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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

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looking through your eyes + eighteen

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy and violent at points. please read the cw/tw's carefully in order to make the best informed decision regarding your mental ability to handle such heavy topics.

cw/tw: angst, violence, torture (gore), (light) fluff, ptsd episode, character being triggered, and references to childhood sexual assault

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist + story playlist

words: 10k

Solana knows Roman well.

She knew to start off the letter the way she did, asking for him to be open minded, because she knew exactly what his answer would be.

No.

It’s the same answer he still has even after her logical explanation. It’s a selfish thing. He’s a selfish bastard at heart because despite her being vulnerable about her mental state and making a solid point, he still wants and plans to say no.

Still plans come and take her home in a week.

And while he has his reasoning, believing that she can continue her healing outside of some mental facility, it’s also for his own good. He just wants her home. He wants to not have the house be so quiet and empty. To not have to be reminded of her absence in everything from the lack of the aroma of her delicious cooking to Dulce yelping and whimpering whenever he walks in the door home from work without Solana beside him.

He just misses her, and he wants her home.

He understands where she’s coming from and agrees she could benefit from continuing to talk to someone, to definitely stay on medication.

But, those things can continue without her being away from home.

There’s also the matter of safety. Yes, Roman went above and beyond what was probably necessary to ensure she has a copious amount of protection, but that’s still not as safe as her being with him.

And he’s almost certain that the facility she’s talking about is the same one Stratus mentioned to him. The place that’s an hour away.

That’s too fucking far.

From their home, Roman can make it to the hospital in ten minutes, if need be.

Solana being an hour away from him just isn’t a fucking option.

He needs her…..she needs to be close to him.

He’ll just have to help her understand that.

But, all of that is easy.

What’s not easy is the other major takeaway from her letter.

I love you, Ro.

In all of his thinking, perhaps overthinking, regarding his thoughts and feelings about his wife, never did it really occur to him that she could feel the same. He knew she cared about him. She’s said as such to him before. But, for whatever reason, he never allowed himself to imagine that she could love him.

And that she could love him without expecting anything in return. Because she believes him incapable of loving her because of his own trauma, and that’s not entirely wrong.

He does love her.

Fuck, he loves the living shit out of her.

But, he can’t act on it.

Even with this unexpected twist. Her loving him, which fucks with his head too. The why of it.

There’s not a lot to love, if he’s being honest.

He protects her. Keeps her safe. Gives her that safe space. Beyond that, there’s not really anything else.

Her standards must be so low.

Regardless, Roman can’t allow this new piece of information to change or impact his decision.

He can’t openly reciprocate her feelings.

Even….even if he sure as hell feels the same. It’s too risky. Too dangerous.

He just can’t.

Roman may love her, but he can never tell her he loves her.

It just has to be this way.

________

Ryan Alexander

Tyler Hawkins

Two men whose lives have been intertwined in various ways in the almost 60 years they’ve walked this earth. It started with a meeting in college, both men playing for the same baseball team, having a few of the same classes together, even pledging to the same fraternity.

They would end up in the same graduating class and go on to open up their own private security company that offered protective services for upscale clientele. Celebrities, athletes, even politicians.

But…..for the right amount of money, they could do more than just protect lives.

They could take them too.

The company easily and quickly made its name known through the right or maybe wrong places. Information falling in the lap of parties who were less interested in safety and more interested in murder.

It’s how Xavier Miller got in touch with them. How Solana’s father hired them to take out his wife and daughter after learning of her plan to run away and steal his children away from him, more his son than anything. He really didn’t give a shit about Solana.

Never did.

It was why when the hit failed to take out both Nina and Solana, Xavier was able to negotiate so that instead of paying the remaining debt due after the deposit. He got them to agree to slash it in half, leaving him owing 250k. The problem was as it always has been though. Xavier lacks vision, lacks long-term vision. He didn’t think about how finances could change for the negative between the time he made the deal and when payment would be due.

Because when that day arrived, he lacked the sufficient funds. But while Xavier may lack good financial and investment knowledge, he makes up for it in craftiness.

He formed a new deal. One that truly gave all three men a win-win. Xavier’s debt would be cleared, and Ryan and Alexander would be able to enjoy indulging in one of their favorite sexual pastimes. A privilege they can usually only pursue when traveling overseas where child sex slavery runs a lot more rampant and unregulated.

By luck though, they got their fill domestically in the form of an innocent, 12 year-old little girl.

A virgin.

Xavier’s daughter.

Solana Miller

Now known as Solana Reigns, the wife of the infamous Roman Reigns. The same man who Ryan and Tyler have no idea has been behind the absolute hell they’ve been through in the past almost two weeks. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, subjected to an unauthorized but ultimately approved (by Roman) beating by Jimmy and Jey before they were reunited with Xavier’s ain’t shit ass who had also received a long overdue beating from both Roman and the twins.

That beating, however, was nothing compared to the beginning stages of their demise, a version and level of hell only few experience, but something these fuckers have front seats for.

Roman is methodical with his torture, and this might be the most determined he’s ever been to maximize pain.

He’s going to ensure they only take their last breath when he feels it’s time, when he’s exhausted any and all ways to extend their life in order to extend their suffering.

And while many would think it started with the beatings, that’s far too simple, too easy. And Roman is neither of those things. He’s calculated and borderline sadistic when the occasion calls for it, and there’s not been a more deserving occasion for him to act on his dark, evil impulses than this.

So, it was only fitting that all three men, the rapists and the son of a bitch who organized it all, know exactly what it’s like to experience what they put Solana through.

And that’s exactly what Roman organized. Having all three men dumped and left defenseless in a maximum security prison. Whatever happened, fucking happened.

And judging by the battered, stunned, borderline traumatized expressions on their cut, brusied faces, exactly what Roman wanted them to experience is precisely what they fucking got.

For almost two weeks straight.

Jimmy and Jey toss the three men down on the ground before Roman before moving to stand behind him on either side.

“Ya’ll like fucking little girls, don’t you?” Jimmy sneers, Roman not even needing to look at his cousin to know he’s livid. “So what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

“Don’t like it when your assess the ones on the receiving end, huh?” Jey taunts. Fitting.

But, now…..now it’s time for the real pain to begin. Roman lifts his hand to signify his desire from silence. The twins go quiet almost immediately.

The Tribal Chief turns up his nose as Ryan spits up blood onto the concrete floor. Granted, it won’t make much of a difference. When Roman is done with them, the room will be bathed red.

He steps forward.

“August 7th, 2005 and September 8th, 2007.” Roman shrugs and asks the men, “what’s significant about these dates?” When he doesn’t receive an answer, he takes his gun and aims it for Tyler, emptying the bullet into his knee. The man howls in pain and begins to cry. Roman scowls. Pathetic bitch. “I aksed a fucking question.”

He gaps,, forcing out through closed eyes. “I–I don’t know.”

Roman crouches down in front of them, ignoring the stench of piss and perspiration emanating off their pathetic bodies. “August 7th, 2005. A mother and daughter were attacked. Stabbed. Mother died trying to protect her daughter. Daughter survived. She was ten-years-old.” Roman looks away at the adjacent wall, jaw clenching a bit as he recalls the next part. “”September 8th, 2007. Two men break into the house and spend hours gang raping a child in her own fucking bedroom before beating her half to death and leaving her for dead.” Dead fucking silence. “She was 12-years-old.” He turns his empty, stoic gaze back onto them. “Sound fucking familiar now?”

“You carried out the rape,” he gestures to the set of crying rapists and then a numb looking Xavier. “And you arranged it.” Roman shrugs, rolling his big shoulders. “Seemed only fucking fair you three got a taste of what you put her through.” He then chuckles. “Now, I am a fair man. A fair Tribal Chief.” In a matter of seconds though, his disposition completely shifts, changes into something cold, heartless. “But, you don’t get that. You don’t get that fairness. You don’t fucking deserve it. You tortured her. You made her life a living fucking hell.”

“But you know where you really fucked up?” He reaches his arm out, pointing toward the sledgehammer, one of the twins placing it in his hand. Roman stands up and kicks Tyler backwards, hesitating not a second as he brings it down to his knees, one by one, effectively and immediately shattering both. “You did it to my wife.” Roman taunts over the sound of the man crying. He then moves to Ryan, aware of the knee he already shot, sticking with one to avoid too much blood. Can’t have the bitch bleeding out just yet. “That twelve year-old girl was my wife.” When he gets to Xaveir, he exerts a special amount of energy to strengthen the impact of his blow as he demolishes the older man’s knees. “That ten year old-girl was my wife!”

Roman tosses the sledgehammer to the side as someone has the audacity to utter out a pained, “p–please.”

That infuriates Roman more than what should be humanly possible. “Please?” He sees the word came from Tyler. Snarling, Roman jumps over the man, raining a blow so heavy that it breaks his nose, the sickening crack sounding through the air. “Is that what she said when you fucking held her down and raped her!”

The thought alone results in Roman continuing to punch the man until his fist is painted red and Tyler is clearly on the verge of losing consciousness.

Standing back up, he huffs, speaking to the rapists, “17 years. She’s suffered for seventeen years because of you.” He points to a barely there Xavier. “And 29 years because of you.” Roman’s upper lip curls a bit as he swears, “if I could torture you all for that long, I fucking would, but I can’t, so days will have to suffice.”

He’s filled with another level of rage when the cries and pleads for mercy intensify. “Shut up!” He then forcefully demands of the twins, “bring him in!”

Jey, he thinks, disappears for a few minutes only to return with an also bruised, battered Wes. Roman scoffs with disgust as Xavier looks horrified at the presence and sight of his son.

He coughs out, ribs probably broken or at least fractured. And if they’re not, Roman will make sure they are before the end of the night. “Pl—please don’t do—”

Roman has heard enough. This piece of shit has the fucking audacity to beg and plead for the life of his son but couldn’t even protect his own fucking daughter?

Fuck that.

Fury fills and controls the Head of the Table as he yanks up a barely conscious Wes and throws him against the brick wall, the impact loud enough for the sound of his shoulder popping to fill the room. Roman then grabs the sledgehammer again and rains it down on not only his knees but his hands as well, effectively smashing them, resulting in grotesque hairline fracture, bones protruding from his skin..

Xavier cries out and begs Roman to stop, which only fuels his tirade even more. Drives him to continue his brutal assault. Roman slams his fist onto Wes’s face, breaking his jaw before Roman squeezes the fucking life out of Wes’s neck and slams him again against that same brick wall.

And without second thought, as Wes fights to remain conscious, face almost unrecognizable at this point, Roman reaches for his eye, using his middle and index finger to gouge out his eyeballs one by one, ignoring the horrified screams of both father and son.

Xavier is full on sobbing but practically screams when Wes body drops to the ground like a ragdoll, and Roman tosses the bloody eyeballs toward Xavier.

“Waterboard him!” Roman directs to the twins who don’t hesitate to drag a crying Wes out of the room by his limp arm, most likely broken in the midst of Roman’s vicious beating. Breathing uneven, Roman flips his hair back that had come out of his bun and turns his attention back on the three older men.

“I’m going to make you all suffer the same fucking way you made her suffer,” he vows, every intention on maximixing pain in a way he’s never done before. “You’ll be wishing for something as fucking nice as hell when I’m done with you.”

________

Roman has just finished skinning a patch out of Ryan’s abdomen, the chunk of skin joining that of Tyler and Xavier’s slab of skin and other dismembered body parts.

Wes is up next on the list.

The fucker strapped to the chair has gone unconscious, but his pulse is still relatively strong, so Roman continues. He’s done this too many times to be deterred by someone tapping out.

Tossing the bloodied knife and saw to the side of the room with the rest of the blood stained tools of torture, he grabs the drill and starts to navigate which drill bit to use when the door opens.

Right away, he’s tempted to use the object in hand on whoever was stupid enough to interrupt him.

Roman turns to see none other than his aggravating ass cousin holding a phone. Of course. Attention back to the task at hand, he bites out, “I told you not to fucking bother me. Whoever it is, I’m busy.”

Jey is about as moved by Roman’s tone as he is by the bloody, gory scene before him. Indifferent but still eager to leave, he instead provides the additional information that he knows will absolutely snatch Roman’s attention.

“It’s Bautista.” Sure enough, Jey can see his cousin’s big shoulders go still. “He—”

Roman stands up, tossing the drill to the side and quickly removing the gloves that are caked in blood, skin, and other anatomical matter. He stalks toward Jey, issuing his harsh demand,“give me the phone.”

Jey does as such, sucking his teeth when some of the blood flicks on him. “Man, that’s nasty as hell.”

Roman doesn’t comment, just walks out the room for privacy and demands to the man on the other end, “what happened?”

Bautista doesn’t hesitate and is quick with an easy response. “She wants to talk to you, sir.”

There’s only a slight decrease in concern levels that Roman experiences in hearing that Solana wants to speak to him versus Bautista having to inform him that something has happened. She’s conscious. That’s good. “Put her on.”

Bautista doesn’t say anything, but Roman hears what sounds like slight movement and hushed voices. It’s followed up with a quiet sniffle and even quieter, “hey….” Another sniffle as her volume increases ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, it’s—it’s so late.”

Roman has no idea what time it is nor does he care what time it is. He just wants to know why she’s crying and who he has to kill. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She takes a shaky breath and follows it up with an even shakier answer, weighed down with the heavy emotions she’s clearly struggling with at this moment. “We—we—we talked about my…my rape in therapy today, and I’ve never—I’ve never actually spoken about it to anyone, and I thought—I thought I was fine, but now…..”

His chest suddenly tightens. “Are you thinking about—”

“No.” Her answer is the firmest he’s heard in the conversation so far. Serious and solid. “Not that. I just—I can’t sleep because now I’m thinking about….about it, and I just….I wanted to hear your voice, and I’m sorry—you were probably asleep.”

No. No, he wasn’t. Far from it. And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter.

She comes first.

No matter what.

“I’m gonna come see you.”

“No.” The sniffling resumes as does her tendency to try to make herself as less of a ‘problem’ as she can, no matter how many times Roman tries to explain she never has and never will be anything of the sort. “I’ll–I’ll be okay.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, he’s not taking the risk because Roman cannot physically handle hearing her crying, hearing her so upset and not be able to do anything about it.

“I’m coming, Solana. Give me a half hour, okay?” He’d head there straight away right now, but the idea of coming to her after spending house torturing men, blood, bone, and other unidentifiable matter splattered all over him, is the last thing she needs. “I’ll be there.”

There’s another delay, and he’d bet any money it’s her trying to hold back the tears as best she can. “Oh–kay.”

He swallows, asking, “can you put Bautista back on the phone?”

Again, more shifting on the other end. “Hello?”

“Don’t take your fucking eyes off her.” Roman’s tone is hardened and leveled. “I’ll be there shortly.” He doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t need to provide instructions on how to make sure his wife is kept safe.

Bautista already knows what the fucking deal is.

Roman can’t get cleaned and showered fast enough, ridding his body of all of the telltale signs that he’d spent the majority of the day torturing his wife’s family and rapists. She doesn’t need to know that.

He’s impatient for the drive that feels much longer than the twenty minutes it actually is. A large part of that being that he just wants to get to Solana.

She’d called him. She’d reached out to him.

The same thing he wishes she had done that night. Something he still feels strangely about but will learn to sort through later. Not now.

Now his focus is on just making sure she’s alright.

That she’s safe.

Roman walks in with purpose, uninterested in Bautista’s short briefing, which is essentially more or less him just confirming that Solana hasn’t been left alone, another guard watching her as Bautista escorted Roman into the premises that’s otherwise locked down given it’s almost midnight.

Not that he gives a fuck.

Roman finds Solana sitting on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest. But, the minute her teary eyes land on him, she’s moving up from said bed, rushing over to him. Naturally, Roman catches her, holding her as she silently cries into his chest.

He’s gonna rip that fucking therapist a new one.

“I’m sorry—” Roman hates hearing her apologize. He hates seeing her upset, but the fact that she’s apologizing for feeling the way she does is a different layer of irritation. It reminds him of how she used to be. Makes him realize just how much and deep this regression has been. “I just—I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He’s just about to once again remind her that she has nothing to be sorry about when her last statement snatches his attention. Alarms him a bit. “Solana….I need you to be honest with me—”

And she must know where he’s headed, because she pulls back, holding his gaze as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to hurt myself. I promise. I just….I just don’t want to be by myself.”

It makes sense, and he believes her. Somewhat. There’s still that part of him that’s skeptical. He’s not sure if that part will ever go away either.

Solana swallows and licks her lips, asking in that tentative voice, “will—will you stay with me tonight?”

It’s an easy answer. Something he already decided the minute he heard her crying on the other end of the phone.

“Yes.” She looks so massively relieved by that one word. “But not here.” And before the confusion fully sets in, he clarifies, “I’m taking you home.”

As expected, she looks surprised and torn, “Roman, I—”

“You get released in three days, Sol. I’ll bring you back tomorrow afternoon, but tonight, you need to be home. You don’t need to be here.” Roman isn’t a fucking professional, but he knows his wife. Knows that what she’s looking for is the feeling of security. There’s no more secure place than with him in their home. And even with Dulce.

Solana seems to be on the same page, nodding and offering no further protest. “Oh–okay.”

As she’s barely allowed any personal items, it takes less than twenty minutes for her to be ready to go, Roman directing Bautista to handle any issues that arise regarding her departure.

Roman is sure Stratus or even Gail will have issues with his decision. He’s also 100% sure that he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Solana needs to get away.

She needs to be home.

She needs to be with him.

And, he’s proven correct, because the minute she walks into the house, she’s looking over at Roman, asking, “where is she?”

“Our room.”

Solana can’t seem to move up the stairs fast enough, Roman behind her, partially eager to see this long awaited reunion. He’s not sure who will be happier: Solana or her puppy.

It’s about a tie though, because the minute Solana moves over to the side of the bed where Dulce is sleeping and gets on her knees, carefully petting the puppy, Dulce’s head snaps up.

And instantly, she jumps at Solana.

They’re both crying, Solana holding onto Dulce who is a mixture of whimpers, licks, and that tail of hers excitedly wagging.

