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queer-here-and-in-fear · 23 days

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remember (to call back)

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Stanford Pines swayed in the wind, carelessly perched on the cabin. More relaxed and still then Fiddleford could remember him ever being. Icicles clung to his glasses, his lips were tinted blue. The sight made Fiddleford’s heart jump into his throat. OR Fiddleford McGucket (and Stanley Pines) are both deadset on keeping Stanford from killing himself. Something he is not trying to do.

notes:

i am so happy to finally have this out!! @anonymous-chicken-was-taken and @kitkatcatmeow (both @ tumblr) were my beta readers and were AMAZING HELP, a million thanks to them!! i hope its a good read!!

Gravity Falls winter winds were darned vicious; they fought and kicked like any wild hog. It was as if the weather itself was trying to keep him away from that cabin, and Fiddleford reckoned his boots would be scuffed like shit after this.

He couldn’t call it in now, though. He just couldn’t. The cabin - the hole to hell Ford had dug himself with his bare hands, the monument to all the terrible and wonderful and deadly parts of Stanford Pines, every single mistake of the last years, - it had what he needed. The memory gun.

Cause Fiddleford could not go on remembering.

He was sure that there was nothing on this earth or another that would soothe his thoughts as long as he remembered. He would go back there - just this once, to sleep again, spend his nights without any of his kickin’. Once he had the gun in his hand, he could move on. No more weight around his neck. No more restless nights.

By the time he could make out the cabin, the winds were finally letting up on him. It would only be two shakes of a lambs tail before he was in and out. Yet, as he made his way closer to the dim light in the snow, his legs stopped moving, and it was far harder to keep himself standing than it ever had been in the wind. Not for any reason but what he saw. What his eyes were locked onto on the roof above.

A figure stood on the roof. No, wait. Ford. Stanford Pines swayed in the wind, carelessly perched on the cabin. More relaxed and still then Fiddleford could remember him ever being. Icicles clung to his glasses, his lips were tinted blue.

The sight made Fiddleford’s heart jump into his throat. He reckoned- it-it must’ve been hours Ford had been up there, then. Hours on the roof, staring ahead, near unseeing. He sure didn’t see F, anyway.

The south wasn’t known for it’s stunning mental health - or whatever it were called, anyway. Fiddleford surely picked that up, any courses starting with a psy mostly got slept through, but he learned some things anyway. That uncle that ain’t allowed near razors, or the unexplainable boot marks he found on the edge of the roof, that no one would explain. Fiddleford knew what this meant.

There was a part of him - a terrible little part, that told him to let Ford choose his own path and just get what he came for. God knows McGucket didn’t exactly have a good track record in convincing the stubborn idiot. What was the point in trying to talk him down if he’d just jump anyway? The snow was too thick for the fall to work, that was clear enough. Maybe a few broken bones would set him straight.

.. Of course, that weren’t the part of him that he were raised to listen to. No, if he listened to that part of him, he might actually have a good life. Instead, here he was. If Ford jumped - the impact might not kill him, but the hypothermia would get him anyway - and McGucket could still feel that debt to him heavy on his heart. His mind was made up from the second he saw him.

“Oh Ford.” The words didn’t carry the resentment he intended. They just sounded worried. Exhausted, but worried.

He caught his eyes back on Ford and steadied himself. His vision was clearer now. Ford's eyes - behind the fog and icicles - were wide with a strange mania. His entire body shook from the cold, but more notably his breathing hitched as if he was sobbing.. or laughing. He couldn’t make out what the thin noise was in the wind. Either way, it made him choke back vomit rising in his throat.

He bit back all those feelings until he was just left with focus. That was enough. He pushed his sleeves up his arms and stared ahead. One of the good things he learned from the country was the ability to get places quick. The human body was an amazing machine when used right - and he didn’t need no ladders or reasonable safety equipment to get up that roof. Just himself, his mind, and thank god he still had that if nothing else.

He traced his eyes up the path. He dug his boots into the snow until he hit the dirt. He dropped the bag he brought into the snow, supplies be damned. Not once did he breathe. Finally, finally, he sucked in a deep breath, rubbed his palms together, and bolted like the devil was fast after him.

The moment could’ve only been six, seven seconds in all. Running like hell. Clambering up the snow bank that built up every year desperately. Feeling it implode under his weight right as he threw himself forward - and barely managed to haul himself onto the roof.

The roof creaked under his weight, but there was no reaction from Ford. Looking up from where he was, those manic eyes didn’t look wide anymore, but.. thin. Elongated, like something had pinched the edges of his pupils and stretched.. He weren’t gonna think too hard on it. It wasn’t his business, not anymore. He shook himself back to the task at hand, trying to get his bearings. His only business was keeping him alive.

Climbing up the roof wasn’t easy, but it weren’t impossible either. It took a focus, sure, but it became a rhythm eventually. Catching his boots and hands on the shingles that were dry enough to grasp, and pulling himself up as quietly as he could. His hand was inches away from Ford's ankle in seconds. As he pulled himself forward to grasp, though, his boot caught on a faulty shingle with too much confidence. He yelped like a kicked dog and started to slip, but-

But a hand caught him. A six fingered, ice cold hand wrapped around his wrist. Loose enough to make him feel like he was about to drop. Tight enough to hurt. He froze. The hand pulled him up, and he clambered along with, pliant under the touch. He was met with a wide eyed grin.

“Sup, Specs!” Fiddleford stiffened hearing the words. That didn’t sound anything like his Ford, it was wrong. All wrong wrong wrong.

“You know, I really should’ve predicted you coming on a rescue mission for Brainiac here.” The third person rung strange. “You’ve always loved a good pet project. You started out fixing up old defective washing machines in the back yard. Now, you got a whole defective person!”

Fiddleford gaped. He hadn’t ever told Ford that.. had he?

A choked noise was forced out of when the grip on his wrist tightened painfully. Ford only grinned at the look on his face. “Sudden organ failure at a hundred and eight doesn’t sound too hot, does it Fiddler? How about I avoid that for you, by killing you NOW?”

Ford let go of his wrist, and instead got a death grip along his collar. Fiddleford's knees crumpled under him, but Ford's grip held him up. He choked as the collar pulled against his neck, and tried so hard to speak, to ask him why, to talk him down, to say I’m sorry. None of it came out. Ford dangled him over the edge of the cabin, and leaned in to whisper, hot wet breath on his ear. “By the way, nice hologram theory Specs. Realllyyy liked that one.”

Fiddleford turned to look at him, and he spat chewing tobacco in his eyes.

There was a scream, and next thing he knew he was gripping on to the edges of a vest and dragging someone down with him. He held onto Ford for dear fucking life as they fell. They slammed into the ground, snow biting at any exposed skin. Fiddleford's head was cushioned by the body under him. Ford's head hit the hard ground with a thunk. His stomach dropped, and his hands scrambled up to check his heart rate.

There was a beat of silence before his hands found the spot, and he felt the steady beat underneath. The relief was immense, but god the skin was ice cold, stinging to the touch. His hands wandered up naturally, and Ford leaned into the touch desperately in his unconscious state.

The sight was jarring, because- Ford had tried to kill him. No concern in his eyes. No second thoughts. Really, truly, tried to kill him.. Had Ford gone mad in his absence, or was he always like this? Fiddleford hated that he wasn’t confident in either answer. He hated more that it didn’t make him reconsider anything he would do next.

He had to get him inside, after all. He was relieved to find all four limbs still functioning, if a little worse for wear, as he pulled himself off Ford. It took a few minutes to shake his hands till they weren’t numb, but then he hauled Ford up by the armpits.

It was damn hard, of course, but.. easier than he expected. His hands poked into ribs, and he absently wondered if Ford had been eating enough in his absence.. He doubted it. Doubted even more so that he could do anything about it.

It didn’t matter. Ford wasn’t his responsibility. He was only here to get the memory gun, and babysit him until he could pass him onto Blubbs and Durland, so they could get some family to come and get him. Ford wasn’t his responsibility, and he’d be damn fine without his help. Even if he wasn’t, Fiddleford couldn’t fix him if he didn’t want to be fixed.

(Though, of course, what family would help him? The father that Ford's middle name was after, the same middle name he’s always wanted to change? The father that couldn’t ever be bothered to pick the damn phone? The father Ford could name scars for? Would he care for him?

What about the mother that answered the phone, but Fiddleford could hear the alcohol on her breath through the call every damn time, in her ramblings? The one who always left Ford shaken after calling? Would she care for him?

Or the brother that Ford hated, the conman and salesman that ruined his life. Would he care? Even if he could, even if he did, would his best attempt even be close to enough? Would Ford let him?

What family did Ford have left but him?)

He dragged him across the snow and up the porch. It was a damn good stretch on the muscles, fire alighting under his skin as he pulled. Yet, even as he knocked him against the porch steps (he was trying to be gentle, he swore) Ford wasn’t roused. He was dead to the world, and when looking at the eyebags, it was obvious as to why. Fiddleford elbowed the door open, and stepped in the doorway.

Three senses hit him simultaneously when he entered the cabin. A sudden burst of warmth, the thick but friendly smell of fire smoke, and.. music. Sweet dreams are made of this, rung through the house. There was nothing wrong with the scene, but it all felt off to Fiddleford. It was easier to move Ford over the carpet, at least. He set him by the burning fire, watched the shivering start to ease before he turned to face the room. It..

It looked like a threat set out. How a serial killer would set the room to mock a domestic family. The barely started chess game, the polaroids carelessly strewn about, the still steaming mug and the running record player all felt so visceral. Fiddleford picked up one and palmed it in his hand. The words Puppet Hour hung over Ford's head. His eyes were.. wrong. There was something deeply wrong. He let it drop to the floor.

Fiddleford picked up the tape that had been left on the floor. This scene had been set out for someone.. but who? It couldn’t’a been him, he hadn’t told Ford he was comin. The.. towns police? Those two would’ve found him sooner or later, if he had.. gone through with it. The scene was set up like it’d be found quick, though. The burning fire and hot tea made that point. Something was still wrong though. Very, very wrong.

Against his better judgment, Fiddleford pushed the tape into the cassette player. The video unfolded before him. Maybe, if this was another man, he could’a laughed. He didn’t.

Every single scene made him burn with second-hand humiliation, a mountain of concern, and admittedly a good bit of pity. Had the isolation driven Ford this mad? This fast?

It didn’t make sense though. None of it made sense. Even as the video ended, the slow turn to the camera after Ford made the call felt nonsensical. It didn’t even go through, so this couldn’t be for Stanley. Who was being threatened here? LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO. The words were- Wait- GO DOWNSTAIRS AND TURN THE PORTAL ON. Fiddleford choked in a breath. Wait, oh god, wait.

Those were not Ford's eyes staring back at him.

Without his own conscious input, he re-round the tape. The second watch was horrible with the context in mind. Every single thing that Bill did in Ford's body wasn’t just Ford losing it. It was a threat, a punishment. A reminder for Ford that he should behave himself. That’s what him jumping would’ve been too, if McGucket hadn’t intervened. He pulled the tape out of the cassette player and threw it across the floor. He couldn’t handle it anymore.

Fiddleford felt too much and nothing all at once. He felt fucking sick, he felt deathly relieved that Ford had stopped on the portal, he felt an all consuming dread and pure blood curdling rage. At that thing in Ford's body, at Ford for not telling him and himself for not noticing because dammit, dammit he could’ve helped. More than anything, though, he felt horror. He knew how possession worked. Ford had trusted the thing at some point, let it in. “Ford,” he pressed a shaking hand to his lips, “ya didn’t.”

“Fiddleford, I promise I can explain.” Fiddleford spun around to find Ford sitting up, looking sick and shaky and sounding desperate. Ford reached out. Against his first instinct, Fiddleford pulled back - because god, was it Ford? His glasses were fogged. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t see his eyes. He couldn’t, he couldn’t take the risk, he-

Fiddleford, without warning, jumped at him. “Ford” (Who was it? Who was it? Who was it?) yelped pathetically and tried to kick him off. Despite their size difference, Fiddleford was wrangling him like a hog with ease, and it was only a few minutes of wrestling until “Ford” was pinned under his knee, hands pressed under his back.

“Who are ya?” Fiddleford growled, shifting to get a better grip on him. The thing underneath him pressed itself against the floor, muscles shaking as the body tried to hold itself still. Fiddlefords voice broke, “why are you in his body, god-dunnit?”

Ford- It- The body stopped fighting him. “Fiddleford, it’s me. My glasses are fogged, I know, but-” It’s voice broke off with a choked sound. The chest underneath his knee struggled for breath, and Fiddleford begrudgingly let up some of the pressure.

There was a gasp. “I-If you get the glasses off and look into my eyes you’ll see my pupils are round, not elongated. I am not Bill. O-Okay?” The voice sounded afraid, terrified actually. Fiddleford's face softened, his feral exterior so easy to crack. Dammit. Okay. He reached up, watching for the slightest movement as his hands met the glasses frames. He pushed them off.

.. Completely normal and round and utterly terrified brown eyes met his. Shit.

Painstakingly, he got off Ford. Ford didn’t move an inch the entire time, just closing his eyes and pulling in deep breaths once the knee was off his chest. Once Fiddleford was off him, he gathered himself up, pulling his glasses back on and pushing himself into the far corner of the room.

“.. Nice seeing you too, partner,” if Ford intended there to be any venom in the words, it didn’t come through. It just sounded a little bitter.

Fiddleford sat down across from him, and let an uncomfortable silence settle over the both of them. His eyes were locked on Ford, trying to piece together what he was seeing and the Ford from weeks ago, and Ford looked anywhere but. It grated at them, until something snapped. Fiddleford took a deep breath in.

