#and even knows how to make his own makeshift version... not as good as the real thing but enough to do what she needs it to

[crowshoots]

i think that in his particular hunger games jesper wasn't really apart of the top crew to win? i think that he scored decently in trainings with just his skills, but he wasn't able to use a gun in those types of environments (and likely knew that him knowing how to handle a gun would be a sign that he somehow got his hands on a peacekeeper gun),,, so she wasn't quite on the radar for the ones to win. she probably was bet on to reach like top ten, but usually not farther than top six.

i think this changed when there was an event that called numerous people to one open area (like close to the cornucopia or a place where the capitol WOULD hold an event) and jesper didn't show up physically -- but she started picking off people with her makeshift gun. all instant kills, made from long range.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine Bill/Stanford x a clumsy reader who is constantly getting injured or stumbling and bumping into something.

Going on a long hike? Reader falls and busts their fuckin knee. Walking by the fridge after grabbing a snack? Slips over a puddle of water and breaks their wrist.

I'm genuinely curious as to how they would respond separately, constantly having to deal with reader's shit.

Love your content, by the way. Keep up the good work! :D 💗

Bill cipher

Finds it funny, after all pain is hilarious to him but it’s made even more funnier if someone else is doing it to themselves.

Don’t expect him to help you in any way shape or form, he’s like one of those friends who’ll laugh as you fall down the stairs before ever thinking of helping you back up.

But in this instance he just leaves you in pain and gets all bothered when you’re all healed up again, claiming that you’re not as fun as you are when you’re injured. So I’d watch your step for the next couple of days for banana peels or anything that could cause you physical harm.

You’re his very own version of you’ve been framed with how often you managed to end up hurting yourself over near enough everything, so much so that he just develops a sixth sense when you’re about to hurt yourself and appears just in time to whiteness it with some deer teeth.

Needless to say Bill will find your sprained ankles, busted kneecaps and broken arms hilarious and might even record his favourite ones to look back on when he’s bored to reminisce over the good times. (I don’t know what else you expect of me for him. It’s bill cipher, he’s the least helpful dude in existence)

Stanford Pines

Poor guy had gotten more and more grey hairs because of how accident prone you are. He would like you very much in one piece thank you very much.

Also he’s got good reflexes for a man of his age and would most likely be able to catch you by the arm or the waist before you even fall or trip while asking if you were okay with the most concerned look upon his face.

He’ll gladly let you use him as crutch when you’ve tripped and busted your knee or sprained your ankle, anything that he could do to make sure that you were in less pain then you already were, Ford will do it in a heartbeat in hopes that he’d never have to do this again. Only to later come to terms that he was with the most clumsiest person in all of Gravity Falls, and that he would be used as your personal crutch constantly.

After a couple more accidents and Ford is already carrying a makeshift first aid kit and had done intensive research on all he needed to deal with things like bruises, cuts and sprains just for you. However he’ll always try to move you away from any and all potential hazards, only for him to look back at you to see that you’ve somehow managed to trip on thin air and bruise your chin.

You’re lucky this man loves you dearly because you had proven yourself to be a handful at some cases, but Ford knew it wasn’t your fault and would never make it out to be your fault in the slightest. And yet the temptation to baby proof everything -especially the lab- was strong within him, but would rather keep an eye on you himself to make sure you somehow didn’t hurt yourself on the corner of a table or counter.

He only knew you would because you did bump into the corner of a table once and tried to hide it from him, but he knew you better then most and immediately gets an ice pack for your bruise. At this point you being accident prone was about as normal as waking up to being covered in Mabel’s stickers or almost tripping over Waddles because he was sleeping nearby.

Yes you once tripped over waddles because he was sleeping near your bed once, did you hurt yourself? Obviously. Did Ford have to take care of you? Of course he did but he didn’t mind taking care of you now and then as you did the exact same whenever he got himself hurt. You weren’t aloud in certain places without Ford because there was too much where you could hurt yourself on, that and Ford didn’t feel like having a heart attack every five seconds you came even remotely close to injuring yourself. Again.

He kisses your bruises and cuts. Fight me I’m in a soft mood.

[sweetimpurity]

💓 day 23!! I have been waiting for this one and the next three days!! this is a continuation of THIS sweet thought that everyone was asking for a part 2 of!

So the next three days are gonna be a mini series off of that!! I recommend reading that before you read this so it makes sense!

cw: yandere themes, obsession

PART 1

Earth-731

Mig’s been watching you for months. Managed to tap into the feed of multiple Miguel’s across the multiverse. Connections to his dimension are tricky since a rogue anomaly came a while back and threw off the timeline only slightly. So things are glitchy. He feels glitchy all the time. Like there’s a flicker in his head and in his bones. Searching for the thing that would make everything right again, make him feel okay, and he can only look to you. Perfect you. You don’t exist in his timeline. Yet in almost every other dimension, you’re there with a version of him that’s much luckier than he’s ever been. 

It’s obsessive at this point. He watches you all day long. Watching you with your Miguel. Or rather watching you get left behind. He watches Miguel-928 miss out on important events, forget anniversaries and birthdays, watches you going to bed alone for nights at a time. But he also watches the good times, the nights in, date nights you two share together, the laughs, the love. Forcing himself to turn the feed off when it seems your version of him will get even luckier. 

It’s torture. To have fallen for you when he’s never even spoken to you before. But you love him in another timeline right? So why couldn’t you love him in this one?  

“Hah…” He sighs, running fingers through his hair and getting up from his seat. Pacing around his office in Alchemax. In this dimension, he’s not the leader of the Spider Society. He’s a geneticist working for a tyrant CEO in a bright sterile lab in Nueva York. And not a single person knows of his genetic predisposition. 

He wakes up, goes to work, overworks, goes home, checks the police feed he’s hacked into and listens to where he’s needed. Going out in the night to catch crooks and criminals because that’s all he can do. He hasn’t been able to figure out how to jump dimensions since the anomaly left his timeline glitching and cut off. But religiously he watches back a video feed he captured of another Miguel on Earth-378, constructing a portal generator. 

Since he doesn’t have the instructions himself, he’s dissected and analyzed this video over and over for months. Trying to copy it to the letter and make a portal generator of his own so he can finally get out of this place. He’s collected parts and worked countless hours in his apartment trying to make this work. 

Originally his destination in mind was anywhere but here. But ever since he found you while combing through multiversal feeds, he knows you’re his first stop. He’s taking you with him no matter where he goes. Your Miguel doesn’t treat you right anyway. 

Heading home, he stumbles through the door carrying a new discarded piece of machinery from work. There’s a circuit board with a specific wiring he thinks will be the right piece for the generator. Lugging it down the hallway to the spare bedroom which is now his makeshift lab. His half constructed generator on a bench there. Putting the piece down and flicking a few switches to bring the lab to life. Lights flickering on and some machines humming. Multiple screens on his computer awaken and he walks right over to one, scanning his fingerprint. Pushing up his glasses and typing on the screen to bring up the feed labeled with your name. Pressing on it and tuning in to see what you’re doing. 

He sits down, focusing on the screen and zooming out to see you’re still at work in your dimension. Looking so pretty and perfect. His heart flutters just seeing you after the long day he’s had. He wishes he could talk to you. 

He sits at his desk, fiddling with the machine to remove the parts and watching the feed like TV. Listening to your voice through the screen and seeing you leave work, street cameras picking up your route home. His eyes lock on any suspicious characters on the street and making sure you get there safely. Even though he’s dimensions away, he always watches to make sure you get home safe. 

And almost like it’s his favorite part of the movie, he leans forward, waiting for the surveillance in your apartment to pick up your expression as you enter the door. A smile on his face, admiring you adoringly at that relief in your expression. That gladness he knows you feel being home after a long day. It’s a good thing your Miguel installed all that surveillance in the apartment. Because now he can watch you worlds away. He’d probably do the same thing if he knew if could keep you protected. 

The night goes on and clearly your Miguel isn’t coming home until late again. Most likely on patrol all day or at the Society Headquarters like he always is. Hardly seeing you at all in a day. Mig watches you make dinner for yourself. He watches you watch a show for a while, listens to you singing to yourself as you do the dishes, watches the bathroom door when you’re taking a shower and then switches the feed to the empty kitchen while you’re getting changed in the bedroom. All the while he’s working on removing the pieces from this machine, finally getting it undone by the time you’re calling your Miguel to ask when or if he’ll be home tonight. You’re already in your pajamas ready for bed and he’s not even back yet. 

“Shit… damn it..” Mig huffs when the circuit board doesn’t fit where he needs it. All that work and now he’ll have to find a different piece in scrap somewhere. He sighs, forcing himself not to chuck the piece across the room, instead discarding it calmly in the junk metal bin. He huffs, sitting down at his desk and running his hands through his hair again. He stays that way for a few minutes. He’s tired.

Sitting with his head in his hands and hearing the sounds of you getting ready for bed. His eyes closed and listening to you brush your teeth, wash your face, do all the things he watches you do every night. And then the sheets when you’re getting in bed. Feeling heavy himself. 

Your moans fill his ears, infiltrating his mind. Your body which could only be soft and warm and plush. Under him and accepting him over and over. His cock hugged and loved through your tight walls, his tip kissing your sweet spot every single time. Making you tremble, making you moan for him. Moaning his name. “Mmmmiguel!” You gasp and it makes him shiver. His face dipping into your neck and inhaling your scent which he can only imagine is so sweet and pleasant. 

Finding your hands with his and lacing his fingers with yours. Hands entwined above your head, as close as he’s always yearned to be. Pumping you full with everything he’s been keeping for you. Your cunt he’s longed to taste, to fill. Your sweet soft skin he’s needed to kiss and bite. Kissing down your jaw, your neck, your sternum and finding your perked mound, sucking the hardened nip into his mouth and sucking. Drawing the sweetest, most erotic sounds from your lips he can even imagine. Your shaking legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him deeper, is that’s even possible. Like he could never be separated from you. Even though he’s never not been separated from you before. 

“Oh please Mig!” You sigh, and he looks up at your face, your features quirked in pleasure. He keeps with the rhythm, knowing it’s bringing you pleasure, bringing you closer to orgasm. And he wants to feel you come apart on him. He’s wanted it for so so long.

“Come on sweet girl…” He whispers, but the sound doesn’t leave his chest. It rumbles but it stays. Like the words won’t reach the air.

He shakes awake when his elbow knocks a tool off his desk. The metal clanking and ringing through the room. “hah!” He flinches, lifting his head from where it was resting in his hands. Having fallen asleep watching you sleep. It was a dream. No it was a tease. His mind taunting him with what he will never have.

Except your moans don’t cease. They don’t stop. That’s not in his head. He looks up at the screen. Seeing the time, trying to decipher what’s going on. Your desperate cries coming in through the monitor. And there you are in bed. Your Miguel finally returned home from wherever he was all day ignoring you. The two of you having loud sex under the blankets. He’s confused. Caught off guard. Slamming a few buttons and shutting the feed off. That’s enough taunting for one night.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300

[often-daydreaming]

Keep Running

In between one moment and the next reality quakes and for the briefest of moments Jason finds himself standing in the remnants of a destroyed Star City. He knows it's not real, that it's just some magical mumbo jumbo overlaying memory magic nonsense bleeding into their timeline but he can smell the smoke in the air from the fires and hear her tired laughter as the static filled image of a red haired woman sits down beside him. He knows her or at least this version of him does as they talk about the little suicide run they were planning in order to hopefully end things for good and Jason can feel how tired his alternate self is as he takes a seat on the ground beside her. It's all a rush of emotions and faint memories that were getting harder and harder to ignore before he's suddenly back on the Watchtower with every other available hero the League could call in stuck arguing about these stupid visions affecting heroes and villains all over the globe if some of Ra's latest movements were any indication. His men were searching everywhere for answers while others like Luthor were making more subtle inquiries. The only upside to all of this was the reactions coming out of Arkham but that didn't mean he wanted to be up here with the League nearly at each other's throats.

With everything he's managing to piece together through a couple of brief check-ins with Dickie and the girls he could see why B wanted answers.

As morbid as it sounded Dick and the others were a few of the lucky ones who were able to be pulled out of their memories faster since they were at ground zero when the Watchtower was pulled out of orbit. The quicker you died the quicker it was over but neither of them were as lucky.

In those jumbled memories him and Bruce were the only two left after Gotham went up in flames since Phantom went after them first and there were still a few lingering effects clinging to that since he could still remember what the older version of himself felt. It was somewhat muted now but some of it was still there and if he focused hard enough Jason could still see the makeshift doctor's office in his mind. He could feel the phantom pain and see her flowing red hair. She seemed so relieved to find him alive and he wanted his own answers but Impulse was in the wind.

The little speedster was gone before anyone could really recover from the sudden onslaught of memories and while Bruce was doing everything he could to figure out a plan of sorts the others weren't as lucky with Superman stuck bouncing between the moments of his own brutal death and worrying about his family's safety. Whoever or whatever Phantom was, he knew exactly where to hurt them with Jon nearly losing it in public after being forced to live through the memories of his mom dying and the man of steel's own death at the hands of some magical Martian whatever.

Wonder Woman seemed the most put together out of everyone but even she was kind of twitchy, her had never leaving the pummel of her sword as Zatara went over what he could piece together on his own since the bulk of JLD was still out of commission.

His own daughter was comatose from the magical backlash of whatever this was while Constantine was just missing, his home a mess of overturned books and hurried scribbles which left them on the back foot for now since the only solid lead anyone had was Impulse and Young Justice was closing ranks around their missing speedster.

With JLD in shambles and Ra's on the move Replacement was running his own investigation into whatever was going on and shutting everyone else out of his systems after the first attempt at locating Impulse through his tracker backfired horribly.

I blame my cough medicine and a love for Fallout for whatever this is turning into but I felt like adding onto Run a little. I wouldn't even begin to know how to explain it but I just have this image in my head of Bart and Danny in a Fallout like world but the whole memory thing could be anything really. I just like the idea of reality shifting to the left just enough that Bart suddenly remembers details about his past he'd forgotten thanks to time travel/reality resetting and he suddenly remembers Danny while the rest of his team remember bits and pieces of their missing teammate Phantom. Everyone else just gets doomsday memories cause I really don't care and mostly think it's funny so I'm either blaming this on the gauntlet from the movie or Clockwork but anyone could add something else if they want.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

(God this is so all over the place but I just needed to get these thoughts out😅)

I can’t find the exact ask it was but someone had sent something in a while back about yan!Bellatrix moving into Spinner’s End and making a version of the Black Family tree on one of the walls of the house for the Reader and ever since I have fallen in love with the idea. I think it took place in the scenario of Muggle!Aunt!Reader getting her letter and attending Hogwarts or being an obscurus and getting to still attend Hogwarts later on thanks to Lily. And with one of the last asks having the Evan’s home being a safe haven I just can’t let go of the idea of the Marauders Era doing the same in their time resulting in them having their own makeshift family tree wall at the Evan’s with everyone on it cause they had become this sort of blended friend group/family. Honestly, it ends up being more of a tree of obsession for the Reader.