Solana says something in her to Spanish, something Roman can’t make out, but he doesn’t need to make it out. It’s obviously something moving.

Something healing almost.

Solana looks up at him, laughing and crying as Dulce tries to lick her face. Her voice cracks a bit as she says to him, “thank you.”

Roman nods, that same, warm, unfamiliar emotion building up. Fucking feelings.

Nodding, he says nothing, watching as she continues to hold onto and cuddle with Dulce.

Yeah…..

Definitely the right decision.

________

Roman lifts his eyes from the phone that he just put on Do Not Disturb to set his gaze on Solana. Out of the shower, she’s wearing only one of his shirts. Nothing else. He can tell by the way the cotton almost outlines her nipples.

Placing the phone to the side, he’s slightly taken back when she moves onto his lap. “I—” Her eyes drop downward, her hands grasping at his shirt. “I need a distraction.” He’s confused, but it’s only temporary as she trails off with the specific distraction she’s looking for. “Can we….”

He doesn’t need to hear more. Roman understands just what she’s asking for.

And his answer is simple.

“Solana, I don’t think…..” He has to phrase it correctly, word it so that it doesn’t sound like he is rejecting her. He is, but it can’t come across as just that. “You’re not—”

“I feel dirty,” she interrupts, eyes closing, mouth moving around as she does her best to balance emotion with verbalization. “I—I don’t want to feel that. I want—I want to feel you. I only ever want to feel you.” Solana opens her eyes, pleading almost. “Please.”

Something is telling him to tell her no, to find a way to decline without hurting her feelings or making her feel rejected, because that’s the last thing he wants.

But, it feels almost impossible. She’s upset. He doesn’t want her to feel the way she’s feeling, and if she believes being intimate tonight will help her, then he’ll give her that.

Roman nods and gently taps her hip, partially surprised when she moves off his lap, taking his hand as she lays back on the bed, pulling him on top of her.

Roman’s lips hover over hers as she breathes, “I just want to feel you.”

It’s taking a painful amount of self-control on Roman’s part to refrain from taking here right here and now. Because while he’s mentally conflicted, there’s no denying the hardness that’s growing in his pants by the minute as she lifts her thigh and grazes it against his hip. There’s no properly explaining how much he’s missed this.

He kisses her, tentatively almost, letting her take the lead as she moves her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Roman’s hand goes to palm her breast through her shirt which makes her breathe against his mouth.

He shuts his eyes for a minute. He’d almost forgotten the sweet sounds she makes, fodder for his growing desire. He moves his mouth to her neck, sucking on the spot he’s learned makes her writhe under him, her nails scraping down his taut back.

And then, the shift.

Roman feels it only seconds before she acts on it, the way she starts to tense underneath him, the growing unsteady pattern of her breathing, the fear. But before he can pull away, she’s pushing him away, letting out a ‘no’ that comes from a different place, a different time. It comes from her trauma.

Her push is strong, but it’s not enough to get him completely off of her. Roman does that much all on his own, watching as she sits up in the bed and covers her face.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes into her hands. “I—I’m sorry.” Her shoulders tremble as the apologies melt into the bleeding of emotions she tried to mask away with intimacy. “I’m sorry—” Solana falling into a full out crying session, the third or fourth time she’s done as much tonight, is more than enough for Roman to motion her over to him.

“Come here.”

He’s at least grateful she lets him pull her onto his chest, letting her cry on him as he lays them back in the bed, his protective arms around her. For a second, he berates himself for taking her from the hospital. If they were still there, he’d wake up whoever the fuck he needed to wake up to give her that medicine she was prescribed for moments like this.

Moments where she just needs more.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, crying subdued a bit. But Roman is unsure what he dislikes more: the fact that she’s so upset or the fact that she thinks she needs to apologize for being so upset.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” is all he says. His hand is on the small of her back, moving in comforting circles. “Nothing at all, okay?”

She doesn’t say anything, just continues to cry into him, Roman wishing he could do more to settle her. It kills him to see her so upset.

A few minutes later, her tears having almost entirely subsided, she murmurs, “I’m sorry we couldn’t….”

He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to remain calm. “Solana, I told you before I don’t need that from you—”

“But, I wanted to. I just…..”

“It’s okay.” He cuts her off, kissing the top of her head. “I never expected that from you tonight anyway.”

He already knew she wasn’t in the mental space for it, but he didn’t want her to feel rejected either, so he went along with it. There’s a bit of regret, maybe more than a bit, but Roman also knows he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Still is.

“Rest.” He instructs, grateful when she simply nods against him, tucking herself closer into his body. And he watches her closely and intently, an infinite amount of pleasure rising within him when he feels the steady rise and fall of her body, confirmation that she’s finally drifted off into sleep.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep with her. He would actually prefer to stay up and watch her, but the weight of the day, mentally and physically, takes its unavoidable toll. And not too long after she succumbs to sleep, he does the same.

________

“Daddy.”

Roman’s eyes shoot open at the both familiar and unfamiliar voice. Looking down, he sees Solana sleeping peacefully on top of him, her hand atop his chest. But to his right, he finds sad eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a deep frown.

Naturally, he frowns a bit as well. He hates seeing any of this family upset. “Bad dream?”

She nods, holding onto the teddy bear in her arms. He’d gotten it for her a couple years back while he was away on business, and it’s become her comfort animal ever since.

Roman is careful in prying Solana’s arm off him, grateful when the extent of her stirring is simply her turning over on the other side. Over the years, she’s gotten better with not being as easily disturbed or woken up.

And he’s especially thankful for that in this moment.

Moving the blankets down and off, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rolls his shoulders. She shifts the bear in her arm to one side and reaches up for him to pick her up. “Come here.” Roman does as such, pulling her up as he stands from the bed.

She lays her head on his shoulder while he quietly walks them out the room, cracking the door behind him. Roman takes her downstairs into the living room and hits the lamp on the side table before grabbing the remote off the coffee table.

Sitting down, she adjusts herself in his lap, holding onto her stuffy while he loads up the animated show with the creepy blue looking thing that kids apparently love, his included.

Especially the twin on his lap. It’s like her comfort show.

“You wanna pick the episode?” It’s a preference.

She nods and accepts the remote from him, selecting the same episode she’s watched the last 10+ times this has occurred. She almost always starts with this same episode, like she has to or else she can’t watch it.

A repeat and increasing thing, he’s noticing.

As the opening credits roll around, Roman gently rubs her back, asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

She keeps her focus on the TV while shaking her head no. An expected answer given the fact that she never really likes to talk in general, but as Roman thinks about the increase in how often this is happening, he’s starting to wonder if it’s past the point where she gets a choice in the matter.

For the past few months, every so often, or more often now, he’ll be awoken in the middle of the night by his youngest daughter. Upset and clearly crying, she’ll ask him to sit with her, to stay with her until she falls asleep again. Though at some point, the addition of letting her watch an episode or two of her show seemed to aid in not only calming her down but eventually lulling her back to sleep.

And every time Roman tries to get out of her just what these bad dreams are, she remains quiet, forcing him to wreck his brain over what could be bothering her so much.

The unknown of it all is starting to mess with him.

He can’t help her if he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Sissy?”

Both Roman and the daughter on his lap look over to see her twin rubbing her sleeping eyes as she walks over and climbs onto the sofa, the two adjusting so they’re both seated on top of him. “Did you have the bad dreams again?”

At that, Roman’s brow furrows. Did she talk about them with her sister?

He asks as such.

“Do you know what they’re about?” Roman and Solana suspected that she’d confided in her sister, her true confidant, but they also didn’t want to risk putting a rift between the sisters by making one feel like she has to ‘snitch’ on the other.

However, an unspoken communication of some sort is exchanged between the twins. The quieter of the two reluctantly nodding as the outspoken one shares, “sissy has bad thoughts…..”

Roman takes the remote and turns down the volume versus pausing as he notices she’s still trying to watch. To some extent. And it’s clearly helping to calm her, so he won’t deprive her of that. But, he does have to ask, “what kind of bad thoughts?”

That could be and mean so many things. And if the situation was different, he wouldn’t be too concerned. The level and standard for ‘bad’ that he has compared to his kids is vastly different. But given how upset his daughter has been getting, there’s gotta be something more severe to the ‘bad’ this time.

His twin, in more than just looks and demeanor, seems to hesitate for a second, Roman ready to encourage her that it’s okay to be honest with him. He needs that honesty at this point. “She—she has scary thoughts about something happening to you and mama. And—and bad dreams that something’s gonna happen to you when you go on your trips.”

Roman does his best to hide his surprise. And his concern. He wasn’t expecting that. Turning to the youngest of the two, he asks, “is that true?”

She looks down, tightening her hold on her bear as she nods slowly.

Roman closes his eyes and takes a second to gather himself. Comfort now. Process later. It’s become a bit of a routine for him.

Needing both of their attention, he takes the remote again to hit pause.

“Girls….” Roman has to remind himself to keep it simple and at a level they can understand. “I’m never going to let anything happen to your mom. Or to you. Or to your brother. And nothing is especially going to happen to me.” Seeing the emotion especially present in his youngest, he kisses her temple. “I’m always going to come back home to you guys, okay?”

And that’s a promise.

Come hell or high water, nothing could separate him from his family.

Especially his kids.

“Told you, sissy.” She then smiles a little, adding on with a toothy grin. “Daddy’s like a superhero.”

Roman chuckles. Far from it. But whatever helps them.

Taking over the duty of being the parent, showing that while she has many of her father’s interests and some of his temperament, she also has her mother’s caring nature, she asks, reaching for her little sister’s hand. “Wanna try to go back to sleep? You can sleep in my bed.”

The offer to not have to sleep alone as well as having some one on one time with him seems to be enough to be enough to coax her back to bed. He watches as the girls climb off his lap, the oldest taking the youngest hand, as she also handles the parting words, “goodnight, daddy.”

He offers a small smile. Their bond is something special. “Night, girls.” Hands still locked, they walk away, heading back up the stairs. “Love you.” He calls out after them.

An almost synchronized response is what he’s met with. “Love you too, daddy.”

It brings that warmth back to him, Roman blowing out a deep breath when it’s just him and the paused screen on the TV. He takes a couple minutes to sit on the weight of the conversation.

He doesn’t like knowing that his daughter is struggling with thoughts. Hates that they haunt her in the form of dreams. He knows better than anyone how difficult that can be. How exhausting.

So does Solana.

Thoughts of his wife and wanting to get back to her before she notices his absence and wakes up, Roman shuts off the TV and starts heading upstairs.

Walking back into their bedroom, he’s only partially surprised to find Solana awake, sitting up against the headboard, their son on her chest for one of his nightly feedings.

She gives him a sad, knowing smile. “Another bad dream?”

Roman nods and goes to sit back in the bed next to her. “Found out what they’re about.”

Solana’s eyes widen a bit. “She told you?”

He shakes his head. “The other one did.” He frowns a bit, sharing, “she’s having thoughts and dreams of something happening to us. Me especially.”

Solana’s frown is deep and concerned. Valid. “What? Where—Where did that come from?”

“Don’t know.” Roman answers. He’d have loved to been able to ask more questions, but it’s also the middle of the night and just getting some kind of answer is a huge win in and of itself. “But, I wanna schedule an appointment with her pediatrician. If something else is going on with her, we need to know.”

Roman has an idea of what it could be, now starting to put different pieces together. Her particular way of doing things, rituals of sorts, thoughts she can’t control. But, he wants to be sure.

“Of course,” Solana agrees. “I’ll call in the morning.”

Good.

Roman chuckles after looking over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:59am. He glances at Solana, “and you really wanna do this all over again?”

He’s still partially stuck on the fact that even with three kids, Solana is still wanting more.

The thought alone brings out a heavy sigh just from tonight’s events.

All three of their kids up and in need of something in the middle of the night like he and his wife don’t have work in the morning.

He can’t even really picture an additional child—or two–added into the mix.

Solana, however, only smiles, rocking gently to help soothe their son. “Only with you, papi.” A beat. “Only with you.”

________

“No!”

Roman is awakened by movement and volume. Both of which effectively deter and distract him from yet another strange dream, a fantasy of some sort.

Or…..something more.

Regardless, he has neither the time nor energy—nor desire—to think about that. Not with the woman violently stirring beside him. A nightmare. It’s obvious Solana is in the middle of a nightmare.

“No….” Twisting against the mattress, Roman sees the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He frowns. How long has she been in the middle of this nightmare? “Get off me….”

At that, he stills a bit. With Solana’s extensive trauma, it’s pretty impossible to know just what specific traumatizing incident haunts her dreams and interrupts her sleep. But this….this one is pretty obvious.

And it guts him.

He moves his hands to her shoulders. “Baby, wake up.”

She starts crying, and Roman isn’t quite sure how much worse and useless he can feel. “No. Please—please. You’re hurting me.”

There’s a heaviness in his chest as Roman deepens his voice and shakes her a little harder. “Solana, wake up.”

It seems the more he says it, the more she writhes and cries, trapped in the throes of trauma. Roman doesn’t want to be physical with her, doesn’t want to exacerbate an already difficult situation, but he can’t just sit here and watch her suffer.

He moves his hands to her arms, restricting her just enough, raising his volume yet again. “Solana, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.” He’s not entirely certain if it’s his escalation or just the natural progression, but she shoots up, eyes opening for the briefest second before slamming shut.

And then, the climax.

Roman is taken back when she starts pushing and shoving him, but that surprise is easily weighed down with sympathy when she starts talking again.

“Get off of me!” She cries, never once letting up on him.

He takes it all, her fists really of no consequence to him as he continues to try to break her from this torment. “Solana, please—”

“No!” She’s the one with the increased volume, Roman biting back a hiss as a sharp almost burning pain throbs in his shoulder, the area where he was shot. But, it’s irrelevant. His focus is on Solana and nothing else.

“Baby, it’s me.” He’s no longer restraining her, letting her let it out on him as much as she needs to. Whatever she needs in this moment, he’ll give it to her. He’s not sure what else to do besides that, to be honest.

But, it’s when Roman manages to cup her face, again, repeating the hopefully calming, settling words, “it’s me” that seems to help break through to her. Blinking, wet eyes open, filled with fear. He studies her, watching her focus on him, as the fear starts to diminish. Replaced with recognition. “R–Roman?”

He nods, his own concern settling seeing her anxiety lessen. “Yes. It’s just me.”

She releases a shaky, emotional breath, clearly coming to grips with what just occurred. But, her gaze settling on his shoulder seems to bring back that previous level of horror. “Oh my god, I—I hurt you.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He looks down, realizing she must have ripped his stitches when she was hitting him, blood trickling down his skin. Roman is entirely unbothered. “Solana, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem to be hearing him, too focused on the unintentional thing she caused. “I hurt you…..”

He lowers her hands from her face, kissing her inner palms. “Baby, it’s fine.”

“I–I’m sorry. I–She closes her eyes, taking deep breaths, asking him in an unexpected calmer voice. “I—I need to stitch it back up for you.”

Roman shakes his head. “I can do th—”

But, she cuts him off, sounding a little bit more stable and a lot more desperate. “Roman, please?”

Not wanting to risk upsetting her again, he shakes his head, allowing her to take the lead as she grabs his hand and guides him into their bathroom. Roman sits on the toilet and watches her silently move around, gathering the medical kit and other needed supplies.

His eyes don’t leave her as she works carefully and tediously to stitch him back up, Roman partially thankful her focus is on something else versus the horrific memories that seemed to have been tormenting her the past couple hours.

He wants to say something, do something to help her feel better, to especially rip away the guilt evident in her eyes at ‘hurting’ him.

Solana may be the only person on this earth capable of doing as such, but it could never be physically.

Ever.

“I’m not crazy. I—I promise.” Her voice is shaky, unsteady by understandable emotion as she finishes up, starting to put the supplies back. “I just—I don’t know—”

Roman takes her hands in his. “Sol, I know you’re not crazy.” Feeling an unfamiliar sense of openness and vulnerability, he asks her, “do you know why I was able to help you with your panic attack that night?” Her eyes are lit with confusion as she shakes her head no. Roman’s jaw clenches. He’s never once told a soul what he’s about to share with her. “It’s because I used to have them.”

Her reaction is exactly what he would expect from anyone to hear such words coming from him.

“Wh—what?”

Roman’s eyes divert to the wall beside her as he powers through the discomfort. “It was….it was after my family was killed. I’d have nightmares about it and wake up freaking the fuck out.” Just like her. “That’s when they’d happen.”

“But, I couldn’t tell anyone, because they were already questioning if I would be fit to lead.” He scoffs, “I had to be perfect. I couldn’t let anyone know how fucked up I really was from what happened.”

He can only imagine that the softness in her voice matches the expression on her face. “Roman….”

“But, I couldn’t keep dealing with the shit either, so I found this book at my school’s library about mental health and whatnot, and it had a section on panic attacks and how to cope with them. So, I studied and learned them. It’s been fine since then. Haven’t had one in years.” Though that similar budding feeling of panic that used to be present before they’d occur is something Roman’s noticed having versions of for almost the past two weeks.

Since he found out Solana tried to kill herself.

She lifts her hand to his face, and he closes his eyes. He can feel it. Can sense it. Her sympathy or maybe something different. Maybe empathy. Regardless, he doesn’t want or need it. The point was to not bring attention to his fucked up past but rather help her reduce some of her self-judgment.

He stands up, forcing her hand to fall down as he instead cups her face, looking and speaking directly at her. “You’re not crazy.” Far from it. And he needs her to know that. “You just….you need help.” His voice shifts into something softer. “And I’m going to make sure you get it.”

Her gaze also shifts. Something both hopeful and sad. “I–I can go?”

Roman only hesitates for a second. “Yes.”

The answer he gives her is in no way indicative of how he feels about it. He still hates it. Hates the idea of her not coming home for good in three days and instead going to yet another treatment facility. This one longer and farther away.

But, if there’s anything the past few hours have taught him, have shown him, it’s that Dr. Stratus and Gail were right.

And so was Solana.

She’s not ready to come home.

She needs more help.

