#by your grandson because hes grounded and he can use you as an excuse + he needs helps with some alien artifact or something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ninjahiccups · 2 years ago

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The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 5: His Own Downfall

AO3 link here OC insert version here Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 Word count: 12.5k Warning: Canon typical violence, Heimdall not understanding how friendship works.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Blurb: You and Heimdall are on speaking terms again, just in time for a trip to Niflheim. A bet is placed, one that was dependent on Heimdall's self-proclaimed perfection. The outcome would lead to experiencing something he despises, until you prove how good companionship can be. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shift in your partnership remained. It was like the hostility just withered away into dust. Your encounters lacked the suspicion, reluctance, begrudging grumbles. The only thing that remained was the annoyance, but it was a harmless kind that they both easily brushed off. Something about the second shot at the tour of Gladsheim reset the ground you stood on, evening it out so that you saw eye to eye. A pleasing outcome for both of you.

Heimdall in particular was delighted with your interactions, mainly because he caught you taking his words to heart. You really did try to let go of the behaviors you had been raised to put forth in favor of what felt natural to you. It wasn’t a fluke either, because he saw you activity pushing aside your habits multiple times.

He had just left Odin's study, heading out of the Great Lodge to start his work for the day. As he went up the stairs and into the main hall he found you chatting with the head librarian, who was there to bring various texts to Odin for him to compare with his own copies. She was wearing those oversized glasses again, the same ones you wanted to comment on the last time you had seen them. Heimdall waited around the corner of the stairs for a moment, wondering if you would let it out this time.

You did. The librarian mentioned something about having a hard time reading some of the texts Odin needed because of how faded and tiny the runes in them were. With only slight hesitation, you replied with, "It's a good thing your frog glasses can help you with that," said with a hint of sarcasm to drive home the humor of the comment. The anxiety you felt faded when the librarian laughed heartily and agreed with you. She even shared how her late grandson used to call her grand-frog-ma when he was little. Heimdall heard enough at that point, entering the room and heading for the door, passing you and the librarian on the other side of the table in the center. He made sure you caught him smirking. You only met him with a roll of your eyes. Of course he had to rub it in.

The next day Heimdall took the lift from the wall back down to the ground level, heading to the stables to get Gulltoppr. On his way he found you with Sif, Thor, and Magni, the three Aesir getting rowdy with the drinks in their hands while you were silent. You were smiling politely, but Heimdall could feel that you were ready to get away from their howling and rambunctious antics in favor of some quiet time. He slowed his pace to read you, wondering if the same internal debate you had last time he'd seen you in this state was raging within. You hadn't excused yourrself as soon as you wanted to, but you didn't spend long debating this time. You spoke up while the other three gods took a long swig from their drinks. No lie was given, you simply stated you were tired and needed time to rest. None of your companions complained, wishing you well as you left, thankful that no one was upset. He wasn't along your path this time and couldn't remind you that he was the reason you found the courage to do that. The need to gloat that he felt the first time was absent, however. Instead he felt something else, something far more…innocent. He couldn't quite place it.

A final example, the one he enjoyed the most, took place the day after. Modi had cornered you. Heimdall was looking for the idiot on behalf of Thor, who wanted to spar with his sons. Normally Heimdall would want nothing to do with it, but Thor was too drunk to locate his middle child, and the god of thunder planned on taking the three of them outside of the realm for whatever they were going to do. Heimdall was willing to spare a few minutes if it meant getting all three of them out of the way for a while.

You had figured out by then that you were, unfortunately, a source of competition between Thor's sons. Both of them had been vying for your attention, their admiration spilling over often. All because of your looks, not even noticing the far more complex person beneath. The superficial nature and selfish desires they showed made Heimdall want to vomit, but he was ready to do more than that as he approached you.

You beat him to it this time. Modi had said something about how nice you would look under the candlelight at a pub, and that he'd be happy to show you over a few drinks — a terrible line and creepy. It was an offer (that he and Magni had extended) you had refused before, very cordially and never displaying how unsettled you were by their hounding. This time you chose to be abundantly clear, and not because you had lost your patience, as you had with Heimdall when they met. You wanted to be "assertive."

"You've asked me so many times, Modi, and it has me wondering if you even realize how awful it sounds. For the last time, no, I'm not interested."

Heimdall had to stop in place and hold in the burst of laughter that nearly exploded out of him.

Modi sputtered out an apology, all while cursing his brother for presumably getting to you first. What a complete and utter imbecile.

Heimdall made himself known, enjoying how relieved you were that he interrupted. "You heard the lady. Best not to make an even bigger fool of yourself. Besides, you're needed by the lodge. Your father's orders." Heimdall reveled in the rage brewing in Modi's eyes, and the fear of retaliating that was hidden deeper within. Modi knew better and trudged away, damning Heimdall over and over in his head.

You shook your head, sighing at the young god, thinking that he really was hopeless.

Heimdall chuckled, "How cruel of you, to say and think such things."

You snickered back, walking past him. "Like you wouldn't have said worse."

"I would have loved to." You gave him one more giggle before departing, leaving Heimdall to return to his duties. He felt the desire to go after you, even though he had no reason to.

That feeling he had rose once more. A satisfying warmth for the outcome, making him feel like the world was nothing compared to him. That was a feeling he knew well.

Pride. Not for himself. Not for having a hand in these changes. He was proud of you.

Just three days after you and Heimdall were on speaking terms again, Odin was ready to send you to your next location. The fourth of your seven part journey.

It was Niflheim this time, and this portion of the relic was vital. Odin had emphasized how important it was, showing you the diagram of the artifact once more. It was the spherical gem in the center, where the representation of the world tree resided. That piece housed the bifrost needed to control travel between realms, which meant the entire tool would be useless without it. Odin gave you specific instructions on handling it and sent you on your way, declaring he still had a lot of work to do to find the remaining three segments.

The ravens cleared and you were exposed to the frigid air of the realm of ice, exemplified perfectly by the frozen cave they were dropped into. You shivered, missing the much fairer weather of Asgard right away. You pulled the cloak you wore tighter around you while you casted the spell that showed you the path. Heimdall smirked at you. "Can't handle a little discomfort?"

You started down the path of blue light as you replied, "Says the man who practically loses his mind when his tunic is dirty."

Heimdall's brow twitched at the slight. "Cleanliness and order are necessary."

"Nice excuse," you said sarcastically. Heimdall rolled his eyes, readying a retort until you added, "I forgot to mention after your little 'rescue' yesterday," referring to the incident with Modi. "I finished that book you recommended."

Heimdall raised a brow, ready for the mood to go south as you stepped down a series of icy steps. "It certainly took you long enough. Were you 'forgetting' to tell me because you were too disappointed to talk about it?" He'd expected you not to enjoy it. You did come across as more of a romantic to him, and the ending was far from it.

As you always did, you surprised him. "No. I actually really liked it."

Heimdall grinned. He wasn't sure why.

"I found it very interesting. A dive into the complexities of the mind through two disturbed individuals who came across as normal to others. The unknown fate of one lover and the death of the other was a fitting end, I believe."

His smile grew. Someone finally understood what good literature was. "Very fitting indeed. They both earned what little they were left with. If only it worked the same in real life, everyone getting what they truly deserve."

"If it did then you would definitely be worse off, you know."

You looked at him when he didn't answer. You only found an irritated glare and laughed.

You came across an opening that led out of the cave and into the barren snowy wasteland, mountains and plateaus of snow littering the uneven field before you. There was a steep hill at the exit, all you had to do was slide down. Simple enough, you thought. You cautiously stepped onto the slope and let gravity do the work. Of course, Heimdall wouldn't let you reach the bottom first, being the showoff he was. You paid it no mind, but the distraction made you miss the bump at the bottom, stumbling a little. Not enough to make you fall, which was something Heimdall would have known. Yet you found his hand grasping your arm to steady you, not even looking as he did so. He didn't acknowledge the action. Strange, considering you expected him to mock you for stumbling.

That was set aside. Something to ponder later, when it wasn't so cold. "By the way, that story reminded me of a lot of books I like, including a favorite of mine. Cryptic and abstract in a way that explores the natural flaws of thought. I think you'd enjoy it."

Heimdall followed you as you kept going through the snow. After a few moments he was met with your questioning glance over your shoulder, after jumping over a river of ice.

"And?"

"You don't want a recommendation from me?"

"I don't recall asking for one."

You huffed back, "No, but you did say we have similar interests."

Heimdall shrugged. "I suppose." Said with boredom. "What did you have in mind?"

"Ever heard of Lagerlöf?"

You followed a mountainside to a narrow path that stretched across a white valley below, where Heimdall stepped up to your side and held an arm out in front of you. An ivory bird sped past you before he put his arm down and let you continue. "That doesn't sound like an Asgardian name."

"That's because she was mortal."

"Then your recommendation must be awful."

You waited until you reached the other side of the ice bridge to turn around and show your disappointment. "You're just going to assume it's bad? There is value outside of Asgard."

"Doubtful." Heimdall smirked at you. "You're living proof of that."

"Very funny," you said, thick with sarcasm. The walls around the end of the bridge widened, opening up to a huge field of ankle deep snow. Pillars of jagged ice breached the snowfield and cracked stones with carvings took up swathes of the landscape. In the distance, up on a higher ledge, there was an enormous skull. Something like a vulture by the look of it. The path was calling for it.

There were boulders at your feet and you stepped off of one, landing in the snow. Just as you did, a blue Nightmare dug itself out of the snow, giving you a good scare. Heimdall stabbed it immediately, chuckling at your reaction. You glowered at him upon realizing he let you stumble upon it for entertainment.

You trudged through the snow, grateful that the Asgardian seamstress you befriended on your first morning in the realm had made you sturdy boots recently. "You won’t even consider it?"

"Asgard is the realm of perfection," he explained, his chin rising arrogantly. "It would make no sense to settle for less."

"Asgard is not perfect." You thought of all the times Heimdall complained about the residents, even those that were purebred Asgardians, but had a better counterargument ready. You stopped briefly and donned a cheeky smile. "You're living proof of that."

Heimdall growled back, "Incorrect."

"Muspelheim."

Heimdall wanted to pull his hair out. You really wouldn't let that one go. "That's different."

"It's not."

"It definitely is."

"It definitely is not."

"It is, and I'd be happy to prove you wrong!"

You stopped in your tracks, slowly turning to him. He could feel you oozing with mischief. "Oh really? Would a bet do?"

"A bet?" He was simultaneously weary of the giddiness radiating off of you and intrigued at the suggestion.

You took a step closer to him, your grin growing more genuine. "Yes, a bet. We're bound to run into more unfriendly faces, walk through more unstable land. So how about this: prove you're perfect by not getting hit by a single shard of ice. If you do, you have to read a book I pick out for you, and it will not be from an Asgardian author."

Heimdall guffawed heartily, almost feeling let down. "That's it? You could at least give me a challenge! Let me make this more interesting." He theatrically swept a hand across his attire as he declared, "By the time we are finished here, there will not be a single grain of snow above my boots. And even that is going easy on you."

You giggled at how dramatic he was. You found it endearing, even if it was pompous and annoying. "You want interesting? Let me up the ante then." One more step closer to him, having to crane your neck more to look up at him as he smirked down at you. "If you lose I get to pick two books for you."

This time Heimdall took a step closer. You were easily within arm's reach. "Add whatever you want, it's not going to happen."

"Fine then. Five books."

"And what do I get when I win?"

"I don't recommend anything to you. Simple as that."

Heimdall's voice dropped, like he didn't want anyone to hear them. "That's hardly a reward."

The change made you shiver. You decreased your volume to match his. "For hardly any effort, as you put it."

"No, no, that's not how bets work."

Heimdall kept his eyes on yours, reading every ounce of defiance while staring you down. The intensity and the shining light in his eyes took no time to make you cave. You sighed and broke eye contact momentarily. "Okay. What do you want?"

Heimdall paused. He hadn't thought that far ahead. Asking for a prize was done in the heat of the moment, thriving off the energy you fed into him. It would have been normal to want nothing from you, so this would have ended with him asking for something humiliating or degrading just to give him a good laugh. This time he couldn't go for that. He wanted something from you…he just couldn't name what it was.

"I don't know. Perhaps a favor."

"Such as?"

"That's to be decided."

You fell back on your habit of throwing his own words back into his face. "That's not how bets work."

Heimdall gasped, maintaining his melodramatic tone and aura. "You mean a small favor in my back pocket is too risky for you? After you were so confident?"

You took a second to think, still looking into his eyes. You were worried about what he would make you do, should you really end up losing. Then you brushed it off. You were confident that he would fail, and he was offended by such a thought. Though a small part of him wanted to take the opportunity to change your mind.

"Fine." You said with finality, backing away from him. "We have a deal." With that you turned around and headed into the field.

Heimdall couldn't recall the last time he found a thrill in something so mundane. He went after you, excitement rising in him.

You had to jump down a series of stones into a lower part of the field, finding an ogre tending to its home at the bottom. It roared at the sight, the vibrations disturbing the snow on the ledges above them. You looked to Heimdall and smirked, like you were warning him to be careful. He rolled his eyes and let the beast sprint to him. Of course he had no trouble dodging or spinning around to stab it in the back of the leg. You merely sidestepped as it fell on its face. It was drowned in bifrost before it could groan in pain.

Heimdall smirked at you like he had already won, making you laugh and shake your head. He was so ridiculous it was almost charming.

After climbing over the icy ridge on the other side of the gully you found more enemies, this time a group of draugr that had been disturbed by the ogre's howls. You saw the remnants of a monolith nearby and made your way to it at a lazy pace. "If you're so confident then you can do this on your own."

"This again?" He didn’t necessarily mind you stepping away as you did in Muspelheim, not when he had a victory on the line.

"I'm not helping you win," you called back, wincing as the cold stone seeped through your cloak when you sat down.

Heimdall scoffed back, "I don't even need your help!" A declaration he was more than happy to back up. He turned up the style in his combat, strafing a draugr that swung at him and seizing its arm to throw it into another. When one more launched a ball of ice his way he parried it with a shield of bifrost, hurling it back to the sender. He had two draugr come at him at once, weaving through them as they passed and stabbing each one in the back. He pirouetted while swinging his sword around like it was a performance prop rather than a deadly weapon, then finished it off by delivering a roundhouse kick to a draugr's chest that knocked it back into an icy spike.

He was showing off, and you knew he was. And he was enjoying it too. You chuckled, thinking how unbelievably cocky he was. Even so, there was still the looming idea that he may prove his "perfection" at the rate he was going. You would never hear the end of it if he did.

You wondered just how omniscient his foresight was…based on experience it didn't seem like he could predict something happening if it came from a source that didn't have a mind.

You had an idea.

It was time to make things harder on him. He had wandered to another hunk of stone as he fought. You quietly lifted a hand to form a barrier over the rubble, half buried in snow. When Heimdall passed by it you flicked the barrier up, little bits of white raining around him. Heimdall caught sight of the gold plane in time to back away, the snow falling just short of him. He exclaimed, "That's against the rules!" His voice didn't portray any anger, however. It sounded more like he was teasing you.

"We established no rules!" You countered. Another barrier scooped snow from the ground, missing the mark once again. He laughed at your efforts while cutting another draugr open.

It was the first time you had seen him enjoying something, now that you thought about it. You paused for a moment to consider how boring the world would be when everything was predictable. Danger wasn't a problem, yes, but any game, battle, conversation or even just a stroll down the road held no surprise, nothing new or exciting. No wonder he was so grouchy, you thought. With that in mind you decided to continue giving him something to keep him on his toes.

You flung snow at him four more times as he took care of the remaining draugr, none of them a successful attempt at ruining his flawless streak. He sheathed his sword and gave you a bow, prompting you to roll your eyes. With hands held out to show his pristine state, he gloated, " Despite all your cheating, I am still spotless."

You stood, sighing. "You don't have to be unbearable about it."

"I'd say I'm owed the pleasure of rubbing it in after your interference."

You ignored him, not willing to give him the chance to make it even more painful to listen to.

Heimdall let you lead, his mind drifting once he felt no other signs of enemies around. He was going to win their bet, he was certain. What he would ask you for was still a mystery, one he could feel you contemplating as well. You didn't seem worried, considering the last time you owed him a favor his request was an easy one to fulfill. This time he had so many possibilities, not limited by his need to figure you out anymore. But he still couldn't name what it was he wanted from you.

Your music was something. He could just ask you to sing for him.

Heimdall clenched his jaw at the thought. What a pathetic request for him to make. No. No, he would never do something like that.

During his musings you reached the tall block of ice that the giant skull sat upon. You looked up at the ledge, seeing no way to get up without having to scale the slippery wall. Heimdall noticed as well. "No fancy barrier work this time?" He asked, referencing the resourcefulness you had shown in the past.

The jab seemed to inspire you. You held a hand out in front of your chest, palm down. The swirling magic of golden light spread from your fingers, a thick platform taking shape from it. "Climb up."

Heimdall gave a skeptical look at the barrier. He ultimately trusted that the surface was sturdy and stepped up, the magic never bending or straining under his weight. All it took was a small jump from there to reach the ledge above and pull himself up, careful not to let any of it touch his clothing. He wasn't losing to you for something that silly.

He stood above you as you dismissed the barrier, and you looked up at him expectantly. "Can you help me up now?"

Heimdall, looking far too smug for your liking, replied haughtily, "I don't know…I'm sure I can find what we need without you."

"Heimdall," was your stern warning.

Heimdall sighed, kneeling down and reaching out to you. "I suppose I will, if you're going to whine about it."

You scoffed at him, hopping to grab his hand. Once he easily hauled you up and you were steady, you brushed the snow off of your clothes and approached the giant bird skull. It was enormous, definitely the size of Baldur's dragon. The beak was half buried, partially trapped in the ice. The cranium was in a similar position, frozen in the tall walls of ice that cut the section of the land off from the rest of the field. The path of blue light went into the eye socket that was, thankfully, free from the elements. You peered inside. A glowing blue sphere was in it, nestled into the snow. "Yup, there it is."

You heard Heimdall chuckle behind you. "Which means…" You knew what he was going to say. What else would he do?

He never said it, nor did you cut him off from doing so. A revenant sprung from the ground beside them, cackling maniacally at her newfound victims. Heimdal acted immediately, tossing bifrost between you and it to force the witch away. The revenant twirled her cane to bring out two Nightmares, both prepared to strike.

"We shouldn't fight them so close to the relic piece," you reminded him. Odin's authoritative instructions to keep this one safe were floating over your heads.

"Then you stay there and keep everything else away." Heimdall drew Hofud again. Revenants were fast enough to match his realm shifts, and the monstrosity did not plan on dueling him without a legion of Nightmares to take the brunt of the fight.

Heimdall devised a plan. You did your part, keeping out any Nightmares that got even remotely close to the skull. Without worrying about that, all Heimdall had to do was stun the witch. He leapt forward ducking under one Nightmare to stab another straight in the eye. He swung his sword out to slide it off the blade and stepped to the side when another shot magic at him. The revenant drove waves of ice at him �� inconvenient, but avoidable. He ran another Nightmare through. Then two. Then four. All while advancing towards the witch summoning them. She was close to the wall of ice.

She created another Nightmare, one that charged at him while she disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, back against the ice. Perfect.

Heimdall triggered a realm shift, snatching one of the Nightmare's tentacles and throwing it right at the revenant just as she reappeared. It hit her square in the face, leaving her dizzy. Heimdall sprinted to her. One last Nightmare went for his back as he did, forcing him to turn and slice through its eye. The maneuver left him with his back against the ice as well, right next to the witch. He flipped his sword so the blade pointed behind him and stabbed it straight through the revenant's heart and into the ice. The ragged witch gurgled and groaned as the ice wall shook from the force of the attack, disintegrating into ashes around the sword in her chest.

Heimdall sneered at the residue on his sword as he sheathed it. He would have to clean that up later.

You were already back on track, reaching into the skull's eye socket as he came up behind you. The piece was wrenched free and you presented it to him. You both stared incredulously.

A crack. It stretched across one half of the orb, skewing the image of the Yggdrasil within it. "So much for bringing it back undamaged."

"From the fight?" Heimdall asked, but he doubted it was true considering he was taking most of the attention, and you were more than capable of fending off what few enemies noticed you.

Your hands carefully picked at the crack, feeling the ice trapped inside it. "No, this definitely happened a while ago. The ice embedded in it proves that."

Heimdall peered at the sphere, feeling the bifrost radiating from it. "It's still functional…"

You nodded. "Maybe All-Father can fix it? I'm sure he has a way."

