#and that still wasn’t anywhere near the disaster this battle was!!!

[couldbebetterforsure]

Shoutout to Mr. Atticus Pokémon for putting the fear of God in me by nearly wiping out my whole team. My squad was on even levels with his it’s just that he had an answer for basically everyone or ended up hitting WAY harder than I expected. It turned into a war of attrition and I used up a good number of Super Potions and Lemonades trying to hang on by a thread! Trueno and Freyja ended up being the only survivors, and just barely at that!!! Holy fuck thank goodness Freyja’s immune to Poison and otherwise tanked everything else (including a bunch of super effective moves) or this would’ve been a complete shitshow on my end!!!

Well I never claimed to be a master Pokémon player…….Even after all these years………

Anyways, in more positive news, still making great progress in this game! Halfway done with the gyms, the Team Star bosses, and the Titans! Same thing with the academy classes. So basically halfway through the game! I am aware of certain endgame spoilers but I don’t mind, I’m still having a good time! And other than a few minor graphical glitches I have been safe from glitches spoiling my fun! The characters have been very likable so far but, as my Tumblr will tell you, Arven is the one I’m fondest of. Very predictable of me, I had a feeling it’d be him from back when we first got previews, but I was really surprised by how much he ended up clicking with me. As I said in some of my tags on other posts I haven’t clicked this hard with a human Pokémon character since Ash himself!

I also had some evolutions! So my squad is now Carmine the Floragato, Trueno the Pawmot, Anyu the Dachsbun, Gwendolyn the Ceruledge, Freyja the Tinkatuff and Havilland the Kilowattrel.

I haven’t spoken about the evolutions much yet have I? Carmine is adorable and I know the final evo is stage magician based and, potential unpopular opinion, but I really love it and am looking forward to him reaching his final evo. I really love how Pawmot looks like a little shounen protagonist, it’s as funny as it is adorable, especially considering my Trueno is a girl 😆 Anyu my precious baked pupper, my (literally) sweet girl~! Gwendolyn looks soooooooo badass as a Ceruledge, my girl is ready to KILL. Freyja definitely looking more confident and I wanna see her get her giant hammer in her final stage so bad! And, as I’ve said before, did NOT expect Havilland to be sooo huge but he is my big bird and I love him!

[hendersister]

hazy shade of winter

summary: after vecna opens the gates, you and steve decide to stay behind in hawkins to help clean up the mess.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: hazy shade of winter by the bangles

It’s been about a month since Vecna opened the gates to the Upside Down. A lot has changed since that fateful March night. Hawkins is almost unrecognizable now. 

As the gates opened, Hawkins was rocked with a 7.4 magnitude earthquake. People died, homes were destroyed. It was so bad that the government had to bring in the Army to help deal with the fall out. They believe what happened in Hawkins was a natural disaster of near-unprecedented scale, but you know the truth. There was nothing natural about it… 

Since the gates expanded throughout town, the Upside Down has been slowly seeping into the real world. It’s invading Hawkins. People are fleeing in droves and you don’t blame them. 

You’ve changed a lot too. Before Vecna, you were looking forward to leaving Hawkins and going off to college. Now that feels like a lifetime ago. You aren’t going anywhere anymore. Things are getting bad in Hawkins and you want to be close to your mom and your little brother, Dustin, during this time.

You and the rest of the party lost the battle against Vecna. You feel partially responsible and now you feel like it's your job to clean up the mess Vecna made. Vecna may have won the battle when he opened the gates, but the war has just begun. You are not leaving town until the gates are closed and threats from the Upside Down are gone for good. 

Your boyfriend, Steve, feels the same way. You and Steve had talked about getting out of Hawkins before everything happened. But now he’s just as committed as you to stay behind and help save Hawkins. You’re so grateful to have Steve by your side. He makes you feel safe. 

Even though the world is ending, the show must go on. Your life didn’t completely stop because of Vecna. You’re still moving forward and hitting big milestones, like graduating high school. Today was Graduation Day for Hawkins High. You’re happy and excited that school’s out, but with everything else going on, it didn’t feel like a big deal like it was supposed to. 

The graduation ceremony was weird. A lot of people fled town before the school year ended so you only graduated with about half of your class. But at least you had Steve, Dustin and your mom in the stands cheering you on. There were memorials for Chrissy Cunningham, Jason Carver and Patrick McKinney. Sadly but not surprisingly, Eddie wasn’t even mentioned. He should’ve been walking across that stage with you and the rest of class of ‘86.

After Graduation, you went out for a celebratory meal with Steve, Dustin and your mom. Then you and Steve went off to do your own thing. 

You’re currently lying on the hood of Steve’s car, stargazing. It’s something that you and Steve used to do all the time. You fell in love under the stars. Unfortunately, you can’t really see the stars in Hawkins anymore. You’re mostly just watching spores of particles from the Upside Down falling from the sky. It reminds you of a hazy shade of winter.

“If things get any worse here, I think we should go to the planetarium next time we want to watch the stars,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

“Mhmmm,” Steve mumbles.

You look over to Steve, studying his face. You’re trying to get a read on him. You’ve noticed he’s been acting a bit off since dinner ended. He’s a lot more quiet than usual. Something is up with him.

“Steve, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” you try to get your boyfriend to open up.

Steve sighs. 

“It’s nothing…. It’s just…. My parents are leaving Hawkins and putting the house up for sale,” Steve reluctantly admits.

Your jaw drops.

“What?! That doesn’t sound like nothing!” you exclaim.

“My mom and dad are moving but I’m not going anywhere,” Steve assures you. 

You let out a sigh of relief. Your boyfriend continues venting.

“The worst part is that they won’t let me stay at home even though they will never be able to sell it. My asshole dad is just trying to teach me some stupid lesson…”

“When did you find out about this?” you question Steve.

“Last night,” your boyfriend answers.

“Last night!? Why didn’t you say anything earlier today?” you scrunch your forehead.

“It’s your day, Y/N. I didn’t want to make it about me,” Steve tells you.

Your heart melts a little bit. Steve is so sweet and selfless. Despite all the shit going on in his own life, he always puts you first. You snuggle up closer to your boyfriend, wrapping a protective arm across his chest.

“When are your parents leaving?” you ask with concern.

“They’re trying to leave as soon as possible so I need to find a new place like immediately,” Steve explains, “I don’t think it’s gonna be too hard. With everyone leaving town, I can probably rent a whole house for pretty cheap.”

Some people who fled Hawkins put their homes up for rent because they knew they could never sell it. Most of the renters are people whose homes were destroyed when the gate opened but are too poor to move out of Hawkins and completely start over.

“I don’t like the thought of you being all alone,” you say with a quiet seriousness in your voice. 

Steve takes a deep breath and nods, understanding. He can tell that you’re worried. He’s trying to figure out the right words to say, and then-

“I wouldn’t be alone if you moved in with me…”

You pull away from Steve and sit up. You’re in a bit of shock. You weren’t expecting that.

“Huh?”

“I think we should move in together,” Steve repeats with more confidence

Your eyes widen.

“Are you serious? Like we’d live in a house that we both live in?”

Steve nods.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sneaking over to your place like every other night anyways. Moving in together will mean less sneaking around,” he tries to convince you.

“But I thought you liked sneaking around. You’re stealthy like a ninja, remember?” you tease.

“Just think about it, Y/N! We’ll get a little place in Hawkins and we’ll figure it out. We can be like real grown ups. It would be our house. No stress, no parents. A place just for us,” your boyfriend says.

Just for us. That sounds perfect.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you smile.

Steve’s face lights up.

“Really?”

“Really,” you nod before pulling your boyfriend into a kiss.

You and Steve are making out on the hood of his car when-

GROWL

You and Steve stop kissing immediately as soon as you hear the growls in the distance. You two exchange knowing looks. You have no idea if it's just an animal or a far more sinister creature from the Upside Down, but neither you or Steve want to stick around and find out.

“I think we should get out of here,” Steve tells you.

“Yeah,” you nod your head in agreement.

Steve jumps off the hood of the car and offers his hand. You take your boyfriend’s hand and he helps you off the hood. Steve opens the car door on the passenger’s side and you quickly get in. Steve closes your door and looks around, making sure that nothing is trying to sneak up on the two of you. Then he goes around to the driver’s side and gets in the car.

As Steve drives away, you can’t help but be a little bummed that your moment of bliss was interrupted by a terrible reminder that you’ve still got a lot of shit to deal with…

[aeipathic]

@endlesscacophony​​ says: It was the 27th of the Ethereal Moon, he would know this day moreso than any other, for it was the only day he ever dared to venture past the comforting waters of Lake Teutates. It was Cichol's birthday. He'd always been close to Cichol, far closer than any of his other relatives, much preferring the life of seclusion than one of grandeur - or teaching. Indech didn't know how he did it, how he managed to be around so many people, mostly mortal children, and teach them? It was beyond him.

Regardless, it was this closeness that lead him to venture far up to the mountain where Garreg Mach Monastery stood to visit his brother. It wasn't that he had any gifts or anything, no, but he supposed a nice long chat over tea would do the both of them some good. It had been some time since he saw Cichol last, the circumstances being less than ideal - hopefully things were looking up for his brother now.

Especially with Cethlean out of stasis.

That's how he found himself where he was now, a form much smaller than the one he frequented, resembling that of a small lizard, or baby wyvern, curled up on a desk. He knew it to be his desk, it sure did reek of his brother and his crest, he'd remember that smell anywhere. He curled up, half under a piece of paper, nearing the edges of sleep as he waited - he'd show up eventually ... Right? (You did this ... Indech @ Seteth)

    that it was his birthday was, by now, rarely more than a passing thought to seteth. or, rather, it had been his habit for many long years to note the date as another year gone and think little more of it—he had long since stopped bothering to count the years, and for a good while there had been very few to count them with. recent years had changed that, somewhat; cethleann, by his side again, celebrated sweetly and faithfully, and rhea too would invite him for a meal in her rooms if she was available.

     this year, however, left even less cause than usual for celebration. after the disaster that was yesterday’s battle—the loss of jeralt and those transformed students, the betrayal of monica, another imposter lurking right under their nose, and he hadn’t even seen it...no, seteth had been running about all day putting out fires, checking on the rescued students, putting together what preliminary reports he could manage for those students who had been lost to those damned beasts. heavy work for a heavy heart.

     when he returned to his rooms in the late afternoon for the first time since leaving that morning, it was, ironically, to avoid the one celebration of his birthday that was still ongoing. he had never felt particularly comfortable praying to an effigy of himself, beyond what was necessary to keep up appearances, and could think of little less appealing at the moment than listening to the population of garreg mach sing hymns of praise and prayer to saint cichol, who could not do half of what the songs said, least of all save them.

     he dropped onto his desk chair with a heavy sigh, propping his head on his hand that he could rub at the lingering headache at his temple. what a disaster. if they didn’t discover the identity and motivations of the group monica and tomas were a part of soon—

     —what was that?

     he’d blinked open tired eyes only to see a bit of shell and scale peaking out from under one of his reports. what sort of creature could have...? he lifted the paper carefully, only to suck in a breath at the sight of a figure that he would certainly recognize anywhere, despite being...much smaller than he was used to. “indech?”

[percabeth4life]

Saw your tag on the post about Annabeth and Percy.

I give you Percy Jackson, now point me his flaws(because I could never truly hate him)

Hmm...make me hate Percy Jackson

Sorry, you want to like Percy Jackson?

Percy is the supreme OP character. Oh he’s the underdog you say? He’s only the underdog in that no one tells him stuff. He’s automatically the best swordsman around, he’s got great control of water which he somehow never noticed before going to camp, and literally can do basically anything he wants. He raises a storm and controls poison, and people wanna say he’s the underdog?

The boy is also so snarky, like look at him- he’s being rude to Annabeth whose waited years to get a quest, and she’s frankly the best prepared in the camp for a quest being close to the last one who had one and having been preparing for years. She’s all set and he’s gonna act annoyed that she’s helping? And on top of that he just- left his mom in the underworld. Like okay- devoted son I see.

And did you see how he treated Tyson? It took Tyson dying for Percy to appreciate him. He was not happy Tyson, his friend for a year (and was he only friends out of pity? He showed several signs of annoyance for Tyson in just the first chapter hmmm) was his brother and Percy didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but was still snappy at Annabeth and the rest of the camp? Like hello- monsters usually try to kill them and he’s all defensive at their wariness of Tyson?

And look at The Titans Curse! He’s all jealous of Thalia, the girl died boy, have some compassion! Plus forced himself on the quest (did that in SON too, shame on him)

Or The Battle of the Labyrinth? Like- boy that was Annabeth’s quest, at least get her views and issues on bringing in some other girl (and then missing that both have a crush on you, like honey-). And just appearing after “dying”, like you knew the Gods didn’t say you were alive! Have some tact!

And TLO he was annoyed that he wasn’t the hero after everything? And he’s just hanging out with mortals while they have a disaster upcoming? Like fr.

Plus- the boy never seems to try to learn on his own! He doesn’t seek out more myths, or research his enemies, just expects to get by on knowledge the camp makes him learn and school lessons he barely pays attention to-

and his school lessons, like the poor teachers dealing with him. No wonder he was always expelled, how does one accidentally make a cannon fire? Fake I say.

Anyways, Percy Jackson is incredibly problematic, I mean he doesn’t even use his full name, his mom picked that out special for him!

He should be cancelled

[grumpyhedgehogs]

and the world tilts upon its axis

Summary: “You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”

“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”

Notes: (Obligatory ‘everyone finds out about Obi-Wan’s shitty childhood’ fic.) Past Abuse/Violence, Slavery. 

“It really isn’t a problem anymore,” Obi-Wan tells them all very reasonably. “I haven’t had a vision in years--not a clear one, anyway. Feelings, things like that, but nothing so concrete as they used to be. Master Qui-Gon taught me how to see past the feelings years ago.”

“You used to get Force visions,” Ahsoka says, tone rather shrill, “and you never told us?”

Anakin makes a loud choking noise deep in his throat. Cody, sitting on a crate of supplies near where Ahsoka and her master collapsed half an hour after their latest battle, shakes his head. Ahsoka pulls herself up to sit beside him, feeling rather as if something very important has been ripped away from her before she even knew it existed. He looks up at Obi-Wan, the only one standing out of all of them, and says, “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“There isn’t one,” Rex supplies. Skyguy tries to swat at him without taking his arm from over his eyes, but Rex moves out of the way and leans back against a wall of the Resolute. He shrugs. “Jedi are just dramatic like that.”

“Much as I dislike the generalization,” Obi-Wan interjects, “I have to agree in this case. Force visions can be upsetting and helpful in equal measure, and they faded from my mind a long time ago. I’m surprised my medical files even contain a record of those after all these years."

“What if they come back!” Anakin sits up, glaring. “You never even said anything. I’ve heard Master Windu talking about how forceful they can be--you cold pass out if a vision comes at the wrong time! I’ve heard some younglings are prone to seizures!”

The thought makes Ahsoka shudder. She wraps her arms around herself surreptitiously. Cody sends her a sympathetic look.

The next words out of Master Kenobi’s mouth make her blood go cold. “Well, yes, I know that, Anakin. I was the youngling Mace was speaking of.”

“What.”

Obi-Wan waves his commander off, though, and shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s fine now. We wouldn’t even need to have this useless conversation if you hadn’t sliced into my medical files, Anakin--”

Rex is already across the room and peering over Anakin’s shoulder as her master rifles through his datapad, so Ahsoka chalks Obi-Wan’s efforts up as a lost cause. She pulls her own datapad out and shuffles closer to Cody instead; Skyguy sent her a copy of her grandmaster's file as soon as he could manage. Something about not being able to trust Obi-Wan when he said he didn’t need to go to medical.

Ahsoka thinks that is the pot calling the kettle black, but--

“You have nerve damage?”

At Rex’s incredulous exclamation, Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a long, long moment. Then he opens them, runs a hand over his beard, and looks around for a place to sit. “This is going to be a long conversation, I see. Is everyone sure they wouldn’t like to move to, I don’t know, anywhere but the cargo hold, before we begin?”

“Shinies are everywhere else,” Rex points out briskly, “but the cargo hold is too cold for most of us. We run too warm to be comfortable here.”

“That isn’t good. You should’ve told us sooner--I’ll have to talk to Master Shaak Ti about what we can do for you.”

“Deflecting.” Anakin intones. In any other setting, his stern tone would make her laugh. Obi-Wan sighs again, and settles down into a meditation pose across from his former padawan, fixing them all with a half-exasperated, half-doting look.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I have nerve damage. I’m sure you’ve all seen how many layers I wear? It’s to help my blood circulation. I can’t keep myself warm enough otherwise, because I can’t feel how cold my surface skin is until it’s too late. So, extra clothing all the time, just in case. I can deal with a little sweat if the outcome is less chance of frostbite.”

“ Why do you have nerve damage?”

“Have you seen how many times I’ve been electrocuted?” Obi-Wan answers. He’s too serene for Ahsoka’s liking.

“I’ve been electrocuted twice as much as you have,” Anakin points out. At his shoulder, Rex nods, but stops when Anakin snaps his gaze to his captain. He turns back to his former master. “And I don’t have nerve damage.”

“You’ve been electrocuted twice as much as I have been recently.” Her grandmaster normally looks a little tired, but this conversation seems to be getting to him more than most; he rubs at his face again, and, with his hand still over his eyes, says, “Electro-whips and prods were the weapon of choice in the mines.”

The words are quiet, like Obi-Wan really meant for them to be under his breath, but it makes every spine in the room go rigid.