And he can’t, won’t, be selfish. Won’t be too consumed by his own want and desire to have her back with him. Not when it directly contrasts what she needs.

And what she needs is continued professional help.

So, that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

“I’ll talk to Stratus about what we need to do.” And that’s more so in regards to location solely, so Roman can get a head start on working on safety precautions for her. He’ll keep Bautista with her. That seems to be a good fit.

Solana, however, is bubbling with emotion again. From a different source. For a different reason.

She pushes herself into his chest, Roman easily dropping his hands to her waist, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.” It’s as he holds her, her face buried into his chest that she murmurs those three, sacred, terrifying words. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes.

It’s one thing to read it but something entirely different to actually hear her say it.

He doesn’t know how to respond, how to react, what to say.

Even if does feel the same way.

So, he says nothing.

________

“You took her out of the hospital.”

“Sure fucking did.”

Roman has never been so unbothered while sitting in Dr. Stratus office as she paces across, visibly and audibly stressed the fuck out by what occurred.

After agreeing to let her continue treatment at the other facility, Solana was finally able to get some sleep. Roman as well. Not a ton, of course, because he woke up to her spot in bed next to him vacant. Dulce missing as well.

And if not for the note left for him that read ‘fixing us breakfast <3’, he might have even panicked a bit. Just a smidgen. Of course she would spend time doing something for them rather than herself. It’s such a Solana thing.

Regardless, he enjoyed breakfast with her but hated to see the saddened expression on her face as she said goodbye to her puppy, Dulce’s ears dropping and the whimpering returning as she also picked up on the pending separation.

She’s also felt and been impacted by Solana’s absence.

But, it’s a necessary absence.

Solana needs help.

And it’s that, that oh-so important reminder, Roman keeps repeating to himself as this blonde bitch continues to berate him like he’s a fucking child.

“Who the hell are you to make that decision?” She continues, pointing at him. “You do not get to remove my patient from my care without speaking to me!”

“I did what I had to do for my wife. She needed to get the fuck out of here.” Roman is a man who doesn’t believe in explaining himself, but given the situation, he makes a small exception. For Solana. Only for her. “But, if you don’t lower your fucking voice, you won’t have to worry about her, or anyone else, being your patient because the dead can’t be fucking psychiatrists.”

Dr. Stratus closes her eyes and shakes her head. “At the very least, you could have just texted me what was going on.”

“Keeping you briefed wasn’t my priority.” At all. “Keeping my wife alive was.”

She opens her eyes, asking, “was she suicidal?”

“She said no.” Roman still isn’t entirely sure he believed her. She could have been telling the truth, but she also could have been lying for a lot of different reasons. Still, that’s not something he feels the need to share. “She said she talked about her rape earlier that day in therapy and was having….flashbacks.”

“Flooding,” Dr. Stratus informs. “It’s when a survivor experiences intrusive thoughts, images, and flashbacks of their trauma.” She then looks at him, almost surprised, “she called you?”

Roman nods. “Said the coping shit wasn’t working.”

The doctor plops back down into her seat, saying more to herself than anything. “Well, I suppose that’s a good sign. That she reached out to you versus….other things.” That’s exactly how Roman feels. “Regardless, in the future, at least let me know what’s going on. I would have told you to give her the Hydroxyzine. We could have seen if it’s helpful.”

Roman doesn’t disagree with her there. The thought of one of her medications potentially being helpful definitely crossed his mind. But, he’s not about to tell this woman that.

He’s got other things he needs to discuss.

“The facility you were telling me about….” Roman looks away, not eager to have this conversation but knowing he needs to. For Solana. “Tell me more.”

________

A loud, guttural, almost animalistic growl leaves Samantha’s mouth at the same time the glass plate is tossed against the wall, shattering and spilling into tiny little pieces all across her kitchen floor.

Not that it makes a difference.

Punching the fridge, she ignores the throbbing in her fist and ineffectively tries to manage her nerves, dissuading the burning urge within to scream. It’s been less than 24hrs since she regained the ability to speak, her jaw finally healed enough and no longer wired shut.

But, now she’s left with nothing but pent up emotion all directed toward one person.

Solana

That fat bitch ruined everything. She stole Roman from her. The man who she’s been with since she was a fucking teenager. The man she always imagined would be her husband and father of her children, who would make her his Queen of the Bloodline, but none of that will happen now.

It won’t happen because of that slashed face whore.

Because Roman chose her over him.

Which brings up unfamiliar feelings towards her former lover.

Roman is an asshole. Always has been. As long as she’s known him, he’s been a dick, so his cruel behavior at times toward her never really bothered her. That’s just his personality. She never took it personally.

Not until now, at least.

Because now, it’s not just his wife she’s mad at, it’s Roman too.

Granted, her fury toward the troll is significantly worse.

She’d kill the bitch if she could.

“Rough day?”

Samantha nearly jumps across the room at the sound of another person’s voice. She instead is braced against the refrigerator as she lands eyes on the last person she expected to find in her place.

“Seth?”

It takes another second for her to register that it truly is the once friend of her former lover. He sits on her sofa wearing at least three different types of animal print that are all outlined in some kind of bling, hair looking as unkempt as his mental health.

She’s sly in trying to move closer to the knife set on the counter.

Seth, however, is as perceptive as he is insane. She stills when he casually pulls out a gun. “Ah ah. I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” He makes a face, playing with the gun.“Word on the street is that you got dumped.”

Samantha’s eyes narrow a bit. How does Seth freakin Rollins of all people know about her ‘breakup’ with Roman? Only those close to Roman would know that, and there’s no way anyone close to Roman would be speaking to Seth……

Right?

“Who—”

“You’ll find out about the members of this little crusade once you agree,” he explains, placing the gun on the sofa beside him, casually viewing his nails that are painted a hideous green. Like the color of slime from Nickelodeon back in the day. “Can’t risk snitches, of course.”

More interested than anything, Samantha asks, “what are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right.” He giggles, standing up and pulling a flask out of what seems like nowhere. “We’re gonna kill Roman Reigns.” Seth takes a swig as Samantha’s eyes widen, before he adds on, as if he forgot. “And his wife, Sadie.”

“Solana?”

Seth shrugs “Yeah, she can get killed too. Why not?”

Samantha finally laughs, crossing her arms. “You’re even crazier than I realized. You can’t just kill, Roman.” It’s damn near impossible. Does he not know the mountain of bodies that have tried and failed at the very same thing he’s suggesting? “And there’s no way in hell he’ll let you get even close enough to kill that bitch wife of his.”

“Oh, that’s a lot easier than you think.” Seth takes the flask to his mouth again, voice teasing yet malicious. “The Bloodline is full of traitors.”

Samantha goes quiet, wondering how much of this is madness and just how much is true. It seems too asinine to be true.

But, there’s also the fact that the only way Seth could have known about Roman leaving her was if someone within the Bloodline told him, which would most definitely make them a traitor. And even that feels almost impossible. Roman’s family is notoriously loyal. Who would want to betray him?

The plural form of the word ‘traitor’ is also something that catches her attention.

Could there be more than one traitor?

Seth meanwhile seems to be in a sense of imaginative blood lust, practically squealing, “the infamous Roman Empire is going to be coming to a gloriously bloody, gory end, and we’re trying to see who all want to be a part of our little murderous, traitorous gang.”

Again, she’s caught off guard, realizing just now he’s clearly referring to more than himself. “Gang?”

Seth tilts his head, pouting as he says almost mysteriously, “we both know your former lover has no shortage of enemies.”

That is dangerously true, but what’s even more dangerous is this suicide mission Seth is proposing.

“How is this supposed to be any different from any other time people have tried to kill Roman?” As much as she would love to see Solana’s life drain from her ugly ass face, Samantha would rather not lose her life in the process.

Seth is way too excited to answer. “Because this time, the call is coming from inside the house.” Her eyes widen. “With a little….Nightmare help as well.”

There’s so much to process in that one bombshell of a sentence. “Someone in the Bloodline is orchestrating this?” Not to mention whatever role the Nightmare Factory is playing. That’s just salt on an open, gushing wound.

This type of betrayal is bound to crush Roman.

Samanth smiles.

Oh, revenge is so so sweet.

“I’ll join, but on one condition.” Seth’s brow lifts, a sign he’s ready to hear out her caveat. “That I get to stab and kill that bitch Solana myself. I get to be the one to take her from Roman.”

At the vision alone, Seth’s mad smile grows followed by that crazy ass laugh. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.” He claps his hands together, nodding. “You got yourself a deal, curly.”

Samantha nods, pleased with the arrangement.

Whoever previously took the knife to Roman’s little wife, causing all those ugly ass scars, failed to get the job done.

Samantha won’t.

She does have another question, shrugging. “So who all is a part of this shit anyway?”

She’s especially curious about who the traitor is.

Or traitors.

Of course, it’s just more mental edging with the self-proclaimed visionary. “You’ll get to meet the gang soon enough, but we’ve got one more person to recruit.” Samantha’s curiosity is evident, prompted by Seth casually tossing the flask up and down with a wicked gleam in his empty eyes. “Can’t take down Roman Reigns without inviting his good ole’ pal Brock Lesnar to join in on the fun, now can we?”

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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orangelionfurandtaxidermy · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, I have some fur farm questions if you don't mind answering.

I've seen you mention that Sapphire is questionable. Why is that? Is it bc of the bleeding and CHS? If so, is Mansfield's Pearl also questionable to breed? And can CHS or bleeding issues be bred out or are they inherently part of the color?

On that note, do you have information on other color mutations that are linked to health issues?

Lastly, how does one get into fur farming? It seems really expensive to set up and buy all the foxes, and I struggle to find fur farms to follow online bc of how taboo it is let alone finding farms to buy live stock from, especially of rare mutations. Is finding farms to buy from more of a word of mouth + trust thing? And is mentorship of new farmers a thing or is fur farming too competitive for established farmers to want to do that?

Bonus: feel free to talk about your favorite mutations or anything else you wanna share.

Hi!

Yes Sapphires seem to all carry genetic illnesses. Some look to be only mildly affected, I’ve been following a few foxes friends of me carefully bred after they discovered some of their Pearls are Mansfield Pearls. So far the animals look to be doing ok, so it’s surely not a death sentence.

However I fear not all farms will be so careful about their breeding or using unhealthy animals because they want to get that special color. You’ve probably seen or heard about Mouse, the Sapphire fox Save a Fox bought from Northern Fox and Fur (a fur farm) several years ago.

Sadly Mouse did have severe CHS and had to be euthanised. There are very strong suspicions the farm bred “special needs” animals so the rescue could profit from the sob stories. Eventually Save a Fox bought out the whole farm. As of today it’s still about half filled with foxes because they can’t place the animals anywhere. Every rescue is full.

Mansfield Pearl alters the way in which blood behaves, foxes of this color seem very prone to excessive bleeding. I acquired this female Pearl Cross (suspected Mansfield Pearl Cross) “secondhand” a few years ago from the US. From what I see in the picture, it’s not a place I want to support. However this girl had already been culled for killing her whole litter of pups. When my tanner skinned the fox, they found that the bones were super weak and easy to snap. The skin had an unusual amount of bloodvessels and also the gums and teeth were quite funky. I’m still waiting for the cleaned skull.

In red foxes there’s not that many bad mutations luckily. Pale eyed foxes do experience sensitivity to the sun, we’ve seen them squint in direct sunlight. Mixing Whitemark/Ringneck/Platinum/Georgian (Snow) creates a lethal effect in homozygous form. Platinums can be anemic but it does seem to be worse in certain breeding lines than others. There’s probably others I’m forgetting but sadly there’s not much research being done anymore.

Finding a farm to work with is very hard nowadays. I somehow got myself a contact 5-6 years ago and it’s snowballed from there. The number of farms is very low now though, many of my own contacts have decided to stop farming because it’s essentially two full time jobs for the pay of half a job.

At least here in Europe it’s pretty much impossible to start up your own farm unless you have serious cash. No bank will want to provide you a loan because there’s little money to be made in the industry. Mutation foxes are very rare, most of what is produced is mink fur, arctic fox fur (‘bluefox’) and some raccoondog fur. You’ll find some Silver and Gold fox, but even those pelts are currently being sold in bulk at rock bottom prices to overseas buyers.

A picture of a Smokey Platinum pup for those who read this whole thing lol. This is a newer mutation for us, last year we had one male and this pup is one of his. Can you see the differences between this cage vs the one the female Pearl Cross lived in (she could barely turn around)? The cage in the background gives a better view of the size. There is also a nest box attached.

#vc #vulture culture #orli’s rambling #pelt #dead stuff #fox

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year ago

Text

Cuddles are the cure

Ask: Omg omg omg Jen please please can I have some Bruce/Hulk and Reader. I'm in desperate need of some super fluff, like imagine Hulk just picking you up and snuggling you all warm when you're I'm you're sad 🥺🥺🥺

AN: Super fluff, you say, Elsie? In fact it’s so fluffy I had to throw in reader comforting Hulk too - mutual comforting. Set in the world of You, Me and the Other Guy and slots in as part two of the series.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Master list | Series Master list

Relationship: Bruce/Hulk x Reader

WC: 1.5k

CW: Fluff. Lots of cuddles. Soft kisses. Implied Tony being a dickhead. Working in customer retail sucks.

In every way that mattered, your life had improved immeasurably since you and Bruce had started dating. You already had a friendship, a connection, and you couldn’t believe how easy the two of you just fit.

It was still early days though - you had your shifts, and when Bruce, or rather the Hulk, wasn’t off saving the world with the other Avengers, he had his research and other interests.You didn’t want to live in each others pockets, but still made the effort to see each other at least three times a week, and spoke on the phone all the other days.

You’d introduced him to your small circle of friends, and none of them realised who he actually was, aside from being a sweet nerd who’d swept you off your feet. It was the one advantage of having two personas, you supposed - it meant that he could maintain privacy when out and about.

In return, Bruce had invited you to come and meet the other Avengers. He’d done that charming thing of coming over all shy, asking you while cleaning his glasses with his shirt, so that he wouldn’t have to look at you and risk rejection.

“I mean, you only have to come if you want to. I don’t want you to be disappointed or overwhelmed, because they can be a handful. Tony will tease me… and flirt with you, Steve’s actually got a filthy potty mouth, Nat can be pretty intimidating, Thor, when he’s here, is loud and Clint… well… he’s got a specific sense of humour.”

You’d reached out and placed your hand on his arm, and he’d put his glasses back on and looked at you, expression unreadable.

“I’d love to meet them, and not because they’re the Avengers, but because they’re your friends and colleagues.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

You’d shifted closer, cupping his face with your hand and brushing your nose against his.

“Certain.”

They’d been everything Bruce had described and more, but you’d won them over, and now had your own Avengers Tower access clearance. Sometimes you and Bruce met up there, especially if he was working late, or had been on a mission. It was also the best space for you to hang out with Hulk. The green giant was actually a massive cuddle bug, and enjoyed lounging in his/Bruce’s room, watching Disney movies with you while eating insane amounts of popcorn and candy.

At first, Bruce had been reticent about letting you spend time with his other persona, but you’d convinced him that you would be fine. You knew almost from the first moment that you’d met him that you and Hulk would be friends, because he and Bruce were two sides of the same coin - he would never hurt you.

Now, so far in your relationship, it had all been sunshine and roses - well, apart from that night, but considering what it had led to, you couldn’t be too upset - you and Bruce having cute dates, sweet kisses and lots of laughter. As you got off the subway you hoped that he’d be able to manage something different, and you didn’t mean intimacy. Well, that would be nice, but also, you were content to wait until it felt right for both of you. What you did need today was comfort, because it had been A Day TM (a really shitty day) because even the best relationship could improve what it was like to work in a retail job.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t used to asshole customers - you had to usually deal with one or two every day, but today! It was like they’d all held a meeting and decided to show up at the same time and be meaner and more horrible than normal - asking for complex drinks that made no sense, then telling you that you’d done it wrong, when you’d actually triple checked with them before starting.

Walking up to the front entrance of the tower you fanned your face, trying to disperse the tears that threatened to fall from just thinking about it. You wouldn’t let them bring you down!

Striding into the building, you flashed your access card to the security guard before swiping it at the executive elevator. You were glad that you’d be able to travel straight to Bruce’s floor. He wasn’t expecting you at this time, but one of your colleagues had owed you, so you’d ended your shift a couple of hours early and made your way straight here. Hopefully you’d be able to hang out in his room while he finished up his work for the day. Or maybe you could keep him company in the lab if you signed some kind of NDA.

You could feel yourself spiralling and you swallowed back a small cry, turning it into a hiccup as the elevator came to a halt and you virtually stumbled out into Bruce’s living room…

… to be met with the sight of Hulk, sitting on the floor, worry beads around his neck, watching Lilo and Stitch.

His face broke into a broad smile when he saw you, and he clambered to his feet as quickly as he could.

“Pretty Girl!” He turned and looked at the clock and then back at you. “Pretty Girl early!”

You bit your lip and nodded. Despite your mood, a small smile played at the edges of your mouth.

“Uh-huh. I just needed to see you… or Bruce.”

Hulk looked at you for a moment, and blinked. “Pretty Girl okay that Hulk here, not Bruce?”

You nodded, his earnestness and innocence threatening to destroy the last of your control. You took a step towards him, followed by a second and then you were throwing yourself into his arms, pressing your face against his chest and letting the tears of frustration flow.

Slowly, Hulk wrapped his arms around you, and you noticed he was a little unsure.

“Pretty Girl sad. Did bad man come back and try hurt you?”

You lifted your head, and sniffed with a little smile. “No. Nothing like that. Just a bad day at work.”

You eased out of his hold so you could drop your purse and take your coat off.

“How Hulk help? Want Hulk smash?”

He was too sweet. It was tempting.

“No. No smashing. Just be you, buddy. Sit back down and I’ll join you - we can finish watching together. I just need some cuddles.”

He let out a light snort and lumbered back over to his pile of cushions, dropping down heavily. You knew that Tony had had this floor reinforced, but you were still astounded when the floor didn’t shake. Once he appeared comfortable you joined him, climbing up into his lap and pressing into his side. He was so warm!

