#except trying to undo the harm that had been done by it

[jaynovz]

"Jayce will understand."

"What am I?" "You're alive."

Jayce did understand 😭😭😭 both those motherfuckers are all gas no brakes mad scientist coded

He did understand, he did immediately fucking boot the founding father of piltover off of the fucking council so that Viktor could keep doing experimentation with the hexcore in the hopes that it would save his life

Jayce is pulled in a thousand different directions in season 1 and confused and stressed out and given a second job as a councilor basically out of nowhere but the very second that it's revealed that Viktor is dying (which he didn't know until then because Viktor didn't tell him!!) he pivots to hard-focus on that, he is there he is ready he is on mission

That man is next level devoted he does not care what rules have to be broken he does not care if it's against the ethos he does not care what kind of drugs they need to acquire

He did understand he does understand he did not hesitate he yeets the fucking hexcore right into that boy Frankenstein style who cares if he promised Viktor to destroy it my boyfriend got blown to bits I think that changes things he'll understand

It just so happened that the Viktor who came out of the other side of that wasn't the same

"My place was always here in the lab with you" but that Viktor has morphed, buried deep, changed, came back wrong whatever you want to call it

Ugh I just LOVE when it's too little too late 😈😈😈😈

[searchingforatrail]

The one thing I really love about Earthspark Megatron is that he's very self-aware about the fact that he's done terrible things. He knows he's been a bad person, and actively works with the people/mechs he's harmed on all sides to do better. Mainly if they're wanting to change.

Whether it's letting Decepticons go and not reporting them to GHOST, or working with Optimus to align with the humans even though he doesn't trust them, Megatron just doesn't sit back and do nothing.

He's actively undoing the harm he's caused, teaches other about just how bad he was, and never sugarcoats it. When people bring up how he treated others, he doesn't deny it or excuse himself. He might give reasons as to why he acted the way he did, but never in a way to take away just how bad he was.

I also think this is why Dot loves him, and lets him around her family. Because he's not in denial about the kind of person he was, he's someone who knows what he did and wants to do better. And Dot is partly the catalyst for that so they have a connection there, but he's a genuine person in his path to redemption.

Not only that, but he's put his own life on the line to protect innocent people. And he still considers himself a Decepticon while doing it, showing he's not trying to whitewash or step away from the mess he created.

(This is why his relationship with the Decepticons is so interesting to me. I don't think he betrayed them in the way that's portrayed by them. I think it's more of his people got used to having power, most likely because they had none to begin with, and weren't willing to stand by and do the right thing when the realization that they were bad people settled in. And considering they still scheme even when in prison & when he gives them second chances, I think this is pretty much proven. And it's more complex than that, ofc. Many have personal reasons for not wanting to work with autobots, but will still kill innocent people).

Anyway I think about that often. He never ran away from what he created, and is actively trying to fix it. Even if he's a one mech Decepticon army (plus Shockwave since he was the only one willing to work with him lol).

His self-awareness is only part of it. The rest is that he actively tries to fix it.

And in my own biased opinion, I think this makes him the best Decepticon. Especially since he's the only Decepticon (with the exception of Tarantulas) that acknowledges his wrongdoings.

And this isn't saying he's perfect or that he's fully redeemed, he's not. And if you expected him to be, than you're not wanting a realistic redemption arc. But he's trying, and doing a hella good job at it.

[terapsina]

(@tinknevertalks no worries, I seriously don't mind at all 💖 And thank you. Sorry for the wait, but I hope the little fic is fun enough to make up for it.)

-

ao3

-

"A bit ironic, isn't it?" Nikola whispered, his characteristically sharp smile pulled tight by a grimace of pain. "Me, the last remnant of the glorious race of Sanguine vampiris, immortal and nigh unkillable, and yet you've watched me nearly succumb to the eternal finality of mortality far more often than I have you."

"Shut up, Nikola," Helen ground out, trying to stem the flow of the blood that was poring out of the wound from his chest with worrying speed. Her heart squeezed her throat nearly closed and only stubborn anger kept the tears from her eyes.

She couldn't believe she was here again. With Nikola's vampire gene active again she'd thought she'd be safe from this horror. Helen squeezed shut her eyes only to be immediately bombarded with the memory of the last time, -- when his eyes had closed and all that stood between her and a way to save him had been dwindling seconds and the amber prison encasing the sleeping queen.

But there was nothing here for Helen to smash through this time. Nothing she could batter against with all her desperate terror until the purple crystal cracked.

What she needed was to convince the one responsible to undo whatever it was they had done.

"I don't understand," came the very young voice of the rumored phoenix they'd come here to invite to the safety of the Underground Sanctuary. Their appearance was that of a child. Utterly ordinary in all senses except that the golden ringlets of their hair were encircling a face that was shockingly, -- though somewhat hazily, -- familiar to Helen. "I did good, why are you sad?"

Helen swallowed and looked at the abnormal who seemed to have taken on the appearance of a six or seven-year-old version of Helen herself. The abnormal who afterward had taken one look at Nikola, flashed with golden-red light and made him fall to his knees with a hole through his rib cage that wasn't closing the way it should be.

She swallowed, mind racing to find the best words. The abnormal's outer appearance might be a lie but something about the innocence she could see in their eyes made Helen sure that the childish confusion wasn't an act. And she knew how dangerous a juvenile abnormal with truly immeasurable power could be.

She made her voice as gentle as she could, keeping any trace of accusation off its tone. "You... hurt my friend, I--"

"Just friend? Will your cruelty know no end, dear? Your words pierce my heart, I shall henceforth know no joy--" Helen pressed her hands tighter against Nikola's bleeding wound. "--ow. That was uncalled for."

'When we get out of here I'm going to murder you myself,' Helen mouthed without sound and with a less than amused glare, letting Nikola read her lips.

She knew what it was he was trying to do, hoping that flirting obnoxiously would distract her from her worry and fool her into thinking that it wasn't as bad as all this blood was making it look. It didn't work, Nikola visibly couldn't quite keep his head up anymore, and even for a vampire, the pale grayness was getting a bit extreme.

"But he's one of the monsters," the child insisted "I'm supposed to hurt the monsters. I remember that."

"Rude," Nikola muttered.

But Helen barely heard him, her scrambling thoughts had already halted, catching the words of the phoenix as they echoed around them.

"You're supposed to?" she asked, as her mind for a moment finally put aside her fear for Nikola and started working on the mystery of the newest abnormal. "Of course, the phoenix is associated with sunlight, maybe not all the myths were inspired by the vampires spreading false rumors to protect themselves from the humans looking for and maybe finding their true vulnerability. It just wasn't literal sunlight that could harm them."

"Fascinating. But can we please stay on point and get the very nice Tiny Magnus from doing the world the great tragedy of snuffing out the life of Nikola Tesla just as things were starting to look up in his century-long plan to court the heart of one Helen Magnus? I expect great things from this millennia, you know."

The child took a few cautious steps closer to the two of them, suddenly visibly fascinated.

"He's a very weird monster. Usually, the monsters just say that they're going to squish my head or drink all of my blood or--"

"Usually?" Helen caught. "When exactly was the last time you met someone like my friend?"

"I don't know," they rolled their eyes in the exaggerated manner of kids who had only recently learned the power it gave them. "I'm too young to remember time. That's for my Olds. But I think it was lots and lots of Youngs ago."

She exchanged a silent look with Nikola. Apparently, the part of the myth speaking of a phoenix's constant death and rebirth had some grains of truth in it too.

"I see," Helen started out the sentence carefully, hand constricting against Nikola's chest and making him wince again. "Well, this is my friend Nikola. He's an irritating thorn in my side but he isn't here to hurt you or to hurt me; we just came here to ask you if you wanted to come with us to a safe Sanctuary. The... monsters you remember have been gone for a very long time, Nikola is the last one and he's not exactly the same as them. But there are other threats--"

"You're the very last monster?" The child's voice turned pained and Helen saw their eyes filling up with the kind of all-consuming loss that was eternally older than their borrowed face. "I'm the very last one too. It- hurts."

"Yes, well mine turned out to be--"

"Language, Nikola," she interrupted what was sure to be a string of words not meant for the ears of a child, even a very, very ancient one. And Helen couldn't help the way something sharp poked into a raw corner of her heart, -- which she knew would never truly heal, -- because Helen's younger face wasn't that different from what Ashley had looked like as a child and so it was difficult to stay objective in the face of the phoenix's apparent grief.

She opened her mouth to answer when Nikola coughed, blood spraying in a splatter with droplets hitting Helen's face, and she felt the breath freeze in her lungs.

He choked, eyes rolling behind the top of his eyelids and slipping closed as he slumped unconscious.

"No, Nikola!" she gasped in denial, hand flying to his neck, looking for a pulse. She couldn't- couldn't quite find--

Panic hit Helen like a colossal wave, shaking something vital off its axis. She couldn't do this, -- he couldn't do this to her; he couldn't leave her as the last of the Five, to face centuries by herself with no Nikola Tesla there to show up like a bad penny every few decades and drink her wine cellar empty again; or to get her caught up in one of his insane schemes of world domination; or to use that brilliant mind of his to help her with the latest catastrophe; or to tell her he loved her with a quick quip but nothing but the truth behind his eyes.

The last time she'd kissed him Helen thought she was about to die. After, she'd neatly sidestepped it when Nikola had tried to bring it up. Frozen by the same fear that had once, centuries back -- or she supposed it would be more accurate to say, two versions of the same century back -- made her choose John as the safer option.

Because Nikola had always been full of frantic energy, swinging between ideas on wings that never landed from flight. She had misjudged both men so badly back then, blind to both the unhinged possessiveness in John and the true softness Nikola was capable of when not under threat of mockery or cruelty -- the softness he hid behind ego and careless humor.

He was waiting for her the way he'd once waited on those bloody pigeons, completely still, so as not to startle them into flight. Just proving that he was safe. That he could be trusted. That he would not twist their wings or bind their feet.

Of course, the birds didn't have to deal with the smug, self-satisfied heel-face turns that could leave Helen ready to strangle him at any given point in a day. But then, Helen knew herself well enough to know that without them she'd have grown bored in their friendship inside a single decade.

His unpredictability was what made him interesting.

She had kissed him because she'd known she'd regret not doing it. But if he died, Helen would regret--

"Please," she turned to the phoenix "please just let him heal. Whatever you did to him, take it back."

"But--"

"I know you were trying to help, that you saw someone from a species that once enslaved millions and did what you did in self-defense. I do understand. But--"

The child bent their head, something terribly old and alien briefly flickering to awareness in the depths of their eyes.

"Your heart, is that what it looks like when it breaks? I had forgotten."

"Please," she begged again, voice hitching.

The child said nothing but they walked over, dropping on their knees and leaning over to hover with their small palm over the place where Helen's bloodstained hands still tried to press the blood back into Nikola's chest. Reluctantly, Helen withdrew.

There was a surge of something that was a mix of that golden-red light from before and Nikola's own power of electricity.

The child giggled. "Tickles." And pulled back.

At once, Helen took back her spot, feeling something heavy within her straining under threat of crumbling to dust in her arms. She felt one set of her heartbeats pulsing against her eardrum, then another, then--

Nikola gasped in a deep breath of oxygen as the torn skin above his heart knit back together, his eyes and nails growing pitch black as an instinctive growl was let loose from his throat. In her periphery, the phoenix didn't so much as flinch, and some buried corner of Helen's mind wondered if here there was finally the answer to how the combined power of humanity and the abnormals had managed to destroy the terrible empire of Nikola's ancestors.

"Nikola," she said calmly, trying to get him back into the present, and to jar his rational mind back into place.

"Helen," he blinked until his teeth lost most of their sharpness and his eyes regained their stormy blue, a smug grin already sliding into place. "Are those tears for me? I'm touch--"

Dopamine was flooding her system full of relief. And Helen knew she could use it as an excuse for grabbing him by the collar and pulling him forward to smash his lips against hers. For kissing him. Even for the tears that kept running down her cheeks now.

But the truth was she didn't know if she wanted to use an excuse anymore. All that those excuses had ever given her was yet another notch in her list of regrets.

And Helen Magnus already had so many of those.

"I hate you, Nikola Tesla," she ground out as soon as they finally parted. "You are reckless and selfish and I need to change the hiding place for my Cheval Blanc 1947 bottle every other day when you're around, and--"

An exhilarated smile began to rise across Nikola's face with her every word.

"--and if you do that to me again I am going to--"

"Do something absolutely horrid to me. You know I have every faith in you, dear," Nikola interrupted her, softly wiping something from her face -- tears, or the splattering of blood that had come when he'd collapsed, she didn't care, -- his face turned serious as his touch lingered over the side of her face. "I love you too, Doctor Helen Magnus."

[multishipper-baby]

now im thinking about the cast being remnants of despair... if goldami was actually a thing before the game, imagine they got rid of golden's family and started ruling together... and made everything worse, the exact opposite of what they had once hoped for 🥲 anyways, what atrocities was the cast up to before the game?

Oh yeah that would majorly suck for the both of them- finally being in control of everything and just using that power to hurt others. I especially think it would sting given what went down in the killing game; Remnant Cami has probably used her hypnotism to manipulate others into commiting horrible deeds just like she did with Golden. And having their relationship absolutely destroyed because of that would be more painful if they used to love each other... Hopefully with time they'll be able to recover from that?

As for what the remnants were up to... Generally they did a bunch of atrocities (murders, terrorism, stalking, etc). More specifically:

All the characters that had families were responsible for having them killed. Some did so directly and with their own hands, some did so indirectly by sending others to kill their families for them. The exception to this would be Usagi and Loon, since their families where is another country when the Tragedy started and they lost track of them. They're the only lucky ones, though.

There's also Deuz, who was a special case since he considered the Nightmares to be his family. Instead of killed, they were brainwashed alongside him to help the remnants. Long-term they still died, but in their case it was during confrontations against the Future Foundation, instead of because Deuz himself doing anything to them. So he at least doesn't have that in his conscience.

Springtrap made a lot of machines for the Ultimate Despair, including bombs, weapons, vehicles and even some executions. Aside from Owynn, he's probably the one who most contributed to the whole operation. The only upside is that at least now that he's been reformed, he can use his knowledge to help the Future Foundation deal with the problem he caused- searching for weaknesses in his old creations, explaining how to defuse the bombs he made, etc.

Loon has the most versatile talent, and thus has the biggest range of things he's done for the Ultimate Despair. The others usually specialized in a few things, but he did anything and everything under the sun. It made the process of remembering very, very painful, because there was always something new and horrifying to uncover and every single memory was its own kind of messed up. He needs a lot of support from the others.