I, of course, will forever stand by the thought of Andromeda and Ted being friends with the Reader and the Reader even getting the two together in the first place if she went to Hogwarts. It starts out by the Reader giving their house out to Andromeda and Ted to meet and be able to hangout with each other. I just love the idea of the Reader (especially Hufflepuff!Evan’s!Reader) being a total wingman for her bestie and fellow Hufflepuff Ted (maybe there even ends up becoming a poly thing later on since the Reader has been so involved in the two’s relationship, it would end up being a little off without the Reader there with them👀🤷🏻‍♀️). Eventually the Evans home ends up becoming a safe place for Andromeda (similar to the Potter house being a safe place for Sirius) and she ends up hanging out there even when Ted isn’t over and really builds a bond with the Reader. If that were the case then you can bet that Andromeda would have gotten out of the Black family a hell of a lot sooner and she would have gone straight to the Evan’s house.

Eventually, other Marauders end up showing up to the Evan’s home. Lily has no idea how a good majority of the other Slytherins outside of Andromeda know where her and the Reader live. James and Sirius are completely under the belief that Snape told them cause Andy would never, and eventually Lily starts to believe it too resulting in her becoming even more overprotective than she already was of the Reader. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Evans are running out of space for all these kids showing up on their doorstep.

First, it was Andromeda, then maybe Regulus showed up looking for his cousin and ended up staying. For a time it’s just those two being there and Lily’s friends/housemates hanging out during breaks and whatnot. Then one day, Bellatrix is on the Evan’s doorstep talking about being there to bring her sister home but really she just uses that as an excuse to be there herself and getting to see where and how the Reader lives. She ends up leaving without much of a fight or anything only to show back up later with a suitcase of her own and Narcissa in tow. The next thing Lily knows her whole house is full of magical blood purists who are for some uncomfortable and frustrating reason being extremely territorial of her precious sister. And apparently Rita Skeeter found her way there too.

I do love the idea of some of the parents coming to collect their children only to end up sticking around at the Evan’s house too. Unlike their children, most of the adults don’t quite move in but visit often. Except Walburga, she full on moves in. With or without her husband, most likely without him.

I have this concept of Walburga becoming extremely obsessed with the Reader, whether they’re an obscurus or not. I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s the innocence and naivety of the Reader that stirred something in Walburga, maybe they reminded her of when she was a child before she became the person she is today. Whatever it is Walburga wants to clutch onto them and never let go. Like, I have this scenario of the Reader ending up at the Black house for dinner and them offhandedly thanking Kreacher for their meal or something and Walburga inquires about it, asking why they would thank the servant for doing their duty only for the Reader to reply with it being mannerly to do so in the muggle world. And everyone’s reaction in this situation is so stressed and on the edge of their seat waiting for Walburga to fly off the handle but she surprises everyone by thanking Kreacher too. Albeit, she is completely rigid and monotone doing it but after, Walburga looks to the Reader and asks if she did it right. I just like the thought of the Reader nodding with a little smile and Walburga looking so proud with herself. Hell, Walburga would even try to get the Reader to stay the night at Grimmauld Place that very night but Orion, Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda and Bellatrix are able to put it off and get the Reader back home. Meanwhile Walburga ends up at the Evan’s house days later and basically kidnaps the Reader only to have them be her guide and show her around some muggle shops and whatnot out of pure curiosity and wanting to spend more time with the Reader.

[cult-of-a-buttercup]

Headcanons of the Old Faith: Darkwood

Anura

Narinder’s Faith

Anchordeep

Silk Cradle

Festivals:

Being the land of Chaos, the festivals are nothing short of that: there are plenty of bonfires, dance circles and hunts, each more common in different seasons.

Ordinary bonfires are held mainly in winter, as a way to keep cold at bay while at the same time reveling in the natural chaos of fire. All kinds of stuff are burnt during them, from old grass to corpses of heretics killed by followers. The fire is also used as a way of cleansing haunting spirits from the land, an idea originally introduced by Narinder during his time as a bishop.

Dance circles are common during summer and spring, used as ways to celebrate good weather and encourage offspring amongst followers. With the number of followers always rising and falling constantly, it’s important to try and keep somewhat of an influx of younger generations to worship Leshy. In recent years, after a great fall due to the killing of lambs, it only seems to keep growing.

And lastly, hunts are held all year round- though they are at their peak during fall. They are competitions, held from in between villages to small groups of friends. They work as a way to test the body and soul, and how well you can work with the difficult and chaotic lands of Darkwood. It also works as a good indicator to see which followers are more capable of guiding villages into battles.

Rituals:

Due to the lack of doctrines, Darkwood has many more casual festivals around the year than rituals.

A common ritual is a Rite of Wrath: every so often Leshy joins in the destruction of a village, and that sets off the destruction of its neighbors and surrounding forests. It is frowned upon by the rest of Leshy’s siblings, since it tends to end the lives of more followers than heretics and tends to drag on for too long to be fixed quickly- but he either doesn’t care or doesn’t know they feel that way.

Due to this, Darkwood also holds a lot of funerals. Since they are way too often for comfort, most followers of Leshy turned funerals into month-long events for many fallen brethren at a time. During those events, they remember each dead follower individually and speak of who they were, share whatever their favorite meal was and decorate their resting place and home with various assortments of wild flowers. It should be noted that this ritual was originally from Narinder- it was his idea to make a larger and more massive version of the funeral ritual after he noticed that holding one at a time wasn’t paying off.

Similar to funerals, weddings are held as a massive event between many couples. Since most of the time it has to be officiated by a high priest or Leshy himself, it was Valefar’s idea to imitate the protocol already used for funerals. So, weddings are absolutely massive, taking about a full month in Leshy’s temple. There is food, makeshift music with the few instruments the villagers have and a lot of dancing. Leshy often takes part of them, indulging in the food and the dancing along with some of his priests. The clothing is usually passed from generation to generation, made out of dried grass and decorated with the flowers of the season.

Worshipping:

Since it’s a scattered place, the ways of worship vary from village to village: but, it is always connected to the destruction of their own people or the killing of heretics.

Villages destroying neighboring villages and burning whatever remains is a constant way of appreciating chaos- even if it decimates Leshy’s followers constantly. Same with destroying one’s own home and then dancing around the fire, chanting prayers for the holy worm. Sometimes the noise of the fire and the loud prayers are enough to catch Leshy’s attention- those few times he joins in the wreckage and it turns into the ritual mentioned beforehand.

Killing heretics is seen almost as a sport, usually keeping heretics as prisoners before letting them loose and chasing them around the dark forests. Once again, if Leshy notices this he likes to join in, and his followers are more than happy to have him.

Clothing:

With how quickly things can change while living in Darkwood, clothing is one of the lesser worries- thick wooly coats for winter, flowy robes for summer, and in-betweens for fall and spring. Jewelry is usually stolen from destroyed villages and used as trophies by the followers who are deemed the strongest warriors.

Being the land which had most lambs before Narinder’s imprisonment, a lot of the clothes are made out of wool from their fallen victims- some choose to keep the bells as part of their clothings, others prefer to use it as a doorbell or a trophy.

Amongst cultists:

Amongst themselves, Leshy’s followers are very close to each other when from a same village: they often break havoc, mourn their losses and share their winned treasure together. When from another village, it can be the same closeness shared between villagers or a more dangerous rivalry- which often leads to one village destroying the other.

Being mainly small villages, the jobs involve whatever the village needs- be it cattle, farming or weapon making, there is a bit of everything needed. Anything outside of that, such as writing or art is seen more as a luxury- when a village destroys another they try and steal whatever books and paintings they can find to keep it as a trophy.

Outside of Darkwood, however, followers of Darkwood are seen as the more fanatic and dangerous followers of the Old Faith- sometimes even believing there’s no real followers and just beasts roaming around in the ragged clothes of fallen followers.

[dusterbishop]

you believe me like a god (i'll destroy you like i am)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 3.8k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. once again, i'm so grateful for the likes and kind words! it means a lot to me! this chapter is long, but the next one is going to be heavy and i needed to get it all out here.

part one. || part two. || part three.

Come’on, chér, just hold on.

Playing the odds?

Non, I’m bettin’ all on you.

Gambit talks for a long, long time. He tells you about Cassandra Nova, and the Resistance's intent to cripple her center of operations. He tells you about the other mutants he allied himself with. He tells you about the climate of the Void, which is dry and barren and desolate. He tells you about his liquor collection, even as he laments how he won’t be able to indulge in it for a while.

This version of him is dead-set on a suicide mission, you quickly realize. Nova and her power sounds far beyond the scope of Gambit’s abilities, and you doubt his allies could overtake her, either. They are all hopelessly outmatched.

Then again, they are also decaying in the Void. Void is a good name for it; the earth is desolate and menacing as the pair of you travel. Your powers flicker at the edge of your vision in a blurry mirage of recollection, like a film played backwards. You can taste the metallic tinge of blood in the back of your throat. Your body still simmers with feverish fatigue, even though you are five days deep into this timeline. You haven’t been using your abilities beyond necessity, but each time you wonder what would happen if your intended time-object doesn’t appear at the command.

C’mon, Wildcard, don’ get skittish on me now.

Just deal me in, Cajun.

They are all outmatched on their own. You stare at the broad expanse of Gambit’s back as you walk, taking in the way he walks over the uneven terrain, the idle twirl of his bo staff slung lax in his hand. The travel has worn him down at the edges; his hair is mussed and dirt-streaked, and his coat is weighted and torn at the hem. Five days of trekking through the daylight and camping through the night has taken a toll on his body, but he still hums to himself as you both walk.

You know this song. It’s the one Tante Mattie would sing to him when he was young and couldn’t sleep. Or at least, that’s what your Remy told you. Perhaps this version of Remy LeBeau found it through another source. You can’t imagine the man in front of you as a little boy needing comfort.

No. That isn’t quite true. You have seen photos of a younger Remy while visiting New Orleans, much to his dramatic announcements of utter embarrassment, and you never forgot just how small he seemed. How unfair that his life was wrought with pain and fear, even as that little boy, just for the color of his eyes. Abandoned by one family only to be raised in crime with another.

You know what your Remy went through. You just can’t bear to think about what this one has suffered with. Not now. Maybe not ever considering the terror Nova has been spreading across the Void.

“Okay,” you say suddenly. It’s nearly nightfall. You should find a place to settle for the night, then scrounge up enough from your rations to feed his burning metabolism and soothe the disquiet ache in your stomach. Despite the fever, you should eat something of substance even if the thought alone makes you feel nauseous.

“Go’on, chér,” Gambit says. He’s eyeing the horizon with a calculating look, no doubt thinking the very same thing you are. You don’t know how far the makeshift headquarters are for the rebel cause, but you can figure it’s still some ways off by the frown on his face. Just how far did he go wandering alone? You don’t allow yourself to wonder why he seemed to be looking for you, either. That would lead to more questions than your mind could handle.

“You want me to fight Nova,” you say. That catches his attention. He jolts as if you charged him with his own kinetic wave, his pitch-dark eyes sliding to lock on yours. He looks like he’s ready to argue, or maybe to sweet-talk, so you add, “I’ll do it. Fight her.”

“Suicide, chér?” His mouth is twisted unhappily. “Nobody tell you to do that.”

“Didn’t need you to, Cajun,” you shoot back. “No other reason for you to go hunting across the Void for me.”

“Mebbe,” he drawls out, his smile temptingly coy, “Gambit like what he sees.”

You don’t take the bait. “I can kill her, but where does that leave you? All of you?”

His smile grows just a little brighter at the misstep. It takes every nerve in your body to resist the urge to sigh in exasperation. You don’t have to remind him you care about his wellbeing. This Gambit isn’t yours to protect.

“Don’ worry ‘bout us, chér,” he says, nearly a purr. It sends a thrill down to the base of your spine. “We talk it out, eh? Our hand t’deal.”

“With a suicide mission?” Your laugh is strained. “You really know how to raise the bet, Cajun.”

“Playing de odds,” he agrees. In the half-light of the sinking sun on the horizon, his profile is cast in shadows, and yet you can see the faintest twitch in his mouth. Almost a frown. Then he turns his face away from you entirely, hiding back behind the facade of his relaxed shoulders. “We gonna get out dis place.”

He sounds so sure that you say nothing, taking in the moment of staring at the setting sun. It would be much easier to leave entirely, even with the heaviness of your limbs from the fever. Who knows how much time you have left in this place? Something about the timeline here has you untethered from reality. You keep swallowing back the taste of blood.

Part of you almost tells Gambit, right then, that you don’t think you have time to talk about plans. You can’t just wait for the right opportunity to land in your lap like a wounded bird.

But you don’t. The two of you quietly settle down around a fire and divide your meager rations. It’s a strange collection of his preferences with the oddity of your Void self’s miscellaneous tastes. It’s an unspoken agreement to swap the night watch while the other is asleep. Gambit takes the first watch. You pretend to sleep curled next to the heat of the fire, your mind flashing through broken images of different times, like watching broken sunlight filter in from under the surface of the ocean.

Remy used to think it odd that you didn’t dream. You would joke to him that you had enough of dreaming when you found him. Still, some part of you feels a hollow curiosity towards the thought of dreaming. How could your mind conjure images of desires only for you to wake up without them? There was never a time that you could remember where you didn’t just wave your hand and hold the world in your palm.

Yet the memories that flicker across your mind from the darkness behind your closed eyelids are strangely nostalgic. Thwarting a burglary attempt as your mutant debut, celebrating Jubilee’s birthday at the mansion, visiting New Orleans for the first time as a LeBeau. Waking up to Remy’s arm slung over your waist as if he was trying to keep you secured in this timeline, even as your mind traveled right in plain sight, gone beyond his reach.

It rends a heart-wrenching ache in your chest. You have to fight to keep your breathing steady. The memories are still there, rushing past you quickly enough to make you dizzy.

Marrying Remy and nearly missing on your cue to kiss because you were staring up at his eyes. Desperately reaching out to him as your power stuttered, nearly sending you tumbling over the edge of the roof. Discreet shuffling around in bed to avoid waking the cats piled around you two, with Remy sleepily pressing a kiss to your temple. Losing days at a time, flickering in and out of your life like a specter, only to watch him grow more and more desolate in the wake of your disappearances.