You watched in silence together for 10 minutes or so, both of you letting out the odd bark of laughter at the antics of Lilo and her extraterrestrial friend. You could feel yourself calming down just through this - being here and being cared for, with no expectation, something that previous boyfriends had never given you.

You were glad you had Bruce, and Hulk. Which brought you back to why the latter was here.

“Hey, Big Guy. Any reason you’re out today? Was there a mission, because I know Bruce had a load of scientific stuff to do today.”

You felt his body stiffen under you.

“No mission. No smash. Stark happen.”

You sighed - it stood to reason.

“Did he frighten Bruce again?”

He let out a resigned huff.

“Wanted to know what makes Hulk appear. Now Hulk not want to go back. Hulk come here, home. Watch movies, try to be calm.”

You rose up on your knees and pressed your palm to his cheek, feeling him lean into it gently.

“So you’ve had a bad day too? I’m sorry. What about if I get some more snacks and you pick another movie. How does that sound?”

“Hulk like snacks. Hulk like movies. Hulk love Pretty Girl.”

You dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Love you too, Big Guy.”

You got up, and went to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for enough snacks to keep Hulk sated. You smiled to yourself as you heard him talking to FRIDAY, picking the next thing you were going to watch. Snacks and drinks obtained you took your place, back on his lap.

The opening credits played and you smiled - the Little Mermaid.

“You know, if you ever have this problem again, ask FRIDAY to call me. I’m more than happy to help cheer you up. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Hulk and Pretty Girl best friends.”

You both settled down then to watch Ariel fight for her true love. Hulk kept an arm around you, holding you close, but without squashing you, and every so often you ran your hand up and down his arm or scratched your fingers into his black hair, quietly soothing him.

About 10 minutes from the end, Hulk started to fidget and shift under you. You got up and watched as he slowly shrank, and his skin returned to pink. Bruce looked up at you, slightly chagrined, from the pillow nest on the floor. “Hey.”

You smiled and sat back down next to him, wrapping your arms around one of his and leaning your head on his shoulder. “Hey, yourself. Feeling better?”

“Absolutely.” Bruce leant over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “And you? Sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“Not your fault. And I’m sure there will be another day with a-hole customers. I’m also certain that Tony won’t frighten Hulk out of you again.”

Bruce chuckled. “You give him more credit than he’s due. Although he might not try it again for a while - the Other Guy smashed up his new Porsche…”

You couldn’t help it - you laughed out loud, cuddling into your boyfriend, and realising that life wasn’t so bad after all.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @esposadomd

#bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader #hulk fluff #bruce banner fluff #late writes #ymatog

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sky-high-standards · 1 year ago

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Hi, i saw your requests open and i've been thinking what i should request but an idea came up to me.

What about singer reader x yandere fans? I think is a great idea.

Ah apart from that, what's ur favorite song?

Yandere!!Fans x Singer reader

Thank you so much for requesting and my favorite song is currently either the Daddy issues remix or Everything I wanted.

Yep I decided to redo this thing and I may make it a reverse harem

No one expected you to blow up you took the industry by storm your humble beginning and charming persona first got you a small fan base on TikTok then you only got more and more popular and here you are now sitting pretty on a talk show the bright lights blinding you as the host looks at you eagerly itching to start this interview.

Welcome back everyone today we have hit idol Y/n S/n here with us

The crowd roared when they heard your name thousands of people here just for you their beloved idol.

Host: So y/n what's it like to have such success so quick and young.

Y/n: it's pretty overwhelming that's for sure but I have my adoring and loyal fans supporting me.

You said and smiled at the audience and that sent them over the edge your fans were always quite insane lively but they meant well they got you your success in the first place who are you to complain but idol life was tough enough and you weren't exactly thrilled to see your Instagram filled with desperate fans begging for your attention everyday some even threatening to commit suicide if you didn't reply.

And the things they'd throw on stage when you performed were sometimes sweet like a teddy bear or roses and other times not so sweet the day you were preforming and got hit in the face with a dildo is a day you'll never forget...you still shudder st the memory.

And the amount of secret getaway houses you own are concerningly high since an extra persistent can always manges to follow you home no matter how many detours and lane switches you take.

No one said being famous was easy and all fans act like this right?

It's totally normal that they worship you like a God and it's totally normal to know jars of your sweat and used pads are being sold for millions on the dark and what celebrity doesn't have a dab try to kidnap them twice a week.

And you'd think you'd have your bodyguards preventing most of these things but unfortunately they're fans too and it's common to find your bodyguards being a little too close and going through your dirty laundry...

But unbelievably enough there were certain fans that stood out among the rest in the worst ways possible these fans will do anything and I mean anything for your acknowledgment oh you have an extra mean troll sending nasty comments no less then a day later they send an apology and they've mysteriously gone missing you signed an undeserving fans merch? they were immediately talked down and beaten up for it.

Completely normal fans ☺️

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zivazivc · 9 months ago

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I'm gonna take some time to digest and think about that comic before I come to a decision. The decision being whether to continue to support you or just leave you be.

If I decide to leave you be, just know that there are no hard feelings, okay?

You are on anon so I don't know if this is someone who I've talked to before, but either way, yes, no hard feelings. I completely understand. It's the internet, anyone can unfollow anyone for any reason, but also I know this is an uncomfortable topic and even triggering to some, and some people are just not here for that. I was contemplating posting it for a while for this reason.

I do kinda want to point out that the purpose was/is not to fetishize a relationship with a minor and I will never fetishize or glorify that ever. It's wrong and unhealthy even if there's no malicious intent present. (am pointing it out because I got a bunch of asks about it and I'm 🧍) But this is fiction, and I portrayed the scenes the way that I did mainly because I made the comic from Floyd's perspective and I wanted to get in his head and show what exactly he was feeling in that moment. If the end result makes you feel uncomfortable or "flustered" (I don't think I'm using the right English word) in a certain icky way, that was kind of the point and I believe should be a normal reaction from an adult.

I spent my high school years (normally 15-19yo, but it was more like 14-22+) living in a dorm in the country's capitol and I attended a vocational school for visual arts that is pretty notorious for having a drug problem (I'm talking about mostly weed) and being full of weirdos (students free and comfortable expressing themselves and experimenting with expressing themselves but weirdos is the used term lol). The dorm is also located very near the city's subcultural center (look up Ljubljana Metelkova if you want, it's kind of what I imagine the underground scenes the bandmates visit looking like) which is like a hangout place for subcultures like punks and metalheads and the lgbtq. Anyway coming from living my whole life in a rural village where I still played with toys to somewhere like that was an insane shock to me. I sometimes felt like a toddler around young adults in a big city. And it was whiplash for many other teens too, some of whom quickly fell into bad crowds and spiraled, often those who came from bad home situations or controlling parents (heck some even came from elementary schools already doing problematic things). The amount of rumors of things happening in that dorm and school (drugs, sex, messing around with older teens/adults, whatever)... (I'm not saying it was like a concerning percentage of students but it was happening) Some of these people who made some bad choices were and some still are my friends, some of whom still struggle with some things today and it's heartbreaking.

Anyway where I was going with this is that in high school I was always kind of the anti all of that (to the point it had the opposite effect on me where I didn't even try out the normal teenage things) and just thinking "what the fuck is wrong with these people?" And recently, when my headcanons for Floyd started going in the direction that they have, I started wondering the same thing. Just not in a judgemental way this time. More like I want to dissect this situation carefully and understand it from everyone's perspective and see what lead up to it. I've always been very fascinated by morally gray and dark fiction for this reason and this is right up that alley.

So yeah, this isn't for everyone, and I can't hold a grudge if anyone unfollows me for it. But what I'm doing here is inspired a lot by real life situations and my weird deep dives into articles about trauma and its effects (also pretty sure I'm also processing some of my own personal emotions through these blorbos but I am not going into that), and I feel like I'm taking a pretty realistic approach to it (if you ignore the fact that this is fucking Trolls). I'm just slowly exploring how a relationship between a teen who comes from a sheltered almost cultish upbringing (pop trolls live in a concentration camp and are dealing with the horrors by singing and enjoying every minute of their every day like life is a ticking time bomb) and a young adult who never got a chance to grow up because he never experienced a childhood and is suddenly being liked by someone for the first time in his life (I'll talk more about Les some other time), would develop into hopefully something okay for both of them. Because I do want them to both be okay in the end. And I'm sharing some of my brainworms online for anyone who's interested. I just can't share ALL of my brain worms and sometimes I forget that people don't have a view of what's going on in my head. Yeah... This answer became long for no other reason except that I can't sleep because I posted that comic, damn. That's what I get for dropping that bombshell on top of what was mostly fun "comedic" posts about the AU so far.

#answered #I never actually intended for them to get together when I designed Les #it just kind of happened and by that point I didn't want to change Les's age #because that would completely rewrite his character #and I like his character #but yeah I ship them. although when they're older #at this point I just find floyd's crush adorable and his actions concerning #les didn't sign up for any of it but he also doesn't have the heart to throw floyd out of the band #because he's worried someone with bad intentions could find him instead #yeah #it's messy #but that's the whole point #also I think it just looks so much worse in the comic because les is giant #if he were a rock troll they'd be nearly the same height #this is also something I didn't account for #ex bandmates

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thestalkerbunny · 4 months ago

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I had a dream last night and it was so fantastic, I'm gonna fucking share it and eventually draw and expand on it-but this is basis of it.

They finally made Fallout 5.

TLDR: Where the actual First Nation's People went, history threatening to repeat itself, finally the non-romancable npc is that way for a GOOD REASON.

It actually takes place in the middle of America; and it's established when the bombs dropped-it was mostly on major cities near the coastal areas-such as Las Vegas,Boston,Washington Dc, etc. etc.-but with the radius, there is a part of the US that recieved the least amount of radiation.

(A poorly made map by your truely, probably not all accurate where bombs dropped but like. The darker places is all the places I'm pretty sure we've been. Probably wrong but I don't care to look up for accuracy.)

And it's this odd massive strip of land right down the middle. It's not COMPLETELY devoid of radiation-but it's a small part of the whole of USA that received the LEAST amount of it and over time was able to recover successfully, similar to Chernobyl years after the Nuclear Meltdown. Still toxic levels of radiation if you do things like upset the dirt or go in too deep-but otherwise harmless to explore and live in if you're tolerant to those levels of radiation. And in Fallout where RadAway is a helpful common place medication tool-it could potentially be a paradise. The wild life is actually very plentiful and you can honestly spot a lot of normal looking wildlife like normal looking deer and occasionally-a one headed cow. But it's still vast and ominously empty at the same time. Like wandering through thick forests and open plains and prairies with nothing around for miles.

But it was the answer to where the actual Native Americans were in Fallout-they're in this place that everyone in the game referred to as The Holy Strip. A lot of the settlements and cities are a part of the First Nation and one of them I specifically remember was the biggest city called Cherokee City-and it had a collage where for caps or certain items you could move around a point of your S.P.E.C.I.A.L stats if you felt it like it's better used in a different spot-and it was flavored as that's where all the academics flocked to share survivalist knowledge so when people venture out into the Wastes they'd at least have a basic grasp on things. And for the most part, all the cities in The Holy Strip got along-there was a sort of system where each city had an elected person on a council and everything was voted on before major choices were made, etc. etc. all in all the most high functioning areas in Fallout at least in that sense. There's of course tiffs and occasional spats-but other than that-not a whole lot of blood is shed.

And of course there were other factions outside of The Holy Strip who wanted the area for themselves; rather they wanted to affirm governance over the entire area (We know what this is an allegory for, Government trying to run off Native peoples.) And the game gives you the option to either side with the outside Factions-each with their own reason for wanting control of The Holy Strip or siding with The Holy Strip and the people who were there from the start and helped that area STAY as nice as it could be in an irradiated hellscape. And it's not just the theme of 'War never changes' but also the theme of 'History always threatens to repeat itself.' and you have to decide which part of this repeat of history you want to be on.

And there were like....4 Specifical companions I recalled.

One was a woman named Angora and she was a porn actress-and in some of dialogue, it's insinuated she's from New Vegas or that area because in her idle mode she'll tell raunchy jokes-specifically 'Did you hear about the mailman with a bullet in their skull?' Her specific quest is to destroy the holotapes of shoot that had gone wrong and turned into an assault and the footage still was spread out in the public. And the destruction of these holotapes is her reclaiming agency over herself.

Another was a Vietnamese woman named Jun who was a botonist looking for the national seed depository in Colorado that happens to fall within the area of the Holy Strip-she's got the pass key to get in there and she wants to use this time since The Holy Strip has shown such successful progress and good soil ph levels-to start cultivating and distributing seeds to the settlements so more food can be grown. Her idle animation if you leave her alone long enough, she'll start planting saplings and if you come back to the same area she plants in later in the game, you'll see them growing slowly.

There was another one-who was like I feel like....a teen girl? Put her at 18? 19 Maybe. A short girl who kinda reminded me of the girl from Atlantis the Lost Empire. She's a tech mechanic and builds guns, improves them, repairs broken things and she's looking for her younger brother whom she got separated from. I think her name was either Delilah or Tuesday. I don't remember clearly. She was a fan favorite for actually normal reasons cause she had such a teen energy to her to say out of fucking pocket shit all the time and sasses you constantly-but in like a fun way.

The final one I remember is a Ghoul you meet at one of the First Nation Settlements. I don't remember his name-but he is of the First Nation and sort of nomadic lifestyle drifting between cities and settlements, helping people where he can when he can. While the Holy Strip is nice-there still is a level of ghoul discrimination and he just preferred being on his own. But when he becomes your companion you learn that he makes a lot of jokes about the 'Native American Wisdom.' One being

"How did you know I was from a Vault?"

"I heard it on the wind....I heard it from the birds....I felt it in the sunlight on my face.....Also you've got the word VAULT 29 Plastered on the back of your stupid blue jumpsuit."

He also liked Romance paperbacks. You meet him during an escort quest he's doing, helping a pregnant woman get to one of the vaults (that apparently she was born at? And she wanted her kid to be born there too.)

And there was new romancable companion functions-where you could gift them items they liked (like Romance books for the ghoul, Seeds for the Botonist, etc.) that would not only boost their affection for you, but give you a temp boost during a fight. ( the 18 year old is the non-romancable option in the game. For once a Non Romancable NPC that makes SENSE.)

And for the most part it was well received? There was still people who bitched a lot about it, complaining they 'needed like 50 million mods to make it acceptable' and people complaining about the ghoul being 'such a sterotype' where most of what he did was ironic and prodding fun at the trope similar to Raul wearing the spirit halloween costume as a joke for his sister. Then there were the freaks who were mad they couldn't romance the 18 year old.

But pobody's nerfect ya know. All in all I now have a game I cannot play.

#TSB talks #Fallout 5 #Fallout OC #Dream #Bethesda get on it #Make it happen #I will promote the fuck out of this and do designs for you #Fallout Au?#I don't know how to label this at all #Fallout #Fallout Fakegame

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hollowed-theory-hall · 23 days ago

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is there a difference between house and family?

i guess family is just one patriarch or similar who manages one family. maybe they have a family house and an elf like the Crouch or Malfoys, maybe not. their places in the Wizengamot are not hereditary, but exclusively career

and the houses have more than one family, there are a bunch of cousins with the same surname, and the patriarch manages the finances, access to the Gringotts vault, makes contracts, is the first son of the first son, have a Wizengamot seat, and so on

I mean, irl there are families with a lot of cousins with the same last name (speaking as someone whose grandfather had 6 siblings and now the family needs to rent a place if we all wanna meet up at once) so it's not about the amount of people.

How I see it is that a house is a family that just has a title (kinda like how all squares are rectangles, but not every rectangle is a square).

Like, I think it's purely a title thing and has nothing to do with accounting actually. Both families and houses could be managed in a bunch of different ways depending on the family. I mean, even with irl nobility, different members of the family usually have their own finances and homes and stuff, and it seems to be the case in HP, too. I mean, James and Lily hid in a cottage that I'm pretty sure isn't the main Potter residence. Grimmauld Place wasn't the only home owned by the Black family as I'm certain Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, and their parents didn't live there. there just doesn't seem to be a single person managing everything for everyone. It's also kinda unrealistic and restrictive. I mean, Bellatrix seems to be well in her right to walk into the Lestrange vault and do whatever with it even though she married in. She doesn't need Rudolphus' or his father's permission to take things out of the vault.

We also see that when there isn't a clear male heir, women do get the inheritance. At the start of HBP, Dumbledore is worried Grimmauld Place went to Bellatrix since Sirius had no children:

Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of ‘Black. ’ Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood.

(HBP)

There is a preference for a male heir, but when there isn't one, or the one that exists can't qualify for some reason, the eldest female is chosen.

Madam Bones seems to be the head of her family (I am convinced that Bones is a house with a Wizengamot seat) since her brothers died (Edgar and Susan's father).

Hepzibah Smith mentions how her relatives wait for her death to get the inheritance from her:

“Now,” said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, “I think you’ll like this, Tom. ... Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. ... They can’t wait to get their hands on this!”

(HBP)

(This shows finances outside the head of the house control or a female head of a house, though which of these cases are presented here is unclear)

Similarly, Agusta Longbottom seems to be the head of her family/house as the eldest relative, even though Uncle Algie exists. Though it is possible she is managing affairs for Neville who is the direct male line and underage for most of the series.

Also, in my headcanon, the Peverells had a Wizengamot seat, and that seat went on to the Potter family through Iolanthe later down the line since she was the last Peverell that could inherit the title, so it passed to the family she married into. The Gaunts probably had something similar happen with them (though I'm convinced William the Conquerer had a hand in that I have, like, a whole set of headcanons about the history of wizards in the UK in the Middle Ages).

I'm also pretty sure any family member could be the one sitting in the Wizengamot if the head of the family doesn't feel like doing it themselves. Like, I imagine Walburga went to Wizengamot sessions more than Orion did, for example (although, in their case, Orion's father Arcturus would've been the head of the house since he died after both of them in 1992). We also know Walburga's cousin, Araminta Meliflua Black, tried to push a bill to legalize muggle hunting, which means it's possible she was the house's Wizengamont member for a bit (or she did it from a different position in the ministry).

