#JOINING THE WAR AGAINST THE CURIOUS CAT ON THE SIDE OF THE CURIOUS CAT

[sentiniel]

adopting the curious cat as my fursona i will not be taking questions thank you very much

[fallenclan]

wait are half clan relationships a Bad Thing ™️ in these clans im curious also im scared for them

oh good i've been looking forward to talking about this

so Fallenclan has a different stance on Outsider relationships than the clans do in the books. they are, Technically, against the rules, but it's a rule that goes generally unpunished if broken, and almost always just has a blind eye turned to it. the clan recognizes that without the integration of outsider blood, there would be some. issues. so nobody ever reports on it if they know their clanmate has a one-off or even ongoing relationship with outsiders, like how Toro remained mates with Jattelik even after she joined the clan. of course, it's generally encouraged to get your outsider mate to Join the clan, rather than remain outside of it, but it'll go unpunished either way. even Ravenstar, as bitchy as he is, won't do much more than a figurative slap on the wrist for someone who broke this rule.

that being said. half-clan relationships are definitely against the rules.

the reason this differs from outsider relationships is essentially just because of inter-clan politics. if you're in cricketclan, and you have a mate in archclan, what happens if those two clans get into a war? what happens if you and the one you love are on opposite sides of the battlefield? there's really no winning in that situation. and what if you're in fallenclan, and your mate is in gooseclan? what happens when prey starts to dwindle in the territories? will you take food from your own clan to bring to your mate? there's a lot of ways that half-clan relationships can end badly. they are against the rules, and they will be punished if broken, usually by having another, more trusted cat act as a shadow to the cat that took a mate from another clan, to make sure they don't make any attempts to reconnect.

still, some cats have managed. usually with one-offs, like Quailcall, but some have managed to keep their relationships going in secret--like with Lightningtail, for instance. The only other cat who knows about her relationship with Lilystem is Crowflame, who has been instructed to keep silent until Lightningtail is dead.

A fun fact for you! Lightningtail is the mother of Mossfrog. Mossfrog is the Adopted mother of Cloudtuft. Here are Lilystem (Lightningtail's mate in Archclan) and Cloudtuft's sprites next to each other.

He looks like his grandpa and he doesn't even know it. Makes you wonder if he was always meant to be a part of the family :)

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Ezra Bridger is home at last . . .

*Author's Note: This was originally a sabezraweek2024 fanfic that did not get finished on time and was delayed due to . . . circumstances. I hope that this story gives you, dear reader, some small measure of joy. We will be needing it in the days, months, and years to come.

Prompt - Surprise(?)

@sabezraweek

Your name is Ezra Bridger, and you have finally returned home.

Standing in the doorway of the old comm-tower you lived in for seven long, dark, and lonely years. All the old feelings return in a rush: a heady surge of nostalgia, joy, and lingering sadness that not even your Jedi training can fight against.

It almost brings you to your knees in that moment, that wave of emotions. You fight it off, swaying in the doorway.

(But you do not fight the stream of tears falling down your face. You do not even try.)

The woman who is practically a second mother to you gives you a gentle squeeze on your arm. Hera Syndulla has barely aged a day since you last saw her. Her voice still carries the gravity of command that you had grown accustomed to since the day you first met - but now it sits more heavily, more pronounced. The title of General does not seem to weigh much on her, yet the wear and tear of years fighting a war for freedom do.

You can see it in her eyes. The sadness of those who were lost.

(You were not with her to mourn the passing of your mentor, Kanan Jarrus. That is something you will always regret, no matter how necessary the sacrifice was.)

But none of that diminishes the joy. In the Force, you see her truly: a gentle fountain of golden light, always pouring forth. No darkness will ever blight the person that is Hera Syndulla. Whatever evil the galaxy conjures up to throw at her, she will never falter in her truth.

(That is an immutable fact of the universe. And everyone who knows her understands that.}

Both of the Jedi who loved her were inspired by the light she represented. So much so, that one died to protect it.

Even now, you turn to her for strength. Not to stand against an incoming darkness, but a return to the light.

You have returned home.

Hera says some gentle words, joined with a tearful smile. She has never left your side since you came back. There is always a smile - and, sometimes, with it comes some tears.

She leaves you be, once assured that you will be okay, to wait outside and extend some privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you walk inside the place you once called home.

It does not surprise you to see the mess that greets you. You know who has been living here during your absence.

(She fought for this place to remain a home. Not to become a tomb.)

A loth cat - Murley, you were told was his name - watches you with bright, curious eyes. It loafs, in the way loth cats do when relaxing, on the edge of a work bench. Cautiously, you extend a hand.

Murley sniffs hesitantly, and then gives a tender boop of his nose on the edge of your finger.

Guess that means I'm welcome to stay, you think, a smile forming on your face.

With the loth cat's approval, you walk around the comm-tower's interior slowly, taking everything in.

You see the paintings on the walls; the paint, the symbols, the signs of life and light that were not present before. The notes, the data pads, the texts, the tools, the clothes all strewn about like they were caught in the grip of a vicious gale of wind - all of it, burning brightly with her presence.

She made this a home, just as you did. A part of you wonders why she came here, of all places. She was a war hero. Surely, they offered her anywhere to stay on Lothal.

You know why, whispers a voice from the corner of your heart. She had nowhere else to go.

No. That was not the reason.

There was nowhere else she wanted to go. Not after . . .

You close your eyes, extending your senses in the Force. It takes far longer than it should, as your heart threatens to hammer its way through your chest, fueled by the sudden resurgence of feelings long thought buried.

When the calm comes, and you reach out -

Ezra.

Her voice. Saying your name in a hushed whisper, a thousand - no, a million times over and over.

Like a prayer. Every utterance comes with a different inflection - sometimes sad, sometimes happy, and sometimes angry - but, as you delve deeper into the Force, you can sense the same emotion of where it all is born from.

It's the same emotion you felt when first seeing her again after so many years of dreaming of the moment when she would come for you, at last.

You felt it when your eyes locked with hers; an achingly familiar face that you imagined on your bleakest days. A beautiful face, full of fierce pride and devotion, that you tried clumsily to recreate with a crude pen and even cruder hand, on the days when loneliness threatened to take you.

You felt it when she spoke; her voice being like a melody whose tune you had almost forgotten in the long years abandoned. Hearing it was like seeing the sun break through a dark, gray morning. She teased and joked and bantered with you like no time had passed.

You felt it when she embraced you; the steady, sure strength of her arms, clad in the unbreakable beskar steel of her people - an unbreakable strength that paled next to her own will and determination. Once, when you were younger, you thought that strength could shake the stars.

(You are more right than you are willing to admit.)

You felt it when you inhaled her scent - a scent that reminded you of the fresh bloom of flowers, delicate and lovely - as she hugged you close enough to feel the beating of your heart. Although you both acted the part of dearly reunited friends, you know that something deeper had transpired in your reunion.

Because when you felt her heartbeat, you mistook it for your own at first - until you realized that both of yours were beating so profoundly in unison that it felt like one heart.

When you open your eyes again, you are not surprised to feel the tears falling from them again.

You think about the last time you saw her - fighting on the top of a dark tower, saving another friend. A flash of emerald, flaring bright against the bleak sky of a foreign world.

You, Ezra Bridger, suddenly feel more alone than when you were stranded in another galaxy.

Looking around now, the place you called home feels empty. Despite the familiar surroundings and scents, it does not feel right. Something is missing.

Someone is missing from it. The absence fills the silence inside the comm-tower, robbing you of breath and peace.

You wonder, briefly, if this is how she felt for all those years. You can scarcely stand it now, not being there with her.

How did she handle it? How did she survive?

(You know what she did. The question is what will you do?)

You, Ezra Bridger, are surprised to realize that you are not home.

Not yet. Home, you now know, was never a place.

Home was left behind.

There is shame now. A gentle, burning regret. Once, you think to yourself, you knew this to be true.

How easy it is to forget.

(She never did.)

(What will you do, with all your power?)

You take a deep breath - and listen to the Force.

Hera comes beside you, concerned. You turn to her and say three words - a truth, a reason, and a call to action.

She laughs gently. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, ruefully.

A gentle rap on your forehead. "Guess there's still some things for the Jedi Knight to learn."

You nod, thinking fervently, I hope so.

Hera studies you closely. "You sure about this?"

You repeat the same three words. She snorts.

"You already said that."

It makes things simpler, you think. But you only answer with a smile.

"Alright, then. Let's go get her, Ezra."

Your voice comes out firm and steady with purpose - and you think about her again, an image vividly springing to life in the forefront of your mind: her, smiling up at a sea of stars far, far away, thinking of home.

But not a place. A person.

This time, you start to think, as you walk out of the comm-tower and into the lowered ramp of the waiting Ghost.

This time, I really am going home.

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

Alright, your poll made me curious! What are your new headcanons about Donna dating each of the newly mutated Dimitrescu sisters? (And, if you’re comfortable with answering it ofc, do you have any spicy headcanons too?)

Ooooooh okay okay ok ok ok- firstly I would like to preface by saying the newly designed sisters behave differently. Before I idealized them a little more than usual and they basically don’t act much different then normal, but this is the Cadou we’re talking about. As the captions say- the Cadou during the mutation heightens each sister’s respective sense so they do act more beastly and ravenous than usual.

Bela

- Becomes the most uncontrollable when mutated, if she doesn’t get it her way then there is no way, her anxiety reigns supreme

- Constantly by Donna’s side and needs physical reassurance; wraps her tail around her, a wing, wing across the thigh, anything

- Seems to constantly be in a state of fight or flight, girl will roar at a bee that buzzes just slightly too loud for her comfort, which means Donna has to be mindful of what may/may not set her off

- Donna has to let her repetitively check things, kinda like how your dog may sniff you a few times when you come home to make sure it’s you

- Often times if Bela is mutated, so is Donna. Spider Donna does a lot to comfort Bela, and neither of them quite know why yet

- As much of an anxious lil punk Bela is mutated, Donna finds it adorable. They’ve found their own groove with things, and while Bela is the one comforting Donna’s anxieties unmutated- she can return the favour here

- The progress of unmutating is like waking up after a night of drinking for Bela- she remembers bits and pieces but not everything- and ends up feeling awful about how she acts when mutated

- Theyre working on it together

Cassandra

- Cassandra is already a pretty hypocritical person, she’s the middle child, of course she’s going to act all whiny when she gets attention she wants

- But in her mutated form her mixed signals get even worse

- She’ll rub up against Donna practically begging to be pet, and then the moment Donna lifts her hand to do so- Cass hisses and runs away

- It definitely was a huge hurdle for the two of them to work over, but they’ve found ways

- Their love language is subtle. They may make eye contact from across the room, Donna may put out an extra plate even if Cassandra doesn’t join for dinner, Cassandra may take a nap on Donna’s bed when she isn’t there and leave it a mess to show Donna she did.

- Her mutated form does make a good mount though. On the lucky days, Donna gets to join her for hunts.

- Can spiral into uncontrollable rage if not careful, but somehow Cassandra always recognizes Donna and refuses to hurt her

Daniela

- the most conscious of the sisters when mutated, and therefore doesn’t act too differently

- The only real difference is just how eager she is to please

- Donna has to be pretty mindful with what she asks of Daniela while she’s mutated, because Dani is going to take it all literally and bend her back to make her request a reality- even if Donna says it jokingly

- They’ve come up with “safe words” so Daniela knows when NOT to basically start world war just to get Donna a lollipop

- Cuddles. All the cuddles. If Donna is also mutated, Daniela will hold onto her like a baby bat.

- Kisses are harder with Daniela due to how contorted her mouth has become, which makes her upset, so they learned to compromise by bumping heads like cats

- Tail wagger

As for the spicy headcannons- I will admit that I have thought of a few. These will be written more generally.

- they have prehensile feet, since their arms became wings- they adapt the bird strategy of making their muscular legs makeshift arms and hands

- Although they don’t have as fine of control, they tend to wrap them around the hips and legs, and use them to pin

- The tail is a very useful tool ya know.

- They have some control over the tentacles but definitely not entire control

- I have NOT thought about them as receivers so all of these are them as tops

Bela

- her split face is optimal for oral, and it tends to be her preferred anyways

- Tries to hold her beloved with her wings but it depends if it’s successful

- She has the longest tongue of the mutated sisters. Do with that what you will.

Cassandra

- she’ll use her pharyngeal jaws to keep her lover in place, she’s surprisingly gentle with them if she wants to

- Her wings are more used as tools to give her power, especially when she’s dry humping

- Really good with her tail. Do with that what you will.

Daniela

- has the best control of her talons, the bat-like wing giving her a thumb gives her the ability to finger her lover

- she has the largest wingspan of the sisters so they tend to just shield her and her lover like an extra curtain- she wants the meal all to herself after all

- She does have a tongue but it’s mostly pulled away due to all her teeth, when it does come out though- it has a grasping end. Do with that what you will.

[decarabiandivorce]

#old Mondstadt probably loved short stories like A Monkey's Paw and uses those types of metaphors a lot#a promise from their god of love and safety being twisted so... so they find ways to twist up the twist

Thinking about Decarabian's story later being told as a cautionary tale against a controlling suffocating 'love', and the role Amos would have played in such a narrative....anyway I'm curious what you think of Decarabian and Amos' relationship specifically as 'lovers' 👀

HELLO! I, TUMBLR USER DECARABIAN DIVORCE IS TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT THESE TWO AND THEIR FAILURE OF A RELATIONSHIP.

COME CLOSER

I WILL NOT BITE

oKAY SO

My interpretation of Decarabian and Amos is that of two people that really cared about each other and so thought that perhaps they should be romantically involved with each other. I have a couple writings about how I think they would first meet (Left in my bestie's ask blog like a cat)

But! To understand that I must share how I interpret Amos! She is my babygirl and I think about her a nooooormal amount. Okay so Amos was a hunter at the start of the archon war, but thanks to her courtship she was basically cursed to have the same lifespan as Decarabian. This sounded like a completely sane and normal thing to agree to at the altar, a literal til death do we part. She had been alive for centuries by the time of the rebellion, and when her husband's 'heart' stopped so did hers.