Towntrap probably had a lot of things regarding animals, which sort of ruins all the love he had for his talent. For a while after waking up he can't be anywhere near an animal at all without being triggered and it takes him some work to get over that. He also feels alienated from his classmates, in that he's like "I have no right to feel so traumatized when most of them had it worst, since they harmed more humans than I did", which hampers his healing process constantly.

Eak is an special case in that he didn't actually cause too much direct suffering (although he definitely did kill people) but as Owynn's personal bodyguard he indirectly made things worse. Once he starts getting memories of Owynn almost being killed only to save him, it kind of drives him to blame himself for everyone else's suffering, even if it's not really his fault. After all, Owynn wasn't the only Ultimate Despair, and killing him wouldn't undo their brainwashing, but still. Also he has many injuries from using his own body as a shield while trying to protect Owynn, so he needs some amount of physical healing as well as psychological.

Toddy is very detached from her own memories, so she has a harder time truly accepting what happened. She can't see herself commiting all those acts that she's done, so she buries herself in denial and tries to run away from the truth. It makes it pretty hard for the others to aid her in recovering.

Meg is another one that needs physical recovery- as a remnant, she often committed acts of arson, and so the right side of her body has many serious burns. You know how Fuyuhiko loses an eye in Peko's execution and then it turns out he's also lost that eye IRL? Yeah it's the same with Meg getting burnt in Fox's execution.

Speaking of Fox, he's an special case in that he had surgery while as a remnant. Top surgery, specifically- none of which were done in a safe way. Miraculously, it didn't get infected, but his chest has a lot of extra scarring, almost like he got butchered. It certainly made his experience of waking up quite a bit more shocking than for the others; having your own body changed so majorly without your knowledge is quite the experience.

...I kind of lost the plot at some point and started talking about what happens to them after they wake up rather than what they did as remnants, oops. Probably shouldn't answer asks while sleepy.

[rusame]

Finally getting back into the groove

@reposhillo submitted:

Viktor sighed, feeling the unfamiliar wave of temporarily contentment emanate from his being as he languidly stroked along the back that was presented to him, having just finished inside the body still splayed so invitingly on his lap for a third time.

The other in question was panting heavily from his nose, teeth still digging into the ball gag that had been shoved into his mouth and fastened tight around his head. His wrists were bound together with one of the Russian’s favored scarfs, the skin reddened and split open from the American’s struggling. Allen, as he was called, sighed heavily from his nose letting himself lean back into the man he was sitting on, a thick, flaccid length still wedged inside of him. He took a moment to collect himself, sighing as the temporarily bliss of orgasm ebbed away, making the more familiar tugs of paranoia and rage nip at his conscience.

Allen shifted, bringing his bound hands to brush against Viktor’s bare chest, wanting the Commie bastard to finally pull out of him and undo the bindings. Instead, his body tensed as Viktor took a hold of his upper arms and tugged him further against him, one arm coming to loop over the American’s waist to keep him in place while his other hand began tracing along Allen’s tanned skin.

“Nyet.” He spoke, voice gruff from constant lack of use except for one word responses and short sentences. “Not just yet.”

Allen grunted in indignation, tugging at the scarf around his wrists as he wiggled a bit. He didn’t want to be bound any longer, the haze of lust having faded that had led to him allowing to be bound, and now he was left with the feeling of being powerless. He felt fingers, long and nimble, tracing over various scars and bruises, some made by the Russian himself. Allen growled, trying to lean away from the uncharacteristically soft touches. His attitude simply made the Russian give a brief huff of laughter.

“You just took a beating, some personal time with my sickle, and my cock inside of you multiple times, yet you are more concerned with these mere touches?” He spoke, voice ghosting over the American’s ear. To prove his point, he brushed his lips lightly over Allen’s neck, the male in question tensing and jerking in response. “Are you really that paranoid to believe that no one thinks of nothing more than causing you pain?”

Allen simply jerked forward, his fists clenching as his teeth bit into the gag, wriggling his wrists in an effort to break free. He felt Viktor’s hand trace over a scar on his back and he jerked his head back, attempting to head butt the Russian. He missed, succeeding only in Viktor using his other hand to grab a fistful of his hair and keep him in place. “Do that again and I’ll leave you tied up all night.”

Viktor let the threat linger so that Allen had a moment to process it before finally releasing his hold on the ruffled mane of chocolate colored hair. He used his other hand to give the other a light shove, letting Allen fall from his lap, landing on his stomach on the wrinkled sheets of a worn down mattress. Everything about this hotel room they continuously found themselves in spoke of decay, withering away as the wallpaper peeled and the colorless t.v picked up nearly nothing more than static. Yet this was…Theirs. Something they both shared, without fight or compromise. 

The Russian was cut off from his musing as Allen emitted a soft growl, attempting to slide his knees underneath himself to aid him in sitting up. Viktor halted the movement as he splayed his large palm over the other’s exposed back. “Nyet Allen. Stay down. Just be still. You will not be harmed.” To prove his point he used one hand to grasp Allen’s ankle, using it to pull one of Allen’s legs out from under him so that he settled back onto the mattress, while the other gently slid along Allen’s back, tracing circles and meaningless patterns. “See. No harm done. So just be still and let me touch.”

[zodiariesworld]

| day 2 of living with zoe

tw: discussion of passive suicidal ideation and depression.

living is something that’s honestly been hard for me to do these past few years. i’ve been alive, but truly i’ve been actively trying to undo for that for years passively.

the harmful words i would throw at myself as i stare into the mirror comparing myself to others. anyone who breathed was competition to me.

i went into high school used to being the best. i went to a small prep school where our 6th grade class was filled with 26 people, the most it had in years. and there i was the best.

my high school classes at from 30-40 people in there. not to mention i also competed against everyone in the grade.

i hated anything with games and competitions. i hate how people acted during it, and how angry and aggressive they got. so to enter an environment where everyone was competing against each other was not for me.

that’s when i developed anxiety to an extent that was unhealthy. other girls too had this same anxiety (i went to an all girls’ high school. one of the best in the country.) but they were used to it. they thrived in competition. they encouraged it. me? i feared it.

when the anxiety hit me and i lost control of my own body to where it envolved into shakes. shakes i’ve never experienced, hospitals and tests i had to do. blood tests to the point where the needle was comforting to me. learning how to swallow pills as at least of nine of them had to go down my throat for the day.

that’s when i started to struggle to want to live. that’s when those words i’ve never said before, the voices in my head encouraging me to give up. and i did many times.

i’m not a fighter.

i don’t like to push myself past my limits.

i distinctly remember the moments when i gave up. not actively but passively yet it was still actively. i still actively hated living. i hated waking up and having to drag myself to do tests and hoping i can find some validation in them.

but now i’m pushing. slowly, but surely i’m pushing. i’m a second year uni student who is trying to figure out what the hell to do with her life. i’m trying to push to get my degree. no matter what it takes except. i’m actually taking care of myself.

doing little things like saying, “it’s okay to go to sleep if you’re tired” or “it’s okay if i don’t understand. i understand other things.”

by actually being positive, instead of saying “there’s no way i’ll pass this test.” i say “i can do it. i’ll pass it and if i don’t. i’ll do better next time and move on,”

granting myself those graces that i never gave poor 13 year old zoe is healing.

though sometimes it hurts me because i do have stuff to get done. but i allow myself to slack off a bit, because i’m tired. and my body deserves rest.

i’ll keep practicing this. it’s just me against me in this competition. being healthy is what’s best for me. i’ll keep trying my best. and i’ll keep trying to be happy. i want to be alive i realized. no matter how much it’s painful to keep trying to keep that want. i know it’ll pay off to where i’m content.

i’ll keep finding these small but certain happens in life. ☁️🩷

[nagalias-mindscape]

So. The Tiefling party D&D adventure. This group, I swear.

My character was brewed up by the DM for me to play because he took my character and won't give her back. He's an asshole (the character, not the DM). Aarakocra Monk / Celric, level 20. One of the only level 20 characters in this multi-staged campaign.

He joined the tiefling party because he was part of the researchers who created them, and wanted to know how they were doing in a world that was biologically engineered to be against them and if creating new human-like life out of the invasive, otherworldly spores that'd infected the entire world would help with their understanding on how the virus was spreading and if it could cured.

Literally post-apocalyptic, and my DM-created character made it happen for no other reason than he was bored and curious. he holds some remorse, but that's mostly hind-sight going "We could have done it this way instead of that way". He's not upset with the results he's gotten.

My little bird boi, also, coincidentally, has very loose morals. Like, will fatally stab an orphan child if it benefited him, but will happily cast revivify on said child afterwards because- "whoops, just had to do something real quick, no hard feelings, yeah?".

The Sorcerer of the party also has loose morals. Better morals than the monk / cleric , but still some pretty terrifying things can and have been done by the sorcerers hands.

So when my character betrayed the party, seeing as I was supposed to play the BBEG for this section of the campaign, I had Dominate Person cast on me. Which I promptly failed the saving throws with a Nat 1. Between the table's laughter and the DM frantically trying to figure out how to undo this, I was given a single command.

Remove the largest threat to the party.

Now. This wouldn't be a problem for me because, under Dominate person, I am no longer the most dangerous threat to the party.

Except that I had haste cast on me the previous turn. And I can fly. That's 140ft of flight range in a single turn. I also have a spell called Banishment. Which has a range of 60ft. That's 200ft of potential area for Bird Boi to pick a target.

What I haven't mentioned is that previously, the DM ruled that if I cast Banishment on a creature carrying something, I banish only the intended creature. Not anything that it was carrying, which presumably now falls straight down towards terra firma.

I mention this, because within 200ft of us, in mid air, are two dragons. And I was told to remove the largest threat to the party. Zombie Plant Dragons are, while normally docile, still very aggressive. And very large.

And these were going to be attacking the party I had just betrayed and then force to work for.

Dragons that were carrying the reinforcements that my character had called in.

Dragons that were, until I harm them, technically my allies and not hostile towards me, thus not getting Advantage on saving throws, and Zombie Plant Dragons aren't legendary monsters in this campaign, nor do they have a very high Charisma stat.

... Dragons that I promptly banished from the material plane with a pop.

And with them banished, the allies I had called in to assist with capturing the runaway tieflings from the research labs?

yeah. They were in a metal container suspended by the dragons. They were a red paste by the time said container landed from 200ft in the air, and the allies I did have on the ground... yeah, they were at the impact zone.

... I honestly thought the DM was going to throw a fit. Because a literal army was reduced to one by their own leader on turn five. I'm more surprised the DM allowed me to target the dragons.

(His reasoning, afterwards, was that- yeah. It was a totally valid move. Bird Boi would very much take the command literally, and there's nothing saying I can't target my own allies with banishment. Even dragons- just that they have to pass a saving throw and within range of the spell and allies don't get advantage until after I've attacked them.)

I also think he's more impressed I managed to get revenge on said Sorcerer, because... uh, they forgot to bind me before arguing about the Geneva Conventions with the rouge and paladin.

... I might have given myself Resistance (cantrip) to break free, and then cast Banishment again to make the Sorcerer not-my-problem. To a different place than the dragons, mind you.

This did restart combat, but I still lost. It was just... a somewhat more even fight.

[thisaccisdead]

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

[ribbononline]

When the joke AU gets out of hand and now its like, a whole thing

SO uhm here is the post about the fake marriage on Pasio au! Where the whole fake marriage thing ended up becoming more of a B plot more then anything, oops. The premise kind of got lost on me as I went along.

First things first, here’s the information I gathered from the Hoenn timeline in Pokemas itself so yall know what im working with (and as a side note, if you have no idea about the basic story of Pokemon Masters, the rest of this entire post might be a little confusing);

-Brendan is Normans son, and May the daughter of professor Birch. Brendan has at least defeated Normans gym, and neither of them have met Aqua or Magma, nor Archie or Maxie.

-Magma and Aqua don’t seem to be publicly known as bad in any way.

-The meteor with Zinnia has already happened, and someone else took that destiny from her. (I’ll be honest- I never end up really explaining this here. I had no idea how to even begin making sense of this considering this is post game stuff and Brendan never even seems to have made it to the Elite Four as far as we know)

And with that ! Here’s the actual story I managed to make out of that.

-The backstories for Archie and Maxie are the same as they’d normally be. Things only get different once the ORAS plots would normally start.

Magma and Aqua both don’t commit crimes (such as orb or submarine stealing) with their uniforms on and under their team names. As such, they’re still seen as regular, legit environment organisations trying to better the region.

May and Brendan never get involved with them either. Between no meddling kids and their crimes not being tied back to them, things end up going pretty fast on their end.

-Their crimes aren’t connected nor is anyone looking into them as something bigger- right up until the orbs get stolen. Those are considered important enough artifacts to raise some attention, and so, Steven and Wallace brought on the case to investigate as the Hoenn champions.

-It’s a lot easier said then done, and while they start to suspect Aqua and Magma have something to do with it, they have no concrete proof. Still, they do their best to figure out if it’s them and what their intentions with it would be.

-Regrettably for them they are too slow. Maxie and Archie both make it to the sea cavern , and both raise their respective legendaries. Kyogre is there, Groudon is there, as a result even Rayquaza shows up. There’s a lot going on— and then, within a couple of minutes, there isn’t. All legendaries vanish into thin air, so fast that the population of Hoenn never even realised what was happening out on sea. Except for some unfortunate swimmers who never end up being believed.

Maxie and Archie feel devestated, and the Hoenn League who did notice what happened is very alarmed. Keeping the incident quiet as to not incite a panic, Steven and Wallace are pushed onto this case instead now- to locate the missing legendaries, and ensure they won’t cause any harm- and maybe figure out what caused them to awaken in the first place.

Wallace and Steven immediately link that to the orbs, and as such, Aqua and Magma. Still, they have no actual proof- no one outside their teams saw Archie or Maxie doing anything.

-The reason behind the sudden disappearances turns out to be Hoopa! Who brought all of them to Pasio. The legendaries immediately went from fighting mode into very confused mode. They don’t know where they are or what happened. Groudon ends up hiding in the volcano on the island, while Kyogre keeps to the bottom of the water surrounding the island. -Rayquaza however doesn’t hide itself- and instead, floats around on a mountain top on the island. Rumors start floating around about it, and before long Zinnia shows up and becomes a sync pair with it.