I don't think you'd find wizards that use the title Lord [name] (or any other noble title for that matter) either. The Wizengamot titles aren't like that, I think. We never really see anyone other than Voldemort being referred to as a lord, so I find it very unlikely. The Wizengamot titles post-Statute of Secrecy are not related to the muggle concept of lordship that is tied to land ownership so it makes sense they won't have that 'lord' title anymore.

Though I believe that the members of the Wizengamot do have a professional title: Warlock (the person managing the Wizengamot's processes is called the "Chief Warlock"). But that's a professional thing and not a noble house thing.

But these are just some of my thoughts on the subject. (I rambled more on the Wizengamot and houses in the wizarding world a bunch here, here & here)

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #wizarding world #wizarding society #wizengamot #hollowedrambling

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crusty-chronicles · 1 year ago

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The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 10: Into The Thick Of It

Synopsis: Congratulations, you've just entered the NGL!!!! A place of isolation and now Chimera Ants 😃 Your first task, try not to break down and snap with all the bodies you come across. Good luck and may you keep your promises🤝

-----------------------

You weren't too happy to say the least. Once again, you had all piled into a jeep that was much too small for the amount of people riding in it. Smooshed in the front with Kite and the driver while the others were elbow to elbow in the back.

On the bright side, you didn't have to worry about being drooled on. But you did have to deal with two very pouty boys who weren't happy about the new seating arrangement.

"Why can't one of us just sit on your lap?" Gon suggested.

"Kid, I'm not a chair. And it's stuffy already with just three of us in the front. No way in hell I'm having another person next to me and one more on my lap." You were quick to shoot the idea down.

"Then sit in the back with us." Killua said, scooching over to make room.

But there was no way you were gonna sit in the back with four more people.

Nope.

Not in this heat.

"You two can last one car ride without me. You're big boys, aren't you?"

A huff of irritation from the small assassin and a grumble from the boy in green.

To your surprise, a certain silver haired hunter decided to join in on the banter.

"Don't worry. I promise to take good care of them up here for you."

And the small, offended gasps from the two of them was enough to make you laugh. A bit of peace before the inevitable descent into the NGL.

So pouty and upset, they begrudgingly sat in the back. Not without making sure to poke you every now and then, just to get you to turn around.

The ride itself wasn't too bad with the driver making idle conversation.

"You heading to the NGL, huh? You know they believe that the best way to live is as naturally as possible."

Ah yes, you all totally didn't do any research whatsoever before coming here.

You really shouldn't give him any shit for that. He was just trying to help fill the silence. It's not like many people visited this place anyways. So to him, it was probably strange to see ten people asking to go all at once.

"They're pretty weird for living out there, but you folks are even weirder for wanting to visit em'."

Before you could question him on that, he continued on.

"I don't have a clue what's going on there, but I've already driven in about 10 big groups just like you guys today alone."

Perhaps more hunters who heard the news of a giant Chimera Ant? Still, ten groups of people? It was strange.

"Did you say ten?!?" Gon exclaimed, popping up from his seat behind you.

"That's right," the driver confirmed.

You, however, were a little concerned with something else.

"Seatbelt!" You scolded.

"Oh, right! Sorry." A small 'click' sounded off.

God, you really were starting to sound like a parent. What were you, Safety Sal? You really should stop babying them.

"So if most of the other groups are already arriving, then we're among the last." Kite noted, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.

"At least we'll have some help," you mumbled.

Oh how wrong you were.

-------------------------

They weren't kidding about the nature part. The entrance to the NGL itself was a pathway between two giant trees. You could sense people moving about inside them. A river separating the two territories.

A beautiful sight if you had to say. But there was that nagging feeling reminding you of how strict these people could be. Well, the government they had.

"Prepare yourselves everyone," Kite warned.

"The ants are a concern, but the NGL isn't the eco-friendly group it claims to be."

Right, the drugs. And where there were illegal drugs, there were probably illegal crime bosses. Thank goodness you didn't have to deal with that type of hell growing up.

Approaching the first tree, you already didn't like the men that greeted your group there. Smiles fake and disingenuous. Auras gross with deceit and annoyance.

"May I ask what brings you here?" Defensive too. About their people or secrets, you couldn't tell.

"We're on a hunt." Kite stated before continuing.

"A biohazard-class insect might have infiltrated your country."

The man let out a hum before answering.

"Well, if you're professional hunters, I'm certain you're aware that we cannot deny you entry into our land."

Ah yes. You were all totally hunters. Yup. Each and every one of you. Bonafide hunters.

You thanked whatever greater being was up there that nobody had outed you.

"Right this way." One of the men turned around and led your group in.

Like you expected, the Big Wigs in charge didn't enforce their rules onto themselves. Inside were various people typing away on computers. And if you had to guess why, it was most likely due to a loophole.

"Wait, you're using computers and machines here?" Killua confronted.

"We are not technically within the bounds of the NGL proper yet." One of the men answered.

And there it was. Five seconds and you already decided you despised this place.

"This area is used for diplomacy and trading information."

Diplomacy???? Didn't they communicate through letters??? And what other country would they be feuding with to need diplomacy? Weren't they isolated?

One look at this guy's aura and you could tell he was lying. Still, it would do nobody any good to call out their hypocrisy. You'd just have to suck it up and let it go.

"I see. Are there similar facilities within?" Kite questioned.

"No sir, not a single one. No machines of any kind are allowed inside the borders of the NGL." One of the guys answered.

"Of course, visitors aren't allowed to bring technology in with them either. We're very strict about that kind of thing." Another spoke up.

Wow, it was almost like they killed someone over that exact thing. Who would've thought?

God you hated primitive societies. Your respect was dwindling by the seconds.

"Which means you must remove metals, petroleum derived materials, and the like. Anything of that nature on your person before you can enter." The same man informed.

So long shitty sneakers and hello paper thin shoes.

"D-d-do you mean l-like my glasses!?!" Lin asked.

A shit eating grin on the man's face. Like he was purposely trying to get rid of as much people as he could with technicalities.

"That's right. If your clothes, belts, shoes, even your underwear contain any plastic, chemicals, or metal, you must remove them." He said eyeing the two girls.

"That isn't funny!" Spin snapped.

"You want us to strip naked!?!"

You stood protectively in front of the boys, sending a glare towards the man. Would you kill him depending on his answer?

Yes, yes you would.

"That's not necessary. All-natural clothing is available for purchase just upstairs." He said pointing to a small staircase.

You should have guessed they would've been money hungry. How else would they be able to afford all this nice stuff while their people suffered beyond the bend.

"And if there are any implants inside your body, dental implants, for example, made of gold, silver, or even silicon prosthetics that cannot be removed... I'm sorry to say, but you won't be allowed to enter."

Discriminating, are we? Wow, these guys are even worse than the shit you had to put up with.

"You understand." His smile was fake, aura cocky now that the size of your group was cut in half.

You know what? Maybe you should start rooting for the ants at this point.

-------------------------

You were in a bit of a dilemma at the moment.

You'd chosen clothes that were as close to what you were currently wearing as possible. So far so good, right? Welllll, the issue was just how the hell you were going to pay for them.

Truth was, you had not a cent to your name. Not even a flimsy wallet to open and have a fly come out of. Up until now, money had never really been a point of focus. Or at least up until two years ago.

Goddamnit.

You couldn't even afford shit clothes to bypass the NGL restrictions.

Which meant....

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

How pathetic were you.

Unable to afford a basic 'necessity'. How the hell did you plan on taking care of two kids when you couldn't even take care of yourself? It was quite frankly disgraceful.

Unbeknownst to you, curious eyes watched your internal struggle. Everyone else was ready or close to being ready, and there you were clutching a shirt looking like somebody died. Dark circles impossibly darker.

Then he heard it.

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

It immediately put a frown on the small boy's face. Gon just couldn't wrap his head around why you would say a thing like that. You'd all agreed extensively to come, so why were you backing out?

You'd been so adamant about coming, excited even. (Which was rare.) So it didn't make any sense. At least not until you mumbled out something else.

"Maybe I should've been a hunter. Least' then I'd have a few bucks to spare. Damn."

Was that what you were worried about?

You should've just asked.

It's not a big deal anyway. It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of considering he didn't get his first phone until Leorio bought him one. And it's not like him and Killua would say no if you needed help to pay.

The three of you were supposed to stick together. Were supposed to help each other. You were the big sibling and they were the little brothers.

He may not have been as well off as Killua, but he was still a hunter with plenty of funds to spare. Especially since beating Greed Island. If you needed something, he would gladly get it for you. Just like if they needed you, you would always be there.

Before he could pitch the offer, someone else approached you. Someone who he was getting the feeling liked being in your presence as much as you did his.

And Gon wasn't sure he was okay with that yet. But he appreciated someone looking after you. Someone his own father had trusted and now you did as well.

--------------------

"Something wrong?" A familiar voice sounded from behind you.

Realistically, you should've sensed Kite's presence. But the stress of figuring out a way to pay had distracted you from everything else going on.

"Um... No?" Your voice cracked at the end. God, even you knew you didn't sound convincing. Even if you did, Kite could see you. He knew you were hiding something, and you knew that he knew.

It took him all of five seconds to figure out what was wrong. You hadn't made a move to change into NGL appropriate clothing. You were looking down with gears turning in that head of yours. And your aura was upset with disappointment.

You were a stubborn one alright.

"Here." A card was placed in front of you.

Your tired eyes widened. What was he doing? You looked up at him, mouth open and ready to protest because wow.

You didn't like asking for help. Didn't like owing people. Didn't like how they always seemed to expect something back in return for their good deed.

"Don't worry about it. We need all the help we can get, remember?" And you were completely flabbergasted by what Kite said next.

"Don't let a few travel expenses get in your way. Plus I don't think those boys of yours would be too thrilled if you couldn't go."

A smile and a small pat to your back.

"We'll be waiting for you when you're done."

There was no ulterior motive.

He'd done it simply out of the kindness in his heart.

You were not used to that. Not used to others doing things for you. It had warmth spreading across your face and you were glad the others couldn't see you. Getting all embarrassed over something small like this. (It wasn't all that small to you)

"I'll pay you back for this one day."

You'd mumbled it to yourself, but he barely caught it as he descended down where the rest of the group was.

And like before, he wouldn't mention it. But the soft smile he had was a telltale sign he'd heard you all the same.

----------

Your group of ten had dwindled down to six. You and the boys and Kite with Podungo and Stick. Ever a growing pain in your ass, the NGL authorities ran several tests on all of you.

Past the first tree and into the second, where a lady informed the group of what was to take place.

"The inspection area is over there. Of course there's a physical exam, as well as an interview."

Sounded simple enough until she kept talking.

"Then once those are completed, there will also be X-rays, ultrasound, and metal scans."

You hated this place.

"Ultrasound? The hell are they gonna find with that. Surprise, guess who's pregnant?" Your comment was heard by the lady explaining things, who promptly laughed.

"Yes, well you'd be surprised by what we're able to pick up with that."

As long as they were just scans, you supposed it wasn't too outrageous. Now if they started poking and prodding, you'd break a machine or two.

"Security's rather tight," Kite noted.

The lady flicked on a light switch before continuing to speak.

"It is... because people have smuggled guns in by hiding the parts inside their bodies. We often find cameras or cell phones in people's rectums."

Your face scrunched up in disgust. Who the fuck was shoving a gun up their ass???

"Some have even trained animals to carry laptops across the border once they themselves were inside."

Okay now that one made more sense.

After the woman finished explaining, the testing began. Scans of your body and brain were taken. Some blood work was done, much to your dismay. And last but not least, the interview, which mainly consisted of questions about health and any possible criminal background.

It was draining, but you were somewhat glad the boys were fascinated by it. They got to have some fun despite the unusual circumstances.

"Well it looks like all of you are clean." The woman announced.

The same men from earlier were waiting by the exit as you all approached.

"Thank you all for your patience. You may enter now, and godspeed."

"Welcome to the NGL!"

The first thing you noticed was the air. It somehow felt cleaner. The second thing you noticed was the land outstretched before you. It seemed never ending. From the oaks down below to the prairie just before you. It was peaceful. Like home. (But you couldn't really call it that anymore, could you?)

Eagerly, your eyes scanned as far as they would go. So much to see with not enough time to enjoy it. No auras besides the one's next to you. Faint traces from the woodland creatures hiding away. Quiet too, but not eerily so.

Serene was the word for it.

You take it back. The NGL wasn't so bad afterall. Just the people in charge. It had you thinking back to kid with boots five sizes too big and a hand stitched shirt that was falling apart at the seams. A gap-toothed smile as they cartwheeled over an open field, laughing with another like the rest of the world wasn't there.

Your first stop in the NGL was a small barn for suitable transportation. Honestly, you should've known a monetary transaction would be involved. And yet it still surprised you.

12,000 jenny for just one horse. For one day.

You tensed up once more, trying to figure something out. You'd already wasted enough money that wasn't yours. You didn't want to waste anymore.

And yet.....

There was Kite, once again taking the brunt of the expenses.

Not because anyone asked him to.

But because he wanted to.

Justifying it with 'It's not a problem. We need a decent form of travel that won't drain us. Three should be just fine.'

It was mind boggling how nonchalant he was being about this. The same question of why. He didn't gain anything from doing this.

So why?

The same reason he had made you a real promise.

He was a good person.

You were not.

But you would try. You'd pay him back in full if it was one of the last things you ever did. He deserved that much at least.

Upon entering the stable, all of the horses trotted towards Gon and Kite. Neighing and making little content noises. Seems the part about animals liking hunters was true. It was an endearing sight, if you must say.

And that small part of your brain that liked to tease, just couldn't resist.

"Hey Snow White. Leave some horses for the rest of us, will ya?"

A light shade of red consumed Kite's face upon hearing you. The shade darkening as Stick spoke up with a 'Hahaha! I get it!' and Podungo with a 'I've never seen him this embarrassed before.'

You were going to be a distraction. (A pleasant one, albeit.)

You'd approached and lifted Gon up, helping him onto the horse that liked him the most. The other boy following close behind you.

"I'll be taking my dwarf back, thank you." Eyes crinkled with mischief and aura playful as you spoke.

"Yeah, so does that make you the wicked witch or something," Killua directed towards you while you lifted him up.

To which you responded by letting go and dropping him.

"Hey! I was kidding! Y/n don't be mad. Big siiib!"

"Don't you 'big sib' me, young man! And don't think for a second those puppy dog eyes will work on me! They're not nearly as powerful as Gon's!" You lectured with your hands on your hips. Scolding demeanor melting away at the sound of the other boy's voice.

"Please, Y/n. Help Killua." Honey colored eyes staring wide up at you. And he may or may not have done it to see if it was true.

"Gah! I hate it when you two work together against me. You little ghouls." You grumbled, lifting up the small assassin once more. Who seemed very pleased by the outcome.

It was funny in a way. How you could never really say no to Gon. It made him feel special. But he did wonder why. Did he remind you of someone you used to know?

You stared at the horse in front of you, who was already not liking you. And you didn't want to upset it further by attempting to hop on it.

"You've never ridden a horse before?"

You were once again too lost in your thoughts to notice Kite's presence. He was two for two today. In both surprising you and figuring out what was wrong.

"Course' not. Do I look like a cowboy to you?" Not only had you never ridden a horse before, you were also not the best with animals as it would seem.

"You know, I do kinda see it." A teasing grin of his own on the taller male's face. He was starting to get the hang of dealing with you and your smart aleck remarks.

"Har har. Now help me up this thing, Ranger Rick. If I try to get on by myself, I'm 80% sure it'll kill me."

"Only 80?" Kite hoisted you up, and for a split second you were surprised by his strength.

"Gotta give myself a fighting chance. I'm not a complete wimp." You gave a small pat to the top of the horse's head once you were seated.

"Could've fooled me." Kite had effortlessly climbed on behind you. The smell of pine and artificial sweetness filled your senses, the same way the scent of fresh rain filled his.

"Everyone ready!" Kite called out.

A resounding 'yes' from the five of you.

------------------

It was odd, what you were feeling. When you thought you'd sense a sizable amount of bloodlust, it would be gone in an instant. Making you wonder if it was even there in the first place. And just when you thought you'd managed to sense a person, the aura disappeared.

It didn't help that the NGL was so big. It didn't make things easier for you to assess. And you didn't want to sound the alarm for things that weren't there.

But you were suspicious.

Your eyes were never wrong. Your ability was never wrong. So just what the hell was happening, you couldn't be so sure. Maybe you were having an off day? The things you sensed were far away, too far for you to make an accurate assessment anyways.

Goddamnit.

At least the company was great. Stick and Podungo behind with Gon and Killua next to you. Kite seated behind you with the reins of the horse you dubbed 'Gordy.'

A very thicc boy who had warmed up to you after petting his head a few times.

There was, however, uninvited guests as well. Two 'translators' who as far as you could tell, were lying. They probably wanted to see if your group had managed to smuggle something in.

You could feel unease from Kite the deeper you descended into the NGL. He could probably sense it too. That something was off.

And while you didn't want to disrupt his train of thought, the tension radiating off of him was making your own anxieties flair. It was too early to panic and too early to worry. Nothing solid had been found yet.

So did what you had been wanting to do for a while. Now that his hands were occupied, you made a swipe at his hat, one that he didn't see coming and couldn't really stop.

"Told you I'd take it from you." Your smile was triumphant as you readjusted yourself and plopped his trademark hat on your head.

He was stunned for a second, processing what the hell just happened. Shock replacing the unease.

Did you just?

He looked down at you, noticing your smug expression as you twisted yourself to meet his eye.

"You don't play fair." He said at last.

You'd successfully distracted him once again. A bashful expression on his face.

And now that you could see him properly, an embarrassed one overtook yours as well.

Why was he so pretty?

Unawares of the thoughts going through his mind. The ones that said you looked nice with his hat falling down your face and covering your eyes. A familiar playful smirk right under them.