Decarabian on the other hand, has been alive even before the time of the archon war,,, cause ya know,,, he needs to found Mondstadt. Now the city itself wasn't the only place that Decarabian reigned from. The snowy mountains had villages such as Sal Vindagnyr, and he was there to witness the celestial nail be dropped. He saw the horrors gods could inflict on other beings and this shattered his trust in any other divine being. Such a tragedy also made him think about how fragile humanity is, and thus he vowed he would keep Mondstadt safe. At all costs.

They both had a couple of friendships before this all went down, I like to hc Deca as knowing Kairos and thus when she went MIA it only fueled his parania. His closest neighbors were Liyue, and he did not trust a single god from there, and we all know he and Andrius had beef.

Amos, however, was a pillar of Mondstadt's community. She was a hunter! She was strong and powerful and in present-day Mond terms she would be as reliable as Jean or Noelle. However, Mondstadt wasn't as.... free as present-day Mondstadt. With her parents dying when she was about 20 or so, many people kept implying for her to start a relationship.

She.. hated disappointing them. She had never felt the need to take a lover before, but a companion? A friend she coudl share secrets with and be by her side? She craved warmth.

It only got worse when the war started and Decarabian is like "oh shield time everyone! :D " and now she was Stuck. Stuck and unable to go out to hunt. She felt like a burden. A testament to her name. She would spend long days helping out the city as best she could, telling every one of her friends that were concerned for her lifestyle that she was simply too busy for a relationship.

She... never felt an attraction to a person before. Never felt Cupid's arrow sting her chest and cause her to yearn. She had close calls, but could never imagine herself in an actual relationship with either of them.

Yet days in the timeless city still moved on, and the storms cradled the city in their razor-sharp embrace. She dreamed of the forest and of the hunt. She dreamed of those foggy memories of joining the hunting party. She dreamed that someone would understand that she didn't need a lover to be happy.

If this was a story told in the future, this is where the Monkey's paw would curl.

One day, she met a man in the armory and he was so kind and polite to her. No one in the city had seen their god's face, so she just assumed he was a noble or a guard. They talked for hours. He wanted to meet a person that people kept talking about. She would go silent as he mentioned those words, but in the end they became friends.

Yet... she was still troubled by her friends. It sucked have to sit through conversation after conversation about her future. How that having someone by her side would be good for her when she gets older! How having a spouse was a wonderful thing.

After many nights of pressure and debate, she asked out Decarabian. She wanted to experience this. Perhaps she was wrong! Perhaps she was just missing out! He was her friend, so it would be just like hanging out.

Before she knew it, people were happy for her. She was happy that they were happy. She was happy seeing Decarabian smile at her. But was she happy?

It felt like an item on a list being crossed out. An obligation she had to fulfill. She got what she asked, but...

...

Its fine! She is fine! Its...

its nothing.

don't worry about it.

(^ doodled them while writing this all down ehehe)

Years later, she and him were wed. Everyone was so happy. It felt like a dream walking down the aisle. The type of dream that you don't remember happening. The type that fogs the mind as you try to recall it. There are rings on her fingers now. It's a cold feeling, the metal against her skin. The ornaments in her hair are heavy. It's... its fine.

She is glad her husband feels so happy looking at her.

As lovers, they didn't really date. Neither of them found the point of all of it. They were basically roommates+ that slept in the same bed. Amos found out she loved to cuddle him as she slept. It's been so long since she had felt a loving embrace, and he had never felt a hug before.

She taught him a lot of things about romance, not quiet understanding him at times but they managed! She yearned to be held, and so Decarabian did! He was doing such a good job at this! He loved the ways she laughed. He loved her dedication to her crafts. He loved looking at her.

Yet the years went by, and soon Amos wasn't leaving the tower as often. Her friends had lives of their own, and she should have a life of her own. Despite having someone by her side, she never felt so isolated.

Before long, she was the only one left alive from that friend group. Decarabian put his arms around her waist, happy that his beloved was spending more time with him. She seemed sad.. so a hug should do the trick!

They never.. talked about this. They never talked about anything! They just existed with each other after a time, enjoying the other's presence but something was missing.

She felt safe. She felt a strong bond between her and Deca. She felt... happy? Complacent. It was nice being in the tower... but it was as dull as the grey sky.

It was only centuries of this limbo before she would meet a duo that would bring that spark back in her eyes.

So yeah tldr neither of them should have been dating each other in the first place but the norm that people who are close together should be lovers pushed them into a situation neither of them was prepared to tackle. Neither of them communicated their needs and thus suffering was caused. At the end of the day, they do care deeply for each other, and this only made it all much more painful. F in chat

Anyways links to my writings and a couple hcs pals and I have about the two

The Sun Post <- THE MAIN ONE TO READ

Bestie's commentary on it (^^^) that I rotate and I think everyone should see

Gifts

Expressions and Metaphors 

Everything is fine!

Amos means Burden thing again <- This one is a lot more short story -ish

The one Ring to rule court her

The basics in Language

How they got together

You know other men?

Touch

Should have communicated better oof

Average Deca compliment

The reveal

Speedrunning this huh?

[ae-neon]

Nezriel drabble?

NSFW Look Away (but also I clearly can't write nsfw lmao)

Context? Nesta gets to live and train with Azriel like she wanted I guess??

Soft music floated out from the doorway and they entered, ducking through a dim hallway until the world opened up into a well furnished foyer.

A woman - a Fae, red skinned and with a tail trailing behind her nodded in greeting. Azriel nodded back, no doubt an important and frequent enough guest to warrant his specific taste be catered to.

But tonight was not about him.

Nesta trailed behind him, in a slim fitted white dress and her hair in a bun at her nape.

Her stomach tightened as the reality of it hit her - excitement and nervousness colliding.

She'd been curious and after he'd poked light fun and raised a few brows at her choice of reading material, they'd talked about it - about the world that existed around sex, the one Nesta had only guessed at, one Azriel was apparently quite familiar with.

He'd asked her, weeks later, if she'd wanted to see it for herself and Nesta had fought off the blood rushing to her face to ask what he meant. The House of Inarus.

"According to legend," he moved towards an opening blocked off by heavy velvet drapes then pulled them aside, "Inarus, known to the Fae as the Traveller, was a Seraphim. He endured 5 trials in his mission to win the hand of Oriana, daughter of the first High King. This place has 5 floors, each descent symbolises a commitment to...endure what comes next."

The room was an organised chaos: here and there were chairs and tables collected in little groups with beings of every kind littered about the room, in every form of dress and undress available. The walls were a smooth dark stone that reflected the little light the chandeliers gave off. Soft music floating down from unseen space.

Nesta tried not to gawk as a water sprite wearing nothing but a pearl belt around her waist offered her a glass of swirling gold. She took it, unable to think as she watched the woman sway away. A second later she turned to see Azriel quietly observing her, a little bemused.

The glass in her hand suddenly felt ten times its weight, "I didn't mean to take it, I-"

He shrugged, casual in a way he rarely was outside the house, "Try it. It's a special import from Day, the recipe is courtesy of Helion's wild youth if he's to be believed."

Nesta hesitated but Azriel wasn't the type to be unnecessarily cruel, he wouldn't turn around and sell her out. The wine sparkled and fizzed, surprisingly light in flavour.

He moved, putting a gentle hand on the small of her back and his mouth near her ear, "This isn't what we came here to see."

He guided her around the room, which seemed to be a meeting place of sorts, until they had crossed to the other side and found a set of stairs descending into the dark.

The next room and its occupants were less shy, the furniture was arranged with the idea of display in mind and at the centre of every gathering was a pair or more putting on a show.

Nesta's eyes snagged on the intertwined forms, unfamiliar but not shocking. She'd read enough to understand, had touched herself to the thought of it.

She walked ahead of Azriel, vaguely aware of him trailing behind her, her eyes taking in every performance but her legs leading her to where she thought the next set of stairs might be.

Here she almost stopped, a little thrown off by the seemingly endless ocean of bodies writhing together. More than once a hand reached out to hers, beckoning her to join, but Nesta only glanced back at Azriel then continued around the room. Some dead part of her proprietary warred against the idea of having so many partners, unable to tell where one group began and the other ended.

On the third floor, she found Fae dressed and acting familiar roles; servants, slaves, priestesses, dogs, cats, cows, warriors and royalty. It caught and held her attention and Nesta found herself engrossed in one pair until the green eyes of the male caught on her, he grinned - sharp and wicked - as he pressed a heeled boot into the shoulder of the male kneeling before him.

"Care to join?" Azriel's voice seemed to somehow slip under the noises in the room rather than rise above it. Nesta shook her head, wondering if the warmth in her body was because of whatever Helion had baked into his strange wine.

Once again Azriel's hand moved to guide her, "Last one."

"I thought there were 5 floors."

"There are, but for now, this will be enough."

Her curiosity irked her but a larger part of her trusted Azriel. She had guessed at what might come next, wondered at the things Azriel might enjoy after they had begun their talks, and even dreamed about him once.

Nesta was met with the sight of a female, iridescent scales for skin, suspended by thick ropes. Behind her another female, an Illyrian, stood with a whip in hand.

The whip cracked on the merling's ass and she screamed, the sound caught on the gag in her mouth. Nesta watched, warmth spreading as the merling struggled against her binding, muscles flexing in an attempt to squirm. The whip cracked again and the merling's body shook, the wetness of her inner thighs catching in the dim light as she slowly rotated.

The Illyrian female lifted what Nesta almost thought was a second whip until it was turned and slowly inserted into the merling. All the while the Illyrian alternated between slapping and placing soft kisses to the dark blue bruises on the merling's ass. Each action eliciting a different reaction, the sounds almost hypnotic.

Around them, others watched, some pleasuring themselves and some pleasuring others. In other parts of the room, she spotted male bound to the floor by his neck and in another she thought she might have seen two people tied together. But still her eyes returned to the two females.

She didn't know how long she'd stood and watched but eventually her silver eyes dragged from the display to where Azriel stood leaning against a door on the other side of the room. In the dim light and with the shadows that always wreathed him, he should have been almost invisible but like this - when her eyes burned - Nesta saw everything. Even the small smile playing on his lips. He nodded towards the door, telling her to follow, then slipped through it.

Inside, an array of items meant to facilitate similar sorts of activities were arranged on tables against the walls. Rope, rods, paddles, gags, clamps and items that she really couldn't guess at.

"What did you think?"

Nesta moved towards the tray of more wine set beside it, "It was interesting."

Azriel followed, "Would you like to try something like that?"

She'd been prepared for the question, it seemed only natural after everything that had led them to this moment, so she nodded.

There was a part of Azriel that might have warned her off it, might have wanted to show her more than she could handle to scare her. It was how he had dealt with certain people in the past. It was the kind of thing he might do if it were Elain standing before him.

But he had seen it in Nesta's eyes, sensed in the way her breath caught when she read the more risque books. She'd taken up her training and given up her drinking according to Feyre and Rhys' wishes once her own to be away from Cassian and Windhaven had been granted. And yet he could sense she still needed some sort of outlet.

"You should know, before you start, the rules of engagement. It's not something I would recommend rushing into and it takes a lot more vulnerability than you might think." Azriel moved towards her, drawn in by the way her heart beat a little faster than usual. He imagined the rush might be intoxicating though Nesta hid it well enough. She did that often. This might be the place she finally let it all out. Azriel wondered what that might sound like. "For tonight, you can watch, get to know some of the others and maybe try a few things - or we could go home, it's up to you."

Her gaze slid past him, surveyed the items laid out, then flicked to his face, "When you come here, what do you do?"

He couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped him, he didn't want to scare her, "This room is mine, for private use."

Nesta nodded, again surveying the items, mind working, "Do you like pain?"

The question almost caught him off guard, "Sometimes."

"And if...if I said yes, you'd do that to me?"

The words twisted his gut. All at once it was an admittance of trust, of longing, a confirmation that their shared silences and the way Nesta seemed to never run out of questions - all of it had meant the same to her as they had to him. He was not a monster for liking the way she felt in his arms when they flew together. He was not wrong for looking forward to returning to the house after days away. Even those dreams, liking the scent of her, having to touch himself when he knew she was doing the same...

But he was a traitor to his brother.

"Do you want me to do that to you?"

"Maybe," A faint blush coloured her cheeks and she glanced at the floor, the space between them, "...but... it's just...I would want to start...slower?"

Azriel stepped forward, closing the distance and drawing her attention up at his face. He reached for her - he had learnt with Nesta that she was weary and tended to reciprocate rather than take the lead when she felt uncomfortable, "Start slower?"

He moved impossibly closer until they were almost flush. The thumb of one hand traced her jawline while the other rested on her hip. It was more than he had ever dared to do but not enough to raise her defences.

Her silver eyes met his then dipped to his lips and Azriel resisted the urge to spend the rest of the night simply kissing her.

Again there was that blush that had her averting her gaze, "I haven't...yet shared my bed with anyone."

He was a little surprised, especially when gossip had spread of the High Lady's sister seen kissing sailors in the dim corners of dingy taverns. But another part of him was just as unsurprised - she was still Nesta, still walled off and, until a few months ago, she might have been waiting for a certain someone to be the one she shared all this with.

Azriel wondered if he should have felt guilty as he leaned in and met Nesta's mouth with his own. She hesitated for less than a second, maybe a little surprised they had finally crossed that bridge, but it didn't last.

She moved to meet him, mirroring the slow way he kissed her, tipping her head back and leaning her body in when their tongues met.

One of Nesta's hand cupped his face and the other held his nape. His own moved to pull at her hips before one moved across her back and the other slid down to find the slit in her dress. He bent a little to find the back of her knee then pulled her up and settled her against him.

Nesta gasped into his mouth, the sound burning into him, but simply moved her hands to his shoulders. In a second, the world moved, wind brushing against them and then Azriel was sitting.

The position forced her dress up, too tight to fit over her straddling thighs and hips. Without thinking, Azriel's hand followed, tracing the soft skin of her thighs and squeezing her ass. This time her gasp was half moan and Azriel let his mouth follow the column of her throat instead, licking, sucking and biting until she was squirming in his lap.

Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled until he was forced to look up at her through lidded eyes. Still his hands moved under her dress, groping and squeezing as they worked their way closer to her panties.

Nesta's other hand moved to unbuttoned and unclip his shirt, pushing the fabric away and brushing over the inked skin.

He at last traced his fingers over the wet fabric between her legs and felt Nesta's body tense slightly then shift to grind against him.

-------

I cannot write sex but know that they do have sex. And then, weeks later they go back and Nesta ties up Azriel and dommes him.

[superjumpintomyheart]

So i know i already did a question but you responded so good tho the last one and i can't resist so what would Splatoon 1 squidbeak splatoon think about the new Splatoon 3 (especially about octavio and lots of octos being part of it)

Sorry if it's so long🥲

im curious to know if you mean the new squidbeak splatoon from splat 1 (consisting of cap'n cuttlefish, agent 3, callie, and marie) or the original squidbeak splatoon so I'll give you my thoughts for both!

splat 1's NSS wouldn't feel too different I don't think, Cuttlefish is the one who would have to adjust the most since hes old and very clearly is still a little stuck in the old ways of the world, so the addition of octolings would throw him off. Especially if this is pre-final boss fight when the calamari inkantation is played to the octarians, since that was when the movement of octolings reintegrating into inkling society started, and in the octo expansion cuttlefish is only fine with octolings if they've shown to be fans of the inkantation ("no fan of the inkantation is a foe of mine, i don't see species.") but I honestly think three, callie, and marie don't really care about octolings joining the NSS. they're all young and don't really get the whole great turf war ideology anymore so why would there really be a problem with having octolings on the team?

However having OCTAVIO join them even just temporarily for the splat 3 final boss,,,, I think they would all be apprehensive about that. past agent three would be like "so I fought this guy for him to just join the good side in the end? i did this for nothing???"

Past Callie and Marie would be confused as to why he's helping them, again if this is pre-final boss they wouldn't understand his reasoning for wanting to help, and of course this is pre splat 2 so the callie kidnapping incident hasn't happened yet. basically what I'm trying to say is past callie and marie don't understand why octavio is here in splat 3.

As for the original Squidbeak Splatoon, again Cuttlefish would be shocked as to why the "enemy" is a part of the NSS when the reason for the SS existing was to fight the octarians. The other members of the original SS are Shellendorf, who is related to Sheldon of Ammo Knights, Judd the cat, and two unnamed inklings. Shellendorf we don't really know much about, his backstory isn't really revealed to us so I'm not sure how he would feel seeing the NSS be so diverse. I think he might have been a more peaceful minded guy so perhaps he would see the unity between species as a good thing? who knows! Judd was also suspected to only be a part of the SS because he liked to judge things, he didn't really serve a purpose on the team besides... idk being a cat? sleeping? making biscuits?? so I don't think he really cares At All about the inkling vs octoling thing.

Overall the theme is really just seeing how a person changes overtime, cuttlefish went from being the captain of a team who fought against the octarians to a kind old man who is starting to accept the world for how it has changed. and he himself has changed too, he doesn't think all octolings are the enemy anymore, he even has befriended some and worked with them. Octavio went from being a controlling dictator to a shameful outcast who regrets the pain he caused from trying to prove octarians were the superior society. Agent 3 went from being a rookie teenage turf war battler to Captain 3 of the NSS who has the most experience on the team and is crazy good at what they do.

Everyone has experienced change in some way, and if their past selves met their future selves, they wouldn't understand why things turned out the way they did because they haven't lived through that experience yet. They might even think "there's no way I'll turn out like that" until they go through something that makes them see things from another perspective, and it changes their mind. there's a reason why the NSS doesn't look the same as the original SS did, different people have different skill sets that are useful to the team and the type of threats they experience in modern day are different than those of the great turf war's time. as society changes and evolves, so must the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

[fantasywriter19]

Melody Riddle Profile

Melody Thomasina Riddle

Melody Riddle, the daughter of Lord Voldemort, is a girl of many secrets and untapped potential. Though she naturally hides her emotions behind a mental wall, she possesses a sarcastic sense of humor and makes decisions based on her own self interests. Finding ways to assist both her father and his worst enemy, Harry Potter, she declares herself a spy for good despite her obvious affinity toward helping her father more.

Because Melody is on such a thin line between the two sides of the upcoming war, in most cases she is her own worst enemy. But if she would have to choose anyone to stand against, it would be Dumbledore because of the secrets he keeps from even his own allies.

Profile contains spoilers up to Half Blood Prince

Profile

Born: May 31, 1980

Hometown: Born and raised almost eleven years in Colorado Springs, CO, U.S.; four years at Ollivander Home in Westminster, London, U.K.; occasionally at her godfather’s in Spinner’s End, Manchester, U.K. for the years following

Nationality/Ethnicity: White British

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Gender Identity: Female Witch

Personality

Myers-Briggs Type: INTJ-T (Architect)

Strengths: Sarcastic, witty, intimidating, manipulative, ambitious, and curious

Weaknesses: Sarcastic, guilt-ridden, stubborn, moody, and superiority hand-in-hand with some inferiority.

Interests/Hobbies: Reading, spending time with people she cares about, scheming, wand lore and ancient runes… eventually Dark Magic and the power that comes with it.

Pets: One black cat she named Bedouin.

Appearance

Height: 5’4”

Weight: 53-56 kg

Hair: Mid to dark brown, straight hair that’s generally been shoulder-length until she cut it up to her ears before her fifth year of Hogwarts. It’s grown back to her shoulders since then.

Eyes: Silvery gray, often called ‘the Ollivander eyes’

Skin: Fair

Style: When not wearing her Hogwarts uniform, she’ll throw on a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt with sneakers

Face claim: Abigail Breslin

Magical Abilities

A quick learner, it takes her one to a few tries to get new spells right in practice. During her fifth year, she starts figuring out Wandless magic.

Wand: 12” Spruce wand wood with dragon heartstring core

Animagus/Patronus Form: Cobra

Boggart: Herself, evil, with glowing red eyes telling her she’s not as good as she wants to believe; using Riddikulus, she turns into herself as a child doing something humorous.

Legilimency/Occlumency: Naturally gifted with this, she has used this ability to block her mind and emotions from outward forces. As a child, she would listen in on the thoughts of her Muggle peers and teachers for the heck of it.

Mental Manipulation: A recent ability she’s mastering that allows her to twist one’s memories or change them completely without the use of the Unforgivable Imperius Curse.

Dark Magic: As gifted with this as with anything else, it takes less time for her than anyone else for her eyes to turn red as she uses it — something attributed to the large amounts of Dark Magic her parents used on the regular before conceiving her.

Hogwarts

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Sorting Hat’s Second Choice: Ravenclaw

Under Severus Snape’s personal tutelage, she joins a tutoring program at a young age, learning magic more advanced than her year. Because of this, she takes her O.W.L.s at the end of her fourth year and N.E.W.T.s in her fifth, effectively graduating at sixteen.

What would have been her sixth year of Hogwarts is going to be spent as a Hogwarts professor, teaching wand lore as one of the extra subjects that can be chosen by third years and older.

Relationships

Family:

Orele Ollivander (Mother, deceased as of June 1995) — The relationship between mother and daughter is the longest standing mystery of the series. Melody’s ongoing respect for the limits and regulations she set for her led even Dumbledore to believe that only she had the power to control her daughter’s actions through the sheer power of her motherly love. This was proven wrong with the reveal that Melody had been assisting her father for four consecutive years, and was given up on with her purposeful death by Voldemort’s wand.

Tom Riddle, a.k.a. You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, and Lord Voldemort (phew!) (Father) — There began a mutual understanding between father and daughter when he revealed himself to her one month into her first year at Hogwarts, one that became more strained after Orele’s death as Voldemort felt the strange urge to step up into a stern role and Melody struggled to deal with her mother being gone.

Jim Gray (Step-Father) — Jim helped Orele raise Melody, unaware for all that time that she wasn’t his biological daughter. When Orele and Melody moved to the United Kingdom, Orele wiped Jim’s memories of them… although, it was only three years later that their son Nick showcases a special ability that returns his memories to him and he immediately packs up and leaves to London to find them. Reuniting their family until Orele’s death when he finds out about Melody’s actions over the years, and he can’t forgive how she seems to have changed.

Gerald Ollivander (Uncle) — around Melody, him and her mother’s childish antics became a norm for her daily life.

Olivia and Garrick Ollivander (Grandma and Grandpa) — Melody learns everything her grandfather knows about wands, bonding with him over the lore and helping him out in the shop. Her grandmother is the heart of the family, always there to lend a helping hand.

Nick Gray and Blake Lockhart (Half-Brothers) — her little brothers represent everything she holds dear, something she wants to learn how to protect.

Elisabeth (Lissy) Parker (Adopted Sister) — Lissy Parker becomes a little sister to Melody after the latter begs to save her from a Muggle orphanage. They turn to each other every so often.

Friends:

Rebecca (Becky) Figsund — Melody’s best friend, she is a charismatic and caring girl whose wits are on par with Melody. Disagreements don't last between them, but Melody's lifestyle is proven too strenuous for the fun-loving Slytherin.

Hermione Granger — bonding over their love of knowledge and similar difference in personality from their respective Houses, Hermione meets secretly with Melody on a regular basis in the library, often trading knowledge and advice with each other.

Addison (Addy) Gentz — Addy — originally friends since childhood with Becky — was friends with Melody for their first year before she drifted away for friends of her own House. However, she has proven that she still holds her as a friend when she tries to warn Melody of her boyfriend, Marcus’, cheating.

Fred and George Weasley — Fred and George Weasley were the first people she met when she came to Hogwarts. They try to pull her into their escapades from time to time.

Harry Potter — Harry Potter, though doubtful of her intentions at first alongside Ron Weasley, grows to trust her exponentially.

Love Interests:

Marcus Flint — Marcus Flint whom she cared about but when it was clear he was in the relationship because of who her father is AND he never expected her (being the daughter of the most heartless dark wizard) to ever be able to love him back, she lost respect for him.

Draco Malfoy — Draco Malfoy has been her friend since they first met at age eleven, and he has crushed on her for just as long. They got together after her breakup with Marcus and, though they’ve had their disagreements, they are always there for each other.

Ancestry

On her mother’s side of the family are the famous wandmaker Garrick Ollivander, her grandfather, and his ancestors before him. There’s also her grandmother and her uncle Gerald.

On her father’s side of the family, his mother Merope Gaunt is from a long line of Salazar Slytherin’s descendants. His father was a Muggle whom he slain upon first meeting him.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕���

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[bokettochild]

Day 5: I've Got Red In My Ledger

Whumptober Day 5: Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

So, I ended up using all three options, and 'm honestly not sure if this counts as Warriors Whump, Four Whump or both.

I will excuse Legend's presence as being because I just wrote a Four and Legend one-shot and was still in Split Heroes mode.

Hope you read, enjoy, and don't hate me for what I've done, because I don't regret it :)

Warriors keeps staring at them.

The captain’s piercing royal blue eyes have been boring a hole into their back for ages and the ridiculous part of them worries that if they don’t keep moving that stare will bore a hole right through them. Thanks Red.

What? It’s a valid concern!

Red, when has having someone stare a hole through you ever been a valid concern?

Wild’s guardians.

Alright, but Wars isn’t a guardian, he’s-

He helped to build them. Red murmurs softly. Plus, he’s the Captain, I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to do something crazy after spending so much time jumping across worlds and learning stuff from the people there.

Red, we all jump through portals and learn things from across time. I think we’ll be okay.

“Four?” Legend’s voice is the one that breaks through to him as the vet stops in front of him, two bowls in hand and one offered to them as the vet cocks a brow. “Y’all okay?”

They smile at the vet, despite the itch of someone’s eyes fixed on them, and take the offered food. “I’m good, just thinking is all.”

“About what?” Legend presses, sitting next to them with curious cock of his brows as he begins to eat, violet eyes staring them down, piercing, but not as pointedly so as Warriors’ gaze. Legend’s eyes are gentle for once, and the vet seems to relax slightly as he eats, seated at their side and calmer than he’s been in days.

Four wishes they could feel the same.

They don’t regret sharing their secret with the vet (even if it wasn’t on purpose) and it’s nice to have someone to feel safe with, but no matter how warmly Legend might smile at them, a secretive wink or knowing smirk being shot their way, they’re still on edge.

“Nothing much, just...thoughts, you know?”

“No.” Legend deadpans.

They chuckle nervously. “Thinking about our different worlds and how we learn so much by hopping across them, you know? Like, Wild learning the recipes from your time or Wind getting to learn to ride horseback in Twilight’s world.” Th vet nods wordlessly, sucking on his spoon as they turn their attention to the meal Wild has so lovingly prepared.

Warriors still hasn’t looked away.

He’s been doing this for days, and usually, Four wouldn’t be worried, but it hadn’t started until after Shadow had helped them trip up an enemy in battle, and though the action probably saved the captain’s life, Wars hasn’t stopped watching them and it’s beginning to remind them of that time that Ezlo and them had been cornered by a cat in Pita’s Bakery. They still have the scar from that incident, and it’s something they guard the secret behind fiercely, if only out of shame of their own weakness and foolishness in that particular situation. Ezlo had warned them not to try darting away, to stay hidden in the sacks until the cat had been gone, but they’d rushed forwards and barely survived being made mincemeat.

Ezlo had needed stitches.

They had needed a minish healer and a bath in red potion. And even if they cover the worst of the scars beneath their tunic, the ragged tip of their left ear is a reminder. It’s why they chose to wear their earring, to remember to listen when the minish or the little voice in their head -or voices now- tell them to be careful. That voice, all four of them, is screaming at them to shield themselves.

And really, they should have listened.

Legend is on his feet in a moment, sword out to catch the second blow that falls their way as their ambusher grunts out an irritated oink.

“Ambush!” Wind shouts as the others pull themselves to their feet and grab hold of their weapons. They’d left their sword beside their seat, and from their place lying on the ground they can’t reach, but Shadow, Hylia bless him, sneakily pushes it close enough that they can wrap their fingers around the hilt and jump in to join the battle with their brothers.

