#flank trio

[wizardnuke]

i need to stop checking my account on valorant tracker for the sake of my mental health wdym youre putting me in unrateds and swiftplays with people four to five ranks above me and im regularly mid to top fragging and im fucking bronze in comp. thats a fucking plat-dia lobby. thats a plat-dia lobby and im holding my own why the fuck does it place me in iron-bronze

[smokesandsonatas]

I just want to see the Octavinelle trio get surprised, tongue-tied and amused because the reader is cunning.

Characters: Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

Warnings: None, just the old contract signing the Octavinelle way. First person pov. Mostly in Azul's pov. Tension (?).

Not beta read.

Shrimp Cocktail.

Apparently, it does not take a lot to amuse the Octavinelle trio. Or the story where you took a deal with Azul and it went unexpectedly.

They should learn not to underestimate Shrimpy.

Azul had always underestimated you. In his eyes, you were a mere human—a dimwitted fish floundering in the waters of Night Raven College. You lacked the cunning and intelligence of Jade, who could manipulate any situation with a few well-placed words, and you weren’t a lazy smartass like Floyd, who could memorize an entire book but discard it just as easily if he found it dull and boring. With your easy-going nature, you seemed like the perfect prey.

Well, you are the perfect prey.

Here you are, sitting in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the twins flanking you in chairs beside you. Floyd lounged with a lazy grin, manspreading on the sofa, while Jade sat, poised like a gentleman, a smirk barely concealed behind his gloved hand. Grim had been left behind at the ramshackle dorm, leaving you alone in the scammer's den. Azul could barely contain his amusement—you had just fallen into his trap, one he fully intended to exploit. You sat quietly in front of him, your face poised with a neutral expression. To Azul and the twins, you looked kind, naive—perhaps even a little stupid. They think you are an airhead. Their excitement was barely contained. They got you right where they wanted you to be. Here in Mostro Lounge, with no one but them watching over you like predators waiting to pounce and choke their prey.

"You're here for the favor of us providing Grim with food three times a day, seven days a week, for the duration of your absence with Professor Trein as the school's official photographer at an event outside Night Raven College," Azul began, his voice dripping with the saccharine politeness he used to mask his true intentions. "In exchange, you agreed that you will work for fourteen days, regular shifts, without any compensation for Mostro Lounge. I expect you to fully commit to your duties."

You nodded, hands neatly placed on your lap, a small smile on your lips. "Yes, that’s exactly it."

Jade’s grin widened slightly. You were so naive, so predictable. Pathetic, really—but there was something endearing about your earnestness. Everyone in Octavinelle liked this about you—how you walked into traps with your eyes wide open, never realizing until it was too late. You really are a shrimp, through and through. No sense of survival, no sense of fear.

Jade could feel his twin looking earnestly in you, their expression one of amusement.

You will never survive in the ocean.

"Very well then, Prefect," Azul continued, practically trembling with excitement as he handed you a golden scroll, a quill magically appearing in his gloved hand. "Sign this contract, and the favor you ask shall be yours."

You took the pen, hovering it just above the dotted line. Azul’s eyes gleamed with anticipation—just a few more minutes—seconds, and you’d be bound by his terms, forced into two weeks of unpaid labor. The satisfaction was almost too much to bear. You would be working without compensation, and Azul could even charge you for any drinks or food you will consume during your shifts!

Azul had also noticed that whenever you work, customers come flocking in! Is it because you're the famed Ramshackle dormleader? He can only suspect so. He might also have you gather more customers—all for free, technically, you are working free to him anyway.

Azul raised an eyebrow when he saw you set the pen down and lean back, that small smile on your lips widening into something sharper, more calculating.

Azul frowned.

"Azul," you began, your voice light and casual, but with an edge that made the room’s atmosphere shift. The twins noticed it too. Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly yet the smirk remains in his lips, and Floyd’s grin widened a little more as they both watched you closely—their eyes glued to you as a clear sign of their newfound interest.

Azul blinked, thrown off by your sudden change in demeanor. "Is something wrong, Prefect?"

"Not at all," you replied smoothly. "I���ve just been thinking about our arrangement. Fourteen days of unpaid work for three meals a day for Grim. It sounds like a fair trade, but then I realized something interesting."

Azul’s hand twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. The contract is perfect in his eyes, all will favour him, how could it not be perfect? "And what might that be?"

You leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Well, the contract is almost perfect. Almost. But there’s one tiny detail that caught my attention—the meals for Grim. You’ve agreed to provide them three times a day, seven days a week, but the contract doesn’t specify the quality of those meals, does it?"

Azul’s smirk faltered, it is common sense that Grim will be given tuna in cans, isn't it? "The meals will be adequate, and his favourite tuna—"

"Ah, ‘adequate,’" you interrupted, your tone almost playful. "That could mean anything, really. Some stale bread, leftover scraps—technically, that would fulfill the contract, wouldn’t it?" You giggle, a sound so sweet it almost had the twins—in their fascination, to stand up and hover behind you. You heard a thud, no doubt it was the twins. Jade’s eyes narrowed, yet his smirk remains, replaced by a look of intrigued and amusement. Floyd sat up straight, fully intending to be by your side yet his uniform was immediately yanked down by Jade, stopping him from interfering. Floyd almost let out a hiss at his twin, though eventually he relents.

"But here’s where things get interesting," you continued, voice dropping to a near sweet tone that Azul use. "If Grim receives such ‘adequate’ meals, he might not be satisfied. A can of tuna alone won't cut it, he needs meat. A properly cooked, healthy meat seeing as he is a carnivore. He could get hungry, irritated—perhaps even cause trouble." You pout—a gesture which distracted Azul for a second as his eyes fell on your lips—appearing as meek as possible, "And as his caretaker, his henchman, I’d be worried. Distracted. And a distracted worker is an inefficient worker."

You locked your eyes against Azul's blue ones.

Azul’s eyes widened as he began to see where you were leading him. He blinked in intrigued and a mix of irritation and amusement.

"And," you pressed on, now leaning on the table, merely inches away from Azul's face. "if Grim were to get sick or cause problems because of poor nutrition, it wouldn’t just be a problem for me." You roll the scroll and use it to poke Azul's chest. "It would be a problem for Mostro Lounge. After all, you’re responsible for providing his meals, for almost a week at that. Any disruption he causes would reflect poorly on your business, wouldn’t it?"

Azul’s mind raced as he tried to find a loophole, but you had him cornered. Refusing your amendment meant sticking to a contract that could end up causing more trouble than it was worth. Agreeing to it, however, would mean committing to a higher standard of care for Grim, cutting into his profits. Twenty-one cans of tuna is not a big expense for him, but if you're to insist on nutritious meals... Well, that would cost him much more than what he intended to provide for your gremlin of a cat.

A simple overlooked in his part really, perhaps it is his fault for thinking you're one of those anemones that will blindly agree to anything without reading the fine print.

Finally, Azul forced a smile. "What do you propose, Prefect?"

You smiled sweetly, as if this were all a friendly discussion. "I propose that the meals provided for Grim meet a specific standard. Balanced, nutritious, and satisfying. A mix of tuna and properly cooked meat. A steak even. That way, Grim stays in good condition, I stay focused on my task outside of Night Raven College, and Mostro Lounge continues to run smoothly." You smiled at Azul as you lean at the table—mere inches away from his face, the octomerman can practically inhale your scent, have you always smelled this good?

