#enough. i will beat him up when school reopens

[romqnticstylez]

me when I listen to collide as the first song of 2024 and the second song is fucking. gold rush

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

[tokiro07]

Toki Reads Shonen Jump 2025, Issue #4/5

One Piece: On the tour of Elbaf, the Straw Hats learn that the Giant youths aren't being raised to be warriors anymore; an anonymous friend of Loki's suggests that he's secretly kind, to Loki's chagrin; Shanks or a lookalike appears with a mysterious partner, summoned by the same demonic sigil as the Elders. "Shanks' " partner has pretty familiar eyelashes...dare I to dream...?

Yozakura: On the day he plans to renew his vows with Mutsumi, Taiyo loses his wedding ring; when he discovers that Kyoichiro took it to polish it, the two have a heartfelt conversation. This was such a good bookend for the series and Taiyo's relationship with Kyoichiro, at least to me since I'm not super invested

Undead Unluck: Andy and Fuuko finish charging up The Heart with their memories, allowing them to take down a fusion of Sun and every remaining UMA. Please, please, please...let the anime get to the end, I need to see this fight animated...

Roboco: It's Wedding Week apparently, with Gaku getting hitched to a girl he saved in the wilderness; Second Year gets jealous and seems to share a story meant to humiliate Gaku, but it turns out to be completely serious and heartfelt despite the subject matter. A weirdly sweet chapter by the end, and certainly always strange seeing Roboco play the straightman

Sakamoto: Sakamoto delivers Heisuke his gun and Piisuke to protect Atari from Torres before rushing to Shin to save him from himself; the flashback to Sakamoto and Shin's meeting begins. I'm suddenly so invested in their friendship, this might motivate me to reread

EluSam: Tokiyuki's drum performance goes terribly, but turns out to be a long con to lure Toki into the perfect position to assassinate him. Seems like an odd gambit, and I highly doubt it's what really happened, but wild if true

Witch Watch: Taiga sacrifices himself in order to allow Kuon to seal Jeanne d'Arc, realizing Ibuki's prophecy. A forgone conclusion, but a well enough written one that I'm not totally unaffected by it

Blue Box: Chinatsu's father regrets prioritizing work over his daughter for his entire life, so he takes a page out of Taiki's playbook and makes a run for it to reach her game in time when his taxi gets stuck in traffic. This might be the most emotionally resonant moment in the series for me specifically

Akane: With a baseline understanding of Issho and Shiguma's history, Akane resolves to figure out the rest of their rivalry through Shiguma's Art; the rest of the Shiguma School resolve to all become Shin'uchi so that they'll be able to reopen their school one day. I saw one comment refer to this as the Sabaody Arc Incident of the series, and I really have no better analysis than that

Kill Blue: Inukai turns out to be Juzo's former child apprentice, who becomes frustrated and disillusioned by Juzo's current behavior; he sets out to eliminate the Jardin members staffed at the school, but is saved by Juzo, proving that he's still the same man, just adapting to the needs and opportunities of his situation. I think Inukai offers an interesting opportunity to the series by giving us a way to see more of the adult Juzo, though it remains to be seen how far Fujimaki will take this concept

Nue: Tsujita pleads with Gakuro not to go after Shiroha because the Fujino Family will certainly kill him and she likes him; Gakuro tells her that he'll give proper thought to her confession; immediately upon infiltrating the Fujino Estate, Gakuro learns that they're one step ahead and expecting a sneak attack. I feel like I'm beating a dead horse at this point, so no comment on this moment until I know the payoff

Kagurabachi: As Iori's memories of Samura try to resurface, the Hishaku arrive at her school to capture her, but Chihiro and the Masumi come to save her. For everything that happened in this chapter, the thing I'm most compelled by is the revelation that Chihiro has earned a reputation in society for being a mass murderer, which will certainly play into the themes of Heroism vs. Sin being levied against the Swordbearers

Chojo: Chojo's old friend Dan, a Yugioh protagonist pastiche, comes to visit, though he is pursued by Rare Hunters; Chojo fends them off with Dan's signature card, a classic YGO trope. I'm with @wickedsick on this one, card game protagonists should be side characters more often, it's such a good bit to see a grown man living like that

Astro Royale: Shikaba turns out to be the organizer of the upcoming event, the Astro Battle Royale tournament, with the Daybreak Ore on the line. We (almost) Have a Title; this kind of gives the impression that the remainder of the series is going to be the tournament, but that doesn't feel right

Kiyoshi: Kiyoshi finishes his basic training with Akari, then begins applied training with Sakaki. ...Is Akari the love interest? Also, I forgot she's supposed to be his partner, she's really not very present...I hope Usui has bigger plans for her, I'd hate for her to just be "The Girl"

Hima-Ten: Suddenly back home, Himari and Tenichi discuss the parameters of Tenichi's employment, expanding his duties and empowering Himari to be more honest with her thoughts and wants. This certainly won't pose any ethical issues when she accepts that she is in fact in love with her housekeeper, who she pays

Ichi: World Hater begins The (legally distinct) Rumbling, but Ichi only gets more excited by the prospect of the hunt and activates an Uroro-Amplified Uruwashi, Hisame's spell. I'm so excited to see Nishi delve into whether or not Ichi's sparkly-eyed obsession with hunting the Magiks is his best quality or simply dangerous naivete, if not both

Shinobi: Tobi blatantly admits to being a ninja, but Mukai thinks it's all part of the Haunted Walk; Yodaka has trouble fighting him in the dark until Hibari and Umineko arrive, allowing him to go all out. I can see other folks disliking it for how dry it is, but I'm still a big fan of Mitarashi's sense of humor; even the dramatic dialogue is pretty clever - "you poor thing, you won't even get to see the moon during your last moments" -> "isn't this great? You'll get to see the moon in your last moments"

Hakutaku: Akamine figures out how Hideout Plan works just from the context of meeting Hikuma, then is suddenly swarmed by friendly wild animals because he's a manic pixie dream man or something; Noto is nearly rejected by the rest of the Tidio team because her actions suggest an incomplete prototype, but she convinces them to give her a chance. I can't help but feel this series is giving a skewed impression of the game dev industry and process; also Akamine's line that there's an annual day of unusual circumstances suggests that there's a supernatural element to this series, which I...don't think I want, but I also feel like that'd be a good twist to make this actually engaging

Syd Craft: Lulu goes to Syd's office to try to get some dirt on him, and instead meets Elio, who she immediately clocks as a crossdresser; through a misunderstanding of a letter delivered by Souffle, the three end up exercising in the middle of the office as a way to...become more romantically charming...I guess? The letter turns out to be a bomb threat. Lulu being introduced to Elio and Souffle and becoming fast friends with both of them is a fun little twist, but until Tsutsui gives me poly or yuri, I won't rescind my earlier assertions that he's a coward

Top three of the week:

Undead Unluck, obviously

Sakamoto Days for continuing to get me so invested after years of mild engagement

Shinobi Undercover for solid dialogue and reminding me why I was so excited to see the Candy Flurry duo coming back

Ichi just barely missed the top 3 this week, I suspect the actual battle next week will push it up a bit, but honestly this whole week was pretty strong for me, so if the next issue brings it just as hard, it could really go any which way...

[g-zma]

// random rambling about Guzma and his relationships

I don't even know. I ramble. This has some discussions of child abuse, trauma, and manipulation.

This is very long by the way. Like. Actually though.

Okay to start off with, let's talk about Guzma and Elio.

Elio is what really led to Guzma being able to get help. Without Elio coming and beating the shit out of Guzma every time the guy ran into him, he wouldn't have had the motivation to get better. The big thing is that Guzma didn't really mean to get better in terms of himself, he just wanted to get better at battling. That has more to do with Hala, who I'll talk about in a bit.

So, now that Guzma's in a better place, he's also running into Elio a lot more. The kid lives right next to Iki town, and he's friends with Hau, so he shows up all the time. Not only that, but the kid was there to deal with the UB situation at the same time he was, and though Guzma would never admit it, he has a soft spot for kids.

So he won't say it out loud, but he really does care about Elio. He wants to make sure the kid has a good life.

Now, what about him and Hala?

Hala's been Kahuna for a while. Probably since Guzma was a kid. So while Guzma didn't know him personally, he did know him before the events of the games. And then when the big, powerful Kahuna came around and told him to stop being a baby, and that he would help Guzma become stronger, Guzma agreed. It was a bit begrudgingly at first, but he did agree.

But Hala knew that, in order to become better at battling, Guzma needed to get better in the rest of his life. He had to face his issues.

Guzma had, obviously, a lot of problems, especially after the situation with Lusamine (which I will also discuss). Being possessed by Nihilego reopened a bunch of wounds that had scarred over and pretty much forced them to the front of his mind. And that, amongst other things, freaked him out bad. It brought back memories he had forgotten, things that he'd purposefully ignored. Mostly, things to do with his Father. Guzma's dad was abusive, he did not treat his son well. And the Nihilego made him relive that, all in an instant.

The biggest things Hala has worked on with Guzma so far, though, are his anger issues and alcohol abuse. They've touched on the underlying trauma, but Guzma tends to get very uncooperative, especially with people like Hala, who are older, kind figures towards him. I think I've mentioned before how the anger issues stem from his father's abuse, but not in its own post.

So now we go into a bit of a Guzma and his parents, as well as Alolan society in general.

Guzma's reputation as an aggressive, violent person started as a defense mechanism. It didn't help against his dad, but he was already being bullied fairly often, and it did help with that. Kids were less likely to pick on the scrappy bug nerd when the scrappy bug nerd would start throwing punches if you looked at him wrong. But, it also backfired a bit. Nobody was willing to get close enough to him to realize that something was wrong. If he came to school with bruises and scrapes, it was automatically assumed that he'd gotten into a fight, that he was the aggressor. And he actively pushed away anyone who tried to get to know him.

He wasn't willing to accept any help that was offered. He was generally scorned by the people around him, and so he simply didn't trust them. This especially came into effect when he started his Island Challenge. He was so proud of himself. He worked so hard, he wanted to be captain. That was the best award he could've ever been given. But then he failed. He couldn't complete it, so he wasn't allowed to be a captain. And his dad was angry with him. And Guzma was scared. He was terrified. But he had his own pokemon now, and a Golisopod can be awful scary when it wants to be. So Guzma's dad got what was coming to him, and Guzma ran the fuck away.

And where did he end up? In a new group. Not Skull- This was a group under the Kahuna before Nanu. Guzma, in a way, got what he wanted. Approval. Of course, not everyone's approval, though. Tapu Bulu ended up rejecting its Kahuna for whatever reason, and striking that group down. Guzma lost the one group of people he had that he'd finally been accepted by. And he was pissed. So, he started Skull. He built his group up again, new. He leaned into the cruel, scary reputation he'd made for himself. And for the most part, they weren't actually that bad. Sure, they stole, they threatened people, but they needed to feed themselves. They were the people who couldn't get jobs, for whatever reason. Who were thrown out of their homes. Who needed someplace to go, but weren't accepted anywhere else. This was the place they were accepted. And that continued for a while, until Guzma got involved with Lusamine.

And that is a whole situation.