It’s not a large group of monsters, and it doesn’t take much work between nine heroes and a sneaky shadow to fell them all, and they’re just turning to offer Wind a high five as the kid kicks the final lizalfoes off his sword when the cold of a blade presses against their throat.

“Warriors, what the bloody heck!” Legend shouts, jumping back up from where he’d been knelt to help Sky begin relighting their ruined campfire.

“Drop your sword.” The captain’s voice grates out behind them, cold and commanding in a way that sends shivers down their spine.

What’s going on?

The captain’s gone bonkers is what! Green, what’s the plan?

There’s only silence from their leader as the other deviants wait impatiently for an answer.

Green, we need a plan, War is-

Their sword clatters to the earth as the other colors begin to swear and panic, but Green has forced their hand, literally, and the stare they send their weapon is both resigned and horrified, one eye flickering various colors as the other remains solidly green.

Across camp, Legend’s own eyes are bugging out of his head, panic clear in his gaze as the vet’s hand closes on his sword hilt.

“Stay your hand, Legend.” Warriors rumbles, firm but not cruel. “No need for weapons-”

“Says the one holding a sword to Four’s throat!”

The captain doesn’t even shift, and their mind spins as they try and decipher what it is that the other man is doing or thinking, Red and Blue still screaming inside their mind as Vio murmurs various schemes about what they can do while Green sits in stony silence.

What were you thinking!

Green! We- what if- Red is nearly sobbing. Green, please! What are you doing?

Calm down. Of Green had his own body he’d be shooting them a rueful but reassuring look, and they can all feel it. This is a mistake or misunderstanding. If we listen and don’t make it worse, it can be cleared up faster.

Brilliant, might want to fill the vet and Old Man in on your plan though, and maybe Sky too, guys about to blow up.

They shoot a wary glance towards the Chosen Hero, careful not to move their head lest they press against the blade at their throat. Sky’s eyes are wide, but he’s still as a board and already falling into his ‘king stance’ as Legend calls it, shoulders back and jaw set with a grace and power behind his gaze that makes them shiver even more than the cool steel at their neck.

Or wait, that metal isn’t all cold, there's a bit of warm sticky stuff brushing their jaw and they nearly shiver again as they realize that Wars hadn’t even cleaned the monster blood off of his blade before trapping them.

“The smithy’s been lying to us.” Warriors grates out, cold and harsh and angry as the blade presses closer to their throat. They have to inch back a bit to avoid being cut, only to find themselves stumbling against the captain’s chest. “He may be a hero chosen by the goddesses, but he’s chosen his own path.”

“What do you mean?” Time’s voice is emotionless, stance unreadable and face carefully blank and it’s unsettling in the extreme, making the other young heroes draw back with wary looks as they glance from one to another of the adults, only Legend standing firm and furious as he glares across at the captain.

“Four’s working with the shadow.” The captain spits out, blade again pressing close to their neck. “I’ve been watching him, he’s either learned it's powers or the beast is here itself, but I know what I saw, he’s got a shadow helping him.”

The vet twitches. “Duh. Have you never read the Legend of the Four Sword?”

There are a few confused sounds from the others, but Four can’t bother to figure out what the others are all saying and doing as the steel presses sharp against his throat, leaving him pressed against Warriors’ armor-clad chest with no way to escape as something warm bubbles against the blade and crimson leaks down from the line the blade presses against him.

“Let him go!” Legend shrieks, hands already on his own blade as he darts across the camp, but Warriors, only draws Four closer, voice unbearable gentle and pained as he addresses Legend. “Vet, you’re not yourself. He’s messed with your mind, can’t you see?  It’s why you two have been so close all of a sudden, he’s put a dark spell n you, don’t give into it.”

“I’ll do what I bloody well want!” Legend screams in return, chest heaving as the tempered sword comes unsheathed, tip inches from Warriors’ face as Legend’s body begins to tremble. “Let him go, Captain.” The title is spat out like a curse, and Four can nearly feel Warriors’ shoulders sag as the man winces, but Legend doesn’t lower his blade even as Wars gently urges him to calm.

The others have started moving closer too, doubt on a few faces that makes their heart sink in their chest. Sky’s gaze is firm though as the Chosen Hero settles a hand on Legend’s shoulder. “Let him go, wars. If there’s a problem that needs addressing, we’ll address it like civil adults.” The words make hope flutter in their chest, but Warriors is only pressing closer, his blade digging in and making them whimper as blood dribbles into the collar of their tunic.

“Not a chance, Sky, he’ll get away, shadows are sneaky like that! They-” The captain is cut off suddenly, breath catching as the man wheezes behind them, his hand on the sword at their throat loosening its grip and giving them room enough to breathe again.

Legend takes the opening, whatever it is that caused it, to dart forwards, dropping his own sword and pulling at the captain’s sword arm hard enough that Sky can scoop them up into his strong arms and duck away, holding them close to his chest and giving them a full view of the shadowy hands that have wrapped around Warriors’ throat.

“I’d watch who you messed with if I were you, Captain.” Shadow hisses in the man’s ear before releasing him, zipping over to where they lay in Sky’s arms, startling both the Skyloftain and the vet, who’s already reaching for his weapon again as the shade stops to float over them. “Four, oh gosh Rainbow, are you okay?”

Good old Shadow.

Vi, we almost died, now’s not the time.

“All good.” They wheeze with a shaky smile, eyes darting up to Sky’s wary ones and then down to Legend’s steely indigo ones. Neither hero has made a move though, and for that Four is grateful.

A few paces away, Warriors is rubbing at his throat and staring in shock and horror at the shade that hovers over the trio of heroes who crossed him. They wince, this is not going to be easy.

“You’re bleeding.” Shadow hisses, nearly growls as his fangs glint in the glow of faded embers. “He- Oh Lolia no, this ain’t going down like this, not on my watch!”

Well Shadow’s managed to accidentally calm Legend at least, as the vet loosens slightly at the name of the Lolian Goddesses name, even if Sky still hold them tight like he thinks he’s going to have to run.

The shade looks up, away from them for a moment and salutes Sky with a knowing nod, all cockiness gone as from his demeanor as he addresses the Chosen Hero. “Thanks for sticking up for my idiot, feathers, watch him for a second while I handle this freak, yeah?” And Sky doesn’t even have time to speak or agree or even blink before Shadow has whizzed across the cam and sent one clawed fist slamming into Warriors’ face, a sickening crunch breaking the silence as Warriors stumbles, hand reaching for his face as Shadow wrings out his hand. “Thats for hurting my friend, you asshole!”

“Shadow.” Red’s wrested control as they flop against Sky’s chest. “That is not helping! You hurt Warriors!”

“He hurt you first!” The protective shade shouts back, crossing his arms and giving Wars his scary eyes before darting back to hover at Sky’s shoulder, much to the poor man’s surprise. “Racist jerk, what am I evil just because I’m a shadow? Never heard of shadow puppets as a kid? Or shadow dancing? Hey, guess what, you don’t need to think every freaking dark thing that moves is evil!”

Sky frowns, eyes straining as he stares at the being leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Four’s shadow, resident dragon master, smithy wrangler and protector of one stupid hero who thinks surrendering and keeping the peace is more important than keeping their hide in one piece.” Shadow pokes their shoulder pointedly at that, making them wince as Blue grumbles something about sharp claws.

“So, you are real.” Legend cocks his head, chest still heaving and cheeks still flushed as the vet visibly tries to force himself back under control. “Huh.”

Shadow turns, hovering mid-air and giving Legend a once over. The shade offers a strained grin, forced and brittle as he tries to distract them. “Rabbit huh? Nice. Rainbow’s always liked rodents. You the younger or older brother here?”

And even though all eyes are fixed on them, Warriors glaring and the others staring in disbelief, Four find themselves bursting into laughter because, of all things, of course Legend would apparently also have a shadow form, and the fact that it’s a rabbit is only making it worse. To their surprise, Sky’s laughter joins their own, and across camp, Twilight huffs a strained chuckle as Legend glares up at the floating shade.

“I told you!” Warriors wheezes, blood spilling down his face as he pulls himself up. “It's a shadow! Four’s working with Dark Link!”

Shadow hisses. “That nutcase? Are you kidding? I’d rather die again, thank you!”

And really, now is as good a time as any for them to explain. “He’s just a normal shadow, Wars. Yeah, Ganon and Vaati brought him to life, but he’s been helping me protect Hyrule since we freed him form their control. He’s on our side, he was just nervous about showing himself around all of you guys because we heard you all talking about your own shadows.” Their eyes are flickering violet as they stare at the captain, and they know it. “He’s not a monster, and he’s only a threat if you make him one, same as any of us.”

The captain moves to protest, only to have Hyrule clear his throat from the edge of camp, all eyes swiveling to the traveler as Hyrule nods slowly. “He’s telling the truth, the Legends of the Four Sword all say that the hero befriended and helped his shadow, and the shadow reformed and sacrificed himself to save Hyrule.”

“Exactly.” Legend squeak growls. “The only threat in this camp is someone who’s more willing to draw a blade on their comrade than to approach them with their concerns.” The words make Wars flinch, maybe more than the blow Shadow had landed to his face, and though the captain makes to speak, he's cut off once again by Legend’s harsh voice. “Don’t want to hear it, Captain. I’ve got my brother to help heal up after what you did to him.”

It’s like the mirror shattering all over again, the silence in the air as two parties are separated by a line none can see as Legend and Sky settle on the opposite side of the camp from the others, Shadow hovering over the vet’s shoulder as Legend turns his back on Warriors, dabbing gently at the cut on Four's throat with a cloth damp with red potions.

The captain stiffens, standing and turning on his heel to march towards the other end of camp.

Blue eyes never leave them as their three protectors hover and fuss over them.

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Sands of Eon (2/2)

(A/N): hoped you liked the first part. Enjoy! Read with sad music cause I wrote it with sad music. I hope you cry lol.

Part 1 here!

Fighting in a battle changes a person. But surviving an Archon war destroys them.

At least now, you had a better understanding of what Xiao went through before. And seeing how it affected you, it made you all the more thankful that you could suffer in place of Xiao.

Once you arrived in the past, you had successfully prevented the contract between Kubira and Xiao from coming to fruition. It was simple really. Kubira wanted a servant to do his bidding, and figured Xiao would be perfect for the role. But if the god were to find someone before Xiao, someone who was willing to become his bloodhound instead, there would be no reason for him to actively search out the adeptus. In short, you took over Xiao’s role in the war. It was the only plan that would change the outcome of the war and the future the least, without having others get involved.

All it took was offering yourself. You had surprised the god, who was amused that a mere human would want to serve in his army. But he decided to humor you, and in exchange for your obedience to his orders, he granted you immortality and increased power. By the end of the forsaken war, your power had become strong enough to rival an adeptus’. At the price of insurmountable bloodshed.

You hadn’t seen Xiao during the war, something that you were thankful for later on.

Not a day would pass that you wouldn’t think of him; hesitating, wondering if you would be able to face him after all that you had done. If he would look at you in disgust, knowing of all the deeds you had done for your master. If it would be worth facing his hatred, just to get a glimpse of his face once more.

Once the long war reached its end, Rex Lapis freed you from the chains of your blood-filled servitude. You had considered asking the archon to bring an end to your curse of immortality, but decided against it.

You could have had a merciful death, spending the last of your days as a human. But you didn’t deserve such an easy death, not after all the inhumane sins you committed. What you truly deserved, was to live every day of the rest of your immortal life; remembering every life you had taken, every drop of blood shed with your polearm, never being able to escape the horrors you submitted yourself to. You would continue to roam Teyvat, neither human nor adeptus, barely surviving, barely hanging on the thread of sanity left in you. Never forgetting that you had chosen your fate.

And the selfish part of you urged you to keep your immortality as well. You held onto the selfish desire to see Xiao one day, smiling and celebrating, surrounded by the people of Liyue. Blissfully unaware of what you endured and suffered, in his stead.

And as a millennia passed, you never once regretted changing your fate with Xiao’s. You had made your choice, and you now lived with it.

Your life followed in the steps of Xiao’s original fate, spending your days and years protecting Liyue; an atonement for your sins, as well as gratitude to the Geo Archon who saved you. On quiet days, you ate Almond Tofu at the Wangshu Inn, finally understanding why the adeptus had craved the dish so much before. It was the texture, rather than the taste that made it so alluring.

Avoiding the yaksha in the millennia had been easier than you thought. The only way you would hear about Xiao was through the Geo archon, who came to visit every now and then, checking up on you from time to time. He would update you on the man’s whereabouts and health during each visit, keeping the adeptus nameless, per your request.

“I don’t remember my real name.”

“Xiao isn’t your real name?”

“No, it was given to me by Morax after the Archon War…”

Xiao wasn’t his name anymore, and you figured not knowing his name would prevent you from ever seeking him. The less you knew, the better.

“It’s the last night of the Lantern Rite festival, (Y/N).”

Verr Goldet informs you as you greet her on your way up the stairs.

“Is it that time already?” you asked with a small smile. You reached down to pet the cat who rubbed her back against your leg with a purr.

“The traveler stopped by to let you know his invitation to join him and his flying companion at the festival still stands.”

You looked out at the terrace, watching the violet, sunset sky turn darker with each minute.

“You know me. I’m fine watching from the roof.” you responded, shaking your head.

The Wangshu owner gave a sigh at your response.

“At least go to the mountains for a better view. I’ll pack you an Almond Tofu so you can eat dinner up there while watching the ending festivities.”

Seeing her pleading face, you couldn’t reject her suggestion.

You finally reached the top of the mountain, giving you a good view of the city of Liyue, as well as the lanterns floating in the sky. Looking down into the city square, you could see the people of Liyue celebrating the last moments of the festival: children running around with last-minute made lanterns, lovers gathered near the bridge hand-in-hand, and Ruijin explaining the rules of her new game to the curious crowd. But it was the crowd gathered in the center, dancing in a big circle that grabbed your attention.

You spotted a figure dressed in teal, playing a flute instead of his usual lyre, providing music for the crowd to dance to. You smiled seeing the anemo archon having the time of his life. And it seemed that one more figure was having the time of his life, in the center of the dancing circle, wearing a mask and dancing along to the bard’s wind music.

