#I should’ve put his cape on that one too but it would’ve gotten in the way of the other one :///

[a-stars-art-blog]

More Ice Skating Barok :]]]]

[1littleshippergirl1]

Something Odd

There was something odd about her neighbors.

Gladys Barlowe prided herself on knowing just about everything that went on within the bounds of the neighborhood. Why, Mrs. Keperna, who lived just down the road, was getting up there in age and yet none of her children made much of an effort to visit. But those girls had been a bad sort; they'd gotten into much trouble in their youth. She'd told Ingrid it was a bad idea to let them go out to that dancing club. It was bound to corrupt them and it did, rest assured.

Oh, and the Irmagards next door were having marriage troubles. Yes, indeed, it was quite a shocking revolution. She'd overheard shouting going on between them and glass shattering. Why, she had jumped a mile in the air when that happened! It was a toss up whether or not they would stay together or file for divorce. Privately, she'd said to the other ladies of the neighborhood came for a visit to sip on tea and enjoy some freshly baked biscuits, if it were her and her husband, they would never have been so inconsiderate to everyone else and aired their dirty laundry for all to hear. Had they no decency?

Her husband, Mervin, was less enthusiastic whenever she relayed anything she'd found out to him. Yes, Dear, he'd say. Or, mhm. Or, that's nice. She'd huff in frustration whenever that happened. So caught up in the sports section newspaper or television, he was! He had the nerve of wagging his finger at her once, insinuating her to be a gossip fiend. She was hardly such; they'd lived in the neighborhood ever since they'd gotten married, watched as people passed on, moved on and new faces appeared. They were one of the longest remaining home owners there. She had a right to know who was living nearby. Besides, what was the harm?

But, back to her neighbors.

She couldn't put her finger on it on what made them stand out to her. They didn't look that different than any of the other families that were around. It started out as a feeling, one she couldn't shove to the side and forget about, no matter how many times Marvin told her she was being paranoid. She wasn't. This was real, that feeling. She just knew it. She only had to prove it.

So, she did the reasonable thing and began to subtly watch them.

It was the house that was directly across the street from her, the one with the rather unflattering paint job and the red-headed man with his two daughters. They'd been there for about thirteen years now, back when it was originally just the man, his wife and only one of their children. She wondered whatever happened to that wife of his-Andria? Alana? Audrey, perhaps. Oh, yes, that must have been it. Gladys distinctly remembered a woman with blonde hair living in the house at one point and then she just disappeared! Their marriage must have soured. Poor thing. They were quite young, by the looks of it

(Marvin had told her it was none of her business when she'd planned on bringing over a casserole, with the intention of asking about it).

That woman, Audrey, was a little more cold then her husband was and the way she dressed was just plain awful. Those colors and her complexion-just what had she been thinking? Well, Gladys wasn't completely up to date on fashion these days either but still. Even she knew there were just certain things you kept in the back of your closet after turning thirty. She wasn't judging, of course.

Her husband, on the other hand, was much more friendly. Always smiling and waving to her when they happened to be outside at the same time. That wasn't an issue. She and the ladies from her book club agreed he was such a nice man. There were just occasions where she saw strange things; like that one time when she witnessed him throwing a cape over his shoulders when it snowed and a pointy hat, like a witch would wear.

It threw her for a bit of a loop, it did, at first. He might have been into that fad all the teenagers and young adults were into, where they dressed up as fictional people and used the convention center for all of them to get together. What a strange thing to do with one's time. Did he go to those events held at the local convention center, too? Oh, they were outrageously expensive, according to the flyers she'd seen posted on a bulletin board at the grocer's. Not to mention, he was raising two growing girls, who had needs that should've come before a silly hobby.

And speaking of his girls..

They were quite pretty. One of them, the oldest she reckoned, had taken right after her father. She was his spitting image, right down to the dreary clothes and atrocious looking glasses. The other was more so of her mother, appearance wise. She, too, wore glasses that were slightly big on her face and dressed without any fashion sense.

Like she said, they were pretty, but they could've looked magnificent if she just had a few minutes with them.

Those two weren't around very often, peculiarly enough. She saw them in the summertime and on occasion, if she looked out her window and if the curtains were open, they were home for Christmas but not any other time. That began shortly after they'd turned eleven. It started out as the oldest leaving and the younger one was still there but then it was both of them!

Just where did they go? Well, they weren't attending the local secondary school, that was for sure She'd casually asked Mrs. Thorp, who had a son going there, if she'd seen them around but they weren't there. That was odd. Unless they didn't go there because they were going to some exclusive school for gifted children. That must be it, wasn't it? What other explanation could there be? Truthfully, she never would've guessed those two would be prodigies. They never struck out to her like that. Weren't prodigies supposed to be all quiet and depressed? Those girls were rather lively from what she'd seen of them. Of course, they might just be an exception.

A thought crossed her mind and she wondered what the red-headed man did for a living. She hardly ever saw him leave the house. He didn't even have a car, for crying out loud! How did he get anywhere? Did he wake up in the early hours of the morning to walk back and forth to work? He couldn't have been poor; these houses cost a pretty penny. The few times she did see him, he wore casual, comfy clothes that gave no clue to his occupation, whatever that may be.

What if he was in some sort of governmental work that was highly confidential? Or perhaps he and his daughters were in the witness protection program! That made a great amount of sense. Why hadn't she considered that before? It might provide an explanation as to where that Audrey woman had gone. Oh, what if she'd been killed? Had she and the red-headed man gotten caught up in gang activity prior to the birth of their daughters and one of those members had found her and finished her off? Oh, the man must have been devastated! And now he was left to raise his girls on his own. What a terrible thing.

Didn't he have any family help? She was sure he did. She'd seen some red-headed folks in his living room once-she'd been outside watering her garden when a man standing in front of the window caught her attention. He was younger than the man who lived there by a few years and oh it was just awful, he was missing an ear! Her hand had flown up to her mouth, the hose dropping to the ground. What on earth had happened to him? A work related accident? An animal attack?

There were a couple non red-heads that came over to the house as well. A man with unkempt black hair had come around. He had the strangest looking scar, she'd noticed with curiosity as he stepped out of an old, beat up car. And then there were two separate women as well on occasion. One with hair that reminded Gladys of a rat's nest while the rest of her seemed well put together. The other had such nice hair. A cross between silver and blonde. It must have been from a box. It certainly didn't look natural. She'd assumed one of those women had to have been involved with the man. Why else would they have come to him? She dearly hoped he wasn't seeing them both at the same time. He wasn't that kind of man, was he? And to do that with children around. Very disgraceful if he was.

Gladys sat at the kitchen table of her home, sipping delicately on a cup of tea with slightly pursed lips. In all her years of knowing of the man, she had not yet once had a proper conversation with him. She didn't even know his name. And her curiosity was getting the better of her; she had several questions needing to be answered that couldn't be done by a simple, quick chat. No, she would need a reasonable reason to go over there.

She supposed she could bring over a late housewarming present. A batch of cookies, perhaps. Yes, that sounded splendid. The children would enjoy them and she could get the man to talk. Surely he wouldn't be so rude as to merely take the cookies and push her out of the house?

"How do you think this looks?" She asked her husband, presenting him with the china that contained the cookies. She'd put a red bow on top for decoration.

Mervin was doing a crossword puzzle. His eyes barely even lifted up. "It looks nice, dear."

"Oh," she scowled, "you didn't even see it!"

He did look up this time, unimpressed. "It looks the same as any other time-what's with the bow? Did you take it out of the Christmas container?"

"So what if I did?" She straightened herself up. "I want it to look nice."

"For who, exactly?"

"Our neighbors," she said. "The ones across the street. You know, the red-headed man and his daughters."

"Gladys," Mervin said warningly. "You leave those people alone."

She shot him a look, miffed. "I'm bringing them cookies."

"You're being nosy is what you're doing," he pointed a finger at her accusingly. "I know what you're up to."

She made a noise from her throat. "I'm not up to anything!"

"Oh, yes you are," he got up out of his chair. "You're going to go over there and use the cookies to get information. I'm telling you, Gladys, leave the man alone."

"You're not the least bit curious about him?" She said, taking a quick glance in the direction of the window. "I've never seen him speak to anyone in all the years he's lived over there."

"No," he said flatly. "If he wanted to speak to us, he would have by now. He doesn't need you going over there to bother him. You remember what happened with the Kremps, don't you? You remember being tossed out of the house and Mrs. Kremp threatening to hit you with that pan of hers?"

Gladys adjusted her dress primly. She vaguely recalled it. But it hadn't been her fault. The woman had simply overreacted to an innocent question. How was she supposed to have known that the ugly vase on the mantel contained the ashes of her father?

Mervin folded his arms across his chest, sighing heavily. "Don't go causing any more trouble."

"I'm doing no such thing," she was offended he thought so little of her. "I'm just going to ask a few questions."

"Gladys-"

"Don't you ever wonder what happened to that wife of his?" She cut him off.

"No. But they likely got divorced, if anything."

"Not divorced. Murdered," she revealed.

His eyes widened in surprise. It was about time he finally reacted, She thought with satisfaction "She was murdered?" he said in disbelief.

"Well," she shifted and his expression turned into a glare, "I can't say for sure that's what happened, but I have reason to believe the man and his daughters are in the witness protection program."

He inhaled, shutting his eyes as if praying that he was given more strength. "What?"

"Now just listen," she advised. "No one really knows much about them, do they? They don't talk to people and we don't even know his name. His wife was around and suddenly she disappeared! Now, I think they must have been involved in some illegal gang activity and one of those gang members must have come back to finish her off!"

"Do you know how mad you sound right now?" Mervin snapped.

"I'm not mad, I'm serious."

"And that's what scares me," Mervin muttered. Louder, he said, "I don't want you going over there, do you hear me? You're not going to say a word of that nonsense to him!"

"It's not nonsense-"

"Oh, you're right. It's worse," he scowled. "When is this all going to stop, hmm? When am I going to get peace?"

She harrumphed. "You're not even listening to me!"

"I'm the one not listening? You're the one not listening to me! I'm trying to save you from getting your lights knocked out. I'm warning you, Gladys. Don't do it." He gave her one last look. "Now I'm going back to my puzzle and I'm keeping an eye on that door!"

"Yes, dear," she said pleasantly. She stayed put like he asked, until he went to the bathroom that is. Then she quickly grabbed the cookies and bounded out the door and across the road. When she came to a stop on his front porch, she smoothed down her hair and dress.

Hmm, she noticed his door was ajar. Did he know? Perhaps not. Well, there was no harm in going in a bit. "Hello?" She said cheerfully. "Is anyone home?"

No one responded but someone was there. She heard noises coming from inside. There were people talking. Three in fact. The man and his daughters, she realized she had never heard their voices before.

"Can I show you, please?"

"I said no, Molly. You know the rules."

"It'll be quick! And no one'll know. I won't tell anyone."

Tell anyone what? She frowned.

"And what if someone sees?"

"I told you he'd say no."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Girls, stop arguing."

"Please, Dad? Please!"

"I already told you no. Especially with the windows open. What if someone saw you? I'm in no mood to deal with it today. The department has enough reports already."

What department? What reports? What did he not want to deal with? She stuck her ear in as far as she could.

"Don't worry, if someone sees, we'll just call Uncle Harry. He can take care of them."

She gulped. Take care of them? Surely she didn't...she didn't mean that kind of take care of. She couldn't have. No. That was preposterous.

Oh, my. What if...what if the man was still involved in the gang? What if they were doing illegal activity in the house? Were the girls involved too? Was that what she wanted to show him and he was afraid of getting caught?

There was a pause.

"Quickly. And don't think you'll be doing this all the time."

She decided on going in. She had to see what was going on. For the good of the neighborhood, of course. She had to know. Inhaling, she braced herself and burst into the home and came to a halt in front of the kitchen.

Just as a textbook magically turned into a chicken. And the girl! She...she was holding a stick-

The man and his daughters froze. Gladys stammered, pointing a shaky finger at them.

"You...that..."

She fell flat on her back in a faint.

/

Molly stood over her body, peering down at it through her glasses. "Is she dead?"

Percy rubbed at his face tiredly. "No, honey. She's just fainted."

"That's good," Lucy said from where she sat on the countertop. "What was she doing here anyway?"

"I have no idea," he shook his head.

Molly was still peering down at her. "Dad, can I take a picture? I've never seen a muggle faint before."

"No, Molly."

Percy sighed and began to write a letter to the Accidental Muggle Reverse Squad.

[toujoursmiraculous]

Thoughts & Reactions to Sole Crusher & Queen Banana!

Here's my 2 in 1! Starting with Sole Crusher. Loved the tourist feel in the beginning, gives it a very different feel and interesting to see it from Zoe's perspective. Aww Zoe's so nice to Marinette right away. And it's awfully sad that she only ever had one friend. :c I wonder who that friend is? Zoe's right about her family not appreciating the baked goods from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. I don't know if she's fully aware of the history there, or if she just knows how picky her mother and sister are. But it was awfully sweet of her to give them to the tour guide to give to her family instead. So Zoe learned: in order to survive, she had to put on an act and be somebody she's not, because her family wouldn't accept her being a decent person that cares about others. When asked about her middle school, her response, "I found a cockroach in my locker!" Might not be true, doesn't sound like it's the only thing at all if so, but sadly it was enough for her mom to not question anything.

Chloe's definitely a lot worse now after Miracle Queen. In my opinion, this is us beginning to see how low she's gotten and will continue to get. As Avatar Aang once said, "When we reach our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change." I'll write more on this in a separate post later. Zoe's sure scared to object to anything and be herself. Not even hesitating to act like a brat when around Chloe. If she didn't end up growing up around Chloe, how horrible are her parents??? We know Audrey is pretty bad, but even then if she had a decent dad she'd likely not end up like this. I suppose we'll have to see, but this poor girl. :/ Rose: Can we adopt her? Lol awww. Wonderful of Marinette to know that after only one brief encounter with Zoe, she knows that the Zoe at school isn't really her, and wants to genuinely help. How can anybody hate that about her? I don't get it. If it's because she doesn't do things how you'd like them...Most things in life won't go as you want them, or be taken by others as you may intend them, so you have to appreciate what's there and the intent of others actions. "But my family made me think that to deserve my place, I had to give up on some of my dreams." If Andre's talking about his parents here, as he said "When I was young", then oof this poor man, no wonder he's so timid and such a pushover. If he's referring to Audrey and Chloe... then that's a huge oof because Audrey knew exactly who she was marrying and should've never ended up with him in the first place if she didn't want to be with a director. So Zoe left because she couldn't stand it in New York anymore around her dad and the kids at her school. She hoped that she wouldn't have to act anymore and could just be herself. It really sounds like she needed to act a certain way in order to survive getting bullied, or worse. Dang, she really must not have met Chloe before then, or heard anything about her if she thought living with her mom and sister would be better. But in a way, it is better for her, because she has Marinette and the kids at school now. And she has Andre who's probably a better parent to her than her actual parents. Which is surprising and also not at the same time. "We end up hiding our feelings deep down in here." Okay so he says that with a booklet that has Emilie's face on it held up to his chest. Now, it may just be nothing but him thinking about his director dream. But. It could've also been any other object he held to his heart, it could've been something without a face on it or at least not her face. And Andre did work with Emilie. So I would not be surprised at all if there was something there that this is hinting at. Hmmmm. Also, I guess that's not Tomoe Tsurugi? Even though it's Kagami's model they used. And she's really pretty, too! Maybe something will come from this, or the animators didn't think it through when they added that image. Who knows. Even Chloe's first thought when she's in trouble is to go to Marinette what the heck 😂 When Kaalki teleported into Adrien's room...had Adrien turned around as it

happened he would've seen enough of her room to recognize it. Instead the portal changed and was outdoors. But lol poor Kaalki slamming against the window! All his things getting sucked in and Plagg's cheese was hilarious. XD Chloe's second thought of where to go: Luka's. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. 🤔 "This winner and loser thing doesn't exist!" Sad that Chloe thinks this way at all, who even taught her this? x.x Chat Noir: Did somebody start off on the wrong foot today? Marinette: I'm not finished! Chat Noir: Huh? LOL I laughed so hard at this moment. Did she forget who she is at the moment because even Chat's like what "I will always support you!" AWWWWWW what a good friend! And I think by helping Zoe become stronger, she'll in turn help Chloe be a better person too. But I'll talk about this again later. Poor Sabrina in this episode, my goodness. She works in a tiny closet and has to run along the limo. Chloe's seriously getting awful. Zoe's charm is the cutest one so far! So pretty. Ivan giving Zoe a hug was the cutest thing ever. Like, I don't ship them, but this shouldn't have anything to do with it. He and the rest of the kids care about her and respect her for being open and honest with her struggles, and want to be there for her. It's so wholesome. 😭 I find it interesting that even Audrey in this episode doesn't always know how to react to Chloe. xD But thank you Andre for caring enough about her to keep her in Paris and trying to keep some peace between the two. "For the first time in my life, I feel at home." 😭😭😭😭😭 Just imagine for a minute if Marinette didn't bother to help Zoe, believed how she acted at school rather than when she met her, and didn't tell the other kids about what was going on. Everything for her would be so drastically different. All because Marinette showed some kindness. Now onto Queen Banana. Well poor Marinette can't help but faceplant on the news. xD I can just tell what Alya leaned into say "You okay, girl?" and Marinette mumbling under the cape, "that's what the news is going to see of me, aren't they?" "Afraid so." "groan" Ah okay, Thomas was an alumni of the school. Cool. Poor Andre, he's just doing what Zoe suggested of him and not give up his dream of directing! I wonder if being around Luka and Juleka made Zoe want to put that pink streak in her hair. xD I want Luka and Zoe to be really good friends, that'd be so cool. Chloe being really awful some more. To everybody. I've noticed a pattern and I think I have her figured out pretty well. I'll be writing a in-depth post about her soon! She's making them change the entire movie just for her. xPP I said to my sister, "as soon as she leaves they should just film their original ideas." They do, thank goodness. xD I got so happy that we get an Adrienette scene in this ep! And then I saw he's locked in a cage, willingly, smiling at Marinette while the door shuts and I just burst out laughing. He's not even nervous he's locked in a cage, suspended in the air! Booooooy must like Marinette a lot! "Now let's take care of Adrien and get him out of that cage." OMG thank you, Marinette. While the image of him is comical, it's making me so uncomfortable that someone's up there like that and that someone also being terrified of being locked up in such a small space. Also, how long do you think Adrien would've stayed up there had Marinette not said something? Oh? What a change of pace, when Adrien goes to try to make things better for everyone, he screws it up pretty badly to be what really drives Chloe to get akumatized. She may have cooled off enough on her own as she tells Adrien "I'm fine." ...until he suggests apologizing to everyone. "You promised to stop being rude to everyone. And I told you that we couldn't be friends otherwise." OOF. Okay so her reaction to this really goes into the territory I want to talk about in my upcoming post about Chloe. "Banana BOOM BOOM!" lololol it sounds so funny in German dub xDD Marinette instantly pulling Zoe away from the attack x33 Ladybug's spin move with Chat Noir XD

it's like what's happening we're fighting an akuma not dancing This entire akuma feels like a Donkey Kong game and I love it. Those games are my childhood. Ooof Ladybug needs to be more careful with her Lucky Charms, they can sometimes be massive! Like that giant doughnut in Weredad. I seriously legit thought that the Gorilla was Gorilla, Adrien's bodyguard before the episode aired. XD The best heroes in this show tend to be the ones that have the most self-doubt, have you noticed? Ladybug, Carapace, and Vesperia all expressed serious doubt in themselves being a superhero, but when they suit up they're fierce! Like they were born to be a hero. Don't worry about Chat kissing Vesperia's hand. That's just the way he is, it's not in a flirting way. c: I remember when people freaked out about Rena Rouge and Chat Noir. It's the same as that, nothing more. "Or I'll turn her into baby mush!" LOL Chloe threatening to turn Ladybug into baby food hahaha that sounds so outrageous and weird that it's funny. And yet in this situation, would be actually possible so it's quite disturbing....hm. Dang, Hawk Moth trying to reakumatize her immediately. You go Zoe, speak up for yourself! And good on Andre for putting his foot down about Zoe too. "You may hate me, but I love you. And I'll always love you even if the whole world hates you." OKAY, THAT WAS REALLY BEAUTIFUL. Including the way she convinced Chloe to take the charm. Marinette's literally in hearing range of Adrien as she's talking to Tikki LOL she's like 5-6 feet away maybe? But that's okay, he probably would think nothing of it if he heard Marinette talking lol. I really like Zoe's character, I think she makes a wonderful addition to the show and that her character is extremely important. ;) Again I'll talk about it in my upcoming post! I've really noticed a lot of things when it comes to Chloe that I look forward to sharing my thoughts on sometime early this week. I really don't think things are as clear cut as a lot of people seem to think about her.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Split

Prompt: hello! i adore your merlin writing and i saw you seemed to be doing prompts? if so, i'd like to submit one, no pressure though! a mysterious spell hits arthur and splits him into different facets/parts of his personality and merlin has to fix it before uther finds out. (this could be an opportunity for some fun shenanigans with the arthur's running around making a mess or an opportunity to explore something a bit angstier ;), up to you). Thank you!!

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: Merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/referenced child abuse, nothing graphic, nothing explicit. Uther’s just a dick. 

Word Count: 4470

Listen, there is a reason you don’t run into glowing circles of magic even when the sorcerer you’re chasing is standing right inside it. You don’t do that, Arthur, you especially don’t do that when there is a helpful chorus of people behind you passionately yelling ‘no.’

You know what, if there’s ever a chorus of people passionately yelling ‘no’ behind you as you’re about to do something, don’t do it. Just good advice.

“Sire!”

Merlin turns, ducking Leon’s swing as the sword arcs above their heads to come crashing down on a tree limb. With a sharp crack, the branch falls into the circle and a flash of light makes Merlin wince.

“Arthur!”

The gold dies down. Merlin cautiously moves his hand. No sorcerer. A pile of tattered robes lies a little way away. He must’ve gotten hit with part of the magic blast.

Groaning comes from the middle of the circle. The mass of red cape stirs.