“.. You ain’t workin’ on the portal anymore, I gather.” He broke the silence, and without response he added, “.. somethin named Bill want’s ya to, though. He’s real mad that you ain’t. You’re scared of what he’ll do, but you know the consequences if you listen are worse.”

Ford was stunned. The secret was so close kept, how did he figure it out? Fiddleford stared at him, and then cleared his throat when he didn’t get a response. “How close am I?” He added, tone slightly impatient.

“.. Closer than you could ever know,” Ford answered finally, pulling at the loose strings in his sweater, “but thats not even the half of it.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Fiddleford, I thank you for.. your concern,” Ford finally landed on, feeling indebted but unsure why, “but for your sake, you should go. Earlier, when you left, I- I was angry, surely-” Ford took a deep breath, “but in retrospect, you made the right choice. I have gone places no man wants to be, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. I’ll handle my own demons.”

The expression Ford was met with when he looked up was pointedly unimpressed. “I left cause you were deadset on a crazy damn plan that was gonna destroy the world. You didn’t listen to common sense or reason. You were a selfish damn fool, and I knew I couldn't convince ya’ if you weren’t willing, stubborn ass...”

Ford flinched with shame.

“.. But you figured it out, and you’re trying to fix yer mistakes. So, no matter what ya say, I’m staying. I don’t got any reason to leave now.” Fiddleford only smiled at him, exasperated but fond to the bone.

Ford stuttered on air a few times before responding. “You can’t even understand the gravity of this, Fiddleford,” he tried to argue, but the resolve was already breaking in him.

Fiddleford shrugged. He shifted himself until he was settled beside Ford instead of across from him, leaning on him a settling a warm hand on his shoulder. The touch melted any arguments Ford might’ve had. “Yup, I don’t. Try to fill me in though, will ya? I can’t help without knowing what’s going on, after all. Even if I won’t fully understand, I can get pretty darn close, I think.”

Ford took a deep breath, “Ok. I can do that,” he agreed. He straightened his back before starting. “I found an inscription, with instructions to summon-”

#nox text posts #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #ford pines #fiddauthor #stanford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleauthor #ford squared #hurt/comfort #gravity falls fanfiction

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kaledya · 3 months

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Exactly ! This is why I use the three-boss phases fight metaphor and I think this is almost an obligation because both Constantine and Lolicia are a mess with emotions but not in the same way... ah ! I can't wait ! But its not for now !

Good to know! I'm happy you like the idea. It will help the character grow but it will come also later. I think it will be in the middle of the second boss phases slowburn of Constantine and Lolicia... I think end of season 2 or 3 ? Because Serenity come in season 2 ! Will see but its in the back of my head for sure 🌸

I like the idea of Constantine and Serenity bounding over something the others (the most important people for them) don't know about. Like a well cared secret.

And i know it can be tricky to do with only the point of vue I have right now BUT ! (Héhé) BUT between the episode 3 and 4 I will make a special editions of short stories that happened meanwhile episode 1 and 2 and some of the past of characters who are not main like (Azrael, Abaddon (my OC), the Vees, the pets, Constantine, Serenity and Eve/Roo) it will help open new horizons ! Because its a collection of short stories it will help me to well prepared the episode 4 and dont rush things ! We love nice developped characters! And some songs some musical perhaps and inspiration from your animatics!

I'm not made for games but I saw a playthroughs with a bard its great. My favorite character are female Drow cause Drow lore is amazing ! Ah ! Love it.

Don't worry for what Gale said ! He said a lot of things anyways !

I'm so very excited to see all the drawings en scenes en everything you will draw about the fanfic!! But exams first. Me and my fanfic will go nowhere, I'm patient and I'm not expecting you to do anything at first, I'm just enjoying when you say you will.

But. Exams. First. Exams have a due date not me. Ahah.

And dont worry, writing is literally my air and passion. My rhythm is exactly as I like and I actually don't look at the numbers but I'm happy people read it. A bunch of faithful readers is always nice to have even if its not plenty. Don't worry for anything !

Also the meal I've been served !! I made it ! I made the Constantine/Serenity/Lolicia drawings ! 🌸 I was just like, "i need to do this". I really hope I didn't screw it because I always struggle with colors in general and I didn't want to destroy the faces of your OCs. I was looking at the references like crazy

"This is the shape of his horns ? Okay. Is it yellow, green, red ? So about the tail... OMG LONG HAIR" that was me. Ahah.

I hope the picture is nice quality enough, its not tell me and I will make another or larger or something. I didn't put my watermark cause its yours, you can do what you like with it!

Thank you ! Will write well !🌸🌸🌸 _

Ahah ! I'm happy you like Narrator ! I didn't expect you do ! He's just t so... so him ahah. But I love him too. But he is insane. I have a short story with him and Constantine and they talk about anatomy and names. It will be funny ! I'm just so excited to see the drawings you will have with him ! And yes the Kilij, ah ! Turks peoples have so many beautiful weapons with jewelry on it its just *kiss* perfect ! And Narrator loves jewellery so I was like "it's an opportunity !"

I'm glad you liked the songs !!! Ah your comments are always worth it.

The editing of the song with Charlie and Alastor made me want to die but I liked writing it ! I will enjoy seeing the scene you will draw of them! And the Precious was a must !

And yes Vittorio and Alastor's shadow are kind of the undertone of every conversation Lolicia and Alastor have with each others. If they fight its because the tone of the conversation is a bit sarcastic,if they're are calm, everything is more normal !

YES SERENITY CAMEO ! Oh I loved write when she took her coat and hat ! Hopefully I remember you draw her Misfortune/Overlord outfit! And the little vignette in your storyboard too. I saw it in my mind !

Lolicia isn't really an Overlord, I mean she is very strong but she doesn't want the title. But don't worry, I've already make up something for her to come at the meeting with Overlords !

Thank you very much ! And I think you are a talented artist (the new design of Eve/Roo is SLAY!) with nice eye for the lights effects and storytelling through characters and little scenes, that make my mind boiled so thank you, it doesn't arrive often 🌸

I can already see that it will definitely be worth the wait😌

I'm already so excited to see how you plan the themes for the seasons!

I'm so glad to hear this, I seriously can't wait to see the short stories! And I'm so excited to meet Abaddon.And certainly the more developed the characters are, the better.

I read Serenity's short story and they were beautiful.I think you handled their encounter with Alastor beautifully, I really liked it.And the detail that Alastor was more egoist and bloodthirsty during his prime time in hell was also very nice!

I seriously think the short stories are a great idea, can't wait to see more!

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And yes, it was definitely great to play drow. And I seriously think the background of the drows is very interesting and beautiful.In terms of gameplay, you start with a lot of prejudice as every race hates them rather than other races, But on the other hand, there is no need to fight in some places because the enemy thinks you are one of them.

And yes, my dear nuclear bomb wizard who smells like an old library talks too much, it is impossible to memorizeal of his dialogues.

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Thank you for your patience!

I have now passed the 1st exam, now I need to pass the real boss, the ART exam and I'm really bad at on paper /realistic drawing but with enough work everything can happen! But If I lose my entrance to the animation university,then I will have to restart my career as a villain. Lmao

Today is my day off, so I'll be making a lot of doodles, get ready for new fanart!

And if you ask me, you really deserve more, you are a very talented writer!

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Destroy face my OC's what????

You drew him so beautifully that when I looked at Constantine I said, "damnnn, you drew him so handsomely!" Seriously, the drawings of all the characters were very nice and I think he used colors well.

And don't worry, I can't draw Constantine's horns properly either, so I made up an excuse ✨he's a shapeshifter✨In other words, the shape of his horns can change according to its whim.

Serenity and Lolicia were so cute

And Constantine and Lolicia looked so cool! I can't wait to see their interactions!

And I love how you draw Lolicia's clothes, they're true fashion icon.

Thank you so much for blessing my eyes with your drawings!

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And of course, I will love him ! 1 he's character created by you 2 I always have a special corner in my heart for crazy showmens. And yes! When Charlie told the Narrator that they had known each other for almost 200 years, I realized that there was a long history between them.I can't wait to see his interactions with Constantine!

And yes, old Turk's weapons are perfect for him. I saw similar swords and guns when I visited a museum.They were full of jewels, inch by inch. I'm not exactly sure, but I think they were gifts for the sultan or things he had made for himself. Apart from them, I saw a really huge sword. I would like to see the soldier who could lift it. It looked like the sword that in Berserk that used by Guts.

And seriously that song was amazing, a complete masterpiece! If only I could make music, I would bring that song to life! And the descriptions, everything was great!

And the overall scene was so fun to read!

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And I can't wait to see Lolicia's role already, it's so exciting!

And thank you so much for your kind words, and I'm so glad you love the Roo/eve design!❤️❤️❤️

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First of all, Charlie and Vaggie's part was very sweet and beautiful, and the song you wrote was also great. I really loved it!

----

Lolica's song was a masterpiece, I really think it was a very well written and detailed song. Lolicia's outfit and Vittori accompanying her was really perfect! And I think having Alastor help her disguise was a really nice touch! It was a great choice that the song was inspired by liquid gold.

(I Love lackdaisy so much)

In short, I think the song is perfect and it fits the character very well. 10/10 *chef Kiss*

The part where the team reacted when they won the semi-final was so beautiful! And finally an arc is over!

And Serenity's story was very nice and the encounter with Alastor at the end was interesting, but the most important thing is that Alastor is after Lolicia. I wonder how those events ended?

---

To make a long story short, every chapter you have made is really great and I enjoy reading it very much. I think you are a great writer. I am very excited to see your future works!❤️❤️❤️

#hazbin hotel au

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 1 month

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Day 8: Reunion/Friends

While she was frantically moving the files to her USB drive, Reporter kept giving worried looks to the door.

It was locked. Everyone was at the Socialite’s reception downstairs, no one had any reason to give alarm, but still, if she was caught...the computer was not helping things. Like every computer, it was a freaking liar. “Only less than sixty seconds left”, it was announcing since at least five minutes. She tapped on the desk nervously, struggling against her impulse to just rip off the drive and run away like hell was on her tail. Not that the office was especially threatening, with its light walls and the pictures drawn by children exposed everywhere. But- well. If that were the inside that counted, then what was on the computer was enough to wanting to flee to another country. She jumped at every furniture creaking – and maybe it was her own nerves, but they were creaking a little too much. She had looked for cameras, and she was sure she had deactivated all of them, but she felt observed. While the computer was still working – now it announced two minutes left, the traitor – the door opened. Reporter opened her mouth, a smile plastered on her face, ready to find an explanation, any explanation – but the hallway was empty. She sighed in relief, her heart pounding.

Then something pressed against her mouth, preventing her to scream. Her legs buckled. For a few seconds, she felt she was going to faint, but then she squinted and threw her elbow behind her. There was a groan of pain and a voice sounded in her ear:

“What are you doing, dumbass?”

Her eyes widened:

“Hero?” she whispered.

He relapsed her grip on her, and she turned to face him. Now she could see him, his annoyed expression, and his stomach that he was massaging.

“What are you-” she began.

“Let’s get out before getting caught.”

She let him grab her hand while they went off - as long as she didn’t let go, she’d be just as invisible as him. They stayed silent during their runaway, but when he led her to the rooftop, she risked a:

“Are you really sure we should go up?”

“It’s the safest way. ”

And true enough, although there was no guard there, the roof next to the building was close enough to jump. Reporter landed on both her feet. She glared at the roof, at the city, and at her clenched fist that was still holding the flash drive.

“I repeat,” said Hero. “What the hell were you doing?”

“You got nerve! You were snooping too.”

“I wasn’t, actually. I volunteered to play the wardens, to make sure there’s no problem during the party.”

She gave him a disgusted look:

“So you could lick the boots of this guy? What, does the Hero Agency needs a couple of millions for pocket change?”

“So I can look around and notice anything suspicious, dummy. Ever learned of working undercover?”

He stuck out her tongue at her, like he did ten years ago when he was upset with her, and she made a face in answer. It had been a while. Somewhere buried in their phone, the two of them had the same photo of two teens wearing the same silly hat and drawn mustache. Years of birthdays, parties and diploma celebrations flashed through both their minds. Neither of them smiled. Reporter frowned, snorting:

“Oh, and it’s the Hero agency who asked you that?”

“No,” he acknowledged. “What about you ? Did you enter legally or did you break in?”

“Oh no, the richest man in the city just let me waltz in his private office all the time - take a wild guess.”

He sighed. She crossed her arms, staring at him.

“Are you going to arrest me, then?”

He shook her head, rolling his eyes:

“You know that proof that are found illegally wouldn’t help in a tribunal.”

“I know my job,” she replied dryly. “Whose notes did you copy when you were “sick” at the university?”

For the first time, Hero smiled. That was a tired, small smile, but a smile nevertheless.

“That was a simpler life,” he said.

Reporter gripped her elbows, as if a cold wind suddenly blew:

“But not better”, she said. “Your mother was sick, I had to take care of my sister- We were already overwhelmed by- by everything.”

“Ah, but we got a lot drunker together.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. He lightly punched her shoulder and she did the same.

“What are you doing to do with it?”

“Well, read it first. Information is power. And then, use it to catch him red-handed.”

“All by yourself?”

“Do I have a choice? Everyone loves that guy. Including your bosses. Why are you suspicious of him?”

“Made my own research. You’re right. Several employees died this last month. Someone here is up to something;”

There was a silence before adding quietly:

“Villain is terrified of him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I should interview them.”

Hero’s laugh died on his lips when he realized she said that stone-faced.

“What? No! Why would you take that risk instead of-”

“Instead of?”