Very slowly, Anakin sits forward on his knees. His datapad slips from his lap. Rex only just catches it before it clatters to the floor. Ahsoka has never seen her master’s eyes look as sharp as they are now. “Which mines, Master? And what were you doing there?”

Obi-Wan’s lips thin. “You do realize I’ve had an entire life without you? Twenty years or so, in fact. Things did happen to me before you came along.”

It’s always been a fact that Obi-Wan is older than herself and her master. It’s never bothered Ahsoka before--until now. To know he’s been alone--without them, at least--for so long? The clones are all artificially aged to be around Obi-Wan’s age, maybe a little younger. It’s easy for Ahsoka to forget they haven’t been around forever, that Cody hasn’t been one step behind his general every day of both their lives. It turns her stomach.

“Answer the question!” Anakin all but demands.

Obi-Wan’s hand falls from his face and for a second Ahsoka can detect something stricken in the Force before his expression smooths over into an artificial calm. “It’s really not--”

“No.” Cody says. It’s all he can seem to get out. Ahsoka tries not to flinch at the darkening mood in the Force and reaches out to loosely grip Cody’s wrist. After a moment, he turns his hand over and offers her his palm as Obi-Wan begins, reluctantly, to speak. Ahsoka takes it.

Obi-Wan bites his lip when he tells them about being sent away from the temple.

It rocks Ahsoka to her core when he speaks about the situation on Bandomeer, even more so with the revelation that he nearly wasn’t a Jedi. A Jedi Order without Obi-Wan Kenobi? A Council without his guidance? A GAR without the Negotiator?

Her lineage without his support?

“You had to fight a Hutt without anyone to help you.” Anakin sounds more choked than he did before. Ahsoka wishes she could reach out and soothe him in the Force, but she’s doing her best to keep her shields up. The Force knows how Master Obi-Wan is feeling right now.

“Master Qui-Gon helped me when he could,” Obi-Wan assures. His voice isn't as steady as she’s used to, but he carries on admirably. It makes Ahsoka wonder how long it took him to perfect his sabacc face. Her heart twists in her chest. “He’s also the reason I only spent a few weeks in the mines--I was fitted with a Force-inhibiting collar, you see, so I had to have help navigating my way out with the rest of the--” He cuts himself off. It takes a minute for the gears to turn in her head, for Ahsoka to realize he doesn’t intend to continue.

“The?” Rex prompts, face and tone bleak. “The miners?”

Obi-Wan actually does wince now. “The slaves.”

“It was a bomb collar,” Anakin says. "You were fitted with a bomb collar." His face is blank until Obi-Wan nods, at which point his expression seems to crumple in on itself. Anakin puts his head between his knees and breathes loudly through his mouth. Obi-Wan pauses and refuses to go on until Anakin raises his head and glares her grandmaster into submission. In the back of her mind, in the only small corner not screaming in horror, Ahsoka hopes one day she’ll be able to cow her own master like that.

She regrets the thought as soon as Obi-Wan speaks, quiet and too soft into the dead silence of the air around them, about Melida/Daan. “They were just children,” Obi-Wan whispers. His hands clench and unclench on his thighs and it is all Ahsoka can do not to let go of Cody’s fingers and throw her arms around him. “I couldn’t leave them behind, even if it cost me my place among the Jedi. They had no one else to turn to. You must understand?”

It explains so much of his file--parts of it are redacted, too early in his apprenticeship to signal anything but disaster, and he’s reported too many times to the Halls of Healing--too many times he’s had to be carried in. If Ahsoka had the same medical record her grandmaster does, she’d have to get herself grievously injured on every other mission, and she’s grown up in a Force forsaken warzone.

She’s positive she doesn’t want to hear the rest.

Ahsoka isn’t sure how long it has been when Obi-Wan’s voice peters out soon after his explanation of Cerasi’s sacrifice on his behalf (and Force, did everyone Obi-Wan ever loved have to keep dying in his arms, it’s so disgusting, it’s awful, how could this happen so much to just one person, to someone she loves--). After a long moment of quiet, Ahsoka finds the strength, herculean as it is, to lift her gaze from where it has been fixed on her knees. Her grandmaster stares into middle space just the same as her, and his face is as she has never seen it before--stone cold, closed off and unwelcoming. It’s sort of like when Skyguy gets into one of his moods.

Speaking of Skyguy, he doesn’t seem to be faring much better; his head is between his knees again but his hands, like Rex’s beside him, are clenched into fists. He’s shaking so hard she can see it from across the room. Ahsoka realizes that at some point Cody let go of her own hand, and glances around to see him clenching his bucket on his knees fit to crush it between his very human palms.

Then her grandmaster draws himself up into a proper sitting position and sighs, a light puff of air that Ahsoka has come to learn is his way of reorienting himself. “It worked out in the end. Qui-Gon came back for me when I called and was able to help bring balance to the planet--something I couldn’t have done alone. I was admitted back into the Order as his apprentice and then--” Obi-Wan’s lips twitch into a sardonic smile. “Well, nothing much happened until we went to Mandalore, but you know just about as much as I am willing to tell you about that experience.”

The attempt at humor falls a little too flat.

“You never told us.” Anakin’s words pierce directly into Ahsoka’s heart; she can’t imagine what they do to his master. That stricken feeling flits through the Force again before Obi-Wan can wrangle it again. At least it gets Anakin to look up. He looks torn, agonized, pained, but repeats, unsteady, “You never told us.”

“The past is not an easy thing for me to speak of.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Anakin’s eyes spark with heat. She can’t see much of Obi-Wan’s face from here when he turns his head, just enough to know they’re having one of their silent conversations. Those have become few and far between, of late. It’s almost a comfort to see.

“You were my padawan.” Obi-Wan says slowly, like he’s formulating his words as he thinks of them. Ahsoka herself feels drained, empty, a husk--she can’t imagine how he must feel right now. “Ahsoka is my grandpadawan. Rex and Cody are my subordinates. It’s incredibly inappropriate, not to mention irresponsible and near abusive, to unload such traumatic, personal stories upon those who cannot legally or knowingly consent--”

“Sir, permission to speak freely?” Cody doesn’t wait for more than a surprised, dry laugh, before he says, “That is absolutely the biggest crock of bantha fodder I’ve ever heard.”

“Perhaps. That does not mean it is not true. I should not have even told you now--I just don’t want you to find out from some clinical diagnosis instead. You all deserve better.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you believe everything you just said, even that kark you just spewed. It’s just horrifying to know you think it.” Cody’s grip relaxes on his helmet with no little effort. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth once, and then opens his eyes and nods decisively first to Rex, who nods back, and then to Obi-Wan, who looks puzzled. “But we’re here to help, Sir. No matter what.”

Obi-Wan’s smile pulls a little wider. “Even if I don’t want it, hm?”

“Especially then,” Rex agrees. “Right, General? Commander?”

“Of course.” Ahsoka says, the words struggling so much to stampede out of her mouth that they trip over themselves.

“Always.” Anakin croaks. He’s the first to scramble to his feet as his master rises. He’s the first to throw himself at Obi-Wan. He’s the first to wrap him in an embrace that lasts maybe a bit longer than Master Kenobi’s sense of decorum would prefer. (Not that she sees her grandmaster complaining, of course.)

Anakin is not the last.

Rex settles for a nod and a clap on the shoulder. It’s only his position closer to Skyguy and Obi-Wan that gets her captain there before his commander; Ahsoka shoves him bodily out of the way and wraps her arms as tight as she can around Obi-Wan’s middle. Her skin itches and her muscles flex with the need to squeeze the sadness, the pain, the terrible past right out of him, even if she knows that’s silly. She tries anyway. Subtly, of course. Obi-Wan holds her back, just as he held Anakin before her, warm and all-encompassing and so safe. (Now she knows why. Now she knows he needs to feel that she and her master before her and every youngling after them is safe, that they are protected against a world that threatened to swallow him up and spit out his bones.)

Cody is last, stepping up to his general as Ahsoka pulls away reluctantly. He holds out a hand and Obi-Wan, without missing a beat (although his eyes are a little misty, but so are Ahsoka’s, and Anakin's, and Rex’s), grips his commander’s forearm. He goes very still when Cody pulls him into a keldabe. Ahsoka turns her eyes away when he lets out a trembling breath. Cody speaks, but his rumbling tone is too low for Ahsoka to pick out words. It’s alright, though; they aren’t for her.

“Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.” Cody murmurs, slightly louder. Obi-Wan scoffs quietly and Ahsoka turns her head just in time to see Cody smirk back, pull away, and shake Obi-Wan’s arm, just a little, friendly, familiar. It makes the clawing, cloying thing in her chest that has grown throughout the evening finally ease. Skyguy wraps an arm around her, guiding them both out of the cargo hold and back to their quarters. He’s got the right idea--she’s very tired now.

Before the door closes behind Rex as they step outside, she hears Cody’s last words to Obi-Wan and wonders what they mean.

“ Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

The Force is noticeably lighter when Ahsoka wakes in the morning.

[thetriggeredhappy]

yo whats good @engiespyweek this is a day late but like dont worry abt it

day 2: hurt / comfort

(warnings for injury, specifically from burns. takes place around Robots Time)

-

Back before the robots, they were expected to work regular hours. Normal days. Practically a nine-to-five, plus a couple of hours most days, but never too long after sundown—and unless they had a mission off-base, they’d get weekends off. It was the most organized war any of them had ever been a part of, to be honest. And it was taxing, sure, the pain and bloodshed, but at least according to Scout it still beat working in food service.

And it wasn’t even all that scary half the time—before the robots, the team was invincible in most senses of the word. It would take some extremely particular situations to kill them, situations they were rarely anywhere near. A doctor on staff, bars in town and a full liquor cabinet on base, a pay grade that few of them even dreamed of, it was a good place to be in their lives. They considered themselves lucky, most days.

But that was before the robots.

The sun was setting over wherever the hell they were. They were going on their second day here, which was usually about how long they spent in one place before they had to move again, following some fickle change of the wind to intercept the next few waves of automatons.

They were exhausted. They didn’t have breaks, truth be told, and only sometimes got to sleep—mostly on the drive to their next destination, sometimes woken up during the night by the distant metallic clanging that functioned as the trumpets of war. Modern era, and all.

Medic was truly running on his last legs. He half operated his infirmary out of the back of one of the trucks they used to transport their equipment, not seeing reason to bother unpacking most days. Soldier was in a tizzy himself, constantly checking and rechecking their supplies, inventory being the only job left out of the multitude he’d had on base before and therefore being one he did near-constantly, and his consensus seemed to be that they were running low on... well, everything. Raiding abandoned warehouses for ammunition and guns just wasn’t cutting it anymore. They’d started to send some of the mercs out hunting for scrap metal when they had the time, and the Engineer was left to work practically around the clock trying to feed it to dispensers and restock to have at least enough to be prepared for battle, and Heavy tended to take over when he absolutely needed to sleep.

But then there were the mercenaries who didn’t have much to do but sit and stew. Sniper mostly took to perching alone somewhere he could watch for the distant dust clouds kicked up by the tanks. Scout ran laps around the perimeter of wherever they were posted up, and on a couple of occasions the two of them were the only warning the team got before the robots showed up. Pyro fretted, for the most part, would sweep by the busy members of the team with something to eat and a supportive pat on the arm. But even then, it was obvious the rest were going stir-crazy. Wanted to help, to take some of the weight back, to help share the load if they could.

This was about the only way Spy could help.

Engineer was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but the fatigue fought against his need to eat the tin full of... something. Meat, some kind of sauce. Spy had cooked it, since they apparently had a stove squirreled away somewhere in this particular warehouse, rations, and the team needed something ‘real’ to eat by his measure. The Engineer managed to keep awake, keep shoveling food into his mouth. Distantly, he understood that it tasted very good, and it overcame the nausea he’d been increasingly plagued with ever since all of this started.

The food was one comfort. The warm weight of Spy leaned against his back was another, the man leaned against him as he ate. Outside there was a particularly vibrant sunset happening, that was a third one, the way the light poured through the window briefly driving away a sort of bone-deep paranoia about darkness. About fear. Apparently that was one reason his father always tried to work with the big garage door of the shop open—being in the sun from time to time was important for all types of health. Or, as Spy put it, he needed to get out of his terrible little machinery lair from time to time or else one day the team would find he’d begun transforming into some sort of mole man.

It made him laugh. He missed laughing, he realized.

Once he had some food in his system, some calm, some time to sit in a position other than bent over a drafting table—and, hell, maybe the sun helped too—he started feeling remarkably more like a human being, started relaxing in increments. Started noticing little things. Dust mites lingering in the last light up above their heads. Distant talking, the distinctive laugh of Demo, Soldier barking something in reply. The sound of Spy taking a pull from his cigarette, quiet enough that he’d only really hear it this close. Quiet motion, like fiddling almost, which struck him as odd. Spy wasn’t much for fiddling and fidgeting. Broad, sweeping, dramatic gestures, those he did every time he got a good excuse—but not fidgeting. It was enough to draw his head up from where it was hanging, casting eyes back over his shoulder.

Spy wasn’t looking at him, apparently focused. “What’re you up to, there?” he asked, suddenly made aware of how rough his throat was. Probably from the near-constant full-volume shouting followed by stretches of silence he got up to these days.

“Simple first aid,” Spy said entirely too casually. So casually, in fact, that it took the Engineer a few seconds to realize what he’d even said.

“What?” he asked, turning more fully to look at Spy, at which point he blanched.

Spy had shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up neatly a short way past his elbows and taken off his gloves and watch, and appeared to be almost done cleaning up and bandaging his left arm, having not started yet on the right one. All up and down his visible skin, and in particular across his palms and wrist, there were a series of mild to severe burns, speckles of dark red and black patching up his forearms, and the Engineer could immediately identify them as being electrical burns, not heat ones.

“How the hell did that happen?” he asked, deeply startled.

A huff of a laugh from Spy. “Mon ami, I go onto the battlefield and am expected to attack mechanical men with a metal blade,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Electrocution is par for the course, I’m afraid.”

“You really oughta... find some way around that,” the Engineer said carefully. “Rubber hilt, or...”

“Most often I can only even tell I’ve caused enough damage to take down any given robot when the shock happens,” Spy shrugged. “It is not terribly painful, especially compared to gunfire. They simply begin to stack up after a while.”

A careful nod from the Engineer, even if it didn’t quite sit right with him. “Want me to help treat those?” he asked, nodding at where Spy was clearly having a bit of difficulty with bandaging his wrist one-handed.

“Our medical supplies are being too regularly depleted even besides superfluous healing of minor injuries, and as much as I would appreciate a moment sat beside one of your dispensers, I’m afraid it would not be very much in the spirit of teamwork to accept your offer, Laborer. If the remainder of our dreary little group is not allowed to accost the dispenser unnecessarily, neither am I, oui?” Spy asked, tone light.

That was one thing he’d started to learn about Spy, especially as of late. Lying and stealing were things he was well acquainted with, but never for something he considered important. To get on other people’s nerves, to get information maybe, but not something important on a whim. Getting on everyone’s nerves was a different beast than intentionally sabotaging them.

“Well,” the Engineer said, still not quite feeling right about it all. “If not that, I can at least lend a hand with wrapping those up. I know a thing or two about getting shocked. Ain’t a fun predicament to be in.”

Only a moment’s hesitation before Spy shrugged, turning to face him, and the Engineer picked up the salve and bandaging and set to work.

This was more his element. Practical problems. Practical solutions. None of the overarching dread, the waiting for the next disaster, the not quite knowing what to do with himself in the miliseconds before the next chore, the next job, the next drive. Just wrapping a wound. Just fixing a problem.

Distantly, there was the sound of something clattering, Demo cheering. The sun was now out of view, and he heard the sound of lights buzzing to life across the area. The light was getting low, and cold was starting to settle into place, more than welcome after yet another sweltering desert day. The smell of hot metal and sweat faded with each breeze that passed through, leaving only the smell of chilly night air, fresh and welcome. By the time it got dim enough to start making him squint to see properly, and he started to wonder whether he should just push through or get a light from somewhere, he realized he was done.

But instead of a twitchiness, an itch to find something else, the urge to keep moving and to find the next thing he needed to work on, he just felt satisfied. Clean bandages, neat wrappings. A vast improvement over before. And when he looked up to see how Spy felt about it all, the man was smiling, just a little, just enough to see even in how dim the room was.

“...What’s the smirk about?” he asked, feeling a bit embarrassed, as if he was missing something.

“Nothing,” Spy said easily, “I suppose I’m just glad you seem to be feeling better.”

A pause, during which the Engineer realized Spy was right. The tension was gone, the ache in his head was fading into a simple weight, and the nausea had settled into nothingness, leaving him relaxed, steady. He blinked.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped my boundaries,” Spy said after a few moments of that stunned silence, searching his face. “It’s just that for the last several weeks you’ve been stomping around with the third most sour expression I’ve ever seen on you, and it seemed as though nobody else was going to bother stepping in any time soon. I thought that perhaps food and fresh air and polite company may remedy things somewhat, and you seemed determined to only interact with us when you deem it productive.”

“You burned yourself just to get me to sit in one place for a while?” he asked, taken aback.

“Oh, no, non, these burns are truly fairly standard by now,” Spy waved off easily, carefully pulling back on his gloves and watch over the bandages, “I simply prefer to tend to them on my own, the majority of the time. Non, simply a convenient excuse to need your help.”

A pause. “Of all the ridiculous things,” he marveled, blinking at Spy.