Muninn cawed from the top of the skull just after landing on it, as if he was confirming that Odin could do something about the defect.

Your worry was dismissed for the time being. You had what you came for, and now you had to see if it was salvageable.

You crossed your arms, looking up to Heimdall instead of telling Muninn to take them back to Asgard. "You lost."

Heimdall blinked, reading the self-satisfied energy you held. "What?"

"Our bet. You lost."

Heimdall chuckled at the ridiculous idea. "That's a bold assumption to make."

You raised a brow. You slowly approached him, your free hand reaching out to him. Heimdall had to refrain from flinching. He hated being touched. Everyone's hands were always so filthy, and he never wanted to feel that filth on himself. Especially without his consent.

This was different. He wasn't disgusted by your hand, but the idea of you touching him made him feel awkward. His heart beat just a little faster and the anticipation made his breath stutter. He held firm, only his eyes following your hand as your fingers brushed his shoulder. They pulled on the fabric of his tunic and stretched it out.

There it was. A clump of snow on his sleeve.

"Is it?" You said, smiling ear to ear.

The final blow to the revenant. It shook the snow atop the ice and landed on him. He couldn't foresee that.

Heimdall felt his gut churn and the burning rage pile into his chest. If that last Nightmare hadn't interrupted him there would be nothing on him. He had it all planned out, executed it flawlessly, and it was one little thing that ruined it. The sight of a blemish that exposed the weaknesses of his foresight enraged him.

When you pulled your hand back he objected, "You said I had to be hit with ice." A poor defense. He knew it.

And so did you. "That was before you upped the stakes. A mistake on your part. I wouldn't have noticed if ice fell on you during all that commotion, but snow sticks much better." Your eyes stayed on his, relishing in the vexation in them. "You really are the bringer of your own downfall, aren't you?"

Heimdall felt his face curl into a snarl. He was equally furious that his imperfection cost him a victory, even if it was a minor one. But something else was off this time. In a situation like this his fury would lead him to beat the life out of his opponent, just to prove that his teeny tiny slip up was irrelevant. Not this time. No, he wasn't angry as much as he was…embarrassed. It was a foreign emotion he wouldn't tolerate. "I am not going through with this stupid game."

Your shoulders fell, your face just as sassy as your voice. "You're really going to bail now? Fine, let's rephrase things for you. You can either keep your pride by accepting your defeat with dignity, or you can weasel your way out of it by whining until I'm too annoyed with you to enforce the bet, like a coward. Your choice."

Heimdall held back a groan. You really were full of it. He had to hand it to you, you managed to frame things in a way that worked in your favor. Pinning him down with his pride and ego, it was clever. And irritating. How could someone be so infuriating and amusing all at once? "You're insufferable."

"I know." Admitted with pleasure.

Heimdall gave a heavy sigh, knowing he was playing into your hands. "Fiiiiine."

"Yes!" You blurted out with an energetic bounce. You called for Muninn to take you back to Asgard, still smiling like there were no problems in the world. Heimdall chuckled at you, so ecstatic over something so simple. Not for winning, but for sharing something with him. He could easily read it on you. As the ravens took you away he felt the idea melting his anger.

Odin wasn't thrilled with the results of your quest, unhappy that the piece you found was damaged. He planned to spend some time studying it to see if there was a way to seal the crack in the orb, to ensure it was stable. Until then, you and Heimdall would wait for further instructions.

Later that day Heimdall heard you singing again. You were in your usual spot, the same place he had first heard your voice. He went there without thinking about an hour before sunset. When he came into view you smiled at him while you sang. He nodded, going straight to the edge of the hill to look over Gladsheim. He still wasn't willing to admit he didn't actually need to be there.

After finishing your song you said to him, "I was hoping you'd stop by."

With his reverie broken he turned around to address you. "Afraid of being all the way out here by yourself?"

You gestured for him to come closer, ignoring the comment. When he was standing across the fire pit between them you held out a book to him.

Heimdall looked down at the novel with disdain. "You can't actually be serious."

Your hand lowered a bit, matching the drop in energy he felt. "Can you at least try it? I really do think you would like this one." You frowned, the sadness and disappointment dimming your brilliant eyes. He would revel in making someone upset with so little effort, were it anyone else. On you it made him…uncomfortable.

Heimdall took the book from your hands, examining how thin it was. It had to be less than 200 pages. "Not as long as I was expecting. Are you in the habit of reading children's books?" He asked, smirking while he sat down on the bench across from yours.

His snarkiness brought back yours right away. "Oh, well excuse me. I was considering how busy the oh so important Watchman of the Gods was and picked something that wouldn't take up too much of his precious time. I can disregard that and give you a very long story that I know you'll hate out of spite, if you'd prefer."

He rolled his eyes at you. "This will do." He knew you would really do it if he jokingly played along, then had the audacity to hound him for not honoring your bet as a result.

"That's what I thought." Despite the banter you could still see the reluctance on his face. You softly added, "Just try it. If you're not interested fifty pages in then I won't hold it against you." You hoped it wouldn't come to that. There was a trend among his favored novels, you noticed. They all had characters that were deplorable at best, or ones that were convinced they were right when they were actually wrong. It seemed like he only gravitated towards stories that he related to, like he was looking for something to defend his view of the world, never getting validation elsewhere. If you could find one that broke that pattern then maybe he would find some comfort in fiction instead of support for his cynicism.

With one more sigh, Heimdall gave in. "Very well." It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Your smile returned, then you picked up your lyre. "Thank you." Heimdall didn't understand why he needed to be thanked for that.

You started plucking at the lyre's strings again, beginning a new song he hadn't heard you play before. Slow and calming, just like the others. He felt the tension from the day drift away while he turned the book over in his hands, opening it to the first page. He always wanted to read in silence, so he could focus on the words before him. But your music was an exception. You were always the exception.

He read more than fifty pages and was nearly halfway through the book by the time it got too dark for him to see the runes.

The day after he returned to you, playing your flute in the same place. To your surprise, he sat next to you this time. You stopped playing, waiting for him to say something. Eventually he sighed in defeat, holding the book out to you without making eye contact. "I'll admit it. It was better than I expected." He had picked it up again the night before and finished it in no time.

Your face lit up. He felt no pride or boasting from you, you were just happy he liked it. "Even the ending?"

"It was more…diluted than my other choices, but it was fitting."

You laughed. "And you were so convinced it would be terrible."

Purple eyes rolled. "Yes, yes, gloat all you want. I can't stop you anyway."

"I will for now. You still have four more to go."

He had forgotten that part. Must have slipped his mind after he was so convinced you wouldn't win their bet. "Go on then."

"I haven't picked one yet. I didn't expect you to finish it so fast. You must have really liked it!"

"Are you done?"

Another giggle. "Okay, now I'm done, I swear." Heimdall shook his head. He held the book out a little further, still waiting for you to take it. You eyed it for a moment until you realized what he was doing. "That's yours."

He turned to you, confused.

"It's a gift," you clarified with a bright grin. "I was worried you would burn it to get out of reading it. I wouldn't give you my personal copy with that in mind."

A joke, to lighten the mood that had settled over you. Heimdall didn't even know what to say. When was the last time he was given a gift? And one he liked, no less. He brought the book back into his own space, holding it in his hands with a blank expression. It was almost impossible for him to pinpoint exactly why it felt so strange. He followed your lead this time. "In that case I have no reason not to burn this one now."

A cross finger was pointed at him. "Don't you dare, or I'll burn you!"

Heimdalled laughed with so much vigor that he leaned back on the bench. You shied away, tucking a loose hair back into your complicated bun to hide behind your hand, if only for a second. You liked his laugh, when it was genuine and held no condescension. When he was relaxed and being himself without worrying about his image or how everyone else measured up against him, he was much more tolerable. Likable, even. You made a silent goal to get him to be that way more often. It wouldn't be a cure for the man's arrogance or his know-it-all nature, but you didn't mind it as much as you once did. The glimpses of this side of him were worth it.

You broke that train of thought. He didn't need to read that from you. You picked up your flute again and played another song. Heimdall remained quiet, just sitting and listening while you kept playing.

He forgot to pretend he was only there for his patrol.

Your routine wasn't the same after that. The changes were subtle, so much that neither of you noticed.

You played music more often, and only played in that same place. Heimdal visited on most occasions, never trying to hide or keep you from noticing him. At first he claimed he was stopping by to collect the books you picked out for him, refusing to avoid the consequences of your bet like a coward. By the time he had finished the third, however, he sometimes forgot to "patrol" like he always did, just sitting across from you automatically. When you gave him the last, he stopped pretending completely.

Heimdall was more willing to accept your choices as your deal played out. You had good taste, but distinct from his, making your selection surprising and interesting. You began spending time together, saying hardly anything while you played and Heimdall would read. On the days he finished a book, you just talked about your thoughts, and usually you would end up recommending numerous authors to each other. Each time he would try to return the book, and you always insisted they were gifts. The strange feeling in his gut only got worse after every one.

You didn't always agree, of course, and there were debates on your opinions. No bad blood was ever drawn from them. Heimdall didn't mind you disagreeing with him if you had such intelligent counterpoints and were willing to withdraw when your mind had been changed. You just admired how natural he was when he was enthralled by things he loved, so passionate, detailed, attentive. It was easy to forget that, outside of that specific setting, he still talked down to servants, sneered at Thor, and bullied anyone who was dense enough to bother him too much. You still saw this when you were interacting elsewhere, but as annoying as they were, they didn't irk you the way they used to. It had also become uncommon for these behaviors to be directed at you.

The habit stayed when Heimdall completed your deal. He started bringing his own books, ones of his choosing or yours, and just sat and read while he listened to you sing. It was comfortable, simple.

Your conversations started to stray from literature. It was still a common topic, but daily life and Asgardian affairs reigned over them now. Heimdall loved gossip, which didn't surprise you. Whenever he read something particularly interesting from someone, he shared, especially when he knew you would rather not know.

"You remember the apprentice chef at the lodge?" He casually said once.

"The young man? Yes, I know him."

"He got drunk and slept with the elderly goat farmer last night."

"Gods — Heimdall!" You put a hand over your face as he went on about how stupid and awful it was. Never would you look at those two individuals the same again. If he had to suffer with that information, then so did you, he said. You ignored how nice it was to know that he wanted you to be the one to share the burdens his foresight brought.

In fact, he vented to you often. It was easy to notice when he was in a bad mood, a permanent scowl on his features and muscles ready to stab at the next fool who got in his way. You would urge him to share, patiently listening to whatever petty thing had bothered him.

"Baldur is such a moron. Does he have to let his dragon burn down Gladsheim until I put a stop to it?"

"Thor's belches are disgusting. He apparently felt the need to remind me this morning. I would have slapped him if All-Father wasn't there."

"Remind me why you like Sif again. She's judgemental enough to blame a tree for being chopped down."

It was a reminder that he was still a prick. But you understood, knowing he was capable of being a more manageable prick when he had a reason to, and in most cases he just couldn't find a reason even if he tried. With that in mind you would offer comfort where you could, or put things into perspective. Perhaps he could learn not to see everyone's faults under such a harsh lens if you did.

"The maid doesn't even know how I keep them organized," he complained, referring to the various bracers and smaller armor pieces he kept in his cabin. "I've told her to leave them alone and she still touches them. Like a cretin."

You never stopped your fingers on your lyre. "Expecting her to clean up while also asking her not to touch certain things is somewhat contradictory, don't you think?"

"It's not a contradiction if I specify exactly what she should and shouldn't touch." Truly, you pitied the staff who were unlucky enough to be charged with taking care of Heimdall’s things.

"Were these pieces in the place they normally stay?"

"No, I was using them."

"And you're quite a bit taller than your maid, right?"

"Obviously."

"Then maybe she couldn't reach the shelf they were supposed to be on."

"Then she shouldn't have touched them at all!"

"Or you should have put them away yourself. Is that so hard?"

All he did was growl. He knew you were witty enough to dismiss any excuse he had, and you did have a point. He learned quickly not to fight whatever reasoning you gave him.

While Odin was focused on the orb and finding ways to repair it, you kept this routine up for weeks. You began to know when he needed to vent and when he wanted peace by the look on his face, or if he had a book in hand. If he wasn't in the mood for talking, you would sing. If you brought your flute instead of your lyre, you would alternate between playing and singing without accompaniment. He listened to both just the same. Regardless of the method, it always did the trick. After your time together he was more relaxed and let go of whatever he had taken offense to that day. When he was more amenable — or if it was one of those rare days where he hadn't been bothered by something — you would return to your usual antics. Annoying each other, mostly.

"You don't have to scare everyone, you know. It's not a good look." You smirked at the glare he gave you.

"Should they not know that they are foolish and incapable of doing anything right?"

"You could be more tactful about it." Said right as one of your lyre strings fell out of tune after your hand accidentally nudged the right place.

"And you could learn to be a better lyrist if you really tried." He chuckled when you inhaled sharply at him.

"Shut up!"

Heimdall wasn’t sure why it started in the first place. It was all to honor his word, like a respectable man would. When he had fulfilled their deal he just kept going to you, still not knowing what it was that he felt when he did. There were multiple instances when he skipped it, telling himself he didn't need to make a routine with you. Every time he did he ended up going back the next day, spending even more time there and venting about even more things than he usually did. You were an acquaintance, he realized. And the realization made him angry. He didn't need acquaintances. He never needed anyone, and even if he did, no one would meet his standards. He was forgetting that, letting the little conveniences you offered make him too comfortable.

And yet he would still go. Just a few minutes of listening to you and it was gone. You didn't need to talk, he didn't need you at all, he would inwardly chant. Then he'd get close enough to hear you and he'd forget all about those ideas, falling back into the habit he built. After a while it became frustrating. He was losing his touch, all because someone wasn't a lying, thieving, sneaky halfwit. That didn't make you deserving of his trust, of the things he didn't need to share.

He was mentally chewing himself out one day, as he was sitting across from you, having gone to listen to you despite his self admonishment once again. He never even looked at you, too focused on how weak he was becoming. You let him sit in silence for a while, never prying or provoking him. He could feel your concern grow until you spoke up.

You put the lyre down on your lap, smiling gently. "You're awfully brooding today."

Heimdall barked back, "I don't brood like a sulky child."

It wasn't taken personally. If anything you felt even more concerned. "You don't feel like sharing today?"

"Why should I?"

You smirked. "Why not? I'd say we're friends at this point, wouldn't you?"

His thoughts went blank. Friends. Not just an acquaintance. He irritated you, annoyed you, still reminded you that he was a superior god, and you still saw him as a friend. Just because you had these moments of mutual rest, that meant you were friends.

No. No, you weren't. He didn't have friends. He didn't want them. Why give someone exactly what they need to betray him someday? "And you expect me to share my every thought with you? I'm not nearly that gullible."

There it was. You were hurt. He wanted you to scream at him, storm off, all while telling him you couldn't stand him. They weren't friends if you did that.

But no. The flash of hurt disappeared almost instantaneously. In its place was understanding, patience. You nodded solemnly instead. "That's okay."

Heimdall's eyes flew to you. He just stared.

"We don't have to be friends if you don't want to. But if you do, I'm here. It's your choice." Then you went back to playing the lyre.

You didn't expect anything from him. You never asked anything of him. You only gave, whether he wanted it or not. It was always his choice, not your desires.

"I'm weak," he mumbled, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He was ready to pour his heart out and tell you everything he was thinking. For what? And why?

"No, you're not."

You cut him off before he could think any longer. Your eyes lost their shine while you played, looking down at the precious aged instrument in your hands. "You know that I've seen the worst in people as well. So take it from someone who understands that life: you're only as weak as you let yourself be. How strong you are is dependent on you, and no one else around you."

That was it. You said what you thought and didn't say more. Heimdall turned that over in his mind. He couldn't deny that you were right. After all, if he did, then he would be admitting that he was no better than Thor and his sons, Baldur, the einherjar, everyone he associated with while he worked for Odin. His strength was not determined by them, just as their value didn't increase with his.

So was he weak for finding companionship? It didn't change his status, his power, his superiority. The only thing that changed was that he finally had a source of peace among the loud, drunken fools in Gladsheim. Peace he deserved for his superiority.

Heimdall sat up straighter, smirking smugly. "You really think I'd be friends with you?"

You stopped, bemused at his sudden remark. He felt your relief when you saw the familiar expression on his face. "And why wouldn't you? Because I kicked your ass in Muspelheim?"

"The ass kicking was mutual, first of all. And secondly, I don't care for wannabe elven matrons," he snapped back, grinning evilly.

You groaned at him. You knew you shouldn't have told him about the time you dressed up in your foster mother's clothes and pretended to be in charge of the elven children when you were eight-years-old. "Ugh, you are such a jerk!"

He chuckled, smiling while you ignored him and went back to your music, starting to sing again. In silence he contemplated the word. "Friends." There was something about the word that didn't feel right, like he didn't want the term to apply to him. He wanted to be…something else.

The next day he returned to you again, greeting you with your name. It made you notice something. You couldn't remember the last time he called you "stray."

The building trust that you both accepted culminated into a single experience. Almost a month after your last outing Thor decided it was time for a celebration. For what, exactly, he didn't say. To him it was just a good time for everyone to feast and drink all night. Odin had no objections, so long as he wasn't disturbed. He was almost at a breakthrough with his research and preferred everyone being out of his way anyway.

Thor just had to make the epicenter of the bash outside the Great Lodge. Just before Heimdall was due to report to Odin, of course. The majority of Gladsheim was outside, the crowd congesting every road on the way there and filling the air with screaming and choking laughter.

It was all so much.

Heimdall shoved anyone on his way to the lodge, having no patience to quietly push past. Grunts and protests sounded before they recognized who had pushed them, but he wouldn't retaliate this time. He needed to give his report and get as far away as he could.

The noise, the torchlight brightening the night sky, but most of all the thoughts. So many booming voices, his foresight constantly warning him about the slightest brush against his clothes, who was about to back into him. It was maddening. The more his head pounded, the harder he clenched his teeth, cursing Thor for having enough influence to make everyone act like complete buffoons at the worst time.

His head aching, vision occasionally blurring, ears ringing. He couldn't even shut the lodge door behind him, there were too many bodies in the way. It was exhausting, having to filter through all the sensations his foresight made him feel through every corner of his mind. All of his strength was wasted just getting to Odin's study and down into the cave below. He sucked up the pain long enough to give a cordial report, showing utmost respect to the All-Father, and excused himself as soon as he was free to go.

It was so much worse on the way out, every stupid little intention and emotion and alcohol induced ambition being hammered into his head. He was even rougher on his way out, spilling drinks and throwing mortals and gods alike to the ground just to get them out of his way. They were lucky he didn't kill them.

He wasn't aware of the pair of kind eyes that followed him out of the lodge.

You were there, sitting next to Sif and Thor, watching Baldur put down as many drinks as possible, like he was attempting to force the spell protecting him to fail so he could feel the effects. You were growing tired of the environment as well, getting ready to turn in despite it still being early. Your distaste for the excessive chaos was nothing compared to what you saw in Heimdall as he passed.

"Do you see Heimdall?" You asked, leaning closer to Sif to ensure you were heard over the ruckus.

Sif hummed at you, unfocused and slurring from all the mead she and her husband shared. "Oh, don't mind him. He hates parties and parties hate him."

You felt your heart sink. Heimdall looked like he was in pain, and no one even noticed? You watched him again as he finally made it to the doors, looking even worse after just a few seconds. With that your mind was made up. "Sif, I'm going to turn in for the night."

"What, already?" She mumbled back. "It's earliest, and there's fun we have." If her breath wasn't giving away how drunk she was, her speech certainly did.

"You know me, it's a little too much excitement for one night."

Sif shrugged, chuckling. "Oh yeah, I forgot that. Go on then, my mornin' see you."

You disregarded the botched farewell and headed for the doors, doing your best to politely get through the people around you. As you passed you heard what they said, all of it about Heimdall’s exit.

"Why's he even here? Nobody invited him anyway!"

"He's such a killjoy. I don't know why he even came."

"What an ass! My knee hurts from that fall…get me another drink!"

"Seriously, maybe if he'd have a drink or two he wouldn't ruin everything."

"Can't he just stay up on the wall? We don't need him on the ground anyway."

It took a great amount of self control not to lecture all of them. He wasn’t in a bad mood, he was hurting. Couldn't they take a second to see that?

Then again, Heimdall didn’t give anyone a reason to. That still didn't make him deserving of scorn just for being in pain, in your opinion.

You just barely caught sight of him down the road between the bodies in the way, turning towards the stables. He must have been getting Gulltoppr.