"I also propose that I won't do overtime during my shifts for fourteen days, though I will not get paid, I would love it if my meals and drinks are free of charge—all within the time of my shift, of course."

You smiled sweetly at Azul—the way you don't break eye contact. It's exhilarating. It's making him sweat under his dorm uniform. "It’s in everyone’s best interest, don’t you think?"

Azul hesitated. This was not the agreement he had envisioned. His meticulously designed scheme had been dismantled by your shrewd maneuvering. We're you secretly a trickster? Appearing naive and helpless yet you are the one who catches people in your trap of being a false prey.

With a begrudging sigh, he conceded, "Very well, I’ll agree to the contract your propose. The meals provided for Grim will meet the specified standards, and you shall have the favours you asked during the course of your shift at Mostro Lounge."

You picked up the pen again, a triumphant glint in your eyes as you prepared to finalize the deal. A sweet, sweet, smile on your lips. "Thank you, Azul. I’m so glad we could come to an agreement."

As you signed the contract, Azul's sense of triumph morphed into a tumult of frustration and begrudging admiration. It's disgusting, your body language appeals to him—he knows it appeals to the twins too, given how Floyd is laughing right now, with Jade snickering beside him. You're one of the first—if not the first who had successfully turned the tables on him. It is not even a heavy contract, just an agreement for food and yet, Azul concedes to your demands. Though he suppose it is not bad, since he will see you everyday for almost two weeks. What had seemed like a one-sided victory for him had morphed into a more balanced exchange. You had come into his office alone, seemingly naive, and yet you had outmaneuvered him with words that unsettled him deeply, yet amused him greatly—jellyfishes swimming on his stomach. Perhaps during that time for your compensation he will invite you to his office so he can give you a proper assessment.

Heh, not bad at all.

Jade and Floyd had their mismatched eyes glued on your form, as you stand. Admiring the sway of your hips as you walk outside the room where nobody ever comes out as victorious as you are. You, a small shrimp, had greatly amused the twins. Unfortunately for you, Floyd hates being bored and Jade loves unpredictability—both qualities you tickled the moment you succesfully negotiated a deal with none-other-than Azul Ashengrotto.

As you left the room, Floyd let out a low, almost purring chuckle—how dare you Shrimpy? His blood is now pumping in excitement because of you. "Hehe, Shrimpy’s got some real bite, huh? This is gonna be interesting."

Jade’s gaze followed you with a newfound intensity. "Indeed. The prefect is far more dangerous than they appear. Heh, perhaps they relish the game, much like we do."

Azul was left staring at the contract, his frustration intertwined with a growing, unsettling admiration. You weren’t the dimwitted fish he had thought you were. No, you were a tempest—a captivating, unpredictable force in the waters of Octavinelle. The way you had twisted the terms of the agreement had left him both disturbed and intrigued. Your brilliance was both unsettling and exhilarating, making him realize that you were a much more dangerous fish than he had ever anticipated.

A shiver of something dark and obsessive crept into his thoughts. You had managed to turn a simple negotiation into a display of strategic dominance, leaving him with a dangerous mix of respect and a growing, unsettling fascination. The twins are no better, Jade glues you into his memory, the way you answer casually—it is attractive. Floyd is well, Floyd. He might visit you later and compliment you for outsmarting Azul!

Hehe, who would've thought you are a predator in your own right? Perhaps the shrimp cocktail is a dish best served cold after all.

[mangooes]

Coffe machines saves the world! (Sylus trying to bribe his wife into forgiving him)

part 1

Sylus Qin did not belong in a mall.

Towering in black-on-black designer layers (ahem his usual outift), his snow-white hair tousled like a stormcloud, and crimson eyes that screamed "touch me and die," he moved through the luxury appliance store like a dragon on a mission.

Flanked by Luke and Kieran—who were definitely trying to blend in and failing miserably—the trio stuck out like a sore thumb amid weekend shoppers and neon sales signs.

“Okay, boss,” Kieran muttered, eyeing the fifth top-shelf espresso machine being wheeled toward them. “This one literally syncs to her heartbeat and makes a latte that spells ‘I love you.’ We sure we’re not going overboard?”

Sylus didn’t answer.

He simply lifted a brow, scanning the next row. “Which one does cappuccinos with foam art?”

Luke sighed. “Boss. We’ve bought ten.”

“I said I’d fix it.” Sylus’s voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that meant someone was about to die if his wife didn’t forgive him.

So, they bought them all.

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

(Name) sat curled up on the couch, flipping through a magazine with all the grace and passive-aggressiveness of a wife on a caffeine protest. Her brows lifted ever-so-slightly as she heard the front doors unlock… and the unmistakable sound of way too many boxes being wheeled in.

Then—

“Sweetie,” Sylus’s low voice echoed through the halls, laced with dramatic sincerity. “I’ve returned bearing peace offerings.”

He walked in, holding a grand bouquet of blood-red roses in one hand and a smug, sultry smirk in the other. Behind him, Luke and Kieran each carried a stack of coffee machine boxes taller than them.

She didn’t even look up.

That hurt.

Sylus stepped closer, placing the bouquet on the table beside her. “You’ll want to see this. Limited edition. Imported from Italy. One of them talks.”

Silence.

He crouched beside her, resting his arms on the couch cushion as he looked up at her like a misbehaving dog that just destroyed your favorite pillow. “Kitten…”

She flipped a page.

“Really?” he muttered, leaning closer.

Still nothing.

“Oh, she’s being cruel,” Kieran whispered from the hallway.

Luke winced. “He’s gonna snap. This is it.”

And then—he did.

Sylus didn’t say another word. He stood, stalked around the couch, and before she could fully process it—whoosh—she was gently but firmly trapped in his arms from behind.

She gasped, squirming. “Sylus—!”

“No,” he growled playfully, nuzzling her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw. “You don’t get to ignore me after I nearly caused an international incident over a coffee machine.”

“You deserved it.”

“I also deserve kisses,” he purred.

She turned her face away.

So Sylus dipped his head lower, whispering into her ear with dangerous fondness. “You know… I could’ve just kidnapped a barista and locked him in our pantry. But I was merciful.”

Her shoulders trembled from holding back a laugh.

Then—his Evol shimmered through the room. Silky tendrils of black and crimson mist coiled gently around her wrists, ghosting like a warm breeze. Her hand floated upward as if guided by some magnetic pull—and Sylus’s own hand met hers, intertwining their fingers slowly, palm to palm.

He brought her hand to his lips.

“I bought a dozen machines…” he whispered against her skin. ���But there’s only one thing that makes my mornings worth living. You.”

(Name)'s breath hitched.

“…You’re being dramatic.”

“Says you, I’m in love,” he corrected softly.

She finally turned her face toward him. “You’re also still not forgiven.”

“Oh?” Sylus grinned—and stole a kiss.

Her lips barely parted from the shock before his mouth molded against hers, gentle but claiming, full of apology and heat. She whined against it, trying not to melt—but it was Sylus, and Sylus always won when he got like this.

When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

Sylus smirked. “Thank the gods. Now… which machine makes caramel macchiato?”

From the hallway, Kieran muttered, “I told you she’d fold.”

Luke sighed. “At least now I don’t have to carry the other dozens of espresso boxes to the garage.”