In the darkness, he could only barely make out the way Spy’s mouth ticked up into a smirk, watching as he rolled his sleeves back down neatly and reached for his suit jacket. “Well, believe it or not, Laborer, I have been known to stoop to such lows as doing what you call ‘ridiculous things’,” he said, doing his jacket up in an easy motion in the same moment that he rose to his feet, “when I find them to be the only way I can possibly break through to ridiculous men.”

He only had time to sputter over the comment for a second before a gloved hand found his chin, tilting his head up just enough for Spy to lay a kiss soundly to either cheek, and only had time to sputter over that for a second before Spy was snickering and cloaking, a puff of smoke in his wake as he disappeared into the increasing night.

His face felt hot, and he felt that restless energy again, but for an entirely different reason than before, because he wasn’t positive, but he was fairly sure cheek kissing was the sort of thing you greeted someone with when you only meant it in a friendly sort of way, and his brain was far too scrambled to remember it properly just then.

Well. Now he had something to think about besides the robots, at least. Damn shame it couldn’t be a nice, neat, practical problem, but despite his best efforts, he really couldn’t find it in him to mind.

Oh, damn it all.

[animeyanderelover]

Since I am in a Soulmate AU mood at the moment how about some headcanons for the "You have the name of your soulmate written on one wrist and the name of your worst enemy on the other and you don't know which is which" AU with Tobirama. He however has only one name on his wrist. It's "[Name] Uchiha".

Tobirama and Uchiha reader always gives me some vibes.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive thinking, possessive behavior, disliking, heavy arguments

Soulmate Hc’s with an Uchiha

🌊The moment he was born his life was, for him at least, ruined. It was rare to be born with a soulmate in the first place, but how could the world do this to him? His clan had been at first confused when he only had one name engraved on his wrist. “(y/n) Uchiha”. If there would have been two names on his wrists many would have naturally assumed that this meant that you must have been his worst enemy. But there was only one name. But eventually the eldest came up with a few solutions. First one, his soulmate was at the same time his worst enemy. Second one, he might not have something like a worst enemy.

🌊Tobirama hated this. He was insulted upon learning that an Uchiha was his soulmate. Why did it have to be an Uchiha from all the other possibilities? He wished he would have never been destined to have a soulmate. His personal feelings aside there were a lot more troubles to come. Since he had your name engraved on his wrist that meant you had too. But that didn’t mean that you hadn’t also the name of your worst enemy engraved on your other wrist. And given the situation you would just assume that he was your worst enemy. And if you would get killed somehow he would suffer too. This situation wasn’t fair.

🌊His whole clan panicked because of this. Tobirama was a great warrior and losing him would be a huge disaster, especially since he was Hashirama’s brother. The Uchiha clan might use this to their advantage if they would find out or even worse he might become a traitor. Tobirama knew he would never do that, but the bond of soulmates was strong and there had been stories of people turning their back on their own people to be with their soulmate.

🌊Years passed by and Tobirama couldn’t help, but fear for you. Fearing that you might get killed or even worse, he would kill you. He hated himself for this, but you were his soulmate. Every time he was on the battlefield his eyes always searched unconsciously for you. He didn’t know how you looked like, but people in his clan who had been born with soulmates had told him that you would feel a special pull towards your soulmate.

🌊And one day he found you. It was the battle after he had killed Madara’s little brother when he met you. One of his men came during the battle running to him, telling him that there was one specific warrior who had slaughtered so far every single one of his men who came across them and seemed to walk in his direction. Tobirama didn’t give it much thought at first. He thought it was probably someone who wanted to avenge someone he had killed. But when he saw you coming towards him he kind of froze.

🌊You were currently fighting your way through to him. After the news had settled that he was the one who had killed Izuna Madara had been the one who wanted to kill him personally. But since his name was engraved on your wrist and you believed that this must mean that he’s your worst enemy you had begged him to kill him yourself. And Madara had agreed. And when you had spotted him you had instantly felt something, but due to the adrenaline pumping through your veins and concentrating on not getting killed by the people who tried to stop you you hadn’t too much time on focusing on this feeling.

🌊But Tobirama did. He felt the strong attachment to you the moment he saw you and if you wouldn’t have killed his people then and there he would have even admired the way you moved and turned around to slaughter everyone in your way. You were a strong one and it didn’t take you long until you reached him. And from the way you looked at him he knew you had come to kill him. That meant that you must have two names on your wrists. He didn’t even got the chance to tell you that you had misunderstood everything because the next moment you jumped to him and started attacking him. You didn’t give him a chance to speak, he was too busily dodging your attacks, not willing to hurt you. He couldn’t bring himself to it. You seemed a bit hesitant too, but were still driven by the belief that he was your worst enemy.

🌊Tobirama was distracted and not willing to hurt you which is why it didn’t take long for you to take him down and lift your sword to kill him. “Stop it you fool! I’m your soulmate!” You stopped when hearing this and gave him a confused and shocked expression. To prove it to you Tobirama quickly lifted up his sleeves and showed you his wrists. Your eyes widened when you only saw one name on his wrist, your name. “What does this mean? Why do you only have one name on your wrist?”

🌊And then Tobirama told you about the two theories his clan had made for this. You on the other hand paled when hearing this, stepping back. A Senju was your soulmate?! And also the one who Madara wanted dead for killing his younger brother?! But now that you focused closer on him you also felt the attachment towards him. No! No! No! Not a Senju! You didn’t know what to do so you just left him. He was your soulmate and your clan respected soulmates and had promised to never kill someone’s soulmate from the clan. But you weren’t too sure if this would count for this too. It was so ironical. The Senju’s and Uchiha’s were enemies to death, but you were the soulmate of one of them. In that moment you felt hopeless. You would lose your soulmate. No way that Madara would let him live. And that meant you would have to suffer greatly for the rest of your life.

🌊But it seemed like destiny wanted you to be together because shortly after your clans united with each other and the Village Hidden In The Leafs was born. That also meant that it wasn’t necessary anymore to hide the fact that the both of you were soulmates. Tobirama’s clan already knew that, but for your clan it was a shock to find out that he was actually your soulmate.

🌊Your clan had a harder time to accept that than Tobirama’s clan since they had known from very early on that he had an Uchiha as his soulmate. But your clan had with two names on your wrist born assumed that he must be your enemy. But now that they were united they decided to accept it even though some members had troubles with it.

🌊Both of you couldn’t stand each other, years of rivalry between your clans didn’t disappear from one day to the other. Both of you were basically forced to spend time together and constantly glared at each other. As soon as one of you pissed the other off it ended in a huge argument where both of you just snapped at each other. The fact that both of you were so prideful didn’t help in the least and often people would have to separate the two of you because sometimes it looked like you would jump on each other���s throat if they wouldn’t.

🌊You oftenen yelled at him that you should have just killed him that day and Tobirama kept cursing that you must be indeed his worst enemy and soulmate because you made his life a living hell. Honestly, your clans had almost no hopes that the both of you would ever get along.

🌊Both of you are prideful and because of your clan’s pasts it’s understandable that you can’t stand each other. You need time, a lot of time and help from other people to somehow get along with each other. This will most likely be a love-hate relationship you’ll have so even after accepting each other there will still be many times where the both of you will yell and curse at each other and no one of you is willing to back off in such moments since, as mentioned, the both of you possess a huge amount of pride.

🌊One last thing, don’t expect Tobirama to just ignore the other name on your wrist. Even though your relationship is like a roller coaster you’re still his soulmate. He’ll find that person who’s written down on your wrist and will make sure that they’ll never get anywhere near you. He wants to make sure that they can’t harm you and he was never the type to go easy on people who endanger his darling so you can probably anticipate what will happen to your worst enemy.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I really love reading your fics! You capture a variety of tones so well! How about a scenario where instead of Nie Mingjue witnessing Meng Yao murder the Nie Captain, it's Huaisang who sees him instead?

“You just killed him,” Nie Huaisang said dumbly.

He’d pestered his brother into allowing him to come to Langya, arguing at length that it wasn’t as though he would be involved in the actual battle and, somewhat more convincingly, that there was no way the battle was actually anywhere near that bad, given that Jin Guangshan was still sticking around.

(Nie Mingjue had involuntarily snorted a laugh, and that’s how Nie Huaisang had known he’d won.)

When the battle was done, they’d gone looking for Meng Yao together – his brother had been positively seething at how Jin Guangshan pretended he had never received his letter of recommendation, mumbling threats under his breath – and eventually Nie Mingjue had consented to allow Nie Huaisang to go one way while he went another.

Nie Huaisang had found Meng Yao first.

He was starting to wish he hadn’t.

“Nie-gongzi?” Meng Yao asked, his eyes going wide. “What are you –”

“You just kill that man,” Nie Huaisang stressed. “You just stabbed him! Why did you stab him? He’s wearing a peony – isn’t he a Jin sect cultivator? Or – did he do something? Was he a traitor? A spy? Was he doing something bad?”

Meng Yao’s face was a kaleidoscope of emotions that, unfortunately for him, Nie Huaisang had learned to read ages ago. “Yes,” he said, which meant no.

“Why did you stab him with a Wen sword?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Did he attack you and make you drop yours? Did you have to grab the first one you saw?”

“…yes,” Meng Yao said, which, again, meant no.

“Did you just commit premeditated murder on someone on your own side because you didn’t like him?”

Meng Yao viscerally twitched and said, “Definitely not,” which meant definitely yes.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang said, then shook his head and sat himself down on a fallen tree nearby. “You’re really lucky I’m the one who found you. Da-ge would have lost his mind.”

“Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao said, and he looked like he had a headache. “Why are you here? And…why are you here?”

“Da-ge wanted to see how you were doing,” Nie Huaisang said. “He misses you.”

Meng Yao winced – not that anyone would ever notice, it being more of a vein twitching in his forehead than anything else – and Nie Huaisang shook his head again.

“Do you like him?” he asked, pulling up one knee and resting his chin on it. Completely classless, but Meng Yao won’t say anything. “My brother, that is. Or was he just useful to you? Tell the truth, please; you have no idea which answer I want to hear.”

Meng Yao took a step forward, and Nie Huaisang pointed his fan at him. “Ah-ah, no. Put the sword down first, please. Don’t forget, my da-ge’s in screaming distance; all I need to do is dodge for long enough to let him arrive, and I’ll have you know that I’ve gotten quite decent at dodging.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Meng Yao said, looking injured, and it would be funny if Nie Huaisang wasn’t now completely convinced that Meng Yao was a stone-cold killer incapable of remorse. He was a Nie – he’d met plenty of people like that.

Usually right before they were executed, but still.

“My brother,” Nie Huaisang reminded him. “I’d like an answer.”

“Do I get to find out what happens depending on the answer I give?”

The sad thing was, Nie Huaisang really liked Meng Yao. “It’s about the same in the end, really. I’m just curious.”

Meng Yao frowned. “You don’t care?”

Nie Huaisang thought about it for a second. “I mean, a bit? I’d like you to like him. He likes you, and he doesn’t like a lot of people. I suppose it’d be better for you if you liked him.”

“Better for me?”

“Isn’t it always better to enjoy the work you have to do?” Nie Huaisang grinned. “My brother’s a straightforward person, Meng Yao. If you treat him well, the way you always have, he’ll continue to like you, and he’ll be happy. And then we’ll make you Sect Leader Jin, and you’ll be happy too – that is what you want, isn’t it? To make them have to all look up to you?”

Meng Yao was staring at him. He didn’t say no, which meant Nie Huaisang was right.

He liked being right. It happened so rarely!

He stretched out his legs and took out his fan. “Da-ge’s never liked Jin Guangshan,” he said conversationally. “And Jin Zixuan’s a stupid bully. All those boring discussions conferences would be quite nice for da-ge, if you were Sect Leader Jin and Xichen-ge was Sect Leader Lan…and there’s Jiang-xiong, da-ge likes him, too. It’ll work out great!”

“My father hasn’t even seen me,” Meng Yao said blankly.

Nie Huaisang waved that away as irrelevant. “You’re really clever, Meng Yao, but you’re so short-sighted sometimes. Even if you managed to get his attention, so what? Lanling doesn’t reward merit, it rewards connections; without a backer, he’ll treat you as nothing more than a glorified servant. Greeting people at the door your whole life, getting called a bastard and a whore’s son behind your back, everyone wondering why you even bothered.”

“And I take it you have a better option for me?” Meng Yao said, and this time he did put down the sword, walking over to sit next to Nie Huaisang. It was just like the good old days back when Meng Yao was still his brother’s deputy.

“After this war ends, da-ge’s going to be a war hero,” Nie Huaisang said, smiling happily. He’d never once doubted that his brother would win the war – it was nice not having to suffer doubt the way other people did. “While the Jin sect won’t have any merits, just money, and money only gets you so far. The first time there’s some sort of disaster, there’ll be a fight over principles, and my da-ge doesn’t lose those fights – not against someone like Jin Guangshan, anyway! He’ll grind the Jin sect’s face into the dirt without even realizing that that’s what he’s doing. And once my Nie sect is properly ascendant, it’ll be easy to get involved in other people’s family business.”

“Your brother would never agree to take the Wen sect’s place as the sun in the sky.”

Nie Huaisang patted Meng Yao on the shoulder. “I wasn’t really thinking that we’d tell him.” He grinned and raised his voice. “Hey, da-ge! I found him!”

“About time, too,” Nie Mingjue snapped in return, striding over with a scowl in his face. “Meng Yao, there you are. Stand up and let me look at you – these robes aren’t even the right size. Have they been bullying you here?”

Meng Yao allowed himself to be hauled up and the dust of battle brushed off his shoulders. After a moment, he smiled. “It’s fine, Sect Leader Nie. If it’d gotten really intolerable, I would’ve written to you.”

“You’d better have,” Nie Mingjue said with a huff. “Now tell me – any chance you still have that letter I wrote you? I plan to make Jin Guangshan eat it. We’ll see how long he keeps that thick face of his when he see what happens the next time he wants to have me run over here to win his battles for him…!”

“Da-ge, you can’t make him eat the letter,” Nie Huaisang said. “You wrote it on the good paper; it’d be such a waste. Give it to me, I’ll make a painting out of it. Oooh, or a fan! That way I can be especially obnoxious at every discussion conference from now until the end of time!”

[atsukashii]

❝snow day❞  // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ You and your boyfriend make the most of the first snowfall of winter - but both of your competitive sides makes it a disaster.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

» WORD COUNT: 2.3K

» GENRE: @bnhabookclub​ bingo slot snowball fight

» WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of broken bones & fluff to the max

« masterlist || ao3 »

“Oh my god!” You cry out, excitedly springing from your bed as soon as your eyes lock onto the white flakes fluttering down from the clouds outside.

Its finally snowing!

You run out of your dorm room, still clothed in your pyjamas and sprint towards Bakugou’s room, only stopping when you pass a window and you notice the world outside. The snow-covered world outside. It hadn’t just started snowing it had been coming down all night. Because outside of the building, the grounds of U.A had become a winter wonderland. 

You don’t hold in your squeals of excitement as you charge down the hall, your fluffy socks skidding you to a stop outside your boyfriend’s room. 

“Katsu, Katsu, Katsu!” You sing as you barge into his room. You don’t even give him a chance to reply or wake up, before you throw yourself on his bed, next to his sleeping figure. 

“What the hell?!” He snaps startled, his hair matted to his forehead, and his ruby eyes still slightly glazed with sleep. Once his brain catches up with the sudden awakening, and he realises it’s you, Katsuki lets out a groan and flops back down onto his pillow.

“What do you want?”

“It’s snowing Katsu!” You squeal unable to hold in the excitement any more, pointing to the curtain covered window above his bed. Rolling over onto his forearms, the blonde practically hisses as you yank back the curtain, letting the light in. Squinting at the outside world, he has the audacity to turn back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“So? It’s winter dumbass. Of course it’s snowing.” He says, laying back down and placing an arm under his head and closing his eyes. You pout at your boyfriend and look back out to the snow. 

Winter has been your favourite season since you were a child. It could be partially due to your quirk being the ability to manipulate ice and snow, but it also stems from the memories you and your parents created when you were a child. Building snowmen, making snow angels, having snowball fights and then there’s hot cocoa, warm mittens and beanies… What wasn’t there to love about winter?!

Glancing back at Bakugou again, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his bicep that’s just right there for you to appreciate due to his love of singlets, even in winter. Okay so maybe there is one bad side about winter - the fact that he can’t wear that outside. Summer was also right up there with your favorite season, but that favoritism probably had more to do with your boyfriend’s infinite amount of tanks and his drool-worthy muscles. Thank god for summer.

No y/n, focus! Winter, and snow... Snow!!!

Looking back outside, childish giddiness floods your bones at the view. You need to get out there. Now. Suddenly an idea pops into your head and you lean down over your boyfriend who is currently faking to be asleep.

“Hey, Katsu?” He groans in response, but opens one ruby eye, just enough to show you an expression of pure annoyance, but you also see the warmth that is there when you’re with him. “Do you want to build a snowman?” The question earns you a pillow to the face before his warm arms wrap around you, pulling you to lay on his chest. Okay, this isn’t too bad either.

“No.” Is all he says, closing his eyes and letting out a relaxed breath. It is a Saturday after all, and is the one day of the week that he lets himself sleep in late - not that 7 am is late by any means.

“What about a snowball fight?” You say, trying again. You really really want to go outside, and to have Katsuki there too would just make the memory so much sweeter.

“I’m not having a fucking snowball fight with you y/n.” Placing your hands on his chest, you push up from him, pouting and giving him the harshest glare you can muster. The amusement flickering to life in his eyes suggests that it’s not intimidating at all, but he’s also Katsuki and hence can be an asshole so his opinion on the matter is bias.