You stopped by your home first, hoping that you would be able to catch him before he left.

You only took a few minutes to get your lyre and return to the stables Gulltoppr stayed in, out of breath and worried. A stable boy was there, sweeping hay and grass from the gates to Gulltoppr’s pen. "Have you seen Heimdall?" You asked, trying to even your breathing.

The boy flinched at the name. "Y-yes. Lord Heimdall went in not long ago. I didn't see him leave, though."

You thanked the boy, cursing to yourself. If no one saw him leave then you had no way to know where he went. Your fears subsided at the sight of the familiar golden saddle and armor hanging on a wall inside the pen.

You approached the opening into the gradungr's quarters, hearing the beast rumbling softly. He was still here. You took a few deep breaths and composed yourself. He would certainly know you had hurried to get there but you didn't need to give him reasons to point it out.

"Heimdall?" You said, stepping inside.

He interrupted you midway through saying his name. "I don't recall inviting you in." Strict and sour. He didn't want company. He was sitting on the ground, which was a bad sign because he hated sitting on the ground. He must have been too impatient to find an alternative, choosing to lean against Gulltoppr, who was laying down with his head on his paws. Heimdall's head rested against Gulltoppr’s fur and he kept his arms on his bent knees.

You persevered. You couldn't ignore this. "I've never heard of stables requiring invitations." Testing the waters, just to see if he would joke back.

He didn’t. "What do you want?" He snarled, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. Judging by his face you would have guessed the world was screaming directly into his ears.

This was to be taken seriously then. "Are you alright?" You lowered your voice, believing that it might help.

Heimdall stretched out his hands like he was gesturing to himself. "Do I look hurt?"

"No," you whispered, slowly stepping closer. When he didn't stop you, you sat down next to him, right beside Gulltoppr’s hindlegs. Far enough that you wouldn't touch him. "But you do look…upset."

"And?!" He hissed, jaw tightening.

You recoiled, but said nothing. You gave him a moment to calm down, to forget you were even there, if he could. After a few minutes, the lyre's strings brought a somber melody. Heimdall's head was still throbbing but it didn't rebel against the new sound. He latched onto it, letting it remain until all the other stimuli started to lessen.

You began to sing. After a few lines Heimdall noticed he recognized the words. These lyrics weren't made up of gibberish used only to emphasize the music; these told a story in a language he could understand.

A song of battle, endless battle. Fighting against enemies both seen and invisible, the conflict leaving little to cherish. Of dreams broken and hopes destroyed, only fueled by propaganda spread by mouth and not by deed. Fearful of the past and bending it into something that was easier to stomach. A spot of hope, where things seemed to be improving. Storms fading, thunder passed, but with nightmares still lingering, and the only thing the clarity gave was crippling grief. All that could be had was the belief that the light within will never fade, even as the darkness swallowed the sun and brought back all the pain and battle to the forefront again. It ended with only questions, every single one asking if everything had been in vain.

A downer, if he was honest. Yet he didn't feel worse from it. He felt soothed, like it was a voice he didn't have.

You let the lyre's last notes ring, laying it down in your lap without a word. You were waiting for him to react, not wanting to rush him.

He opened his eyes, the pain in his skull subsiding into a dull buzz. His eyes briefly went to you, examining your visage while your hand idly patted Gulltoppr’s fur.

"You remembered those lyrics." It sounded accusatory, like he thought you had lied to him. He couldn't keep the harsh edge out of him yet.

"That's because I wrote them. It's a song that's very personal to me. An allegory for the struggles I've faced." The hand on Gulltoppr went back to your lyre, stroking the old wood fondly "When those memories come back, I sing that song. I…I hoped it would help."

Heimdall brought his eyes forward, voice monotone. "An awfully hopeless song was meant to cheer me up?"

"Not to cheer you up. To feel for you." He lifted his head off of Gulltoppr and looked at you, wondering what you meant. You didn't return the gesture, lost in your own thoughts. "Music expresses what words alone cannot. That song takes everything that I can't possibly explain and sets it free, like I'm letting go…even if it's only temporary." Your eyes met his purple ones. "Did it work?"

He tore his gaze away. You sang about your time with the elves, using their war as a representation of your plight. You were fighting them all the time, surrounded by selfish and manipulative people who would only lie to keep you on their side, more afraid to lose your abilities than to lose you. It took so much for you to keep faith in them, failing to grasp it over and over and over again. You knew you were surrounded by individuals that were deceitful, and wondered if believing they were good was even worth the pain.

You seemed like the only two people to know what that feels like.

"Your foresight," you began when he said nothing. "Can you just…turn it off?"

Heimdall scoffed like it was the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. "It's a sixth sense. It can't be 'turned off' any more than you can turn off your eyes and ears."

"Maybe, but you can close your eyes and ignore sounds."

"That's not the same."

You sighed, trying a new approach. "So you're reading things constantly. Doesn't that get overwhelming?"

Heimdall cringed at the question. It was a concept he loathed thinking about. His foresight was his greatest tool, and saying otherwise made it sound like…a curse. Never should he consider it a curse if it let him see the world as it truly was, even if it had drawbacks. "What makes you believe so?"

He felt you shy away. "I tried to mimic you in Alfheim. With so much happening it only took a few moments for it to become unbearable."

"And how do you know that your little copy trick isn't inferior to my limits?"

"Well…why else would you be here?"

No answer.

"And that's why you hate noise and crowds?"

Again, nothing. He didn't want to acknowledge that you had seen right through him, and found the only thing he wouldn't let anyone alive know. If you already knew he could have just confirmed, save you the agony of dragging it out. But he was remembering that day he shared how weak your companionship made him feel. He wasn't going to let something like that out again. He wasn’t going to feel that ever again.

Heimdal felt you brace yourself. You knew he wouldn't like what you had to say. "It sounds like you lack control."

You were right. "Me? Lack control?" He spat, giving you a glare that warned you not to push him.

It did nothing to dissuade you. "Control is using something when you need it and putting it away when you're done. You aren't doing that if you're reading all the time. Have you ever tried to ignore your foresight?"

He hated this. It was such a preposterous idea. His foresight was essential. Essential to the All-Father. Any issues he had with it were nothing compared to how valuable it was to Odin. Any moment he didn't have it was a waste of his life.

He hated that thought too.

"Let's try something." You changed your position, facing forward instead of towards him.

Heimdall growled, "No," back at you.

You pursed your lips, understanding how difficult altering one's perception of the world would be. You looked at Heimdall, studying his profile for a second. "Heimdall."

Soft, gentle, caring. Not at all demanding or irritated with his lack of cooperation. He had to look at you, wanting to see why you had grown so careful.

"Do you trust me?"

Did he? Was trust the right word?

"At least enough to humor me just this once?"

His eyes went to yours, reading the mind that had managed to outwit and intrigue him so many times. You felt for him, but that feeling was not pity. It was a yearning to feel his emotions with him, and share the task of shouldering them. You cared. In the most pure, selfless way.

"Fine." He would humor you. Only because it would get you to drop it and not ask these stupid questions again.

"Okay." Your eyes left his, closing them as you turned your head forward once more. "Shut your eyes, and breathe deeply."

Heimdall refrained from rolling his eyes, already thinking how useless this was. He did as you asked, letting a few breaths pass in silence.

"Now I want you to take note of what your foresight is picking up. You don't have to tell me, just notice it."

Even though they were far from the lodge he could still hear distant voices. He heard Gulltoppr’s quiet sighs and felt his comfort. The other creatures nearby were resting, letting go of their caution to relax and regain their energy. The stable boy was nervous, probably because of the two gods not far from him. You. He felt you, calm and steady. Your whispers were so quiet, your desire to help palpable to him. There was nothing malicious, nothing intrusive, no sign of looking down on him. You were just there, next to him. Like you always were when you sat together.

"Pick one of those things. Focus on it. Don't consider anything else, just think about that one thing." He thought about the stable boy, how funny it was that the kid was so anxious while two gods were around, like he would be caught doing something wrong by just existing. It was boring, not at all interesting enough to keep his attention for long. The countless sensations from his foresight were just as loud as before.

"If you get bored of that, pick something else, but only one thing at a time," you instructed. "Just let yourself wander from one thing to another. Keep your breath steady. All that matters is your thoughts."

He wandered. To the irritating voices in the distance, Gulltoppr’s content mood, brought about by his master at his side, the birds nesting on the stable roof. He ran out of things to focus on quickly.

Inevitably, his focus went to you. Your presence next to him, the worry you felt, the gentle sound of your deep breathing.

He just didn't get it. He didn't get you. How long had it been since he enjoyed casually spending time with anybody? Not since he was a little boy, too naive to understand how worthless every living soul was. Then came this goddess, literally out of nowhere, and suddenly he started to think that maybe, just maybe, the solid rules of the world he had organized could be broken. And why? Because you chose to overcome your destructive meeting after learning you had a tiny thing in common? Because you were willing to listen to his words instead of dismissing them to protect your ego? Because you really understood how terrible humanity could be? You were intelligent enough to keep up with his own wit? You thought he was funny? You seemed to get what he was feeling…even when he didn't? You were a spot of calm and tranquility in a world of chaos and mayhem. He had fun with you, and could have conversations that weren't horrendous. Because you were clever, wise for your age, so kind and genuine. He stopped being bored when he spent time with you, and whatever troubles he had were whisked away when you would annoy the daylights out of each other. He wasn't reluctant to share his interests, knowing you were open minded enough to enjoy things with him. Your opinions were fair and you had similar taste, making him feel comfortable with learning things from you.

The light sound of the lyre's stings sounded, just barely loud enough for him to hear it. You sang again. All his thoughts went to you — just you, stopping the questions and examining the evidence of…something. Your voice was so gorgeous, so serene and divine. The world stopped moving when your voice sweetened the air, everything was so much lighter at the sound. That was all he could feel then. The subtle warmth of your skin, the traces of your scent, the delightful lilt to your voice, the memories of the time you spent up in their secluded spot drifting through your mind…

He really didn't have to care about anything else around you. There was no patrolling the realm, no need for suspicion, no reason to think of the All-Father, his duties, or any responsibility he had. He wasn't the watchman around you. And that didn't seem to bother him.

Heimdall. That's what he was with you. A proud man, an avid reader, a creative mind with a loyal heart, a guardian for what truly mattered to him. There was no guessing, no decorum to remember, no outside world to affect what he thought or felt. It was just him. And you.

"Heimdall?"

Purple eyes snapped open. He hadn't even realized you had stopped singing. Or that it had grown deathly silent.

Completely silent. No distant voices, no birds nesting, no contentment from Gulltoppr. Now that he was paying attention those things slowly faded back in, but quieter this time. Sharper, too, like his foresight was filtering out what didn't matter and only informing him of what was closest to him, what was necessary. It felt refreshing, like he had woken up from his first sleep in a month.

"What did you hear?" Your smile was hopeful.

Heimdall's eyes stayed on the wooden wall in front of him, astounded by the realization. "...nothing."

It worked. He ignored everything until he made his own quiet corner in the world. He didn't have to go find one.

You grew giddy next to him, grinning brighter than the sun. "See? You can ignore it when it's too much! If you do that you can go through crowds without being overwhelmed!"

"That took too much effort to actually use."

"For now. Maybe if you practiced you'd get better at it!"

Heimdall chuckled. You were a helpless optimist in this regard, but at least it was useful. You always found ways to make things better.

Gulltoppr sneezed, making you giggle and pet the beast's exposed belly. You fell into a comfortable standstill. No talking, but no need to either. Just basking in the moment.

It was nice. Your presence was nice. So calming, yet infuriating. Amusing, but annoying. So safe, so welcoming.

He liked you.

Heimdall's teeth clenched, the golden molars grinding against each other. He shouldn't like you. To trust and to depend on you was a weakness. He didn't need anyone.

Odin had always told him this. He was the Scion of the Aesir, the one who made it his life's purpose to guard the realm with his life. To serve the All-Father in his every endeavor, until his wondrous vision of the world was all that remained. That was all he needed. Asgard, his duty to it, and the All-Father.

He glanced at you, still smiling at Gulltoppr. You felt his stare but let him get away with it. He saw what you wanted.

All you wanted was for him to be alright.

Was it really so bad? To be all those things and find respite in your presence? Was it so bad to want both?

He needed to think.

Heimdal abruptly stood, ordering Gulltoppr to follow his lead. You were startled, but made no protest. Of course you didn't.

"Feeling well enough to work now?" Your smile was more gloating now, like you wanted him to recognize that your advice was what made him feel better.

He huffed at you, ushering Gulltoppr out of the stable and grabbing his saddle from the hook it hung on. "I fulfill my duty regardless of my own needs."

You frowned, not agreeing with the statement at all. After this you were beginning to think he put too much of himself into his work, and meeting Odin's expectations. You wanted him to think about what he just did, try to tell him he should use it to unwind more often. Not now, you decided. Baby steps. "Alright. I guess I'll be heading home then." You cradled your lyre close to your chest and followed Heimdall out, passing him as he secured the saddle on Gulltoppr.

"You aren't going back?" He purposely avoided taking his eyes away from the saddle's buckles.

"No, I've had enough of Thor's shindig too."

You kept walking, waving at him on your way to the fence around the stables. Heimdall watched you for a moment.

Then, after he chose not to think about it, "Your cabin is north of here, right?"

You paused at the odd question. "Yes?"

"And you're just going to walk there even though Gulltoppr will pass by it?" He leapt onto the saddle, directing the gradungr to stand beside you.

Your surprise gave way to a pleased smile. Heimdall could feel how happy this miniscule suggestion made you. "You want to give me a ride home? For no reason?"

Heimdall sighed. If you kept this up he would think about it long enough to reconsider. Something in him begged him not to. "Are you coming or not?" He said flatly.

You never would have guessed Heimdall could be more than tolerable months ago. Yet here he was, offering to do something that was rather…sweet. It was a wonder how much he cared when wanted to.

Did he care? Was that it? The idea was more…appealing than you thought it would be.

With one more light laugh you agreed. "Sure." You stepped closer to Gulltoppr, and Heimdall ordered him to lie down on his stomach so it was easier for you to get on. He offered his hand too, even though the lower height was easy for you to reach. You took it.

Heimdall shook off the shiver that ran through him when you settled in behind him, one hand holding his side while the other kept your lyre secure. He still refused to think about what he was doing, signaling for Gulltoppr to go without letting himself doubt. Right after the short trek started, he felt it.

You enjoyed his presence too.

It made him smile.

Neither of you noticed the raven with red-tipped feathers.

The two books I based Heimdall and reader's recommendations on are "Pan" by Knut Hamsun and "The Tale of a Manor" by Selma Lagerlöf respectively. No, I definitely didn't research Scandinavian authors just for these chapters, shut up.

#god of war #god of war heimdall #heimdall gow #heimdall x reader #songbird of asgard

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wyvchard · 5 months ago

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Ideas from this prompt and this prompt but it's mostly just an excuse to write about my OCs' lives:

@secret-w-l, I hope you don't mind. I'll be putting content warnings here just in case.

Content Warnings: mentions of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of sleep deprivation, cuts, self-hatred, survivor's guilt, murder attempt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silus was crowned king yet only few are happy with this decision. To be honest, I am not happy as well.

It had taken so many deals to take a peek into the events that transpired after my departure yet very little was added from what the records have told me, the festering of resentment and aging lines the only ones marking the days that passed by.

"You may be king but the council will still continue to make its decision with or without you." The queen grandmother, our grandmother, looked at him with disgust lacing her eyes. Her blue eyes narrowed at him as her greying blue hair was put up in a bun.

"I'm the heir and I am now considered the king. I deserve respect." He snarled at her, red eyes burning with disdain. His blue hair was swaying with the amount of magic swirling around him.

"Do you really think you have the proper maturity to reign?" She adjusted her silver glasses, magic swirling around her to nullify the effects his spell may take hold. "You can't even plan something without the guiding hand of someone else. Your hands are stained with blood and all I can see when you act like this is not my grandson, but the man who murdered my granddaughter."

Silus merely clenched his fist, looking away at the ground. "I didn't... Look, it-" Words merely eluded him as our grandmother walked away. "I'm sorry. But I have my reasons."

"I'm sure he has his reasons as well. You chose your side now. And the only reason why the council hasn't usurped you is because you're the last legitimate heir that we would rather keep in."

"... It feels like you were using her too."

She remained quiet, only walking away to hide the swirling of emotions taking place.

... I sometimes question that too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wow, she's really telling you off."

"Shut up." Silus looked at him with hatred, his fist clenching tightly as he tried suppressing his magic to avoid causing any attacks.

"Is that really the tone you'd take with your advisor? Hm?"

He looked away, adjusting his sleeves to reorient himself away from his anger.

"Oh, your majesty. Do you really think anyone will miss you? The only reason you're being kept alive right now is because the council will oppose me being there. They're only paying respect to you as you're the only one they can afford to keep. Their goal is to not plunge this place into a civil war. Do you really think someone will care about you? Hm? After all your crimes?"

"Our crimes. You played a part in this too."

Silus' eyes widened when water started wrapping his arm. The pressure of it was enough to make the weight of his bones shift.

"I'm not going to break your bones just yet. But let me ask you this. Do you really think the council will listen to you? They didn't even care when I was knocking at your doors at night to keep you from sleeping as a child. Do you think they will care now?"

"They have an incentive to protect me."

"But do they care for you?"

The question struck a nerve in him, leaving him unable to realize that a gash has formed across the arm that had been covered by water previously.

Oh, brother. If only you knew just how hard the council tried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what do we do now? He's holding Nate's life over our heads to get what he wants." Uncle Ansel spoke up while I was sitting on the floor, back to the wall separating me from the discussion of the adults. "If we give in, the people are screwed."

"We give him what he wants." Nana spoke up, her voice as heavy as ever. "Let him make the declaration but inform the regional leaders to follow exact directions."

"So, we're just going to let people suffer because of their wishes?"

"No. Because if anyone who has their head on straight will realize the implications of such a declaration." She sighed. "It could be useful to thresh them. They are the ones in charge of this; they should be perceptive. Someone make sure Nate's door remains secured while I make sure the people don't get in the short end of the stick."

I hugged the tiny doll in my arms, knowing that my brother won't be able to sleep. It was so unfair. Why am I the one in safety but he's forced to endure this? Why?

"... I will. Heaven knows what would happen if he was able to get to Nate." Uncle Ansel merely sighed. "I don't think he should be left alone with that... That scoundrel makes me sick to my stomach."

Did the adults in our life fail us? Why couldn't you get him out of there? Why must he stay there?

Is protecting me really worth it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm here and yet I can't even wipe the tears falling down his face as he slept. "I'm so sorry, brother."

Someone entered the room, passing through me. His green eyes was darker than usual as he bandaged the gash with his characteristic gentleness.

"You're nothing but a fool, Nate. But I am a coward as well so that makes us equal." Titus sighed as he sat on the bed and stared at my brother's sniffles. He leaned on the bed frame as he watched him sleep. "... I should have spoken up. I really should have. I'm really sorry. If only I..."

Tears were flowing down his face when he brandished the knife, only for his grip to falter. "... Dang it. I can't do it. I hate you so much but I can't bring myself to kill you. You killed her. Why do you get to live when she couldn't?"

A small tug pulled him out of his spot from the bed, only for another person to step into the room. "... Brother?"

"... Were you trying to kill Nate?"

Titus merely looked at the knife in his hands and held it out for his brother to take it with his magic.

"I... hate him too. But killing him won't make things right." He walked towards Titus with a look of sympathy. "This is what happened. We need to accept it. She's gone and there is no bringing her back."

"... I can't accept the fact I could have saved her but I didn't because I wanted to save my own skin." He was hugging himself as he covered his mouth to avoid waking Silus up.

There was no need for words when Titus was dragged out of the room, magic securing the door to Silus as they both left.

"What do you mean you could have saved her?"

"I was there. I saw everything. I could have taken the key and made her escape any time but I was too cowardly to do it."

"I was told you only saw the last part of the... assassination. Explain."

"I was... afraid, okay? You have a stake here. You can stay here since your mother's family is here; I barely know my own. But I can be taken back to the cursed land we call our birth home! I'm not going back there." He hid his eyes behind his fringes. "I'm sorry."

"... I understand." He took a deep breath. "But I... I think it would be best if you stay with Sir Ansel for the next few days."

"... Brother?"

"I... I just can't look at you right now." He turned away, getting away from the spot to be alone.

... So this was what happened when I died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are my actual OCs so feel free to ask about them if you'd like. I'm happy to share information about them.