Your breath hitched at the sight of the figure. Even with the mask on, you could recognize him anywhere. It was your first time seeing him in over a millennia, and you could still remember his face, down to every last detail.

Before you knew it, tears streamed down your face, the sight of finally seeing him overwhelming you with emotions.  

“Looks like your wish was granted too.” you laughed happily through your tears, remembering what he had wrote on the lantern you once gave him long ago.

“For a day to come to wear the mask, not to conquer demons, but to dance to the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers.”

                                                                                           - Xiao

As he continued dancing, you were entranced, never being able to see this side of him before your time venture.

It was only when the ending rite began that he had stopped his movement, taking his mask off to properly watch the show. Your heart stopped at the sight of his face, a small smile gracing his features. And it wasn’t until the ending fireworks rang in your ears, that your heart was reminded to beat again, realizing you had spent the whole ending festival watching him.

You took a moment to look out at the vast sea of lanterns, wondering if Xiao had made one of his own, and what wish he had written on the lantern. Taking one last look at the brightly-lit night sky, you turned your attention back to the city, watching as a group of people surrounded Xiao with smiles on their faces. And at the sight of his responding smile, all the pain you had endured up til now was forgotten.

“Xiao.” you called out quietly.

It was the wrong name, but it was the only one you knew him by.

The yaksha darted his eyes around the crowd, seemingly as if he had heard you call out to him. Although, it was far too loud with festivities in the square, and the distance between the two fo you, that it wasn’t likely.

“Happy Lantern Rite.” you whispered, a tear falling down your cheek.

It was worth it. Seeing the smile on his face, surrounded by the people of Liyue who respected him. It was worth your loneliness and pain, to save him from his. Being the only one to remember everything would be a suffering you would gladly take for his happiness.

So, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the his figure, away from the lantern-lit city. And silently, you headed down the mountain, back to Wangshu Inn, alone.

(A/N): AhhHHH!, you’ve made it to the end! Thank you for reading! I felt so sad playing the story quest for Xiao during the Lantern Rite festival. I planned on having a happy ending but just ended up going on an angst spiral. Let me know what you thought! I’m thinking of doing another part with a possibly happier ending, but we’ll see if I’m up for it lol. Again thank you for reading! Safe readings!

Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell for notifications for more videos. jk lol, this isn’t youtube. Just play some Genshin.

[toovirgins]

November, 2001

Summary: George Harrison reunites with an old friend.

There was a chill in the air.

All but uncomfortable, it was still and cool and calm, his skin refusing to prickle up into chills. There was no wind, or rain—bright, but no sun. Just air, all around him, refreshing and energizing and soothing all at once.

His eyes were closed. As his body began to come into itself, familiar sensations tickled up his spine. The first thing he noticed was the press of his feet and backside on the ground—must have been sitting cross-legged—and the feeling of dry, rough linen under the fingertips that rested on his thighs. His skin prickled as it recognized the feel of the linen up his torso as well.

He shifted slightly, as if waking up from a deep sleep. There was a certain mindfulness in practice, hyper-aware of the environment of his body: the cool, smooth ground beneath him, the scratch of the clothing on his skin, the curl of hair against his ear, the tickle of a mustache on his upper lip. When did he grow a mustache?

Internally, he felt… warm, cozy, almost as though in a deep state of meditation. His mind itself was drowsy, though he hadn’t tried to assess the situation much beyond physical sensation. He didn’t feel the need to.

It was nice. Peaceful, really. George couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a strong mind-body connection during meditation. There was nothing that existed besides the present; he had no past, and there was no future. It was not one of those times where the mindfulness revealed some grand ethereal Wisdom, and thus it somehow contained more truth. It was nothing and everything all at once.

Rather than let him enjoy this newfound spirituality, a familiar voice (in familiar habit) drew him out of the trance.

“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, mate!”

George languidly struggled to open his eyes, a half-fight as the voice dropped the silly tone and resorted to a short, sharp chuckle at his own antics. When the eyelids had finally pried themselves open and his vision focused, George frowned.

He looked like a picture, straight out of 1961. Standing before him, arms crossed as he bit his lip with childlike excitement at the reconciliation. George blinked, hardly believing the sight in front of him.

“John?”

“In the flesh,” he grinned. Then a pause. “Or, rather, anything but the flesh?”

John was in front of him, a quite young John, staring at him with a bit of a worried expectancy.

George’s stomach suddenly dropped.

His gaze flicked around the room wildly as unrestrained panic rose in his chest. They were in a room, though it wasn’t a room, just a dull white, not so much white as simply colourless, with no décor or wallpaper or flooring or furniture although somehow, he was now sitting in a chair.

He was dead.

John must have watched the color drain from his head, for he made his way over to where George was sitting and laid an uncertain hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, nothing mocking. Nothing to make a joke of. “Takes a minute.”

George suddenly remembered he’d been sick. It was feeding back into him, slowly, as if each thought trigged a new repressed memory. He’d been sick for some time now. Images of nurses and hospital and IV’s and the dread of going to “treatment” began to flood his mind, and he shuddered. He felt a stubborn powerlessness rise within him: yes, it had gotten progressively worse, but it was nothing the old chap couldn’t handle. He’d beat it once already. He’d been stabbed, for Chrissake.

How could this happen?

He thought of Olivia, and Dhani, and choked back a sob.

“I don’t want to be here,” he spluttered in a near-beg, his chest tightening in terror once more. “I can’t be here.”

John’s hand dropped to his side as he almost (almost) rolled his eyes. He held up an imaginary list with one hand, gesturing wildly at it with the other. “Join the queue of nearly every person ever.”

George felt a needle of annoyance shoot through the fear that was slightly ebbing away. He half-wondered if this was the acceptance people talked about in death: the strange inability to control your emotions, your body progressively growing used to the idea and the knowledge of your own helplessness.

“You could stand to be a bit more empathetic, you know. I’ve just died,” he reminded with sarcastic flair.

John smiled brightly at the twinge of normalcy in the expression.

The fear was almost entirely faded now, which struck a new worry in his mind. He couldn’t just surrender to this already—it would solidify it. Make it too true. But the more he thought about it, the more comfortable he became. Against his own will, George was growing in acceptance, knowing that he should be worried but unable to feel the pull of anxiety within him. In an exasperating tug-of-war, he fought between the poles of acknowledgement and fear, a vicious feedback loop that left him confused and exasperated.

Maybe curiosity didn’t mean surrender. Maybe he could test John for some of the millions of queries floating around in his head whilst still protesting the concept of his state.

John was staring at him with wonder, almost as if he was watching George’s mind work.

Here goes nothing.

George looked at him pointedly, raising the most pressing question in his mind. “Is this Heaven?”

John blinked, and George recognized the infamous John-trying-not-to-laugh-because-this-was-a-very-extremely-serious-situation expression rise to his face. “Yes, George. It is. Jokes on you, religion, because Heaven is just me, and you, in this room, and sometimes we play marbles or jack off.”

His face turned more serious at George’s scowl. He went for a Take 2, his voice much softer now. “No, actually,” he corrected, scratching his cheek. “I think it’s some sort of… Purgatory. Bardo.”

George’s chest felt odd. “Purgatory,” he repeated slowly.

“Purgatory.”

“I don’t understand.”

John clicked his tongue. “Again, love. The queue.”

“Purgatory,” George said again, softly, the words dripping with disbelief.

“The in-between,” John elaborated with a grandiose wave of a hand. “You die, you fuck around here for a bit, and if you’re lucky, you pass on.”

George couldn’t contain his curiosity. “To what?”

John’s features twisted into a strange expression. “I, erm… I don’t know.”

George’s face fell. Right. “Do you…” He began carefully, mulling over the taste of the words in his mouth and sussing out which were the least bitter. “Does time pass the same, then? Here?”

John shrugged indifferently. “You don’t notice it, really. There’s no days or nights—time is a construct, anyway. Haven’t thought about it since. There’s also no expectation, so no boredom. And sometimes I see old friends.” He finished with a signal in George’s direction.

George nodded, swallowing dryly. He doesn’t know.

How long it’s been.

John caught his eye, and George flicked his gaze away in an instant before he could catch on. But John was quick as a cat, just like in youth, and his mouth pressed into a firm line. “George?”

George shook his head.

“George?” His voice was strained now, his demeanor thrown by the unsettling responses. “How long has it been? In-in actual time.”

Wincing at the question he knew he’d elicited, George averted his eyes and spoke near incomprehensibly. “Twenty years.”

John looked dazed.

After a long beat of silence, he snorted dryly. There was nothing humorous in the sound. “Suppose they’re still tryin’ to figure out what to do with me, then.” He paused. “For Chrissake, I already apologized in ’66.”

Neither man laughed at the joke. It was quiet for a long time.

“So.” John interrupted the stretch of silence, rather loudly, startling him. He clapped his hands together. “How’s Rings?”

George felt strangely hollow at the mention of his best friend. “Good. Married again, not long after you—” He stopped himself, unable to finish the sentence. It was still hard to wrap his mind around, all these years later. Even now, that John was standing in front of him, chipper as the day they’d first met (more so, perhaps). Even now, that they were both… “After you.”

“Is he?” John looked surprised, curious. “What’s she like?”

“Name’s Barbara. Ritchie made a film in ’81 called Cavemanand they met on the set. He really loves her. Oh, she’s fantastic,” George asserted, wishing John could have been there, needing John to have been there.

“Watch it,” John warned, his voice light and teasing.

George scowled.

John pushed his shoulder playfully, and George slumped further into the chair, defeated. As John’s laughter died down, George looked up at him and watched in fascination as the man did a complete 180.

The smile melted from his face, and a chill fell over the room.

“I—m…” John cleared his throat, offering the ground a watery smile. “I miss Paul.”

George was suddenly standing knee-deep in the ocean. Nothing in the room was different besides the knowledge that the water on the floor was Pacific. John was there still, only further away now, feverishly blinking the tears away with that desolate smile on his face. Before George could call out to him, comfort him, he turned back towards the expansive sea only to be confronted with a fifty-foot wave.

The breath was knocked from his chest as the wave crashed down with full force, heart shattering on impact. He let out an involuntary gasp at the sudden rush of pain that washed over his chest and began to stumble backwards, tears burning in his eyes. There was no water, no wave, and he was still standing, dry as a bone, but the sensation was all the same. Panic began to rise in his throat, blinded by an incomprehensible catalogue of torment, longing, anger, desperation, heartache. Every excruciating emotion simultaneously wrecked his being, coupled with the strangely overpowering feeling of raw, unabashed love.

John caught his arm, quickly pulling him into a hug. George hadn’t realized that he was close again, and gripped him tightly for fear of having him drift away with the tides that were no longer there. Tears streamed down his face as John stroked soothingly at his hair, muttering sweet comforts and apologies over his head.

“I’m sorry, fuck, mate, I’m sorry,” he babbled, trying to squeeze away George’s trembling sobs. “It works like that here, sometimes. Christ, I’m sorry. It’s all right. You’re all right.”

George sniffed, feeling like a child as he pressed closer into his friend’s body. “Works like what?”

John tensed a bit, though George couldn’t understand why. He spoke slowly, sure but hesitant in his explanation. “Emotions. They’re… different. It’s sort of like all that Hare Krishna unity bullshit—” George wrinkled his nose. “—and whatnot, the whole ‘collective unconscious’.”

George frowned at the implication, taking a tentative step back. “You mean…”

“Feel each other’s emotions, you can,” John answered without missing a beat. He spoke plainly, as if he’d explained this away hundreds of times before. “But there’s a historical aspect, too, that part I don’t quite understand. It only happens sometimes.” His eyes lit up as his voice quieted, mumbling to himself more so than George. “Maybe they had to have been there at the time? ‘Cause of the thing with Elvis…?”

George looked up at him in shock, ignoring John’s musings. “That was you? All that?”

John offered him a lopsided smile.

George’s heart began to pound in wild misunderstanding. He’d always known, of course, that John and Paul had that “special connection” that whisked them away to an entirely different reality. He’d grown up an outsider, watching in on the world’s most famous duo and feeling just like anyone else, at times. His stomach felt queasy and slightly bitter at the thought that perhaps he hadn’t even known the half of it.

All that for Paul?

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to comfort John. John’s pain was gone now, replaced by only a dull ache, causing George to shudder at the idea of his mate going through that alone all those years ago.

“Paul’s… good,” he said, slightly unevenly. It felt like a good place to start.

John looked up at him quickly, his eyes both intrigued and desperate. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” George smiled. “He came to visit me. Not long…” His breath caught. “Not long before this.”

“I saw Linda,” John said quietly.

An image flashed in George’s mind of John in the very same room, sitting in a cushioned chair. In the vision, his eyes flicked up from the book in his hands, and he did a double-take, uncrossing his ankle from his knee and sitting up abruptly. Somehow, George knew that he was Linda, seeing John through her eyes. He—Linda—offered John a welcome, familial smile, and George noticed the portfolio of expressions on John’s face as the two radiated towards one another with emotions that George could not feel. And then—nothing.

In front of him now, John shifted uncomfortably, and George tried to get his bearings in the present once more. “She didn’t stay long.”

“It was hard,” George agreed, still trying to shake the vision. “She was the love of his life.”

John nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“He never stops talking about you.”

A beat. “I never stop thinking about him.”

Something passed between them. George wished he could go back in time and relive every Beatle moment together with this newfound information. Suddenly, as if they hadn’t before, things made sense: Paris, the LSD trips, India, the breakup. The songwriting feud. Yoko.

He understood now, that it was a complicated love that surpassed the boundaries of typical labels: no dating or marriageor sex, neither platonic nor romantic. There was a lust, but it was different than any other attraction George had experienced; it was motivated, driven by something much larger than himself. None of it was a means to an end—simply living, appreciating one another, taking it day by day until it imploded and rained down on them like a meteor shower, the disastrous aftermath of planned obsolescence. A love like that could never be.

George felt eager to change the subject.

“Have you seen lots of people passing through, then?” His gaze twitched away to offer the barest amount of privacy as John’s hand came up to quickly swipe a stray tear.