“Arthur, you bloody idiot,” Merlin hisses, rushing forward as the knights look around, “why’d you do that, you could’ve gotten yourself killed, it—“

Merlin’s hand falls away from the cape in shock. His mouth drops open. A blond head raises to look at him. Then another. Then another.

“A-Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Merlin?”

“What do you want?”

“Bloody hell…” Gwaine’s voice comes from so far away. Merlin can’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

There are three Arthur Pendragons, each with their own red cape, crouched in the middle of the circle.

Cautiously, Merlin reaches out to touch the one closest to him. The Arthur raises his eyebrows and regards the hand with disgust, almost slapping it away. Well, he’s definitely real.

“Get my horse, boy,” the Arthur says haughtily, looking around to see the knights, “and you, men, tell me what happened.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Well, that one’s a prat.”

“I’ll have your head for that,” the Arthur snarls, drawing his sword in a flash of steel despite Leon’s hurried ‘sire, no!’

And Gwaine’s ‘come on, then.’

“Not helping,” Percival mutters as Merlin manages to tear his eyes away from Prince Prat to look at the other two.

“Arthur?”

The second Arthur looks at him from where he’d been gazing at the trees. “Hello. Are you my manservant?”

“Uh, well—“ Merlin glances over his shoulder to where Leon and Lancelot have just started to calm down Prince Prat—“I think, technically, I’m…all of your manservants.”

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin’s head snaps around. “What?”

The second Arthur shrugs. “I’m sorry. That seems inconvenient for you. You were expecting to serve just one master and now it seems you have to serve three.”

“Y-yeah, um…” Merlin swallows. “It’s not ideal.”

“How did this happen,” the second Arthur says, gesturing between himself and the others, “did we accidentally provoke someone?”

“…yeah, you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“You ran into a magic circle.”

“…why?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin sighs, “I was about to ask you that.”

The second Arthur looks…contrite? Apologetic?

“I truly don’t know what would’ve pushed me to do something like that. Were you or any of the knights in direct danger?”

“No. Not really.”

He frowns. “Then I don’t know.”

Merlin glances over his shoulder to where Leon is calmly talking to Prince Prat while Gwaine raises an eyebrow at Merlin. Merlin shrugs. He doesn’t know what’s going on either, okay?

“Where’s Morgana?”

Merlin looks back at the second Arthur who’s still looking around. “What?”

“Where’s Morgana?” The second Arthur shrugs when Merlin looks at him like he’s sprouted another head. Which Merlin’s not ruling out as a possibility, by the way. “She’ll know what to do, or at least have some idea. She’s cleverer than most people give her credit for.”

“She…she’s back in the castle,” Merlin says finally, “but that sounds…reasonable.”

Reasonable Arthur gives him a nod and a smile, trying to get to his feet. Merlin jumps up to help him, eyes widening slightly when that smile only grows.

“Thank you,” Reasonable Arthur says, “I do hope this won’t be too hard for you to adjust to.”

“Um…thanks?” Merlin blinks a few times when Reasonable Arthur’s smile still doesn’t go away. “Oh, um, I should’ve asked this earlier, but…what do you remember?”

“Unhand me!”

“Sire,” comes Leon’s voice, making them turn around to look. Leon stands with his hand not quite touching Prince Prat’s chest, with Lancelot and the others behind him, “you must listen to us, we’re not in danger, the sorcerer is gone—“

“I’ll believe that when there are no longer three of us!”

“What do you remember,” Merlin says quickly as Leon shoots him an exasperated glance, “of before this happened?”

“I remember enough to know I have actual knights in my employ,” Prince Prat sniffs, “and that you are an absolutely awful servant.”

“I think we have most of our memories intact,” Reasonable Arthur says quickly, “just…not about the split.”

“And I have yet to have that explained to me!”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you explain why you ran into a circle of magic without any sort of plan?”

“I had a plan!”

“Yeah, what was it?”

“Kill the sorcerer!”

Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Whoever got the intelligence in this split, the commons sense definitely isn’t with this one.

“Alright, well, until we figure out how to fix this, we should get back to Camelot and try to keep this a secret.”

Reasonable Arthur nods. Prince Prat just stares at him. “And what makes you think you give the orders around here?”

“You have a better idea?”

“It’s a solid plan,” Reasonable Arthur says quickly, looking between Merlin, Prince Prat, and the knights, “and I think it would make the most sense.”

“Who cares about making sense, I want this fixed!”

“But considering we don’t have the ability to do that right now—“

Merlin gets distracted when the third Arthur stands up. If he’s being completely honest, he almost forgot there was a third one. This Arthur doesn’t speak, just takes off his cape and turns it inside out, putting it on and pulling up his hood. Reasonable Arthur and Prince Prat are still arguing, only stopping when the third Arthur slots himself into line behind the horses.

“…um…Arthur?”

“What?”

“Yes?”

“No, no, not you guys, um…” Merlin cautiously approaches the third Arthur. “Are you…injured?”

The third Arthur shakes his head. “It will be easier if the others do not see me,” he says so quietly Merlin has to bend closer to hear him.

“Right, er—“ Merlin looks over his shoulder. “One of you should probably, er, hide as well.”

“I’m not hiding,” Prince Prat sniffs.

“I would…rather not?” Reasonable Arthur adjusts his own cape. “I don’t think it would be—“

“Well, one of us has to, and I’m not going to.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“No.”

“Look—“ Merlin quickly puts his hand on Reasonable Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s just until we can get to Gaius.”

Reasonable Arthur sighs and fiddles with his cape, standing next to the third Arthur. Prince Prat swings himself up on Arthur’s horse and commands the knights to follow him home. Lancelot spares Merlin one last glance before subtly taking over the lead. Merlin shakes his head. The sooner they can figure this out, the better.

Gaius, to his credit, simply raises an eyebrow and sighs. “I take it the patrol went well?”

“You’re hilarious.” Merlin shoves Prince Prat away from the bubbling tonics. “Now what happened?”

“Based on the fact that they all seem to still have their memories intact, I’m inclined to think it’s some sort of Division magic.”

“Division magic?”

“Yes.” Gaius watches as Reasonable Arthur attempts to tug his cape back on right while Prince Prat struts about like he owns the place. The third Arthur sits on the stool and doesn’t say anything. “Splitting a person into their separate parts, different versions of themselves that normally reside inside their own heads.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“To weaken them, perhaps, in the hopes that it would be…easier to control them.”

“You mean kill them,” Prince Prat corrects, “don’t beat around the bush.”

“We don’t know that—“

“Of course we do!” Prince Prat almost cuffs Reasonable Arthur upside the head. “What else could a sorcerer possibly want?”

“How do we fix it,” Merlin says quickly before this conversation can get anymore…terrifying, “there’s got to be a way to fix it.”

“There is.”

“Then why didn’t you lead with that?” Gaius just gives him a look. “…oh.”

“We should tell Morgana,” Reasonable Arthur pipes up, “she’s good at keeping secrets and she’s very clever.”

“She’s a girl,” Prince Prat huffs.

“She’s cleverer than you and you know it.”

“I’m gonna go get Morgana,” Merlin mutters and tears out of the room.

Morgana doesn’t believe him at first. He doesn’t really blame her. Still, her face when she walks in to see three of Arthur standing there is…interesting.

“Oh, what’ve you done now?”

“Like you can talk!”

“Morgana! You’re here!”

Morgana’s eyes widen when Reasonable Arthur looks overjoyed to see her. “…yes?”

“I told them you’d help, you’re clever.”

Morgana glances at Merlin. “…is he alright?”

Merlin quickly fills her in.

“Must we fix them,” Morgana muses, “I quite like that one.”

“We don’t know how stable it is,” Merlin mutters, “plus, part of this is supposed to make Arthur inconspicuous, right? How well d’you think Uther would react to seeing his son like that?”

Morgana hums. “Well, if there’s that in him normally, I suppose we’ll just have to work on getting it out more often.”

She walks over to the others and is promptly swept up in a conversation. Prince Prat is being a prat, Reasonable Arthur is being reasonable, Morgana is being amazing, and Gaius is looking a little less like his forehead is going to iron itself into a frown.

The third Arthur doesn’t say anything.

Merlin carefully scoots around them, laying a hand on the third Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur? Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly when the third Arthur flinches, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The third Arthur glances up at him and shakes his head. Merlin breathes out slowly. He lays his hand back carefully, glancing up to signal Gaius to have the others give them some space.

Prince Prat has the strut and the puffed-out chest and the voice. Reasonable Arthur has the easy movement and the gracious words and the confident nod.

The third Arthur, as Merlin looks at him, is the only one who doesn’t really look like Arthur. Not…not really.

His cheeks, while not visibly more gaunt or drawn than the others, have this sort of ashen look to them that makes Merlin’s chest clench in a funny way. The way his sits is almost too still, eerily so, like if he moves even an inch he’ll fall over. There is a solemnity to his movement, as if every step is done with the care and caution of someone balancing on a tightrope, high up in the clouds, the wind whipping about them.

He hasn’t said more than half a dozen words, the first of which being Merlin’s name.

“Are you alright?”

The third Arthur looks up and nods. Merlin’s breath catches in his throat.

There is almost nothing behind his eyes.

“That sounds fine,” Prince Prat announces, startling Merlin. He looks around to see Reasonable Arthur shaking his head slightly and Morgana’s hands perched on her hips.

“What sounds fine?”

“Gaius says he can have the cure drawn up by the end of the week,” Morgana says, “and until then, the Arthurs will stay in their chambers and only one will be allowed out at any given time.”

“And how’re we supposed to manage that? I mean, are we just supposed to have someone in there all the time that can control them and tell them which one is supposed to—“

Merlin stops. Oh, no. No, no, no.

“Believe me,” Prince Prat grumbles, “I’m not thrilled about it either.”

A quick glance around the room shows that yep, this is in fact happening. Fortunately—or unfortunately—it seems that only Prince Prat and Merlin have some sort of reservations about this. Morgana looks positively gleeful.

“Don’t worry Merlin,” she says as she sweeps out of the room, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out!”

Well, once they get to Arthur’s chambers, it becomes clear that they have a lot to figure out. Prince Prat insists on sleeping in the bed because it’s his, Reasonable Arthur points out that technically it is all of their beds, Prince Prat threatens to take Reasonable Arthur’s head off until Merlin threatens to make them both sleep on the floor. The grudging agreement to share it doesn’t come free. Reasonable Arthur gets an apple chucked at his head. The rest of that day and the next is spent in terse, tolerable silence that makes Merlin want to bite his own head off.

Then of course it’s supposedly time for Arthur to go train and of course Prince Prat has to go. Merlin asks a guard to summon Leon and it’s a testament to how much shit Leon’s been through that he simply nods and lets Prince Prat lead the way. Merlin shakes his head and wonders how the knights will deal with this. He’s sure to get an earful from Gwaine about it later.

Then Reasonable Arthur sits down at Arthur’s desk and picks up a quill and just…works. Merlin has to stop every once in a while as he's doing his own chores to watch Arthur sit there, scratching away at the roll of parchment, glancing up every so often to smile at Merlin or ask him a question. Then he wants to go talk to Morgana and Merlin has to explain that no, everyone thinks that Arthur—the one Arthur—is outside training right now, he can’t be also seen going to Morgana’s chambers, and having Morgana come here while everyone thinks Arthur’s outside is also not good. Merlin hands the work off to another servant to bring to the King.

Then Merlin notices that all the third Arthur’s done is sit quietly on a chair in the corner, toying with something.

Glancing over his shoulder to notice that neither of the others has even noticed, Merlin sets down his basket and crosses the room to crouch down in front of him. The third Arthur barely blinks.

“…Arthur?”

His head turns but he doesn’t make eye contact.

“Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head with the smallest smile, discreetly tucking whatever he was toying with into his sleeve. Merlin glances over his shoulder again. Reasonable Arthur is paying them absolutely no mind.

“…are you alright?”

The third Arthur doesn’t quite look at him, but his hand twitches toward Merlin. Merlin holds his own trembling hand out—why is he shaking? What’s happening?—for him to take, if he wants.

He doesn’t, and Merlin doesn’t push. This Arthur is…intriguing, to say the least. As he gets back to his chores, pointedly avoiding looking in that direction to give him privacy, he thinks.

Has he ever seen this part of Arthur before? Is it just so small normally that he doesn’t? Was there some rule about the spell having to split them into three so they just…made another Arthur?

A thundering of footsteps signals the return of Prince Prat, much to Reasonable Arthur’s chagrin.

“Off with my armor,” Prince Prat orders, “now.”

“Tell you what,” Merlin sighs, “you ask me by name and I’ll do it.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because it’s the decent thing to do?”

“Who cares about decent?”

“We should,” Reasonable Arthur says, frowning, “of course, we should care. If we’re going to be king—“

“You’re not going to be king, I’m going to be king.”

“Technically we’re all going to be king.”

“You won’t do a good job of it. All you want to do is talk, and not fight for what you want, what kind of king will do that?”

“And what kind of king will just prattle on about whatever he wants and not listen,” Reasonable Arthur shoots back, “how many enemies will you make because you want to answer things with a sword?”

“You have to fight for what is right!”

“And how will you know what that is if you don’t talk?”

Merlin sighs, leaning back against the pillar of Arthur’s bed. To be honest, he’d be more invested in this conversation—which is pretty interesting, even without the fact that it’s two versions of Arthur shouting at himself—if he wasn’t already fed up with this entire situation.

Then a knock at the door.

“Sire!”

“Yes?” Prince Prat turns.

“The King has summoned you!”

The room falls deathly quiet.

Merlin quickly says that he’ll be on his way in a second, gaze darting back and forth between the two Arthurs, both of which have gone pale.

“W-well,” Reasonable Arthur says, “er…duty calls.”

“No, no,” Prince Prat says, actually moving away from the door, “you should go. He wants to talk.”

“But you’re in armor.”

“But you can actually think.”

Merlin’s stomach drops. Arthur…the Arthurs look scared.

“I’ll go.”

The third Arthur stands up, the chair scraping against the floor with a horrid noise. He rolls his shoulders back and something in Merlin’s mind clicks.

He knows that posture, recognizes it from when they went out to face the dragon. He knows that walk, knows it from seeing Arthur walk towards the block as Morgause held aloft the axe.

And as the third Arthur turns around to give them one last look, Merlin recognizes the look in his eyes as their gazes finally meet.

Resignation.

The door thuds shut behind him before Merlin can even move.

His fingers itch. He needs something to do. He turns to Prince Prat. “I’ll, um, I’ll get your armor off.”

“N-no,” Prince Prat stutters, still looking at the door. “I need it. I need it on.”

“What?”

“I need it on,” he repeats, almost clutching his sword.

Soft scratchings fill the room and Merlin looks around to see Reasonable Arthur scribbling frantically.

“I have to tell him,” he keeps muttering, “I’m right, I just—if he would let me explain, I could—“

“You can’t,” Prince Prat interrupts. “You know you can’t. He won’t listen to words.”

“If we defend ourselves it—“

“If we talk it—“

“We have to—“

“We can’t—“

The Arthurs freeze. Prince Prat’s hand is wrapped firmly around the pommel of his sword. Reasonable Arthur’s hands ball up in spare sheets of parchment. Neither of them dares look away from the door.

An icy pit opens up in Merlin’s chest and a cold fire rages.

Somewhere, in this castle, there is an Arthur standing in front of Uther Pendragon, with an indifferent cool gaze iced into place, and the only words on his tongue are: “Yes, Father.”

Merlin has no idea how long they stand there.

Footsteps.

Merlin blinks and suddenly Prince Prat is in front of him, holding out an arm to shield him. Reasonable Arthur is at his shoulder, clutching a scribbled list in one hand, the other on the back of Merlin’s tunic.

The door starts to creak open.

The Survivor Arthur appears and the room heaves a sigh of relief, quickly followed by Merlin ducking around Prince Prat to rush to Survivor Arthur’s side. His hands flit about anxiously as he asks about injuries. Survivor Arthur shakes his head, moves away from the door, and sits back down in the chair. Merlin watches, gobsmacked, as Reasonable Arthur and Prince Prat just…return to what they were doing. Without any sort of…anything.

“Merlin?”

Survivor Arthur’s voice breaks him out of his trance, looking around to see his head turned just enough to stare at Merlin’s torso.

“I’m here,” Merlin says quickly, “do you need something?”

He shakes his head. “Just…wanted to know you were here.”

Yeah, Merlin’s not leaving this room for shit.

He makes sure Survivor Arthur is in the bed that night. The other two must see something in his gaze because they don’t argue, just curl up on either side of the truly massive bed. Prince Prat nods off right away, Reasonable Arthur following not long after. Only Survivor Arthur stays awake, his eyes darting around until his gaze lands on Merlin, finishing up the last of his chores.

“Arthur?”

In the dark, Merlin can only see half of his face. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Merlin promises, “not for anything.”

“…I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t.”

“No one does what you do.”

“Well, there’s only so many manservants that will put up with their charge splitting into three.”

He doesn’t laugh. Merlin pauses, walking closer to the side of the bed.

“…no one takes care of me like you do,” comes the whisper. Merlin’s heart clenches.

“I’ve got no one else to care for like I care for you.”

Something in the darkness softens. “Don’t leave?”

“…I’m not going anywhere.”

Merlin doesn’t move from his spot next to the bed until the sunlight wakes him up. He groans, shifting around and rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, “I’m awake.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, I’m awake, hang on.”

“Merlin.”

“What?”

Merlin looks around, expecting to see Prince Prat glaring up at him, only to blink and see one Arthur in the bed, not three.

“…Arthur?”

Arthur looks down at himself, then back up to Merlin. “Pretty sure.”

“Are you—you’re—you’re back.”

“I am.” Arthur swings his legs over the side of the bed and stares up at Merlin with far too much awareness for this early in the morning. “Not that I ever really went anywhere.”

“Do you, er, what do you remember?”

Arthur gives him a look that should not be turning Merlin’s legs to jelly. “I remember everything, Merlin, including something about—“

“Please don’t,” Merlin says, feeling his face flare, “you don’t have to—”

“Merlin,” Arthur calls softly, “look at me.”

“Is that required?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Says someone who couldn’t look at me most of the time,” Merlin shoots back instantly, only to wince a second later. “Sorry, that was…bad.”

He hears the faint rustling of sheets as Arthur stands, then a warm hand under his chin. He lets Arthur guide his face up.

“You’re right,” Arthur says softly, “I couldn’t look at you then. But I can do it now.”

“Are you sure,” Merlin tries weakly, “that this isn’t just Reasonable Arthur?”

“Reasonable Arthur?”

“Yeah. The one of you that admitted Morgana was smarter than you and actually did your work.”

“I don’t know if I would say smarter…”

“And wasn’t a massive pain in my are.”

“Wait, did you give names to all of them?”

“Had to tell you apart somehow, didn’t I?”

“What were the others?”

“Prince Prat.”

“Of course.”

“And, um…” Merlin chews on his lip. “…Survivor Arthur.”

“Survivor?” Merlin nods. “Not ‘coward?’”

“What? No!” Merlin’s jaw clenches and he stares at Arthur in disbelief. “No, protecting yourself isn’t cowardly. You—you—what the hell are you talking about?”

Arthur swallows heavily.

“…Arthur…Arthur, are you ashamed?”

Silence.

“You listen to me,” Merlin growls, taking a step forward right into Arthur’s space, “there is nothing to be ashamed about surviving. You have to live first and foremost and the last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself for the sake of it. You had to learn how to survive and I’m sorry and I hate it but I will never call you a coward because of it!”

He’s only aware that he’s shouting by the end of it by the strain in his throat. He blinks, going to take a step back, only for the hand still under his chin to hold him firm.

Arthur’s hand comes up to gently trace his cheek, looking at him like he’s something precious.

“I meant it,” he says softly, “no one takes care of me like you do.”

This time, Merlin can see his face clearly and the sincerity in his gaze makes him tremble.

“…I meant it too,” he manages, “I’ve got no one else to care for like I care for you.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirks up. “I didn’t look at you because I couldn’t,” he whispers, “I didn’t have the part of me that was brave enough to look.”

The hand slots back under his chin.

“But now I do,” he breathes, “and I…I actually might believe you now.”

“…now that you’ve got your intelligent side back?”

Arthur gives his chest a gentle shove, chuckling. “Enough, you idiot, I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Arthur sobers, his hand coming up to ruffle through Merlin’s hair and cup the back of his neck. “…don’t leave, Merlin.”

Merlin reaches back to cover Arthur’s hand with his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” Arthur corrects, the hand under Merlin’s shifting a little, “I mean don’t…don’t leave. I know I was the one literally split into three people but you…I saw more of you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

“So please, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, his voice shaking slightly, “please, don’t leave.”

“I told you,” Merlin says, “I’m not going anywhere, you prat.”

His voice is shaking a little too much for it to be completely joking.

The sunlight on the back of Merlin’s neck is not nearly as warm as Arthur’s hand, nor is it bright enough to hurt when their foreheads touch and their eyes fall shut. Arthur’s breath is warm on Merlin’s cheek.

“…no more running into magic circles, okay?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur murmurs, tilting his head just enough to brush his nose along Merlin’s temple, “I think this turned out alright.”

Merlin draws back just enough to open his mouth in some snappy remark only to have Arthur’s pleased smile immediately ruin it for him.

“…I’m sure the knights have questions.”

“I think Gwaine’ll be happy, don’t you?”

“I think he was grateful for an excuse to kick the shit out of me.”

“Wait, are you admitting that Gwaine is a better fighter than you?”

“Merlin!”

[prettyboybarzal]

tattoos together // tyler seguin

pairing: tyler seguin x reader

summary: it’s july 4th and you’re supposed to be celebrating on the cape with your best friend, tyler, and dozens of party goers. but things take a turn when he’s drafted to the dallas stars. 

(a slow burn, friend to lovers fic w/ the gift of boston tyler seguin and dallas tyler seguin AND matching tattoos) 

word count: 4k+

author’s note: this is just part one of idk how many, but i was inspired and needed to write this story. think of this chapter as a prologue of some sort... ps. this was inspired by “tattoos together” by lauv

warnings: alcohol, getting tattoos (??), cursing

Sometime within Tyler Seguin’s first year living in Boston, you bumped into him at a coffee shop. I mean, literally bumped into him. You were on the way to your first day of classes at Boston University and spilled your entire coffee on him. It was his fault, which he claimed almost immediately as he’d been looking down at his phone when it happened.

