anything to continue to be embraced by this demon. And so that he does not go far away from you, you hugged him back, hugging his tall figure with your hands as much as possible.

He was a strong, high-ranked demon. You were a simple, weak person. Perhaps in another world, he and you were never meant to meet. But here and now, you and he are together... and both of you were fine with it.

You froze, feeling something approaching. No, not a monster or anything like that. You tried to restrain yourself... and then still coughed awkwardly into his clothes several times. Naberius lowered his head and looked at you with a sad look.

–What can I do with you? – he sighed and gently stroked your cheeks, which had suffered from his grip. – You're so weak that sometimes I'm afraid you'll sneeze too hard and damage your lungs.

–Then you just need to hold me close and keep me warm and safe, – you pressed your cheek deeper into his clothes and hugged him tighter. – Um... we agreed, right?..

–Well, that sounds better than anything this school has to offer me, – Kalego chuckled and patted you on the head. – Wait…

You coughed nervously to the side and at the same time felt what the demon felt a few moments earlier. You had a fever. How you got sick so easily was still a mystery to you, but you've learned in your entire life that it's not something to be trifled with.

Kalego sighed and pressed his cool hands to your burning face. He wrapped you more tightly in his cloak before sitting down and nodding at his back. You carefully climbed on top of him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed yourself against his neck and exhaled... and then abruptly pursed your lips and muttered an apology, trying to open your mouth as little as possible.

–Relax, my weak human, – Kalego chuckled, getting up and starting to carry you on his back. – I won't get sick for such a stupid little thing. I'm not you.

–T-thank you... Kalego… So think about it, was it sarcasm or, ahem, no…

–You're capable of sarcasm in any state, so I'll leave that question unanswered…

You wanted to giggle, but froze in horror when another monster came out from behind the bushes and opened its mouth to devour you and Kalego. You were ready to jump off its back and hit the ground so that the demon would have a chance to fight…

–I am out of time!

Naberius raised his hand... and slapped the creature's face with all his strength! And while the monster stared at Kalego in shock, the demon silently passed by as if nothing was happening. When the monster tried to attack again, Naberius just looked at it... and the creature decided to get as far away from here as possible before it ended up just like the "relatives" of it.

You turned around and looked at the monster… You turned around and hugged Kalego tighter, snuggled up to him and inhaled his scent... while you still could. You started to feel worse and worse. It looks like while everyone else is running around and having fun, you'll be lying in bed... as usual.

Fortunately, you always have a demon to take care of you. Kalego was always there for you when you were sick or feeling unwell... and he will always be there for you no matter what happens to you. And you'll be there for him, too... well, just like that. Not that you can give the great demon anything but yourself…

Although... what else did Kalego need from you other than yourself?

Post-credits scene.

–You're still sick, aren't you? – you giggled at the demon.

–Please just shut up and give me the medicine.

[corkinavoid]

The Court Jester from FUKASE

Inertia from AJR

Pomegranate Lips from Derivakat

For requests for fiction ideas, please and thanks you ❤️

'The Court Jester' made me think of a full-on animatic in my head since it's not exactly a vibe-song but a tale-song. But, the thing is, said animatic doesn't exactly fit in a small ficlet, so instead, I'm going to just describe the bits and pieces here.

I am the Jester, my job's to entertain — Vlad Plasmius, wearing the colorful jesters clothes, the cap and the suit and the slightly creepy smiling makeup, is doing some tricks in the middle of a room full of pretty dressed people

And it seems that soon enough it too will be my job to reign — a brightly lit throne room, where Pariah Dark is lounging on the big sparkling throne, lazily tapping his fingers on the armrest, and Vlad's creepy makeup smile widens

As the king is slowly dying, any moment he could go — a dark room with no lights on, where Pariah is kneeling on the floor and clutching his head, as Vlad's smile is barely visible in the window behind him

As I trace my fingers on these haggard walls within your keep — Vlad's fingers over the stone cold walls and cell bars, shackles on his wrists

Though my exile still stands, I heard my duty call to me — the shackles turn back into the bright jester robes, and Vlad is back in the throne room, performing yet again

Because I am the Court Jester, I've grown tired of my sleep — everyone is clapping, but Vlad's smile is now only in his makeup, while he himself is not smiling anymore

What good is a crown if the brow it sits on is that of a dead man — Pariah's face glitches into a skull, and his crown slides off, but the next moment everything glitches back to normal

I'll wear my cap and painted smile with pride, my trusty baton in my hand — Vlad's smile grows wide again, and his face glitches from jester makeup to wearing a crown and back

And you will see me, sire, I'll make my way back to you — Vlad confidently walking up to the throne where Pariah sits, an evil grin on his face

The people soon will realize that your feeble body can't forestall — Pariah devolving into a coughing fit, falling down from his throne, his hands are bloody

You are human, you are dying, yes know I it's bittersweet — Pariah in his bed, looking sickly pale and still, staring into the ceiling with empty eyes, a disembodied jester's smile is hiding in the corner

But you knew this day would come, and you can't borrow steal or cheat — in a brightly lit, sparkling throne room, Vlad is walking up the stairs to sit on the throne while still wearing his jester clothes

Yes, your maker gave you time, but you've run out, and soon you'll meet — as Vlad sits on the throne, a red cape with white fur and a crown appear over him, the picture is covered in blood splatters and Vlad is smiling wide

I was awoken by some nibbling in my brain — Danny wakes up with a gasp in the darkness

Myself entrenched in ancient earth, with roots and vines my arms were bound — it's still dark, his limbs are tied with ivy vines and roots, he is buried under a tree

Were these my memories? or something else? and soon, I felt the urge to get out — Danny is clutching his head, tears in the corners of his eyes

Vines and leaves gave way easy just because — he is crawling his way out of a grave, fingers digging through the earth until he makes it out to the surface

Soon, I knew what caused me to awake - Danny gets up to his feet, his clothes ripped and dirty, and looks to where, behind him, a majestic white castle can be seen in the distance

I felt something bubbling in my chest — Danny's dirty fingers with broken nails clutching the fabric of his shirt on his chest

Peals of laughter rang into the distance from my soul — he is laughing hysterically, a mad glint to his eyes, and a wide, creepy smile on his face

I can not recognize a single thing in front of me — Danny, in his dirty clothes, walking through a town

The world as I knew it now is gone, is this reality? — looking around in wonder and confusion until he seems to find what he was looking for and enter a door

Absurd and nonsensical, fantastical and daft — glimpses of him putting on bright, different colored shoes with pom-poms on top, and different colored sleeves and gloves, all bright and in a jester style

All that is left to do is sit right down and laugh — Danny drawing a wide, jester smile on his face

Oh this world that I left you in has been tainted by your sin — back to Vlad, who is still sitting on the throne, but now no jester clothes are in sight, he is wearing something pretty and covered in jewelry

And as such I have now taken it upon myself to reinstate the reign of laughter and in health I will return - Danny walking up to the castle, a comical stick with a sack tied to the end of it on his shoulder

Oh, I am making my way back I will return — Danny, in all his jester glory, is walking inside the throne room as everyone is cheering and clapping as he performs

Soon, the people will remember the reason why they burn — Vlad's face is donning a very fake smile as he, too, claps for Danny

Pointing fists and shouting out with no more reason for concern — the cheers of the crowd become loud and extatic as Danny relishes in the attention and smiles

Soon you will see! the world will turn upon its head! — the throne room becomes all glitter and gold, people smiling and laughing as Danny continues to entertain them

Just you hope that you can see it 'fore you're dead! — Danny turns to look at Vlad across the room, a bright, confident smile on his face

Foolish king, you sit in empty meaning on your throne — Vlad's face is twisted and full of barely concealed anger as he grips the armrests of his chair

But in my time away you've ended up alone — his face, just like Pariah's face before, glitches into a skull and the crown falls off his head, but the next moment, everything is fine again

Oh, all the power in the world could never save you now — Danny's jester makeup, just like Vlad's before, glitches into having a crown on his head and then back to normal

As the time at which your curtain's called draws nearer, get ready to take your bow — flashes of pictures are changing too fast to notice, but there are moments with Vlad's coughing up blood and looking panicked, Danny in shackles just like Vlad before, and then Vlad lying in bed, tears streaming down his face

And now I, the mere Court Jester, will his majesty depose — Danny, wearing a crown and full king regalia, is walking up to the throne

Because I am the Court Jester, not all thorns come with a rose — he sits down, a smile on his face that slowly turns into a smirk

After all, I am the jester, and this future I propose — Danny raises his arm, and there's a sword in his hands that he brings down, the picture is covered in blood splatters again

Let the fool, let me, the jester, bring the olden tales to close — in the darkness, Jazz wakes up with a gasp

Let the fool, let me, the jester, a new saga now compose — she is crouching over the grave she just got out of, her clothes dirty and her hair messed up, and then she turns to look at the white castle that can be seen in the distance

~•~•~•~

I did miss a few lines because I didn't have anything specific imagined for them. Also, just so you have the idea of the color scheme and vibe for this whole thing, here are some pictures:

[P.S. I have not, unfortunately, came up with anything for 'Inertia' by AJR, but there's a piece for 'Pomegranate Lips' by Derivakat that I'm in the process of writing <3]

[rabbit-flaying]

Humanity's Collector

Genres: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Content Warnings: Dehumanization, Kidnapping, Casual Violence, Claustrophobia, Mild Cosmic Horror

Note: I want to get back to positing my writing on Tumblr. Maybe someone will recognize this. Probably not.

"Gosh you're pretty," Glade cooed, its voice sounding a bit like Harlow's mother, a bit like a brook, and a bit like paper being crumpled up and cast aside.

Harlow looked around desperately. For he had to find escape from the strange realm he had woken in. All manner of miscellany took up space in the void around him. It looked like a storage closet, if every storage closet in the world were connected together, and the possessions of kings and paupers alike were granted permission to socialize.

He ignored Glade and stood from his wicker chair, quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the realm and number of objects held within it.