Right so uh disclamer this is acctually the part 2 of the broken coffe machine and upset wife scenario! And i just feel like i had to make a continue ver of it because i love a man who is whipped <3

[vintagerpg]

Black Sword Hack: Ultimate Chaos Edition (2023) is a beautiful little system derived from David Black’s Black Hack of D&D. The obvious literary touchstone is Elric and Moorcock’s larger cosmic conflict between Law and Chaos. There are many other clear influences, though — Jack Vance’s Dying Earth, Lankhmar, Kane, Poul Anderson. I suspect that is Jirel of Joiry on the back cover, flanked by Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. Perhaps they’re a trio of entirely different people — Goran Gligovic’s art vibrates on strange frequencies, as if you’re looking at archetypes from a parallel universe.

The core systems work essentially as they do in Black Hack, so I won’t go into them here. The additions contribute to the doomful atmosphere. These amount to a set of different sorts of pacts — demons, evil swords, fairies, and so on. There are a varieties of powers to draw on and be consumed by.

The rest of the book is given over, mostly, to tools for collaboratively creating a world and a central city for players to inhabit, explore and, eventually, ruin and destroy. Goes with the territory, really. A couple scenarios round things out. A fantastic appendix lays out a method to create adventures using your favorite paperback fantasy novel.

Black Sword Hack touches on many of the same themes as Chaosium’s Stormbringer, but in a more minimal, smoother sort of way. It’s more direct, really. It’s also its own thing, and every game is unique, thanks to the world generation. I’m keen to see it develop further.

[wosospacegirl]

loved the latest alexia fic haha

i had an idea for us stem girlies (not wanting to study virology btw, so fkn real)

i was thinking a kika fic where readers a bio/stem student & is trying to teach kika something & likewise kika (and the rest of the younger barça girls) tries to teach r football

Summary: Y/N’s been buried in virus replication pathways for hours. Kika’s had enough.

A/N: for the STEM girls who haven’t seen the sun in 3 business days and need a footballer girlfriend to drag them outside - Everything written here was taken from my own notes...I hope they are right, or else it means I failed my own exam.

..

Y/n had been studying for what felt like seven years straight. 

Realistically, it had only been four hours, but time blurred somewhere between drawing replication cycles and muttering the difference between RNA-dependent RNA polymerase and reverse transcriptase.

Kika had been patient. She really had. She brought her water, kissed her temple, and even sat silently nearby, scrolling through TikTok while Y/n ranted about capsids and envelope proteins. 

But now it was too much.

“...and that’s why enveloped viruses are more susceptible to disinfectants,” Y/n concluded, still scribbling away. “You would’ve thought that the envelope would make them more resistant, right?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You realise we were just talking about lunch?” Kika said.

Y/n blinked. “Were we?”

“You brought up protein bars, and then somehow transitioned into protein coats. Again. That’s like the third time.”

“Okay, but it’s actually a really–”

“No.”

Kika stood up with the kind of quiet menace only a very tired girlfriend could summon.

“You need to get out of this apartment.”

“I’m busy! I have an exam, Francisca.”

“You need to touch some grass.”

Y/n gasped, clutching her notes to her chest. 

“You sound like my mom.. Are you okay? Did a neurodegenerative virus get to your brain?” Y/n  squinted her eyes, talking in a very mysterious and suspicious voice. “It could be rabies.”

Kika raised an eyebrow. “Por favor, put on some gym clothes.”

“No.”

“You’re coming with me to the training ground.”

“I’m not playing football.”

“You are, just a bit. You’re going to run, breathe some fresh air. Maybe learn how to use your legs again.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I feel like you want to sabotage my academic life.”

Kika deadpanned, “I just want to have a normal conversation with my girlfriend again.”

Half an hour later, Y/n was in mismatched gym clothes, standing awkwardly on the sidelines of the Barça training pitch while Kika passed her a ball.

“Okay,” Kika said. “Basics. Pass it back.”

Y/n kicked it directly into Kika’s shin.

Kika didn’t even flinch. “Right. That was bad.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/n muttered. “I use my brain, not my feet.”

“You used your foot just now,” Kika deadpanned. “You’re just not good at keeping control of it.”

Before Y/n could come up with a scathing reply involving cortical motor neurons, a trio of voices interrupted from behind her.

“Hi amiga,” Jana grinned, jogged up with Pina and Vicky flanking her. “That pass was criminal.”

“Terrible,” Vicky added.

Pina nodded solemnly. “You’re bad, bad.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “Wow, thank you. So much support.”

Kika smirked from the sidelines.

“She made me come here,” Y/n gestured vaguely toward her girlfriend, “because apparently I’m ‘studying too much’ and need to ‘go outside like a normal person.’”

The girls blinked.

“What are you studying?” Jana asked.

Y/n brightened instantly, like a switch flipped. 

“Oh! I'm doing an exam on virus replication pathways, and it’s super interesting because…wait–okay, so you know HIV, right?”

All three nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.

“Well, it’s a retrovirus, which means it uses reverse transcriptase to turn its RNA into DNA inside the host cell. And that DNA actually integrates into the host’s genome and–wait, let me draw it.”

Somehow, within ten minutes, they’d migrated off the pitch and into the tactical analysis centre. 

A whiteboard was pulled over. Y/n commandeered a marker, drawing the double-stranded DNA meticulously.

“This is the viral envelope, this is the capsid, oh, and DpRd-RT is like–the main enzyme you have to remember, alright? So now we have a full DNA–”

Pina was blinking rapidly.

Vicky was furrowing her brows like she was trying to understand it, really trying.

Jana had started taking notes on her phone.

Kika walked in fifteen minutes later, looking for her girlfriend.

“Amor,” Kika said slowly, “why is my team being held hostage by you and– ai meu Deus…is that a virus?”

Y/n turned around, completely unfazed. “I’m teaching them how HIV uses the host's RNA polymerase II to transcribe proviral DNA.”

Kika stared. “...This started with a bad pass.”

“And now it’s a public health seminar!” Y/n grinned. “Honestly? You're welcome.”

[scorpioriesling]

hello, can i request a brennan x reader, where he can’t mend her because her injury is really deep? maybe an happy ending somehow?

A Different Kind of Beautiful

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Brennan x reader

Warning(s): angst

Summary: When you're deeply injured during a battle, your boyfriend exhausts every measure to restore you to your original state.

SR’s Note: This one is shorter, but it's sappy nonetheless. (':

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans

(inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Brennan's breaths graced your nose as he worked above you. his fingers trailing lightly across the skin of your cheek.

"Please, Gods this has to work."

Your internal panic heightened by the minute, especially as you took in his expression that only got more and more frantic. His fingers moved quicker, trying even harder to mend you.

"Brennan..."

Your voice came out in a breathless whisper, and his eyes met yours in an apologetic stare. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his thumb caressed your unwounded cheek.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes beginning to water. You made to sit up, but he lightly pressed you against the back of the mattress.

"No, no -- you should rest my love, please," he begged, his hands reaching for the edge of the blanket and bringing it to your chin. You laid silently, finally giving into the sleep that had been threatening to take over. Your eyes fell shut, and Brennan stroked your hair before placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Sleep well, my love."

✧･ﾟ: *

When you awoke, the afternoon sun had begun peaking through the curtains of the mending room. It was a welcome opposition to the early morning weather, all dark and gloomy and sad.

You stretched your back, moving to sit up straight in bed when you heard voices coming from just outside the mending room door. Straining to hear, you worked to decipher what was being discussed.

It really can't be fixed? A woman's voice.

No, there's nothing more I can do, Vi. I've tried everything. A man's.

So, she'll always have it?