He waved at himself vehemently:

“Teaming up with me, obviously! Look, I know it’s been years, but you - we were friends! We were best friends! Are you going to resent me forever because I became a Hero?”

“I know why you did it. You needed the money for your mother, and you wanted to control your invisibility power.”

“But you stopped talking to me like I made a bargain with the devil.”

“I don’t trust the Agency.”

“Me neither. I don’t ask you to. But I want a second chance.”

Reporter looked at him, at the big guy in the cheap costume, and saw a teen with a goofy smile. Come to think of it….yeah, come to think of it, she missed him too. She bit her lip and held out her hand. He hugged her in relief.

“I’m still going to interview Villain,” she said after a moment. “Alone or with you, that’s your choice.”

“Oh, dammit ! Fine.”

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

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daboyau · 4 months

Text

@tmntstorycomp

@boots-with-the-fur-club

here, have some Massy meeting the Leave au boys again. :)

The next time they see him, Massy is up a tree.

He is lounging against one of the branches, one leg dangling off of it while the other is propped up, acting as a makeshift table to lean the notebook he’s flipping through against. He is frowning with enough force that Four can see the way his mask creases with the furrow of his brow from all the way on the ground.

In the library, his presence had seemed almost overwhelming. It had felt like every book and shelf was orbiting around him even when they were standing still. A tiny sun, or maybe a black hole, pulling everything in with the force of its gravity.

Here, he just looks small. Lonely. It makes Four sad for him. Makes his chest ache a little bit, because he knows what that’s like. He knows it hurts in a way physical injuries never do. At least if the gash is bleeding, it will heal. The hurt that’s inside is a lot harder to get rid of.

Luckily, he knows what makes it better!

“Hiiiii!” he calls, lifting one hand and waving when Massy’s head snaps up. Three jerks forward to slap a hand over his mouth, but he’s too late. His brothers’ groans and worried grumbles fill the air around them, and Three’s claws dig into his cheeks just a little too hard before his hand lifts away. Four’s a little sad he didn’t slobber on his brother’s palm while he had the chance; at least then Three would actually have something that made sense to be upset about! He’s worrying for nothing. Massy hadn’t hurt them last time they ran into him, so it all stood to reason that they’d be fine this time, too!

Yellow eyes lock onto them, glowing unsettlingly bright in the dappled shadows of the forest. A grin splits his face, something showy and full of the kind of menace and mischief that Four’s only really seen on the goblins locked away in Draxum’s lab before they try to stage a jailbreak. One’s told him it never ends well for them, but they keep trying anyway.

“Hiiii,” he croons back, shifting to crouch on his branch. The markings on his body seem to bleed, leaking down his scales and into the air around him, like blots of ink spilled across paper. They’re spreading slowly, like they’re trying to swallow up the world. Or maybe just swallow Massy, bit by bit.

With his brothers hovering around him and their mysterious host grinning down at them, and with a goal in mind, Four marches forward. He hears his brothers all hiss out their complaints and warnings, but he ignores them. Predictably, they follow close on his heels. Massy watches them approach, head cocked almost too far to be natural.

Though he can’t put his finger on why, Four can’t help but think that the black masked turtle seems so…sad. When he looks at him, Four can’t see an enemy or even a potential threat anymore. What’s before them is just a kid, hurt and afraid and alone. Just like them, in so many ways.

He gets to the base of the tree and tips his head back, searching through the branches and leaves for a pair of bright yellow eyes. Massy has flipped himself over and is dangling from the branch by his knees now, necklace and mask tails swaying slowly below him, grinning impishly down at Four.

“Can I come up?” he calls, and watches Massy swing slowly back and forth for a few long seconds before he shrugs.

“I don’t see why not,” he calls back, and Four feels his smile grow. He places one hand on the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark beneath his palm with all the wonder of discovery. There is precious little flora in the Hidden City, and even less in the lava fields surrounding Draxum’s fortress. He’s never actually been this close to a real tree before!

Before he can do much more than marvel at the novelty of it, he feels a pair of hands wrap around his waist and pluck him away. He slouches, trying to make himself heavy enough to give One at least a little trouble, but it doesn’t do much more than make him chuff out a fond little laugh. Typical. Four crosses his arms and pouts once his feet are back firmly on the leaf strewn ground.

“Guyyysss,” he whines, sad and pleading, and he feels One shuffle uncomfortably beside him.

“No, Fourster. Absolutely not,” Three snaps, already knowing what he’s about to say. Four sticks his tongue out at him, then turns his gaze upon One. Massy’s eyes are back to watching them all again, his face all screwed up in confusion as he watches their interactions. The dim glow of his eyes cuts through the haziness of this liminal place trapped between impossibly tall trees and slowly shifting shadows.

“Pleeeease?” he asks, tugging at their biggest brother’s hands, forcing him to unfold his arms from where they’re crossed almost protectively across his plastron. One frowns, but his eyes dart between Four and Massy, like he’s trying to draw connections between the two of them. Massy gives a playful little wiggle of his fingers, still swinging upside down, and One’s face goes all soft like it sometimes does when he’s reminded of how things were before their training with Draxum started. He sighs, shoulders slumping, and Four knows he’s won. Going by the way Three and Two are hissing to each other, they know it, too.

“Fine,” he sighs, massaging the bridge of his snout and squeezing his eyes briefly shut. “Do what you want. We’re not climbing up there after you if you get stuck…or get into any other trouble.”

That’s a lie, and they all know it. His brothers will be up the tree faster than you can say begin if he so much as sniffles! Four giggles at the thought, a bright grin quickly replacing his previous pout.

He darts forward to squeeze One in a tight hug, tosses Three and Two’s worried faces a smug grin, and darts back towards the tree Massy’s in. He’s never climbed one before, but he has scaled the walls of the fortress, so it’s probably not that different, right? He’s totally got this!

One hand after the other, he slowly begins to climb. The lower branches are still a little out of reach, so he resorts to digging his claws into the oddly soft bark. He feels cool wetness trickle from it, and when he pauses long enough to investigate, he finds that beneath the bark there is only black ink. It runs in messy rivulets down the bark, and Four stares entranced for a few seconds before shaking himself and continuing his slow climb upwards. His heart is in his throat, but he forces himself to continue, not wanting this to be for nothing. Ink handprints trail in his wake, and the tree continues to weep until black is pooling at the base of the trunk, refusing to sink into the ground and disappear.

Four pauses on the branch below Massy’s, staying just out of reach of those dangling hands. He swallows heavily, eyes darting between Massy’s inkblot markings and the blackness that stains his own hands. The other turtle looks curious, but Four’s heart is pounding heavy and painful behind his plastron as it sinks in that he’s damaged their host’s work. He swallows again, filling his lungs with a shaky breath. The air smells like Draxum’s office after a long day of paperwork, medicinal and vaguely smokey, tinged with something fresher and familiar yet completely unknown. Four tries to wipe his blackened hands off on one of the old bandages that had been wrapped around wounds that have probably healed by now. Massy’s yellow eyes follow the movement, and all Four can think of is a hard golden gaze and how angry Draxum would be with him if he damaged his hard work like this.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to squeak out around the lump in his throat, hands clenching into tight fists to hide the way they’re trembling. Massy arches a brow ridge.

“What for?”

“I messed up your tree. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

They both fall silent, Four fighting to keep himself composed and his face empty. Massy is eyeing him thoughtfully. Maybe thinking of a proper punishment. Four very resolutely doesn’t allow his gaze to dart towards the pen and notebook that rest haphazardly on the branch above him, terrified to remind him that he has all the power in the world to do whatever he wants to them.

From the ground below, he can hear his brothers shuffling and talking amongst themselves. He wonders if Massy will leave them out of it, if he begs well enough. They didn’t do anything wrong; the blame is all on Four!

Before he can open his mouth to ask, he’s startled into silence when Massy barks a sharp little cackle. He sets himself to swinging again in a slow, hypnotic motion, and throws his arms out wide.

“Look around you! There’s plenty more trees where this came from! Don’t sweat it.”

Four nods, and the steel band that had been slowly tightening around his chest finally releases its hold. He takes a deep breath and makes himself smile, embarrassed at the little slip in his control. From the ground, he hears Three call up to him, asking if he’s okay. He peaks down at them, giving a little wave he’s sure they’ll be able to see despite all the branches and leaves that lie between them. Three waves back, and then he turns his attention towards Massy again.

“So, how did…you….” He trails off, eyes going wide as he realizes that the other turtle is nowhere to be found. His head whips around, eyes darting over the surrounding branches, before he finally spots a flash of yellow a few trees away. Massy waves, and Four waves back, too stunned to do much more than that. Then, with one final mischief filled grin, he sinks into the shadows and disappears.

“Huh,” Four says out loud.

“What is it?” Two asks, and when he looks, he sees that his brothers are crowded around the base of the tree. Two is riding on One’s shell to avoid the puddle of pitch colored ichor that’s still oozing from the trunk. They’re all okay. The sight makes him smile, easing the last remnants of fear from his chest.

“He’s gone!” he calls, and Three rolls his eyes so hard his whole body sways with the movement. His mouth is moving like he’s muttering something mean, but Four’s too far away to hear it, so he won’t let it bother him!

“Can you get down?” One calls, brow furrowed with concern as he stares up at him. Four scoffs, ready to wave off his concern, but then his smile falters. The ground seems really far away all of a sudden, and he can’t quite remember which branches he’d used to get up in the first place. The trunk is probably kind of slippery now, too, since it’s all wet.

His eyes scan the limbs around him, half hoping that maybe Massy had conjured up some rope before he’d left. No luck there, though. Grinning sheepishly, he presses his plastron against the trunk of the tree and hugs his arms around it as far as they’ll go.

“Um, maybe one of you could come get me?”

His words are met with a chorus of groans and one extra catty but smugly satisfied, “told you so!”

#rottmnt #tmntstorycomp #comp propaganda #Leave au extras #Leave/remain au #my writing #Mods i beg of thee to tell me if i goofed massy’s characterization lol

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heartofspells · 9 months

Text

This Way We Fall

"Moony calls you Padfoot."

It's not what Sirius expects his godson to say, and he startles a little, his hand skittering, the red line of antlers he'd been curving upwards going wide and stuttering haptically. Two and a half weeks is how long it's taken for Sirius to be allowed into the inner sanctum, granted the holiest of privileges: crayons.

They're kneeling on the front stoop, the door closed in front of them, all previous drawings cleared away to make way for new ones. All except one, the black dog still in place, off to the side, animation charms steadily failing, but its tail gives a weak flutter periodically, stubborn and refusing to die just yet. After his breakfast that morning, Harry had stated it was time. Time for new pictures to replace the old, because the old ones were boring, Moony, and our door is boring, too. And Sirius had been expected to help. Demanded, really, not that he's complaining.

Studying the mess made of his antlers, Sirius is slow to pull his wand, clearing it away to start anew. He thinks there might be a metaphor in there somewhere, but he can't quite grasp it in the jumbled chaos now filling his head.

"Does he?" asks Sirius measuredly, not looking at Harry as he cleans away the red trails.

It's a name he hasn't heard in years, not from anyone. More than five, to be exact, and it pulls at something inside Sirius to hear again now, coming from a mouth that hadn't ever truly managed to form it properly the last time it had tried.

"Sometimes," says Harry, tongue peeking between his teeth as he puts the finishing touches on what Sirius thinks might be a mouse, though he can't be entirely certain. He's never seen a mouse quite that colorful before. Sirius thinks he might make the colors dance once they're finished. "But he never says it to you. Only when he's talking 'bout you."

Humming minutely, Sirius glances over his shoulder to where Remus is seated in the Adirondack chair in the grass. He's reclined back, head and face tilted towards the sky, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, eyes closed. He hasn't reacted to anything said, but Sirius knows the other man is listening because he always is, always near enough to catch every word, to intervene in any and everything he sees fit, though he never does, at least not yet.

"You call him Moony," continues Harry, and he's looking at Sirius now, large green eyes curious where they glint behind the lenses of his glasses, Sirius watching them slip down his nose. Sirius reaches out and pushes them back up, an instinct, a long-forgotten habit but not actually forgotten at all, it seems. "All the time."

"I call him Moony because you call him Moony," explains Sirius, not entirely sure what else to say, turning his gaze back to the door.

Harry is quiet for a minute, rolling a purple crayon between his fingers thoughtfully as Sirius scribbles out his own design, just for something to do.

"Did you used to call him Moony?" he asks finally, head tipping so far to the side that Sirius worries for a second it might twist off his neck and clunk to the concrete below. "Before me?"

Sirius drops his hand from the door, slow to respond before saying quietly, "Did, yeah. A lot. All the time."

"Why?"

"I made it up. I gave him the nickname. Seemed only right that I use it."

"Padfoot's your name?"

Swallowing, eyes dropping to his knees before flickering to Harry, Sirius nods. "It was, a long time ago."

"Who gave it to you?"

"It – " Sirius stops, gaze jumping to the drawings on the door, something sharp stabbing into his heart, like longing, like absence and grief and the need to touch what's never coming back again, eyes drifting to the antlers, tracing their shape, familiar like the hazy outlines made by clouds, memories too distant to fully recall clearly any longer. "Your dad gave me the name. It was his idea. Padfoot. He thought it was funny. He always found things funny that most others didn't."

Harry stares up at him for a minute, and then he exhales a breath, heavy for a six-year-old, so very heavy but somehow lighter than Sirius thinks anything in this moment should be.

"That's nice," is all he says, leaning forward to collect the crayon from Sirius' slack fingers, beginning to push the colors back into the box. "Can you make them move now?" he asks eagerly, eyes bright as he looks up at Sirius again.