“Fine.” Standing up from his bed, you head towards the door. “If you won’t, then I suppose Kirishima and Kaminari will be more than happy to join in.” You call out over your shoulder. The two boys in question having become your very close friends since even before you started to date Katsuki not even a year ago. And that friendship was a tool you used frequently to make things go your way when it came to your boyfriend. That was not to say you were manipulative, not at all - for he did the same thing to you, but he could just lift you over his shoulder and carry you wherever he wanted to. Seeing as you weren’t close to your boyfriend’s height, or anywhere near as strong, picking you up and leaving was his best tactic to get you to do what he wanted. And this was yours, along with using his competitiveness against him, but seeing as you were both very competitive, this often backfired.

You hadn’t even made it to the door when you heard him grumble.

“Fuck those too shitty haired bastards. I’ll meet you downstairs in five. If you’re not there I’m leaving.” He says, rising from his bed, already walking to his ensuite. You are grinning and he points a finger at you accusingly, his still sleep crusted eyes narrowing.

“No squealing, it’s too fucking early.” So instead, you hop up and down before interrupting his walk to the bathroom and placing a kiss on his cheek. He grumbles in response, but the smile on his lips says otherwise about his “displeasure” of the surprise kiss. You don’t wait another second before running out of his room and back towards your own, knowing full well that if you’re late, the opportunity will pass. 

❄ ❄ ❄

Both you and Katsuki were very competitive people, which was a reason that you two got along so well. You were constantly pushing yourself to be better, not just than the other, but you were nurturing in your ways that helped the other be better. So really, when it came down to things like a normal snowball fight, they didn’t exist.

It was a match to the death.

“No quirks,” Bakugou says, calling out across the front yard of your dorm building. You gape at your rugged up boyfriend and his crappy rules, as he is currently using his quirk to warm his hands.

“That’s a crap rule Katsuki!” You argue, bending down and finish an extra layer of padding to your ice wall that you will most likely have to hide behind at one point. These matches were going to be full-on, there would be no prisoners and no giving up. 

“Deal with it, princess.” Your face flushes at the nickname, and in your moment of weakness from the surprise pet name, you almost are unable to dodge the snowball aimed perfectly at your face. Pivoting just in time, you glare at your boyfriend who stands there, tossing another snowball carelessly in his hand - a feral grin on his face.

“I wasn’t aware that I was dating a cheater.” You growl, grabbing a snowball from your small already made pile, pretending to aim it at him.

“Didn’t know I was dating a coward. You going to just hold it there, or throw it, princess?” Katsuki teases. The smug smirk on his face has your blood boiling in the best way, and the urge to make his snowball hit him in the face is almost too much. Maybe later.

“Oh, you’re on cheating bastard!” You shout before sending a snowball his way. 

You two are ruthless, and your battle almost lasts an entire hour. At one point, Kirishima comes out of the dorms, asking to join in, and only gets a snowball to the face from Katsuki in response. The redhead retaliates by ‘accidentally’ stepping on part of Bakugou’s snow wall, earning a squawk of outrage from the blonde, and then a snowball to the face from you.

To be honest, at this rate, you’re not even sure who’s winning, all you know is that that you’ve been cornered by Katsuki’s relentless fire for a few minutes. How the hell does he make snowballs so fast? You know you need to make more and fast before he walks over here and forces your surrender.

No. I will not surrender, it is victory or death!

You scramble to make a small pile of snowballs when a villainous chuckle comes from behind you.

“Any last words princess?” Bakugou whispers into your ear, and your heart is thundering so loud you barely hear him.

“Kiss my ass!” You say the adrenaline making your mouth move before you can think, but your response only earns another smug laugh from the looming figure behind you. 

“Very well. Now die!” Spinning towards him you watch almost in slow motion as he raises his arm, ready to peg the ice-ball at your face, but the second it leaves his hands, you throw your hands up instinctively in front of your face to protect you from the incoming slaughter. However, the impact never comes, or at least to you. 

“Fuck!” Looking through your fingers, you see Katsuki wiping snow from his face and you realise almost too late that you accidentally...may have used your quirk... Katsuki looks at you with a deadly glare, and if you weren’t already sitting down, your legs would have probably turned to jelly. What is normally a look that you find very attractive on your boyfriend, now successfully has you fearing for your life.

“Did you just use your damn quirk on me y/n?” He used your full name. Yeah, you’re screwed. You don’t even respond before using your hand to flick snow up at him as a distraction, before sprinting away from the grumbling blonde like your ass is on fire. “You’re dead princess!” You are running as if your life depends on it. Because with Katsuki, right now it does. Your arms pumping, heart-pounding in your ears, but you know it’s all for nothing when you hear the familiar pops of Katsuki’s quirk.

Jesus Christ you’re going to die! 

You make the typical horror movie mistake and look over your shoulder, to see Bakugou approaching quickly, using his quirk to fly him through the air towards you. It’s not the fact that you look over your shoulder that makes you trip, or maybe it is. But you’re going to blame it on the grin that covers Bakugou’s face, that is full of so much happiness, it has your brain short-circuiting for a second long enough for you to forget how to run and for you to hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Y/n!” Is all you hear before a resounding crack echoes through your ears.

Oh crap.

❄ ❄ ❄

You sit on the bed in the infirmary, Katsuki next to you, who glares at the bandage on your arm as if it has physically harmed him. You want to laugh, but the second the door opens and your homeroom teacher walks in, any source of amusement leaves the room so fast.

Mr Aizawa looks between the two of you before letting out an exhausted sigh. This wasn’t the first time that you and Bakugou’s competitive natures resulted in one of you ending up with a visit to recovery girl. But normally it was just a scratch or a cut - so a compound fracture was a new escalation.

“To say I’m surprised would be a lie.” Your teacher says before frowning at you two. “Rest that up, and next time you decide to have warfare on the dorm lawn, please refrain from injuring each other. Recovery Girl is not here to heal wounds created from stupidity.” Mr Aizawa finishes before sending you on your way.

Side by side, you and Katsuki walk back towards the dorms, the dull throb of your now recovered arm forgotten when he slips his hand into your uninjured one. “You’re a real dumbass you know that? What idiot trips over their own feet and breaks their arm?” Katsuki huffs at you. “I was blinded.” You shrug, the adrenaline from earlier is still pumping in your blood, as well as your pure happiness from the day so far. Suddenly your arm is pulled until it almost pops out of its pocket as Katsuki draws you towards him.

“What the fuck you talking about?” He questions, thoroughly confused. The giddy smile and bubbling excitement of the day’s events emerges back on your face as you look up at the blonde.

“I was blinded by your smile.” It’s corny and cringe and you know he’ll act as if he despises it.

“I’m breaking up with you.” But the smile that covers his face, one that he shows when he knows that no one can see his reaction, tells you otherwise -  he loves it.

“Who would put up with your homicidal tendencies then?” You reply, placing your injured hand on his cheek, the small movement not causing it any pain. Katsuki watches you for a moment as if assessing whether that hurt you, before he tilts his head and places a gentle kiss to your wrapped palm, then cups your jaw and places a soft kiss to your lips. Sparks flush down your spine at the contact, and you can’t help but place an extra chaste kiss against his pink lips when he pulls back ever so slightly. “Thank you for today,” your voice is a whisper against his lips.

“You’re lucky I love you, princess.” Katsuki sighs, tucking you under his arm as you finally reach the front doors of the building, trying to protect you from the cold outside.

“I love you too Katsu.”

The broken arm was worth it.

Best snow day ever.

©️ 2020 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[darkeninganon]

Ha, more Gream (Ghost Dream). Ranboo is weak to smol things. Want proof? Tubbo and Michael.

Gream stared out the window. His room was looking out over a grave. Tommy's grave. It was... something that made him feel strangely bitter. Like, he felt like he should be happy, but wasn't actually happy. Staring at the grave made him want to laugh and spin and cheer; but yell and scream and cry at the same time. Gream huffed, flopping onto his bed. It was green, like his curtains, rug, and anything else he could make green in his room. Ranboo had kicked up a storm about how weird it would look and that it wasn't a good idea, especially the window, but Tommy and Tubbo had talked him into accepting the changes.

Well, accepting wasn't really the right word, he still refused to accept the green room, but he didn't do anything other than glare at the door or window when he passed it. At least... Gream thought he was glaring. It was hard to tell because he had no eyelids.

Gream shuddered at that. Ranboo produced tears, and didn't need to blink in order to keep his eyes moist, but his tears hurt him when he cried. The guy was a disaster and probably shouldn't even exist, yet he still did. The ghost tried to avoid the half enderman as best as he could, but wanted to speak to him about... something.

With a sigh, Gream left the comfort of his bed, leaving his room to wander the mansion. Ever since that siren had sounded, the two teens told Gream he legitimately couldn't leave the mansion, or else the man with the gold tooth might find him and... and...

Gream shook his head, acid burning at the wood beneath his feet. "Oh, oh no. Not good, not good!" The ghost looked around, desperate to find a chest filled with spruce wood to replace the slowly eroding material.

"You thinking about what Tommy and Tubbo told you?"

Gream spun around, Ranboo standing there with a baby zombie piglin clinging to his pant leg. Ranboo looked... bored? Angry? "I'm... I'm sorry, I'll replace it! I just need to find-" Ranboo sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry..." Gream muttered, pulling his feet up to float noticably off the ground.

"It's fine. Just... keep an eye out for Michael." Ranboo huffed, picking up the little piglin. "Yes! That's right, we need to be careful with you." Ranboo cooed, nuzzling his child.

Gream just watched, surprised at how different the half enderman was acting. "you... Yeah. I'll be super careful." The ghost stated, lowering his legs back down to appear as if he were walking. He floated over to the two, smiling behind his mask. "hey there Michael. You... You need to stay away from me, okay?" Michael let out a little snort, "are you the monster? You have a mask like the monster." Michael then took out a wooden sword...

And smacked Gream with it.

"Ow! I didn't- I mean... I'm sorry?!" Gream looked between Ranboo and Michael, confused what he had done to be hit over the head.

Ranboo rolled his eyes, taking hold of the toy sword. "He's not the monster Michael. Good effort though. Yes! Such a good effort!" Ranboo resumed nuzzling him again, earning a laugh from the piglin. Ranboo stopped for a moment, looking to Gream.

The ghost stared back at the half enderman, literally shrinking under his unbreaking gaze. "So, um... Where is the-"

"Take some emerald blocks from the chest near the front, and trade with one of the villagers. One should have spruce planks to make into slabs." Ranboo turned and left, leaving the now small ghost to float and find his way to the trading center inside the house.

Gream sighed, floating towards the front of the house to look for the chest. Ranboo's directions weren't the best as there were at least five or six chests near the front, and Gream had no idea what was in which chest. He'd never bothered to look before.

"You're sure you haven't seen anything?"

That voice. Gream froze, listening in to the muffle conversation.

"You an Tubbo built your house close to the prison. If he was going to look anywhere for supplies, he'd probably look here."

That voice sent chills down his spine, making him want to shrink down to his smallest size and hide inside the chest. The chest lid dropped from his grasp, slamming shut loudly. He had shrunk to his smallest size. He really needed to learn to control his abilities.

"What was that?"

Gream ducked behind the chest, clamping his hands over his mouth to stay quiet. The voice couldn't find him here... he'd be in deep trouble... his food would be taken away, his bed, his flags, his books, he'd be taken away to someplace terrible.

"Probably just Michael." Ranboo. Ranboo was... lying to that voice? Was Ranboo insane?!

"Since when could zombie piglins open and close chests?"

Silence followed. Heavy and tense. Neither person was backing down. Even from his hiding place, Gream could imagine Ranboo glaring at whoever had that voice. The Warden. That's the name that came to mind with that voice. That cruel, cold, heartless, paranoid voice.

"What? You think I'd let Dream stay here? You'd think I'd be that dumb?" Ranboo hissed after the silence. Ranboo... was he working with the man with the golden tooth? Was this... Warden guy one of his goons? Gream shook his head, tangling his hands in his hair. He wanted to remember... he needed to remember.

"You two had a secret conversation, and when I asked you about it you didn't remember. Then you come crawling to me, demanding to be let in-"

"I said to put me in the prison. As an inmate. But you said I was a good person!"

"Are you saying this wouldn't have happened if I locked you up?!"

"Maybe! I don't know at all! I don't know where Dream is, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to tell you! Just like how I can't tell you that I b-" Ranboo's voice suddenly died. He growled, a static noise coming from deep within his throat. It stopped, somewhat, lessening to background static; "Put your sword away. I'm not going to attack you. I have better control than that."

"What the hell kind of noise was that?!"

"The kind of noise I make when someone attacks me!" Gream could hear the Warden backing down now, thrown off by Ranboo's suddenly inhuman noises. It made sense though, Ranboo was half enderman. "You come into my house, accuse me of harboring a fugitive, who you know would kill my husband if given the chance, and you call into question if I had anything to do with it when you know I have a terrible memory and apparently was a traitor! Yes! I'm angered! Now get the hell off of my property."

Silence followed. Gream peered over the top of the chest, finally spotting the duo. Purple puffs flew around Ranboo frantically, similar static and garbled chirps coming from all of them. Some were buzzing around the Warden, clearly trying to intimidate him into leaving. Even with his mask on, Gream could see the glare the Warden was sending towards Ranboo. "This isn't over. If you come anywhere near the prison-"

"You'll kill me on sight. Yeah, whatever. That's your battle cry these days." Ranboo stepped up, getting right in the Warden's face. "If you come near my family ever again, I'll return the favor in such a way, you'll wish you were dead."

Gream listened to the heavy footsteps of the Warden retreat, ducking low  in hopes of not being seen as Ranboo turned to enter the house. The ghost heard the hybrid sigh, sinking to the floor with his back against the door. "You can come out now. Sam is gone."

The small form of the ghost man peered out from behind the chest, acid bubbling against the wood. He pulled his hand back, cringing behind his mask and ready to be scolded. Ranboo was staring at him, and he stared back, curling in on himself so as to not accidentally dissolve anything. "I'm-"

"Why do you shrink?"

Gream jolted. Ranboo was still staring at him with that pseudo-angry look he always seemed to have around the ghost. "I... I um... I don't know... I just... I really don't want to be seen, then I'm small like this, and burning things with acid, and... I'm sorry, I'll learn to control it."

Ranboo sighed, standing up and walking over to Gream. The half enderman knelt down, scooping up the tiny ghost and holding him up to his face; "Relax. It's fine. Did you... do you know who that is?"

Gream shook his head, pausing before shrugging. "I... Not really? His voice sounds familiar... badly familiar, but as for a name... Warden... The Warden." Gream looked up to Ranboo now, hugging himself as he stood on the teen's hands, the netherite protecting his hands from the acid Gream always seemed to drip. "Do you... I mean are you... Is he-"

"Relax. I don't pick sides. Unless they're Tommy and Tubbo. I'm on the side of those two, but only if I need to be." Ranboo wished he had eyelids right now, then Gream probably wouldn't be so scared of him. "Sam... The Warden is... He's stressed easily, and..." Ranboo glanced at Gream's eyes, or where he thought his eyes were, a cold stone of pity resting heavy in his gut as he was hit with the realization of just how scared the little ghost was. "I'm not really working with him, but... I am pret-" his mouth suddenly sealed shut, as if he had just swallowed a block of honey. Ranboo tilted his head in confusion. No, that couldn't be right... "I'm pla-" Again, he was stopped from speaking. With an annoyed sigh, he set Gream down on the chest. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I wish I could, but... I'm stopping myself, as you can see. Much like you and your... shrinking and acid, it's not something I can control. Please, don't tell Tubbo or Tommy."

Gream nodded. "I won't. I promise, just... help me with the floor please? I'm not sure how to get big again or turn off... Turn off? Stop? The acid issue going on." He muttered, picking up one foot to reveal a growing puddle of slimey acid. Ranboo chuckled, a gentle smile coming to his face. "Alright. But only if you use the magic word."

"Please and thank you?"

"There we go." Ranboo cooed, patting Gream's head. The half enderman set the little ghost down on the chest and went to repair the floor.

[katsuflossy]

A Doll’s Palace

Pairing: Hawks x Reader 

TW: Angst, Mentions of maternal death, death, yandere themes, mentions of societal female expectations

A/n:  If it wasn’t for Echo and Mix, would’ve been straight booty cheeks so omg thank y’all for helping me edit this to near perfection ❤❤❤

Taglist: @johariameil @iiminibattlehero @ecao @melanimed​ @mixfi​

Chastity, Purity, Demureness, Divine Feminity: They built your enamored status and innocence in the kingdom of Braavos. A pure noblewoman is seen as the most remarkable feminine icon in society, and you involuntarily became the symbol that many women hated and men looked up to. A curse, your father had called it, as the most beautiful of your family is always the earliest to go, right after birth. Since then, you’ve grown to embody your mother, a face he so loved, and swore on his life that you would never die from a soul exchange as your mother did.

But your marriage with Takami Keigo? A reality every hopeless romantic maiden could only experience through dream. . King ‘Hawks’ was preferred by his people, an esteemed man that led millions to victory in battle with wit and millions of hearts to burst using charm. You were one in a million, the heart that won the golden ticket to strike the hawk’s heart.

Too bad, the reality was shared another lucky heart.