-Steven and Wallace hear Rayquaza is over in Pasio, and figure the other two might be as well- so they go over to investigate. They also talk some with Zinnia about Rayquaza, but since it appears to be fine and calm and Zinnia is not planning on giving it up, she ends up keeping it and they leave her be to search for Groudon and Kyogre instead.

-Magma and Aqua also catch wind of Rayquaza being over there, and even hear about some sightings of what appear to be Kyogre and Groudon around the island. Now the plan is to get over there and get them…. but the problem is that Steven and Wallace are both there, and they’re well aware those two suspect them- and that suddenly showing up for no reason would probably only worsen those suspicions. While the both of them have complete faith in their power as a team, they’d rather not pick a fight with two champions if they can avoid it- especially when they’re on an island full of other champions and elite four members who would probably back them up if asked.

-Going with their entire team would definitely be too suspicious. That’s out. Going with their admins might still be risky- Plus, they can’t exactly leave their teams unattended back in Hoenn. So, Maxie and Archie end up figuring that the best course of action would be for them to go alone, at least for the time being. Scout out if they can locate the legendaries and a way to get to them- and then call backup if needed.

…But if they both go alone at the same time and end up fighting each other while they’re there… it wouldn’t help their case.

-And so, after some thinking things over, Maxie ends up deciding it’d be best if they went together under a temporary truce. So off to Aqua to talk it over with Archie he goes! There, they come up with their plan; faking a marriage, and going to Pasio under the excuse of being on honeymoon. Steven and Wallace wouldn’t be expecting it, so maybe it’d throw them off track! And for the rest of the trainers on Pasio- well, who isn’t happy for a couple living their best life? With a little luck it’d immediately make people trust them a bit more.

-So to Pasio they go! Maxie takes Camerupt as his sync partner, Archie partners with his Sharpedo. They rent a little vacation home- for obvious reasons, they’ll have to live together for a while, but with a little luck they can just avoid each other most of the time. Besides, at least the ad specified there being two beds.

-They misread the ad. There’s one single two person bed. Archie is promptly demoted to sleeping on the couch.

In general, while they do well enough at faking being very affectionate and loving in front of people, the moment they’re back in their house it’s a lot of fighting.

-Steven and Wallace are not stupid, and are immediately wary when Maxie and Archie suddenly show up no matter how well they’re putting on an act. Still, there’s not a lot they can do except keep an eye on them and ensure they stay away from the areas Kyogre and Groudon are spotted.

-The rest of the island however thinks they’re nice! Look at the cute couple having fun. Good for them.

-Overall, while things are going decently okay for Archie and Maxie, Steven and Wallace constantly blocking off areas where they could gather intel and trailing their every move is really hindering their ability to be able to do much of anything. And so the four of them enter an awkward stand still, where neither can really get the other off the island.

-For a while, Maxie and Archie just try to put on the act as best as they can, to hopefully get Steven and Wallace to lower their guard. They go on ‚dates‘ together, hang out with the other people around the island, attend events together, etc. Steven and Wallace still don’t trust them for shit however, and end up pushing May and Brendan towards them in the hopes that they might be able to spot something off.

-Brendan and May have no idea what anyone is trying to do here, and actually really like Archie and Maxie. They help show them all there is on Pasio and introduce them to new people time and time again.

-Eventually, Maxie and Archie realise that this is going to take a lot longer then they were hoping for- between Steven and Wallace not budging, and the trainers on Pasio constantly keeping them busy- they’re going to need an excuse to keep staying here. And they don’t actually need to wait long! -While being a lot less aggressive and in people’s face about it, Archie still talks about the environmental impact the island has on the ocean around it a good bit to some of the other trainers there- he is leader of an environmental group focused on the sea back at home, after all! People actually start agreeing with him, to a point it even reaches Lear. Conceding something should be done, Sawyer starts working on putting a team together that would help undo the damage they’ve caused by making the oceans around the island more habitable for the Pokemon that were made homeless because of them. Archie is one of the first people to get asked to join the team- and having a job there makes a great excuse to stay a while longer. Besides, it’s still working towards his goal to some extent, so he’s down! -A bit after that Maxie ends up joining the team that made the island and is currently in charge of keeping it thriving. Same for him- the job still aligns with his ideals, so he doesn’t mind doing it.

-This was also the time Archie started having serious back pain from sleeping on the couch each night, so he took the bed as well. Maxie threatened to kick him out, Archie wished him luck with that and… well, they both just keep to their side of the bed now.

-Back at home, Magma and Aqua are being good legit environmental groups working within the law. It’s been gaining them a great reputation, and being fully legitimate and not having to fear getting charged for crimes is also very nice for the teens working as grunts there.

-And so back in Pasio, Maxie and Archie forcefully have to take a step back from their plans… to live relatively normal lives instead. Surprise surprise, it’s not actually that bad! They enjoy their jobs, they actually start making some friends, half the kids on the island seem to have adopted them as cool new uncles… and they even start fighting less in private! They can actually get along sometimes.

Eventually the realisation hits that they’re living out the lives they wanted- before they ever joined Rocket and everything went so terribly wrong. Except their marriage being ‚fake‘, this was more or less the future they envisioned… and it’s very weird to think about.

-For Maxie, he does get sad reminiscing, and reminisce he does- but as long as Archie keeps going , he’d never give up his plans. While originally raising Groudon was truly out of his ideals, over time (and when their original breakup happened) it became less about that- and more about ‚winning‘ - winning out over Archie, and proving to both himself and the other he’d been right all along. Even when the evidence started pointing towards that not being the case and Tabitha only agreeing this was a bad idea, he was so caught up in not being able to lose now he never backed down- and just reassured himself the science had to be wrong.

As long as Archie is going, so is he.

-Archie however…. Archie’s plans of flooding the world to reset it- undo the damage humanity caused by ending it entirely- were born out of feeling like there truly was no other option, truly was no other good left. Being focused on that goal every day, it wasn’t hard to stay in that mindset. But now, having to forcibly take a step back- suddenly getting to live a normal life again, with a way to help that doesn’t require death and a support system outside of Aqua… Suddenly the hope returns that maybe there is more out there- maybe there is another way to go about this.

And so, after a lot of thinking, and a lot of doubting every answer he came up with- finally he rang up Shelly and Matt to talk things over, and talk about leaving Kyogre be. Shelly was thrilled- at the end she didn’t trust his plans with Kyogre anymore anways and seeing Archie finally with agree with her on that was a big relief to her. Matt didn’t entirely understand, but Archie seemed happier with this idea, and Shelly definitely seemed happier with this idea- so he certainly didn’t mind.

Afterwards, Shelly ends up privately talking to Archie some more, where he confided a lot in her about stuff he never told her before. It was a lot to take in, and she definitely wasn’t happy about his plans having always been to more or less commit genocide on humanity without ever having told them- but at the end of the day, he’s still her friend, no damage has actually been done, and he’s finally talking to her about it so they can work it out. As such, with some help from her, Archie ends up going to therapy on the regular to help keep him in a better headset.

-After all of this, Archie pulls Maxie aside to let him know he’s giving up on Kyogre, and Maxie… just doesn’t know how to feel about it at all- doesn’t even know if he can trust him. He certainly wasn’t expecting this either way. For a while, Archie just goes about his day on Pasio, while Maxie went very very quiet, just watching him from a distance.

They both spend so much time on this- suddenly given up was something he never thought would be an option, and it’s a lot to process. Besides, Archie could be lying. ….But truthfully, he’s known the other way too long to believe that. Archie is serious about this, and it’s not particularly hard to tell.

So, after a lot of hemming and hawing, he too finally rings up Courtney and Tabitha and calls of their mission with Groudon.

Magma and Aqua are both just legit regular environmental organisations now.

-Now with that decision made, they end up talking a lot over between each other themselves. About their past, about their teams, and about what they want to do now. This is where they finally decide to actually give their relationship another chance as well. Not necessarily as a romantic relationship- thought not strictly as just friends either. They decide to just take it slow, see what they’re comfortable with, and see where it takes them from there.

(A lot of trainers in Pasio actually worry this is when they got into a fight- since they stop acting overly affectionate to put on an act, and instead get to have awkward conversations trying to rekindle their relationship. Everyone is so worried about what happened. Sorry guys, they’ll be okay)

-Though they fully intent on going back to Hoenn and their teams, they’re not in a hurry to leave and stick out their job contract which only were for about half a year total anyways. During this, even Steven and Wallace start noticing a change in them and finally lower their guard a bit. They never do end up attempting to get to the legendaries- they’re just enjoying their time here now.

-When they do finally get back to Hoenn, they merge the teams and help the land and the sea together now. Archie also ends up convincing Maxie to join him for therapy sometimes- even without them almost ending the world, they do still both have their things to work trough.

-Groudon and Kyogre just vibe on Pasio now. They let kids battle them for fun sometimes. They’re doing alright.

-Brendan and May end up visiting Archie and Maxie a lot! That’s their cool gay uncles now.

-Somewhere along the way, as time passes, they actually end up legitimising the marriage documents they faked at the very start. And they still return to Pasio from time to time to meet up with the friends they made there. :]

Apologies if any of this was messy or unclear! it was a lot to try and condense down into a single post and I did my best, but ykno. if there did appear to be smth missing feel free to shoot me a message or an ask orz also this is my second time writing this post- first time i made the stupid mistake of typing it up in browser. And after over an hour of typing this all up…. tumblr refreshed for no reason, and deleted all of it. so writing this all a second time has been even harder then the first. ;; it hurt so bad.

Also, I do have a lot of thoughts n ideas abt the actual relationships they end up having w other characters on the island, but I’m saving that for another post! With the premise of Pasio there’s just so much potential to stuff all these diff characters from diff games into a place togehter and i want to make the most of that- so its prolly gonna b another long post lmao. i wont make this one even longer then it already is, so diff post it is

just know that they did in fact once see Giovanni on the island, and they almost ended up throwing hands.

(bonus; the link to the page where I keep all my oras HC posts and comics sorted)

[mettywiththenotes]

You know what I think? That, if Shigaraki gets ever redemption, then he wouldn't lose the AFO quirk, but would undo the harm that his predecessor has done. Since Horikoshi has set some precedent in his writing by making people atone and make efforts to make up with the victins of their actions or victins of their predecessors actions, keeping the quirk would make more sense then the "Death as redemption" type of trope

Oh fr yeah, Shiggy keeping the AFO quirk and fixing stuff would be so cool

There's a whole lot of good Shiggy could do with the AFO quirk. He could take away the quirks of people who were really bad (like he did with Chisaki except no chopping off limbs). He could use the quirks he has to help victims of disasters instead of being the one that causes them. The potential of the multiple quirks and learning how to parallel process would be so effective in helping people

I also keep thinking about how Shiggy could potentially take AFO's copied quirk with his own AFO quirk Aang Vs Ozai style (which would be SO cool and funny - Shiggy being given the og quirk and then using it against AFO? yes PLEASE)

Which I guess would probably kill Shiggy cuz of the overload in his system but... I am one of those believers that he would simply survive quirk singularity. Shiggy has been through so much, he's survived a death-like sleep and lived through sheer spite, I just believe that he would live (trust me I just have a hunch lol)

Also can you IMAGINE multi-quirk Shiggy and Izuku working together? The amount of good that could be done between this kind of duo? I'd go insane if they joined forces properly and used all of their quirks together

The thing is as well is that it wouldn't be Shiggy being forced to do anything, it would be his decision to help if he wanted to, which I would love

Potential and fun concepts aside for a second; I don't think he would undo the harm AFO had done, but as you said, try and make up for it. Try and make it better while not exactly forgiving the Heroes, but perhaps turning over a new leaf? Looking to the future?

On the other hand though, I also don't think it's Tomura's responsibility to be making up for what AFO did. They have the same quirk but they aren't the same person. It would be nice for Shiggy to see the harm AFO has done and want to fix it, but if he ultimately decides not to, then it'd be understandable as to why imo

But anyway, I've also had a think about the concept of Shiggy keeping AFO's quirk, and what would be so good and the most important about Shiggy keeping the quirk is probably the side-effect of AFO Vestige never truly going away. Like, if Real AFO dies but the traces of AFO Vestige still live on inside the quirk. Because I think as Shiggy would get better, hopefully heal and overcome his trauma, he'd gain more control over his mind and therefore have more control over the AFO Vestige. As Shiggy has said before

The best part about AFO still living on in Shiggy is that it would be about Shiggy overcoming his master's control fully, not just rejecting it but warding it away

(Also could be a metaphor for mental illness. It's always with you, it doesn't disappear, but there are ways in which you can cope and take control of your life)

I just think it would be so cool if that ended up happening

Finally, death as redemption for Shiggy is just unthinkable to me. For someone like Shiggy who has been built up to be saved, to be sympathized with by the readers and next gen (Izuku), to be hyped up in terms of power and the ability to cheat death, it would be a disservice to his character and his arc. To have all that tension built up just for him to die "for redemption" would just be so bad. I mean... I'd probably be fine if it was like "oh he died to help his friends- NO WAIT HE ACTUALLY SURVIVED AND IS GOING TO HELP EVERYONE AND LIVE", but yeah, official death as redemption would destroy me

(No more Death As Redemption, society has progressed past the trope Death As Redemption)

Thank you for the ask :)

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 30, Post 1 by @blimeypeople

Hi! This is my first time writing a fiction story in English (I'm not a native english speaker) and it's unbetaed :(  If you have time to spot something wrong or if this story doesn't make any sense, just let me know, pretty please?

Thanks for hosting this fest. You're all so awesome!

---

Title: Don’t run, please.

Author: blimey,people

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Prompt: Parenthood

Rating: G

Hermione Granger-Weasley really thought her life was perfect, that she had achieved everything she wanted and made her heart happy: she had a husband who loved her, a job she enjoyed, saw her friends and family whenever she could (well Sunday lunches at The Burrow were an unwritten rule but she enjoyed them a lot), but then what was she doing running through the corridors of the Ministry of Magic? Hiding from her husband, that's what she was doing. She turned on the corner of one of the corridors, she was no longer running, but she was walking hurriedly heading in the direction of the main library of the Ministry, so big and wide that not only was it difficult to locate the books you needed, but also the people that were inside. The best hiding place, Hermione thought and quickened her pace when she saw him: Ron, standing in front of the large wooden doors, staring at his shoes in his scarlet Auror team uniform, which was somewhat wrinkled. Probably coming back from training, Hermione barely had time to think when she turned around running to the opposite side. They were quite far apart, so it wouldn’t be that easy for him to reach her but he was faster.

