#but at least my entire village came together to try and stop violence and put and end to it before it escalated further

[heavenknowsffs]

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[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards pt. III

(Technoblade x Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII

     From that day on Tommy stayed with you and Technoblade in your collective house, Technoblade tried to establish some ground rules but Tommy being Tommy refused to listen to any of them. He was dead set on building a cobblestone tower as well as taking all of Technoblade’s golden apples instead of eating the golden carrots that were graciously given to him. Other than that, things seemed to be going okay for your little found family. Well, that was until Technoblade and Tommy got wind that a man named Dream was sniffing around the area. 

 Dream was an enigma to you, after hearing Tommy’s stories about the man you could only come up with two conclusions about him. One was that you had no idea what his motivations were in the first place and secondly you wanted to beat his ass for what he did to Tommy. As... unique as he could be at times no child deserved to be exiled and manipulated, it was disgusting. He was a sixteen-year-old boy who got caught up in too many wars and too much violence, you needed to protect him. So long as he was with you and Technoblade that’s what you planned on doing. That was what you silently vowed to yourself, even if Technoblade didn’t share the same sentiment. 

 Now, it seemed you were coming increasingly closer to voicing those feelings to the man himself. Tommy was shaking a little besides you he tried to look strong as Technoblade frantically told him to hide and splashed him with invisibility potions. He looked over at you next and grabbed your shoulders, he actually looked scared, which meant he wasn’t messing around. 

          “You need to hide too. God- there’s nowhere that he won’t check.” Technoblade mumbled, his brow creased, and he closed his eyes. “He CAN’T know about you! No one other than Tommy can, they’ll hurt you and-” Hesitantly you put your hands on his cheeks,  

         “Take a deep breath…” You said tenderly as he opened his eyes to lock with your own. “We’ll be okay, splash me with invis and I’ll stay by Edward, hopefully it’ll mask my particle effects.” He gave a worried nod; you pecked his lips tenderly to reassure him as he splashed you with the potion. Just in time too because a knock on the door sounded, for once Tommy was absolutely silent. You watched as a man who rivaled your boyfriend in size came through the door, your eyes widened at the white mask covering his face there was an almost haunting smile painted on it. You pressed your tongue against your teeth and watched him give a wave to your boyfriend. Even without seeing his face you could tell he was smirking coyly at him. Never one to be intimidated Technoblade gave him a casual greeting and their conversation about Tommy’s location began. You had to cover your mouth with your hands at one point to stop yourself from laughing as Techno began talking to ‘chat’ instead of talking to Dream. You watched as the masked man grew more and more angry at Technoblade’s antics, he began speaking about a favor and Techno reminded him that he believes in full reciprocity. At the end of the interaction, it took all of your strength not to punch Dream directly in his stupid masked face. Why the fuck did it sound like he wanted to murder a child? If Dream ever laid a finger on him again, he was personally going to feel your wrath. The potion wore off almost as soon as Dream disappeared over the hills, Techno immediately turned to Tommy anger written all over his face.

         “Where you eating my gapples that ENTIRE time?!” Tommy sputtered out an excuse about absorption and you watched Techno open the window and beckon Dream to come back. You gave Technoblade a look and he scoffed at you, 

          “I won’t let him hurt you again Tommy. I promise.” You swore looking down at him, and his face turned a little pink. Tommy cleared his throat and shook his head,

          “Thanks, Ms. Blade but I’m tough enough to fight him head on! Have no fear!” He pointed to himself with his thumb a proud smile adoring his face. You gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement, 

          “You definitely are. Thank you for reassuring me.” You hummed and his smile only seemed to widen, 

          “I’m more qualified to protect your girlfriend than you are it seems Technoblade.” 

 Technoblade looked unamused, his eyebrow twitching in distaste. “Tommy I literally hate you so much. You’re a nerd.” 

         “Play nice both of you.” You scolded them, “We have to work together and at least pretend to get along or it’s going to be a very long partnership.” They both nodded reluctantly, and Techno sighed tiredly, he ruffled your hair. The rest of the night was spent gathering some more food in hopes it would stop Tommy’s gapple eating tirade, it obviously wouldn’t but it didn’t hurt to try. After that all three of you turned in for the night, as both you and Technoblade were getting ready for bed he decided to speak up about the plan for the next day.

          “Tommy and I need to make a trek into L’manburg to find Phil and try to get my stuff back. I don’t want to leave you here alone considering what just happened today, but you also can’t come to L’manburg.” 

        “Bubs you know I’ll be fine here alone did we not just have this conversation?” You pinched his pointed ears, and he made a sound of protest. “I’ve got fighting skills, after all have you not been training me in the art of war?” You teased with a smirk, “I got this Blade.”

          “Okay, okay, okay.” He leaned forward and kissed you and you kissed him back without hesitation. You felt him squeeze your hand fondly before pulling away from you. “When we get back home, we’ll have a date night okay?” Technoblade whispered softly pressing his forehead to yours. 

          “Gonna be a bit hard with the raccoon boy snooping around.” You teased eyes sparkling in delight, 

         “I’ll send him on a quest for something or other. So, it’ll be just us, I swear.” The soft look on Technoblade’s face made your heart squeeze in your chest. He brushed your hair behind your ear, “I’ll make you dinner, and we can watch a movie.” 

          “Well don’t take too long then.” You sent a teasing wink his way and he smiled fondly back at you. You kissed him again pulling him down into the bed, you both bounced with a laugh. His pink hair hung down and framed his face gorgeously, his glasses slipped down his nose. You pushed them back up with your index finger and he went cross-eyed, “I’ll be looking forward to it.” 

 The next morning rolled around and after breakfast both boys reluctantly packed a bag with important things they needed for the day. Stepping outside with the two of them, Technoblade gave you a farewell kiss and you watched them disappear over the hills. They were most likely going to go cause problems for other people on purpose. Finally alone, you decided to check up on the nearby villages to see if they had any interesting trades that you and Techno could exploit. You slung a bag over your shoulder and placed a good portion of emeralds inside of it, you placed a few potions inside of the bag as well. As a precaution you also grabbed an axe and a sword, you had to be ready for anything after all. Shutting the door behind you, you started your trek through the snow-covered woods you heard the snow crunch under your boots and began to hum softly to yourself. You paused a moment and raised an eyebrow as you caught sight of a blue sheep wandering by, tilting your head to the side you approached it. 

        “Well, hey little guy.” You murmured reaching out and running your hand through the sheep’s soft wool. 

         “Oh, um excuse me!” A voice spoke from behind you, you jumped with a yelp as soon as you spun around you were met with a fully transparent man. He had a yellow sweater with a big gash in his torso, and a beanie resting atop his head. You tilted your head up and locked eyes with him, they were almost completely white.

 He was a ghost.

          “That’s Friend! She doesn’t really like others petting her but it’s okay because you didn’t know.” The ghost smiled; it was contagious as you felt yourself smiling back at him.

         “My bad, my names (Y/n). What’s yours?” 

         “Oh! I’m Ghostbur! It’s nice to meet you miss, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new to the SMP?” He tilted his head floating around you, almost as if to get a better look at you. You focused more on his name, Ghostbur, which means this was Wilbur Soot, ex-president of L’manburg, and ‘brother’ of Tommy and Technoblade. 

 You cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck. “No, I’ve lived in this area for a while, but I’m a wandering adventurer. I trade with the villages around here for interesting collectables stuff like that. I don’t do much of that now though.” You watched the ghost’s eyes widen a little,

          “That’s so cool!” He praised, “I bet you have a ton of cool stories.” 

          “Yeah, there’s been a few close calls, but I’ve made it back alive and well- oh shit no offense.” You winced a little and he laughed shaking his head, 

          “No worries it’s okay! I’m fine with being dead you know, no one really liked who I was alive, so this is better for everybody.” He puffed out his chest a little and a big smile spread across his face, that only caused you to frown. You reached out to try and touch him and your hand went right through the man, you both seemed to shiver at that, and he looked at you in shock. 

      “I’m sorry to hear that...that must be really hard.” Wilbur’s jaw dropped at your response, he floated around a bit awkwardly. If he wasn’t floating, he would’ve been shuffling on his feet in a nervous manner. 

       “N-No it’s…Wilbur was a horrible, horrible man.” He took a deep breath and began to throw some sort of blue substance on the ground in a rapid manner, you watched as he began to mutter and breath heavily. 

        “Woah, woah, woah I’m sorry don’t freak out!” 

         “I’m not, I'm okay see, see I’m fine and happy. Very happy with everything that’s going on so no worries okay! Here.” He tossed the blue substance at you and you collected it with a weary smile, “Have some blue it’ll make you feel better.” You thanked him quietly and you both stood there a bit uncomfortably that was until thunder rumbled overhead. “Oh no…I melt in the rain.” 

         “Here why don’t you come with me.” You smiled softly, “I know a place where you can wait out the storm.” 

          “Aw thank you.” Ghostbur clapped, “Friend can come too right?” 

          “Of course.” 

          “Good. Then lead the way.” He chirped as Ghostbur followed you back the way you came, now before you get too mad at yourself you should know that Technoblade had informed you that during his ‘execution’ Ghostbur had visited him at his home. If he didn’t share that information with you, you’d be never revealing Technoblade’s base. As the house appeared over the mountains the ghost looked over at you with a bright smile, “Oh! That’s my friend Technoblade’s house, do you live with him?”

         “I do.” You smiled fondly and watched his smile grow excitedly, “He’s helped me out quite a lot.”

         “That’s wonderful! Technoblade usually never helps people unless he likes them or if they can do something for him in return. You must be very special, are you two together?” He only had to glance at you for a moment before laughing excitedly, “You are! That’s wonderful!” Ghostbur chirped, clapping his hands as he phased through Technoblade’s door, officially safe out of the rain, turned snow. You had let Friend inside as well and Ghostbur continued talking “Tell me how you met, please, please, please.” Seeing how excited the ghost was you melted, he won your heart just like Tommy. However, you had to keep in mind his alive self-did blow up an entire nation and that couldn’t be just brushed away like he seemingly was trying to do, you can’t erase the past. You can only accept what happens, learn from it, apologize and grow. However, you didn’t see the harm in sharing how the both of you met so you began to retell the tale to Ghostbur, the entire time he had an almost bittersweet look on his face. 

         “I was married once...her name was Sally. She...left though. But I still had my son, Fundy and we did the best we could together.” Ghostbur said fondly his eyes softening,

         “I’m sorry...that must’ve been really hard for the both of you.” 

         “It’s alright! She was a salmon, so she was going to swim away eventually.” 

         “Like- like an actual salmon?”

          “Yes?” 

The silence that stretched into the room was deafening, you cleared your throat deciding not to dwell on the fact that the ghost in front of you very likely fucked a fish. You hoped to god she was some sort of shapeshifter, in fact that’s what you were going to believe. You managed to break the silence by asking about Fundy, and the way he gushed about him was nothing less than fatherly. It was sweet and you listened intently to him, Fundy seemed like a good kid, a bit quirky but you were dating a blood god so who were you to judge? Eventually the snow outside stopped and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. Ghostbur glanced out the window and decided it was time for him to head out with Friend. It was about midday and you were almost sad to see him go. 

 Alone again.

You still had hours to kill before Technoblade and Tommy reappeared, so you figured it was about time to start doing some chores. 

---

         “Ghostbur what’re you doing here?” Fundy murmured softly, looking over at the ghost with an exhausted expression. His ears were pressed back against his head, talking to the man who was once considered his dad always made him exhausted. Wilbur, or Ghostbur now, really was pitiful.

         “Can’t I visit you every once in a while!” Ghostbur hummed a smile plastered on his face as Fundy frowned. 

         “Preferably not. Plus...I’m a little busy right now I’m meeting up with Quackity and the Butcher Squad to talk about Techno again.” 

         “OH! Technoblade! I just spent the loveliest morning with his girlfriend, she was absolutely wonderful! She asked all about you and just adored Friend-”

         “Rewind, Technoblade’s what?” Fundy’s jaw dropped to the floor and he felt a hand on his shoulder, the young fox man stiffened. He looked to the side and saw Quackity besides him, Ranboo was next to him but Tubbo stood a little ways away. 

        “Yeah Ghostbur. Do continue.” Quackity grinned, his missing tooth sticking out from his last encounter with Toothpick. Ghostbur wilted a little bit and his eyebrows creased on his forehead, he fucked up didn’t he? 

        “I-um nothing actually I misspoke.”

        “Did he misspeak Fundy, cause to me it sounds like we have new leverage against Technoblade.” Quackity laughed a crazed look in his eyes, “Once again Ghostbur I have to thank you for the great information.” 

        “You’re welcome…” He murmured weakly, as Quackity stepped besides the ghost. 