Red silks tailored to your natural measurements; the powdered innocent blush on your face was paralleled to the floor as your brain overflowed with thoughts. Your hands twirled the parchment scroll in your palms, but your eyes remembered the exact words inked on the paper. They jumbled with the script you’ve repeated since the crack of dawn. Midoriya fluttered about the room, making the bed you just laid in and unclogging the once cold bathwater made for you to look more ‘youthful.’ A simple day in the Crystal Queen’s life.

“Izuku?” Your manservant ceased his movement, eagerly giving his attention to you.

“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes tried to reach yours; however, they remained on the paper within your hands, slightly crinkled from when your restraint broke.

“You would tell me when I am wrong” Your irises slowly slid to his frame; pupils almost swallowed into the depths of your eye color. A shiver ran down his back . “right?”

“Y-yes, my Queen.” He didn’t dare to flinch under your gaze, which stared at him longer than what was comfortable. You ended your stare by closing your eyes, giving him a wide smile before rising from your love seat, slipping the parchment in your sleeve. Your steps passed straight by his still frozen figure until they had reached the door frame.

“Midoriya, my faithful servant.” Your voice echoed through the room like a skillful siren. His attention remained on you as you continued to speak.

“I want you in the main dining hall by eight on the dot. Please don’t be late.” You left before he could properly bow at your command.

The barren halls laughed at you, pricking your mentality, forming pairs of figures every few columns you passed. A maid was pressed against the left column just a while ago, arms wrapped around the pale neck of your husband, his arms around her peasant waist.

The one you just passed? The same maid laid her hands on Keigo’s face, smoothing out his goatee’s hairs, and he allowed her to.

The entrance of the dining hall up ahead held your heart’s worst fear. An exchange of breath, love, and intimacy that should be sacred between those wedded. Your mind pictured the peacock vase at the entrance shattering on your behalf, impaling the two’s skin. The imaginary screams were like wine to your ears as you finally entered the hall.

The area was warmed by the marble light of the great chandelier,everything was covered with the golden gleam, hiding the little splatters of deep red in the floor. A mint haired maid captured your attention.

“Your Majesty? I apologize, but the dining room is not finished for tonight’s dinner.” Her brown eyes stared at you nervously; her chubby cheek showed where her teeth bit into its flesh.

“Oh, no worries, I am just looking for now.” The fake smile stuck itself to your face as you examined the long dining table. Only a handful of food were fixated on the top.

“You make excellent food here, Cara. What beautiful carvings in the baby carrots.” You quirked up, noticing she stiffed at your last words.

“Of course, my work is only done best for you, y-your Majesty.” Your practiced laugh came through the room, instilling superficial relief in the maid.

“But I must ask, are you eating some as you cook? You’ve gotten wider in the last months.” Your hand took her chin; curious eyes roamed her plump face as she blushed by the attention.

“Haha, y-yes, I’ve been eating a little more than usual.” Her gaze shuffled to anywhere but you. She was such a terrible liar.

“As long as you’re not eating for two.” You threw your head back; melodious laughter exhausted your stomach pit. Cara barely joined in with her nervous laughter, face breaking red in embarrassment.

“Did I hear my little bird’s beautiful laughter?” The kingly presence broke into the room. Which one? You kept your tongue as Keigo wrapped you into a kiss, which sadly set your heart on fire. Your lips separated, trained eye watching as his own sneakily trailed to the kitchen maid. Your smile dulled before brightening .

“My King, I have exciting news for you.” Your face snuggled into his palm on your cheek. Hawks eyes gleamed like the most gilded of plates.

“Hm? Well, love, don’t keep me on my toes. Let me hear it.” You relished in his arms wrapped around your midsection before pulling out of his embrace, bopping him on the nose.

“That’s the purpose.o keep you anxious until the grand reveal.” Your smile started to burn your cheeks as you watched the room’s bustle, preparing for a grand disaster.

Violins and Cellos played throughout the dining hall as the dinner began. The long table set with food separated you and Keigo, each taking the farthest end. Playful looks and banters were exchanged between the two as the servants lined against the walls, ready for even the most subtle commands. After laughing at one of Keigo’s pun, you clapped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, it was all a joyous evening, but I must bring attention to the evening’s highlight: the surprise.” Hawks quirked up in curiosity. The rest of the maids and Midoriya exchanged curious glances but did not say a word. You rose from your seat, hand gliding across the table’s surface.

“As you know, I am a lady of chastity, not by will, but by curse.” Your steps drew closer to your king.

“My father wishes nothing of seeing me carrying a little one. You, my king, are a young man, one who’s drive is active. A man who wishes to grow old with children around as you said at our first ball.” You were only a mere meter away from his seated figure, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob in nervousness.

“Yes? But my little bird, why is this such an important announcement.”

“Be patient, my love. I am getting to that.” You were half a meter away from him now; his brow held the slightest furrow in them. Cara shuffled in the corner of your eye.

“Well, I begged my father, being of a monogamous nation, and it was hard. Harems were long abandoned in the kingdom of Braavos, but I did it.” You pulled from your sleeves the parchment paper and gave it to Keigo, whose eyes were full of anxiety. He opened the scroll to read.

“In the Kingdom of Fukuoka, the King will have the privilege of a harem, up to 20 women. He will be able to officially appear with them at balls, sleep with them, and—” his eyes flicker to you with shock before rereading what was written. “—procreate with them.”

You smiled before pointing to the end of the paper.

“Only if the Queen, rightfully crowned and inaugurated, is given the parenthood of all children birthed by the harem. The Queen will also be able to have a harem of her own, whether sexually or not.”

Hawks’ wings rose, eyes looking at you in disbelief. You lifted his face close to yours.

“Don’t worry, love. I only have eyes for you. Though,what happened to equality and freedom? The two things you fight for?” Your eyes flickered to Cara, whose face was red with anger. Keigo already took the pen from your sleeves and signed the paper.

“S-stop! This law c-can’t pass !” Her voice broke the cheery atmosphere, riddling it with confusion. The maids began to whisper frantically. You rose a brow at her outburst.

“And why is that? You have no say in royal affairs, kitchen maid.” Her eyes began to water, falling down her fat cheeks onto her fabric.

“P-please, d-don’t take my baby.” The room fell deadly silent after her plea. You ripped your hands from Hawks’ body, face morphing in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘your baby’?” Your eyes turned to Hawks, who sat silent. You could see the gears turning in his head to construct a lie.

“Hawks. What does she mean ‘your baby’?” His gears steamed before stopping abruptly, giving up on filing an excuse. His hands reached out to hold you.

“I can explain.” You moved quickly out of his range before halting him in his tracks.

“You can explain? Do you know how embarrassing that is to me? If it’s true, you’ve been cheating on me for months! Knowing that I couldn’t even bear for you!” Your heart pained you as the night you found out, reliving the shock and betrayal over again.

You were breaking character. Taking a deep breath, you turned away from your husband, a tear slowly streaking your face.

“We’ll talk about this when there aren't any spectators. Cara, bring out the special wine I’ve asked you to make for the celebration. I hope you two are happy.” Cara still stood on the spot, by fear and resistance. You turned to her; wide eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Now.” She ran to the kitchen, hand over mouth to hide her whimpers.

“Midoriya, help the pregnant lady out. It’ll be a shame if she broke her back or something.” Midoriya jumped up, running in the same direction as Cara.

“(Y/n), let me explain please—”

“There is nothing to explain; just enjoy your wine and celebrate.” The bitter sarcasm rolling off your tongue in waves. Cara and Midoriya entered the hall. Her eyes strong with will and face wiped of tears. Midoriya poured the wine for Hawks, filling his chalice to the brim. The winged king sighed and took an immediate gulp. You immediately turned to Cara, your eyes evoking sadness.

“I can’t even be in the same place as you two right now.” You stormed out of the dining room, leaving only the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor.

The candle lights flickered as Hawks entered your shared bedroom, dressed and cleaned for bed. You sat on your loveseat from the afternoon, now twirling a diamond ring on your finger. As he stood in front of you, your eyes remained on your hand.

“My love please forgive m—”

“Why?” You looked up at him; pupils dilated.

“Why should I?” He stepped back, startled to see the pain he had inflicted on you. He stared into your wide eyes for a moment longer until he knelt down, knees touching the red carpet’s wool. His hands clasped your own stopping the continuous twirl of your marriage symbol before wetting his dry lips.

“For a young royal bachelor, I was loved by all types of power-hungry men and women; they flocked me with compliments, ideas, whispers, promises. But you, you were the one that saw who I was behind my status, a young boy who lost his parents. A coward put into the place of a king before he could even blink. You saw the real me, and still, you didn’t turn away. We both embrace our vulnerabilities from each other, and if—” His Adam's apple bobbed, throat restricting as a tear fell from his eye. You shuffled in discomfort, your own tears brimming at his speech.

“—if I could take back what I had done, I would do so immediately, within a heartbeat. But she bears my child, and I...I can’t leave it as my father left me.” His neck strained to look up at you, forcing himself not to choke down a cry.

You laid your other hand on his own. Your tears were staining your cheek as you nodded your head frantically, taking him in your arms. He pulled you into a kiss, minty breath intertwining with your own as the candle flames swayed with the emotions.

The scream you let out in the morning had maids and guards rushing to your room. King Takami Keigo was found dead after you both went to sleep. Few hours from the coroner revealed he died of poison.

You walked down the winding stairs of the dungeon with Midoriya by your side. The last cell held a meager amount of light, only showing the mint green hair of Cara. She jumped at the sounds of your footsteps. You ambled up until the bars could touch your toes.

“To kill your very own king is a crime punishable by death.” She wracked in the chains, trying to get closer to you.

“I didn’t kill him! I swear it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” You took the chalice from Midoriya, holding it up to the ceiling as if you were inspecting it.

“This was the last thing he consumed before coming to bed, so the maids say.” Your eyes turned back to the ex-kitchen maid who burst into tears; head bowed in shame.

“Everything has pointed to you, but I understand. I’d kill if the love of my life betrayed me too. I’d use the same exact poison too, Aqua Tofana, the famous poison used by many hurt women to end their lovers.” Her head creaked back to your figure, eyes widening with the growing smirk on your face.

“Although the law states you should serve immediate death, I don’t want that precious baby to go along with you. It’s my last semblance of Keigo, after all. So, as Queen of Fukuoka, I have decided to spare you until the baby has been born. You will stay in this jail cell with ample nursing so my child will be born safe and healthy. That is all.”

You and Midoriya left the dark dungeon, Cara’s screams echoing through the hollow area. Your smirk never softening as you climbed up the stairs, hand still holding Keigo's chalice.

Midoriya laid anxious the whole time. After all, he was guilty of killing the king, adding the poison to the wine when Cara wasn’t looking. His silence finally broke.

“My Queen? Why did you make me...do that?” You halted your steps, pondering as you looked at the golden chalice.

“Keigo would’ve never loved me again. She gave him what I couldn’t, a child to love. He would’ve rather played father with an actual mother, a mother who’d know how to love a child. So I had to stop that before I lost my throne.” Your fingers skimmed the actual feather-covered by gold on the cup, feeling its ridges and bumps.

“Izuku?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“You would tell me when I’m wrong, right?

“Yes, my Queen.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tigre

“.... Where am I?” Tigre opened his eyes to darkness and the sound of his own deep voice. The black hulks of the concrete pillars stood in rows on the cold concrete floor.  “Oh… I know where this is.”

“Where are you?” An unfamiliar voice said. It was friendly… curious. Non-threatening.

“It’s where I live. But there are no chains any more. Brother broke the chains. I’m so tired. I want to sleep.” He closed his eyes again but the voice woke him.

“Brother?”

“Yes. He came… and he commanded the chains to burn and they fell off.” He suddenly saw his ‘brother’ there, standing with golden eyes. He saw as clear as if it was happening now, how that deep snarling sent heat through the thick iron chains that bound him for years and melted them like ice.

“He is your brother?”

“He has eyes like mine…” says Tigre, looking fondly at the image of this man. “No one else has eyes like mine. Is he okay? Zihang…” He remembered the explosion and the collapse of the building. He stood against the rubble, but he could smell the blood of Zihang. So much blood. “Please don’t die… don’t die, Zihang…” Tears ran down his cheeks and he curled into a ball.

“You know his name?”

“Yes.”

A square of blue light shined on his face suddenly. A different voice sounded from it, distant and electronic. “Zihang… Chu Zihang. Do you read? Come in! Come in, Chu Zihang!” 

That’s how he knew his rescuer’s name.

“What is your name?”

“Tigre… Where is Zihang? Is Zihang okay?” He stood up and started walking, looking for the source of the voice.

He suddenly saw a man standing there and stopped a moment before retreating again behind a pillar.

“Are you afraid?”

“Who are you? Where is this? The building blew up. This isn’t real. Are you going to try to kill me?” He asked question after question, breathing hard from panic.

“Why would I kill you?” The voice remained calm and curious, almost confused.

A vision of a dark shadow moved swiftly between the pillars. Tigre knew this shadow. It was the great beast he fought and killed last. It was hiding, but he could hear it breathing, its growling.

The friendly voice fell silent. 

Tigre didn’t cower or hide. His posture changed to stalking. He walked forward slowly, staying in the shadows of the pillars. But he moved forward with intent, without fear. He kept his head still.

He could hear the monster moving. The monster was hesitating. It was behind the pillar directly in front of him. It was either going to attack or retreat. Tigre wanted to push it to retreat. So he moved forward a step...then another step and then he ran. Three long strides and he was at the pillar and the monster retreated, turning his back to him to run away.  

But Tigre was already on top of it. He dragged it down with his weight and pinned it to the hard floor. His arm wrapped its throat and choked it. The monster was about twice as big and heavy as he was, but its breath was choked off by Tigre’s bulging arm muscles. Tigre felt that rapid pulse through his skin and just focused on squeezing, harder, harder… harder!

The creature died. He could feel the heart stop.  After a few seconds of stillness he let go. It was once some sort of mammal but now it was covered in scales, bare of fur, eyes rolled back to their whites. It may have been a cow.

“What are you going to do now?”

Tigre looked down, sadly. “Eat him.” 

“Why?”

“I have nothing else to eat. They did not feed me for a long time. Many days. If I don’t eat him, it will be days before I can eat again. I will have to eat him. You will eat anything if you feel hungry and desperate enough. Eating him makes me sick. But if I don’t eat, I will starve to death.”

The voice was silent for a while. 

Tigre sat next to the corpse. This wasn’t real. He had done this already. A sharp pain stabbed through the center of his skull and he flinched. “Hurts… Who are you?”

“My name is Toyama. I’m here to help you.”

“Where is Zihang?” He looked up. 

“He’s okay. Who are they? The ones that feed you?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s alright,” said Toyama. “That part of your life is over. And a new life will start for you. I will help guide you to it, but you must be careful and not hurt anyone. Even if they try to hurt you. You must do no harm. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now rest a little while longer. We will speak again.”

Tigre lay on the hard cold ground and felt unbearably sleepy. He closed his eyes.

Toyama released him from the trance he’d put him in. He sat next to the young man’s bed, listening to him breathe quietly.

Before putting him in the trance, he had sat like this for nearly thirty minutes.

Schneider had approached him that morning about this new recruit. The man spoke to him in private instead of going through official channels on the Nightwatcher Forum. He told him he wanted to evaluate the mental state of this newcomer as closely as he could and write a detailed and honest assessment of it, to be completely honest in his opinion and to report privately, only to him.

Toyama was an experienced psychologist, and knew that Schneider was prone to secrecy, a loner who had his own way of doing things, but never had he been personally solicited by him to do an evaluation.  Usually he worked closely with the other professors, Guderian and the Principal Anjou. This was the first time Schneider had approached him over an evaluation. It took great effort for the man to get anywhere. The oxygen container allowed him to do things, but he was nowhere near the stamina of a healthy person. For him to make the great effort to meet him in person told him the importance of the request.

On the day of this evaluation, he was personally escorted to the ward by senior members of the Executive Board and left there without anyone speaking. He used Schneider’s own security card to get in, meaning Schneider was shielding him from involvement. He closed the door behind him and he was only with this young man, who was still heavily sedated.

He sat with him and started with physical observations. Like Manstein, he could observe the scars from the battles and the shackles. But unlike Manstein, he could draw conclusions about the psychological effects of long term confinement. You didn’t shackle someone, unless you needed to be in physical proximity of someone dangerous and wanted to do something to them that they didn’t want you to do to them.

He expected to see abuse.

So in this quiet hospital room, he started his psychological evaluation, calling for his Yanling to enter what he knew would be a damaged mind. But instead of a vast storehouse of tragic information, he found a jumbled mess, full of long gaps of memory lost. Memories scattered through time like a reel of a movie that had been cut to pieces and thrown on the floor. And instead of a wide variety of experiences, he just saw the same dark space, filled with foundation pillars.

He didn’t see someone driven mad by the isolation and the violence. He saw someone one who was only concerned about his rescuer, Chu Zihang. Someone who didn’t voluntarily kill from frustration and violence, but someone who fought and killed for food.

So he went in again. And then a third time and found the same thing. The young man was given fertile ground for a twisted mind, but his mind had grown up tall and straight.

After several hours, he decided he could honestly write that the young man’s mind appeared healthy, but he had some reservations, namely, the piecemeal nature of his memories. Toyama never met someone in his life who had the same Yanling as him, who could mold and shape the memories of a person. But that didn’t mean that he was the only one. He knew his own work, and he had the feeling that someone had forcefully erased and manipulated the mind of this man, to make him docile. Based on the hard facts, he could recommend him to the College, but it wasn’t just his body that had been shackled, but his mind had been shackled as well.