When the drawings are animated once more, they watch them flutter and skitter and hobble across the wood of the painted door, Harry happy and excited from the sight. Sirius thinks he could stay this way forever, or at least a very long time, days and months, years and decades, if only given the chance, but Harry suddenly stands beside him, clutching his box of crayons protectively to his chest, like to lose them would be to lose the dearest of friends.

"Gotta take them inside 'cause they melt," informs his godson knowingly, and Sirius watches as he pushes the door open, disappearing inside as it closes in front of his face again.

Read on AO3

Gorgeous art by @drunkdumbfucker <3

#this way we fall #big bang fic #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #snippet #my writing #holli writes

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hanasnx · 1 year

Note

this is my first time sending you something 🙈 but i saw that your anniversary is coming up (very exciting!) and the prompts you reblogged 😵‍💫 if it’s possible, i would love prompts #43 and/or #54 for han !! keep up the great work, you’re an amazing writer :) ❣️

prompt: #43

prompt list | rules

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.8k | characters: han solo x f!reader

notes:

hello and welcome! its great to have you, thank you for requesting and for enjoying my content. it took me a while to find prompts that interested me (i like to think im a bit edgier when it comes to smut) and those ones just spoke to me you know? looks like they spoke to you too

thank you so much for requesting han i never get requests for him and i love exploring him

warnings: established relationship, mention of long hair and a skirt on reader, impatient reader ordering han around and hes liking sitting back and letting you do your thing, you try to fit his cock too early and hes worried ab you,

“Hey, kid, what’s the rush?” your lover, Han, thinly veils his amusement, but you are unperturbed. You grip onto his shirt as you back him up until the backs of his knees hit a chair, and you sit him down.

“Need you so bad,” you breathe, swift to undo his belt while his hands are suspended in air, as if surrendering to you and your demands. Obediently, he shifts his hips forward, allowing you to slide his belt off and get at his pants. His heavy member, half hardened by your impatience, lay nestled in his inseam, awaiting you.

All day, all day, you’d been counting down the seconds until you could get back to him. A horrid and insatiable lust afflicting you like an illness as soon as you woke up next to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any time. Both of you had somewhere to be, and the entire appointment, Han made it a mission to screw with you any chance he got. Brushing your hair off your shoulder, murmuring an inherently chaste statement against your ear to run shivers down your spine, and pulling you into dark corners to kiss and feel you up. Little things that he knew drove you crazy.

Now here you are, right where he wants you, right where he expected you to be: ripping his fucking clothes apart until you uncover exactly what you need. You lick your lips, seizing the base of his shaft to help shimmy it out of his garment, feeling it grow under your touch. “Can’t wait to ride you, you have no fucking idea,” The tail end of the phrase surfacing into a whine more than anything else as you hike up your skirt. Han watches you with interest, arms remain at the rests, as you invite yourself onto him. Tucking your knees between him and the chair, and moving your panties aside. His lips part, exhaling in awe as the light catches on your glisten so beautifully.

“Wet, huh?” he inquires with a playful tone you don’t care for at all. Not when your skin is on fire and your hole is screaming at you to be filled. You can’t answer him, lining yourself up. “Hold on, sweets,” he interjects, moving to insert his hand between your bodies to grasp himself, readying to introduce it to you in increments. “I don’t doubt you can take it but let’s think about this for a second—“ In the past, if you get too wrapped up and don’t properly prep yourself, Han’s formidable cock is capable of actual damage. He’s looking out for you (not a luxury he always affords) but the fact is: you want it to hurt.

“Enough of that, give it to me. I want it, Han, right now,”

The expression on your face, the hopeless tilting of your hips, inclining into the direction of his crotch. He can’t say no to those eyes.

A pause to think it over, interrupted by your grasp on his shirt tightening. Your longing apparent in your every action. He relaxes. “You got me, princess,” he concedes, but quickly adds while holding up a single finger, “but don’t get ahead of yourself.”

There’s not a moment to waste, as soon as he directs his cock to you, you sink onto it. That stinging stretch causing a groan of sheer relief spilling from your mouth. Han tongues his top lip, gathering himself at how fucking tight you are, sheathed into you so exquisitely. Involuntarily you clench, and the breath he was holding is released in a chuff.

“Sweetheart, easy.” he warns. You’re not even halfway on him, but you’re still pushing it. His growing worry is difficult to nail down when you feel this fucking good around him. His head lulls back as he tenses his hips, inching into you and that comfortable relief within you is replaced with burning desire. The entire situation only loosens you, and when his hand seeks out your clit, thumbing it, you’re able to descend until he’s snug inside. “So warm, so soft, fuck, sweets. Could be stuck up in here all damn night.”

Without admonition, you lift yourself and he picks his head up to exchange a look with you. You’re about to do what he told you not to, but it’s not in your nature to follow his orders indefinitely. You slam down onto him, and your walls clench around him from the speed. You can’t help yourself, accelerating, and he meets your thrusts until his hand abandons your clit— to which you respond with a petulant squeak of discontent— so he can dig both sets of fingers and nails into your thighs. The pain doesn’t deter you, but his infallible strength does, wrangling you into submission, taking control of your speed. “Han—“ It seems he did not appreciate your disregard for his commands.

So he reiterates, making it clearer for you while you futilely tug off his digits. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” A transparent attempt to torture you still, to elongate your rapture to span the entire night, just as he forebode.

#ch: han #indy: drabbles #han solo drabble #prompt list answer #anon #thanks for the msg!!#han solo prompt #han solo x reader #han solo smut #x f!reader #reader insert #han solo x reader smut #han x reader #han solo imagine #star wars smut #han solo x you #han solo x f!reader #star wars original trilogy #han

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 2 years

Text

Stormy Weather

Summary: While you’re struggling to get home from a month-long mission, Jeff and Natasha seek comfort from missing you.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1408

Warnings: None

A/N: Hiii, sorry I know I haven’t been posting much lately. I’ve had so many ideas, but I can’t seem to get them written in a way I actually like. Plus, my motivation to write only ever seems to come when I’m at work and can’t write 😭 I’ll try my best to start posting more regularly again but no promises, thank you all for sticking around :) comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

This was also based on an ao3 comment from a fic MONTHS ago, that I just got round to actually writing 😭

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (you don’t need to read the others to understand)

—————————————————

Natasha rubbed her eyes harshly. Staring at the screen day after day was taking its toll. 30 days this would be; 30 days since you had gone on a mission that should have only been two weeks.

There were complications, and she knew you didn't have the time or the means to contact her directly. But she was exhausted, barely sleeping, needing to be there in case you *did* manage to get in contact.

Natasha knew she couldn't have gone with you. No matter how much it would have alleviated her worries, she had other priorities. Working on the desk side of the same mission would be enough for her.

Patters of rain made Natasha jerk her head up. No light came through the window, but the circles of water indicated that the predicted storm was on its way. Natasha sighed; she'd been far too engrossed in work to even notice nightfall. She hoped Jeff had been okay with her absence.

After a sigh and a stretch, the door to the home office opened, and Natasha stepped out. A break was necessary, and some company would do her and Jeff some good.

—————————————————

Natasha reached the living room entrance before she paused, staying quiet to see a scene of innocence play out.

Jeff had padded right past her; the Blahaj he carried acted as blinders for his peripheral and even blocked some of his front-facing vision. Natasha watched as Jeff shuffled and hopped to see over his stuffed shark, before the sofa blocked her view.

Natasha watched Blahaj’s tail slowly disappear before she followed. Jeff had been working longer than she’d seen, as pillows and blankets lined the sofa, along with a few stuffed animals you had bought for him.

Jeff froze when he noticed Natasha was watching. The two stared, unblinking, for seconds that seemed to stretch. Then Jeff flopped, his back legs dropping into a seated position and his head bowing.

“Is that Y/N’s t-shirt?” Natasha asked gently, pointing at the white shirt half pulled over the Blahaj’s head.

Jeff followed his nod with a dejected “mrrr”. Natasha knelt in front of him; she noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Miss,” Jeff signed.

The rain was getting heavier against the window, and Natasha knew the thunder and lightning were soon to begin. Jeff would need her comfort.

“I miss Y/N too; it’s been just us for a while, huh?”

“Mrrr.” Jeff nodded again.

“Let me help you with this then,” Natasha stated, finally catching Jeff’s attention when she pulled Blahaj between them. Jeff pushed under Natasha’s outstretched arms to take a position on her lap, reaching out to pull the shirt on properly.

Natasha’s expression softened; she could see how much Jeff missed you, yet all she could do was sit and wait with him. She hardly knew more about your whereabouts than the land shark, but at least he had the bliss that came with ignorance, lacking knowledge that you would ever be in danger.

“Mrrr,” Jeff hummed, grabbing and stretching to wrap his arms around more than just the shirt. It pulled Natasha out of her thoughts, her focus returning to the room. A stuffed toy in her hands, the weight of the land shark on her lap, the sound of the rain and a distant rumble of thunder outside-

Jeff repeated his whine. Natasha bent her arms until Jeff could cling onto his plushie, wrapping his limbs around it as much as he could and squeezing it tight.

In turn, Natasha drew Jeff closer. Her hidden hand kept Blåhaj upright, knowing Jeff would reject the help but tumble off her lap without it.

Their peace was interrupted by the first - sudden - rumble of thunder. Natasha and Jeff reacted immediately; the Black Widow startled at the sound but reflexively pulled Jeff closer. Meanwhile, the land shark squeezed Blahaj tight and buried himself in Natasha’s lap.

“That was loud.”

“Mrrr.”

“Are you okay, Jeff?”

“Mrrr.” He shook his head, face still pressed firmly into the soft plushie.

“The thunder is scary, I know-”

“Mrrr!”

“-but it can’t hurt you here. I’m with you. Why don’t we finish what you started? Turn all these pillows and blankets into the best fort we can make. How does that sound?”

“Mrrr.”

—————————————————

One month away from this warmth. One month away from your fiancee and your land shark. The need to find them filled your mind; there was nothing you wanted more, to finally be able to while the evening away, to do nothing but bask in their companionship. As suddenly as quiet settled in your surroundings, so too did the thoughts in your mind, trailing away until you felt at peace. The mission report could wait.

Flashes of the mission ran through your mind, of mess-ups, mistakes, twists and turns, of constantly battling to just get home. You hardly even noticed the pouring rain, too caught up in your thought; even on your way back, the weather revolted against you. A long sigh left you when the door clicked shut.

A cosy quiet came with it. Appliances and radiators hummed throughout the house, while the noises of the thunder and rain diminished the second the door shut. With the quiet, even your brain began to relax, focusing on the warmth and safety you had spent a long month missing.

One month away from this, away from your land shark. Away from your fiancée. Did they know you were returning? Natasha would be greeting you if she'd seen the mission success, but then again, data had been patchy on the field, and you weren't even sure it had been sent.

And Jeff would be barrelling in to greet you if he'd heard the door shut.

It seemed, for once, you had the element of surprise upon your return.

As quietly as you could manage, you shed your outer layer of clothes and hung them up to dry. Jeff would always be excited to see you, but you doubted Natasha’s enthusiasm if you traipsed dripping garments through the house.

Through the pattering rain, you made out the faint noises of the TV, soft voices that guided your search to the living room.

You’d missed home. Even a perfectly created mission left an absent feeling, a creeping loneliness you struggled to put your finger on. But it was this; missing the small captures of life: a scene too spontaneous to be planned and small enough to oft be overlooked.

A dazzling fort of cushions and blankets adorned your sofa. You wouldn’t be surprised if Tony Stark himself had built it; it was a feat of engineering. However, the actual creators hadn’t strayed far. In the middle of it all lay your two loves; Natasha dozed with her arms loosely wrapped around Jeff. The pair of them held Blahaj tight against Jeff’s stomach.

They still faced the TV, but from the look of the channel, sleep had taken hold of them far before you arrived. Orange chickens flooded the screen, seeming to be the focus of the program – Jeff’s worst nightmare. The land shark had been much more cautious around them since his encounter with Susan, the farm chicken who looked identical to those on TV. Jeff couldn’t have slept knowing his feathered foes were just a screen away.

You switched it off; just in time. Another wave of thunder rumbled, and you saw Natasha tremble in her sleep, her grip on Jeff and Blahaj tightening. Tight enough to wake the land shark.

Jeff awoke slowly; he sought comfort and warmth in Natasha’s arms while he blinked his way into full awareness. The moment he saw you was clear; his eyes and mouth widened, and his tail thumped up and down repeatedly. That is…until he remembered his situation. Very quickly, Jeff stilled, then moved a finger to his lips.

“You don’t want me to wake her?” you whispered, an estimated translation of his actions. It took a few more signs from Jeff for you to understand.

“Mother. Didn’t sleep. Tired. And scared.”

"And you're not scared?" you signed back.

"Jeff brave."

"You’re the bravest, Jeff.” As you spoke, the thunder rumbled once again. Jeff’s fingers dug into his stuffed toy, with a slight whimper escaping that you pretended you didn’t notice. “Thank you for looking after Nat for me; you’ve done it so well.”

“Now… is there room for three in that fort? I think it’s time we napped.”

—————————————————

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character @wolferine

#jeff the landshark #jeff the land shark #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x y/n #marvel #mcu

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callme-aprilroseisha04 · 4 months

Note

What's some niche lore abt ur Sonic AU that you've never gotten a chance to mention? (I'm a sucker for world building). Or just anything generally Sonic related you want to talk abt but haven't.