Lusamine needed someone who could do her dirty work. She needed someone to take her blame. And she found that in Guzma. He already had a reputation as a thug. So, she started to get in contact with him. She gave him that approval that he sought so desperately. She used his childhood for her own purposes. When he told her about how he failed, she told him that she was proud. When he told her that his mother never did anything to protect him, she told him that she would. She gave him things he needed, money and food and clothes and medicine to provide for his team, and he was so desperate to keep her. I don't think it was necessarily romantic, but he did love her, and she used it entirely for her own advantage. And once she had him solidly stuck in her trap, she started pulling strings. She removed the exits. If he needed a few days, she would threaten him with taking away something, or to step back. And he needed her. So he did what she said. Especially considering that she was a smart woman. She never made it an explicit threat. She kept it strong enough that he would panic, but hidden enough that he wouldn't catch on to what she was doing.

And this really hurt him, especially after the events in Ultra Space. He had been betrayed, and the fact that she never actually cared about him was shoved in his face. And that, combined with Nihilego literally possessing him for a moment, is why he's so freaked out by the idea of something controlling his mind, now. It's happened to him twice, though the how of it was different.

Now, backtracking a little bit. Let's look at Guzma and Kukui (and by extension Burnet).

Kukui and Guzma met about during their island challenges. They started at the same time, and from the same island. Really, the Island Challenge just provided a situation where Guzma couldn't escape Kukui's attempts at friendship. And he really did try! Guzma pushed him away at every turn, but Kukui kept on keeping on. They ended up rivals, somewhat. But, then they both couldn't complete the challenge. This obviously affected Guzma way more than Kukui.

Kukui was sad that he couldn't be a Trial Captain, but he had other things to work for. He put himself into his schooling, became a professor, and travelled! Which is how he met his lovely wife, Burnet. So for a long while, he wasn't in contact with Guzma. Even when he returned to Alola, he never really saw him. Skull, yeah, but not Guzma himself. And he was sad about that, but it was okay.

Then things really started kicking off! He saw Guzma again. And sure, that was exciting, but Guzma was even more against friendship than he had been before. But!! But then Guzma was taken in by Hala, and he couldn't avoid him. And he was a bit more willing to allow Kukui in.

Which leads us to ~about~ present day with those two. Kukui cares about Guzma a lot, and Guzma's working on letting him do that. Because Kukui and Burnet really do want to help him. And he needs it, even if it's hard to admit.

I think that he'd be more willing to open up to Burnet at first, despite not knowing her for nearly as long. Probably because he hadn't known her for as long. She knew her husband has a huge personality, so she was willing to be the balance to that. Just letting Guzma sit and ruminate with her. And he started to appreciate that, a lot.

Both Kukui and Burnet love Guzma, and he loves them, but again, I don't know if it would be necessarily romantic in nature. They have a bit of a qpr going on. More than just friends, but not quite romantic. Kukui and Burnet are absolutely romantic though.

Guzma's relationship with Plumeria is more simple.

She's been there for him through it all, and she's going to keep being there. She's the big sis of Team Skull, and she's not intending to let that go.

As well as his relationship with the other Alola kids.

He's gotten fairly close to them, especially Gladion and Hau. Gladion, because he did work for Skull, and he felt bad for the kid. Hau, because he's basically his unwilling big brother now. He'd never admit it, but he really does enjoy spending time with them. Most of the time, anyways.

That's the main major things I have to say. I hope this was interesting, lmao

[sophswritingthings]

Ok come on the modern mizu x med reader was absolutely amazing as someone studying for med school I felt seen 😫😫😫what about modern mizu x med student where readers running an errand for the nurse and has to stop by the fencing practice room and just stops to admire mizu when she's practicing 😫they're so cute!

pairing: modern au!mizu x fem!nurses assistant!reader

warning(s): there’s like one sexual reference, light swearing

a/n: reader watching mizu injury herself and being like “god she’s so hot” than snapping out of it and being like “SHIT WAIT MY JOB???”

summary: after meeting up with mizu and getting to know her better, you see her during one of her fencing practices and decide to.. watch, a little.

word count: 623 words / 3,472 characters 

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

you were reorganizing the medicines, counting that you had enough to care for unsuspecting patients when they rolled in.

minato, the actual nurse of the school—your mentor like figure—rolled around the corner with a smile on his face.

“you mind going and picking up some coffee? it’s gonna be a long day. I’ve already had three kids come in with Injuries.” he chuckled.

“oh! of course not—I need to get out of this stuffy office, anyway,” you smile, grabbing your purse and slinging it over your body.

“ah—do not pay with your own money! give me one second and I’ll get you some. you’re saving up for med school, for gods sake,” he rolls his eyes, disappearing around the corner for a moment. quickly he returned, handing you thirty dollars. “now go on, and be as quick as you can.”

you nod, taking the money and pushing the office door open. you’re led into the great hall area, glancing around at all the pretty christmas decorations. you smile, the spirit feeling like it’s just flooding over you.

you slip out of the school, led to the staircase descending to the street. you glance to your side, catching the practice of a certain group.

the fencing team, that was. 

you stop in your tracks. yes, you know you were supposed to be quick.. but.. 

you couldn’t help but stare for a moment, watching as mizu sparred with some boy you didn’t recognize. you swore you’d seen minato working on him before—taigen, may be his name, you weren’t one hundred perfect sure.

and mizu happened to throughly be beating his ass, and you couldn’t help but watch.

those hands.. the way she worked with them—quick and precise with her movements.

damn, she must be good with her hands.

you giggle at your own thoughts, shaking your head to try and clear the dirty thoughts from your mind.

your attention resurfaces and lands on mizu—a red glow catching your eye.

she’d reopened her wound.

you rush over to her, slipping past the crowd of people. she was still on her feet, thankfully, looking down at you with a puzzled expression.

“what are you doing here?” she cocks her head.

“I-I was, um, passing through,” you stammer, adverting you’re gaze for a moment. you were not telling her that you were watching her spar. “you reopened your wound, idiot.” 

“I can see that,” she winced in pain.

“well—you’ve made friends with the nurses assistant,” you smile, sitting her on the hard concrete ground. you grabbed the needle and thread out of your purse, beginning to slowly stitch up her wound. you could hear her grunt in pain, but she was clearly trying to bite down the pain.

possibly trying to impress you, you couldn’t help but think.

“there—now, be more careful with yourself until it’s fully healed.” you chuckle, getting back to your feet.

she pulls herself to her feet as well, rubbing a hand across her arm, “thank you.”

“it is my job,” you pat her shoulder.

“.. so,” she murmurs, adverting her gaze, “where are you off to?”

“coffee run. minato and I have been having a bit of a busy day, surprisingly!” you smile brightly.

“hm,” she hums, her gaze falling back on you. she looks like she wants to ask something, yet she seems too nervous to do it.

“did you..” you begin, your voice trailing off before you regain your confidence. you lock eyes with her, searching those blue eyes for an answer before you ask. “wanna come with? I could get you something..”

she smiles just a little, rounding around you and making her way down the staircase. your frozen, for a moment, before she calls out to you.

“you comin’?”

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

a/n: very cute!!!! also med school students I wish you so much luck <33 that shit is HARD

[kenlvry]

craig x reader x tweek

an: HELLO someone requested this and i did it but then i deleted and i was so pissed but i loved the concept too much to not do it again sorry to 🦢 anon 😞, fem reader, ages 17-19,

when you came to school during 9th grade everyone had eyes on you, you were awfully pretty and so elegant. when you moved in the main 4 was the first to greet you and kyle had asked you to sit on their table when school reopened. everyone except tweek and craig knew you, tweek didn't come to school on monday because he had to help his parents and craig got sick. when they came and saw a random girl they were like wtf ?? but then you turned around smiled and greeted them "hello, you must be tweek and craig right?" you said slightly turning your head. tweek felt anxious because of how pretty you were and craig too was surprised, they just stared at you not returning your greeting. "dude" kenny had to stop them for daydreaming and greeted you back, now at first tweek and craig didnt tell each other about the feelings they had for you, they felt bad for each other. everytime you greeted them you looked so angelic, how can they not like you?? after like two years of getting subtly flirted by the two without each other knowing. tweek decided it's best to tell craig bc he didn't want their relationship to be one sided. so he sat craig down down at tweek bros before closing down the shop and explained, anxiously ofcourse , craig at first was mad and told him he liked you first and they got in a small argument. they come to the conclusion they both like you and each other at the same time, so they made a plan to 'subtly' flirt with you,with each other knowledge of course. they would meet up to make a plan to flirt you. like they would separately dm you flirting at school would openly flirt with you and then ask to accompany them on dates as a three or would ask to be at dinners tgt. you didn't want to assume things bc they were in a relationship! but you had enough and asked them to meet them at tweeks shop, "whats the fuck is going on, its like you guys like me or smthn you two are really freaking me out" you said JOKINGLY. you laughed at your little sarcastic remark but they didnt. your heart was beating so fast when they both confessed. tbh romantically they like each other but sexually they prefer girls, but they also like you romantically. so now you would often be sandwiched by the both at them while cuddling or if you turn to tweeks side craig would get all jealous and say you're not paying att to him. or if you would talk to craig at school tweek would get mad and just whined but not tell you what his deal was, poor boy. they both love you equally and when they would see you in the school halls they'd hug you at the same time, or if you three are walking somewhere they will always be by your side tweek on the right and craig on the left. if they needed to be somewhere and said goodbye they'd kiss your cheek at the same time, like one on the right and the other on the left. all in all being in a relationship with them is the best thing that happened to you<3

[apprenticestanheight]

Halloween- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLL RIGHT!! It is officially Halloween and I, as a lover of Halloween, needed to celebrate it. Could I have gone down a spooky route? yes, yes I could've indeed. Did I choose to go down one that involves getting high and slow dancing instead? Yes, yes I did indeed.

My requests also close soon but they'll probably reopen around the middle of next month--I might have a holiday event in the works, I have no idea yet but either way holiday themed reqs are encouraged and accepted around just about any holiday lol

Fic type- this is super fluffy!

Warnings- there are mentions of weed in the context of an edible that Adam and the reader split, mentions of the bathroom trap (all of my fics that weren't requested are post-bathroom trap because it's how I delude myself into believing Adam survived lol) and scott tibbs is a bad friend (it's only mentioned, but he calls the traumatic event known as the bathroom trap 'metal' when he visits adam because, while I haven't watched the scott tibbs doc, given that I've read the wiki it feels like something scott would do)

For Adam, Halloween had pretty much stopped being a huge deal when he stopped trick-or-treating with the coming of high school. From then on, November first was his ticket--all of the Halloween candy was marked down so that it could be rid from the shelves and allow for the Christmas stock to come in.

Adam would take some of the money he got from being a PI and blow it on variety packs so that he had something more than microwaveable popcorn to snack on whenever he chose to sit down and watch a movie, and also because most of it was pretty delicious and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have a slight sweet tooth in October.

Halloween had never really been special. Even after the bathroom trap, his first Halloween after the experience and after a solid week spent in the hospitals recovery unit, it still wasn't.

Well--that was, of course, until you showed up at his apartment with a grin, a bottle of american whiskey, some food for when you inevitably got the munchies and an edible for the two of you to split.

The two of you split the edible and took it while sitting on the couch, your ear against Adams chest to hear the way that his heart kept on beating and his arm around your shoulders, hand idly moving through your hair in a manner that was almost enough to make you tired.