  "Hermione!" She heard him scream, but she couldn't stop, she was scared, she was afraid of having a conversation with him. She accelerated her escape as she felt his footsteps getting closer.

  "Hermione! Don't run, please! " She had heard that voice a few times. Her memories took her to a particular occasion, when she was also hiding, but from evil forces who wanted to end their lives and the life of their best friend. She couldn’t resist his voice, she had resisted it countless times while he asked her for forgiveness inside the horrendous tent. It hurt her soul, it hurt her not being able to hug him telling him how much she loved him, but her pride won. Only months later, she was able to achieve what her heart and mind most wanted: to reveal her feelings and be reciprocated. Now her heart and mind told her this was far more important, that this could perhaps destroy the relationship that with so much love, time and dedication they had built, this could possibly end one of their most cherished dreams, burst the bubble of joy and emotion that had appeared inside them almost three months ago. This could take away their most precious gift: their future child.

  So she stopped, took a deep breath, and waited for him to catch up with her. It didn't take many seconds when she felt his long fingers capture her left wrist leading her towards a deserted office.

  I should’ve flooed home, Hermione thought as she walked alongside Ron. He would have found me there in an instant though, I should’ve gone to..., she tried to complete the thought, when she was struck by doubt. Her choices were limited in terms of places where she could just go to think without being seen, without being interrupted, no questions being asked by anyone. Her childhood room in her parents' house might have been a great option, but now recently her parents had semi-retired from their jobs (occasionally they went to the office in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, at times they took turns and one of them stayed home while the other went to work), thus Hermione didn't know for sure when the house was thoroughly empty. Besides if they found her in her old room on a Friday lunch, at the time in which she should still be at the Ministry plus they were aware that, due to her almost obsession with completing every unfinished task at the end of the week, Fridays were her most complicated days at work, it would potentially lead them to ask her thousands of questions and if she chose to answer truthfully, as she had done since she met them again in Australia two months after the war, tired of hiding things from them. This time, though, she was certain they wouldn’t be as understanding as they were back then. Now the situation wasn't just about her, it involved someone more important and vulnerable, someone they hadn't met yet but they already loved.

  Her parents, Jean and Hugo, were over the moon since the day they learned about the arrival of their first grandson or granddaughter. The imminent growth of their little family filled them with infinite joy. On countless moments, mainly when Hermione and Ron would give them the news about the birth of a new child in the ever growing Weasley family, the faces of Jean and Hugo gave away what they wanted: they were dying to ask her when she and Ron would finally decide to have one of their own. Therefore they were ecstatic. The decision to adapt a room on the first floor as a playroom for their future grandson or granddaughter came easily. Well, we don’t need a library anymore, do we, Hugo?, said her mom. It took them a week to disappear the shelves loaded with books that were once part of the room. Toys, kids books, little stuffed animals, big stuffed animals, a white cot and the largest most colorful collection of clothes Hermione had ever seen overflowed the rather large space. Apparently, her mother considered it was better to have more variety than later needing a neon green footie embroidered with dinosaurs and not having it on hand. Her father, more serene and restrained, but just as enthusiastic, had bought a beautiful memoir book for the baby, where he himself would be in charge of writing down every detail of his or her first year of life. However, Hermione was sure something was wrong with her for she hadn't been able to share the same level of enthusiasm of her parents or her husband hence she just smiled everytime they mentioned the baby. Therefore, she was certain Jean and Hugo would probably agree with Ron on this issue. So now he was being proven right, they would help him convince her to "do the right thing for the baby." Except she honestly couldn’t discern what was right anymore so the confusion and fear consumed her. She loved her job, enjoyed the responsibilities that came with it, rejoiced in every new challenge she encountered no matter the outcome, she was sure of it. Her newly discovered feelings for the little human being growing inside of her were what confused and scared her at the same time.

  Ron guided her to an old and solitary chair within the rather desolated office gently helping her to sit on it. Rather than sitting beside Hermione, he stood in front of her and crouched down. He took one of her hands, placed it on top of her knee, gently stroking it.

  “Hermione, the evidence is overwhelming. If they were able to send an object specifically charmed to harm you into your office, it is because they aren’t our most common enemies. It means they are doing their homework figuring out your routines. They’ve been following you for at least a few weeks. They knew that only us usually go there so you would open the package without a second thought,” Ron couldn't control the tone of sadness, anger and despair as he spoke.

  Minutes before lunch, Hermione received a small package wrapped in a black paper with little stars, the wrapping of Hermione's new favorite bookstore in Muggle London. She frequently went there alone and sometimes Ron accompanied her. She ran to get it, unwrapping it in an instant. She didn’t even have time to see the title of the literary work, when the book came to life and suspended in the air began to hit her repeatedly, increasingly hard on the chest, arms, legs. Her wand was on the handbag she regularly took to lunch. The book kept hitting her, in one moment heading for her belly. Hermione started to scream, moving as far as she could from the object. In seconds, the auror who was stationed outside her office managed to undo the spell. It wasn’t the first threat, that's why the auror guarded her office. Whoever was behind it, had tried to harm her on previous occasions but they had never been so close to actually hurting her. The spell was very powerful, the package was able to pass the rigorous inspection of the experienced auror. A mother who genuinely loved her child would already be home, protecting him or her by being away from danger, the thought stunned her. She began to run through the corridors of the Ministry even when she heard the auror screaming for her to stop. She didn’t want to see anyone, especially Ron, who a week ago had almost begged her to stay home for a few days while they determined who was threatening her.

  “Harry and I are very close to identifying who is doing this, Hermione. We just need you to get away from danger a bit… ” Ron started, looking her straight in the eyes.

  “I don't want to quit my job, Ron, not after working so hard for many years. I'm nearly there with the house-elf protection law… "

  “I know about all the work you've done, Hermione. I would never ask you to do it, if it weren't for… "

  "The baby," Hermione completed looking down, "I understand Ron, but I honestly don't think it's necessary ..."

  "Not putting our child at risk is more than necessary, Hermione, it will only be a few months," Ron interrupted quickly.

  "Ron, I can't. So many magical creatures trust in me..."

  "They will continue to trust in you when you return," said Ron.

  "We said having a child wouldn't alter our lives, that I would continue working, you know I don’t want to be a stay at home mum." Hermione felt Ron's hand tighten on top of hers.

  "It's not that. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if the situation wasn't like this," argued Ron, "Tough I must say you were the one saying having a child wouldn't alter our lives. I think you were trying to convince yourself. For my part, I believe that many things are going to change, things we won’t be able to control."

  "Ron…"

  "I reckon you're getting scared ..." Ron continued coming closer and reaching her shoulders to hug her.

  "I'm not…" Hermione tried to interrupt and wriggle out of the hug. But he knew her better than anyone. Hermione was sure he had noticed her doubts, insecurities and fears even before her.

  "I am scared too, I'm not just talking about the threats, because I can assure you that we are going to find out who is behind everything and he’s going to pay for putting you through this," his voice was harsh and he had struggled not to shout during the last sentence. "I’m positive you're scared for him or her too," his voice had taken a delicate, sweet tone, the tone he used when they fought and he wanted her to understand he was right without making her feel too bad.

  "You are doubting yourself, asking that brilliant mind of yours a ton of questions, not finding answers. You’re wondering if you’re going to do a good job or if you will love him or her enough. The fact is, Hermione, the love you will feel towards our child will never be enough, it will be infinite", he raised one of his hands caressing her cheek, “It's not about doing a good or bad job, love. It's about doing the best we can in our own way, making mistakes and learning together, because you do realize we're in this together, right?” Ron delicately squeezed her cheek, Hermione looked up, her beautiful blue eyes pierced through her with the deepest love, he lowered his hand placing it on her still small belly, “He or she deserves the world, I assure you we will give it to him or her when the time comes. What we can do now is protect our little one, we are not going to let anything happen to him or her. Okay, we should definitely find out if it’s a boy or a girl, I'm getting tired of this”, he grinned.

  In that instant, Hermione felt within her how the little life Ron and she had created began to move and the most profound love, love she only felt for the man in front of her, completely invaded her. Ron gave no sign of feeling it, but it wasn't necessary. She placed her hand on top of Ron's, looked him straight in the eye, and nodded. He smiled at her, hugging her tightly.

  At this precise moment in her life, despite her insecurities about her ability to love and protect her unborn child, the certainty of knowing Ron never made vain promises began to fill her with strength and hope. If he firmly believed everything would be fine, it would be. If he was by her side on this adventure, there was no doubt the next few years would be different, challenging, but wonderfully incredible.

[jaskicr]

fae witcher jaskier

aka the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever written in my entire life as i combine my favourite tropes of fae jaskier, witcher jaskier, and identity porn

the school of the manticore is experimenting with alchemical formulas to create witchers, not just from humans, but from other humanoid creatures as well (such as elves, fae, and vampires)

jaskier is a curious fae who wanders into the human world, but he’s taken by some manticore witchers and experimented on

but they didn’t expect him to be such a powerful fae and he resists their efforts to experiment on him, so to subdue him, they brainwash him

they take his memories of being fae, making him docile, and successfully turn him into a witcher

the mutations make jaskier’s fae features even more prominent - he has pointed ears, horns, deadly sharp teeth, claws, and he’s very tall, with fully black eyes (like he’s under the effects of a potion) and white hair

due to this, he’s ostracised even amongst the witchers in the manticore school - with the exception of those who experimented on him, they all think that the mutations made him monstrous and they don’t know that he’s fae

at this point, he’s mutated beyond both a fae and a witcher, he’s clearly neither - fae features are generally delicate and elegant, whilst jaskier’s have been made deadly and lethal by the mutations

with the brainwashing, jaskier is very compliant and he lets the witchers train him without complaint

he’s very good at signs, and he’s able to do magic outside of the signs for reasons that he doesn’t know

his trainers are afraid of his magic and try to suppress it, but jaskier’s magic is too connected to nature for them to sever the bond

so when he finally sets out on the path, his trainers keep a really tight leash on him, knowing that his power could mean that he might break out of their control and go back to the fae

jaskier’s appearance is so obviously other that he’s immediately hated by humans, but because of the brainwashing, he’s very passive in the face of their hatred

he just weathers the horrible things that humans call him and how they assault him, and it doesn’t even hurt him because he’s so conditioned not to feel anything

this happens for many years, with jaskier taking contracts and enduring the hatred from humans, and returning to the manticore keep to be conditioned/brainwashed further every winter

one day, tissaia stumbles upon this fae/witcher whose mind is completely and utterly blank, and it just feels wrong

and she knows that whoever did this to jaskier must have been unspeakably cruel, so she takes him in

jaskier is very confused by tissaia’s actions - on the one hand, he’s so used to be docile and passive that he doesn’t want to resist tissaia, but she’s not his trainer so he knows that he shouldn’t trust her

but tissaia calms him, treating him far more gentle than anyone has ever treated him, and jaskier’s instincts tell him to trust her

tissaia quickly grows fond of jaskier, who’s inhumanly tall and monstrous but oh-so-sweet and gentle, and she slowly undoes his brainwashing and helps him become more human

but jaskier’s trainers realise that his brainwashing is being undone, and they decide to go after him

tissaia, who’s now become protective of jaskier, portals them far away, refusing to let them take him

jaskier is slowly coming to his senses and regaining his memories as they escape, and he becomes desperate not to go back to his trainers

they stumble upon vesemir, who takes one look at jaskier and decides to adopt him, and the three of them run all over the continent to escape jaskier’s trainers, who want jaskier back under their leash

but tissaia becomes exhausted, and she tells jaskier that the only way he can escape his handlers is to let her strip all their brainwashing/conditioning from him completely

but it might take years or even decades, and it would hurt his body a lot, so she offers to transfer his consciousness to a human body while she works on healing his witcher body/mind

and jaskier agrees, because he’s so close to remembering his fae family and fully regaining his magic, and he refuses to be under the control of the manticore school again

so he’s reborn as julian alfred pankratz in lettenhove, while tissaia and vesemir fake jaskier’s death and spread rumours of it across the continent

jaskier, now human, grows up without any knowledge of his past, even after he goes to oxenfurt, even after he starts travelling with geralt

tissaia checks in on jaskier every once in a while, and vesemir asks after the bard who’s travelling with geralt to keep tabs on jaskier

however, tissaia hadn’t anticipated how strong the brainwashing had been, so it’s taking decades for her to strip it away without utterly destroying jaskier’s mind

one day, geralt is hunting a fae, who lures geralt and jaskier into the fae realm

the fae realm somehow manages to connect to jaskier’s consciousness/his magic, and all of a sudden he regains his memories from his life in the fae realm (but not his memories from being a witcher)

so he remembers growing up as a fea, he remembers his family, but there’s a huge gap between that and his life as a human bard

as geralt is trying to find the fae, jaskier is stumbling around, confused by his identity and his sudden influx of memories, but he knows that something is missing

while this happens, tissaia feels a surge of magic in jaskier’s real body and realises that something must have happened, and jaskier’s body starts destabilising

and she knows that she needs to put jaskier’s consciousness back into his body before it implodes due to the magic

meanwhile, as jaskier stumbles through the fae realm, recognising different places that he used to go to, he suddenly catches a glimpse of his sister, all grown up

and he tries to leave geralt to talk to her and tell her that it’s him, but right before he can do that, tissaia grabs his consciousness and yanks it back into his real body

jaskier’s human body drops dead once his conciousness leaves it, and geralt hears his breathing and his heartbeat stop, and he grieves

in a fit of grief and fury, he hunts down and kills the fae who had lured them here

this angers the rest of the fae, and geralt is quickly overpowered by them and he’s taken to a dungeon

and he just sort of accepts his fate, letting them take him without putting up a fight, because jaskier is dead

as he’s awaiting trial, geralt thinks that he won’t even mind being exeuted. after all, jaskier is gone, and what’s the point?

at the same time, jaskier wakes up in his real body with tissaia hovering over him, his last memory being seeing his sister and being in the fae realm with geralt

all his memories return to him in one go, and it’s so overwhelming to have three lives (fae, witcher, bard) in his head and jaskier has a bit of an identity crisis

and then he remembers that geralt is alone in the fae realm, which immediately makes him forget about his identity crisis for the moment as he readies himself to go after geralt

tissaia tries to stop him, telling him that he needs to recover, but jaskier needs to get to geralt right now

when he tries to walk, he stumbles a bit, forgetting how tall he is in his real body, but he powers through - even if his coordination is awful, he needs to go and save geralt. who knows what the fae could have done to him by now?