You had no clue who he was, but he was so pretty that your anger about the wasted coffee quickly dissipated. You almost let him get away with fucking up your morning routine. But, as if he knew the coffee was important, he nodded over to the shop and offered to buy you another.

You stood in line beside him, twiddling your thumbs around the sleeve of the now empty coffee cup.

“Are you from around here?”

“Yeah, I grew up just outside the city.”

“You live here now, though?”

“Yep.”

The conversation was dry, due in part to your exhaustion and lack of caffeine. He noted this, not bothering to push conversation anymore despite feeling desperate to talk to you.

You ordered, “Medium French Vanilla coffee with half and half, please.”

“She’ll have a large,” Tyler interjected. “She needs it.”

Before you could object, the barista was gone and Tyler was shrugging unapologetically at you.

When Tyler took the coffee from the barista’s hand, he snatched the pen off the counter as well. You watched as he etched his name and number onto the sleeve before handing it over to you. He smiled easily and said, “I’m new around here. I could use a native’s tips on the city.”

You never called him, or texted, until running into him at a bar a month later. He recognized you immediately from the other side of the room and quickly made his way over, shrugging off a girl whose name he couldn’t remember just to get to you. You had your back to him, but the look on your girl friend’s face was enough to make you turn and face him.

“French Vanilla,” he greeted. You laughed. “You never called.”

“I don’t normally call random men I meet, whether it’s at a coffee shop or a bar.”

Tyler scoffed at this before asking, “Have you gotten a drink yet?”

And, just as quickly as it had gone up, your cool girl façade was down.

“No, this place has the shittiest service.”

“Yeah?” Tyler asked, sensing the challenge. He raised a hand at the bartender and was served immediately. He relayed his drink order before glancing over at you and telling the bartender, “And whatever these two want.”

The bartender took your orders and left to make your drinks, leaving you to stare at Tyler in amazement, “How?”

“I might be a bit of a regular,” he murmured. When the drinks were placed down and Tyler grabbed his card to pay, the bartender simply stated, “You’re covered. Keep playing hard.”

“Playing hard?”

“I’m Tyler Seguin,” he said. He extended his hand and you shook it, a look of confusion still displayed on your face. “Of the Boston Bruins.”

“Oh, shit!” That’s all you said in response before dropping your hand. “Cool.”

The response was refreshing. Most girls already knew who he was, but you didn’t and he liked that. He invited you and your friend back to his booth, and you went because the promise of free alcohol was too good to pass up. 

“Most girls would’ve at least texted me if I gave them my number,” Tyler pushed. You were sitting beside him, watching your friend flirt with one of his teammates. His arm rested on the couch behind your head.

You smirked at how annoyed he seemed to be by the radio silence from you. Stirring the straw in your drink, you shrugged and teased, “Had I known you were a rich and famous hockey star, maybe I would’ve called you. You should’ve told me sooner.”

“Does this mean you’ll call me tomorrow?”

“I can smell the desperation on you, Seguin,” you stated. You turned your body to face him. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Who said I wanted that?”

“Your body language and persistence.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Something like that.”

At the end of the night, you wrote your number on a napkin and shoved it in his shirt pocket.

From then on, he invited you out every time he was hitting the bars. Pretty soon, he was asking you to grab food in the middle of the day. It snowballed into movie nights and wine, sleepovers with face masks, and lots of take-out.

Tyler liked you, but he liked the freedom of casual hookups way more. His fear of losing you was much stronger than his want for a relationship. And the same could be said for you. You were crazy about him, but not crazy enough to lose him. So, somewhere along the line, your relationship became strictly platonic.

Besides, it was easy to ignore your feelings when you’d only admitted it out loud once (under the influence of tequila) to your best friend, Lauren.

“You can’t expect us to spend as much time as we do with each other and not develop feelings,” you’d said. “But, right now, I’m having fun with casual stuff. And so is he. There’s no reason for me to pursue a relationship with someone as special as Ty right now. It’s too soon, we’re too young. Maybe one day, but not today.”

Now, as you stood teary eyed in his bathroom mirror, you were left wondering if that day would ever come. What the hell had you been biding your time for?

“It’s going to be fine!” Tyler calls from the other side of the bathroom door. You sniffle, but give no response knowing that your voice will fail you. He lets out a long sigh in the hallway. “Will you stop crying?”

“I’m not crying anymore!”

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he argues. Despite the situation at hand, you can hear the smile in his voice. “I hear you sniffling. Open the door. 

Frantically, you wipe away the smudged mascara beneath your eyes before sucking in a breath and releasing it uneasily moments later. The body behind the door remains, only silently this time. Pushing away from the counter, you turn to the door and grab the nob. When you pull it open, Tyler comes tumbling into the room.

He straightens up and flashes you a lopsided grin before tugging on one of the belt loops on your jeans. You fall into his chest with a thud, melting as his arms wrap around you. For a few moments, the room is silent. He laces his fingers through the ends of your hair and places a kiss on the crown of your head.

You mumble into his chest, “I don’t want you to go to Dallas.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, the sadness fades to anger as your train of thought drifts to the reason you suspect he’s in this situation. He’s been the irresponsible rookie, the life of the party, the womanizer… All titles that definitely made the decision to trade him to Dallas easier.

You push him away with a rough shove of his chest and scold him, “You’re such an idiot, do you know that? Fuck, Tyler.”

A frown replaces his goofy smile as he crosses his arms over his chest and grunts, “This isn’t a conversation I want to have with you of all people.”

You back down from the challenge, acknowledging the bubble of your friendship that so often excluded the hockey world. There’s no reason to shatter it on tonight of all nights, so instead of pressing on, you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He pulls his snapback off his head to run his fingers through his hair before placing it back down. “Now, can we please eat dinner and get ready for this party? It’s too late to cancel now.”

Down stairs, you and Tyler bustle about the kitchen. He put a pizza in the oven right before the phone call about the trade came in and you ran off to cry in the bathroom. When you return, it’s done and Tyler grabs a dish towel to take the tray out of the oven.

You slice the pie into an equal eight pieces before he takes it to the dining table. Tyler eats two slices for every one you manage, making sure you’re getting enough before picking up the next one. It’s comfortably silent, something the two of you are used to. The only conversation you share is between eyebrow raises, giggles, and moans of appreciation for the food on your plates.

When Tyler finishes off his last slice, he wipes the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, then with a napkin, and you find yourself staring. He’s completely oblivious to your wandering eyes, pushing away from the table to take his plate to the sink and leaving the last slice of pizza for you (like he always does). 

It’s a mixture of the excitement of the Fourth of July and the sadness of Tyler’s inevitable departure from Boston that ends up getting you as drunk as you are by 8 p.m. It’s been an hour since everyone started showing up and you stopped counting your drinks. And, quite honestly, you’re feeling good.

Tyler is the man of the hour, as expected, and he’s hardly by your side for the first hour. Each time he’s with, you watch him get whisked away to say hello to someone new, be it a teammate or one of his casual hookups.

Most nights this happens you don’t mind one bit, but tonight is different because moments with him are fleeting.

Once it seems like the flow of party guests has slowed, Tyler finds you again. He offers you a sympathetic smile and all is forgiven. From that moment on, he hardly leaves your side. He tugs on your hand when you try to leave the room or pulls you into his side when he sees your thoughts drifting away from the fun of the party.

Tyler knows where your head is at because he feels the same way about leaving. While he loved Boston and he’d miss it when he moved to Texas, he knew it was really you he’d be missing. You made an unfamiliar place feel like home.

“I’m going to top myself off,” you state, pushing yourself away from the counter. You sway on your feet, causing Tyler to reach forward to steady you. “Need anything?”

He shakes his head and responds, “I’m okay.”

Tyler watches you walk away and stares at you through the sliding glass door as you fill up your cup. You’re inevitably joined by a friend of a friend who starts chatting you up and you’re giggling at him, hand on his arm. Tyler needs to shake himself out of the trance he’s in.

The hardest pill for him to swallow, he’s decided, is the fact that he never took his time in Boston to pursue you.

His eyes drift out to the back deck again and he finds that you’ve settled against the railing, gazing up at the guy in front of you. He’s seen you give that look to guys before and he always finds himself wishing he was on the other end of it. With a grunt, he forces himself to walk away and push the sight out of his mind, opting to flirt with the pretty blonde by the beer pong table instead.

It’s not long before you rejoin the party and, when you find Tyler again, he’s playing beer pong with that same girl. He notices your presence as you settle against the back of the couch in the living room to watch the game. Your swollen lips don’t go unnoticed and neither does the presence of the guy by your side. You smile at Tyler and get one in return, but you’re completely oblivious to how half assed it is.

He brushes you off, turning to whisper something flirty in the ear of the blonde beside him before sinking his ping pong ball in the second to last cup. The guy beside you nudges you with his shoulder and asks, “Do you know him?”

“Tyler?” you ask with an air of familiarity. He nods. You smirk mischievously and answer, “Sort of.”

You turn your attention back to the beer pong game. There’s only one cup left and you fully intend on yanking Tyler away from the table as soon as he sinks the final shot, especially once you feel this guy’s hand wrap around yours.

Tyler hits the cup and embraces his partner before turning to bask in the cheers of his party guests, only to find himself face-to-face with you.

“Save me,” you murmur. He glances down at you, then over to your hand. You give him a pout, the type you know he can’t resist, and suddenly he’s relaxing his shoulders, eyes wide and concerned. “I do not want to kiss this guy again.”

“What are you going to do when I’m not here to bail you out anymore?” Tyler asks. You huff at him, adding an eye roll for emphasis. He looks over at your hand again and then up at the guy holding it. “Hey, dude, I’m going to steal her. Enjoy the party!”

Your new friend backs off, as any smart man would do when confronted by Tyler Seguin. 

Tyler grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall with him until the music from the living room is drowned out. You find yourselves just outside his bedroom door. The lights in the hallway are out to keep people from coming down to his room. He releases your hand and presses his back up against the wall. You step forward and drop your head to his shoulder. 

“Don’t let me do that again,” you whine. Tyler’s shoulders shake with laughter. “What the hell am I supposed to do when you move away?”

“Not make out with weirdos.”

“How was I supposed to know he was weird?”

“You can just tell that about a guy,” Tyler explains. You pull back to look up at him with a questioning glance. “Like, I’m too good looking to be a weirdo.”

“And humble, too,” you tease. He laughs, tossing his head back to direct his laughter at the ceiling. “Did I cock block you?”

He shrugs, a cocky smirk lying on his face, and answers, “Possibly.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. He gives no response, only offering you a soft smile instead of words. Truth be told, he didn’t mind that you pulled him away from the table, not one bit. You stared up at him, admiring his face until hiccup. Tyler giggles as you reveal, “I’m drunk.”

“I can tell.”

“How are you not?”

“I’m getting there,” he answers. He grabs your hip, squeezing it as he pulls you closer to him. “Maybe I’m trying to look at for you.” 

“I don’t need you to look out for me!”

“You sure?” he asks, dropping his hand. He furrows his eyebrows, annoyed by your comment, for whatever reason he doesn’t understand. He slips away from you, starts walking down the hall, and calls back, “Let’s see how that goes for the rest of the night.” 

Tyler disappears into the crowd, leaving you to fend for yourself. And, at first, it’s not that bad. You find a group of girls that you’d met through the Bruins boys and spend a while hanging out with them. But, one-by-one, they’re plucked up by men at the party and you’re left alone again. 

Not long after, the guy from the deck finds you. As he approaches, you search the room frantically to find Tyler is watching. His grin doesn’t fall, it stays wide and taunting. He’s not coming to your rescue this time.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” porch guy says. “Seguin didn’t make a move on you?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

You hope this comment makes him change his mind about hitting on you, but he’s persistent. You can’t even comprehend much of what he’s saying because your eyes keep glancing over his shoulder at Tyler who’s now officially tuned out of your misfortune. He’s leaning against the wall, gripping the waist of some girl doing a full Jersey Turnpike against him.

He glances up once more and smirks.  Smug little bitch.

The next time you find Tyler alone, he’s in the kitchen. He’s facing the counter, his back to you, as he slices up limes and places them on a plate with tequila shots in the middle. You approach quietly until you’re close enough to wrap your arms around his waist.

“She comes crawling back,” Tyler murmurs. You hum, poking your head out to the side of his arm to look at what he’s doing. He turns to face you. “What do you want?”

“I want you to keep the creeps away from me.”

“So, you admit that you need me to look out for you?” he asks. He extends his arms behind him and places his palms flat against the counter as you press your face into his stomach. “Say it!”

“I need you to look out for me,” you mumble into his stomach. He laughs before winding his arms around you once more. “Bitch.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, shoving you off him. “Say nice things to me. You know I’m fragile.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “What you got here?”

“Tequila shots,” he answers. He plucks two shots off the plate and hands one over to you. You tap the little plastic cups together before tossing the shots back, shuddering at the taste.

“Let’s ditch this party.”

Tyler chuckles at your proposition, then sees that you’re serious. He takes the shot glass from you and moves to the sink to toss them in it. He turns again to face you and leans up against the edge of the counter.

“What? You want me to just kick everyone out?”

“Why not?” you ask. Your grin is contagious and it makes Tyler smile even wider. “We don’t care about any of these people anyway. Your teammates that were here all left with the girls.”

“It’s only 10 p.m., though.”

“Okay?”

“The night is young.”

There’s a beat of silence. He’s waiting to see what you have planned at the sake of an early night. You exclaim, “Let’s get tattoos!”

“Tonight?” Tyler asks with his eyebrows stitched together in confusion. You nod, smiling goofily at his surprise. “Your mom would kill me.”

“She absolutely would not,” you remark. “She loves you.”

The compliment brings a smug smile to his lips. Tyler stares up at the ceiling, allowing your suggestion to set in. Finally, he looks back down and asks, “What would we even get?”

It’s not a yes, but it’s close enough. You hop up excitedly, pressing both palms against his shoulders. The answer is easy, so it rolls right off your tongue.

“Stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he repeats, “Stars?”

“Yes, as in the Dallas Stars.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he teases. You glare at him playfully, but your smile returns when he wraps his arm around your waist and brings his face to yours. You can smell the liquor on his breath when the tip of his nose touches yours. He’s so close you could kiss him. “Let’s do it.”

Despite the late hour and it being a national holiday, Tyler’s able to call in a favor and ends up getting a tattoo artist to work on the two of you. Tyler was buzzing with excitement the entire car ride to the tattoo shop. You watched him chat away with the cab driver, wondering how he was being so brave. He feels your eyes on him and looks over with a smile.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit. Tyler’s eyebrows stitch together. He reaches out, running his hand over your hair and down to cup the nape of your neck.

“I’ll go first, alright?” he offers. “You’ll be fine. Actually, you have to be fine because you can’t back out now.”

Tyler keeps his promise and settles into the chair effortlessly within five minutes of entering the tattoo shop.

You watch Tyler flex his bicep as he sits and, quickly, divert your gaze. It doesn’t go unnoticed as both the artist and Tyler, glance toward you. Tyler smirks knowingly at the redness of your neck, the subtle biting of the inside of your cheek. He’s satisfied with the reaction, having only gotten it from you twice before tonight.

And, then, he’s brought back to reality as the tattoo artist starts explaining what he’s about to do.

You should’ve gone first because watching the needle go into Tyler’s arm like that freaks you out. Tyler reaches out with his other hand, noticing how pale your face is, and squeezes your knee. You look up at him and he mumbles, “Relax. It’s fine. See?” 

He smiles brightly to help the situation

“I’ll be here the whole time, too.”

A little while later, after there’s a star on the inside of Tyler’s bicep, you find yourself in the chair. Your arm is positioned so that your palm is face up. Tyler inches closer to you, the wrap on his arm making an uncomfortable sound, and asks, “Are you sure about getting it on your wrist?”

His question is met with a glare and a sharp, “I’ll back out.”

“You can’t back out, YN!” he exclaims. “We’re gonna have tattoos together! That’s a level of friendship I’ve never been on with anyone before!”

“Friendship?” the tattoo artist asks under his breath. Your cheeks flush at the question, but Tyler ignores it.

“You’re going to be fine.”

You end up feeling more than fine. The feeling of the needle on your skin definitely wasn’t ideal, but it looked worse than it felt. Though, you pretended to be in immense pain as Tyler sat there holding your hand. It was a good excuse for the physical contact.

As soon as the artist is done, he steps away to clean up a bit and Tyler lifts your wrist to his eye level. He stares, open-mouthed, at the four little stars on your wrist. It’s hardly anything to gawk at, but he finds himself falling in love with the little make-shift constellation on your skin. 

“It’s so pretty,” Tyler coos. He resists the urge to run his finger along the fresh ink, but he so badly wants to touch it. “I love it.”

You shouldn’t be staring at him like this, especially not when you have fresh ink on your skin to admire. But it’s so hard to look away from him. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty when he’s admiring you.

“Honesty hour?” Tyler asks as you pull one of his sweatshirts over your head. He’s sitting against the frame of the bed with a bottle of champagne in his hand. You two have been nursing the bottle since you got back to the house over an hour ago, keeping your buzz from the night going.

You sit cross-legged across from him and nod.

“Sure.”

“When I met you in that bar after you didn’t call me, I was so sure that we would sleep together once and that would be it,” Tyler admits. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig. You laugh at him. “You just wouldn’t let me even try.”

“It’s because I find you repulsive.”

“That’s a damn lie!” he exclaims with a cocky eyebrow raise. He extends the bottle to you and you take it without a second thought. “You know I’m attractive.” He waits a beat and says, “I know you’re attractive.”

You swallow the liquid and wave him off, muttering an ‘okay’.

“Two years of friendship and we never even kissed,” Tyler remarks. You nod at him before handing the bottle back to shut him up. It works for a moment as he takes another sip of the alcohol, but then he opens his mouth again to ask, “Why is that?” 

“Why did we never kiss?” you ask, making sure you heard him right. Tyler nods. “I’ve seen what happens to the girls you get romantically involved with. They don’t stick around very long.”

You’re surprised by how honest your response is… And apparently so is Tyler. He leans his head back against the bed and runs a hand over the scruff on his face.

“For whatever reason, I wanted to stick around.”

For several reasons, actually, but you can’t say that.

“I’m ready for bed,” Tyler announces suddenly. He takes one last swig of the champagne and hands it over to you. “Finish it off. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

You chug the rest of the liquor, feeling the need to be intoxicated to withstand the tension between the two of you. Then, you pop into the bathroom to brush your teeth beside him. He smiles at you in the mirror, happy with the domesticated scene he’s a part of.

He rinses off his toothbrush and places it on the counter before slipping out of the bathroom behind you to return to the bedroom.

You join him not long after. He’s sitting up against the headboard, his newly tattooed arm resting behind his head as he waits for your arrival. You slip under the covers beside him, immediately nestling your head into the pillow beneath you. He slides down as well, flicking the lamp beside him off.

“Ty?” you call. He hums in response. When you shift to face him, he follows your lead. Another minute goes by without a word. The light from the window is just bright enough to make out his profile. You can see his big brown eyes staring at you intently.

Finally, after you fail to speak up, he asks, “Yes?”

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. Tyler folds his pillow beneath his head and nods. “You don’t know how much I love you.” Tyler was about to butt in, but you pushed your index finger against his lips to keep him quiet. “I’m proud of you, despite everything. I always am.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t say it enough,” you state. Tyler stays silent. “I just feel the need to give you the verbal validation. You know, since you’re so fragile.”

Tyler chuckles at this. He reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but he doesn’t retract his hand right away, allowing his thumb to brush over your cheekbone. He sighs and tells you, “I’m proud of you, too, even though you’re a broke college student.” 

“Thanks.” You chuckle along with him. “Promise you won’t forget about me when you’re living large in Texas?”

“I could never forget you, YN,” Tyler murmurs. “Especially not now that you made me get a tattoo with you.” 

The room goes silent again, but this silence feels heavy. It’s loaded and slightly uncomfortable. Tyler’s thumb is still running along your cheekbone, until it abruptly stops and he sighs again. He shifts, bringing his face closer to yours and, suddenly, your heart rate speeds up. He states, “Honesty hour.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’d beat myself up forever if I never kissed you before moving to Texas.”

Nothing else needs to be said. You lean in instantaneously and plant your lips on his. It’s somewhere between a peck and something more and it only last a moment. It feels way too quick. When you pull away, Tyler’s eyes are wide and searching.

“What?” you ask. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You’re chest-to-chest, staring into each other’s eyes. It feels so intimate and Tyler can’t stop thinking about how that kiss wasn’t enough. All these years he’s been convinced that one kiss would be enough to rid him of his yearning for you.

It only made it worse.

He shakes his head, a coy smile playing on his lips, and then he tucks your head beneath his chin. He decides he can’t kiss you again because it’ll just make this more difficult. His hand travels over your back and keeps you tight against his bare chest. He murmurs, “Goodnight.”

“Night, Ty.”

[moonlightsbeams]

The Queen’s Court Chapter 1

The turtle creature awakes, horror filling his eyes. Flying out of the gramophone, he goes to the Guardian, who looks at the creature. “Wayzz, what’s wrong?”

“Master Fu, it’s Nooroo. I- he’s resurfaced, but.. He’s being used by a powerful negative energy, I fear that Paris is in immense danger if Nooroo’s new owner is left unchecked.”

The Guardian nods, and motions to Wayzz. The Guardian raises his hand to transform, but is struck down by crippling pain. 

With a shaking hand, he opens the gramophone, surveying his choices. He deftly selects the Ladybug and the Black Cat miraculous, but falters. “I cannot send them out alone, can I, Wayzz?”

Wayzz tilts his head. “I’m not sure I understand, Master.”

“While the Black Cat and Ladybug are strong, I cannot send them out against the Butterfly alone.”

“But who should aid them, master?”

Mater Fu examines his choices, and reaches for one last miraculous box. “The Bee is the perfect choice.”

------

Chloe Bourgeois knew she was perfect. Her daddy told her all the time, and all of Paris knew it too. She prided herself on always looking like it, and nothing, nothing stopped her from being perfect. 

So what the hell is she going to do?

She stares in distaste at the situation in front of her. A large garbage truck is rumbling by, trash stacked precariously out of it, and an elderly man in a hawaiin shirt trots next to it. She does not want to go anywhere near the truck but.. She doesn’t like his chances if that trash falls onto him. Her decision is forced into motion by the trash toppling out of the truck. 