Adam felt it when the edible hit and it was clear you did, too. It always made you both relaxed--Adam liked it after the trap not for the act of getting high but because it soothed his anxieties. Such made him crack the joke that he liked it for it's medicinal purposes from time to time, but Adam wasn't thinking about how chilled out he was, or even about the fact that it had been a few weeks since the bathroom trap and he'd turned out okay-ish in the aftermath.

No, he was thinking about you. And, as you typically did, you were thinking about him.

You'd been Adams rock almost as long as Scott had, and even then he'd stopped talking to Scott after he'd left the hospital--he'd visited twice and both times, instead of acknowledging the sensitivity of the situation, told Adam that it was 'metal' that he'd survived his trap--but you'd stuck around.

Your relationship had been the classic childhood friends to lovers--met in the second grade, started dating the year before Adam dropped out of high school, and there you were at twenty-six, together for a solid eleven years and, before Adams trap, at the point where Adam was boxing up his stuff to move into your place while debating proposing.

He grin as you adjust yourself, meeting your gaze as you grin back at him.

"Hi," he greets.

"I love you," you blurt with a laugh. "I mean--yeah. I do. It's not just the weed, I promise."

Adam laughs a little, pressing a peck to your lips. "I wanna dance," he said. "Not--not a jig. Never a jig or anything very fast--nothing too speedy. Just wanna slow dance, you know?"

You press your nose against his, one hand sliding up his chest to cup the back of his head.

"There's no music," you say. "We can't dance if there's no music, Adam."

"Oh, but we can," Adam stands, offers you his hand. "I happen to have a walkman from our high school days with a cheesy mixtape I made you, and I also have one that's just the songs we used to slow dance to before dear old dad kicked me out. We're high, and we're going to dance because this is the only time we'll have to do so before we get the munchies and blow through the snacks you bought within an hour."

You laugh a little, sighing to yourself as Adam leaves you standing in the middle of his living room while he sprints to his room.

Two minutes pass, and he returns, Walkman and a pair of wired earbuds in hand.

He puts in a tape, pockets the walkman and offers you one of the earbuds with a crooked, handsome smile.

"May I have this dance?"

"I fell in love with an idiot," you accept the earbud, though, taking Adams hand and intwining your fingers as you do. "No regrets, though."

"You'd be a fool to have regrets, my darling," Adam says, putting on a tone of grandeur. "I am the best of the best in my apartment that is more likely than not infested by roaches, and with a job that barely lets me afford groceries unless I buy them from cheap corner stores and shop the bargains in the produce aisle of every Aldi in Jersey."

You laugh, and Adams arm goes around your waist while one of yours finds his shoulder. You drop his hand, letting yourself wrap him in a hug as the two of you begin to sway.

Silence befalls the two of you. It's the kind of silence you both appreciate, the kind wherein there is no awkwardness, only comfort. You love him, and he loves you, and realistically in that moment, that is the only thing that matters to either of you.

Adams eyes fall closed, and he hugs you just a bit tighter. You respond by doing the same, and your dance becomes less of a dance--it's more or less just two people hugging now, swaying along to the sound of the music that thrums through the Walkman and into their ears.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispers. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but falling in love with you hasn't been one of them. Thank you for letting me do that."

You laugh slightly. Adam fights the urge to kiss you while he basks in how it sounds.

"I love you too," you respond. "Loving you is the best thing I have ever done, Adam. No regrets."

Adam laughs that time, pulling away enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

It is Adam Stanheights first Halloween post bathroom trap, and he starts to think, for the first time since he was fifteen, that Halloween is not a day to be spent at home, watching bad horror movies from the 70s. Maybe it's a day to get high with the love of his life, slow dance for a few songs, and then help you eat your way through the snacks you've brought along once the munchies kick in.

Either way--however Halloween is meant to be spent, Adam likes that he gets to spend it with you.

[bowiebond]

I thought about an AU where Lonnie got custody of Jonathan and Joyce got Will (she still fights constantly to have Jonathan but Lonnie is pulling strings inside the court to keep Jonathan with him even if he’s pissed he lost Will and Joyce, he likes hanging it over Joyce that she can’t see her son for more than ten minutes outside his school unless she begs him for weeks).

Jonathan already had volatile tendencies when hestill had Joyce to look after him, the anger he bottles, the one that grew beneath his fathers constant berating and negligence and the beatings when he was drunk.

He didn’t pick fights, but anyone who picked one with him got to find out just what his father taught him. What the fist of a man felt like against their face even if his eyes are wet and burning as he straddles some high school bully as a freshman and smashes his face in until he’s dragged off thrashing by teachers.

His dad comes in and just shoves his head with two fingers, Jonathan already refusing to look at him, lip split and glaring at nothing.

“Your principal called me all the way down here to pick you up, you better tell me you won, Jonny.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer. Lonnie just scoffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and dragging him outta the school, Jonathan’s feet stumbling every few steps.

“Kids wouldn’t pick on you if you didn’t have that fuckin’ creepy face, kid. Try to smile every now and then, eh?” Lonnie slaps his neck a few times, hard enough to make Jonathan almost cough from choking on his own spit. He still says nothing.

“You gonna ignore me, huh? God, you’re just like your fuckin’ mother. Quit clamming up and speak up like a fuckin’ man, you pu—“ His grip tightens on his nape as they stop by his car in the parking lot and Jonathan finally looks at him.

There’s nothing in those dark eyes until something seems to spark, that spark igniting into a flame that lit up those near-black eyes.

Jonathan spits. Right in his face. Blood and saliva and it occurs to Lonnie when he wipes it from his face slowly, rage coiling in his gut, that Jonathan was waiting. Saving that for him. That the thick pink strand sticking to his chin, that the blood on Lonnie’s face, was stored and grew within his mouth that entire walk out of the school. That Jonathan was shutting up for a reason.

He’s fucking grinning too, teeth stained with blood and lips shiny with the saturated spit.

“…Is this funny to you, kid?” Lonnie grabbed his jaw and tugged him downwards, quick and sharp to make it hurt like whiplash. To rid Jonathan of the closing height gap between them, the one that grew smaller and smaller as the weeks passed.

Jonathan laughs, an almost maniac glee in his eyes as he dribbles blood down into his palm. Lonnie wrinkled his nose and wiped it away on his jeans, disgusted. Jonathan continued to giggle, and that only made Lonnie angrier.

“What are you, a fuckin’ girl? Quit giggling.”

Jonathan’s grin closes, a broad smile instead that reopens his split lip with barely a wince.

“I could beat you.” He says it like it’s fact. Like he knows he could. Like that fight had solidified that for him.

“You really gonna fight your old man?” Lonnie chuckled, shaking his head at the gall of the kid. “I’d like to see you try. We both know you’re a wimp when it comes to a real fight, you’re all soft like your mother. A little fag like your soft little brother.”

For a moment, they’re standing in a moment of time, the late fall winds caressing their clothes; his wife beater and baggy jeans, Jonathan’s patchy coat and plain green shirt two sizes too big.

The next, Jonathan’s fist cracks against his face and Lonnie makes a grab for him that’s vicious in a way only a predator can be. Grabs his hair, his shoulder, throws him to the ground hard. Let’s him scramble back up and aim again, Joyce’s fiery eyes glaring up at him like it did every time he saw her, always so full of anger even as he begs to see her boy. Her son.

Jonathan is his as much as he is hers, and Lonnie loves reminding them all of it. Loves seeing Joyce’s fire in Jonathan’s eyes, loves seeing the mean twist in his lip that is entirely Lonnie.

Jonathan was the embodiment of their rage, their fights, their flaws, and Will had always been the embodiment of their softness, their youth, their love. Lonnie loathed Will for being the thing they no longer were. Joyce and Lonnie left their soft, youthful love behind shortly after marrying, and he resented her for it. He was sure she resented him for it too.

He still has their rage; their fire. Jonathan hits him, and it packs heat, leaves his jaw achy and hot as he grabs his collar and throws him against the car, pinning him there. He doesn’t have to hit Jonathan to win this fight. He’ll hit him when he heals, when his adrenaline fades and he stops wanting to fight. He wants that fire to die and to reignite him like a match. He wants his fingers to get burnt by the time the stick turns entirely black, wants Jonathan to keep fighting.

He can fight everyone. He can prove he’s anything but soft like his mother and brother. He can prove he’s a Byers, tough and independent. He can prove he’s a man.

Jonathan breathes heavily as Lonnie presses his forearm against his throat, lips pursed tight and eyes full of distain.

Lonnie holds his gaze, and there’s a sense of pride when Jonathan doesn’t look away. It’s a first. He’s holding his gaze, not hiding a hint of his anger. He’s steel.

Lonnie eases off him slow, smoothing his hands down his sons shoulders and Jonathan is still breathing hard, not from exertion but the burn deep in his gut that fills his lungs with inky smoke. He’s huffing the air from them like a dragon about to open their mouth.

Lonnie smirks and it worms it’s way into a grin that is laced with a rare expression of pride. Of approval.

He claps Jonathan’s shoulders and the boy doesn’t flinch. Just glares at him like he could incinerate him with his mind.

“You know…” Lonnie chuckles. “I think you should visit your mother sometime. How’s Saturday sound?” He lets his son go, watching the anger turn into confusion, the steel melting into a rippling lake. Lonnie took his keys out and spun them as he walked around the car, a self satisfied smirk on his face.

He should show Joyce his hard work. Let her see the callouses he’s finally putting into their sons interior.

At least their son would survive this world; if Will was found in the bottom of the lake before he finished high school, Lonnie wouldn’t be surprised.

He wasn’t gonna let Jonathan, their son, be some wimpy fag. Joyce could keep her son. Lonnie didn’t want him.

[talesofesther]

I won't have enough time to finish editing Steve's story this weekend 😭 but I'll give you guys a little snippet of it here, not proofread tho:

Just before reaching the room assigned to him, you passed by a snack machine. Steve's face lit up in a way that reminded you of the little kids you're always escorting around, one hand already fishing for his wallet. "Can I?" He pointed a finger at the old thing.

"Yeah, go ahead." You shrugged, leaning against the wall while he picked what to eat. You selfishly allowed yourself to look at him then. It was no secret that he was handsome, the fact that most of your friends were swooning over him was proof enough, but there was something different about seeing him here and now; alone in a hospital hallway with blood staining his shirt and a gash on his lip that reopened when he smiled as his snack fell from the machine.

He hummed when he took the first bite, closing his eyes momentarily. "You want one too?"

Your eyebrows shot up at his offer, you almost took too long to answer. "Uh no, I'm good."

The room you took him to was one of the smaller ones, with just one bed, but it had a window and a TV, so that was a plus for him. After telling Steve he could sit on the bed to wait for a proper doctor, you couldn't help but ask; "what happened to you?"

Steve's expression fell, he scoffed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Isn't it obvious?"

Technically, it was. Someone beat him up. But who would dare to beat up the king of Hawkins High?

A lone droplet of blood escaped his nose, he was quick to wipe it away with the sleeve of his jacket. "I did something stupid, or at least didn't stop it from happening, and got what I deserved I guess."

You tilted your head with a frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked at him. "Why'd you do it, the stupid thing?"

"I was angry, and hurt... There's this girl and I..." He sighed, shaking his head. His legs swinging back and forth while he picked at the white sheets. "It's stupid."