#my writings #oc lore #writing prompt #original writing #writing prompts #royal whump #whump prompt #whump #multiple whumpees #cw death #cw blood #cw murder attempts #sleep deprivation #survivor's guilt #royalty whump #noble whump #whump scenario

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mossydice · 7 months ago

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[A rant about Coppelia and their relationship to their deceased sire Aleksander, whose own sire killed him after his unpermitted turning of Coppelia, and who now haunts them as a wraith. They have since taken his place in vampire society under "grandmother", the elder malkavian Lady Esther Elmstone]

Long before they ever died they knew Aleksander as a boy who was so sweet to them despite it all, who offered to take up the burdens of their buzzing frantic mind with them with a breathless kind of enthusiasm they weren't sure what to make of until they realised slow over time how much being able to help someone like them did for him, and then it clicked. They knew it as give and take, a balancing act of debt owed and instantly repaid by the gratification he gleaned from getting to be a figure of benevolence in his actions. they knew him as a devoted grandson, at least from how he spoke of his grandmother, a harsh but fair and ever noble woman whose judgement was unassailable, who had always told him the things he sought would find him so long as he knew how to look - they eventually realised what he meant by that, when he asked to court them, to keep them. Esther's shadow cast itself over the both of them as soon as they met, though they wouldn't meet Her for a while after, y'know??? but they knew from early the weight she carried with this person they did know, Aleksander who grew to covet them moreso than anything, knew aleksander who grew to resent the fact he could not keep them like a secret from everyone but himself, he asked so much but he gave them the world when he calmed their mind because being able to dance oh, that was their world for a long time- they didn't have anything else, nothing but Him and their ballet. And he... he had them, and he had esther. oh perhaps he could have had more, real friends, real companionship but all he seemed able to want was them, their love and his grandmother's pride. so eager to make everything go right, now he had what he was looking for, ,,

man it's so. there's so many reasons coppelia can't bring themself to try and escape the ghost in their shadow now despite everything tied to him, despite the frustration at having to deal with how jealous he becomes still especially when they use physical intimacy to keep themself grounded in their body when their mind starts to churn, despite the dangers keeping this haunting pose y'know?? they owe him, that's the easiest one- but it's an excuse, and some deeper part of them knows it, knows putting it down to their compulsion toward balanced books is the easy way out. really it's something complex and messy and so tangled it makes them feel sick, something rooted in the way they Know him. their killer, who took their life in a moment of bitter frustration he couldn't have all of them to himself; their killer, who died in their place after raising them anew from the dead. The boy who told them of esther, of her demands and indulgences, of how it felt impossible sometimes to be everything she wanted but that he needed to be because who else did the two of them have but family??? and them, oh and he had them now didn't he, someone he could hold onto like she held him, someone he could have for himself... they're not surprised in hindsight, that she would be who took them from him. Nor can they really bring themself to be surprised that he wouldn't let go of them, even in death, theirs or his.

and hey, it's not like they can let go either, is it? they're entangled, bound by a web of circumstances and obsession and mutual understanding; who else could possibly get it, after all? Who else could know what it means to be the grandchilde of Esther Elmstone, who else could know what it means to bear her name and all the expectations it entails. Who else could understand the fawning, because she becomes the everpresent gravity of your life, because you know whatever you do has to account for her, because you know pain is temporary but her ire would not be. who else can they look at and just say, it's not wise to question her and know that they understood the crashing reality behind those six quiet words? their killer, their predecessor, their ghost. the boy who never knew them because all he ever saw was what he wanted to, but who knows exactly what it means to sleep under that roof. the boy who took everything from them. the boy who brought them back to life. the boy who gave them their name. they're not sure the exorcism they turned down could have make them any less haunted by him, frankly.

#oughhh I gave this ramble to my partner but I wanted to write it up properly I'm rotating them so much in my brain. on spin cycle #vtm #vampire the masquerade #malkavian #world of darkness #oc: coppelia

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astroluvr · 3 years ago

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Hi !! i loved the fic with jack and urb spoiling sage its so cute, could you write a blurb of them taking her out and an older lady mistakes them for a gay couple?💀💀 i feel like that would be so funny, urban would probably play along for the laugh

-🌎 anon

this is really short, but i thought it was entertaining! thanks for your request (that im getting to a century and a half later) i hope u enjoy!

***

Sage was more than happy to be going out with her father and uncle for a day. Jack got you out of the house to have a day for yourself and smoothly failed to mention that Urban would be tagging along. As usual, Jack oversaw picking out Sage’s outfit to make sure that it matched with his.

“Daddy, I look like you!” she squealed, tugging at her white shirt and holding her leg up to show her blue jeans.

“You’re the prettier me.” he scooped her up and kissed her cheek, making her break out in giggles.

“Show Mama!” she leaned over to pull his phone out of his pocket and swiped it to her camera. Jack was positive that Sage’s pictures were the reason he was always buying more storage on his phone, but he wouldn’t dare delete them.

Jack smiled and pressed his cheek to Sage’s and snapped the picture. “Duck lips?” he asked, and Sage nodded before puckering her lips out.

“We’re so cute, Daddy.” Sage giggled when he scrolled through the few pictures the two of them.

“So cute.” he laughed and put Sage back on the couch. “Once Uncle Urb gets here, we’ll leave, okay?”

“Okay!” Sage responded happily, diving for her bowl of cereal.

It wasn’t much longer that, after much arguing, Sage, Jack, and Urban were out and about. They stopped to grab a sugary breakfast of doughnuts upon Sage’s request and Urban’s ability to irritate Jack into doing anything before winding up at the mall.

“Yo, these are fire.” Urban whistled, picking up a pair of sneakers off the wall.

“Let me see.” Jack said, turning around to look at his friend with Sage on his lap. Urban showed them and Jack nodded in approval. “I like them.”

Urban smiled in agreement before walking to the counter where a cashier was standing. “Can I help you?”

“Do you know if y’all have these in a men’s size?”

“U-uh, the other store might have them because we’re a children’s store. We only carry kids’ sizes.”

“Urban.” Jack groaned, causing Urban to walk away with a snicker. “Stop harassing people, man.”

“I was just messing with him.” Urban threw his hands up in defense. “You know I was messing with you, right?”

“For sure.” the employee let out an awkward chuckle and Urban and Jack shared a humored look.

“Okay, walk to Urban and see how those fit, baby.” Jack patted Sage’s thigh and she got down happily to march towards Urban who was smiling at him.

“You are working these.” Urban laughed and Sage grinned when he lifted her up.

“Can I have them?” she turned around to ask Jack who had come to stand next to them.

“Of course, you can.” Jack said as if she asked a ridiculous question.

“How about you pick out another pair and then we can go get you some toys, hm?”

“Thank you.” she said politely, reaching out to kiss Jack’s nose. Him and Urban laughed as Sage hopped to the ground, rushing towards the wall of shoes that displayed the glittery shoes.

As Urban and Jack watched, they heard a throat clear behind them. They both turned around slowly, hesitant to take their eyes off of Sage who was happily browsing. “Excuse me, but is that your daughter?”

“Yes.” Jack answered, not even thinking before answering given that he never missed a chance to claim the little girl as his own.

“Why?” Urban asked, raising his eyebrows and lifting his shades to the top of his head. “She’s been here with us the whole time, so-”

“No, no.” the elderly woman gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I’m just saying that you all make a very lovely family. I was browsing for some shoes for my grandson and couldn’t help but notice that you three remind me so much of my son and his husband.” she smiled and Jack blushed before Urban smiled.

“Actually, I have a wonderful wi-” Jack began, but Urban’s devious smirk cut him off.

“Thank you so much. We are all very much in love with each other.”

“Urban.” Jack warned when the blond’s arm came around Jack’s shoulder and squeezed him tight.

“Isn’t that right, honey?” Urban smiled as if he were lovesick and the woman giggled fondly.

Jack put his hand on Urban’s hip and made sure to squeeze tight before locking eyes with his counterpart. “That is so right.”

“Daddy, I want these ones!” Sage ran up and immediately scrunched up her face at the position of the two men. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Jack said quickly, scooping up Sage and avoiding the look of the woman who had approached him. “You want these ones?”

“Mmhmm.” Sage placed the pink, light-up sneakers in her father’s hands.

“Well, I’m sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to compliment your family.”

“Thank you so much.” Urban said while Jack slipped away as quickly as he could.

At the register, Jack glared at Urban who was only trying to contain his raucous laughter. “I’m going to hurt you.”

“I was just playing,” Urban mumbled, pulling his shades over his face before landing a smack over Jack’s jeans. “Jackie, boo.”

#jack harlow #fan fiction #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fanfiction #bf!jack #dad!jack #urban wyatt #urban wyatt fanfiction #jack harlow fluff

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

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If you're taking prompt what if Inko was the daughter of AfO and Izuku still gets OfA later. But he has fire breath like his dead beat dad thanks to his grandfather. Teach him for running out on his baby girl.

It had taken long enough that his minions were in need of a serious reprimand, but finally Midoriya Hisashi was sprawled on the ground at All for One's feet. He was suitably beaten, bound, and blindfolded, but alive, as requested.

"Hello, Hisashi. I suppose you didn't think you'd ever see me again." He used the man's first name, because he didn't care to associate his daughter's surname with this sniveling waste of space, even if he had legally adopted it at their farce of a wedding.

Hisashi froze. A whisper of smoke leaked past his lips.

"I wonder, do you even recognize my voice?"

"Shi- Shigaraki..."

"Oh, very good!" All for One clapped his hands in a show of false cheer. "So! You remember your father-in-law, but not your wife? Not your son?"

"I- I-"

"Because amnesia is the only acceptable excuse I can think of for abandoning them and trying to move all the way to Hokkaido. Unless you'd like to try a different one." All for One paused, and the silence stretched out before him, thin and brittle, much like Hisashi's bones. "I'm waiting."

"It- it isn't my fault," whined the man. "And I- I was always going to send money back. I just- I just can't live there anymore. I- Shouldn't you be pleased about this? You hated me and Inko get-"

All for One kicked Hisashi sharply. "Don't even say her name. I did hate your sham of a marriage. But as long as it made her happy, I put up with it."

Hisashi wheezed, more smoke filling the air of the disused underground parking garage they were meeting in.

"Speak clearly," demanded All for One.

"It- the boy. He's quirkless. I could- couldn't stay, with everyone knowing."

"Oh?" said All for One, voice suddenly silky smooth. He bent over and put his hand on top of Hisashi's head. "Well, lucky for you, that's something I can fix."

All for One dropped Hisashi on one of Garaki's carefully polished operating tables. "Make him into something interesting," he ordered, and Garaki scrambled to examine his new materials.

Meanwhile, All for One took a seat in one of Garaki's rolling chair. "I simply don't understand it," he said. "Who leaves their family just because they had a quirkless child? Unbelievable."

Of course, All for One had seen similar things many times before in his long life and knew they happened very well. He simply failed to understand. With his brother, even when he'd actively been trying to dismantle his empire... Destroying other people made sense, but family was special.

"He should be pleased by this outcome, really. Izuku won't be quirkless for much longer."

"You- you're giving him a quirk, my lord?"

"Yes," said All for One. "This fool's quirk, to be precise. And perhaps his grandmother's. I'll miss it, of course, but to be honest, I don't really use it the way it should be."

"But," said Garaki, "my lord, I've already diagnosed the boy as quirkless."

"Then you'll just have to practice your groveling for when you apologize to them." He paused. "Surely you aren't concerned about the medical reputation of a throwaway identity?"

"Not at all, my lord," said Garaki in a way that indicated extreme dissatisfaction.

All for One ignored him.

"Kacchan! Kacchan! Guess what? Guess what?"

"Go away, nerd!"

Izuku was undeterred. "I got my quirk!"

Kacchan scowled mightily. "No you didn't! You were dig-dag-dignoz-" The frown became mightier. "The doctor said you were quirkless, stupid deku!"

"The doctor was wrong! Watch! Watch!" He puckered his lips and a small tongue of flame emerged from between them. "And that's not it!" He pointed at a stunned Kacchan and a small gust of wind ruffled his hair. "I can do that, too! Mama said it's just like gramma's!"

"That's- you- You're still not better than me!"

"I know!" said Izuku, cheerfully.

"Hm, I don't know," said another one of the students watching, "Deku can do two things, and Bakugo just explodes..."

Bakugo's shriek of rage was audible throughout the entire preschool.

"Two quirks, Dad? Two? TWO? After everything you drilled into my head about how dangerous it was to give people multiple quirks? What were you thinking?" demanded Inko.

"Hardly anyone dies from just two quirks," said All for One, "and he retained the family adaptation for accepting multiple quirks, the risk was-"

"Not. Yours. To. Take." Inko punctuated each word with a jab to the chest, then sat down heavily in the nearest chair. "I hope you understand. I am furious with you."

"Inko, princess-"

Inko held up her hand. "No. If I see Izuku with another quirk, I will kill you. Do you understand? No warning, no third chances. If you're a threat to my son, you're dead."

"Perfectly," said All for One, choosing not to mention the longevity quirks all three of them had.

Watching illegally obtained footage of his grandson's entrance exam was and excellent way to unwind after a long and stressful day of being unspeakably evil.

Right up until the part where Izuku destroyed a giant robot by punching it to bits.

The heartrate monitor he was attached to unhelpfully informed him that his had skyrocketed. He had never told Inko about One for All. The entrance exam had taken place hours ago.

"Kurogiri!" he called. "Kurogiri?"

No response.

"Hello, Dad."

Izuku's acceptance into UA was marred by news of his grandfather's sudden death. He had been getting older, but he always sounded so full of life when they talked on the phone.

After the service, Izuku lingered by the grave. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small booklet, a copy of a vintage comic his grandfather had gotten him into. He put it down by the headstone.

"I was always too embarrassed to tell you this," he said, softly, "but the real reason I started to want to be a hero... it wasn't that old All Might video. It was this." He tapped the cover of the comic. "The way the hero never gave up..." Izuku sniffed. "It was just really inspiring." He wiped tears away from his face. "I'll make you proud. I promise. I'll be the best hero there ever was!"

In America, a woman named Morticia Roll paused. Her rather niche quirk was the ability to know who would be spinning in their graves the most, if people were able to spin in their graves.

Most of the time, that honor belonged to some random European dude. But Shigaraki Hiroshi sounded Asian... She shrugged and went back to her gardening. Whatever was happening, it wasn't any of her business.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #ask #answer #prompt fill #prompt

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lostonehero · 3 years ago

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Meanwhile

Background

Lady flygon found MewTwo

Lady Flygon told mewtwo he wasn't a meapon because they have free will

Mewtwo took that as a threat and attack

Lady flygon thought her new grandkid wanted a battle and had fun

Mewtwo got their ass kicked and caused a panic where we are now in the aftermath

Giovanni got involved because mewtwo forced it

I think that's all the background? I had the idea while walking

Looker just got off his flight to the international police station in Johto. He was disheveled at best, and frazzled at worse. "Report?"

Silver looked nervous this was his first meeting with Looker, and he wasn't exactly prepared to deal with the first interaction having to do with his father. "All three parties are in recovery, uh I wasn't informed on what happened, but I was required to come. I know this involves my father but I will be impartial as I can."

Looker looks at Silver and sighs. "I understand let us go in and see the damage. I trust you've seen it all thanks to your parents."

Silver nods hesitant not really understanding what Looker means.

.......

Giovanni is nursing his jaw apparently if he even used his own biological control over Mewtwo it still changed his DNA, but from what the scientists told him it won't completely over ride his human half. Apparently he was barely a quarter after what was explained to them. He spits out a few more teeth into a bucket glaring at Mewtwo because he can't be mad at lady flygon.

Mewtwo bristles. "Enough you have." He squeaks and stops when lady flygon taps his shoulder.

"Don't blame my son in law, for one he is your dad and two he took my hyper beam head on to protect you." She tisks. "Teenagers are something else, Ari and Maxie were my little rebels." She smiles. "But Mewtwo right? Well you might have overwhelming power but you have no focus or control or even a style to fight hence why I beat you. Maybe you should listen to Gio and you'll learn something."

Mewtwo scowls she did have a point which they hated to admit. They were in a human male form with their leg lifted up since it was broken in six places. "I concede you are correct ma'am, however-" he is cut off by her loud squeal.

"Baby Silver!" She rushes and tackles her grandson picking him up and twirling him around. "Ah I didn't think they would take my request to see you. Is Byron OK I know I broke his pelvis, are you ok?"

Silver slightly dizzy. "Hi grandma, grandpa is fine he is on bedrest." He mumbles out as he is dropped.

Looker frowns stepping back this woman was huge, was she an alpha pokemon he was told about. Yes they had human forms, this must be one. "Excuse me madam I must ask why you caused such a scene with Mewtwo."

She looks down and smikes waving her hand. "Ah it wasn't that bad I was having fun, it's been a long time since I've had a good battle. You humans battle all the time with your own pokemon. Trainers help unlock abilities pokemon have and unseen potential."

Looker frown deepens. "Uh yes but why did you uh battle mewtwo." He looks at the purple haired man crossing his arms laying back, then to Giovanni who was puking into a bucket. So this wasn't his fault, he looked sea sick but on solid ground.

"Well they started it, teenagers yaknow alway thinking they know better then you." She smiles and rubs Mewtwo head messing up there hair. "They were a blast just doesn't have direction, and not much of a weapon if they have free will. They're my grandkid."

Silver sighs and texts his mom with a you're right note. "Grandma please they looks uncomfortable."

"Nonesense they are just upset they have to heal normally. I've seen too many psychic types heal wrong because they didn't let their wound heal properly."

Mewtwo looks away embarrassed because they didn't know that. That was probably the reason she stopped them from using recover which they were now thankful for.

Giovanni looks up from his bucket glaring at Looker, but says nothing to him. "Silver don't argue with your grandmother."

Silver frowns and goes to argue that he wasn't till lady flygon pulls him into a bone crushing hug. "Aww don't be upset kiddo your dad is just being protective." She picks him up and places him in a chair next to Mewtwo. "I wish you told me I had two grandkids, ah its too early to tell but you guys might have a new aunt or uncle." She points to Looker. "Sit sit I have a lesson for you three Giovanni already knows this."

Looker nods and sits down in a chair he really doesn't want to agrue with a pokemon who put Mewtwo out of commission.

"Well since Mewtwo here doesn't know what an alpha pokemon is I'm gonna explain it, and I'll explain other responsibilities of alpha pokemon as well to teach you why it's important that we exist." She smiles and begins to explain

#half zoroark au #pokemon #half flygon au #rival silver #cat man giovanni #rocket boss giovanni #mewtwo #looker

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thebrochtuarachs · 4 years ago

Text

Something in the Rain - “Situations”

A/N: WHAT?! BACK TO BACK UPDATES?! Yes, you're not dreaming, it is happening and even I, am surprising myself. I'd like to thank you all for the support even though I haven't written in a while. I've never received much more heartfelt messages and comments. With much encouragement, this next chapter wrote itself quickly. :) I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground

XXXXX

“Are we on for lunch next Friday?” she asked, three blocks away from her home.

“Actually, I’ll be going on a two week business trip to London.” Jamie answered. “I need to look at our office down there, catch up with our staff and clients”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mention it earlier. But my schedule is going to be cramped.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s work!” Claire bumped his arm with her elbow. “Message me when you’re back and settled and let’s catch up then.” she followed, hoping to keep communication lines open in line with what seems to be a long break.

“I will.” Jamie noted that offer. “How about you? How is your week looking?”

“Uhm, between my rounds, surgeries, and department duties” Claire counted with her fingers for emphasis. “My days are pretty much full. Lunch, late evenings and the weekends are generally my free times.” The answer also serves as an indirect information Claire hoped Jamie would figure out about how unpredictable her time and availability is.

A brief silence and then Claire asked the question that was on her mind since the afternoon. “Erm, why didn’t you tell me you were popular?”

“What?” Jamie chuckled. “What is the world are ye talking about?”

“It has come to my attention that you, Jamie Fraser, apparently, is one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors.” Claire said and Jamie groaned.

“Ugh, how’d you find out?”

“Geilis mentioned it earlier. Apparently, there are magazine pictures that I should see. She’s showing me her copy on Monday.” she added, earning another joking sigh. “I wondered why it never came up and/or why you didn’t tell me?”

“One, I thought you, at least, knew. I mean, it was in a national magazine. Second, it’s not the first thing I share with the people I meet. How would you feel if I said, ‘Hi, I’m Jamie Fraser, did you see my photo on Tatler?” he saw her tilt her head and stick her tongue in feign disgust. “Exactly.”