He returned to Schneider who looked over the report. He then prepared tea for him and sat across from him. The quiet hiss of his oxygen tank was the only sound while he read. Toyama couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at Schneider’s odd behavior. Perhaps Schneider should be the one getting an evaluation instead. It was obvious that the good health of the patient wasn’t natural. It was induced. His mind was pruned like a delicate and beautiful bonsai tree that would require maintenance. Toyama got the feeling that he was going to be asked to continue that ‘maintenance’. 

He was right.

Schneider was very satisfied with this evaluation and even smiled. Toyama was accustomed to whitewashing minds for the benefit of the world. The Executive division was occasionally messy with its work and the world had to remain ignorant of dragons. Perhaps Schneider assumed that he wouldn’t mind this job but he preferred not to use his abilities against students. He still believed in free will and the right for hybrids to understand their world. On the other hand, he also understands that freeing the patient's mind could also spell his doom and he felt pity for him.

The patient, named officially Tigre, was moved to an ordinary room in the hospital and ordinary accomodations were being prepared for him. Toyama felt it was right to introduce him to the world gradually. Tigre wouldn’t understand the world at all and the students wouldn’t understand him. To throw him in uninitiated would be a disaster.

He saw Tigre’s eyes open genuinely to the world.. The voice he heard was Toyama’s, welcoming him. Tigre stared in recognition, remembering his voice from his dreams, like a baby opening his eyes for the first time and recognizing the voice of his mother from the womb.

Breakfast was simply a bland, slightly sweetened warm cereal and a small amount of apple. Toyama fed him at first with a spoon. Tigre devoured these foods, rising up from the bed to follow the spoon as it retreated and opening his mouth for the next bite. Even those middling flavors were like the taste of ambrosia to someone forced to eat nothing but raw flesh. His eyes grew wide and bright, and Toyama was forced to look away. That inhuman and icy fire pierced him with fear.

He then slid a pair of sunglasses over Tigre’s eyes. “You need these to help others see you better.” He gently explained.

That yellow light was dampened by the dark lenses and Tigre nodded. 

He bathed him with a warm cloth, clipped his nails, and combed his long hair. Tigre was unused to any touch at all and the hairs rose on his skin and he shivered, closing his eyes. 

Toyama pulled out his phone to flash cards in different languages. He would ask him to tell him what a single word said. If Tigre pronounced the word he would nod and go to a different language. The young man spoke English, but could also read it. He read in both Chinese, Korean, and a little Japanese. This spoke to a high level of education at an early age.

Toyama had tried to look into his earliest memories, but attempting to do so caused him physical pain. He didn’t want to ruin their relationship so whenever the man expressed that something hurt, he backed off and didn’t do it again. Now he knew that this wasn’t some orphaned street child in the middle of nowhere. Someone who could read so many languages had to have gone to a private or prestigious school.

His memories of his early childhood had been erased. But there had to be traces of it. He made similar evaluations of his recognizing numbers, his understanding of math. He brought a table and put a corn seed on the table, a cup of dirt, and a cup of water and asked him to tell him what to do with it. This was to evaluate his understanding of science. Tigre stared at it for a long time. His eyes suddenly squinted and he flinched slightly and turned away as if seeing the sunlight after leaving a dark room. Toyama wrote this down. He wasn’t sure why understanding how plants grew elicited pain, but it was important to establish these patterns.

Toyama played music. Music was something embedded deep in the mind and if he had any memories of his childhood he would react. He played the themes of music from children’s television. When he started playing the theme song for ‘Reading Rainbow’, Tigre grew visibly upset and started to pant, clutching his head. Tigre burst into tears, crying. “It hurts. It hurts!”

He collapsed on the bed, writhing and sobbing until Toyama had him sedated for the rest of the day. Toyama completed and sent this evaluation to Schneider who responded with a short message that the reintroduction to life should continue.

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Battle Royal | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  2,975

Warnings: (Y/N) is traumatized, but you knew that already

A/N:  IT’S B A C K, SHE’S HOME

Taglist:   @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief​ @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip​ @dolphincommander​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05 @justarandomhoman​

You were very pleased to finally get a nap.  

It took a few minutes of answering questions, and by the end of it you’d basically told Claire and Steve every secret you’d ever had, but it was worth it.  You’d answer all of their questions and a million more if it meant you got to take another nap in the corner of Douxie’s room.

Waking up to general panic, however, was not as good.

“Morgana’s alive and coming for us!”

You sat up just in time to see Morgana’s hand reach through a shadow portal, only for Claire to shut the thing before any real damage could be done.

“Well… that’s not good,”

“Douxie, what do we do?”

Your wizard turned to face you, then Claire, then the empty space where the portal had been.

“Merlin?”

You nodded, “Yeah, Merlin,”

It took you less than a minute to wake up from your nap, and five minutes to get to Merlin’s workshop.  After that, it only took you an eternity to convince him that Morgana had really returned.

“I swear, Morgana’s not dead!”

“Rubbish,”

“It’s true, master.  She saw her in the shadow realm, which is great for saving history,”

“But she’s coming to attack the kingdom any second!”

“Which is less great,”

“We are all in grave danger,”

“And what were you doing in the shadow realm, hmm?  Its dark mirrors trick you, sozzle your mind.  Morgana is dead, and no magic can change that.  I haven’t time to chase ghosts.  We have more immediate threats,”

Typical Merlin, unwilling to listen to anyone except Arthur.  But something he said struck a chord with you.  No magic could bring Morgana back, at least no magic Merlin knew of.  You, however, had some experience with a different kind of magic, one that had some alarming potential.

“Morgana is a threat!”

“Listen well, girl, even if she had cheated death, we don’t stand a chance if Gunmar attacks before I finish the amulet,”

Past Douxie kicked down the door.  He was talking, they all were, but you were very lost in thought.  The Arcane Order had mentioned something about being older than the stars, and that meant they were round now.  If their magic could possess you, and create the green knight, then-

“I know you think we’re just a bunch of dumb teens, but we have to defend Camelot from disaster,”

“Hey, guys?  What if we’re thinking of the wrong disaster,”

You had Douxie and Claire’s attention, but not Merlin’s.  What else is new.

“Think about it.  Morgana had to be brought back by extremely powerful magic.  Maybe Gandalf over here can’t think of anything that could do that, but I think I have a good idea of we might be facing,”

Your wizard and the sorceress watched you with anticipation, but Merlin had no time for this.  With a wave of his hand, half-masks appeared, covering the bottom of your face.  The same thing happened to Claire and Douxie. 

“Silence!”

“Wizard got your tongues?”

You couldn’t speak, but with the limited knowledge of morse code that you’d picked up in the wars, you told Archie that you would fight him in a Denny’s parking lot whenever the opportunity arose.

“If you truly believe the kingdom’s in danger, then go protect it… outside.  I’ve an amulet to finish,”

Green magic surrounded you, lifting you, Douxie, Claire and Archie out the door and away from Merlin.

As much as you hated being silenced, it was kind of fun to watch Douxie struggle to remove the masks.  It took a few minutes for the green magic surrounding you and Claire to turn blue, and when it did, you were thankful enough to help your wizard with his gag.

“No sign of Morgana anywhere,”

“Nothing but unwashed plebeians stuffing their faces, eh, Steve?”

If you looked into the crowd, you could see Steve, an unwashed plebeian, stuffing his face.  

You turned your attention from the teenager, who was now running towards your small group, to watch Arthur give his little speech.  To be honest, you weren’t actually that focused on what the king was saying.  In fact, you had zoned right out until he mentioned Bular. 

At the king’s command, the troll was brought out into the shadows where the public could see him.  The Gumm-Gumm prince roared, and you heard screams echo out through the crowd, one of which came from Steve.

You, on the other hand, didn’t scream.  Instead, you took a few steps back, clenching your jaw and your fists.  Seeing the face of the troll who had stalked you for a century, gotten you tortured, and tried to kill you and your friends was not something you’d been looking forward to.

Douxie noticed your discomfort and grabbed your hand, “You alright, love?”

“Not really, no,”

Your wizard looked around, forming a plan, “Ok, guys, come this way,”

You followed his lead and found yourself in a shaded alleyway discussing the plan.  It wasn’t much, but it was way better than being anywhere near Bular.

“Right, we know Arthur’s the main target.  I’ll draw stasis traps around the perimeter, put up defensive wards-” Steve cut him off, not with words, but with food, “I forgot how good these tasted.  The ones in the future aren’t the same,”

You may have been viscerally upset by the fact that the Gumm-Gumm prince was anywhere near you, but you weren’t heartless.  The sight of your boyfriend enjoying a part of his old home brought a smile to your face.  Claire, however, had no time for this.

“Guys, this is Morgana we’re talking about.  We can’t just wait for her to slice our throats,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, Steve, but I’d rather not die horribly this week,”

“She’ll find a way in, she’s not just powerful,”

Archie flew down, perching on your shoulder in his dragon form, “No sign of any sorceresses, but then again, all you humans do look the same,”

“She is crafty.  She’ll try to infiltrate the tournament,” your gang, minus Steve, started to walk down the street, “We have to go on the offensive, root the witch out,”

“You do that. We’ll secure the castle,”

Claire looked between you and the wizard.  You gave her a nod, Douxie gave her a high-five, and the three of you ran off, Archie flying behind you.

You wanted to avoid Bular as much as possible, so you followed your wizard, placing your own protective warding around his.  It didn’t take too long for your mood to improve greatly.  Spending time with your loved ones just kinda does that sometimes.

“And there.  The king’s chambers and Merlin’s tower, completely warded.  No evil sorceress getting in now, eh?”

“Oh, you’ve done it alright.  Overdone it,”

You cringed as a bypasser found himself trapped in one of Douxie’s sigils, and you walked over with him to free the poor dude.

“Well, at least the castle’s safe,”

“As safe as it can be when an evil sorceress is breathing down your neck,” you crossed your arms, looking around at your work, “I really hope we never have to use these,”

Douxie wrapped an arm around your waist and placed a hand on the side of your face, turning you to look at him, “You never know, love, but whatever comes next, I promise I will keep you safe.  I won’t let anyone, Arcane Order included, hurt you again,”  the emotion in his voice almost surprised you.  

You knew that what the Order did to you had caused damage, both physical and mental, but you’d never really realized that had done the same to him.  Obviously, you were worse off, but you just now realized just how much guilt Douxie felt over this, and it made you feel a lot worse.  You already knew that he would blame himself and that it would just add to the guilt he already felt about messing up time (which was not his fault), but you had miscalculated just how much remorse the man you loved would feel.

You didn’t say anything.  How could you say or do anything other than pull him towards you and bury your face in his chest?

“Thank you, Douxie,” you looked up into his hazel eyes, “And uh, just in case you were wondering, I’ve got your back also,”

He smiled, letting out a small laugh, “I know.  Thank you, darling,”

“Ay, no need to thank me,” you said, a lazy grin on your face as you kissed your wizard. 

Your hands moved from his back to rest on his neck.  Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic thought, but you were really glad that you weren’t driven to strangle him.  You broke the kiss, still grinning.  He turned his face, taking one of your hands and kissing it.  

“I love you,” his words were a little muffled by your hand, but that didn’t take away any of the meaning.

If possible, your smile got bigger, “I love you too,”

Externally, everything was quiet and peaceful, but internally, you were screaming and thinking, “Fuckin finally!” over and over again.

This might have been a bad idea for a future you, but screw it.  You’d been waiting for this for long enough, and the same went for Douxie.  You had been through a lot in the past few decades, and you both deserved a goddamn break, and to spend some time with each other.

But clearly, the universe did not agree.

“OI, the king summons you!”  oh wow, and it was Gallahad specifically ruining the moment, which is, what, the second time he’s done that?  He grabbed your boyfriend and shook him around a little before continuing, “Come with me at once!”

“What-”

You and Archie shared a glance of mutual confusion before following the knight and the wizard.

“We have reached the time that’s not the beginning, but not the end!  A half-time, if you will.  Enjoy this match of misfits, my lord!”

“Ugh, I thought the king was in danger, not looking to use my friend as a sideshow,”

“Well, that’s Camelot for you,”  

While the crowd watched Archie burn a gnome to a crisp, you watched Bular, who sat looking extremely bored, in his corner.  Technically speaking, he hadn’t sent spies after you, ordered your torture, or tried to kill your friends yet, but you knew he would one day, and that was enough to set you on edge.

Douxie slipped a hand into yours, squeezing it reassuringly, and you smiled.  You may have been a ball of nerves and edges at that moment, but you still had a heart.

“Now, the formidable Knight of Skulls and his challenger, Sir Clairee of the House of Nuñez!”

Now, you were always down for a good scheme, but this was a little too unexpected.  Your jaw dropped as you watched Claire enter the field dressed in her purple armour.  Without a second thought, both you and Douxie had thrown yourselves over the stand you’d been in to get closer to the girl.

“What is she doing?”

“I think she’s Mulan-ing it,”

Whatever the hell Claire was doing, she did it with style, fighting with grace and elegance in a swirl of purple and black.  She was doing well until her opponent grabbed Steve’s drink and threw it in her face.  The girl fell back and the Knight of Skulls raised his axe above her head.  With no other option, Claire used her magic to throw the guy against the wall.

“Sorcery?  That is forbidden!”

“Yeah, but you have to admit it’s pretty epic,”

Claire didn’t give a shit about what Arthur had to say, something you respected.  The girl got straight to business interrogating the fallen knight.  You didn’t know why she was doing it, but you assumed she had reasons.

Or you did until she flipped the guy’s helmet off revealing a very confused red-haired dude.

Lancelot and another guard grabbed Claire, removing her helmet and revealing that she was, in fact, a woman.  This mattered to no one.  What did matter, was that she had used magic.

“The witch is disqualified!”

“You both fight with no honour!  Begone!”

“Well, that isn’t the worst thing that could have happened,”

“Hail, Morgana!”

“But that is!”

A man with a green glowing blade appeared behind Arthur, prepared to stab him.  Before he had the chance, Claire portaled the assassin out onto the field where he transformed into a troll.

“Oop, changeling,” you muttered, earning a half-smile from Douxie.

The creature laughed as it drew more green knives, one for each of his four hands.  Lovely.

“Yep, changeling.  Protect the king!”  Douxie yelled as said changeling threw two knives.  The blades hit their marks, turning two guards to stone.

The situation somehow got worse as the king entered the fray, jumping in front of the creature.  The changeling, however, did not attack the king, instead, he elected to make your worst nightmares come true.

“Run free, Gumm-Gumm prince,”

“At last!”

“(Y/N), run,” Douxie said before he, too, threw himself right into danger.

As Bular pounced on the king, Douxie created a shield around himself and Arthur.  Upon impact, the sphere-shaped defence rolled away and out of the courtyard.  Bular wasted no time going after them, not even giving you a second glance.  You supposed you should be relieved, but you could feel the hits Douxie was taking, and suddenly relief was out of the question.  

You went to follow the king and your wizard when the kingdom exploded.  You braced yourself for a moment before continuing on your course.  Bombs or not, you were going to protect your wizard.  And also the king.  That was probably important.

You made it out of the yard just in time to see Bular jump through the flames and over the now crumbling walls of Camelot to his freedom.  Cool, dope, the threat to your life was gone.  Now all that was left was the threat to Arthur’s life.

Speaking of, you darted in front of the king, creating a shield just as the changeling attacked.  It bounced off the force-field you’d created, giving you enough time to draw your sword.  Your friends and Lancelot stood tall, protecting the king, weapons at the ready.  It probably looked awesome, but you couldn’t tell.  Fortunately for you, I can tell, and it did look awesome.

“Stay back!”

The creature growled, “Fools, I’ve already won!”

Your eyes widened as you watched explosions surround the castle, each one contained in a force-field of its own.

“Merlin’s tower!”

“Good call with the defences, guys!”

“Yeah, but they won’t last long,”

“Oh no, Douxie,” Archie warned, flying towards you.

“What?”

“The other Douxie!  With the man-bun, in the tower?”

“fUCK!”

“Ohhhhh fUZZBUCKETS!”

You, Douxie and Claire bolted to the castle, but your speed did not stop your snark, “Still not gonna say it?”

“Be patient, love!”

By the time you got to the castle, green smoke was everywhere.  True, it was surrounded by shields, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying.

Douxie was equally horrified, if not more so.  This was his home once, and watching it go up in flames was not a pleasant experience.  It also put the thought of Claire, or worse, you going up in flames into his head, and that made him feel sick.

“(Y/N), Claire, stay here, help the civilians,”

“Are you kidding!?”

“Douxie, we can help!”

You looked around.  The civilians were, in fact, in need of help, and as much as you wanted to help your friends, the people needed you more.  But that didn’t mean Claire had to stick with you.  She was good in a fight, and you were more of a doctor.  It just made sense for them to do this.

“Ok, you guys go, I’ll stay,”

“(Y/N)-” 

You cut off Claire’s protests, “Ah, ah, no, we don’t have time for this, just-” you took a second to kiss Douxie, because you did have time for that,  “Come back to me, ok?”

They both nodded, and you ran off in separate directions.  

Healing calmed you.  Sure, you could fight and whatever else, but healing was your passion.  You hadn’t studied medicine for centuries for nothing.  Taking on your role as a doctor cleared your mind.  You were able to direct people to the safest places, protecting them from falling debris and fixing whatever wounds they had.

Then there was another explosion and your mind went fuzzy again.  You didn’t feel any pain, so Douxie was probably fine, but you were still concerned.  You ran back to where you’d left Steve and the knights, just in time to see the kid get himself knighted.