Above him the color white stretched out into infinitum. True white, not the dirty kind found in snow and house paint. It hurt his head, making his temples throb and blood vessels contract, so he looked away from it.

"Where am I?" Harlow demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glade," it answered. "You're in my home."

Harlow made the mistake of eye contact. Glade's eyes shone with the light of galaxies, a dazzling rainbow of nebulae, planets, and suns. The entirety of the universe, and many more beyond it, seemed tucked away within the perfectly spherical marbles buried in the putty-like flesh of its glowing face.

He finally broke away from the hypnotic sight, his puny brain unable to handle the visions within. How much time had passed, every one of his neurons firing at once in an attempt to process the cosmos of Glade's eyes? Seconds? Minutes? Hours, even?

He needed answers, yet he did not know the right questions. Glade didn't seem human, instead a creature from a story book. And this monolithic hoard couldn't possibly be real.

"Your home?" he asked in a strangled sort of voice, staring pointedly at the patch of ebony wood ground he stood upon.

"I'm a collector," Glade explained, running their sharp nails, painted with glitter and adorned with scraps of emeralds, through Harlow's silky hair.

"What do you collect, exactly?"

Harlow watched a glittering blue beetle crawl across the ground, finding a hiding spot underneath a red and purple feathered ball gown displayed on a copper mannequin.

"All sorts of things," Glade said, flapping its hands wildly in a mimicry of human excitement. "Your world is fascinating. I remember when your kind learned how to create fire and tame animals. You have grown so much since then. I needed to have one of you for my own. Your creations are not enough any more."

Harlow carefully took in Glade's appearance, avoiding its hypnotic eyes. Despite its alien nature- as clear to Harlow as it would have been to his ancestors as they huddled around campfires concocting stories to explain their world- it chose to appear humanoid, though not precisely human.

Glade was the kind of thing that would hide in a child's closet, and speak to them in a parental fashion, loathing the knowledge that the child would never be believed no matter how loudly they spoke of its existence.

Its iridescent skin glimmered, changing colors with every movement, no matter how slight, as stunning light produced by the void poured over its body. Its proportions sat beyond the human view of normal, uncanny like an airbrushed model, but far more monstrous. Behind its smiling lips were two rows of porcelain and copper teeth, slicing perfectly through its pale gray gums.

Delicate jewelry of book pressed flowers and dragonfly wings adorned its warped elven ears. It was clad in a fur cape, the stitched together pelts of numerous small animals, fur colors clashing and asymmetrical. Its heels, as thin as sewing needles and seemingly impossible to walk on, granted half a foot of height to their seven-foot frame.

"Don't worry," Glade continued. "I'll take care of you. I've been collecting humanity's creations for millenia. You may use what you find around you to its fullest extent."

"I want to go home," Harlow said, finally realizing that this was not a dream that could be banished away by opening his eyes and pouring himself a cup of black coffee mixed with salt. "Please let me go. I'm sure there's someone who would love to be here. But I like my life on earth."

"But I wanted you."

Glade hugged Harlow tightly, mimicking how it had observed humans comforting one another. Its skin had none of Harlow's warmth, and he found this hug as uncomfortable as cuddling with a marble statue would have been, if he had ever been bold enough to break the omnipresent rule of not touching museum exhibits.

Harlow closed his eyes. "I have to be dreaming," he said, his lie cloaked in a defeated sort of tone. "This can't be real."

"Of course this isn't real," Glade said, holding its newest acquisition out at arm's length. "But it isn't a dream either. You are within my home, far outside of your universe."

"Please send me back. I don't know why I'm here, or how, but I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Glade said. "It's easy. I will take care of you, and you will be my plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Harlow broke away from Glade, and took off walking. There had to be an exit. Everything had an exit, whether it be a school or a church or a corner shop. The exits were always there, saddened as they were that so many people were afraid to break the rules and only took advantage of their ability to leave at certain appointed hours.

The void still seemed to stretch on into infinity, swelling larger and larger the farther and farther Harlow walked. But everything had an end if you traveled far enough to find it. Even the deserts that passed past any human line of sight and the mountains that seemed too high to ever climb over.

But now Harlow was applying rules from his original plane of existence to the alien one he had been so rudely whisked away to. And that was very foolish indeed.

"No, that doesn't sound nice," he said angrily, as Glade easily matched his pace, wearing a concerned expression it had stolen from a grandparent not too long ago. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave. Because I didn't steal you. The original Harlow Finch Echowood is still in his home, playing solitaire and chatting away to his cat. You belong here with me."

Harlow stopped in his tracks, sitting down on an ancient jeweled throne. It had held countless kings before him, but he respected them not, only using their seat to keep from collapsing in shock.

Glade smiled. "We are going to have so much fun, and no one will ever know you to be here. Come now, I have food prepared for you."

"I can't eat your food," Harlow argued, remembering what he had learned from a book that lived in his elementary school library. It had worn a shiny green cover, and the name Susan Macintosh was written inside the front cover before his own. "I'd never be able to leave if I did that."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for some of my cousins," Glade said. "You will eat, or you will starve. And you're never leaving because you belong to me. It doesn't matter what you choose to do."

Harlow stood up, his dizziness replaced with a red-hot temper. "I hate you! Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

Glade looked deeply wounded, but Harlow knew within the depths of his very soul, that it was only mimicry of human emotion.

"I couldn't send you back, even if I wanted to. Then there would be two Harlow Finch Echowoods trying to live your singular and unique life."

"I don't believe you. I'm still me. I still remember my life."

"You are an exact duplication of the original Harlow Finch Echowood. You have the same soul and the same mind and the same DNA. Of course you still remember."

With every passing moment, Harlow's belief in Glade's words only grew. Any attempt to fight against them was snuffed out by diluted logic and the omnipresent knowledge that he was still alive. He breathed. Blood rushed through his veins. More importantly, his mind continued to produce thoughts and feelings to process the outside world.

"Just combine us again or something," Harlow begged. "I want to go home. I never asked to be brought here."

"I cannot combine nor reconstruct nor mend. I can only make copies of beautiful things, and things not quite so beautiful."

Glade spread its arms, gesturing to its hoard of human objects collected in centuries long past. The treasures of every empire ever risen and fallen was present, both the spectacular and the mundane side by side in a discordant visual melody.

"Why me?" Harlow asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You speak as though this is a punishment. I have simply added you to my collection." It flicked the tears from his face, scratching him with its nail. "Now come, I have made you good food."

Glade gripped Harlow's arm and dragged him far away, weaving throughout its collection at a brisk and even pace, avoiding falling into the gaps between pieces of floor, which only infinitum laid below.

Soon enough, they came upon a small 1950s era kitchen. Two marble counters, a dirty stove, and a teacup filled sink formed a corner tucked away between a row of unplugged televisions and a huge crooked stalagmite growing from the polished tile floor.

Glade opened the oven and pulled out a pan of fresh bread. Its hands were bare, but unburnt by the hot metal dish. It grabbed a knife from one of the many drawers and cut through the bread without displacing a single crumb, before laying the slice out on a neon green plate.

"Eat while it's still hot," Glade said with a bright smile. It was a well used expression by those of Harlow's time who prepared meals for other humans, and it planned to repeat it often.

In its time spent with Harlow, its teeth had dulled significantly, and its gums had taken on a pale shade of pink. Why it had not mimicked a perfect human before meeting Harlow was beyond him, and it seemed perfectly capable of warping its appearance to become more like him.

He reluctantly tried the seed filled bread, finding it to be heavenly and soft. Faerie food or not, he scarfed it down, suddenly famished beyond all reason.

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I have much food. It is scattered about my home, and easy to find if you look. It never spoils, so you may feast on it as you please."

Harlow sighed, and clambered up to sit on the counter. An act of rebellion his twelve year old self would have been proud of, even if Glade didn't give him the smallest sliver of annoyance, having no understand of manners itself.

"I'm really never leaving…" he said, his voice like a half-deflated party balloon still adored by a kid who refused point blank to throw it in the trash. "If that's it then, what happens when you get bored of me?"

"I never get bored of my playthings."

"How big is this place? Is it a universe, or a realm, or a room in some alien mansion?" Harlow thought these reasonable enough questions, considering his circumstances.

"An infinite pocket dimension," Glade replied. "If you travel far enough, my collection begins to grow thin. There is a boundary of where my possessions lie, and after that is the abyss. It is nearly impossible to find one's way back from nothingness."

"I hate it here," Harlow said, as though he had not made this feeling quite clear before. "I want to be around other people. Not you."

"I will bring you some," Glade promised. "Allow me a few minutes to collect them. You shall have a companion, as all humans crave, or more than one if it suits your fancy."

Harlow froze, debating his own morality versus the loneliness soon to bloom from this isolation. How could he allow more people to be stuck in this horrible purgatory of preserved humanity, just so he could have someone to talk to? The truth? He couldn't bear it. At least, not yet.

"No," he begged, the first tears ever created in this pocket dimension blooming in his eyes. "Please, don't put anyone else through this. I'll be good. I won't complain. I promise."

"Oh, how you confuse me." Something odd bloomed over Glade's face, a poor mimicry of a half-understood human emotion. "I see… Come along then."

Harlow hopped off the counter and followed Glade as it walked under a vast canopy of safety pinned together curtains fashioned from every familiar fabric and exotic cloth created by the hands of humanity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Glade called in a sing-song voice. "I've brought a new trinket. This one can talk, so I'm sure you'll like it."

People approached Glade and Harlow from the shadows. Well, not people, exactly. They were like Glade, monstrous and wonderful, stepping straight from a story book and into Harlow's waking nightmare. There stood more figures than Harlow could keep track of, intent on viewing the treasure Glade had discovered.

"I finally brought a human home," Glade said proudly, if such a being were capable of pride. "Isn't it just a doll?"

Harlow flinched as numerous hands and insect-like feelers crept over his body, Glade's companions examining him all too closely. He felt as though he had jumped into those foam pits he had so loved as a young child, touched in all directions yet floating in oddly empty space.