Growing sicker for all the time-summoning your body forced you through. Reaching out for Remy’s hand to kiss it. Laughing at the way Remy pulled you up out of your chair to waltz in the kitchen in the middle of the night, despite him supporting most of your weight. Staring at the abandoned costume hanging in your closet, no longer your size due to the weight loss, knowing you could not wear it again in this lifetime. Accepting that, to be with Remy.

Accepting it all, just to be with Remy. Playing the odds with your own sort of suicide mission, just to keep a life with him. To earn your title with the X-Men and get dispatched on missions with them again. To be able to cuddle with the cats without scaring them with a violent waking. To go to sleep next to your husband with the knowledge you could see the same version of him in the morning.

Deal me in, LeBeau.

Eyes, mon cuore.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes. You open them slowly to stare at the blur of the fire crackling quietly in front of you. You can taste the fresh warmth of blood coating your tongue and sticking to the back of your front teeth. There’s something small and rectangular in your hand, but you don’t shift out of your curled up position to see what it is. You hadn’t intended on bringing something out of the timeline.

How strange, to dream and wake with nothing to show for it?

“C’est tout un sucre,” Gambit says softly. You flinch at the sound of his voice. You had nearly forgotten that he was there. “Not gon’ go ahead an’ ask what’s got you so scared.”

It takes effort to swallow back the swelling emotion in your throat. “I can take watch.”

“I s’pose you jus’ want some quiet, eh?” There’s the whispering shuffle of fabric, and then Gambit is settling down to lay next to you, leaving a near-imperceptible gap between you. In another life, you could reach out and touch him. Just not this one.

“Not really,” you sigh. He lets that lie for a heartbeat, letting you collect the raging tempest of thoughts scrambling your head. It would be awfully convenient if a wandering pack of mutants tried to attack you, or if Nova herself descended from the sky to kill you. Anything to spare you from the grave you were preparing to dig yourself into.

“Gambit,” you start, still staring resolutely ahead at the flickering flames, “I told you what happens to me.”

“Reset,” he muses. You can hear the gentle rustle of fabric, then the soft flicker of shuffling cards as he takes them from one hand to the other. He thinks best when he’s in control, and so he has his cards poised for action. You don’t look at him, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s for the sake of your control, or for his.

“What I said,” you agree. “It’s not a suicide mission if I go after Nova.”

“No,” he says.

“Even if she destroys the Void version of my body, I keep traveling,” you continue. “I can — ”

“No,” he repeats. The edge in his tone makes you pause, but it’s the hand that grips yours that makes you turn to stare at him. He isn’t wearing his gloves, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes the heat of the fire feel insignificant. It’s his eyes, though, that make your lungs seize up. All night-black pupils with hardly the rings of red. His eyes are his only tell that he’s terrified out of his mind.

You blink back at him, stunned. 

“Don’ be a fool,” he finally says. Slowly, reluctantly, he takes his hand from yours. The cold air in the wake of his touch burns just as much as uncontrolled wildfire. “We all gon’ get out dis place. Nobody dyin’.”

“I can’t die,” you shoot back. “Don’t you understand? I will always move on to another life. None of this matters to me! Not the Void, or Paris, or fucking New Orleans! If I go and blow up Nova, then I can move on and live my life in another timeline without dealing with any of this.”

“Movin’ on,” Gambit notes. He’s smiling, but there’s an edge to the curve of his mouth. “Dat’s jus’ called runnin’ away.”

“And Gambit never folds, is that it?” You hold up your other hand, the one with the playing card, and toss it to him. It flutters in the breeze before resting on his chest. He narrows his eyes at you, but his curiosity wins as it always does. He was always too easy to bait. A gambler never gives up the promise of a winning prize.

You don’t have to look to know what the card is. If you were dreaming of Remy, it only makes sense that you dreamed of his favored card. Gambit studies the Queen of Hearts with an inscrutable gaze. It’s not the version that Remy gave you; that one was likely consumed in the same blast that destroyed your body. This one is unwrinkled and vibrantly colored. Brand new.

“You don’ know, do you?” Gambit says. The flatness of his tone makes you pause, though you can’t bring yourself to look at the expression on his face. Your gaze locks onto the card he’s holding so delicately, as if he’s holding onto your heart rather than a piece of pressed painted cardboard.

“You kno’ me, hein?” He turns his head to look at you, and you have to force yourself to release the breath you’ve been holding in a slow, controlled sigh. Still, you feel stripped raw by his gaze. You wrap your arms around yourself to avoid the impulse to summon a staff and fend him off from his next words: “You recognize me.”

“Seen a lot of you lately,” you say. It’s meant to be dismissive and unaffected, but even you can hear the hitch in your breath when he shuffles an inch closer, eyes burning black into yours.

“You and Gambit meet before,” he half-laughs, not happily.

“Many times.”

“Then you know Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman.”

Like that, he’s up and crouched above you, his hands clasped tightly to your upper arms. You’ve forgotten how quick he can be when he’s lost in the lure of a gamble. His warmth leeches through the thin fabric of your coat, time-stolen to match the beige wasteland around you and offer some hope of camouflage. It’s nothing like the armored fabric woven into his, and his touch reminds you of just how vulnerable you truly are right now.

You’ve met a few Gambits that have tried to actively kill you, before. One had plunged a sharpened edge of his staff right into your chest, aiming with precise calculation to slip it straight through the soft skin between your ribs. Another had taken you down as collateral in pursuit of more satisfying prey, stepping around your fallen body as he continued his game. And, of course there had been Remy, too.

This Gambit doesn’t tighten his grip, though you can feel the tension humming like hornets beneath his hands, kinetic energy pulsing in anticipation.

“Gambit,” you warn him. You don’t try to pull away. You don’t even reach for the veil of time that whirs at the edges of your vision, even if it would be almost easy to summon some method of distraction and escape this sudden intervention.

“He ain’t forget,” Remy repeats. He squeezes you, just once, eyes darting over your expression with intent tenacity. “Listen to me, eh? I promised you, chér. Even if you don’ remember it, I mean it. We gonna get out dis place together.”

Something metallic tastes spoiled in the back of your throat. You blink at him, struck suddenly by the realization that you have been hiding in plain sight. The Void must be more of a well-fitting title for this place than you initially assumed, as it’s given you nothing but barren territory to let your power meander. It gives you space to let the timelines mingle in a blurry mirage of recollection at the edges of your vision, like a film played in rapid reverse.

You thought you had been desensitized to meeting Gambits, and perhaps you were right. You couldn’t even recognize Remy LeBeau until he was right in front of you. How else would you explain finding your Remy here, and not recognizing him sooner?

One of his hands flickers, almost too quick to follow, and the cuff of his sleeve unravels to reveal a card. It’s not one of the suit of aces.

It’s your Queen of Hearts.

“Is dis your card?” His words are meant to be wry, but there’s a catch in his voice where his breath stutters, so soft you might miss it if you weren’t struck senseless at the sight. The edges of the card are singed black, no doubt remainders of the kinetic energy, but the crease down the middle is undoubtedly from your nervous fidgeting during missions with the X-Men. You kept it in your pocket as a good luck charm only to fiddle with it during downtime. Folding it over and over, running your thumb over the lines to memorize every feeling.

You can’t speak. It feels like being dragged into a violent undertow, the waves of memories flickering at the edges of your vision threatening to drown you. You suck in a shuddering breath, nearly a cry, and finally succumb to the urge to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw. He’s warm and familiar beneath your touch.

“‘M all in for you, mon coeur,” he says, and then he leans in and kisses you.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes, the telltale harbinger of the tears that start trickling down your cheeks in a slow caress. He’s kissing you with reckless abandon, and you open up under his touch, unwinding your arms from your sides to reach up and clutch at the lapels of his coat. One of his hands wraps around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, the other moving up to cup your salt-streaked cheek. You can hardly feel the rough pad of his thumb wiping away the tears beyond the whir of power buzzing in the back of your throat.

You have to pull back, breathless, though Remy is holding you tight from retreating too far.

“I’m the kinda man that don’t leave,” he tells you. His voice is just as hoarse as you feel. “I don’ care if it hurts, mon coeur. Dis place can’t have you. We gonna get out.”

“I care, you idiot.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, pulling back before he can turn his head to steal a proper one. He makes a soft noise of indignation, but you can’t let him think that any more sacrifice will fix the gaping wound festering between you two. “I don’t know how we can fix what’s broken between us, Remy. I’m terrified that you’re going to end up dead trying to fix it yourself.”

“Non,” he shakes his head, though he can’t hide the way his body tenses up beneath you. “Since when you talk that way, mon coeur? Gambit has a plan.”

“He knows the odds, is that it?” You tug him down to kiss him again, and he goes willingly to your silent command, his mouth warm against yours. You can taste the salt from your tears, only to pull back and see the shine in his eyes, too. How long had it been since you two were separated for good? You don’t remember. You have lived far too long outside of this time to remember when. You hope that Remy, however he ended up in the Void, doesn’t remember either.

You can’t bear the thought of him waiting to see if you would return, following in the wake of this Void version of your face. Counting the days, over and over, just to see a stranger wearing your body every time the sun rose.

“In this, he do,” Remy agreed. There’s a furrow in his brow, and you marvel at the way you reach up and smooth a thumb over the wrinkle, only for him to scrunch his nose at you in familiar distaste. “I taste blood, mon coeur. You hurt?”

Even as he asks, his hand runs down your side, checking for hidden injury. The memories at the edge of your vision flicker to a time where he had done the same thing after a particularly rough mission sent you crashing into a wall. You had cracked two ribs and spent some downtime on mandatory bedrest while he fussed over your every movement and tried to keep the cats from sleeping on your chest.

You don’t realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen him fuss over you, but the back of your eyes start to burn again. “I’m okay, Cajun. Just adjusting to the timeline.”

He lets you kiss him again, this time keeping your mouth closed to hide the taste of your blood, but he’s still frowning when you break apart. “Six days.”

You’ve never had to spend so long adjusting. You didn’t think Gambit would notice your lack of time-summoning, but then again, you hadn’t realized Remy was silently cataloging every action that confirmed your identity. In some instances, you would only spend a minute or two in a timeline. Six days counts as practically permanent without a reset.

God, how the hell had you not noticed him watching you? Of all the Gambits for you to return to, it had to be him. And out of all the versions of you that cross-trek the known universes, he had to get the one that is too goddamn tired of losing him. He had to get the version of you that was too tired to pretend that this life was worth wrestling with every moment of the day.

No wonder he broke his silent watch to admit the truth to you. Even if it broke his heart to watch you leave the timeline, he couldn’t sit there and listen to you act willing to destroy yourself again.

Which is why you can’t tell him you’re dying, anyway. Time doesn’t exist in the same capacity in the Void. The memories overlapping your vision are nothing more than ghostly shrouds of a past life. However your power works, it doesn’t have the same support in this place. Staying here will kill you.

“Listen,” you tell Remy. His body burns hot above you, a livewire of kinetic warmth. Alive and real. Your Remy, alive. “I promise we’ll get out of here, okay?”

I promise I will save you, you think as he kisses you, his hands cupping your face as if you are something precious to protect. No matter what.

[shatterinseconds]

julance '24 week 2 : fire

Lance strikes the makeshift flint and sparks catch the tinder, igniting into a nice roaring fire by the time he’s done feeding it. Pleased, Lance sits back on his heels and grins at Keith.

“I know you didn’t learn that in Boy Scouts,” is all Keith says, staring blankly at the fire that will certainly help keep them alive until their teammates rescue them from the forest moon they are currently stranded on. A little gratitude would be nice.

“That’s insulting; I feel very insulted right now.” Lance forces his face to fall in mock outrage. “How do you know I’m not a boy scout? Don’t think I have what it takes?”

“Please,” Keith mutters. “You’d probably be too distracted trying to climb a tree or something.” 

“Eh” —Lance considers Keith’s reasoning— “I guess that’s accurate. Still, next time start your critiques with, ‘thank you for saving us, Lance.’”

Keith shakes his head, though the corner of his mouth twitches—slight but present. “‘Thank you for saving us, Lance.’”

“Perfect.”

Lance returns to tending the fire, working to make sure it will remain stable for the next few hours, as they set up their camp in silence. They gather all the necessary supplies from the crashed Altean pod—emergency rations and a couple blankets—preparing to wait hours for a rescue and hopefully not days. Though, their team has to realize they’re missing first. But when Lance can no longer ignore Keith’s curious gaze boring into him, he sighs. 

“One of my uncles is a survival nut,” Lance explains, giving into Keith’s silent version of excessive questioning. “I went on way too many camping trips with my siblings.” But he whips around, pointing at Keith. “I just don’t understand why Mr. Lone Wolf who lived in a freakin’ desert for a year doesn’t know how to start a fire.”

“I always had matches.” Keith shrugs. He’s at least made himself useful by gathering logs for firewood and clearing out a space on the forest floor for them to sleep. “And there was a convenience store a couple dozen miles away that I could get gas at.”

“Oh my god. Your impressive meter has just dropped like a good five levels.”

Keith raises a single eyebrow that disappears behind his bangs. “You’re impressed by me?”

“No,” Lance quickly corrects his mistake. His cheeks heat. “I just think you’re too good at too many things for your own damn good. Be human for once.”

“I’m half Galra.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Be half human, half alien for once, my god.”

“I have no issues saying that I’m impressed by you,” Keith comments as he tugs his hair into a stubby ponytail—not that it makes his hair any less mullet shaped. 

“Oh really?” Lance suddenly brightens, changing his whole demeanor. He lays on his side; his arm props up his head as he bats his eyes. “Tell me more. I love hearing how clever and handsome you think I am.”

Scowling, Keith lifts his leg and gently shoves Lance off balance with the toe of his boot. “I only said you're impressive.”

“I can read between the lines.” Unperturbed, Lance flashes him another grin, even though leaves and dirt tangle in his hair now as he sprawls out beside his hand-made fire, where no help was needed, thank you very much. Yeah, he is impressive. “Got a B+ in Literature once.” 

“That’s just so hot,” Keith deadpans, and Lance cracks into a gut-wrenching roll of laughter. 

The next few hours are going to be fun.

[rochazbinstuff]

Duck, Duck, Goose (Lucifer x Reader)

🐑 ♡ Just a short fluffy one for you! And as always, I hope you enjoy the story ♡🐑

Lucifer has brought you a new duck for your collection, but this one seems a little different.

Teen and Up Audiences, No Warnings, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Gift giving, Body Dysmorphia, Awkwardness, he's trying, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 1,210

A gift requested by and for @silva-daemonium! I hope you like it, darling! All the warmest hugs for you!

Taglist: @idonia-dovahkiin

“This is for you!” Lucifer held out the misshapen duck with all the enthusiasm of a proud craftsman seconds away from having the realisation that sharing meant being judged.