Muttering “Ew, ew, ew, EW!” under her breath she darts close to the man, grabbing him by the nape of his shirt and quickly pulling him out of the way of the falling trash.

After thoroughly examining herself to make sure she’s still perfect, she turns to the old man, unsure on what to tell him.

Luckily for her, the man speaks up, bowing his head in gratitude. “Thank you so much for saving me, young lady. That trash would have severely injured me, and definitely would’ve humiliated me. You truly are courageous.”

Chloe pauses by the compliment, a genre of which she’s.. Unfamiliar with. She quickly preens, trying to hide her genuine pleasure. “Of course I am! I- I couldn’t just let it happen. I’m going to tell my daddy about how ridiculous these trash workers are!”

The older man nods, a thoughtful smile on his face. “A good use of your power, young lady.”

She snorts, unable to think of anything else to say. “Whatever, I need to get to school.”

She storms off, feeling slightly better than she was before.

School was uneventful, except for Marinette Dupain-Cheng thinking that she could steal Chloe’s spot behind her Adrikins! And then some new girl had the audacity to tell her off! She was going to have to put them in their place.

She sulks all the way back to the hotel, and throws herself down on her bed. “Ugh, could this day get ANY worse?”

She rolls over and is greeted by a red and black box that was definitely not there before. “What’s this? It looks old, so maybe it’s an expensive gift for me?”

She gently opens the box, and is immediately blinded by a large flash of yellow light. After it clears up, there’s a… giant bee in her room.

Chloe shrieks, throwing herself across the room. “WHAT??? BUG?? BIG BEE!!!”

“My queen, please calm down!” The bee reassures her. “My name is Pollen, I’m the kwami for the bee miraculous!”

“The bee WHAT!” Chloe screams, holding a pillow in front of her like a shield.

“The bee miraculous!” Pollen squeaks. “With it, you become a superhero, my queen!”

Chloe lowers the pillow, peeking out behind it. “A-a, superhero?”

Pollen nods. “Indeed, my queen! You will also fight along two other heros, with powers of their own! Your power is Venom, the power to immobilize anyone you want!”

“How do I turn into this superhero?”

“First, put the miraculous in your hair and say, ‘Pollen, buzz on!’ The detransformation is ‘Buzz Off!’” Pollen instructs, a reassuring smile on her face.

Chloe goes back to bed, picking up the red and black box. She pulls out a silver bee shaped comb. She tucks it into her hair. “Pollen, buzz on!” 

“My queen I still have to tell you-”

Chloe knew exactly what to do while transforming, after all, Adrikins forced her to watch far too many anime shows. After her beautiful and stunning transformations, she examines her suit. Her suit is a yellow base, with a few black stripes that dip in the middle. Her gloves end at her elbows, and are lined with black faux fur. Her mask covers her eyes, and is a yellow honeycomb pattern. Her hair is pulled into a low ponytail, slightly curlier than it was before. She spins around, as translucent wings draped like a cape flutter behind you “This is…”

“AMAZING!!” Chloe squeals, admiring herself. “Pollen, I’m beautiful!” She looks around, noticing her disappearance. “Pollen?”

Before she can look for Pollen, her phone buzzes with an emergency alert. “Giant stone monster rampaging around Paris? That sounds like a job for a superhero!” 

She finally notices a top slung around her waist. “What does this do? OH NO IT’S SPINNING!” Chloe quickly figures out how to operate the top, and swings out of her window. “Look out, Paris, here I come!”

She lands on a building, examining the scene around her. “Yikes, the police have no idea what they’re doing, huh?”

Suddenly, a scream cuts through the air. Someone slams into Chloe, knocking her down. The person jumps up, and reaches a hand out to Chloe. “I’m so, so sorry! I- I just haven’t gotten a knack for the staff yet! I’m um, guessing, you’re one of the other superheroes?”

Chloe’s first instinct is to snap at the girl, insulting her on everything and anything. But, she shouldn’t act like herself, right? Secret identities are the most important thing about superheroes, right? So she takes the girl's hand and gives her a smile. “You’re fine! It took me way too long to figure out how to use my top. And yeah, I’m…” What’s my name? What had Pollen called me again? “My Queen”?

“Queen Bee. And you are?”

The girl blushes, tugging on one of her twin braids. “I have no idea. All I know is that some cat..bug..thing told me I was a superhero, and I turned into this leather… furry!”

Chloe snorts, and takes a moment to notice her costume. A leather bodysuit similar to her, except that the girl has glove fingers pointed like claws and kneehigh boots. The girl has a cute half cloak with a blue cat paw fastening the hood. And..

Chloe gasps. “Oh. My. Goodness. Do you have cat ears and a tail??” 

The girl blushes, her ears flattening in embarrassment. “Yeah.. I guess it’s ‘cause it’s the Cat Miraculous? It’s super embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, chatonne,” Queen Bee teases. She’s not going to unleash the full Chloe treatment, but she can’t not tease her.. “It’s purr-fectly cute!”

The girl’s face reddens, but she groans at the pun. She opens her mouth to retort, but is interrupted by the roar of the monster. “We’d better take care of this, huh?”

Queen Bee nods, a determined smile spread across her face. “Let’s go!”

The two make their way over to a stadium, lading in front of what looks like a golem made of rocks, chasing...Kim?

“Chatonne!” yells Queen Bee. “Can you get Ki- the boy away from the monster?”

“On it!” she shouts back, expanding her pole to stop the monster from getting Kim. 

“Good work, chatonne!”

“Hey, Queen Bee, aren’t we supposed to have another..” As if summoned, a blonde boy in a red and black spotted bodysuit and a black cape draped off of one shoulder lands next to Queen Bee.

“Am..I late?” He asks, clearly nervous. Nervous of what? The monster..or her?

Chloe would chew him out, asking where he’s been.. But Queen Bee wouldn’t. Queen Bee simply rolls her eyes and smirks at him. “Haven’t missed much, bug boy. So, you’ve got anything up your sleeve?”

“Um..” The boy launches a...yo-yo.. At the stone monster. Seriously? A yo-yo? Was the cat miraculous the only one with a sensible weapon? As soon as the yoyo makes contact with the monster, it roars again and..

 “IT GROWS EVERY TIME YOU HIT IT?!?!?” The cat girl yells, staring in disbelief. “HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT A MONSTER THAT GROWS IF YOU HIT IT??”

Queen Bee curses under her breath. Cat girl had a point. Her plan was just to beat it until the cops could apprehend it.. But where would they even put it anyway?

“Wait!” The bug boy calls. Cat girl and Queen Bee turn to him. “What was my power again.. Oh! Lucky Charm!” 

Queen Bee watches as the boy throws his yo-yo in the air and gets.. A wetsuit. “Planning on going swimming, bug boy?” she quips. The momentary confusion is disrupted by a giant stone fist swinging down. Chloe and the boy roll aside, narrowly missing being flattened. 

“Oh! I have a power too!” The cat girl yells. “Cataclysm!” The girl's hand is now encompassed with dark energy. 

Queen Bee dodges another fist. “What does it do?” she yells.

“Destroys anything I touch!”

“Seriously?” the boy groans. “You get to destroy anything and I get a wetsuit?”

“Where do you think the akuma is?” Cat girl shouts.

“The what?” Pollen did not mention anything called an akuma.

“The thing that turned whoever’s actually in there.. Into that!”

Huh. Maybe Chloe should’ve paid more attention to what Pollen was saying. 

“By the way, who are you two?” The boy yells. 

“I think introductions are necessary when we’re being attacked by a giant monster!” Queen Bee retorts.

“It’d be easier to call you something other than bee girl and cat girl!”

He has a point. “Call me Queen Bee, bug boy.”

“I’m Princess Kitten!” Comes a shout. Seems cat girl decided on a name.

“Well, if the two of you are going with a royalty theme, who am I to mess it up? Call me.. Sir Cocinelle!”

“Why? Are you some knight in spotted armor?”

He actually perks up at the remark. Oh no, Queen Bee can’t make fun of someone that wholesome. “I would be honored to be your trusted knight, my queen!”

Wait.. “Guys I have a plan!” She shouts. “Meet me at the top of the stadium!”

“Okay, but make it quick!” Princess Kitten yells back. “I have only 5 more minutes until I detransform!”

Yeah. Chloe should’ve really listened to Pollen. After some tricky jumps, the trio made it to the top. “So, I have some weird ‘ladybug vision’, and I think the akuma is in that fist,” Sir Cocinelle points at one of the fists.

“You’re probably right, Sir Cocinelle.” Queen Bee appraises, noticing the boost in his confidence. Is- is this kid okay? “Okay, so my power is Venom. I can freeze the monster. I was thinking, once I do that, Sir Coccinelle could pull him down with the yo-yo, and you could use that ‘ladybug vision’ to force open the fist while he’s down. Princess Kitten, can you ‘cataclysm’ the akuma and..” She notices the two staring at her. “What?”

Sir Coccinelle speaks up. “Nothing, it’s just, you’re really good at this. It’s like you’re a natural.”

Queen Bee flushes. “Oh. Um..My dadd- my dad works..in a leadership position. I guess I picked up some stuff. Does the plan not work or…”

Princes Kitten shakes her head. “I think you’re great! The plan! The plan is great!”

Queen Bee smiles at her, murmuring, “Thank you, Princess. I really appreciate it.” She turns to Sir Coccinelle. “Listen, I have no idea how your powers work, but I have a feeling that they’re the key to getting the akuma, and chattonne’s powers are the only way to destroy the akuma. Are we ready?”

Sir Coccinelle and Princess Kitten nod.

 “Let’s go!”

She signals for Sir Coccinelle to topple the monster, and quickly calls “Venom” to freeze him before he can get up. That new girl… Alexis, right? For some reason is still there, next to.. A fire hose! “Hey you! Toss bug boy the hose!”

Wide eyed, she tosses the hose to Sir Coccinelle, who looks at the hose, the wetsuit and the fist, cogs turning. He shoves the wetsuit in the fist, and begins filling it up. Cracking the fist open, he gets a purple rock, and pumps his fist in celebration. “Boo-ya!”

Queen Bee smiles, but the victory is short lived as the rock monster starts to stir. “SIR COCCINELLE GET THE ROCK TO PRINCESS KITTEN!” She screams. 

Sir Coccinelle nods, and lobs the rock at Princess Kitten, who catches it with her Cataclysm hand, turning the rock into a crumpled note.

 Sir Coccinelle throws the wetsuit in the air, with a cry of “Miraculous Sir Coccinelle!” ladybugs rush over the city, restoring all the damage, and turning the stone monster into.. Ivan? Huh. 

Princess Kitten turns to Queen Bee, wide eyed. “How’d you know that was going to work?”

“Yeah, Queenie,” Sir Coccinelle pipes up. “I didn’t really know how my powers would work, yet you did.”

“First off, bug boy, I’m your Queen, not ‘Queenie’, and since you mentioned ‘ladybug vision’, I figured that the wetsuit would actually come into use. Chatonne, you told me that you could destroy, so I used that to get rid ourselves of the akuma. All I really did was look at your powers and figure out how to use them in the situation.” She mutters, very much liking the attention. She holds out her hand in a fist. “You guys did really good. I’m proud to be a superhero with you two.”

Princess Kitten lightly bumps her fist into Queen Bee’s. “Give yourself more credit. Sure, Sir Coccinelle did some wacky thing with the wetsuit,  but it was you were the one who figured it out.”

Sir Coccinelle fist bumps the two of them. “Seriously, Queenie, you did great. Princess couldn't've gotten to the akuma without you guiding her. I think we make a great team.”

Queen Bee rolls her eyes, but smiles. “A team. I like that.”

Ally? Alexa? Rushes up to the three, a huge smile on her face, phone clutched in her hand. “OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS ARE ACTUAL SUPERHEROES!! CAN YOU TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT YOURSELVES??”

The three exchange awkward glances, until a beep from all three of them goes off. “I believe that’s our cue to go,” Queen Bee drawls. “ But If you must know, the dashing knight is Sir Coccinelle,” he offers a flourishing bow, “The beautiful lady is Princess Kitten,” she nods her head, “And I’m the regal Queen Bee.” She winks at the girl. “I’ll see you around, huh?” Queen Bee leaps off, leaving a blushing girl.

She sneaks back in through her window, crying “Buzz off!” The transformation disappears in a flash of yellow and black, and Pollen reappears. “That was amazing! I was like, woosh, and boosh! And…” Chloe falls on her bed giggling.

“My queen, I’m glad you enjoyed it! You did such a good job, you truly are meant for the Bee Miraculous!”

Chloe looks at Pollen, her eyes gleaming. “Really?”

Pollen claps her hands in delight. “Of course, my queen! Now can I tell you what you need to know?” “Oh. Yes, please.”

“So! Your partners hold the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, which are the powers of creation and destruction…”

Chloe listens to Pollen, furiously memorizing everything, occasionally asking questions. “Wait.. so I can’t tell anyone? Not even Sabrina?”

“No, we can’t risk anyone finding out your identity and using your loved ones against you.”

“That makes sense..” Chloe notices Pollen flutter down. “Hey, are you okay?”

Pollen nods, “I’m sorry my queen, but I need to recharge.”

Chloe perks up. “Of course! What do you need? I have access to anything and everything I want.”

Pollen smiles appreciatively. “I would like some almonds, if it’s not too much trouble my queen.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I’ll get some sent up right now. I think I’ll get some chocolate covered ones for myself.”

Her phone buzzes. She picks it up, and.. “What? There’s more stone monsters?? Pollen, what’s going on?”

“My queen, did you purify the akuma?” Pollen chirps.“Was I supposed to do that?” Chloe asks, starting to panic.

“No, no! That was Sir Coccinelle’s job. You did everything right, my queen. We can figure this out in the morning, it’s getting late. Get some sleep, my queen. You did good.”

Chloe nods, trying to push away unease in her stomach. “Yeah… let’s get some sleep.”

Chapter 2

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

In an effort to be a good dad, Snatcher learns to make a really durable doll for Hat Kid to use since she was upset about not having a body. (I love all your writing by the way! ^-^)

Thank you for the request! It ended up being a bit angstier than I’d thought it’d be. Also, it’s in the same timeline as the Guilt and Therapy drabbles. Though, this one, like Guilt, ended up not really being a drabble. I got a bit carried away.

Haunted

Despite being both legally a father for just over a full year now and a ghost for three hundred something years, Snatcher had no idea how to console Hat Kid. He’d never seen her cry anywhere even close to this much before. But he couldn’t blame her for doing so; dying was a very traumatic upsetting experience.

The people from her home planet had finally found her. Snatcher had killed all of them, not even bothering to snatch their souls he was so angry. But he’d arrived just a tad too late. He’d still been in the middle of his rampage when her ghost had formed meaning he hadn’t even been there to protect her from the sight of her own body lying in a pool of blood on the ground.

So now all he could do was hold her while she cried into his mane. It didn’t feel like enough though. But… what else could he possibly do?

Eventually he sobs started to peter out and then stop completely.  Her grip on his mane even loosened some.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper. “I was too slow.” If he’d shown up on the scene even just a minute or two faster, he could’ve saved her. “I should’ve come sooner. I…”

“It’s not your fault,” she interrupted, letting go of him to move back and look up at him. “Don’t blame yourself, okay?” How was he supposed to do that? “But… you killed them, right? You made them pay for… for… doing that to me, right?”

“Of course, what do you think I am, kiddo? I don’t let people get away with hurting what’s mine, ever.” He’d set another part of the forest on fire while he was at it too but who cared? “And if any of them ever show up again, I’ll kill them too, okay?” He forced an evil smile for her.

She nodded as she wiped away the tears leaking from her now ghostly glowing eyes. “T-thank you. But uh… I… don’t want to be dead. I know you’re dead and so are all the Subconites so I shouldn’t complain but…”

“No, it’s fine. We’ve been dead a long time but we all remember what it’s like. It’s… rough.” And she was a child, making it so much worse. But a lot of the Subconites had been children when they’d died too – children seemed have a higher chance to turn into ghosts upon death, whether that was because it was extra tragic, tragic deaths being the most common deaths that led to ghosthood, or something to do with their souls was unknown, nor did it really matter. “You’ll get used to it eventually though… probably sooner than you think.”

Hat Kid made a soft whining sound in response, hanging her head.

“Is… is there anything I can do help you feel better?” Emotional things really weren’t something Snatcher knew much about even after going to therapy for half a year now.

“I… don’t know.”

“Uh… I could make you a body to possess. I did it for all the Subconites, it helped them some.”

Hat Kid perked up a bit. “Really?”

“Uh… yeah but… it won’t make you any more alive.” He needed to clarify that in case she got her hopes up. “It just makes you feel a bit better.” He’d tried it once himself, way back at the start, but he had too much power for a doll to hold, even a well-crafted one; it had completely disintegrated within an hour of him possessing it. He’d since just grown to prefer being a free-floating spirit. It wasn’t for everyone though, especially with how hard the initial transition to it was. So… “Does that sound good?”

“Uh… yeah, yes please. I want a body.” Hat Kid nodded, sniffling a little.

“All right. Give me a few days and I’ll make you one.” It wouldn’t be the same but her death already meant things would never be the same. They just had to adjust to this thing however best they could. She wasn’t gone and that’s what mattered most.

-

 At first he started knitting another doll much like the Subconites had except he planed to make it look a bit more like Hat Kid – since he only had to make one instead of hundreds, he could afford to spend more time on it and personalize it. But while he hadn’t had a choice in what to make the Subconites bodies out of since sewing and knitting had been his only relevant skills and he didn’t exactly have time to learn a whole new skill he could perhaps do so with Hat Kid’s doll.

The Subconites were made out of cloth and stuffing. Serviceable materials especially when laced with a little bit of magic but not very durable. They had to be careful about not getting too wet or too close to fire that wasn’t magical in nature. It meant they were the least dangerous things in the forest because they were literally plushies. He had the time to at least try to give Hat Kid something a bit more durable so… he should do it. What though?

It would still have to be a doll of some sort. Human shaped things were both easier and more comfortable to possess. Maybe he could try to carve a sturdy chunk of wood into the right shape, make it a bit like a puppet expect without the strings so it could move. Or maybe he could try to make her a body made of metal? Basically make her a Hat Kid shaped suit of armor to possess. That’d be nigh on indestructible. It was worth a try at least. If it failed, he could go back to the puppet idea. If that failed, a plush doll would have to do because it’d certainly be better than nothing.

 He spent all his free time with either Hat Kid, helping her through this difficult time as best his limited ability to handle emotional things would allow him to, or working on the suit of armor. As with most things, he had books on the subject to help him through the process – having a book on making plushies would’ve been so nice back when he had to make all those dolls for the Subconites but that had been before he’d started collecting books again. He had more control of his magic now too which also helped a lot.

The materials and tools he used to make it were stolen from Hat Kid’s ship or the wreckage of the ship the peck necks who’d hunted her down had used to come here. Working on it was actually a really good way to distract himself from how he could’ve and should’ve prevented her death. It also made him feel better about failing to protect because if this plan worked, almost nothing could ever hurt her ever again. … Ugh, the whole therapy nonsense was making him in tune with his emotions and motivations, gross.

Eventually the question had to come up though. “You… said you were making me a body,” Hat Kid asked one evening when he visited. “How’s that going?”

“Pretty good.” He couldn’t leave at that though, could he? He’d told it’d take a few days and he’d been working on it for about a week now. “I’m not making it quite like that Subconites’ bodies so it’s taking a little while. Sorry about that kiddo.”

Her face lit up with interest, good anything to help her feel less miserable. “Really? How is it different?”

“You’ll see,” he replied with a sly grin.

“Ah! But I want to know.”

“Nope, I ain’t going to tell you kiddo. It’s a surprise and no amount of ugly puppy dog eyes is going to change my mind.” Let her frustrated curiosity distract her for a bit. “I ain’t going to tell you when it’s going to be finished either.” Mostly because he didn’t know either. “That’s got to be a surprise too.”

“Hmmm… I’m real excited then. Thank you, you’re the best dad.”

He wasn’t and he never would be but… he was trying his best. That’s all anyone could ever ask of him, right?

-

 It took almost another whole week to finally finish it. It was… a suit of armor shaped like Hat Kid, the same height as when she’d died. The head had been the hardest but with a little magic and assistance from a Subconite who’d been a smith when alive, he’d gotten it about right.

Next, he sewed clothes for it. Just like Hat Kid’s normal outfit except the cape he made looked like the ones the Subconites wore. He even put her hat on it after making absolutely sure all the blood had been cleaned off. Now all that was left to do was check to make sure it wouldn’t fall to shambles when Hat Kid possessed it. It shouldn’t, it was human shaped and suits of armor were the second most possessed thing after dolls but it was still possible.

“Yo kid,” he said as he popped in on Hat Kid playing with some of the Subconites. “I got a surprise for you.”

Her face lit up with excitement. “Is it the doll you made for me?”

“Bingo! Let’s go.” He snapped as he transported them through his pocket dimension to the hidden room he’d been making the ‘doll’ in.

Hat Kid let out an audible gasp soon as she saw it. “Really?” She turned her head back to look at him. “For me?”

“No, I made it look like you and dressed it up like you for one of the Subconites. I’m just showing it to you to tease you and be mean.”

She giggled a little, a sound he hadn’t heard from her in what felt like ages now. “Okay uh… how do I do the thing?”

“Just go up to it and slide into it. It should come naturally to you once you’re in the right position.”

Hat Kid floated over to hover in front of and then around behind it. She tentatively placed her hands on it shoulders. She faded into it and a second a later it jerked to life as if taking a breath, yellow light suddenly pouring out of its eye sockets.

“Oh, this feels… weird but in a good way,” she said looking down at her hands and moving them around, flexing her fingers. “Oh and I have legs again.” She marched around in a little circle, clanking softly. “This is so cool! Thank you.” She turned back to face Snatcher. The metal face was weird to look at and the mouth couldn’t change from its soft smile but he could tell she was probably smiling internally wider than she had since before her death.

Snatcher allowed himself a small sigh of relief. It had worked and wasn’t falling apart and she was happy again. “It’s whatever,” he said, trying to wave it off as not a big deal because he didn’t want to talk about how hard he’d worked on it or why. Emotions weren’t his thing.