"Get off of me," he demanded, forgetting his promise not to complain as he shoved the nearest figure away. "Stop it. I said stop!"

Harlow tried to break free of them, pushing and shoving, even striking at them with closed fists and elbows. But he was pulled back, the creatures murmuring in appreciation on how bizarrely Glade's newest acquisition behaved.

"Stop touching me," Harlow cried. "Please. I hate being crowded. What are you doing?"

"What is it doing?" the specter asked. It brought its freezing yet intangible hand to Harlow's face, as though to seize his tears.

"That is so weird," another remarked, clicking its pincers in an oddly specific pattern.

The different figures murmured to each other, formulating explanations.

"Is it because we're touching it?"

"It's water… I think."

"He's crying," Glade explained, flapping its hands in mimicry of human excitement. "It means it's upset. Isn't it the most delightful thing?"

"I hate you," Harlow said thickly, as tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You are so repetitive," Glade remarked, before perfectly imitating Harlow's voice. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home."

Harlow finally relented. As the nightmarish figures poked and prodded him, discussing him amongst each other, he only hoped that they would soon grow bored and move on to newer shinier pursuits.

How could he stand to do this for the rest of eternity?

[igotanidea]

Species relationship (Cinnamon rewritten) : werewolf!Jason Todd x werewolf!fem!reader

Yes, I think this is way better than previous one. :D

***

„Where’s Jason?”

All the batfamily has gathered in the batcave, the only one missing being the wayward son, the black sheep.

“I believe he’s with that girlfriend of his….” Damian muttered with the roll of his eyes.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, father… a fellow female…. Ugh… I don’t understand that concept either….”

“Hm.”

“Was it like a good hm or a bad hm?” Dick chimed in. “I swear your grunts are sometimes so hard to decipher, Bruce…..”

“Who is she?”

“We don’t really know…..” Dick threw up his hands “He’s very…. protective over her….”

“Is she…..?” Bruce hesitated. Sometimes it was still hard to admit that werewolves and all the supernatural occurrences to come with it were real. Yes, Bruce had an open mind when it came to technology and reality, but accepting the fact that his second adopted son could transform into a hairy beast was… a lot. However, if there was anyone who could pull that thing off, it was definitely Jason with his 6.0 ft height and 225 Ibs weight.

Imagine the heart attack Bruce would get if it was tiny Damian with such skills…….

“Is she what Bruce?” Dick teased “come on, say it… you can do this….”

“Is she…..a werewolf?” Bruce hissed through clenched teeth.

“Good job, Bruce!” Dick laughed

“She is.” Tim answered, trying to mitigate the situation before someone does something regretful. “A pretty one from what I heard….”

“Who is she Tim?” Bruce turned to his third adopted son.

“How would I know?!”

“You have access to all the Wayne Technology and you’re you. Don’t tell me you haven’t googled her”

“I did no such thing! That would be a gravy invasion of privacy!” Tim made an innocent face that no one bought.

“Hm.”

“What?! I’m serious. You can’t just go and spy on people….werewolves… whatever. “ Tim said it with so much belief that Dick couldn’t help it and burst out laughing.

“Dick.”

“I’m not sorry Bruce. You’re definitely wasting your comedian and acting talent, Tim.”

“I’m being serious. She’s just a girl. A girl who turns into a giant animal every full moon and then sometimes…. It’s not her fault she imprinted Jason…. I won’t be searching for that poor unfortunate soul.”

“Imprinted?” Damian and Bruce asked in unison.

“No.” Dick says sternly. “Just no.”

“But…..”

“You’re too young to hear about it Damian.”

“I’m 11 years old, Grayson!”

“Precisely my point.”

“You will tell me everything……” Damian reached for his katana, but before he could actually do something, Bruce held him back by the cape. “Let me go father…… this is humiliating….”

“You will now go to your room Damian.”

“But….’

“I got some things I need to discuss with your brothers.”

And with those words and Bruce stern expression Dick and Tim knew. They were toasted.

***

 Regardless of what was happening in the batcave, Jason couldn’t care less. He was in fact meeting Y/N, but to say she was his girlfriend or that he imprinted her would be too much. There was something happening between them, but they never really put a tag on it. Besides, the whole concept of finding your soulmate just by looking at them was a false ideology blown by movies like Twilight and Jason scoffed (both internally and externally) every time one of his siblings (or honestly anyone) came as close as even suggesting it.

They felt good with each other, sure, but neither of them were fully convinced whether it was because of the fact that there weren’t really that much werewolves in Gotham and it was nice to have someone to go through the same struggles or whether they liked each other as humans.

Not that they had many opportunities to see one another in that shape.

Werewolf form was… comfortable. It was easier to hide oneself in all that fur and muscle and avoid unnecessary emotions. Being human meant vulnerability, awkwardness and too many words and feelings.

And Jason was not good with feelings. And, to say the truth, he never trusted them.  He was rather used to teasing, deflecting and covering that side with snarky, harsh humor.

At least until he met Y/N.

She was working at the little bakery in Gotham. The only bakery. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Jason to figure out her true identity.

It was not even a challenge considering the fact that as a human, she was always covered in flour and her wolf fur was a mix of tawny and white, almost as if someone sprinkled that ingredient all over her. And what was more, her signature dish was an apple tart with flavoring, and she always smelled of cinnamon. And wolf senses never fails, especially when it comes to nose.

What he didn’t realize what that Y/N was not only a simple baker girl.  And it was amazing what a smart head could do with the access to the Internet and some dot connecting.

Let me repeat: there weren’t many werewolves in Gotham.

For months it was their tradition to meet at the meadow on the outskirts of town to run together or hunt together or just do anything together. He used to swing by her place by the end of her shift, always as a wolf and let her tag along (of course he was not going to admit that he wanted her company. He was an alpha after all. ). So the surprise he felt one day when he showed up at the bakery seeing her as human, not ready for the unwinding was beyond words.

She was just sitting on the threshold of the shop, reading a book, but it was pretty obvious there was something going on in her mind. Again: wolf senses never fails and he could literally smell how distracted she was.

“I know who you are.” She simply said looking straight into his animal eyes.

Jason shook his wolf head. She couldn’t …….

“Jason Todd….”

Whoops.

“Wasn’t really hard to figure.” She shrugs. “You should cut on smoking it’s not good for your health and you reek of cigarettes.” It might have been the first time since they knew each other that he heard her laughing.

The way she acted was… doing something to him. For the hell of it he couldn’t figure why that light reproach made him feel…. Guilty. Chastened. Maybe it was unfair. He knew her identity, maybe he should have told her sooner? It was actually pretty funny that a giant, predatory animal let out a whimper and hung his head in shame in front of a girl, so much smaller than him. It was like at that moment, she got some power over him. A beta!

“Can I?” she asked reaching her hand for his fur and holding back before touching it. Only when he nodded, she tangled her fingers it his silky pelage. “It’s ok, Jason. I know it’s hard to reveal yourself…. Been there, done that… But you’re not alone anymore.” She cooed, caressing his back lightly. “We’re the same kind…..”

In any other circumstances, he would never let anyone touch him like this. But she was… different. The way she talked and comforted him… but surely it was only because of the wolf in her calling to the wolf in him. Kind of a “species relationship”, nothing more.

Definitely nothing more……

So why did he felt the sudden urge to nuzzle her and actually acted on it?

Just a species relationship……

It was month ago and their acquaintance developed.

He learnt that while being a little messy human in her wolf form Y/N was full of grace and gentleness. Acting like one of the Aristocats, even if the werewolves were in fact.. dogs. When she was hunting it was never bloody. She always took care to be clean of the mud, to avoid unnecessary dirt and to choose the nice paths to run in the woods. Each and every of her move were careful, thoughtful and intentional.

Absolutely opposite of Jason who was the perfect definition of running wild and free. But even with her queen-ish attitude she never complained. And he really appreciated that, since Y/N was so different from all the members of his family, who were constantly trying to shape him, tell him what, how, why and when to do (or nor).

With her… he could just be himself.

Just a species relationship.

And after a long night of patrolling he was searching for that freedom he felt with her.

Just like he was doing at that point, escaping the batcave, leaving Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian and all his Red Hood shit behind, running to the bakery just to spend some time with that beta.

It was purely coincidental that of late she’s been working night shifts, finishing in the very early morning. Her boss found out about the little ailment of her which was hypersensitivity to light. To put it simply, working during the day was nearly impossible for her since she was becoming half-blind, getting clumsy and ashamed of said incapability. But still, she was the best employee, letting her go was not an option, hence the work schedule alteration.

Pretty lucky work schedule alteration.

Pretty lucky work schedule alteration that gave them opportunity to spend some more time together.

But still it was just the species relationship.

Nothing more.    

And his wolf heart definitely did not start beating faster when he saw her turned into that majestic animal, waving her tail awaiting his arrival.  When she senses him approaching she tilted her head playfully, imitating the way she used to do as human when something got her attention and her eyes sparkled.

Jason let out a single howl as a form of greeting. Of course, he had to show off. He was an alpha and had to underline his presence and position. And it scaring the shit out of Y/N’s coworkers came in pair with that, he was more than willing to tease those people a bit. Even if his werewolf female friend shook her head in disapproval and was definitely going to tell him off later.

He knew better. He knew she liked him being like this and her every action was only proving that theory.

However, at the moment they were just looking into each other’s eyes. Two giant animals in the middle of the city, lost in the connection they had. Just a for a second though, because Jason got a bit scared of what Y/N may see in his mind if they were standing like that for too long and started running, signaling her to follow him. 

She just couldn’t ignore the calling of an alpha. Her alpha. It was too strong to disobey so she followed right after him, keeping safe distance to avoid getting hit with the dust he raised. She was a lady after all.

Soon enough, with their speed, they reached the meadow in the forest. Their spot. Their place for relaxation and sleeping after a hard day (night) of work.

Jason just tumbled to the ground not having a care in the world, but Y/N took a few turns to make a proper place for herself and settle down. The sun was about to raise and she needed a spot in the shadows to avoid extensive exposure. Even  if in her wolf form she wasn’t really prone to the light sensitivity, it was a bit of a habit now. Not every human instinct was turned off during transformation.