Also I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO ASK AND THEN I FORGOT 💔💔💔💔😭😭😭

first things first, sonic and shadow are both 14! age for everyone in this au is here:

sonic- 14yrs

shadow-14yrs (kinda; it's weird cause if the 50 years thing from canon but he made at the age of 14 so that's what were going with)

tails-8yrs

amy-13yrs

knuckles-15yrs

rouge-16yrs

i personally think the fact that sonic prime is canon into the sonic universe is incredibly stupid, so im changing that which also means i can change their ages and a little bit of their backstories! the only one I actually changed up at all was shadz so here it is: grew up on the arc, most of that stuff is the same but when shadow fell he landed in green hills and GUN couldn't find him so just gave up. then, after 50yrs he wakes up and starts messing around at night, meeting rouge and omega through a series of coincidences; also accidentally making people thinks he's sonic cause fast and hedgehog, earning him the nickname faker. (i chose this cause i don't want sonic to deal with any genuinely world ending scenarios until the paradox prism stuff so it hurts extra bad)

second, sonic spends hours staring off into space now. he doesn't even fidget when he does this. tails is especially worried about this, so he's made a habit of checking the two places where he does this the most (the beach and the mountain) so he can snap sonic out of it. this is actually pretty helpful because sonic's mind can go to some.... dark places when he's alone for too long.

third, sonic covers his ears when he's nervous. its a pretty obvious tell so he tries to hide it, which only makes the thing that's making him nervous worse. cause of this, most of friends choose not to mention it, but its still kinda a problem with strangers.

fourth, sonic tends to avoid mirrors if he's not wearing his prosthetic or his jacket. he hates looking at his arm stump, and he especially hates when people ask about it. he has actually had some fun coming up with fake stories about how he lost it for extra nosy kids tho, so that's nice!

fifth, tho im not sure how it works from a technical perspective, the “voice” is supposed to be a physical-ish manifestation of Sonic’s guilt. something about the paradox prism energy or whatever, idk tbh

there’s som more u could mention, but im just gonna leave it at that!

edit: forgot to mention but also Sonic hasn’t been able to enter tail’s workshop since the paradox stuff. it’s still a lil too traumatic for him, but he has tried! the farthest he’s ever gotten was three quarters to the door.

also he’s really good at insults now. you get pretty good at targeting people’s weak spots after you’ve gotten your weak spots drilled in so bad you go insane. even accidentally! he’s had to apologize a lot.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #voices!au #au #sonic au #sth au #sonic alternate universe #sonic prime #sth prime #asks #asks open #answered asks #ask box #send asks #au asks #alternative universe

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laundrybiscuits · 2 years

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(Hanahaki AU tag)

Shops close early in Salt Lake, but they manage to find a diner that’s still open for dinner. Eddie’s used to being stared at, but the looks he gets just walking into the place are something else.

“Get ready to take off at the crack of dawn tomorrow, Stevie,” he mutters. “I’m not staying a minute longer than we have to in this backwater shithole.”

Steve’s glancing around like he’s actually picking up on how the locals aren’t exactly thrilled to have someone like Eddie around, breathing their air and eating their food.

“You think they…” He leans in and lowers his voice like he’s in some kind of spy movie. “Think they recognize you?”

Eddie smacks him upside the head. “They sure as hell will if you go around acting like I’m a state secret. But—no, probably not. I don’t know. I just don’t exactly fit in here, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Steve makes a face and leans back, picking at his buffalo wings. “Yeah, I guess I’m not fitting in too well either.”

It makes Eddie pause for a second, because he’s got no idea what certified prom king All-American golden boy Steve’s talking about. Then he takes another look at the man sitting across from him, a real look: takes in the raised scar tissue on his neck and the untrimmed scruff, the Sabbath t-shirt he must’ve nicked from Eddie at some point, the worn brown leather jacket, the hair grown long enough to tangle at his collar.

He looks like he could be dangerous. He looks like he could be wild.

“Sure,” says Eddie, taking a sip of his milkshake to cover how hard he has to swallow. “Life on the road has corrupted you, Steve Harrington.”

———

They head south towards red rock country. It’s a lot more open land than Eddie’s used to, all stunted gray-green bushes clustering low around the highway, broken up by the occasional stand of cottonwoods cropping up where the road cuts closer to the river.

They stop at a pull-off a little after noon, on the outskirts of Arches where the sandstone formations are starting to stack up high, to stretch their legs and scarf down some of the snacks they’ve been hoarding in the back of the van. It’s probably (definitely) not healthy, but Eddie’s made the executive decision not to care about health anymore. There’s got to be some upsides to all of this. He can live on grease and salt and weed for however long he’s got left.

It’s been pretty bad lately. Eddie’s started to do a thing where he coughs flowers up into his mouth and then swallows them back down when Steve’s around. It means they just come up again bigger and worse later, but so far he’s been able to time it so that he can hunch over a filthy gas station toilet when he really has to puke up the botanical equivalent of a hairball.

There’s been more blood coming out, too. At first it’d been just a drop or two at the edges when he’d spit to clear his mouth afterwards, but now there’s actual streaks on the petals, damning dark russet smeared across that hideous sunshine yellow.

He can’t fucking stand the sight of flowers anymore. Any of ‘em. He pops another Dorito into his mouth and twists a pale half-unfurled blossom off a nearby prickly pear, squatting in the shadow of a red standstone outcrop to take the flower apart, petal by petal. It feels a little soothing to rip it apart like this, but he knows he’s probably making things worse by letting his brain dwell like this. Just, sometimes his brain’s like a terrier that wants to chase down rats, and if he doesn’t give it enough rats to chase it’ll start gnawing on its own tail.

Steve comes to lean against the rock by Eddie. “Got a grudge there, man?”

Eddie shrugs, fingers still worrying at the sepals, shredding petals into confetti. “Told you I was dramatic.”

“Y’know, I always wondered if you could like, plant the stuff people throw up with normal flowers. Think they’d survive?”

“Why on earth would you want to do something like that, Harrington?”

“Well, like—if somebody had the bloom, and then they told the other person and it all worked out, it might be nice to have some kind of memento. Like, living proof that it’s true love. Don’t you think?”

“I think it’s selfish,” says Eddie. “I mean, telling someone you bloomed for them, even if it works out. It’s manipulative. You’re kinda saying: if you break up with me I might literally die.”

“So what, people like that can’t ever be in love?”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. “They can be in love. They should just have the fuckin’ dignity to perish from it the first time round, save everyone a lot of time.”

“That what you’re doing? Saving time?”

Eddie stops breathing.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, man,” says Steve. “But you’re not that sneaky.”

#I know some folks wanted this to be a longfic but I think we're past the halfway mark #it'll probably be about 10k all told #which is actually probably for the best bc the angst levels here are. whew.#not sustainable for that much longer without becoming utterly unbearable to either read or write #anyway don't be like eddie! don't disturb flora in national parks! take only photos leave only footprints #hanahaki au #steddie

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helpful-hardware · 1 year

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crushed (like a bug in the ground)

Nine leaving gave Sonic a bitter realization of how much he had bungled things even from the start. Shadow is left witnessing it all.

prime shadow and sonic h/c! its honestly surprised me how many takes of that idea there are, but hey we all see it. sonic needs to cry after all of that fr

read my take on ao3 or below the fold!

Of course this had to happen. Of course Sonic thinks of that fox as if he were Tails, as if he were Sonic’s brother. But he never was. He’s Nine, a different person with a different upbringing and beliefs. Desires that Sonic just couldn’t see. Feelings that were assumed about the mechanist all because he looks like someone else.

Shadow had hoped that the hero would see all of this, that he would at least see the variants as different people from his friends. The kitsune’s outburst showed that was certainly not the case. Watching it unfold, seeing the consequences of Sonic’s foolish naivete bite everyone in the collective ass made him livid. A seething fury enveloped him as Nine walked into a portal, taking all the shards that they’d worked so hard to secure away from them.

For a few moments, the “fastest thing alive” was rooted to the spot in the middle of the cave, which only felt even more empty. No quips, no instinct to run after the fox somehow, Sonic merely stood there, as if all of this took him by complete surprise. As if he never considered what Shadow had said at all.

The black hedgehog just felt completely fed up, leaping down from the entrance of the cave and hoping that Sonic would at least get all of this through his thick skull for once. Shadow started to speak, letting his rage calmly seep through his words. “Sonic-”

“I KNOW!!”

The hedgehog had turned around, catching Shadow off-guard and giving him a glimpse of how he was really taking all of this. His heart was racing, his breathing followed suit, his hands were trembling. He looked completely exhausted… and angry. Not just at Shadow, but at himself. Oh dear.

Shadow felt his body tense up and his ears drooping at the sudden yell, and it didn’t take too long for him to take in the scene, and think that perhaps he was a bit too aggressive. After a second of terse silence he tried to interject, but never got a chance before Sonic launched into a rant.

“I know.. that I should have listened to you. I know that I shouldn't have gotten so carried away with thinking those people were my friends! B-but that’s exactly what I did and…”

Shadow thought maybe he heard a sniffle just then. Yeah, he has to try and bring things down. He kept slowly walking closer to Sonic, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh that took some of the outright anger out of him. “It’s not over. There can still be a way to fix this-”

“You don’t get it, you-” A frustrated growl left Sonic’s mouth, his arms still shaking as he looked around as if looking for something, which he then found still sitting on the backs of his hands. He ripped the tech, the technology given by someone he thought he could trust just like Tails, straight off of his gloves and kicks, and threw them with a grunt at Shadow’s feet. “Take them. You know how to fix this? Then go.”

“Sonic, you know I-”

“You’ll do a better job than me? Exactly! All I’ve done is just mess this up! The shards are gone, Nine won’t trust me anymore, I’m probably never going to actually see my friends again and it’s ALL! MY! FAULT!” Through that bout of yelling, Sonic noticed the tears starting to appear at the edge of his vision, and how Shadow was still standing nearby with the sort of expression that just doesn’t fit on his face.

Said expression was of intense worry, for of all the times Sonic had faced insurmountable odds, all the times where things seemed completely hopeless, or where he and his friends were inches away from death… He still had that spirit about him. He never really gave up because that wasn’t how he ‘ran’ so to speak. So for him to be now on the brink of crying, hugging his knees in tight and wanting Shadow to take the reins?

He never really thought that Sonic could be so affected by all of this. It honestly made him feel genuinely concerned about the idiot for once. He moved to sit down next to the shivering blue teen, all while there were whimpers: “Leave me alone… I can’t do this…”

“Sonic, please just… listen.”

Listen. The one thing Sonic should have been doing from the start, the thing he especially should have been doing now… Even after everything he still didn’t listen. That fact was all it took for what was left of his resolve to completely crumble. Hands were brought up to his face to catch the new flow of tears, sobs escaping his mouth as he could not think of anything else to say. Oh, how pathetic he looks to Shadow right now… He curls himself tighter as his cries just don’t seem to stop. All the guilt he feels for letting Shadow down, letting his friends down, betraying Nine’s trust? It feels immensely strong, crushing even.

But then it isn’t the only thing he feels. Against all judgment, Shadow lets his hand gently run through Sonic’s quills. He never thought he’d let himself be close in this manner, but remembering the cocky smile that should be on the hero’s face in place of him being a wailing, shaking mess… It’s tough to admit to himself, but Shadow somewhat missed that. Besides, when he was struggling at his lowest moments Sonic still found reason to be there for him. Returning the favor was only fair, he supposed.

He continued petting the broken hero as he cried like he had never got a chance to before. (Had he?) Sobs slowly simmered down and although he was still whimpering, Sonic was at least a little bit more calm than he was before. Shadow thought to retract his hand, but the light whine Sonic let out when he tried created this pang in his heart, and a feeling that the hedgehog would collapse even further if he weren’t there.

So the two remained like this in the cave for a while. Shadow kept himself closeby with a relatively calm expression, even if on the inside he was worried sick over Sonic in a way he never thought could be possible. The other hedgehog could only feel miserable still, his gloves stained and muzzle matted from all of the tears he had shed. With time, they had stopped dripping down his face, and the two hedgehogs sat in a rather somber silence together, broken up only by the occasional sniff from Sonic.

“I’m… sorry,” he started after a minute, the tone of his voice lacking its usual charm, “for everything. I didn’t… I didn’t want things to end up this bad. I should have listened to you and Tails way back when we had a home, but I never did. And I’ve been going so fast that it never occurred to me that I should have, until it’s too late. I’m sorry, Shadow. You can hate me all you want now. You know I deserve it.”

That was the moment Shadow felt his heart shatter. Thinking back, he didn’t think he was being so harsh with Sonic, he just wanted him to take a break from being annoying and just think. Through all of that he must have just forgotten that this hero is a person, somehow. He had to at least attempt to make this right now.

“I don’t hate you, Sonic. I do think you have been…,” he hesitates a moment, “a little bit annoying, and incredibly naive. But you’ve not given me any true reason to hate you. I realize now that I may have been… too strong in the past. I never intended to needlessly hurt you, but clearly I did. For that, I’m sorry.”

That didn’t appear to make Sonic’s dour look noticeably change, apart from a bitter chuckle he let out. “Maybe if you’d punched me just a little bit harder, everything would have clicked.”

Shadow let out a somber sigh. “You don’t deserve that. What you do deserve however, is another chance.” Sonic’s ears perked up slightly.

“W-What do you mean?”

“There’s still a way to right all of this. If you keep your wits about you, and learn from your mistakes.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“I know, Sonic. I know.”

Silence falls over them once more, and they take in a sort of calm while they both figure what they could say next. Sonic on his part is actually kind of grateful that Shadow hadn’t just left him to wallow in his misery by himself. He finds himself enjoying the others’ presence here, even though they were at each other’s throats many times in the past. This abstract feeling he’s getting right now, with Shadow sitting to the right and his hand resting on top of the hero’s… It’s strange, yet reassuring.