She wasn’t having that though. She ran over and hugged him tight. “I love you dad.”

He flinched. She’d never said that before, she’d implied it plenty of times but never outright said it. “Uh…” He patted her awkwardly on the top of her hat. “I uh… um…”

“It’s okay,” she said as she released him and stepped back. “You don’t have to say it. I know you do. You wouldn’t have made this for me if you hadn’t.”

Snatcher looked away. “Let’s uh… go show all the Subconites, huh? I’m sure they’ll love it.”

He brought them back to Subcon Village and moved back to let her run around and show everybody. It needed a good stress test anyway. So far it seemed he’d done a good job though.

For this drabble event.

[lov3nerdstuff]

I Found {Part 3}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 3/8

Words: 3.3k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream​

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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Without wasting another moment, you stepped into the dark, freezing lake. Loki could tell by the sound of the water parting, and by the way your breathing hitched ever so slightly as you walked further and further. He should stop you, prevent you from willingly trying to speed up your own death… but he couldn't.

There had been a time when, to him too, death had seemed very much preferable to submission, to shattering, to a life in silent torture. So he would do you the favor and let you escape in this sinister way.

He wouldn't dare looking at you now, and he didn't need to, as the echoes of your movements gave him a clear enough picture of what was going on.

"Well, aren't you quite the gentleman, Loki?" Agatha chuckled as she stepped into his line of sight, carrying a pile of folded fabrics. Honestly, he was glad that she drew him out of his mind, out of the darkness and confusion.

"I'm following orders." He replied calmly, finding it way easier to keep up his facade when talking to her than when addressing you. "The king will have the head of anyone who dared to look."

"Oh, I'm certain the king would have your head if he knew that you are still here in the first place."

"Likely."

"Then why are you?" Agatha asked with a small smile, in an almost teasing manner that made Loki wonder yet again if she could see right through him or if she was just trying to mess with him.

"I can't have her running away. That would put a bad light upon me, and I will not have that." He lied, keeping his head high and his eyes fixed on Agatha alone, even though he heard you coming back to the shore in uneven steps.

While you got dressed he still looked everywhere but at you, until finally the rustling of fabric had subsided and he felt it was safe to focus on you once more.

"That's hardly suitable for the low temperature of these caves." He blurted out immediately as his eyes fell upon the skimpy thing Agatha had made you wear, and the blueish tint your skin had gotten by now.

Damn his conscience yet again! Why was he still here again? Because his foolish legs wouldn't obey his mind, and his mind wouldn't obey his reason. And his reason was the only thing that had kept him alive down here for all those weeks and months.

"It is what the king has ordered her to wear." Agatha replied in a sigh, and Loki could tell that the woman thought as little of the king's choice as Loki did himself.

"But she won't be seeing the king until her… training, is over, isn't that the case?" He found himself arguing, following a small silver line guiding his conscience to a slightly less troubled place.

"Training? What are you talking about?" You frowned, teeth chattering as soon as you stopped clenching your jaw.

"True…" Agatha answered to Loki reluctantly, ignoring you for now and making you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. The sight almost made Loki smirk.

"I should just run and rip the damn dress apart in the process. I would get caught of course, but I would at least be entertained." You mumbled, staring down on yourself in disgust. "But then again… the dress rises my chance of freezing to death."

"I will not have you freezing to death." Loki stated certainly, and for once he didn't have to lie, as the sight of your shaking form became more and more unbearable. To hell with his plan of letting you escape into death… He couldn't let you die, maybe couldn't even let you come into harm's reach. His reasons for keeping you safe however were entirely his own, even if his behavior would give away the extent of his concern. With an annoyed sigh directed solemnly at himself, he conjured up a fur laced cape that he had worn one very cold winter, for it was the only thing he could think of at the moment that was warm enough to steal you back from death's cold hands. Loki wasn't in the mood for creativity.

Your lips parted in surprise, and your eyes widened as they fixed on Loki's hands and the slowly vanishing green glow along the silhouette of the cape. Was there no sorcery in Underworld? You surely looked like you had never seen magic before, and the sight did an odd thing with Loki's heart. He frowned it away though and held out the heavy fabric to you.

"That should keep you warm." He commented quietly. "And don't think about trying to freeze to death again. Or to end your own existence in any other way, for that matter. I prefer for you to stay alive and unharmed."

You nodded your head in silence, eyes still filled with awe and quite possibly shock, as you took the cape reluctantly and wrapped it around your shaking frame. It was way too large for you, but at least you might be able to use it as a blanket of sorts as well. Who knew where you would end up after this.

"How did you do that?" You finally asked in a breath, still staring up at Loki with wide eyes. It made you look even more innocent, and he hated it, averting his own gaze with a frown.

"I don't think you need to concern yourself with sorcery." He replied smoothly, not even with the intention to lie or belittle you, but simply because he didn't know what else to say. Loki was a man of many words and little truth, that was maybe one of his biggest gifts. The little truth he could give in this complex universe of possibilities was not for everyone to hear, and he thus used it very sparsely.

"I'm not sure the king will approve if he takes note of this alteration of garments." Agatha spoke quietly, but still let you wrap yourself up in the thick fabric.

"You may tell him that it was my doing. I will deny it of course, but you may tell him nonetheless." Loki answered blandly, then paused before he spoke up again quietly. "What is going to happen to her now?"

You frowned at Loki, but he kept looking at Agatha in a questioning frown of his own. Oh how badly he wanted to talk to you though, to look at you, but that would make things only more difficult for him, so he willed his mind to ignore you for now. A difficult task, considering his ever growing inclination to you.

"I'm taking her to the king's residential wing. Or more precisely, to the quarters of the… servant girls." Agatha told Loki in a calm and collected voice, and he slowly got the impression that the old woman might sport an equally practiced facade as he did. "The king kindly locks his toys away so that other men won't be tempted."

Loki snarled quietly upon that, considering his next words carefully. "Do you wish for me to see both of you there?"

"Why would I?" Agatha smiled innocently, and Loki could definitely tell that she was messing with him now. That old bat...

"But I may run." You said suddenly, to Agatha, only broken seconds before Loki would've turned to leave. "Can you keep me from escaping, all by yourself?"

"I'm afraid I cannot." Agatha mused with a curious expression. "But would you run?"

"Oh I may… You never know." You replied with a faint smile, glancing up at Loki for exactly as long as it took him to notice. His heart did that thing again. He couldn't bring himself to hate the sensation as much as his reason wanted him to.

"Well, in that case it would be irresponsible not to have Loki accompanying us." Agatha smiled at you, then at Loki for a short moment before she started moving towards the exit.

The three of you moved through the dark tunnels in silence, Agatha in the front, you in the middle and Loki in the back. He wasn't sure if he had ever been to this part of the palace, but he made sure to add it to the map of Underworld he was drawing in his mind. The tunnels got narrower, and the torches on the walls more scarce, while the echoes of their footsteps seemed to close in on Loki to make him feel highly uncomfortable. At least while in the light of the torches, he could see that you had finally stopped shaking and it somehow relieved him more than he had anticipated.

"So…" You spoke up all of a sudden, and Loki almost flinched. He simply couldn't get used to the silky-smooth calming-cool that was your voice… it made him shiver. Pleasantly, unfortunately. "Am I supposed to be scared now?"

Loki's brows furrowed the second you said that, and he wondered if you weren't scared for real or if you were simply very good at pretending.

"Most girls are scared at this point. Many cry…" Agatha answered as she plucked a torch off the wall and carried it in her hand as she moved on into the dark tunnel ahead. "But is it necessary, you ask?... No. The king will take good care of you and you will not miss a thing as long as you show obedience."

"And now the honest version please." You asked politely once the older woman fell silent. "Obedience is not my What is going to happen precisely from this point on?"

"Are you plotting to escape?" Loki asked in return, reminded of his own questioning session.

"Are you?" You shot right back with a small smirk, as he could clearly hear even without seeing your face. He remained in the silent knowledge that you were probably plotting something indeed, and he felt almost giddy to know what it was. By now, he was fairly certain that you were way smarter than you let on. Maybe that should've made you all the more scared.

"I am not to judge the procedures and ongoings chosen by the king himself." Agatha finally said, vaguely, waiting for a response.

"We understand. Your intention is informational alone, and we will understand it solemnly as such." Loki replied in the same tone, also in your best interest. He'd had conversations like this a million times back at home in the asgardian palace… it really was the same everywhere. If one wanted information from the servants, it had to be made explicitly clear first that no one was criticizing the royalty. Annoying procedural nonsense.

"I see you know your way around at court." Agatha smiled. "Very well. First you will be brought to your quarters, Y/n dear, and you will meet the other girls. Don't let them scare you with horror stories though… most of them are rather cynical by now and take joy in scaring the new girls."

"I'm not scared." You replied calmly. "I'll be fine."

"You say that now, but wait until you meet the king… You would be better off being scared of him indeed." Loki muttered gravely under his breath, and you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder for a moment, in silence. The light of the torches reflected in your eyes, sizzling flames mixing with your very own spark, but it didn't distract from the subtle message that stood out to Loki clear as day. You were scared indeed, probably a great deal even. But you were forcing yourself not to be, pretending not to be, creating an illusion for yourself to live in that maybe would make you believe your own lies eventually. Not at all unlike what Loki was doing himself. The only thing he didn't see was why you would show this truth to him, to the man who was responsible for your reaping.

"Anyway…" Agatha continued, and you turned back to look ahead of you, while the image of your almost glowing eyes, along with the knowledge there was so much he had yet to find out about you, remained with Loki nonetheless. "In two weeks you will be officially presented to the king, and he will decide if you are to be kept or dismissed. Until then, you will be instructed by the girls you're living with in the arts of submission and pleasing."

"That's all? Charming. Very charming." You sighed, in actually decently feigned confidence and annoyance. Or at least Loki thought it was decently feigned, for he only could tell you weren't honest in your indifference by the small moment of truth you had granted him. As much as he despised it, that one glimpse of your real self had him hooked even more now, and his poor stupid heart picked up speed as he followed you and Agatha through the dark.

They would arrive any moment now, and Loki would have to part from you, from this brief speckle of something he couldn't quite progress for once. Then he would go his way and you would go yours, whenever that may lead either of you. Most certainly not into the same, or even similar directions. The thought was yet again more painful than anticipated.

Sooner rather than later, Agatha came to a stop in front of a large winged door that was guarded by two men. They eyed Loki rather suspiciously, but didn't comment on his presence for now.

Agatha gave the guards some short instructions and a key, and they opened the door, revealing the dim light of multiple torches on the other side, illuminating a rather small cavern. Loki couldn't help peeking inside, being the inherently curious god he was, and his eyes landed upon some scantily clad, crouched down girls who were huddled together in the far corners. A rather miserable sight, really… His stomach was in knots in an instant, as was his conscience. This is where they would lock you up…? A dirty hole that was even colder than the rest of the palace? Surely this would break anyone's spirit over time… well, probably not his, and hopefully not yours either. He took a step backwards and looked to the dirty ground, making sure that he had the way to this hellhole memorized. Just in case.

"Well, dear, this will be your new home for the next two weeks!" Agatha smiled at you encouragingly, giving a good example of badly feigned confidence and joy. "Go on in."

But instead of going inside, you turned around to face Loki, unwrapping the cape from around your shoulders only to have Loki stop you in said action a second later.

"Keep it." He said a little too sternly, too commanding for his taste, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself at his ever increasing desire to protect you. "Like I said, I will not have you freezing to death."

"You really are being sincere in not wanting harm to come to me, aren't you?" You asked with a small and thankful smile as you wrapped the cape back around yourself tightly. It was so cold down here that the cape would keep you from biting the dust, but not from suffering of cold.

"Obviously." Loki replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable to have this conversation with two guards and one old bat around, eavesdropping.

"I have only ever heard the worst things about the king's reapers, to be honest. They surely had the same orders as you, to stay away from the girl they were bringing… But neither you nor I want to know what these caverns have seen happening in the shadows." You said quietly, and Loki felt the hair in his neck stand up once more. "So I will do the least I can and thank you, Loki, for keeping me safe up until this point. I may not know the reasons why such a decent man is willing to do such an immoral task, but I'm sure you will have your reasons indeed. I won't make it any harder for you, as I assume you are still here because of your bad conscience, and just leave now so you may forget about me." With one last half smile, you turned around and moved into the room behind the doors while all words died on Loki's lips. He had meant to reply something, but the words were tangled in his mind, a yarn of unease wrapping around his throat that slowly cut off his ability to breathe. And thus the doors fell shut behind you, being locked yet again by the guards before they handed the key to Agatha and left.

Loki frowned first at the door, then at the guards vanishing around the curve of the tunnel and finally at Agatha who stood smiling in front of him.

"You're wondering why they left?" She asked in amusement.

"I certainly can think of reasons enough." He replied quickly, his mind slowly rising up the facade again now that you were out of reach. The thought of leaving you here clawed at him, nagging at something hidden deeply within him. "You are the keeper. An old woman will not likely fall at risk to violate the king's property, as the guards may. Yet they were here for the instance of the door being open, to prevent anyone from escaping. Old legs won't run fast."

"My legs may be slow, but my mind most certainly is not." She rose an eyebrow at Loki, motioning for him to follow her into the direction the guards had left. Reluctantly he obeyed, for he didn't know what else to do anyway. No, he did know what to do! He was to collect his reward, was to come up with a plan, was to escape! How easily your eyes had made him forget… how easily your voice had unsettled his mind.

"So you're a sorcerer?" Agatha asked curiously as she led him through the tunnels. Loki didn't know where they were headed, but every new tunnel added to his mental map of the palace was currently very welcome.

"You could say that, yes." He replied in a sigh. What harm could she really do with the knowledge? He hadn't made a secret of it on his end, so why should he start now.

"Does the king know?"

"I doubt it."

"You don't seem bothered by the fact that I may tell him."

"Because I'm not."

"Why though?" She asked curiously, and Loki could hear the smile in her voice as she was yet again messing with him.

"Would you be bothered by me telling him that you feel sympathy for the girls?" Loki asked in return, intertwining his fingers behind his back as he walked next to her once the tunnel became wide enough.

"No. It's no secret, but a string of character."

"It is, indeed. As is my magic."

"You really are quite the intelligent young man." She chuckled.

"I'm most likely older than you." He mused, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eyes.

"Oh I doubt that, dear… A couple thousand years are hard to surpass." She laughed now, and Loki frowned upon her words.

"Pardon me, did you say a couple THOUSAND years?" He rose his eyebrows as he turned his head towards her completely. She couldn't… or could she?

"That is exactly what I said." She chuckled. "The people of Underworld grow quite old too, dear. Not just the aesir, or the jötunn in your case."

Loki stopped in his track immediately, unclasping his hands and standing up straighter on impulse. "What do you know of my heritage? How?" He asked, demanding and dangerously low.

Agatha came to a stop as well and turned around to him with a sincere smile, for once. "Your mother was right, you know… You really are a remarkable man."

______________________________

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[lovecanbesostrange]

myfawnwy replied:

As someone who never read...most...any?...comics, i feel like a lot of the individual movies would've benefitted of a little more...friendship stuff. but the avengers movies itself are mostly totally fine. there's just that much stuff you can cram in with a cast of...a lot of people.

So much yes. The biggest thing is obviously that “Civil War” should be counted as an Avengers movie and not a Cap movie, so we deserved a third Cap movie. I don’t dislike CW, but I guess that is where a lot of the tension on this subject stems from. It’s a huge crowd and we should have gotten Steve-Nat-Sam-Bucky alone a bit more first. And THEN turn it up. (Also I would’ve brought in Wanda to the mix; especially looking at the fall-out and where Infinity War picks up and you just KNOW there is some Steve-Nat-Sam-Wanda stuff missing, because they were on the run. Yeah, okay, a third Cap movie after CW, which then would’ve meant less Bucky, because he deserved his nap in Wakanda and some peace).

It’s why on my personal enjoyment level I rate the first two Thor movies way higher than kinda everybody else. Even though sure the story overall isn’t the best quality there is a team vibe. That for me is absolutely absent from any of the Iron Man movies, which are one man shows with side-characters.

And it’s something completely lacking for me in Doctor Strange. All controversies aside, I think the way they show magic is super cool, but when the best character is a cape... I keep forgetting Rachel McAdams was in that movie... because it was scenes following scenes, a way too sudden mastery of the magical arts and then... well... and it’s not just because there is only one movie.

It’s also funny that with Spider-Man they totally overshot in the other direction and making those films about Tony and his tech. *super heavy sigh* They connected something that didn’t need to be. (I’m also frustrated everytime my brain reminds me that Zendaya should’ve just played Mary Jane Watson instead of Michelle Jones to keep the MJ initials aaaargh)

To me it’s the most amazing how Captain Marvel managed to put Fury and Carol together and *boom* instant buddy action. 

[jcs-writing-hell]

MDZS Writing Game

Thank you for requesting, dear anon! Feel free to send me more anytime. It's gonna be a bit angsty but that's normal because I wanted to keep it a canon-ish like moment and not an AU like one.

Tween WWX x MY | Theme: Nightmare/Crying/ in the rain

Word Count: 1896 Check out my MDZS Writing Game - Requests open anytime

It hadn't been long since her husband had went on one of his many trips, that didn't end up anywhere, in search for his friends son. Even though Ziyuan understood - she also hated it. She hated having to see her husband mourn, only able to cope with it as she made herself recall time and time again that Fengmian had also lost his best friend and the boy both of his parents.

She disliked Wei Ying's mother - it wouldn't even be a lie to say that Ziyuan had wished Cangse Sanren death on numerous occasions.. However, she had lived with Fengmian for a long time now, she had known Wei Changze for years herself. He was a good man - good and kind enough to reassure Ziyuan secretly many times that Fengmian truly loved her,.. that Cangse Sanren had been nothing but a teenage crush, that there was never anything between Cangse Sanren and Fengmian. It wasn't even that she didn't believe Wei Changze, it was simply the first time that she had fallen in love and it went against her character so much to fall for a man she had been "forced" to marry. The fact that she did had already weakened her mentally, which only strengthened her furious side due to insecurities any women would have if her man would treat another women the way he should be treating her.

It was only with endless times of recalling all of that that Ziyuan was able to cope with the boy that was barely hanging onto life - Because on this last trip, she had told her husband not to go on, he had found Wei Ying. Maybe it was her fate after all to never be able to forget about the foolishness of falling for a man she could've just been married to as a business as well. She hadn't wanted her husband to lose himself in case he would find the boy, that she strongly believed held far more meaning for him than "He's the son of my friends", dead.

Wei Ying was in fact not far from death. He was thin, sick, barely conscious with quite the fever. It was hard to watch, even for Ziyuan - only due to the boy looking more like his father.

Like Ziyuan's mental state, the weather also began to go out of control. Fengmian was at the boys bed all the time, her daughter accepting the child fully while her little A-Cheng feared for the spot in his father's heart, already in an age way younger than when she had been forced to first feel this way.

It wasn't really storming outside their residence, yet it was pouring with rain. Fengmian had already gone to sleep, for the first time in days, and after hours of staring at her husband in an desperate attempt to finally kill the emotions that drowned her on the inside.. Yu Ziyuan left their - at the time still shared - bedroom. She wanted to drink, just to get away from it all.. yet as she walked through the halls and passed by a window, she faintly heard the crying of a child. It wasn't one of hers, even if she was cold and detached, she knew how her children sounded as they cried - she was a mother after all.

Going back, she got her purple cape before returning and stepping outside. It didn't take long until she could hear the first words, the voice of the child still unfamiliar as the boy called for his mom and dad. Walking around a tree, surely enough.. It had to be Wei Ying. Why did the boy have to wake up, walk outside, and cry and be found from exactly her?

,,Why are you outside? Do you want to die?"

The harsh way in which Ziyuan said her words caused the traumatised child - barely older than A-Cheng - to flinch and curl up further into a ball. Gritting her teeth, she spoke again a moment later with a bit more of a gentle tone, her patience about to run out.

,,Come inside."

,,Who are you..? Where are my parents..?"

Ziyuan raised a brow. The boy had lived years alone by then, he should've gotten the hint that his parents weren't going to return. With how the rain was pouring, even with Wei Ying looking at her, she had to do the last thing on earth she wished to do to confirm her guess. Leaning down, she put a hand on the boys forehead. As thought, Wei Ying was burning, he must be trapped in between of reality and the past, or maybe even a nightmare, due to a fever induced hallucination.

,,I am a friend of your father. I'll help you, come inside."

It was the first and last time that Madam Yu would show both empathy and honest worry towards the boy. A mere natural reflex caused from having carried two children of her own. As Wei Ying stretched his thin, weak arms out to her, she then picked him up and carried him back to his bedroom. When she turned to try and retrieve a towel however, the boy followed her, even clung to her drenched cape.

For the next 15 minutes Wei Ying would repeatedly ask Ziyuan where his parents were.. She didn't reply until the crying child sat on his bed and she on a chair that Fengmian usually used beside it.

,,Your parents.. they will not come back."

,,They said they were going to come back the next morning.. I want to look for them.."

Once more Ziyuan was forced to touch the child as he jumped off of the bed and tried to get back outside. Catching him, she lifted Wei Ying up and put him, again more naturally, down on her lap. The boy fought back for a while, yet she didn't say anything - what was she supposed to say? "I'm sorry"? Should she keep telling the boy that his parents wouldn't come back?

,,Did you know? Your father grew up here.. This was his home."

Wei Ying's head tilted back instantly. He had fought himself even more strengthless than he had been before, yet his tired and broken young eyes were so wide open and full of interest. Yu Ziyuan felt relieved, for several reasons.

,,He did..?"

,,You won't remember, you were too young.. but the man sitting beside you was like a brother to your father. Jiang Fengmian, he wears the finest purple robes and is the most handsome man you will meet. He is kind,.. and so soft in character."

Ziyuan paused, she couldn't believe she had said those words out loud, yet she did and as Wei Ying began to wiggle around on her lap she continued to speak in a tone so different to her usual one.

,,A-Li, our daughter.. She wants to meet you, she is just like her father in character. A-Cheng, my dear little boy.. he looks so much like his father, yet he is more like me."