Unfortunately, the place she choose was too far from Jason for his liking as he raised onto his paws and moved closer to her, laying close enough that if they were humans they would be cuddling. And this time she couldn’t care less about his dirty, messed up fur.

It was Jason.

It was her alpha.

And she was the part of the pack. She had to obey.

Obviously only because of that she let him approach her and lay his head next to her, their noses almost touching, their tails waging happily at the presence and warmth of one another.

Only because of that she felt comfortable and safe enough to close up her eyes and enjoy that fuzzy feeling inside her. 

Only because of that she let him shift his position slightly so that he laid in a way that would give her additional protection from the light. Just in case.

Only because of the pack thing they let their guards down, slowly drifting off to sleep, away from all the people, away from reality, lost in one another. Protected by one another .  

Species relationship, my ass.

[ms0milk]

𝟏 | 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"The prince meets you with a ferocity that probably stops people’s hearts and with his mother’s halo of silvery hair and decisive eyes, it’s lovely enough to stop yours too."

no cw big time fairytale castle, blunt bkg & silly co. reader's a lil stiff bc character arcs aren't built in a day, let the slowburn begin. i am not immune to aizawa in any universe. author does not attempt to hide how very badly she wants to ******* *** **** bkg's mama. 3.8k

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Waking up is so peaceful this morning. Gentle and warm.

"..…"

That sweet kind of rise between waking and dreaming, where you’re able to say goodbye to your dreams and the people in them with a tip of your hat and wave goodbye. Forgiving and patient.

“..Y/n…”

The queen was in your dreams tonight. And you were in your hometown– you’re there now. The fields are golden and heavy before autumn harvest and your neighbors have no need for locks on their doors. She is beautiful today, and she is your sister, your mother, your Lady when you try to look past the sun’s rays to her face. Up, up, up into her eyes, why can’t you find what you’re looking for? Higher and higher until it’s the stars you’re on your knees for.

“Y/n.”

You jolt at the sudden sensation of falling with a quick and panicked grip on your pillow but you’re back in your room, stuffed mattress and all. Every part of your body is grounded to woolen blankets and the weight at your feet. Someone laughs at the foot of your bed when you sigh in relief and you jump again, because this time it’s the queen.

“I’m sorry to wake you.” She smiles behind her hand. You’re staring. And then it’s been a second too long before you gather yourself like a member of the castle with some respect and make a move to stand for formal greetings. But you only get as far as sitting up when she stiffs her palm to your forehead. “Stay.”

From your spot still tucked in bed you muster a, “Yes, your Majesty.”

The queen’s hair is wild and silvery by the light of a candle she holds at her chest. The only light in the room. Heavy fur cape clasps fit neatly into the bodice of her nightgown– gown almost isn't the right word. You love her. There isn’t a citizen alive that doesn’t love her, “I have a question for you, Y/n.”

“Anything, Majesty.”

What time is it? Your curtain is drawn, but still there doesn’t seem to be any morning light trying to peek through.

“My son’s been invited east to celebrate a new observatory.” The queen pulls a once-neatly-wrapped envelope from her pocket, “The end of some momentous constructional undertaking or another,” she laughs. She extends her hand to you and smiles at just how dumbstruck you still seem to be by candlelight, “I’m sorry it’s so early.”

“Not at all.” You move too quickly and too slowly somehow– you curse yourself– while taking it from her, and regret what a silly child you must look like the way she has you perched against your pillows.

“I just received word from a Takoban messenger. A letter from their queen.” You nod, turn the letter over in your hands until it falls open. “He’s leaving today and I would very much like you to accompany him.”

Your apartments on Castle Southside are suddenly less like one modest room and more like the very stables you live above, wholly unfit for her. She’s still smiling at you. You’re still tucked-in. “Majesty, me?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not. But wouldn’t– shouldn’t Master Jeanist go?”

“Jeanist stays with me.” And you realize in horror– too many emotions for one woman to manifest only minutes after waking up– that you implied the queen may have made a mistake. “Don’t apologize,” she catches you before you can open your sleep-addled mouth again, “Captain of the Guard stays here. But you’ve trained with Jeanist for years Y/n, you’ll be my son’s captain soon.” She scoots closer to you. She takes your hand, “Can I trust you with this mission?”

It's fuzzy, hearth warmth and happiness when she uses your name, “With anything.”

Queen Mitsuki handed over one more letter before leaving you to prepare for your morning. Just a thank you card, she’d said. For you to deliver to the eastern queen, the Queen of Takoba.

As long as she asks you might do anything, although spending the most time with Jeanist meant nothing by way of his successor. The next monarch will choose his own captain. Spending the most time with Jeanist only means that you haven't given great priority to making your own friends.

The click of your heels down the stone hallway line up with another’s as you round the corner to your station. A tree today. Trees and wildlife grow freely in the Bakugous’ Aldera Castle and make the palace warm even in the grip of winter. Knobbly trunks and grasping vines twist in and out of windows, fruit rolls down the halls in fall. Squirrels and birds get in so regularly that members of the guard each have one shift a week exclusively for hoisting the creatures back out.

Fresh air is never far away. In the springtime you are all tasked with sweeping blossoms off the castle floors before they wither or trip a staff, and from the very second the first magnolia blooms in March you’re swimming in flowers til June.

Jeanist stands under the lichen of Castle Southside’s oak tree when you arrive, and the soldier he was speaking to has already strode away. Tall, black hair.

The oak tree is four stories tall to have arms reaching this far inside and is older than any historian could recall. It is precious family. It reaches up and over the banister at the edge of the hallway and dips down into the library like a leafy chandelier, causing much headache in autumn when Aldera's tallest ladder is procured for the poor novice whose job it is to clean the books underneath.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Sir.”

Jeanist only smiles under the high collar of his red uniform. You rarely get the chance to stand beside your mentor anymore, now that the prince needs only a senior guard on diplomatic errands. Your uniforms were meant to stand together just like this– warm next to each other. Yours are the only two of their kind and your mentor made these himself, blood red gambeson and white bone clasps. You assume your position beside the tree and stare dead ahead, happy, if only for a second, if only on the inside, to belong once again to this group of two.

“Y/n?”

“Sir.” You don’t break eye contact with the far wall. Dawn is dim on the fifth floor of Southside. All you have here to entertain yourself is a tapestry you’ve memorized every stitch of, until another soldier comes to relieve you.

“Did you speak with the Queen?”

“Yes, sir. Early this morning.”

“Earlier than dawn?” Jeanist chuckles and turns to gaze out the window through the ancient knots of the oak tree. The sun crests the mountains somewhere farther than you’ve ever traveled and spills into the folds of his uniform. It warms the back of your head. “What did you tell her?”

“That I would be honored to comply with Her Majesty's request.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Privileged, sir.”

“Y/n." Your eyes tug at your periphery, confused by the general chattiness of the old guard this morning, “I’m proud of you.”

Your head turns fully at this, in surprise and without your permission, and you realize it hasn’t yet struck you to ask why he’s at your post in the first place.

“Go on.” He’s looking at you too now, as he has been the whole time, “They’ll leave without you at this rate.”

You stare for another two seconds at this strange mentor of yours. You try to keep your heart from spilling onto the floor is actually what you do; it’s all you can manage. “Yes, sir.”

If anything you’ll be the first of the entire party to arrive in the Great Hall, but you still let Jeanist assume your position and even turn in surprise again when he rests a hand on your shoulder. He taps one of your small earrings with a gentle finger and with his other hand unclasps the dragontooth brooch from his breast.

“How long did you stare when the queen spoke with you this morning?”

Ears go hot immediately under his knowing gaze, but he only smiles. He pulls your hand forward and rests the dragontooth in your palm with an amount of pressure that can only mean, be careful. And so you will, you determine, and turn to make your way to collect your things.

“Word of advice!” In a neverending morning of spinning, you drag your foot and face him again. Jeanist is nearly laughing and trying very well to hide his worry, “If you stare at the prince the way you have the tendency to do, he might just take your head off.”

He doesn’t get to see you smile often, but it does feel fitting now for you to nod your goodbye to him with the look of yours he loves so much, “He might try, sir."

It didn’t take more than a few months in the castle, at six years old, for the prince to rectify his opinion of you. To clarify his disdain in the event that his mother’s favoritism towards the orphan gave anyone the wrong idea about his own priorities. You could hardly say it mattered. Hundreds of new faces fill the castle every year and he had forgotten yours just as quickly as you had been whisked into Jeanist’s care to begin your training and earn your keep.

Today your satchel is packed, your hair’s braided back, and the prince thinks no more or less of you than he always has. Indifference will make your job easy.

The whole sprawling maze of stone buildings warm in the morning sun as you make your way to Castle Northside, although autumn is here and soon heavy curtains will need to be draped over windows and trees. Soon too, it’ll be time to sweep fallen leaves out of the hallway and collect ripe peaches from the branches of the western stairwell. You’ll need to have your winter uniform cleaned when you return so the white fur of the collar glows, because when the queen happens to see you on duty she always remarks on how well you care for her colors.

Even your earrings– tiny suns, gold and dangling– represent your love for Aldera down to the smallest detail. They were a gift, and you swell when her eyes jump from one carefully polished detail on your body to the next. To Jeanist, she is personification of meticulous craft. You know that’s why he loves her. Each hulking winter cape in her collection drops her into the background of some priceless painting or ethereal scene and for this reason alone, winter is your favorite season.

Sometimes in cold weather, when she sneaks to the kitchen in the middle of the night, Her Majesty wears battle gauntlets to stay warm and is altogether too Alderan in delicate furs and armored gloves.

It is just at this moment of routine admiration that, out of an auxiliary hallway to the kitchen, saunters a tall boy you’ve never seen before wearing the white soldier’s greaves. He's hardly dressed, greaves aside, all loose undershirt and lazy stride. He knows your name and he calls to you as he approaches.

“Yes soldier?”