"Wow, pretty shady under here. I can actually see without the sun burning into my retinas. I hope you know I'm not giving this back."

A huff of amusement was heard.

"You're trouble, you know that?" He shouldn't be letting you distract him like this. He should be focusing on the current task at hand.

And yet, the playfulness from your aura kept pulling him in. Your crooked smile that was quickly becoming a favorite. That he had no idea wasn't there before.

"If I'm so bad, you would've stopped putting up with me at the airship." You did still feel a little guilty about that.

The exchange between the two of you not going unnoticed. A pair of icy eyes glancing over and frowning. Choosing to sit down properly since you hadn't noticed he was standing. Upset at the fact that your attention wasn't focused on him or Gon for once.

Killua was hesitant to let new people into his circle. He and Gon were best friends, and when that girl Ritz had tried to join, he hated it. He didn't like how easily she got along with Gon. Didn't like how he felt inferior in her presence because she was more helpful in 5 minutes than he had been the whole day.

But he was never forgotten or pushed away. Never disregarded. Only feeling insignificant because his family told him he would never have friends. That they would all leave him. But Gon had stayed.

Now there was you. You were a part of that circle now. And back at YorkNew, it was okay. You were happy in a way that was rarely seen. You'd all gotten swept away in the presence of new people. He minded a little, but let it go.

Because Killua was okay with friendship. But he was not okay with whatever this was. The cheeky smiles and blushy faces. He'd joked about it that first day you all met Kite. Teased you for it because he knew it would get on your nerves. But now that it was actually happening....

You'd forget about them if this continued. Leave them behind for him. You'd already refused to sit next to them in that car. You didn't offer to ride with them at the stable. You didn't even ask them for help when you couldn't pay. (Thanks Gon, for filling him in.)

It wasn't fair.

But he knew it wasn't really his decision to make. Wasn't really his place either. You'd already made up your mind the second you made that promise back on the airship.

Well fine. Then this guy would just have to prove himself if he was gonna take you away. And it would take a lot to impress this Zoldyck. Selfish or not, you were his big sibling. The first real one he had. The first good one. If he was being honest, you and Alluka were the only real family he had.

And the off chance you were just being friendly, that you didn't see Kite in any other way, then he'd back down. But the way you would just smile that crooked grin and tell him your secrets, said otherwise. The way Kite had started to subtly check up on you told him otherwise.

------------------------------

It'd been hours since you started the search for the Chimera Ant, but there was no luck. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. So begrudgingly, you all stopped to take a break and rethink things.

You joined Gon and Killua on the ground as they figured out alternate routes to take.

"I think we should follow along the coastline and check out all the villages. If we search them and nothing unusual turns up, then it's probably not even in this country." Gon speculated, pointing towards the map of the NGL.

It was optimistic at best to assume the ant wasn't here. Too much didn't add up for you to believe otherwise.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's assuming those guys were telling us the truth back there," Killua said in reference to the men back at the NGL border.

The ones who said they hadn't heard any news about a giant ant. The very same who said that if they had, their people wouldn't care.

Eyes fell on you for confirmation.

"They were not. But it's not like they could really do anything about the situation. Not as long as it didn't directly benefit them." You answered.

"And you didn't pick anything up?" Killua asked.

"It's hard to say and that's what worries me. Things keep appearing and disappearing. And everything I'm getting is very faint."

A beat of silence.

"They're still following us, aren't they?" Gon questioned.

The translators that had followed you here stood a little ways away from the expedition team. You thought they would've quit by now.

"Unfortunately. But try to ignore them, okay?" You gave a ruffle to his hair, feeling his mood lighten a little.

"They say they're here in case we meet unknown tribes and need interpreters or intermediaries. But they're obviously spies." Killua grumbled.

"My guess is they're hoping to catch us with technology so they can kick us out." Or execute you, but you wouldn't put that idea into their heads.

You sensed a familiar calm aura approach. You were glad you caught it this time, not wanting to be caught off guard for the third time today.

"Well I never expected the people here to be of any help," Kite admitted, catching the attention of both boys.

"But my instincts are saying... it's here somewhere." The three of you tensed at his words.

"And how accurate would you say your instincts are?" You lightly challenged. You didn't want to push, but you didn't exactly like the odds of anything that was less than certain. Not in this scenario.

"As accurate as those eyes of yours."

Damn.

You were starting to have a bad feeling about this.

---------------------------------------

The six of you were back traveling on a rocky path. There was nothing you could do besides continue on, hoping for a lead since Kite had been so sure.

Another flicker of aura before it disappeared. Too far to tell if you were imagining things. But a sick feeling settling in your stomach said differently.

You couldn't tell if people were being killed or knocked out. Woken up or being born. Couldn't exactly see how many there were. Your eyes were becoming strained the more you pushed, so you eventually gave up.

You leaned back onto Kite who, surprisingly, made no move to take his hat back. A part of you was satisfied by the fact. The bigger part of you, however, was concerned.

He was serious now that his suspensions were confirmed. But underneath the calm, was a festering worry. Safe to say you both felt everything was not what it seemed.

You chose to divert your attention elsewhere, for the time being. Opting to check up on the others. Gon's aura was determined as always. He was okay. Killua's was starting to radiate unease. But the leading emotion was confidence. He was okay.

Podungo and Stick were nervous, and you couldn't really blame them. From what Kite had told you, they weren't the best at combat. If you did manage to confront a Chimera Ant, things wouldn't go so well for them. However, you could feel their trust as well. Trust that was most likely directed at Kite's ability to keep them safe.

You didn't bother with the two translators tailing the group. They weren't worth the effort. They hadn't necessarily done anything wrong, but their intentions were clear as day.

You sighed and focused your tired eyes up ahead. A nap was very much needed.

'Zzzzz!'

That noise...

It was loud.

And heading right towards your group.

Your face scrunched up at the small swarm of bees. They had traces of nen on them. How bizarre. Did they belong to a Chimera Ant?

Not likely.

There were no traces of malice or bloodlust. Just frightened desperation.

A scared nen user?

"Stop."

Your command had everyone reaching for their horse's reins. Your tone was one that left no room for argument.

The bees in question came closer, small bundles of paper clutched in their little arms. You could feel sadness from them.

Could insects be sad?

It seemed like it as they dropped the folded paper into Kite's hand, then one in Gon's. Kite opened up the small letter in front of you.

He leaned over your shoulder to read the message, aura growing heavy with tension.

'H E L P! C H I ME R A AN T N E S T

R o C K Y AR E A

N O TI F Y H u N T ER A S S Oc I A T I On!'

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you finished reading.

It was red ink, you told yourself. Just red ink. (Pens were not allowed in the NGL)

A hand reached for yours, folding your fingers to make signs.

'Not good. Dangerous. Can you three handle it?'

You were grateful for the temporary distraction this silent conversation gave. You didn't want to dwell on the 'red ink' for much longer.

'No backing out. My boys are strong. Can handle it. Ask yourself.'

Your signs were faster, but there was a noticeable tremor with your movements. And he briefly wondered what the cause of it was. You weren't scared, were you?

Kite would leave it for now. No point in putting more stress onto whatever had you feeling that way. So, he glanced over at the two boys who were watching with keen interest at your interaction.

"It'll be risky." He warned.

"You sure you wanna come along?"

The image of a small family torn apart because of hubris. He didn't want to see that. So Kite would confirm as many times as it took until he was convinced the outcome wouldn't happen. That these boys were tough and wouldn't die. That you would be strong enough to protect them and look after yourself.

"Yeah."

"We're professionals, aren't we?"

You were right. Those boys didn't hesitate to give their answer. Resolve that almost mirrored your own in their eyes.

It would be enough, for now.

"Miss translator, I'm sorry. But we really must hurry." Kite informed one of the uninvited guests.

A small smirk made its way into your face at the implication of his words. Maybe just this once you'd show off.

"I'm sure the horses can gallop a bit faster if it's necessary." The translator offered.

"Sorry, sweetheart." You said as you dismounted from Gordy.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to go on foot for this one. Sturdy as they are, the horses won't nearly be fast enough."

You walked over to Gon and Killua and helped them down. Both of them grinning up at you in anticipation.

You could hear Kite from behind you address Podungo and Stick. Letting them know to meet up with the rest of his team and inform the Hunter Association.

You could feel the fondness from his aura harden as he turned to face you three.

"Keep up or I'll leave you behind." Kite warned, who was surprised to see the boys already stretching.

"Yup, and right back at you." Killua said.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Gon added.

All three of you looking smug, like there was a secret just between the three of you. And there was. One that was sure to leave the silver haired hunter speechless.

You might've been a little rusty, but damnit if you weren't competitive. Especially with your little sun and moon egging you on.

"Ha! Watch it, princess. You're the one who's gonna have to keep up." Your aura was cocky.

Were you challenging him?

"Boys, what's step 3 of my ability?"

"Speed!!!!" They cheered as they finished stretching.

"Heck Yeah! So how's about I give you a head start? Let's see the progress you've both made since Greed Island!"

"I bet you'll have to use your nen this time!"

"Yeah! We won't make it easy for you to keep up!"

You crouched down to their level with a wide grin.

"Oh yeah? Tell ya what, if I can't catch up to you guys, then I'll carry you anywhere you want for a whole week."

"Deal!"

Kite watched the interaction a little flabbergasted. You were testing the boys at a time like this? No, that wasn't right. You were playing with them in a way that felt like training.

Giving incentives for them to do better.

How completely odd.

But he couldn't deny the way your interactions with the boys had him softening.

'They'll grow on you.'

Yeah. All three of you were growing on him. Ging's son, the Zoldyck boy, and their protector.

"Let's go!" Kite took off with the boys hot on his trail. But not before stealing back his signature hat while you were distracted.

You let out a protest of 'Hey!' as they shrank away from your line of sight.

Their speed was decent, but not enough to give you any real trouble. You'd have to use nen. Just a smidge though. A damn shame. You were hoping to break in a good sweat.

You'd give them five more seconds to leave your base line of vision. You crouched down in a starting position, letting nen coat your legs for the first time in months. (Thanks for that Razor)

"You're not worried about them?" Kite questioned the duo.

"About Y/n? You've got a lot to learn about them." There was pride in Killua's aura as he answered.

"They're so fast, that even Genthru couldn't land a single hit with their leg broken." Gon bragged.

Both boys seemed to light up at the thought of you. Well your prowess, more like. But there was a swell of affection in their aura as well.

They really loved you, didn't they?

Kite's thoughts were cut short by a blur zooming by. A familiar tired presence accompanying it.

---------------

You could smell it before you saw it. A metallic coppery stench that stopped you in your tracks. All mirth gone from your expression. Like your very soul was taken from your body.

You didn't know exactly what was beyond the clearing, but you knew it wasn't good. You expected the possibility, but you didn't expect to come across it so soon. You weren't too sure if you were prepared mentally for whatever lied ahead.

You could sense three familiar auras approach, having caught up at last. Temporarily unaware of the sight they were about to see.

"Ah damnit, they beat us here!" Killua whined.

"I thought we really had them this ti- Y/n? Are you okay?" Concern quickly replacing the bright expression on Gon's face.

Your demeanor was stiff. Head hanging low and hands clenched. You didn't say anything, just pointed forwards.

What could you even say?

It was then that the scent of blood finally reached their noses. Kite was the first to enter the clearing, not wanting to waste anymore time if it was the worst-case scenario.

Killua was second, casting a regretful glance towards you before he left. There was nothing he could do that would make things easier for you.

Gon was the last, not wanting to leave you by yourself in case something happened. Your limits were understood and respected. He wouldn't push you to see if you didn't want to. And if you needed a moment to gather yourself before heading forwards, then you would have it. So he waited a little longer before Killua called out to him.

Disgust, shock, and anger.

Very different reactions you were sensing from each of them. Seems you were right to hang back. And yet, there was this nagging feeling telling you this wasn't right. You shouldn't be sitting back like a coward.

You had a job to do: track down the ants.

And no matter what, you had to follow through. You didn't want to be a burden. Didn't want to hold anyone back. There were temporary solutions to your little problem that would be wise to exploit right about now.

So you closed your eyes as you stepped forward, heading where the scent of blood was strongest.

You were used to the dark. Senses attuned to navigate it. And it wasn't like you would be completely lost, so long as you could sense the aura of the others. It would be enough to lead you for now.

"This is a bullet casing." You recognized the voice as Killua's.

"But I thought anything mechanical was forbidden here, isn't it?" It was Gon who spoke up next, aura radiating anger.

"Just because it's forbidden, doesn't mean it's impossible for things like this to exist here." Your tense demeanor hadn't changed, but you were there nonetheless. The feeling of eyes on you as you emerged from the underbrush.

"And it means the underground rulers of the NGL weren't only manufacturing drugs, but weapons." Kite confirmed.

The swirl of anger only increased in Gon's aura at the news. Seems you weren't the only one who hated the NGL.

"Hey, Killua. Give the bullet here for a sec."

You rarely called him and Gon by their names. Which meant.... Things must've been a lot worse than he thought.

He placed the casing in your outstretched palm. Your fingers traced around it, the tension on your face changing into shock.

"An automatic?!?" Not good. Horrific in fact if an ant had been the one wielding it.

"You're able to tell what gun it was?" Killua asked.

"I used to know a guy whose ability was a bullet that never missed. My best friend actually. Safe to say I know what I'm talking about. I'd give a visualization, but..."

"It's fine." You were doing what you could, so he and Gon would do what you couldn't.

You crouched down towards what you assumed was a puddle of blood. You activated your nen and placed your hand on top of what you realized was a lot more liquid than you were expecting.

It was just water. It was just water. It was just water.

Warm water that had been out in the sun for a while.

Water that stuck to your skin and stained it red.

Just water.

"Whoever this was stood no chance. If they were even human." You noted.

"Yeah but, judging by this...." Killua trailed off. Unease taking over the previous confidence.

"This wasn't a human's doing. Most likely, it was a Chimera Ant." Kite's words left no room for doubt.

Great. Now you had to deal with coked up ants wielding weapons. Just fantastic.

"If my instincts are correct and the Chimera Ants are using firearms now.... I hate to say it, but it's possible the NGL'S underground rulers have already been fed to the queen."

Fed?

It was then that everything clicked for you. Everything you'd been picking up wasn't a strange coincidence.

"So my senses weren't off then."

"You mean the things disappearing and reappearing, right?" The anger from Gon was slowly dissipating, but still very much there.

"Yeah. People have been dying...And the Chimera Ants have been rapidly reproducing. If we don't pick up the pace, things are going to get worse for everyone." With that said, you made a small circle with your unoccupied hand, coating the space with your nen.

You wouldn't be able to stare head on at what happened here, but someone else could.

"Kite, let's confirm those suspicions here and now. Be my eyes for a bit and tell me what you're able to deduce."

It wasn't that you didn't trust the boys, but Kite had the most experience out of the two of them. He would be able to pick up on things they wouldn't have. And right now, you needed to be as precise as possible. No more messing around.

You felt a hand guide your wrist upwards. The disgusts from Kite's aura doubling at what he saw through your little spy glass.

Your ability had highlighted the scene in a way that felt more horrific than the carnage already there.

Small fragments of bone and bullet casings hidden away by the blood. Traces of saliva with a faint feeling of bloodlust. The most notable was a trail of dried bloody footprints leading away from the site.

Footprints that weren't human.

Your ability was proving to be more precise than his En. Whoever had trained you did a hell of a job. It was only a matter of how long you'd be able to hang on with your hemophobia. (Which wasn't hard to deduce from your reaction towards both the note and sight in front of you.)

He let go of your wrist, you and the boys waiting for his assessment.

"What'd you get?" You asked wiping your bloodied hand on your slacks. The nen you summoned long gone.

There was no beating around the bush. The ants were here, and they'd already begun consuming humans. Inheriting their brutality from the Underground rulers.

What was it you said?

If the ants had complex human thoughts, it'd be a lot harder to track them down?

"This will be an unprecedented biohazard."

All of you would have to be on guard.

-----------------------

Fun Fact #12: Y/n's favorite animal is the capybara.

MASTERLIST

Tage: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao

----------------------------------------------------

An: Originally, this chapter was gonna go all the way to the dreaded episode 86, but something happened and I'm going to need to take a short break from writing. So I figured I'd give y'all a shorter version of what I had planned. I'll only be gone for just a few weeks until I can sort myself out, then I'll be back stronger 💪💪 I just don't want to force myself to write and it doesn't come out good. So for now-

TEMPORARY HIATUS

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #gon x reader #killua x reader #mayhaps a kite x reader???#big sib reader #older reader #found family #x reader #platonic

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meowcats734 · 6 months ago

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(prompt response) A tiny dragon and a crow fight over a gold coin. They’re both equally strong, and both can fly. The crow is smart enough to dodge the fire, and the dragon is trying not to melt the coin. They tussle on the street.

We were set for shelter thanks to the Redlands' forgiving climate, and Mairel's ghost combined with my foraging skills meant we were good for food and water. I wasn't exactly sure what the limitations of the ghost were, but Sansen assured me that the soulspace entity from the Plane of Nostalgia was limited in what it could do—mostly, bringing memories from its past to life, spending them one by one.

I felt a little sad taking advantage of the ghost of Sansen's old crush like that, but it was clear from experimentation that the clump of soul fragments that made up Mairel's ghost wasn't sentient, and was perfectly happy to help us in any way it could. If we could have a slightly higher chance of not dying before we found Jiaola and got the hell away from this nightmare war, I'd gladly sacrifice a hundred ghosts and memories to save one living person.

"So how come it's not sentient, but people like Odin and I am?" Meloai asked. I had no idea how her clockwork body repaired itself, but she seemed to have recovered from her flight through the Plane of Elemental Cold, because she could walk longer than any of us—and for the entire day, too. She offered to shapeshift into a horse and give us all a ride, but... something about that just felt sleazy, and it was pretty clear that she had no idea how to control a horse's body anyway, so we all walked for now until we could think up a faster method of transport.