and he portals himself to the fae realm where he left geralt behind, only to see his own dead body, and the dead body of the fae that geralt had been hunting - but no one else

when he smells geralt’s tears, he realises what must have happened, and he panics since the fae must have taken geralt, but he doesn’t know where

he tracks down his sister, who doesn’t recognise him at first due to the changes the mutations had given him, but when she does, she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly in a tearful reunion

(it’s very cute, jaskier is tall enough that he dwarfs her and can pet her head)

jaskier’s sister tells him what happened to geralt, and jaskier heads off to save his witcher

none of the fae expect geralt to be rescued, so it’s laughably easy for jaskier to sneak to the dungeon and find geralt

and while he’s on the way to the dungeon, jaskier wonders whether geralt would hate him now that he’s little more than a monster

so when he does find geralt, jaskier pretends not to know him, and due to jaskier’s different appearance, geralt doesn’t recognise him despite a faint sense of familiarity

he’s confused why this large, not-quite-a-fae is helping him, and geralt can tell that he’s sort of a witcher, but not really

but jaskier’s dead, and geralt really doesn’t want to be rescued, so he pleads, ‘please, leave me to die’

jaskier is horrified and picks geralt up, knowing that he can’t just let geralt die, and geralt is fighting him - he doesn’t even know this fae/witcher

jaskier portals them to his sister’s house, and geralt passes out from his injuries

jaskier and his sister patch geralt up, all while his sister teases him for having a crush on geralt, which jaskier tries (and fails) to deny

when geralt is unconscious, jaskier sings to him, the way he always had whenever he used to treat geralt’s injuries after a hunt

and geralt, fading in and out of consciousness, thinks he hears jaskier, but surely that can’t be true - after all, jaskier’s dead

when he fully regains consciousness, he sees the large fae witcher who’d rescued him

‘who the fuck are you?’ he demands, slightly pissed that he hadn’t been left for the dead

and jaskier, who still doesn’t want geralt to know who he is, panics and introduces himself as julian

it takes him a while, but jaskier manages to convince geralt that he’s trustworthy - after all, the fae can’t lie, and when jaskier tells geralt that he’s safe, that he doesn’t mean any harm, geralt tentatively relaxes

with geralt still injured, he can’t leave the house even though he just wants to go back to kaer morhen and grieve jaskier, so he stays

jaskier helps him around the house whenever he needs to get around, and geralt is too weak to stand on his own, so he leans on jaskier as he walks (jaskier is tall enough that geralt only comes up to his chest, which geralt finds very nice and warm)

and as days pass, geralt realises that, despite his imposing size, julian is soft and gentle and caring, and it makes his head spin, because only jaskier has ever been this gentle to him

meanwhile, jaskier is having an internal crisis - over his identity, over his memories, but also over geralt

because he knows that geralt thinks he’s dead, so jaskier concludes that he can pretend to be a whole new person who’s decidedly not jaskier, and geralt would never know - after all, jaskier’s human body is dead

and jaskier thinks that’s better for both of them, because he doesn’t want to taint geralt’s memories of human jaskier since he’s a monster now

jaskier’s sister is just done with him, she tries to slap some sense into him but he insists on not telling his true identity to geralt

so geralt feels safe around julian in a way he’s only ever felt around jaskier, but he doesn’t suspect anything

(there’s one morning when geralt wakes up to julian spooning him from behind, and he feels so safe, so cared for. he feels seen)

as he recovers, he realises that he really doesn’t want to leave - julian is so nice to him, and geralt wants nothing more than to stay here with julian

but part of geralt feels like he’s betraying jaskier, even though he’s dead - julian makes him feel like jaskier did, and gods, he misses jaskier so much

so geralt pretends that he’s reocvering slower than he really is, and jaskier pretends not to know what geralt’s doing, and one day, geralt stumbles and falls backwards, and jaskier catches him

geralt realises that their faces are really close as he stares into endless black eyes, and he’s unable to stop himself from pulling julian into a kiss

all while he tries not to feel guilty about it, because he feels like he’s kissing jaskier, but it’s julian

and jaskier is stunned that geralt would even want to kiss him in this form, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he kisses back, and internally decides that he won’t ever tell geralt who he really is

jaskier and julian can be two separate people - let geralt remember jaskier as a human, not a monster

after that, they get closer and more intimate, and jaskier tells geralt about his trials and what the manticore school had done to him

geralt’s heart aches for this kind man who’s been through so much, who’s suffered so much, and yet, he’s still so gentle and caring

he asks how julian how he’s escaped the manticore school and regained his memories, and jaskier panics

‘... um...’ he stutters. ‘... magic?’

and geralt gets slightly suspicious because julian is hiding something, and he tries not to think about the fact that julian has the same tell that jaskier did when he was lying

geralt knows that julian physically can’t lie, but clearly, he’s hiding the truth, but julian keeps avoiding the question whenever geralt asks, making him more suspicious, but he decides that julian can have this secret

after all, it’s not harming geralt or anything, and he trusts julian

then geralt fully recovers, and he’s reluctant to leave julian, so he shyly asks julian to join him on the path so they can go witchering together

of course jaskier agrees, beyond joyful that geralt wants his company, even now, and before they leave, jaskier’s sister tries to talk sense into him one more time, but jaskier is still too dumb to listen to her

as they set out on the path, jaskier realises just how much he misses singing, how much he misses playing the lute

he hasn’t sung since rescuing geralt, since he doesn’t want geralt to recognise his voice, and he hasn’t played his lute since it was broken by the fae after his human body died

besides, he can’t really hold a lute now - he’s too big, and it would break in his hands

as they sit together one night, geralt quietly tells julian about jaskier, his heart aching and grieving

when jaskier freezes up, geralt thinks that he’s jealous and gently teases him for that, despite the pain in his heart as he tries not to compare how similar they are 

in fact, jaskier’s just panicking a lot, and he tries to act normal

they’re both really dumb

that night, jaskier is lying awake when he suddenly hears geralt having a nightmare about losing jaskier

he’s whimpering, voice pained and fearful, ‘no, please, jaskier, please don’t go, i can’t lose you -’

and jaskier tries to soothe geralt, but it doesn’t work and geralt thrashes harder, going deeper into the nightmare

then jaskier remembers that the only way he used to be able to calm geralt down from a nightmare was to sing, and he can’t bear to thrash and scream in his sleep, filled with grief and anguish

so jaskier sings

he sings geralt’s favourite songs, the ones that always loosened geralt’s shoulders and made him smile, and as he watches geralt relax, he falls asleep as well

the next morning, geralt wakes up before jaskier, remembering his nightmare, and he knows that he heard jaskier’s voice

grief almost threatens to overwhelm him because he must have hallucinated jaskier’s voice, but then he realises that if the singing hadn’t been real, he wouldn’t have been able to return to sleep, and he would’ve woken up instead

so geralt knows that someone must have sung to him - had julian sung to him

and he twists to look at julian, who’s curled around him, and he looks closer

geralt thinks of the way julian would hold him gently, the way only jaskier had, thinks of the way julian made him smile and laugh the way jaskier did, thinks of how only julian and jaskier had ever cared for him like that

and it makes sense now, why julian had kept a secret about regaining his memories, because it must have been tied to jaskier somehow, and it makes sense why julian decided to just come and rescue him

jaskier is alive, and geralt hadn’t known

but jaskier is real, and he’s here, and though geralt is mad that jaskier hadn’t told him, his joy at jaskier being alive makes him forget his anger

when jaskier wakes up, blinking blearily at geralt with a soft, lazy smile, geralt says, ‘jaskier?’

and he prays that he’s right, because he’ll be shattered if jaskier is truly dead -

and jaskier responds, exhaustion slurring his words, ‘yes, geralt?’

then he realises what he did, and he freezes, but geralt gentle pulls him into a kiss, and jaskier relaxes

‘why did you never tell me?’ geralt asks when he pulls away, light and buoyant with love and joy

jaskier has no choice but to confess

‘i didn’t want you to remember my human self as a monster,’ jaskier murmurs, looking away. ‘i wanted to keep jaskier and julian separate, so i wouldn’t taint your memories of me.’

‘you’re not a monster,’ geralt says fiercely, tracing jaskier’s face with gentle fingers, tracing over his horns and his ears, brushing under his eyes and over his teeth. 

‘but i am,’ jaskier insists, spreading his arms. ‘look at me, geralt. how am i not a monster? why would you want to remember me, my human self, as this - this monstrous thing?’

geralt’s heart breaks for him, and he tugs jaskier into a tight embrace, peppering him with kisses.

‘you’re beautiful,’ geralt whispers, and jaskier sucks in a breath at the sincerity in his voice. ‘you’re not a monster, jaskier. and i’ll love you no matter who you are, no matter what you look like. it doesn’t matter to me.’

‘even like - like this?’ jaskier asks, vulnerable, as he gestures to his too-large body, to his mutated features.

‘especially like this,’ geralt says, and kisses him

as jaskier wraps his arms around geralt, and geralt tips his head up to meet jaskier’s lips, they feel warm, they feel loved, they feel whole

(afterwards, they travel the continent together, hunting monsters and killing the people who had experimented on jaskier, and they get a glamour for jaskier so he can be a bard again, they get married on the coast and they live happily ever after)

someone once asked how many AUs of i have often dreamed of a far off place can i write, and i think that this might be my third one... with a fourth version that i dumped into the wj server earlier today oops?

[giorno-plays-piano]

No Mercy

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x thief!Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, sex pollen, minor depiction of violence, threats, stalking, allusion to kidnapping, both Bakugo and reader are adults!

Words: 2388.

Summary: Obviously, you have chosen a wrong night to rob that electronics store.

P.S. Yay, this is my first BNHA story! 

By the way, there is absolutely no real science in this fic, please don’t bully me for it ahahahah

_________________________

Oh dear, it was getting worse.

That morning you had a feeling you better stay home tonight, but your rent wasn't going to pay itself, so you still went out to rob that ugly little electronics store you stumbled upon a few days ago. Now you were being chased by one of the most popular pros, Ground Zero, and saints, you really hoped to keep all your limbs attached to your body: the guy was mad.

Really, you weren't such a villain he had probably pictured you to be. Your job in the cafe wasn't paying well, but with no education whatsoever it was hard to find something else, especially since that big makeup store you finally got yourself in went bankrupt after a villain attack. Your dad wasn't the one to help you stay afloat either, so, with that odd Quirk of yours, there was just one thing left to do.

With a loud sound of something exploding to your right, you jumped in the narrow back alley on the left and prayed Bakugo to at least bring you to a police station instead of finishing you off here. Seriously, who he thought you were? Someone from the League of Villains, huh? You were miserable enough trying to evade his punches, and your knees were already trembling as you were reaching your limit.

Shit, now you'd have to use that embarrassing Quirk of yours and hope it will do something decent.

Despite your Quirk manifesting itself when you were 4 just like everybody else, you were so ashamed of it you did all you could to never bring it up or use it. How embarrassing was it to have an ability to produce animal secretion right out of your hands? One time you had literally sprayed skunk defensive secretion in the class, and after that you had been called a Stinky Girl for the rest of your school days. Damn, even remembering it now was making you ashamed of yourself.

Of course, your control over your Quirk was miserable. You struggled to predict which secretion it would produce, hoping it would be something distracting enough for a hero to let you go, but oh boy Ground Zero didn't seem like the type to be scared of skunk's spray.

Staring at the dead end, you were ready to laugh hysterically - that is, if you had any time left, but Bakugo had already grabbed you by the shoulder and yelled something offensive in your ear, ready to put you down to the ground. Well, it was now or never.

Within a second you took off your black glove you'd always worn on your missions and slapped hero's cheek, leaving an angry red mark on his pale skin. The next moment you were on the ground with a very, very mad Bakugo hovering over you with such expression as if he was going to murder you in cold blood right now.

Apparently, your Quirk was useless, after all. Preparing for the worst, you stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling like a leaf, your hands up defensively to prevent him from harming you. In the end, you didn’t even steal anything as Ground Zero stormed off in the store.

But he didn't hit you. Actually, he didn't do anything at all as you stared at him nervously. He just... stood there with a grimace on his face and did nothing at all.

Oh, was it something new? Did you Quirk finally prove itself useful for once? It was a damn miracle.

"What did you do to me, bitch?" He suddenly barked, and you saw his cheeks slowly getting red as if the temperature went up all of a sudden. "What the fuck is this?!"

Shit. Civet oil. Of course, you couldn't even make some decent quantity to make him repulsed, so now all you got was a completely opposite effect.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

Hiccupping, you got up just as he seemed to lean closer to you, so you ended up smashing your forehead against his, and both of your groaned. Although you fell back again, in a couple of seconds you were running for your life with Ground Zero being unusually slow somewhere behind you. Oh shit, now he was going to fuck and kill you. What a nice day you were having.

Struggling to keep running - you didn’t even understand at what part of the city you were now - you were getting out of breath, but you no longer heard Bakugo behind your back, and it was certainly calming. Did civet oil make him slow? You weren't sure what exact effects it had except for the most obvious one. Maybe you got lucky, for once. Maybe he'd let you go just this time, and you'd do your absolute best to find a decent job and stop robbing people. Well, you weren't even robbing regular people, just snobby store owners who'd get their money back with an insurance, anyway. You had never hurt anyone physically! Why treating you as if you were some dangerous criminal?

Whatever. Ground Zero was nowhere to be seen, so you simply landed on the ground in one of small filthy backyards in a shady part of the city. Oh boy, what a run. You thought the guy was literally ready to kill you.

The cold wall you leaned on didn't feel pleasant, but it was better than staying on your feet with your knees trembling and heart beating so fast as if you ran a marathon. Yeah, to think of it, you definitely could call it a marathon.

As you finally took off your mask and wiped your face with your palm, you heard a low growl somewhere to your left, "I'm gonna fucking break you, woman."

Shit.

Scrambling to your feet, you tried dodging him but you were no match to a real pro, especially someone as good at combat as Ground Zero: you ended beneath him within a second, painfully slammed to the ground as he cursed at you, pulling your hair. Apparently, this was the end of you. The civet oil only made the hero more enraged instead of distracting him.

"Ah! It hurts!" You whined at the hair pulling and heard a dangerous hiss above you.

"Do you think this doesn't fucking hurt?"

It was impossible not to feel his obvious arousal, his painfully hard cock pressing against your lower back as the hero suddenly sniffed your hair, then making some weird noises while trying to undo his pants. Nononono, you weren't having this, you'd gladly accompany the hero to the police station where they'd cuff you and put you in prison but not let Ground Zero have his way with you.