“I guess that’s a valid point. Still - I guess, I’d rather knew about myself first or you.”

“I’m sorry, Sassenach. It just comes with working at a local, historic business, keeps us afloat, ye know. I’ll warn ye ahead of time of any write-ups about me out there.”

“What’d ye call me?” Claire stopped walking.

“Hmmm?”

“You called me a Sassenach?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Aish, it’s not as bad as ye think it means. It just means Englishwoman, an outlander, not from Scotland.” Claire didn’t look convinced, forcing Jamie to explain further. “It was my first thought about ye when you slipped under my umbrella. I guess it kinda stuck and is what I’ve been calling ye in my head.”

“Mhmm, alright.” She shook her head and smiled. “This is me”

Jamie looked at the Georgian building and took note of the place and surroundings. “I guess, I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks” Claire waited briefly if Jamie had anything else to say or do but when he didn’t move, it was her cue to leave. “Bye, then.”

“Bye.” Jamie watched Claire enter her home and when she was safely in, he walked back to his car, berating himself if he missed a big opportunity.

Claire reached the emergency room and immediately asked for a patient in the nurse’s station. “Tammas Baxter?”

“Bed 4” She quickly went to where the nurse pointed and opened the curtain to find a pale, sickly, boy, a frightened grandma, and a fidgety young lady.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Claire Beauchamp and I’ll be checking on Tammas today. Are you his family and what seems to be the problem?” She asked the ladies on the other side of the bed as she examined his physical state.

“Yes, we are. I’m Mrs. Fitz, his grandma and this is Laoghaire, his cousin. He came home from school this afternoon and just started vomiting and developing a head and stomachache.”

Claire leaned down and smelled Tammas, having a hunch already on what the boy might be going though but she needed to confirm. “Tammas, my name is Claire. I know you’re in pain right now but I need you to tell me something so we know what medicine to give you, okay?” The boy nodded weakly.

“Did you eat this?” Claire shared a photo on her phone and despite his frailty, everyone saw the panic in his eyes looking from Claire to his grandma. Claire looked at the old lady as she soothed rather than scold her grandson, telling her he was in no trouble and just needed to tell the truth. With that, the boy turned to Claire and gave a nod to confirm her suspicions.

“Thank you, good lad.” Claire patted the boy and proceeded to order her treatment to the nurses. “Get blood and urine samples, hang an IV and start to give him a dose of anti-poisoning”

After getting a clear from the nurses, Claire invited his guardians outside to explain his situation better. “Hi, Mrs. Fitz, was it?” the older lady confirmed and she proceeded to explain the situation. “Tammas ingested a plant called Lily of the Valley. It is incredibly poisonous and you made the right decision to bring him in immediately. We caught it at the right time and we’ll treat him with fluids and medicine and we’ll observe him in the next couple of days until his situation improves. He’ll be just fine.”

Mrs. Fitz sighed in relief and then hugged Claire which she returned. As a pediatric surgeon, she’s already used to these moments but it always warms her heart when it happens. Mrs. Fitz then asked her niece to check on admitting Tammas and left. They checked on Tammas again, the boy now asleep after being medicated.

“I’ll check up on him before my shift ends. I’ll ask the nurses to page me if anything changes on his condition.” Claire said, signing his chart and placing it back on the caddy.

“Thank ye, Doctor.”

“Please call me Claire”

“Ye know, it was my nephew who told me to go straight to the ER and look for Dr. Beauchamp. He didn’t mention, though, that Dr. Beauchamp was a pretty lady.”

A blush threatened to creep Claire’s cheek but she kept her composure. “Jamie called ahead as well, told me that you were coming. I was free and was able to come down to the ER. I’m happy to help”

“And how did ye know it was poisoning right away?”

“I dabble in medicinal herbs sometimes. The plant has a distinct smell that I picked up while I was examining him. Jamie also had a hunch and told me about a tradition with the boys about eating the plant as a right of passage. Between those two, it kinda showed itself.”

“I see. And how long have ye known Jamie?” Mrs. Fitz found the opening and she took it.

“Not too long.” Claire smiled and answered honestly. Just then, Laoghaire returned with documents for them to sign and she excused herself out.

As Mrs. Fitz finished the paperwork, her thoughts flitted back to Claire. When she asked about Jamie, she somewhat expected the lass to immediately gush all over him as what she’d experienced with his previous affairs.

But what she found, instead, in their short conversation thus far, was a genuineness that was incredibly refreshing to see. She didn’t know the extent of their relationship, yet, but for whatever’s worth, she knew Jamie found a good one.

---

“You were right, it was poisoning. Yep, no - he’ll be fine now, Jamie. We’re treating him and should be able to go home in a few days.” Claire put the phone on speaker as she signed documents in her office. It’s been a week and a half since they last saw each other and due to the nature of their jobs, they’ve texted sporadically, just catching up or checking in, here and there. But, today, the emergency forced them to communicate more directly and urgently to which each of them welcomed.

Jamie was on the other line, wanting to hear the update himself. “I told the lad not to do it and he still did. Mrs. Fitz might not have a thing to say anymore to him but I might have”

“Like you were not a ten year old that broke the rules before.” she gruffed.

“Still, my da told on me.”

“Jamie, I’m sure Tammas would have plenty to hear about it by the time you come back.”

She heard a sigh on the other end and she knew she’d saved the lad against more scolding from his family. “Yer right. I’ll just settle for a really, really stern look and not give him his presents”

He can hear her roll her eyes and moved to change the subject. “Who accompanied Mrs. Fitz, Sassenach?”

Claire smiled, still not use to the name but truthfully, she liked it because it came from him. “A granddaughter, I think her name was Laoghaire.”

“I see.” he said plainly and Claire caught on.

“Anything you’d like to share?” she pressed but instead the call ended and rang again, this time a video call.

Claire was surprised but took a quick look at her mirror and accepted the call.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how are ye”

“You called after I mentioned Laoghaire. That is suspicious.”

“There’s nothing to tell other than, she might have a wee crush on me, Sassenach.”

“A wee crush. That explains the weird look she gave me earlier today.”

“What weird look?”

“Like she was sizing me up or something. Didn’t last long, though, Mrs. Fitz had her do all the errands earlier.

It was Jamie’s turn to make a face and shrug. “Don’t let her get to ye, Claire. I’m no interested in her”

“Oh yeah? Why so?” she quipped back.

“For starters, she isna my type and…”

Claire cut him off, “Alright, alright, no need to say more” a laugh bubbling as Jamie looked so serious on her screen. “Anything else, you need to say, Mr. Fraser? Some of us have to work here.”

She saw Jamie scratch the back of his head, turn red, and hear the shuffling of his feet. “Erm, Claire, would you be free this Saturday evening?”

She looked at her calendar, “My schedule is free so far”

“May I have the pleasure to take you to dinner then?”

“Are you asking me out, James Fraser?” Claire asked, eyeing him adorably. She was not at all surprised that their lunches would eventually become dinners. It was only a matter of time. If they we’re not interested in each other, they had stopped meeting a long time ago.

“Aye.” Jamie replied, anticipating her answer.

“Pick me up at my place around 7:00?”

“It’s a date, then.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #something in the rain #SITR #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #mia writes #TB writes #I cant believe how quickly this next story came #honestly a miracle #thanks to all your encouragement really #it was incredibly heartwarming #i hope you enjoy this one

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crazy4dragons · 4 years ago

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Mama’s Boy

Nuffink is being bullied at the Academy. Canon-verse, a few years after HTTYD3 ends. Rating: PG (very mild language, bullying, a bit of mild violence).

Mama’s boy.

Nuffink fought back tears as he ran out of the Academy, his classmates’ sneers echoing in his head.

Mama’s boy. Mama’s boy.

It all started when a group of kids happened to walk by the Haddock house while Astrid was giving Nuffink a cuddle and kiss goodbye, just as she did every morning before school. It had been their routine ever since his very first day, when he and Astrid both cried — him because he was nervous, and her because she realized that her baby was officially growing up, and all the mornings of completing paperwork with him snuggled in her lap were over.

Nuffink never thought of his bond with Astrid as odd, but the other New Berkian children certainly did. After all, he’d just turned ten years old, and once you hit double digits, hugs and kisses from your parents just weren’t cool.

That only added to the list of reasons to tease him. Nuffink already knew the others snickered behind his back when he couldn’t hit swing his mace hard enough, or hit the target with his axe. And then there was Spitelout, who had somehow talked his way into teaching a class on strength and persistently mocked Nuffink for not being able to do more than ten push-ups in a row.

“You’ve got Jorgenson blood in you somewhere,” he’d laughed. “And Jorgensons aren’t weak.”

The teasing had been happening all week, but Nuffink hadn’t told anyone. Hiccup was off at the annual tribe meeting, and with Astrid left to do the work of two people for a few days, he didn’t want to burden her with his problems.

“Nuffink, wait!”

Nuffink turned around to see Zephyr running towards him. She was a level above him in training, so they weren’t in the same class. Evidentially, however, she’d heard what happened.

“Who’s bullying you?” she demanded, blue eyes narrowing just as her mother’s did when she was angry. “I’ll kick their asses and send them all the way to Hel.” The language she got from Snotlout and Tuffnut, both of whom she spent way too much time with.

“Forget it.” Kicking a stone, Nuffink sank against a large boulder and buried his face in his hands. “I’m never gonna be good enough, especially not if you and Mama keep taking care of me.”

Zephyr sat beside her brother and wrapped him in a hug. From the day he was born, he’d been her best friend. Sure, they fought sometimes as all siblings do, but mostly, they were inseparable. “I’m your sister, Fink. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Why, because I’m a baby?”

“No, because we’re family, and family looks out for each other.” Zephyr stood up. “Now come on, let’s go home.”

Nuffink shook his head. “We can’t go home. Mama will ask why we’re back early and I don’t want to bother her with this. Not until Dad gets back tomorrow.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Let’s go to the cove,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes. “We can hide there until the classes let out.”

Zephyr shrugged. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

The two children crept out from behind the boulder and began walking towards New Berk’s hidden cove, trying to stay off the main paths so they wouldn’t attract attention.

“Aren’t yer two supposed to be at the Academy?”

Nuffink’s heart sank as he heard Gobber’s voice behind them. It figured they wouldn’t make it very far unnoticed, not with Gobber, Valka, and Astrid all working hard to maintain the island.

“Uncle Gobber!” Zephyr smiled. “We were just heading to the Ingermans’ for lunch. Fishlegs invited us.”

“Does yer mother know?”

“Of course. We cleared it with her this morning.” Then, before Gobber could say anything else, she grabbed Nuffink’s arm and urged him forward. “Bye, Uncle Gobber!” she called behind her. “Have a good day!”

The rest of the way to the cove was fortunately fairly vacant; the only Vikings around were a few women and Mildew, all of whom were too caught up in the latest gossip to take notice of the two Haddock children.

“Zephyr,” Nuffink began once they were safely concealed behind the bushes.

“Yeah?”

“What if Gobber asks Mama if she really told us we could eat at the Ingermans?”

“Then we make up another lie,” Zephyr said.

Nuffink bit his lip. “I don’t know. I hate lying to Mama. You know that.”

“It’s either lie or tell her what happened at the Academy.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “But if I get grounded, it’s your fault.”

“Wait.” Narrowing her eyes, Zephyr strained her ears in attempt to detect whether or not she was imagining her mother’s angry voice in the distance.

“If you ever so much as come within ten feet of my son again, I swear to the gods I’ll chop off your legs with my axe and ship you off to the Outcasts!”

Yes, that was definitely her mother. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about telling Mom the truth,” the girl began cautiously. “She already knows.”

“How?” Nuffink’s mouth gaped in shock.

“Because nothing happens on this island without Mom and Dad hearing about it,” Zephyr said, giving off her best Hiccup impression, hand gestures included.

The boy sighed. “I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“Mom’s the chieftess,” shrugged Zephyr. “Everyone has to listen to her.”

“Yeah, but her going out there and defending me is only gonna make me look like a stupid Mama’s boy even more.” He kicked a twig on the ground.

Zephyr opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Astrid emerged from the bushes, fist clenched around the handle of her axe.

“Please don’t make a fuss, Mama,” Nuffink begged. “It’s bad enough everyone thinks I’m too weak to take care of myself.” He fought back the tears brimming in his eyes.

Dropping her weapon, Astrid caught her son in a hug. “My baby,” she murmured, holding him close.

“I’m not a baby,” sniffled Nuffink as he felt a tear slip down his freckled cheek.

“You aren’t weak,” Astrid assured, standing back and pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You’re kind, clever, and thoughtful, just like your dad. And your father is one of the strongest people I know.”

“But I wanna be like you,” insisted the boy.

Astrid laughed. “Trust me, love. One child like me is enough.” She nodded towards Zephyr. “Now come on, you two. Let’s go home.”

…

The next day, Nuffink trudged into the Academy, eyes on the floor as he forced himself to move through the gates and over to his class. Part of him hadn’t even wanted to come to school that morning, but the other part of him wanted to show up and prove everyone wrong.

“Thanks a lot for being a tattletale to your Mama, Mama’s boy,” Spearlout taunted. “She came to my house and cussed out my whole family because you can’t keep your stupid mouth shut.”

“I didn’t tell,” Nuffink said in a small voice. “Word got out and —”

“Mmm-hmm, a likely story,” cut in Hildegard.

Nuffink’s heart tumbled down to his stomach. His excuse was only partly true. Astrid had first heard of the incident from others, but after they’d gotten home from the cove, he’d broken down and told her everything, prompting her to make rounds to several households and threaten the guilty parties with her axe.

“Baby,” laughed Spearlout.

“Hey!” Tearing away from her group, Zephyr charged towards her cousin and elbowed him in the ribs until he fell to the ground. “You leave my brother alone!”

“Ouch! Zephyr!” Spearlout cried, struggling back to his feet and throwing a punch at Zephyr’s nose, which she swiftly dodged.

Hildegard inched closer to Nuffink. “Why don’t you get in there and help? Oh wait, you’re too much of a baby.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Leif. “You can’t do anything on your own.”

“Zephyr, please,” Nuffink begged as he watched his sister aim for Spearlout’s eye. “You’re only making it worse.”

“What in Thor’s name is going on?”

The children turned to see Spitelout stalking towards them.

“Your grandson is messing with my brother,” spat Zephyr.

Spitelout laughed. “Well, lass, yer brother needs to toughen up. He is a quarter Jorgenson, and Jorgensons aren’t weak.”

Holding back tears, Nuffink ran out the Academy and towards the Haddock house. He didn’t care about being tough, not right now. In that moment, all he cared about was going home to Astrid.

As he turned the doorknob, the chieftess turned away from her newly returned husband and narrowed her eyes. “Alright, who do I need to kill?”

“Kill?” Hiccup cut in.

“These half-troll kids — and Spitelout — are bullying Nuffink,” Astrid spat, looking back at Hiccup. “He said it’s been happening all week, but I only just heard about it yesterday. I swear to every god in Hel, I’m—”

The Chief held up a hand. “Take it easy, milady. I got this.”

“But —”

“I got this,” he repeated, kissing her cheek before approaching Nuffink and swinging a comforting arm around his shoulders. “What’s up, bud? Who’s bullying you?”

“Spearlout, Hildegard, Leif,” sniffled Nuffink. “The rest of my class sometimes joins in, too, but mostly it’s them.”

Hiccup offered a comforting smile. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, ruffling his son’s hair as he opened the door to leave.

“Don’t make it worse, Dad,” Nuffink said, wiping his eyes.

“I won’t. I promise. You can even come with me if you’d like.”

After a moment of silence, the boy took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d actually like that,” he decided slowly.

With that, Hiccup and Nuffink set off for the Academy, where they discovered Zephyr cursing at Spitelout while Spearlout sat against the wall, a purple bruise forming around his eye.

“Excuse me,” Hiccup began. “I don’t know what all this is —” He gestured to the group “—But whatever it is, it’s over.”

“Look what yer lass did to my grandson,” Spitelout growled, motioning to Spearlout. “And then she has the nerve to pull her smart mouth on me. Whatever happened to respecting yer elders?”

Hiccup glared at the older Viking. “It is my understanding, Spitelout, that you and Spearlout are both guilty of bullying my son.”

“Oh, Chief,” laughed Spitelout. “Yer got t’ stop being so soft. You yerself was weak as a lad, and look at yer now.”

“Yeah, I’m in charge of this island,” Hiccup pointed out.

“And yer doing a terrible job,” Spitelout insisted.

“Putting all feelings about me aside, we need to talk about what’s been going on here.” Glaring, Hiccup folded his arms over his chest. “Spearlout, Hildegard, Leif, come over here and stand with Spitelout.”

The three children hesitated.

“Now,” Hiccup ordered, his voice firm.

Muttering under their breaths, they dragged themselves forward.

“When I was a boy,” the chief began, “most of the other kids my age treated me just the way you’re treating Nuffink. It left me feeling like I wasn’t good enough to be a Viking, and certainly not good enough to be Chief. So I told myself that if my kids were ever made to feel that way, I’d find everyone responsible and make sure they served a fair punishment.”

The children’s eyes widened. Spitelout grunted.

“And because you made my son feel bad about himself, I’m going to ask that you kids clean out the yak stables every day. For a moon.”

“But Chief! It wasn’t that serious!” insisted Spearlout, looking to his grandfather with his one good eye.

“That is ridiculous, Haddock,” Spitelout barked. “Yer can’t make them do that.”

“But Chief!” tried Hildegard.

“Two moons.”

“That’s not fair!” Leif shouted.

“So not fair!” Spearlout echoed.

“Three moons.”

Spearlout opened his mouth again.

“I can make it four,” warned Hiccup, prompting him to bite back his retort. “As for you, Spitelout, you’re on outhouse duty until the end of the season. You will also no longer be working at the Academy. From now on, Eret will be teaching strength training instead.”

Spitelout’s eyes widened. “But Eret isn’t even a born Berkian!” he exclaimed.

“And I’ll be there, watching you — all of you — to make sure the jobs get done,” Hiccup continued, ignoring Spitelout’s outburst. “Is that clear?”

The four nodded.

“Now get to work. Classes are over for the day,” Hiccup ordered before turning to Nuffink, who was observing silently. “You ready to go, bud?“

Nuffink nodded as a small, crooked smile appeared on his lips. Maybe taking after his dad wasn’t so awful after all.

#httyd #haddock family #nuffink #zephyr #hiccup #astrid #momstrid #daddycup #chief hiccup #trigger warning bullying #bullying #fanfic #my writing #hiccstrid babies

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years ago

Text

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter X

The royal retinue reach the courtyard outside the Leville just as the ground beneath their feet began to shake. At the same time, Noctis grabs his head and winces. Images flash through his mind, but he couldn't make sense of them. Shaking his head, the pain and vision subside. Gladio, who was the closest to the prince, noticed his painful expression. "What's wrong?"

"My head just started throbbing," Noctis replied, hiding the details of the vision he witnessed.

"You all right?" Prompto asked worriedly.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"A headache at the exact moment of an earthquake," (Y/n) hummed. "I would say it isn't a coincidence."

"Indeed," Ignis agreed.

"Doesn't matter. It's gone," Noctis said.

They enter the Leville and stand in the lobby to wait for Iris. Gladio crosses his arms, tapping his foot impatiently against the tiled floor. He wasn't sure what was taking his sister so long, but she descended the stairwell a few minutes later.

"Gladdy!" Iris chanted, hurrying down the stairs.

Said boy looked up and smiled at his sister. He was relieved to see she was uninjured and safe from the hell raised by the empire in Insomnia. Although he lost his father, at least he still had his little sister. "Iris."

The young Amicitia glances around at the faces of the boys. She had yet to spot (Y/n) due to being hidden behind Ignis' tall, lithe body. "Look at you guys, holding your own out there."

Prompto smiled with slightly red cheeks. "What can I say? You look good."

"All things considered," Iris exhaled heavily. "You guys are staying here, right?"

"That's the plan," Ignis said, taking a step to the side and revealing the girl hidden behind him.

Iris noticed the fifth member of the group and blinked in surprise. She searched her memory and tried to remember seeing someone as beautiful as her before, but she couldn't recall anyone. She hastily took a few steps towards her, signaling the beginning of a throng of questions. "Who's this? Is she a crownsguard? But that outfit is way too nice." Iris circles (Y/n), examining her appearance closely. Reaching the front, she saw the slitted eyes and gemstone. "Wait, you're a guardian! But I don't remember any of the guys except Ignis having one. Now that I think about, I don't see her here."