“Um, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You’d never believe—Elvis was here, when I first got here, which was right thrilling. We talked about everything under the sun for who-knows-how-long, but he left too not long after.” He nodded. “Linda. Some lads from school. Real nice chap named Freddie. He and I made a song together, though I can’t remember it now. He was in that up-and-coming rock group, the one on the tail end of the Beatles.”

“Queen,” George corrected, fascinated.

“No, that’s not it. I wanna say… Oh, you know who was a pleasure?” John switched onto this entirely new track, never missing a beat. “I met some psychologist. Taught me all about these fab concepts like behaviorism and operant conditioning and all that. I’d heard about his book, but I hadn’t read it until I met him. Verbal Behavior, is what it was. Real smart guy.”

“Do you see everyone?”

John thought for a moment. “No, certainly not. People die every minute. I’d be dreadfully overwhelmed.”

George smiled. “That is true. Lucky I showed up here, then.”

John returned the grin, almost sadly. “Yes, but you won’t stay long.”

George felt the strangest urge to reach for John’s hand. He suppressed it. “I want to.”

John shook his head. “You’re a good person, George.”

There were a lot of things to say in response. You are too, Johnny. I’m not a good person. We’ve both done some shit. ‘Good person’ is an arbitrary term because we are not our actions, so it wouldn’t matter, even.But nothing felt quite equipped to rival the emptiness of John’s eyes, so he said nothing.

“What do I look like, Geo?” He asked suddenly, staring a hole in George’s head with newfound curiosity.

The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

John waved a hand dismissively as if it were the most normal question in the world. “Come on now, what do I look like?”

George just blinked. “Like… John.”

With a roll of eyes, John reached out and twirled a finger around the tip of George’s mustache. “You’re all Pepper-like. What about me?”

It suddenly occurred to George that this was not how John always looked, and hadn’t been for nearly forty years. He shifted a bit, startled at the realization. “Oh! Erm—Hamburg. Like we’d just stepped out of Top Ten.”

John grinned and stepped back. “Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s always different. That one, I can’t figure out. I first realized when Freddie asked why I looked like ’74 instead of when I died. I couldn’t give him an answer, on account of I hadn’t even realized that fact.”

George laughed, though it wasn’t funny. There was a giddiness bubbling up in him, mirroring the excitement with which John talked. He felt so bizarrely thrilled that his fingers began to tingle, and he chuckled at that too. The feeling rivaled that of a limb falling asleep, and he mindlessly shook his hand to quiet the growing sensation.

John’s face immediately fell.

George’s stomach dropped at the sudden change of pace. “What?”

His eyes were shining when he spoke the plea to anything that would listen. “No, please,” he muttered, lip trembling. Shaking fingers reached out to grasp at George’s bicep. “Not—not yet, I’m not ready—”

George’s heart hammered in his chest, hardly able to hear himself speak over the blood rushing in his ears. The tingle had snaked its way up his forearms now, and a similar feeling started in his toes. “John, John, what is it? What’s going on?”

“George, please don’t go. Please. This isn’t—it’s not long enough, I need you, I need more time, Geo…” The words trailed off, and a tear fell from each eye as John pulled him into his arms as if that could keep George there. As if he could save them.

George slowly started to understand, swallowing the alarm at John’s frantic reaction. He was going to pass on, to leave John behind just like everyone else in his life. But this was a different kind of departure. It was not Julia’s absence, Mimi’s coldness, Paul’s Linda. It was not even Uncle George’s death, or Brian’s death, or even Julia’s death. At least, those times, he could find someone, something new to latch on to.

George would have felt pity for the man if not for the immense heartbreak, the indescribable pain of watching John come emotionally undone before him.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, blinking as a falling tear graced his own face. He felt oddly in control of the situation, despite seconds away from venturing into the greatest Unknown of all Unknowns. “Shh, John, it’s all right. Listen, we got to do this, didn’t we? We got to talk. And laugh. Just like old times, right?”

John’s voice broke. “I love you, Geo. Don’t go.”

They both knew it was a fruitless request.

George gripped him a bit harder in the embrace, feeling with hopeless acceptance as the tingling feeling reached his shoulders and began to pour down his back. He spoke the only thing that would come to mind.

“I’ll see you,” he whispered, a promise tainted by his own fearful tears slipping onto John’s shoulder.

John’s arms tightened around his waist. “I’ll see you,” he repeated.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Pheromones

Fandom: Mass Effect

Collection/Series: N/A

Pairing: Selene Shepard x Garrus Vakarian

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T - Suggestive themes but nothing NSFW

Warnings: N/A? I think (if i’m wrong let me know!)

Summary: Selene’s a little confused about something Javik says to her, she naturally asks her Turian boyfriend about it. 

Notes: Based off this conversation with Javik. I’ve never actually written Shakarian stuff in all my years of loving the ship. But, with Mass Effect: LE taking over my life, why not? 

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“So...Javik said something really...weird when I went to see him earlier.” 

It had been a long day; finding out Cerberus was turning people at Sanctuary into husks, seeing Miranda again, stopping her father from killing Oriana...it had taken a toll and then to come back and have a really bizarre conversation with their Prothean teammate? Well, Selene Shepard was glad to be back in a pair of yoga pants and a large jumper. 

If Selene was completely honest with herself she was exhausted. The war was taking its toll on her, all the responsibility that lay on her shoulders only seemed to be lightened by the support of her team and most importantly, Garrus. Her cybernetics had been bright and bold across her skin as of late, a sure sign that she was running out of steam. Despite the exhaustion, Javik's words weighed on her mind, confusing, curious and just a reminder of how alien he really was. 

Garrus came out of her, no, their shower, towel around his cowl, visor, no longer obscuring his face for once. God, it is so utterly domestic between the two of them now and something in her aches with the awareness that this might all be cut short, that domestic might never be a long term option for them. She hopes it will, hopes silently that they’ll get to retire somewhere, have a couple of kids, a varren or two, and life out their days into old age. 

“Weird? Weird to humans or...just weird?” The dual tone of his voice rings with curiosity. It had taken her two whole years of missions with him for her to actually get a good grasp on his subharmonics and even now there were things her weak human ears couldn’t quite pick up on, or even hear at all. 

She thought for a moment as Garrus sat down next to her on the bed, nuzzling his face between her shoulder and neck like he always did. It was something she’d taken as a turian sign of affection, the way his plates scratched at her skin and mandibles fluttered across her shoulder, she could only compare it to a human placing kisses down. A nuzzling that he never failed to do, whether they were standing and he had to bend over or they were sitting or lying down. 

Leaning into him with her eyes closed, she traces a hand across the plates on the back of his neck. “I...think it's just weird? He said he could tell we were ‘joined’ because of my...pheromones…” 

Garrus froze in his nuzzling, pulling back with his face plates drawn together, mandibles fluttering in confusion. “Well, yeah? I scent you all the time, been doing it since you agreed to be a one turian kind of woman. I thought...I mean I smell like you too…?”

“Scenting? I what?” Selene was decidedly confused, Garrus didn’t smell like her at all. In fact, the little scent that he had was of the more metallic and engine grease kind from spending all his time tinkering with things or modifying his sniper rifle. She certainly didn’t smell like him, not to her nose anyway. 

She pressed her face into his cowl and took a big, over exaggerated sniff. Nothing. He didn’t even smell like her shampoo or the jasmine soap she’d managed to find on the Citadel. Just...Garrus. 

Garrus chuckled, three fingered hand cupping her cheek, filed down talons grazing carefully across her skin to smooth out the furrow between her eyebrows.  

“Oh, right, you humans and your terrible sense of smell. Cute.” His grin flared his mandibles out wide, sharp teeth on show in a display of good humour.

“Garrus!” He liked getting a rise out of her, enjoyed seeing the pale skin of her cheeks turn as red as a Palaven sunset, something Turians just could not do. It was always so distinctly human, glaringly alien, but adorable. Not that many people would describe the Commander Shepard as adorable, but most people weren’t in a committed relationship with her...or he hoped most people weren’t. 

“Honey, it’s normal. We sleep together, we make love,” She groaned a little at the word choice as he returned to nuzzling underneath her neck, talons moving up and down her back in soothing motions, “we shower together, we go on every mission together, we spar together…” Selene can’t help the little moan that leaves her mouth as his breath warms across her skin before that tongue of his, blue and ridiculously dexterous, carves a path over her shoulder and up her throat, lingering on a spot behind her jaw that he knows all too well. 

“And turians are kind of known for scenting their partners.” 

“What does that even mean? Scenting? Like a cat? Are you marking your territory?” She’s never taken Garrus for being possessive, in fact, he was decidedly cool under pressure whenever someone decided to try it on with her. Occasionally he’d shift in a way that told people to back off, pressing his chest to her back, but that was only in instances where the person didn‘t know when to quit. Usually an overzealous asari or persistent human. The idea of him marking his territory, or even seeing her that way was kind of out of character to her, he just wasn’t like that. They were equals in everything they did. He was her person and she was his, one of them wasn’t more dominant in the relationship, they were partners. 

“Yes and no. You're not my territory, honey, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you're a one turian kind of woman, but I trust you and I know you can handle yourself. It’s a habit really, an instinct. I’m surprised you don’t know, you do it too.”

It’s a relief to hear him say that. While she finds Garrus ridiculously hot when he goes all bad boy vigilante turian on someone, the raw power he exudes is something else entirely, something different that starts a fire in her belly, she also doesn’t want to be seen as an object or possession. 

“I do?” They’ve gravitated, as they always do, towards each other. Selene finds herself curled up in Garrus’ lap, arms wrapped around his cowl and nose pressed to the junction of his neck, pressing light little kisses there had become a favourite pastime of hers. Calming, soothing. 

“Mmm...all the time, that little nuzzling thing you’re doing?” She pulls back, startled, eyebrows almost comically high and red still tinting her cheeks, “Yeah, I thought you were just a little possessive, but maybe this is one of those interspecies miscommunication things, huh?”  

“I...oh.” She curls back into his neck, bashful in a way no one else sees. Garrus enjoys seeing her like this, out of her element but trusting, seeking comfort in him even as he’s the source of her embarrassment. Their relationship is unconventional and with it has come embarrassment and nerves from both sides, but it’s the trust in him, and his trust in her that’s made it work, that makes it worthwhile. 

He runs his fingers through the red of her hair, the strands soft and silky, a sensation that he still finds fascinating all this time on and one that he knows she finds soothing. He can only compare it to how he feels when she caresses underneath his fringe. 

“So is that why that C-Sec officer stopped flirting with me every chance he got?” She thinks of the dark brown turian, bright orange markings across his face. Before she’d seen Garrus again, before they’d rekindled their relationship, he’d been determined to flirt with her, no matter how many times she politely turned him down. He’d since stopped, his tone always overly polite and formal, nervous even. She’d assumed Bailey had given him a dressing down, but...maybe not. 

“Mmm, probably.” His chest rumbles with the hum, soothing and deep, reverberations running through her, “Most turians aren’t going to flirt with a taken woman, ever seen two turians get into a proper fist fight? It’s more claws and teeth than anything else.” No turian wanted to get into a fight over someone they had a passing fancy for, that Garrus knew for a fact, best to leave someone alone if they were clearly in a relationship.

“Would you? If someone tried it on?” She’s curious, deeply so. Part of her wants to know he would, but part of her wants to know that he’d think about it, and take his time to decide if it was necessary. Garrus had always had a bit of a temper, quick and righteous and determined to put things right. But, he’d mellowed with age, with her nagging him and convincing him to spare people who’d wronged him and others. He was more calculating these days. 

“Depends.” A hand falls to her waist, circles being rubbed into the skin underneath her jumper, absent minded and soothing as his blue eyes look to the skylight above her bed, staring out at the stars. Contemplating his next words.

“On?” She leans up to press a kiss underneath his chin, the soft exposed skin tempting her.

“Do you want me to? How badly are they trying to get into your pants? Are you in danger? Do you need me to? Is it someone I know and despise?” His voice rumbles in his throat, she feels the vibrations against her lips and ringing through her ears. That was something about being with a turian that she loved, the subharmonics were soothing to her ear, the rumble that always seemed to roll through his body was comforting. She wouldn’t call it a purr, mostly because Garrus would fix her with that look, narrowed eyes, mandibles drawn tight against his face. He’d probably go back to calibrating the guns for a week or two straight. God, she hated that. 

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t fight for my honour?” She’s teasing him, but she can still feel him tense up. Her lack of subharmonics tended to confuse him whenever she joked and he couldn’t see her face. 

Taking pity on him Selene pulls back so he can see the amused little smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth, freckles scrunching up across her cheeks and nose. 

“I...you’re messing with me aren’t you?” There’a a palpable sigh of relief from him as his shoulders relax and he rolls his neck before pinning her with a playful glare, huffing through his nose at her. He’s the only person she can truly be playful with and she knows he enjoys it, the closeness of their relationship isn’t lost on either of them. He makes her feel less tired, more alive, younger, even if it's for a brief moment before reality crashes back down again. 

“Yeah, just a little, big guy.” She tugs his face down gently by a scarred mandible, he follows easily, putting himself in reach so that she can press a kiss to his cheek, across the blue colony markings that are oh so familiar to her. Affection with Garrus is easy: “I love you, but I don’t need you tearing someone’s throat out for me...unless it’s Kai Leng, you can tear his throat out.” 

The assassin was a thorn in her side and she was close to snapping, her usual restraint and desire to talk things through was failing. She wouldn’t negotiate or talk with Kai Leng. If she finally got the chance...well, he probably wouldn’t be recognisable afterwards. 

“Oh, I'm tempted, believe me. There’s nothing I'd like more than to put every ounce of my anger and hatred into beating Kai Leng into a bloody pulp. Buuuut, I think you deserve the satisfaction yourself.”

“I love you, you know that right? Even if I'm walking around stinking like a turian vigilante.” She caresses the lengths of his crest and underneath, scratching short nails against the soft skin there and the purr, because it is a purr, that rumbles from his chest is almost as satisfying as the thought of finally getting revenge on Kai Leng.