"Get off! GET OFF!"

Your attempts to throw him off were futile, and soon he was pulling down your own pants, "You did this to me, didn't you?! So be a good girl and maybe I won't fucking kill you."

You bit down on your lower lip, your hands bound together with his belt.

Huh, there was no other way.

______________

You came back home around 3 am completely exhausted, dirty and hurt, but it was still better than being thrown in prison after a long Interrogation in a police station. Ground Zero had finally taken some pity on you after all he'd done - oh it hurt, it hurt so bad in between your thighs because you hadn't been in relationship for long, but the hero was neither patient nor gentle with you. It was a miracle he actually let you go after this miserable incident somewhere in the outskirts of the city. Was he at least a little ashamed at what he did? Did he feel any remorse? Although it certainly didn't seem like, maybe he let you go because of it.

"Or he was just afraid to deliver me to police in such state," you chuckled grimly at yourself, grabbing first-aid kit and trying to do something with all these bruises and bites. You still had to take your 10-hour shift in the cafe today, and you could barely imagine how you were going to survive.

Of course, you only slept for a couple of hours before you had to get up: that morning you put so much makeup your boss would definitely scold you, but it was better than showing up with a face of a zombie. Of course, everyone managed to see how you winced while walking. Thank god you were able to convince them of your fall yesterday's evening: you actually only worked half a day as your boss took pity on you and let you go home.

Shit, it was time to put an end to your night adventures. You'd better find one more job and work a whole night long than live through this one more time, humiliated and hurt.

By the time you got home with a grocery bag in your hand, you felt like all you were going to do today was falling down on your bed and staring into the ceiling for hours. It still hurt. It was still embarrassing to remember what he did to you. You still wanted to slap him real hard and then yell at him at the top of your voice.

Funny enough, you actually had a chance to do all that since you found Ground Zero dressed as civilian sitting on your couch.

For a couple of seconds you froze on your place, unable to believe your eyes. What the hell was he doing here? What, yesterday's wasn't enough for this bastard, was it? Did he come to make you even more miserable?

Despite fear rising in your chest, it was soon replaced by fury mixed with disgust: who did he think he were to just break into your apartment like this? You might be a thief, but even you had the right to be delivered to police and then wait till the court decided upon your punishment. Nobody had given Ground Zero permission to rape you or follow you like some sick stalker!

"You live in some fucking hole." He grumbled as he saw you walking much slower than your usual pace, and you thought it was guilt you saw on his face for a mere second.

"Welcome to a fucking hole, then." You hissed at him in return and put your bag on the floor while taking your shoes off and wincing from pain. "If you came to finally take me to a police station, let me put food in the fridge, at least."

Not that you'd need it after your arrest, but the thought of leaving the grocery bag on the floor and let the food rot made you nauseated. You detested throwing away food with all your heart.

"Food? You call this food, huh?" He was already peeking inside the bag and scrunching his face at the sight of cheep noodles and gyoza.

"Yeah, we call it food here, rich boy." You let out a growl, mad at his attempts to make you feel humiliated even more than you already did.

He clearly didn't expect such treatment from someone whom he had taken advantage of so easily, and for several moment the man had a perplexed expression, unable to believe you were so brave despite the fact your knees were trembling. He probably thought it was a facade, but you didn't care. All this wouldn't end well for you, anyway.

"I'm not rich." He sent you a glare, and you felt like laughing in his face.

"If you don't have to steal to pay your rent, you're rich."

He grimaced but said nothing at all as you went to the kitchen, dragging the bag with you. You wondered if he felt sorry for you, but you didn't want his pity. Not from the one who did this to you. In fact, the only thing you wanted from him was leaving you alone.

Besides, you kept thinking why on Earth wasn't he dressed as a hero if he came explicitly to take you to a police station? Heroes like him loved showing off, you were sure. Why did he come like this? If he thought of repeating yesterday's night, you'd fucking stab him in the groin with a kitchen knife.

"So, how many heroes have you fucked like that?"

You felt a sudden urge to stab him right now and barely kept yourself away from a box where you kept cutlery. "I do three heroes a day and three villains at night," you growled at him, disgusted with his attitude, "what, didn't you feel it when you were raping me?"

Your reply took him aback, but he recovered quickly, "Who was raping you, silly woman? You did it to yourself!"

"Yeah, I've always dreamed of being taken by some sickening, primitive hero in a dirty alley, that's more than any girl could ask for."

Huh, apparently, cat got his tongue: Ground Zero stared at you, unable to believe your words. What, did he really think you loved being treated like this? Did he have any idea what making love was? Anything about normal, adequate relationship between a man and a woman? Maybe you weren't the most law-abiding woman in the city, but you were still a decent person, and the fact that Ground Zero expected you to manipulate him into raping you was repulsive.

"Listen, just hand me over to police already. What are you waiting for, Ground Zero?"

All the food was long put in the fridge and kitchen cabinets. Staring intensely at the man who shouldn't even be here, you crossed your arms over your chest, expecting him to drag you out of the house, but when he stepped closer to you it felt suffocating. Shit, the fear was coming back when you saw his expression darkened, his red pupils dilating when he grabbed your arm above the elbow and pulled you to him. Was he really going to do this to you?

You expected him to snap at you, but when he spoke he sounded strangely cold and collected.

"First, you will call me Bakugo from now on," he voice was dangerously low, "Second, I haven't come all the way here to bring to a fucking police station. You will come with me, do you understand?"

_______________

I didn’t put my regular taglist here since it was only made for Marvel fics, but please let me know if your want to be on my BNHA taglist, too!

[merryfortune]

Sweet Dreams Under the Sea

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt #40 Ocean

Main Ship: Chongire/Numeri 

Other Notable Relationships: Chongire & Elda, Elda & Numeri

Fandom: Tropical Rouge PreCure

Word Count: 1,634

Rating: G

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Fluff, Bittersweet Ending, Domestic, Found Family

   “Excuse me, Elda, but it is past your bedtime.” Butler said, peering in closer to the girl, his eyes unnerving but Elda was unrelenting. “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a girl healthy, pretty, and wise.”

   “I don’t wanna.” Elda pouted, her arms flailed as she held tightly onto her dolls.

  Chongire who had been walking past the hallway overheard and decided to, “I don’t see any harm in letting her stay up. Imagination play is good for kids or something like that.” 

   Butler sighed and shook his head.

   Numeri, who had been following along with Chongire, giggled, “I’m sorry, Chongire, but I’m with Butler on this one,” she said, she placed her hands on Chongire’s back, unsettling him as he could feel her snail slime seep in past his clothes and was cold, “it would be better for Elda if she went to bed early.”

   “I don’t want to!” Elda continued to resist.

   Butler looked pleadingly to Numeri, “You are better at handling this child than I am.” he said.

   Numeri slithered into the room and put her hands on her hips. Elda stared her down and Numeri knew if it was going to be a battle of wills, Elda would win. She had more youth and energy, after all. She could throw a tantrum until the Fool’s Casket was full and never tire. Get hungry, perhaps, but not tired.

   “Elda, why don’t Chongire and I take you to your room. We’ll put you to bed with sea cow milk and seashell cookies. We can even tell you a bedtime story. That way, you can still stay up a little bit late but not too late like Butler feels.” Numeri negotiated in a pleasantly sweet and gentle voice.

   Elda paused to consider the offer. She hummed in thought and tapped her chin before shrugging. She set down her dolls and said, “Alright.”

   “That’s a good girl.” Numeri praised her.

   “You spoil her too much.” Chongire whispered to Numeri and she just giggled again.

   Butler shook his head but the bargain worked. Elda popped herself off the top of the table she was so comfortably lying on and swam over to Numeri and Chongire. Numeri gave Butler a wave good night as it was unlikely to see him afterwards as it was his usual bedtime, too but Chongire rolled his eyes. 

   Numeri and Elda began to shuffle off and Chongire gruffly piped up, “Good night, Butler.”

   “Good night Chongire, good night Numeri, and good night Elda. I will see you all in the morning, ready to report for breakfast.” Butler bade them and that was that.

   Chongire huffed and though he had been going one way - leaving the kitchen - it was time to go the other way - back to the kitchen. He was just as bas as spoiling Elda, quite clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t go through the effort of fetching the snacks that Numeri had suggested. One cold, frothy drink of sea cow milk and seashell cookies coming up. It wouldn’t take that long, thankfully.

   So, once Chongire had done that, he scuttled along to catch up to Numeri and Elda and it looked like he had made it back just in time. Elda was throwing a tantrum. She swam swiftly around her room, literally banging off the walls and following the ricochet and all whilst incessantly screaming for her snack. Poor Numeri, shuddering at the shrillness of Elda’s voice, in the middle of it.

   “Good grief…” Chongire muttered to himself and he lifted up his claws slightly, to show off the tray that he had brought out. “Here you go, little girl.”

   Elda stopped mid-paddled and was completely still, she beamed, “Well why didn’t ya say so sooner?” she asked as she very civilly swam over to Chongire, her little tail wagging and her antennae twitching excitedly. “You always make the best snacks, Chongire.”

   “Thanks, kid.” Chongire replied, half a smile on his hard face.

   Elda grinned greedily, reaching for the sea cow milk with one hand and with the other, she was snatching up the seashell cookies that Chongire had made. Elda was munching them down, getting crumbs everywhere but she did it with an earnest excitement that was endearing. Even Numeri slyly sneaked a biscuit or two. It made Chongire smile, even if it was a gruff and somewhat hidden smile. He put a lot of effort into this pain in the neck cooking thing, it was nice to see it appreciated for once. He wasn’t going to get such gusto from the Witch of Delays any time soon so he did savour Elda’s gluttony and even Numeri’s as well.

   “Ah,” Elda exclaimed, smacking her lips together, “that was the good stuff.”

   “Ready to brush your teeth and go to bed then, hm, Elda?” Numeri prompted her.

   “I suppose.” Elda breathily sighed. “I’ll be quick as.”

   “No, you won’t. Two minutes.” Numeri told her.

   “Fiiiine.” Elda sighed loudly again.

   Chongire smiled to himself. Perhaps Numeri could be strict with Elda once in a while.

   Elda swam off to her ensuite and kept the door open. From the doorframe, she showed off how she could brush her teeth like a big girl and to complete Numeri’s order of at least two minutes. It was horrible. It was such an inconvenience, but Elda did it and then returned once she had wiped her mouth.

   Her little, fat tail wagged as she dived on her bed. She had a nice cosy little nest of a four poster bed in the corner. She got under the covers, wriggling down, and yawned, a little bit fakely. She patted her mouth and beckoned her two carers closer.

   Numeri very happily slithered closer, putting an arm around Elda, half in her own bed whilst Chongire hovered, a little distant, a little awkward. He crossed his arms but he sat down. Numeri smiled softly and she played with Elda’s hair, undoing her pigtails and straightening them out.

   “Is that better? Easier to sleep on?” she asked.

   “A little… yeah…” Elda murmured as she settled and then took a big breath. “But I want a bedtime story! You promised me a bedtime story!”

   Numeri giggled, “That I did, that I did…” she murmured. “Hm, let’s see… How about the story of Finderella.”

   “Ooh,” Elda’s eyes shone, “that’s my favourite.”

   “Glad to hear it,” Numeri said and then she glanced at Chongire, “what about you?”

   “It’s not bad.” Chongire replied with a flippant gesture of his gauntlet.

   “Well, you can do the prince’s voice.” Numeri said impishly.

   “I’ll try.” Chongire grumbled, he didn’t think he was going to be very good at it.

   Not like Numeri. She was a natural. Her tone of narration as she reeled off the story of the mermaid named Finderella was beautiful. Elda smiled, her eyes slowly closing, as she listened to Numeri’s fairy tale and by the end of it, Elda was snuggly and cosy in the bed. Numeri smiled gently and kissed Elda’s forehead.

   “And Finderella lived happily ever after…” she murmured, “Good night, Elda, sweet dreams, we’ll see you in the morning.

   “Okay,” Elda yawned, half-asleep, “night, night, Mama… g’night, Papa.”

   Numeri giggled, a scant blush of blue to her purplish face. She glanced at Chongire who was completely embarrassed.

   “Aww,” she whispered, “not yet ready to be a daddy?” she teased him.

   “N-No, it's not like that, argh, darn kids these days… I’m not that old.” Chongire grumbled.

   Numeri slowly edged away from the side of Elda’s bed and slithered towards Chongire. She slipped her arms around his huge, shelled forearms and snuggled in.

   “Speak for yourself,” Numeri murmured, “my biological clock is ticking.”

   Chongire grumbled but nothing coherent.

   “I think it's sweet that Elda considers us parental figures.” Numeri said and Chongire opened the door for them.

   Chongire’s guarded expression softened, “Yeah, it is,” Chongire murmured, “I guess I just wish…”

   “Wish it didn’t have to be so?” Numeri finished Chongire’s sentence for him.

   He nodded gravely as they continued down the halls. It was pretty lonely and very tough to grow up in the bottom of the ocean. Down an abyss where no one wanted them, except to use them like with the Witch of Delays. Cast out from the Grand Ocean, where light did penetrate the layers upon layers of water, where song and dance were commonplace. Where it was vibrant with energy and motivation and for reasons unknown, even to the adults that they were now, they had been forbidden it. Parents had abandoned them, or maybe they just came out of the squishy egg shell alone with only their instincts. Him, Numeri, and even little Elda. That was all the beats of their story - and it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale nor was it to be on the villains’ side.

 “C’mon, let’s go to bed, we’re too old to stay up late, don’t you think, Papa?” Numeri teased him even after that lull of unspoken, melancholic reverie.

   “Whatever you say, marm.” Chongire teased her back.

   “Well, I'm the doctor and doctors always know best.” Numeri said and she stretched herself up, her sea cucumber tail wiggling unsightly, just so she could get a chance at pecking the side of Chongire’s face.

   He smiled back at her, “Thanks and good night, Numeri, don’t sleep in again or we’ll all get in trouble.”

   “You better take your own advice as well then,” Numeri said and there was a bittersweet hesitance to how her hands slowly receded back to herself, the slimy pads of her fingertips skating over Chongire’s exoskeleton, “good night, Chongire.”

   With that, they parted and returned to their own quarters but for some reason, they both had the lingering feeling of not wanting to leave each other’s side. The heart could be very bothersome at times.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

on the topic of alastair apologizing... let's talk about the Academy. idk, here's my two cents.