His limbs are knobbly and his mouth hitches uncomfortably upwards when he finally gets close enough to you to speak, “Hanta ma'am, Sero Hanta.” Tall and disrespectful. “Master Jeanist sent me to fetch your halberd from the smithy but when I came back–”

“I don’t keep my halberd in the smithy.”

He shifts his weight between two legs too long for his greaves like he has somewhere else to be, “Whoever’s it is, Kirishima has it now and we’ve all been searching Southside like madmen trying to fin–”

“Who–” You shake your head and turn to face him fully now, “Why does the master–”

“Sero! Oh my everloving gods you found her!” Another boy, quite blond, scrambles out of a different hallway– oh, he’s tripping on the decorative runner– out of breath to the soldier’s side. “Kirishima–”

“You found her!” One last voice shrills over the banister of the hallway above. This one belongs to a lithe pink girl and she hops the last five stairs to land at your side, “Don’t you look nice today Miss Guard.”

“Excuse me?”

She addresses her companions instead, “Where’s Kirishima?”

You have half a mind to take the closest person by the arm and hold them for questioning. How have they gotten so far into the center of the castle unaccompanied? To whom do they belong? “Identify yourselves.”

“No time for that,” Soldier Sero snaps and links a hand under each of his companions’ arms, “We’ll parse out introductions once we’re not all about to be hanged.” Without direction or permission, the three of them are down the last stretch of hall quicker than north wind through bare branches and great iron doors scream open.

You’ve walked the Hall ten thousand times and so the gold trim, the fireplace and both it's stories, the sappy scent of pine, and the rows of tables long enough to seat whole families of dragons, only bring tears to your eyes on occasion. The floor is cobbled with river stones that catch fruit and nuts in their grooves but glow a molten-glass purple when the sun comes in through windows. It gets warm, too warm, when it’s full of staff at mealtimes so you take your dinners elsewhere. It’s too stuffy. You’ve never managed large crowds in tight spaces so times like these are precious, when it’s empty before breakfast and still clean from the night's housekeeping.

Except it’s not empty now, is it? There are three fools and two brand new strangers loitering in front of the fireplace at the other end of the room, just waiting for you to call for reinforcements. Sero begins to take off his pants–

“Soldier!” You shout down the Hall almost as quickly as you cross it.

“Good morning,” an altogether new voice pools between your exclamations.

Of the five people in the empty room, two of them obviously belong someplace very far away. Somewhere unkind. Blue tunics and windswept hair. You slow your warpath and try to take in the details of the two new men that Aldera's three fugitives have approached without an ounce of concern or respect for personal space.

The younger of the pair repels hair ruffles and claps on the shoulder from your three trespassers while the taller man, worn and travel-sallow, peers over the bustle to you.

His eye contact doesn't match the way he holds his exhausted body. It is this one part of him that threatens, surely only in your own tired mind, sudden and practiced violence. You move closer.

“I am Master Aizawa."

When he blinks the threat vanishes and you buckle a bit in the whiplash from danger to gentle authority. You are unarmed for a second– suddenly a schoolgirl again, pitied by her teacher in a classroom full of people who haven't learned to talk to child soldiers.

"Your party will be under my protection and instruction beginning today.” Disarming eye contact aside, Master Aizawa, this fourth stranger of the morning, looks as if he could barely be trusted to remain upright on a sunny day, let alone manage other people. “This young man is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he tips his chin to the boy trying to stand tall beside him, still speaking only to you over the chittering crowd, “my apprentice and your second in command.”

Windswept, violent, exhausted, trespassers, guests, useful, useless– these people do not matter. You are meant to be waiting for the prince and his convoy not chasing strangers in circles around the castle, when a much worse thought comes clear to center focus. In your rush this morning it hadn’t occurred to you that this group of people might share your objective. The iron doors grunt open again in your confusion but louder than the doors are the people walking through them.

“Oh amazing, you found her!”

“I could hear you horrible fucks all the way from the courtyard.”

Your blood doesn’t rush properly for a second most likely because your heart has stopped pumping it out. The prince. You square your body to the back wall immediately and bow with fists at your side, trying to bury the incorrigible urge to stare.

Even from half a Hall away it is palpable, the tremendous confidence that swells to every corner of a room when he enters. He wears an Alderan vest lined with furs and you know the clasps at his neck are gold because the queen wouldn’t settle for less. The red cape they grip sweeps in an arc as he navigates tables, and walking duly tall beside him is the prince's champion, Kirishima, who holds a polearm in one hand while waving to the group with the other.

The two familiar faces put you at a strange kind of ease. Kirishima is a joyful addition to the castle, always smiles for staff in passing, and the prince– the prince is taller now. It’s been years since you’ve stood near him properly. Castle staff are meant to bow their heads when a royal approaches. You’re fairly familiar with the details of his boots but not much else.

“Good morning, Highness,” Master Aizawa is the first to reply and his voice simmers just above a growl. You raise your head so that you’re standing tall when the prince finishes his march to the group but you’re too practiced in looking away to keep your eyes up for long.

“Long time no see old man.”

“Ready?”

“Let’s get this over with.” The prince doesn’t offer you a glance, not even a blink, before he’s tossing a rucksack from the man’s outstretched arm over his shoulder.

Soldier Sero calls after him, “You clean up nice,” and lifts his arm to give the prince a playful swat, but you’re already holding his wrist behind his back and he’s standing on tall tippy toes to keep the pressure in his knobby elbow from breaking it. The prince squares himself to the yelping and now he’s looking at you.

“S-sorry Y/n! Friendly fire.”

You drop Sero’s arm and try to speak– it's your only chance for appropriate introduction– but the prince meets you with a ferocity that probably stops people’s hearts and with his mother’s halo of silvery hair and decisive eyes, it’s lovely enough to stop yours too. His coalfire gaze is quick and flickering. Like he hopes to avoid looking at you altogether. You try to speak even less successfully than the last time, to wet your lips, try to make a sound, but he’s already rolling his eyes and ushering the two blue guards towards the door.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ babysitter. The rest of you, hurry up.”

They do. The prince, two escorts, and three guests are back out the iron doors without so much as a greeting, explanation, or itinerary. You stand next to the cold fireplace, still half bowed in greeting.

As the Great Hall stills, empty now except for Kirishima, the redhead sidles closer in the quiet. He watches you excitedly, as you exhale and adjust the travel bag at your hip, eager to present you with the weapon he’s been carrying.

“Mornin’, I think this is from Jeanist?" He chirps and twitters with a smile and precisely no clue what it is he’s handed to you. He’s straightforward and confident and warm.

It’s been a long time since a day so new has been so active. Since dawn, nothing but one heart palpitation after the next. One pair of red eyes to the next. The prince’s red burns your vision like sunspots, Aizawa's turn grapes to wine, but Kirishima’s is patient. You’re slow to remove your gloves before handling the weapon and take it from the champion who vibrates in the new quiet. He is not particularly good at standing still.

Shifting in your hands is a halberd. Its balance is even and it’s not the cherrywood weapon you’re familiar with, the one that’s hopefully still hanging up in its slot in the Keep. This weapon is a deep blood red from shaft to socket. You nod your head without taking your eyes off the shimmer of the metal polished so fine it's turned white, and on any other day there might be tears in your eyes.

Kirishima is still smiling as you fiddle with the rivets, “You have lovely taste, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s not mine,” you whisper, because it’s Master Jeanist’s.

Outside of the castle gates, a particularly dazzling blue carriage is waiting, pulled by a team of white horses. You squint at the three fools wrestling with each other next to a quilted door of the most delicate vehicle you’ve ever seen. Like something out of a storybook, like something built by fairies. The prince tiffs with a less-than-interested Master Aizawa in the grass a ways off and taps his foot angrily just like his mother.

“Are you the Alderan escort?” Shinsou, the spitting image of apathy, appears between you and Kirishima as you trek the stone path to join the party. He hands you each a sizable knapsack.

You nod, “Y/n, apprentice to Captain Jeanist.”

“The one and only?”

“Captain?”

“No, the only apprentice,” Shinsou corrects and smiling eyes betray his disinterest, “I’ve heard stories. It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise,” you murmur as he leaves you with a bag in both hands, and strides back to the crowd to help load luggage. The champion is long gone and mingling with friends and so you’re alone again, left to fiddle at a distance with your halberd and the leather sling used to carry it on your back.

When you gaze back over the group from afar, it does seem that everyone but you already quite likes one another, and it probably feels that way because it’s true. They know each other somehow and you are the only stranger. A foreigner at the front gates of your home.

Next to the stack of luggage, Sero opens the door for his two friends and you must watch them all curtsy before trying to wrestle each other inside. Shinsou catches the blond when he trips backwards on the single carriage step, Sero is finally wearing pants that fit him, black and pleated, and the prince is now stamping his foot on the ground in conversation with the most unfazed man you’ve ever met. Master Aizawa, you suppose, from Takoba.

Behind you the warm castle whistles with wind and morning activity. Your home. In front of you the pink-haired girl blows kisses to imaginary admirers and Kirishima hoists the prince into the carriage by force. It hasn’t been more than an hour and it is already good, true, and apparent that this caravan will have your full attention or else start a war.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @cherrykamado @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @cherripunch26nch26 @km74744 @arayoflia

could not tag for some reason

[curlycatbee]

Death in boots things😤 Personal headcannons

- death growling in puss’s face and puss licks his nose catching him off guard and making him huffy

- Puss running under death’s legs to evade him. Annoying death

- Puss being smooth charming and confident but being awkward flustered and shy around death

- Death teasing Puss

- But Puss flusters death by being unexpectedly soft and cute

- Aka the look

- Death observing Puss and how he interacts with other people

- Death thinks Puss is cute but would never tell him

- Death likes to smooth out puss’s fur when it gets poofy

- Puss laughs when death wags his tail

- Death being amused when he sees Puss flick his tail

- Puss being able to hide from death when he’s not scared

- Puss doing that spinning thing and death catching him

- Death being impressed by puss’s skill and agility

- Death stealing puss’s hat and petting his ears

- Puss being unnerved by death popping in and out of places

- Death being gentle with puss’s scratches/injuries

- Death trying to help Puss fall asleep by whistling his song but Puss gets creeped out, poofs up and death is amused

- Puss and death fighting

- Death being growly

- Death petting the scar on puss’s head

- Death barking at him when mad or frustrated

- Death being jealous

- Death holding puss’s little hands

- Death grabbing puss’s cape to stop him

- Puss climbing onto death’s shoulders/ hangs out in deaths hood when it’s down

- The first time puss purrs around death, death tries really hard not to react

- Death grabbing and holding puss up by the scruff to lecture/yell at him, when he’s mad at puss for being dumb and reckless

- Death tapping his claws when impatient or when smug

- Death watching/stalking puss

- Death being cruel/mean when puss doesn’t take care of himself

- Puss likes dancing (duh) he tries to get death to dance with him.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Some Tang-y asks;

Both asks referencing; this previous about Tang realising his buddies are the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque + he's the godfather to their upcoming baby.