Shadow admittedly feels something similar, as he takes a moment to look at the other hedgehog. Details like his damp fur, light cuts adorning his skin, and the bags under his eyes all stick out. Details he didn’t think he’d make too much of a deal of or even notice before, but things have changed quickly, haven’t they? It’s almost… it’s almost like he cares about Sonic. Like, actually cares about him and his well being. Shadow feels a bit too tired to really dig into the implications of that now. Which reminds him…

“We should rest. Plans can wait until you’re in better condition.”

Sonic doesn’t feel like he can argue anymore, and lets himself lay out on the stone floor of the mountain alcove. It’s not the most comfortable thing ever, and the chill of the wind blowing in doesn’t exactly help, but after everything does he really have the energy to go out and down to the grass outside? No, not really. So he tosses and turns trying to get in an optimal position to sleep, but nothing quite works.

…At least until he ends up rolling into Shadow. In this sort of dazed state, his soft fur and body heat feel like everything he needs right now. Shadow, of course, is surprised by this, but it’s not like he can really push the faker away now. Besides, laying next to Sonic feels a bit comforting too.

The two hold each other close, their warmth persisting inside the rather cold cave they lay in. Sonic drifts off first, and the sight is fairly calming. Shadow reflects back on everything that led up to this situation, all the fights and bickering, the faults of them both, and whispers out a small wish before his consciousness fades too.

“We’ll make our way through this. I promise.”

#sth #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #angst #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #hurt comfort #crying #sonic prime spoilers #sonic fanfiction #tails nine #hh.doc

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bellysoupset · 1 month

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I should be sleeping but I can't, so let's do this. You asked for my comments; it's only fair I deliver.

I decided to go in the order you posted the fics - focusing on the Max + Vin + Wen trio for now -, and the first one I'm going to comment on is the Vince's low blood sugar, 2-part masterpiece.

His reason for oversleeping? This man LOVES his girlfriend. He must have been exhausted but stayed up until Wendy herself was yawning 🥺

Then Soph came with the sharing clothes question. It was hilarious. I love her character. She is so mean sometimes and tries her best to act like she doesn't want to be associated with Vince, but if anyone was to hurt her family, I know she would come after them like there was no tomorrow. Poor girl was so worried when Vin fainted. She didn't want to leave him alone and even touched his cheek despite not being a touchy person. Baby 💔

I loved the build up until the collapse, but all those little details after the collapse had me melting. Like Max being soft with Soph to get her out of the room asap before he focused on Vince. And I live for Vince calling Soph and Liv bambi. That is so sweet. No wonder she melted. I love nicknames and petnames so much. I use a bunch with my own siblings all the time too.

Also Max pulling Vince's hair into a pony tail with his very own hair tie. Then telling Vin he didn't see him in the cafeteria. Max wanted to have lunch with Vince, didn't he?

Don't even get me started on the 'you remind me of my friend' 'a handsome one?' conversation between these two. Like okay, I know Vin and Wen are in a happy relationship already, but I'm rooting for Max. They might be happier as a trio, just sayin' 👀😂

I don't think I ever mentioned this, but I love Vin as a teacher. History is not my absolute favourite, but I kinda love it. I'm sure his classes would be cool to attend. I have seen Jojo Rabbit, will he accept my essay too? Joking aside, he is also great at it because he understands the kids' needs and actually listens when they ask for extended deadline or something.

Btw, I need to ask. Was Max knocking on the door and coming into the classroom because this time it was Vince who (accidentally) held the students back and made them late from Max' class? Because that would be so funny.

Oh Gosh, I've just realised how long this already is and I haven't even commented on the second part yet. I told you I won't be able to shut up.

Anyways, I love Max' humour and his absolute(ly adorable) cluelessness when it comes to caretaking. I'm not worried though, he is going to learn it pretty soon with the rest of the dumbasses coming into the picture.

But like, he brought Vin to the infirmary, drove him home, and tried his very best despite being distracted a little, so he is already on the right path.

Btw, I am sooo in for the idea of Mama Monacelli inviting Max to dinner and going all out not to make his sensitive tummy hurt, and just basically adopting him like she did with Leo. 🥰🥰

Alright, I'm shutting up now. Gonna come back in further asks to comment on the other fics later though. You are going to get so tired of me by the time I finish flooding your inbox 🙈

Have a nice day / evening Soup 💞

- 💜

I'm SO not sorry I deterred your night, I wanna be but I'm really not 😂

Vince is so in love with this girl, I sometimes think I don't make it clear enough because they're not as dramatic about it as Luke & Bell are.

Also yes, Sophia would tear anyone who hurt her family to shreds!! I love writing mean girls sooo much, its the best of fun.

Vince would absolutely let you hand in your essay on Jojo and maybe even add a sticker or some funny notes on the edge. In my head Vince is not meant to teach teens/adults though, not at all. He's made to teach the little ones!

Max WAS outside because Vince held up the teens! In my first draft of the story I actually switched POV halfway through, because I really wanted to have Max annoyed that Vin had held them up and going there to rescue them, only to see Vince collapsing and freaking out.

I solved that by keeping the "flashback" in part 2, but I guess it makes part 1 a bit confusing 😂 I also had a whole line that I forgot to add, that was Max staring at Vince and just being 🤨🤨 "why is your shirt so tight? Whore" since Vin/Luke do not wear the same size!

I imagine Mama Monacelli is going to be very very mindful of Max's sensitive tummy and then he'll get sick either way, because he winds up eating too much 😭

Oh btw, I downloaded the movie, gonna watch tonight! I'll let you know tomorrow what I thought, but I looked at letterbox and it was SO WILD compared to what you described lol

#💜 anon #lovely correspondence

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catiecat1320 · 2 months

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New chapter!

It took way too long but it's here!!

Read Below🔽

“Boss?”

Robotnik grumbled in annoyance. He thoroughly regretted ever giving his robots a voice. Or sentience, at that. Did they have to be so irritating? “I thought I told you not to bother me.”

The bot stared up at him blankly. “There is someone at the door, boss.”

“In this weather?” There had to be a foot of snow outside, and the weather forecast predicted more later in the day. Who in their right mind would be outside, much less at his door? Had they forgotten he was an evil genius?

Curiosity won him over, and he got up from his chair with a grunt. The robot assistant trailed behind him, gears creaking with every turn of its wheel. It’d need a tune up later. Or he could replace it entirely, and attempt to make a new bot that didn’t nag him so much. He’ll decide later.

Frost had covered his camera lens, making it impossible to tell who the blob of color was. Couldn’t hurt to ask. “Who is it?”

The figure shifted, inching closer to the voice. Having spotted the iced over camera, they struggled to wipe it clean. Through the mic, Robotnik could hear heavy breathing.

“Oh, for Chaos sake, just tell me what you’re here for. I don’t bite,” he grumbled impatiently.

“Yes you do.” A child’s voice rang out. A second later, they backed up from the camera, now clear enough to see, revealing a little fox.

Robotnik gasped. “You!” He’d seen the kit running around with his newly christened nemesis, but he still had no idea where he came from. He had tried and failed to use the fox as leverage, though. Scanning the surroundings outside, he noticed a strange absence. “Where’s the blue rodent?”

The question made the kit seize. “I… he… he’s sick and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor, you know. Why don’t you take it to someone else?”

“You’re the only adult I know… the only adult that’s close enough.” The fox mumbled, barely loud enough for the mic to pick up.

Robotnik raised an eyebrow, and upon realizing that the boy couldn’t see through walls, opened the door to look at him. “No adults at home?”

He got a head shake in return, the kit folding his double tails around himself apprehensively. “Well. Ok then. What is it that you want me to do about this?”

No response.

“Ugh. Where is he? I’ll send one of my bots to get him.” Robotnik sighed. Why was he helping again?

…Same reason he opened the door, he supposed. Sympathy, tch. They were children, he reasoned, scientifically they were proven to evoke compassion. They were lucky he had enough heart to bother.

“I think that's a bad idea,” the boy breathed, shaking his head vigorously. “Uh, no offense, but he’ll probably destroy it.”

The doctor rubbed his temples. Admittedly, the fox was right. “I really didn’t want to go outside today,” he hisses between gritted teeth, kicking his robot assistant to attention. “Get me the Eggmobile.”

Within a minute, the rotund aircraft came hovering down the hall. Grumbling incoherently, Robotnik hops in, turning to the kit expectantly. He hadn’t moved a muscle. “Well?”

Baby blue eyes scanned him in confusion. “What…?”

“Are you coming or not, boy?”

“My name is Miles Prower,” he insisted, “and I can fly, y’know.”

Robotnik rolled his eyes. “Well, Miles. Lead the way then.”

......................................................

He… expected different.

The red plane he saw the two children flying peeked out from under a snow laden tarp, sloppily creating a tent. Miles lifted a flap and scurried in hastily.

Robotnik wasn’t built for this. Gosh, did they actually expect him to crawl under there? He wasn’t getting out of his Eggmobile. Nuh uh.

The kit wins the battle when he pops his head out, worry pooling in his wide eyes, likely wondering why the doctor hadn’t made a move. Fine.

They owed him one for this.

It was far from cozy in the tent. The chill penetrated the plastic tarp easily, likely the cause of illness. The second he entered, emerald eyes fixed on him, a stuttering growl coming from their owner. Quills raised, and would be rather threatening if they had any strength to them.

“Sonic, it’s okay,” Miles muttered, nudging the sick hedgehog in a manner definitely not advised. “I brought him here to help.”

He was skeptical, Robotnik could tell. But he seemed to trust his companion’s judgment and begrudgingly relaxed.

It took some work to get him out. The Eggmobile wasn’t built to carry two in the cockpit, and Robotnik refused to be that close to the sick boy regardless. So they had to improvise.

After reassuring Miles many times that they would return for his biplane, they hoisted ‘Sonic’ onto the makeshift carrier crafted from the tarp and flew off, the kit carefully balancing the thing to make sure their patient wouldn’t fall off. It wasn’t the best solution, but Robotnik wasn’t exactly pressed about that.

By the time they returned to the base, Sonic had fallen asleep. A hand to his forehead quickly alerted a high fever, likely brought on by prolonged exposure to the harsh conditions outside. He probably got a cold, Robotnik reasoned. Cold weather weakening his immune system and causing him to succumb to a virus of some sort.

But again, he wasn’t a medical doctor. So he’ll leave it to his bots.

He kicked his assistant to attention. “Get me the Aidbot,” he ordered. “And make it snappy.” Looking back at Miles, the kit was attempting to find a place to put Sonic, yet he emitted a nervous energy as he scanned his imminent surroundings.

Robotnik sighed. Did he have to look so pitiful? “You. Come with me. And bring him along.”

It wasn’t a guest room by any means, but it’s not like the doctor had expected guests in his lair. Just a space that was meant to be storage for more personal things. Like his secret plushie collection (they were irresistible, okay?).

Miles set Sonic down on a folded blanket, eyeing everything with barely concealed amusement. “Say one word and I kick you both out, understood?” the doctor growled, though it was a rather empty threat. The assistant and Aidbot came rolling in a second later, and Robotnik sent the latter to work on Sonic.

It confirmed what he'd suspected. Nothing too serious, just a cold. The assistant fetched some warm tea for the children, and Aidbot woke the hedgehog up to give him medication. Then both bots left, leaving just the three of them.

Sonic’s head lulled as he sipped from his mug, clearly fighting for consciousness, trying his best to focus on the doctor sitting a little ways away. “What is it, hedgehog?”

His face twitched, gaze shifting to Miles before waving his hand.

“He doesn’t trust you,” the kit translated hesitantly, as if it were offensive… Well, it was kind of offensive. But distrust was logical. After all, this was his nemesis.

“If I wanted to hurt you or your little partner here, I would’ve done it already.” Robotnik stated plainly. “I’m not that evil, hedgehog. You’re sick. Unable to give a fair fight. We can butt heads after you’re better.”

Sonic blinked, hugging his tea a little closer, then tapped his chin in a swift gesture. “He says thank you,” Miles piped.

“Hmph.” The doctor waved it off. “Something wrong with your voice, boy? Why don’t you talk?”

“He’s always been like this,” Miles supplied in his stead. “I think he’s mute.” Sonic nodded, taking the last sip from his mug before yawning.

“Mutism… interesting,” Robotnik muttered. Standing up, he brushed himself off before walking over to the door. “Well, you two can stay until the snow blows over. Poor little Sonic clearly isn’t equipped to handle the cold.” Said hedgehog perked in mock offense, the lack of speech doing nothing to dampen his ability of expression. “You know it’s true, pincushion. Now get some rest. Both of you.”

Sonic smirked, saluting a silent ‘Aye, aye’ as the doctor turned away. Robotnik made his way across the base to clear a space for Miles’ plane in the hangar, glasses hiding a roll of his eyes.

Kids.

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #dr eggman #eggdad #NOT A SHIP #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #CatieCatWorks #my enemy my family

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fairydares · 2 years

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fuck it, new fic. let's do this.

(there's a 'keep reading' line so don't worry, this isn't too long.)

Title: Chasing Tails (AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Rating: E (Explicit) because I'm almost positive there will be eventual smut. I'll be clearer about this as I actually decide what I'm going to write lol. Overarching Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Categories: 2nd gen fic; adventure, humor, romance, fluff, and angst in approximately that order. i guess.

Pairings: Nalu, Gruvia, Gajevy, Jerza, Miraxus+Fried (don't know what that ship's called sorry), Chendy, Sting/Yukino, Baccana-- next gen has pairings, too, but I don't want to reveal those yet.