EDIT: thank you to @alastairxcarstairs for pointing out that Alastair's hair was natural at the academy, not bleached. I have made a few edits in red! I don't think it changes the idea of my post too much, but it does raise some complications as something that we know has affected alastair deeply (vs a comment about his father & clive which were things he was already feeling and whose traumas to not lie in a comment made) and I think honestly might be one of the only ways for a reconciliation between the two of them, to recognize that they both used shitty ways that the world works against them to hurt each other deeply, and that wasn't right. (also can the two queer "icons" learn to not be racist please & thank)

this got... ridiculously long. I'm sorry. feel free to disagree with anything I've said, it's just my conclusions from what I've read an my own experiences. theres a lot of discussion of bullying, death, and alcoholism.

alastair really didn't say much to or about kit and thomas (except the rumor, which I'll get to in a second) at all. he called thomas names, but it wasn't something that ever really bothered thomas and I think that's probably because alastair never said them with malicious intent.

he said a lot of shit to and about james and his family, none of which james deserved. that's something he needs to atone for.

most of his bullying (except the rumor) with matthew was reciprocated. they both talked shit to and about each other. it doesn't cancel each other out in a way that means it never happened, but its not really something anyone has to atone for imo, just more of a "we both treated each other like shit and that was stupid, let's move on from it and not do it anymore."

the vetis demon... it was a prank. a cruel, scary, idiotic prank. it wasn't alastair's idea, but he went along with it and he helped. obviously it was something very distressing to james and matthew, but they're both fine. I'm not saying alastair should get a pass for it, but clive literally died. they were 14/15 and as someone who lost a classmate at that age, there's a weird sort of guilt about it, even when you had nothing to do with their death. alastair learned the consequences of his actions the hardest way possible, and I don't think people recognize that enough. we don't know much about clive at all. he acted like an asshole, sure, and he was definitely naive and arrogant (a vetis demon???) but we don't know how he treated alastair. was he kind to him behind closed doors? was he always cruel? did he bully alastair? we don't know. regardless, I'm positive that alastair has a lot of complicated feelings about it, and a fuck ton of guilt. because HE can be a better person. HE can apologize and move forward and travel the world and fall in love and get his heart broken and do all of the things that people do after they finish school, and clive never will. alastair learned his lesson, and james and matthew can be reasonably certain that he'd never try anything like that ever again. while he could certainly still apologize for it, I think thats something they can assume at this point without him saying it.

the second one was deliberate, matthew knew that alastair had already told him it was Clive's idea, but he WANTED to get until alastair's skin. he WANTED to make alastair hurt more. he was a child (they both were), and he was upset, and he wanted to make alastair hurt. and he did. alastair snapped.

and, finally, the rumor. the first thing to recognize is that alastair was in a bad place when he said that. he said that because he was in a bad place. all of those^ complicated feelings had just started (clive had literally just died) and to make matters worse, everyone's fathers had rushed to the Academy in wake of the incident except for Elias (thomas pointed this out). then matthew showed up. he started out by calling alastair names, fine, typical. then he said "Has no kind soul thought to inform you that your hairstyle is, to use the gentlest words available to me, ill-advised?..." strike one "...A friend? Your papa?" strike two. then he said "Though I cannot help but wonder whose idea their nasty little trick was" even though Alastair had already explained that it was Clive's idea and why, strike three.

the first one was just racist. maybe he didn't mean it to be, but we know that alastair was self conscious about his hair because of how dark his features are and how alienated he feels as a non-white boy.

the second one was an unfortunate coincidence imo. matthew had no idea what alastair was going through at home or that he was particularly upset about Elias that day because he'd been forced to watch all of the other boys with their fathers.

in matthew's eyes, what he said there SHOULD have been just another throwaway insult, but he was blinded by his privilege as a white boy with loving parents, and anyone who knows alastair's situation can see that it anything other than just a throwaway comment.

I'm explaining all of this not to excuse what alastair did but show how the rumor scene was atypical from his usual bullying. we haven't SEEN enough on paper to make that observation, but we can infer from all of this that that was not how alastair normally behaved. that was how alastair behaved when he was pushed over the edge, that's it.

while he said awful things about Thomas and his parents and Matthew's parents, he was never trying to hurt them, it likely didn't even cross his mind. he didn't start that rumor, and I doubt he even ever actually spread it. there's no evidence that he would be someone to spread rumors like that (something very speculative and secretive, vs something obvious and well-known like what he said about tessa), especially given the rumors around his own family. he only repeated it to matthew because he was pushed out of his limits. it's most likely that he heard the rumor, ignored it, and the ONLY time he has ever spoken it was to matthew that day.

he said it to hurt matthew. that was his only goal. that was his only motivation. he wanted to make matthew HURT. and he did. he really, really did. I think he could see it as soon as he said it. CC has said that he regretted what he said as soon as he said it. he hurt matthew in ways that can never be undone, and I think he knew that as soon as he said it because he has been hurt that way, too.

so, no, I don't think alastair actually owes thomas or sophie or gideon or charlotte or henry an apology for what he said beyond "I caused this person you love very much irreparable harm" because while he said awful things about them, he never did anything to actually hurt them (beyond hurt matthew).

to say that alastair owes matthew an apology... feels a little cheap to me. I don't think alastair will ever genuinely apologize to matthew solely because he doesn't think that what he's done could ever be forgiven. even if he were to become a fucking saint, even if he became the nicest, kindest, most giving man on earth, there is nothing he can say or do that can undo the pain he's caused.

what happened to charlotte and her baby is NOT alastair's fault, nor is matthew's alcoholism (because we could play the blame game all day then - because if it weren't for Elias would alastair have been pushed past his limits? is it his fault? if his alcoholism is because of his brother's death, was all of this just Yanluo's fault in actuality? but that was all in revenge for Wen Yu exterminating a nest of demons, so maybe it's her fault, then? it would never end, and that's not even TOUCHING mother hawthorn's involvement). matthew MUST be responsible for his own actions and choices.

but alastair caused a harm to matthew's psyche that can NEVER be erased. he will carry until the day he dies. alastair may have not intended to hurt him in such a profound was, but he did, and he knows it. he crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.

this doesn't mean that alastair can't be redeemed or that he can't be a good brother-in-law to james and a good partner to thomas or a good person in general or even that him and matthew can't move past it and learn to tolerate each other. but in his eyes and matthew's, forgiveness is too weak of a concept for what he has done, and I doubt he will even ask for it.

[thestraggletag]

Virtual Session, A Rumbelle Zoom Fic

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Town meetings were usually drab, boring events, and having them over Zoom hadn't improved them much. Or so Mr Gold thought, until he forgot to log out of the meeting after it ended, only to discover a half-naked Belle French had also forgotten to do so.

SOMEONE PLEASE COMMENT WITH A BETTER SUMMARY I HATE IT.

Based on this prompt.

“We will review your presentation and hold a virtual vote before the month is up, Miss French. Thank you very much for your time.”

The mayor adjusted her suit jacket, her shirt riding up as she did so and unknowingly displaying the telltale white check of her Adidas yoga pants. Royce snickered, taking advantage of the fact he was muted.

“As there are no other pending topics on today’s agenda this virtual session is adjourned.”

He half-expected her to produce a gable out of thin air and bang it against her marble countertop. All around him people began to say their goodbyes and log out of Zoom, lest Regina decide to spring a surprise motion at the last minute. There was no need to flee, however, as Regina herself was one of the first to log off. Given the amount of smoke he had spotted coming from behind her right before she exited he did not need to guess what had caused her sudden departure.

“I guess no apple turnover for dessert at Madame Mayor’s.”

He heard an adorable chuckle and did not need to glance at the screen again to guess who it was. Very few people found his brand of dark humour palatable, but the librarian seemed to love it. It was nice, he soon found out, to have someone appreciate his often ill-received quips. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her. Well, other than her stunning eyes. And perhaps her hair, which was a lovely shade of reddish-brown. Her legs too, he acknowledged reluctantly, so nicely-displayed by her short skirts and high heels. And her-

He stopped himself. That way lay madness and he knew it. It was one thing to admire in an unattached way, from a distance. He was a connoisseur of beautiful things, after all, and Belle French was certainly beautiful. Unfortunately she also happened to have a lovely personality. Kind, generous, open, but also bold, defiant and the littlest bit dark. She flaunted the rules of smalltown society by wearing what the matrons around town considered “inappropriate clothing” for a librarian, and speaking to anyone and everyone, including those that polite society would urge her to shun. Drank beer with the miners, for example, men deemed “too coarse” for genteel women, and stocked the library with altogether undesirable books, be it because they dealt with unseemly issues or because they were from traditional authors. Which, he was sure, was code for “white men”, even if Mother Superior never quite spelled it out in such terms.

She was altogether dangerous for him, with her mix of light and dark, so he was always on his guard, lest his thoughts veer too far into dangerous territory. He didn’t fear scorn or derision if his feelings became too obvious for her to ignore. Belle was altogether too kind for that. But to be gently yet firmly rebuffed, and have their subsequent interactions laced by the barest hint of pity from her, would be unbearable. 

“I’m pretty sure that at least Mr Spencer didn’t hear a word I said. His camera was off during the whole of my presentation.” The librarian huffed, clearly bothered that her proposal to increase the library’s budget to repair the East Wing’s leaky ceiling wouldn’t get a fair shot. The wing was currently closed, and had been since she had taken the post of librarian, but with the newfound need of social-distancing, particularly in enclosed spaces, she hoped she could change that, make the town council see the need for more space in the library. “Though perhaps he didn’t want to be yelled at again for not being in a three-piece suit for a virtual town meeting.”

He briefly paused to remember Spencer’s red face when Regina had chastised him for wearing a white polo shirt instead of a shirt and tie during the last meeting.

“Kinda hypocritical of Madame Mayor, given she was a couple of clothing articles shy of a full tracksuit tonight.”

They shared a conspiratorial laugh, and he hoped the camera somehow toned down the stupid look on his face. He tried to avoid direct eye contact, looking instead mildly-interested in her living-room. Her laptop seemed to be perched somewhere on her dining-room table, giving him a great view of the rest of her flat, which was a loft, so it was open space, with exposed brick and tall ceilings. Though small it was tastefully-decorated, and with enough bookcases to make it seem like it was a part of the library he had never been to, if it weren’t for the kitchen area and the- and he told himself to stop looking at it- queen-size bed.

“Well, Miss French, at the risk of getting ahead of myself I can confidently state that things are looking good for your project. It was an excellent presentation and I could see Midas and Hopper were clearly in favour. That leaves the Mayor and Spencer outnumbered. Hell, I think even Regina will vote yes on this one. I know she’s keen on finding a place for students with connectivity issues to go do their homework and attend some classes. Fingers crossed the voting goes your way.”

He smiled at her, trying to look reassuring instead of besotted, and they exchanged their goodbyes. He closed his laptop, deciding that he needed a stiff drink first and a cold shower later, and went over to his wet bar, where after some debate he picked up a bottle of Ardberg and poured himself three fingers of Scotch, opting to forgo the ice and drink it straight. The alcohol burned pleasantly on its way down, making him loosen up almost immediately. He went over to the window, undoing the buttons of his vest and slipping it off as he did, feeling warmed by the whiskey. He chanced a glance outside, where the night remained crisp and clear, thankfully devoid of snow. It was still bitterly cold, though, and he hoped the library’s heating system, which was in need of maintenance as well, would not fail. The money for its maintenance had already been allocated and the budget for the work set, but perhaps he could email the person in charge of the job and… persuade them to make it a priority. The work should’ve already been done, but the pandemic had put a temporary stop on jobs like that with the exception of emergencies. Now that things were slowly returning to normal he was confident he could get the people working on the library by the end of the week with three sentences or less.

He went back to his laptop, determined to send the email as soon as possible. He opened it up and noticed, at first, that his camera light was still on. Almost as soon as his brain connected the dots and realised that he had forgotten to log off Zoom he noticed something else: so had Belle French. She was walking around her house, seemingly tidying things up and humming as she went along. It was a lovely, domestic little display, and though he knew he needed to log off fucking Zoom and stop intruding on what Miss French clearly thought was the privacy of her own home, he didn’t move the mouse. Surely there was no harm in indulging a bit. He was a lonely man, partly by design and partly by circumstance, and though he often told himself he wasn’t missing out on anything, he had to admit it was nice to- albeit accidentally- share an intimate moment with someone he had an affinity with. He imagined, for a moment, that instead of her living-room he was seeing her in his, picking up discarded books or perhaps the remnants of a tea they had shared together. He quickly shook himself out of that fantasy, alarm bells ringing in his mind, and refocused in the present, where Belle was taking off her cardigan. Well, surely, that meant the heating system was holding, which was a good thing. Which reminded him of his idea to write-

He glanced at the monitor again, where Belle French was now shimming out of her skirt.

He blinked, idiotically-confused for a second, as if the thought of a woman undressing was news for him. After the initial shock he took in all the details, fixsting on the black stripe on the back of her sheer black stockings, which she rolled down with painstaking care, the gesture almost painfully erotic. She started on the buttons of her sheer maroon shirt, undoing them with ease and shrugging out of the garment. The black camisole she wore underneath did nothing to conceal her lacy black culotte, which hugged her perfect ass like it was made for her. She went to unpin her hair next, letting the bobby pins that kept it off her sides of her face drop into a little ceramic bowl on her vanity. He was surprised at how much seeing her walk around her house with bare feet, shaking her hair out and stretching her limbs affected him. There was nothing inherently sensual about her movements, yet he was transfixed, unable to look away. Any hope of containing his attraction or attachment to the librarian vanished into thin air at that moment, leaving him equal parts scared and turned on.

It was then that his mostly-unused sense of decency decided to let itself be known, a wave of shame washing through him at the notion of what he was doing. Miss French had every right to her privacy, and here he was, violating it in the worst possible way. He should log out immediately and stay away from the librarian for a rather long time, enough for-

“Royce?”

His heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sound of her voice. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head towards the screen, telling himself that he deserved the scorn and disgust he was sure to see in the librarian’s face. But whatever hasty apologies and half-formed excuses he was about to blurt out died on his lips the moment he saw her: she was standing in profile, arms crossed in front of her chest and hands grasping the hem of her camisole, prepared to take it off, and her head was turned to the side, her eyes on her laptop screen. She didn’t look accusatory, or disgusted. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone, but it looked more like… like... 

Arousal.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

He could hardly recognise the low, growly burr as his voice. It sounded uncouth and harsh, like the way he used to speak back in Glasgow. He had worked for years on toning down his accent, letting only the barest hint of it show when he was trying to intimidate someone. Never enough to sound too much like he did back in his youth, and yet he hadn’t managed to quite rid himself of it. 