Tang is freaking tf out after the shock/fainting wears off. His academic career has revolved around the Journey to the West and connected mythology. Even as a lowly libarian who does mythology talks on the side, even he recognises that this is historical Iridium. He has *The People Who Were There* in his apartment (eating his chips)!!

Afterwards he has a moment of; "Oh gods, I've pretty much adopted the Monkey King." since he's been helping the monkeys learn how to read/write in modern chinese and generally giving Wukong life advice in the manner of a father-figure (all mid-twenty years of him).

And although he def shares all his secret wuxia and isekai fantasies with Macaque (fantasy nerd to theatre nerd communication); he certainly didn't expect to end up like This.

Tang knows he at least has a genetic link to the historical Tang dynasty - something he isn't really proud of since he's been kicked out by his parents. But with all the Monkey King stuff starting to pile up, he wonders...

Then he gets kidnapped by a firey toddler calling him "The Tang Monk", and is told to help out in a super specific ritual that requires the skill of an enlightened sage. Tang faints in the backseat of Red Son's mini-car when the penny drops. His frantic call to Pigsy straight afterwards is a babbling info-dump that sounds more like a cicada screaming.

Bonus ask!: Did Wukong *know* that Pigsy and Tang were reincarnations of his friends?

Sort of.

You see, after the Harbringer accidentally got sealed in Macaque (and the shadow monkey was still passed out); Wukong asked Guanyin to help him seek guidance from his old master - since he isn't exactly able to contact the Pure Lands himself. Guanyin tries calling up the Golden Cicada and... she appears to a confused, bleary-eyed Tang in the noodle shop at like 11pm. Even the bodhisattva is confused. Tang Sanzang/Tripitaka was supposed to be the last Golden Cicada incarnation. Tf is he hanging out on earth for?

Guanyin mentions this fact to SWK, and Wukong has a heart-stopping second of "Oh sweet buddha, Master is alive!!", before the goddess confirms otherwise. Wukong is super-confused, and a little disappointed, but really wants to seek out this new version of the GC even if for his own comfort. He's given a vague direction of where his master's soul is now residing, and the bodhisattva doesn't discourage him from following it. Wukong does hide his main reason for hiding in the city when Mac wakes up.

Eventually as the duo are ducking the sight of curious local demons/human (the meteorite and battle on the mountain def drew attention), Mac and Wukong bump into a strangely famililar face...

You see, after Tang literally glimpsed at the Goddess of Mercy, he became super-awake and rambled to Pigsy about his vision. Pigsy, despite being dismissive of most magic talk, thought that his suspicions of the meteor shower being a "sign" could be correct. The two went downstairs to eat/talk about what Tang's vision of Guanyin could mean.

Ironically, it's Pigsy who catches the monkeys walking down the street. He'd gone out to grab something from the convenience store and saw the two young, kinda skinny-looking, monkey demons arguing and trying to dodge the rain. The ginger-haired of the two shielding the darker-furred one with an old cape.

Pigsy has a moment of "No. No no no no. Good samaritan sh*t only gets you hurt." before he recognises something off about the two "kids" words. And with Tang's talk about having a vision of the Goddess of Mercy...

"Mihou": "This is all your fault!" "Wu": "How is it all my fault?!" "Mihou": "You put this... this thing in me! Now we've got no money, our magic isn't working, we can't go home, and we don't even have shelter for the night! I'm so..." *crying* "I have no idea what to do Wu..." "Wu", holding the other's face: "Hey, hey, it's ok Mihou. We'll figure this out." *presses foreheads together* "I won't let anything happen to you or the ki... guess it's too early at the moment. Egg, I guess?" *goofy, hopeful smile* "Mihou", sniffling: "You're so dumb."

They hear a cough beside them and turn. Wukong looks at the face illuminated by the neon of the storefront like its wearing a halo. It can't be!

Pigsy, holding grocery bags: "Hey... you kids sound like you're in a tough spot right now. If you need a roof over your head 'til the rain eases off, my restaurant is around the corner. Door's opened either way."

Wukong happily jumps at the offer, seeing the familiar glow of his pilgrim brother's soul resting warmly in the cook's body. Macaque is super sus of the situation; he kinda recognises the face infront of him but he just knows it isn't Zhu Bajie. The tired, sincere look on the demon's face is far too unalike the greedy gluttonous fool he'd seen getting his King into so much trouble. Just for now will he trust only his instincts - which at the moment wish for him to get dry.

Wukong sees it as a sign from the Buddha. Clearly someone is looking out for them. Even if this isn't Zhu Bajie, and the man inside the noodle shop isn't his master, then something in the Pure Lands or Diyu has shifted to allow them to reunite in this life - just in time for the King's heir responsibility to be brought into the world.

And then Pigsy ruffles his hair? Calls him "kid"? And then Tang is helping him with his writing? And telling him all the stories he's heard a million times in a way thats never boring?

Wukong feels queasy in a good way. He doesn't know how to describe it. He cries when he sees the silly mock shop logo he drew pinned to the corkboard by the kitchen - pinned amongst the pig-chef's most prized moments in his cooking journey. He doesn't know why he's crying but it feels like something he's been left out of for so long... thats the moment he decides that Pigsy and Tang (+Sandy) would be the godparents of the Egg. He just knows they'd all be great parents cus they already are.

[vilevenom]

Hello hello! Thank you for your prompt @bitterbunny07!

Alright, I am going to preempt this once again by stating that I do not head canon the trolls as actually caring about gender or gender presentation.

However, I am always happy to fill prompts with these sort of requests.

This...got away from me. A lot.

It is a whole lot longer, a touch more angsty, and more of an overall coming out story for JD than just supportive brother fluff. Sorry ^^; I hope you enjoy it anyway!

P.S - I had a hard time figuring out a good spot in the canon timeline for this, so it starts pre-brozone, and finishes post band together.

P.P.S-There is a name and pronoun shift for John Dory like, a third of the way through this, so hopefully it's not confusing!

John Dory spun slightly back and forth in front of the mirror, the skirt he had pulled from his mother's closet swaying delicately around his legs. He smiled mildly at the reflection of the skirt as it swirled around his legs, enjoying the sensation of the folds brushing against his fur. He did not, however, dare bring his eyes up past his waist line, as the open vest he wore somewhat ruined the image he would prefer to be looking at.

"JD?"

John jumped, scrambling to try and find something, /anything/ to hide the skirt around his waist. He managed to grab the blanket from the end of his parents bed, draping it around his shoulders like a cape and cowering slightly below it to hide, just as Spruce walked through the door.

"Hey, JD, Mom said…" Spruce trailed off at finding his brother half hidden under a blanket, his shoulders hunched and a slight look of panic on his face. "Uh…what's up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N-nothing," John stuttered out, cowering back as Spruce stalked forward. An eleven year old should not be so intimidating.

"What're you hiding?" Spruce hissed, grabbing for the blanket as John turned to try and flee around the corner of his parents bed. He failed in his attempt, letting out a sound of distress as Spruce yanked the blanket away. John kept his shoulders hunched and his back to his brother as he heard Bruce make a noise of surprise behind him.

"Is that one of mom's skirts?"

"So what if it is?" John growled defensively, wrapping his arms around himself. There was a long moment of silence after that, which made John nervous. He slowly turned his head to find Spruce with a look of consideration on his face.

"You know, Mom is gonna be mad if you do anything to that skirt. I think it's one of her favorites," Spruce stated finally, planting his hands on his hips.

"You don't…find it weird?" John asked haltingly, fully turning towards his younger brother.

Spruce shrugged. "If that's what you want to wear, why should I care? As long as you don't get me in trouble with you for stealing mom's clothes."

John let out a relieved breath, a half smile forming on his face. "Thank you, Spruce. But, just to be safe, promise you won't tell anyone else? This is, well…it's kind of embarrassing, y'know?"

Spruce scrunched up his nose slightly, tilting his head in confusion. "Why would it be embarrassing? It's just clothes."

John chuckled dryly, folding the blanket back up and setting it back on the bed where it had been. "You'll understand when you're older."

"You're only two years older than me, John Dory," Spruce snipped, crossing his arms, "Tell me."

John rolled his eyes as he slipped the skirt off and replaced it in the closet, before pulling his shorts back on. "Because some trolls find it weird when boy trolls wear girl clothes. And vise versa. I'm a boy, I shouldn't like girls clothes."

"That's dumb," Spruce snorted with a wave of his hand, "Clothes are just scraps of fabric we put on our bodies to decorate them. Why does it matter if the bottoms are a solid piece of fabric, or have legs sewn into them?"

John stared at his younger brother for a long moment before letting out a snort of laughter. "That is way too grown up of a sentence to have come out of your mouth."

"It's true, and you know it."

"I'm not arguing that," John held his hands up in surrender, "I'm just surprised."

"Yeah, well. Mom said you have to come help with dinner."

~

John scowled at himself in the mirror. He had picked the outfits for BroZone out himself, but that didn't mean he enjoyed wearing them. The stupid white shorts felt constricting, and the puffer vest made him sweat in all the wrong places. But it gave them an image. The perfect image.