Tags/TW's: The first chapter contains UFC/MMA-esque violence as well as some implied street violence. There may be more TW's I need to add later, but I honestly haven't written the whole story or decided everything, so that's all I can give you for now. I'll do my best to tag appropriately as I go.

Summary: It’s been almost 12 years since 17-year-old Layla O'Neil was found living alone on the streets and put in foster care, and she likes to think she’s done a pretty good job of forgetting the past. She doesn’t remember her birth family, the name “Nashi [*1] Dragneel,” or where she heard the absurd stories she told the police who found her. Stories about Wizard Guilds, flying cats, and–most cringey of all–her self-proclaimed status as a “Fire Dragon Slayer.”

But the past becomes pretty impossible to ignore when it confronts her in the form of some middle-aged, pink-haired stalker who won’t stop calling her the ridiculous name she’d nearly forgotten, and trying to convince her to come back to “Fairy Tale.”

Oh, and claiming to be her dad.

Like Layla doesn’t have enough problems! The last thing she needs is some delusional freak following around. Especially one who’s starting to make her want to take his hand…

Yep, this is a Second Gen (and therefore post-canon) fic. The idea took root and just would not let go. I’ll warn you ahead of time that the premise is somewhat dark. That said, I’m the kind of writer who likes (and tries to write) stories with sad beginnings, hopeful middles, and triumphant ends. I don't want to give too much away, but you shouldn't expect major character deaths or anything like that, though their may be some forms of lightly implied abuse.

Feel free to reblog, make your own additions with commentary, whatever. I'm quite lax with stuff like that. Hope this was comprehensive enough, and that you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Dragon-Slaying Aliens

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“That’s correct…a world that exists independently from the one we know. And, unfortunately, a world that’s begun losing its Magic…unlike here, in Edolas, Magic is a finite resource. Without limits on its use, it will one day disappear forever.” -from Episode 78, “Edolas”, (English dub, ~00:09), Carla’s line [*1]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------To say this mission had gone sideways was a big-ass understatement, and even Natsu had to admit it.

It had started well enough. A relatively small mission. Not even S-Class! Puny wannabe Dark Guilds like the one Shirotsume needed dealt with–what was it called? Bony Jewel or something? Anyways, they were a dime a dozen, these days. Hell, Natsu was pretty sure he and Happy took out, like, a billion of them in the past seven years by pure accident. So how the hell was he supposed to know that this time, he’d get blasted to another world–one even Team Natsu hadn’t wound up in?

And he was positive they’d never been here. He may have had a bad memory (something he’d begrudgingly been forced to actively acknowledge as he grew into a man) but he was sure he’d have remembered somewhere that made him feel this bad. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t use his Magic. If it had just been that, this might have been fun. Hell, a lot of the worlds Team Natsu had visited–even Edolas–had been fun.

This one sucked.

If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he’d been transported to the future–one where FACE had been activated and all the Magic had been dissipated. Because it had felt, truly, like all the Magic was being sucked out of him. When he’d woken up on the forest floor, he’d felt as if he was dying. His lungs had burned with each breath (and not in the good way). His limbs had felt like lead when he tried to rise.

He’d quickly realized that couldn’t be the case, though. Even if the Dragons hadn’t destroyed FACE, if all the Magic had been sucked from Earthland he’d have Magical Deficiency Syndrome. He’d either be down or in forced into his END form.

He’d wandered around the small forest he’d woken up in alone, trying to focus through the stink and noise he was only capable of perceiving through what felt like about a hundred layers of thick blanket, and calling for his best friend as long as he could. It hadn’t been long before he gave up and left; Happy had never shouted back (something he considered fortunate, at this point; hopefully Happy was back in Earthland) his stomach was trying to eat itself, it was dark–and, worst of all–he still couldn’t use his Magic. At all.

Actually, scratch that: the absolute worst part was when a glance at his (as usual) bare shoulder showed him that his guild mark had vanished. It was just gone. So was his scarf, and so was his Mini Communication Lacrima. Obviously, his guild mark and scarf were bigger deals personally, but the Mini Comm was a bigger loss in immediate, practical terms. After That Day, seven years ago, Laxus–now Fairy Tail’s Master–had started putting Navigation Enchantments on everyone’s Comms so that anyone who went missing could be traced. There was a 3D map of Earthland and Edolas visually tracking everyone’s movements in the Master’s Office. It could even find them in Edolas.

Now, Natsu’s was nowhere to be found. No one would be able to find him, wherever he was, and any hopes of contacting them were obviously dead in the water, too.

He was gonna have to find his own way back, somehow. He only prayed his scarf was somehow back in Earthland, and that Happy had grabbed it for him.

As he hobbled down the weird, too-neat walkway he’d found, he had to believe that whatever was preventing him from using his Magic was what kept him from sensing anything beyond the general–the stink, the sound, the pain, the hunger. Normally, with his better-than-normal resilience and enhanced strength, his pain would have mostly taken care of itself by now. Usually, making himself move helped. Now, it seemed to be making things worse.

After finding the pathway, he’d kept shouting for his little buddy a whole bunch of times, but all he’d gotten were several loud verbal confrontations and one physical one. He’d expected to beat the massive brute towering next to the smaller woman beside him–and he had. But it hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. His movements had been slower than normal. His limbs had felt like lead. His strength had been lesser. Every time he tried to call up his Magic, a wave of dizziness and lethargy had overcome him. It was like he’d feel the rushing up inside of him only to sputter to coldness at the last second; he hadn’t seen so much as a spark since he’d woken up.

In the end, it was only experience and determination which had allowed him to level the much larger man, and hard-earned wisdom which had seen him running from the screeching woman and the gun-wielding, uniform-wearing soldiers her screeching had drawn. Yet the punch he’d taken to the nose had made it bleed and the kick to the thigh had made him limp.

It wasn’t just that his Dragon senses had vanished, making him woozy, making it difficult to stand and excruciating to move. His strength was gone as well. Not even sealstone would have weakened him this much.

He’d wandered, now, for what felt like several hours. The number of Magical Vehicles around were astounding–astounding, and nauseating; just looking at them made Natsu want to vomit. The one good part of having an empty stomach was that he had nothing to give up. He meandered in a stupor, through unbelievably thick crowds, dodging Magic Vehicles and their honking, and glaring down anyone who yelled at him for not understanding something, occasionally barking back to scare them off.

He’d never been so disoriented, and the worst part was that deep down, he knew that there was no one to blame but himself.

Lucy and Happy had asked him, point-blank, if the Quest he’d chosen had anything to do with his search for their long-lost daughter and kitten.

It had. Of course it had.

However, Natsu had denied it. Because if he hadn’t, he and Happy wouldn’t have been able to leave right then. Lucy would have forced him to bring someone else along; she was busy taking care of their son, Luke; the Perve-sicle was already out on his own mission/search for Juvia, and Erza was away, which meant he’d have had to ask someone outside Team Natsu.

No thanks, he’d decided, covering up the fine print on the mission request with his fingers before holding it up to Lucy’s nose.

Now, as he snarled at yet another person yelling at him for being in the way, Natsu was starting to consider the possibility that he just maybe should’ve been more upfront, and even that he should–perhaps–have waited for the stripper to get back before taking on Bony Jewel or whatever alone.

But how the hell was he supposed to have known it would end up like this?! It had been going fine–in fact, it had been going great! A couple opponents had offered a real challenge before their Master had shown up. Natsu had been laying down brick in that fight, too. Yet when the guy had been on his last legs, he’d whipped some creepy, sparkly rainbow skull from nowhere (now that he thought about it…that might have been what the Guild was named for!) and shot one last attack. One so big, Natsu had been unable to dodge–though, of course, he’d made to both block and finish the fight with an enormously powerful Fire Dragon Wing Attack.

Based on his current predicament–he had to assume it hadn’t worked. Even though the skull had shattered in the heat of his flames at the last second, the blast had still hit him. His one consolation was that he was pretty sure his little buddy had heeded his final warning to get back. So he was almost definitely still back in Earthland.

It had taken Natsu several pathetic attempts to stand. Getting here felt like a blur. Now, he had no idea what he was doing. What he should do. Their money had been in Happy’s knapsack, and without his precious nose, finding food was basically impossible anway.

Man…Lucy’s gonna kill me, he grumbled internally, grunting at another group who shouted at him for bumping into him.

Okay, yeah, maybe he should’ve been honest. Maybe he should’ve waited. But how could he do that when the lead was so good? When there was even the smallest chance he might finally find Nashi [*]?

At the thought, his footsteps halted temporarily. He ducked his head, bangs shadowing his eyes. He balled his fists at his sides. The thought of the missing daughter he’d never stopped searching for never got easier to bear.

It was the worst thing that could happen to a parent, to lose their child. Something he wouldn’t have wished on Fairy Tail’s most vicious, evil enemy. He and Lucy understood that too intimately. Still, he didn’t let himself get bogged down, not when it might hold him back, not when it might keep him from finding her. Seven years, she’d been gone. Her, Wendy–so many of their nakama and allies. Time had neither hindered nor halted his search for any of his missing comrades, but especially his little girl. She’d be twelve, now. He’d gotten better with birthdays and anniversaries when he married Lucy. He’d woken up and started crying on April 14th this year, the same as his wife.

Still, even on that day, he’d spoken of her. When he was with Luke, Lucy, and Happy, he talked about it. He talked about how he’d find her and Harley–Happy and Carla’s kitten–how they’d be a family again. He spoke of the future to give it power, just like Igneel had taught him. Just like he’d taught his own kids. Wherever Nashi was, he was sure she must be doing the same; speaking of how she’d find them again, the same as he strove to find her.

But he couldn’t continue his search (covert or not) until he got home. So getting home was definitely at the top of the to-do list. Right after eating.

He kept walking.

Wherever he’d wound up was seedy, dark, yet strewn with lights that made paths across his newly-sucky eyes when he looked at them directly. Gross and smelly, too. The people he’d just bumped into started shouting back at him, something about bumping into someone’s girlfriend, and he huffed irritably. Normally, he’d never back down from a challenge like this, but believe it or not, he was too lost, confused, hungry, and tired to deal with another fight–not when the injuries he’d sustained from the previous one were still hurting this much.

It was humiliating. He’d always been the type of person who refused to back down from a fight, no matter how outmatched he was. These days, a lot of fights were honestly pretty boring for him. Erza would always be scary, and Gray was admittedly pretty strong (if not badass enough to stand up to him, or so he would always insist). He could proudly admit to having achieved (at least) Gildarts-level strength without the clumsiness to make him dangerous.

Now, he was balking out of fights with people who weren’t even using Magic.

There was something viscerally terrifying about how much his injuries were troubling him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t limp without worsening whatever injury that asshole had doled out on his knee. His nose felt bigger than his head.

He stumbled on, brooding.

The guy whose girlfriend he’d bumped into got louder, closer. Obviously, the freak wasn’t gonna let it go. Cursing, he started hobbling more quickly, turning the next corner. To his relief and curiosity, bright lights, loud voices, and a huge crowd–littered with food stands he might be able to beg food from–appeared. He made his way into the thick of it, ignoring the shouts behind him, and ducked and wove between people. It took him several seconds to realize he was still trying to find food by his nose, which barely even freaking worked. Frustrated, he turned his attention to the source of the light, which seemed to focus down on whatever sat in the middle of the crowd.

Curiosity shoving past the numbness and hunger, Natsu pushed his way towards it.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

“Watch it, freak!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natsu grumbled. “Watch your damn selves!”

He still felt like shit, but the crowd was oddly invigorating. As he crashed through the thickest (front) lines of the crowd, more lights came on while the darkness behind him fell deeper. Natsu winced, blinking. It took him a few moments to register what he’d stumbled upon: a roundish sort of stage, elevated a few feet off the ground and bordered by some kind of chain-link cage thing. Two corners were open to be entered, but fended off by some big dudes in black suits, holding back the crowd.

“WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” boomed a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once, making Natsu flinch again and the crowd start chattering loudly.

Match? Natsu wondered despite his disorientation and exhaustion, thinking of the Grand Magic Games. He shoved aside every stranger who tried to take his place at the front of the audience, looking around with wide, curious eyes, shoving his gnawing stomach to the backburner.

“FIGHT FANS! ARE YOU REAAAADDDDYYYYY??!!! ”

Fight? Natsu thought, perking up, conveniently forgetting his injuries in a burst of excitement. Several people started chattering at the crack of the loud voice that was everywhere and nowhere, making Natsu look around even more fervently.

“BECAUSE THIS LONG-WAITED MATCH-UP IS… ABOUT…TO…BEGINNNN!!!”

The cheering got louder, the shoving got more aggressive, and Natsu got more aggressive right along with it. He’d be damned if he was going to miss a good fight. Besides. He needed to see what the Magic here was like. He was being smart. So ha! How about that, Lucy?!

“INTRODUCING: OUR FIRST FIGHTER!” the voice shouted while Natsu continued to elbow and shove, anticipation rising. Music rang out, a dude’s loud, snarly voice backed up by a bunch of deep bangs and booms which had Natsu trying to decide if what he was listening to was awesome or fucking awful–nope, definitely fucking awful. For the first time, he was glad he couldn’t hear properly since he got here.

A light flashed at one corner, drawing his eye. “UNLIKE HIS OPPONENT, THIS FIGHTER IS WELL-ESTABLISHED IN THE SEMI-UNDERGROUND OCTAGON! HAD HIS PERFORMANCES BEEN FORMALLY JUDGED WHILE THE UNDERGROUND WAS STILL ACTIVE, HE WOULD LIKELY HAVE LONG-BEEN PERMANENTLY DISQUALIFIED! YET, IN SPITE OF A CONTROVERSIAL CAREER, HE HAS REMAINED A STAPLE OF THE SEMI-OCTAGON FIGHTING WORLD FOR TWO YEARS!”