I told you, the venin are using a different type of poison now, they've discovered what we can and cannot get rid of. This time, it happened to be that type.

Silence.

I'm so sorry, Brennan.

Sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry -- I can't fix your best friend, I've failed my own girlfriend.

You cleared your throat loudly, hoping to alert the siblings just in the hallway that you were indeed awake. Their conversation halted, and soon the doorknob turned.

Violet entered first, quickly flanking your bedside as her gaze drifted to your cheek. Her eyes watered, and she immediately took your hand in hers.

"Oh Y/N," she said tearfully. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, I should have-"

"I was happy to do it," you cut in, swallowing hard. "Had I not taken the hit, that venin would've taken both you and Xaden out."

She sniffled, shaking her head slowly.

"You're my best friend, Y/N -- I can't have you taking hits for me, either."

You smiled, pins pricking the back of your eyes.

"I'd take a million if it meant you'd be safe."

She let out a soft sob, leaning in to wrap her arms around you. You allowed a tear to fall, dripping right onto her hair as she cried into your shoulder. You looked up, your eyes meeting Brennan's -- only to find him fighting tears, too.

When Violet regained control of herself, she pulled back, looking right at you through her watery gaze.

"I'd die if it meant nothing would happen to you, either."

✧･ﾟ: *

The pair stayed with your for another hour or so before Violet departed, announcing that she'd go retrieve dinner for the trio. You were happy to let her do it; you were starving, after all.

And, it meant you had a moment alone with your boyfriend.

"What you did today was very brave," he praised, sitting on the edge of your mattress. "You took a huge hit for it, though."

You nodded quietly, looking down at the bedsheets.

"I know."

"I'm... I'm so sorry, I can't do anything more to try and help you," he said, the words getting caught in his throat. You moved your hand atop his, and squeezed.

"I'm grateful for everything you've already done."

Brennan sighs, his gaze sweeping over you.

"The scarring -- it's this new poison they're using, one they know I can't undo. It's... it's too deep, I-"

"Let me see it."

Brennan's eyes widen.

"You're sure?"

"Please."

He lifts off the edge of the mattress, extending a hand to you to help you stand. You're wobbly at first, but by the time he's led you to the full-length mirror across the room, your spine goes ramrod straight.

Across your right cheek, an ugly, jagged scar runs from the bridge of your nose all the way to your jaw. Another peeks out from the bottom of the mending gown, stretching from your ankle up to Gods know how far. Tears sting your eyes at the sight; you weren't expecting it to be this bad.

"I... I'm-"

You can't get the words out. Ugly. DIsgusting. Broken. Unfixable. Every insult comes to mind, hitting you with the force of a freight train as you stare and stare at yourself, nearly unrecognizable at this point.

Brennan, however, reaches around from behind you to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His words are soft when he says them, and the kiss he places to your cheek is even softer.

"You're even more beautiful than the day I first saw you, Y/N."

✧･ﾟ: *

[koyagifs]

𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

pairing: wooyoung x f!reader au: 9th member | best friends to lovers | pre! poly | genre: fluff | word count: 2.4 k synopsis: how wooyoung entered the poly relationship with you and the others warning(s): takes place during say my name era, jealous wooyoung

Wooyoung was definitely jealous, and it wasn’t exactly subtle. The moment you and Hongjoong announced your relationship, he became pouty and distant. Despite that, he still clung to you like always, and everyone just shrugged it off as his usual self. But deep down, it stung. He was not about to accept that his crush was now dating the captain.

You were settled in your makeup chair, surrounded by your stylists as they flitted around you, touching up here and there. Across the room, Wooyoung’s gaze was locked on you, intense and unwavering—until it shifted to Hongjoong, who was making his way toward you. The second he saw him, Wooyoung’s expression twisted into a frown, earning him a sharp scolding from the makeup artist working on him.

The sudden scolding pulled your attention, and when you saw Wooyoung's grumpy expression, you couldn't help but laugh. That soft, familiar sound made his heart flutter—just like it always did.

He was about to get up from his seat, maybe walk over and say something, anything, when a firm hand on his shoulder shoved him right back down.

“What the—” he started, whipping around, ready to snap—only to come face-to-face with Mingi’s smug grin.

“Well, well, well,” Mingi drawled, clearly amused.

Yunho and San flanked Mingi like backup dancers in a perfectly timed performance, both wearing matching amused smirks. Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at them, especially at Yunho, before crossing his arms and letting out an exaggerated huff.

“What got your panties in a twist, hm?” Yunho teased, clearly enjoying himself.

Wooyoung didn’t respond right away, just sank deeper into his chair with a pout, muttering under his breath, “Nothing. Mind your business.”

San chuckled. “Sure doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Yeah,” Mingi added, leaning in just enough to really get under his skin. “You looked like you were about to bite Hongjoong’s head off.”

Wooyoung glared at all three of them. “I wasn’t. I was just… checking the lighting.”

“Oh, totally,” Yunho deadpanned. “Because you’re so invested in production design now.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes dramatically at the trio, but the second your soft giggle floated through the room again, his head snapped in your direction like it was instinct.

Without even realizing it, a smile tugged at his lips—soft, almost wistful.

San nudged Yunho with his elbow, who exchanged a knowing look with Mingi. The three of them didn’t need to say a word; they knew exactly what was going on.

“Well,” San whispered under his breath, grinning, “looks like someone’s in deep.”

Mingi snorted. “And losing to the captain, no less.”

Yunho leaned back, arms crossed and smirk growing. “Should’ve made a move when you had the chance, Romeo.”

Wooyoung didn’t even register their teasing anymore—his focus was entirely on you. The way you smiled at Hongjoong, the way you laughed so effortlessly... it lit something stubborn in him.

He waved a dismissive hand toward the boys, still watching you with that soft look in his eyes. But then, a flicker of determination sparked across his face, and he leaned back with a slow, confident smile.

“Watch,” he said, voice low but firm, “I’ll get her to be mine.”

San raised a brow, impressed. Mingi let out a low whistle, and Yunho chuckled, shaking his head.

“Bold of you,” Mingi grinned. “You’re gonna start a war with the captain.”

Wooyoung smirked, eyes not leaving you. “Then I guess I better win it.”

During the entire photoshoot, Wooyoung was practically glued to your side. Every time you shifted positions, he somehow found a way to be within arm’s reach—offering water, fixing a stray hair, cracking a joke. At first, it was typical Wooyoung behavior. You’d always known him to be clingy, affectionate in that loud, chaotic way.

But today… it was different. It was more. A little too much.

You tried to brush it off, but the longer it went on, the more it started to grate on your nerves. Especially with Hongjoong nearby, watching quietly from behind the monitors. You couldn’t help but feel a slight tension brewing, even if you couldn’t place why.

What you didn’t realize was just how much Wooyoung’s clinginess had shifted since your relationship with Hongjoong went public. He wasn’t just being his usual self—he was staking his claim, in the only way he knew how.

The second the director called for a break, both Hongjoong and Wooyoung were at your side like it was a race. You blinked at them, caught between confusion and irritation, eyes bouncing from one to the other.

“Okay... what the fuck is going on right now?” you asked, voice sharp and laced with suspicion.

Hongjoong crossed his arms, shooting Wooyoung a glare. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

Wooyoung scoffed, glaring right back. “Yeah. Nothing at all.”

You raised a brow. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife—and it wasn’t just in your head.

Then you heard it: a poorly stifled snort. You snapped your head to the side, catching Mingi with a hand over his mouth and Yunho turning away, shoulders shaking.