“I hope you like it - I know that you've got two already, but this one is special-” the words stopped as you took the duck between your wings. It had a longer neck and white down like you with a pointed orange beak. The curious thing even wore a scarf like yours.

Then it dawned on you: it wasn't a duck.

A honk escaped your throat before you could put it on your shelf. Heat coursed through your face unbeknownst to anyone else except you. You could feel it burn beneath the feathers which added another layer of stuffy discomfort to the situation.

“It's me!” you exclaimed, and Lucifer nodded from where he stood still awkwardly loitering in the middle of your room.

“Geese aren't something I'm used to, but they're a little similar - well, mostly. In some ways. Same shape, bigger-” he motioned to you then stopped in horror at what he’d done.

It seemed both of your hearts had dropped in that moment.

You loved his enthusiasm - you really did. It warmed your heart that Lucifer took the time to make things for you. But you were just as unfamiliar with geese as he was.

Transitioning to Hell had been difficult. The changes to your body had made things infinitely worse. You hadn't even felt comfortable in your human form, so coming to terms with what you were in Hell was like dying all over again. Except you died everytime you looked in a mirror.

A thick, feathered tail protruded from your body. Smooth down coated every inch of skin. Nothing seemed to belong to you anymore. Eating wasn’t the same with a beak, and when you forgot about the inhuman form you’d taken, you would honk. It added insult to injury.

The worst part had always been the wings though. It had been almost a full year since you crash landed in Hell, and the harpy like protrusions made finding a shirt impossible.

Then Lucifer strode into your house and handed you a tiny, makeshift version of yourself.

A version of you by someone who adored you and your ‘shape’.

That someone must have caught something in your expression because all awkwardness left him in a flash. Your feathers were ruffled rather than soothed as he swooped the goose from your grasp. Face to face with your own likeness, Lucifer pressed it to his cheek like he didn't want you to offend it. He was demonstrating how it should have been treated.

“It's my favourite one so far because it's you,” he said.

Lucifer pointed the duck towards himself with a pout, and he considered the tiny version of you in his hands. You watched at the way the crows lines besides his eyes became defined in a warm smile. You'd seen that smile directed at you many times, yet regarding him as he regarded your likeness didn't quite capture your anxieties imagination.

While he placed the goose on your shelf with tender care, he spoke: “I want you to love yourself too - I just… I know I can't force you to, but I want you to feel good about yourself.”

He turned with a brisk flurry of his coat tails. A hand had found his chin, and he focused on something unknown to you before panic animated him. Firm hands gripped at your arms then softened into a gentle stroke. His eye contact faltered and dipped like his brow, but soon found stability.

“Don't feel bad though. About me that is. I'm okay. I worry about you, but you don't have to worry about me. Please please please let me know if you ever need anything ever, although…” he trailed off. “I went ahead and booked you in for a few hours with my old tailor. It’s been a while, but I thought it wouldn't hurt. Sleeves, am I right?”

Lucifer waved his arm in a careless motion up and down to draw attention to his own attire.

“They're a pain! Maybe they're a bit easier to tailor on me - ah, but hopefully we'll be able to-”

You cut him off in an all too sudden gesture that almost left him coughing on feathers when you smothered him with your wings. The second his name fell from your lips, you had his full attention, and he covered his own mouth over your feathers.

Silence.

It was always a marvel at how he could enter a room and command it in such a chaotic fashion, but the floor was yours.

“Thank you Lucifer.” You spoke in a hushed tone to quell any accidental honking. A deep breath allowed you to consider your next words.

You adored that he put so much time into crafting you a little ‘you’, and the fact that he sorted out a personal tailor for you after he heard you talk about your sleeves once was amazing. There was nobody better in all of Hell that you could have asked for. There was nobody else you would have wanted.

But he needed to calm down as much as you did.

While the thought of an appointment filled you with terror, you weren't going to turn down the offer. It had already been booked, and even if you weren't afraid to cancel despite that, you wanted to go.

You appreciated the way he looked at you the way you wanted to look at yourself.

So your self worth came from within, but you were willing to learn to love yourself the way he loved you. At the very least, you would let him show you. One day, maybe, it would take ahold of you the way he did.

“When are we going to the tailors?”

“Today. In-” he checked his watch. “An hour?”

You blinked at him as he questioned himself. He never gave you any clarification about whether it was truly in an hour. The best you got was a muttered statement along the lines of agreement with himself that tripped into uncertainty with a ‘maybe’.

Somehow, you’d stumble into the appointment together on time, so you weren’t too bothered. You were just grateful you got the chance to prepare yourself mentally. And a personal tailor sounded cool. There was a myriad of ideas that popped into your mind at the thought of being able to have anything made for you.

Knowing Lucifer, however, he would try to get something matching for you both.

You could get behind that.

Another deep breath pulled you through the wave of emotion that boiled up inside of you did little to cool the waters. Instead, tears began to well in your eyes. The moment he saw this, Lucifer exclaimed that he could cancel the appointment if you didn’t want to go, but you shook your head.

You listened to his rambling and reassurance that you could always leave if you wanted to. He promised you anything to make you happy despite having already done so.

All that was left for you to do was take him in your arms and love him the way he loved you.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Along the way

Pt. 1

Fantasy!HXH AU

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: wanted to have some fun with a fantasy version of Hunter x Hunter involving the main four and the reader :3 this is purely for fun and idk how often I’ll update it, depends on my mood. Also this will have some inspiration from Yona of the Dawn and Frieren!

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment saying you want to be added, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) couldn’t remember the last time she had ever been hungry. Every day she woke up to breakfast in bed, and was quickly guided to the dining hall for lunch. Dinner was never late, considering she ate with her father, the King.

But right now, her stomach growled painfully as she was led by the hand by the only person that she had left from her life as a princess.

“Kurapika… I’m hungry.”

The blonde’s elf ears twitched, telling her that he definitely heard her. His grip tightening on her hand was enough for her to understand that he was upset he couldn’t do anything about it. “I know, princess.”

“I’m tired, too.”

He sighed softly, but didn’t slow down. “I’m well aware. We have to keep going, you’ll get a break when the sun rises. By then we should be far enough from the castle to avoid detection.”

She huffed, her eyelids dropping slightly as they continued to walk. “I just hope Papa will meet us soon… he’s always taking his time.”

Kurapika stayed silent at that, simply continuing to guide her through the dense forest. Instead of replying to her, his thumb rubbed the back of her hand gently, as if he was attempting some form of comfort.

He hadn’t been lying, the elf did not let her rest until the sun came out. Even then, she was upset to know they would be sleeping in a dark and smelly cave. “The scent will help mask ours, princess,” Kurapika said after she pouted at him.

“I’d rather be eaten by demons than smell like moldy cheese,” she mumbled as he prepared a spot for her to sleep on.

“Don’t pout, it’s unbecoming of a princess. You should rest while you can, we’ll be leaving at nightfall.”

He sat in the corner, a hand on his sword as she settled down on the makeshift bed of his tabard and moss. Kurapika covered her in his cloak once she was settled, his brown eyes soft with concern.

“You’re not going to sleep?”

(Name) looked up at him, her eyes half lidded as she fought her sleep. He managed a small smile, reaching out to gently pet her head. “Elves don’t need as much sleep as humans do. I’ll be fine, just go to bed.”

She didn’t argue, simply laying her head back down and drifting off to sleep. As she did, Kurapika’s smile faded, and a look of absolute fury crossed his face at the sight of his exhausted princess.

Just a few hours ago, she had been getting ready for bed, and he had been guarding her room. Everything was peaceful, as it always was.

“Kurapika, can you come sit with me until I fall asleep?” she asked, peeking her head out of the door. He smiled, sheathing his sword before slipping through the crack in her door.

“Yes, of course princess. You always have trouble sleeping on your own…” Kurapika said, sitting in a chair next to her bed after tucking her in. “Do you require anything else?”

She looked away shyly, offering her hand. “Can you hold my hand too?”

Without a word he took her hand in his, gently caressing the back of it with his thumb. (Name) smiled, her eyelids drooping. “Thank you…”

With that, she was fast asleep. Times like this almost made Kurapika forget about his troubled past. Getting to see his princess live a good and happy life was all he could want.

He had achieved his goals in avenging his clan, she was all he had now. And that’s why what happened just an hour later angered him so.

His kind, sensitive princess was woken with a start as the sounds of explosives shook the castle. Kurapika was quick to comfort her, holding the princess in his arms and lifting her up.

“W-what was that?”

Another explosion rocked the building, causing him to tighten his grip on her. “I’m not sure, but we need to go.”

He held onto her with one arm as he left her room, drawing his sword with the other. The feeling of her trembling hands gripping his shirt grounded the elf, and his ears twitched. There was the faint sound of someone screaming, and thundering footsteps.

“Shit…”

Kurapika never swore in front of (Name), trying his best to stay levelheaded in her presence, but the aura he was picking up was making him boil with rage.

“Demons.” he spat out, darting down a corridor and hiding in an empty room. He covered her mouth as the sound of skittering and footsteps echoed down the halls. The smell of sulfur and fire wafted through the crack in the door, making his sensitive princess gag.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but demons are supposed to be forbidden from entering the palace walls. And for this many to be here…”

Before she could even register it, Kurapika was carrying her out of the room and sprinting down the halls. She was still only half awake, glancing around to try and get her bearings.

That was a mistake.

As they passed by the throne room, (Name) watched as her father was cornered by a pack of demons. They were tall and intimidating, wearing black cloaks to hide their appearances.

“Where is the girl? The one you have passed your knowledge to?”

Kurapika flattened against the wall, shielding her with his body. He felt like if he moved in that moment, the monsters inside would sense their presence.

“I didn’t… pass it on yet. She hasn’t yet reached her 20th birthday..!”

‘He’s talking about the princess!’ Kurapika thought, his grip tightening on her. He held her close to him, urging her with his scarlet eyes to keep quiet as a mouse.

“Could be all lies. Tell the lower rank soldiers to search for her. She’ll most likely be alone or guarded by a human knight, which is no match for even the lowest ranked demon.”

The sound of flesh being sliced made Kurapika wince, and he covered (Name)’s ears just in time. Kurapika used the noises of her father’s final cries to hurry her out of the castle and into the surrounding woods.

“W-what about papa?” she asked, frantically looking around. “H-he was in the thrown room, w-“

Kurapika covered her mouth and raised his hand, castings a quick spell to hide their presence before a pack of demons came bounding down the forest path. He did his best to comfort her, shielding her eyes so she couldn’t see that the awful things sniffing around for them.

The lower ranked soldiers were barely sentient, more like mindless hellhounds than actually people. Their gray, decaying flesh rotted off of their bodies as they sniffed the ground. Thankfully, the spell Kurapika cast hid both their appearance and scent.

One of the beasts stopped near the two, its ears pricked up as it listened closely. Kurapika held his breath, ready to draw his weapon at any moment…

But a bush a few yards away shook, causing the beats to start growling and barking, immediately running off to see what was there. Kurapika used this chance to get pick up (Name) and run.

That’s how they ended up in the cave. The smell of the musty air would mask their scents long enough for them both to get some rest.

Kurapika watched the sleeping princess, sighing softly as he caressed her cheek. She was such a sweet, innocent girl. She didn’t deserve to be hunted down like a dog.

Despite Kurapika’s hatred for humankind for their slaughter of his kin, he held (Name) in high regards. The only reason he drew breath was because of her kindness, so he had dedicated the rest of his long life to protecting that kindness.

So the fact someone had taken her throne when she was so close to becoming queen angered him beyond belief. Kurapika had seen the way she cared for her subjects, and the demons taking over would only mean the suffering of all the humans living in her kingdom. It would break her heart, being helpless to do anything.

But Kurapika would let endless men and women die if it meant keeping her safe. He already had plans to take her somewhere remote where she could live out her life in peace and safety.

Though, it seemed she had a different idea.

When (Name) woke up, she ate the pheasant he hunted while looking at the cave wall in though. “Those demons… they took over the palace.”

Kurapika nodded, washing her nightgown as she sat, covered by his cloak. “Yes, princess. It is much too dangerous for us to try and go b-“

“Just the two of us? Yes, it would be too dangerous. But…”

She picked up a stick and started drawing in the dirt. “You said the nearest town is only a few miles away by foot, right? Well, maybe we can find a guild and hire a party to slay the demons!”

“With what money, princess? And the demons will be searching for you in every town near the castle. It will be dangerous to-“

“That’s why I’m gonna wear a disguise!”

She stood, walking over to some moss. “I’ll make a beard and-“

“My princess…” Kurapika interrupted. “I could just use a spell to change your appearance.”

“Oh.”

She blushed, sitting back down. “We’ll do that then.”

“…”

Kurapika didn’t exactly love the idea, so he spoke up again. “But we still don’t have the money for such a thing. Hiring a party is already costs a hefty sum, and the type of people we’ll need to drive out demons, especially the kind that have invaded the palace would be hard to find, let alone pay.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. Kurapika loved her dearly, but his princess was extremely sheltered. She didn’t understand the concept of how much things cost. “Listen my princess, I can take you somewhere safe, where you can live a comfortable life. It might not be the luxurious life you’re used to, but you’ll still be happy.”

“B-but…”

Kurapika looked back to her, freezing when he saw tears trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t… want my people to suffer when I could be doing something… why do I get to be safe and happy while they’re under the reign of demons?”

She did have a point, and her kindness is what made Kurapika adore her in the first place. His elf ears twitched and he rubbed the back of his neck.

To be honest, Kurapika cared not for other humans… but he would to next to anything to make her happy.

“… alright.”

(Name) blinked, looking to him. “Really?”

“Yes… but promise me, if we can’t find a party that will take on our request within a month, you will give up on this.”

She squealed in delight, jumping into his arms. “I promise! Ahh, thank you Kurapika!”

The slightest shade of pink took over his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Princess, you still only have my cloak to keep you covered.”

She blinked, looking down at herself before jumping back and checking herself over to make sure she was still completely covered. “A-ah, sorry I forgot…”

‘She’s going to be the death of me…’ Kurapika thought, ringing out her night gown before setting it out to dry.

As he planned out what they would do, he could have sworn he heard something skittering from tree to tree outside… but when he looked, there was nothing…

But a pair of cat-like eyes were staring in at them, wondering when he should strike.

————————

Kurapika held her close to him as they walked towards town. Just an hour before, an entire pack of demon hounds passed by their hiding place.

Thankfully, he had placed a magical sensor about 100 feet away that alerted him just in time for him to pull (Name) into the depths of the cave. He covered her mouth, the potent smell of the cave hiding their scent.