,,I.. I remember.. not much, but a bit.."

The boys expression faltered somewhat, the faces and voices of his parents as blurry as most that he wished to be able to remember about his early childhood even as an adult.

,,Your parents must've told you.. Your father really cherished us. Yunmeng Jiang was his home. Even though your parents won't come back, Lotus Pier.. is your home, just like it was that of your father."

,,Lotus.. The flower!"

Wei Ying blurted out in a break Ziyuan took and for a moment she couldn't help but smile a little.

,,Making the impossible possible.. like a lotus that will always return and grow, no matter how dirty and muddy it's surrounding water might be.. That's how you have to be. Be a good friend, a hold and protection to A-Cheng, like your father was for Fengmian.. You can do that, you have the Jiang Sects blood, your father's blood, running in your veins. Yunmeng Jiang was the home of your father, it can turn into yours as well."

Somewhere in between of the last part of Ziyuan's speech Wei Ying had fallen asleep. He had sank against her chest, his breathing for once soft and steady. For a few minutes Ziyuan stayed still, or more tense and stiff, before she lifted her hand and gently put it on the back of the boys head. Her words barely above a whisper, one of her many secrets that she also had with her own two children - she was caring, but always when no one would notice the "weakness".

,,The Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang is your home. It has always been a part of you, it will always be.. Never forget that, Wei Ying."

-

It was another horrible twist in Madam Yu's fate as around two days later Wei Ying woke up. His fever was gone, he looked so much more full of life - as if he had found a new meaning or purpose for the duration of it.. Yet no matter how often their paths crossed, the boy clung onto anyone and anything but her. He must've forgotten, due to the high fever he had had. Yu Ziyuan didn't forget, yet she also never talked about that again. Nor about how she had put the boy to bed, remained by his side for hours before leaving as she knew someone would be awake soon and able to spot her. She never forgot, which was why, even if she came to dislike the boy even more, why even though there were so many terrible things he caused.. Each time he made A-Cheng or A-Li laugh, each time he protected any of them, she knew that even if Wei Ying didn't remember - a subconscious part of him did and that was all that mattered. That was why, even as she knew she was walking into her death, she had entrusted one of the worst memories of her life with the safety of all of her treasures: A-Cheng, A-Li and her home Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang.

It was the truth that Wei Ying had forgotten the conversation and all the moments.. But there were things he couldn't forget, deep rooted feelings he couldn't find the source for. That Yunmeng Jiang was his home, why the sect motto was so important to him, why he would've done anything for his two adoptive siblings, why Fengmian's character was so clear to him from the start. Why he never felt truly scared of Madam Yu,.. but more than anything, even as he was already married to Lan Wangji for years, Wei Ying knew and felt it so deep within him that his home - his true place to be, a connection he would never be able to let go off even in a million rebirths was the Lotus Pier of Yunmeng Jiang.

[fandom-meanderer]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Pt. 9]

Pairing: Batfamily x Reader

Part: (9/?) [First] [Previous] [Next]

Genre: General Fiction

Fandom: DC Universe

P.o.V.: 3rd

Word Count: 1,151 Words

Warnings: Gore

Further Notes: It feels good to pick up this story again!

—

The next morning was anything but normal in Wayne manor.

“Why am I here?” Dick wonder aloud. The entire bat family save for Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara sat at the large dining table. Alfred was seemingly happy to see everyone’s faces, despite their immense confusion. Bruce, tired from the night’s patrol, couldn’t care less. Tim was still trying to piece together how he ended up on the manor’s couch with a lingering warmth on his head. Jason was antsy to get back to the apartment, as was clear from his constant knee bouncing. And Dick just returned to the table with a plate of waffles.

“(Name) was here,” Damien says out loud.

The atmosphere falls silent. The older brothers shared glances whilst Bruce held a cold stare.

“Damien, what are you talking about?” Dick finally musters out.

“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about?’ she was right here!” Damien stands up from his spot. “We were talking to her, Jason even saw her first!” Jason quickly put his hands up.

“Okay, first of all, I’d know if I saw my dead sister, Damien.”

“She was here. She walked through the front door and greeted all of us! She… She even played with Titus for a bit.” Damien was on the verge of breaking the table. Finally, Dick stood up and placed his hands on Damien’s shoulders, lowering himself down to his level.

“Damien, we all know what yesterday was, it was (Name)’s death anniversary. And we’re all still—“ Damien shakes himself out of his grip and looks around the room.

“None of you… None of you remember,” he mumbles. Without saying another word, he grabs his backpack and storms out. “What the hell happened last night…?” Damien racked his brain, recalling the three figures in the garden who disappeared into thin air.

“Damien, come back!” Dick calls.

“No. If none of you are going to help me I’ll find her myself!” Damien slams the front door.

“What’s gotten into him?” Dick worries.

Damien ran around the streets of Gotham, not caring who he bumped into or who he shoved over, calling out for his sister. He still had so much to tell her. So many questions. And then it dawned on him, the two in the gardens that night, he’d try to find them first, and once he does he’d get his sister back.

“Hey, you.” Damien didn’t stop. “Aren’t you looking for your sister? I know where (Name) Wayne is.” That got his attention. He turned around and an unfamiliar figure stood behind him amidst the crowd. No one noticing him, yet still making way for him. He was dressed neatly, yet he also seemed out of his time. A pocket watch hung loosely from the pocket of his lab coat and in his gloved hand, with his round golden glasses reflected the sunlight. His graying head was the only physical defining characteristic of his.

“What’s it to you?”

“I may have some information you would want to know, all free of charge,” the man plastered a sinister smile. Damien thought for a moment, before nodding slightly, following the man into a nearby cafe.

~

(Name) wiped the blood from her sword, examining the beast that lay at her feet. It was eight feet in height, had to at least be two hundred pounds on muscle alone, maybe an extra fifty with its thick brown fur. It’s glowing red eyes dimmed to black as it took its last heaved breath, and it’s razor sharp teeth, stained red with blood, made one last attempt to attack. The Captain looked down in pity, but nevertheless used her heavy boot to grind its skull into the ground, coating the black material with an obvious red. She pulled out the crystal around its neck and watched it morph into a person.

“That’s the fifth one this month,” she murmurs. Alex walks up to her. “ID him then add him to the list. I’m going to go check with Louis and see what he’s found.”

“It’s going to be a bit hard to ID him without a head, darling,” Alex scoffs. (Name) glares at him and he sighs. “Alright, alright, I’ll go check on the status of what these crystals are while you do that.”

“There’s something going on, Alex, and I think I have a feeling, but I don’t have proof.”

“I agree, these attacks seem less random, and more planned. As if they were experiments of a sort.”

“I should’ve known you would’ve caught on too. Every attack has been in a certain radius, and all in small remote villages, specifically ones that are far from RG stations. And the way they’re spread out makes it difficult to locate a base of operations. But regardless, whatever this is,” (Name) nudges the poor soul and holds the crystal up to the moonlight, “it’s not of this world,” (Name) explains. She crouches down and rolls the man on his back.

“I’m going to have to call an old mentor of mine, he’s from our Earth but… he can be trusted,” Alex ponders.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You might even know him, darling. Considering your father’s identity.”

“I swear to god if I see Superman fly in—“

“I assure you, Mr. Kent will be far from here,” Alex laughs. “Regardless, if we’re lucky he’ll be in by tomorrow.”

“If we’re lucky?”

“We’re not the only universe that requires his services,” Alex shrugs. “There were quite a few times he worked with your father if I’m correct.”

“Hm, so he’s not a regular member of the Justice League then. I doubt I’d know him then.”

“No, not quite,” Alex shakes his head. “He’s a magic user too, you’re more on the physical side.”

“Ugh, using too much magic makes me sick,” (Name) gagged slightly.

“I recall that the last time you tried to transfigure something you threw up your entire breakfast,” Alex laughs.

“Do not bring that up,” (Name) hissed. “Anyways, your mentor, who is it?”

“His name is—“

“Captain! Lieutenant!” A soldier runs up. “You’re going to want to see this,” he huffs. (Name) and Alex exchange a glance before running up to the village.

“What the hell…” (Name) watches as ten more beasts rampage through, leaving behind chaos at every step. Many houses were or were already burnt to the ground. Without removing her gaze from the mayhem, the Captain stated: “Get the rest of special operations in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is a Level Seven attack, no threat to the royal family, and with multiple casualties. Tell the others to pull back once back up gets here. Alex, take the B7 squad and focus on rescue. I’ll hold them back for as long as possible. Clear?” (Name) gripped her silver sword in her hand.

“Crystal, Captain. Good luck.”

“You too.” With the flick of her scarlet cape, the Captain charged into the flames.

Tag List: @loxbbg @holymotherofchickennoodlesoup @ijustwannabecanadian@oneshots-galore @xapham @peqchynero @sono-sakana@theroyalbrownbarbie @audioshoes @allycat4458 @izzy28901

[damian-dreamz8442]

5x’s Someone Used the Mom-Arm on Damian, +1 time He Did

A bit screwy when it comes to following the canonical timeline but you know what? I do what I want!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some angsty, mostly fluffy, just a bit of batfam fun starring my favorite baby bat! Might be a tad OOC but it’s my first go with all these lovelies and I haven’t gotten the hang of them yet. Give me tiiiiime. 

(Really hecking long. Did not mean for it to be so long. I am so, so sorry.)

i.

Jason worked alone. It wasn’t that he was broody and in denial like a certain someone - not mentioning names - he actually had a reason to work alone. He didn’t go on nightly patrols to keep up appearances. He didn’t drive around in a heated, leather interior, Jason mobile. He didn’t even have a butler who knew first aid. 

Jason’s missions were dangerous, and often times traumatizing. You can imagine why he would be on edge when a freaking ten-year-old with an attitude showed up on the rooftop of one of his stakeouts. 

“Absolutely not.” Jason hissed, grabbing Robin’s shoulder. Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Tt, please. You have no say in the matter.”

“Like hell I ‘have no say in the matter’. You’re going home right now or, so help me, I’m tying you to that A/C unit. Don’t you have homework? Or normal ten-year-old activities to attend to?”

“This mundane drug-cartel stakeout is an activity fitting for me, my age having nothing to do with my abilities.”

Honestly, would it kill the kid to use some contractions? His full-word responses were giving Jason the impression he was a robot and not his “baby brother”. Speaking of family...

“Where’s Batman? Isn’t he supposed to be looking after you?” Not me? Damian looked away, and it sort-of almost broke the shriveled remainder of Jason’s heart. So Bruce was still a moron. Good to know. 

“Alright kid, stay close.” Jason tried not to notice the way Damian visibly brightened, and then did his best to by hyper-focused. He no longer was suspicious of Damian being a robot. He was just a kid. 

Suddenly, there was movement. There was movement in the warehouse owned by a notoriously dangerous drug-cartel that wasn’t supposed to be making any moves for a few more weeks. Of course they had to move up their schedule. Of course Damian had to fight with Bruce tonight and warrant Jason’s pity. Of course Jason was an idiot, as Damian was already off like a shot. 

Jason sprinted after him, using every curse he knew - he knew enough to keep rambling them until he was close enough to snatch Damian by the scruff of his neck. 

Setting the fighting ball of fury back on the ground, Jason assessed the situation - Dick would be so proud. “Alright, we have to go check it out, but be quiet.” Damian geared up to rush off again before Jason even finished his sentence. Without thinking, Jason’s arm lashed out, it would’ve clothes-lined the kid if they weren’t so close together. As it was it caught Damian in the chest and he let out a whoosh of air, both arms wrapping around Jason’s. He looked up at him, almost-glaring. 

“Quietly, and together.”

ii.

Dick did not like to admit it, but he’d never been the greatest driver. When he donned the cowl, worrying about learning to drive the batmobile hadn’t been his biggest concern. In fact, it wasn’t even on his list of concerns. It wasn’t even on his list of concerns for another time concerns. 

“I’ll drive.” Damian, the adorable little gremlin announced as they put on their costumes. Dick looked up, looked at Alfred’s incredulous expression, and then back at Robin. 

“Absolutely not.” It should’ve gone without saying that Damian was far too young to drive a car, not to mention the batmobile. It had missile launchers while most cars had seat warmers. 

“I can drive.” Was this a serious argument? Damian was making his way to the vehicle and Dick worried that if he didn’t say something soon the little boy would just hop into the driver’s seat. “No. No! Damian, I will be driving.” Dick rushed to put on his other boot, stumbling to catch up. 

Dick was wondering if maybe he should’ve let the kid drive. Damian could barely see over the steering wheel, but he’d probably be a better driver than Dick. 

The batmobile unintentionally drifted another corner, nearly going up onto the sidewalk. A white van of gun-toting penguin goons got further away. Dick was white-knuckling the steering wheel, Damian was seething silently. 

Dick could do this, he could. 

Suddenly, the van lurched to a stop at the edge of the harbor. Dick had been too focused on keeping the car on the road, he hadn’t noticed the asphalt change to wood. He slammed on the brakes, car skidding on damp wood. Why was everything in Gotham always damp? 

Dick’s arm shot out protectively, clamping across Damian’s chest. He knew he was wearing a seatbelt, but couldn’t help the need to make sure he was ok and not flying face-first through the wind screen. 

When the car finally stopped, the brothers shared a look. Damian shoved Grayson’s arm off him with a glare. 

“I think maybe I should drive.”

iii.

Cass looked up from her book only because the noise in the other room had reached a volume where it was impossible to focus on anything else. She didn’t bother hearing the words, just the voices. Ah, Tim had come home. And he was already fighting with everyone’s favorite gremlin, Damian. 

Bruce wasn’t home yet, Alfred was as busy as always, and Duke was probably still at school. Wait, it was a Tuesday. Duke had tutoring today - he’d gotten involved in a mentorship program with younger kids at his school. The other boys would not stop teasing him about following in Bruce’s footsteps, or how they wouldn’t be surprised if he brought home his own Robin. Cass was proud of him. 

That did not change that two of her other brothers were arguing at the top of their lungs and making it impossible for her to read, or reflect on her other family member’s achievements. 

She got up and approached the living room without making a sound, stopping in the doorway. Damian and Tim were yelling, Tim’s arms were in the air, Damian’s cheeks were turning a frustrated shade of pink. She was about to say something diffusing when she saw it. She knew the signs well, was trained to watch out for them. Trained to do them herself. 

Damian squared his posture, leaned on his dominant leg, and slid his left foot out no more than an inch. Tim was still in full swing. Cass shot forward faster than Damian could. She could not bear the thought of hurting her baby brother, but her arm shot out instinctively. 

Damian, who had been in mid-lunge for Tim, was caught square in the diaphragm by Cass’s unmoving appendage. He let out an oomph and fell back onto the carpet. Tim started in surprise, taking in Cass’s sudden appearance. 

“Wow, thanks Cass!” He said, but Cassandra had no use for words. She took in Tim’s casual body language and relieved expression. Then she looked at Damian. He was still on the floor, it had already been five seconds - his average stand-up time. His whole body was tense, controlled, not coiled. He was looking at the floor, his face was still red. 

Oh. Oh no. 

Cassandra’s stance fell and she crouched in front of Damian. He eyes were welling with tears. Maybe she should’ve listened to what Tim said in that argument. 

Tim noticed Cass crouching, staring. “Uh, Cass...?” Too late, she’d already bundled the boy in her arms and stood. Tim took a step back, arms coming up to shield himself from the inevitable next move. He waited for Damian to attempt to break away from Cass, to lash out kicking and screaming, maybe even biting. 

To everyone’s surprise - except Cass, she was never surprised - Damian curled into his sister’s shoulder. She nodded at Tim before moving to leave. 

“No more fighting.”

iv.

Bruce was finally settling back into normal. Well, nothing in Gotham was normal, especially if you were secretly the most well-known vigilante in the city. But, normal to him. 

He was no longer ‘dead’, Dick was no longer ‘dead’ and visitng Gotham regularly, Tim and Duke had settled in to living together with their littlest brother and, oh yeah, he’d gotten Damian back. After months of work and tireless efforts, he could finally hold his baby boy in his arms again. He could ruffle his hair in passing, compare school photos to his own as the boy got older, and bundle him up in a hug when he had nightmares of him being dead. 

And Damian was here, with him. He wasn’t going to be another Jason, another loss of a beautiful soul. He was sitting right next to Bruce on the couch, pencil skittering across a page of his sketchbook. 

Still, it hadn’t been long enough for Bruce’s fears to dissipate. In fact, he doubted they ever would. He would be over-protective of Damian for the rest of his life - even if the young man didn’t want it.  

Breaking the silence, there was a bang at the window. Damian started before setting aside his sketchbook to go check what it was. It was probably Alfred - the cat. Still, images of horrible things went through Bruce’s mind. 

Talia, there to steal Damian away permanently. 

Assassins, back to finish the job. 

Even just a robber taking advantage of a large house smelling like money, who had the element of surprise and a gun. 

Bruce was up before his brain knew what his legs were doing. His arm lurched away from his body, stopping Damian in his tracks. The poor boy walked right into it, rubbing his ribcage with a puzzled expression. 

“I’ll check.” Bruce offered as explanation for the offending appendage, leaving Damian by the couch and pulling back the curtain. Bruce finally let out the breath he was holding at the sight of the fluffy cat on the windowsill. 

v.

“Slow down, don’t rush into things!” Tim hissed, firing his grapple after Damian. He could see the yellow underside of Robin’s cape land on a building ahead of him. 

Tim was more experienced at Gotham thugs, he didn’t blame Damian for not noticing it. Damian was young, and probably trying to prove something to Tim. He was obsessed with proving his worth. He didn’t take the time to smell the air. 

The standard Gotham smog was thick with the smell of burning gasoline. There were promising tendrils of smoke from the building diagonal to Damian. The building he preparing to grapple too. Oh geez. 

Tim ran, he was just fast enough to stick out an arm and block Damian from running forwards and leaping off the edge of the building. 

Damian ran right into his arm. Tim had been expecting him to barrel through it for some reason, maybe because he was so good at fighting or had such bravado. Instead, he reacted the way all eleven-year-olds did. He was knocked back with a grunt, nearly falling over. 

Tim blinked at the strange display of childish behavior as Damian stuck his arms out to regain his balance. He hadn’t even exerted any force on Tim’s arm. His glare after that display lacked any heat, and it was kind of adorable. 

“Damian, pay attention.” Tim gestured at the on-fire building. Suddenly, there were sharp popping and cracking sounds from the smoky warehouse. Tim’s full attention was on it now, and he pulled up the specs of the address. 

It was an old office building but had been abandoned after one of Joker’s attacks damaged the structural integrity. There were signs and bars on every doorway marking it for demolition. He looked over and saw Damian was already doing a read for heat signatures. 

He was, for once, proud of his brother. 

Then Tim noticed something on the specs. The building had an old built-in heating system, attached to a gas-powered generator on the third floor. Hoo boy, it was going to blow. 

After a rather loud bang, Tim acted. For once he didn’t plan out every bad thing this next action could cause. He lunged, using the arm that had still been hanging in the air slightly in front of Damian to grab his little brother and pull him against his chest. He then ducked and pulled his cape around them. Before Damian could recover from the surprise, the building exploded. 

Tim could feel debris bounce off him, though not much. Heat bit at his ankles. Nothing broke through his cape barrier. One hand braced on Damian’s head, he tucked the boy suffocatingly close. Damian didn’t move until the blast had dissipated. 

When it had, Damian shoved hard on his brother’s chest and made a display of brushing himself off. Tim didn’t miss how Damian’s attention was actually on him, quickly assessing him for any injuries. He had none. 

Tim was proud of his brother, for a second time. 

+ (vi.)

Damian did not get along well with most of his siblings, so when the opportunity arose to spend time with one he had actually grown to respect, he took advantage of it. Alfred’s suggestion had made him excited in a way that Mother would’ve thought shameful. Damian did his best not to think that. 

He was nearly bouncing in the backseat of the buick, looking out the window without actually seeing. 

Duke and Damian did not get along when they first met. However, Duke made it clear he was not Robin, nor trying to replace Damian. He was useful in a unique way. He fit in at the manor. He respected Bruce, he even seemed to respect Damian. 

Damian wasn’t so sure he was liked by Duke, but respect was enough. At least, it used to be. 

If respect were enough, would he be listening to Alfred’s show tunes on his way to pick Duke up from school? 

They pulled up to Gotham Academy to see Duke walking out, the bell having just gone. Damian nodded at Alfred’s timing. One of his favorite things about the man was how he always managed to have perfect timing. 

Damian found himself getting out of the car, dangerously close to waving at Duke. Duke saw him and... was that a smile? Damian let out a breath of relief - he’d momentarily been afraid Duke would not be happy to see him. 

When Duke reached him, they were interrupted by a group of teenage boys yelling at them. It took Damian a moment to realize they were yelling at him. 

“Duke, I thought you had too much self-respect to get in a car with some spoiled little rich kid!” Yelled one. Rich? Yes. Spoiled? Well, only recently. 

“The brat’s probably illiterate since he’s too much of a coward to go to school!” Damian knew several languages and was already 3 grades ahead. Couldn’t they think of any better insults?

“Little arabian bastard, did they actually do a DNA test on this one?” Ok, that one stung a bit. Damian was preparing to get back in the car and bristle, perhaps vent to Grayson later. He was not prepared for a low growl to come from Duke. 

“How. Dare. You.” Thomas hissed. Damian turned back to look at him, he was positively seething, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Come on Duke, why hang out with the petty little brat?” 

Duke lurched forwards and Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he actually preparing to defend him? Damian copied a move he’d learned from the rest of his family to diffuse a situation. 

He stuck out his arm, though it only caught Duke in his middle, he looked down. Successfully diffused. Damian was impressed with the immediate effect. 

“They are not worth it, Thomas.” 

Duke nodded and followed Damian into the car. Then he grinned. 

“Back there... you... did you just mom-arm me?”

“What-arm you?!”

Alfred restrained laughter the rest of the way home at Damian’s facial expression while Duke explained the reasoning and use behind the ‘mom-arm’.

[madelainesvixens]

Sweetvee 41&61

I’ve been working on this one for four nights, I hope you like it, xx

Please continue to sent requests from this list of prompt!

41. “Who the hell do you think you are? My dad?”

61. “I’ve had enough.”

.