Your eyes narrowed. You set your water bottle down slowly, deliberately.

“Alright,” you said, tone deadly serious, “you two. Spill. And I mean it—no bullshit answers.”

Mingi and Yunho exchanged one last look of pure panic before bolting—straight toward Seonghwa, who was casually flipping through the schedule. He looked up, confused as they ducked behind him like he was some kind of human shield. His eyes followed their frantic gestures toward you, then flicked to where you stood with Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

His mouth formed a slow, understanding “oh,” followed by a very audible sigh as he stepped in front of the two like he already regretted being part of this mess.

You huffed, your patience thinning by the second, and turned your gaze back to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. The second your eyes landed on them, both of theirs widened like deer caught in headlights.

You raised a brow—calm, dangerous. The kind of look that told them you weren’t going to repeat yourself.

Hongjoong let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping forward. “Let’s find a quieter place?” he offered gently, holding out his hand for you to take.

You glanced at it, then back at him, then at Wooyoung—who looked like he was preparing for a full-blown confession or a duel. Either way, you could tell this “quiet place” was about to be anything but.

Once the three of you reached a quiet, secluded corner far from prying eyes and eavesdropping teammates, the tension was palpable.

Hongjoong stopped first, turning to face Wooyoung with a sharp look, arms crossed in that no-nonsense way that always meant he was about to get serious. Wooyoung just rolled his eyes and huffed, clearly still irritated, clearly still refusing to back down.

You turned to him too, your expression unreadable but firm. That alone was enough to make Wooyoung glance your way—only to instantly drop his gaze the moment your eyes met his. Like a kid caught red-handed. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” you said, voice calm but cutting. “Start talking.”

Wooyoung kicked at the ground, muttering, “It’s not a big deal.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been glued to her all day.”

“And you’ve been acting like a saint?” Wooyoung shot back, voice rising before he could stop himself.

You stepped between them before it could escalate. “I’m not doing this. Not until one of you tells me what’s actually going on. No more cryptic bullshit. I want the truth.”

Hongjoong sighed, the kind that carried the weight of patience worn thin. His eyes didn’t leave Wooyoung, but his words were directed at you.

“He’s been acting like he’s your boyfriend this whole time,” he said, voice low but firm. “He needs to give you space, and honestly—it’s clear to anyone he was starting to irritate you.”

Wooyoung scoffed, eyes snapping to Hongjoong. “Oh, I’m the problem?”

You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. “Woo…”

But he kept going, voice sharp with frustration. “So what, I care too much? I’ve always been this way with her. Why is it suddenly an issue now?”

“Because there’s a difference between being close and not respecting boundaries,” Hongjoong shot back. “And now that she’s my girlfriend, maybe you should think twice before acting like she’s still yours.”

The silence hung in the air like a storm about to break. Wooyoung’s usual playful demeanor was replaced by something more raw, something more intense. His mouth opened, ready to argue, but then, with a flash of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place, he stopped himself.

He took a deep breath, as if bracing for impact, and then snapped, “Well, what if I want yn to be mine?”

You froze. The words hit you harder than you expected. Your eyes widened in shock, your breath catching for a moment. He had just—he had just confessed.

Hongjoong stiffened beside you, his jaw tightening as he glanced between you and Wooyoung. But you couldn’t focus on him right now. Wooyoung's words rang in your ears, and the intensity in his gaze was enough to make your heart race, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to react.

You took a step back, the shock still settling in. “What…?”

Wooyoung didn’t back down. If anything, the fire in his eyes burned brighter. “You heard me. I’m tired of pretending. I want you, Ynie. I always have.”

The air around you felt thick now, the weight of his words pressing in, and for the first time in a long while, you were speechless.

“And you can’t expect me to be the only one who doesn’t have feelings for you.” Wooyoung’s voice cracked, his frustration finally spilling over, his words coming out in a raw, desperate cry. “Everyone basically does!”

You flinched, the weight of his admission sinking deep. It wasn’t just him. He wasn’t just upset about his own feelings. He was hurting for something more, something unspoken. The pain of being the one left on the outside, unable to fully have you—unable to claim you in the way he wanted.

“Wooyoung…” you whispered, not sure what else to say. His words were hitting you in places you hadn’t realized were vulnerable. “I didn’t—"

“No,” he interrupted, voice rough. “Don’t give me that. Don’t act like you didn’t know. I’ve been here, always here, and I watched you fall for him—watched you be with him, even though I knew how much I—” He cut himself off, biting back whatever else was about to spill out.

Hongjoong stayed silent, watching the exchange, but the tension between you and Wooyoung was undeniable. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him you didn’t mean to hurt him, but how could you, when everything between the two of you felt so tangled?

Wooyoung’s chest heaved with emotion, his gaze darting from you to Hongjoong before settling back on you. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore, Yn. But I can’t just keep pretending that I’m okay with how things are. I—" His voice faltered, breaking with the weight of his feelings.

Hongjoong couldn’t help himself—he let out a small laugh at the intensity of the moment. It wasn’t mocking, but it still made the tension feel... lighter.

Without thinking, you pinched him in the side, hard. He let out an exaggerated cry of pain, rubbing the spot dramatically, and even in the middle of all this, you couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Wooyoung’s glare snapped to Hongjoong, fiery and full of frustration. But then, something shifted in him. As his eyes flicked to your face, he saw the smile that had formed despite everything. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks—you were laughing at him.

“You’re an idiot, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath, shaking his head at his friend.

Wooyoung blinked, momentarily stunned. “Huh?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from frustration to confusion. “Wait, what?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting to him, softening. “Wooyoung, I also like you.”

His eyes blinked rapidly, like he wasn’t entirely processing the words that just left your mouth. “But... you’re dating hyung—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

“And we had a nice long conversation about this,” Hongjoong interjected smoothly, his tone calm but with a little teasing edge. “Before you go getting all dramatic, we talked it out. So, chill.”

You shot Hongjoong a grateful look, glad that he was, at least, somewhat on the same page. The situation was complicated, but it was out in the open now.

Wooyoung blinked again, still trying to piece everything together. “So... you’re saying you like me... but—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently, “There’s no but, Woo.” You looked him in the eyes, your voice steady. “Hongjoong understands my feelings for you... and everyone else.”

Hongjoong nodded in agreement, his tone surprisingly calm and open. “It’s why I’m open to making the relationship poly.”

Wooyoung’s expression flickered—his mind clearly racing as he processed the new reality. This was more than just his typical jealousy. This was a shift. A big one.

“So, you’re both okay with this...?” Wooyoung asked slowly, his voice still tinged with uncertainty.

You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “Yeah. We’re figuring it out together. All of us.”

Hongjoong stepped forward, looking at Wooyoung with the same sincerity. “It’s about trust, Wooyoung. We all want to be honest with each other. That’s the only way this works.”

Wooyoung looked between you and Hongjoong, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he finally seemed to relax, if only a little. “I... I didn’t expect this.” He let out a small laugh, trying to lighten the tension. “Guess I need to get used to the idea, huh?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “but it’s not as complicated as you think. Just a lot of talking and a little patience.”

“Does that mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asked, his voice teasing, with a smirk tugging at his lips. You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung’s sudden shift in tone. The gleam in his eyes told you he was getting back to his usual playful self.

You blinked, your smile softening. “Is that what you want, Woo?”

Hongjoong, still standing beside you, let out a small laugh. “Careful, Wooyoung. Don’t rush it.”