        “Get your weapons boys, it’s time to pay the Technoblade household another visit.”

~~~

Hey guys! Pt. III is officially up! Technoblade’s livestreams huh? :) 

Also friendship with Tommy ended Ranboo’s my new favorite child.

As always I love your feedback thanks for reading! 

[helliontherapscallion]

Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)

Word count: 3,715

(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!

So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.

                                           ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.

“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.

You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”

“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.

“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”

“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”

“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.

You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”

As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.

It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.

Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.

You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can go with you-”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”

Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”

Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).

Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”

He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.

Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.

Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?

You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.

As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.

Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.

The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.

She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.

Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.

“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.

You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”

Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”

Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.

You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.

Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”

“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”

She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.

“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”

A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”

Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?

Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.

Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.

She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.

“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”

“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”

“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”

“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.

“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”

“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”

You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”

“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.

Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.

“Where are you going?!”

“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”  

She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.

She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”

“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”

She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.

She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.

The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”

“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.

“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.

“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”

You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”

She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.

The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.

As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”

Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.

“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”

Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”

You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.

You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.

You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”

So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.

“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”

“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.

“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”

“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.

“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.

“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”

You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.

However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met. 

It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.

“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.

You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”

                                          ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

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[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 10

A/N: y’all ever think about that one empires episode of pearl’s where she helps sausage fight off a raid and that turns into a pvp battle between them, and she absolutely destroys him? yeah me too. also check out this awesome art by @amostfoolishgold​! anyway back to jimmy pov!

Warnings: injury, unconsciousness, fevers, talk of death, violence, corruption/infection, self-blame

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the Overgrown in a golden glow. The castle was beginning to take shape, but they had unfortunately run low on materials, and Joel and Lizzie weren’t back from their gathering trip yet. So for the moment, they all just sat in the half-constructed shell of a castle, having light conversation as they waited for Joel and Lizzie to arrive. But soon enough, the conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. That is, until Gem stood up with a determined look in her eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we head to my empire for dinner? We’ve been working hard all day and could use a break!” she said brightly. Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about Gem quite yet, after everything that had happened- but she and Pearl had been a huge help. Meanwhile Shelby looked intrigued by the offer, and while Katherine first nervously glanced to the horizon, she looked back to Gem with a smile.

“That is very kind of you, Gem. I’d love to- we should probably just leave a note for Joel and Lizzie to let them know where we’ve gone,” Katherine said, standing up as well. Gem looked to Jimmy semi-nervously- and well, Jimmy was always a bit of a softie, wasn’t he? He smiled at Gem and stood up too.

“That does sound nice, thank you for inviting us,” Jimmy said. Gem beamed, and Pearl looked relieved as she stood up next to Gem.

“Well, you definitely won’t see me complaining about free food!” Shelby chimed in, hopping up to her feet. That caused the group to break into laughter, and the air between them felt comfortable again.

Once Katherine had written the note and put it where Lizzie and Joel could easily find it, the five of them (minus Pearl, who had wings) equipped their elytra and flew off to the Crystal Cliffs. When they first arrived there, everything seemed normal. The grand cliffs themselves, the buildings nestled in and around them, the towers- it was a beautiful and mystical place. But there was something blue, white, and gold that stood out in a heap on the ground near one of the buildings- a very familiar something blue, white and gold.

“Oh my god-” Gem started, landing on the ground beside the figure.

“Is that-” Pearl said, unable to finish the thought as she landed just behind Gem.

“Scott?” Jimmy finished, voice shaking as he came in for a bit of an unsteady landing a few feet away from where Scott laid on the ground, breathing shallow and upon a closer look, something red pulsing and spreading beneath his skin like some sort of vine. Jimmy barely registered Katherine and Shelby landing on either side of him, too focused on what was before him.

“This- this red stuff reminds me of the redstone spikes in Fwhip’s empire- or maybe something from the nether?” Gem pondered as she knelt beside Scott, a purple glow coming over her hand as she reached out towards the infection in his arm.

“I’ve seen that before,” Shelby said, voice sounding distant and laced with horror. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised to hear such a terrified tone of voice from the usually enthusiastic gnome.

“The infection?” Pearl asked.

“The corruption. I’ve seen it happen to my people back home, until it consumed them until there was nothing left- it’s why I came here, to try and find a cure or some way to stop it. But nothing worked,” Shelby explained shakily, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Jimmy felt like he was going to cry too- and some awful part of himself thought that he should be glad that this happened to Scott, that it served him right after betraying Jimmy and breaking his heart- but he couldn’t. Despite everything Scott had done, despite never wanting to see Scott again- none of that meant that Jimmy didn’t want a world where the winged elf wasn’t in it. And what about what Pearl had said? Scott didn’t seem happy with Fwhip either, but now Jimmy would never know the truth. Not if it died with Scott.

Jimmy was so wrapped up in his conflicted mess of emotions that he didn’t even notice that someone else had flown in until Katherine let out a sharp gasp. He tore his gaze away from Scott to see what had caused that reaction from Katherine- and saw Fwhip. A mix of anger and terror boiled in his veins and swirled in his stomach at the sight of him. Fwhip looked baffled to see so many people in Gem’s empire, and plastered on a forced friendly smile. Jimmy’s hand found Katherine’s, and she squeezed it back tightly with no intention of letting go.

“Gem! Hi, so I wanted to smooth things over- I think we left things on a bad note-”

“What did you do to Scott,” Gem demanded, cutting off Fwhip as she stood up from beside Scott. Purple sparks danced in the air around her, and Jimmy swallowed nervously- he didn’t think he had ever seen Gem seem so intimidating before. Jimmy was relieved to see that Fwhip looked nervous too.

“Well, I haven’t seen Scott since our meeting, he seemed upset when he left- weird that he ended up here- y’know I was actually gonna go and talk to him after you-”

“If by talk, you mean do whatever you did to Scott to us?!” Pearl demanded, hand on the hilt of her sword as she took a step forward to stand beside Gem.

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve had enough of your lies, Fwhip. What. Did. You. Do,” Gem said evenly. Fwhip swallowed nervously, before sighing and finally giving in.

“Okay, so I may have set a few traps in his empire and got Sausage to help me with letting a raid infiltrate his village and the surrounding lands- but I figured Scott could handle a few traps and some mobs, it was only meant to be a warning, I never meant to kill him! He must have really gotten soft if he couldn’t deal with it,” Fwhip rambled. Gem and Pearl seemed semi-satisfied with his answer, but Pearl kept her hand on her sword and purple sparks still danced around Gem. But there was something that Fwhip said that bothered Jimmy, and along with what Pearl had said… guilt was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean by that?” Jimmy asked tentatively. Fwhip let out a harsh laugh, turning to Jimmy incredulously.

“The idiot actually fell for you. He was just supposed to be a distraction, a contingency plan to make sure you wouldn’t be trouble. But he got in too deep, and look where that got him,” Fwhip scoffed, looking down at Scott’s deathly still form in disdain. Guilt was crashing on Jimmy in waves now. He had pushed Scott away. Scott had actually cared about him and he pushed him away. And then he had no one to go to for help when Fwhip decided to send a “warning” and got hurt as a result.

“You’re lucky I’m a pacifist,” Katherine spat, more angry than Jimmy had ever heard her. He wished he could have shared her anger, shouted at Fwhip too- but Jimmy just felt numb.

“Well unluckily for Fwhip, I don’t have that problem,” Pearl fumed, drawing her sword. Fwhip started to scramble back as Pearl leapt at him. His backwards stumble turned into a run, and Pearl kept pace with him just fine, using her wings if necessary and brandishing her sword to chase him away.

“Pearl can handle him- can you three help me get Scott to the apothecary? I’d do it by myself, but he’s tall and there’s the bulk of his wings to worry about too,” Gem asked, looking down at Scott worriedly.

“Erm- right, of course,” Jimmy said, letting go of Katherine’s hand to join Gem at Scott’s side.

“Hold on- go to the other side and help me turn him over,” Gem said. Jimmy did as she asked, and being mindful of his wings, the two of them gently rolled Scott over so he was on his back. Scott was feverish to the touch, and even unconscious his expression was contorted with pain.

“He’s hot,” Jimmy said, distant horror in his tone.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Jimmy,” Gem teased, trying to lessen the tension in the air. Jimmy’s face scrunched up in irritation as he half-heartedly glared at her.

“He has a fever, Gem,” Jimmy huffed. Gem laughed nervously.

“I know, I know, just trying to make this less terrible than it is,” Gem sighed. Jimmy gave her a weak smile, and together the two of them gently lifted Scott up. Jimmy ended up mostly holding Scott, while Gem supported his wings. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder, labored breaths fanning his neck. Jimmy should have felt embarrassed or flustered, cradling Scott like this- but he was too concerned with how limp and unresponsive Scott felt in his arms.

“I’ll get the doors for you!” Shelby offered, quickly making her way over to the apothecary door. Katherine hovered around Jimmy and Gem semi-anxiously, making sure that they had a good hold on Scott as they made their way over to the apothecary. But all went well, and they were able to safely transport Scott into one of the apothecary beds. He had begun to shiver and tremble every so often now, and Jimmy could have sworn the corruption had spread, reaching his fingertips.

“There’s gotta be a way to stop that, or at least slow it down,” Gem murmured in thought, pulling up a chair to sit at Scott’s side. She reached out to the cut where the corruption on Scott’s arm stemmed from, hand glowing purple again. She closed her hand over it, and her eyes began to glow the same purple as her hand. But then the glow flickered, turning red for a moment before it dissipated entirely and Gem drew her hand back with a yelp, stumbling backwards out of her seat beside Scott’s bed. Jimmy scrambled over to help her up, eyes darting nervously between her and Scott.

“Is everything alright? I chased Fwhip off, but I swear if he’s done something in here…” Pearl trailed off as she walked into the apothecary, eyes zeroing on Gem as she rubbed at her temples.

“I’m fine. The corruption- it fought back. It’s… alive, somehow,” Gem said with morbid curiosity in her tone.

“It’s a type of fungus. That’s as much as my people could figure out before I came here to try and find a cure. The red stuff is everywhere in my old home- even if you tried to get rid of it, it would just come back. And in the cases where it latched onto a person… there was no getting it out,” Shelby explained, sounding like she was going to cry. Gem hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you try any sort of magic with it?” she asked.

“No, my people were not magic-users- in fact I’d hardly seen magic before I came here, where the air seems charged with the stuff,” Shelby replied, gesturing around her. A determined expression came over Gem’s face.

“Then I’m not gonna stop trying. I don’t know if I can fully fight off the corruption, but I definitely think I can slow its spread. In the meantime, we’re gonna need to get Scott’s fever down- at this rate, that’ll kill him before the corruption will,” Gem said, resting the back of her hand on Scott’s forehead and frowning.

“He’s probably a little beat-up too- Fwhip did say he trapped his empire,” Katherine added. Gem nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need cool water and cloth to make a compress for his forehead- and I should have some healing potions around here- it couldn’t hurt to brew some more though too, just in case,” Gem rambled, starting to stand up before Pearl put up a hand.

“You two stay here with Scott, I know where you keep things around here. Katherine, Shelby and I can worry about getting things for you,” she soothed. Jimmy tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, I can help get things too…” Jimmy trailed off uncertainly.

“You can help if you want. I just figured you’d wanna stick by Scott,” Pearl shrugged with a gentle smile. Jimmy flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor, away from Pearl’s knowing stare.

“I… yeah. I’ll stick by Scott,” he said softly, gaze shifting to look at the winged elf who always managed to make his emotions into a muddled mess. Scott was an enemy, a friend, a- a something, then an enemy again- but whatever Scott was to Jimmy now, he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting Scott out of his sight again. Doing so the last time caused this to happen. He had to be there if- no, when Scott woke up. He had to apologize for pushing him away, and hope that maybe Scott still cared about him after everything that had happened to accept it.

-

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[arigatouiris]

animal instincts // inosuke x reader

Author’s Note: Another draft pick hahahahah. I headcanon that Inosuke is like this when he’s in love~ My poor misunderstood rough boi who deserves nothing but the world! I hope ya’ll like this, I put some effort into this one hahahaha. Thanks for reading!!

Word count: 4069

Pairing: Hashibira Inosuke x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight spice (things get a bit heated here UwU) idk, slight angst, SPOILERS FOR THE KIMETSU MANGA

Zenitsu had a question plaguing his mind ever since (y/n) (l/n) came into his life. Not that he didn’t try wooing her and asking her to marry him, no, she turned him down rather decently and kindly, which forced him to think of her as a good friend. She was a demon slayer herself, having hailed from the same training that Kanao went through. 

As sweet and loving as she was, (y/n) could be just as violent; albeit, Zenitsu and the gang had only seen this side when she fought demons. Her violence was through a silent battle that she knew she would win, and her swordplay was fascinating to the eye. Her mother was a dancer, somewhat similar to Tanjiro’s father, and her mother had taught her everything she needed to know about dance.

However, life wasn’t too kind. (y/n) lost her mother when she was 12 and had been training under Shinobu to become a demon slayer since. She had learned the breath of the flower from Shinobu, but developed her own style scheme by performing different moves through dance. It was, to say the least, impressive.

(y/n) and Inosuke shared a rather weird relationship. 

The first time they met was in between their missions. All four of them were surrounded by a total of seven demons. Inosuke stepped in wanting to be the one to take down everyone, but quietly, (y/n) held him back (almost yelled at but the second Inosuke’s gaze met hers, he grew strangely quiet, which was unlike him). 

     “We need to plan this out. When you’re cornered, you don’t attack head-on. That’s suicide.”

She turned to Inosuke’s mask and grinned, “You’re better alive than dead, right?”

Zenitsu didn’t miss the fuwa fuwa that came out of his boar friend right then, but he was shitting his pants for something else entirely. It was after that did she introduce herself, rather peppily, and seemed like the most happy-go-lucky person they had ever laid their eyes on. Inosuke seemed particularly soft with her, which was very unlike him, but no one made any comment about it. 

     “So Inosuke, why did you become a demon slayer?” (y/n) asked, with a chirpy voice.

Zenitsu and Tanjiro watched as the white puffballs around Inosuke grew in number but the male grunted and walked away, leaving (y/n) there with a confused but happy smile.

     “What happened?”

Zenitsu hit himself on the forehead.

The thing that Zenitsu’s mind was plagued with was this: How would Inosuke behave if he was in love with someone?

For this, he’d need to understand how animals behaved. When an animal finds a potential mate, the male of the species would perform a series of activities in order to impress the female of the species. Like, in birds, the male bird would perform a wide range of dance moves or hops to impress the female, who would display her interest by signalling in and chirping accordingly.

Cut to what they were doing a few weeks ago. They were at the butterfly estate, all four of them, and Tanjiro and (y/n) were talking about him selling charcoal for a living. She was a good listener, and for Tanjiro, it was nice to be heard for a change. Perhaps, in Inosuke’s mind, Tanjiro was another male boar, showcasing his skills (Zenitsu wondered if ‘kindness’ can count as a skill) and (y/n) was considering him. Inosuke however, had a better skill—brisk loudness, and the ability to have anyone’s eye on him for longer durations of time because he was just that distracting.

     “(y/n)!” 

Ah yes, he also never forgot her name for a strange reason, but she only thought that was because he didn’t deem her a threat.

(y/n) were right, in a way.

She turned her head toward Inosuke who was holding his two swords near the courtyard. Zenitsu stood a few feet away from where (y/n) and Tanjiro sat, and watched with an unimpressed expression on his face. This wasn’t amusing in the slightest for the blond, for he had seen men pile up over women and behave in a way they otherwise wouldn’t do. But, in Inosuke’s case, it was definitely...weird.

Upon receiving (y/n)’s attention, Inosuke flipped his blades around in the air and did a few stunts, causing (y/n)’s eyes to widen with absolute amusement. Tanjiro smiled a tad bit, before turning to a disgruntled Zenitsu, and understanding thus what was going on. 

     “Whoa, that’s amazing, Inosuke!” (y/n) said, clapping her hands together.

Tanjiro noticed the white fluff balls come out of the boar boy’s head as his actions suddenly stopped. He might have been raised an animal, but Tanjiro’s heart melted at the realization that Inosuke craved the feelings of attention and kindness from people around him, just as much as he wanted to prove himself superior. Inosuke felt a range of things with the two of them, but with (y/n), he certainly felt softer. And whatever the reason might be, Tanjiro believed his friend deserved it—the boy was pure at heart. 

Coming back to the theory Zenitsu had. Tanjiro approached the boy that evening before having a quick word with him over Inosuke’s obsession with impressing you. Both of them knew that it was more than a crush, but it was also quite out of character. While Tanjiro could swallow Inosuke’s need to be softer with her, Zenitsu thought Inosuke believed it was a competition.

     “Well,” Tanjiro pondered, “It might be, in his head. That was how he was raised and that’s how he thinks? Maybe, if we don’t prove a threat to him, he’ll learn better on understanding how to communicate his feelings.”

Zenitsu scoffed, “That idiot won’t know what feelings are if it hit him on his face like a brick. He thinks like an animal!”

Tanjiro chuckled, “Doesn’t mean animals can’t love,” He turned to spot Inosuke and (y/n) in an animated conversation about butterflies, “Most often, they love better than the rest of us.”

Therefore, the two of them decided to watch Inosuke. Zenitsu did it for his own amusement, but Tanjiro enjoyed merely understanding his friend’s nature. There were three things that Inosuke had to fall under if he were in love with (y/n)—and this was all based on observation. Tanjiro knew how animals thought and behaved to a fair extent, and with his knowledge, analysing Inosuke’s behavior around her seemed like the perfect study.

#1. One mate is territorial over the other.

Zenitsu approached (y/n) one evening, wanting to call her over for dinner. She turned to the blond before waving at him, and having him sit beside her. 

     “Hi, Zenitsu-kun. Is there something you need?”

He wondered where his boar friend was at that second. There was no point to this exercise if Inosuke wasn’t around. Not that he minded having a conversation with (y/n), she was sweet. He turned to her after realizing Inosuke wasn’t around and wondered what she thought of him. 

     “So, Inosuke,” She blinked at his words, “He’s weird, right?”

     “Not at all. I think he’s really sweet.” 

Zenitsu blinked, “Really? Even though he doesn’t understand a lot of social cues? It’s because he was raised in the mountains—”

     “I find that bit fascinating, actually. Even though he was raised in the mountains, he’s so kind.”

     “How is he kind?” Zenitsu grumbled.

(y/n) blinked at the blond’s question. 

     “Do you...not like Inosuke-kun?”

Zenitsu shook his head, “It’s not like that, I just think he’s too much sometimes. Abrasive and rash—it’s like taking care of a loud kid!”

She giggled, “I like that about him! Keeps things lively.”

Zenitsu wasn’t sure now on who the weird one was. With (y/n) defending Inosuke like her life depended on it, it was certain that even she had a soft spot for the boy. But, he couldn’t tell if it was built out of sympathy or romantic feelings like he had. She was just kind, maybe, she defended Zenitsu behind his back (although this thought made him swoon on the inside). 

     “Where is he anyway?” (y/n) grumbled, frowning a bit.

It was at that second when Tanjiro came to the courtyard. (y/n) greeted the brown haired boy before blinking up at him. 

     “Tanjiro-kun, have you seen Inosuke-kun?”

Tanjiro hummed before saying, “Hm, I think he left with Kanao-chan somewhere?”

Zenitsu ‘ah’ed before understanding where the boar boy had gone now. Kanao and Inosuke had been training together for a bit, it wasn’t strange since Inosuke always wanted to get stronger than the others. With Tanjiro having beaten Kanao in that little game, Inosuke wanted to do the same. The boy thought everything was a competition. 

     “Oh?”

Tanjiro almost didn’t notice it, but it was good that he was great at capturing certain scents. Growing up with so many siblings had him understand how to differentiate between the scents of various emotions. When (y/n) stood up, waved to them and left, Tanjiro chuckled, catching Zenitsu’s attention. He wasn’t always certain about a lot of things, but he was sure that he had caught the right scent here.

     “What’s so funny?”

It was the scent of jealousy, he thought before shaking his head.

#2.  One mate tries to impress the other by being the best they can be.

Zenitsu hated missions, and he especially hated them when he had to go with Inosuke. However, the only thing holding his sanity together was that (y/n) had offered to tag along—since her crow was nowhere to be found. Inosuke was thrilled and secretly so was the blond, because now Inosuke seemed controllable. He didn’t know how it worked, but he was glad that it did.

They were to head to a village to find a demon behind a few missing people. Apparently, these people headed to work one day and never returned—and this being near a river, there were chances that this demon resided under water.

     “Can you swim, (y/n)-chan?” 

     “Yes, actually. I didn’t learn it the easy way, though. Shinobu-san basically threw me into the river and forced me to learn the hard way.” She said, dejectedly.

     “When you’re about to drown, your body learns to float!” Inosuke yelled, catching your attention.

     “Y-Yeah, I mean, I was the first one to learn too! Inosuke, I also know what plants you can eat from under water!”

     “You can eat underwater plants?!”

     “Yes! I’ll show you someday! When they’re added into your food, it’s so delicious!”

He couldn’t understand where the fuwa fuwa was coming from now—Zenitsu noticed that the fluffballs were everywhere. He wasn’t sure which mate was trying to impress the other here. 

Tanjiro, Zenitsu thought, who exactly is the animal here? 

He normally never did this, but Zenitsu was curious beyond belief! Therefore, he shut his eyes, paused for a brief moment and let his ears do the detective work. All he could hear were sounds of two hearts fluttering in harmony, an image stuck to his brain that he couldn’t wipe off (and if he was a softer, more mature individual, he would admit that the image was a rather sweet one), but Zenitsu being Zenitsu hated the fact that his mountain boy friend was in love with a sweet crackhead like (y/n)—who in retaliation was in love with a mountain boy as well.

#3. A manner of softness not seen anywhere else.

It was strange to see Inosuke being quiet—it was either only when he was in deep sleep or deep thought (which was very, very rare indeed). However, the mountain boy grew quiet a lot these days; especially because (y/n) hung out a lot whenever the boys were around. He’d watch her, observing her movements, trying to replicate whatever ‘decent’ moves she made like trying to eat with chopsticks or not wearing the mask as much when she’s around.

In all honestly, it was quite evident that Inosuke tried being a human being around her and it was sweet, Tanjiro noted, that he’d try so hard to accommodate to (y/n). 

However, Zenitsu didn’t think it was sweet. He wanted to vomit inside his mouth each time he thought of the boar boy being in love, particularly because it was the sort of love that was rare even for civilized people. The blond always had trouble finding people who accepted him for being who he was, and here was someone like Inosuke—whose personality was somehow revered instead of being shunned. 

What the hell is going on? He thought, grumbling, as he witnessed (y/n) crawl over to Inosuke, as if to sneak up on the boy. Normally, Zenitsu would have yelled and alerted his friend, but he just didn’t care anymore—it was comical, and he’d let it be.

     “Inosuke!” (y/n) pounced on the boar boy from the back, tackling him to the ground, surprising him.

Inosuke blinked, his face a dark red, before screaming in playful anger. 

     “What the hell are you doing?!”

     “Fight me!”

Inosuke’s eyes widened just for a brief moment before he growled and tackled her back, causing her to giggle and try to escape the boar boy’s advances. Now, he was chasing her around the estate, something little animals do when they play with one another. Tanjiro smiled at the sight before Zenitsu noticed fluffballs come around him.

I’ve had enough of this.

Walking over to his boar friend, he grabbed the boy from the back of his mask before yanking it off in one go. Inosuke would never mind beating the living daylight out of his blond friend, but the expression Zenitsu had just then caused him to still his movements. (y/n) paused before blinking up at Zenitsu, tilting her head slightly at the sudden halt.

     “Zenitsu-kun? Is something wrong?”

     “You two are what’s wrong!”

Inosuke growned, “What? You wanna—”

     “NO! I don’t want to fight! Do you honestly not see what’s going on here?!” 

(y/n) giggled before saying, “Inosuke and I are just fooling around—”

     “I thought we were fighting—”

     “We are, but it isn’t a fight where we hurt each other.”

     “Yes! I was thinking the same thing!”

Zenitsu slapped his forehead. He pointed to Inosuke and then pointed to (y/n). Tanjiro approached them before placing a calm hand on his blond friend. 

     “You are clearly in love with her and you are clearly in love with him!”

Inosuke didn’t look like he understood what Zenitsu had blurted out, but (y/n) was civilized where Inosuke wasn’t and just then Zenitsu had called her out rather harshly—but, it was the kind of harsh that was perhaps justified. Her eyes widened and she turned to spot Inosuke grab the blond and put him in a choke hold, but her movements stilled. She looked up to Tanjiro who gave her a kind smile before she bit her lip.

Of course she knew she loved Inosuke. Of course, she wasn’t blind. Ever since she first laid eyes on the beast boy, her mind was picked, her heart was his, and her body did things on its own—wanting to impress him, wanting to stand out and make sure Inosuke remembers her name instead of anyone else’s; she wanted to be special to him, and from all her tries, she was bound to know that her feelings for him were nothing short of romantic. 

However, could he perceive romance? Could Inosuke know what these feelings were and could he act on them? Was she the only one making the effort here? She turned to spot Inosuke fighting with Zenitsu the same way he was fighting with her and she began to wonder, ‘What if I’m actually no different?’

Tanjiro smelled the sudden hesitance radiating off of her, but before she could get anywhere, he approached her.

     “(y/n)-chan, I’m sure Inosuke feels the same way—”

     “Tanjiro-kun,” (y/n) wasn’t sure where the sudden hesitance grew inside her. “I just... I need to figure some things out on my own before I...” She turned to spot Inosuke taking off his mask, growling at the blond. 

She gave him a soft smile, confusing the hell out of him, before walking back inside the estate. 

     “Where’s she going?” Inosuke asked, blinking at her retrieving figure.

Tanjiro turned to his friend, curious. 

     “What do you feel for (y/n)-chan, Inosuke?”

     “HAH?” 

     “That’s what I’ve been trying to get him to talk about! But he keeps tackling me!” Zenitsu yelled from the background.

     “What feel for her? She’s (y/n)!”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened almost comically at how Inosuke remembered her name so accurately. 

     “Why do you remember her name so well?”

     “She’s important!”

Tanjiro blinked some more, “Important how?”

Inosuke growled, losing interest in this conversation, “(y/n) is...” He couldn’t find her and that bothered him. He looked to where she had gone off to before frowning some more.

     “Inosuke,” Tanjiro’s soft voice broke his reverie. “Do you love her?”

He didn’t know what love was, but there were a few things Inosuke was sure of. Whenever he saw (y/n), he wanted to be around her more—just like the pair of wolves he had come across as a child. The male wolf would wind its neck under the female’s whenever it was cold, and it was something Inosuke saw himself doing with her, and no one else. He remembered the swans dancing around in the water with one another, attaching themselves by every inch of their feathers and Inosuke wanted nothing more than to learn how her skin felt against his. 

He recalled the group of monkeys that was led by a strong male and a fat female, which was fat because the male had given her his babies. One day, Inosuke dreamed of having little Inosuke babies with (y/n).

If this was what love was then what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was much, much more.

Growling, he ran off to where (y/n) might have gone, and noticed you sitting by the engawa. Taking off his mask, Inosuke sat beside her without warning, and noticed her red face. His eyes widened when he saw that expression on (y/n)—and all the thoughts he had were starting to vanish. Sure, the animals looked happy and did things he wanted to do, but no animal could compare to how beautiful she looked right then. He gulped before leaning closer to her, smelling her face—unsure of what to do at a time like this. Inosuke didn’t want to scare her, but he was confident that she would not be scared.

Zenitsu did not count a fourth thing that Inosuke would fall under if he was in love. The ability to change and adapt for a certain someone.

     “Inosuke, do you... do you know what love is?”

He didn’t, and he sure as hell was scared to tell her that he had no idea.

     “What I feel for you... I want to be around you all the time. I want to hold your hand and... and hold you in my arms and touch your hair—”

Inosuke grabbed (y/n)’s hand forcefully before placing it on his hair, but paused when he noticed her wince.

     “Did I hurt you?”

(y/n) smiled warmly, her heart beating rapidly as she shook her head, “I’m not sure if you know what love is, Inosuke...” 

He frowned, “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

He was an animal, born and raised in conditions that other people could have perhaps not survived. There was very little he knew about the ways of how human beings displayed affection. However, there was one way he was sure of—one way that could perhaps show her what he felt. Prove to her that whatever this love emotion was, it had nothing on him.

Because what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was far, far stronger than some stupid emotion.

He leaned forward and kissed her, grabbing the back of her hair. (y/n) had no idea where he had learned how to kiss, and even if he knew what this meant, but a second later, Inosuke’s tongue darted downwards to her neck, biting it lightly, marking the texture of her soft skin. His hand was firm behind her head and he pulled lightly, pressing her to him—before leaning back and capturing her lips again.

(y/n)’s eyes were wide and she was almost breathless; unsure of how to react, her hands slowly travelled to his hair and she buried her fingers in his hair, marvelling at how soft his locks were. She kissed back slowly, and did not miss the passion Inosuke brought forth with what he was doing. Once again, he pulled away before reaching her collarbone and biting lightly. The second (y/n) let out a soft moan, Inosuke stopped.

     “Do you feel warm?”

Her face rivalled a spider lily. Of course she felt warm!

Inosuke looked at her and smirked, “A male marks his female, in the mountains, this is how beasts mark their mates.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. Mate? She blinked before grabbing his face and studying it, almost enthralled with what she had learned.

     “Inosuke, there is so much you need to learn!”

But, the second she thought of how his tongue travelled to her neck and collarbone, maybe, he didn’t have to learn much after all.

*

When Inosuke’s firstborn son turned out to be a bit timid, Inosuke acquired the ability—acting out on empathy. (y/n) watched him, hold his five-year old son after the boy had fallen off a small tree and hurt his knee.

     “This is going to sting,” Inosuke said, before putting some pressure on to the little boy’s wound, along with a raw medicine he had made to prevent any infection. 

The boy cried instantly, which caused Inosuke to turn to (y/n), who was cradling their third born daughter, with a smile on her face. He wouldn’t reveal to a great many people that watching his son wince and cry hurt his chest more than anything ever had, but watching (y/n) smile back at him, as he sat there with a smile on his face made him appreciate everything that was soft in the world.

He had stopped asking people to fight him because honestly, it turned exhausting. After having three children, Inosuke had had enough—he wanted to mellow down and sit back, smell his wife’s hair and watch their children grow. He often wondered how Tanjiro and the others were doing, and he thought of how the life in the city was not one for him at all. He hoped that their paths would cross one day, but turning to (y/n), as their youngest daughter cooed in (y/n)’s arms, Inosuke was at peace.

     “What are you staring at!? Fight me!”

Inosuke narrowed his eyes and turned to his three-year old girl, whose expressions and personality rivalled his own. He heard (y/n) chuckle from the back before ignoring her and getting up, grabbing the little girl by her ankle and having her dangle upside down.

     “This—”

     “Stop it, runt.” 

Oh, but he would not deny how much he adored that feisty little spirit of hers. She growled before pinching her father’s hold, causing him to abruptly let her go, as she landed on the ground with a ‘thud’. She got back up and rushed to her father, hands around his neck, Inosuke grumbling before picking her up. If only he had understood that his cries ‘fight me’ were a sign of being touch-starved, he’d have avoided a great many unnecessary fights.

     “Let me go—”

     “Shut up.”

Inosuke’s hand wrapped around his small daughter’s form before running it up and down on her back, calming her down. The child’s eyes widened before she quieted down, and returning her father’s embrace.

A small tug at his sleeve made him look at his son now, who gave him a needy look as well. Inosuke knelt down and picked up his boy, before hugging both of them, standing like a tree in the middle of the house.

     “Never thought you’d turn into such a softie, Inosuke!” (y/n) giggled, before expecting a shout or a loud comeback.

Instead, her eyes widened when she saw him smile at her, each hand cradling his children, as he watched her, with the softest eyes he could conjure.

Honestly, she could never let down the way he told her he loved her each day, not through words, not through mindless actions, but merely by looking at her like his entire life belonged to her. For a man raised in the mountains, Inosuke knew how to love better than the rest of humanity itself.

If only Zenitsu could see the man now, she thought, chuckling.

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Surprises

Surprises of all kinds, found after a shopping trip goes wrong. Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, threats of violence, mentions of suicide and incest, and copious amounts of headcanons.

As always, there is more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, and send me a message if you liked it, I crave positive feedback.

~*~*~*~

TXT: where the fuck are you guys it's already quarter past

After a few minutes, you got a ding.

M: idia doenst want t leave something about a person see you aftr he needs freind

Oh goddammit, it's so fucking hard to get him out and about. At least Mal was with him.

You looked to Grim at your feet. "Looks like it's just us, buddy."

~*~*~*~

It was just you and Grim browsing through the dollar store, when a boy in a ratty shop apron came up to you. "Ma'am?"

You turned to him, and he coughed. "Uh, Miss. You're not supposed to have pets in the store."

Grim bristled at him. "I'm not a pet!"

Poor kid, he looked so startled. And you decided to make it worse, because yanno, why not. "How dare you refer to my son as a pet! Does he look like a pet to you?"

He looked between your face and Grim's, confusion growing. "Wh-"

"I know the resemblance isn't the strongest, but honestly! How could you say such mean things about him!"

Grim, bless him, actually caught on and decided to play along for the chaos of it. "Why are you being so mean to me? My mom works hard to keep me happy! She said I could pick out a toy today!"

The confusion had turned to anger. "That's not your kid! You're too young and he's an animal!"

Grim looked up at you, mock tears in his eyes. "I'm your kid, right? I'm not adopted like the boys at school say?" He started sniffling. "I'm not adopted, right?"

You clapped your hands over Grim's ears and glared at the now horrified shopboy. "Look what you've done! I hadn't told him yet!"

He just fled in horror, and it was all you could do to keep from laughing.

~*~*~*~

The village on the island wasn't the worst appointed. Being equidistant between two prestigious magic schools, it had a few places worth going, and after hitting up your personal favourite, you went to a small park, settled down on a bench, and started unwrapping your prizes.