"Hey, John, we've got another five before we need to head to the studio," Spruce's voice filtered in through the door just before his brother walked through it. He paused at seeing the grumpy look on John Dory's face, letting out a breath. He knew that look, and he knew it well. "Remember, you picked these stupid getups."

John groaned, tossing his head back. "I know," he grumped, turning to face Spruce with a scowl, "It is a decision I regret every day."

Spruce chuckled, shutting his brothers bedroom door behind himself. He, so far, was the only one of the five brothers who knew about John's predilection towards girls clothes. "We can always stop, you know. We can stop, and you can wear whatever you want, and we can just be normal."

"Not being normal keeps us safe," John growled, grabbing his goggles from his bed and putting them on. "Being the perfect boy band makes sure we keep everyone else in the tree happy, and /us/ off the trollstice menu. Remember, a happy troll-"

"-is a tasty troll. Yeah, hard to forget that little bit of rhetoric," Spruce grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the door.

"Exactly. So we all need to match. We all need to be boys, and-" John began, stopping short as Spruce suddenly stood straight up and took a step towards him.

"What do you mean 'we all need to be boys? John?"

John let his shoulders slump, groaning at how damnably perceptive his brother was. He knew he couldn't lie to Spruce. He'd just pester him until he finally caved. "I…I may not always feel like a boy? Well, almost never, actually. I hate wearing pants, and my voice is too low, and I don't-" he choked on his words, glancing up at Spruce who nodded encouragingly at him, "I don't like the name John."

"Oh," Spruce breathed, surprise blatant on his face. "Well…what would you prefer to be called, then?"

John shrugged, scratching absently at his cheek. "I don't know. Something similar to my name, so it's not hard for people to remember? Or switch. Not that that'll ever happen."

"Hey, now. We won't be a boy band forever."

"We'll be a boy band as long as it keeps us safe," John hissed, frowning at Spruce, "I can live with the discomfort if it keeps us /alive/."

Spruce let out a breath, his shoulders slumping. They were silent for a moment, before he tentatively said, "What about Jane?"

"Jane?"

"Yeah, as your new name. Jane Dory. It sounds kinda cute."

A slow smile curled John's lips, before she gave a little nod. "I like it. But, let's just keep it between us for now, yeah?"

"Of course. Now, we've gotta go or we're going to be late."

~

Jane had been so excited to find her brothers. She'd expected Branch to give her the cold shoulder, since he'd barely been over the age of four when she left. Clay and her had never really gotten on very well, so that was also somewhat expected. But Spruce? They may have parted on poor terms, but she'd thought at least he would've understood the pressure she'd been under. The reason she finally had to leave the tree. It was especially hurtful when he'd stated his preferred name of "Bruce", and then proceeded to called her "John".

Though, if she gave it a moment of thought, she supposed she never did tell him it was okay to call her that outside closed doors. And she was wearing her traveling clothes of a vest and shorts. She supposed that wasn't really very traditionally feminine. Perhaps, when everything was said and done, she could talk to her brothers about her preferred pronouns and name. After all, everyone she'd met after BroZone knew her as Jane. So should her brothers.

So, it came as a bit of a shock when, after they'd rescued Floyd and they were on their way back to Pop Village in Rhonda, that her second youngest brother had pulled her into a hug and said, "I'm so glad you came back, Jane."

"I couldn't leave you," she'd quickly said first, hugging her brother back as tightly as she dared in his delicate state. "But, uhm…did you just call me Jane?"

Floyd pulled back from the hug, looking a little sheepish. "Oh. Did you change your name again? Sorry. The last time I saw you, that's what you preferred, so I assumed…"

"No, no," Jane shook her head, rubbing Floyd's arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, "It's just…I never told you that. How did you know? I thought only Sp-Bruce knew."

"I mean, technically," Floyd said with a light laugh, "But I overheard you two, once. I've just kept it in the back of my mind since then. Is it still your preferred name?"

Jane smiled warmly at her brother, giving a little nod. "Yeah. Jane Dory, so you can still call me JD."

"John Dory!" Clay's voice made the two on the couch jump, Jane hurrying to look to her middle brother, even as Floyd frowned in concern.

"Yeah? What is it, Clay?"

"Viva wanted to know if you can give us a ride back to the golf course after we drop everyone else at Pop Village. She wants to get back so she can start prepping the putt putt trolls to reintegrate into troll society," Clay said, popping his hip and crossing his arms, looking like he expected to have to fight with Jane about a ride.

"Yeah, sure. I can do that," Jane said with a small nod, earning a mild look of surprise from Clay. "Rhonda will need a little bit of a rest after all this, though. Do you mind if we head there after a day or so?"

Clay sniffed, turning his head to glance back at Viva, who was excitedly chatting with Poppy as the two flipped through a scrapbook. "Yeah, I think that'll be fine," he hummed, giving Jane a little nod before wandering back towards the front of the armadillo bus, where Bruce was sat in the drivers seat with Tiny Diamond napping on him.

"You should tell them," Floyd murmured, bringing Janes attention back to him.

"I will," Jane said with a bit of a strained smile, "Soon. I just gotta figure out the right time."

~

There was no 'right time'.

Once they'd arrived back to Pop Village, it was a flurry of activity. Between getting Floyd settled into Branch's bunker, getting Rhonda prepped to head back to the golf course, and the general craziness of the pop trolls realizing that BroZone was back together and in the village, she had no time. She even tried to dodge several star struck trolls who somehow managed to bring old BroZone records from the troll tree and wanted her to sign them. She hadn't used her old signature for "John Dory" in such a long time, she resorted to just signing the albums with "JD".

She was incredibly happy to climb into Rhonda with Clay and Viva when they were ready to head out. The sheer amount of misgendering and how frequently she had to try and remember to respond to "John" were slowly grinding down on her last shred of sanity.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!" Clay declared as Jane settled herself in the drivers seat.

"Yeah! I can't wait to get back and let everyone know that Pop Village is safe and that we can move back," Viva tittered, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"Yeah! It's gonna be great. How long do you think it'll take, John?" Clay asked, unaware of how his sisters eye twitched as she stared out the front window.

"Not too long!" Jane said, forcing a chipper tone, "If we hustle, I don't think it'll take longer than a day." Hopefully no longer. She'd temporarily forgotten that this trip would still make her want to scream into a pillow.

"Fantastimazing!" Viva chirped, bounding over to hug Jane, "Thanks again for the ride, JD! Super appreciate it!"

"Anytime," Jane said with a smile, patting Viva's arm before she bound off to to the back of the bus to look at Branch's clue board. Jane reached out and snagged Clay's wrist as he was about to follow Viva, earning a frown and a raised eyebrow from the other. "Can I talk to you about something real quick?"

Clay sucked his teeth for a moment before giving a short nod. "Yeah, okay." He tugged his wrist free from Jane's grip and folded his arms over his chest, tilting his chin to show he was listening. "What is it?"

Jane let out a nervous little laugh, moving her hands to tap idly on Rhonda's steering wheel. She would've preferred to have all of her brothers in one place to talk to them, but given that it was really only Branch and Clay who didn't know about her, she supposed it was now or never. Or suffer through the trip wanting to break something because Clay would keep calling her "John".

"Okay. I know this might end up being awkward for you, since you're stuck with me until we get to the golf course, but," Jane took a deep breath, keeping her gaze steady on the road so she wouldn't have to see Clay's reaction, "Can you please call me Jane? I changed my name a while ago."

There was silence. It reminded Jane of when she'd first old Bruce, but this time she was dealing with a snarky thirty-something middle brother, instead of her supportive eleven year old brother in arms. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as the silence stretched on, until finally she heard Clay curse loudly. She jumped, finally looking to her brother with a wide eyed stare.

"You've been letting us misgender you this whole time?!" Clay snapped, scowling at Jane. "For the love of all that is trolly, you should've said something." He huffed a breath, turning his head slightly. "Viva! JD's been letting us call him the wrong freaking name this whole time!"

"WHAT?!"

Clay blinked, and looked back to Jane, suddenly looking contrite. "Wait, is JD bad, too?"

Jane snorted quietly, letting the tension bleed out of her. "No, that's fine. I also go by Jane Dory. I wanted something easy for people to transition to."

Clay gave a little nod as Viva appeared beside him. "What are we supposed to call you?"

"Jane, or JD, if you don't mind. And, uhm, I go by she/her," Jane said, her cheeks flushing slightly as Viva bounced on her toes and Clay gave her a thoughtful look.

"Gotcha," Viva shot him finger guns before heading back to the back of the bus once again.

"How long?"

Jane blinked, tilting her head slightly at Clay. "For what?"

"How long have you gone by Jane?"

Jane let out a breath, her shoulders slumping. "Truthfully? Since I was Fifteen or sixteen. But I've known how I felt since I was thirteen. Bruce knew."

"But he kept calling you 'John', too," Clay said with a slight frown.

"Yeah. I never told him he could call me Jane in public. I don't know if he's really that pissed at me, he forgot, or he was keeping a secret for me that he didn't need to anymore. I haven't had the chance to talk to him," Jane said with a shrug. "Oh, and apparently Floyd overheard me talking to Bruce once time about it, so I guess he knows, too. I just need to tell Branch. Then the whole of Pop Village, I guess." She groaned, rubbing at her face and leaning back in the drivers seat. "Coming out twice over is annoying." Clay let out a light laugh next to her, making Jane startle and blink owlishly at her brother. "What's funny?"

Clay shrugged, tucking his thumbs under the straps of his romper. "Nothing, I guess. I just don't remember that last time I saw you react so calmly to something so stressful. It's kind of nice, if I'm being honest."

"It's not stressful, really. Just annoying. I'm perfectly happy with who I am. I know I don't look really effeminate right now, but I do have half a wardrobe of dresses and stuff in here," Jane said with a half smile, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder.

"I believe it," Clay said with a little nod. He paused for a moment, making a thoughtful sound before he spoke again. "Is that why you were so obsessed with being perfect, and kept being so overbearing?"