Wooyoung gave Hongjoong an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m just asking the question, hyung.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension from earlier finally lifting. “Let’s take things one step at a time, alright? We’re figuring it all out.”

Wooyoung’s grin only grew wider. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ for now.” He winked at you, clearly not satisfied with anything less than the best answer.

Hongjoong smirked, shaking his head at his friend. “You’re impossible.”

You shrugged playfully. “Sometimes, that’s what makes him fun to be around.”

[andromacheofappalachia]

Viking AU where Viking!Gaz has given up raiding and now hunts and farms with his thrall turned wife reader who forages and weaves. The two are disgustingly devoted to the other despite their initial differences in everything from tongue to the land that each was born on. Soulmates in every sense. Isolated from the rest of the world aside from the eyes of the Gods. That is until Viking!Price appears within their field, flanked by Viking!Ghost and Viking!Johnny. Gaz feels true fear in that moment. The kind that sinks the heart and turns bones to stone. For the first time he has something to fear other than death and that is his fear for what would become of you. Should this be a raid. Should those men get their hands on soft, sweet you.

Price claims to only wish to trade for some food and a roof for one night. That they had merely stumbled upon the cottage. Gaz doesn't believe it at first--not entirely--until you notice that Johnny is injured and offer to tend to him. To allow them into your home.

Neither could have prepared for the fact that the trio did not just stumble upon them.

Or perhaps the even worse one, that they did not plan to leave either.

[iridescentsunbeams]

Monkey Trio x Chubby!Reader Headcanons

Macaque

• This man is. A. Biter.

• I cannot stress this enough

• He's constantly letting his intrusive thoughts win

• It's like every time he looks at you he gets cuteness aggression

• He likes to hug you from behind and nibble on your cute cheeks

• That stomach ain't safe either

• Expect to feel small nips if he's resting his head on your lap/stomach

• Thighs too, because he's a freak like that </3

• Of course, he's not just going to bite you all the time

• He teases you too!

• "I'd let you tag along but...I dunno if you'd be able to keep up babe."

• He'll tell you to learn how to take a joke if his teasing really does upset you, but will try to subtly tone it down

• He likes holding you. Will he ever say that? No

• Of you're insecure or anything, he's quick to remind you that he doesn't really care about your size

• That's his way of saying he loves you for who you are, and not your weight

• If you really do want to lose some pounds, though, he's happy to help you exercise and train a bit

• Don't expect him to go easy on you, though

• Will probably miss your soft figure, but he's supportive

Wukong

• You guys are twins!

• He has more of a sleeper build than anything, but his pudge can't be denied

• Loves snacking on peach themed foods with you

• If you're ever feeling down or insecure, he has a lengthy list of compliments

• The Great Sage is a confident guy, but even he feels a bit insecure about his looks sometimes

• Mostly his developing dad bod

• He gives himself affirmations, and he's ready to give them to you as well!

• His somersault cloud is out of a job now. You're his new lounging area

• Squishes your face all the time

• Loves seeing the way your lips contort into a cute pucker when he does so

• If you were to ever express the desire to lose weight he'd be bewildered

• "You wanna do what?! Why??"

• He will pout and beg—he really doesn't wanna see those cute cheeks go

• But at the end of the day it's your body and you deserve to feel comfortable and happy with yourself, even if that means shaving off the pounds he loves so much

• He loves you all the same of course, but he misses his belly bongo

MK

• He cannot keep his hands to himself.

• Like, in the most respectful and non-freaky way, his hands are all over you

• He's already pretty touchy in general

• Pulling people in for enthusiastic side hugs, grabbing faces to emphasize his points, grabbing in general, shaking, nudging—he's already really touchy

• But now he's being presented with a figure that feels like it's just made for his hands

• So, yeah, his hands are all over you

• You're kind of like a living stress ball

• He squishes you all the time, basically

• While you're cuddling, it's your flanks

• Standing next to him, it's your arm

• Your thighs too, on occasion, but I don't see him doing it for freaky reasons

• Your stomach isn't safe either, don't get it twisted

• Of course, all of his squishes are soft and small, nothing that would hurt

• Loves pinching your cheeks cause they're really soft—but he will stop if you express discomfort

• Definitely praises you verbally too

• "You're just so soft I can't help it!"

• "Your face is so pretty.." says the MK as he squishes and contorts your poor cheeks

• Kind of like his mentor, he will frantically try to talk you out of losing weight if you ever express a desire to do so

• Will mourn your pudge when it's gone like some sort of weirdo

• He isn't actually that upset though! He'll always love you, no matter how big or small :)

[simplyhughes]

A Hughes Summer: The Arrival

Synopsis: A Hughes Summer is an ongoing series about a HughesSister!Reader x Connor Bedard! This will follow multiple scenarios of their summer together spent at the infamous Hughes Lake House! If there are any specific scenarios you’d like to see, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Content Warning: none!

Pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!Reader

Part One

wc: 1k

Navigating dating the best rookie in the league while being surrounded by three brothers, all notable players themselves has been extremely chaotic, to say the least. Hockey has permeated all corners of my life, not that I necessarily mind, but being born into a hockey family has definitely altered my taste in men. Connor, my boyfriend, and my trio of brothers have clashed on the ice before, obscured by layers of gear, battling fiercely for the puck. But today marks the moment of formal introduction, and I can't deny the flutter of nerves within me. My brothers are intense; Quinn has this odd maternal instinct toward me, Jack is just downright wild... and with Luke, I'm actually not too concerned, as long as I keep him supplied with a snack to gnaw on.

As the 2024 hockey season drew to a close, Connor and I made the spontaneous decision to embark on a road trip from Chicago to Michigan, where I planned to introduce him to the beloved Hughes summer lake house tradition. Every summer for as long as I can remember, my family has spent the majority of the summer in Michigan, lounging at the lake house. With every mile closer to our destination, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation mingled with nerves as the moment of collision between my two worlds drew near. Yet, amidst my own jitters, I couldn't help but notice the anxiety radiating from the driver's seat beside me, where Connor sat, his nerves seemingly even more pronounced than mine.

It seemed like he was on a timer; every couple of minutes, he dragged his palms against his thighs, wiping his sweat to keep his grip on the wheel. In between that, he’d run his hands through his hair and check his reflection in the rearview mirror. After watching him do this a few times, I couldn't help but chuckle. Connor glanced over at me before turning back to the road and smiled. “What?” he chuckled back at me.

“You are just cute, that's all,” I replied, still with a smile plastered on my face.

“Oh yeah?”

“For Sure”

The car fell into silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, but you couldn't help but feel bad that he was nervous. “Connie, they are gonna love you. I promise.”

“I really hope so, y/n.”

“I know they don't know you yet, but I do know they already admire your skill and drive. But they are gonna love you, promise.”

Connor looked at me, his eyes softened and gave me his signature lopsided smile. I stretched my arm out to the car's console and turned up the radio's volume.

The car rumbled along the graveled, mud-plastered driveway, flanked by towering trees that resembled skyscrapers, the only resemblance to the city we had just departed. Finally, the vehicle came to a halt. Connor shifted the gear to park and wiped his palms once more. He unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the trunk, and went to retrieve some of our luggage from the back. Before handling our belongings, Connor opened my door and offered me a hand. I grasped his hand, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you, Con. Chivalry isn't dead, I suppose. But you gotta do something about the sweat, baby,” I teased.