The beasts passed by without any trouble, but Kurapika knew it was time to go. More competent soldiers would be there soon to check every nook and cranny of the forest for any signs of life, and Kurapika couldn’t hide her forever.

So they walked down the path, her hand in his. She was still tired, now wearing her freshly cleaned nightgown and his cloak. Her feet were still bare, so he would carry her until his arms ached. Kurapika couldn’t stand the way she winced when she stepped on a pointy rock or on poky leaves.

He wished he could do more, he more useful to her…

‘I’ll buy her a more suitable outfit once we get into town.’ he thought, patting his coin pouch with his free hand. ‘I doubt we’ll be able to find someone willing to take on the demons anyways, no need to save my coin when my princess is in need of new clothing.’

It wouldn’t be the soft silks and fancy patterns she was used to, but it would keep her warm and covered.

“My princess, we’re nearing town.”

She stopped, glancing back at him. Kurapika tied his cloak tighter around her, making sure her stained nightgown couldn’t be seen. “Try not to let your bare feet be noticed. Take small steps, and don’t take off your hood.”

“Anything else?” she asked sarcastically. Kurapika thought for a second, then looped her arm with his.

“Yes. Don’t leave my side, even for a second. I can’t guarantee that the town is safe. There could already be demons hiding amongst the citizens, wearing human disguises.”

She huffed, but listened. For the past 5 years, Kurapika had been her loyal knight, keeping her safe from all harm. (Name) trusted him more than she trusted herself, so of course she would do whatever he said.

“Come, we can only stay in town for so long. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

He guided her into the small town, which looked more like a village the more Kurapika thought of it.

There were only a handful of shops that he could see, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to find her clothes, much less a party that would be willing to take on demons.

He grimaced when a toddler ran by, wearing only wearing a cloth diaper as they were chased by what seemed to be an older sibling. Kurapika disliked humans, finding them to be filthy, nasty things.

“Aww… so cute!”

Kurapika glanced to see (Name) helping the little one up after they tripped, gently dabbing away at a little scrape in their knee with her handkerchief. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s only a little scrape.”

The older sibling blushed as (Name) smiled and helped their younger sibling stand. “Be careful, you’re a big brother, aren’t you? You need to keep better watch of your baby sister. And you…”

She gave the child a headpat. “You need to listen to your big brother. Don’t run away from him, what if a big scary monster snatched you up?”

The two thanked her before walking away hand in hand, waving. She waved back, and Kurapika was quick to grab her hand and pull her towards a quiet place. “Princess, didn’t I say we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves!? You-“

She pouted at him. “Kurapika, it was just a child. I-“

“Well now those children have seen your face. It not only puts you in danger, but them as well.”

(Name) paused, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked down at the ground. Kurapika sighed, cursing himself for upsetting her.

“Just… try not to talk to anyone or show your face, alright? Come on, we have to hurry.”

She was now quiet as they walked through the small village, her hand in his. Though Kurapika knew her silence was better in the long run, he also felt an ache in his heart when she was quiet.

——————

(Name) sat in a small wooden chair inside a dusty clothing shop. Kurapika was speaking to the owner quietly, occasionally glancing back at her.

While they talked, (Name) took the time to look out the window and really take in the village while it was busy.

The unevenly paved road caused the rickety old carriages drawn by horses to wobble a bit, but the riders seemed used to it. Children ran down the road, spooking the horses a bit and getting yelled at by said riders until they scurried away.

Across from them was a bakery, where she could see a woman rolling out a ball of dough. On the counter were various baked good that reminded (Name) of just how hungry she was.

But… something seemed out of place. Every once in a while as she watched the villagers go about their daily lives, she swore she could see a blur of someone in the trees that surrounded the village. Occasionally, a pair of blue, glowing eyes peered through the leafy canopy, staring right at her.

“U-Um… Kurapika?”

He held up a hand and continued to speak with the shopkeep. ‘Is he… haggling him?’ (Name) sighed softly, turning back to the window.

The thing she saw made her blood ran cold.

On the edge of the tree line was a small figure, looking right at her. She couldn’t make out much besides a head of white hair and piercing blue eyes. (Name) got ready to tell Kurapika, but by the time she blinked… it was gone.

Kurapika approached her, a few items of clothing slung over his shoulder. “What did you need, my p- I mean, miss?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, continuing to stare out of the window. When she did finally speak, he could tell something was wrong. “… nothing. Just thought I saw something.”

The elf was intelligent, he knew that anything out of the ordinary could mean their enemies may be near. So he nodded and escorted her to the dressing room. “Get dressed, we’re leaving now.”

She did as told, glancing through the crack in the door as he kept watch. When she was around, Kurapika kept up a calm and confident facade… but when he thought she couldn’t see him, his face fell slightly with worry.

The princess didn’t truly know what demons were or the history they had with humans or elves, not many humans did. The stories had simply been lost to time, something only an elf who had lived many human lifetimes could remember.

Kurapika was terrified, knowing that these demons would stop at nothing to kill the last person that may know how to truly defeat them.

Demons were incredibly hard to kill, it was easier to just wound them and banish them with a teleportation spell back to hell… but there was one method that could permanently end a demon’s life.

But no, the princess wasn’t aware of how to do that. Why would she be, she was sheltered and had never even held a wand, much less casted a spell.

Instead, the king had passed on this information to Kurapika, not wanting his beloved daughter to be in danger. Kurapika didn’t want her at risk either, so he took on the heavy burden.

The spell called for various magical items to be gathered from across the continent and brought together. It would take ages, and with just the two of them, it wasn’t just dangerous, it was impossible.

Even more troubling, to preform the spell that would banish demons, the caster would have to be a person whose heart was pure and without hate. Kurapika held onto so much hatred and anger, he would never be able to perform such a thing.

‘But…’

Kurapika glanced at the princess as she stepped out of the dressing room, her smile as warm as the afternoon sun. She reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “It’ll be okay, we’ll get through this together.”

‘Maybe she, the only human I have ever cared for could do it.’

———————

From the branches of a tree, a figure watched as the two walked through the forest. One was some kind of an elf, which the spying figure had been told went extinct years ago.

The other was a young woman, her face hidden by an olive green cloak. She held onto the elf’s hand, and the figure could tell that if she wasn’t with him, the elf would be moving at a much faster pace.

‘Huh, just a single guard? You’d think that at least twenty knights would have escorted her out of the palace.’

The figure jumped silently to another tree once the two started to gain a bit too much distance from him for his liking.

‘She’s rather slow and weak, I can take her out easily. But the elf has been able to successfully evade our soldiers for nearly two days and nights now… oh well, I only need to kill the girl. No need to fight someone I’m not sure I could beat.’

The figure’s tail curled around the branch of the tree, keeping him upright as he leaned forward to get a better look at them.

But unfortunately, he misjudged the strength of the branch and was sent tumbling out of the tree, landing in a bush nearby.

‘SHIT!’

Kurapika pulled his sword out, stepping in front of (Name). “Who goes there? Come out and state your reasons for following us.”

‘Ah, so he knew I was following them.’

The white haired boy quickly hid his tail, retracted his claws, and ruffled his hair to hide his small horns. Once done, he carefully stepped out of the bushes, making sure to make himself look small and scared.

“Oh, it’s just a little boy.”

The boy waved timidly, trying to act like a lost child. “H-hello…”

(Name) peeked out from behind Kurapika, smiling. “Hello there, I-“

Kurapika stepped forward, his sword pointed at the boy’s throat. “I said state your reason for following us.”

(Name)’s eyes widen, and she reached out to gently move Kurapika’s arm so he was pointing his sword at the ground instead. “Kurapika, he’s just a little boy, there’s no need-“

“Just a little boy? My princess, if he was a normal little boy I would be able to hear his footsteps when he walked. This is no ordinary child, he’s trained in the ways of darkness and evil.”

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “Huh, you’re good. Wasn’t expecting that. I’ve never had someone realize they couldn’t hear my footsteps before.”

In the blink of an eye, the boy’s claws were sharpened into points, his sharp teeth glistening in the low light. Kurapika’s eyes widened, and he started getting ready to create a barrier around the princess if need be.

“You seem like a smart man. Hand over the girl, and I’ll let you free. You’re an elf, I hear that race and humans have a pretty bad history. Let me guess, you were forced into serving her or execution. Well it’s your lucky day, I’m here to take her out. Then, you’ll be a free elf and-“

The boy’s eyes narrowed as Kurapika’s sword began to glow a deep scarlet, his eyes shining the same color. “You understand nothing, demon. My people hated your kind much more than we hated humans, and this girl means everything to me. I would die before I handed her over to the likes of you.”

‘That sword… I heard stories of elves that could banish demons but…’

“K-Kurapika, wait!”

But it was no use, the two had begun their battle. (Name) was pushed back unceremoniously, falling onto her but a few feet away from the two.

The boy brandished his claws, leaping from the ground and slashing at Kurapika’s throat. He was able to block the attack with his sword just before the boy’s nails sunk into his skin.

Kurapika took advantage of the boy being so close, and used a teleporting spell, sending them 30 yards away. “Hide yourself, (Name)! This boy is an assassin, he’ll take any opportunity to come your way and kill you!”

She gulped, crawling through the gaps of large tree roots and hiding herself under a tree. (Name) couldn’t see what was going on now, but she could hear the sounds of Kurapika swinging his blade and grunting.

It took her back to the days when she would watch him train between lessons. He always took time to send her a soft smile, even walking her to her next destination despite being exhausted and sweaty.

One day, another knight was sparring with him, and when Kurapika got hurt, she started to cry. She rushed over, clingy to him and sobbing as she rubbed her face against his chest.

“Y-you got hurt! You’re bleeding, someone call the-“

Kurapika gently ran his hand over her hair, smiling. “Shh, princess, I’m fine. This is nothing.”

“But…”

His eyes softened as he gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Any injury I get while protecting you is just proof of my unconditional devotion. You are my everything, princess. I will shield you with my very body if it means keeping you safe.”

And as she heard the fight get more and more intense, she felt an uneasy feeling settle in her belly.

‘I don’t want Kurapika to die.’

That’s the very thought she had that day, watching as he was bandaged up by a palace doctor. So behind his back, she had begun to learn basic magic, wanting to be somewhat to him in the future.

Although she had never been able to actually cast a spell due to how she was watched like a hawk, she still managed to sneak some of Kurapika’s books into her room to study while he was busy.

When she heard Kurapika gasp in pain, (Name)’s mind raced with what to do. He told her to hide, and Kurapika was usually right, but she would rather die than let him die for her.

So (Name) crawled out of her hiding space, sniffling softly as she began to run towards the two.

The boy had him pinned to the ground, his nails at Kurapika’s throat. The sight was enough to freeze her in her tracks, her heart thumping wildly against her chest.

“L-let him go!”

Despite her legs shaking, and her lip wobbling, she was still able to yell out to the boy. “It’s me you want, don’t hurt him!”

Kurapika turned his head, his nose bleeding. “Princess, what do you think you’re doing, he’s going to-“

The boy let Kurapika go, walking towards her slowly. “Sacrificing yourself to save a measly knight? You’re braver than I thought, princess. I’ll spare the elf, as long as you go down without a fight.”

“Yes… but please, before you kill me, let me know your name.”

Seeing no point in hiding his identity now that his prey was right in front of him, the boy relented. “If that’s your final wish… my name is Killua. Killua of the Zoldyck Royal Family, one of the seven princes of hell.”

“I see… Killua, then. I need you to get down.”

This made the boy pause. Although her body shook and her lip wobbled, her eyes were far from scared. They were determined, steady as they focused on him.

Before he could retreat, a ring formed around the boys wrists, causing him to be pinned to the ground. He yelped, struggling frantically against the glowing rings, but they stayed firm on his wrists.

“W-what the hell did you just do to me!?”

(Name) smiled, her knees giving way as she fell to the ground. She held held up her own wrist, a small ring of light was there, the same as the boy’s.

“I cast a spell to have complete control over your actions. It only works on… demons… and… if I have your name…”

Killua growled, baring his teeth and struggling against his bounds with no luck. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even lift his head. “You witch! Let me go right now, before I-“

(Name) laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Before you what? Squirm some more? Kick up some dirt? Face it kid, you’re not doing anything until I give you an order.”

He continued to growl and snap his teeth at her, trying to attack, to do anything. As Killua struggled, Kurapika made his way back over, holding his injured arm.

‘That spell… it’s too high level, even for me. How was she able to-‘

He barely caught (Name) in time as she fell forward. Her mana was next to non existent at the moment, leaving her exhausted and barely conscious.

“My princess…”

He cursed himself for not being able to stop her from using such a spell. If he had been a bit stronger, the boy would be dead, and he would be carrying her to bed at this very moment.

But now, he had to deal with the demon growling and snarling at their feet.

“I hope you’ve prepared yourself for death, demon. I can’t have you going back to your horde and informing them of our location.”

Killua let out a laugh, looking up at him. “As if either of you could kill me. Sure, try it out. Injure me, teleport me away to the far ends of the earth, I’ll just keep coming back, and with reinforcements next time.”

“He has a point…”

Kurapika helped (Name) sit up, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as her head leaned on his chest. She was so weak, she was shaking.

“Princess, you should rest.”

She shook her head, raising her hand. “Stand, Killua.”

The boy immediately sprung up from the ground, standing stiffly in front of them. “(Name)… is the spell still intact?”

She nodded, leaving Kurapika in awe. A spell like that cast by an amateur like her should have fell apart within seconds!

“So we can’t just let him go and I don’t want to kill him…”

“We couldn’t kill him even if we tried, princess.”

She pouted slightly, staring at the boy whose cheek were red with humiliation. He was at the beck and call of a human, he’d be teased by his brothers for weeks!

“… I think I have a solution! Killua, stay still.”

The boy scolded himself for being so cocky. ‘I knew names held power, and yet I freely gave her mine…’

He clenched his fists, growling lowly. ‘As soon as I’m free, I’ll kill that princess, if it’s the last thing I do!’

Killua stiffened up even more if possible as Kurapika and (Name) stepped a few feet away to talk.

The elf grimaced as (Name) seemed to be proposing an idea, disagreeing with her immediately. She then put her hands on her hips… which caused Kurapika to relent.

“Alright, I’ll let you handle this then, princess.”

(Name) smiled, stepping forward. “Alright! Killua, once this order is given, you’ll be able to move freely.”

Killua perked up a little. ‘This is my chance!’

“I’ll be giving you the orders,” she said, holding up two fingers. Kurapika glanced her way, nervous. He didn’t like allowing his princess to handle things in the slightest… but it was their only option. “One, you will not share any information on me, Kurapika, or anyone connected to us.”

He frowned deeply, that would get in the way of his plans… but…

‘Once she’s dead, the spell should dissipate. I’ll just-‘

“The second order is you are no longer allowed to harm, kill, or maim any innocent beings, or any of my loved ones.”