It was mid December when Veronica Lodge walked in the Whyte Wyrm looking, white snowflakes covering her black cape. She removed her hood and kicked the snow off her heeled boots. Her dark brown eyes scanned the bar, searching for a familiar blonde head but, she wasn’t present.

The raven haired girl sighed discouragingly. She had been searching for her best friend all night and the Wyrm was the last place on her list.

Where are you Betty?

“I think your chauffeur took the wrong direction.”

“Excuse me?”

“Northside is opposite way, Princess.”

Veronica turned around, catching sight of a very tall Serpent. “Sweet Pea,” she acknowledged.

“Mobster Princess.”

Usually, Veronica would’ve chuckled at the dark humor but, not tonight. Her night had been eventful and she didn’t have the heart for a laugh.

It took Sweet Pea one glance at the rich girl for him to catch on that something was up. He gave his cue stick to another Serpent and made his way over to her.

Sweet Pea wouldn’t call her a friend but she was definitely not a stranger. He had seen her before in the halls at school and at Jughead’s birthday party and always thought she was an uptight rich bitch that didn’t think farther than the tip of her nose. It was the vibe he got from her. His opinion changed when he found her crying in her fancy dress outside the school at Homecoming.

The reason of her tears: Archie Andrews.

That idiot had been making out with Valerie Brown backstage after his musical number and Kevin had caught them. Being the loyal friend he was, he immediately told Veronica about her boyfriend’s tongue jumping the fence.

Sweet Pea had sat with her on the cement stairs and let her cry on his shoulder, his unfinished cigarette crushed by his feet. He wasn’t good at comforting people and had no idea what to do but he couldn’t leave her by herself.

“Fuck him. It’s his loss if he want to trade a ten for a six.”

Later than night, they ended up hooking up in his trailer.

“Is everything okay?” Sweet Pea stood in front of her, raising a worried brow.

Veronica looked up and smiled tightly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Bullshit.”

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it. He already knew she was lying.

Eyes were on them as they stood in the middle of the Serpent bar. Her raven hair and the pearls around her neck gave her identity away. Or, maybe it was the fancy handbag resting in the crevice of her elbow.

Sweet Pea put a hand behind her lower back and led her to the bar, taking the attention away from them. “Want anything?” he asked her.

“The strongest you have.”

“We’ll take two shot of vodka and another beer,” he told Hog Eye.

The man nodded and poured their drinks, handing them to the young Serpent. Sweet Pea took the drinks in his hands and led Veronica to an empty table at the back of the bar. They sat down and Veronica immediately reached for the shot glass, downing its content without grimacing.

“What did Andrews do again?”

Veronica knitted her eyebrows. “How did you-”

“When is Andrews not the reason why you’re upset?”

“Thouché.”

“So,” Sweet Pea started, taking a sip of his beer. “What brought the mobster princess on snake territory?”

Chuckling, Veronica removed her cape coat, revealing a black top with an embellished collar. “It’s over. Archie and I. I came here in hope to find Betty but, clearly, she isn’t here.”

“Until when this time? Monday morning?” he joked, knowing Archie and Veronica always get back together despite their several breakups.

“No. I mean it this time. I’ve had enough. Archie is a boy, he’ll never change his juvenile attitude. We went on a movie date at the Bijou tonight and his phone went off during the movie. Moodkill, I know. I thought it was Jughead or his dad but no, it was a notification from Tinder. I almost let it slide because, maybe he had made a profile we were broken up and forgot to delete the app but then, I realized you don’t get notifications from people who swiped right unless you pay for the app. So, he’s still paying although we are dating. You’re probably thinking he’s done fucking up for the night but, listen closely, it gets worse. He opened the damn notification right there, in the middle of our date. This is totally unacceptable. I was furious.”

Out of all the shitty things Archie has done, checking Tinder during a date was probably the worse. It was beyond disrespectful toward Veronica - his girlfriend. To her, the betrayal hurt more than all the times he cheated on her behind her back. At least, then, she didn’t have to witness her boyfriend smiling at whatever that bitch on the other side was writing.  

“Andrews really surpassed himself this time, uh.” Sweet Pea laughed at the Bulldog’s lack of brain, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he opened Tinder right in front of you. It’s like he’s silently saying you’re his side bitch.”

Talking about the beast, Veronica’s phone went off, Archie’s name flashing on the screen. She flipped the device over and ignored it. She tried to but, Archie didn’t get the hint and kept calling again and again which infuriated Veronica.

She sighed dramatically. “Oh my god, will he ever stop?”

“He might have orange hair, he’s not the brightest crayon of the box.”

Veronica stifled a laugh, smirk curving on the Serpent’s lips.

“This is it. He’s gonna have a taste of his own money.” She grabbed her phone and for a second, Sweet Pea though she was giving in and answering Archie’s call, she pulled it up in front of the Serpent. “Please, hold the pose,” she said, and snapped a picture, adding a cute filter and posting it on Instagram with the caption: ‘fun night with my new bae’, knowing Archie has her social medias notifications turned on. “Should’ve known not to mess with a Lodge.”

She knew Archie despised Serpents but, mostly their guard dog Sweet Pea. The two strong headed teenagers had gotten into quite a few fights together over the past year. Jughead had tried his best to keep the peace between the two clans but, he couldn’t do miracles. They even got souvenirs from their opponent. A scar below the eye for Sweet Pea and a chipped tooth for Archie. The rivalry between the two sides of town is nothing new but, ever since they merged the two schools together, both boys started a secret contest for the most powerful alpha and, needless to say, it didn’t impress anyone. If anything, it got them to spend more time together in detention.

“I bet if we go outside we’ll see him fuming from here.”

She watched as Sweet Pea took another sip of his beer, his shot of vodka still untouched in front of him. “Are you going to take it?” The Serpent hummed. “The shot.”

“I intended to, yes.”

“I’ll go get myself another round, then.”

The raven haired girl stood and headed to the bar to order more drinks. A minute later, she come back to she and Sweet Pea’s table with a crimson colored cosmo.

“I thought you were getting more shots?”

“It’s coming,” she replied with a fierce smile, glancing back at the bar.

Sweet Pea followed her gaze, seeing Hog Eye pouring what seemed to be tequila in several shot glasses which was much less forgiving than vodka. Both will get you drunk pretty fast; vodka will make dance on tables for a few minutes before ending with your head down the toilet while tequila will increase your bad decisions and you’ll wake up in the morning, having no clue what happened the night before.

“Not to pop your bubble but, I’m not drinking any more shots. I need to take my bike home.”

Hog Eye deposed the tray on their table and returned to the bar, flashing Sweet Pea a knowing look. The younger Serpent ignored it. He could bet his life that more than half the population of the Wyrm expected him to take Hiram Lodge’s daughter back to his trailer tonight. They’re all gonna be disappointed because it wasn’t on tonight’s agenda. He wouldn’t oppose to having sex with Veronica but, it wasn’t what she needed tonight. She needed someone to listen to her rants and change her mind from the ginger Judas that is Archie Andrews.

She shrugged, picking one shot glass and downing it before biting into a piece of lime. “More for me.”

“You’re not drinking all of this.”

Veronica scoffed. “Who the hell do you think you are? My dad?”

In true Sweet Pea fashion, he would’ve responded with a dirty comeback like: ’Not yet’ or ’No, but I can be your daddy if you want’ but, he didn’t.

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol isn’t the way to go. Been there, done that. You’ll feel like death tomorrow if you get shitfaced.”

Holding the Serpent’s gaze, Veronica tasted her cosmo. “Would you happen to have another solution to propose? I’m all ears,” she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she let her heeled boot crawling up Sweet Pea’s leg, stopping right by his crotch.

Sweet Pea hissed, grabbing hold of Veronica’s foot. “I wasn’t going to suggest it but…if that’s really what you want.” If she was looking for a rebound from Andrews, that was a role he’d willingly play. He had been looking for an occasion to bang her again ever since she left his bed the morning after Homecoming.

She grinned behind her drink, loving the grip the older boy had on her. One major thing she liked about sex with Sweet Pea was that he wasn’t afraid to be rough with her. Not too rough but just enough, something Archie was never willing to do.

Just like going down on her. The Bulldog was a selfish boy that clearly didn’t care enough about his partner to give her single pleasure.

Veronica wasn’t going to lie, the alcohol was starting to kick in, the mix of vodka and tequila feeling warm in her belly. She wasn’t drunk but, she had drank just enough to feel confident and sexy - more than usual.

“Shall we head out?” she asked, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Sweet Pea let go of Veronica’s foot and slide out of his seat, waiting for the raven haired girl to do the same. She put her cape back on and downed the rest of her cosmo. “Lead the way.”

[monomas-a-smug-bih]

Fantasy Au~

FANtasY Au please!! Bakugou’s and readers first meeting, maybe in a cave or something??? I have a bad imagination lmao

•••

The calming rain pitter pattered against the cloth of your long coat. You shivered, pulling the jacket lined with many buttons by its triangular collar, hoping it’d shield you form the unfortunate weather. Little dots formed on the dark burgundy fabric. You sighed, the big brown witch hat sitting atop your semi dry head cutting into your vision again. You felt ridiculous with it, not one bit understanding how your friend Uraraka could rock such a thing. But she’d caught you leaving her and Izuku to go searching in the rain, and offered you her hat for protection. You were on your way to a pretty secluded village, having to walk through rocky hills and find your way around bothersome valleys. You searched for a certain flower, Uraraka had talked about it being the most efficient healing herb to ever exist. So, you’d come to find her some and maybe steal a few for yourself. You’d heard the merchants there carried the plant, not only that but it grew wild near the place too.

A sudden shot of thunder rumbled in the clouds above, scaring you out of your skin. The lightning striking down into the earth warned you it was time to get out of the open. You started to jog, that mountain up ahead was bound to have some sort of shelter, right? The continuos thunder taunted you and the gray clouds seemed to roll your way like they were chasing you. You kicked into a sprint, eventually making it to the huge rock. After a short time of searching, you’d finally found a place in it that dipped in, discovering some sort of cave. It looked dark and deep, maybe even easy to get lost in, but the monotonous pitter-patter of water only seemed to get louder and annoy you to no end.

You’d sighed in relief, stepping in and sinking down against the stone wall to sit and finally relax. You shed your soaked hat and coat off, the absence of the rain digging into your shoulders making you feel weightless. But soon enough, a sudden weight threw itself on top of your shoulders in its place, interrupting your short relief. You swore you’d heard something, no, maybe even someone. But it was so dark and lightless deeper into the cave, you didn’t dare go any further in. You didn’t want to stray away from the dimly lit part by the entrance. But then you heard it again. Some kind of shuffling, then, as you sat quieter, a restrained yet faint heavy pant reached your keen ears. You froze, unsure of what to do. You edged a little closer, feeling for the walls of the cave, which seemed to dip into a smooth turn you discovered. Your ears focused, trying to block out the drips hitting stone and find the source of this odd sound. You sat still and listened. A quiet yet pained groan reached your ears, this person’s breaths were uneven and worrying. Maybe someone was hurt? Maybe there was drop off they didn’t see and they’d gotten injured and lost in here? You slowly got closer to rounding the corner, tempted as ever to light the lantern in you pack, but decided against it just in case. But what if they were some criminal only tricking you? What if they were a threat? You thought against that too, assuming hopefully that if they wanted or could kill you, they would’ve probably done it already.

But when you finally turned the corner, you weren’t so sure. You froze for a second, the mysterious individual forced themselves up against the wall sluggishly and growled. They were huge, but they seemed truly injured, looking like they should’ve been more intimidating but were too exhausted to do so. Thanks to the darkness, all your eyes could see was a giant blob of jet black, slowly shifting they’re weight off the wall, you got ready and changed your stance immediately. But alas, your attacker let out one last ragged breath, crashing onto the cold stone with a loud defeated thump. You straightened out, starting to breath again. That was close. You slid your bag off of your shoulders, hastily whipping out and lighting your lantern with a small chant you’d heard Uraraka use once or twice. A small flame emerged, emitting light on the menacing rock walls and the crazy person that’d seemeingly passed out at your feet. You scanned the room curiously, also finding a couple arrows that’d been snapped like twigs littering the ground. A little fearful, you shined the light below you and crouched down. Scrapes and battle scars littered the mysterious man’s muscly shoulders and arms, his wild head of ashy blonde hair looked slightly bloody and a little matted. You cringed and prayed he wasn’t dead, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for finding him like this.

“H-hello...?” You whispered, not gaining any reaction at all. You spoke a little louder, hoping the rain was to blame for no response. “Sir?” You assumed it was safe enough after giving him a speedy jab with the toe if you’re boot, leaning down and grasping a very sparingly armoured shoulder to heave the shirtless dude onto his back. Your eyes widened. Along with more fresh cuts and small slashes, his chiseled torso harboured two blood gushing wounds. One small hole between just above the front of his shoulder, the other in a spot above his hip and by his rib cage. Your head whipped to beside him, finding wooden arrows and figuring he’d probably removed them himself. You gritted your teeth and tried not to let the sympathy swelling in your chest get to you.

Setting down the lantern, the bouncing flame also revealed his muscly calf holding the last item, some stubby looking a knife a thief would use. Bloody hell, what had this guy been doing? You rummaged through your patchy pack for anything, finding some forgotten old cloth and a wrap of some kind buried beneath many charms and a couple of weapons. No potions though. You tossed it aside frustrated and let out a groan. Your gentle eyes lay back onto his unconscious figure, you crawled over and hovered a hand over his bare chest. Above your fingertips hung layers of bead necklaces, most of them red or organey tones, few of them were turquoise. The collar of his crimson cape was full of soft fluffy fur, which sat crooked enough on his figure to encase some of his right arm, leaving the rest of him almost bare. He wore baggy earthy toned pants, along with brown and heavy looking boots, lined with the same silver fur as his cape, they looked warm. Your eyes moved back up his figure, a hand moved to his forehead, brushing back his wild blonde bangs to reveal a surprisingly peaceful and smooth face. With all these wounds and his get up, you’d expected some roughed up scar-faced brute, but his features were handsomely sharpened in all the right places, and his skin felt even softer than it looked. You had to admit, this dude was ripped, you thought of what kind of warrior or barbarian he could’ve been- no, could be. He’s not dead, not yet. Your throat tightened, at the realization -right? You pressed your palm to his chest hoping, then decided you’d have a better shot finding a pulse by his neck. And you found one, sighing in relief.

Ok, what’s next?

You managed with what little you had, soaking your cloth in the rain every now and then. Then firmly pressing it to his injuries, doing your best to clean him up. You planned to use some of the healing magic Uraraka had been trying to teach you, though you hadn’t really mastered much yet. With your level of experience, you’d probably be lucky to get rid of a scrape or two, prevent infection, nothing major you guessed. But to your surprise, you impressed yourself, glad to test out your new skills you stopped the bleeding and closed the two main issues on his torso. Ringing out your cloth, you got up and trotted back to your corner in the cave. You’d done as much a you could for now, your energy already drained from your few attempts at mending the holes and shallow slashes. But you pressed on anyways. Still no response from mystery man though, which was probably what made you so uneasy at the next step. Your narrowed eyes landed on the knife jabbed into his calf, you’d better get it over with before your energy depleted completely, and it wasn’t like you could just leave it there.

Why were you helping this possibly dangerous stranger again? Who knows, but the rain hadn’t stopped yet, and you couldn’t just leave him to die trapped in here like this. You threw your coat on and rolled up your sleeves, trying to stall on the action you’d have to take next. You took a deep breath, and kneeled down to his injured leg, gripping as gently as possible onto the handle of the knife in his leg. You gulped, staring at the menacing thing. What if it woke him up? What if he freaks out? Would he kill you? What if- sick of all these ridiculous questions sprouting into your mind, you adjusted your grip, squeezed your eyes shut, and gave it a strong swift yank upward. Opening your eyes, you examined the dagger in your hand. The handle was a dark rouge, the blade was stubby but had a terrible curve to it, if it had been straight you’d guessed it could’ve gone all the way through. Snapping out of it, you went to lean forward to put pressure onto the wound and get ready to heal it, but something restricted your movements. You couldn’t. Your lengthy coat seemed to hold you back for some reason. When you checked to see if you sat down on it, you spotted a desperate hand, clinging on with white knuckles. Your eyes widened, his hand was grabbing handfuls of your burgundy jacket. Your heart beated rapidly,

he was awake!

Nervous, excited, and petrified all at the same time, you looked for his face, finding he was facing away from you. You watched his body tense, the pounding rain seeming to quiet down for a second. Your body froze, scared someone as strong as him would tear you to shreds for doing something like yanking a damn knife out of his leg. But a subtly pained yet angry voice cut through your thoughts.

“The f-fuck are you waiting for... cover it up already!”

You snapped back to reality and reached for your wraps and cloth, dabbing it down until it was clean enough to rest your palm on. His body tensed again, your hand’s presence probably hurt on the raw flesh, you apologized quietly. Your eagerness to wrap it deflated though, the remaining ripped fabric of his pants were in the way. Sheepishly, you rolled it over his calf and started wrapping.

Eventually you were done, but still itched to wrap his chest to cover those now semi-nasty wounds from the wooden arrows tossled onto the cool floor(along with the remaining scrapes and stuff). Your voice was meek,

“C...can you sit up?” You offered gently. His ash blonde locks russled like a spiky wild bush as his face turned to your form, observing your expression with narrowed and sharp rose red eyes. He glared, hesitantly pushing himself up onto his elbows sluggishly, bringing attention to his tribal looking sleeves. The man hissed trying to bend up the rest of the way. You grabbed his back to support him on reflex which earned you a weird look from barbarian. You pushed him up carefully, he scoffed.

“I’m not some damn infant, hands off!” You frowned in slight surprise, complying anyways. How rude.

‘A thank you would’ve been nice.’ you murmured, you gulped at the growl rumbling in his chest,

‘I. heard that.’ He aggressively muttered back. You sighed, grabbing your wrap once again. You looked up to meet burning ruby eyes.

“Some healer you are, who the hell even uses that shit anymore?” I mean, true. Typically people used potions or just tagged along with healers, much more efficient and generally easier... but you had neither a potion nor an official healer. This guy’s only been awake for minutes, and as beautiful as he was, truthfully he was getting on your nerves already.

“Who said I was a healer? I was just unlucky enough to get stuck in some cave with someone like you.” Oh he didn’t like that.

“HAH?! The hell’s that dumb hat for then?!” The grouchy blonde pointed accusedly at your good friend’s mage hat, forgotten on the floor beside your patchy ol’ bag.

“It’s a friend’s.” You deadpanned.

“What?!” You sighed, he sure was angry for being so tired only seconds ago. About to instruct him to lift his arms so you could wrap him up more, you catch him staring at you. You meet his fiery gaze, his ash blonde spikes of hair swished across his forehead enough to only partially reveal furrowed blonde brows.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you helping me for anyway?” You blinked, stumped for a second by the lantern’s pretty light dancing upon his cheeks.

“Y/n l/n, I...I know some healing magic and you looked like you needed help.” You said honestly. He sent you a perplexed look, and after some silence let out a huff. You casually placed a hand on his strong arm, guiding him to lift it enough for you to wrap him up. Through more curious and irritated crimson gazes, you managed to cover the arrow head wound tightly, wrapping over his shoulder and under his armpit a few times, then lower down by his waist for the second major wound. Seeing he didn’t continue and seemed content plainly watching you work, you interrupted by asking unsure, “And you are?” He frowned, making just communicating with you seem like such a chore through his tone and facial expressions.

“Bakugou Katsuki.” He practically spat. You furrowed your brows at his animalistic behaviour, ignoring it (mostly) and getting back to work. You glanced at him, his hard bored expression unwavering. Up until you placed a caring hand flat and pressed onto a place near his collar bone after brushing your fingers lightly across to find he problem. He barely winced but sent you another weird look about to retort, he almost looked flustered. You sighed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Just, let me focus.” You took a deep breath, trying your best to remember all the times Uraraka had muttered speedily to heal you and Deku. You murmured intensely but quietly, a faint green glow appearing from your palm to your fingertips. Your eyes fluttered open, you lifted your hand, and suddenly you eyes really really wanted to shut again. Your tired eye lids felt heavy and the space you were in seemed to spin. You managed to look up to Bakugou, only for him to turn to a blur as you fell forward.

“The hell?” Bakugou questioned, your form had shrunk and fell limp into his chest. He placed a large palm onto your shoulder, lifting you a bit to see your face, only for your head to lull and hang forward at the movement. “Mage-Lady?!” He thought for a moment, blonde brows furrowed in annoyance. “Y/n?” No answer. He groaned, this was even more inconvient than before. As if his day couldn’t get any damn worse, those fucking bandit idiots had surprised him and given him a hard time, then it fucking rains, and now after finally waking up he had to deal with some unconscious woman?! The so-called female seemed to come back a little bit, grumbling in pain and pushing away the best she could with a weak hand pressed to his ribs as she held her forehead.

“Ugh... I’m sorry...I guess I... reallyyyoverdid-“ You slurred, fatigue seeming to finally take over. Turns out you weren’t used to healing that much. The confused blonde watched your bright e/c eyes start to flutter, threatening to shut again. You fell again, but caught yourself this time, or at least tried to. Your hand latching onto Bakugou’s right hip and the other landing on his chest to hopefully stabilize yourself. The barbarian was flustered to say the least, but he blamed his cheeks flushing on irritation instead, annoyed with the whole situation. The bothered explosion-user cupped your cheek, grabbing your chin sternly to protest face to face. He growled and bared his canines angrily.

“Oi! Don’t you dare-...eh?!” His heart sunk, your lashes finally blocking you out from the outside world, you’d slipped back into a deep sleep. Your face easing into his palm made him feel oddly soft, your plump lips parting just above his thumb. He’d wound up in a cave way too close to some random girl he’d just met. Yeah she seemed somewhat generous and thoughtful, not to mention easy to look at but according to the people of his old tribe this sort of thing was reserved for those gross married couples, which made him more than uncomfortable.

But on instinct and out of surprise the young man pressed his hand to the back of your head and the other to your waist to keep you close, shielding you in his arms at hearing a sudden commotion outside. Large splashes and even larger and stomps from outside echoed into the cave. A reptilian roar loud enough to be heard through the fierce gloomy rain reached his ears, Bakugou’s tensed body and grip on your form relaxing.