You have a love for gashapon machines that bordered on a serious problem. In your biweekly trips to buy snacks and supplies to stock up your miserable, beautiful dorm, you easily fed 3000 madol (which you think was about thirty-five dollars or so at home, but couldn't be sure) into the long rows of machines in the drug store, coming out with tiny keychains, figures, and various useless but wonderful little totchkes that you kept lined up in rows in your bedroom. The joys of tiny presents! And the containers were useful too; for a creature who heavily insisted he wasn't a cat, Grim lost his shit like one every time your rolled a ball with a bell inside across the floor.

You were marveling over a tiny, perfectly realistic jellyfish on a phone strap as someone sat down heavily beside you. "Is that," they pointed to Grim poking his way around the cattails by an ornamental pond, "yours?"

"... Yes?" You turned to examine your seatmate. Charmingly strange looking, they sat impeccably robed in forest green velvet and squinted at you from behind perfectly round sunglasses. Flat-faced and thin-lipped, they reminded you of a toad, with their roundness and severe expression.

"Ah, then you are the one I am looking for. You're the pet of the prince."

"I'm a friend of his. Is that a problem?" You decided to keep opening your prizes, and pulled out a heavy ball from the bottom of your bag.

"His Highness does not have human friends."

"And yet, I am." This one, unwrapped, was the chase in the set: a tiny cauldron the size of a thimble that seemed to be actual cast iron. The chill of it was pleasant in your hand, and instead of returning it to your bag, you left it in your lap.

This presumptive stranger leaned in. "You're a diversion. A distraction from what he should be learning. Instead he plays with mortals and lets them forget their place."

"If it was so important that he didn't play with mortals, then why was he allowed to attend here?" You got a cheap set of rings on a goldtone chain in this one. Boo. You'd wanted the miniature necklace of the set for your doll. "He's very happy with the company of us all."

"Too happy. He forgets his place." The toady eyed the glittering paste gems before looking away. "Above you. Instead he crawls into your lap and serves you like a dog."

You froze. "Now, where did you get that idea?"

"We have sources." They leaned in further, smiling. A barely perceptible line of triangular teeth, sparsely placed and translucent in tone. "Foul things happen to the unwanted lovers of heirs, don't you know?"

"I am a wanted friend." 

"You're a parasite who should flee."

You realized something, and turned to face your strange benchmate. "Why are you threatened by me?"

They scoffed. "Why would we be threatened by you?"

"If you weren't," you said, dropping your voice as your leaned in, "then you wouldn't be here trying to put the fear into me." They leaned back, glasses slipping off their nose. The eyes in their face were exquisite, shining gold and black speckles with a ring of gold around an oval pupil. You could help but laugh. "Pretty eyes. You really are a toad. Who sent you? The Thorn Witch? Can't be, I'm not worth her time and if I was, she'd've sent a fucking letter."

"We're a concerned party, preventing our future king from making the mistake of dealing with filth." 

Well, that one pissed you off. You grabbed their wrist, feeling bumps and warts on their skin through the fabric, and pressed the tiny cauldron to the back on their hand as they started screeching.

"You," you looked them dead in their impossibly lovely eyes, "You go back where you came from, tell them I'm not a threat to whatever stupid bullshit they're worried about, and never bother us again. Or I will make you swallow this and you'll beg the precious prince you're so damned worried about to burn you alive to stop the pain."

You'd never seen anyone run so fast in your life when you let them go.

"Hey, Grim! We gotta go."

~*~*~*~

TXT: MAL SOMEONE SENT ME A TOADY SAYING I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU ANYMORE

TXT: MIGHTA BEEN YOUR GMA BUT I DON'T THINK SO

~*~*~*~

"I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Killing them might start an international incident. If one hasn't happened already. You burnt them with iron, Yuu."

"I should have done worse! Whoever the fuck they were, that's two friends they've tried to threaten to stay away from you! That we know of!"

It turns out that the mystery toady had been the person to scare the piss out of Idia the night before. Not that they'd gotten far into their leave-the-prince-alone spiel, Idia had simply kicked them square in the stomach and fled, assuming another kidnapping attempt.

"It wouldn't have been my grandmother. In the last letter I got from her, she said it was very nice that I was making friends. She said to keep making them, even."

"She'd probably care if she knew you were sleeping with said friends." Idia was curled into the corner of his bed, and from the looks of it hadn't slept since his own encounter.

"No she wouldn't."

"You sure about that?"

You'd said that that was only going to happen once. Everyone agreed. But when all three of you settled in to play a game or watch a movie, hands moved and bodies flushed and you all seemed to find yourself tangled and gasping. And it didn't seem to require all three of you - you no longer had the strength to say no to Mal's obvious advances, and you'd walked in on your boys more than once. At least you were still friends? Really, really close friends?

"She wouldn't."

"Could they be worried about heirs?" That seemed logical. Even if no accidents were happening, they might not know that.

"That's not possible."

You raised an eyebrow. Everything worked right, and you all knew it.

Mal looked back at you. "Yuu, I hatched from an egg. I could have you both five times a day for a decade and all there would be to show for it is you couldn't walk. I cannot have children with either of you without magical intervention."

Idia made a truly impressive death rattle before mumbling something about the end of his bloodline, and you just nodded. "Makes sense."

"It's quite interesting, really, it requires numerous spells and potions, that if not kept up on, the babe will-" Malleus placed his hands together, back to back, and mimed the motion of tearing something open.

You flinched. "That's awful, goddamn."

"I have a direct ancestor who took a great deal of human women as breeding stock and simply let them be eaten from the inside out. That's what started one of the earlier human/faerie wars." 

"... Wow."

"I am not proud of her."

"Can we please talk about anything else?" Idia looked ready to be sick. "I don't want to think about any of this."

"Sure, let's grab one of your doujins."

~*~*~*~

"So you're already engaged?"

"As soon as it was clear I would survive to adulthood, yes. Idia, what is this series?"

"Nyan Neko Sugar Girls. It's not that great storywise, but it has great gags." He reached over and grabbed the next one in his pile. "It's not that unusual. My mother wanted Ortho to marry my cousin Alecto when they grew up, before..."

"Before he made a lifestyle change?" That seemed the politest way to put it.

"Before she went to the criminal ward."

You shut your book with a soft thump. "What?"

"I remember the trial." Mal sighed. "Strychnine in the sugar bowl at Sunday dinner. I made sure to get the newspapers sent to the palace."

"Mother was heartbroken over it, until she realized that the wealth of that entire Shroud branch defaulted back to us." Idia shrugged. "It's sad. She was just eleven. I still send her emails."

"Idia."

"Mm?"

"Why the fuck would an eleven year old poison someone?"

"My uncle said she couldn't get a puppy until her grades went up."

"What the fuck." You'd lie down if you weren't already doing so.

"It's the curse." He sighed. "We thought she might've been from an affair? But that proved it."

"My dearest Shroud, you can't guarantee it was from the curse." Malleus turned a page. "It might have been trauma from her mother's death."

You could see more bad history incoming. "Oh no."

"Alecto was from Uncle Jo's first marriage, to my dad's cousin Alita. She had a sister, but when her mother drowned herself, she only took-"

"Is this normal for your family? Or is that just some exceptional bad luck?"

He leaned in, lamplight eyes flashing. "Out of all the Shrouds of my generation that are still capable of inheriting, I'm the most mentally sound."

Both you and Mal had to stop and really consider the implications of that.

"So, Mal. Yours isn't that closely related?"

"Fifth cousins at most when they're finally born."

You sat up. "What?"

"I'm supposed to marry the third grandchild of the Hollyoak Baron. They're a well-respected family, and of snake fae descent so little aid will be needed for conception. His eldest child is in..." He had to think about what words to use. " I believe the term is 'middle school'?"

"They really planned it that far ahead?"

Mal shrugged, the movement rolling down his whole body. "I cannot complain. It gives me a very long time to learn how to be a husband before I have to be one."

"But what if you don't like them?"

"Marriage is chiefly a contract to produce heirs. I'll learn to like them, and ideally love them."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll still treat them as kindly as I can."

"And I suppose you'd take a lover."

"Maybe. They can too, as long as all the children are mine. For legal reasons," he added.

Idia, snapping out of his thoughts, tapped Mal's shoulder. "Does the Hollyoak Baron have any friends who are toad faeries?"

It was Mal's turn to sit up. "That... He could be worried that if I have favourites at school, I'll resent my betrothed for not being either of you. Or that I would attempt to break it off entirely."

"That still doesn't tell us how he found out about..." You gestured around the room.

Idia rolled his eyes. "All that would have to happen is any one student from the Valley of Thorns writing a letter home."

"But -"

"Malleus, you're not shy in your affections. At all."

"Yes I am," he bristled.

~*~*~*~

"Mal?"

"Mmph?"

"You have to put me down. I have class."

He made a slightly different mmph and shook his head.

You tried to pat his head, but your arms were securely pinned to your sides. "I know they're fantastic, but you have to stop."

He still refused to remove his face from your chest, making a noise that could have been purring if it cane from anyone who was a proper mammal.

"Mal, we're blocking traffic."

He still wasn't putting you down, instead swaying slightly in place.

A familiar long-fingered hand with dark nails reached from behind you and tugged at Mal's lapel. "Malleus, please stop, it's ten AM and everyone is staring."

Mal finally put you down - only to switch targets, wrapping his arms around Idia's waist and pulling him flush, fixing him with such a look of besotted fondness that you immediately felt like you were intruding.

"You look beautiful today."

Idia immediately burst into a ball of pink flame.

~*~*~*~

"... Perhaps I am a bit obvious."

Idia stared up at his ceiling. "You'd be at home in my otome games."

You chimed in. "What would be obvious, in your mind?"

"Very easy. I finish the paperwork declaring you Lord and Lady of the Bedchamber and have you officially ensconced as Court of Thorns royalty, ensuring you're both taken care of for the rest of your days."

"... Finish?"

"It seemed the easiest thing to do if either of you chose to visit my homeland."

You swatted his leg. "And you didn't think to ask us first?"

Mal was starting to clue in that he had once again overreached himself. "... Surprise?"

"I'm okay with it."

You glared over at Idia. "That's not the point."

"Look, if I ever get disinherited, I have a place to go. He won't make me go outside if I don't want to. I'll bring Ortho. It'll be great."

"They don't even have dial-up over there, Idia. Lilia told me he had to get all this stuff installed to play his MMOs."

Idia pointed at Mal, easy smile turned to outrage. "How dare you try and trap me!"

It honestly seemed like Mal and Idia had switched expressions, the look of worry on his face so strange. "It's a protective measure! If you're titled, people will get in trouble if they try and remove you!"

"That's still... wait." The gears were turning in your head. "If you finish that paperwork, whoever sent Mixter Toad is going to get in so much more trouble."

Everyone went silent as they considered this.

"... As soon as I get the official permission from my grandmother. She won't like it very much, but if I explain..."

Idia turned to Mal. "You were going to make your human fucktoys official members of the Court of Thorns without telling your grandmother, the queen. Who has a notable and often justified dislike of humans."

"No?"

"Mal."

"I simply prepared ahead."

"Mal."

"I - "

"Malleus." You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're so goddamned stupid. Love you."

He didn't say it back with words, but you got the message loud and clear.

[lordoffiction]

Two Souls, One Fate: chapter one.

☞: After spending two days trying to post this, here it is! Hooray!

I really hope you all enjoy this whilst I finish writing the fifth chapter for T.L, because god knows I spent too much time on this. I haven’t wrote in a few months, so please excuse any mistakes I made in this and if it’s shitty! It’ll get better, promise. 

Please give me feedback and let me know if you would like to get tagged in this series! 

Anyways, enjoy! 

WORD COUNT: 5,069

WARNINGS: swearing, mild violence, mentions of suicide.

gif isn’t mine, all credits to the owner. 

                              —————————

Your fingers combed through your hair, bundling it up into an untidy ponytail, pulling the long strands to make sure it was secure and tight enough. You had had long hair for around ten years, it's your pride and joy.

Growing up in an all-male family had made you that way, you grew up a tomboy with your five older brothers and always saw yourself as one of them.

But then that magical moment came when you were ripped from your carefree childhood and brutally slammed into the harsh society and expectations of women, you had begun to hate the idea of acting like a boy. People told you to act more like a “lady”. So you had put away the mud pies, the sword fights, and the wrestling. You began doing make-up, having long hair, and wearing pretty clothes.

But throughout everything, no matter what anyone said, society and snotty people couldn’t take this one thing from you.

Archery.

Your father had taught you from a young age, a sport that made you better even on your worst days. Something that not even the most powerful being in existence could take from you. The thrill of letting go of that arrow, watching it glide through the air before striking its target. It was something you would never get bored of.

You dressed in your normal sportswear, sliding on protective gloves made specially to stop your hands from getting sores as you held the arrow.

Where you lived was a small village, everybody knew everybody. News and gossip spread like wildfire here, so you only imagine that half the village had already heard about your date later tonight.

Reaching over to your bow and your arrow hanging pot, slinging it over your shoulder, you left your small apartment and headed towards the forest. You had a set up shooting range for archery at the corner of it, your dad would make targets for you and set you challenges every day when you were younger. Like swinging targets or shooting whilst you're running.

“G’ morning, dear. Going out to the woods again?”  

Your eyes turned to see your elderly neighbour smiling at you, her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her walking stick barely keeping her up properly and her woven hat kept the sunlight out of her eyes.

“Mrs. Genkins,” You smiled at her small frame. Such a fragile woman. “Don’t I spend all my time in those damn woods?”

“Just you be careful, you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself before your date tonight.” Mrs. Genkins waved her walking stick at you slightly in a teasing manner, barely putting it back in time before she loses her balance.

The comment made your eyes roll internally. Of course, people already knew about your date tonight.

“I see news hasn’t lost its way around this place.” Your hand automatically reaching out to her in case she falls, which she brushed away with her wrinkled hands. Though she may be pushing ninety, she sure is one tough little lady when it comes to receiving any help.

“You know people around here, other people's lives are their entertainment. Just make sure this one can handle you, you can’t be single forever, you know?” Mrs. Genkins squinted her eyes at you teasing you from the last man you had dated that went sour once he had realized how unfeminine you are.

“Is he really worth my time is he can’t handle a tough girl like me?” You teased back, giving her a small wink as she cackled at your comment.

“Well, I better be going if I want to miss the morning rush at the morning market. You be safe, dear. And be careful.”

You nodded at her, smiling as you waved her down the road and out of sight. You let your head fall back slightly, closing your eyes with an exasperating sigh. You really need to move somewhere where there isn’t anyone you know or where no-one knows you.

You set off towards the woods, it wasn’t a far walk, only about five minutes from your apartment complex.

You dug your earphones out from your pocket, plugging them into your phone, and playing your latest playlist you had made for when you go do your archery. You began stretching your arms on the way, hooking one arm around the other, and pulling on it to receive a satisfying 'pop'.

Just as you entered the woods, you began to hear faint drumming noises. You brushed it off, perhaps it was something for the song you were listening to, though you never remembered this when you last listened to it yesterday.

Your brows knotted together in confusion as the drumming began to get louder and louder as you went deeper into the forest. The noise became so loud that you ripped your earphones out of your ears, your eyes widening. It wasn’t coming from the music.

It was coming from around you.  

As soon as you realised, a small chanting sound echoed with the drumming, syncing with the beat of it.

A cult? You thought.

Your E/C hues quickly began searching around you to see who was doing it but found no one else in the woods with you.

Your fight or flight reflex suddenly kicked in, making you break out into a full-blown sprint into the woods, you tried to fumble with your bow, reaching for one of your arrows in it’s hanging pot behind your back, panting as your fingertips brushed the tip of it.

“C’mon!” You yelled at yourself in frustration.

Suddenly, you began to fall sideways, your ankle giving way beneath you in a twisted mess. The world began to spiral around you as you rolled into the ditch near the pathway you were once walking on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You felt yourself being thrashed around for a few seconds downhill before finally landing on the flat ground again. You gasped for air, the collision causing you to land onto your back, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

You laid there for a minute, breathing in deeply. Did you really just fucking fall?

Rolling onto your side and going onto your hands and knees once you regained your breath, you looked up at the large hill you just fell from, realising the only way you can get back to the track is if you climb back up again.

“Shit.” You grumbled under your breath, using the nearest tree to pull yourself up to your feet again. Your arrows were scattered around you from the fall, leaning down to pick them up one by one and placing them back in your hanging pot.

As you reached for the last one, but your eyes were caught on a small box under the root of a large tree, surely the largest tree you had seen in these woods before and in your entire life.

It must have been thousands of years old, you could wrap yourself around it at least six or seven times.

“Oh, my...” You gawked the tree up and down, taking it all in before looking back to the box that was intertwined with its roots.

“What’s this?” You wondered aloud, going onto your knees and tracing your fingers on the corners of the box that you could touch. It was covered in dirt and moss but your curiosity ate you alive, reaching for one of your arrows, you began to jab at the root to loosen it with the end of your arrow.

After a few moments of trying, you finally loosened the root enough to yank the box out from it with a hard tug, causing you to fall backward.

You brushed it with your fingers but the dirt and grime were so thickly coated on it for god knows how long.

“Curious cat, aren’t you?” You spoke to yourself, standing up again and forgetting completely about your training. “This could be a murder weapon or something and you want to take it home with you.” You tusked, tucking the box into your hanging pot.

The journey back home was filled with many emotions, the main one being self-pity for yourself on how you fell down the hill. The second was about the drums that caused you to fall.

                                 —————————

You ringed your hair out as you stepped out of the shower, letting it fall down your back, the water droplets dripping down your skin, and pooling around your feet.

You dried yourself off as you danced to the music playing from your speaker in your small apartment, grabbing the clothes you planned to wear to your date tonight.

What a weird day, huh. You thought back to the drumming and chanting.

You had chosen a pair of black jeans and a cute black top you had recently bought as a treat, the neckline dripping to show your cleavage. The outfit suited your figure beautifully, staring at yourself in the mirror as you tugged on your black, leather heeled Chelsea boots.

You’d only done concealer and mascara for your make-up. Nothing too fancy for a little date.

“Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all.” You smiled at yourself. You had curled your long hair, tucking one side behind your ear.

You looked behind you, seeing the small box you discovered sitting on your kitchen counter. You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing you still had some time to kill before your date got here.

After a few minutes of running around your apartment and gathering things like a toothbrush, washing up liquid, a small paintbrush, and paper towels; you set up your little workspace on the counter to clean the box.

You dipped the toothbrush in the soapy water, gently scrubbing the dirt from the box, using the paintbrush to brush any specks of dirt off it.

Some time had passed, and you could finally see the beauty beneath the dirt.

“What are these?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the strange engraved marks on the box. The box looked silver, but you couldn’t be sure.

Carefully prying the box open with your fingertips, you revealed inside a stranger kind of necklace.

Your head tilted to the side and your brows furrowed together as the small spiral pendant looked almost familiar. Like you had owned one before but forgot about it. A very distant memory.

It was silver, in the shape of an upside-down hammer. The leather cord that was with it had deteriorated, falling apart as soon as you picked up the pendant.

You cleaned off the pendant in the soapy water, patting it dry with a paper towel. Quickly going back to your room and grabbing one of your necklaces, you took the chain from it. Going back to the kitchen where you carefully hooped the pendant onto the silver chain.

Should I...

You pondered for a moment, staring at the pendant in your hand. You raised the chain around your neck, clasping it together at the hooks as it hung on your chest. You stilled for a moment, almost expecting something to happen when you put it on.

“Idiot,” You laughed at yourself, going over to where a mirror was to see how it looked on. But as soon as you took a step forwards, it felt like you began falling. You could hear the chants again from the woods, the drums pounding around you, almost deafeningly loud. Your eyes widened in terror as you couldn’t move your body as you fell back, the floor of your apartment swallowing you in a rabbit hole.

Lights surrounded you in all different colors, seeing silhouettes in the corner of your eye. Were they the ones chanting?

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit.

Your breathing became labored, struggling to get air as you tried desperately to move your limbs.

The drumming and chanting only growing louder the deeper you fell into this rabbit hole.

Silence.

Suddenly the chanting and drums stopped, looking up to see the disfigured sky. You attempted to move your limbs again, gasping when you found you could move.

You kicked your way up to the sky, gasping for air once you broke through.

The sound of lapping waves and squalling seagulls invaded your ears, a sudden chill going over your body.

You looked around you with wide eyes, astonished by your surroundings. You were in the fucking ocean.

“What the fuck?!” You shrieked out, panic set over you as you tried to stay afloat, legs kicking under the water furiously.

“You’re dreaming. You must have gotten a concussion,” you repeated to yourself. “Yeah, yeah. You’re concussed.”

“You there!”

You snapped your head to see a wooden boat sailing towards you, numerous men aboard it as they all peered down at you. One man, in particular, stood at the arch of the boat, big and with a long braided bear. He was bald, tattoos around his head in strange patterns.

“Did you get lost, woman?” He belly laughed, the other men joining in. You were too much in shock to try and even say anything back. “Frode, throw the poor woman a rope.”

One of the men, skinner than the one barking orders, threw a thick rope towards you, splashing into the water in front of you, the water spraying on your face.

You grabbed the rope, unsure whether or not being on a boat with strangers or being in the ocean alone was better. The men heaved you up to the boat, letting your body hit the deck of it like a wet fish.

You panted slightly, trying to calm your thundering heart before it jumped out your throat.

You weren’t facing the men, your eyes locked onto your hands that dug into the wooden deck, trying to desperately grasp onto some kind of reality.

“Holy fuck.” You gasped out.

“Someone get her something to cover herself with!” The bald, bearded man ordered. Someone came over and wrapped some kind of cloak on you, you quickly tied it on your neck, trying to get warm.

“What kind of clothing is she wearing?” Another man spoke.

“A whore, perhaps?” Another replied.

“Whore!?” You repeated, turning to look at the men for the first time. “Who do you think you're calling a whore?”

The expressions on the men’s faces changed as soon as you looked up at them. The sudden change in mood made you want to cower away. Are these cosplayers? Re-enactors? Why did they dress that way?

“Freyja.” The bald one spoke, barely a whisper.

“Freyja?” You repeated. Who?

You’d never heard such a name before, were they calling you that? The men exchanged a look, communicating with their eyes before turning back to you.

“What’s your name?” The bald one asks, his tone in voice changing.

“Y/N,” you reply, beginning to stand up. “Where is this? Where are we right now?”

“Kattegat.” Someone spoke, earning a quick shove by the person next to him.

Your brows frowned together. Kattegat? Maybe you should have paid more attention in geography class when you were in school.

“Tie her up. We must show the Princes, this is an imposter of Freyja.” The bald one spoke again before walking away, his face unreadable.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, looking around as the men closed in on you, starting to grab you. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

You elbowed the man who grabbed your from behind, hearing a grunt from him as he doubled over, making you flick your long hair out of your face.

“If anyone touches me, I’ll rip your fucking limbs off.” You warned, getting into a fighting stance with your balled fists in the air. You were outnumbered, by many. Before you could even say another word, one of the men quickly backhanded you across the face, knocking you down to the floor where they all cornered you.

—————————

The bald man, whose name you had learned was Magnus, threw you onto the ground with force, causing you to land on your shoulder. A groan left your lips as pain tingled down your arm.

“Don’t fucking throw me, you bald bastard!” You shouted at him, your hands restrained behind your back and your ankles tied together also, restraining you of trying to run off. Your hair had fallen across your face, limiting your view of your surroundings.  

The whole hall of people turned to look at you, hearing small whispers about your clothing. The music had stopped playing and the cheers.

Who the fuck were these people?

You could barely make out four men sitting at a large table in front of you, maybe a few feet away, two with fair hair and two with dark.

“What’s the meaning of this, Magnus?” You heard one of them say, his accent making your ears perk up. “Did any of you ask for a thrall for the night?” He directed his question to the men beside him.

“My apologies, Prince Ubbe, but...” The bald man suddenly seemed nervous, unsure of what exactly to say. It made you scoff. A big guy like him was scared of these guys? “We found her in the sea--”

“Spit it out, before I rip your tongue out.” Another man at the table spoke, the threat taking you off guard. His accent was the same.

“We believe she’s an imposter and a volva.”

“An imposter and a volva?” another one of the men at the table snickered. “Sound’s interesting, Ubbe.”

“Who are you calling an imposter?” You sneered at the men. “I don’t even know you.”

“Watch your mouth, whore!” You heard, gasping as one of the men who tied you kicked you in your side.

“Enough.” You heard the first man say, hearing the chair he was sitting in move across the floor. “I asked you what the meaning of this was? You’re spoiling our celebration.”

The bald man grabbed the back of your head, gripping onto your hair as he roughly pulled you onto your knees, making you wince. Your hair moved from your face in the process and you could finally see around you. At the table sat the four men, the Princes, you had gathered.

All handsome— wait. Not the right time.

Their faces were twisted in an expression you had never seen before on someone as soon as they looked at you. The whole of the hall went deathly quiet as eyes were on you.

One of the men at the table stood up abruptly, his hands on the table. He had four twisted braids in his dark hair, his eyes a piercing blue as they stared at you. They were the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

Those eyes. You’d seen them before.

“Freyja.” He said to you. Again with the name.

Your head was tugged back, knocking you out of your trance and filling your chest with rage. Ripping your eye contact from him, you turned your attention to the man behind you.

“Get your hands off me before I break them.” You growled out.

Whispers broke out around you, you scowled at them all. What were they all wearing? Are these Vikings?

Your E/C eyes find their way to the blue ones again, he seemed to tense when you looked at him, his breath catching in his throat. It was like he was a statue.

The one with long brown hair with two braids going into one and green eyes stood up.

“Everybody leave.” Was all he said for everyone to leave the room. “You men can also leave. Get out.”

The men behind you began to leave, Magnus let your hair suddenly go from his grip, letting you land onto your face.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, a tingling pain going up your nose. The only people left in the large hall were you and the four strange men, you strangely began to feel small.

The blonde man who was at the head of the table began to make his way towards you, his footsteps stopping once in front of you. Was this the one they called Ubbe?

“You,” He kneeled on one knee as he grabbed your jaw with his index finger and thumb. “What is your name?”

You hold your tongue, refusing to tell him. But this only made his grip on your jaw tighten.

“If you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you answer when spoken to.” He said lowly, his eyes just as blue as the man behind him. Were they brothers?

You stare into his eyes, trying to stare him down like a dog but his eyes never faltered. His stare was incredibly intimidating.

You gave an exasperating huff of breath, rolling your eyes to yourself.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

He kept staring at you, his eyes studying your face. His eyes looked sad as if pained as he looked at you. His jaw clenched and unclenched before he spoke again. “Why were you in the sea?”

“I don’t know, one moment I was in my home and the next I was in the water.” You knew this had to do with the necklace and the drumming in the woods. It all has to link up somehow. You went to reach up to grab it but remembered your hands were tied.

His eyes moved from yours as he removed his hand from your jaw, turning to the other men at the table. Your eyes followed. Both the one with blue eyes and the blonde one with fluffy hair were frozen in place still. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

The one kneeling in front of you raised his eyebrows at the one with the braids as if asking him what to do. He walked over to the both of you, gawking down at you with his green eyes.

“It’s as if she’d risen from the dead, but how can that be? We saw her body that day.” He said, staring down at you.

“Can someone just explain to me what’s going on?” You pipped up. A loud bang caused you to jump, looking towards the cause of the noise. The blue-eyed man had gotten up, his chair fallen behind him and his hands pressed against the surface of the table. His chest was heaving under his leather armor. His face was twisted with anger and hurt, barely looking at you as he grabbed his crutch.

“I don’t care what you do with her," he looked over to you with eyes so intense, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your heart dip into your stomach.

Holy shit. Those eyes... Where have you seen them before?

"She's not Freyja." He walked out the hall and passed you, his crutch stabbing into the wood beneath him in anger, he looked as if he was almost snarling as he walked through the doors.

“Ivar--” The one with the green eyes called after him, going to walk after him but the one who was knelt suddenly stood up, holding a hand against his chest.

“Leave him, this must be a shocking sight for him. He needs time.”

“Can you untie me so I can leave?” You cut in, the rope irritating the skin off your wrists. The men ignored you, the blonde fluffy-haired one finally speaking up after this whole time.

“You can’t let her leave.”

—————————

You sat awkwardly in the chair, fiddling with your fingers on your lap as the three men stared at you. The fluffy-haired one had untied you but sat you in the chair at the large table, the green-eyed one threatening that if you tried anything then you’d regret it.

Scary.

They spoke as if you weren’t even there too.

“What kind of clothes is she wearing? She's dressed like a prostitute.” The one with the two braids spoke, cutting an apple slowly with a knife before placing it in his mouth.

Your gaze turned to him, anger rising in your chest. What was with these guys? Do they have no respect?

“Say that again,” You pointed your finger towards him. “and I’ll spoon your eyes out. How can you say anything about what I'm wearing when you’re dressed like a rodent in all those furs?”

The man stared at you for a moment before smirking. Who are you smiling at, you bastard--

“With a mouth like hers, she certainly isn’t Freyja. She wouldn’t dare speak like that.” He said. "Even if she is identical to her."

“That’s because I’m not Freyja. And you do know that this is kidnapping, right? You can get put into jail because of this.”

The brothers exchanged a look.

“And where would you find one of those?” Asked the one with the long braid, Ubbe, you remembered. “We’re the sons of Ragnar, nobody can tell us what we can or cannot do.”

Your eyebrows frowned, looking at them sideways at you felt dumbfounded.

Who is Ragnar?

“As if I know, or care, who Ragnar is. Let me go.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. Shit, it was cold here. Even this cloak did nothing to help with your soaking clothes.

Their expressions only looked more confused, as if they were more confused than you are and couldn't understand how you didn't know who Ragnar is.

“Where are you from?” The one eating asked.

“Tell me your names and then I’ll tell you what you want to know.” You cocked an eyebrow at them. If they were stupid enough, they’d tell you so you can report them to the police once you find a way out of here.

God, the air here smells like constant shit. You want to go home already, to your scented candles to cleanse your nose of this stench.

“Curious thing, aren’t you? I’m Hvitserk,” Hvitserk pointed to the other men with the end of his knife. “these are my brothers, Ubbe and Sigurd.”

Ubbe smiled at you as Sigurd only stood still, unsure of what to say to you.

“And the blue-eyed one who walked out?” You asked.

“That was Ivar, our youngest brother.”

“What was his problem?” You quizzed again. Shut up, Y/N. This curiosity is the reason why you’re here in the first place.

Ubbe and Hvitserk looked at you before exchanging a look between them, Sigurd shifting on his feet as he cleared his throat. You noticed his jaw clench and his fists tighten at his sides.

“Well?” You repeated, waiting for an answer from one of them.

“The woman you resemble—” Ubbe began, getting cut off by a nudge from Hvitserk.

“Is it wise to tell her?” He asked his brother lowly, his green eyes looking at you.

“You do not think she deserves to know?”

“She could be deceiving us, a volva like the men said,” Hvitserk warned his brother.

You could only roll your eyes at them as you shifted in the chair, crossing your legs over.

“I don’t know what that is, but I can assure you I'm not deceiving you. I just want to know what’s going on.” You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“You resemble a woman called ‘Freyja’,” Sigurd spoke suddenly, looking into the bright flame that burned in the hall. His brothers turned to look at him with you. “No, you don’t resemble her. You are her.”

“Who is Freyja?” You asked.

“She was my first love.” He turned to look at you. “And Ivar's.”

Hvitserk and Ubbe sat back in the chairs, staying deadly quiet as their brother spoke to you. Their first love?

“What happened to her?” The question made your heart sink, taking you off guard. Why do you care?

“She died protecting us all. She was the most beautiful and loved woman in Kattegat, every man wanted her hand in marriage. Including all of us,” Sigurd suggested to his brothers, making Ubbe take a sip out of his cup and Hvitserk turn his gaze.

“A king came one day, wanting to trade. But once his eyes set on Freyja, demanding to marry her or risk causing a war between us. We all agreed to go to war, prepared, made an army. She refused to cause a war over her, Freyja had always hated violence.”

Sigurd took a shaky breath, his hands trembling in the light of the fire. The sight was enough to let you know how much he was affected by this.

“She... she was in love with Ivar. The thought of either losing him in battle or by marrying herself off was too much for her to ever bare. The day of the battle, Freyja stood between armies, in the middle of the battle field,” His eyes looked at yours, something flashing over them. “She drove a sword through herself in front of everyone. She did it for her love.”

The words made your breath hitch in your throat.

She killed herself... for him?

Your eyes tore away from Sigurd’s figure, looking anywhere but at the brothers.

No wonder Ivar left, you thought. Imagine seeing the woman you loved kill herself in front of you and then seeing her alive again...

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly, staring at your lap. “But I just want to go home. I have a family there, friends. They’re probably searching for me.”

“It’s dark out now,” Ubbe spoke, clearing his throat as he stood. “You should rest here for the night and begin searching for your way back in the morning. We'll help you.”

You nodded a 'thank you', standing from your chair. Hvitserk looked at your soaking clothes, turning to Sigurd.

"Tell one of the thralls to prepare some clothes for Y/N. She can't sleep in those."

Sigurd nodded, walking down a passageway and out of sight. You could see a grateful look on his face towards his brother for getting him out the room.

"You still haven't told me where you're from." Hvitserk turned his attention to you, leaning back against the table.

"Honestly, I don't think any of you will know where I'm from. But I can tell you I'm not from here. I come from a different time." You uttered, holding the necklace under your cloak, your thumb grazing the lines in it. "Someone or something brought me here, I want to know why."

[dutchdread]

What is Love? Baby don't hurt me.

This article sets out to define different types of love in a meaningful way, and argue why the specifics surrounding Aerith and Cloud makes it so that the commonly accepted romantic version of the emotion can't apply. __________________________________________________

Whenever you talk to anyone, it's important to be on the same page, and one of the most important parts about that is making sure that you're speaking the same language. I am sure we've all had moments where we were arguing with someone only to discover that you both believed the exact same thing, but that you simply used a different word to describe said thing.

"That's what I've been saying" "No, that's what I've been saying!" "Well what are we even arguing about then?!"

When that happens, you're not arguing about the topic itself, you're arguing about semantics, about language.

An argument about whether or not what Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith felt for each other would fall under "love" is a debate about language, not FFVII, and I am not here to have a conversation about language. Unfortunately, before I can actually have a conversation about FFVII, a conversation about language is apparently needed.

Love is an incredibly broad term, used to express what we feel about our family, our pets, our friends, our "lovers", and even our favorite songs, weather, and food. So why the hell do we ask "who did Cloud love" as if love is some singular binary system?

I can never prove that what a character feels isn't love, I can only assert that I personally wouldn't use the word "love" to describe said feeling, and explain why I wouldn't. When we ask "does Cloud love Tifa or Aerith", we are presupposing a concept of "love", and asking who it applies to.

"I pity you, you just don't get it at all, there is nothing I don't cherish"

But it applies to both, and it applies to Barret, and Marlene, and Denzel, and everyone. Because love is far too broad a term to start with, it's a catch-all. Instead of starting with a preconception of what love is, and seeing who has it, we should describe what people actually have, and see what their individuals shapes of love look like.

Even so, I will do my best to describe what I mean by romantic love, as opposed to a crush, or infatuation, or attraction, so that when I say "Cloud and Aerith don't (and can't) romantically love each other", that it's clear what that assertion means to me.

I'm going to tell you a story, a story that, admittedly, doesn't make me look good, but which will hopefully provide context for what I think love is and why.