"I think it has something to do with the number of memories that happened to agglutinate at that point in soulspace," Sansen said. "Or maybe the diversity of memories? I could tell that Mairel's ghost was... well, Mairel's. There weren't any elements from other people's minds, as far as I can tell."

"Hey, yeah. And that creepy little mimic I, er, threw into the void way back when—the only soul fragment that came out of that was my mother's. And it sure as hell wasn't sentient."

"That reminds me—what were you doing in the Plane of Elemental Falsehood in the first place?" Lucet asked, tilting her head towards me.

"Odin was fucking with me," I said. It was the safe response. Liquid metal flushed through my soul, but I ignored it. "So, wait, Meloai, when we're feeding you the soul fragments from the animals we hunt, is that making you... smarter, or something?"

Meloai giggled awkwardly. "Sort of? But not in the way you think! I have to, uh, consume a certain amount of memories per day. In theory, I could survive indefinitely by consuming my memories as quickly as I produced them—that's how most soulspace entities just sort of keep existing—but then I wouldn't get to form new memories with you guys, having a good time and learning about the world. So... I consume other things' memories, instead." She paused, frowning. "It's not very efficient, though. I need to eat the right... kind... of memories. Ones charged with insecurity."

"Huh." Lucet turned to Sansen. "Hey, speaking of which, do you have any idea where memories that get eaten by soulspace entities... go? Our old teacher sort of stonewalled us on the topic."

Sansen shrugged. "Too theoretical for my tastes. Wouldn't they just get destroyed?"

"Soul fragments can't get destroyed, only transformed," Meloai said.

"According to the Academy," I added.

"Okay, yeah, but if there's one place where we'd expect a little less propaganda, it'd be the realm of science, no? It's an empirically observed fact, and we ran some experiments to confirm it."

"Yes, true, cool—counterpoint: the Academy harvested our fucking emotions to power their war machine. I'm not trusting anything that came out of that 'education' that I can't verify with my own two hands."

"Hey, uh, guys?" Lucet said. "I hate to interrupt, but... are you three seeing this?"

Sansen muttered something about poor old eyes, but Meloai and I stopped in our banter, turning to face the end of the dirt road we'd been following for the past week.

The village was utterly and clearly ruined, even from this distance. The sky was scribbled over with slashes of darkness, and there wasn't a building taller than an outhouse left standing.

"What is it?" Sansen asked, squinting at the horizon.

Nobody wanted to say "probably a massacre," but I was a Redlander. I was used to it. "Probably a massacre," I said, and my voice was surprisingly calm. It was only the third village I'd seen this way, but it already felt... familiar. Like slipping into an old torture rack, made comfortable from years of use. "It's a standard Redlands tactic. There's some valuable piece of land that everyone wants—a particularly fertile field, a really good aquifer, whatever—but nobody's able to hold it for long. So someone who knows they can't have it decides nobody else can, either, and tears open rifts until the place is uninhabitable. Then they move on to go fight over some other piece of land and forget about it until a year or two have passed and the rifts have mostly closed over. And the next batch of villagers settle in, name the place after the rifts that killed the last group of poor bastards to live there, and hope they have a decade or so before the cycle repeats itself all over again."

"Fuck," Lucet murmured. "I'm sorry, Cienne."

I shook my head. "It's... it's just the way things are. Come on. These rifts don't look as bad as they could be—let's check for survivors."

"What kind of rifts are we walking into?" Sansen absently asked.

"Darkness," I said. "If we encounter a shadow, we should probably just run. Demons of Fear can be fucking terrifying, and I don't... there's nothing here to be happy about. I can't use joy right now."

"Let me see," Sansen said, and two lenses of possibility swirled into existence around his eyes. He shook his head. "Very unlikely for there to be demons in the near future. Best bet is that the forces that clashed here—and let's be real, this was the Silent Peaks against the Order of Valhalla—already dealt with them, one way or another."

"Then let's get going."

Grimly, the four of us marched towards the ruined village, three of us keeping a lookout in space, one of us keeping a lookout in time. Nobody detected any threats, but I was still jumpy for the entire journey.

Meloai and Lucet seemed like they had a pretty good coverage of realspace, so I closed my eyes and looked into soulspace. The cluster of memories that made up Meloai was beginning to grow into visibility, although it was still small in comparison to the souls of the three humans in the party. Aside from us, though, there weren't many lifeforms in the village, and those that were seemed to mostly be dumb animals. I could tell from the emotions—mostly monotone, tiny drops of joy or crystals of sorrow...

...except, wait, I'd nearly overlooked it, since its soul was so small, but there was a more complex soul. It had the simple emotions like sorrow and fear, yes, but there were glass shards of shame and sticky black thorns of self-hatred, and those were emotions I uniquely associated with what it meant to be human.

"Hold on," I said, eyes still closed. "I think I found something. A sapient soul, this way." I pointed towards where the soul would have corresponded to in realspace. Nobody questioned me—with my nine attunements, I had by far the broadest range of emotions I could see with my soulsight, and even though it didn't make me a master witch by any means, it gave me an edge in situations like this.

Even as the four of us inched closer to the broken rubble that I'd sensed the soul in, in my soulsight I felt the soul breaking apart. Fuck, the only person who could tell us what had happened here was already dying. "Quickly," I said, kneeling down to excavate the rubble.

Meloai pushed me aside without even thinking and hefted, clockwork tick-tick-ticking as strength a dozen times more than I could possibly output lifted a massive wooden beam off the ground.

At what she saw beneath, Meloai froze—not in the living, breathing way a human might, but in the perfect form of a statue that reminded me of her home in endless halls of oil and clockwork.

The girl who'd been crushed beneath the falling beam was undeniably dead. Nobody could survive watering the grass like that.

But the soul I had sensed stirred, and I knelt down, lifting up the girl's hand to reveal... a crow. Jet-black, beautiful, bloodied, and broken. But still alive, for now.

"Can you—" Lucet began.

"I never attuned forgiveness," I said, and it was disgusting how level my voice was. "It's not an emotion for me."

"Fuck," Lucet whispered. "And there aren't any other sapient souls in the village?"

"Not that I can sense," I said. Calm, sorrow, passion, insecurity, joy, fear, spite, guilt, self-hatred—even with the nine fields of magic I could now touch, I couldn't even save a fucking crow.

Well. At the very least, my oldest attunement was in perfect working order.

The crow shifted in my hands, letting out a faint wheeze. For a moment, I could have sworn it was trying to tell me something.

And then, in a flash of insight, I realized that it still could.

"You two. Choose an emotion," I said, "and I'll open up a rift. Meloai, you just do what you do."

Lucet blinked, uncomprehending, but Meloai got it immediately. "What?" Lucet asked.

"We've got exactly one witness to what happened here," I explained, "and their memories are about to be scattered throughout thoughtspace. Maybe if we're lucky, we can catch them as they go."

"Worth a shot," Sansen said. "I'll take care of my own rift, thank you."

"I'm... comfortable with the Plane of Sorrow," Lucet said. "You just focus on yourself."

I nodded, oil welling up from my soul as I let my passion swell. The dying crow almost seemed to nod at me as three witches and one demon prepared to dive into the crow's memories.

Then the crow's soul shattered, and I slashed my way between realities to try and catch a shard before it was lost forever.

And I was no longer Cienne, the helpless little boy who was still hopelessly in over his head.

I was the crow. I liked shiny things and eating clams. I disliked fire and pointy knives. I was the crow. I was the crow—

###

Astrenn needed the Shiny. Even though my feathers were singed, even when the Angry Thing swiped at me with its claws, Astrenn needed the Shiny. And so I would get the Shiny. It didn't matter how long it took, it didn't matter how distracting the village was (ooh! Is that tinsel? I love tinsel. No. No, focus. Astrenn needed the Shiny.) The Angry Thing was dumb, and even though it was strong and magical, I was clever-clever, fast-fast. I would win eventually.

The first thing to do was to get to a friendly nest. Right now, we were near the nest of the Large Baker—who used the Angry Things for cook-fires and shooed away me from the Delicious Breads. If the Large Baker came out on the street to investigate, Astrenn would never get the Shiny. So I flew to a nearby bin of Smelly Rotten Mush and tipped it over with a wingflap.

I knew this much about the Angry Things: they had a powerful sense of smell. And so as soon as the Smelly Rotten Mush poured out onto the street (to the dismay of the Large Baker), the Angry Thing awkwardly flapped away, the Shiny in its claws. I grabbed a small pebble (and a tinsel, for later), and shot into the sky, my feather-silent wings swift where the clunky, impossible weight of the Angry Thing farted along on inelegant wind magic.

"Caw," I said, and released the stone.

The Angry Thing must have been stupid, because it didn't even try to dodge the stone that thunked on its head. Unfortunately, the Angry Thing was a big ball of scales (shiny? No, not Shiny. Focus. Astrenn needed the Shiny) and probably wasn't even hurt by the rock. Which was no fair. Even the hard-hard-hard clams from the market got split open by a high-heavy-dropped rock. But at the very least, the Angry Thing dropped the Shiny, letting it twinkle to the ground like a wish upon a star.

Astrenn would get the Shiny. Astrenn had to get the Shiny.

I dove down, folding my wings tight and close to my body like how I'd seen the swooping-fast-kill-above birds do, and snatched the Shiny out of the air. The Angry Thing dove after me, but it had fallen into my trap.

For these fields of amber grain were the nests of the Old Farmer, and they appreciated me for my ability to hunt-find-eat mice more than the Angry Things that set their barns and crops on fire.

The Angry Thing dove after me, heat lighting up in its maw as I settled on the ground, and I knew the Angry Thing thought it had victory in its stupid little claws.

But then, like a thunderbolt, a broom head slapped the Angry Thing out of the sky as the Old Farmer scolded it.

"Back, you silly little dragon! I won't have you burning the barn down today!" The Old Farmer had skin like wrinkle-walnuts, and he was unamused by the Angry Thing's presence in his nest. Another two broom slaps swept the defeated Angry Thing away, and the Old Farmer gave me a piercing look.

"Say... you're my daughter's friend, aren't you?" The Old Farmer chuckled to himself. "You clever little thing. Well, go on. She's waiting for you where we buried... oh, why am I bothering? You can't understand me; you're just a crow. Astrenn! Your crow's here to visit!"

I flapped towards the barn, where Astrenn was waiting. The little girl who'd once taken me in, feeding me, and keeping me warm when the nights grew cold. Astrenn had saved my life when she was a hatchling, and I would do anything for Astrenn in return.

Astrenn needed the Shiny. And finally, I had delivered.

Astrenn looked up from the small lump of freshly-turned earth, the small, carved rock that stood where a mother should have been. Her cheeks glistened with sparkling droplets of water, but for once, I only wanted to wipe these shinies away.

"There you are, you silly lump of feathers." Astrenn sniffled and held out her arm; I hopped on and nuzzled her cheek. "What've you got for me today?"

I said, "Caw," and relinquished my treasures. A single gold coin for Astrenn, and a bit of tinsel for me.

Astrenn giggled. "You crazy crow—where'd you get this? Mother would have fed you plump for days. Come on—we can still send her off, if we hurry."

Astrenn pocketed the Shiny and hurried into the market, exchanging the Shiny for some smaller sparkles and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

Then Astrenn and I returned to Astrenn's mother's grave, placing the flowers in the center. After a moment of thought, I delicately balanced my tinsel on top, and Astrenn closed her eyes that shone like stars.

"She would have loved you, you pretty little girl."

"Caw," I said, perhaps agreeing, perhaps simply being there for my friend.

And Astrenn and I knelt there in mourning, until the sun bled red and the greatest shinies of all twinkled in the night sky above.

###

Time flickered, stepped, and jumped, and I was back in my body. Back in realspace. Back in the ruined, darksky village.

Back by the corpse of a girl named Astrenn who loved to feed crows.

"It was them," Lucet whispered by my side. "The Order and the Peaks. They fought here."

"Yeah." The words came out of my mouth. "I get that."

My friends gave me odd looks, but I couldn't hear what they said next over the sudden rush of my heartbeat in my ears. Worried, Lucet stood to put a hand on my shoulder, but as if I was in a dream, I walked forwards and my friends fell away.

"You guys keep looking," I managed to say. "I'll be right back."

"Cienne, where are you—" Lucet started to say, before someone cut her off. Probably Sansen. I loved Meloai, but... it would be Sansen who stopped her.

I stepped into the middle of a blackened, ruined field. Now that I knew what to look for, it was obvious that this was where the Peaks had called down one of their devastating strikes of pure light. The crops here had been burnt to ash, but that was okay. The bodies, the blood, the ruins—they would just make more fertile soil, more desirable targets for the next time war came to this horrible, beautiful place that I called home.

This coming spring harvest we'll do it again

From the first bitter dawn to the pitiful end.

My heart thumped to the mournful tune of the Redlands Anthem, and I clenched my fists and my jaw and my soul and my everything, everything was dense and hot and furious—

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And the bastards that got them, we'll see them in—

I let loose a wordless, bloody, guttural shriek, and a torrent of fury and sorrow and self-hatred screamed out with it, heat that warped the air as much as my tears, frost that numbed my flesh as deep as my soul, and I was falling, shrinking, fading into nothingness as the storm of ice and fire that was my love and loss reached so high it nearly split the sky in two.

When it was over, I was curled up in a patch of melting frost, surrounded by ruined, incinerated earth. My soul was empty. I was empty. I was so, so weak, and if a gust of wind so much as touched me, I would blow away into dust.

From behind me, I heard the frost crunch as someone stepped up to me, waited, then laid down by my side. Reaching out to loop one arm around my chest, holding me tight and close.

I closed my eyes and let Lucet hold me, the anthem of the Redlands echoing in my ears as my soul went quiet and still, falling asleep in a cradle of frost and flame.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

First

Table of Contents

#writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writblr #serial fiction #fiction #series #web serial #oc #soulmage #dark academia #fantasy #high fantasy #magic #worldbuilding

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burnwater13 · 2 months ago

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Grogu looking over at another student at the school in Nevarro City. Grogu is sitting at a desk. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 4, The Siege. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu thought, on the whole, that he had spent far too much of his time in school. First, every day of every year for twenty two standard years at the Jedi Temple and now, for a couple of hours on Nevarro. Those few hours brought back all of the feelings, and thoughts, and frustrations of those first twenty two years. Every. One. Of. Them.

In the big scheme of things, Grogu knew it had been a tiny fraction of his actual life. But that really didn’t make anything better. He still had to sit there and pretend the kid next to him wasn’t selfish and that the teacher wasn’t programmed poorly, and that the other kids weren’t fascinated and kind of weirded out by him as the same time. Just like at the Jedi Temple, only this time without his best friend being there and having his back.

That’s right. Without Ian, his time at the Jedi Temple wouldn’t have been interesting or fun or dramatic or high stakes or any of those other things he’d experienced with his favorite pal. He wouldn’t have learned nearly as much about ethics, planning, re-planning, acting, the Force, and all of that. Ian was his educational linch pin. He gave Grogu a reason to be excited about learning every day because Grogu never knew when those lessons might just come in handy.

If Ian had been present during the discussion of smugglers routes, the Hydian way, and pirates active in the Outer Rim, the next thing the two of them would have been doing was tapping into the vast information resources in the Jedi Library and finding away to obtain rare and interesting objects from far away places, like the candied gorgs from Cantonica or the chocolate covered cava nuts from Naboo. As it was, those items were obtained through street vendors in one of the lower level markets at an obscene amount of credits.

Grogu never asked Ian how he’d managed to accrue those credits because you don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. Based on the information he’d picked up during his twenty years away from Temple and Coruscant, Grogu was certain that if they’d known about the pirates and smugglers they would have gotten a much more competitive price from those vendors.

That was another great thing about having a best friend in the same class you attended. You could test your knowledge right off the bat. You could climb very high in the Life tree and jump and use the Force to help you float down like a tiny green flutterby or you could stand on the ground, look up, panic, and arrest your best friend’s downward descent because it was clear that he was testing you the best way he knew how. Grogu missed that aspect of his friend a lot.

The kids in the classroom were bored. Grogu could understand that. How many days in a row had the protocol droid ‘taught’ them about pirates, when their families and friends already knew about pirates and bounty hunters and Mandalorians just because they lived on Nevarro in the back of beyond in the Outer Rim? There was no telling, but Grogu was pretty sure that the answer was greater than one and only slightly less than infinity. That was a very conservative estimate.

Now, he was stuck in the classroom with these younglings and he’d already lived a strange and dangerous life that he wouldn’t wish on any of them. And really, that was the most galling part of being left behind. He wasn’t just older than these children, he was older than the protocol droid teaching them. He had nothing in common with them except for some impatience and real desire for the ‘school day’ to be over already.

Which made him miss Ian even more. At the end of their lessons, the two of them would compare notes and then go off to get some food and determine what kind of research they needed to conduct. Did Master Drallig really have a lightsaber that once belonged to a Sith? Did the candy in Master Kenobi’s desk actually come from Dathomir? If you asked Master Beq to review your homework prior to turning it in for a final grade would that really result in the kitchen staff sending you a frozen dessert? The research opportunities were plentiful and varied. Grogu missed that almost as much as his missed his friend.

At least he could show these children something they had never seen before. They were far too young to have ever met a person who could ‘use’ the Force. Which was great! That meant they didn’t know if he was just performing a magic trick, which required forward planning and a co-conspirator, not. It also meant that they didn’t know if using the Force to snag of a sleeve of tasty, crunchy things was hard or easy peasy. He hoped that they would think it was hard. That way they wouldn’t ask him to do things like that every time they saw him and they would understand that hard work required substantial rewards.

After all, as much as he liked sweet crunchy things, he preferred that those things were small frogs, gorgs on a stick, or the occasional plate of krayt dragon meat. If he was going to do the ‘magic’ hand thing for them, the least they could for him is provide his favorite snack. Ian would be upset with him for accepting anything less than the best, because he deserved it.

“Listen, kid. You gotta know your value. If we were on Corellia I could charge at least a credit person just for them to see you. If you used the Force, well, the sky’s the limit!”

Yup. When you have friends, the sky really is the limit.