Everyone was alive, thank god, and they all appeared to be in decent condition, except for past Douxie who was passed out in a barrel.

“Do you have an explanation for that, or should I just assume you’re trying to give your past self head trauma?”

Douxie just laughed, and you hugged him, sticking with the head trauma theory because no other answer had been provided.

You relaxed into his hold, returning the hug, “Hey, can you do me a favour and never run into an exploding building again, please?  Thank you,”

“I don’t plan on it, love,”

You smirked a little as you pulled away from his embrace, your hands remaining intertwined, “Good,  would be worried if you did,”

Douxie laughed again, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you went to check on Claire and Steve.

It was just then that Merlin finally fucking noticed that his two apprentices were getting along.  Even the old wizard had to admit, it was nice seeing you two not trying to murder each other.  It really looked like that binding spell paid off.

A win for team Merlin.

[singtotheskiies]

a single word // bruce banner x reader

request: Nothing would make me happier than a Bruce Banner X reader. He doesn't get nearly as much love as he deserves and he is adorable and smart and one of the many loves of my life. If you can make it a soulmate AU it would be even better and you would be my very bestest friend. But you don't have to write this if you don't want to.

summary: your soulmate’s emotions are written on your forearm. sometimes it’s only a single word—anger—and a news feed of New York being destroyed starts you on a mission to find him.

words: 2301

warnings: slight angst, but otherwise lotsa fluff:)))

a/n: i’m so sorry for the delay in writing! i was sick for a few days and found it really difficult to write. for that reason, this imagine may not flow as well or have as detailed writing as others, but i still hope it’s enjoyable!!

✖️✖️✖️

Your soulmate’s emotions were—complicated, to say the least.

Most people had multiple words on their arm based on what their soulmate was feeling at the moment—it wasn’t uncommon to see entire forearm-lengths of words like curious and fearful and hopeful. Sometimes your arm had a normal, long list like that, but over the past few years, things had begun to change.

Sometimes, the writing on your arm would fade away to one word—ANGER.

It was menacing—red and in all caps. Sometimes it would only last a few seconds, your arm flickering from ANGER to fear or attempted calm. Sometimes it stayed for hours before fading to confusion and regret and self-hatred. Your heart went out to your soulmate, mourning their seeming lack of stability. Sure, it was more interesting than a typical soulmate bond, but it seemed as if they had a hard time dealing with life and controlling their emotions. You hoped that if you ever met them, you’d be able to provide a much-needed constant of calm.

For your whole life, though, you were left clueless as to who it could possibly be. Someone who had such blindingly intense emotions was surely one of a kind—but no hints presented themselves until the attack on New York.

You were working like any other day when your coworker suddenly barged in, babbling about something horrific and otherworldly that was happening on the East Coast. Standing up in alarm (and, quite frankly, slight disbelief), you grabbed your phone and quickly opened your news app only to have your friend’s story confirmed. You clicked on a news feed, watching in utter shock as entire city blocks were torn down by what looked like otherworldly spaceships. They twisted through the air grotesquely, resembling some sort of worm or insect. Clearly, they were not from Earth.

A reporter was attempting to interview a shaken citizen—a young woman who seemed to be on the point of crying. The reporter wasn’t having much success, as the young lady’s voice was too choked with tears to get much out. However, after several painful moments, the woman’s face changed as she looked up. The camera pivoted wildly to show a small group of individuals making their way purposefully down the street. As it zoomed in, you got a closer look—the people looked intimidating and like they had a purpose.

All except one. The camera was slightly fuzzy and the chaos going on around it didn’t help, but you could tell a few details about this odd one out. He looked to be shorter than many of the others, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and a look of terrified confusion. He was unarmed with any weapon or armor, dressed only in work clothes. Your arm itched and burned as you looked at him, and you looked down at it in surprise.

Unsure, afraid, determined, disbelieving.

“No way,” you breathed, and your friend looked at you sideways.

“I know! Who are these people? I have no clue what’s going on anymore.” You didn’t have the energy to tell her that you were most stunned by the fact that the seemingly unarmed man may very well be the soulmate you had waited your whole life to meet. Although you did agree with her that you wanted to know who he was.

Before you could get a better look at the group of people, your maybe-soulmate spoke to one of the others and turned around to fight. However, as he did, he grew several feet taller, huge new muscles bunching together as his shirt ripped away to reveal—green skin? You couldn’t believe your eyes, staring at the screen in almost catatonic shock. Your arm started stinging again, and as you looked down at it, it shifted into that all-too-familiar word: ANGER.

“I have to go home,” you told your friend, packing up your things in a rush.

“Are you okay?” she asked you.

“Don’t feel well,” you said. Several other people were heading for the doors. You figured a disaster of this scale would cause more than a few changes in schedule.

Getting home in record time, you turned on your television and sat, not even bothering to toe off your shoes. You watched in utter astonishment as New York continued to be trashed by an otherworldly army. The news feeds gave as many updates on the team attempting to fight the aliens off as they could. Your eyes were peeled for any flashes of green, and you were occasionally rewarded with a few seconds of whoever-he-was fighting off creatures singlehandedly. Was this beast of a man the same timid person who had walked with the other fighters at the beginning? Maybe he was possessed or something. Hopefully he wouldn’t die fending off the alien attackers—possibly finding your soulmate and then having them ripped away from you on the same day was something you’d prefer not to happen.

After hours of battle, all the attackers had been taken out and the cube of energy—the Tesseract, it was called—had been taken to a government facility. You hadn’t seen any more of your potential soulmate, but the words on your arm had gone back to small black words: exhausted, relieved, frightened. He was still alive, thank goodness, but your only hope of finding out who he was was through news of some sort, so you kept your television on and scrolled through news websites as you ate dinner. After an hour or two, you began to feel a little hopeless—you couldn’t find anywhere that was listing the names of the group who had fought back—the Avengers, as they were being called. Eventually, you gave up and decided to call it a night. Maybe you’d find out more in the morning.

To your surprise (and relief) there was an article titled “Just Who Are the Avengers?” that seemed to list a few names. It was scant information (unsurprising, since they seemed to be spies or government workers of some sort), but it was something. The name that you were looking for seemed to be Bruce Banner—the Incredible Hulk. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you typed his name into your phone, pulling up multiple sources about your potential soulmate.

You discovered that he was a top scientist, a man who had underwent a freak gamma radiation accident that caused him to turn into the Hulk when he didn’t have control over his emotions. He now worked to understand radiation as well as countless other fields of study—the man had seven PhDs! He seemed to be quite the extraordinary person, and the pictures available of him painted him out to be quite the handsome man as well.

You looked down at your arm and sighed. Terror and hopelessness. Judging by the blue ink, he must be having a nightmare. You set your jaw and resolutely looked for some way to contact him. Yes, he had just saved America, but you had a feeling he needed some actual good things in his life. You wanted to help if it were at all possible.

The best you could do was find an email address, so you started a draft and stared at your screen wondering out loud what to say.

“Hi, I’m your soulmate—probably. Saw you turn into a big green guy on TV—that’s something else! No, that’s stupid. Uh—you seem to have a lot of trauma going on, maybe I could hel—no, I’m not his therapist. C’mon, think!”

You eventually settled on a message that stated your awareness of who he was, an admiration for how bravely he had fought, and the possibility that you may be each other’s soulmates. Breathing deeply, you sent the message and left your laptop open for easy refreshing.

It took him almost 36 anxiety-ridden hours to respond back, but his response made you smile.

Dear (Y/N),

I was so surprised to hear from you that I nearly dropped my phone—in a good way, of course. I appreciate your compliments, and your description of what happens on your arm would certainly be a good match for me. You seem to be a wonderful person, and while I would love to meet you right away, the rest of the team and I have a few post-battle things we need to take care of. Does coffee about a week from now sound good? Let me know, and we can work out the details.

Sincerely, Bruce

You emailed him back saying that coffee sounded wonderful, including your phone number because texting would be a little easier, you thought. He texted you about a half hour later, giving you details to a coffee place that was far enough away from downtown to be safe. Can’t wait to see you there, he said, and you grinned as you sent back a similar message.

Putting your phone down on your kitchen table, you hummed in satisfaction—finally, after waiting for years and years, you were meeting your soulmate.

✖️✖️✖️

You were a little nervous, to say the least, but it was tempered with a great deal of excitement. As you neared the coffee shop, you touched your hair almost self-consciously, but then took your hand away quickly. All you could do was hope for the best—if the two of you were really meant to be, things would go well. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and went inside.

You found him almost immediately, and he stood up as if by instinct when you entered. He was at a small corner table, and his eyes met yours with a look of astonishment and admiration.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with near disbelief.

“Bruce,” you beamed, and without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a hug. He returned the gesture, arms wrapping tightly around you.

“I—I can’t believe you’re here,” he spoke into your hair. “I mean, really here. I always thought—“ he trailed off and you pulled back, looking in his deep brown eyes again.

“Of course I’m here, Bruce. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling softly, and said “Shall we?” as he pulled out your seat for you. Thanking him, you took a seat and began studying his face as casually as you could. He had a strong jaw, full lips, lovely brown eyes, and the same curly brown-and-grey hair you had seen on the news. You had a very strong urge to reach out and slip your fingers through it, but resisted somehow. He noticed your eyes on him and cocked his head at you, a slight, sweet smile on his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice grinning along with him.

“Nothing, you’re just—really handsome,” you said, blushing. “I think you’re wonderful.” He blushed with you, and you smiled at each other for a long moment before discussing what you would order. After settling on a few things, you placed your orders and began chatting right away. He told you about his work in the science field (he shocked you with his intellect), while you told him about your job. You shared little facts about each other, and as you talked about your interests, he watched you intently with awestruck, loving eyes. It gave you more than a few butterflies, and you could still hardly believe that you were there with your soulmate.

After you finished your drinks, Bruce offered taking a walk outside. You nodded enthusiastically, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. There’s a park nearby, fairly large for a city, with lots of pretty flowers and trees to enjoy. As you walked, you continued talking about all sorts of things.

Eventually the topic of his alien-fighting experience came up, and something in his eyes shifted. Looking down at your arm, you saw the words nervous and hopeful and worried etch themselves into your skin. You furrowed your brows in concern, and without thinking, took his hand. His fingers moved nervously under yours, but latched on with clear relief.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered. “I just feel like—well, I can’t offer you normalcy, dependency, consistency. Sometimes he just takes over. I try, I really do, but I’ve still got a long way to go before I learn to control or even coexist with him. I could hurt you, I could break things, and it scares me, (Y/N). You’re very likely the best thing to ever come into my life, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Bruce,” you answered, tears welling up in the bottom of your eyes. “I don’t need consistency or perfection or anything close to it. All I need is you. We’ve been put together for a reason, and I’m going to fight for you, no matter what tries to stop us. I’m here for you now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He really did whisper now, your name softly under his breath. As his eyes met yours, you began to move a little closer, head tilting towards his as if magnetized. He raised his other hand to brush across your face gently, a question, and you smiled in response. With a soft tip of his head, your mouths fell together, eagerly gentle. Your hand came up to ruffle through his curls, and they felt just as lovely as you had imagined. The two of you stayed that way, together, touching, for several moments. As he came up for air, he rested his forehead against yours, kissing you again until your smiles outgrew the spaces between you.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, and as you looked into his blissful eyes, you noticed your arm—only a single word was on it, different from the one you typically saw by itself.

Smitten.

[simplepotatofarmer]

comfort hug #16: welcome home

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dream SMP/Minecraft RP/??? Rating: General Relationships: Technoblade & Reader Words: 1,915 Additional Tags: hugs, fluff, comfort, reader insert, fluff without plot, found family vibes Summary: A platonic Technoblade and Reader fic, for all your soft Techno needs.

*disclaimer: it’s me, ya hug gremlin back at it again for reasons aka sometimes you just want to hug a war criminal and pig and that’s valid. also this is solely about canon/character techno.

ao3 link in the reblog

It’s hard to feel as though you belong.

You had travelled so far, trying to find a place to settle down, somewhere to stay, but each place has pushed you out. You’re not on their side, not a part of whatever community or government they’ve set up, no matter how hard you try to help, try to be kind to them. When you were little, you’d share your lunch with the other kids and then they would run off to play, leaving you alone. You never were sure how to make friends, never sure where you fit into their pretend hierarchy.

And now you don’t know where you fit into the real hierarchy and it makes your chest ache.

The wind picks up, whipping your clothes around and making the tip of your nose twinge with the cold. You rub it with the back of your hand and lower your head as the first few flakes of snow begin to fall. This far into the arctic, if you don’t find shelter soon, you’ll be stuck out in the storm and that’s a recipe for disaster or at the very least frostbite.

Ahead, the faint light of a lantern cuts through the growing dark, outlining a small house.

You hesitate, wondering if it’ll be like every other time you’ve come some place new. Perhaps it’s better to find shelter some place else than feel the disappointment of realizing you don’t fit in, that you don’t belong. But it’s getting colder and you find yourself trudging through the snow and up the stairs. Shivering, you reach out and knock on the door.

From inside you can hear a low voice and movement. Your heart starts pounding in your chest. The door opens. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust well enough to be able to see; the figure is tall, tall enough to block the light from inside the cabin and tall enough to have to bend slightly to fit through the doorway.

Once you can see, your heart stills in your chest and your mouth goes dry.

You thought it was a man but now you realize you were only half right; he stands like a man, is dressed like a man, and is looking down at you with human eyes but that’s where the similarities stop. His ears stick out from the side of his head, the tip of one folded over slightly, and his nose is more of a snout. Tusks stick upwards from his bottom jaw, mouth pulled into a frown.

A pig, you think, and just manage to choke down the nervous laugh that threatens to bubble up. He’s a giant pig.

“—heh?”

The noise is high pitched, confused, and doesn’t seem quite fitting for someone like him.

Looking up, you wonder what to say but before you can, he speaks again.

“Uh uh. No. Not again.”

The door slams shut in your face.

That feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. Once again, you’ll have no place to go, once again you’re being turned away. Wind whistles past you, stopped slightly by the porch’s roof. You’re tired and you can feel the hot pricks of tears in your eyes. You should leave, find somewhere else, but you can’t bring yourself to.

Sinking down, you huddle up on the porch, pulling your jacket around you as best you can. It’s still cold, still lonely, but the wind isn’t as strong and the light from the cabin makes you feel a little less alone. You rest your forehead against your knees and prepare to wait out the night.

The sound of the door opening jerks you awake and you shake off a thin layer of snow as you look up. The pig man stands looking down at you, a scowl on his face that seems more annoyed than angry.

“Alright, get up. I don’t want you freezin’ to death on my porch. Do y’know what that’d do for my property value?”

You blink up at him.

“Well, come on. I’m not gonna stand here all night.”

Your feet slip on the ice as you scramble to stand. He steps aside so you can enter the cabin. Immediately it’s warmer and you breathe a sigh of relief, rubbing your hands together.

“Just don’t touch anything, you got it? I don’t want you messing up my stuff,” he says.

You nod.

“I won’t,” you say, almost saying more but stop.

He’s imposing in looks with scars that speak of either battles fought or dangers encountered but the way he moves around the room, muttering under his breath, makes him seem awkward.

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous just standin’ there.”

You follow his gaze towards a chair in the corner and sit with a bit of a thud.

“You’re not some kind of spy, are you?”

“I—I’m not a spy.” There’s a hint of incredulity in your voice.

“Sounds like something a spy would say.”

You stare up at him, wondering what you could say that wouldn’t sound like something a spy would say and come up blank.

“Okay.”

“Who are you with?”

He moves to stand in front of you, hooves clacking against the wooden floor.

“With…?” you ask, sinking down in the chair a little.

“Yeah, with.”

A tightness grips your chest. You’re not with anyone; that’s why you’re out here, by yourself, trying to find some place to stay for the night, some place you can be safe.

“I’m not with anyone,” you say, voice cracking a little.

“Heh?” The noise of confusion escapes him again and then he narrows his eyes, considering you. “What do you think about government?”

“Uh…” The image of being turned away by someone who claimed to work for the president of one of the places you had tried to seek shelter in flashes in your mind. “I can’t say I’m much of a fan.”

“Wonderful, that’s perfect. I won’t have to kill you,” he says, voice deadpan.

You let out a laugh, nervous, and shift in your seat.

“That wasn’t a joke, I really would have to kill you.” He sits down, the chair near the fire creaking slightly under his weight, long legs stretched out. “So can I ask why you were knockin’ on my door in the middle of the night? It’s just a little bit suspicious, if you know what I mean.”

Looking down, you twist your hands in your lap and shiver. It’s warmer in here but the cold still lingers, the skin of your nose and hands feeling like someone had pricked it with tiny needles.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” you say after a moment. “I just saw the house and—”

The words die in your mouth. It’s too hard to talk about, that feeling of desperation to find somewhere you’re wanted, the fear that you never will, the pain when you’re turned away after trying so hard.

His features soften, a look of resignation and then sympathy crossing his face.

“They exile you, too, huh?”

You don’t have to ask who ‘they’ are.

“No but they said I couldn’t stay, that I had to find somewhere else.”

“Typical,” he says with a snort. “You’re lucky they didn’t try to execute you or steal your horse.”

The corner of your mouth twitches.

“I don’t have a horse.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

Silence falls in the cabin as you stare at your hands, the pig man staring out the window as if he was remembering something unpleasant. There’s so many questions you want to ask but you can’t find the words. Instead you rub your hands over your arms, trying to remove the chill from where its settled in your bones.

“You still cold?”

“A little,” you admit.