His eyes rolled, and he bumped me jokingly with his hip. Together, we made our way to the trunk. As I started to gather my things, Connor swiftly snatched the bags from me.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Chivalry,” he smirked.

Connor, busy with all the bags, let out a huff as he unloaded his arms on the front porch. I rammed my finger into the doorbell multiple times, rapid-fire style, just to annoy my brothers.

“HOLY SHIT MAKE IT STOP!” I heard one of my brothers yell, muffled by the walls. The door swung open revealing the shortest of the three brothers. “QUINNIFER!” I shouted, jumping into his arms. “Hey, Peanut!” he shouted back. We shuffled back into the house where I was then greeted by the other two. After almost being squeezed to death, the attention shifted to the awkward blonde standing alongside the bags. I cleared my throat, “Guys, this is Connor!”

“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Quinn said, giving him a handshake. Luke followed suit while Jack just stayed back. The middle brother narrowed his eyes, watching his other brothers greet the new guy. “Jack quit being a dickhead and say hello.

“I’m just busting his chops y/n, don't worry,” Jack smirked. “What's up?” He finally spoke, shaking Connor's hand.

“Quinny, can you please handle our bags while I give Connor the grand tour?”

“Whatever, anything for my favorite sibling,” he replied, immediately getting hassled by the other two.

I managed to grab Connor's hand and sneak him around the brawl leading him into the living room. His eyes trailed along the pictures that decorated the mantle; pictures that told the Hughes’ past summers, the quilt that was draped against the couch; the quilt that was ripped and resewn back together, it held too many memories to throw out. He soaked in the room, observing all the details laid before him. I plopped down onto the couch, also soaking everything in. “What do ya think?” I questioned.

“I think that you were adorable,” Connor gushed while picking up a framed picture from almost 14 years ago. He looked it over for another minute, then put it back down in its spot. I smiled watching Connor, seeing him in this house that meant so much to me. He fit in so perfectly, it’s like he's been here all this time. My smile only grew thinking about the events this summer longs to unfold, how this will be his first summer in Michigan with many more to follow.

[filmtv2022]

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

Also... just to clarify... the reader may be a bit younger than Marcus, but she is meant to be read as far closer in age to him than to her brothers (older sister). Writing for large age gaps is something I'm NOT comfortable with and did NOT incorporate in this story.

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

Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind. 

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose. 

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight,  and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him. 

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later. 

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time. 

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.” 

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.” 

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation,  and fell short, “It has been adequate.” 

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?” 

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you. 

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings. 

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.” 

“My lady.” 

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later. 

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

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind. 

You couldn't be sure of the hour,  but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was. 

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less.  But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.  

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings. 

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm. 

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it.  With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot. 

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface. 

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen. 

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-” 

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.” 

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.” 

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest.  You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart. 

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.” 

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.” 

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

[space-pics]

Hubble Images a Complex Galactic Trio by NASA Hubble Space Telescope

This luminescent image features multiple galaxies, perhaps most noticeably LEDA 58109, the lone galaxy in the upper right. LEDA 58109 is flanked by two further galactic objects to its lower left – a galaxy with an active galactic nucleus (AGN) called SDSS J162558.14+435746.4 that partially obscures the galaxy SDSS J162557.25+435743.5, which appears to poke out to the right behind the AGN.

[dapurinthos]

i was just looking for the symbolism i didn't expect star wars rebels to raise its fist and punch me in the face after seven years.

it was never kanan that ezra and ahsoka saw in the world between worlds.

it was always sidious. there was never any way to save kanan.

1) the border of the door through which ezra and ahsoka see kanan's last stand replayed through has the sith symbol the top and bottom. the symbol exar kun was branded with, to show that he was the dark lord of the sith. this is not a door to the past of lothal.

2) ezra came in through the lothal door.

it has has wolves around it, along with angular symbols that look an awful lot like the writing on the spine of one of the sacred jedi texts (personally, i believe that one is from the lothal sect of force users).

there are two other doors with specific symbolism around them: the malachor door that ezra drags ahsoka in through, which has the pyramidal shape of both the sith temple on the planet and the sith holocron discovered there; the other is two doors down from the malachor door and i believe it leads to felucia, one of the main planets from the force unleashed, where it is shown to be deeply saturated by the force and influenced by both the light and dark sides, with the indigenous felucian shamans being some of the most force-sensitive people in the galaxy.

this door is decorated with giant fungi and, importantly, stylized creatures with horns on their heads, exactly like the jungle rancors that are native, and exclusive in disney canon, to felucia. each of the decorations means something.

3) there are several doors throughout the wbw that have a similar, if not identical design. the one between the felucia door and the malachor door, i believe, is ossus. it's not a sith world. it's not even a jedi world any longer, either. the designs on the top and bottom are curvilinear and, importantly, mirrored. they balance each other.

this style appears on many of the doors, which probably lead to unaligned vergences.

4) if you look at the coruscant door, where sidious is reaching through, presumably in the sith shrine in the depths beneath the jedi temple turned imperial palace, the mirrored symbols flanking the sith symbol look like that curvilinear shape if you dropped something in the middle of them, cutting them in half, shattering them. it's like the symbols on mortis, except the symbol of the dark has broken through that of the light, of balance.

it also has writing around it. tentatively, i'm going to say this is the same glyph system in-universe as that on vader's chestbox, common sith in legends, itself a blocky hebrew font where the letters were chosen for aesthetics instead of any readable text. more about it can be read here, where it is referred to as 'sith prophecy font' (as it is at aurekfonts).

the coruscant door is located some distance away from the felucia/ossus/malachor trio of doors, and even more so from the lothal door. sidious used the replay of kanan's death to draw ezra (and ahsoka) to the coruscant door. if ezra had tried to pull kanan out, he would have pulled sidious into the world between worlds.

[sabrinajenre96]

Legacy and Loyalty

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader (Voight's daughter)

Fandoms: The Rookie x Chicago P.D. (Crossover)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mild language, canon-typical mentions of police work, brief mention of past heartbreak (Jay Halstead), protective dad Voight energy, light humor, implied established marriage, surprise reunions

Summary: Five years ago, you left Chicago and the shadow of your past behind for a fresh start in L.A. Now a respected detective, married to grumpy training officer Tim Bradford and part of an elite trio with Harper and Lopez, you’ve built a life you love. But when your father, Sergeant Hank Voight, shows up with members of Intelligence for a joint case, your two worlds collide—and the rookies are in for a shock.

Los Angeles, 8:06 AM

Y/N Voight-Bradford was six minutes late, and for once, it wasn’t her fault.

Kojo, her overly spoiled German Shepherd-mix rescue, had gone full couch-potato mode and refused to budge when she tried to leave for work. Add in a punk who tried to jack her car while she was inside grabbing her morning cappuccino, and she’d already made one arrest before clocking in.

Waltzing into Mid-Wilshire’s briefing room with a hint of dried coffee on her sleeve and a hair out of place, Y/N exhaled and muttered to herself.

“Happy Thursday.”

She pushed the door open.

And froze.

Standing at the front of the room in full command presence: Sergeant Hank Voight, her father.

Flanking him like loyal hounds—Detectives Ruzek, Burgess, and Atwater. Straight from Chicago’s Intelligence Unit, oozing authority and watchfulness.

“Son of a...” she whispered.

Across the room, Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson looked like deer in headlights. Angela raised a brow, clearly amused. Nyla Harper smirked in that “I’ve been in scarier rooms” kind of way. And poor Tim Bradford, her ever-grumpy husband, looked ready to bolt for the exit.