You would agree, if you two were closer. You would tell him that it's not worth it and he will only end up hurt. You had seen Steve and Nancy Wheeler being cozy together in school earlier this week; you also saw her running off with Jonathan earlier today. It was easy to guess.

"For what's worth," you set his record on the clip at the foot of his bed, "I think she'll come around." Walking backwards to the door you gave him a wink. "And you'll be okay, wounds like that tend to heal pretty fast."

Steve had a lazy smile on his lips, a look on his eyes you couldn't figure out. "Yeah? You promise?"

With one hand on the doorknob, you gave him a cheeky smile of your own. "Cross my heart," you traced an 'x' over your heart, "and hope to die." Your voice held an overly dramatic tone for a promise you didn't believe in. But for some reason, you wanted him to believe it. You wanted him to believe in a reality were hearts didn't get broken and stomped over.

[rauko-creates]

Honey, There Is No "Right" Way

Part 1: You Knew Who I Was

Castiel looked up from his coffee as Balthazar walked through the door and collapsed onto the sofa. “That bad?” he asked.

Balthazar lifted his head to look over the back of the sofa to where Castiel sat at the table. “You’re one to talk,” he said, eyeing Castiel’s cup. “Coffee at ten in the evening? Or do you have something more exciting in that cup?”

“Just coffee, but you know that I drink coffee at any time I please as a habit; I’ll let the deflection slide, however, if that’s what you want.”

Balthazar was silent for a moment;, then, “We broke up.”

“Oh,” was all Castiel said as he got up and walked towards the kitchen.

“Yeah…”

Castiel took some tea from the cabinet—Chamomile? No, Tuscan Sun—and put water on the stove.

“Are you making tea?”

“I am.” Cas bit his lip against a smirk, knowing what was coming.

“Did I just hear you pull a pot from below the counter?”

“Why, yes, you did.” Aaaannnnd…

“Castiel…” Balthazar’s tortured voice came from the couch. “There is a perfectly good kettle right there. It’s—it’s on the stove…”

Castiel smiled at him innocently but made sure to school his expression before walking over to the sofa, lifting Balthazar’s legs to sit down, and placing them back on his lap. “Are you okay?”

Balthazar glowered at him. Then, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling. 

Castiel rested his arms across his friend’s shins. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, picking absently at the hem of Balthazar’s pants.

Balthazar ran a hand over his face. “I’m not exactly sure what to say. I broke up with her. I just…” He trailed off.

Castiel studied him. “What happened? I thought you liked Hannah…”

“I liked her well enough. I still do. But...not like she likes me, or more pertinently…not like she wants me to like her.” Balthazar swallowed. “We were at her flat. Everything was fine, but she kept going on about how much she loved me, how she couldn’t possibly see herself with anyone else and how she gets all these...butterflies, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, and I—I just…”

“That’s not how you feel about her.”

“Castiel, that’s not how I’ve ever felt about anyone. This whole…” He waved a hand in the air and propped up against the arm of the couch, “in love business...it’s complete bollocks. If you ask me, people’ve just seen too many blasted movies, got so hopped up on the rush of getting to know someone that they think that's it, that’s love, but it isn’t. Love is…” He glanced down at Castiel. “Love is choosing the person you get on with best, someone you’re able to be mates with and that you find attractive. All this ‘romance’ rubbish is just propaganda.”

Castiel looked at his friend. He thought about the warm feeling that grew inside him when they were together, the way his heart beat just a little faster every time Balthazar was close. “Yes...perhaps you’re right.” 

“Of course I am. Furthermore,” continued Balthazar, “I certainly wouldn’t be able to know that about someone I’ve only just met. How am I supposed to look at someone who’s been in my life barely two months and not be able to see myself without them? It makes no sense!”

Castiel hummed. “Yes, that I definitely understand.” 

He patted Balthazar’s legs to let him up, went back to the kitchen and poured Balthazar some tea, chuckling at Balthazar’s renewed grumblings about the pot and grabbing his own coffee and a book on his way back to the couch. Balthazar accepted the tea and lifted his legs to let Castiel settle back into his place on the couch beneath them.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Castiel sipping his coffee and reading his well-loved copy of The Song of Achilles while Balthazar drank his tea and watched him.

“Hey, Castiel?”

Castiel looked up from his book. “What is it?”

“I know this was a long time ago, and maybe I shouldn’t reopen old wounds, but...why did you and Dean end things? The two of you...seemed good together. The way he looked at you...and you seemed to really like him.”

Castiel sighed. “We were. I did.”

“Then, why?”

Castiel swallowed. “He thought I didn’t.”

Balthazar’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t what? Like him?”

“Yes.”

“But you did.”

“I did.”

“Was he that insecure?”

“He...thought that I wasn’t happy with him, because...well, because I didn’t want him the same way he wanted me.”

Balthazar blinked, and then understanding grew on his face. “What, you mean sex?”

“Yes.”

“But...I thought that the two of you…”

“We did.”

“Well, what, then? He wanted it more often?”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

“Then…?”

Castiel sighed and set his book aside. “I don’t...dislike sex. It’s fine. And I did enjoy the way it made him feel. I enjoyed taking care of him and watching him fall apart in my arms. But…while I do appreciate the closeness and intimacy of it, I don’t personally feel a need for those things to come in the form of sex, specifically. I usually do enjoy it, but I almost never want it. I don’t crave it. And...that bothered him. He thought that—because of that and that I wasn’t affected by him in the same way he was me—that I wasn’t attracted to him, that I wasn’t in love with him. He thought I was forcing myself to be with him.”

“But, you weren’t...forcing yourself, I mean.” 

“No,” Castiel agreed, but had to work to shake the old anxiety that maybe he should have been forcing himself more, that maybe he should have tried harder for the man he loved. He swallowed. “I wasn’t, not in general and not when it came to sex. It took time, but I learned to be honest about when I didn’t want to, and he always respected it. And when we did make love, I liked bringing pleasure to him, seeing that side of him. I just didn’t get the same things out of it that he did, and I didn’t usually care for him to do things to me.” 

“And he had a problem with that?”

“Well, in the beginning, it was a blow to his pride; he thought he just wasn’t good enough at doing what I liked. When I’d sufficiently assured him it wasn’t that, he thought it meant I didn’t feel the same way about him and that I was only appeasing him or that I didn’t want to hurt him by leaving. He thought it meant we were broken.” Castiel sighed. “It turned out...it was just me.”

 Balthazar was suddenly crawling to Castiel’s end of the sofa, taking his face in his hands. “You are not broken, Castiel, and you did nothing wrong.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and tried to pull away.

“No.” Balthazar turned Castiel’s face back to him. “Listen to me. It’s perfectly all right you’re not obsessed with sex. It’s not for everyone. Some people don’t like chocolate. Sure, most people do—and maybe I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t—but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the people who don’t. It’s okay to not like a thing. It doesn’t make you broken, and it doesn’t mean you should try to like it anyway. You loved Dean. He may have thought it wasn’t in the right way, but there isn’t a right way to love someone.”

Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed, doing his best to ignore the tightness in his chest. When he felt he was no longer in danger of crying, he met Balthazar’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said, pouring as much sincerity into the two words as he could. 

Balthazar nodded and moved back to his side of the couch. 

Castiel took in his friend. “You’re not broken either, you know.”

Balthazar gaped at him for a moment before scowling. “Go back to your book.”

Castiel did, hands absently running patterns along Balthazar’s shins as he read about Achilles and Patroclus. 

---

(this is part 1 of 5. The others are written but still being edited and will post over the next few days)

@all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @i-miss-balthazar @casblackfeathers @ficwip

EDIT:

It's complete and can be read on AO3 here.

[henqtic]

Can you do a draco x reader with us watching a film and reader saying how they’re crushing over a certain character

𝘭𝘦𝘰’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (1674)

authors note: just pretend that the battle of hogwarts never happened— that event ruins everything :/ and thanks for requesting !! it made me get a lot more inspiration to finish my other wips <3

masterlist. // taglist form. // request more works.

—————————

the room smelled of freshly buttered popcorn, soft drinks, and unhealthy snacks and for the same reason the night celebration was in place, strong mint gum. tonight was cleared, a time for you and draco to just relax, cuddle up within each other and have a break from everything going around.

the years after graduating a boarding school were life changing, even wizards themselves who could conjure up almost anything they’d ever want or possibly dream of but still, it was the time of realization for who and what you wanted to be.

and yes, there were the newts but they didn’t help much once you really got a look into the real world. many had found a passion in something that seemed wondrous— more fun. traveling and exploring the world, maybe even discovering more mystical creatures that hadn’t been learned in a simple care of magical creatures class and weren't seen in their own time because their parents didn't have the resources.

and some were set on everything but those test scores, a family business awaiting their sole airs take over and draco well, he was a part of that some. and surprisingly enough, even after all that time and all of those expectations set on him to live up to and stay in his family standard, he didn’t, and it was much to your encouragement.

his interest in healing sprung up in his last year of schooling coming to the conclusion that he’d been a prejudiced bully— not that he hadn’t already known that but, of course he did. but once he was left with less than five friends and a girlfriend who was steadily distancing herself further and further away from him, it set in.

so that’s where it started, him identifying nearly all of his mistakes and attempting to heal what had been broken relationships— which most never really did. but it was a change, and a good one at that, it brought him an inner joy, not for the factor of him getting things out of it like you wanting to be in his company more often but that he was mending the seemingly unfixable things.

it made him want to do that and not run a stuffy business that didn't do much but treat their workers poorly and customers even worse so he turned to medicine. observing how so many things lined up with potions, adding the right amount of this, and crushing that up the right way, to make a final product. a product that would soon heal the injured and bring a great smile to both of their faces.

but what he hadn’t realized was that being a healer took time and hard work— almost unusual to someone like him, being constantly handled things and easy ways out but with this, there was no fast tracking or getting anywhere if you didn’t have the right skill set or talents.

so to say he wasn’t ready for it would be a wrong statement. but to say he was exhausted, completely drained of all energy would be completely right. even after all of your cheering on, reminding him that it was only a few more months of studying and one big more test until he’d get to know if he earned his title of healer malfoy.

and usually, that worked, but after tonight after taking that so called big test, his mind was racked with anxiousness. if he didn’t pass, his father would be on his back, telling him how it was a waste of money and how he should've listened to him to that you’d even be disappointed in him— unlikely but as said before, there was nothing but anxious thoughts and anxious scenarios coming through.

so it was painfully clear that your natural remedies wouldn’t work, countless amount of neck kisses and back rubs and muscle soothing not sufficing so you both agreed on the last thing you couldn’t think about, a simple night with the television on, just in each other’s company to try and get his mind off of things—

“you said this was a muggle film, correct?” he called out for confirmation, eyeing the packaging of the movie you called.. the titanic?

“mhm, one of my favorite movies, i just know you’ll love it,” you said from the other side of the living room with a wide smile on your face, near close to beating a cheshire cats. the movie itself was beautiful, you couldn’t lie, the directing and acting brought tears to your eyes almost every time you watched it.

but there was ‘something’ else that could bring tears to your eyes, a gazing stare at the screen whenever his parts would come on.

draco handed you the plastic, allowing you to remove the disk and insert it into the dvd player. you quickly made your way back into the make shift bed made out of blankets and pillows and once the black screen turned green, copyrighted warnings started, you tucked yourself into his awaiting arms.