“Reaper Advisor actually.” He brushes his cheek against hers, hard plates brushing against soft skin, gently, not hard enough to chafe or rub. “I love you too, even if I'm walking around stinking like a self-sacrificing human spectre.”

[dontcallmecarrie]

continuation of this, because the idea lives rent-free in my head [heads up for minor profanity]:

Under other circumstances, planning a prison break wouldn’t have taken more than a week, tops.

Stranded in this weird hellscape, however...

Ivan Vanko sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was either that, or survey the main room of the bunker Victor von Doom had somehow managed to secure because he was a goddamn overachiever that way. Ivan’d probably be more annoyed if it weren’t working in their favor at this moment— wait a minute.

“How’re you holding up?” Ivan asked warily as he looked at him from a safe distance across the war room, because now that he thought about it, Victor had been acting...very weird, lately. 

Which was a problem, because Ivan had more than enough on his plate just trying to figure out how to get them all back home when he wasn’t stuck watching Loki and his feral counterpart circle each other like cats half a second from brawling, or the headache he got when the two Winter Soldiers came back from recon or supply-gathering or whatever the hell else they got up to ever since they’d joined up with the others and found out where Justin’d landed. 

Ivan didn’t think he was wrong to be paranoid about this type of radio silence, not when it was coming from the poster boy for a type-A personality. 

“I? Am fine.” Victor said, and Ivan might have even believed him if he didn’t have that maniac glint in his eyes that precluded the type of disaster only their esteemed leader could prevent, and sure enough— “Get the others, I have a plan ready.”

.

Once more, Loki was inordinately proud of the friends allies he had.

In an entirely different universe, limited resources and external factors working against them, and they still managed to pull stunts like this off. 

“What kind of...” His counterpart muttered from his spot in the corner, even as Victor walked them all through his plan to break the last of their party out of one of the most secured locations in one of the most powerful countries on the planet. Ivan nodded along as he took notes, presumably for whatever hyper-specialized gear they’d need, while the Winter Soldier looked over their plans with a pensive frown before throwing in the odd comment here and there.

Victor was in fine form today, confidently answering their questions as he ran through contingency plans and every last scrap of intel they’d managed to access. 

“This is why.” Loki said quietly, and his counterpart seemed lost and oddly bereft as the rest of Cabal plotted. “You wanted to know why I allied myself with Midgardians? Here you have it.”

.

“You know, you don’t have to do this.” The Winter Soldier told his counterpart. “Justin’s my friend, you have your own problems to deal with, Soldat.”

A single blink was his answer, and right, he’d been stubborn from the start, hadn’t he. It was...probably why HYDRA’s conditioning never took, which was good, but also frustrating as all get out because Soldat— and just getting him to pick a name had been a trial in and of itself— was dead-set on coming along.

“I mean it. We’re going home as soon as Ivan can figure out how to use the Tesseract to reverse whatever the hell he did to get us here, you’re going to be the one to deal with the consequences and you’re going to have enough on your plate as is.” 

How someone could look so mulish without moving a muscle, Winter didn’t know, but Soldat sure managed to pull it off nevertheless. 

“Oh, let him.” Victor interrupted their standoff. “It’s his choice to make, and we need all the help we can get, Winter.”

“We can pull it off.” He countered, and Victor inclined his head.

“Of course we can, I’m the one who planned it. But you can’t deny that four people trying to break someone out of supermax is a fairly tall order.”

“Ah, fuck, this is going to be a disaster.” The Winter Soldier pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as he abruptly realized they’d be throwing two Lokis at the problem and would there even be a supermax standing, afterwards?

“Excuse you, my plans never fail—” 

“You sure you want in on this train wreck?” He asked Soldat abruptly, “Because odds are, it’s going to be like this the entire time.”

A single nod, and Winter leaned back with a sigh. “Fuck, I was afraid of that. Fine, okay...but when it goes to hell, I told you so.”

.

For the record, everything didn’t go to hell within the first five minutes. 

...it took six.

.

“Objective secured,” the Winter Soldier barked over the specially-made comms Ivan had handed out, as his left hand easily snapped the cuffs limiting Justin’s movements and immediately started ushering him to the extraction point while Loki set to work shorting out the camera system. Justin seemed to be frozen in place, but that was secondary; clearly he was in shock, but Winter couldn’t afford to put him at ease, not when they were operating on such a limited time frame and so he didn’t think twice about lifting his friend in a fireman’s carry. 

Elsewhere, Other Loki’s distraction continued to draw the guards’ focus.

“Okay, moving onto phase three. Victor, you ready?” Ivan’s voice came through loud and clear even as the alarms continued to blare around them.

“On i—” Victor’s voice cut off as what could only be an EMP went off, casting the entire facility in darkness for a few seconds.

Ivan’s creations were good, but he had limited resources to work with and so for the two minutes it took for their comms to get back online, they were on their own.

Fortunately, everyone in Cabal had taken that into account. 

“Come on,” Loki ushered them along and Winter didn’t even blink at the familiar green sparks that lit the way. In the distance, the guards’ surprised yelps told them Other Loki had decided to step up his own game long before they met up with him in the hallway. 

“Took you long enough. Is this him?” Other Loki’s smile had a strange sort of curiosity, and going by the way Loki had tensed, he’d noticed it too. 

“We can talk once we’re done.” Loki demurred, and set to work getting the array that’d teleport them out of here. 

As he did, Winter gently set Justin down. “Sorry about that, we’re on a bit of a time crunch.” 

“I—” Justin sounded oddly nervous, looking between him and the two Lokis, and Winter sympathized. 

“Yeah, I’m impressed the building’s still standing, too.”

If possible, Justin seemed to curl in on himself even more, and Winter reached towards him in concern. Hey, you okay? I’m sorry we’re late, things happened, but—”

“We’re ready,” Victor interrupted as he and Soldat rounded the corner and rushed towards them, and Winter froze as he saw who else they had in tow and whipped around to check, but—

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Loki said as he stopped short, seeing the problem. 

Justin Hammer frowned at them in mild concern, as the Justin Hammer at his side started to hyperventilate. 

Whoops.

“Shit, I am so sorry—” Winter started, before he whipped around just in time to catch the shield hurled in their direction and fuck, that meant the Avengers were here, coming in hot and they had two noncombatants in direct range—

A single look told him the others were on the same page, and without saying a word, Loki and Victor set to activating the array while Winter hurled Captain America’s shield down the hall as he took up a defensive position. Soldat mirrored his position, and Other Loki seemed more curious than anything else but still threw out a shield strong enough to deflect the explosive arrow for the split-second it took for the array to kick in and get them the hell out of dodge before anyone got a good look at them. 

Then, and only then, did Winter have the time to take a step back and turn around and realize— 

“Ah, fuck, we accidentally kidnapped someone, didn’t we.”

[junicai]

Relationship with WAYV

➣ KUN ☾ karia

if it wasn’t for dotae potentially coming to kill him, he would steal aria into wayv

he’s the cool dad? 

they can’t spend a lot of time together because none of their schedules match up, but aria takes every third or so weekend out to come have dinner in the wayv dorms

she’s surprisingly close to the china line, and its a combination of ten dragging her to his dorm for an entire month and them just kinda adopting her when they realized she was a foreigner as well 

yuta can fight them, she’s one of them now

he doesn’t like to baby her a lot, and she really appreciates the break from being the “maknae” so to speak 

however does that stop him from giving her the forehead kithes? no

aria sad? forehead kith

aria mad? forehead kith

aria smad? forehead kith + kuddles (kun cuddles)

he has sent her a passive agressive text when he found out that she wasn’t eating enough again and had almost passed out

but he finished it with a heart so its ok

if she isn’t smiling at all times, someone will die

aria feels like she can trust him with a lot; that no matter what she tells him, he’ll never out her or make fun of her

kun actually took a two-week online course to learn how to make traditional japanese dishes when aria mentioned missing her parents

he originally was going to learn how to make irish dishes, but he changed his mind after seeing what they were

“im not giving my kids boiled cabbage and mashed potatoes what kind of post world war-”

wants to give her a chinese name but hasn’t yet because he hasn’t found the one that fits her right and he wants it to be perfect 

aria teaches him japanese phrases in exchange for him teaching her a little bit of mandarin

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria saw kun’s back as she entered the practice room, the man standing with three other members in the centre of the floor before the choreographer came in to start their practice. coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, peeking her head around from where she was. “hi!” she smiled brightly.

“hi,” ten chuckled, showing her the camera that had just filmed all of that. 

➣ TEN ☾ tenaria

Whipped(TM)

so so gone for her its upsetting actually

yangyang and aria share the position of his baby 

except aria willingly accepts the title while yangyang would rather fling himself from a rooftop

ten’s instagram is half his cats, half miyazu aria

he posts her dancing practice on his story a lot, with a variety of captions ranging from “thats my baby  ♡( ◡‿◡ )” to “yah that’s not right...(눈_눈)”

such an enabler for her bad ideas 

aria wants to go shopping at 4am? ten agrees, now they’re sitting by han river eating ice cream

pls he’s gonna get her in so much trouble one day

when they walk together, ten likes to take her hand and put it in his pocket 

its under the pretense of not wanting her to get lost 

he just wants to hold her hand

yes he has lost her in a shopping mall, and NO it wasn’t his fault

ten always complains that they never have schedules together and he misses his baby 

“we have superm-” “I NEVER SEE YOUUUU (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ”

if they’re in the same room ten is either watching her out of the corner of his eye, or is actually wrapped around her like a boa constrictor 

hugs n kithes all around

only he is allowed make fun of her mistakes in dancing 

anyone else gets deaded. he will fight for her honor how dare you insult his baby 

sm give these ttwo a dancing duo video pls 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

the first and only time aria and ten had a duet was during their last concert on superm’s first world tour. during the second half of ten’s solo performance, aria emerged from the left side of the stage, coming to join him in the centre stage. no one had ever seen aria as serious as she was then, both herself and ten becoming completely different people in the moment. midway through, aria spun with her back to ten and leaped backwards into the air - eyes closed - completely trusting ten to be where she needed him to be to catch her. 

➣ WINWIN ☾ winria

a love hate relationship at its finest

they don’t actually hate each other it’s just really funny to pretend that they do (especially because yuta complains that 2 of his favourite people aren’t getting along)

winwin is so savage towards aria but it’s ok she claps back twice as hard

at first, before czennies had seen enough of their dynamic they thought that they actually did hate each other

but that’s not true they just don’t know how to express, affection, without brutally insulting the other with a loving tone

they are, surprisingly, the most stable pairing in 127 - they have a dynamic and rarely stray from that, which is a good comfort for the fans

despite what they might say to each other, they don’t mean any of it - and winwin has been seen several times raising his eyebrows with a questioning look at aria to make sure she wasn’t taking any of his playful jabs to heart

oh god the flexibility

the entirety of nct is terrified of them

the day sm gives them a circus act is the day that kun and taeyong have a heart attack

quietly supportive of each other - catch aria “playing” with a water bottle and not getting up to get it when it conveniently rolls across the floor and into winwin’s leg

he makes sure to save some new chinese sweets whenever the wayv members get packages from their familes, and sneak it into aria’s room before the managers can catch her breaking her diet

not really physically affectionate with each other, which played into czennies idea that they didn’t like each other but aria cleared it up in a vlive

“winwinnie and I, well. we don’t hug a lot because i know he doesn’t like it as much as i might, so i try to show him i care with other things :)”

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

winwin and aria going in to each other on knowing brothers, to the point where the mc’s had their eyes popping out of their head and waved about to stop the segment before aria could start attacking winwin’s cooking methods-

nothing is off limits when it comes to them

➣ LUCAS ☾ arihei

besties 

please they’re so cute together - tol child next to tini child she barely comes up to his chest :(

bear hugs

he just swamps her in his arms, and when he doesn’t feel like being bent over he picks her up 

complains that she’s too heavy but then immediately after will throw her around like a softball 

someone tell this man to be careful with her she’s not a barbie doll 

singular braincell energy

don’t get it wrong, they’re both super smart 

so it’s just - being smort together, but then nearly dying because neither of them remembered that you couldn’t eat raw cookie dough when there are eggs in it

she adores how he’s so confident in the things that he does - like convincing the entire nct fandom that he was fluent in english? king behaviour

so aria looks up to him (literally) but also because she wants to have that confidence some day 

lucas says they’re not close and then aria pouts and he takes it all back

nczennies made a 14 minute compilation titled “lucas melting like a popsicle in australia for aria” 

and literally what the title tells you, this man goes :(( when he sees her 

lucas was actually the person to convince her to go ahead with the [redacted] proposal - and reminded her that it was too good an opportunity to pass up just because she felt like she was outgrowing the boys

he’s so proud of her

and she’s so proud of him 

they’re so proud of each other and it makes nczennies want to cry because they never are seen together 

sm stop separating the platonic soulmates first markhyuck and now arihei smh

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

during a photoshoot, aria was standing off to the side of the boys, dressed in white suit to contrast the boys’ black ones. the photographer was calling out to her to get her to move closer, but she couldn’t hear him from so far away, and so lucas (who was on the end) just walked over to her, gripped her by the biceps and lifted her vertically and to the left a little bit. 

“luc-LUCAS?”