When I was younger I wasn't the most popular kid, back then I assumed I was unattractive, as an adult I realize its because I was socially awkward as fuck (I was actually cute as heck if I do say so myself). However, by the time I got to highschool I had made a best friend and had managed to figure out and fake social conventions enough that I could at the very least solve my issues through humor instead of violence. The change from typical village kids to a wider pool of potential friends also enabled me to finally find people who were more like me. Even so, the whole social outcast part was still ingrained deeply enough in me that I was mostly putting on an act in front of people, saying whatever I needed to say in order to get a certain reaction, in order to be liked, rather than just being myself. I had had crushes before, when you're alone it's easy to really fall for someone, and hell, I was always a sucker when it came to love stories, but my childhood had basically left me too nervous that I'd say the wrong thing to ever actually say the right thing when I really liked a girl. However, generally being the life of the party left me with a string of girlfriends I didn't care too much about. Even so, I eventually met a girl that I was instantly smitten with, the most attractive girl I knew and somehow I managed to start dating her, and hell, I even thought I loved her. I dated said girl for several years, but without going into spoilers I'll just say that I left that relationship pretty jaded and and disillusioned with the concept of love. I felt like I had done everything I could and love in general was bullshit and was honestly pretty done with women in general. Ironically my new pessimistic attitude made me much more successful with women than I had ever been before, by that time I was known as someone who was fun to party with, and unlike the majority of people my age I was in incredible shape and still had all my hair. However, while I enjoyed my newfound popularity there was a part of me that really resented it because I realized that what women seemed to react positively to wasn't what I imagined love to be like and I hated that. I hated that when I used to be kind and filled with notions of "true love" no one was interested, but now that I was disinterested and clearly manipulative women seemed to throw themselves at me. During that time I basically stopped looking for a meaningful relationship and just decided to have fun until my life would, inevitably, fall apart.

Eventually though I got a girlfriend who I didn't deserve and was much too good for me. However, when I did I was no longer interested in building a relationship and I was pretty certain that it would eventually fall apart anyway like everything else. As a result I mainly cared about what I could get from her, I didn't act like a proper partner and I when I thought about "fixing the relationship" I was thinking mostly about what she could do to be a better girlfriend, honestly, part of me actually resented her for not being my ex. When talking about our issues the general terms were "I'll do this, but only if you fix that". Without going into details, the general gist is that we had a horrible start to our relationship and that affected everything that came after it.

Eventually though this girl who I once mainly saw as just another temporary part of my life became something more to me, she became a more complete person. I mellowed out, and started appreciating her more, I decided to get us to work on the relationship but the damage was basically already done. She'd given up on me ever wanting to settle down and had started distancing herself from me emotionally and eventually I became sick of fighting for the relationship by myself and we broke up. Afterwards, free of pressure, I sat back and l evaluated what I wanted in life, I thought about myself, and her, REALLY thought about her. The good parts, and the bad. And I realized that all the things I was annoyed about were honestly absurd. I decided I was going to fight for her, not just "try to fix the relationship" by figuring out what worked and what didn't, but I just decided I was going to properly appreciate her, be the best boyfriend I could be, and not ask for anything in return. And let me tell you, that change in mindset changed EVERYTHING for me. Within months I became absolutely smitten with her, when I first started the relationship I was honestly annoyed if we met up and didn't have sex, now just sitting on the couch under a blanket with her became the highlight of days, even the things I once saw as negatives became a precious part of the puzzle that made her her. My biggest regret in life is still that I couldn't be the person she made me back when I first met her. (and concerning looks, she is honestly so much more gorgeous than the ex it's not even funny, how did I not see that?). The point of all this is that love isn't automatic, it's not something that happens without your consent, it's the result of actions, of decisions. When you choose to take the time to look at your significant other, and soak up and appreciate who they are and what they do, when you put in the effort, that's when love grows. I've gone from being sick and tired of someone I had been with for years, to being absolutely infatuated with them, simply by making a decision. I could not have made that decision had I not been myself, that decision would have been false. Looking back, all those earlier girls I've been infatuated with, that wasn't love, I didn't even know who they were, I barely knew who I was. No matter how much passion I felt in the moment, no matter how much fun I had in the times we spent together, now I don't even remember their names.

Love isn't your heart beating faster, it's not that instinctive nervousness that comes with talking to a cute girl you just met. It's a complete and deep appreciation of a person, un understanding of who you are, who they are, and what that means to you. Love is what I feel for my brother, who is as much a part of me as my own arm, without whom I would not be me. Someone who isn't just another person in your life, but is a part of what you consider to be your life, without them your life could not be the same, because they're an absolutely crucial part of it. That doesn't happen in a week, because you can't really learn who someone is in a week, even if you could see all of it, you couldn't internalize it. You can always imagine living without them, because you were, just last week. There are people who meet their soulmates sure, and say they knew within a week, but had they never seen that soulmate again, they would not still be pretending they were "the one" years later, and if they were, their friends wouldn't be saying "that's love", they'd be saying "that's an unhealthy obsession". Cloud and Aerith barely knew each other, both when it comes to time, as well as to how much they actually knew about each other. Cloud had no idea of who he was or what was important to him in life, he was unable to be honest with others or even himself, so how would he ever be able to meaningfully make an informed decision to make the kind of emotional commitment that's the cornerstone of love? He didn't know himself, nor did he know Aerith, to whose feelings he was canonically oblivious and whose entire life was a mystery to Cloud. How can we say that Soldier Cloud is capable of knowing who he loves when he's not even aware of the the gigantic Tifa shaped area of his identity. Can Soldier Cloud determine what he values and why without the knowledge of what he's gone through in his life? Sure, but can Soldier Cloud make that determination for the real one? No. Soldier Cloud, and his emotions, have no relation to that of the real Cloud. The real Cloud must determine what people mean to him all by himself. And when it comes to real Cloud, it is pretty obvious who is the biggest part of his life, the person who defined it from the time he fell for her as kid, right through when he became a soldier to impress her, and up to and past the moment he started raising children with her. For Cloud it's pretty obvious who he has the deep personal understanding with, the girl who filled his sub-conscious, and was literally in his head with him, the girl who is stated to understand him best, and who has a shared story with him, having experienced both the good, and the bad, alongside him. Who was there with him when he was a child, who was there with him in Nibleheim, who found him when he lost his identity and gave him a new one, who was with him when Aerith died, who was with him when he broke, who was with him when he was catatonic, who was with him and helped him find himself again, who was with him during the last night underneath the highwind, who was with him at the end in the north cave, who he started living with afterwards, who waited patiently while he went to find himself, and welcomed him back with a smile. I am sure Cloud liked Aerith....but he LOVES Tifa.

[salty-sith-bitch]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

Chapter 1

Words: 5k

Pairings: Din Djarin X Orla Fett (Boba Fett’s daughter), Boba Fett & Daughter 

Genre: Fluff, humor, angst, romance

Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, eventual smut, more to come?

Summary:  Orla Fett is reunited with her long-lost father five years after his presumed death and welcomed into his palace. Hired as one of his best bounty hunters, Orla struggles with finding her place in the galaxy and if she wants to stay a bounty hunter. Her new companion, The king of Mandalore - Din Djarin - may end up helping her make up her mind.

“I’m just a simple woman trying to find her way in the galaxy, like my father before me ”

That’s what Orla told herself every morning when she woke. She was just a simple woman trying to survive and make her way in the galaxy, catching one bounty at a time as her father did. It was her only job - staying alive and filling her father’s spot.

When her father passed five years prior Bib Fortuna hired her as his main mercenary and provided her with more than enough jobs to support herself. Orla didn’t particularly love it but it’s what she had. Her father had made sure that if anything were to ever happen to him that she had a large and appreciated skill set, making it easier for her to find work. She was thankful for that. Thankful her father prepared her for the worst like his father before him.

There were still days she missed her father. Days where it became hard to get out of bed and put her armor on. She missed the Slave I too. Not because it was a great ship or that it was supposed to be passed to her at the fall of her father, but because of the memories she made with her father there.

Laying in her cramped quarters Orla stared at the ceiling, brushing her fingers through her hair gently as she recalled one of her earliest memories - her first hunt with her father.

The smell of rain and metal dripping from her father's armor made her slightly queasy, reminding her of blood. She could almost taste the iron in her mouth if she thought about it too much. She wasn’t used to it but her father said it would become less noticeable over time. Nodding silently she watched her father drag the bounty away and towards the carbonator. She could hear the hissing and screams of the bounty and it sent a cold shiver through her body. She tried to instead focus on detangling the soaked braid on her head.

Growling in frustration Orla dropped her hands and stomped her foot. Her body ached with exhaustion and she was uncomfortable. Letting a sniffle escape she leaned her head against the wall of the ship and cried.

"Ad'ika," her father called softly.

When she didn't respond he approached her and set a hand on her shoulder. "Orla, my princess. What is wrong?"

Orla rubbed her eyes and took in a hiccuping breath before speaking. "My hair is tangled, papa."

Smiling sweetly, her father patted her cheek. "Come, daughter. I'll fix it for you."

Orla found herself being scooped up and cradled into her father's chest. He carried her to the makeshift cot he made for her and set her down, letting his fingers gently pull apart the tangles.

"You did good today my child."

Humming Orla let her eyes drift shut as she leaned back into her father.

Sighing heavily Orla raised a shaky hand to her cheek and wiped away the tears. A full-grown woman and highly respected bounty hunter, crying in the sleeping quarters of her little hut long before the suns had even risen. She laughed at herself. If her father was here now he would sternly tell her to get herself together and then gently pat her cheek lovingly.

Steadying herself Orla wiped the last few tears and sat up in bed. Throwing the covers off she made her way across her hut and started to assemble her armor.

***

Orla sat in the Cantina of some outer rim planet stressed and annoyed. She had been on this mission for nearly a week and still couldn’t find her bounty. She had even asked the locals and none of them could give her information on the bounty.  Clutching the glass in her hand Orla watched as foam swirled as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She was ready to give up, head back to Tatooine and tell Fortuna he could just shove it up his ass. The thought brought a smirk to her face but she knew she couldn’t do that.

Sighing heavily Orla poured herself another glass of mead and brought it to her lips. Throwing her head back Orla downed the entire glass and slammed it on the table. Wiping her mouth she raised an eyebrow as she made eye contact with the new visitor.

The woman, small and sleek with a braid down her back, eyed Orla back. Her eyes were piercing and it made Orla unsettled. It wasn't often that she felt uneasy about someone but for some reason, this woman in front of her made her uncomfortable.

“I’m not really in the mood for company at the moment. So unless you have info about my bounty I would appreciate it if you left.” Leaning back in her chair Orla reached for the pitcher of mead.

Her new, unwelcomed visitor was quicker though, swiftly grabbing the pitcher and her glass to fill for herself. Lips pressed into a thin line Orla continued to lean back, letting her hand slowly brush over her thigh and towards her blaster.

“I’m not here to keep you company or to give you info about your bounty. And there's no use in trying to shoot me. I know all your tricks. You’re just like your father.” Smirking, the woman lifted the glass of mead and downed the entire glass much like Orla had just a moment prior. “I’m here to take you back to Tatooine. Your presence has been requested at the Hutt Castle."

Orla scoffed. She was starting to grow unsettled but refused to let it show. No one openly talked to her about her father, especially so forward. Yet here was this woman she knew nothing about and seemed to know almost everything about her.

"I'm on a hunt. I'm not just abandoning. They know where I am. If it was so important they could comm me."

"It's under new management now. This hunt isn't important. What is, is that you come back with me to Tatooine and do just as I say."

"Dank Farrik," Orla cursed under her breath.

Her mind was racing with hundreds of questions and thoughts. New management was never good. It meant Fortuna was most certainly dead leaving her without work. The new owner could very well be demanding she come back to the castle to give her a new position… or to simply kill her off. It would all depend on just who killed Fortuna and where the Fett Clan stood with them.

Orla couldn't think of anyone who would be seeking her demise but her father told her to always assume someone would be after her. She thought about escaping. Trying to find a way out of the cramped cantina and find a new home elsewhere, or maker, even change her name and lay low in a village or dinner caves. But then her thoughts turned into what if she just listened to the woman in front of her and went back to Tatooine. This woman wasn't trying to fight her or take her as her own personal bounty as far as she could tell, and if she listened maybe they would see that as her committing her skills to them and hire her on a permanent mercenary.

"Listen," the woman spoke up. "I can see you thinking. This isn't a trap and you're not gonna die. You're more than welcome to just leave now, forget about the bounty you are on, and start a new life but I think you'll want to see what happens at the castle."

Chewing her cheek again, Orla stared into the woman's eyes, looking for any hint of a lie. When she couldn't find anything Orla leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher and glass, pouring herself the last serving and gulping it.

"Fine. I'll go. But what about my ship? And how can I trust you? I don't know who you're working for and I doubt you'll tell me, so can I at least get your name?"

"Your ship doesn't matter anymore. You'll be given a new one. We can stop and collect anything you may need from it for now but if you wish to come back and get it in the future then do as you will."

The woman stood and Orla followed, trailing after her out of the cantina and to the ship docks.

"And my name," the woman said as she looked over her shoulder, "is Fennec Shand."

***

The ride to Tatooine was spent in silence. Orla didn't mind, she was never one for conversations with people outside her close ring and Fennec didn't seem like much of a talker either. Orla spent most of the flight napping in the passenger seat, hand lingering over her blaster just in case Fennec tried to do anything funny. The trip was long and Orla's body cried for rest. Relaxing into her seat she let sleep eventually consume her. When the ship started its descent she woke and stretched her stiff limbs as the dunes came into view.

Even walking to the castle was spent in silence. Orla started to worry less and less about Fennec trying to harm or kill her but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen. The universe felt off, heavier, and almost foggy like a dream. Shaking the feeling off Orla continued to walk until she reached the castle, stopping just outside the entrance to the lower level.

 Fennec didn't bother stopping calling out to her as she continued to go down. "You don't want to keep him waiting."

Shutting her eyes and taking one last steadying breath Orla walked down the stairs and down into the throne room.

The silence that welcomed her was terrifying. She had never seen the palace empty and was prepared for someone to jump out and attach her. Turning around in circles she searched for Fennec but couldn't find the woman anywhere. The only thing that greeted her was the echoing sound of her footsteps bouncing off the palace walls. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She felt the tension in the air, like electricity wrapping it around her and coursing through her veins.

Down the hallway, a new set of footsteps echoed off the palace walls. Orla turned slowly to see who it was, her hand inching towards her blaster prepared to draw and start shooting if anyone tried attacking. Before she could reach her blaster though she froze. Every muscle in her body locked up and she felt her lungs screaming at her to breathe.

Brain screaming, Orla tried to calm herself but she found it nearly impossible as she stared at the bounty hunter before her. Finally able to breathe again Orla dropped her hand away from her blaster, only for her brain to start screaming more, telling her this could still be a trap. She felt like she was going in circles. She couldn't process what she was seeing.

Finally getting herself to relax enough Orla took in a couple of steadying breaths before collecting her thoughts and speaking.

"Dad," she questioned, brows knitting together. Her knees started to shake as she continued to eye the man.

Giving a small tilt of his head the bounty hunter started to take cautious steps forward. Shaking her head in disbelief, Orla walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall.

Confused and on the verge of tears Orla reached for her blaster and drew it quickly. She knew this was an imposter, her father was dead. Killed many years ago by the Sarlac, leaving her to take care of herself and forge her own path in the world of bounty hunting. The only other explanation she could find was that she was also dead. That she had gone with Fennec and was killed in her sleep and as some cruel joke, the maker chose her and her father's resting place as Jabba's palace - the last place she had seen her father. 

Continuing to watch the man slowly approach, she studied the freshly painted armor. It didn't fit the man like it did her father, being a little tight in the gut, but the dent on the helmet told her it was indeed at least her father’s beskar. That dent had been there as long as you could remember. Orla had heard rumors not long after her father's death of his ghost walking around in the far parts of the planet but refused to believe it. Then she heard about how it was just a marshal who had found the beskar, using it for his own advantage. She pondered if this was that man, but couldn't think of any reason why he would be here and why he would have killed Fortuna.

Shaking her head Orla switched the safety off on her gun and lifted it, aiming at the man in front of her. No matter who this was it was not her father and she wasn't willing to let anyone take her life or get her father's armor.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot," she snarled through clenched teeth; her hand shaking just slightly from the adrenaline.

Stopping, the man raised his hands in surrender, letting them drift slowly to the helmet as if going to take it off.

Trembling, Orla clenched her jaw, unable to speak any further as she watched the man lift the helmet from his head. Time ticked by slowly, almost painfully as she waited for the man to reveal himself. When the helmet was completely removed and tucked under the man's arm Orla felt as if the wind was knocked out of her.

"My child," Boba whispered. He studied Orla, wide-eyed as he took in her face. "You've grown so much, little one."

Dropping her blaster Orla lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut; hot tears sliding down her face. The world started to spin as she continued to shake, her breathing becoming heavy and labored.

“This, this can’t be happening. Y- you were dead!” Snapping her head up she pointed a finger at her father. “You left me! You left me to fend for myself and promised you’d be back!” Taking the last couple steps towards Boba she pushed against his chest with both of her trembling hands, the sound of flesh hitting beskar echoing in the empty room.

Stumbling back Boba threw his free hand up in defense, allowing her a minute to process and sob.

Orla was so full of rage and anger she couldn’t tell if she was still shaking from the shock of seeing the man she thought was dead or because she was so furious he was alive all this time and didn’t come to find her.

Furious Orla gave out a shriek and started swinging at her father. Boba was quicker though, quickly stepping back to avoid her fist colliding with his face.

“Verd’ika…” Boba pleaded his own desperation and hurt seeping through.

Letting her fists fall to her sides Orla hung her head and sobbed. She had almost forgotten what her father's voice sounded like after all the years he was gone. The sounds of her nicknames rolling off his tongue were like a spear through the heart. It sent her body limp and every nerve on edge. But the desire for nothing more than to hug her father and beheld was stronger than her anger.

Rushing forward Orla threw her arms around her father, almost knocking him over. Dropping his helmet Boba threw his own arms around her, lifting her from the ground and burying his face into the padding on her shoulder as dust flitted around. The smell of her father overwhelmed her causing her to cry harder. Trying to inhale and catch her breath Orla clung closer to her father like she did when she would have a nightmare and he would be there to protect her.

Maybe that's all this was, she thought. A bad dream and she was just now waking up.

“My little girl,” Boba wept. “I’m so sorry. I should have come back sooner. Should have told you."

"Papa," Orla cried. "I'm just happy to see you. I can't believe you're here."

Setting Orla back down Boba took a step back and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I was so scared, Orla. When I was tumbling down into the pit  I-I thought about nothing besides you and how I had failed you." Boba's lip trembled as he tried to hold back another sob, determined to be strong for his little girl.

Boba was a fierce man. Anyone could tell you that. He was a little rough around the edges and seldom let outsiders into his life - Fennec, Din, and Orla's mother's being the exceptions. When it came to his daughter though he would go to the ends of the galaxy for her. She was his entire life from the moment she arrived. A piece of him and a piece of the woman he once - and even now still- loved. She reminded him so much of himself when she was younger and when he was falling to his death he couldn't help but think about how he was leaving her, just like his father did. Since the day of the Sarlacc pit, the idea of leaving his daughter haunted home.

Reaching up Orla gently wiped the tears from her father's scarred cheeks. "But you're here now Papa. And I'm here. We're ok. It's gonna be ok."

Giving a wet and loving chuckle Boba pulled his daughter into another hug.

They stood there for a couple of minutes holding each other until their crying died. Father and daughter reunited again and both were determined to keep it that way.

"Sorry to break up family time," Fennec said from the hallway. "But Mando is back and I don't think it will do him good if he sees you crying from your little reunion."

Sighing heavily, Boba stepped back from Orla, giving her a smile and a soft pat on the cheek.

"Buir," Orla groaned playfully. "You haven't done that since I was a child."

"And every day I was away from you I wished I could do it again." Scoping up his helmet Boba set it back on his head. "Now come child, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

***

Meeting the Mandalorian was… interesting. When introduced to him by her father he gave a curt nod and nothing more. The rest of their meeting went with little talking. Her father gave him the credits he earned for his bounty, told him where to find his next one, and asked him how he was doing.

At her father's last question the Mandalorian hesitated before answering, his helmet turning to her for a brief moment before responding with a quiet "fine."

When the Mandalorian left the room Orla stood and looked down at her father.

"Seems like some great company. Reminds me of a certain someone." She said cheekily.

Sighing heavily Boba stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll warm up to him while we are all here. The man's just been through a lot."

Frowning slightly Orlla raised her eyebrow. "While we are all here? What does that mean?"

"You work for me now little one. And you'll be staying here in the castle with all of us."

Scoffing, Orla brushed her father's hand away. "Working for you?"

"What, you think just because your father shows back up you don't have to work?"

Shaking her head Orlla leaned against the wall. "Well, I didn't ask to be a bounty hunter papa. There are other things I want to do in life. And I have my own home."

A low growl cake from Boba. "What do you possibly want to do in this life ad'ika?" His tone was sharp as he spoke. "You're a fantastic hunter from what I have heard and just because you are my child doesn't mean I'm gonna give that up."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Orla glared at her father. "I'm a great hunter because I had to be. Without you, it's all I had. It's not what I wanted at all. I want to be able to be me. Do things you never got to do properly and I know you longed forward. Like having a real family! To fall in love and not worry about losing them or my children! And you just came back! And you're gonna send me out on hunts? You of all people should know how dangerous that is!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble Orlla, but that's not how our lives work!" Boba's voice continued to rise in volume, causing Orlla to flinch away from him. "We'll never be the type of people to settle down and just enjoy the mundane things in life. I tried, and look at how that turned out for your mother! So if you want a family then you're gonna have a damn struggle of a time keeping them safe. And maker above, if that day ever comes I hope you're prepared to be fighting for the rest of your life, and whoever the bastard is that touches my daughter - so help me Orlla, it will not go well!" Sighing again Boba took a moment to try and cool himself. "As for the missions I know it's dangerous and the risks I'm running by sending you out there. That's why you're going with Mando."

"What?!" Orla yelled, throwing herself from the wall and storming towards her father. "If you wanna send me out then Ita best to tell you now, I work alone. I trust no one. Not even you right now. You taught me that! I'm an adult! I don't need some sort of babysitter! Or you telling me what I can and can't do with people!"

Lowering his head Boba stared at his daughter through the visor of his helm. "You're my daughter! My only family left Orla! I'm just trying to protect you! In and out of bounty hunting! And I've changed my opinion. At least when it comes to mando. So you're going with him on missions and that's final!"

Grinding her teeth together Orla set her piercing gaze on her father's helmeted face. She couldn't see it but she knew underneath his face was twisted with worry for her. "Fine. I get it. I won't argue. For now. Right now I'm tired physically, emotionally, and mentally. I haven't slept in a bed in I don't know how long. I haven't eaten anything today and I'm still trying to process everything. Let's talk more about this later?" Relaxing her gaze on her father softened, telling him she was done fighting.

Nodding his head in agreement, Boba looked towards Fennec in the doorway. "Show Orla to one of the rooms please so she may rest."

Turning, Fennec left down the hallway, leaving Orla to wander behind.

***

Sleeping was impossible. Tossing and turning in the unusual bed Orla replayed the events of her day in her head. The fact her father was alive and well - despite some gnarly scars and possibly some emotional damage - overwhelmed her. Everything she had known over the last five years was abruptly coming to a halt and she couldn't help the gut feeling that the actions of today were going to drastically change her life. She wasn't sure how but she knew they would.

The argument with her father wasn't how she wanted to say goodnight to her father but it was fitting. Before he left the last time she saw him they would constantly argue before he left for every mission. She didn't like it and it was stupid but it seemed to be their way of communicating with each other. It worked needlessly to say. They always heard the other out and usually came up with a middle ground where they could meet each other's requests. But this argument was different. Orla, much like her father, was not an open book. She didn't share her truest desires or feelings but seeing her father today set her emotions over the edge.

Groaning, Orla tossed over in bed looking at the chronometer on the wall.

4:34 am

"No use in sleeping," Orla grumbled.

Throwing the sheets off she climbed out of the bed and pulled on her slacks. Running her fingers through her hair yelping when she hit a knot, accidentally tugging on it. Giving up on her hair before even really trying to fix it she tucked her long unruly into the collar of her shirt, keeping it out of the way.

Shuffling her way down to the dining room the smell of freshly brewed caff welcomes her, pulling her towards her destination. Wondering if her father was already up by some miracle or perhaps he couldn't sleep either - neither of them were morning people - she rounded the corner into the dining area and was met with a surprising sight.

Standing at the counter pouring coffee was a man with luscious deep brown hair and soft tanned skin. He wore a gray old short sleeve and what appeared to be his flight suit pants. She couldn't see his face straight on but the tiniest bit of facial hair could be seen.

Gasping louder than she meant Orla realized it was the Mandalorian from earlier. Looking over to the table she saw his gleaming silver helmet staring back at her.

"Hi."

The single word filtered into her ears softly, causing her to whip her head back to the man.

Gawking she restudied the man. His eyes were gorgeous. A warm earthy brown that made it feel like summer was swimming around her. Ans his lips… she watched as he brought the mug up to his mouth, his lush lips kissing the rim as he drank.

"H-hi," she croaked.

Lowering the mug mando licked his lips before speaking. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up for a while."

"I couldn't sleep," she said sheepishly.

Nodding in understanding, Mando moved from the counter and sat at the table in the middle of the room.

Making her way across the dining room Orla grabbed her own mug and poured herself a cup of caff. She could feel the Mandalorian's gaze burning into her back as she rummaged around I'm she cupboards, trying to find the object she was looking for.

"If you're gonna stare can I at least get a name to address you besides Mando?" Reaching behind some cans of food she found want she was looking for. Standing she uncorked the bottle and dumped the contents into her coffee.

Turning to lean against the counter she looked at Mando who was still eyeing her.

"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?

Rolling her eyes Orla took a drink of her caff; the hot liquid and burning of the alcohol warming her insides and helping her relax. "Not in this family. It's never too early. More like too late by the time you find the alcohol." Taking another drink she rolled her shoulders, leaning further into the counter. "So do I not get to know your name? I'd like to know something about the man I am going to be spending most of my time with."

"Din."

Curling her lip Orla gave a soft 'hmm'.

Looking away from Orla, Din stared down into his mug. "I get the impression you don't like me very much. Any particular reason? Or do I just have to go off of the information I heard between you and your father earlier?"

Flushing, Orla's gaze burned into the side of Din's face. "That's none of your business. And now that I know your eavesdropping on my conversations it just gives me reason not to trust you even more."

"Not really eavesdropping when the two of you shout at the top of your lungs," he mumbled under his breath.

Seething, and knuckles white from gripping the mug so tight Orla let out an annoyed snicker.

"I'm just saying," Din said with a shrug as he turned to look back at Orla. "Your dad is just trying to protect you. He's scared of losing you again."

"And how would you know that?" She snapped back. "You've been part of my father's life, what, maybe a week?"

"I know what it's like. To lose a child," Din admitted heavily.

"Oh." Relaxing Orla made her way to the table and sat across from Din. "I-I’m so sorry. I didn't realize you were a father."

Sighing, Din gave a weak smile. "It's ok. He was a foundling I saved from the empire. He's with his people now. If it wasn't for your father I don't know what would have happened to the kid."

Looking down into her mug Orla fought the tears that tried to spring from her eyes. Of course, after everything her father had been through with her grandpa, and thinking he lost his own daughter he would help another man save his child. Again, her father was tough but when it came to children the poor man turned into a softy.

"I'm glad your kids safe," she whispered. "However," she raised her eyes back up to look at him, "that still doesn't mean I fully trust you."

"Who says I don't trust you either?"

Smirking Orla brought her mug up to her lips once again with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye. "Touché."

Din and Orla sat in silence for the next hour, sipping coffee and spacing out. It wasn't until they heard footsteps down the hallway they perked up and looked at who it was.

"My own daughter, up before me?" Boba chucked before ruffling her hair.

"Couldn't sleep. Fresh caff is brewing. Alcohol is in the cabinet."

Smiling Boba made his way to the counter, coming back a moment later with a steaming cup of spiked caff.

"Taking It you couldn't sleep either mando?"

Shaking his head Din finished the last of his coffee.

"Well, sorry to say but we've all got work to do today."

Groaning, Orla stood from her seat, downing the last of her coffee. "I'll go get ready then."

Before she could leave the room though she felt a tug on her hair; pulling it free from the collar of her shirt.

"Ad'ika… what is this? Please don't tell me you let your hair be like this all the time while I was gone." Boba scolded.

Orla smiled sheepishly at her father. "I never learned to braid after you left. So I just put it in a ponytail or bun. But when it's down it gets tangled so easily. It's just so thick.

"Orla," Boba chided.

"Papa! I didn't have the energy to learn when you left! And I was gonna cut it off but I couldn't bring myself to do it…"

"You're just like your mother. And if I ever find out you cut off your hair it might be the actual death of me." Chuckling Boba guided his daughter back to her chair. "Now sit."

Groaning Orla plopped herself down into her seat, letting her father pull apart the tangles in her hair. 

"Your so dramatic buir."

"And you're not?"

Both chuckling Boba continued to gently separate her hair into strands, braiding them together and picking up pieces as he went.

Across from them, Din went unnoticed as he watched intently; learning how to braid.

*******************************************************************************************

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Tag-list: @kesskirata @piscespussybabe @wanderlust69 @itssamcry @alis-into-wonderland @stardust-danvers  @g0ldenlush @sweet-silver

[ormenkarmenirl]

HELLO TUMBLR today i will be actually talking about bad omens & all my weird made up lore for ormen karmen instead of just drawing vague things related to it

ive been kinda on the fence about whether or not i should explain the entire thing bc i wanted it to be a written project where i gradually reveal things, but since i haven't started on an ounce of writing since i first came up with the idea and unfortunately probably won't anytime soon, i thought itd at least help to get all the lore on the table! this is probably going to end up a very long, messy, glorified ramble session, but i hope it at least helps my posts make more sense!!!!

so what's ormen karmens deal huh? what's up with that weird little idiot you draw all the time

TLDR;

ormen was a fumya who's birth came right before a really bad hurricane that did major damage to patapole & it's inhabitants. at a time where signs from the almighty were taken very literally, everyone assumed his existence was a bad omen & Meden and the Hero barely managed to stop them from murdering him to make their god happy again! as he gets older he meets kim, huk & nom, three rarepons who actually sort of listen to him when he rants about how Suck and Dumb the tribe is. they form a rebel group together with some slipshod equipment and use inanimate masks to differentiate themselves from the rest of the tribe. the rebels are captured at some point and brought back to patapole to be put on trial for trying to Fuck Shit Up™, but huk breaks specifically ormen out and the two run away for a bit together to try and figure out how to fix things. eventually they come to the conclusion that they simply won't be powerful enough to overthrow their captors on their own- ormen invites the demon Dettankarmen into the realm and sells he & his friends souls to it in exchange for a steady supply of power. Dettankarmen has bigger plans for their new tribe- a series of events leads to the shattering of the world egg, where akumapons and karmens swarm Patapole and flush almost every Patapon out of the island through violence (except for one, the Hero, who was given a mask to forget his guilt and was simply left behind to wander until the events of pata2)

THE WAY LONGER VERSION (IM SO SORRY)

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!!! BASICALLY! back when the Patapon tribe was still in their prime, they were a little less friendly to eachother and their neighbors (judging by what they did to the ah oohs, and the fact that zigatons have an entire prophecy stating if they march they're just gonna fuck everything up) and they interpreted signs from the almighty very seriously. so like, one day this little asshole runt fumya got popped out of the mater tree, and on the same day, an awful storm tore up the island- it wrecked hunting parties, made an absolute mess of villages n huts, the whole nine yards, yeah? so, everyone's all frazzled and assumes the Almighty's real mad at them, and everyone's thoughts kinda snowball and it leads up to everyone concluding the Almighty's discheesed with the runt born from mater and assume they have to sacrifice him to make things better again!

meden and the Hero step in at the last second before any physical harm can be done to that Fumya, and just barely manage to convince everyone that they don't have to kill him violently to get God off their asses. the tribe's still wary of him though, and names him Ormen after a twist on Omen.

while physical harm was prevented, emotional harm sure wasn't!!! Ormen grows up around his tribe feeling very alienated, confused and angry from his first memories- he develops a temper and a tendency to second guess everything that generally just makes others want to stay away from him more. the Hero and Meden try to do their best to be parental figures in his life, but it only half works and eventually they conclude their intervention is only weighing him down and leave him completely alone.

when he's old enough to begin training, he ends up making three halfway friends- Nom the Chigyobi, Kim the Kanokko & Huk the Sabara! Nom is the only one he's actually close to out of the three- Kim is Nom's brother and follows him everywhere, so they just sorta side eye eachother like nervous dogs all the time, and Huk just likes having people to complain to and takes interest in Ormen's general views on Earthend and the Almighty. (to summarize those views- "theyre fucking stupid lol")

after a bit Ormen starts tossing the idea around of forming their own tribe to his friends, sick of pointless war and following a god that would have had him killed for being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. when he tries to express these views to the Hero and Meden, they seem to brush him off with halfhearted reassurance, and the rest of the tribe already collectively decided they don't like him much, so no point in talking to them. his friends listen, though- all for their own reasons, they find something they agree with in his words, and begin to conspire together.

one day, he has enough, and convinces the three to leave with him in the middle of the night to start their own tribe. four barely functioning teenagers, lost in the wilderness- it goes about as well as you would expect for them! after several near death experiences, the exhausted gang decides they aren't cut out for it and starts to hoof it back home. before they can completely admit defeat, though, they find something rather strange waiting for them- a small, ragtag group of pons that heard about their disappearance and wanted to tag along. apparently, they aren't as alone as they thought in their feelings.

now they can all find a place away from Patapole to camp out together, sneaking supplies out and beginning work on a place of their own to live in!! unfortunately, word travels fast around the city and a patrol group sets out to find their missing trainees. the makeshift base is discovered, and in a single moment of impulse, the new tribe decides to stand their ground and actually fight the concerned patrol group attempting to drag them all back home!

the patrol group was relatively unarmed, so the tribe barely manages to fight them off into retreating- however, soon they return with reinforcements, and the poorly trained rebels are swiftly defeated and taken into custody.

now this whole time, Huk's been tagging along with the single goal in mind of power. his hope is that if a new tribe forms, he'll become second in command of it, and eventually take over as leader- he's been given the shaft in favor of the Hero, a fellow Sabara, for so long that all he wants is to be in the spotlight. he's a Mahopon, but he has a very loose grip on his magic- conveniently, he only manages to break himself and Ormen out of their temporary cells, running away with him so that they can figure out how to break the rest of their group free and causing the trial to be postponed until they're found.