“why’d you say you loved this again?” he asked for the second time, limbs wrapped around your body as you searched for a response.

“umm, really eye catching.”

and yeah, of course, you were comfortable with him, growing up going to the same school for months at a time and then dating for a good fraction of those years. there was also the memory of a night where you two tirelessly played a game of dare or dare, multitudes of dares coming both your ways to say the most embarrassing, weird, or even azkaban worthy things you’ve done.

but it was something else telling him that you were crushing over a fictional character— who wasn’t even that since the story was true but you were crushing on the actor of that said fictional character that you had no chance with and that, well it was something better left unsaid.

and as it went on, he could see that too, the way your eyes were stuck onto the screen the other blonde was in frame— on the break of amusing how’d the only time your attention would shift is when he’d reach you another piece of popcorn, you offering a grateful smile before focusing back.

your mouth was slightly agape, opening for another piece just how the rhythm had been going, him eating one, him feeding you one, him eating one and so on but now he was beating it further and further away from before your body eventually gave up, falling on his chest.

“hey, why’d you that?” you groaned, annoyed that you were now looking at him from below instead of watching the film.

“why’d you say you picked this again?” his eyes were narrowed down at you, a sly smirk in place. you moved around, trying to remember your excuse and hide the growing smile arising to your face.

“I already told you, it’s eye catching.”

“no,no,no, who’s eye catching?” he asked again, this time correcting himself in order to get a more truthful response. you let out a half embarrassed, half astonished laugh before answering—

“if i tell you, you can’t laugh.” all he did was raise his eyebrows at you, positioning you on his lap, signaling for you to go on with two taps of his finger on your thighs.

“okay well—” you paused, a loss of words and a huff following, “all i’m saying is if jack were to run me over... i’d be the one to apologize.”

your tone of seriousness only made the barks of laughter from the boy underneath you louder, a small pout coming on your face as a response trying to not end up laughing at yourself—

“jack, are you serious? he’s one of the most basic people i’ve seen,” he said through breaths of air, slight tones of jealousy coming out making your head turn in feign sympathy.

“you do know that i’m dating you, right?”

“yea and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“your eyes are blue and hair is blonde and you’re the typical skinny wh—” you started, responding to his defensiveness in the best way possible.

“it sounds like you’re just describing him.” point completely missed. “and so what, what could a fictional character do for you that i couldn’t?” he asked with a smirk, your face saying nothing but unfazed and unamused.

“fine even though if you were listening you'd know that he’s not completely fictional, but everything. would you ever go down with me on an unsinkable ship and then let me survive only the door we could find?” you asked, sighing after like it’d been a dream of yours.

“no. love, take this as me caring for you but i don’t think we’d sink on an unsinkable ship— it’s in the name.”

“were you not listening? and stop, it’s romantic, don’t ruin this for me,” you scolded, lightly hitting his arm.

“they both could’ve gotten on, jack just wasn’t the brightest. and would you really rather date someone that daft over me?” his nose scrunched to further show his disgust, your scoff not failing to sound after.

“know what, if you were a fictional character, no one would like you.”

“sure, i bet i’d have at least two hundred of you treating me like him.” the smugness in his tone was apparent than ever. you loved him, more than anything in the world but, he wasn’t much compared to jack dawson. 

and then came the other obstacle, there not being a valid way to prove to someone like him, with such an inflated ego that no one would like a fictional character version of him. and when you repeated that, he was extremely butt hurt, still allowing his arms to reopen for you to snuggle back in.

single moments passed, another film starting to ease the argument before he spitefully grumbled, “i’d have people all over me.”

“no you wouldn’t!” you whisper shouted back tilting your head up to see his pouting face. 

“yes I would, don’t doubt me—”

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[nerdzzone]

Gaze on the Shore

Summary: As the world starts to reopen, tentatively hoping the worst of the pandemic is behind them, Chris and Whitney face a new set of challenges. With busy work schedules and the pressures of normal life looming on the horizon, will the foundation they’ve built through lockdown be strong enough to keep their relationship steady or will they crack under the strain?

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Part Nine

Note: This is the last chapter of this part of the series, but there will be more! I’ve already started working on it so hopefully it won’t be too long until I can start posting it. Thank you so much to everyone who has liked or commented on the series so far, it really means a lot to me. I love hearing all your thoughts so feel free to comment or send in your predictions for their future!

_____

Part Ten

A few weeks after we returned home to Massachusetts, Chris and I were both disappointed by the arrival of my period. We were prepared for the possibility that I wouldn’t get pregnant the first month we started trying - especially since our ability to try was limited for most of the first week that Chris was home - but we had hoped that we’d beat the odds and were a little disheartened that it hadn’t happened. There were a few days of moping on my part which I blamed on the hormones that came with that time of the month, but with Chris’ gentle nudging I managed to shake off the melancholy feelings and replace them with determination. As he pointed out - with a cheeky grin - we’d just been given an excuse to spend another month enjoying the process of trying any chance we got.

And we absolutely took advantage of that opportunity. We could barely keep our hands off of each other and spent every available moment working towards our goal, but when we weren’t focusing our energy on trying to have another baby, we were giving it to the child that we already had who was going through a transition of his own.

Because Grayson was starting preschool.

Considering that the pandemic was still not as close to being a thing of the past as we had hoped it would be, we’d agonized over the decision just as we had the year before, but in the end, we figured the benefits outweighed the risk. Knowing that he’d be starting kindergarten the following year, we wanted him to have some experience away from home and in a classroom environment before then and we managed to find a great little place - under the recommendation of Chris’ mom - that only had fifteen other children so his level of exposure wouldn’t be too overwhelming. They also had a policy that all adults wore masks when entering the classroom during drop off or pick up just to add another layer of protection for the kids.

However, all their wonderful protocol didn’t mean that we didn’t still have our fair share of anxiety - for non-pandemic reasons - about the thought of him starting school and we were grateful that his new teachers agreed to meet with us a week before the program started.

“Hi!” Grayson greeted the two women as they opened the door of the classroom and welcomed us cheerily. “My name’s Gray!”

“Hi, Gray, I’m Trish,” One of them introduced herself. “And this is my friend, Sandra.”

Chris and I introduced ourselves as well as Grayson gasped at the sight of the many toys around the room and bolted off towards them.

“Do you mind if he plays?” I asked. “Or would you prefer if he didn’t mess everything up before school actually starts?”

“No, no, he can play,” Sandra chuckled. “It’ll give us time to chat without him getting bored.”

“He’s so excited about coming here,” I smiled. “He’s been talking about it every day.”

“We’re excited to have him! We were thrilled when Lisa called to ask if we had any spots available,” Trish assured us. “But do you two have any questions or concerns?”

“Nothing major,” Chris shrugged. “He’s super confident and social, he’ll probably take it all in stride. We just wanted him to see the space and meet you before the first day so he’d have a bit of familiarity.”

“And we were wondering what we should send with him on the first day,” I added. “Does he need a full lunch or just more of a snack?”

“Well, we give them a snack around ten o’clock - usually just some fruit and crackers - and then they have their lunch around noon just before we go to play outside,” Sandra told us. “So, how much you send is up to you. You can send just a little extra snack or a full lunch if he’s a big eater.”

“Oh, he’s a big eater,” Chris chuckled. “He loves food, he’d probably snack all morning if you let him.”

“There’s a lot of them that are like that,” Sandra smiled as Trish nodded in agreement before continuing the explanation.

“As for what else you should send, we recommend sending a few spare clothes to leave in his cubby. Even if he’s good at using the bathroom at home, there’s often a few accidents when they first start. There’s a lot of distractions and it’s an unfamiliar place so it’s good just to be prepared.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed. “He is great at using the bathroom though and he’s not shy about letting us know when he needs to go so he should be okay.”

“Great,” Trish smiled. “Is there anything that you’d like us to know?”

“Nothing that we’re super concerned about. I think we’re more anxious about him starting than he is,” I explained with a nervous laugh. “But he has been pretty isolated throughout the pandemic, as I’m sure a lot of kids have been. He plays really well with all his cousins, but he hasn’t spent much time around kids that he doesn’t know so we are a little concerned about how well he’ll do with the whole sharing and taking turns thing.”

“Yes, we’re anticipating that we’ll have to work on that with a lot of the kids this year,” Trish assured us. “It’s a hard thing for them to do at this age anyway, but I don’t think he’ll be alone in finding it extra difficult after the last year.”

Chris let out a sigh of relief and I smiled, but it wasn’t something I had been particularly worried about. Grayson definitely had his selfish moments as most children did, but he had a big heart and loved to play with other kids so I didn’t think he’d kick up too much fuss about sharing the toys.

Our conversation continued as they went over the morning routine and asked about allergies and other important things they should know about him. We’d covered almost everything, but it wasn’t until Grayson called Chris over to see the large collection of toy dinosaurs they had that I broached the last important subject.

“There’s one other thing I’d like to talk about,” I hesitantly started. “Chris hates bringing it up, but we would really appreciate it if there was a certain amount of discretion about who Grayson’s dad is. He really is just a normal dad with a weird job so when he’s not working he’ll probably do pick up and drop off just as much as me and I know some people might recognize him, but if we could just not make a big deal about it, we’d really appreciate that.”

I cringed a little at my awkward explanation, but I knew it was something we should discuss. Both of the women immediately put me at ease as they gave me very sympathetic looks and were quick to reassure me.

“Of course,” Sandra nodded. “We don’t care at all who any of the children’s parents are and all of our families this year are really nice, I can’t imagine that any of them would do anything that could put the safety of any of the children in jeopardy.”

“That’s good to know,” I smiled. “It can be hard with him being so well known. We don’t have a big problem with photographers around here luckily and most of his fans are respectful enough not to cause any trouble, but it’s always a risk, you know? We just want Grayson to have a normal school experience, but I know Chris has been worried that his career could make things tough for Gray.”

“We understand completely,” Trish smiled. “If anyone asks, we’ll be as discreet as possible and I can assure you that we’d never let Grayson leave with anyone who hasn’t been approved by you.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be totally fine, but I just felt like it was something I should mention. We’re so excited for Grayson to come here and we want it to be a positive experience for everyone.”

“Absolutely, that’s what we want too,” Trish agreed and I felt a wave of relief.

I had no doubts that they would be understanding of the situation. They had both been teaching for many years so they were very professional and since they knew Lisa - even if it was just through their work connections - I never imagined them being too bothered about who Chris was, but it seemed like the responsible thing to do to have that conversation.

By the time we left that afternoon, we were all feeling very excited about Grayson starting at preschool the following week. He was thrilled with all the fun toys that he’d get to go back and play with and Chris and I were excited for this next big milestone in his life. It was hard to accept how fast he was growing up, but he was so ready to get out there and start learning and making friends that it left us feeling very confident in our decision to start his education.

-

A week later, on the first morning of preschool, there was a definite nervous energy in our house. Grayson was buzzing with excitement and could barely sit still long enough to eat his breakfast while Chris spent most of the morning watching him like we were sending him away to boarding school and wouldn’t get to see him for months.

“It’s just hard,” he’d insisted when I teasingly called him out on it. “It seems like just yesterday that he was learning to walk and now he’s starting school.”