Gladio stopped his sister after seeing how uncomfortable (Y/n) was becoming. "Take a breather, Iris. You're freakin' the girl out."

Realizing what she was doing, she gasped and promptly apologized. "I-I'm so sorry. It's just...I've never met someone so beautiful before. If I had, I would definitely remember."

"Oh, um...thank you, Iris," (Y/n) shyly replied.

"Pretty sure you've met (Y/n) before, Iris," Noctis stated. "But you've never seen her human form until now."

"That name..." Iris' voice trailed off before her eyes widened. "You're really (Y/n)? That little bundle of white fur is you?"

She nodded. "Y-Yes."

"Oh, wow. This is... You look amazing!" She praised. "I never imagined you were this pretty. I mean, I imagined you to be a little more than average, but I am blown away!"

The guardian did her best to analyze her appearance. Without a mirror, it was difficult to examine her entire body. She glanced down at her dress before lifting her head. "I really don't see what's so special about me."

"You're kidding, right?" Prompto spoke up. "You didn't notice all those people staring at you when we first got here?"

"And not just here. Wherever we go, people stare at you," Noctis added. "Can't believe you haven't noticed."

That's when (Y/n) started to worry. "Am I drawing too much attention to us? If that's the case, I can always change forms and-"

Gladio held up his and silenced her. "Slow your roll, munchkin. We drive a super fancy car that already sticks out like a sore thumb anywhere we go. With you taggin' along, no one even looks twice at Noct."

Noctis glanced at his shield with a scowl. "Am I supposed to be offended by that?"

"Take it as you will, Highness." Gladio focuses his gaze back on his sister. "Putting all that aside, when you have time we have catching up to do."

Iris nodded. "Sure. I've got time now if you guys do. We can talk in my room." She leads the group of five up the stairs and into one of the many hotel rooms. As they got comfortable, they were joined by an old man and a young boy. Gladio easily recognized the two. "Jared and Talcott! Is it good to see you."

Talcott smiled sweetly as he addressed the member of royalty among them. "Prince Noctis! Iris is safe with me!" You could tell the young boy admired Noctis just by the gleam in his eyes.

Jared patted Talcott on the shoulder, smiling apologetically to the prince. "Please excuse my grandson. He has yet to learn his manners."

Noctis smirked. "I like it."

The older man lowered his head in a slight bow. "Your Highness is very kind, but we shan't impose. A very good night to you, Your Highness." Taking his grandson with him, he left the room so the group could talk. Iris closes the door behind them as they leave before taking a seat alongside the others.

Noctis was a little hesitant to ask, but he wanted to know some details of the invasion. "So Iris, what was it like inside the Crown City?"

Iris winced slightly as she remembered the day of the signing clearly. "Not pretty. The Citadel took a beating. But a lot of outlying neighborhoods made it through in one piece."

Ignis' eyes narrowed as he gazed at the carpet. "The empire had tactical targets in mind."

"If they incapacitated the Citadel from the inside, it would make it difficult for the crownsguard and Kingsglaive to deploy," (Y/n) said.

"Think they had a man on the inside?" Gladio wondered.

"A possibility we cannot dismiss," Ignis stated.

Iris glanced around at the dejected faces of the group. She clasped her hands together in her lap and focused her gaze on Noctis. "You know if there's anything else, you can ask me."

Noctis lifted his head, slightly taken aback. "Yeah, uh, thanks."

"So...about Lady Lunafreya. I keep hearing she was in town. Apparently she left right away, but at least it means she's okay."

The prince wasn't sure how to feel about Lunafreya. He wasn't sure if she was alive or dead and he was worried about her. However, Iris' words did provide a small amount of relief. "Good to hear. Thanks."

Iris then stands, brushing off her skirt. "Yeah, well, get a good night's rest." She then leaves the room.

Ignis stood up as well. "I shall procure rooms for us."

(Y/n) glances at him. "That was plural."

"I shall ensure you get your own personal room, (Y/n). It would be ill-suited for a lady to remain in a room with four men."

She watched him leave the room, blinking in surprise. She uncrossed her legs with a huff. A grin tugged at the corners of Gladio's lips. "You seem disappointed."

"No, just surprised. We had no issues sharing a room in Longwythe or Galdin Quay. What's changed?" She pondered.

"You think it has to do with the fact you spend more time in your human form than your spiritual one now?" Prompto asked.

"Or maybe Iggy wants you to have your own room so he can make a surprise visit to you in the middle of the night," the brute said.

She glowered at him. "Why do you think Iggy would have an ulterior motive?"

Gladio looked away, trying to act innocent. "No reason."

Her eyes scrunched up in an accusing manner. "You know something that I don't."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But it's not my place to tell. Hopefully us guys can snap some sense into his uptight ass and get him to tell you."

(Y/n) wanted to question him further, but held herself back as Ignis returned. She accepted the key he offered her and read the number attached to it before heading to her room. It was only a few doors down from Iris' room. She entered the room and looked around. There was a small couch, a coffee table, and a double bed with a nightstand beside it. It was decent, but she felt lonely. Why had Ignis suddenly wanted her to have her own room? Was it really because she's been spending more time in her human form like Prompto said or was there another possibility?

Her shoulders sank while trudging towards the bed. She sat down on the edge with a huff of frustration at her busy thoughts. She pushed them aside by remembering the intimate moment she shared with Ignis earlier that day. It was nice to be in his arms, a sensation she's enjoyed ever since he first hugged her when he was only five years old. As the years passed, the hugs became scarce in number due to his duties to the crown. He became more prim and proper, meaning casual hugs were deemed inappropriate. She had watched the boy grow into a man, his personality changing from sweet and caring to reserved and stoic.

Of course, he had his moments where he would show her how much he cared about her. Those were few and far between. However, that somewhat changed after they left the city. Even with Noctis as his first priority, his time with her had grown as if they had reverted back to their younger years. It brought a smile to her face, but it quickly vanished. She wanted to be his first priority. Was it a selfish thought? Perhaps.

Hanging her head, she hid her face behind a curtain of (h/c) tresses. She mentally scolded herself for thinking in such a manner. All she wanted was Ignis to love her with all his heart just as she wanted to do the same for him. But there was another thing stopping her-their roles. She was his guardian and he was her master. Was it appropriate for a human and spirit to be together?

That's when her eyes gleamed with hope as she recalled Jasper and Luca. They were clearly in love with each other and are engaged. She lifted her head and glanced out the window, coming to a decision-she would meet Luca tomorrow and discuss how he and Jasper overcame such obstacles or if it was only her self-doubt that prevented her from confessing her feelings.

(Y/n) was pulled from her thoughts when she heard a knock on her door. She went to answer it and saw Prompto was visiting her. Noticing he was alone, she wondered what he wanted. "Is there something I can do for you, Prompto?"

"You're gonna join us for dinner, right?" He asked.

Checking the time on the clock located on the nightstand, she saw it was a few minutes past five. "I didn't realize it was that late already."

Prompto grabbed her hand with a smile. "C'mon, the guys already left to make sure we get a table."

(Y/n) was taken aback at the sudden sensation of his hand on hers. "Prompto, your hand."

He looked down at their connected hands and blushed. He had unconsciously grabbed hers. "S-Sorry..."

She couldn't help but admire how kind and gentle he was. In order to smooth over the situation, she offered him a gentle smile. "It's fine. Let's go."

They left the Leville and headed to Surgate's Beanmine near the main thoroughfare. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis were sitting at one of the tables and had already ordered for everyone. The eatery was packed and only a couple tables were left vacant. Sitting in between Noctis and Ignis, (Y/n) glances across the table when Gladio kicked her lightly in the foot. "Took your time, munchkin."

"I was thinking about a few things and didn't realize how late it was," she explained.

He took a brief glance at Ignis before looking back at her. "Like what?"

"Luca. I want to help him with his dream project. Spirits could use a good reputation. I also want to warn him about the empire."

"Y'know, all the people I've talked about guardians with adore them," Prompto said. "I can't believe people discriminate against your people, (Y/n)."

She crossed her legs, placing her hands gently in her lap. "I can't even imagine what it's like to be a masterless spirit in a society like this. It must be very difficult for them to live normal lives."

"Oh, yeah. Specs mentioned that rite of annulment," Noctis chimed in.

"I do hope I did not overstep my bounds," Ignis said, glancing toward the girl sitting beside him.

She shook her head. "Not at all. The rite of annulment has been used in both good and bad ways. Guardians have undergone the ritual to escape their abusive masters and humans have used it to get rid of their guardians. If the threat of corruption wasn't high, it's possible the rite wouldn't be so bad."

"What's this corruption you're talkin' about?" Gladio pried.

"Masters act as buffers for guardians when it comes to mana flow. If a guardian cannot control the flow, it builds up in their body and they soon lose themselves. Some spirits have massacred humans in such a state, but most of the time they commit suicide once it's too overbearing. A guardian's risk of corruption goes down if their master is still alive. But once that soul vanishes from Eos, the risk of corruption is extremely high. There are spirits who have learned to cope through the madness to keep their minds intact while others have never suffered from corruption."

"Okay, yeah, none of the books I've read mention any of this..." Prompto mumbled.

"Neither do the vast collections I've perused," Ignis said.

(Y/n) stared down at the table. "Not everything is written down in books or documents. If the rite was vastly known, I fear my people's reputation would be even more soiled."

"Let's just hope Luca doesn't know about it," Gladio stated. "And if he does, he'll leave it out of his book."

Their food arrived as their conversation ended. (Y/n) stared thoughtfully at her serving of bird-broth rice with curry before picking up her spoon to enjoy the meal. She listened to Noctis and Prompto as they exchanged playful banter while eating.

Once everyone was finished, they left the eatery and headed back to the Leville. As they passed through one of the alleyways, a disembodied voice reached (Y/n)'s ears. He body became stiff while listening to it.

Come...of Pneuma... Heed...call... Costlemark...altar...

A strange sensation overtook her body. Feeling a trance consume her mind, she no longer had control of her body. Listening to the voice, she wandered aimlessly down another alleyway and wound up separated from the boys. Unaware of her surroundings, she was heading straight for the road.

As she was about to step off the curb and into the street, the sound of a blaring horn bounced off the buildings, but it didn't snap her out of her trance. It was only when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to safety before she was hit by a car that caused the trance to fade. The sensation of hands on her cheeks resulted in her to blink a few times. Her vision cleared and all she could see was a pair of familiar emerald eyes behind a pair of glasses. As the faint ringing in her ear ceased and she could hear the sounds of the bustling town, she realized Ignis was her savior and was trying to get her attention.

"(Y/n), can you hear me?" Ignis asked as her slitted pupils narrowed.

She looked around as best as she could and saw Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto standing behind him. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you'd clarify."

"Weren't we on our way back to the Leville?" She asked.

Prompto stepped forward. "You...don't remember what just happened?"

"No."

"You just suddenly walked off. We tried to get your attention, but you weren't listening. You wandered out into the middle of the street and was almost ran over by a car. Luckily Specs saved you before you were flattened," Noctis clarified. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." (Y/n) took a step back when Ignis removed his hands from her cheeks. All she could remember was hearing the voice and then they were standing by the side of the road. "Maybe I just need some more sleep."

"You looked like you were in some kinda trance," Prompto said.

Ignis examines her face and noticed she looked sickly. "You've become pale. Let us make haste back to the hotel."

"Need a piggyback ride, munchkin?" Gladio offered.

She shook her head. "No, I can walk."

Ignis placed an arm around her shoulders and escorted her back to the Leville. He took her to her room and asked her to sit down on the bed. When she did, he kneeled down in front of her and took her gloved hands in his own. "What truly happened tonight, (Y/n)?"

"I-I honestly don't know, Iggy," she answered sincerely. "I heard that voice again and then realized we were standing by the road. I did feel something come over my body, but I don't know what. I'm sorry..."

Ignis raised one of his hands and caressed the back of his fingers against her cheek. "You need not apologize, darling."

She was shocked at hearing the term of endearment, but welcomed it. "I just hope visiting Costlemark will resolve this and put an end to the voice."

He removed his hand from her face and gazed deeply into her sapphire eyes. He loved how they sparkled just like the gemstones in his necklace. It was like getting lost in the ocean. "Will you be all right by yourself tonight?"

"Yes. I'll probably turn in early after a shower."

"If you need me, you know where I'll be. Please, do not hesitate to call upon me."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Good night, Iggy."

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #ignis scientia x reader

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

It starts as it will end: in darkness.

Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

“You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

“I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

“Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

Is it?

“You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

“I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

“This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

“No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

“What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

“Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

“A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

“Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

“He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

“Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

“Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

“Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

“The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

“The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

“And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

“Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

“Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

“No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

“How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

“Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

“Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

“Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

“You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

“Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

“What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

“There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

“You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

“I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

“And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

“Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

“Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

“Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

“Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

“Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

“Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

“They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

“Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

“I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

“Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

“You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

“Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

“Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

“Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

“And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

“They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

“Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

“I’m what?”

“Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

“You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

“That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

“Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

“So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

“I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

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bytheangell · 3 years ago

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Reclaiming Power

(S02E13 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

There’s a knock on the door of Jace’s room and he knows who’s on the other side even before Alec’s voice calls hesitantly through the wooden barrier between them.

“Jace? Are you in there?”

Jace considers not answering. He’s avoided Alec all day since Imogen told him that he was going to be named the replacement Head of the Institute. He knows he has to tell Alec at some point - sooner rather than later, since Alec deserves to know before it’s announced to the entirety of the Institute the next day. The problem is that Jace doesn’t know how he’s going to look Alec in the eye and break the news.

“Jace?”

Jace sighs. “Yeah,” he answers, still making no move to get up and open the door.

“...can I come in?” Alec adds, sounding even more uncertain. Jace wonders how much of his anxiety is coming through the bond for Alec to feel.

“Yeah,” Jace repeats, this time standing up and walking over to unlock and open the door.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asks before he even clears the doorframe, and Jace winces. Not ‘how are you?’ or even an ‘are you okay?’, but straight to ‘what’s wrong?’, implying he already knows that something is wrong. Of course, he does.

“That obvious?” Jace stalls, wandering over to the window so his back is to Alec. He hates this. he hates this so goddamn much.

Alec doesn’t comment. Instead, he closes the door behind him before sitting down on the edge of Jace’s bed in a clear sign that he isn’t going anywhere until they talk, no matter how long that ends up being. Jace isn’t naive enough to think he can wait this out - on some of Jace’s more stubborn nights Alec has sat in silence for hours until Jace was ready to talk about whatever was on his mind.

The silence stretches between them for a minute, and then two, and into a third before Jace finally speaks.

“It should be you, Alec. I told Imogen it should be you, but she wouldn’t listen.” Jace still can’t bring himself to say the words, like maybe if he can avoid speaking the title aloud it might be less real.

“What should be-” Alec starts, confused without any context, then trails off. Jace is still facing away from him but he can picture the look of recognition that crosses Alec’s face as his parabatai finishes that thought with a quiet, “Oh.”

Worse, Jace feels a flash of disappointment across their bond before Alec manages to reel it back in.

“Congratulations, Jace.”

“No,” Jace shakes his head. “We’re not celebrating this. I don’t deserve it. You do.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him, booted footsteps that stop only inches away before Alec’s arms slide around his waist, pulling Jace back against his chest. The touch, the pressure of Alec’s gentle but firm embrace, grounds him from the spiral he was about to enter - the same one he’s experienced more often than not during the majority of the day.

“This isn’t your fault,” Alec reassures him. “We both know that position was yours from the moment the world found out you’re a Herondale.”

It’s true. Not too long ago, when everyone thought he was a Morgenstern, Imogen would’ve as easily seen him returned to the Clave dead as she would’ve alive. Now she’s just as quick to appoint him the Head of an entire Institute, all because of a father he never met and a bloodline he feels no allegiance to.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be a Herondale,” Jace mutters. “I’m a Lightwood. And if this Institute goes to a Lightwood, it should be you, not me.”

Jace feels the rise and fall of Alec’s shoulders against his back when he shrugs. “If it makes you feel any better, even if it wasn’t you, I still don’t think it’d be me. Not after… everything.”

‘Everything’ being walking out of his own wedding to be with Magnus, and Madzie breaking into the Institute for Valentine, and the demon possessions, and his parents’ history with the Circle… though they both know all of that is just an excuse to punish him for choosing Magnus over one of their own and showing sympathy toward Downworlders.

“Not really.” Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t make Jace feel any better. In fact, it only makes him feel worse for fitting so seamlessly into this broken system of theirs as a perfect soldier. Jace pulls away from Alec and sits on the edge of his bed. Alec follows close behind, sitting next to him a moment later.

“You’re going to be a great Head,” Alec says. “And I’ll have your back every step of the way. You can do this.”

As comforting as it is to hear Alec’s reassurances, Jace doesn’t doubt that he can do this. He’s a smooth talker, a skilled fighter, and one of the best soldiers of their generation. He can give orders as well as he follows them... when he feels like it. And he’s never backed down from a challenge, especially when his personal reputation is on the line. No, he’s positive he can do this, but that isn’t the point.

“Sure I can, but I shouldn’t have to,” Jace sighs, sounding defeated. Talking about it isn’t helping, especially since there’s nothing either of them can do about it. “It isn’t fair.”

Alec shrugs again, looking about as helpless as Jace feels. “What about our lives has ever been fair?”

---

This is ridiculous. The longer Jace stands in front of Imogen as she addresses the Shadowhunters the more he fights the urge to simply walk away before she can announce him the future Head. He shouldn’t be here. Looking at the faces of Shadowhunters much better equipped to run an Institute than him, he knows there’s a very long list of people who should be in his place right now… and he knows that Alec is at the top of that list.

He woke up resigned to playing out this blatant favoritism because he couldn’t imagine what else he could do at this point, but at this moment he has a sudden flash of inspiration… or insanity, depending on how it plays out. Jace figures he’ll find out which way the scales tip soon enough.

“In this time of crisis, it is essential that we maintain strong leadership. That is why-”

“Actually, if I may?” Jace says suddenly, interrupting Imogen with a disarming smile, not giving her a chance to answer one way or the other before turning back to speak to the Shadowhunters gathered before him. “This Institute has been through a lot lately. These most recent attacks on Shadowhunters notwithstanding, we’ve been tried and tested time and time again the past few weeks. And, time and time again, one of us has risen to the occasion and proven himself a true and dedicated Shadowhunter, son, brother, and most of all, trusted leader of our people.”

At this point Imogen realizes what he’s doing, and moves to stop him, eyes wide in a satisfying mixture of panic and anger. “Jace-”

“And after sharing my opinion, Imogen agreed. That’s why it is our honor to name Alexander Gideon Lightwood Head of the New York Institute.”

Applause mixes with murmurs with all eyes darting from Jace to Imogen to Alec. Alec, to his credit, keeps a mostly neutral expression despite the surprise and hint of panic Jace feels spike in their bond. After the clapping dies down all eyes turn back to Imogen. For a moment he’s afraid she’s going to take back everything he said, but then he watches as the flash of anger from before melts into a bitter resignation, lips pursed tight. Jace knows the position he’s put her in - if she calls Jace a liar now, she ruins his credibility. No one will know whether they can believe him or trust any order that comes from him.

He’s left her with no choice, not if they both want to come out of this with their heads held high and Jace’s newly established association to the Herondale name a respectable one.

“Yes. As my grandson so generously stated, there’s no one else better suited to run this institute than Mr. Lightwood, who will take over upon my departure back to Idris,” Imogen says. Jace breathes a sigh of relief.

“Dismissed.”

Jace tries to make a beeline for Alec, but a firm grip on his shoulder stops him dead in his tracks. “Not you,” Imogen says, her voice low so only he can hear. She waits until everyone else has scattered before speaking again. “What do you think you’re doing, pulling a stunt like that?”

“Giving this Institute the leadership it deserves,” Jace says. “We both know it. And don’t worry, when he’s the best Head the New York Institute’s ever had, you’ll get all the credit for appointing him. It’s a win-win.”

“We’ll see about that,” Imogen mutters, turning to leave in a huff.

Alec is by Jace’s side in seconds.

“What the hell was that, Jace?!”

“That was me stopping Imogen from making a huge mistake. Congratulations,” Jace says, an echo of Alec’s sentiment from the night before. Except this time the word is full of nothing but genuine joy - no hesitation, no disappointment.

“There’s no way she’s going to let that stand,” Alec insists.

“Sure she will. She can’t go back on it now. In a few days, you’re going to be right where you deserved to be all along. I meant every word of what I said up there, too. You’ve earned this,” Jace says, clapping Alec on the back.