after a bit of back and forth, they realize that none of them are exactly... fighting fit, really. few of them have actually graduated training yet- there's no way they'll be able to fight off future squads the way they are now, and they probably won't have another chance to train. it's unclear who's idea it was, but one way or another, the idea gets in their heads to invite a demon into the realm- the demon of masks, Dettankarmen- and strike up a deal with it.

surprisingly, this works! Dettankarmen hears their woes out, and in their problem they see a solution to their own. they want to free all demons from hell to let them roam freely, but to do that, a mortal would have to break the World Egg- and here are a couple of mortal chumps, just begging to be pawns!

they agree to supply the tribe with power- the masks they wear act as a binding contract, keeping them tied to Dettankarmen's power and influence. what none of them know is that the masks are specially designed to neuter their common sense a bit, and give them sort of a brainfog over their memories, the kind you get when you're particularly stressed- this makes for a far more easily manipulated tribe.

completely clueless, Ormen seals the deal with Dettankarmen and takes up the title of Karmen, officiating the tribe's existence. one very violent prison break later, the Karmens regroup at their destroyed base, and begin to rebuild- when the next squadron is sent out to recapture them, they hold their own, again and again.

the Patapons grow uncomfortable and restless with the idea of competition forming right outside their city walls- and of course, everyone's problems fall on the Hero!!! he was the one that advocated for Ormen's life all that time ago, and now look where that's gotten everyone!

the final straw comes when the Karmens launch a sneak attack in the middle of the night that ends in the capture of the Patapon Princess. Dettankarmen's plan is quickly falling into motion- they use her as bait at the world egg, and the tribe forces the Hero out to go and retrieve her.

when he shatters it, Akumapons, now able to walk the earth freely, begin to swarm. Dettankarmen promised them Patapole as a place to stay, so long as they were able to take hold of it- they waste absolutely no time in doing so, and with Karmen aid, a full scale invasion begins. the Hero's unable to make it back to his city to help his people fend the beasts off though, because Ormen is currently trying to dispose of him and is terrifyingly good at that!!!

Dettankarmen observes the fight go nowhere for quite some time, as the two are evenly matched- once they become bored of it, they intervene to point out that in the distance, Patapole has already surrendered. The Hero failed. there's nothing left worth fighting for.

overcome with grief and the crushing weight of defeat, he's barely mentally present when the demon begins to make him an offer. he could forget his guilt, start again, get a second chance to make it up to his tribe- all he has to do is put on this completely unsuspecting mask, and everything will clear itself up!

he wastes no time in donning it, and just like that? boom, Memory Gone. all he's left with is a lingering sense of dread and the knowledge that he's to serve his tribe, but in all the confusion, he can't catch up with the last of them as the joint Akumapon-Karmen forces push the remaining Pons on the island to sea, fleeing by boat to safer lands.

once the dust settles, Patapole is under Karmen control, shared by Akumapons. Ormen Karmen has everything he ever wanted- his own tribe, far, far from the Patapons and their Almighty that wronged him so. he's finally won a hollow victory, and he can't place why he feels so damn guilty about it... he can barely even remember what he was fighting for to begin with. Nomen, Hukmen and Kimen become his closest underlings- Hukmen resides over financial decisions and political whatnot, Kimen functions as the head doctor, and Hukmen trains soldiers for combat.

Every night, Dettankarmen paces the length of the city's border, keeping watch for all that would seek to steal their tribe away from them and obliterating any threats with ease. Unlike their tether, Ormen, they're finally satisfied with the state of their living, and they bear a twisted sense of pride for their actions.

...it's only a shame none of it lasted, as the serpent consumes her tail. many, many years in the future, a ship sets sail for the shores of it's old home.

.....AAAND THAT ABOUT DOES IT! that's all the juice i have for one post- i still have so so much more to share, and i could go on about the individual characters all fuckin' day- if you guys actually liked this read, I could consider making similar posts pertaining to the individuals!! terribly, terribly sorry for how long that was- i am awful at keeping things concise, if you couldn't guess already!!!

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 9

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time       Rating: General Audience       Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves     Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

If Dominic wasn’t absolutely sick with worry, he would be enjoying the view. 

He had been led away from the medical hut, the Elder leading the way out of the village and up a well worn path. One that was leading up into the surrounding rocky hills filled with vibrant jungle foliage. Allowing a good view of both the village, and the rest of the expansive jungle. The mountain could just barely be seen from the heavy fog. They traveled until they were surveying the entire village in the valley it was resting in.

“Why not take a seat, dear friend.” The Elder had claimed a seat on a rather smooth rock, his staff leaning nearby as he relaxed.

“...We’re rather far from your village.”

“I understand your worries. I can only assume with what you’ve seen and experienced on your journey that would put you on the defensive to any stranger. But I assure you, the Child of Pure Fire is more than safe here. As are you.”

“The...Child of Pure Fire?” Dominic’s eyes looked down at the Elder’s hand. Which was casually patting the area next to him. The penguin sighed and did as was silently asked of him.

“It is how we refer to all children who are directly tied to the Celestial Phoenix.” The Elder answered after Dominic settled down.

“So...you know who Amos is.”

“Very much so. With his unique physical characteristics, it was hard not to figure out.”

“I suppose so.”

“My village and those surrounding this mountain hold ancestors who learned and grew from the Celestial Phoenix’s fire. We know those children of the Phoenix.”

“So, wait, are you not a child of the flame thing as well?”

The Elder laughed softly. “Our ancestors may have been. But we have long since lost the flame that connects us directly to him.”

“It must be an interesting feeling to know you’re related, in someway, to such a being.”

“Well, how do you feel about it?”

Dominic raised a brow at that. “I’m...not sure I understand.”

“We have the belief that the Celestial Phoenix is connected to all living beings.”

“But I’m a Moon Penguin. You know...ice? I’m pretty sure I would know fairly quickly if I held a Phoenix flame.”

“I’m sorry child, I was not speaking in such a literal way. It’s more of the idea that the Phoenix gives that needed spark for life to begin. So, in some way, we are all connected to the celestial being. As he is needed for us to live.”

“I suppose that makes some sort of sense.” 

“Indeed.”

“Would those Fire Spirits in the Subcon Woods be direct descendants of this Phoenix?” Dominic asked, leaning forward with interest.

“I believe so,” the Elder nodded, “They do hold similar features as your companion.”

“Huh...I suppose they do.”

“Speaking of your companion. I am to assume you are here to reach the peak of Starlight Mountain.”

“Yes. The flame Amos carries has been burning hotter each day, more than what he can handle sometimes. He...He said there’s something here that will help him.”

“He is correct. But I would like to add, he doesn’t seem to have the uncontrollable flame that you seem so worried about.”

“To be fair to him, Amos is not awake at the moment.”

The Elder laughed. “While that is a fair point, even passed out the host of a flame can be harmful. Your Amos seems to be more in pain by whatever has been put into him than the flame itself.”

Dominic flushed, feeling his feathers puff out. “I- My Amos? I just… W-We’re just- We’re both directors, we share the same studio. Funny story about that. B-But we are not…”

“Oh, my apologies. I was merely assuming after watching you bring the Child to us, you two were together.”

“I mean, I’m just worried about my...my friend.”

“I was speaking more on behalf of your friend. Creatures of fire, when in peril, will attack. Even if unconscious. Unless they know they’re with someone they truly feel safe with.”

Dominic swears his face was burning hotter than anything Amos’ fire could do. “That can just be the reliance of a friend as well.”

“...I suppose you’re right.”

“Look, can you just answer something for me.”

“Of course.”

“This...whatever is at the peak that we’ve been trying to reach. It will help Amos, right?”

The Elder sighed softly. Which didn’t calm Dominic’s frazzled nerves. “In truth, it’s all dependent on your friend.”

“What...does that mean?”

“If your friend has a strong enough will, then he’ll continue to live.”

“I- but- no!” Dominic stood, “You can’t tell me that this entire trip was for nothing! This was supposed to help him. Heal him.”

“This is not something that can be controlled or changed by me or you. If you want him to live, you will need to put faith in your friend.”

“Put faith in a bird who only stopped doing dangerous, life-threatening stunts? Who, I’m sure, was only doing this as a way to possibly get himself ‘accidentally’ killed. Or, would you rather I put faith in the owl that has been drinking himself to death for who knows how long? Or how about the version of Amos that works so hard for so long that he will pass out for 10 hours straight? Which version do you want to put your faith into?”

The Elder didn’t reply, merely stared at the penguin’s shaking form. Dominic, on his part, was absolutely sick with fear. This was all supposed to be a journey to get Amos healed. That was the goal. Now, being told this was all reliant on the owl’s self-esteem, Dominic felt as if he’d already lost Amos.

“I...can’t lose him… Please tell me there is something I can do.”

“Perhaps you will be his beacon to remain.”

Dominic laughed weakly. “Me? I’ve been his rival for years. Sure, we didn’t kill each other on this trip. But he doesn’t need me. He...He has his family.”

“Yet you just listed off his dangerous activities. Wouldn’t he be happy if you assumed his family would be enough to keep him here.”

“I… Whatelse could I add to his life?”

“Everyone can offer their needed points in other’s lives.”

“I would not be the one he would need for that. At least, not the point to keep him happy. I have my own problems… I’m not meant to be ‘helpful’. I’m not built like that.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Dominic laughed bitterly. “Would you like to ask the number of beings who kept my bed warm until morning came? I’m a good distraction, not a relationship.”

“To build a relationship, it requires two or more to make it strong. It must also start with knowing you want to pursue something. Do you want that?”

“...I do.”

“With him?”

Did he? Did he really want to stay with someone who he’s carried a rivalry with for so long? The person he’s hurled insults to from across the studio floor? Someone who the penguin constantly tried to impress with his own showcase his own story telling skills. An internal battle to not back down and to hope this feud would end so they could create something together.

Dominic frowned as he crossed his arms, suddenly feeling small. “...I do. He has that spark that I haven’t seen in others. It's so admirable. He’s admirable. He’s honestly my drive to make such amazing things. I want to impress him. When we were younger, it was to show him I was better. Now...I really just want him to look at me…”

“That is something worth pursuing.”

They turned back to the village when a loud call was heard coming from the medical hut. A few healers fled from said place as the shouting continued.

“It seems as if your ‘friend’ is awake,” the Elder commented as he stood, “Shall we go check on him?”

“Yes, preferably before he hurts himself or anyone.”

Dominic rushed back down the hillside, slightly worried that the Elder felt the need to take his time hobbling after, and entered the hut. To find Amos standing on the bed he’d no doubt been resting on a few minutes before. The owl yelling furiously while holding a stool above his head like a weapon.

“And if someone doesn’t start talkin’, I’ll be whackin’ yer head off yer peck necks one by one!”

“Amos!” 

The owl was startled, attention going to the agitated penguin standing by the doorway. The stool was promptly dropped. Amos wobbly climbing off the bed and over to Dominic. “Yer okay…”

“What are you doing? Threatening these poor people who’ve been helping us. Why would you- whoa!” Dominic scrambled to collect Amos, who’s legs apparently stopped working. The penguin slowly lowering them to the floor. Amos desperately clinging to the other, his forehead resting on Dominic’s shoulder. 

“Whoa. Easy Sweetheart, just try and take it easy.”

“Yer okay…” Was Amos’ weakly muttered response. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. You were the one who was hit with a weird drug.”

“Yer okay…”

Dominic frowned, looking up to the remaining nomads who had inched out from the corner they’d been hiding in. “Is he okay?”

“Ah, Phoenix… Very dizzy.” Was the reply.

“Dizzy...from the drug?”

The nomad nodded before patting his chest. “Fire...blocked.”

“Blocked? Oh Amos… Let’s get you back to bed Sweetheart.” Dominic was thankful the owl was so light. Hollow bones were such a blessing in disguise at this moment. Amos started to panic again when he was placed back on the bed and Dominic pulled away. The penguin quickly corrected the action by taking Amos’ hands  “No, no, no, you’re alright. I’m right here, I won’t be leaving you.”

That seemed to calm Amos enough to allow him to relax, completely passed out in the next second. Dominic let out a weak sigh, giving a small thanks when a chair was passed to him, more or less collapsing into it. There was the familiar tapping sound drawing closer to the hut that announced the Elder’s arrival. A quiet conversation was held between him and the healer nomads before joining the penguin by the bed. 

“I’ve been informed that your friend had a bit of an episode when he woke.”

“They said his flame had been ‘blocked’.” Dominic voiced weakly, which the Elder merely nodded in agreement to. 

“Whatever was injected into him was able to extinguish it to a dangerous degree. Not enough to kill. But just enough to subdue. It’s his mortal side that is keeping him alive. I don’t know who has been hunting you. But they are knowledgeable and dangerous if they know how to take down a Phoenix.”

“He’ll be alright though, right?” The penguin desperately asked. 

“He woke up and threatened my people. I believe he will be just fine.”

“I-I am so sorry about that.”

The Elder laughed softly and waved his hand. “Please, do not worry yourself. He was not coordinated enough to harm anyone. Plus, with the situation he just left only to wake in a strange place, it was a reasonable reaction.”

Dominic let out another sigh, cradling his head in a hand. “Oh Amos…”

“I will tell you, he will be awake by tomorrow. Fairing much better than a few moments ago.”

“How far away are we from the mountain?”

“A day or two by walking. It would be best to make your entrance as quiet as possible. I will send word of your arrival. We have nomads living at the base who will be able to take you to the peak.”

“Right, yes, thank you.” Dominic flinched slightly when a hand was rested on his shoulder. 

“I will ask that you take tomorrow, all of tomorrow, to rest.” 

“W-We don’t have time.”

“Your friend is in no danger, his fire is contained. Give those terrible birds a bit of a slip. Get a chance to breathe. You both need a full day's rest after this.”

“I...don’t wish to impose.”

The Elder smiled. “I am making the offer. You have been welcomed here. We can have a feast even! A celebration of the Child’s return. Please, let yourself recover before facing the next great hurtle.” 

Dominic didn’t answer right away. He looked back up to Amos’ sleeping form. Reaching out to preen a few stray feathers before putting a hand back between both of his. Dominic smiled softly as Amos unconsciously squeezed back.

“Okay… Let’s have a feast.”

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Based on this post, with the idea by @itachiscatears, a very unhinged possible epilogue to The sun within me where Naruto collects all the Sasukes, because why wouldn’t he?? 

Under a cut bc it ended up long. To put it simply, Sasuke suffers. Naruto lives in Sasuke-filled heaven for two (2) weeks until Sasuke comes back and ruins all his dreams (or something like that)

Rated T probably to be safe

______________________________________

Sasuke returns from his trip, and all thoughts are immediately erased from his head as he enters the Uchiha compound, finding it full of copies of himself.

Has Naruto finally gone off the deep end and decided to surround himself by clones transformed into Sasuke? He catches the eye of another Sasuke passing by, and this version of him is wearing glasses.

“Hello,” glasses-Sasuke says as he reaches him. “Are you new? I thought Naruto started out by introducing everyone, but you seem like you wandered in here by yourself.”

“I…”

He’s speechless. Actually speechless. He considers yelling Naruto’s name at the top of his lungs, because either he’s playing a bad prank on him, or this person standing in front of him is really another version of him. Was Charasuke not enough?!

“Where the hell did you come from?” he asks, and glasses-him pushes the glasses up his nose, sniffing at him.

“Another dimension.”

The obviously is left implied.

“I’m a scientist,” is added, and then he turns halfway to shout at someone. “Oi, Friendly Sasuke! Would you come over here, please?”

Sasuke stares, and stares a little more as another Sasuke walks over with a happy grin on his face. Even knowing Charasuke, it’s unsettling to look at.

“Sure, what’s up, Researcher Sasuke?”

Sasuke – the real Sasuke, that is, although he is starting to doubt the reality of things – glares at both of them.

“Where’s Naruto?” he demands, fists clenching and unclenching in anger.  

“Pretty sure he’s still at the Hokage tower,” Friendly Sasuke replies, giving him a pleasantly questioning look. “Is he new? He seems kind of similar to Avenger Sasuke. Bad temper, I mean.”

“Oh!” Researcher Sasuke taps his lips, scrutinizing Sasuke as one might scrutinize a lab experiment. “Maybe this is the Sasuke of this world? Naruto said he’d be coming back soon.”

Telling himself firmly that Naruto (and Charasuke, too) would be upset with him if he started killing versions of himself, Sasuke takes a deep breath and flickers out of sight, heading for the Hokage tower.

“Sasuke!” Naruto greets him with, a beaming smile on his face as he holds his arms out from behind his office desk.

As if Sasuke would run into his arms. As if he didn’t already have another version of him standing by the desk, glaring sullenly at Sasuke.

“You,” Sasuke hisses out from between clenched teeth. “Explain.”

Naruto chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ah, well, you see, I was talking to Charasuke if maybe there could be other dimensions, and maybe there would also be other versions of us there? And so, guess what? There is!”

Perhaps Sasuke should go on another trip. A year-long one. He’ll pretend for a moment that he won’t miss the dumb idiot, and that he hadn’t spent most of this trip looking forward to coming back home to him.

“And what, I repeat, what, are they all doing in the Uchiha district? I leave you alone for two weeks and this is how desperate-“

The edge of a katana is pointed at his throat, fast enough that Sasuke can’t finish speaking, but slow enough that he deems it’s not a serious attempt on his life. The other Sasuke’s eyes bore into his, a little unhinged.

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave him alone,” this barely restrained version of him says.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Naruto says, slowly walking over to delicately push the other Sasuke’s katana down. “I know you like violence, Avenger Sasuke, but we’ve talked about this.”

Again, Sasuke is speechless. Naruto pouts at the other Sasuke until he sheaths his katana with a huff, still eyeing him with suspicion. He never acted like that, did he?

(Okay fine, he did. But still.)

“Return them,” he grits out, just as the door to the Hokage’s office slams open and several copies enter the room.

“Now, he really can’t do that,” Researcher Sasuke informs him, shaking out a long scroll and glancing over the contents. “You see, the Uchiha district is now a booming economy, restoring the wealth of the Uchiha clan, which was unjustly usurped by this village. Without us, this village will collapse.”

He does not like the sound of this. His eyes find Naruto, who clears his throat with a sheepish look on his face.

“Don’t worry,” another Sasuke says, wearing pastel-colored clothing and chewing loudly on something as he speaks. There are obnoxious sun glasses on top of his messy hair. “It’s cool. We like it here.”

“See?” Naruto pleads with him, attempting an innocent look. “There’s even a Ramen Chef Sasuke! His ramen is to die for, you have to try it!”

“I’d rather die,” Sasuke mutters, contemplating escape. Two weeks. He wonders what the kyuubi’s opinion is on this madness.

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that,” Naruto says, moving closer and clearly aiming for a hug, possibly a kiss.

Sasuke’s dignity will not allow it.

“You are not allowed to touch me or even think about touching me until they’re all gone,” he spits out, taking a few steps back. “You can sleep here in the office.”

“Or with me,” Friendly Sasuke suggests.

“I think it was Stripper Sasuke’s turn tonight,” Researcher Sasuke points out.

Well, that’s it. He’s out of here.

Naruto calls after him as he leaves through the window, but no one tries to stop him. Naruto prefers the stripper version of him? Fair enough. He’ll let them have fun while he…

Ends up moping in a bar, Sakura giving him pitying looks.

“I tried to stop him,” she says again, for the umpteenth time. “Told him you’d be unhappy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Another pitying look, and he’s starting to feel tired down to the bone. Why, oh why, did he decide to dedicate his life to this absolute moron? This imbecile? This Sasuke-obsessed nutcase? He can’t even bring himself to feel surprised, just resigned.

“I have to admit though, they’ve done a lot to improve the economy. Some versions of you are terribly smart. There’s even a doctor one, he’s teaching me-“

Sasuke gives her a look, and she promptly shuts up. Maybe that version of him is straight and they can live happily ever after. He. Does. Not. Care.

Someone wanders over to their table, pausing until Sasuke tilts his head up. He’s been resting it against the tabletop, for reasons. It is, of course, another version of him. Just really old. Like, older than he ever imagined he’d become.

“I heard you are this Naruto’s Sasuke,” he says in a gravelly voice, cane gripped tight in one gnarled hand. “This must all be terribly confusing to you.”

Another understatement. The old him clears his throat, and Sakura rushes up to get him a chair. He sinks down on it with a heavy sigh, placing the cane over his lap and peering at Sasuke with too knowing eyes.

“We are all here of our free will,” he states, as if Sasuke is included in that. He’s no longer sure he is. “In my case, I lost my Naruto to old age, which inevitably awaits us all, if we are lucky.”

As sad as that is, Sasuke won’t offer him any sympathy.

“Some came out of curiosity, some came because their Naruto is unavailable. Some came because Naruto asked them to. I think it unsettles him to know that there are few other universes where the two of us live together in true happiness.”

“Maybe he just entered your dimensions at the wrong point in time,” Sasuke surprises himself by saying, raising an eyebrow at the old man. “I mean, if you at least had a long life together…”

He receives a thoughtful nod for his comment.

“Maybe he found us at a time when we most miss his presence. Researcher Sasuke, for example, is studying in another country. He’s convinced that all the data shows that his Naruto is not interested.”

“Not my problem.”

Sakura kicks him under the table.

“Either way, none of you belong here,” he adds, grimacing at the thought that Naruto would be attracted to this wrinkly old version of him. “How long do you plan to stay, anyway?”

Old Sasuke smiles sweetly at him. It’s terrifying.

“Oh, I for one don’t mind staying for the rest of my life. This young Naruto is so invigorating.”

Sasuke cannot deal with this. He does not deserve this. He stands up and leaves, stalking out of the bar and out of the village and doesn’t stop until he’s an hour away and Naruto pops into existence next to him, using the damn mark still on the nape of his neck.

“Are you leaving?” Naruto asks, looking alarmed. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” It’s unfair of him to ask, but Naruto is seriously testing his patience. “You’ve got your harem to entertain you.”

“It’s not a harem,” Naruto splutters, waving his arms around wildly. “It’s just-“

Sasuke waits, crossing his arms.

“I, uh, may have a slight problem,” Naruto confesses, nervously tapping his hands together. “You see, I just wanted to check on us in the other dimensions, but then I was noticed, and then you, well a version of you, convinced me to find more of you, it was just for research-“

Oh, Researcher Sasuke is going to die a gruesome death.

“And then suddenly! There were so many of you! And things were kind of happening!”

“You’re an idiot,” Sasuke tells him, but he can’t stay angry at Naruto.

Of course, Naruto knows this, and his hopeful little smile is entirely too effective. Sasuke closes his eyes and groans, listlessly holding out his arms, just enough that Naruto takes it as an invitation. He launches himself at Sasuke, clinging to him like a monkey, burying his face in Sasuke’s neck.

“I missed you,” he mutters, and it’s the final blow to Sasuke’s defenses.

He wraps his arms around Naruto, telling himself he’s definitely going to make him pay for this, just later.

“You’re taking them all back tomorrow morning at the latest,” he scolds Naruto, who lets out a muffled noise of complaint. “Either they leave or I do.”

It’s an empty threat, but Naruto still stiffens in his hold.

“Fine,” he huffs, lowering his legs until he’s at least supporting his own weight. “But… what about Grandpa Sasuke? Can we keep him?”

Sasuke pushes him away, ignoring the betrayed look on his face.

“No.”

“But he’s so nice! And harmless! And his Naruto is already dead!”

“I am not sharing you.”

Wait. That’s not what he meant to say. Naruto blinks up at him from where he’s sprawled on the ground, mouth open like a fish. Then his eyes fill with glee, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Ooh, you were jealous,” he teases, and Sasuke turns his back on him. “You were! Admit it! You want me all to yourself, because you love me soooo much-“

One of these days, Sasuke tells himself silently as Naruto continues to blabber on about how Sasuke still needs to learn how to communicate, and obviously Naruto loves him the most, he just can’t help but wonder if maybe Sasuke could be a little nicer to him, learn a ramen recipe or two…

Yeah, one of these days, for sure, he’ll knock some sense into Naruto. But not today.

Clearly, not today.

[ampleappleamble]

CHAPTER NINE OF ANTHEM INFINITUM IS FINALLY FINISHED AND UPLOADED

Chapter Nine: Mother, Daughter, Sister, Queen <- AO3 LINK

Defiance Bay is a city that could use a woman's touch.

Full chapter under the cut~

—

There was ‘too strange to be true,’ and then there was 'too strange not to be true.’

The former was usually easy enough to determine, at least for a woman of Sagani’s age and experience: she’d be a piss-poor mother, hunter, and leader were she to give credence to every tall tale a guilty child or unscrupulous trader told her. But sometimes a situation was just unusual enough, skirted that line between plausibility and absurdity just so, that Sagani found herself well and truly baffled. Like now, with these kith.

They’d seemed like a regular bunch of adventurers at first glance, although a motley one. They’d been chatting amiably amongst themselves when they’d noticed her, and if she hadn’t heard them talking about a carved bear– and if Itumaak hadn’t nudged her hip and whined, pointed eagerly at the strangers with his whole body– she probably would have ignored them entirely and let them disappear down the road, over the horizon.

Leaving her alone. Again. And still at square one.

So she had cast her line, and had been completely knocked off guard at the response she’d gotten. She had been expecting the folk man– the big blonde with the country drawl– to do what Dyrwoodan men tended to do and bloviate at her until he lost interest and herded his mismatched crew off to their next thrilling adventure. But instead, he had crouched down to regard Itumaak with childlike delight while, to Sagani’s mild surprise, the redheaded orlan had stepped forward and taken the conversational lead.

What with all the bigotry against orlans she’d heard tell of since arriving in the Dyrwood (and the handful of incidents she’d witnessed firsthand), Sagani hadn’t anticipated the leader of this little pack to be one– and a woman at that, although her foreign accent cleared up some of the confusion. Listening to her bold, clear, confident voice, Sagani had been unable to stop herself cocking an eyebrow and cracking a bemused smile at this strange little encounter.

And it had only gotten stranger the more they’d conversed. While answering the orlan’s questions about her hunt for Persoq, Sagani had noticed the giant aumaua behind her scribbling frantically on a sheet of vellum, his excited eyes darting between the orlan and herself. She’d also noticed the folk man ignoring the conversation entirely to focus on trying to get Itumaak’s attention, as well as the elf standing alone in the back who may or may not have been talking to himself behind his grimoire.

And then the orlan claimed to be a Watcher. Sagani’d had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes upon hearing that one again. And here she’d been, expecting more slack-jawed farmhands. Gods, these people were odd.

Yes, Sagani, they’re a bunch of freaks. Not like you, a middle-aged female long game hunter from an isolated village on an island in the arctic who’s searching for a dead man with her snowy white fox.

Maybe that was what had made her put Persoq’s bear in the other woman’s hands, that guilt at thinking her and her companions odd when Sagani had such an unusual story herself. And at least these people were actually friendly, for once. She still hadn’t decided whether they were necessarily trustworthy or not– the orlan was probably about as real a Watcher as that last “Watcher” she’d met– but she could at least fairly confidently tell that they weren’t about to pull some kind of shit. Body language was too relaxed, atmosphere was all wrong for violence or trickery. Hel, this girl wasn’t even asking for coin. So why not let her have a go at it?

And now, watching the little woman sway on her feet and stare like a sleepwalker, Sagani was starting to wonder if she had made the right decision after all. She wasn’t normally an easy woman to rattle, but something about the orlan had changed, something behind her eyes, and it lent her an eerie, uncanny quality that made Sagani’s skin crawl.

“What’s going on?” she blurted, hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “What’s happening to her?” Itumaak finally snapped at the annoying folk man, curling his lip and snarling, and the big blonde backed off as the fox leaned into Sagani’s side.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” the man stammered, “prolly shoulda warned you about that. She gets like that when she’s doin’ her watchin’, or… whatch’ call it.” He dug his thumb into an itchy spot between his eyebrows, side-eyed Itumaak. “…Your fox bite?”

“Yes,” she muttered, eyes still fixed on the orlan woman, on Persoq’s bear.

“Can I pet him anyway?” The man’s blue-green eyes shone with sincerity.

“Worry not, madam! She’ll come out of it soon enough,” the aumaua interjected, tucking his writing tools away in his satchel before peering intently at the adra carving in the orlan’s hands. “At least, she seemed to come out of it rather quickly when she spoke to the spirits in Caed Nua. This might be an entirely different experience, as far as I’m aware.” He chuckled and gently waved his gigantic hand in the redhead’s face, and she stared through him, completely unresponsive. “Fascinating, isn’t it? I wonder what she sees…”

Sagani glanced up at the huge man, careful to keep the orlan and Persoq’s bear in her peripheral vision. “You’re telling me you all came from Caed Nua? That old keep west of here? I was told that place was nothing but a wraith-infested death trap.” She felt her heart drop, just a little. Yup, that’s what I thought. Too strange to be true.

“Sure’s Hel was,” the folk man grumbled, his tone suggesting he knew from experience. “'Course, that was before we showed up.”

The little huntress narrowed her eyes at him. “Care to explain exactly what you mean by that?”

The shy elf finally spoke up, cringing with embarrassment as he drew closer to the front of the little group. “Er– begging your pardon, madam; what my cohort meant to say is– Well, come to think of it, actually, perhaps introductions are in order–”

“Cliffs,” the orlan gasped, and Sagani’s focus was back on her in an instant, Itumaak yipping softly with surprise. To her credit, everyone else jumped too, startled by the little woman’s sudden return to consciousness. But still, she couldn’t afford surprises like that, especially when it came to Persoq’s bear. Never again. Beast’s Hooves, woman, never take your eye off your quarry…!

The orlan shook her head and blinked, finally seeming to come out of her reverie. “By the sea, I think,” she continued, trembling slightly as she placed the adra carving back into Sagani’s waiting hands. “Pretty high up, but we still got a snootful of that salty ocean spray.”

Sagani’s gaze flicked rapidly between the green-purple lump in her hands and the woman in front of her. “…What? I– what just– what did you do?” That was nothing like the last “Watcher” she’d dealt with, and she knew he was full of shit. But it didn’t necessarily mean this girl was on the level, either.

“…Watched, I suppose. Well, it’s not just watching. It was more like… being inside someone else’s head, feeling what they feel as well as seeing what they see.” The redhead rubbed her eyes, smiled wearily at Sagani. Reminded her of her youngest waking from a nap too early. “In this case, I was inside Persoq’s head, or his reincarnation’s, anyway. Damned disorienting, I have to admit. And it tends to make me look a bit foolish at times.”

“Right. I’ll bet.” Too strange not to be true? …Maybe. Maybe not. The ranger stuffed the carving back into her pack, not quite ready to admit defeat yet. “Y'know, after my story about that charlatan Watcher, I’d have thought a 'real’ Watcher like you would have more to say about the experience than that.”

“A woman after my own heart!” The aumaua butted in again, looming up behind the little orlan like a sunrise. “I’d love to hear more myself. She only ever gives us the barest hints of what she sees, what the spirits tell her! …Although,” he added sheepishly, “I understand sometimes the scenes that play out before her are… not exactly easy to talk about.”

“Yes, Caed Nua and the Endless Paths are not exactly locales with happy pasts, Kana,” the elf chided gently before turning to Sagani. “I know we must seem… an unusual bunch, madam, and you’ve no reason whatsoever to trust us. We were each just as skeptical when we initially met her, and just as shocked as you the first time we saw her peer into the aether. But she has proven multiple times over to each of us that, ultimately, this is no act: she is a Watcher, truly.” He pursed his lips, fidgeted, wrung his hands together– but his face was open and honest.

Gods, they’re persistent! If they’re liars, at least it seems they’ve all got their story straight. “You realize I don’t even have any coin to offer you for… for whatever that was.” She knew how dangerous this could turn out to be, what a stupid mistake it might be to trust these strangers, but she could feel herself wanting to believe them, needing her long, difficult search to finally yield a solid lead…

The little woman shrugged, unconcerned, and turned to the road in front of Sagani, shouldering her pack once more. “Didn’t ask for any coin,” she stated simply. “Knowledge seeks freedom, we say in Ixamitl, and the freer I can make it, the better.” A cheeky grin popped up on her face. “…Although, if you’ve a tent, we’d trade you for it. Someone ruined ours.”

The folk man tore his attention away from Itumaak’s fluffy, rapidly swishing tail to regard the orlan with indignation. “Hey, c'mon, Axa, I said it was an accident–”

And as if on cue, he was silenced by a crack of thunder. All of a sudden, the humidity and the smell of ozone were overpowering, and the gathered kith all turned their faces to the heavens.

The first drop of rain hit Itumaak on the nose, and he sneezed.

“Welp.” The big blonde sighed dejectedly. “Sun was settin’ anyway. Guess I’ll get started on a lean-to for us.” He trudged off into the nearby brush, and as they followed behind him, the aumaua and the elf gave Sagani polite, awkward waves. The orlan woman– Axa, as Sagani knew her now– watched them go and then turned back to the huntress, raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. The rain was starting to come down in earnest now.

Oh, come on already–

“I… There’s… uh, a little rock outcropping about 15 minutes’ hike southeast. Should fit five and a fire 'neath it. And a fox, of course.” Sagani reached down and scratched Itumaak behind the ears, and he pressed his head into her strong, steady hand. His reassurance comforted her, and she smiled.

Axa smiled back at the dwarf, her cohorts turning back toward the two women. “Well! I never thought I’d say that that sounds more appealing than my current projected sleeping arrangements, but here we are. You’ll lead the way, I trust?”

Just remember, Sagani: if you wake up tomorrow and Persoq’s bear is gone again, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

The huntress nodded and chuckled. “Sure will. Follow me.”

—

Honestly, it wasn’t as if Axa didn’t know how farfetched her whole story sounded, especially after listening to herself recount it aloud to a stranger. She was also self-aware enough to recognize that she and her companions probably came off as... eccentric, at best. So in the end, she couldn’t really blame the dwarf for being wary of her and her party– anyone would be– even though they had told her nothing but the truth.

It would certainly be a lot easier to convince the huntress of her sincerity, though, if the truth could stop being so gods damned bizarre as of late.

Axa couldn't help but feel like the more of her story she told, the more a liar she made herself look, and the older woman's guarded body language and skeptical expression weren't very encouraging in that regard. She was a mother, she'd told Axa at the camp that evening– five times over, although only three of her children lived yet– and Axa could tell she was a seasoned veteran of the child-rearing arts. She'd borne that accusatory, incredulous glare from her own mother ten thousand times, and it hadn't made any difference to her whether Axa was telling the truth or not either.

 –Serpent's Wings, I don't want to hear it anymore! He's not some poor stray tom you rescued from the gutter! He's not even a proper priest, Axa; he's a strange, sick con man who was lucky enough to find a softhearted, foolish girl to–

She winced at the memory. Yes, thanks, Mama. Helpful as always.

Then there were all the things she wasn't telling anyone about yet, let alone this woman she'd just met. She wasn't concealing anything especially damning, just perfectly mundane, boring, everyday intensely painful and private experiences and memories, including some that might explain a few things about her current circumstances. But as usual, every time she was presented with an opportunity to open up about herself, Axa just... clammed up instead. The Ordhjóma thing, for instance, had come up again in an otherwise pleasant dinnertime chat about the southern lights over Nasitaaq when Axa had absent-mindedly mentioned the time she had seen them in the White that Wends, and then she'd had those questions to deflect. She knew there was nothing inherently shady about it, but even so, just the act of politely declining to elaborate on her time in the Land or to speak any Ordhjóma for her curious audience made her feel nervous and guilty, as though she were withholding evidence instead of simply keeping a private matter private. Mercifully, everyone seemed to let it go easily enough, but Axa couldn't shake the feeling that Sagani in particular held it against her.

And if it wasn't what she said or didn't say making her appear suspect, it was the series of ludicrous coincidences that now passed for her everyday life. According to the Lady of Caed Nua's trusted local guide (the smoke-addled fool who'd nearly gotten his fingers bitten off by Sagani's fox), the cliffs from her vision of Persoq just so happened to be a few hours west of Defiance Bay. How convenient, then, that she and her crew were headed that way anyway, and how generous of them to offer Sagani a place in their traveling party. It was all the truth, of course, and intended in the spirit of benevolence– but all the same, it sounded like such an obvious contrivance that Axa had almost not wanted to say anything at all, to save them both the embarrassment.

But when the dwarf had accepted, had shrugged and sighed and told her to "lead the way," Axa had had to actively stop herself from shooting back, "Are you sure?" Even though it was perfectly understandable, Sagani's obvious reticence to trust her (especially while she was actively electing to travel with her anyway) still stung, and it frustrated Axa that she couldn't quite figure out how to not let it make things awkward during their long hike to the city. Each of the menfolk had approached her on his own at one time or another and inquired discreetly after her health and mood, each noting how unusually untalkative she was, and each time she found herself too stubborn to admit why. They were damn near crossing the bridge into the city proper by the time the orlan was finally tired of torturing herself about it, and she impulsively squeezed her left eye shut, hoping for some insight–

–Sometimes, with some kith, there just ain't nothin' for it but to just keep on livin' your truth, Lil' Blossom. Just let 'em be, and you just go on bein' true t' yourself. They'll come 'round, with time... or they don't, 'n you cut 'em loose. Th' true o' heart will follow. Either way you're better off than y'were before, worryin' yourself sick about what some blowhards think–