“you had to move :)”

➣ XIAOJUN ☾ arijun

honestly these two aren’t super close, just because their schedules never matched up until the NCT 2020 promotions

even when aria was dragged to the wayv dorms, xiaojun kept his distance from her because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable 

even so, when they were filming Make A Wish together, they seemed comfortable enough around each other

there was a mutual agreement to not try fill the silence with awkward small talk, so they sat in silence when left alone together

they’re both shy :( someone needs to get them to talk to each other :(

even so, aria was all supportive smiles and thumbs-up when she saw him getting nervous before their first public stage as the unit 

he was a little intimidated of her at first, but also really curious about how she was holding her own against the other members

not only physically, but her vibes are tiny let the man be concerned ok

his first impression of aria was just: small quiet? she was sitting apart from the other boys in the practice room, and he almost wanted to go over and ask her if she was ok; before she was approached by donghyuck and her face broke into a bright smile 

aria’s first impression of xiaojun was: eyebrows he was really handsome? at first, she thought he was in the wrong room, seeing as the SM modeling auditions were happening in the next room down

any arijun shippers are starved of content im so sorry guys 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

currently still up for debate between the fandom :(

➣ HENDERY ☾ aridery

ah these two 

you might as well sign a waiver if you decide to do anything with them, because they can and will get you killed 

kun can testify

ten’s the enabler but hendery is the do-er

super giggly around each other, for no reason at all

hendery could pick up and throw a basketball and suddenly aria’s on the floor in literal stitches 

have a secret code 

no seriously

they don’t text in words, they just send various reaction memes and a colourful variety of emojis to convey emotions and scenarios 

it’s become quite a beautiful language actually 

got some nice proverbs in there

they’re like, cousins but the ones you only see at family reunions but get so hype to see them

that energy 

asides from the chaotic, murderous vibes they possess as a duo

hendery knows what it’s like to miss home, to miss your parents, etc etc

and so he tries to make aria feel as home as possible - especially with wayv, because they’re all foreigners who know how she feels 

whenever he gets packages from his parents who have sent things over, he always makes sure to keep some of the small treats/sweets back for aria

1. because he knows she’ll appreciate the thought and she gives good hugs

2. because he knows she’s on a diet constantly and never allowed eat these things when she’s in the dorms with managers around 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

filming the Resonance “Wish” event, aria was put in a skimpy minimalistic mock-suit to differentiate from the others’ clothes. unfortunately, that left aria with a little too much shoulder and chest on display than she would like, and she was noticeably uncomfortable with her clothes, constantly pulling it up and even going so far as to just hold it with her hands. 

hendery saw this, and knew he was finished filming his segment for the time being, so he pulled off his own jacket and tossed it over to aria, who caught it with a grateful smile. “thank you,” she mouthed to him, tugging the dark blue material over her shoulders.

➣ YANGYANG ☾ ariyang

aria. has 9 days of age on this boy and will never let him forget it

“respect your elders you brat” “9. DAYS.”

european pals 

they feel so cultured when they get asked about europe, and then are kindly reminded by hendery that A. Germany started 2 world wars, and B. Ireland was just a British colony until 100 years ago. 

they both hit him for that

aria teaching him curse words in irish and yangyang teaching her curse words in german? more likely than you’d think 

they met before yangyang’s debut was announced, in a practice room that had let them accidentally overlap their practice times 

instead of working it out between them, they actually just started to alternate their songs - and the other gave them some good, constructive criticism 

most of the time

when they found out they were going to be in 90s Love together, they were so happy 

it was going to be their first official schedule together

all the behind-the-scenes videos are just aria and yangyang being children and then ten coming over and cooing at them 

they love ten, but they will trash talk the man behind his back 

yangyang confessed to her that he sometimes feels nervous when speaking korean, like he’s going to make a big mistake

so she tries her best to teach and correct him where she can, and make him as comfortable as possible 

if you look at any of the 90s Love promotions - aria is always beside yangyang

he bit her ear once

she doesn’t know why and he won’t tell her

but now when she makes fun of him, he threatens to do it again 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

aria skating onto the rink during filming, and yangyang following her because she promised to teach him how to skate backwards.

“ok just, think like you’re leading with your heels. press your knees in, and push outwards, with you-no no that’s forwards. go backwards yangyang.”

“no no no thats a WALL YANGYANG STOP-” 

[beetlegoose01]

first hero (one shot)

AN: Snippets of Draco as a father, and one as a grandfather. :)

Before Scorpius was born, Draco had no experience with babies or small children. He was raised an only child, and had no knowledge of what to do. His own father was never one for comforting hugs or piggy back rides or teaching him how to properly play Quidditch without falling off his broom. He wasn't a terrible father, but he was definitely not a doting one.

He would do better. Draco vowed the second he discovered Astoria was expecting, that he would. He would do everything he could for this child. Resting his hand to her ever growing bump, whispering 'I love yous' and soft French lullabies.

"Is that-?" Draco uttered, eyes sparkling with wonder.

She laughed. "A little kick, yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, silly. Like a baby bird fluttering about."

Astoria's health was declining. Her body was already weakening from her curse and the pregnancy seemed to exhaust her further, day by day.

"If I don't see them grow," She whispered one night, caressing his cheek. "Please watch out for them, Draco. Promise me, you will."

His heart ached at her painfully true words. "I don't want to make that promise. Maybe there's some hope...some positivity?"

"It's the truth." She shrugged. "I can't change that, Draco. You know it, even if you won't say. Promise me?"

"...I promise."

Their son was born just a few days before Christmas. He had been intended to be born after the New Year, but his early arrival was welcomed nevertheless.

"He's...so tiny." Draco whispered, staring at the swaddled infant laying against his mother's chest. He didn't dare touch the blond fuzz, like dandelion fluff on their little one's head. He was so premature, so fragile.

"Hello Scorpius," Astoria murmured, exhausted and blotchy from childbirth, but still had a twinkle in her eyes. The tiny boy yawned, nestling closer to her. "Would you like to hold him?"

Draco nodded firmly, though he was positively terrified of dropping the boy. Astoria placed him gently in his arms, and he melted as the infant squirmed and squeaked.

"Hello, little fellow." He said, careful not to shift too much. "I'm your papa, Scorpius. Scorpius..." He thought for a moment. "Have we decided on a middle name?"

Astoria shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want to do Lucius?"

"Positive." He said, watching as their son's eyes fluttered open. They were bright and blue, like his mother's. Then, it dawned on him. "Hyperion."

"Like my father?"

Draco sat beside her, kissing Scorpius' head, then Astoria's rosy cheeks. "A man worthy of his name being carried on by our boy."

"Scorpius Hyperion," She repeated, smiling. "I like it."

~•~

Scorpius proved to be a shy, but precocious child, always fascinated in anything and everything. Though he had little contact with any other children his own age, he was best friends with his parents, and even occasionally visited his maternal cousins- though by visiting really he sat in the corner, staring at a picture book instead of interacting with them. He was quiet, remarkably quiet with his cousins.

Not that they didn't encourage him to talk to them.

"How about you join them, Scorpius?" Astoria asked, laying on the picnic blanket beside her husband and son. Her nieces, Constance and Cordelia were loudly playing gobstones while Daphne supervised them. "Gobstones is fun, I'm sure they'll teach you."

Scorpius simply shook his head, pointing at his book.

"Alright." She kissed his head fondly. "What would you like to do pumpkin?"

"Braid your hair, mummy." He whispered, giggling.

"My hair's already braided, silly. But...daddy's isn't." She smirked.

"Yeah!' Scorpius chirped, popping his thumb out of his mouth. "Flowers too?"

"Ooh that's a brilliant idea!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"Your hair is so long and pretty. Perfect for braiding." Astoria said, eyes crinkling as she laughed.

So Draco stood as still as he possibly could as his son and wife braided daisies and other flowers in his platinum hair, all while holding back chuckles as Scorpius stumbled around looking for various flowers to put in his hair.

"No, no Scorpius' that's a weed-" He started, but Scorpius didn't hear him, and continued braiding, singing a made up song to himself as he worked.

~•~

"Dad?" Scorpius asked one afternoon, while Draco was brooding by the fireplace. Astoria was resting upstairs after a particularly bad morning of sickness.

"Yes, son?"

"I um," He stared at his shoes, growing anxious. "I finished all the books in mum's library."

"Reading them?" Draco asked, puzzled, though not surprised. Though he was only nine, he devoured books like sweets. Instead of playing, he would read in a cushy armchair, reading books bigger than his head. Fantasy books, muggle literature, textbooks, non fiction, spell books- anything he could get his hands on. He especially loved ones with facts.

"Almost all of them." He corrected softly. "There's the ones you have locked up."

"Ah." Draco hummed. "You wouldn't be interested in that...it's all very grim. They're all about the War."

"Please, can I?" Scorpius begged. "I barely know anything about that and I'm so curious."

"How about we read it together? There are some things you need to know that ...you won't be happy to hear."

They read the old book together, and Scorpius was silent the entire time. When they finished a chapter about the list of Death Eaters, he looked distraught.

"I'm sorry, son." He murmured, but Scorpius didn't answer. Instead, he curled up beside his dad.

"Do you still have it?" He asked finally. "The mark?"

"...Yes."

"So we were evil?" The question was so innocent, but it still hurt.

"It's ...complicated. This mark serves as a constant reminder of my wrongdoings. With your mother's help, I became a better man. At least, I think so."

Scorpius dimpled. "You are." He yawned sleepily, resting his head on Draco. "I love you."

"I love you too, Scorpius."

~•~

"Ready?" Astoria asked, fixing Scorpius' black tie. "Oh, you look so grown up." She cooed.

"Mum!" Scorpius whined. "The train is going to leave soon!"

"I know, I know. One more hug and a kiss?" She asked, and he happily obliged. Thankfully at the age of eleven, he was still young enough to not be embarrassed by hugs. Especially Astoria hugs. She kissed the top of his hair.

"I'll miss you." He whimpered.

"Be good." Draco added, patting his shoulder. "Don't cause too much trouble."

"I won't, dad. I'll miss you too." He said glumly. "Suppose I don't make any friends?"

"You will."

"Don't forget your sweets." Astoria passed the bag to her son. "To help you make friends. Remember?" She winked. "Everyone will want to be your friend if you share."

"Friendly bribery." Draco joked. "But also because of your charming personality."

Scorpius laughed nervously as the train whistled. "I should go then."

"Write to us as soon as you can," Astoria said. "We love you, sweet boy."

"I love you too." He gave them a watery smile. "Bye then." He reluctantly walked towards the train, the trunk already put away so he only had his cat carrier to hold.

Watching him slip away made Astoria's lip quiver.

"He'll be alright, Toria." Draco assured her.

"I hope the other children will be nice." She said. "I don't want his light to dim."

Draco said nothing. It was true, Scorpius was the embodiment of sunshine and love, the idea of putting him with other children who most likely knew of the rumor was not comforting. He had wanted to homeschool Scorpius, but Astoria had insisted he needed to interact with others his age. Sending him to Hogwarts still felt like bringing a unicorn foal to a Chimera den.

"He will be alright." He repeated to himself.

School was harder than they had predicted. Scorpius had made one friend, Albus Potter of all people, who was sorted in Slytherin with him. Still, judging by his letters, he was happy. The other students teased them, but they had each other.

Which was enough.

~•~

It was a grey, cold summer's day. Scorpius curled up by the windowsill, silently watching the raindrops drip down the window. Everything felt bleak and dim. Not even the birds nearby chirped their beautiful songs.

"Be brave, Scorpius." His mum smiled, her strength weakening. "I love you."

"I love you too, mum."

He had held her hand as she passed away into the night.

"Scorpius..." Draco said, voice shaky. "Please let me in."

Scorpius hadn't heard him. He continued to watch the rain fall.

~•~

They were drifting apart. Draco could sense it. He had tried desperately to reach out to his son, but nothing worked.

Astoria would have known what to do. And now...well it was up to Draco to help his deeply distraught son.

After Scorpius' reappearance, he had hoped their relationship would rekindle somehow. It hadn't, despite his stress over losing him and the brief reunion that they shared was awkward. His son was back at school and that was that. Draco wished they could have spent a longer time together, especially after he had been missing for some time.

He stirred his tea thoughtfully. At least Scorpius was at Hogwarts with Albus and his professors. Still, the idea of /why/ he ran away was perplexing.

The manor chimney moved slightly. Placing his tea down, he watched as his lanky son tumbled out in a puff of soot and floo powder.

"Scorpius?" Draco asked, rushing to his side. "What are you doing here?"

Scorpius lifted his head, collapsing into his father's arms. "I came to see you."

It had been a while since they had hugged, but Draco didn't reject it. He held onto his son, his sweet son and let him weep into his chest like he was a little boy again.

"It's Albus." He gulped, voice cracking. "He won't speak to me. Dad, everything is wrong- he avoids me, all of our classes have been changed so we aren't in anything together." His eyes were glassy with tears. "I know for some reason he's in Gryffindor now, but he doesn't even ...acknowledge I exist. It's like he hates me."

"No...no...he doesn't hate you. We'll sort this all out." He paused. "And the other kids, have they been unkind?"

Scorpius stared at him in disbelief. "They've always been unkind, Dad! I'm the son of Voldemort, remember?" He snapped, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You don't know half of the things they do. Every day. Every day they hex me, belittle me, tease me. They make me feel...worthless."

Draco felt his heart break as Scorpius' face crumpled.

"School was fine with classes and such and when I had Al with me to make everything bearable. Now I don't even have him. I'm all alone. I don't want to be alone, Dad. I don't want to go back to school. I hate it there." He took a shaky breath. "I hate it so, so much."

"Scorpius I..."

"I miss mum."

"I know."

He had to make things right.

~•~

His son had come out as bisexual the following year after his little 'adventure' with Albus. Draco hadn't understood the term at first. He had to do extensive research to fully comprehend the meanings, alongside other sexualities that were included. Sexualities and gender were confusing, even Scorpius admitted it.

He didn't understand at first. But he listened to Scorpius explain tearfully, and hugged him as tight as possible when he mentioned he was dating Albus Potter.

"I love him." Scorpius said quietly. "That's what matters the most. Not my labels...nor his."

"I'm so proud of you."

~•~

His son was married.

His son was married, and he couldn't be happier.

Watching Scorpius embrace Albus at their wedding was everything Draco could have wanted. Seeing his son love someone, and look at him with such adoration made his heart soar.

He could see Astoria's bright smile in Scorpius' eyes as he laughed, leaning against his new husband. They were both glowing with genuine happiness. 

‘All was well.’ He thought, wondering if Astoria was proud of him too. 

~~~~~

Draco was much more confident holding his newborn granddaughter. At least, more confident than when he held Scorpius for the first time. She too, was early and had the same expression of curiosity in her eyes. He chuckled fondly as she reached her tiny hand to grab a hold of his pinky finger. She was precious as a doll, with fuzzy blonde hair and curious turquoise eyes. What a wonder, being that small and innocent. 

“She’s beautiful.” He murmured. “What is her name?” 

Albus grinned, pride evident in his voice. “Astoria Ginevra.”