Killua’s jaw dropped. While he didn’t necessarily make a habit out of killing when he didn’t have to, it was still his job. “You can’t be serious, I-“

That’s when he realized… (Name) was but an innocent human… he wouldn’t be kill her. And Kurapika was definitely someone she cared for…

“Those are your orders. You can now move freely.”

Killua’s body relaxed, and he moved forward, launching himself at (Name). Although Kurapika was quick to pull her behind himself, it wasn’t necessary.

Killua froze midair, ancient symbols appearing all over his body. When he dropped to the ground, he seized.

(Name) was quick to kneel down next to him, despite Kurapika’s complaints. “Hey, you’re going to be okay. The effects shouldn’t last that long…”

She lifted his head into her lap, wiping away the drool from the boy’s mouth with her sleeve. “This is what happens when you disobey an order… I’m sorry, from what I read I heard it’s incredibly painful.”

Incredibly painful? It was the worst thing Killua had ever experienced, and he had undergone the harsh training and torture of the Zoldyck family.

But the demon was confused… why was this princess gently wiping his face with a handkerchief, and why was she getting her knight to prop him up against a tree. He couldn’t comprehend why she left a canteen full of water and an apple for him before she left… it didn’t make sense.

“You’re free to do whatever you want, as long as you follow those two orders,” she said, yawning as Kurapika helped her walk. “Goodbye, Killua.”

As they walked away, Killua felt… strange. He had tried to kill her more than once. It would be easy enough to make him take his own life… yet she was letting him go.

Killua sat there under the moonlight, thinking of what his next step should be. He couldn’t return home, that would be a humiliation he would never live down. Him, the heir of the throne, defeated by a mere mortal? That was unheard of.

So Killua hatched a new plan, one that would take advantage of the princess’ kindness…

———————

Dark fog fell over the palace, toxic vapor that would kill any human unfortunate enough to still be hiding within its walls.

“Has Killua returned with the princess yet?”

Illumi looked up from his work, tilting his head. His tail swayed silently as he set those dark, cold eyes on his mother. “No, mother. And from what I’m able to sense… he’s not coming back home for a while yet.”

She frowned, Kalluto standing quietly at her side. “Kalluto, go check with your older brother and see if he’s finished that resurrection spell yet.”

“Yes, mother.”

Once Kalluto left, the woman’s eyes narrowed. “We must hurry and get these matters dealt with before the other demon lords are able to make it to the surface. Those other princes… they’ll spell nothing but trouble for our-“

“Yes, mother. I understand.”

Illumi looked into his crystal ball, one that one worked on Killua. With it, he could see through the boy’s eyes… and even give him orders.

“Killua is currently following the princess, mother.”

She smiled, clapping her hands together. “Oh, that is wonderful news! Give him the command, and then I’ll have my little prince back!”

Illumi nodded, the focused on the crystal ball, peering into it.

‘Killua.’

Usually, simply saying his name was enough to have the boy tensing up… but he did nothing. Could he not… hear him?

Illumi shook his head. ‘No matter, I’ll just take control of him.’

When Illumi attempted to reach into the crystal ball, his hand was repelled by white magic, burning his fingers and palm.

“Illumi!”

His mother rushed over to see what had happened. Illumi stared blankly at his hand, sighing.

“It seems someone is interfering with my connection… until we figure out what this is…”

His mother paled, raising a hand to her mouth.

“Killua… is lost to us.”

Illumi looked through the crystal ball, his frown deepening. ‘At least I can still see through his eyes. That will be of some benefit to us… as long as Killua keeps following them, we should be able to find them eventually.’

Kalluto walked back into the room, Boeing politely. “Mother, big brother has found a resurrection spell that will work on more than ten people at once without killing the caster. Now all we have to do is find their remains.”

His mother grinned, fanning herself. “Inform your father of this discovery, and make sure he knows…”

She looked outside, smiling as the fog slowly spread down the mountain. “We have some spiders to find.”

[analogwriting]

Heat Waves

Killer x gn!reader (afab edition) word count: 2.3k amab version a/n: so technically this ties in with the latest chapter of this fic - call it chapter 3.5 if you will, but it also works as its own stand alone thing sooooo here ya go. also, side note: i use the term palette which someone brought to my attention that not everyone uses in this specific context (could just be something my bio mom called it idk). in this case a palette refers to spreading out blankets, usually three or four, one on top of another - typically on a floor - making a makeshift bed. also you put a bunch of pillows on it. im not sure if there's another term for something like that - i only know it to be a palette lmao

Suddenly, you were very glad Killer thought ahead. Not only did he bring the comforters and pillows to really spruce up the bed of the truck and make it more comfortable - he also actually remembered to set it up before the two of you got to business. 

There'd been a few times where the two of you were hanging out in the truck bed and ended up getting frisky. You usually ended up with major back pain or all kinds of bruises and scratches from lack of buffer between you and the metal bed.

This time he had it all planned out and you were glad for it. You weren't going to have to think ahead or plan out exactly how to shag him while doing the least amount of damage. You didn’t have to think at all, actually.

Also, you knew that since you had riled him up earlier and then blue balled him, he was really gonna let you have it. Between that and the fact he was leaving for who knows how long - you knew you were definitely going to be feeling it the next few days. 

Good.

You felt him place a hand on your back as he kissed you feverishly, his other hand on your thigh before he moved to lay you down in the comfort of the blankets. He didn't once break the kiss as he moved you to where he had wanted you, groping the meat of your thigh, making you whine softly. 

He began to kiss your jaw and down your neck, leaving plenty of hickies in his wake. He wanted to mark you up before he left, reminders that he would be back soon enough. You gasped as you felt him bite down on your shoulder, your eyes rolling back slightly. Yeah, he definitely was in one of his more feral moods. Hell, you might not even be able to walk tomorrow.

Your body already felt like it was on fire at this point, more than excited to have Killer do whatever he wanted for however long he wanted. You’d go all night if he wanted.

Your hands found their way into his hair before tugging on it roughly, causing him to groan loudly against you. His hands made their way up your shirt, groping your chest before pulling it off of you completely. You were glad it was a summer night or you'd be shivering. Though, you did anyway from the sudden kiss of the cooler night air.

Killer covered you with kisses, his lips feather light as he ran them down your torso, nipping you here and there, leaving a few hickies. Your entire body was buzzing as you pressed into him. Each point of contact riling you up more and more, ready for him to get on with it already. You loved the light signs of affection, but it’d been a while. You were ready for him to completely use you.

It took him absolutely no time at all to take off your pants and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side. You didn't even fully comprehend where they ended up but you hoped they didn't end up on the ground. Not the end of the world but inconvenient. 

With a sharp inhale of breath, Killer spread your legs, leaning back for a moment. 

“What?” you mumbled, face red as you looked up at him. You never really felt embarrassed or ashamed with him. You knew he loved every inch of you - inside and out.

“Mm, just enjoying my view.” He licked his lips and your heart raced. You loved it when he looked at you like he was some kind of wild animal watching his prey. 

You opened your mouth to say something smart when you felt his mouth against you. He wasted no time in dragging his tongue along your folds. The fork in his tongue gave a whole different sensation especially as he flicked at your clit, placing it in between his split as he did so. 

Ever since he split his tongue, it definitely heightened the experience for both of you. He got it from losing a bet, but it ended up working in his favor - both of your favors. 

The sudden stimulation surprised you, your eyes rolling back as a moan ripped from your chest. It was loud enough that it echoed slightly and some nightlife skittered about. You didn't realize you'd been that loud. Man, you were glad you were in the middle of nowhere. 

A small chuckle came from the man in between your legs and your face was ablaze. “W-What are you laughing at?” you mumbled, your breathing growing heavier the more filled with lust you became.

He pulled away from his assault on you for a moment to look up at you through his hair. You felt his fingers start to stroke you, your hips twitching slightly in response and a whine escaping your lips. 

“Nothing in particular, you're just cute,” he crooned. You opened your mouth to retort only to, once again, be interrupted by your own lust as he slid in one of his thick fingers. You choked on your words, immediately closing and trying to muffle the moan that threatened to erupt from you. You couldn’t think clearly, already drunk on lust.

You watched as the smug smile on his face grew. You went to roll your eyes at him only for them to roll back into your skull instead as he began to work in a second finger. Fuck, he wasn't going to let you breathe, was he?

Not that you were complaining. 

He worked on stretching you as you rolled your hips, trying to get more friction with noises that were a mix of pleasure and frustration. You just wanted him to get to the part where he destroyed you. It's been a while so you were yearning for it. He was taking it slow on purpose. The both of you knew you could handle him with ease. Hadn’t he already made you wait enough for things?!

You could feel yourself on the cusp of a climax, your breathing growing more shallow, your body growing warmer. “Fuuuck-” Then he pulled his hand from you, leaving you empty and cold. Your body shivered from the sudden lack of warmth as you looked up at him in disbelief. You let out a huff of irritation, glaring at him the best you could.

“Just a little payback for earlier, but I'm too greedy to completely stick to the bit.” And boy howdy, were you glad for that.

You were panting, vision hazy as you looked at him. It was a full moon tonight, so he was illuminated pretty well despite being where there wasn't any light from lamps and such. Fuck, he was beautiful.

“I only did that to get back at you for-” Before you could finish your sentence, he was back at attacking you with his mouth once more. His tongue plunged deep inside of you as his fingers started to rub your clit in full assault mode.

Your eyes widened and you cried out, thighs tightening around his head a bit as your body reached its sudden climax, making a mess of your boyfriend. He cleaned you up with his tongue, your hips and thighs twitching as you rode through your high. 

You were panting heavily, closing your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down. Killer pulled up, a satisfied yet hungry look on his face. Your heart raced, body growing warm all over again. He could rile you up so easily but you already knew that you do the same to him. 

He yanked his own shirt off, tossing it to the side and you admired the view. Your hands moved up, tracing over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you hungrily, a small growl escaping from him. A shiver ran down your spine in anticipation, fuck. He was so hot when he was like this. 

You suddenly felt his fat head press against you. You hadn't even noticed him pull himself out or even roll on the condom. He must've done it while you were collecting yourself. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against you. Before you could return the sentiment, you felt him begin to press inside you. Your eyes widened slightly, at this point they were going to get dry with how open you were having them, and rolled back. As he pushed his way into you, your back arched, legs spreading further to make it easier for him. 

He didn't slam into you, but he didnt go slow either. Your walls were stretched around him, throbbing slightly from the sensation as he bottomed out. You felt absolutely full, your body tingling and floaty. “I love you,” you finally managed to mumble back. 

He just smiled, placing a kiss on your lips once more before getting down to business. 

Get down to business he did. He didn't fully hold back, thrusting in and out of you quickly from the jump. You were already still sensitive from your first orgasm of the night and with the rough way he'd been handling you, his fingers digging into your hips paired with more bitemarks and hickies across your skin, you were about ready to snap again. 

Your nails dug into his back, dragging them down. You weren’t going to be the only one marked up, that you were going to make sure of. As he pumped in and out of you, you started kissing and biting at his skin this time, wanting to leave him with memories of you. 

You felt yourself tightening up, this round was about to close for you. The sound of skin against skin, the breathing and moaning of you both, it almost echoed in the forest around you. 

“Killi, I-” You gasped, clenching around him as you threw your head back and cried out his name as you reached euphoria for the second time tonight. It wasn't long after that you felt his hips still as he reached his climax as well. 

The both of you were panting as you rode out your high, both twitching and trying to recover. 

You felt him move your leg up over his shoulder and you looked at him with half lidded eyes. You slurred something incoherent, trying to ask ‘again’ but garbled nonsense coming out instead. You're not even sure if any of it registered to Killer anyway with the feral way his eyes looked. Both of you were completely out of it.

Either way, you weren’t gonna complain. You kind of liked it when he was like this. Sure, you were sore for a few days but shit, it was worth it. 

You felt him raise your other leg over his shoulder. Oh, he was really gonna hit deep with this one. 

You hardly had time to prepare yourself before he pulled out for a moment. You had a feeling he was switching out the condom. Then, not moments later, he was slamming back into you. A loud cry ripped from your throat and you saw stars for a moment as the world spun around you. It didn't really hurt perse, but you were also too far lost in bliss to even really notice. It would definitely hurt tomorrow.

He pistoned his hips, fucking you hard and rough. Your legs were starting to tingle and go numb. Your nails were now digging into his biceps, dragging down before your hands dropped to your sides as you just didn't have the energy. 

You were suddenly very glad he remembered to put the blankets down or you would be suffering right now with how roughly he was pummeling you into the blankets and pillows. It provided a surprising amount of comfort. He must've brought the good blankets - which meant he had planned on absolutely ravaging you from the start.

Your eyes were glued to the back of your head at this point, body limp, and you were pretty sure you were drooling but you were too out of it to really gather your surroundings or yourself for that matter. Nothing more than his cocksleeve.

This round didn’t last as long as Killer's hips stilled once more as he reached his peak, you'd done the same right along with him, your two bodies in such sync with each other. 

Killer let your legs down and you whined slightly as you felt him move inside of you because of it. Fuck, everything was so sensitive right now. He moved, keeping himself inside of you for now as he laid on the blankets, pulling you onto his chest. You were trying hard to to be riled up as he moved around.

You just laid against him, eyes closed as you tried to stop the world from spinning. You felt like you were floating on clouds, your body still buzzing - heart pounding in your ears so loudly.

Slowly, the feeling was beginning to come back to your limbs and you were able to move. You slowly lifted yourself from Killer’s chest, looking at him with a lazy smile, still unable to fully open your eyes. 

“How you holdin’ up there?” he asked you, his voice gruff. You only hummed in response, not too sure if you could form any words let alone a sentence. You kissed him softly, before resting your foreheads together. 

A grin slowly spread across his face. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Cause I plan on using you all night.”

Your eyes widened at him, your heart racing again with excitement again. That’s all it took for your body to get hot all over again. Damn, you really loved this man.

“Fine by me,” you said, voice raw and hoarse, kissing him hard once more. You knew your voice was only going to get worse or disappear completely. It was going to be a long night.

[tmntkiseki]

Damn, now I'm thinking about the post-Turtles Forever hunt for a new home.

Like initially the turtles are happy when they return to their own dimension. They helped save the multiverse! Their own universe is restored! Casey, April, and all their friends are okay! And while they certainly won't count their chickens before they hatch, it's possible that their Shredder has finally been defeated for good. Maybe if they pull some strings with the Daimyo or Renet, they could even pay their otherdimensional counterparts a visit sometime. It might not be the worst thing to take a vacation to the wacky dimension of the 87 turtles.