“Fucking finally you stupid reptile!” He yelled out to the entrance of the cave. A crimson scaled mass appeared soon in front of the entrance, it’s humongous size forcing it to arch its long head down to squeeze into the somewhat roomy cave. The dragons horned head whipped to Bakugou with eager eyes, letting out another victorious roar at finally finding the explosive male. This caused a harsh gust of wind to fly through the cave, the rushing air running through his ashy hair and annoying Bakugou to no end. Before he could complain, he felt you twitch under his fingertips. You were trembling, shivering at how the new found chill seemed to eat away at your soft vulnerable skin. He huffed, thinking back to how dumbly you’d helped him without expecting anything in return, deciding to lean away from the wall to rip his furry collar cape from his back to place it onto you like a blanket. The seemingly friendly dragon’s voice rumbled at the sight of its owner, pacing over on all fours happily with its deadly clawed limbs clattering against the stone. Instead of harassing Bakugou with its usual insufferable nuzzles it stopped, surprised to spot a stranger in his arms. It walked over cautiously, rose red nostrils flared as it sniffed the sleeping girl. The horn on its nose poked at her head as it gave her a curious nudge, the dragon’s carmine wings nervously adjusted themselves. Bakugou exhaled irritated. “Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. She was just dumb enough to pass out on me...” He murmured, the anger melting away from his voice now that he was alone with only his familiar companion. He locked eyes fearlessly with the fiery-eyed dragon, reptile black slits seeming to thicken in relief, fangs showing themselves when it’s forked tongue lulled out of it jaws like an excited puppy. Bakugou scoffed at his excuse for a companion, securing you in his cape before shifting to carry you bridal-style, getting up to his feet and walking over closer to the beast. The dragon purred and walked a small graceful circle before laying on its side in front of him, looking to the boy with its tail straight instead of curled up expectantly. Bakugou huffed, brows furrowed, necklaces jingling as he got closer and plopped down cross-legged, placing you back snug to his chest sheepishly to ensure you got enough warmth to stay healthy, and that he wouldn’t need to pay you back in the future. He leaned casually back into the warm belly of the viciously sweet reptile, it’s thick tail lined with darker spikes curling around the two of you, it’s head lowering to rest near the end of its large scaly extension comfortably and protectively. The blonde sighed and looked down at your calm form, a little glad to see your shallow breaths had gone back to normal, before leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. His flame-breathing companion did the same, the air from its strong breath blowing out the dancing flame in the abandoned lantern nearby on the floor.

•••

[sulevinblade]

Hi there! May I request the prompt ❝ the last man standing gets final say on who is right or wrong. ❞ for Varevas? :)

THANK YOU! I’m sorry this took so, so… so long, but I hope you enjoy it! Varevas and an ensemble cast (Hawke, Solas, Dorian/light pavellan, Varric, Bull, Alistair), leading up to Adamant, ~1150 words, implied character death. For @dadrunkwriting!!

She’s not what he expected. Granted, he didn’t know much about her before this but he certainly didn’t anticipate that the famed Champion of Kirkwall would be a woman who barely cleared his shoulder but shook his hand with more force than Cullen. Her black hair hangs long and free about her like a cape and he can see in the way she moves and carries herself some genetic memory of the nobility her family once was, a history she never lived where she would’ve been the sort of woman to wear a cape.

She remains a wanted woman so he doesn’t get to spend a fraction of the time speaking with her that he’d like to at Skyhold, but every moment of downtime in the building of their forces for the assault on Adamant is spent reading through Varric’s record of their time together in Kirkwall. It makes his selection for his forward party at Adamant astonishingly simple, because he insists Hawke share their camp so he can pick her brain, learn all he can about her magic in the short time he has.

What he learns is that there’s a reason she’s the Champion of Kirkwall. Forces he can’t even see take him from his feet again and again, barely giving him time to get stable enough to cast a retaliation. When he finally calls an end to the spar, she’s there immediately, offering a hand to get him to his feet even as she smirks down at him. “I’m half afraid you’ll help me up just for the joy of sweeping me away again.”

“Not this time, Herald. I can only absorb so many wins in one day, my body’s not used to winning anymore. Try me after breakfast.”

They gather near the fire, or rather most of them do. Bull declares he wants nothing to do with four mages gathered for a chat this close to a fortress full of other mages summoning demons and Alistair is simply absent, but Varric joins them. He brings no paper or quill but Varevas still gets the impression their conversations in front of him are on record. 

He asks Matilde how she learned, where she draws from, how it all works, and Solas and Dorian are just as curious in their ways. She describes it for him: a centering of the mind, nothing as mystic as a vision but also not as external as elemental magic. It is, she says, a tribute to her sister, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. No need for lightning bolts or walls of flame or anything showy. It’s a simple matter of force and control; when you let out that much power, you have to be strong enough to balance against the recoil. Every action has its reaction, after all. 

Solas leans in, comments that while it might seem as though it’s all her mind, it’s actually her connection to the Fade that allows her to do this, but perhaps her methods might be applicable to the work Varevas is now doing to harness the energy of the rifts for his own use. It’s all a cycle that way, after all, but Matilde protests that it’s not and then she and Solas are on their feet, back to the same flattened area of sand Varevas had so recently gotten familiar with. At least Matilde has the decency to be honest in her motives. Solas claims it’s a scholarly exercise but Hawke shakes her head. “I’ve kind of been wanting an excuse to kick your ass, I just didn’t think I’d get one.”

He leans against Dorian’s knee as he watches them. Solas is terrifyingly fast and does manage to get the better of the Champion at points but despite this being her second round of sparring, Hawke is no slouch and more than once, Solas does end up flat on his back. It’s more raw magical combat than he’s even seen in his life; this simply wasn’t done in the clan, mages were too valuable to risk it, and despite his best attempts he remains unwelcome among the recruited mages in their work. Varevas has never been in the desert before, never sat in the sand by a fire with the hand of the man he loved on his shoulder, never seen magic like Matilde’s before, but this moment feels more like home than any part of Skyhold ever has. 

Hawke and Solas only stop when they hear hoofbeats. Alistair, back from wherever he’d gone, informing them their little light show could be seen from a distance and unless they wanted company, it’s best they call it a night. Solas stalks to his tent silently but Matilde winks at him as she crosses the circle of the firelight. “Feels good to be the last man standing twice in one night, and I’m not even a man.” 

In their tent later, he wonders aloud to Dorian if he thinks Hawke might join the Inquisition when all this is done. Dorian chuckles and wonders back if he ought to be jealous. “Not hardly, I greatly prefer the way you put me on my back, but you might be wise to be a little more scared.” He never thought of himself as a part of anything with his magic–if anything, it was isolating–but tonight was a little taste of what the Inquisition could really be, what a world where mages weren’t limited in number or liberty could look like at it’s best.

And then, well. At least one part of that future shows that she has other ideas. He can see her, smirking in a way that doesn’t reach her eyes, but she’s on the far side of a wave of force that’s taken both him and Alistair from their feet. It’s her specialty, after all, but this one is fired with intent. It was clear both the Warden and the Champion intended to offer to make this sacrifice, but with one spell the decision is no longer there for Varevas to make. He probably should’ve seen it coming, taken the hushed conversations between her and Varric more seriously, but it didn’t really matter now. He flew out of the rift, skidding to a stop and lifting his arm to close it without even standing back up. 

He can’t even raise his head when Varric comes to him to ask after Hawke. He can’t look his friend in the face and let him see how he’s failed. She did like to be the last man standing, but nobody can stay standing forever. Some force in the universe demands balance, and when Varevas finally stands again, he does it knowing that it’s only because somewhere else, she’s falling. Every action has its reaction, she’d said. She may have decided it was right, but here on the other side, he’s not sure whether he agrees.

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

MIRROR | ЯOЯЯIM: Chapter 7

Parings: N/A Characters: Patton | Deceit, Creativity, Logic Chapter warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, okay this chapter is where the “character death” comes in so you’ve been warned Word Count: 2892

Summary:

With nowhere for Patton to go, the only thing he and Deceit can do on the other side of the mirror is wait.

<=Chapter 1 | <- Chapter 6

Ao3 Link

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Back and forth. Back and forth.

Patton pulled his knees to his chest and sighed. How long had it been? He rested his chin on his knees and released a shallow breath. He trusted his family. They would return with Morality uninjured- at least hopefully uninjured- and get him back.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

With the way Virgil held him, how Roman rushed up to the mirror like his fists would break it, and how Logan refused to keep himself at a distance like he had in the past, he was sure they’d come back for him. They would.

His eyes darted up to Deceit, who started to walk a hole into the dead grass. Back and forth. Patton stood up from his spot at the mirror. Would Deceit want to be comforted? His Deceit pretended he didn’t want anything to do with the other sides, but Patton knew better. Everyone wanted love, whether they knew it or not.

Deceit stopped his pacing and stared off into the trees. Patton would love to hear what was on the other side’s mind at the moment. He took three cautious steps forward. Two colored eyes settled on him, and Patton cursed his own for landing straight on the scars on Deceit’s face. He imagined how painful that must’ve been. Deceit’s bravery cost him dearly. He also couldn’t help but wonder if there differences between this world’s sides and their own. Did Morality have freckles? Did Creativity bear the old scars over his chest? Did Logic have a birthmark at the back of his hairline?

“What?” Deceit asked and shook Patton from his thoughts.

“I-” Patton started and put on a friendly smile. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, but I want to pace myself because we’re not exactly…”

“Close?” Deceit asked. Patton folded his hands together.

“I know this Morality isn’t exactly nice-” the snort from Deceit agreed- “so I don’t want to, you know, make you uncomfortable.”

“Patton,” Deceit spoke then rubbed his arms. He looked away as if fighting with himself to reveal the truth.

“Take your time,” Patton spoke.

Deceit’s breath came out in a light laugh, and he stared back into the tree line. “I’m worried.”

“That’s a start,” Patton egged him on. “About what?”

“About Anxi- Virgil,” Deceit corrected himself. The name twisted on his tongue, but if this was the name his friend went by now, he’d honor him and use it. “I always trusted him to be safe in that world. Well, maybe not always, but I had to learn how to accept he might be happier there than he was here. And now, knowing that he could be hurt by Morality, I’m…”

“I’m scared too,” Patton offered. Deceit turned his head back to Patton, and the moral side continued, “I know I won’t ever really meet Morality, but if he’s as horrible as you said he is… I don’t want my family hurt either. We’re just going to have to trust Virgil knows what he’s doing.”

Deceit sighed and nodded his head. He understood Patton’s sentiment. The other side feared for Virgil as well.

“Hey, Deceit,” Patton continued.  He waited for Deceit to acknowledge him and changed the subject, “Creativity called you Confidence. Why?”

Deceit blew through his lips. He chuckled before replying, “Because as far as Morality knows, Deceit is dead.”

Patton furrowed his brow. Deceit watched Patton try to fiddle with a missing object around his neck, but they missed and played with Patton’s collar instead. He saw the questions forming in Patton’s mind, but the side was too polite to ask. Deceit smiled.

“I keep myself and a few others hidden from Morality, for our own protection. I mean, my job is literally to deceive people, and Morality makes up a lot of who Thomas is. If he got rid of me, that’d put the other sides he chose to ignore in danger. So, to keep us all safe, I changed my name and lied to make Thomas believe Morality was right, but now… I see I fed more into his cruelty than I would’ve liked.”

Patton listened to his words and smiled. Deceit tilted his head to the side as Patton spoke, “So you’re a hero.”

“Hardly,” Deceit rolled his eyes, “unless you call lying all day being heroic that is.”

“You’re keeping people safe. I mean, you kept Anxiety safe all these years. That’s pretty heroic in my book.”

Deceit chuckled. “I guess whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I think you’re a hero,” Patton whispered. Deceit blinked, and he shook his head. If he wasn’t the deceitful side already, he would’ve thought Patton was. There was no way someone could be that kind hearted. No one was that good of a person. At least, not in Deceit’s experience.

Patton rose his arms into the air, and Deceit rose a brow. Why were Patton’s hands held out toward him? Was that pose supposed to reassure him or something?

Patton’s gentle voice asked, “Do you need a hug? I might snake your day.”

“A hug?” Deceit repeated. Wait, was that a pun? He snorted through his nose. No one ever asked to give him a hug. Of course, he hugged Anxi- Virgil back in the day, but its sole purpose was to comfort his fri- oh. Patton thought he needed comfort. Deceit shook his head and responded, “No, I’m okay, Patton.”

The hurt look on Patton’s face confused him. Deceit shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he thought. Was this Patton’s way of asking for comfort himself? If he wanted a hug, he should’ve just said so. Deceit paused.

“Would you like one?” he asked.

Patton’s face lit up, and Deceit’s heart reeled. He never saw such a smile of pure bliss that didn’t include him being hurt. However, with how pleasant Patton's warm hug was before, he knew this would be just as nice. Slowly, he crept over to Patton. His arms lifted like lead balloons. Patton closed the distance on them and constricted his chest. Deceit staggered backward. It was a trap! Patton was crushing him! He was-

The warmth that spread from Patton’s own body soaked into his chest. Patton’s hands gripped onto the back of his cape, one cradling the small of Deceit’s back while the other supported his shoulder blades. Deceit could feel Patton’s heart pounding in his chest. Not fast, but with such a vigorous thirst for bringing joy that Deceit couldn’t help but sigh.

It was the most comforting and safe emotion he ever experienced in his life.

Deceit brought his hands up and slithered them across Patton’s chest. The other side melted deeper into his embrace. Cautious not to squeeze too tight, Deceit returned Patton’s hug. The audible sigh of content from Patton’s chest breathed life into Deceit’s heart. He couldn't help but smile. No wonder Virgil held onto Patton with such intensity. Patton was like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. With him in his arms, Deceit felt like he could take on the world.

He never wanted to let go.

Deceit lost track of how long they stood joined together at the chest. He acted on memory and stroked the back of Patton’s hair. Anxi- Virgil used to love it. Judging by the shiver of delight Patton emitted, he enjoyed it too.

“Is this okay?” Deceit asked.

“This is perfect,” Patton whispered. “Thank you.”

“Aww, if this isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. I might be sick.”

Deceit squeezed Patton a little too tight. He pushed Patton’s face into the crook of his neck and turned his head. Teeth grit, and Deceit scowled at the approaching two sides.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

Creativity clicked his tongue. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice you slipping into the Imagination?”

Logic adjusted his glasses. “You know, I recall Deceit saying he would not reveal the mirror to Morality, and yet here we are.”

The name stiffened Patton. Deceit failed to stop the moral side’s head from popping up with a sharp intake of breath.

Deceit took a hesitant step toward the mirror, pulling Patton with him to safety. The cold, reflective prison denied them from going any further.

“Please,” Patton spoke, but the sharp fury from both Creativity and Logic’s stare- one he never wanted to see on his own Roman and Logan- cut his words off.

“Morality, I can explain everything,” Logic spoke. There was a fear in his eyes, one he hid well but not well enough, that stiffened Patton’s body.

“You mean how you two drove… Anxiety through the mirror?” Patton asked. His words shook the other two sides.

Creativity’s laugh came out nervous. “I don't know how he did it, but he escaped through that mirror. Don’t worry! He’s completely trapped on the other side. No one can get in or out.”

Patton set his jaw. He knew it was a lie, and judging by the swift twitches in Creativity’s confidence stance, he knew he fooled no one.

“Why don’t we go back home where we can discuss this in a civilized manner?” Logic asked. His eyes shifted to Deceit, and Patton’s chest swelled with a protective fury.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Patton growled. His harsh words shook the calm confidence the other two sides held. They looked wary. Patton shouldn’t have gotten that much joy out of striking fear into them.

“Morality-”

“Stop,” Patton snapped. Logan flinched, but his fear melted into confusion. The logical side stared at Patton with a studying glance that made Patton’s skin crawl.

“Please understand,” Creativity begged, his voice holding a quiver to it, “that we did this for your own good.”

“Just like you scarred Deceit’s face for his own good,” Patton shot back. Creativity glanced between the two sides trapped against the mirror, and his jaw clicked closed.

“Since when have you cared about the wellbeing of Deceit?” Logic asked.

“Why shouldn’t I? You hurt him! Family doesn’t hurt each other like that. Deceit has been nothing but nice to me, and I don’t appreciate you hurting him.”

“Patton,” Deceit hissed under his breath, but Patton continued his onslaught of words.

“I don’t understand how you two could be so cruel! You hurt Deceit. You nearly hurt Virgil. If I was here, I would’ve knocked sense into the both of you. I don’t understand how you could behave like this. It’s wrong!”

“You’re not Morality, are you?”

Those five words from Logic stopped Patton dead in his tracks. Deceit’s hold on him increased much like Patton’s heart rate. Creativity’s expression went from wary to shocked to intrigued.

Logic continued, “I should’ve seen the signs sooner. You made Thomas apologize. You didn’t use your influence on us to make us tell the truth. You’re not nearly as intimidating as you usually are. And now, here you are protecting Deceit.”

“So if you’re not Morality, who are you?” Creativity questioned.

Patton held his breath. A quick glance up at Deceit told him to lie, but Patton knew they’d been caught. Logic and Creativity patience wavered as he stared at them. Would telling the truth keep Deceit safe? Would they leave them alone? Logan always said that if he was hurt to seek knowledge, but did it apply here?

“I-” Patton started, but a squeeze from Deceit turned his words into a squeak.

“Maybe it’s part of the imagination messing with you,” Deceit lied. “Maybe this is all just a part of your subconscious trying to scare you. After all, you have to be feeling rather scared about Morality finding out. How can you be sure this is all real?”

Creativity brandished his sword. “Then you wouldn’t mind me killing you here. If you disappear, I'll know you're real.”

“No, don’t!” Patton yelped. He pushed himself away from Deceit. His body shook as he stood in front of him and used his own body as a shield. “You’re right, I’m not Morality.” Deceit hissed his name in his ear. “My name is Patton. I’m from the other side of the mirror.”

Deceit groaned behind him. Logic and Creativity shared a look, and they turned their attention back to Patton.

“How did you cross over?” Creativity asked.

“I… switched places with Morality. I don’t know how he did it, but he pulled me through the mirror and took my place on the other side.”

“Of course,” Logic mumbled. “We couldn’t get through the mirror all those years ago because we had counterparts on the other side.” His expression darkened. “Which means Morality won’t be able to return unless Patton reclaims his place on the other side.”

Creativity’s twisted grin slithered onto his face. “Oh, we can’t have that now, can we?”

Patton started to grasp onto the severity of the situation, and his body started to shake. Deceit’s hand clenched onto his shoulder and grounded him.

“You’re not going to touch him,” Deceit hissed.

“Oh yeah?” Creativity asked and quirked a brow. “Like you’re going to protect him. You barely stood a chance against us the first time we fought.”

“Surely you're tired of Morality pushing us around,” Logic added. “Wouldn't you rather have Patton here? With Morality gone, we could have more control over the mindscape.”

“You mean you two would have more control,” Deceit hissed.

“Now, don't be selfish,” Creativity taunted. “You know we're Thomas's favorite sides. He'd probably ignore you anyway.”

Patton pressed his back into Deceit’s chest. He looked back in the mirror. Hopefully, they could stall until the others got there. Hopefully, this wouldn’t end in a mess. However, Deceit couldn’t go through the mirror. If Patton left, who knew what would happen to him. He couldn’t leave Deceit here knowing that the deceitful side was going to be hurt because of him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

What was the right thing to do?

“Tell you what… Patton, you said your name was?” Logic questioned. Patton set his jaw and nodded. “We shall strike you a deal. I can see you’re torn up about letting your friend get hurt, so why don’t we offer a trade?”

“Don’t you dare,” Deceit hissed.

“You come with us, and I promise you no harm will come to your friend.”

“I-”

“Patton, don’t you dare,” Deceit whispered as he spun Patton around to face him. Fear crept behind those heterochromatic eyes, and Patton wanted to hug all the insecurities out of him. “If you do this, the others won’t be able to take you back. They’ll be trapped with Morality forever. You can’t do that to them because of me.”

“I can buy us time,” Patton replied. “If Virgil crosses over, he’ll find me, and we’ll escape together. You have to trust me.”

“And what if he can’t? What if they can’t hold Morality off long enough to get you back? Or worse, what if Virgil gets hurt trying to bring you back. I’m not worth it.”

Patton brought his hands up to cradle Deceit’s chin. He offered a sad yet kind smile.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

Patton sighed and chewed his lips.

“We’re losing our patience,” Creativity sang behind them, drawing out the “s” and sounding like a cobra ready to strike.

Patton turned on his heel. “You promise not to hurt him?”

“Cross my heart,” Creativity responded and made an “x” over his chest. Patton clenched his hands into fists then released them. The first step took the longest, but he eventually fell into an easy rhythm. The farther he walked from the mirror, the colder his body became.

Logic wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders and started to lead him away. “You made a wise choice.”

Patton swallowed the bitterness in his throat.

The three sides journeyed toward the exit of the Imagination. Patton stared down at his feet. His family would find him. His family wouldn't leave him here. He promised them. He promised them not to worry. He promised them he’d return soon. They loved him, and they’d fight to get him back.

He heard footsteps in the grass behind him. Three heads turned in unison. Deceit charged forward. Creativity shifted. A choked gasp, a scream later, and a splatter of crimson followed soon after.

“NO!” Patton cried out. Logic wrapped his arms around Patton’s chest and pulled him backward. Patton struggled, but Logic’s hold held fast.

“Whoops, my arm slipped,” Creativity said with a chuckle. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on someone who has a sword, Deceit.”

“You promised!” Patton screamed. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him! You promised!”

“Now, now, Morality,” Logic whispered in his ear. “Deceit tried to break your promise. You out of any of us should know how wrong that is.”

Creativity put his foot on Deceit’s chest and pulled the sword from the deceitful side’s stomach, earning a sick sucking sound. He curled his nose as dark blood dripped from the tip of his sword.

“I just polished this,” Creativity whined.

Patton called out Deceit’s name again and again. Creativity pulled him from Logic’s arms and pinned him to his chest. Patton struggled with all he had. He couldn’t let Deceit die there like that. He had to help! He-

A swift pain hit his neck, and Patton’s world shifted into darkness.

Chapter 8 ->