#the mandalorian #grogu #star wars

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destinyc1020 · 11 months ago

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We can admit that it's crazy to have people that hate the relationship of TZ, particularly when they claim to be a fan of one of them. But we also have to admit that there are some tomdayas that take it too far. Like the bunch of anons that want Z to fire Darnell so that he's no longer her live-in assistant. They just don't understand that most rich people have live-in staff and that has nothing to do with their romantic relationships. They live in huge houses and they can afford to have rooms for their closest staff. Or that get mad if Tom and/or Z are working and they can't be temporarily in the same place. Tom and Z are the ones in the relationship and they are the ones that should decide how to conduct it. They both have very close friends and family that can offer them advice. It's not worth it to get mad about the relationship of someone that doesn't know us

Yea Anon, it's true, even some shippers can take things a bit too far at times, and be a bit much, or think that things should be run a certain way, or feel that they should dictate Tom or Z's life, but that's crossing a line imo.

At the end of the day, someone's decision is their own decision, and we have to respect it. We may not always LIKE it, but we have to at least respect that they have their own autonomy and usually know each other better than any of us do. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Re: Darnell...

I will NEVER understand some fans and their complaints against Darnell working for Z. Shoooot..... LISTENNNN....If Darnell EVER decided to leave working for Zendaya, I would GLADLY take Darnell's spot, you hear me?? 😂😅

Let's see....uhhhh.....

I would get to live in a lovely mansion of a home in gorgeous sunny Southern California without having to pay a fraction of what the rent costs out there (I know Zendaya is NOT charging him the amount of rent that a landlord would charge in LA)

I would have job security (she's ALWAYS going to work and need an assistant)

I'd be able to fly all over the world (sometimes even on a private jet) for Zendaya's work events 😁✈️

I would get to meet, schmooze and hobnob with some of the biggest actresses and hottest actors in town 😌 💅🏽

I'd get to be on movie sets, watch how films are made (my DREAM!! 😁) and meet some really cool and amazing people! 😎

I'd have the finest of everything coz Zendaya has the finest of everything (her accommodations are MY accommodations)

Did I mention that I wouldn't have to worry about a roof over my head?? 😅

I'd get to spend lots of time with Tom lol 😍😍

Oh, and I'd be getting PAID 💰

Don't get me wrong, being an assistant of a Hollywood actor or actress is a LOT of hard work, but you also get many perks, and it's a pretty cool job imo. 😉

Idk why fans knock Darnell's hustle. He makes good money (I'm sure), and he does an honest day's hard work. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Why would you leave your employer if you're already getting so many benefits?

I don't understand why fans want Darnell to leave his good job so bad? 🥴

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glade-constellation · 5 months ago

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I was thinking about silly bird things that the Starborn characters would do, and came up with ideas for the type of nests/rooms they would all have. Most of this is hypothetical, as a lot of the Starborn don’t actually have rooms where they live. Since they’re not super important to plot, I thought I’d share! (Some TSAMS characters might be missing, that is intentional!)

Sun

He would have a big nest, something way too big for just one person but covered in blankets, plushies, and generally soft things. He likes to be warm, so definitely thick blankets and pillows. He would have a lot of cat themed things too. Probably a rectangle mattress, it has just a little more room than a round one. His room would be extremely clean, all of his stuff would be, but he has a lot of clutter. He tends to save everything he gets from the children he helps. Cat towers/beds for his familiars when they don’t want to sleep in the bed with him. He does save the feathers he loses, he has a few specific pillows he puts them in if he’s not saving them for jewelry, but he currently does not have anyone to share them with. He used to keep a wolf plushie with them. It is no longer there.

Moon

The bare-bone basics, and he’s probably had the same set up forever. Rarely actually sleeps, doesn’t see a point in having a nest he’s never going to use. He’s also aroace, there’s not really anyone he’s trying to impress with fancy looks. He’s got old feathers all over the place, but it’s just because he doesn’t pick them up.

Earth

The biggest collection of squishmallows you have ever seen, plus a lot of handmade things. Knitted blankets and plushies, handmade crafts, lots of plants of both the fake and real variety. Circle mattress, she thinks the shape is pretty. She even has a heated blanket for when Monty comes over, since he is cold-blooded. She would need a walk-in closet for the amount of clothes she has, it’s quite the collection. There even stuff in there she can’t wear with her wings. She plans to either sew them to fit or just has them because she likes them. Lots of pastels. She gives handmade feather jewelry to all her loved ones, but Monty definitely has the most.

Lunar

He would probably just have a nest made of beanbags if his family let him, lmao. It’s a small round mattress lined with beanbags. Not a lot of blankets, they’re too restricting, but lots of pillows and plushies. Somehow always wakes up in the weirdest positions and his plushies all over the floor. He doesn’t use his room much, so the other side of the room is set up for his familiar, who he calls Spigot. He’s like Moon in the fact that he has loose feathers scattered around, but it’s not as bad as Moon and he does start keeping some of them after a run in with a certain Astral.

Solar

Also pretty basic. Round mattress, sheets and a comforter, couple pillows, a few knitted things here and there. He doesn’t want to lose the bracelet Earth gave him, so he keeps in displayed in his room. Most of his decor is either from Earth or Lunar. A few fake planets he doesn’t have to remember to water. Honestly, most of what he owns isn’t his, it was gifts from his family. He’s, not quite sure who gave him his googles, but they feel extremely important to him.

Eclipse

He lives with Y/N, and they share a room. It started that way at first so Y/N could keep an eye on his injuries through the night, and he just kind of started making himself at home. Massive round mattress, honestly shocking that this thing could be ordered from a human manufacturer. Eclipse does not like feeling small, so he doesn’t like shrinking down just to sleep. His feet often still stick over the edge. He doesn’t sleep under the comforter, doesn’t like feeling restricted either and his wings suffice. He does hoard things he likes, lots of very shiny things. All of the pillows and even some of the mattress are full of his feathers. He hides those things around the whole house. That’s his. No one else can have it. (Y/N also has many feathers, they are allowed to keep any they like :] this man is a massive flirt )

Solar Flare

Flare likes to keep blankets specifically, and has a similar situation to Earth and Sun without the handmade things. He typically goes for the giant plushies. A lot more of his plants are live. Also likes to keep his room unusually warm. He has curtains around his bed, the translucent mesh. It helps him feel more covered without making it dark. He hates the dark. He has LED lights on the wall along with fairy lights and lamps everywhere. Likes lava lamps, they’re fun to watch. He doesn’t have feathers, but he does collect them from outside from wild birds. Birds are his favorite animals.

Goth-royal core. There’s like, levels to his room, each separate by another layer of silk curtains. He has so many shiny little things decorating his space, very obvious that this man has crow instincts and hoards any cool or pretty thing he finds. Definitely lots of bones. Not really a mess, but he has a lot of stuff. He is another case of “why is the bed this big”, and it is pitch black in there once you close the curtains. He does have a lot actually on his bed, but he does do the same as Eclipse and fill all of his pillows with his own feathers. He has to make the most comfortable nest he can for his Lily <3 (An OC who plays a big human role in the story!) His feather jewelry is very intricate, he takes his time making something people will feel jealous of.

Bloodmoon

Despite Bloodmoon technically being an unsplit pair, they hate separating. They pretty much share all their stuff. It’s a mess, nothing has a set place, there’s ripped pillows and loose feathers all over the floor. They don’t even really have a mattress, it’s just a mass of blankets they never actually use as blankets. There are bones all over the place. Some of it was stuff they found … but most of it was alive when they brought it in.

Gemini

They have three beds. A small circle mattress for when they are Gemini and a bunk bed. They fight over the top bunk all the time, but Castor is a good brother and lets Pollux have it. Lots of starry decor. Pollux has a lot of plushies, Castor has a lot of pillows, and Gemini has a lot of blankets. They are not allowed to keep their feathers, Creator’s orders. Astrals simply have too much power to let any part of themselves get in the hands of other beings. They don’t get to spend a ton of time in their room, they are very busy, so there’s not much in there.

Newton

OC character! The newest Astral of the group. They are meticulous in how their room looks, very silver and monochrome. What little color they do have really pops against the duller surroundings, and is typically star themed. They have a loft bed, they don’t like sleeping down low. It’s kind of a corner bed attached to a circle bed. The lower portion is covered in curtains and has a comfy area underneath though. Most of their plushies and pillows are hidden under there. They also are a big fan of birds, but don’t have a large collection of feathers like Flare has. They also have a familiar, reminiscent of a harpy eagle.

#🌟 Ten Talks #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #starborn au #tsams sun #tsams moon #tsams earth #tsams lunar #tsams solar #tsams eclipse #tsams solar flare #tsams killcode #tsams kc #tsams bloodmoon #tsams gemini #oc newton

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piratefishmama · 2 years ago

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Live to Serve (You) | Part 5

When Steven Harrington, young Prince of the capital was just seven years of age (and quite mature for his age thank you very much), he met the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in his young life. He’d been trailing around his mother all day after she’d told him that he’d be getting a personal servant that very morning, nervous over the prospect of it, a personal servant, what would they be like?

His mother hadn’t given him much else in the way of information, were they to be a grown up? Someone who’d be allowed to be mean and boss him around? Were they to be a man or a woman? Would they force him into routines he didn’t like? Force him to eat foods he didn’t want to eat?

His mother had been trying to get him into certain habits after all. Waking up early, going to his lessons, reading more, etcetera.

But then he’d been called from his hiding place among the mini conifer trees, forced into revealing his presence to the adults and all thoughts of hesitance and fear for his future days vanished in an instant.

He’d never seen a more beautiful boy in his life.

All big, beautiful brown eyes, soft fair skin, and dark curly hair, gods above so much curly brown hair, Steve could feel his heart trying to leap out of his throat, he pushed it down, replaced it with words instead. “Hey, uh… you can call me Steve.” Smooth, very smooth use of words. He ignored his mothers little scoff. Whatever, it worked, the boys soft cheeks blossomed in such a pretty warm pink, Steve was calling it a personal victory. He even tried a quick “...hello?” to try and show he wasn’t at all as flustered by the boy as the boy seemed to be by him, he was confident, a Prince! He didn’t get nervous around cute boys.

“E-Ed…Edd—ehh—hah uhm…”

His voice... God’s it was sweet, soft, and nervous, stuttering through an attempt at introduction and Steve felt his confidence bolster, his smile widened. “Eddie? Haha, okay,” Steve’s laughed but not unkindly, he laughed with happiness and joy and it worked because Eddie seemed to smile bashfully. “Nice to meet you, Eddie! Guess we’re stuck together for the long haul then, eh?”

“The long haul… s-sounds… that sounds good.” It sounded great!

And sure enough, what followed was a somewhat painful adjustment period, but Steve couldn’t even be mad about it. Every morning he got to wake up to Eddie’s face, sometimes it was a little flushed from exertion trying to open the curtains, a little stressed from rifling through his closet for clothes that his mother might or might not like, but no amount of morning grouchiness could linger when he got to hang out with Eddie for most of his day in between lessons that Eddie would walk him too, and breakfasts with his mother that Eddie would hang around for, not eating with them but he’d be with them.

But very quickly, once they’d figured out a solid morning routine, Steve came to realise that nothing, nothing on Earth could compare to waking up with Eddie right there.

Maybe he was a bit young for that, and maybe he wasn’t entirely sure of the gravity of that thought process but… the day Eddie tried waking him up with the stroke of gentle fingers through his hair, the curtains still drawn and the smells of breakfast far enough away to not bother him, the day Steve first experienced the bliss of waking up like that… he knew he never wanted to wake up any other way ever again.

He woke up rested, he woke up happy, he woke up to Eddie’s tired but smiling face and all was right with the world. He didn’t care that he had lessons, because most days he could convince Eddie in between them to read to him in the library and nobody could read better than Eddie could.

He did all the voices, silly ones, croaky ones for old people, or pitchy feminine ones for the maidens, he made the stories interesting, and even though Steve would inevitably find himself lulled into a light slumber by his voice, those moments were still some of the best ones of his young life.

Probably why his mother didn’t seem even remotely surprised when he approached her the evening before his sixteenth birthday to ask for her advice.

“How did father court you?” He didn’t have to tell her why he was asking, it was a little unorthodox, courting a servant, especially a male servant but… nowhere in the rules did it state that he had to produce an heir by blood, just… produce one. Could grab one off the street if he really wanted to! It just… wasn’t talked about very much.

And even if it wasn’t, he’d be king eventually, try and stop him.

He didn’t have to tell her though, because “Is this about Edward?” She already knew. “Oh don’t look so surprised Steven, I’ve seen you trailing after that boy like a lost puppy, it’s unbecoming of a prince, he should be trailing after you.” At least Steve had the decency to flush under her deadpan judgement.

“Okay, okay, I get it, but… how do I make that happen?” He’d never courted anyone before! He was sixteen! It was getting pathetic!

“Hm… well, you’ll have plenty of time before your party tomorrow evening, why don’t you take him out for a ride in the morning? Back when your father and I were courting, he’d make it a point to have us share a horse, just so he could wrap his arms around me as we rode, then while out in the fields he’d show me how to ride even though I’d been riding for years, he’d even bring me a pair of his gloves to wear so I could hold the reins as if I didn’t have my own, such a buffoon.” The words said fondly, and a slight bit wistfully. Those days for her were long since over and done with. “Steven… you do know that your father will have plans for you, yes? You’re sixteen tomorrow, dear… he will want you seen with the ladies at court, not galivanting around with your servant.”

“Yes but… Eddie.”

“But Eddie” she parroted in a huff of amusement “well, perhaps it would be best to hurry your little schemes up then. Your father will not wait forever and a woman on a mission to capture a prince can be awfully persuasive when given the chance.”

“Pfft, I do not care for their schemes.”

“You have not yet experienced them, dearest.” His mother rose from her chair and stepped to his front, leaning down she pressed a kiss into his thick head of hair, gripped his shoulders in a gentle hold and turned him toward the door “now go get your rest. Dream sweet dreams my little Prince.”

Of course he didn’t take into account the possibility that Eddie’s seemingly endless list of skills would include riding a dang horse. He didn’t take into account that a young man probably wouldn’t claim to not know how to do something he obviously knew how to do. Eddie wasn’t a young maiden, he was a young man without a single inkling as to why Steve was stuttering through an attempt to have them share a horse.

“Right. Right ok, yeah that makes sense, or else Sommer would have been the only one saddled. Right.” At least Eddie was smiling, gods his smile was like a dream come true. “I’ll just... yeah.” The extra pair of slightly too small for himself gloves burning a hole in his pocket as he hurried off to gather his own steed, Eddie would absolutely ask why he’d brought an extra pair when Steve eventually presented them to the boy, but…

The crushing defeat of a plan destroyed before it could even begin, well… it was best to just claim there to be no reason and go about their day of freedom, even if the whole plan he had for the day went out of the window with them not sharing a damn horse.

Dangit mother!!

It didn’t matter, they had fun anyway. Their day of chasing each other through the fields blending into a night of festivities where Eddie managed to pilfer a lute from the musicians, playing a song in the corner for Steve that had a few others lingering around to listen to, Eddie was always just… so full of warmth around him.

So many smiles, such a softness in those warm brown eyes, Steve knew he’d messed up that particular attempt at revealing his intentions but… he had time.

He had more than enough time. Time moved so quickly when you didn’t want it too though.

Before he knew it, time had passed, Seventeen passed without much success, the following year only continuing his terrible streak of luck, another year of waking up to Eddie’s gentle fingers brushing through his hair, his soft but deepening voice cooing his name until it roused him from slumber, another year of chasing the boy around the palace to hang out with him, to drag him into shenanigans and take him out riding, another year of lessons and hiding in the library, another year of forgetting to simply tell him that he wanted nothing more than to take him somewhere private and kiss him until stars dotted their visions and breathing became a problem then they could figure out what came after kissing together cause he was sure other stuff came after kissing and while he wasn’t entirely sure what, he wanted to learn with Eddie.

Eighteenth birthday party. That was it. He was going to do it. He was going to kiss Eddie and see where that took them. He was going to walk over there where Eddie was making people laugh with his eccentricities and his musical gifts and he’d—

“Steven, come here boy.” His father’s voice caught his attention from the left “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

She had curly hair. Dark brown hair full of thick, natural curls, fair skin, plump lips, big chocolate brown eyes, and she smiled at him with a bashful warmth. His father pulled him in by the arm once he drew closer. “Father?”

“Steven, this is Miss Gillespie.”

“Eleanor, your highness.” She dipped into a low curtsey, eyes never once leaving his as she dipped, her arms pressed into her sides as she held the fabric of her dress outward, the full curve of her cleavage pushed up by her movements. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“I…uhm, hello, I’ve uh… never seen you around here before…” she returned to her full height, the smile on her painted lips as unwavering as the inviting darkness of her gaze.

“No your highness, I cannot imagine you would have. I am quite new to your city, it is quite beautiful.”

“Steven, why don’t you show the young lady around the palace, I’m sure you’ve mingled enough with the riff raff by now that you won’t be missed for a moment.”

“Huh?” His father was already gently urging him to go, nudging his back with the flat of his palm, the lady making quick work of hooking her arm around his pressing in close to his side, his arm against her bosom. “B-but I—”

“Go.” His fathers words final.

See, Steve meant what he’d said to his mother that day a year ago. He really hadn’t cared about the schemes of women, women who knew what they wanted and knew how to get it. He really hadn’t.

Until he experienced them.

Until he experienced what came after kissing felt like. What talented lips and experienced fingers could do to render him mush in seconds. What they could do to make him forget plans he’d had, make him forget about his party, his people, his Eddie, until the morning after when instead of fingers in his hair gently rousing him from sleep, he was rudely awoken by the harsh glare of sunlight and a tightly clipped, “Breakfast is waiting, your highness.” from his friend, before his bedroom door was slammed shut leaving him wide awake and terribly confused.

Part 7

#PirateWrites #Live To Serve (You)#Ficlet #WE HAVE STEVE'S PERSPECTIVE #this was meant to be a whole end chapter #but it got too long lmao #so this is part 1 of a 2 part end!

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