Wael had answered the spontaneous prayer with a promptness that had startled her almost as much as the answer itself. She hadn't thought about her father in some time, but it seemed the Lord of Mysteries had reached down into her mind and plucked out exactly the right memory for the situation. It was something Papa'd told her back when she was a little girl, tormented by peers far crueler than the kith she was keeping company with now, and she had come to him for advice not on revenge, but on how to get them to like her. At the time, Axa had balked at essentially being told that sometimes there was nothing one could do about another's unfair opinions of them. But in time, she came to see the wisdom in his words, and she found that the less she tried to shape herself to please others and the more she focused on cultivating her own identity and interests, the truer the friends she kept and made.

Not that she'd ever had a very broad circle of friends. She was more like her mother than her father in that way.

She lifted her head, cast her gaze over the small group of oddballs and misfits trailing merrily along behind her, and a sudden, fierce sense of camaraderie rushed through the little woman. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away with the back of her furry hand.

 Good advice, Papa. Thanks. ...and thank You, Eyeless One.

"Hey. ...You feelin' alright?" This time, it was Sagani herself who drew up next to the orlan, concern plain on her motherly face. Itumaak's nose brushed Axa's fingertips on her other side, the fox giving her a cursory sniff before returning to his mistress. "You've been pretty quiet these last few hours. Nervous, now that we've made it to the big city?" She nodded her head in the direction of the city gates, no more than a stone's throw away now.

Axa wondered, looking at Sagani's kind smile and knitted brow, how she ever could have thought the older woman had borne her any ill will. "Not really, no. I grew up in the second-largest city in the Plains, so tall buildings and busy streets don't faze me much. I've just been... lost in thought, I guess." She smiled back briefly before tilting her head just so, to obscure her face with her burgundy curls. Just in case.

"You're not still hung up on that Magranite priest we met on the road, are you?" Kana closed the distance between himself and the two women in a few broad steps, sensing that the tension in the group was dissipating now, positively famished for a good chat. "In truth, I still am, a bit. I certainly hope we don't meet any more of his sort beyond these gates!"

"Still feel like we kinda overdid it there," Edér piped up, picking at the bandaging on his fox-bitten fingers. "Sure, he was a weird, rude prick, but did we really have to set his beard on fire after kickin' his ass?" Despite his words, the farmer still smiled fondly at the memory as though reminiscing on some old childhood mischief, chuckling as he spoke.

"He called Axa a vicious, unrepeatable slur, Edér," Aloth huffed, clutching his grimoire close to his chest as the group passed over the long bridge into town. "Honestly, he's lucky he got away with his head still on his shoulders, never mind his beard."

Axa's gaze shot to Sagani, eyes wide and innocent even as she fought back a feisty grin. And in response, the huntress laughed, clapping Axa gently on the shoulder. "Now that sounds like a good story. Maybe tell me over a drink once we get settled in at the inn."

'Be true to yourself, and the true of heart will follow you.' Good advice, indeed, Axa thought, smiling back at the dwarf as the party approached the gates of Defiance Bay.

—

As soon as their party had crossed the threshold of the city proper, they'd turned to a local rabblerouser for directions, inquiring about points of interest and general information about the city. He'd filled them in while still trying to hold court with the group of refugees and protesters crowded around him, adding in his own fiery criticisms of animancy and the local constabulary (along with his endorsement of the local vigilante militia), and as soon as the opportunity to escape had presented itself the little band of adventurers had beelined for the nearest tavern, a busy little neighborhood eatery and inn called the Goose and Fox.

Bit strange, that name. Sounds kind of predatory for a house of respite. Sagani glanced down at her own fox, and then chuckled to herself, shaking her head. ...Alright, maybe I'm looking a little too hard into this.

She noticed Axa looking at her quizzically, so she leaned over and murmured: "Here, stop me if you've heard this one: An orlan, a dwarf, a folk, an elf, an aumaua, and an arctic fox walk into a bar..."

"The bartender looks at them and says, 'What is this, some kind of joke?'" Axa quipped back, not missing a beat. It was a punchline from a different bit, catching Sagani off guard, and both women laughed loudly enough to draw attention. In particular, that of a sour-faced elf with a rag draped over his shoulder who frowned and pointed at Itumaak, shaking his finger at the beast as he scurried out from behind the bar.

"Hey, hey, c'mon now, ladies, no loose animals in the dining area– Is that a dog, or...? Either way, tie it up outside, please. This isn't the Salty Mast." He spat the last few words from his mouth like a foul-tasting venom and turned to resume his duties, only to find himself nose-to-chest with Edér.

"He's an arctic fox, actually," the large man drawled softly, his tone hovering between casual and threatening. "And he goes where we go. 'Sides, he's clean, and he don't make no trouble. Not 'nless there's trouble with us. Which there ain't. Right?" He smiled amicably, looming over the sweaty little man as Axa stepped forward to intercede and the rest of her crew discreetly slid into a corner table.

The blonde and the redhead returned shortly, followed by a husky orlan barmaid loaded down with stew and brew for the party of five, plus a little something for Itumaak. They talked while they ate: planning, mostly, about what to do with the rest of the evening and the days to come. The Hall of Revealed Mysteries, temple to Wael and the largest library in the Dyrwood, was a high-priority destination, as was the Ducal Palace in First Fires, for the war records Edér was after. According to the talkative fellow by the gates, First Fires was also where Axa could find the temple of Woedica, and hopefully some clues regarding the enigmatic Leaden Key. And, of course, eventually they'd have to head for the western gates to escort Sagani to the cliffs where she might meet Persoq.

Even though your initial offer wasn't an escort to the cliffs. Only to the city. Sagani smirked as she considered the implications and nursed her tankard. You that eager to prove you're really a Watcher? Or are you just hoping to keep me on a little longer as a hireling you don't have to pay? She watched them eat and talk and drink and laugh, and when the orlan caught her staring, she smiled and offered the huntress a toke from her pipe.

...Frost's sake, Sagani, she thought as she politely waved the proffered whiteleaf away, maybe she's just nice.

Soon enough, she was pleasantly buzzed and half-listening to Aloth and Kana argue about whether to visit the asylum in Brackenbury when she noticed that Axa's attention had drifted as well– to the folk woman at the table nearest the back wall, the one who kept her face out of the lamplight and stared grimly into her ale.

Sagani nudged Axa, indicated the woman with a nod of her head. "You know her?"

"No." The redhead rose from her seat, wiping her mouth and knitting her brow. "But I know that look." She spared a glance at the lads– Edér, his eyes shut, blissfully gnawing on a hunk of beef the size of his hand; Kana and Aloth still wrapped up in the discourse on animancers in the Dyrwood– before striding purposefully towards the solitary woman, Sagani close behind.

It took some coaxing, but they got her talking. She told them her name was Kaenra, and that her fiancé had recently struck up a close friendship with svef, had started bringing strange, unsavory people around to the house to use. That he'd become distant, and then violent, and that now all she wanted from him was for him to take his grandmother's ring back and fuck off out of her life. Sagani watched as Axa listened, watched as she bristled with righteous rage, her eyes lingering on the woman's fresh bruise as she squeezed the ring tightly in her fist.

"I'll make sure he gets it," she vowed.

And so it came to pass that Sagani found herself spending her first evening as a tourist in Defiance Bay firing off arrows in a stranger's kitchen and siccing Itumaak on the drug-addled thugs in the study. Judging from the reactions of the rest of her retinue, apparently this sort of thing wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for Axa: the girl had a thirst for justice, it seemed, and she damn well meant to slake it.

Before long, they were all standing above the cowering, bloodied homeowner, a man called Purnisc who struggled to explain himself to Axa's satisfaction. Turns out he had been dealing svef, too, and when his supplier had found out that he'd been pocketing more than his fair share of the profits–

"–they sent the kneebreakers downstairs," Sagani finished for him, "and the wizard to replace you. Literally." She shook her head in wonder. It really was just like one of her Vailian crime novels.

"Replacement wasn't much of an improvement on the original." The little redhead was steaming mad, and she made no move to hide it as she leaned over the battered man, finger in his face. "You silly bastard, you really thought you could steal from a professional criminal, and lie to your woman about it, and you're just so gods damned clever that no one could ever possibly be the wiser?"

The man's blacked, swollen eyes went as wide as they were able. "You... you've talked to my Kaenra? Is she alright? Sh-she doesn't know I was selling, does she? Oh, gods, please don't tell her. I'm so sorry for putting her through all this. Please don't–"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Axa's cry came shrill and piercing, her typical rich, smooth voice consumed in the fire of her outrage. "Kaenra sent us here to return your ring because of your lies, you crooked little shit-for-brains! She loves and respects you! And you'd have us lie to her again?"

The pathetic man had withered under the orlan's verbal assault, and Axa seemed to have made her mind up about him as the group marched solemnly back to the Goose and Fox. But after returning to Kaenra, after telling her what Purnisc had done, the little woman once again defied all reasonable expectations.

"He's just an idiot, not a monster," Axa assured the other woman, "and he still loves you. And although he did a damned foolish thing, he never meant to hurt you. You just need to decide for yourself whether he's worth a second chance." Her violet eyes shone with tears as she spoke, Purnisc's ring on the table next to the women's clasped hands.

When Kaenra smiled and said she’d think about it, that was when Sagani suspected that even if it turned out she wasn’t a Watcher, this girl might really be something special after all.

—

Axa could feel them watching her as they settled into their room at the Goose and Fox that night, could feel them wanting to know. Not only so they could understand why she had done what she had with Purnisc and Kaenra, but also so they could (no doubt) uncover and examine all the painful, humiliating life experiences behind her every decision, all her successes and failures, and then judge her accordingly. Like kith will, she thought, of course. That’s normal and healthy to think.

Genuine concern mingled with morbid curiosity, hung palpably over the group like a scythe posed to reap as everyone sat and waited for Axa to break the oppressive silence. So she drained her goblet, emptied her pipe, got out her whiteleaf, and with a grim sense of determination, she told them about it.

About the career she'd built back in Ixamitl, where she had lucked into a scholarship to a prestigious lore college, bestowed on her by a generous politician acquainted with her father. Because she'd always loved to learn and hear stories about kith from around the world, she had chosen to put her good fortune to good use and study to become a naturalist, concerning herself with the cultures and languages and histories that constituted the kith population of Eora.

While most of her colleagues had decided to specialize in Vailian– a popular choice for the political or business-oriented crowd– Axa fancied herself an intellectual, and so she had challenged herself with mastering Ordhjóma: the exotic, mysterious language of the Glamfellen, separated for 10,000 years from their tropical Sceltrfolc cousins in the far-flung, frozen south, in The White that Wends. She had thrown herself into her studies, blowing through massive tomes and ancient scrolls like a hurricane, outperforming her peers with ease. Within four years, Axa had risen like a Dawnstar to the top of her class.

And then the field work had begun.

"It's one thing to read about a people, learn their language from books and study up on their culture," Axa explained, stuffing her pipe slowly, taking her time. "It's quite another to visit their homeland, speak with them, live among them. I was barely seventeen, I'd never even been out of the city..."

Kana winced, painful recognition in his black eyes. "Culture shock can be particularly difficult for younger scholars. We have certain expectations after all our years of academic study, and to find out that the genuine article doesn't quite match up to the image in one’s head can feel disorienting and disappointing. There's not only the shock, there's anger at the natives, and then the guilt over said anger..."

Axa accepted Aloth's proffered light while Kana trailed off– it always delighted her, using arcane flame for something so trivial as a smoke– and sighed. "That's what was really odd about it. I experienced some culture shock, but ultimately the problem wasn't me. It was them. I know it sounds like I'm just being bitter, but... honestly, for whatever reason, the whole village really was actively freezing me out."

"Nice," Edér chuckled, grinning at the unintentional pun until Aloth's glare chastised him back into solemnity.

"No one wanted to talk to me," Axa continued. "Oh, I tried, incessantly, but they just... kept turning away, or answering with nonsense or... or riddles. My colleagues had little difficulty integrating, but I felt like my presence was just barely tolerated by the villagers. I tried asking the other lore students about it, but they either feigned ignorance really well or they honestly couldn't tell what these Glamfellen had against me."

"Some sort of... racial prejudice, perhaps?" Aloth looked as uncomfortable as he sounded, but at least the topic was broached. Axa shrugged.

"I don't think so, but I honestly have no idea. The other three scholars with me weren't orlans, but they weren't Glamfellen either. And no one ever specifically said anything about my being an orlan."

Sagani nodded. "In my experience, while most Glamfellen tend to be as standoffish as any elf– no offense, Aloth– they don't usually have specific prejudices like that."

"Right? Ordinarily, unity and hospitality are taken very seriously in the frozen south; to support one another is indispensable to survival. Nevertheless, I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong by them, and it was driving me out of my gods damned mind. I was supposed to be studying local accents, dialects, and colloquialisms, but that's somewhat difficult when nobody will actually speak with you. So, I ended up spending a lot of time eavesdropping on people, mostly outside, by myself."

Sagani shook her head, drawing her whetstone across her hunting knife. "Bad idea to go it alone out there in the White. All kinds of dangers hiding in the snow."

The orlan huffed a sharp, sardonic laugh. "You're telling me. That's how I met Vaargys."

As soon as his name was out of her mouth, Axa could feel her entire demeanor transform, and the atmosphere in the room with her. It was the first time she'd said his name since she'd left home, and even though she knew they'd already been listening, her audience really seemed to be listening now. She felt her face get warm and her eyes sting from the impending tears, so she turned to the window, trying hard to focus on the streets outside and not at her own reflection in the glass.

Come on, girl. You’ve run far enough. It's time you faced this.

"I spotted him from afar one day at dusk: a dark, distant, shaggy figure out there among the rocks, shambling around just beyond the village's borders. It took me a few minutes to even realize he was kith. My colleagues noticed me watching him eventually, warned me away from him: the 'wild man' the locals called the 'Cursed Vagabond,' the 'Exiled Priest.' And he was out there all alone, struggling to survive because nobody wanted him around, and no one would say why..."

"You had a lot in common," Aloth murmured gravely. It wasn't difficult to see where this story was going. And he couldn't help but think it sounded similar, thematically, to one he knew quite well.

"Kith will paint a face on a rock with their own blood if it means they can have someone to talk to," Sagani sighed sadly, sympathy heavy in her chest. She could see where this was going too, and she dug her fingers into the thick fur on the back of Itumaak's neck for comfort. He grunted in appreciation.

"I introduced myself, like you do. He was... cautious, but receptive. It helped that I'd brought gifts." Axa smiled with fond recollection, despite herself. "We got to know one another, and over time we became fond of each other. We started sharing meals and stories about ourselves, our lives. He told me he was a priest of Wael, self-taught, and exiled from his clan for venerating the Eyeless Face instead of the Beast of Winter... He let me get close to him, cut his hair, tend to his wounds..." The tears spilled over at last, and she paused for a moment, hid her face.

"And you fell in love," Sagani finished for her. Classic. Tale as old as time.

Axa smiled again even as she brushed her tears away, dragging her little fist across her golden cheeks. "And I fell hard. I was his first real friend, gave him his first kiss. And very soon, I became his first lover." The men blushed and looked at the floor. Axa and Sagani paid them no heed.

"I was fascinated by him, and he adored me. We made our own little world together there in the caves, in the snow. And we lived there, separate from everyone and everything else. Until I had to return to Ixamitl, of course. But I had a plan: Before I could talk myself out of it, I asked him to marry me– the very night before I was to return to the Eastern Reach. ...Gods, I had known him for only five months."

"And... wait, how old were you?" Edér spoke up for the first time since Axa had started her story, confusion clear on his face.

"I– Seventeen, almost eighteen by the time I went back home," she clarified, miffed at the interruption. "I'm twenty-two, now."

The blond man held his hands out in front of him, squinting at his fingers, baffled. "And... and how old were you when you left home? Hey, how old was he?"

Kana sighed and leaned over, patting him on the shoulder with one huge hand and confiscating the man's pipe with the other. "Erh– Never mind that now, my friend. Please, Axa, continue." He smiled that big, toothy smile at the little woman, and she blinked very slowly.

"...I brought him home to meet my family and colleagues, to assist me in my studies since all I'd really brought back from the Land was him, and ultimately, hopefully, to become my husband. In the interest of brevity– albeit somewhat belated– here’s how all that turned out: my family and colleagues hated and distrusted him, and after I had defended him so fiercely I'd alienated myself from my peers, I found out that about three-quarters of everything he'd ever told me about his home and his language was complete horseshit and all of our work together was complete bunkum. So! I burned it all in a big bonfire behind our house before telling him to leave and never come back."

She had ticked her misfortunes off on her fingers as she’d described them, her hands trembling, and then gesticulated fiercely before letting her fists fall to the small tabletop before her. "And then... I left, too. And now, here I am."

 ...Gods, that was easy. Much easier than I thought it'd be. Why was it so–

She rambled on before she could lose her nerve. "So. That's why I... wanted to do that for Kaenra. My fiancé lied to me and fucked up my life, too, and I can't just ignore that kind of shit when I see it anymore." She sighed, turning to the window again with her pipe still burning away in her hand. "Vaargys is the reason I had to leave my home and everything I've ever known, because his lies ruined my career and my academic standing and my reputation. How could I just stand by and watch it happen to someone else?"

"Yet, you advised Kaenra to forgive Purnisc?" Aloth twisted his fingers together in his lap, staring at them rather than looking at Axa as he spoke. "After... all he'd done?"

Sagani glanced at him, narrowing her eyes as he reached up to smooth his hair– and wipe away a stray bead of sweat in the process. Is it my imagination, or is he...?

Axa kept her gaze fixed on the street below. "Yeah, that sort of surprised me too, to be honest." She spotted a stray soul, its violet wisps of essence drifting slowly amongst the city goers, and she squeezed her eyes shut, felt them burn behind her eyelids. "I suppose... I just got the feeling that it wasn't too late for them, that what they had for each other wasn't so broken it couldn't be repaired. Vaargys and me... not so. There was no coming back from what he'd done, and we both knew it."

"Whatever became of him? Of Vaargys?" Kana leaned forward eagerly, his eyes shining with compassion. For once, he actually wasn't taking notes on the conversation, and Sagani noticed that, too.

Axa opened her eyes, and saw the lost soul on the street no more. She shuddered. "After I confronted him, Vaargys simply... left. Vanished into the horizon, just as abruptly as he'd first appeared to me. And then, I got to clean up after him– after us– all alone. I wasn't up to the task; wasn't really up to the task of anything but hiding in bed and regretting my life decisions up to that point. I could really only scrape together the wherewithal every now and then to go out and sell off or give away all the ridiculous trinkets and baubles we'd accumulated together. A few of the things I tried to get rid of turned out to be stolen, of course– big surprise, Axa, he's a thief and a liar– which did my already brutalized image no favors. Nor my purse, when I was obliged to pay out of my pocket for his chicanery."

"Villain," Kana spat, shaking his head slowly. "Scoundrel! ...Oh, how dastardly, to sow discord between the woman he loves and her neighbors and colleagues, then to abscond, completely free of reproach!" His sorrowful frown was as huge and expressive as his smiles always were, almost theatrically so.

Sagani just barely looked over in time to spot Aloth surreptitiously roll his eyes, and she couldn't suppress her grin. I thought so. Ondra's Lure, they're pretty obvious now that I think of it...

The elf cleared his throat and took the reins. "Shall we assume, then, that your family and friends were unable or unwilling to aid you in your time of need?"

Axa scoffed. "My little brother was sympathetic, but ultimately powerless to help me. He's stuck too far under our mother's thumb. He's a Godlike, and it's made things... difficult, for both of them. He feels obligated to her. As for our mother, she blamed me for my own misfortunes, for 'shacking up' with a man like Vaargys in the first place. So... that sort of says it all about our relationship. My father hasn't been in the picture since I was 13, and any non-academic friends I hadn't already traded for school, I ended up trading for Vaargys. I'd made him my whole world, and he–" She stopped herself, puffed on her pipe. "I don't... really make new friends easily. Never have."

Kana laughed good-naturedly. "With all due respect, present company seems to indicate quite the contrary."

"Ha! Since becoming a Watcher with her own castle who offers to help everyone she meets solve all their problems, I do seem to be quite popular, yes," the orlan agreed with a wry smirk. "...I jest, of course. In any case, the friends I do make, I tend to keep. And cherish." She smiled at Kana earnestly, and now he averted his eyes and went ruddy in the face.

Sagani and Aloth surprised one another, simultaneously faking coughing fits to cover their derisive snorts. Kana went even redder, but still managed a sheepish smile as Axa quickly redirected back to the topic at hand.

"In any case, it was my mother who gave me the idea to relocate to the Dyrwood. She brought back the notice advertising the caravan from the marketplace, threw it at me as I lay in my little nest of quilts and despair, and told me I had better either try and do something to rebuild my life or I may as well just return my soul to the Wheel to start a new one, save it some time and trouble."

"So... in response to your fiancé sabotaging your career and your reputation in your own home community, your own mother told you to... choose between self-exile and suicide?" Aloth spoke very quietly, very carefully. When Axa nodded and shrugged, puffing nonchalantly on her pipe, he couldn't quite come up with anything to say to that.

"As harsh as it sounds," she pressed on as she rose and crossed the room to stand before the hearth, "I agreed with her. I still do. Mama grew up a slave and only finally earned her freedom by running away, so maybe she's biased, but... I was never going to be able to move on like that, lying around like I was dead already, surrounded by bad memories. I had to do something, get up and get out. And she dropped a nice, pre-packaged escape plan in my lap, just like that. Nicest thing she'd done for me in a good long while. ...So. That's what lead me to the Dyrwood."

"And then it lead you to the bîaŵac, the Engwithan ruins, the machine," Kana murmured, rubbing his chin and studying the little woman. "Perchance, did you ever pray to Wael that you might live an interesting life? Because if so, you've had your wish granted many times over!"

"It's funny," Axa sighed as she bent and tapped her pipe against the bricks of the fireplace, "you'd think I'd hold a grudge against Wael, allowing Their priest to make a fool of me like that. But in the end, I had to admit that although he betrayed my trust and wrecked my life, Vaargys hadn't actually ever violated any of Wael's tenets. ...Made me rethink the gods, a bit. Maybe he was a true servant of Wael after all, sent to guide me here for some reason. And I do still pray to Wael for guidance, on occasion."

The aumaua sat up in his chair, beaming. "Ah! Shall we go to the Hall of Revealed Mysteries tomorrow after all, then? We can ask the scriveners' opinion!"

"Gods! I spill my guts to you, and you're still thinking about going to the library?" Axa shook her head and chuckled. "You're a mystery, Kana."

"Wait, so... you were gonna marry the pale elf?" Edér mumbled into his pillow, half asleep and trying to kick his boots off. "But you're an orlan. Would that... how would that work?"

The little woman threw the sheets back on her bed, using a little more force than she'd meant to. "Another mystery, Edér," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Mysteries abound."

The other two men winced as Sagani laid a gentle, steady hand on the orlan's shoulder. "Hey. ...Hel of a day for all of us. Let's call it a night, yeah?"

"Let's, yes." Axa turned and smiled wearily, placing her little hand over the huntress'. "Thank you. All of you. Truly. Tomorrow... tomorrow should be easier, I think."

—

The next morning, Axa woke facedown on the floor halfway between her bed and the door to the room.

The rest of the day proceeded along the same lines.

They made for First Fires first, to visit the Ducal Palace and discern the fate of Edér's brother from the military records, as well as square away some lingering paperwork dealing with Caed Nua. Naturally, they came away from the Palace with no answers for Edér, more paperwork to do with Caed Nua, and a new, even longer list of tasks and priorities.

"You Watchers do that every time you roll into a new town?" Sagani stretched and yawned and Itumaak did the same, both of them glad to finally be back outside. "Introduce yourself, get involved in local politics, promise the townsfolk you'll visit the caves from their visions for 'em?"

"Sure she does," Edér grinned over the dwarf's shoulder. "How d'y'think we met her?"

Axa sighed, rubbing her bleary eyes. "That seems to be my routine since moving to the Dyrwood, anyway. No better way to earn a bit of coin and endear oneself to the locals than to offer a helping hand. The better to 'establish myself in the city,' too, I suppose– apparently a necessity if one just wants to access one little simple gods damned war record." She looked up at Edér with sympathy.

"Perhaps we might start realizing that goal by familiarizing ourselves with the local constabulary?" Aloth waved a slender finger in the direction of the squat, imposing keep that housed the Crucible Knights. "If what the... representative from the Dozens we met yesterday eve says is true, it sounds like they're well in need of the assistance and more than capable of affording your fee."

"Oh, they're more 'n capable of plenty," Edér grumbled as the party approached the stone arch and started up the stairs to Crucible Keep, "but it don't mean they'll actually do what they say they will. The Dozens, they got the opposite problem: they like t' say they done shit they haven't."

"As long as they pay us and help us get you your war records, they can talk all they like and I'll do the doing." Axa flashed her feisty, confident smile at the first Knight she spotted in the great hall–

–and within twenty minutes, she was storming back down the steep stairs, red-faced and fuming, her companions trailing nervously behind her.

"'Orlans aren't suited for the work,' he says!" she spat, flinging her hands about, teeth bared in anger. "We're 'too hostile,' he says! And then Clyver just... throws some bullshit fetch-it job at me and dismisses me like I'm a child!"

"Now, Axa, please, just– just try and calm down..." As soon as Kana said it, Sagani winced in sympathy for the stupid man. Oof... Wrong approach there, lad.

And she was right. Axa whipped around so fast that the huge man stumbled backward in surprise, nearly tripping over his own feet. She reached up to jab a finger into his solar plexus while her eyes, narrowed into slits like thin violet blades, cut into him. "Never tell me how to feel, Kana, never again. Or by the Beast, I'll show you fucking hostile."

She whirled back to fore, marching away with her fists clenched at her sides, leaving Kana to stare after her and press his palm to the divot she'd poked in his belly. He watched as Sagani and Aloth followed close behind her, before he turned to Edér, eyes wide with bewilderment.

The blond chewed his pipe stem, giving the ochre-hued lad a look of pity. "First time pissin' off a woman? Or... just an orlan woman?"

"Hardly," Kana chuckled, "on either count. Why, it's not even my first time pissing off that particular orlan woman!" He shook his head, slowly ambling after the little woman, taking his time to catch up. "Although that barrel of powder was already well primed to explode, and not without reason. I suppose I just had no idea how serious the anti-orlan sentiment really was around here. Evidently, even the justiciars will make brazen, odious assumptions about a perfectly amicable visitor like Axa based on nothing more than bigoted superstition! And with the four of us standing right there alongside her, no less!"

"Well, I mean, yeah, but... I wasn't gonna say anything." Edér looked away, scratching at the back of his neck, and Kana turned to rebuke the man before realizing, with no small amount of shame, that he hadn't said anything to the justiciar to defend Axa either. He fell uncharacteristically silent pondering this, and Edér thumped him affectionately between the shoulders, passing the other man his pipe in the spirit of brotherhood. For whatever reason, it made Kana feel worse.

It didn't take the two men very long to catch up to the others. They had come to a dead stop not too far away, the three of them standing just beyond the threshold of a nearby building– or, what was once a building. The burnt out, crumbling ruins of Defiant Bay's temple to Woedica appeared to Edér and Kana to be rather unremarkable, considering its purpose and patron. Weeds poked up through the broken stone, insects and small vermin skittered amongst the scattered bricks.

And there Axa stood near the center of the ruin, still as a statue, staring into thin air. The clouds shifted with the wind, and a thin, feeble sunbeam dragged itself slowly across the district, catching her in the light for just a moment, but she made no sign of noticing.

Kana sidled up timidly behind Aloth, peering at the little woman over the elf's head. "Is... is she quite alright? I didn't upset her that badly, did I?" He looked to Sagani, hoping to see an encouraging face, but found the huntress entirely fixated on the orlan woman instead.

"Don't worry, Kana, it's nothing to do with you." Sagani's voice was quiet and clipped, and her face wore concern and shock in equal measure. "She's just... talking to a ghost."

"Oh– why, so she is!" Kana still stood behind Aloth– reminding himself of hiding behind his mother as a child after he'd angered one of his sisters– but he leaned forward all the same to better observe her. Sure enough, the signs were all there: her blank eyes, her unsteady stance, her lack of response to stimuli.

"Told ya, she just does that sometimes," Edér quipped, returning some of the dirty looks they were starting to draw from passersby. "We let her. She seems t’ like it."

Aloth leaned away from the giant chanter looming over his shoulder. "The shock starts to wear off after you've seen her do it a few times," he assured Sagani politely.

And as if on cue, Axa suddenly shuddered and blinked, coming out of her trance dazed and slightly paler than before. Her voice was shaky, but she kept it under control. "...The temple proper is underground. We can reach it through the catacombs, on the south side of Copperlane. That's... where we'll meet her. The Queen that Was." She turned to her comrades and found Sagani in front of her, the older woman's face a shifting landscape of wonder, fear, pity.

"You really are a Watcher, aren't you?" The way she said it, Axa knew Sagani believed it, now.

She smiled weakly. "I am, yes. For better or for worse."

—

Kana Rua breathed deeply of the sea air as the band of adventurers wandered through Ondra's Gift, and a powerful, heart-wrenching homesickness hit him like a punch to the gut. The smell of the ocean was the smell of home to him, and he'd been landlocked so frequently as of late on his journey across the Eastern Reach that he'd started to find it hard to recall the exact details of its tangy, briney aroma. Although the winds from the bay that swept across him now didn't smell quite like the ones he'd enjoyed back home in Tâkowa– rather fishy smelling, this particular shore– they were still a fond reminder of his coastal home, a kindness from Ondra Herself to him, here in Her namesake district in this faraway land.

Chest and mind alike full of the heady fragrance of the waves, he smiled down at Axa, and the little woman smiled back, giving his elbow a gentle squeeze. She had apologized to Kana for her earlier outburst as soon as she'd had time to process her conversation with the ghostly Woedican worshipper, and he had responded with a lengthy apology of his own for his cowardly silence during her earlier confrontation with the bigot at Crucible Keep. Before long, they were laughing and jesting as though nothing had ever happened. Neither of them could stay angry with a friend for very long, it seemed, and both were amenable to a sincere admission of guilt and a genuine attempt to make amends.

And he couldn't deny that the more time he spent in conversation with her, the more he found himself blushing and grinning stupidly, stumbling over his words. Though it felt... coarse to dwell on it, he couldn't help but wonder if there might be something between the two of them. We suffer misunderstandings here and there, but ultimately, she seems rather fond of me. And I have to admit, she's a stunning little beauty... She's strong, principled, fantastically clever... And her charm–

"Smells like a kraken took a shit out here and died," Axa groused, her lip curling back in revulsion as she tried to peer around the other pedestrians crowding the street. "Gods, I detest the sea. ...We must be lost. Isn't there supposed to be an inn around here somewhere?"

Kana cringed as his amorous daydreams quickly deflated. "Ah... there is, yes, the... Salty Mast," he replied reluctantly. "But, erh, you might not wish to give custom to–"

The crash of a heavy wooden door being flung against masonry shattered any sense of tranquility left in the muggy afternoon. Everyone on the street, Axa and crew included, quickly turned to the source of the clamor: a tall, slim woman in silver armor and purple silks, evidently doing her damndest to tear the door to the Vailian Trading Company office off of its hinges on her way out of the building. She appeared to be Ocean Folk at first glance, but when she whipped her head of thick, dark hair around, her feathers–

Her feathers, cerulean and emerald and azure, caught the late afternoon sunlight, fluffed up and fluttered in the breeze. Axa could hear the others around her gasping, whispering, but she–

–a gift, honeycomb, a gift from the Sky-Mother Herself! Oh, Axa, look at him, look at your beautiful little brother and she'd looked and seen feathers, feathers and blood and wet, pink flesh–

–had seen an Avian Godlike before.

"Gods damn that son of a cur!" Her voice was smooth and melodious despite her fury and fervor, and as Axa approached she found herself met by a pair of sharp, golden eyes that rivaled her own in intensity.

The feathered woman sneered, gesturing to the building she'd exited seconds before. "Ado. Looking for work? You could try your hand at running a down-on-its-luck Vailian Trading Company. There'll be a good position opening up soon enough, provided you don't mind mopping up your predecessor's blood before assuming his duties." Her Vailian accent was strong and rich, and she glared at the badly abused door, arms crossed over her chest, careful not to obscure the five suns on her breastplate.

Axa looked at the door herself just in time to see a frantic little fellow inside scramble to shut it as best he could. She turned back to the woman before her, whose scowl cut ever deeper into her striking features. "Uh. W‐well–" It took the little woman longer than usual to find her voice– "Enough coin, and you'd be surprised how well damn near anything'll clean up."

The scowl eased up, for a moment. "True enough. Verzano's just lucky he's not getting his payments in steel these days. Or not yet, anyway." The armored lady cast her piercing gaze at the orlan one last time– pinkish-white membranes sliding up out of the corners of her eyes– before striding purposefully up the road Axa and her companions had just come down.

No one spoke until the brilliant woman had vanished into the crowd, and then it seemed like everyone had something to say all at once. Axa had to lean in close for Sagani to hear her over the din. "I know we made a promise to take you to those cliffs," the redhead told her, "and I do intend to honor that promise. But do you think you'd mind if we made a brief diversion?"

Sagani saw Axa's violet eyes lingering on the ruined front door of the VTC branch office, and the little huntress grinned, Itumaak perking up at her side. "Don't mind a bit, Watcher. Never could resist a good mystery."

—

[rayshippouuchiha]

god the follow up with jiraiya kills me both because godammit jiraiya you fucked up but also because whats gonna happen when he gets there. that is, what is GAARA going to do when he realizes this guy is here because He Lost Naruto? gaara: i promised naruto i would stop killing people who annoyed me But Im Willing To Make A Fucking Exception

Gaara isn’t sure, exactly, what he was expecting when he was summoned to the Council Chambers directly after returning to the village.

He hasn’t killed anyone inside of the village since before the failed invasion and since Rasa’s death and all that had followed, he’s been attempting to … turn over a new leaf he believes is the way the saying goes.

To protect Suna and its people, to prove himself more than the monster he spent so long trying to be, has become Gaara’s driving force.

‘Well,’ Gaara can’t help but think more than a bit wryly, a hand coming up to press against the pocket sown into the inner folds of his top and the treasure it holds safely against his heart, ‘that is, perhaps, not entirely accurate.’

Gaara’s true driving force is a great deal more … focused.

Either way he’s been making a concentrated effort to be better than he once was so a summons to the Council Chamber is more than a bit unexpected.

Stepping inside and coming face to face with none other than Jiraiya of the Sannin is even more unexpected.

There’s a few minutes of obligatory introductions, the Council making ingratiating small talk and the like, but Gaara stands silent in the center of it all.

He never once takes his eyes off of Jiraiya even as a prickle of unease traces down his spine.

Finally the Council trails out of the room, surprisingly comfortable with leaving Gaara alone with the Sannin.  Or, more than likely, less than eager to be trapped in a room with the both of them on the off chance violence erupts.

Normally Gaara would hold his silence but there’s a prickling down his spine and a curiosity and unease itching at his brain that prompts him to speak.

“Tell me,” Gaara says softly, “Jiraiya of the Sannin, where is Uzumaki Naruto?”

Across the way Jiraiya’s brows furrow and his mouth thins. 

“That,” Jiraiya says after a too long pause, “is actually what I came here to ask you.”

Gaara’s already rigid posture stiffens even more.

In the back of his mind Shukaku stirs in discontent but Gaara presses the urge down ruthlessly.

He can’t, won’t, attack the Sannin.

Not when he knows exactly who he is to Naruto.

Not unless or when Naruto tells him otherwise.

Because if Naruto were to ever give the word, if he ever even hinted that he would prefer Jiraiya or anyone else gone…

Well.

“Explain.” The demand comes out as more of a hiss than a word, like a kettle steadily building steam.

“Look,” Jiraiya reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “me and the kid we had a …. disagreement and he took off.  He won’t go back to Konoha, at least not for a while, so I figured … he talked about you.  A lot actually.  Said you were friends.  I figured if he went anywhere that wasn’t Konoha, it’d be here.  To you.  So if he asked you to act like he isn’t here, if you’re housing him, I’d like to know so we can put this behind us.”

Gaara stays silent, mind whirling like the desert sands.

Naruto had … run away?

The very thought feels almost blasphemous somehow.

So Gaara very carefully doesn’t answer Jiraiya outright.

Instead he just inclines his head in Jiraiya’s direction, a gesture ambiguous enough to hopefully buy him some time.

“Naruto was very … excited about traveling with you,” Gaara states quietly and just the slightest bit leading.  “He was very upset when he left you.”

Gaara has no doubt about that.

Jiraiya’s wince is rather surprisingly poorly hidden even as he holds his silence.

Yes, there is definitely more to this than is being said.

Gaara is certain, without a single shred of doubt, that there is more to the story.

And he also knows, as sure as the rising sun, exactly whose side his aid will fall on.

“The Council will provide you with rooms,” Gaara finally says, already turning towards the door.  “Refresh and rest yourself.  I will return to my rooms and see if a … resolution of some sort can’t be found.”

“Tell the kid I’m not upset,” Jiraiya tells him, something like grief or guilt flashing across his face, tugging the wide set of his shoulders down for a split second.  “Tell him I’m … just tell him to come see me.  Soon.”

Gaara doesn’t answer, just keeps moving.