Jane let out a breath, looking back to the road. She knew this conversation was coming. "Thinking back on it, probably. I wanted to keep up the appearance of who everyone wanted me to be. And there was the added pressure of the band needing to stay in the limelight and be popular so we'd be safe from being eaten. We made the other trolls happy, and a happy troll was a tasty troll. If we got eaten, it'd be bad for trollstice. So I did my best to be the boy band 'leader'. And that did seep into how I treated all of you, I realize that. I put you all into boxes because I had to be in a box. And I want you to know, I am sorry for that."

Clay nodded, reaching out to pat Jane's shoulder. "Thanks. I appreciate it." He paused, a slow grin settling on his face, "So, does that mean we have to come up with a new band name if we do a reunion tour?"

Jane snorted a laugh, swatting at Clay. "The band name can't change! It's got household appeal!"

~

The round trip back to Pop Village was three days total. Clay had bid her farewell after finally granting Jane the hug she had wanted when they'd first found him. Viva had sent her off with no less then three braids weaved into her hair. It was nice to know she had two more trolls in her corner, should anything happen in regards to her conversations with Bruce and Branch.

As Rhonda rolled up to the village, Jane contemplated her wardrobe. She riffled through everything, before pulling out her favorite dress. It was, in her opinion, a cute brown overall dress with a large pocket on the front, adorned with a red capped mushroom patch. She also swapped her goggles out for green head band, tied with a bow. She hummed as she fiddled with the bow in the mirror, suddenly much more nervous to arrive. It was an outfit she'd worn many times, in many places, and she loved it. But, that didn't stop her heart from racing at the thought of stepping out of Rhonda in it. She hadn't lied to Clay about finding the whole thing more annoying than anything, and that she was happy with who she was. But the thought of how Branch might react had her stomach in knots.

"You can do this," she said to herself in the mirror, "Clay, Floyd and Viva are all on your side. If things go south, you can always go back to the golf course. It'll be fine." She took a deep breath and turned towards the door as Rhonda came to a stop.

~

The elevator ride into Branch's bunker felt like an eternity. Jane fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she descended, suddenly wishing she'd stuck to her traveling clothes for this conversation. She was going to be underground with her brothers, with no way to immediately escape if anything happened. Which, she very much doubted, especially with Floyd there as well, but still. She felt her heart jump into her throat as the elevator finally came to a stop. Her brothers were sat at Branch's kitchen table, just across the room from the elevator platform. All three looked up as it came to a stop. Floyd offered an encouraging smile, while Branch and Bruce both looked flabbergasted.

"Uh, hey," Jane said with a little wave, "I just got back from dropping off Clay and Viva."

Thick silenced reined as Branch and Bruce continued to stare while Floyd's expression morphed into uncomfortable and Jane contemplated switching the elevator to take her back up to the surface.

"What are you wearing?" Branch finally spoke, squinting as if he couldn't quite tell what Jane had on. Which she knew for a fact wasn't the case. Her baby brother had done a good job making sure the bunker was well lit.

"Clothes?" she offered with a strained smile.

"I can see that," Branch said, rolling his eyes, "But a dress? Did Satin and Chenille attack you on your way over here?"

At that Jane looked stricken, while Floyd gasped quietly and Bruce stood from his chair.

The sound of Bruce's chair scraping across the floor made Jane jump, stumbling back into the far wall of the elevator. She clutched at the front of her dress, suddenly all too aware that she'd moved away from the elevator lever. She glanced at the lever, then to Bruce, who followed her gaze. She panicked as he began to move towards her, lunging for the lever. Unfortunately, Bruce moved faster than she anticipated, and he swung his hair out to block her from being able to escape back up to the surface. She fell to her knees, looking up as Bruce reached the elevator platform. She couldn't help the slight tremble in her shoulders as she looked up at Bruce. Logically, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He never had. But that didn't stop her heart from thundering in her chest.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce finally said, kneeling down in front of her. He offered her a hand, a soft expression on his face. "I wish I could say I didn't realize you were finally free to be yourself, but I just plain forgot. Do you still want to be called Jane, or is there something else now?"

Jane felt a rush of tears come to her eyes as she let out a wet laugh. She shook her head, taking Bruce's hand. "No. You gave me that name, I couldn't change it."

Bruce smiled before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Jane let out a quiet sob as she returned it, reveling in her brothers acceptance for a moment, before Branch clearing his throat caused the two to break apart. Bruce turned, clicking his tongue quietly, before getting to his feet and pulling Jane up along with him. She stumbled slightly once she was up, which prompted Bruce to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders. She quickly wiped at her eyes, looking to her baby brother who stood with a grumpy expression on his face next to his kitchen table.

"Would someone care to explain, please?" Branch asked, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

"Our oldest brother is actually our oldest sister," Floyd offered from the table before Jane could open her mouth. She gave Floyd a grateful smile and Bruce gave her shoulders a gentle shake.

Branch continued to frown before letting out a breath. "Is that all? Also, please tell me I'm not the last to know."

Jane blinked, somewhat surprised by Branch's blasé reaction. "Uh…well, I haven't told Poppy yet, if that makes you feel better?"

Branch looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding. "It does, actually. Once Poppy finds out, she's going to want to throw you a party. And the last thing I'd need is for the whole village to know before me." He started towards his kitchen, glancing back over his shoulder. "Did you want some tea? Jane, was it?"

"Yeah. I'd love some, thanks," Jane said, flushing happily as Bruce steered her to a chair at the table.

[martyrbat]

enough — batman secret files (2018) #1

(ID below cut!)

[ID: A short story titled Enough. It centers around Bruce Wayne being alone at a little cabin out in the middle of some woods on top of a snow-capped mountain. Bruce internally narrates throughout the entire story. The barren cabin is lonesome amongst the pristine, white snow as Bruce enters the cold, muted building. Inside there's several books, oil lamps, a stone fireplace, and candles on basic, open faced wooden furniture – indicating that the house has no electricity. The cabin is one story and has an open floorplan with a single upstairs bedroom, which has only a ladder leading up to the small loft. There's a chest underneath a window and Bruce sits on the old, yellow couch in front of the blazing fireplace.

He thinks to himself, ‘There're rumors that somewhere, in Gotham's most beautiful, snow-topped mountains, a monster is running around. I have a suspicion Man-Bat is behind the strange activity. Mountain climbers losing their camps, ski resorts with missing guests, a strange beast being seen in the dark... Something covered in hair, something remarkably large.’ He takes his parka off and sets down his large duffle bag to slowly unpack it — revealing a thermos and a bow with several large, pointed arrowheads. He pulls out his Batman gear — which includes an insulated suit that's lined with fur, his belt, and a protective face mask that reflects his eyes in the red-tinted visor. He forlornly admits, ‘I can handle large, but what I can't handle… Is how damn lonely it is up here. Alfred says I could use some alone time. Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

Outside in his costume and cape, Bruce is tracking through the icy woods and the thick, rising snow. He's armed with his bow and arrows as he narrates, ‘To avoid detection by what I assume is probably Man-Bat, I'll try to capture him using only my hunting skills. I admit I'm a little rusty. The arrows I've brought are lethal to some, but they're just enough to incapacitate a beast of his size. It should be enough.. I hope it's enough.’ But the snowstorm rages on, forcing Bruce back inside the cabin since he believes it's not worth the risk of freezing to death if he stays out. He now lays in the upstairs loft's bed. The oil lamps on the wooden bedstand is unlit, causing the bright snow through the window to be the only thing that casts any light in the dark room. It reveals a framed photo of a picturesque landscape hanging over Bruce's head on the wall. In it, there's a peaceful lake and tall, luxuriant green trees.

Bruce solemnly stares up at the ceiling and thinks, ‘I find myself focusing closely on all the sounds of the forest, trying to learn the rhythm.’ The snow whirls on… A branch cracks… The cabin itself creaks and groans — causing Bruce to sit upright with a jolt! He squints out the window in an futile attempt to actually see something out there. He cerebrates, ‘Three nights and only the sounds of falling snow and branches. I've tracked nothing larger than a doe, there's been no news of an attack or sighting, maybe he's left the mountains… or maybe he's just hiding.’ Bruce lays back down, this time with his back to the window. He keeps an eye open — waiting and nearly hoping for any sign of life other than his own in the desolate, icy land.

We're shown Bruce outside again as he fights against the harsh wind to get back inside the cabin after another unsuccessful search for Man-Bat. He rubs his face tiredly while hunched over a small oil lamp as the stovetop coffee brews. He reflects, ‘Six nights alone, darkness lasts longer than the day and again the storm pushes me back indoors. This is beginning to feel useless. I'm really quite over myself. Maybe I'll call Alfred and ask him to—’ But his self-deprecation is cut short by a sudden thump! Then another loud crack! Again and again, coming closer and closer to him!

Bruce sets down the coffee as his mind rapid fires the possibilities of the quickly approaching, potentially dangerous loud noises! ‘Is it the branches in the wind? Or is it something else? Am I paranoid? I can't visualize what I'm hearing. There's no time to think about the cold now, I'm all alone up here. That sounds remarkably large.’ Bruce arms himself with his bow and arrow and hesitates outside the door as his paranoia continues, ‘I hope this is enough. A hunter knows its prey, but I'm realizing I have no idea what's on the other side of this door. Does it understand I'm on the other side? I am alone out here. No time to think.’ He flings the door open!

Geared in only his suit with no gloves or headgear, Bruce aims his bow blindly as he stands outside in the merciless elements. He tensely waits in the dark, thinking to the unseen threat, ‘I don't see you, but can you see me?’ There's another loud thump and crack. With one last hope that it's enough to tranquilize the potential attacker, Bruce fires the weapon.

The sharp arrow proves itself to be lethal as it pierces his unfortunate target. The threat — merely a lonesome, defenseless deer — falls dead in front of the horrified man. Bruce rushes forth and remorsefully buries the animal with the snow. He walks back to the cabin with the repeated, dejected confession: ‘Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

END ID]