His words were true, but as much as it was a bittersweet day for us, we had to be brave for Grayson. He did seem fairly oblivious to any inner turmoil that we were feeling though as he dragged us out the door as soon as I’d taken a few pictures of him with his little backpack on and his brand new outfit for his big first day.

It wasn’t until we walked into the classroom that I started to think we might run into some trouble as Grayson froze at the sight of the other children running around. Suddenly looking very shy, he hid behind Chris’ leg and refused to walk any further.

“Hi Grayson,” Sandra greeted him. “It’s great to see you again!”

Grayson had no interest in responding as he buried his face against Chris’ thigh.

“C’mon, bud,” Chris chuckled. “You’ve been so excited all morning.”

Sandra shot us a sympathetic look as Chris’ words did nothing to help.

“Sometimes it’s a little intimidating when they realize there’s going to be other kids here too.”

“He’s usually the life of the party,” I informed her, surprised by his sudden trepidation. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon. Shall we go find your cubby, Gray? You can show us where you get to keep all your stuff!”

Grayson peeked out and nodded his head before moving back just enough to take Chris’ hand. Relieved that he was looking a bit braver, Chris led him into the little room where each child had a spot for their things and looked around.

“Can you see your name?” Chris asked him. “Can you remember what letter it starts with?”

“It starts with ‘G’!” Grayson cheered. “It’s right there!”

He pointed to a spot in the corner that he correctly guessed to be his.

“Good job,” Chris smiled, following as Grayson pulled him towards it. “Can you put your inside shoes on by yourself or would you like some help?”

“I can do it,” Gray told us confidently as he slid off his backpack and unzipped it to pull out his shoes.

Once he was settled on the little bench, I picked up his bag to pull out his spare clothes and put them in the basket with his name on it before putting his lunch kit on the shelf. Chris squatted down, ready to help if needed, and once he was all changed and ready to play, we headed back out into the classroom. He dragged us over to a train set that was on a table in the corner and got Chris helping him build more of the track while he showed me all of the trains. 

“The blue one is my favourite,” a little voice informed us after we’d been playing for a few minutes. All of our heads turned, almost in unison, to see a little boy standing on the other side of the table. “His name is Thomas.”

“It is!” Grayson agreed. “And my name is Grayson.”

“My name’s Jake,” the little boy introduced himself. “Can I play too?”

Grayson nodded enthusiastically and held out the train he’d just been showing me.

“You can be Thomas!”

I smiled proudly at his willingness to include his new friend and we watched them play for a few minutes before I nudged Chris and pointed to the door. He nodded in agreement and turned to Grayson.

“Okay, Gray. Your Ma and I are gonna head home now,” he told him. “But we’ll be back later to pick you up, okay?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Grayson’s face fell and he frantically shook his head.

“No, Daddy, you have to stay!”

“We can’t stay, Gray,” I reminded him. “We’re too big for school, but you get to play with Jake and all your new friends.”

“I don’t want to,” he decided, putting down the train in his hand. “I want to go home too.”

“You have to stay, buddy,” Chris insisted as he stood up. “But we’ll be back really soon and you can tell us all about your day.”

Within an instant, Grayson burst into tears and threw his arms around me before I could stand up too.

“No, Mama, don’t leave me here!”

I sighed and held him tightly so I could lift him with me as I stood up, resting him on my hip. 

“What’s going on, Gray?” I asked. “You were so excited about starting school and you’ve already made a new friend.”

Poor Jake was watching us as he sat at the train table, looking slightly puzzled by Grayson’s behaviour.

“Do you wanna play with me?” He asked, but Grayson simply let out another wail and buried his head in my neck.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this at all,” Chris murmured to me over the sound of Grayson’s tears. “Should we take him home?”

“No, he’ll be totally fine once he settles in,” I insisted to him quietly before talking to Grayson as well. “I know it’s scary doing something new, but you’re going to have so much fun today and we’ll be back so soon.”

“No,” he cried. “Don’t go!”

“Why don’t we stay for a few more minutes?” Chris suggested, looking close to tears himself. 

I somewhat reluctantly nodded my head - as I knew that really, a few minutes probably wouldn’t make much difference - and we all settled back on the floor. Jake seemed relieved that his new friend wasn’t going to leave as he passed Grayson back the train he’d been playing with moments before and the pair of them went right back to what they’d been doing as Grayson fought to control his sniffles. 

We played with them for almost ten more minutes - by which point Grayson had completely calmed down - before we made another attempt to leave, but again, Grayson instantly burst into tears and clung to my legs like he would never see me again if he let go.

“Grayson, you’re going to be totally fine,” I insisted. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, Mama, don’t leave,” he sobbed. “Daddy, I wanna go home.”

I could practically hear Chris’ heart crack in his chest at the sound of Grayson’s desperate plea, but I knew that the best thing would be for him to stay so I held firm despite my own growing heartache about leaving.

“You’re going to have so much fun, I promise.”

He protested again, but to my relief, one of the teachers came over to see what all the fuss was about.

“He’s been so excited all day,” Chris fretted. “I don’t know why he’s suddenly so scared.”

“It’s totally normal,” she assured us. “It’s hard to say goodbye on the first day, but we’ve got lots of really great things planned for today. I was even going to read a dinosaur story later.”

That got Grayson’s attention and I was grateful that she’d remembered that we’d mentioned his love of dinosaurs when we visited.

“You are?”

His little voice was timid and hesitant, but the tears seemed to have momentarily stopped and I was relieved.

“I am,” Sandra nodded. “Would you and Jake like to come and see which one?”

Grayson nodded his head and reluctantly stepped away from me.

“That’s pretty cool,” I told him as I squatted down to his level. “You can go with Sandra and check out the book and then when Daddy and I come back, you can tell us all about it, okay?”

His lip quivered, but he nodded his head and I felt a wave of pride at how brave he was being despite how nervous he clearly was.

“Great, I can’t wait to hear all about it,” I smiled. “Can I have a hug?”

He nodded again and threw his arms around me before pulling away and racing over to hug Chris as well. Once we’d said our goodbyes, he took Sandra’s hand and let her lead him over to their library area as we scurried out the door.

It wasn’t until we got out to the parking lot that I heard a sniffle coming from Chris. I stopped walking and grabbed his hand, tugging enough to get him to turn and face me.

“Are you crying?” I asked as I took my mask off. He shrugged as he did the same, but I could see how glassy his eyes were. “Awe, Chris! He’s going to be totally fine. It’s only four hours.”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “It’s just fuckin’ heart breakin’ when he’s crying and begging us not to go.”

I smiled and pulled him into a hug, feeling him instantly squeeze me tightly against him.

“I know, but it’s not surprising considering the stories your mom always tells about you crying hysterically every time you started school.”

“That’s true,” Chris chuckled. “I think I owe her an apology for putting her through that because man, this is fuckin’ rough.”

I stayed in his arms for a moment longer before I remembered that there was something we needed to do while Grayson was at preschool. I’d made the decision earlier that morning, but had been too distracted by all the excitement and forgot to loop Chris in.

“Well, I have something to distract you,” I told him, feeling butterflies of anticipation in my stomach as I pulled back enough to look up at his face. “My period is late. Only a couple of days, but I think we should probably go buy a pregnancy test.”

The smile that appeared on Chris’ face was heartwarming. He was instantly grinning from ear to ear as if any guilt he felt about leaving Gray was apparently pushed from his mind.

“Really? Do you think you’re pregnant?”

“I think I might be,” I nodded with a smile. “My period is usually pretty reliable, but I have been kinda stressed about Gray starting school so that could be why it’s late. I don’t feel any different other than my boobs being kinda sore, but I didn’t really have any pregnancy symptoms with Gray straight away either so it’s hard to tell for sure.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Chris asked, reaching to take my hand before tugging me towards the car. “Let’s go!”

I laughed and hurried to follow him, feeling the same bubbling excitement myself.

-

Peeing on a stick was always an uncomfortable thing. Even more so when there was a grown man, a few steps away, staring at me and willing that stick to provide a certain result. 

“Chris, I can’t pee with you watching me like that.”

“Why not?” He asked. “You’ve peed in front of me before.”

“I know that, but you’re putting a lot of pressure on me and it’s making it hard to relax.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. “What if I turn around?”

He turned to face the wall and I laughed.

“Chris, no! Just wait in the bedroom. It takes three minutes for the results anyway, I promise you won’t miss anything.”

He sighed dramatically, but did as I asked and slipped out the door. Once he was gone, I was able to relax and do what I needed to do before sorting myself out, grabbing the test off the counter and going out to meet Chris. He was pacing around the room when I walked in and I smiled at the sight.

“Are you nervous?”

My question alerted him to my presence, but he shook his head.

“I’m excited,” he insisted. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Me too,” I smiled, but after a moment of thought I made another confession. “But I’m scared too. I’m scared that it won’t be positive, but I’m also kinda scared that it will be.”

That got Chris’ attention and he paced over to the bed where he sat down and patted the spot next to him. I took the hint and sat beside him.

“Why does it scare you?”

“Because it’s a big thing,” I admitted. “I’m excited to have another baby, but it’ll be a big change for Grayson and I’m worried that we won’t be able to juggle him and a newborn and they’ll both end up disappointed in us.”

“I know what you mean, but I have no doubt that we can do this,” he told me, his confident tone putting me at ease as he took my hand in his. “I’m sure there’ll be an adjustment period, but Grayson will be an amazing big brother and we’ll make it work.”

“I know,” I nodded before leaning my head on his shoulder. “It’s just that it’s been just the three of us for so long, it’s hard to imagine another little person joining the group.”

“It is kinda hard to imagine,” Chris agreed. “But once we get used to it, it’ll be amazing.”

I took a moment to mull over his words before a smile slid onto my face.

“I think you’re right,” I decided, stretching up to place a kiss on his cheek before sending my gaze down to the test in my hand. “And I seriously hope you are.”

Chris looked down, his eyes widening with a hopeful light in them.

“What?”

I held out the test, a grin sliding onto my face.

“It’s positive, Chris,” I told him. “I’m pregnant.”

Chris glanced at the test in my hand before springing up from the bed with a cheer of joy and excitement. I barely had time to put the test down before he pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me and I couldn’t help, but laugh as he showered me with kisses and gratitude as if I had any more to do with our latest accomplishment than he did.

It was a nerve wracking thing despite the fact that we had planned it, but Chris’ overwhelming glee and enthusiasm was quickly pushing all doubts from my mind. We wanted this - I wanted this - and as Chris leaned back to place his hands on my still flat stomach, I knew that we had more than enough love in our little family to share with the new little baby we’d soon be welcoming and any other babies we chose to have in the future.

-

Tags:  @maggotzombie​ @moonlacebeam​ @mizzzpink​ @zaylaugh @flowery-mess​ @flowerjewels​ @njrronaldo7​ @hockeychick10​ @partypoison00​ @theladybiers​ @sidepieces​ @firoozehmoon @patzammit​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @mytbel0st​ @chvntelle-99 @mjey12​ @denisemarieangelina​ @elrw24​ @findthebeautyinbreakdowns​ @trottae17​

[binbogummy]

♡Some Pokémon Headcanons Part. 3!♡

Just more villian analysis and discussion! These might come off as a little grim compared to my other ones, just because I see Cyrus and Lysandre as being villains entirely. They have very few redeeming qualities or justifications for their actions.