 ~~~

A hour later finds Gaara in his own rooms, settled down in his customary place by the window.

The apartment is empty around him as it always is.

Even though he has made some progress with Temari and Kankuro both Gaara still lives on his own in a set of rooms in a more secluded part of the Compound.  So many years on his own, pressed into isolation, makes the very idea of sharing a living space with his siblings … unsettling.

His hand comes up to press against his heart again, a move that’s quickly become second nature to him over the past months.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Gaara whispers to himself, to the stillness of his home, to the watching moon.  “What was done to drive you away and where have you gone?”

Because he’s not here with Gaara no matter how certain Jiraiya seems to be that Gaara would be Naruto’s first stop.

Gaara, on the other hand, is rather certain he knows better.

He likes to think that months of letters being exchanged has given him a certain degree of insight into his first and only friend.

No one had been more surprised than he when Naruto’s first letter had arrived only weeks after they’d last seen each other.

But Gaara had read that letter with a mix of helplessness and elation bubbling to life inside of him.

And then he’d written back.

And things had spiraled from there.

And now Gaara has a chest set aside solely to hold Naruto’s letters as well as copies of the ones he himself had sent to his friend, each copy carefully dated and stored away in their proper order.

The only thing out of place is …

Gaara reaches into his top and removes his prized possession from the hidden and reinforced pocket he always keeps it in.

It is, after all, the first gift he’s received since he killed Yashamaru.

It’s nothing extravagant, just a thin piece of lacquered wood, simple and unremarkable really.

But it’s what was painstakingly engraved on it that matters to Gaara.

Because pressed into the wood is a single, perfect spiral.

An Uzumaki Clan Spiral Gaara knows now.

And nestled, cradled, in the very center of that spiral is a familiar kanji.

Ai.

Love.

His kanji.

The symbolism had been enough to take Gaara’s breath away when he’d first seen it.  He still feels a little breathless every time he looks at it even after all this time.

‘It’s you and me,’ the letter Naruto had enclosed it in had explained. ‘My spiral and your tattoo.  Now we can be together no matter how far apart we are.’

And in that moment Naruto had disarmed him completely without even trying.

With a nearly silent sigh, Gaara brings the token up, presses his lips against the smooth edge of the wood, and then tucks it back into his top.  A comforting ritual now complete.

He doesn’t know what’s happened between Jiraiya and Naruto but he does know where his loyalties lie.

And so he knows exactly what he’ll do.

He’ll do everything in his power to buy Naruto time.

Perhaps he’ll be able to stall long enough to give Naruto even more of a head start on his journey.  Maybe he’ll be able to ensure that Naruto has more time to put even more distance between himself and whatever it is Jiraiya has done to hurt him.

It is the very least that Gaara can do.

For Naruto.

His friend.

The one who gave him a new way of life.

His driving force.

Besides, if Gaara doesn’t hear from Naruto soon, he’ll just have to set out and  look for his friend himself.