They reunite with April and Casey and plan for a pizza party back at the lair to celebrate. Once that's done, they begin to make their way back to the lair via the sewers. Everyone is laughing and joking, Leo and Raph tell Splinter about his 87 counterpart, Mikey and Don toss around fun ideas for yet more otherdimensional versions of themselves ("Imagine a universe where we're all kaiju instead!"), and everything seems set for a relaxed, jovial evening at home.

And then they enter the reservoir pumping station.

Oh. Right.

The happy mood quickly changes to something much more somber as they observe the wreckage of their home. Their third home. Their third home in only two years. At the time the multiverse crisis happened, they had only just gotten everything in order due to delays caused by the Outbreak Virus and the conflict with the Tengu Shredder and now... Now, everything is gone. Again.

Mikey briefly panics—where in the world is Klunk? Is Klunk okay? Thankfully, their beloved family pet appears soon enough with a dead mouse in her mouth, and he bursts into tears as he and his brothers hug the mewling cat. At least she's okay.

They know that they can't stay here. Even if they had the time, resources, and manpower (turtlepower?) necessary to fix all the damage, Hun knows where they live and knowing how angry he is for what happened to him, there's no guarantee that he wouldn't divulge the location of their home to someone like Bishop. They have to find somewhere new to live.

They decide to spend one more night in the pumping station, and let April and Casey know about what happened to their home. They still end up coming, pizzas and sodas in tow, and while the party ends up being very bittersweet in tone, Splinter makes note of one important thing; they may have lost their home again, but they could have easily lost everything had things turned out differently.

It takes a while for them to find a new place to live. During this time, they stay with Leatherhead in his lair—he's happy to let them live with him for as long as they need to, but Splinter, Leo, Raph, Don, and Mikey really do not want to impose on him for too long. April does her part and gets her hands on as many plans of the city's underground as she can, pinpointing potential areas of interest to help narrow their search down. This time around, they are being extremely particular about where they intend to live—they want their new home to be comfortable, but they also want it to last this time.

Eventually, they find it. Donatello quickly determines that it is a nuclear fallout shelter, likely built during the 1960s based on the appliances inside—as it was built to house over four dozen people in the event of a nuclear strike, it is easily their roomiest home yet with plenty of room to spare if more people end up staying with them (the possibility of Leatherhead moving back in with them is, of course, discussed.) Everyone gets their own room, there is direct access to the sewers at the lowest level, and the abandoned church above it could easily be repurposed into a makeshift garage for the Battle Shell and their other vehicles; Donny just needs to determine the structural integrity.

"Do you think this one will stick?" Raph asks.

"I would like it to," Leo says softly. "Home is where our family is, but it would be nice to have somewhere to stay for more than a year. Two years, even."

"Heh. You and me both."

[katiekatdragon27]

Does anyone still care about this idea? No? Well I don't care you get more stuff anyway.

I am working on the playing cards dw, but this has been sitting in my gallery for months and I wanted to get it done.

(It is HIGHLY RECOMENDED that you read the first part of this au story thing. It provides a lot of context for the world and some other characters that are mentioned here.)

Also some updates on that: This story is now called "Rayman: The Sacred Dream" and it is the concepts for a possible fangame. If people show genuine interest in these characters or this Rayman prequal's story, PLEASE let me know. I would love to construct a team to make this idea a reality.

Anyways: To the character cards!!! (Please read below I worked hard on the ref sheets)

Xavior the Athletic Monk:

Xavior is a teensy who utilizes a special kind of elemental magic over anything else. Choosing to hit hard and dodge over magic blasts, he has learned to manipulate the magic inside his own body to shapeshift into a gelatinous water version of himself. Ze is incredibly resilient and moldable too, able to fit through almost any space and dodge most attacks with ease. He is one of Umber's closest friends. They and he often spar to release energy and get better at combat in general. Ze is also very kind, but lacks a filter, so often comes off as rude unintentionally.

Fier the Furious Paladen:

Fier is a teensy with fire in his heart. Literally. Being a resident of Gourmand Land, they have never turned down a hearty meal, especially if it's spicy. His love for spice was so high that it turned his teal skin yellow, making him look the way he does now. They're personality is no less spicy. He is a hot head with a stubborn thought process. They swing first and questions people after, often challenging Aurthr for leadership of the group. He is not blessed by Polokus, but he does have some sort of deity watching him. It's rumored one of the four wild kings has given him their blessing. He does make a banger meal though, so he is allowed to stick around.

Ellixer the Mysterious Cleric:

No one knows Ellixer's story, nor do they ever share it themselves. They are the only naturally yellow teensy of the Glade, with has made them a puzzlement for most who come across them. They are a very talented magic user, but it can only be used for good (such as healing and boosts). Their inability for proper fighting has made them an easy target for capture, but to their captor's surprise, they always escape undetected. Some even assume that they are Polokus themselves, but they deny it. However, Ellixer did manage to help Aurthr with his bubble magic, so they're not beating the allegations.

Zoron the Cursed Druid:

Zoron was not always the old grump he is now. There was a time where he was a thriving showman, bringing the magic of snow and combat to the hot climates of the Glade. His best clients were the minotaurs, a kind group of hell-dwellers just wanting to cool down and have a good spar. However, while traveling to one of his events, he got into a fight with a mother frostbite, who lost her life in the battle. From that day on, Zoron had been cursed with not only her primal hunger, but the ability to turn into any creature he has fought before (which has been a lot). He was also burdened with her kits, although this is no bother to him now. After learning how to control his hunger through Soria, he's been staying isolated in caves, not wanting to hurt anyone else.

Pyren the Rouge Artificer:

Pyren is one of the strangest teensies around. Whereas most are born with large amounts of magic, Pyren was born with none. This lack of magic has made his life incredibly hard, making it almost impossible to properly bond with his peers and defend himself alone. As a result, he started utilizing his real talent, his brain. Learning that plums are quite flammable and explosive, he learned to harness their power into artillery like bombs and makeshift guns. He also sells these weapons to others, good and bad, who also struggle with no magic or are willing to pay the pretty gem. However, insecurity leads people down dark paths, so when a large, dark-hearted nightmare strikes a deal with Pyren for him get magic in exchange for his loyalty, he becomes his biggest weaponsmith.

And with that, the cast has been fully shared! Yes, there is going to be like 10 main characters in this, but some are more main than others lol. If anyone has any questions at all, I will be more than happy to answer.

Thank you for all the support and have a wonderful afternoon!

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 04.17.2024

This was not supposed to be an entire series rewrite??? And it's not??? Sorta???

...anyway, we're Mystik Spiral Kitty Section, but we're thinking of changing our name.

It all came together so quickly after that.

While Rose was out, they hauled some equipment up to the roof: a drum kit that was hanging around the basement studio (that Jagged hadn’t actually used since the air had broken), Juleka’s bass, Luka’s favorite guitar, and a few amps.  They spitballed ideas while Rose was gone, tossing around potential band names and set lists.  When Rose finally came back, a mountain of a boy was lurking behind her.

“Ivan!” Marinette cried, her eyes widening in surprise.  He waved sheepishly while he rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand, his eyes trained on the floor.  His face looked flushed, but that could have been the heat.  “You play?”

“…a bit, yeah,” he mumbled.  “Myles says I’m good, but I think she’s biased.”

But as it turned out, Mylène wasn’t biased.  Ivan was honestly, truly good.

“…this might actually work,” Luka said, nodding as Rose screamed a metal version of his dad’s first single into the mic.  He turned to Marinette with a grin.  “Sure you don’t want to join?  We have a tambourine hanging around somewhere.  Anyone can play a tambourine.”

“Weren’t the tambourine players mostly eye candy?” she asked, her nose scrunching adorably.  He chuckled and shrugged, looking back at the little makeshift stage they had set up.

“Maybe,” he said.  His smile softened.  “Maybe I just like having you around.  It could be something fun to do together, like Rose said.  Maybe we’re all gonna suck and the band’s gonna need some eye candy to distract whoever’s watching from how bad we sound.”

Her eyes widened at the look he gave her, heat flooding her face.  She turned back to the stage with a cough, shaking her head.

“I-impossible,” she said, sitting up straighter.  “You can’t suck — you’re performing on a Jagged Stone album, Luka.  You’re amazing.”

“That’s not skill, though,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “That’s nepotism.  You know there’s no way I’d be on the track if I wasn’t his kid.”

“Give yourself some credit,” she huffed.  “XY being top of the charts?  That’s nepotism.  You know the only reason that idiot’s gotten anywhere is because his dad owns the label.  You, though?  Yeah, your dad being who he is helps, but you’re good, Luka.  He wouldn’t let you play if you weren’t — you know it’s just as much about making himself look good as it is giving you a foot in the door.”

He couldn’t stop the little smile that quirked his lips as he glanced back at her.

“Not a big XY fan?” he asked, and she snorted as she tipped her head back.  His smile grew a little at the indignant expression on her face.

“Please,” she tsked.  “I like real musicians.  Besides, I’m kinda over blonds.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the song was wrapping up and Rose was calling for his attention again.

“So?” she asked, bouncing by the mic.  “Is he in?”

He glanced back at Marinette, who was grinning at him as she nodded, and he sighed as he shrugged.

“Ok, if Ivan’s cool with it, I’m in,” he said, and Rose’s squeal — especially echoed back in the mic — was loud enough to make them both wince.  She started jumping and turned to Juleka, throwing her arms around her neck and hopping onto her.  Luka laughed as Ivan nodded, saying he was in, and whistled to catch Rose’s attention.  “Ok, ok!  Rose, since this is your band…what should we call ourselves, anyway?”

“How about…” Rose hummed, tapping on her chin as she looked up.  She looked back at Luka with a manic grin, snapping her fingers.  “Kitty Section!  And I have just the song to debut at the festival!”

“…o…k,” Luka said, nodding.  “I can roll with that.  Heard weirder names.  Do we even want to know what the song’s about?”

Rose’s grin was as dangerous as ever, her eyes lighting up in a way they had all learned to be wary of over the years.

“Unicorns.”

[lanitalay]

Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 9

a/n: lets all take a collective cleansing breath and enjoy this chapter, its a good time

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 3.2k

Other Chapters

“And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.” Irene counted to the rhythm and watched her little students move to the beat. “Good, take a water break and we’ll finish up the dance.” 

She had begun giving the children of Jesminda’s village classes a few months ago. The unexpected visit to Velaris reminded her of what she loved about living there and, while a small village in Autumn was not the same as the bustling city, she was determined to make it a better place to live, in whatever way she could. Jesminda and Lucien helped her fix up an abandoned barn to offer the classes and after a slow first few weeks, she had a couple of dozen regular students. 

“Alright children, positions!” The pitter patter of their tiny feet never failed to make her smile. “Hands up! And one, two, three, four, hands down, six, seven, eight. We do that two more times then go back to the pirouette.”  

“They’re looking so good!” Jesminda compliments as she helps Irene sweep the barn floor. 

“They have improved so much in the last few weeks, I think they’re really excited about the recital.” Irene is closing up the windows and doors so that no woodland creature makes a home out of her makeshift studio.

“Even Lucien is excited for the recital, we don’t have much entertainment here other than who’s sleeping with who. By the way, did you see how little Mae’s mother kept eyeing you? She looked just about ready to take a bite.” 

Irene laughs, which she frequently did with Jesminda “she was doing no such thing.” 

“Oh yes she was, next time I catch her I’ll send you a signal.” 

“Are you ready to go?” Lucien asks from the main doors. 

“Honey, help Irene with the windows, will you?” 

Lucien nods and holds up large square pieces of plywood against the window opening while Irene bolts them down. “Let me get my things and we can go.”  

Irene and Lucien dropped off Jesminda at her cottage before returning to the Forest House. On the ride back they stopped at a creek to water the horses. “You seem… better. I mean, better than when you first got here.” 

She was petting her horse and gave him a hint of a smile “I’m feeling better, I kind of forgot how much I enjoy dancing. Victoria and I have taken lessons all our lives.” 

“Well, I’m glad. This version of you is much better than corpse bride.” 

“Hey!” She said and kicked some water his way.

“Just being honest.” 

“Let’s go back to the house, I’m hungry.”

The pair left the horses in the stables and went to Mora’s wing of the house where they usually had dinner. Typically it was just the three of them, but today Eris was sitting at the table talking with his mother. 

“Hello,” Lucien greeted Mora with a kiss and his brother with a punch in the shoulder. 

“Manners, Lucien!” 

Eris smirked as his brother gave them an unconvincing “sorry.” 

“Irene, please tell me he acts civilized when you two are out.”

Lucien sits down next to Mora and Irene resolves to sit next to Eris. “He’s the perfect gentleman.” 

“You don’t have to cover for him.” Eris teases. 

“Well, there was one time he spooked my horse on purpose and it threw me off…” she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she finally got to throw him to the wolves. After that fall her back was sore for days. 

“Good gods! We are going to have a long talk, Lucien. Tomorrow morning you are to report here.”  

“Yes ma'am.” He conceded. 

“What is it that you two do anyways?” Eris asked, beginning to cut into the filet served for dinner. Irene picked up her own cutlery and sent a questioning glance to Lucien, not sure what she should answer. He shrugged. 

“Well, I’ve been teaching dance lessons to some children from the nearest village. Most days Lucien accompanies me.” Eris and Mora shared a surprised look. 

“You didn’t know?” He asked his mother, since she saw his wife more than he did. “Not a clue.” 

“Let’s have this stay between us, please.” 

“Don’t worry dear, we won’t tell a soul outside this room.” 

The rest of the meal went by in pleasant conversation. Irene looked around and realized that breathing felt natural again. The months of shock, grief and trauma still lingered. She doubted they could ever be erased. But in this moment, in this room, with these people, life did not feel like an inescapable prison. 

The next morning Irene was back in the stables, she didn’t have class but the day was beautiful and she thought it would be a shame to spend it inside. She was getting her horse ready when a loud rustle of leaves caught her attention. Coming out of the forest was Eris. She squinted as she saw movement around him. A pack of hounds were running along his side and nipping each other as they chased a stick he threw. One of the hounds got too far and Eris called him back with a whistle. How had she never known he had dogs? Making sure the stable gate was closed, she walked over to where he now stood, throwing pieces of meat to the canines that followed his command to “sit.”

“Do they have names?” 

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Yes.”

“Well, what are they?” 

“If you really want to know, you can read their collars.” 

“Do they bite?” Eris only smirked. “They don’t usually interact with strangers.”

Irene rolled her eyes and looked at the dogs, there were six in total, each a different shade of brown. Their tails were stilled and ears pointed, not used to hearing a female voice. Two had their tongues out, doe eyes focused on Eris’ hand where he held more treats. Adorable. 