He hopes Alec believes him. This isn’t just some ‘spit in the face of authority’ move, or a selfish desire to avoid responsibility and paperwork. Alec deserves this, and Jace wants nothing more than for Alec to get everything he deserves in this life and beyond. After two decades of constantly drawing the short straw, he’s earned this chance to properly show everyone else what Jace already knows: that he’s damn good at what he does.

Alec returns the motion, pulling Jace into a quick hug. “Thanks, Jace.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jace grins. “Now c’mon, boss, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a rogue warlock to track.”

#jace herondale #alec lightwood #imogen herondale #shadowhunters #gotta catch up on these!#and surprise MORE JACE POV #I've actually had this canon divergent scene in my head for ages and never got around to it so this was perfect!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 288: ZOOM AND ENHANCE

Previously on BnHA: Tomura, AFO, Deku, and Nana all met up inside of OFA and were all, “wow this is awkward.” AFO talked a whole bunch about vestiges before realizing that nobody cared (EXCEPT FOR ME. I CARED!!), and was then all “anyway so just to get everyone up to speed here, Tomura is Nana’s grandson.” OFA appeared and was all “what up bro I see you’re still a dick”, and then everyone stood around for a bit waging psychokinetic war on each other and blowing up on the ground and shit. This didn’t really accomplish anything, so AFO shifted gears and started trash talking Deku instead, because he’s a whiny little punkass loser who can’t admit when his brother has gotten the best of him yet again! OFA was all “anyways Deku rules and haters gonna hate, peace”, and then everyone wooshed back out of OFA and back into the real world, Deku with his quirk still intact. Meanwhile Gigantomachia and the LoV stampeded ever closer to the city, and Toga started monologuing in preparation for a seemingly inevitable battle with Ochako! And then the chapter basically just ended there lol.

Today on BnHA: Imagine you are Uraraka Ochako. And you’re out here doing what you do best, saving bitches and being a badass, when all of a sudden some old lady runs up to you and is all “PLEASE HELP ME, MY HUSBAND IS ASLEEP OR SOME SHIT, YOU KNOW US OLD PEOPLE, WE’RE SO FUCKING FEEBLE AND HAPLESS.” And so you’re all “OF COURSE” because you’re a good fucking person, and then she speeds off like she’s got fucking wheels and it’s like damn, grandma, were you in varsity track or what, and then OUT OF NOWHERE she just spontaneously turns into HIMIKO FUCKING TOGA. And she’s all naked and shit, and it’s like damn, Toga, where are your clothes, and she just giggles and ducks into a nearby building. And so you follow her for god knows what reason, and she fucking pounces on you and starts interrogating you in like the most seductive way possible, and you’re all wtf is this. Like, can you even imagine. Anyway so Ochako is having quite a day.

okay lol so I’ve gotta kind of rush through this since I’ve got other stuff I need to wrap up today as well, so! fingers crossed that we get a nice, simple chapter with no controversies or elaborate revelations or anything like that! just give me lots of stuff to mindlessly keysmash about, Horikoshi. I’m counting on you bro

lol what

an actual fucking plane?? is that allowed?? how bizarrely normal. are we sure this plane does not shoot lasers or something or is powered by someone with like a fusion reactor quirk idk

and who tf is Takeo-san. some random guy Horikoshi is suddenly introducing after 300 chapters to come save everyone at the last minute? pretty sus. Horikoshi is this your self insert

GASP

NO WAY THIS IS ALL MIGHT, RIGHT?? holy shit I swear to god if it’s All Might this lady needs to TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT NOW. stop at McDonalds, order a black coffee for herself and only herself, and drive the rest of the way back home without so much as a bathroom break. there are certain prophecies which we don’t need to be tempting right now, okay people?? holy shit

(ETA: OR, here’s a thought, WHAT IF IT’S BEST JEANIST. hope springs eternal lmao. anyways though surely it’s not actually All Might. he can’t die yet, he’s got like 5 million secret things he needs to explain to Deku, and also Kacchan is unconscious and he can’t just SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL MIGHT’S DEATH like come on.)

oh look more heroes all lining up to be slaughtered by Machia

real talk, at this point their priority should just be evacuating any citizens in Machia’s path, and then getting the fuck out of his way. none of them stand a chance in hell at stopping him and they know it. the body count is already high enough as it is. regroup and live to fight another day, people

anyway, so Machia is apparently plowing through cities at 100km per hour. that... actually might not be fast enough. Gunga and Jakku were 80km apart, so at that rate it would take him nearly an hour to reach Tomura. that fight’s gonna be long done by the time they get there. huh

okay these guys are saying he’s going to reach them in about 8 minutes. ?? so are you telling me Tomura and Deku and the rest have been fighting for like 40 minutes already?? lmao Gran probably bled to death half an hour ago at this rate. Horikoshi please explain yourself. some of us spent our entire childhoods doodling comics instead of paying attention in math and science AND IT SHOWS

anyway so this is all very bad and this guy is really rubbing it in just how bad it is

I mean... yeah. obviously the villains are still to blame at the core of it all, but yeah. feels like you all could have planned a hell of a lot better for this. you knew there was the risk of Tomura waking up, and you knew there was also the risk of Gigantomachia waking up as well. and you pretty much had no contingency plan at all huh. society is really gonna be in shambles after this

lmao look at this shit. Machia is so big at this point that it looks like they’re having a picnic in the middle of some desert somewhere. at what point does it cease being a guy’s back and start being its own zip code

even has its own wifi. amazing

oh shit Compress apparently spotted someone and he’s asking Skeptic to “zoom and enhance” like it’s CS fucking I. that’s not how it works Compress you fucking boomer

anyway so OF COURSE,

was there a reason you needed to zoom in on them, other than to trigger Toga?? some people just want to watch the world burn

so Toga is now GEARIN’ UP!!

that honestly is so fucking handy. over at U.A. they have to carry their gear in briefcases like scrubs. does Compress actually have the best quirk in the world?? it flies under the radar so well that I always forget about it, but like WHAT CAN’T IT DO though, y’know??

WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN MY DUDE

“oh hey is that the U.A. kids? Skeptic could you please zoom in on them for absolutely no reason? OH MY GOD TOGA IS RUNNING OFF TO FIGHT THEM, OH MY GOD WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN, OH MY GOD”

now he’s all “DABI PLEASE DO SOMETHING” but Dabi is all “DABI DON’T CARE”

Dabi don’t care about NOTHING OR NO ONE!! Dabi don’t got time for this

lmao I literally forgot that Spinner was even there, shit

so are you gonna go with her then or not? because I got news for you dude, it doesn’t matter how heartwarming your speech is, nothing can stop this girl now that she’s gone full distracted boyfriend meme

AW BUT IT REALLY IS HEARTWARMING THOUGH

Spinner is the glue keeping this dysfunctional Addams family together honestly. too bad he couldn’t stop Compress from OPENING HIS BIG DUMB MOUTH ah well

lmao but he’s letting her go anyway though

Spinner for new LoV President. all in favor??

ANYWAYS LOL THIS IS BAD

“ACCELERATE EVACUATIONS” LOL WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO OCHAKO HE’S MOVING AT 100KM AN HOUR AND HE’S LIKE FUCKING GODZILLA SIZED FKJLK

“PLEASE RUN OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAIN’S PERIPHERY” well thank fucking god the people have you guys to guide them what would they even do without you lklkhlkds

NO HORIKOSHI DON’T YOU DARE

IF YOU HURT MY GIRL FROPPY I SWEAR TO GOD!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BRIGAND

OH THANK GOD

“sorry for SAVING YOUR LIFE” smh. anyway so how fucking badass is Ochako though?? can we just talk about this. THE GIRL POWER ARC STRIKES AGAIN hot damn

(ETA: and btw, seeing as Iida is nowhere to be found, I’d say odds are pretty good that they did in fact send him to go warn the Endeavorsquad of Gigantomachia’s imminent arrival. godspeed Iida! they need all the help they can get right now honestly.)

EXCUSE ME BUT ARE YOU TOGA

IS THIS TOGA. THIS IS DEFINITELY TOGA OMG

“I IMMEDIATELY TRUST YOU AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH” noooo Ochako nooooo

damn Toga you really drained some poor old lady’s blood just so you could pull this kind of sneaky shit. I forgot how much I loved you

ohhhh lol so it’s her “husband” that is Takeo-san lol

THE BETTER TO LURE YOU INTO A TRAP MY DEAR

lmao Ochako you rube

now you’ve done it Toga. there is nothing Ochako loves more than a good old fashioned Old People Romance. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS SEEN THE NOTEBOOK LIKE FIFTY TIMES. AND NO MATTER WHAT, IT ALWAYS GETS HER AT THE END. meanwhile I just want to watch a movie where James Marsden actually gets the girl for once but we all know that will never happen

OH MY

ngl this page would be like a thousand times better if Ochako was still blushing omg. did I ship this before?? I honestly can’t remember but I sure as fuck ship it now goddammit

(ETA: pretty sure I shipped it back during the Forest arc too but I don’t have time to check right now lol. but Toga is just so horny on main for everyone, all the time, and so like, it’s hard not to ship it.)

so now Toga is running off all flirtatiously and Ochako is barreling after her lol

plot twist, Takeo-san is actually in there. and he has NO IDEA what’s going on. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE. WHY IS THERE A GIANT MOLE MAN BURROWING THROUGH THE CITY

Ochako why on earth would you follow Toga into this dark creepy house where she could spring at you from any angle out of nowhere. just go back outside and float up over it until you have a high enough vantage point to see all the exits and just wait for her to come out

Toga says she wanted to talk to Tsuyu-chan as well, but let’s be real, you and her don’t have the same kind of electrically charged kismesis energy that you’ve got going on with Ochako though

LMAO DEKU NOWHERE IS SAFE

getting dragged like a fucking wedding train and he’s not even there to defend himself, shit

blah blah blah just ask her your question already Toga

MY WORD

would someone please inform Toga that this manga is only rated PG-13

so now Ochako is all “seriously Toga wtf”

you see that’s what I wanted to know too, lol. I really like that the characters actually think about these things and ask these kind of questions. that’s exactly the contrast between the heroes and the villains right there. the villains care about each other, they’ll give each other heartwarming speeches to please come back alive, and yet they’re utterly indifferent to the thousands of people being killed as they demolish their way through city after city. meanwhile by contrast Ochako’s first thought upon being erotically waylaid by her sexy knife-wielding archnemesis is “but what about that poor old lady is she all right.” just completely opposite energies, almost to a hilarious degree. like maybe Ochako actually should worry about herself just a little bit more lol but heroes gonna hero

and so now what, Toga!! you’re gonna pout about it?? like she’s betrayed you somehow?

anyway so that’s the end of the chapter! and I’ll just come right out and say that I’m hoping that this fight ends up being something where Toga maybe starts to see things just a little bit more from Ochako’s point of view, and not the other way around, because otherwise I’ll be a little frustrated, ngl. the manga has done an excellent job of making the villains likeable and relatable and getting us to sympathize with them up till this point, but at some point it’s got to start refuting some of these arguments and making it clear that the villains do not actually have any kind of moral high ground here

and also! I really like Toga and would like her to have some kind of redemption arc! but as of now that’s looking to be really difficult if not impossible to pull off, because Toga hasn’t exactly shown a whole lot of remorse for anything she’s done so far, you know? because she doesn’t see it as bad in any way; to her it’s just her way of expressing love, and being true to who she is. but being true to yourself really should NOT involve, you know, MURDER, and so yeah. it’s a problem lmao

but who knows! maybe this battle with Ochako will be the start of something which eventually leads to some sort of change within her! I have absolutely no idea how that could play out tbh, but even so I can hope! either that or she will double down on the whole “villains are victims and heroes are apathetic cruel hypocrites” ideology and decide she wants to kill Ochako and Izuku for breaking her heart, in which case I will be very sad, but I guess if that’s the way Horikoshi’s gonna play it it is what it is!

and lastly, so is this going to be like the final battle between them or something?? surely not, right? like this is just round 2 of 3. well at any rate, it’s sure going to be interesting

#bnha 288 #himiko toga #uraraka ochako #asui tsuyu #mr. compress #league of villains #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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cosmicak · 4 years ago

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Baby Ward

So! Here’s a Mom! V Drabble based off a conversation I had on discord about our collective RiVer Cyberpunk oc - baby Jackie Robert Ward. I threw some angst in there because of course

Prompt:

“River you’re not taking our child to a bar Ward”

1.3k words

Enjoy!

River wasn’t sure what was worse, He wouldn’t be around to keep an eye on his young son or that his beloved wife was heading into a bar with said son.

“Babe..can’t you just let Joss take him for the day? Even Panam or-“

“We’ll be fine Riv! isn’t that right Jackie?” V cooed to their son, currently strapped to her chest, eyes wide in wonder. He was almost one and V thought it was a better time than any to introduce lil Jackie Ward to El Coyote.

“He’s only 10 months V! You can’t take him to a bar!” He argued, cases left forgotten on his desk as he stood. V only waved him off as she put baby Jackie’s own little set of aviators - courtesy of Johnny Silverhand.

“He’s a Welles child, it’s in his namesake to go River, he’ll be fine” V grinned, slapping a ‘baby on board’ sign to the chest strap “Johnny will be there and Mama Welles will be around anyway”

River was still apprehensive, he knew their son would be in great hands, considering the about of aunts and uncles the kid had in Night City, but the cop part of him always knew just what could happen. “Tell me you weren’t going to take the Arch into town”

“Well..”

“V!”

“Alright alright..I’ll call the Hella..”

“Ayy..look at you, cute as can be eh?” Pepe cooed to the wide eyed baby playing with his cross necklace, V smiled down at her son.

“Still weird seein’ you with a baby, V” She heard Johnny to her left, peeking over her shoulder at the boy. “ ‘s preem your tits got bigger though”

“Fuck off Joh—“ V smiled before a sharp slap hit the back of her head. “Ow!”

“Watch your language around the baby, Mija” Mama Welles warned, taking a seat at the bar next to V. “Give me my grandson if you’re going to keep cursing”

She heard Johnny and Pepe chuckle to themselves as she unstrapped Jackie, handing him to his Abuela, posture straightening as the weight was taken off her front.

Jaquito “Jackie” Robert Ward was a big boy, much like his father and over the months V had been knocked up her back ached, so any relief on her back was a blessing in her eyes. V unstrapped the baby carrier and threw it over Johnny’s shoulders.

“You’re just usin’ me as a baby carrier now” He complained as V tightened the straps around his torso. “After all we’ve been through”

“Oh grow up Johnny, not even a week ago you were boasting how much pussy my son got you”

“Touché, V”

“Alright Kid, repeat after me- Daddy says oink!” Johnny exclaimed to the infant currently strapped to his chest, looking innocently up at him. Big brown eyes oblivious to the antics.

“Give me nothin’ why don’t ya” He sighed, sliding his own aviators over his eyes, scanning the room for V. She’d gone upstairs with Padre a while ago and left the kid to the worst possible babysitter. Johnny sighed, not one chick in sight he could use the baby against to get laid, and he couldn’t even smoke.

A whimper interrupted his sulking, a glance down saw that lil Jackie was about to scream his little lungs out. Johnny stood and quickly stormed his way upstairs, an ear piercing cry starting as he locked eyes with V.

“Take the fuckin’ kid V”

V rolled her eyes and said a quick goodbye to Padre before making her way over to Johnny and her son, lifting the boy from the carrier.

“Shhh, hey..hey it’s alright Jackie baby..I know his ugly mug is upsetting to look at..” she cooed, hot tears spilling from the boys eyes gradually slowed, Jackie only whimpered once V held him in her arms long enough. “See you’re fiiine..Mommy’s got you”

“Take him downstairs V, doubt the smoke up here will do him any good” Padre called, V nodded and gestured for Johnny to follow her downstairs as she cradled the boy in her arms.

Once downstairs V took him to Jackie’s ofrenda, still the same even years after the funeral.

“Little Jaquito, meet Big Jaquito..” She smiled to herself, kissing the baby’s forehead.

“Jack..meet my son, Jackie Ward..sorry it took me so long to uh..introduce him to you, choom..” V sighed, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. She felt the ‘ganic hand of Johnny rubbing circles on her back, staying silent. “You would’a loved him Jack..he’s the splitting image of me..‘sides the tan skin he gets from his father”

She held her son to her chest, the sound of her heartbeat lulling the boy to sleep, one hand came up and wiped her eyes, still finding herself getting overwhelmed with grief about his death. Jaquito’s weight and Johnny’s hand on her back kept her grounded enough to continue.

“You um..you’d like his pops, Jack..He’s a real family man, stuck by me even when I was dyin’” V chucked softly, thinking back on the earlier days with her husband. “Not bad for an ex cop either, bet you’d never have thought I’d get hitched to one of NCPD’s finest huh?”

“I don’t think anyone would have seen that one coming V, don’t exactly have a sparkling rep with the boys in blue of NC” V spun around to face one Panam Palmer.

“Panam? What the fuck are you doin’ in NC?” V asked, handing Jackie to Johnny to dab at her eyes.

“Weeeeell, I stopped by your place to demand some Aunt and Baby time but River told me you had taken our boy to the Coyote” Panam gestured to the uncomfortable looking Silverhand with Jackie pulling at his dog tags. “So here I am! now give me the handsome lil guy”

Johnny quickly exchanged Jackie from his hip to Panam’s, visibly relaxing as he did so.

“And here I was thinkin’ you meant me, you wound me Panam” He sighed, V rolled her eyes, moving over to the nomad.

“I know what kinda lil guy you got Silverhand, I ain’t interested” she shot over to him before diverting her attention back to the boy in her arms. “Aren’t you jusy the cutest little man! Oh yes you are”

Jackie woke up with a startle as V burst out laughing, soon screaming his displeasure to his aunt and mother as Johnny swiftly crossed the room to the bar for a stiff drink.

V pulled up to the trailer park just as dusk started, pulling a sleeping Jackie from his car seat and making her way up the porch stairs with the softest steps to avoid waking the sleeping boy in her arms.

Once she was inside, V sought out River who was talking with Randy about one of his cases. Upon seeing his wife and son he excused himself and crossed the room to gather them in his arms.

“Big day huh?” River asked, watching as Jackie didn’t so much as stir at the movement, clinging to V’s tank top.

“Oh fuck yeah, He was a hit at the coyote, between Mama Welles, Panam and Pepe, I barely had him to myself” V kissed their son’s tuff of hair before letting out a yawn. “and defendin’ him from Johnny’s bad influences really drained me too”

River smiled down at V, a warm feeling taking spreading in his chest. He gently unhooked Jackie’s little fingers from his mother’s clothes and held him close, giving V a kiss to her own head.

“Go take a nap V, We’ve been due for some Father Son time today anyway” He murmured into her hair, making her laugh before she headed for the bedroom, waving to Randy as she did.

“Alright little man, wanna hear about what dad’s been up to today huh?” He chuckled as Baby Jackie stired and squinted up at his father.

“You’ll only bore him back to sleep with that shit Uncle Riv” Randy called out, prompting River to shoot his nephew a mean look

“Randy!”

“Yeah yeah, language, like Aunt V’s friends aren’t as bad” River could only sigh and cover his son’s free ear, taking his seat and settling the boy in his lap, smiling down at his son.

“Yeah I know”

#river ward x v #Baby Ward #this was so much fun to write #discord prompts #oh look I’m writing #River Ward

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 14

“It’s Bakugo.”

“Old Bakugo,” said Todoroki.

“I don’t know,” said Uraraka. “He hasn’t sworn at us yet.”

“Wish fulfillment old Bakugo,” corrected Todoroki.

First contact, said two voices. Aizawa could recognize one as belonging to Two.

“Stop comparing me to the exploding brat,” snapped Two. He returned his attention to Midoriya. “I don’t agree with your philosophy,” he said. “But this isn’t the time or the place.”

Midoriya nodded even as he swayed in place, the edges of his body fuzzy.

“Your idea will work. Eight can take him.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Aizawa.

“Nine here just ran into that fire user.”

“Dabi,” supplied Midoriya, voice thin. “Thank you for letting me use your quirk, sensei.”

“Anytime,” said Aizawa.

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Uraraka.

“Stay back and don’t distract him,” said Two. “I’d send you on ahead to One, but I need to give him my power if he wants his ridiculous escape plan to work.” He crossed his arms. “Focus, Nine.”

The thing was, Dabi relied on his quirk to the exclusion of everything else. Which was fine. It was a powerful quirk, and his body really wasn’t up to quirkless fighting, seeing as it was literally stapled together.