Part. 1 Part. 2 Part. 3 Part. 4 Part. 5 Part. 6

Cyrus: Growing up, Cyrus was an exceptional student, showing a greater understanding of physics and the scientific workings of the world. He had the potential for an exceptional future if not for the fact that in all things, even those he excelled at, he was entirely unmotivated, finding little to no interest in the academic or anything else. When he worked or studied there was never ambition behind it, not even a flicker of contemplation as he jolted down calculations like a computer outputting information, no need to process if the answer was correct. This indifferent attitude is what lead to him to often being eschewed by his peers, even those that were on the same level intellectually finding him offputting.

• His parents were far from maternal, sharing his unsentimental attitude, though to a much lesser degree. They desired only the best from their son in hopes his accomplishments would improve their social standing, but when it came time for him to move forward after high school, he rejected all options offered to him. Scholarships were turned down and positions in high scientific fields were ignored simply because he didn't care to work towards anything. His parents, of course, didn't approve and rejected him, but instead of attempting to explain himself or repair their relationship, he simply set out on his own without a second thought

• Living on his own and absorbing himself in even more heartless studies, he decided that human emotions were the only constant hindrance in his life he couldn't escape and set out to make a world entirely for himself. There could be more theorized; that perhaps he longed for the kind of connections other shared or was jealous of the emotions they seemed to process so much more easily than him, but when it came down to it, he was simply incapable of putting in the effort to understand others and refused to try.

• Even those that seemed to share his vision, he had no plans of keeping around, wanting only a world for himself, free of conviction and emotion, free from the burden of having to care.

• When you show up to thwart his plans he is struck with a level of emotions he's not used to, annoyance. Annoyance that eventually grows to anger, only making him more set on his goal to rid the world of the human spirit, even in himself.

• I don't think he's as above emotion as he claims though. When the two of you end up in the distortion world, you half expected him to be content staying there. It was everything he desired, after all, free of other people, emotion, and spirit (except for Giratina, I suppose), but instead, he chooses to fight you with all his power, intent on making it back to remold your world instead of remaining alone in this one. He wasn't simply searching for a peaceful world for himself as he'd said, being free of the human spirit was no longer enough, he longed to destroy it because he despised it.

• In the end, your spirit is stronger than his and you beat him, but when the portal reopens, he retreats deeper into the distortion world despite your protests, with the promise that he would one day see his vision to fruition, no matter what it takes.

• Cyrus hasn't been seen since, Cynthia even reentered the portal in search of him with no luck. It's entirely possible he found a way out by now, perhaps harnessing the power of Giratina to make himself an exit and has been lying low, or... he's still wondering the distortion world to this day. Either way, there hasn't been a portal opened from our side since, leaving Cyrus as a reminder of what a threat someone with such strong conviction and selfish intentions is capable of.

Lysandre: I believe that Lysandre once held nothing but good intentions for the world. Growing his power and influence with the intent to nourish a better future for people and pokemon. Even when his research and work didn't yield the results he desired, he became an avid philanthropist, donating to the research of those he felt had a better chance in hopes that they could succeed where he had failed in perfecting the world

• But even with that effort and those good intentions, his descent into misanthropy bloomed forth from his own perception of "beauty". At its core, his version of a perfect world was entirely shallow and unachievable. He inevitably gave up on mankind because his idea of what it meant to be human was a priori; conjecturaly based on what he thought was right, without taking into consideration people's free will as individuals.

• He does make some points. There will always be evil people in the world, genuinely evil people that don't deserve the space they take up, and it's impossible to put a stop to them entirely, as hard as we might try. The only way to put a stop to this kind of evil for good would indeed require measures as extreme as his own. However, while I do think Lysandre does hold resentment for such people, I also think he only sticks to this excuse as a way to justify his actions, not only to others but to himself as well.

• Just look at the people he deemed worthy to join him in the new world as team Flare Grunts and Admins. They're not monsters sure, but they're far from the image of justice and beauty Lysandre gushes about. They're not good people in the slightest, but they just so happen to meet Lysandre's idea of perfect; obedient to him. Regardless of what he might say or even think, his motives are entirely selfish.

• When the player appears, like most, he doesn't think much of them, only briefly considering how useful their strength could be if they agreed to join him in his mission for a perfect world. Eventually, that interest grows into an underlying resentment the longer he watches you, even if he does keep it hidden well. You represent everything he couldn't be. You haven't given up on the world despite the hardships you've gone and are currently going through. That's why he continues to talk to you and even implores you to try to stop him. He desired to see your hope broken as his was when you realize you are powerless to change anything. Not only because he really is just a bitter person, but because he still wanted to justify to himself that his actions were the only path left for humanity.

• It's when you finally beat him and befriend the legendary does he finally snap, losing his composure. No longer caring about his perfect world, only getting rid of you, the living proof that he himself lacked so much when it came to perfection.

• He's later found in the rubble of the base when the area is searched, unconscious but alive and is arrested. Now he spends his days in one of Kalos' highest security prisons, charged as a terrorist along with what underlings of his they could find.

• Former colleagues of his who've had the chance to see him since his arrest describe him as a ghost of his former self. Even when put on trial he didn't bother defending himself, only speaking when asked questions and eventually admitting guilt. He's not impotent by any means, but his spirit was broken by his loss when he had to accept that he and his glorious vision for the future were as egregious as the filth he spent his entire life pushing back against.

• Surprisingly, he holds no resentment or ill will towards you, but he certainly has nothing to say to you. I don't see him making an effort to become a better person either if he ever were to get out of prison, content to spend the rest of his life alone in a cell with his thoughts.

Thank you for reading! Gonna cover B/W baddies next~

[spaceskam]

woke me up from the longest dream

Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.

Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda

ao3

"Why is it so fucking cold?" 

"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.

Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.

However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t. 

"Are you not cold?"

"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.

Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.

He decided to keep quiet.

"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.

They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.

Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.

"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.

"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.

How many times could he tell himself to grow up? 

"What can I help you two with?" she asked. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him. 

The woman stared at him, face unchanging. 

"Who's asking?" 

"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later. 

"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air. 

"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."

And Michael did as he said. 

"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."

"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing." 

"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.

"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder. 

"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."

Corrie laughed.

Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.

"Thank you "

"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."

It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."

"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.

"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"

Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace. 

"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself. 

The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.

By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room. 

"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized. 

"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."

Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally. 

"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room. 

"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."

"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.

"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."

"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.

Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.

But Michael wasn't known for his patience. 

"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"

Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious. 

"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."

"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.

"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay." 

"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.

"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."

Michael blinked. "The box."

"Yeah."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly

"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny." 

Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."

Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."

"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks." 

"Show me." 

Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.

"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away. 

"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.

"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.

"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."

Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling. 

"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."

He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."

Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would. 

"What kind of something?" 

"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.

"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?" 

Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.

"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.

Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time? 

"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."

"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"

"Always."

Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.

The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting. 

“Michael?”

Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”

Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.

“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”

“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I promise.”

They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.

“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”

“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”

Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.

Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.

"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?" 

"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."

Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.

"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?" 

"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."

"What was it?" Alex asked. 

Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.

"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.

"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever. 

And he wanted to see more.

" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.

And he was somewhere else. 

He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was. 

"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."

"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough. 

"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.

He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.

Him and Alex. The three of them.

When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.

“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one… 

“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.

“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”

Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”

Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”

Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped. 

“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”

Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.

“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”

Alex stared at him for a long moment. 

“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”

“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”

“ Michael.”

“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”

He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.

“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.

“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.

“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.

“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”

Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”

“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”

“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”

Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.

Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”

I know you.

“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”

Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”

It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew.  It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.

If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.

He was going to make this work.

“Everything?” 

“Everything.”

[smallish-viking]

Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest - a HTTYD book fanfic

A year after the war, Hiccup struggles with the pressures of kingship.

3000 ish words

Hiccup struggled to focus on the pages in front of him, eyes growing weary of letters, maps. Forcing himself to conjure solutions to problems as old and complicate as the Archipelago itself.

‘Hiccup?’

Camicazi peered around the door of the hut, flooding the room with the golden pink of dusk, her hair illuminated like a halo.

‘You spend so long in here we are beginning to forget what you look like.’

Hiccup looked at her, everything in him was aching to step out those doors and into the light of the evening, but his work tugged at the edges of his mind.

‘The Meathead land claims will be there in the morning. Come on, Hiccup’.

She was right, Hiccup thought. What use was a King who couldn’t think straight? He reached his aching, ink stained hands to his head and carefully lifted the crown and placed it on the table. Despite its weight, the crown fit him better than ever.

Camicazi grinned as he followed her out into the summer evening.

The golden light hit Hiccup like a physical blow. He stretched out his arms like a bird before flight, feeling the sea air flow between his fingers and blow back his hair. He breathed it in, almost desperately, and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of weightlessness.

On the clifftop sat a small collection of huts, nicknamed ‘King’s Corner’, built flat and squat to survive coastal storms. Some were lined with books for reading or study. Others were used as meeting chambers where the Council of the Wilderwest gathered for discussion and meetings were held with representatives of the tribes. Hiccup had his back to them as he looked out to the sea. The last of the fishing boats were returning now, and their long shadows were etched into the dazzling blue and golden water. It was low tide and a few small figures could be seen setting out nets on the wet sand among the waders and gulls. Some dragons flew overhead with the cormorants, heading home to roost. There were other dragons, too, who scampered through tall grasses which were ablaze with the day’s final effort of sunlight.

Hiccup and Camicazi began to walk along the clifftop together. Wordlessly, Camicazi handed Hiccup his helmet. It was bashed and scratched thing, scarred by a lifetime of adventure. Unlike the Crown it was weightless as it sat upon his red hair. She reached up and adjusted it on Hiccup’s head, moving aside a lock of hair so the Dragon Mark was visible.

‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ said Hiccup, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

She flashed him a smile. ‘No problem’. Her eyes met his. There was a fierce warmth in her gaze, like a bonfire in winter, but, too soon, it was gone. She ran ahead of him and swiftly performed a few cartwheels on the grass.

‘So’, Hiccup ran up to her, ‘what have I missed?’.

‘Well,’ Camicazi breathed as she sprung upright again. ‘Tuffnut Junior won a friendly axe fight with Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.’

‘Uh huh’.

‘Gobber beat Baggybum in an arm wrestle. So Baggybum stole his trousers and they called it quits’.

‘Right.’

‘And my mother and your father had a bet on who could rustle the most sheep.’

‘And who won?’

‘My mother of course, she’s the undefeated champion! Better luck next time, Hiccup my boy!’

They had reached the tavern. The familiar sounds reached Hiccup from within, the ambient noise of scraping chairs and chinking glass, of dragon shrieks, laughter and fights about to break out. Camicazi went in first, peering around the corner as she did. She held the heavy oak door open for Hiccup and he stepped in. The shutters were open, so the dying light of the day cast golden beams over the Vikings eating and drinking at the tables and illuminated those who talked and swayed at the sides. Hiccup lingered at the back with Camicazi as he watched them.