“Sorry I’m late,” Y/N said, setting her cappuccino down on the desk. “Had to arrest a carjacker and argue with a dog.”

Voight turned, steel-eyed but smiling faintly. “Still making a scene everywhere you go?”

Y/N smirked, walked over, and gave him a brief, warm hug. “You’re one to talk.”

The rookies stared in shock.

“You two... know each other?” Lucy finally dared to ask.

Voight turned, expression neutral. “I’m her father.”

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.

“You mean like... biological father?” Nolan blurted.

Y/N turned around, casually sipping her cappuccino. “Shocking, I know. What gave it away? The mutual scowling or the matching death stares?”

“Wait—Voight? As in Voight Voight?” Jackson’s voice cracked.

Ruzek chuckled. “You didn’t tell your team you’re legacy?”

“I told them I came from Chicago,” Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t feel the need to drop the ‘Sergeant Voight is my dad’ bomb right away. Might’ve caused... panic.”

“Too late,” Nolan mumbled.

Angela and Nyla exchanged impressed looks. “She fits right in with us,” Nyla said. “Voight. Lopez. Harper. Elite trio of terrifying women.”

Tim stood and approached Hank, extending a hand. “Sergeant. Good to see you again.”

Hank took it without hesitation. “Bradford. You keeping her in check?”

Tim grunted. “I try. Dog’s worse.”

Before Voight could reply, Smitty barged into the room like he’d just won the lottery.

“Bradford!” he called out. “Someone’s asking for you.”

Tim started to rise.

“No, not you,” Smitty clarified. He pointed straight at Y/N. “Her Bradford.”

Another pause.

Ruzek blinked. “Her Bradford?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “At work, I go by Voight. I only added ‘Bradford’ in legal files—maiden name stays in the field.”

Atwater’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wait... You married him?”

“Guilty,” Y/N said, raising her hand half-heartedly.

Ruzek turned to Voight, jaw slack. “And you’re okay with this? He’s still breathing?”

Voight gave Tim a firm nod. “Bradford made a good impression. Smart, solid. Doesn't have that savior complex Jay had. Trusts her to handle herself.”

Burgess beamed. “I’m so damn happy for you, Y/N. Seriously.”

Atwater nodded. “We always knew you’d find someone who got you.”

Ruzek gave Tim a playful elbow. “Guess we’ve gotta make room for you at the cool table now.”

Tim sighed. “As long as there’s coffee.”

Voight looked around the room, then fixed his gaze on the rookies still reeling in silence. “Relax. I’m not here to bury anyone.”

Lucy raised her hand slowly. “Just... to clarify. You’re Y/N Voight. Daughter of that Voight. Married to Tim Bradford. You arrested someone this morning. And you have a dog named Kojo who refuses to walk?”

Y/N grinned. “You’ve been paying attention. Good cop instincts.”

Tim looked at her with exasperated affection. “I told you keeping Kojo was a mistake.”

“Too late,” she replied sweetly, walking back to her seat beside him. “He’s family. Like the rest of you weirdos.”

The door closed behind Smitty. Voight stepped up beside Ruzek and clapped his hands.

“Now that family reunions are out of the way—let’s talk about the case.”

[apompkwrites]

the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

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[belit0]

I love how you write these characters, always eating smh. Also hope this isn't too much but founders trio+ Izuna's reaction to grown Tobirama's daughter having this as her day to day outfit

AAAA thank you!!!!

Also, how can your request possibly be too much?! Just look at that beauty!!! Is this your art? Does our girl here have a name, by any chance? She's one hell of a wonderful concept, and your talent is fucking incredible!!

Please, do share detailsssssssssssssssssss with ussssssssssssss

The war room was quiet, thick with the scent of ink and parchment, charcoal coals burning low in the corners.

A large map stretched across the central table, riddled with notes and red string—Madara’s handwriting tangled over Tobirama’s, Izuna’s glyphs in sharp slashes between the two.

Tobirama stood at the head, hands clasped behind his back, voice precise as a blade’s edge.

–Flanking here would split the reinforcements. If they follow the topography—

The shoji doors slid open.

She entered with the soundless grace of water over polished stone.

Late.

Unapologetic.

Hair like freshly fallen snow, red eyes cutting through the dimness.

The open yukata framed her like a deliberate choice of armor—soft, revealing, dangerously unbothered. The deep fold parted down her chest, drawing attention not just to the generous curve of her breasts but to the matching crimson markings that descended over the swell of her skin like a cursed blessing.

Tight at the waist, tied with care, deliberate enough to hint that yes, she knew exactly what she looked like.

Tobirama didn't move.

He didn’t have to.

One sharp inhale was all that betrayed him.

Across the table, Madara’s eldest son blinked, jaw tightening. His hand came up subtly, brushing the side of his mouth as if thinking—then stayed there.

The other, Izuna’s boy, narrowed his eyes once, then dropped them with measured restraint.

Madara didn’t miss a thing.

Izuna didn’t either.

–Apologies for the delay.– Her voice was soft but never meek, perfectly even.

She moved to her father’s right, expression unreadable, like him in every way but wrapped in a feminine shape too devastating for a room full of Uchiha to process without minor divine intervention.

–Continue.

Madara cleared his throat, just once.

His son muttered under his breath. –I’ll step outside a moment.–

The words were calm, but his posture stiff—polite, discreet, hands casually falling to the front of his robe, hiding the reaction his body had without permission. He bowed his head and left the room without elaboration.

Izuna’s son stayed, eyes pinned to the map with almost exaggerated intensity. His brow twitched once. Twice.

Hashirama, sitting cross-legged by the window where he’d been admiring a particularly lovely flower blooming in a crack in the stone, burst out laughing.

–Oh gods, this is too much– he cackled, wiping at his eye. –Tobi, my niece is causing a tactical collapse without lifting a weapon!–

Tobirama said nothing.

His eyes didn’t move, but his jaw flexed once, subtle.

Izuna smirked behind his hand.

–Shall we take a break?– he offered mildly.

–Ten minutes.– Tobirama’s voice could’ve frozen a hot spring.

//

Outside the war room, Madara leaned against the courtyard rail, arms folded, watching the koi with the idle attention of a man definitely not watching fish.

–So…– he began.

Izuna grinned, already ahead.

–Your daughter.

–Dresses like she doesn’t care who dies.

–Or who sins.– Izuna added with a low whistle. –She’s got your energy, Senju. Just… weaponized.–

Madara tilted his head, amused. –And she knows it. You saw how calm she was. Not a flicker of shame. That’s power.–

Tobirama didn’t answer.

Not right away.

He stood near the wall, arms crossed, eyes closed.

Maybe meditating.

Maybe killing them in his mind.

Izuna's son could only watch, sensing blood in the air.

Hashirama wandered into the group still chuckling, hands on his hips like a proud uncle. –She’s incredible, isn’t she? Like moonlight on still water!–

–Like a blade you want to touch even though you know it’ll cut.– Izuna's son muttered, then caught himself. –Not that I’d touch. Obviously. Not if I wanted to live.–

Madara’s son returned, composed once more. No one said anything. But Madara clapped him on the back with a knowing look and didn’t hide the smirk.

Tobirama exhaled, finally speaking:

–The next one to comment on my daughter will be reassigned to supply patrol.

Hashirama raised a hand. –What if it’s a compliment?–

–Especially if it’s a compliment.