Irene deemed their cuteness a testament to their good behavior. So with a few careful steps she got closer to them and extended a tentative hand. They remained seated, the one nearest to her inched forward his nose and sniffed her palm. Then she reached for the top of his head and pet him softly. Irene turned her head to give Eris a gloating look and when she turned back the hound had opened its mouth all the way. The princess of Autumn let out a blood curdling scream as she threw herself back and covered her face with both arms, bracing for an attack that never came. 

“He was yawning, Irene.” 

Scrambling to her feet as quickly as she could she lunged towards Eris, “why would you do that?!” She shoved at his chest and at that one of the hounds barked. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“They could have attacked me!”

“They are well trained.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Mulligan, Shaw, Monty, Elma, Crusty, and Cricket those are their names.” 

Irene put the strands that had broken loose from her braid behind her ear and crossed her arms at her chest. “Which one is Elma?” 

“Her,” he pointed to the hound in the middle. Chocolate brown and splattered in white dots. She looked like someone spilled white paint on her. 

“She 's cute.” 

“She is a bloodhound capable of tracking a scent for miles and has been known to take down deer twice her size. Cute is not the word I would use to describe her.”

“Where do you keep them anyway? I’ve never seen them around the house.” 

He throws a few more treats their way, which are caught effortlessly in the air. “There's a cabin through there” he pointed toward the opening in the forest he had walked through moments before. “It’s about a mile and a half away, they live there. Some of the ground’s keepers watch them when I can’t.” 

“I would have never guessed you had pets.” 

“I don’t consider them pets.”

“Sure, Crusty there looks like a killing machine.” Eris stared flatly at her “I didn’t name them, my brothers did, when they were younger. Hugo was about four or five and he would only eat the crust from any pie, it didn’t matter the filling. So when I showed him the pup he named it after his favorite food.” 

Eris showed a hint of a smile at the memory and Irene felt a pang in her chest. The middle brothers were always skulking around the house, or in private meetings with Beron. Irene made it a point to never be caught in their path. Not after they were audience to her pre-wedding hazing. The handprint on her ribs had faded, in a few months nothing would be left of the threat Beron seared on her skin. 

She stayed silent for longer than she should have. “I should get going, I want to ride for a while before lunch.” 

Eris nodded and waved her off as he went back into the forest, hounds at his heels. 

Irene was in Mora’s wing, sulking. Autumn showers had turned into torrential rain making it impossible to ride into the village. The paths too narrow and muddy. Her stomach sank as she pictured her students waiting for her. The recital was less than a week away and every practice leading up to it was crucial for their confidence. 

“I feel terrible.”  Irene fell into one of the armchairs near the hearth. “It will be fine, dear. Missing one day won't hurt anybody. But going out in this weather will.” 

“Do you know where Lucien is? Maybe he can winnow me.”

“Lucien is helping in the kitchens and is not allowed to leave the house until he behaves himself.” 

“Oh.” 

“If Beron finds out about his behavior the consequences will be worse.”

“I understand.” 

“That’s what happened with my other boys, they were being rebellious as many young fae get around this age but Beron got to them before I-” the door opened and Mora quickly shifted all of her attention to the sweater she was knitting. 

She relaxed when she saw it was Eris. “Honey, what a lovely surprise! I thought you were gone until tomorrow.”

He kissed her cheek and nodded towards Irene as a greeting. “The trip got cut short because of the weather.”

“It really is coming down out there. Better you stay inside until it clears up.” 

“Lucien?” Mora sighed, “I was just telling Irene that he’s helping in the kitchens.” 

“Oh right, I heard chaos from the pantry. What about you?”

Irene was attempting to knit a scarf, Mora was teaching her but it did not come easy to the witchling.

“I’m making a scarf.” 

“I don’t think you are.”

“Be nice, she’s learning.”

“Yeah Eris, be nice.” Irene stuck out her tongue to him and he rolled his eyes, 

“Your stitches are too tense, the scarf is going to be uneven.” He observed. “You know about knitting?” 

“Yes-”

“I taught Eris when he was little,  on rainy days like these we would knit for hours. I still have the first thing he ever made. It’s a single chain and he attached some eyes to it and named it Snakey.”

“Mother, please-”

“I’ll go get it!” Mora got up from her seat and went into the next room. Irene smiled as she heard the Lady rifling through boxes of old memories. 

“A male of many talents.”

“You could say I’ve been blessed by the Mother and the gods.” Irene snorted “Whoever it was did not make you humble."

“Here it is!” Mora came back with a tattered old thing. It looked like it could turn to dust if she set it down wrong. “Oh my… this is quite something.”

“It is not as pretty as it used to be, Eris carried it around until he was twelve. He would take it everywhere.” Irene laughed at the stringy toy.

“It… I bet you had a lot of fun.” She wanted so badly to say it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen, but Mora looked so happy and proud of what her firstborn had made that she could not insult it in her presence. 

The next day the rain lessened, but there was a persistent drizzle that kept the terrain slippery. She sighed loudly, settled on going  to the library and read. “You seem to be everywhere these days.” 

Eris looked up from the book he was reading and raised a sharp brow. “Hello, Irene.” 

The princess of Autumn wandered around the shelves until something caught her eye, then she joined the eldest Vanserra in the small alcove. “I can’t believe it’s still raining and Lucien still can’t leave the house.” Irene huffed as she found a comfortable position and opened the book. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

She closed the book. “I have the dance lessons in the village and the recital is so soon and if it keeps raining like this I won’t be able to go, Lucien can’t winnow me-”

“I can take you.” 

She looked at him, mouth pursed in a quizzical frown. “You can?” 

“Yes.” 

“Right now?” 

“Well I’m reading right now-”

“You can bring the book, let's go.” She stood and discarded her own selection on the floor. Then looked at Eris expectantly. “Come on, I’m sure that I’ll have to clean up the studio and that will take time.” 

“Fine.” 

She reached out a hand to help him stand and once he straightened they were in front of the barn. Irene quickly opened the door and closed it as soon as they were in to keep the rain out. The inside looked good enough, there were some puddles here and there but nothing grave. 

“Thank the Mother we boarded up the windows.” Irene quickly located a mop and began working on the stagnant water. Eris was quietly scoping out the place she had turned into a half decent studio. There were no mirrors or bars and the floor was not completely level and smooth but it was warm and spacious enough to dance comfortably. She had painted musical notes and dancing figures along the walls. There was a console piano covered with sheets of protective fabric and racks of little clothes lined up near the back. 

“How long did it take to fix this place up?” 

“Probably a month, Lucien helped with the heavy stuff and… someone from the village helped me paint and clean.”

“And the piano?” 

“Oh, that was also Lucien, I don’t have a clue where he got it from. One of the parents typically plays the music.”

“And the clothes?”

“Those are the costumes! One of the moms is a seamstress and she volunteered to make them.” 

Eris looked around and put his hands on his hips. “Irene, this is impressive.”

“Oh, thanks?” 

“I mean it.” He scans the studio again as if to make sure they are alone then steps closer to her. When he speaks again it's barely audible “I think… This court needed a project like this.” 

“Eris, you're scaring me.”

“I’m being nice.”

“That’s not like you.”

“Is there another mop?” Irene almost reached out to make sure he didn’t have a fever. “You can read your book or just come back in a few hours. No need for-” 

“Yes or no?” She pointed to a skinny, rickety door “there’s another one in there.” 

Eris opened the deteriorated door and added it to the mental list he was making of things that needed improvement in this studio. The floors had to take priority, they were far too splintery to properly learn to dance. Then he began mopping up the other large puddle. The barn had a good structure and the roof wasn’t leaking anywhere, the windows must be the problem. Once he finished with the puddle he inspected every window and confirmed that there were crevices where water was filtering through. 

“These windows need to be replaced.” 

“I don’t have the means to replace them yet-”

“Yes you do, you receive a salary for holding your position.” 

“I do?”

“Yes, I’ll show you how to access it back at the house.” 

About an hour later a few students showed up, only the ones that lived within walking distance since the roads and paths were still dangerous. Irene decided to give the four students that showed up a waltz lesson. They paired up and she began showing them how to do a basic box step. 

“If you are leading, begin by stepping forward with your left foot. If you are following, you take a step back with your right foot.”

“Like this teacher?” The kids both stepped forward and bumped their foreheads together.

“Uhm no. Which one of you wants to lead?” Both of them raised their hands. “Why don’t you lead first and then you can switch, alright?” 

“Stand up straight and one-”  

After a few attempts the kids were still not understanding the flow of the dance. Irene tried to explain that the steps were fluid and not stomps but they kept stepping on each other’s toes and tensions were running high. At the beginning of the lesson, Eris was reading behind the racks of clothes, not wanting to interrupt with his presence. But after hearing the commotion he peaked out his head in curiosity. He could not deny that Irene looked comical trying to explain the nuances of a dance to little kids. “It’s more than a dance, it's learning how to work together!” She exclaimed at one point, attempting to raise morale, to no avail. 

“Ok watch me again” and began to do the waltz by herself at which point Eris stepped out “I can help demonstrate.” The students and the parent who was playing the piano went still as they saw the heir of Autumn in their clandestine dance studio. 

“Oh, that would be helpful.” He walked over and placed his right hand on her back. “Notice how his elbow doesn’t drop.” Then Irene put her left hand on his shoulder and placed her other hand in his. The piano began a simple melody and Eris led Irene around the room in the box step. “See how Mr. Vanserra isn’t looking at his feet.” 

He was looking at her, into her eyes. She couldn’t look away. Suddenly remembering how handsome he was. How, when she first saw him in Adriata, she longed to be his sole focus, if only for a moment. She was counting in her head how many rounds they had done but after the third one lost track because Eris spun her toward him so she ended up with her back facing his front. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and nearly forgot where they were, her face turning a shade of red. 

Then he spun her to face him again. His grip on her back was a little bit tighter, as if he needed to make sure she wouldn’t step away. The music faded and the pair disentangled. “Thank you, Eris. See students?” She continued her explanation and then the kids tried to imitate them. “Much better!” 

Eris was watching, hands in the pockets of his pants, trying to settle the pounding in his chest. 

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams 

[circusgoth-dotcom]

A Dog and His Boy

Ship: Cúán x Phillip J. Fry, Cúán x Bender Rodriguez (kind of)

Word Count: 808

Summary: Cúán and Fry's first kiss! Or a version of it, anyway, I don't really do solid milestones (except for marriages). CWs for a perilous situation.

Tag List: @canongf @rexscanonwife

Cúán and Bender had been stranded for two days on a barren, icy planet, having only found refuge in a small cave. The Planet Express ship had been caught in the middle of an outside conflict, splitting the group in half. Cúán’s communication collar was beginning to lose power, and they were worried the others wouldn’t find them in time. Bender, being Bender, had refused to let himself be used as a space-heater, forcing Cúán to scavenge for anything they could burn.

They sat beside their makeshift fire with their knees drawn to their chest, staring blankly into it. Their collar beeped feebly. Their stomach growled. They sighed weakly and buried their face in their knees. Bender watched them and felt an unwanted tug at his nonexistent heart.

“Hey, Cúán… so, in case we don’t make it out of this one… there’s something I think Fry would want you to know before you die.” He sat down beside them and they lifted their head, cocking it to the side.

“Are you sure Fry’s okay with you telling me and not himself?”

“100% Yes.” Bender cleared his throat. “Fry likes you.” If he had eyebrows, he’d have been bouncing them.

“Well, of course he likes me, he’s my friend,” Cúán responded in an absent tone.

“Ouch. Er, let me put it this way, he like-likes you. You know, the kind of like that makes you write dopey hearts around a person’s name and you’re thinking about them even when they’ve left the room…” Awh crap.

Cúán’s face bloomed with pink. He grabbed Bender’s shoulders. “He’s in love with me?!”

“Yeah, that’s it! And now he probably won’t ever get the chance to tell you in person, poor bastard.” Bender shook his head solemnly while tears formed in Cúán’s eyes. He hugged his robot friend tightly. “Woah, woah, easy there, meatbag!”

“Sorry… sorry…” Cúán murmured, but they couldn’t let go. To think, this is how it was revealed to them that their feelings were reciprocated. Bender didn’t push them away… until a familiar whirring was heard outside of the cave.

“I’m saved!” He announced selfishly, prying Cúán off of him and running toward the entrance. Shaking themself, Cúán hopped up and followed him, their heart pounding. They never thought they'd be so happy to see that teal and red ship.

“Bender! Cúán!” Leela called as the ramp lowered.

“Thank goodness we found you,” Professor Farnsworth said, ushering them inside. “We were beginning to worry you’d eaten each other to survive.”

Leela wrapped Cúán in a heavy blanket and they rumbled in appreciation.

“Cúán! You’re okay!” Fry cried as the ship took off again, rushing to their side.

“I’m here, too!” Bender butt in. “Where’s my blanket?!”

Leela threw one at him, knocking him over. Cúán found themself flustered as Fry moved to take off their collar, placing it in its charging station.

“You’re freezing!” His hands on their face. They glanced at Bender, wondering if what he had said was true.

“Well, maybe you could run me a hot bath when we get back home?” Cúán suggested innocently.

“Done and done!” Fry’s answer gave them no indication of his supposed feelings.

As they landed back at Planet Express Headquarters, Bender quipped to Cúán, “You gonna lay some moves on Fry now that you’re not a pup-sicle?”

“Shut up,” Cúán muttered light-heartedly, waving him off. You better have been telling the truth. They followed Fry to Headquarter’s surprisingly luxury bathroom. Now was their chance, completely alone. “Fry?”

“Yeah?”

“Bender… told me something. While we were in that cave. He said it was something you’d probably want me to hear before I died.”

Fry’s brow furrowed. “Awh man, what can of beans did he spill this time?”

Cúán shrugged off the blanket and took Fry’s hands in their own. “Do you… like me, Fry?”

“Well of course I do! What isn’t there to like about you?”

His similar level of thickness made Cúán’s heart skip a beat. They stepped closer, their tail wagging slowly. “I mean, do you have a crush on me? Th-that’s what Bender told me…”

It took a moment, but once Fry processed the question, his face was instantly red. He coughed into his fist. “Oh! I! Haha! That’s funny that you mention that, I—”

Cúán kissed his cheek, smiling. Their tail had a steady rhythm, now. Fry leaned his forehead against theirs.

“I do,” he finally admitted. “D-do you have a crush on me??”

“No, I just kissed you for fun… of course I do, silly.”

Their lips softly connected and Cúán’s tail went to mach one, sending the tissue box and soap dispenser on the counter flying.

“What’s all the ruckus??” The door had opened and Zoidberg had intruded. “Oh…!” He growled his approval and closed the door, all the while Fry and Cúán kept on kissing.