It’s not like there’s anyone in the village who could stop him.

~~~

Weeks later a letter embossed with a familiar seal makes its way into Gaara’s hands.

He smiles.

[lveclouds]

a/n: an atla au that i’ve been planning to write about for a while hehe and i apologize that this oneshot  jumps around a lot (oops) and it is slightly different from the actual show and wow this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao and this is very much raw and unedited so if there are any mistakes, that’s on me fklkflkf

genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, doomed love 

rating: pg-15 (see tw)  (i’ve bolded them so they are easier to see) 

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: avatar! reader x firebender yoongi

warnings: a bit of violence, (it’s nothing graphic), light swearing, mentions of family death (very brief and doesn’t go into much detail), mentions of blood (very brief), a nightmare sequence, major character deaths (nothing  too graphic or super violent)

summary: you were supposed to hate min yoongi. after all, he was from the fire nation, and their people were responsible for the chaos that had divided the four nations all those years ago, and for the death of your family. however, no matter how many times you fought, and no matter how many times he got under your skin, you eventually caught feelings, and now the two of you were in a relationship that was never meant to happen. and now, you, along with yoongi, have to face the consequences. 

disclaimer: i own none nothing related to atla (the story, setting, etc) all rights go to nickelodeon and michael dante dimartino, the main creator of this amazing show.  also, originally, the cooling chamber is used for prisoners who dare to step out of line while imprisoned on boiling rock, and they are only rendered unable to bend for a full week. however, i decided to change it because i don’t want to make their deaths too graphic or violent or disturbing, as the show barely has anything like that and i do not want to disturb my readers. 

“he was like fire, and i like water, and we often clashed, but somehow, we managed to fall in love. however, because we fell in love, a grave punishment awaited us, one that would haunt us for the rest of our lives.” 

prologue

min yoongi. the mere mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil and your insides churn with anger and hatred. he was arrogant, hot-headed, and worst of all, infuriatingly gorgeous. messy, raven hair that fell into his eyes, which were dark and piercing, pink lips that always curved into that irritating smirk you despised, perfect cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and the long scar on his left eye, which would’ve made anyone else look terrifying, but somehow, it only made yoongi even more attractive than he already was, which deeply vexed you. he was from the fire nation, whom you hated with all your heart. they were responsible for the death of your family all those years ago, when you were just a little girl who didn’t know the complexities of the world, nor did you know that you would one day be the one to put an end to the all the slaughter and turmoil. you remembered the day they invaded your village all too well. you had been helping your mom prepare dinner, when, all of a sudden, loud shouts pierced the air, and you heard the crackle of fire and heavy footsteps making their way onto the shore. your father, already armed with his armor and scimitar, rushed outside, yelling over his shoulder for your mom to protect you and your brother. your mother, who was firm and loving above all things, calmly instructed for you and your brother to slip out of the tent if things went bad, to which you agreed to, despite being deathly terrified of what was going to happen. before you knew it, the flap of your tent was blown open, and you felt a rush of warm air wash over you, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, holding back a terrified scream as two fire nation soldiers barged in, mouths twisted in evil smirks. they grabbed your mother roughly by the wrist, who put up to resistance as they dragged her away, and you felt tears fill your eyes. to your horror, your brother, who was only eight years old, ran after your mother, who was looking at him with tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading him to go back inside. her attempt was in vain, as your brother persisted, desperate screams escaping his throat, and you were frozen in the corner, tears freely falling down your face, watching, petrified, as your kind and outgoing and brave brother was dragged away, possibly to his death. after you had managed to calm down, you quickly gathered all you had, which was nothing much, just a water skin that your grandmother had gifted you before she died. despite it being nothing too significant, you still held it dear to your heart. somehow, you had managed to escape, quietly hiding behind ruins of igloos and tents, and escaped onto a boat, not daring to look back at the destruction that the fire nation had caused. and, as you let the boat carry you away, you clutched the water skin to your chest and cried. 

(fin.) 

fast forward ten years later, and you were now eighteen, and you had traveled all around the four nations, being sure to avoid the fire nation at all costs. within the ten years that you had traveled, alone and unarmed, you had managed to discover something: you were the avatar, the one person who would be responsible for stopping the war between the four nations and the only one capable enough to stop the fire nation and their scheme to take over the entire world. at first, you didn’t want to believe it, for you were a poor girl who grew up in a small village in the southern water tribe, and as far as you knew, none of your ancestors were avatars, at least, or so you thought. turns out, your great great grandmother had been a past avatar, a very powerful one at that. you hated to admit it, but you were terrified. after all, being the avatar wasn’t going to be easy, and, to top it all off, you had to save the world from absolute peril. granted, you weren’t exactly experienced in the whole “avatar” thing, but you were willing to try. and, so far, you had been able to improve your waterbending, and had mastered earthbending. now, you were working on your airbending, studying scrolls you had picked up while exploring an abandoned air nomad temple. you were currently staying at a small inn located in a remote village in the earth kingdom, training nearly every day. however, you found it difficult to concentrate, for thoughts of min yoongi popped into your mind, which greatly irritated you. you had had only a few encounters with the arrogant prince to be, but you had come to despise him. you hated the fact that you thought of him, for you could just imagine that stupid smirk on his face if he found out, and for heavens sake, you hoped it would stay that way. every fight you two had made your blood boil, and the sarcastic remarks and teasing only deepened your hatred. you vowed to never fall for an arrogant asshole like him, nor would you ever consider giving up anything for yoongi, not a chance. little did you know that three years  later, you loving yoongi would be your greatest downfall. 

yoongi gritted his teeth in annoyance at the trembling servant before him, trying not to get irritated at his cowardice. “speak.” he grumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “i-i ‘m s-sorry your highness, i-i didn’t mean to tell your sister about the a-avatar. i-it just-” it just what?” “i-it was a mistake, your highness.” yoongi sighed. he was exhausted from the countless meeting his father forced him to attend that day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with such a fool of a servant. “whatever, just don’t let it happen again,now, get out of my sight.” yoongi muttered, waving his hand absentmindedly. the servant nodded, frantically getting up, sputtering out apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he exited his bedroom. yoongi groaned in annoyance as he hopped down from the chair he’d been sitting on, stretching out his weak limbs. the meetings had been quite tiring, and yoongi thought he was going to insane from listening to incompetent men ramble on and on about pointless war strategies. ok, yoongi knew that coming up with war strategies wasn’t easy and they were doing their best, but none of the strategies they come up with have succeeded, and yoongi was starting to lose faith in them. yoongi knew he could be a bit hotheaded and a bit arrogant and selfish at times, but he wasn’t heartless, and deep down, he knew that the men were just trying to help with the crisis that was plaguing the world. yoongi sighed and plopped down onto his bed, closing his eyes. he was so tired to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to get under the covers, and soon sleep came over him, covering him like a blanket. 

y/n scowled, clenching her fists together tightly, her dark eyes full of anger and spite. her beautiful face was bloody and a long scratch was on her forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice. yoongi had been thrown off to the side, clutching his arm awkwardly, and there were smudges of dirt and blood on his face, and his body felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles, but all he could focus on was y/n, facing off against the fire lord, rage ablaze in her eyes. the fire lord gave her a once over and sneered. “so, you’re the so called avatar? heh. you look weak, and definitely not enough to defeat me.” y/n’s scowl only deepened, and yoongi could see the ember of a flame kindling in her now open palm, illuminating her features in a orange and red glow. “you killed my family, didn’t you?” she hissed, the flame in her hand getting stronger, sparks flying in the air. the fire lord let out a dark, heartless chuckle. “oh, you mean the powerless and pathetic waterbenders who didn’t even try to put up a fight? ah, well, if you must be so curious, i did kill them. they were imprisoned for a while, and i ordered my soldiers to starve them, and when i got tired of keeping them alive, i took their lives with my own hands.” yoongi stared in horror as the flame in y/n’s hands got bigger and bigger, and her dark eyes glowed with fury, a strong wind lifting her up in the air, and she was now a blue streak against the dark sky. when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t normal, it was almost as if she had been possessed, and that’s when yoongi realized: she had entered the avatar state. suddenly, a fight broke out, and yoongi shielded his eyes from the debris and the smoke that was heading his way, struggling to see. and, when the smoke finally cleared, yoongi’s heart felt as if had been ripped out of his chest. his father was dead, lying in an awkward heap on the ground, and a few feet away lay y/n, her blue dress tattered and torn, her body lifeless. yoongi held back a scream as he crawled over to her body, fighting back tears. her dark hair was messy and strands fell over her face, and with shaking hands, yoongi reached out to brush them away, there were scratches and bruises covering her arms and legs, and the cut on her arm had gotten worse, and then he noticed the piece of metal in her chest, blood pouring out of the wound. yoongi finally let the tears fall, grasping hold of her now cold hands, letting his emotions pour out of him like a waterfall. 

yoongi shot up, his brow coated with sweat, breathing heavily. his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he felt as if his ears were ringing. over the past few weeks, he had been having recurring dreams of y/n dying in different ways, and he couldn’t understand why. why was he, out of all people, having dreams of her dying over and over again? why? he scowled and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “this makes absolutely no sense. i don’t love her,  nor do i have feelings for her, so why am i having these dreams?” he mumbled to himself, head swimming with thoughts. yoongi shook his head, as if to try and rid himself of what he had just dreamed of. he decided to go back to sleep and not try to think of her, for it would only cause him more confusion. 

(three years later) 

you dodged a flying rock just barely, propelling yourself upwards with air, landing gently on your feet just seconds later, and allowed yourself a quick sigh of relief before turning back to the battle at hand. your bending had gotten better since then, and you were just mastering firebending, the one element you dreaded learning, but alas, as your duty as the avatar, it was mandatory to master all four elements. you were currently locked in a slightly tense fight with thugs from the earth kingdom, who had previously tried to steal your belongings just weeks ago, and as you were on your way to the local market to pick up some food, you were ambushed. luckily, the thugs weren’t too dangerous, and had a few weapons, but not any you were too concerned about. after the thugs were lying on the ground, groaning in pain, you wasted no time in running away, not bothering to look back, just in case one of them recovered. the local market was ablaze with activity, street vendors selling food and other items, such as jewelry and cloth and weapons, and some were even offering to read your palms. you made sure to stick to the stalls that were run by people who didn’t seem to care about the avatar, and those who seemed to just see you as a normal girl, which was enough for you. after all, you weren’t even supposed to be going to crowded public places, as there is a chance that anyone could recognize you, but since you had been to the market so many times and no one seemed to bother you, well, you didn’t worry too much. however, you still kept your guard up, making sure no one was following you and trying not to use your bending without people seeing. you rushed back to the inn you were staying at, making sure to look over your shoulder as you went, feeling your heartbeat speed up a bit. yoongi was lying down on one of the beds, eyes closed, chest falling up and down peacefully, his soft breaths filling the room. “yoongi? are you awake?” he cracked open one feline shaped eye, lips curving into a small smile. “mmm. was just closing my eyes.” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear. you bit back an amused smile at the sight of yoongi in a tattered red cloak that was a far cry from the royal garbs he was used to wearing all the time. his dark, raven hair had gotten longer, and the strands were now falling into his eyes, and most of the time, his hair was messy and a bit unruly, but you didn’t mind. you hummed softly as you prepared dinner, which was noodle soup and fish. while you were adding ingredients to the stew, you heard yoongi slide off the bed and walk over to you, his bare feet soundless on the wood floor. strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “you’re finally up, huh?” “i was awake, i was resting my eyes.” “uh huh, and those little snores i heard? those were fake?” yoongi huffed. “shut up, i wasn’t snoring.” “whatever you say, yoongi.” you singsonged. yoongi sighed and let go of your waist, settling down in front of the small table in the center of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. “is the food almost ready?” “yes, your highness.” you teased, pouring the stew into a wooden bowl, steam rising into the air. as the two of you ate dinner that night, yoongi told you stories about his life in the palace, and how he had almost fallen asleep at a meeting because he was so bored. “seriously? and you got away with that?” yoongi shrugged, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, and you nearly laughed when you saw a piece of rice sticking to his bottom lip, but refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to embarrass him. “they know i barely get any sleep, so i guess they’re used to it.” “why?” “why don’t i get any sleep?” “well, i used to have nightmares, mostly about my father killing me, you dying, and a few other things, and i don’t know, i’ve always been a night owl, i guess.” your heart dropped down into your chest. “what? you ‘ve had dreams of me dying?” yoongi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “yeah. but i don’t have them anymore. i had them before we fell in love or whatever. we hated each other before, in case you forgot.” “but, i still don’t get it. why would you have dreams of me dying?” yoongi shrugged once again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “not sure. anyways, don’t worry about it. it was a long time ago.” you nodded, but deep down, you were still a bit doubtful that the dreams were “nothing.” they had to mean something, you thought as you forced yourself to eat another piece of fish. you lay in bed later that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the inn, lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder if the dreams that yoongi had all those years ago meant something. you weren’t afraid of death, necessarily, as you knew that all life stopped eventually, but you were scared of when it would happen, after all, you hadn’t saved the world yet, nor had you mastered the four elements. you shook away all bad thoughts, silently scolding yourself for being paranoid, and snuggled deeper into yoongi’s side, letting sleep take over. 

the next morning, you awoke to the smell of smoke, and you immediately shot up out of bed, looking around for yoongi, who was nowhere to be seen. a wave of fear washed over you as you rushed to gather your belongings, heart beating wildly in your chest. you quickly put out the small fires that were blazing in the inn, turning the wood to ash, and ran outside. the sight that awaited you turned your blood cold. yoongi was being held captive by fire nation soldiers, hands tied with rope, and there was a smudge of dirt and blood on his right cheek, but otherwise, he looked unscathed, and you allowed yourself some relief. one of the soldiers, a tall and lean man, sneered at you as you got closer. “if it isn’t the avatar. thought we’d never see you, and honestly, i’m quite disappointed. thought you’d be taller, and well, a male.” you felt a surge of anger wash over you, clenching your hands into fists. “what do you want?” “first, surrender now and we’ll consider sparing your life.” “and if i refuse?” “if you refuse, then we’ll kill you while he watches.” you gritted your teeth in annoyance and snuck a glance at yoongi, whose expression was unreadable.  you sighed and slowly put your hands up in surrender, and before you could react, you were pinned down to the ground, dirt flying into your eyes, making you sputter, and you felt a knee dig into the small of your back, and you hissed at the sharp pain that shot through your shoulder. . “what are you doing?! you said you wouldn’t harm her!” yoongi screamed, dark eyes ablaze with anger. “you’d really think we’d spare her? she’s the reason why we’re always getting scolded, and the reason why our people are suffering, so she deserves to die.” “your people are suffering?? don’t you mean our people?” the soldier who was pinning you to the ground let out a bitter laugh. “our people? the fire nation no longer sees you as a prince, for you turned your back on your nation and ran away with the avatar. your father is ashamed of you, and you are no longer welcome in the palace.” yoongi scoffed. “please. i was never accepted by my father, and i got tired of living there, too many rules to abide by. the fire nation is pathetic and my father is a piece of shit. i used to be blinded by the teachings and the values that we lived by, but not anymore. the fire nation deserves to be burnt to the ground, and i hope i get to be around to see it happen.” you watched in horror as yoongi was kicked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain, body falling in an awkward heap on the ground. tears welled up in your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away, for you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone, especially in front of fire nation soldiers, no less. the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. 

after a long stretch of silence, yoongi cleared his throat, causing the soldiers to look at him, sneers immediately forming on their faces. “what is it now?” “let her go, you can take me back to the palace and i will receive whatever punishment awaits me, even if it’s death.” your blood ran cold as soon as the words left his mouth, heart dropping down into your chest. the soldier who was holding you down let you go, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in your back subsided. the soldiers laughed, and you felt dread rush over you. “awww, how cute. loverboy’s willing to give up his life for the pathetic excuse of an avatar this girl is.” one soldier said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “no, take me instead,  i’m the one the fire lord wants to see dead.” the soldiers looked at each other and almost immediately, satisfied smirks appeared on their faces. then,you were roughly helped to your feet, and your hands were tied with rope. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yoogni looking at you, dark eyes swimming with tears, silently begging you not to go, and you felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was too late: you had already made up your mind. you were willing to sacrifice anything for yoongi, even if it meant inevitable death. you swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in your throat as you were led away. suddenly, you heard loud screams from behind you, and you whirled around to see yoongi, who had somehow managed to break free from his restraints, the sharp features of his face illuminated by the orange and red flames that he was throwing at the soldiers, who tried to dodge them, but to no avail. even from afar, you could see the tension in yoongi’s shoulders as he fought, dodging fireballs every now and then, sweat forming on his brow. you could only watch as he singelhandedly fought off soldiers from his own nation, anger coming off him in waves. and, just as he was about to run towards you, his eyebrows set in determination, you felt the hilt of a sword slamming into the back of your head, and before the world around you turned to black, you heard a scream of pure agony and distress. 

you awoke in a prison cell, head pounding as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. you groaned as you realized where you were. you had been brought to boiling rock, the most secure prison in the fire nation. the bars of your cell and the walls were made of an indestructible metal, and you immediately regretted not learning metal bending all those years ago. defeated, you slumped down in the corner of your cell, sighing heavily. the fire nation soldiers were right, you thought. you were a poor excuse of an avatar. not only had you fallen in love with one a fire nation prince, but you had also betrayed the values you were supposed to uphold as the avatar by choosing to try and protect yoongi instead of yourself. you knew that the past avatars before you would’ve done the complete opposite, for the sake of the whole world, and you chose to neglect all their teachings and values by trying to save him. you felt tears fall down your face. for the first time since your family’s death, you had never felt so hopeless and scared in your life. you knew that the fate that you had lead yourself to was entirely your fault, for you had chosen to love yoongi and defend him. deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if things would’ve been different if you had not fallen in love with the fire nation prince, but there was also a part of you that didn’t regret choosing yoongi. he had taught you some firebending techniques, and most of all,had treated you like fine china after you had started dating. he had been nothing but good to you since you dated, and you felt like an absolute fool for falling so hard, so quickly. 

you sobbed quietly in your cell, feeling completely helpless and defeated. there was no way you were escaping what was about to come, and you soon fell asleep, dried tears sticking to your face, heart heavy. when you awoke the next morning, you heard a guard unlocking your cell, and you slowly sat up, dread pooling in your stomach. you were led out of the cell and down a long corridor. you were practically shoved inside the interrogation room, which was dimly lit with metal bars in the ceiling, and the guard that was inside pushed you onto a chair, tying you to it with rope, which was rough and itchy against your skin. the interrogator stepped into the room, an old man with prominent frown lines around his eyes, looking at you with utter disdain and disgust. "so, this is the avatar? hmph. seems pretty weak to me." he muttered. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he stood in front of you, eyes piercing. "did you or did you not kidnap the crown prince?" you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "kidnap? i never did such a thing, he voluntarily agreed to travel with me." the old man sighed impatiently. "and you fell in love with him, did you not?" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. "and so what if i did?" the old man smirked, and you fought the urge to break free from your restraints and punch him in his face. "well, isn't the avatar supposed to despise anyone from the fire nation? they have values to uphold, and while i don't know much about your ancestors, they would probably look down on you for it." "fine, i did." the old man scoffed. "it's pathetic, really. i mean, the avatar betraying her ancestors for a lowlife prince?" "i'm not proud of it, but i don't regret it." "is that so? well, you definitely will once you freeze to death in the cooling chamber tomorrow." and with that, he exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. as you were led back to your cell, you felt as if your world had come crashing down. you had been unable to master all four elements, nor had you saved the world from absolute peril. and, once you died, the world would be thrown into absolute chaos, and no one would be able to stop the fire nation from causing absolute destruction.

that night, you sat in your cell, leaning on the wall, thinking about all the memories you had made as you traveled, and the ones you made with yoongi. yoongi, who you hadn't seen since you got knocked out, and who you didn't know was even alive.you knew that it was possible to resent yoongi, for he was one of the reasons why you were now in a prison cell, but you also knew that you were to blame. after all, you had fallen in love with him. despite the fate that was awaiting you the next day, you couldn't help but feel happy that you had lived a decent life, and you had managed to fall in love, even if it was someone you were destined to hate. "i love you, yoongi." you whispered, and you slowly fell asleep, with memories of yoongi in your mind. 

the bitter cold in the room enveloped you like a blanket, and though you had grown up in a village surrounded by glaciers, you had always been covered up in thick clothing lined with fur, keeping you warm despite the harsh temperature. you shivered slightly, rubbing your arms frantically, as if the action would keep you warm. though the cold was unbearable, you were at least grateful you would die slowly, instead of painfully, so at least you could reflect on yourself before you died. you sighed and slumped against the wall of the cooling chamber, feeling absolutely defeated. there was no way you were getting out this time. suddenly, the door to the cooling chamber opened, and someone got shoved inside. the door quickly closed and you could hear the joyful laughs of the fire nation soldiers outside, which vexed you. when you saw who had been placed in the chamber with you, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. it was yoongi, and to your relief, he looked uninjured. “y-yoongi?” you called out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears running down your face. he looked over at you, dark eyes wide. “y/n?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “w-what are you doing here?” “i turned myself in.” “what? why?” “i couldn’t let you suffer without me. after all, i am the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. you fell in love with me, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, freezing to death.” your heart broke at how sad he sounded. “yoongi, don’t blame yourself. i was the one who should’ve left, but i couldn’t bring myself to. i neglected my duty as the avatar and now i’m letting thousands, maybe even millions of people die. all because a certain firebender came into my life.  however, i don’t regret falling in love with you. you’ve helped me become a better person and you even helped me how to control my firebending. you also showed me that it doesn’t matter where you come from and that you shouldn’t let your nation define you. and, honestly, at least your face is going to be the last thing before i die.” despite the cold, you could see a faint shade of pink settle across yoongi’s face, and you allowed yourself an amused smile. “since when did you get so cheesy?” “don’t know. guess certain death just does that to a person.” eventually, you died peacefully with yoongi by your side, and while you deeply regretted not being able to fufill your duty as the avatar, you had at least shown that love didn’t come without sacrifice, and sacrifice didn’t come without love, for you would have gladly given up the world for yoongi. 

a/n: omg this was so long hehe but i hope you all enjoyed this! this oneshot took me forever to type up, but i had so much fun doing it! once again, thank you all so much for supporting me always, and i hope my stories can make you smile, or at least feel some type of emotions! 

tagging: @suhdays @softlyjiminie @softguks @jksmoongf @softlypouty @haylo4ever @sweetheartjeongguk @sketchguk @glossyfever @taeramisu @nahfamily @dylanxmin @saintjeonofbusan @mmmikrokosmos @sunkyeoml @honeylovecult @lomlkook @yoongislovecult @daechwitas @yoongismykink @periminkle @thotxuxi @fairyqook​ @moonmintrails @flowerseok  @koophoriia​@onherwings  @ppersonna​  @ot7always​ @koosgrl​  @cest-la-tae​ @minsprings​ @mygsii​ @roguebangtan​ @minniepetals​ @euphoria-vmin7​ @ladyartemesia​ @gguksbby​ @baekhyyun​ @randomkoalablog​ @yoonsgiggle​ @birthofvcnus​

[ajfanfic]

TITLE: Be Careful

AUTHOR: AJfanfic

PROMPT DAY #1: Soulmates

SUMMARY: Soulmates share each other's pain, they share each other's wounds. Jaskier isn't entirely sure what his soulmate gets up to, but he knows he'd tear the world apart to protect his idiot who keeps getting mauled. Then Geralt returns from a fight with a cut that matches his and it all suddenly makes sense.

WORD COUNT: 1,268

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix Show

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Canon typical violence is referenced.

RATING: General

Read it below the cut, or on my AO3

Jaskier’s soulmate hadn’t gotten hurt in quite a while. Most people would be pleased by that. Jaskier knew better. His soulmate seemed to get antsy when his life wasn’t endangered frequently enough. After a dry spell, the injuries tended to be either much worse or much more plentiful. He was standing at the edge of a cave idly strumming his lute and wondering what the foolish man would get himself into this time. Maybe he’d go run into a haunted cave, like the other fool Jaskier had attached himself to had just done. To be fair, Geralt was more prepared than most to handle the wraith lurking there.

Maybe his soulmate was a witcher or something like it. It would make sense, with the amount of trouble he got into and his remarkable durability. Jaskier’s head snapped up from the chord progression he’d been toying with as a sharp flash of pain flared across his face. He whipped around, searching for some threat. The only sound was the muted clash of silver from inside the cave.

Think of the devil. Jaskier brushed his fingers across his cheek. They came back wet with blood. Not the worst he’d had by far, might even add to his dashing looks if it scarred. He wondered whether someone had thrown something at his soulmate, or if he’d been hit. Maybe he’d just tripped and had run into the corner of a table or something. Jaskier’s mind tended to go to violence first, and he felt he had enough evidence at this point to feel justified. One doesn’t exactly get bitten with the frequency his soulmate does without leading some sort of risk-prone life. Jaskier himself was quite risk-prone, and he’d been bitten no more than twice. Maybe three times, but he didn’t think jealous soon-to-be-exes counted.

His mystery man was often on his mind, but since he began traveling with Geralt, Jaskier had found his mind on him more and more often. The more he wandered, the more likely he was to run into him, but how would he know? It wasn’t like he was able to feel a bump or bruise, he’d have to get hurt enough to break skin in every village they stopped in and then compare wounds with every man around him. What if next time something took a bite of him, it was the last and they missed their chance? Both of them could end up bleeding out without ever meeting. Then Jaskier would be dead, likely by the side of the road, and he’d never know who he was. He hoped Geralt would at least bury him somewhere nice. And if he did find him, would he be able to settle down? Jaskier found the thought twisted his stomach. Him, keeping a little farm somewhere, singing locally. It just didn’t sit right. The thought of how Geralt would fare without him occurred and was quickly dismissed. He’d do just fine.

Geralt came out of the cave just then, as grumpy and dirty as usual, but not otherwise worse for wear. He pushed his hair back from his face. Fuck. A long, deep cut across his cheekbone. Unremarkable, except for its perfect mirror on Jaskier’s face. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Fuck.” Jaskier pulled his dagger from his boot and dragged his sharply against his palm.

“Fuck.” Geralt held up his hand, bloody palm out like an offering, or as if warning off a wild animal.

“It’s you. We’re soulmates.”

Geralt dropped to his knees, and the poet would have laughed had his friend not looked so devastated.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The words sounded like they’d been dragged over broken glass, and Jaskier was shocked his own throat didn’t hurt. “I thought...I assumed I’d killed you long ago.”

Jaskier sighed, “No luck there, I’m afraid. I live. Badly, I know, but I live.” Geralt’s stricken face was becoming entirely too much to bear. He reached down and hauled him up. “It’s not your fault, Geralt. None of it was your fault.”

“How are you so forgiving?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I’m not. Not at all. Actually, I’m quite vicious and vindictive.”

“Vindictive I’ll believe.”

The poet pressed the flat of his palm to Geralt’s lower back. He felt it like a brand through his thin shirt. His strong, delicate fingers unerringly traced the line running straight across his spine, then the one crossing it, and another and another, until he’s traced each of the fifteen lash marks that left scars across Geralt’s back like he had done it a thousand times before. He takes his time, but Geralt couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to, frozen as surely as if by magic.

“I would wake up in the middle of the night, after it happened, shaking from dreams where I’d tear the whip from the hands of whoever hurt you and turn it on them until their spine showed through. And I never felt in the least sorry for it.”

Geralt couldn’t help but shiver and lean into his touch, even as he ground out, “You didn’t know me, then. You didn’t know what I am.”

“That’s true. I didn’t know who you were, beyond someone who spent a lot of time hurting.” Jaskier’s hands mapped out Geralt’s life in wounds across his skin: claw marks along the outside of his thigh, the matching lines a little further up he’d put there himself, a bite to his shoulder just shy of his throat, the line Renfri had left across his forearm. “Now I know you.” His hands came up to hold his face between them so that he wouldn’t look away. Geralt wouldn’t. He hadn’t been able to for a long time. “Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I’d dream about revenge on your behalf, because you are a good man. Because I love you, which has nothing to do with the fact that we share our pain.”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes, please.”

Geralt was so painfully gentle. Jaskier bit his lip sharply, drawing blood from both of them. He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

“I haven’t broken yet. You don’t have to be careful with me.”

“Maybe I want to be careful.”

Jaskier stepped back and Geralt let him go. “Why?” He looked at him, standing there with his swords and his armor, their blood smeared across his face, and he was suddenly angry. “I’m not weak. I can keep up with you, I’ve managed so far.”

“When have I ever said you’re weak?” Geralt tilted his head at him, like Roach did sometimes, like Jaskier had seen children do when they’re scolded but don’t understand why. “Frustrating, certainly. You’re frustrating right now. But you’re as brave as you are foolish and I’m just glad that you are alive.”

His anger left him as quickly as it had come, leaving guilt to rush into its place. “You know, before you came out here, I was trying to not think about how meeting my soulmate would mean giving up traveling with you.”

Geralt closed the space between them and kissed him like he was trying to make up for years of pain, reassurance and a promise all wrapped up in one. Jaskier kissed him back, soothing his tongue against the drop of blood welling on his lower lip. His fingers grazed against Geralt’s stubble-rough cheek and he flinched as they brushed the edge of the gash.

“Can I clean that up?” Jaskier twined their fingers together, pulling him towards Roach. “You don’t need another scar.”