On screen Belle lifted the hem of her camisole a few inches, exposing supple, creamy skin. Royce tried hard not to swallow his own tongue. She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant, and fuck him if that sliver of vulnerability wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Is this… Is this okay?” 

It took him an embarrassingly-long time to understand that Belle fucking French was asking him if it was alright for her to strip in front of him, presumably for their mutual enjoyment. He reminded himself that he had had only one glass of Scotch, not enough to dismiss whatever was happening as a drunken daydream. Which he might have had, from time to time. About Belle. Maybe.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” 

Her lips curled into a coy smile, the growl in his voice making her shiver, and in one swift motion removed her camisole, revealing a lacy black bandeau bra with delicate details done in leavers lace. It matched her knickers, he noticed idly, and the black contrasted amazingly with her pale, softly-blushed skin. His keen eye noticed the exquisite craftsmanship right away. It was an expensive set, no doubt, and given how she was wearing during a commonplace day where she planned to stay home it led him to the conclusion that Belle French simply owned a lot of fancy lingerie, to the point that she wore it as an everyday sort of garment. He was very sure he would never again be able to look at her and not think about that.

“You’re gorgeous.”

In any other situation he would’ve been embarrassed to sound so… Reverent. So incredibly not in control of the situation. He might be fully-dressed, a man of means with a position of political power in their little hamlet and she might be a half-naked small-town librarian but he was absolutely powerless at the moment. And what was worse, he enjoyed it. 

“Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Though he loved the way she said “Gold”, with enough irreverence to turn her tone teasing, he desperately wanted her to say his name.

“Call me Royce, sweetheart.”

She walked over to the table, flipped the chair and sat down, draping her arms loosely around the backrest, the position loose and cocky. There was no doubt in her now, no hesitance. She had assumed control of the situation, for which he was grateful. She tilted her head to a side, sizing him up.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothes, Royce. I feel at a disadvantage.”

She smiled, looking supremely unconcerned, but there was a glint in her eyes he recognised quite easily. Greed. And not the kind he was used to seeing in people who frequented his shop to strike one of his infamous deals. It was different. It certainly felt different to him, hit him right beneath his gut in a way that felt both uncomfortable and pleasant. Without quite thinking his fingers went to the knot of his tie, already loosened, and tugged expertly, untying it in seconds. The silk made a soft, hissing sound as it slipped off his neck, which sounded loud in the otherwise dead silence of the room. Belle followed his movements avidly from the screen, and the look of utter absorption on her face gave him the surge of bravery he needed to tackle the buttons of his shirt till he could shimmy out of it. He was wearing a white undershirt beneath, but his arms and throat were bare, making him feel ridiculously exposed. 

“You have many layers. I like that about you.” Belle dropped her gaze, looking coy and vulnerable at the same time. “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Me too.” He tried to stop himself, but it was easier said than done. “Too many things, actually. But I’ve always understood that it would be foolish to expect anything to come of that.” He looked at Belle, draped over her chair and in her underwear. “Well, perhaps I was wrong.”

Belle smiled.

“You’re finally getting it. Good boy.”

He forced himself not to react visibly to those words, even though the moment he heard them it was like being struck by lightning. Thankfully the camera caught him from the waist up, hiding the embarrassing way his cock had perked up a second earlier. He could not hide his flushed face, however, or the way his eyes glazed over the slightest bit. 

“Tell you what. I’ll take off my bra if you lose the t-shirt. It’s a fair deal.”

It wasn’t. As far as he was concerned he was getting the far better end of the deal but he would never dream of telling her that. Tipping his hand was not his style. 

“Deal.”

He said it in the pleased, soft burr he usually reserved for his less savoury business arrangements, the kind that needed to be sealed in the cloak of night in some remote, deserted location. Belle shivered, and he enjoyed the thought that his voice made her react so. Feeling bold he grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it off,      baring himself from the waist up. He saw and felt the librarian’s eyes roam over his torso. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He had scars from his dodgy upbringing in Glasgow, and some from his learning days restoring antiques. He was fond of the sun so at least he was not pasty white, or overly hairy, but he didn’t have much in the way of muscles. Belle, however, seemed to appreciate his more lean physique, if the heat of her gaze was any indication. After she seemed to have her fill of staring she leaned back and deftly unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms till the garment was on the floor. 

He stared. Couldn’t help himself really. Belle French’s tits were perfect. Fucking perfect. Just the right size, incredibly soft-looking and with the loveliest nipples he had ever seen, a rosy-pink that he would never be able to get out of his head. The kind of breasts that would ruin a man for other women. He certainly felt like no other breasts could ever tempt him again. 

“Royce, are you okay?”

Her voice sounded a delightful mix of amused and slightly worried, so he forced himself to nod, still unable to look away.

“Fucking perfect.”

Fuck, was that his voice? He sounded… dazed. He fought the instinct to slap some sense into himself. Belle draped herself across the back of the chair again, and though the position hid her breasts somewhat it didn’t do so completely. 

“I love how soft you are. Underneath the hardass pawnbroker exterior, I mean. Soft, and kind and funny. So funny. It’s one of your most attractive qualities.”

Most people wouldn’t think so. His brand of humour was dark, sometimes too much. And yet Belle always laughed, always caught on to his quips and seemed to appreciate them in a consporatory way. She could also dish it out, but in a far more subtle way that he was sure most people didn’t catch on to. Softly-spoken sarcasm delivered in a lilting accent. 

What was not to love?

He told her so. Unburdened himself completely, caught up in his own physical vulnerability and hers. It felt safe to tell her of his feelings, of how days where he knew he would see her were brighter, and how he liked when they shared a smile or exchanged a comment on a book. How his heart fluttered when he watched her read to the children, and how another part of his anatomy altogether reacted when she strutted around town with her short skirts and devil-may-care attitude. Liked how she thumbed her nose at the pearl-clutchers in town, doing things her way. Completely unsuited for boring, conventional small-town life, and yet wholly at home in Storybrooke, to the point where he could not imagine the town without her.

He shut up after that, noticing how she seemed to have changed, her mood going from loose and flirty to… anxious? No, that wasn’t the right word. Unsettled, perhaps.

“I can’t do this.” The sudden sentence felt like a slap in the face, but the moment his face dropped she seemed to backpedal. “No, no, not like that! I mean… I wanna touch you. I want to be in the same room. With even less clothes on. This… It suddenly doesn’t feel like enough.”

She was fucking right, he realised. He felt itchy all of a sudden. Unfulfilled. Empty.

“Come over.”

“What?”

Belle seemed genuinely surprised, but the way her skin flushed and her eyes got big let him know she was very open to the idea.

“Come the fuck over. It’s fucking cold anyway and the heating system at the library is shite at the moment. Come over and I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart.”

He was rather impressed with his blunt bit of bravery, born out of a consuming need more than anything, and even more impressed when it looked like it worked. Belle scrambled out of the chair, throwing a lovely little nightie on before getting her coat and scarf. 

“Be there in a few. See you!”

She disconnected before he could tell her to bundle up. It was fucking freezing outside and that nightie and her stockings and shoes would do nothing against the cold, coat or no coat. A moment later he realised he was sitting down in his pants, socks and shoes and nothing else while Belle fucking French was coming over to... 

Fuck.

He scrambled up, fishing for his cane in a hurry and having just enough presence of mind to disconnect from Zoom. He went upstairs to his room, deciding that it would be awkward for him to still be wearing pants. And socks. And shoes. So he chucked all that off, throwing a dressing gown over his boxers, pausing to put on his house slippers, glad beyond words he had recently bought new ones. After that he went downstairs to the kitchen and popped a bottle of champagne, looking into his pantry for the box of chocolate truffles from Kreuther, a treat he had gotten himself after visiting a state sale in Midtown Manhattan a week ago. He arranged the impromptu offerings on the dining room table, and when the bell rang he told himself he was ready. He opened the door, finding a rosy-cheeked and clearly shivering Belle on the other side, hair windswept, as if she had run there. Taking into account her heels it was rather impressive.

Belatedly he thought about the scene she had walked into. He in his dressing gown, with champagne flutes and truffles on the table and a fire roaring in the living-room, a scenario ripe for debauching. But perhaps she wished to talk more, to explore their emotional intimacy. Perhaps the trek there had killed her ardour and all she wanted and needed was to get warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to come off as… expecting anything.

Belle, however, seemed to not share his concerns. She took one look at him, one look at the softly-lit space behind him and the food laid out and smiled.

“You brilliant, wonderful man.”

A second late she was in his arms. Cold, but soft and smelling of orange blossoms and frost. She tilted her head up, slanting her lips across before he could blink and it was… wonderful. The coolness of her lips contrasted with the searing heat of her mouth, making for a rather delicious contrast of sensations. He used the hand not clutching his cane for dear life to find the buttons of her coat, undoing them one by one with barely-contained impatience. Finally he had the coat opened and could snake his arm around her waist. The silk of her small camisole was soft to the touch, and let him feel the warmth of her skin beneath.

He needed to feel more. Now that she was safe in the warmth of his house she didn’t need her coat or scarves and went about the business of removing both without separating himself from her. It took a lot of tugging and pulling and a couple of missteps that landed her up against the wall, to his utter delight, but she was finally rid of both. Her skin, despite the toasty temperature inside the house, was still chilly from the outside.

“Come close to the fire, sweetheart.”

They managed to stumble across the hallway and into the living room, where they seemed to come to the mutual conclusion that remaining standing was not conducive to their current situation. The rug near the fireplace, thankfully, was thick and soft, and the couple of throw blankets he quickly spread over it made it more so. Once he was satisfied she would be comfortable he let her tackle him to the ground, enjoying having her above him. She was small, especially once she wrestled her heeled boots off. A tiny slip of a woman, shorter than him even, but there was a presence to her, a strength, that he couldn't help but surrender to. Beautiful, terrifying Belle.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” Her voice was low, husky. “You weren’t wearing a dressing gown in my dreams, though.”

“And you weren’t wearing anything in mine.” His accent was so thick he feared she might not be able to understand me. “Tit for tat, dearie.”

She ground herself against him, causing him to hiss and arc. Enough pressure to elicit a response, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

“Don’t call me that. That’s how you call everyone else, and I’m not everyone else, am I?”

Her confidence slipped for a second, exposing a hint of uncertainty that he was quick to dispel.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.”

He untied the belt of his dressing gown, managing to slip it off while still pinned by Belle. He didn’t imagine it was a very sexy spectacle but she seemed to appreciate it nevertheless. To reward him she yanked her nightie off, revealing her glorious breasts once again to his hungry stare. She was absolutely perfect, made even better by the way the fire lit her skin and hair, and turned her eyes a deeper blue. She looked fierce yet soft, a magnanimous mistress looking down fondly at a favoured pet. Idly she traced a scar near his right shoulder with the tip of her index finger, frowning the slightest bit.

“I want to know the story behind this. I want to know… more. About you. All there is to know that you wish to tell me.”

“Yes.” Usually he’d balk at the idea of such intimacy, of being so bare. Yet it felt like something he could do with Belle, something he wanted to do. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. And I want to know everything about you.”

She smiled, the gesture slowly turning sultry as she crossed her elbows over his chest.

“We’ll talk… later.”

She kissed him then, slowly and thoroughly, sinking one hand into his hair so she could tilt his head just so. Her fingernails felt delicious against the sensitive skin of his scalp and were a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable pressure of her ass against his groin. He wanted to last, desperately, but she was every wet dream he’d ever had come true. He needed to redirect his attention to anywhere but his aching cock. So he forced himself to focus on anything else. The soft, silky feeling of her skin against the rough pads of his fingers, and the taste of her, faintly sweet. She kissed like it was an art, managing to somehow find every spot that made him want to rip her panties off and just bury himself in her, foreplay be damned.

He startled when he felt her hands trail down his body and grasp the elastic of his underwear, tugging on it to hint at what she wanted. He obliged her before he could talk himself out of it, raising his hips so she could slide the boxers off his legs while still kissing. He felt her touch his mangled ankle and forced himself not to flinch or pull back. Blessedly she seemed to notice his discomfort, tugging his boxers off completely and reaching out to place his hands on the sides of her hips, against the scratchy fabric of her underwear. The message was clear, especially when she propped herself against the floor with her hands so she could raise her hips. He gently tugged her pantied down, with slow, careful movements to avoid accidentally ripping the delicate lace and not simply to watch in aroused amusement as Belle fidgeted above him. 

“Patience, sweetheart.”

She whined, kicking her panties off when they reached her ankles and pushing him back a second later, her expression demanding.

“No more delays. We’ve had months of foreplay.”

He found himself agreeing with her. It certainly felt like they had been teasing each other for months, with the shared jokes, the furtive glances, bitten lips and coy smiles. Not that he had even dared dream of it before that night. Belle was too good in every way for a bitter old cripple like himself. Her hands on his cock chased his self-deprecation away, leaving his mind in a blissful state of blankness. Slowly, torturously so, she took him in, her hot, wet cunt enveloping him with the right amount of pressure. It was almost too good a feeling, leaving his nerve-endings too excited to register much else. She was fucking perfect, the feel of her the weight of her above him. Like she was made for him, only he wasn’t that lucky. 

He needed to somehow make it up to her, make it so good she would not regret it. So he focused on establishing a rhythm, steady enough to build up their pleasure, but not too perfect to make it boring. He concentrated on the sounds she made, the perfect little gasps and the occasional, shivery whine that let him know she was enjoying herself. Soon enough, however, coordination and any form of higher thinking went out the window, the pleasure getting to be too much to focus on anything else other than driving himself as deep into her as he possibly could. He had enough presence of mind to sneak a hand between their bodies, slipping it across her wet fold to stimulate her further, determined not to come before she did. When he finally felt it, the blissful fluttering of her inner walls accompanied by a triumphant cry, he let go of his last shreds of self-control, letting his body seek out its needed release, the feeling travelling up his spine and leaving his whole body boneless with satisfaction. 

He grunted when she practically fell on top of him, though he welcomed the reassuring weight of her and the heat from her body. He thought about the champagne and the truffles waiting for them on the dining room table and decided they could wait. As soon as he was able to move he would wrap his dressing gown around Belle and take her and the food and drinks to the bedroom, where they could recoup their energy and talk. And perhaps much later, if he was good, Belle would let him drink champagne from her navel. 

Thank Regina and her fucking Zoom twon halls. He would never complain about them again.