Even though the tavern was bustling, Stoick looked up when the door opened, face lifting at the sight of his son. With a single motion of his head, he beckoned Hiccup and Camicazi to join them. Stoick the Vast sat among many of the old warriors of the tribes; Valhallarama of the White Arms and Chunky Thighs, Gobber the Belch, Big Boobied Bertha and several others. Hiccup slid down next to Stoick as Camicazi went to join her mother. The impressive stature of his father loomed beside him. Hiccup nestled into his shadow, a wave of comfort coming over him as he slipped into the role of his father’s son, a boy again.

‘How’s it going, Hiccup?’ said Stoick as he clapped Hiccup on the back.

Hiccup let out a heavy sigh. ‘Tiring’.

‘You’re doing a fine job son. A fine job.’

A large tankard of mead slid down the table and came to a stop by Hiccup’s hands, its contents spilling over onto the oak wood table. Gobber flashed a wink in his direction as Hiccup glanced upwards, and he raised the tankard in thanks. The drink was sickly and burned as Hiccup swallowed it but he welcomed the way that it warmed his insides.

Raising a little on the bench, Hiccup peered over the head of his father to scan the faces of those gathered in the tavern. He was looking for someone; a mop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of glasses beside a placid vegetarian dragon. He found him. Fishlegs was sitting in a secluded corner of the tavern, head bowed in conversation with Barbara the Barbarian. Old Wrinkly’s new allergy remedy must be working as Barbara's cat was prowling along his shoulders and, if anything, it looked like Fishlegs was enjoying it as he ran his long musicians fingers through its black fur.

Hiccup smiled to himself and slid back down into his seat. He was there for a while, basking in the conversation of the old warriors. They spoke of old battles won, and lands lost to fire and time. Some were old stories that Hiccup remembered being told when he was a child. They seemed strange to be spoken here, they belonged to a different age, Hiccup thought, the boy he was when he first heard them seemed so far from him now. He felt like an outsider among his company. Marked somehow. Their faces were all brandished with the Dragonmark, scarred and aged by war. They laughed together but there was a shadow of grief in their eyes; everyone had lost something to the dragon flames.

‘Excuse me, King –.’

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts as a voice from behind him cut through the others. The bench squeaked as he wearily pushed back from the table and stood to face Baggybum.

‘I’ve been talking to Thuggery, fine lad, who says that the Meathead islands to the East that were destroyed last year need to be rebuilt so that they can move back there. I was thinking that we could take some supplies, wood and iron and such, over there on a few ships and help them out. The tricky thing is the lands lie just south of the Winter Wind of Woden -’

A sudden weight dropped in Hiccup’s stomach. A tangled memory arose that was too sharp to touch. He took in a long breath and stared intensely at his uncle, trying to prize himself away from the fogged window to the past. Baggybum had a scar that stretched over his left brow. Hiccup knew it. The Battle of Flashburn’s School of Sword Fighting, the first of many dreadful days.

‘– you see, and Mogadon wanted the village to be positioned on the West side of the island. That way the harbour will -’

The scar was little more than memory, a shallow wound compared to the tear in Baggybum’s heart, the absence where his son had been torn away, first by betrayal, healed, then broken again by flaming arrows and deep water. The hero that never was.

‘- four Hooligan ships should be enough, I think, but we might be able to borrow some Peaceable supplies along the way - ’

The eyes of Baggybum were the same as his son’s. The stormy blues that Hiccup grew up dreading the sight of, and the inevitable onslaught that soon followed. There it was again. The sudden assault of guilt, a raw wound reopened.

‘What do you think, Hiccup?’

He forced his mind to resurface, to the present, to the words of his beloved uncle. What was he saying? Hiccup felt sick.

‘I, um…’

Words clogged in his mouth.

Useless.

His thoughts weighed like rock.

Hiccup the Useless.

Stop it, please.

You aren’t the King that we wanted, but maybe you are the king that we need.

Snotlout appeared in Hiccup’s mind. Not ghostly, through the fog of memory and heartache, but clear, as if he was standing in front of him. Bruised and tear stained, the Black Star glistening on his chest.

‘Don’t you dare lose it. That Star is very important to me.’

There was a hand on his shoulder. Comforting, gentle. Hiccup obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly through the crowd did he realise that it was his Grandfather who was leading back outside.

The sharp sea wind collided with Hiccup’s body. The tavern doors swung shut. He walked back along the clifftop, followed Old Wrinkly until they came under the shelter of one of the few trees that were scattered among the heath.

‘It’s ok, Hiccup. Breathe. Just breathe.’

Hiccup hadn’t noticed his rugged shallow breaths. His shoulders tense and jaw set. Away from Old Wrinkly, he withdrew, throat and eyes stinging.

‘I – ’

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Old Wrinkly reached out, his withered hands held Hiccup’s face, and when Hiccup met his gaze, he saw the pride that glimmered in his tired, bright eyes.

‘Oh Hiccup, my dear boy.’

They drew their arms around each other. It was not a gentle thing, that embrace, Hiccup held onto his grandfather as if he were the only stone structure in a violent storm.

‘This is the hard way,’ said Old Wrinkly after a while, ‘to become a King.’

They broke apart and his hands clasped Hiccup’s arms.

‘You’ve already done what the sagas will sing of. You’ve defeated a great enemy and saved the Barbaric Archipelago.’ Hiccup noticed that in the fading light, Old Wrinkly seemed to blend into the silvery wisps of cloud that blew towards the ocean. ‘Now comes the hard bit. Kings are remembered for the glory of battle, the might of the sword but great leaders, Hiccup, the leaders that are truly revered, are known for the love and devotion that their people show them and the better world that they work together to create.’

‘But that’s exactly it!’ replied Hiccup, ‘everyone is looking at me to be this perfect leader.’ He threw his arms into the air. ‘Not long ago I was Hiccup The Useless, the bottom in every class. Let’s face it I was a rubbish Viking, and now I expected to be this great King. Wherever I turn there are people there expecting me to do the perfect thing. To live up to their hopes.’ His arms came to rest on his head then he dragged them down over his face. ‘We all lost so much in that war, so much, and I’m expected to put it all back the way it was.’

‘The truth is, Hiccup,’ Old Wrinkly took out his pipe and begun to fill it. ‘The world will never be as it was. It grows and evolves like a living thing.’ He lit the pipe and drew in a long breath. ‘It’s your job to be like a father to it, to guide the world, to care for it, and set it off in the right direction.’ And then he smiled. ‘Just like training a dragon. You’ve ventured to the perilous Wild Dragon Cliff and you now have a wriggling and smoking basket under your bed, and the adventure has just begun.’

‘And maybe you can train a dragon better by talking to it then yelling at it,’ followed Hiccup, ‘yes, I remember.’ He laughed wearily. ‘Well, that’s certainly easier said than done. Sometimes yelling does seem to be the only language this lot understand.’

Old Wrinkly let out a smoke filled chuckle. ‘Yes, it has always been the way.’

They stayed there in silence for a while. Old Wrinkly smoked his pipe and Hiccup watched the dragons that scuttled and squabbled along the shoreline.

‘Hiccup!’ There was a shout from behind. Fishlegs and Camicazi were coming towards him, Camicazi struggling to keep up with Fishlegs’ long strides without breaking into a run.

‘That’s where you are!’

Old Wrinkly gave Hiccup a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the village. He raised his pipe in greeting to the others.

‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Fishlegs.’

‘Yeah, see you then.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Camicazi.

‘Old Wrinkly has been teaching me how to be a healer.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I reckon it’s a pretty useful skill to have. It’s been days since I’ve seen you Hiccup

Before Hiccup could reply, Camicazi cut in, ‘that’s because you spend all your time with Barbara the Barbarian.’

Fishlegs blushed a deep crimson.

‘I really think she likes me you know.’

‘I think she does, too,’ said Hiccup. ‘But more importantly I know her father likes you as well, he seemed genuinely impressed with that letter you wrote to her.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘I was in a meeting with him last week and he mentioned it. He was saying how he wanted to get rid of the “old fashioned notion” of parents dictating their daughters marriages. He was certainly hairy, but not as scary as I previously thought.’

‘Wow’ Fishlegs swung his arm around Hiccup, then the other around Camicazi as he faced the sea wind. ‘Love. You just can’t beat it.’

Camicazi wriggled out from underneath him. ‘Fishlegs, have you been at Tuffnut Senior’s home brew?’

‘No,’ said Fishlegs indignantly, ‘well, maybe a little, but the point still stands.’

Hiccup laughed and put his arm around Fishlegs. ‘Are you alright, though, Hiccup?’ Fishlegs said as he searched his friend’s face.

‘Yeah, its just this King business.’ He sighed. ‘It really weighs me down sometimes.’ Hiccup was feeling a lot better after his chat with Old Wrinkly. Mad as he is, he is certainly good at giving advice.

‘Hmm... I know what you need.’ Said Camicazi. And then she cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, sharp and piercing. ‘SHADOW!!’

A few moments later, as if Thor himself had chiselled out a part of the sky, the enormous Deadly Shadow dragon burst through the air, turning visible just as they touched onto land. Hiccup and Fishlegs stumbled backwards, but Camicazi, defiant as ever, stood firmly as she stared with glee at the beautiful dragon.

‘Hello there, Shadow,’ said Fishlegs as Innocence went to nuzzle his shoulder. He put his cheek to the side of Innocence’s head and stroked down his neck, now the green of the heathland.

Hiccup’s awe of the Deadly Shadow had never faded, and as he walked around them a swelling of immense gratitude rose within him for this beautiful creature, and for the dragons who flew in flocks overhead, for Stormfly, Wodensfang, The Windwalker and little Toothless. Camicazi reached out her hand for him, he took it and hauled himself onto Shadow’s back.

‘Where to?’ asked Patience.

Hiccup smiled. ‘Upwards.’

Shadow extended their enormous wings, which turned a dusky grey in anticipation for the awaiting sky. Hiccup braced himself and with a jolt, Shadow was off. Up, up, up they soared, wind rushed through his hair and he spread out his arms, tilted up his head, and gazed at the clouds which neared ever closer. Camicazi whooped and punched the air and soon, she too was reaching upwards to catch the clouds above their heads. Fishlegs had his arms around the neck of Patience and was peering round him, looking towards the ground that was disappearing rapidly beneath them.

For how long they remained there, Hiccup could not tell. He forgot all else. His world narrowed to this friends who sat in front of him, the gentle beats of Shadow’s wings, the sea below and the sky above. The air was sweet as he breathed it in. Very sweet. Hang on, is that drinking chocolate? Hiccup spun to look behind him and there, gliding along in the slipstream behind the Deadly Shadow, was the Windwalker!

‘Hello Windwalker!’ Hiccup called, beaming.

The Windwalker loop the looped in excitement and glided to position himself as close as he could to the enormous, sky coloured dragon. With the ease from a childhood on dragon back, Hiccup slid from the Deadly Shadow and onto the back of the Windwalker. And off he flew. Hiccup looked behind him to the others, a shadow of grey was rising in the east as night was beginning to reclaim the earth. Camicazi had positioned herself on Shadow so she was lying on their back, gazing at the sky above and Fishlegs was talking to Arrogance, but Hiccup couldn’t make out the words. He waved to them and they smiled and waved back at him, before the Windwalker climbed further upwards.

There is a moment, when a dragon ascends and soars upwards. When the land falls away and the world stretches wide, nothing but sky and cloud and freedom. It was Hiccup’s favourite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. He sat on the back of the Windwalker, and the wild night opened its arms. Tomorrow can wait.