But there was a reason he had not faced Aizawa himself in the training camp, but instead had delegated that task to one of Twice’s duplicates. No matter how much his quirk hurt him, no matter how much it reminded him of that man and that time, he did not fare well in fights without it.

Toshinori and Izuku had picked up on this, and, thanks to the joys of partial telepathy and haunted quirks, had managed to come up with a plan.

It was, if Izuku was being honest, a sort of terrible plan, but Izuku and Toshinori were both injured and exhausted, and it was the best they could come up with.

Izuku would hang back and cancel Dabi’s quirk, while Toshinori beat him to a pulp.

This division of labor was decided upon through the observation that Toshinori had much greater experience in beating people to pulp and that Izuku probably wouldn’t be able to focus on using Aizawa’s quirk and fighting at the same time. But Izuku worried. Toshinori had been under so much strain today. His body was in just as bad a shape as Dabi’s. If Izuku blinked.

So don’t blink.

What a comforting consensus from the peanut gallery in the back of his head.

Nana chuckled, but she sounded strained. Not much else we can do for you right now, kid.

Toshinori was prepared to fight dirty.

As a hero and Symbol of Peace, he was often faced with the expectation that his fights be clean, straightforward affairs. Usually, he complied with the expectation. Few people could match his strength. Few enemies stood up again or kept fighting after he knocked them back, once. For those enemies who could match him, relatively clean fights were often still the best option to defeat them.

But there had always been exceptions, All for One being chief among them.

Toshinori could fight dirty. It was a skill he knew better than to let lapse.

He knew how much old injuries could hurt, and he had no scruple against going after them. Any weak point was fair game.

(This wasn’t even beginning to mention the others, still whispering in the back of his mind, who had maintained the thin line between the light of hope and the darkness of despair for so many years.)

His fist impacted the line of Dabi’s medical staples. Toshinori felt them bite into his knuckles, felt Dabi’s skin tear around them.

The man – the boy, really, he couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than Izuku – reeled back, shaking his hands as if he couldn’t quite believe his quirk was gone. Then he looked up, at Izuku, and Toshinori could give him this, at least: He caught on fast.

He snapped an arm out, clotheslining Dabi before he could pass him and attack Izuku. Dabi hit the ground, and Toshinori tried to follow up his advantage with a sharp kick to the head.

But, even with as much experience as Toshinori had, Dabi was younger and sprier. He recovered quickly, retaliating with comparatively clumsy but strong fists.

Toshinori was very aware of the time limit he was on. How long had Izuku kept his eyes open already? Aizawa could only keep his version of the quirk going for a few minutes.

He knew when Izuku started to waver, the concern of the past users going clear and sharp in the back of his head.

Dabi’s hands burst into flame.

“Touya!”shouted Izuku.

The man whipped his head around, apparently forgetting that Toshinori was even there.

“We saw your hair dye, you drama queen!”

Toshinori grabbed the sides of Dabi’s head, and tried to slam it into his knee, but Dabi pulled free. They were both breathing heavily, now, but Izuku had his eyes back open and fixed on Dabi.

Toshinori doubted they’d be so lucky to distract Dabi again. The others slid into place in his mind, their experience neatly complimenting his own. They needed to finish it before Izuku had to blink again.

They raised their fists.

“Visit your mom, you loser!”

They closed in.

“At least tell the police what happened to you, so they can get your siblings out!”

So, it turned out Izuku did have something else to contribute to the fight.

“Please repeat what you told me earlier,” ordered the HPSC president.

The hapless liaison with the DNA testing center flinched, then hid the flinch behind a cough. “Well,” he said, “our technicians ran Midoriya’s DNA through a number of databases, and Midoriya is related to the Scourge of Kamino, but, uh, I think it best if I let her explain the rest.” He stepped out of view of the camera, the coward.

The technician waved at the camera. “Hi, uh. So, I guess the first weird thing about the sample you gave me was how contaminated it was. There were, like, almost a dozen different people’s worth of DNA in the sample you gave me, which… usually Hawks is better than that? But then I remembered the nomu DNA, and the Scourge’s DNA, so in retrospect… Anyway, I sort of ran them all through our databases—”

“Which databases?” interrupted Mr. Brave. “The commission ones, the police ones, the public ancestry ones?”

“All of them,” said the technician. “I ran them through the old ones, too, because the Scourge of Kamino is supposed to be over a hundred years old, isn’t he? I’m kind of surprised he wasn’t run through the old databases himself earlier. You could have closed dozens of cases.”

“Get on with it,” hissed the offscreen commission liaison.

“But I ran them through, and, uh, one was All Might.”

A whisper ran through the room. “He stole All Might’s quirk?” asked one hero, traumatized.

“I don’t know,” said the technician, nervously. “I mean, All Might was there, so it could have just been contaminated in the normal way, but… No, I’ll come back to All Might’s DNA in a bit. Then there were three other heroes’ DNA, Skyrunner, Fidelity, and Lariat.”

“We’ll have to assume he has their quirks, too,” said the commission president grimly, for the benefit of the assembled heroes. “Continue.”

“Another matched to the vigilante Forewarning. Then one matched to what was labeled as a 99% surety DNA sequence from Tempest.”

“My god,” said Mr. Brave.

“Then there were some sequences that matched to samples taken from the scenes of various crimes and terrorist actions but are otherwise unknown. That left two DNA samples that could be Midoriya’s assuming he isn’t over a hundred years old. They both matched as relatives to the Scourge of Kamino.”

“What kind of relatives?”

“Uh, one was rather distant, and was actually had the least DNA present out of all the other strands… The closest possible relation would be half-brother, although cousins might be possible… The other was a parent-child relationship, and the most present DNA sequence, so I would assume that one belonged to Midoriya. The thing is…” She trailed off.

“We don’t have all day.”

“The thing is, all of the different people I’ve mentioned also are related to the Scourge of Kamino.”

Silence.

“Excuse me,” said Mt. Lady, raising a hand. “Did you say all of them? Like, including—”

“Including All Might, yes, though he’s probably more like a great-grandson or something along those lines,” said the technician. “Once you get more than a generation or two, it’s hard to tell, because the ratios of what you get from grandparents aren’t even…”

“Do you have anything more to add?”

“Yeah. After running them through the databases… Well, there are dozens of active heroes that are at least loosely related to either them or the Scourge of Kamino, not to mention villains, common criminals, and civilians who had to register their DNA for one reason or another. And the ShiHi cell line? The one that replaced the HeLa line in almost every drug trial after the quirked population got majority status? That’s a perfect match.” She laughed, clearly on the edge of hysteria. “I mean, I don’t know what we expected. He’s over a century old, of course he’s going to have kids and family members. And he’s – And he’s clearly into shady medical research. Wouldn’t put it past him to have donated to sperm banks, the sick—”

The commission president muted the technician. “You see,” he told the heroes, “why we must act to contain and neutralize Midoriya Izuku as a threat as soon as possible. So many heroes being related to an archvillain like the Scourge of Kamino would damage confidence in the hero system, perhaps irreparably.”

“Are any of us-?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant right now, do you?” asked the commission president, smoothly. “What is relevant is ensuring that Midoriya’s DNA family tree never gets into public hands.” He fell quiet, scanning the heroes with dark eyes. “Regardless of whether or not any of you could find yourselves in it, the fact of the matter is that the ensuing investigations would lay bare other things you may not wish to come to light.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Hawks is putting together a team to track down the League of Villains. In light of recent revelations, we believe they have been working closely with Midoriya…”

“Maybe you can use my quirk,” said Shouto. “If you’re fighting Dabi, ice would be the perfect counter.”

Midoriya shook his head. “You’re not related. Can’t.”

“What?”

Two sighed. “The trick he did with your teacher’s quirk only works on people related to him.”

Shouto blinked, then turned to look at Aizawa. “Sensei—”

“Absolutely not,” said Iida, loudly.

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” protested Shouto.

“You can’t ask people if they have secret love children! It’s improper! Let us simply wait quietly like, ah, I’m not sure we caught your name earlier, sir.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Two.

“In any case, let us wait quietly,” said Iida, not one to be easily put out.

“I’m related to Midoriya?” asked Aizawa in tones approaching despair.

“You are,” said Two. “I think you’re related to one of my younger siblings, like Six is. Possibly to the Shimuras, as well, given the secondary portion of your quirk.”

“So,” said Shouto, the gears in his brain turning, “Midoriya is related to all of you?”

“Some more distantly than others, but, yes.”

“So, he based you off relatives and people he knew in real life.”

Two sighed heavily. “Look. That was obviously a lie. Six only bothered with it because of that government bastard that’s crawling around.”

Midoriya had been right. Shouto’s conspiracy theories could be used as an interrogation technique.

“Then what’s the truth?” asked Shouto. “Or are you just embarrassed, like Midoriya is about how All Might is clearly his father?”

Midoriya made a very distressed sound, and Shouto realized that maybe this wasn’t the time.

“You have no room to talk when the pyromaniac currently trying to roast Eight is your older brother, you peppermint styled weirdo.”

“You really are like Bakugo.”

“Do you have some sort of death wish?”

“C-can you guys not? This is hard…” said Midoriya. Then, he gasped and fell to his knees. “He got him. Oh, gosh.” He took a deep breath. “My eyes.”

“Luckily, you won’t need them for this,” said Two, kneeling in front of Midoriya. “In the movement, I was called Shadow Dragon. One came up with the name. He named my quirk, too. Perception Filter. Wanted to name it Chameleon Circuit for a while, but that made no sense. He was such a nerd. He’s still a nerd.”

“Yeah?” panted Midoriya. “Guess that… isn’t a surprise. He used old manga to support his arguments with—No, it doesn’t make it better that you only used that argument once. I mean, sure, I’d probably have made the same—”

“Focus, Nine,” said Two, snapping his fingers in front of Midoriya’s face.

Shouto stepped forward.

“It’s okay, Todoroki,” said Midoriya. “I’m just… How did it work? The Perception Filter?”

“No idea. We didn’t have fancy tests and doctors on hand to figure out the mechanics. But I can tell you what it did. When it first came in—” Midoriya nodded at this, as if he heard something in the sentence that Shouto was missing, “—I could disappear from the senses of one targeted person, along with anything I was carrying. Sight, hearing, smell – that last will be the important one for you.”

“Gigantomachia,” said Midoriya, nodding again.

“Exactly. Later, I was able to affect more people at a time, and my range grew. The fewer people I was hiding from, the farther I could reach, up to about a mile. Sometimes, I could draw attention towards myself, too, although I could never keep it up for long.”

“Activation?” asked Midoriya.

“Don’t think too hard about being hidden. You’re blending in. Part of the scenery. No ripples on the surface of the pond. A shadow inside a shadow.”

“Okay,” said Midoriya. “I think I’ve got it. Were you… were you ever able to hide other people with you? Otherwise…”

“Sometimes I thought I did. When Three and I worked together, we were always way luckier than we should have been, and there were some incidents with cars… But it never happened in a way I could test. Your best bet is just carrying Eight.”

“R-right. Okay. I’ll try that.”

“Izuku, you can barely open your eyes. Or stand up. You aren’t going to carry me.”

“But Two said—”

Toshinori frowned deeply and hoped Two got the message. “Just focus on yourself, right now, alright? Gigantomachia will be looking for you, first, not me.”

We’ve always been thankful Gigantomachia isn’t the brightest of All for One’s minions.

Even if he is one of the most annoying.

I don’t know if annoying is the word I’d use…

Toshinori blinked and shook his head. “You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m okay,” said Izuku, trying to get up. “T’many quirks at once.”

Toshinori put his hands on Izuku’s shoulders, silently telling him to stay down. What a time to forget where he had packed the blankets… Although…

He looked back at where he’d propped Dabi, unconscious, up against a tree.

Dabi seemed to have a cold resistance vestigial mutation… although how Toshinori knew that was a mystery for another day (one probably connected with how One for All manifested in Izuku) and he was a fire quirk user. He didn’t really need that jacket. Besides, Toshinori was a villain now. Sort of. As he and Izuku had discussed earlier, villains were veritable bastions of pettiness.

He stole Dabi’s coat and wrapped it around Izuku’s shoulders.

Miles away, trying to coordinate heroes over a video call, Hawks lost contact with one of his feathers. Specifically, the one he’d hidden in Dabi’s coat. He did not frown, twitch, stutter, or otherwise falter. He did, however, curse internally, using words he suspected the hero commission would have like him to never have learned.

Dabi must have found the feather and destroyed it. Hawks had thought he’d hidden it better than that.

This was going to be a pain to explain.

Giagantomachia paused for a second, then, with a howl, redoubled his attacks.

“Can anyone tell what he’s screaming about?” demanded Tomura.

“No idea!” said Toga, her cheerfulness more than a little ragged.

“Hey, boss!” said Twice. “If I made a double of this guy, do you think they’d fight each other, or – Dear god, who in their right mind would want two of these things running around?”

“LITTLE LORD,” wailed Machia, “WHERE DID YOU GO?”

“Say, Shigaraki,” said Mr. Compress, narrowly dodging a boulder, “you don’t – ha – think he’s referring to the little green haired – er, white haired – oh, you know what I mean.”

Yeah, Tomura did, actually, which meant the brat (who might be Sensei’s brat – don’t think about it) was around here somewhere, and they’d missed him.

(Like everything else about this situation, Tomura had mixed feelings about this.)

“So, maybe, if the boy and the giant are acquainted, the mother—”

“Do all of you idiots have a death wish? You don’t fight two bosses at once unless you want to be pancaked.”

“I was thinking she could perhaps calm the giant—”

“Yeah, right before they team up to kill us. What part of this are you not getti-?”

Mr. Compress didn’t quite make the dodge and was catapulted into one of the few nearby trees that were still standing. As he lost consciousness, all of the various marbles in his pockets ballooned and broke, disgorging their contents. This meant that Tomura had to rescue Midoriya Inko from being crushed between an entire bus stop shelter (why, Compress, why?) and several logs, because if there was even a chance that she was Sensei’s wife, Tomura didn’t fancy his chances at staying alive if she was unalived in his general vicinity.

As Tomura was in no way a goody-two-shoes hero student, had never trained himself to safely save people, and had a quirk that literally destroyed everything his touched, this went far from perfectly.

At least Midoriya seemed unharmed.

“Ah,” she said. “My shirt.” She shifted slightly. “And my bra…”

There was a shout of utter rage from Gigantomachia, and Tomura contemplated just letting Machia kill him. Surely, being stomped flat by a man taller than most five story buildings would be less painful than whatever Sensei would come up with.

“Oh, my, Machia, is that you?” asked Midoriya Inko, quite calmly, as if she weren’t standing half naked in the middle of a battlefield in winter. “It’s been forever.”

“MRS. LORD!” shouted Machia, his eyes tearing up. “I AM SO SORRY! I LOST LITTLE LORD!”

“Oh, really? He was here, then?” Her eyes were glittering. “I’m sure he couldn’t have gone too far. If we walk around a bit, I’m sure he’ll hear us calling. In the meantime… perhaps you can explain to me what, exactly, you do for my husband? Your role in his business seems to have been downplayed.”

“Is that better?” asked Toshinori.

Izuku nodded tiredly. Despite Two’s instructions, he couldn’t keep up Perception Filter and, well, do anything else, really. Toshinori wasn’t much better. Izuku could tell, through One for All, that he was also on his last legs.

“Alright. Let’s keep going the way we were before,” said Toshinori, pulling Izuku up. “Got to get out of Gigantomachia’s range, so you can sleep.”

He did not say that reaching the Wild Wild Pussycats’ camp was now out of the question, with how beaten up they were. They’d be sleeping outside tonight. Hopefully they had enough clothes and blankets…

Izuku shuddered as the pounding sensation in his head increased.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Toshinori, guiding Izuku with a hand on his back. “Good, you have the briefcase, good.” Toshinori kept muttering encouragement. Izuku really wasn’t paying attention, which made him feel terrible, but he had to keep Perception Filter going. He had to keep going. Just a little bit more… Aizawa-sensei and his friends were almost to One. One would get them out before he broke through.

He just had to hold on until then.

Midoriya’s form flickered and then faded. Two sighed.

“Is he alright?” asked Aizawa. “Is he safe?”

“As safe as he and Eight can be, wandering through a forest filled with All for One’s minions while the government tries to track him down in the middle of winter,” replied Two. “Which isn’t very safe, speaking from experience. Come on, let’s go.” Two walked out the hole in the wall, not waiting to see if Aizawa or any of the kids followed.

“You’re calling Yagi Eight, now?” asked Aizawa.

“That’s his number, yeah. Hurry up.”

“Yagi, not Yagi’s… impression, his copy in Midoriya’s mind.” Two didn’t answer. “You aren’t impressions or copies at all, are you? You’re real people, somewhere, that Midoriya is connected to. Why pretend otherwise?”

“Some of the others thought Nine could fix things with the government, if they didn’t know what was really going on. Thought it would be ‘worth it.’ So stupid, after everything…” They walked through the compound gate and into a living room.

“It seems awfully contrived, though. Why try to be dead heroes? Why pick people like Skyrunner and Fidelity to impersonate?”

Two snorted. “They weren’t impersonating anyone. They really are Skyrunner and Fidelity. Except for Eight and Nine, we’re all dead, otherwise we would have finished this by now. Eight almost did, all on his own.”

They turned a corner. Two young children played in a bedroom while a teen watched on. One child was obviously a younger version of Two. That hair was distinctive. The other child had a short curtain of white hair. They had action figures they were playing with, although Aizawa didn’t recognize who they were of.

First contact, said a single, young voice.

The face of the teen leaning against the wall was scribbled out, as if with a marker.

“Don’t look too closely at that one,” said Two.

“Who is that?” asked Uraraka.

“All for One. I suppose you’d call him the Scourge of Kamino.”

“He’s your older brother?” asked Todoroki, his eyebrows raised into his hairline.

“Don’t be disgusting. Biologically speaking, he was my cousin.”

Oh, no, thought Aizawa, don’t tell me... “Is he the one you have locked away? The one you don’t count as being ‘among your number?’”

Two sighed again.

“Are you doing that instead of swearing?” asked Todoroki. “The sighing, I mean.”

“I told you to stop comparing me to the explosion brat! I—” Two tsked, then frowned. “Something’s not right.”

“What is it?”

“This isn’t a safe memory, just a quick one. One should have been here to pick you up by now.”

“What do you mean, it isn’t safe?” asked Iida, before Aizawa could. “No matter how immersed we are here, it is only a memory, isn’t it?”

“You did hear the part where he’s breaking in, didn’t you? And the part where we’re all real people? Are those glasses just for show?”

“The real All for One is trying to break into Midoriya’s mind,” said Aizawa.

“W-wait,” said Uraraka, “but… Izuku… That wouldn’t mean that the commission was right…”

“Of course not. Nine would probably cut off all his limbs before betraying his friends. Even if I don’t agree with him, and think he shouldn’t… I can still see that. But where is One?”

“Why are you telling us this?” asked Aizawa. “You’ve told us why the others didn’t. But you have no reason to say anything, yourself, do you?”

Two turned slightly, to gaze at Aizawa out of the corner of his eye.

“As long as we’re waiting, I might as well collect as much information as possible, right?”

“It’s insurance,” said Two, finally. “It’s hard to see how this will turn out. Eight wants to take Nine out of the country, but even if that works, All for One will still be here. Someone else needs at least part of the story.” He turned more fully to face Aizawa, lips pressed tight against his teeth. “You have to understand. I want Nine to… do well. I don’t want this on him. He’s a kid. So are you.” He looked at the students, then back at Aizawa. “You’re all kids. If I can get someone else to take care of this for him, while he and Eight are somewhere safe…”

“All for One is in Tartarus,” said Aizawa.

“You think something like that’s going to stop him? I’m not entirely sure death would stop him. It didn’t stop us, and he’s at least as stubborn.”

Well, wasn’t this an impossibly heavy weight to set on Aizawa’s shoulders.

“I have no sympathy, you lazy caterpillar lookalike. You’re an adult, aren’t you? Get help if you can’t do it yourself. If I find out you pushed it onto children, I’ll kill you.”

“Wow, he’s secretly soft, too, just like Bakugo,” said Todoroki. “Are you sure you’re not related.”

“There is legitimately something wrong with you. Do you—”

The hinges of the vault snapped, and the door crumpled outward. Another well-placed kick sent the door tumbling outward with a crash.

Shaking his hand, All for One stepped into the mindscape and smiled.

“Well,” he said, dragging his gaze over the assembled One for All users, his sworn enemies and the closest thing he had to family, “isn’t this a lovely little reunion?”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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