He gives a sigh that borders on a snort and stands, grabbing a log from the pile next to the fireplace, setting it across the flames. Tiny embers jump up and after a moment, the log catches fire, spreading both warmth and light into the room.

“No wonder. You have nothing, huh? No gear, that jacket’s barely enough to keep you warm.”

It’s not harshly said, that sympathetic look from earlier now creeping into his voice.

“I did but—I thought I had found a friend so I gave them most of my things. I just wanted to help,” you say and this time you can’t stop the tears from leaking out of the corner of your eyes. Hastily, you wipe at your face.

“See, that was your first mistake, trustin’ other people.”

The way he says it makes you think he’s speaking from experience, an undercurrent of anger. It makes you cry harder despite your efforts not to. He sighs and the creak of the floor and the way a shadow falls across you tells you he’s standing in front of you.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he says and crouches down in front of you. “I’m not good when people cry, okay?”

Wiping your face on your sleeve, you give him a shaky smile.

“Sorry.”

“Apologizin’ for cryin’ is almost as bad as the cryin’,” the pig man says, reaching out to awkwardly pat your shoulder and for the first time you realize that he has hands. It wasn’t something you had paid attention to at first. You blink at him as he settles back on his haunches. “Look, it’s great you wanted to help someone you thought was a friend and I think you should keep doing that except when it’s gonna hurt you. I mean, you could’ve frozen death out there. It’s okay to think of yourself first.”

You want to ask him why he cares when he had shut the door on you at first but it had only been at first. He had come back to let you in and you think you know why. Even crouching down the way he is, he’s still taller than you and you have to rise out of the chair a bit to hug him, throwing your arms around his neck. He stiffens.

“You remember when I said ‘hey don’t do that’ about the cryin’? Let’s go ahead and add hugging to that,” he says in a low monotone that you can feel rumble in his chest. Despite the words, he doesn’t push you away, instead patting your back and letting you rest your head on his shoulder until the tears stop for good. “Alright, alright. You’re fine. You can stop now.”

A small laugh escapes you; you don’t mean to, but there’s something about the resignation in his voice, the protest even as he hugs you back, that strikes you as funny.

“See, if you’re gonna laugh, I’ll kick you out.”

An apology almost makes its way past your lips but you stop yourself.

“Thank you,” you say, pulling away, and mean it.

“Ew, gratitude,” he says as he stands but there’s a curl to his mouth, half hidden behind the tusks, that belies the words. For a moment he looks at you and then shakes his head, the braid of pink hair moving as he does. “Alright, fine. You can stay here.”

You perk up.

“Really? For how long?”

“Just until the snow clears, then you’re out, got it? And you’re payin’ rent.”

Smiling, you don’t mention how in the arctic the snow never clears or how you have nothing to pay rent with; he already knows.

“I got it.”

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 19.5

Douxie x fem reader

Masterlist in Bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 19.5 summary: Archie and Lake are back and they are ready to find whoever Morgana sent to kill Arthur.

A/n: It’s finally here and it’s a lot longer than normal half chapters, so yeah, enjoy!!

“Good morning beautiful!” Douxie greeted. You looked up from your book and smiled at him. He was balancing a breakfast tray in one hand and opening the door with the other. A cup was awful close to falling off, so you sent a little magic it’s way to keep it in place.

“Hey.” He set the tray down in front of you. “Thanks for the food.”

“Of course, I know Merlin kinda put you on home arrest while he sees if Arthur remembers you committing treason.”

You laughed. “If somebody had told me a year ago that I would have been stuck in twelfth century Camelot with my wizard boyfriend, and that I had committed treason to save my half-troll brother then I would have thought they were crazy.” You looked to Douxie to see how he would react to you calling him your boyfriend and you saw a smile light up his face.

“It’s been a wild year.”

“Indeed it has.”

It had technically only been a few hours since Douxie kissed you and you were very happy with how everything had turned out.

You ate together, chatting like you hadn’t a care in the world. It was so nice to relax. Ever since you had fallen through the portal it had been pretty much nonstop action.

Unfortunately Douxie had to leave, but he had promised you a date later. You didn’t know what Camelot had to offer in way of dates, but you were sure you’d enjoy anything you and Douxie did together.

Eventually you got bored of just reading in the room and you decided to go see if Merlin needed your help.

“I swear, Morgana's not dead!” You heard Claire yell from inside Merlin’s tower. You wondered what all of that was about.

“Rubbish,” Merlin responded as you walked into the room.

“It's true, Master. She saw her in the Shadow Realm, which is great for saving history,” Douxie pointed out.

“But she's coming to attack the kingdom any second!” Claire reminded.

Douxie sighed. “Which is less great.”

“We are all in grave danger,” Archie said, trying to reason with Merlin. You walked up to Douxie and took his hand.

“And what were you doing in the Shadow Realm, hmm? Its dark mirrors trick you, sozzle your mind. Morgana is dead, and no magic can change that. I haven't time to chase ghosts. We have more immediate threats.”

Claire scowled. “Morgana is a threat!”

“Listen well, girl. Even if she had cheated death, we don't stand a chance if Gunmar attacks before I finish the amulet,” Merlin explained.

You jumped a bit as Past Douxie came in. “I've got everything, Master. Amulet designs, alloys for the heart, and my lute for some background music.”

Douxie looked at the supplies. “You're working on getting us back home?”

Merlin gave a small smile. “Of course. The heart is the only way to get the lot of you out of my hair.”

“Not that he has much left,” Archie muttered and you laughed.

Merlin frowned at the both of you. “I heard that.”

“Master, Claire's onto something,” Douxie said.

Claire scowled. “I know you think we're a bunch of dumb teens, but we have to defend Camelot from disaster.”

Merlin raised his arm, waving it. “Silence!” He ordered and green gags appeared on Douxie and Claire's mouths. You kept your own shut to avoid a similar fate.

Archie chuckled. “Wizard got your tongues?”

Merlin sighed. “If you truly believe the kingdom's in danger, then go protect it...outside. I've an amulet to finish.”

You sighed, and led the way out of the room towards the training grounds. In the distance Arthur got up and addressed the crowd. “Good people of Camelot, we've suffered many hardships. Our enemies claim that I am broken. But I have overcome. Behold the light of Excalibur reborn!”

Douxie grunted, trying his best to get the gag off, but failing, you laughed at his attempt and he frowned at you.

Claire coughed as her gag glowed blue and faded off. “No sign of Morgana anywhere.”

Douxie coughed, his own gag disappearing. “Nothing but unwashed plebeians stuffing their faces, eh, Steve?”

You looked around for Steve and saw him trying to buy food.

“The monsters at our door will fall. To ready our hearts for the battle ahead, I host a private tournament. The winner shall stand at my side...and have the honor of striking down the monster, Bular the Butcher.”

You turned your attention back to Douxie. “We know Arthur is the main target. I'll draw stasis traps around the perimeter, put up defensive wards-“ Douxie stopped mid explanation to shove a muffin in his mouth. “Mm! I forgot how good these tasted. The ones in the future aren't the same.”

You reached for one, but quickly withdrew your hand as Steve spit out some weird white thing that had been in his. You gaged a bit.

Claire sighed. “Guys, this is Morgana we're talking about. We can't just wait for her to slice our throats.”

“Why not?” Steve asked and you gave him a look. What kind of question was that?

“She'll find a way in,” Claire said.

“Well then, it’s time to do some detective work. Archie and Lake is back in business!” You exclaimed, pumping your fist.

“Archie and Lake?” Archie questioned.

“You’ll understand in about nine hundred years, but for now, we have an assassin to find.”

You were cut off from saying anything as Douxie and Steve jumped, the former latching onto your hand as a child spoke. “Yeah! I, noble King Arthur, will strike down the terrible trolls!” The boy swung his play sword around ‘threateningly’ at Bular.

“I will protect you, troll! I am Morgana, the evil witch! Shadow bolt! Shadow bolt!” A girl dressed as Morgana responded.

“You betray me, the noble king? Die, sister! Die!” The fake Arthur cried.

You watched as the real King Arthur stood and cleared his throat. “That's enough!”

There was a moment of silence as Bular roared at the children who ran off. Arthur sighed and sat down. “I crave a true battle. Let the tournament continue.”

Archie flew and did a lap around the arena. “No sign of any sorceresses. Then again, all you humans do look alike.”

Claire glowered. “She is crafty. She'll try to infiltrate the tournament. We have to go on the offensive, root the witch out!”

Douxie nodded. “You do that, and we'll secure the castle.”

“Douxie, wait! What about Steve?” Archie asked, but Douxie didn’t hear him.

You gave one last slightly concerned look before you and Archie went off in search of the assassin. The familier was incredibly helpful in this, seeing as he knew Camelot well and could identify any discrepancies.

However, there didn’t seem to be any discrepancies, there were no odd auras or anything anywhere. You made your way from the heart of Camelot outwards, but if there was someone helping Morgana, the two of you must have missed them.

You were walking the last stretch of the castle wall losing hope as you chatted with Archie.

“You’ll have to help me in the future with Mao,” you were saying.

Archie hummed. “I look forward to it.”

You walked over to the edge of the wall, stumbling a bit. You caught yourself on the rail, but when you leaned over the edge you noticed some odd bags that had been dumped over the edges. You had walked past the town dump earlier so these weren’t trash bags and for a twelfth century kingdom Camelot wasn’t that dirty.

“Hey Arch?”

“Yes?”

“Do these bags look suspicious to you?” Archie came over and flew past you. He landed beside one of the bags and after a second he looked up to you.

“Y/n you need to see this.”

You leapt off the wall and floated down towards Archie. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s war-Y/n! Don't!” Archie warned, but by then you had already stuck your hand in the bag. You yelped, yanking your hand out of the bag hissing and jumping in pain. Your hand was burned. It felt like you had put it in a bag of fire.

“Owwww!” You cried, yelping out as you tried to heal yourself?

“The bag is warded,” Archie explained, a slightly guilty look on his face.

“Ah, well then. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you said, gritting your teeth against the slowly fading pain.

Archie sighed. “You and Douxie really are perfect for each other. A few weeks before you arrived Merlin brought in a warded bag and Douxie did exactly what you did.”

“So, is this one of Merlin’s?” You asked, smiling at the imagery of Douxie doing exactly what you did.

“No, Merlin only had the one and he took the ward off.”

“Oh, we better go tell Douxie about this then, maybe he’ll have an idea,” you suggested.

~~~~

“And there! The king's chambers and Merlin's tower, completely warded. No evil sorceress is getting in now, eh, Arch? Y/n?” Douxie asked as you walked over to him. The walls and floors near him were covered in glowing blue wards.

“Oh, you've done it, all right. Overdone it,” Archie said as one of the squires got trapped. Douxie helped him out while you got the squire’s bag.  

“Well, at least the castle's safe,” Douxie stated optimistically. You went to see what was in the squire's awfully heavy bag, but before you could he snatched it away from you and took off.

You frowned. “About that-“

“Oy, the king summons you! Come with me at once! Galahad yelled.

“What-?” Douxie trailed off, yelping as Galahad pulled him.

“I think I have a theory, meet me back here when you’re done?” You suggested and Archie nodded, flying off after Douxie.

Now you had to test that theory. You ran back towards the bags that you and Archie had found. You examined it and you knew it was the same as the bag that the squire had been so protective of it. His suspicions behavior encouraged you to investigate what was inside the bags, against your better judgement.

This time you wrapped your thin tulle sweater around your hand and reached into the bag, opening it. You hissed as you still felt the burning even threw the fabric. You whimpered, biting down through the pain.

You eventually managed to get the bag open and saw that there were dwarkstones nestled inside, a.k.a troll bombs. Blinky had an odd affinity for them and you knew the damage one could cause. Who knew how much damage this many would do.

You stood up and raced back to the place you said you would meet Archie in. As you made your way through the town, you tore your sweater off your hand. The results were not pretty, your hand was burned badly by the wards.

You would take care of those later, right now you had an assassin to stop. “Arch!” You called, slightly breathless.

He flew towards you. “Y/n! What’s wrong?”

“I know who did it, it’s that squire who Douxie accidentally trapped earlier.”

“Then we need to find him.” Archie shape shifted into a dragon and leapt into the air. You followed him through the town where he eventually led you to the arena.

“The witch is disqualified!” You heard Galahad yell as you ran towards Arthur. You watched in horror as the squire snuck up from behind and got ready to stab Arthur.

The king didn’t notice, focusing on Claire. “You both fight with no honor! Begone!”

“Hail Morgana!” The changeling yelled. He raised his knife and just in time you got there, tackling the would-be assassin off of Arthur’s balcony. It wasn’t going to be that big of a fall, but as the changeling adjusted his knife to stab you, you knew you wouldn’t make it to the ground.

“No!” Claire cried.

“Claire! Portal!” You yelped, but Claire was already ahead of you. You felt yourself enter the shadow realm and a second later you were out. The changeling crashed onto a piece of wood while you were safely delivered to your friends sides.

“A changeling? Protect the king!” Douxie ordered, running to check on you.

“Are you alright, love?” Douxie asked, helping you up.

“I’ve been better,” you said, watching as Bular was set free. Of course him being free was good for history, but it wasn’t good for Arthur.

Douxie rushed to shield the king from Bular’s attack. You couldn’t help but feel proud to call him your boyfriend. He cried out as Bular punched the shield and you got off the ground to help him.

Orange and blue swirled together as Bular punched the shield again, sending you, Arthur, and Douxie rolling out of the arena. You crashed into a fountain, and you didn’t have a second to rest before Bular came at you again. You and Douxie got ready to shield Arthur, but Bular swatted you and Douxie to the side. You felt Douxie’s arm wrap around you, protecting you from the impact.

Bular and Arthur fought and as knights ran up to defend the king, you summoned your own sword. “You’ll die in Camelot, Bucher!” Arthur threatened and Bular roared.

The ground rattled and you yelped as explosions rang out. A wave of guilt washed over you, you wished you had been unable to stop the dwarkstones from destroying Camelot.

With yours and the knights’ distraction, Bular took his opportunity to escape. You didn't bother going after him, knowing that it was better for history if he was free.

You heard the swishing of blades and snapped around to see one of Douxie’s blue shields keeping Arthur safe from the changeling’s sneak attack.

“Stay back!” Douxie yelled.

Morgana's changeling laughed, triggering more explosions. “Fools! I've already won.”

You expected to see more flames, fueled by the gentle breeze, but instead of dozens of devastating explosions, shields of Douxie’s blue magic contained them, blooming up all over Camelot.

“Merlin's tower!” Douxie said, realizing that his wards had in fact helped.

“Good call with those defenses, Doux!” Claire congratulated and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, but they won't last long,” Douxie pointed out.

Archie gasped. “Oh, no! Douxie!”

Douxie turned to him. “What?”

Archie sighed. “The other Douxie! With the man bun, in the tower?”

“Oh, fuzz buckets!” You, Claire, Douxie, and Archie ran off to the tower, trusting the knights to defend Arthur. You couldn’t let Douxie die. That would seriously mess up history.

You raced to the tower, watching as Douxie’s wards were barely able to contain the dwarkstone explosions. You didn't hesitate to run into the towers though. You had to save Past Douxie and Merlin.

“We have to go!” Your Douxie called, bursting into the tower.

“But I'm in the middle of creating-“ Merlin was cut off by his windows bursting. He stumbled towards the middle of the room. “Dworkstone? We need a way out.”

“Already ahead of you,” Claire said, creating a portal. You jumped in and immediately fell out right by Arthur. You winced as Past Douxie didn’t get as lucky a landing as you.

“Camelot is closed, Morgana,” Claire said as Douxie trapped the changeling in chains. Steve ran at him with his axe, bashing him backwards. You scowled as the changeling broke free.

Claire was on it though, using a portal to send him right back to you. He crashed to the ground and Douxie raised his hands. You mimicked him, using your magic to contain the changeling. Beams of green, blue, and orange swirled together to create a trap. The changeling fought, but suddenly fire swirled up, obliterating him.

You smiled at Douxie as Merlin silently congratulated him. You rushed over to hug him immediately after.

“You did great,” you cheered.

“We both did,” Douxie said, kissing you. You broke away and watched as Steve was declared an official knight. He may not have been the best fighter, but he was brave when it counted and smart even. You knew he deserved it.

However, the celebration was over in mere seconds when Merlin spoke, “Camelot's defenses are destroyed... her best knights injured or dead.”

You looked around and saw the area where you were was almost completely blown apart and there were fires all around Camelot. You were only shook out of your trance by Past Douxie.

“Oh, my everything hurts!” He groaned, collapsing. “I think I'm gonna stay in here a bit longer.”

You winced, going over to heal him. It was honestly really entertaining to actually meet Douxie’s younger self and to see how dorky and goofy Douxie had been, not that much had changed. You recalled when you had first gone to the book shop and Douxie had panicked when you noticed Archie was wearing glasses, putting them on and claiming they were his. You smiled at the memory.

Merlin coughed, drawing your attention back to him and the devastation. “We need allies in the war to come.”

Arthur sighed, looking defeated. “Our enemies are many, but how will we face them alone? I am a king with half an army.”

Claire looked at you and Douxie. “Jim,” she suggested.

Douxie grinned and you nodded enthusiastically. “Right. Then we go to the good trolls,” Douxie announced.

****

Voila! I really hope y’all liked it and are excited for more. I can't believe we only have two more chapters! I'll continue the series once the movie comes out, but once chapter 21 comes out it'll be on pause. Anyways, thank you all so much for all the kind comments and I hope you have a fantastically safe and wonderful day!!

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