“Er, feels kinda harsh?” Natsu muttered to himself, sweating slightly. Though he didn’t really get what “controversial career” meant.

“WHILE THIS IS NOT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE, DUE TO HIS HISTORY, MANY WILL NO DOUBT VIEW HIM AS REIGNING CHAMP AND DEFENDER! INNNNTTRRROOODUUUCCCINNNG… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON!”

A door Natsu hadn’t even seen was slammed open as if it had been kicked, and an enormous man–even bigger than the one that had managed to tag Natsu just a little bit ago, a man built like that potato head guy from Lamia Scale, and actually bearing a similar-shaped bald head–appeared, yanking off headphones and chucking them over his massive shoulder one of the lackeys who’d followed him out. The much shorter guy jumped, barely catching them and fumbling a lot once he had. “Mad Cow” or whatever grinned maniacally as he stormed for the ring, dark eyes wild.

The response from the crowd was mixed but mostly positive, Natsu quickly noticed as he glanced around. His eyes skated quickly over the group next to him (which was booing, unlike most of the crowd) then returned his focus to the stage-circle thing. He could see well enough, he was glad to note, even if his vision was nowhere near as sharp as it was back on Earthland. Big Guy took his place at the corner of the ring and immediately started pacing, lifting tree-like arms and roaring as he did so. Meanwhile his lackey scurried for the bit of protected corner behind him, trying to shout for his attention and getting nowhere as he continued to pace.

Natsu quickly decided he didn’t like the looks of this guy, intro aside. He was the type of asshole Natsu lived to knock down a peg, and despite his injuries and exhaustion, Natsu found himself appraising the big bastard, hands twitching. Sure, he wasn’t in the best shape, but since when had he been one to turn down the chance to kick some ass? It was more a reflex than anything. For about the billionth time since he’d landed here, he tried conjuring up some fire only to curse internally as all he got for his efforts was a wave of dizziness and a wash of helplessness.

“NOW FOR OUR CONTENDER,” the voice boomed. “SHE’D ONLY BARELY ENTERED THE UNDERGROUND BEFORE IT BECAME THE SEMI-UNDER, BUT WAS ALREADY MAKING WAVES! THIS FIGHTER HAS SPARKED INTENSE DEBATE ABOUT WHETHER WOMEN SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO FIGHT MEN–IN ANY OCTAGON!” More mixed din. Natsu frowned in confusion. Was it for the other fighters’ safety or something? Because someone should ban Erza from contributing to the guild hall violence. Oh, yes. That was a great idea. He’d have to bring the idea up to Gray when he got home.

“BUT IT’S DIFFICULT TO ARGUE WITH HER HANDY VICTORIES!” the voice boomed. “THANKS TO HER NEARLY-UNBROKEN STREAK OF INSANE WINS, SHE HAS BEEN NICKNAMED THE THE ‘PHOENIX’, ‘UNDERDOG’, ‘TENMEN’...AND HER PREFERRED NICKNAME…”

A new song started, and this one was undeniably cool, in Natsu’s opinion. Something hard, fast, and catchy, punctuated by an angry-sounding woman singing something about “not giving a damn” about something or other. The door at the opposite end of the ring swung open. A girl came swaggering out, and Natsu froze.

“THE DRAGONESS, LAYLAAAAA O'NEEEILLLLL!!!!”

It wasn’t his daughter. It couldn’t be. Her name wasn’t Layla. Her name was Nashi. His Nashi would be twelve, and this girl was in her late teens–maybe even her early twenties. The fact that her fighting nickname was “The Dragoness” was a nasty coincidence, but that’s all it was. This couldn’t be Earthland’s Nashi.

But it was this world’s Nashi. Of that, there was no doubt. And Natsu couldn’t make himself take his eyes off her, couldn’t even make himself blink as he stared, ignoring the cheering and booing all around him.

A couple strands of unruly pink hair at her bangs had broken free of their tight braids, as adorable and predictably unpredictable as his little girl’s. They clung to her forehead, bouncing as she strutted towards the monster still pacing, practically frothing at the mouth, and Natsu vaguely registered the sound of several peoples’ alarmed murmuring. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he’d have understood; she was about half the guy’s size and about -50% as insane-looking.

Not scared, though.

And…she looked like Lucy. She looked so much like Lucy that it hurt. He could still remember times when he’d call his little girl’s name, she’d turn around, and he’d gasp–because it really was like an adorable, wild little pink-haired Lucy turning to look up at him, her whole face lighting up like he was the greatest thing in Earthland. The memory choked him up, a feeling he’d gotten used to over the past seven years. He swallowed hard.

But that wasn’t Lucy’s smile. Natsu felt like he had seen that smile somewhere but he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking about it all that deeply, because what mattered was that it was her smile, his little girl’s, big and toothy and unmistakable–a little lopsided, the corners of her lips characteristically curling.

It hit his chest like a shot from Zeref, making him briefly clutch at his waistcoat’s dirtied fabric.

Natsu knew, firsthand, just how similar other worlds’ versions of his loved ones could be to his. Hell, Edolas Lucy had chopped off her hair to make it a little easier to distinguish herself from Earthland Lucy.

That didn’t make it hurt any less to suddenly see another world’s Nashi– Layla, this one was called. That was Nashi’s middle name. It made sense, when you thought about it. Names were one thing that seemed to sometimes differ slightly between worlds, as he’d learned on the 100-Year-Quest [*3]. Her canines were sorta sharp, maybe, but they weren’t Dragon Slayer sharp, like his and daughter’s. Besides. Edo Nashi and Fireball’s canines were a tiny bit sharper than normal, too.

It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. Looking at her still felt like being punched in the chest by Erza. Yet he couldn’t stop watching as the music, cheers, and boos faded, she stripped off her sweats (to much catcalling and whistling) to reveal a black sports bra/shorts getup sort of like “Mad Bull’s” shorts, revealing a body packed with much more muscle than any of Fairy Tail’s women would’ve allowed themselves to accumulate. She looked pretty badass, he decided.

The voice that was everywhere and nowhere boomed on:

“NOT ONLY A CHANCE AT THE UPCOMING TITLE ON THE LINE, BUT–POTENTIALLY–THE FUTURE OF MIXED SEMI-UNDERS. TWO CHALLENGERS, SQUARING OFF FOR A CHANCE AT THE SEMI-FINALS. THIS IS A GIGANTIC CULTURAL MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF THIS SPORT… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON VS. THE ‘DRAGONESS’ LAYLA O'NEIL!”

“‘Dragoness’ is fucking right!” Mad Cow or whatever roared while he hugged one arm across his chest, grinning ferally at his much smaller opponent. “Here hoping some man will look at you, fugly?!”

Several people in the audience laughed. Even the announcer chuckled. Meanwhile, Natsu’s blood boiled. On some level, he knew he needed to separate himself from this. From this fight, from this “Nashi.” Especially when he was this powerless to do anything about any of it. But it was impossible to listen to someone say that to another version of his daughter and not have every protective instinct in his body flare, especially when the spectators apparently thought it was fucking hilarious.

However, her grin didn’t even flicker. “Like you’re one to talk!” she cackled. “You look like Popeye fucked Bigfoot!”

Natsu didn’t flinch at the language like many people in the audience seemed to. In fact, he found the disapproving murmurs confusing. The other guy hadn’t exactly been polite, but he hadn’t gotten the same reaction. Still, a solid number of people were laughing their asses off, including the group next to him which had booed Mad Cow.

He also had no clue what the hell she’d just said even meant, but the way Mad Cow’s smile dropped off his face, a handful of people started howling with laughter, and the commentator’s chuckles cut off abruptly was enough to make Natsu grin.

Some random guy in some sort of black, collared uniform entered the arena, signaling to the loud, annoying commentator. Unlike her opponent, no one had followed This Nashi into the arena; she was all alone. So she ran back to her own bit of protected yet empty corner and threw her clothes and a water bottle over the chainlink fence, then ran back towards the middle of the arena. There, she hopped up and down, shaking out her arms. Stretched them above her head.

“OUCH!” The commentator finally seemed to recover, though he sounded somewhat vexed. “WELL, ONE THING’S FOR SURE, THE CHALLENGER CAN TALK GAME…WHETHER SHE CAN LIVE UP TO IT IS ANOTHER QUESTION.”

“God, I fucking hate when Hansis commentates,” the guy next to Natsu muttered, his friends snorting in agreement. Then he glanced at Natsu–only to double take. “Oi, are you related to the Dragoness or something?!” he asked, eyes on his hair.

“Uhhh…” Natsu chuckled nervously, feeling himself start to sweat. He may have been what Erza would (and frequently did ) call an “impulsive idiot”, but he had no clue how to explain that he was the father of her other self. “Something like that.”

“Whoa, seriously?!” The guy’s friend leaned around him to look at Natsu with wide, shining eyes, then continued, “I won’t ask anymore, ‘cause obviously you’re trying to protect your identities or something, but that’s so cool! We’re huge fans!”

“Hmm…” Natsu said, scanning their apparel–t-shirts and hats emblazoned with her face and silhouette–and what looked like homemade signs of her name, written in fiery letters. “I can see that…what is this, exactly?” He asked this while looking around at the lights, spectators, an unfamiliar kind of money being exchanged and counted between several people.

Natsu tilted his head, blinking. “No?” he said.

“The semi-underground tournament?” the only girl in the group said, eyes almost as wide as her friend’s. When Natsu only continued to look confused, she said, “What, do you live under a rock?! You’ve at least heard of MMA, right? Mixed Martial Arts?”

He perked up at this. “Like a fight?! Hell, yeah! How do I get in on this?!” He grinned, cracking his knuckles, his earlier scuffles and empty stomach completely forgotten.

“YOU DON’T!” the entire group shouted, eyes bugging.

The dude who’d first started talking to him huffed, sweating slightly. “The ‘semi-underground’ octagon used to just be called ‘the underground fights,’” he explained loudly, Natsu still having to lean in to catch what he said with his new, bad ears over the increasingly excited din. “It was illegal, but, like, illegal in the ‘everyone knows but won’t squeal’ way, you know?”

Natsu nodded, fully getting this. After all, how many times had soldiers arrested him only for Queen Hisui to let him off with a finger-wag. Of course, his luck on that front had run out seven years ago…

“The feds finally cracked down on it,” the guy continued, “but didn’t prosecute any of the fighters. Now, it’s called the ‘Semi-Underground’...it’s got no weight-classes (which is why the Dragoness can fight big dudes like Mad Bull). All genders are free to compete and fight each other. It’s a bit more for entertainment than pure fighting prowess– that was different, before,” the guy added with a wistful tone. “But still! You can’t just go waltzing into the octagon, you know? Back in the basement where this used to happen, you could’ve gotten away with that, but now you’ve gotta work for it, you know? Seriously, do you live under a rock or something?”

Irritated, Natsu opened his mouth, but his response was cut off when a loud voice–not as loud as the announcer, but still–redrew all their attention to the ring. “Alright, fighters,” the black-collar guy said into a microphone which was smaller and not as loud as the commentator’s, quieting the audience. “We’ve been over the rules. Protect yourself at all times. Follow my instructions. We’re going to have a clean fight, you hear me?” He glared at Mad Bull, but This Nashi was the only one who dipped her chin in recognition. Natsu’s eyes narrowed along with hers when her opponent refused to acknowledge the guy’s words. “Now, touch gloves at this time, and come out ready to do this!”

Both fighters instantly danced away from each other. Black collar guy scowled. Both the commentator and the audience made sounds like “ OOOOOOOH!”

“NO TOUCH!” came the commentator’s gleeful voice, “I REPEAT, NEITHER FIGHTER TOUCHED GLOVES, AND SO FAR, NEITHER ARE REALLY MOVING FOR EACH OTHER–”

“SAY YOU’RE PRAYERS, BITCH!” Mad Cow roared. “YOU’RE DEAD MEAT!”

“BRING IT!” This Nashi roared back, and Mad Cow lunged, swinging in immediately with a big, dramatic overhand hook that would have knocked her out immediately if she hadn’t skated out of its way. It took about three similar exchanges for Natsu to sag in disappointment.

“Oi!” he shouted, utterly let down, “Where the hell’s the magic?!”

“Geez!” the guy next to him laughed. “The fight’s only just started: give them a minute to warm up! Then we’ll get to see the cool stuff.”

“What, they’re not allowed to use it at first or something?” Natsu asked, still staring as This Nashi fended off huge, devastating blows raining down from above and leapt back from the powerful kicks, eyes narrowed and expression tight.

“...Er, what?” the guy asked.

“Magic–duh!” Natsu huffed, flickering wide eyes between the guy and This Nashi, who was now darting backwards around the round-ish ring, still fending Mad Cow off, weaving and ducking with a speed few could hope to match. “You know?! Fire, Ice, Celestial Magic…?

The guy stared at him for a second along with his companions, all of whom were also sweating. It was then that Natsu knew:

Something more was going on here. Something he didn’t understand. This place…wherever he was, it was like Edolas. Not now, but back when he, Lucy, and the others had gone there. Magic didn’t just not exist, here; was some kind of… taboo on it.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could over the crowd, he continued, “I didn’t mean to say something that would get you in trouble...”

The group’s only response was to sidle away from him surreptitiously, glancing at him and sharing looks with wide eyes. Natsu was thrown for a loop once more. Ooo- kay, talk about overly-suspicious. Were there guards listening in on their conversation or something? As discreetly as possible, with his hand still at the back of his head, he looked around, eyes narrowed.

Yet…he saw nothing to warrant their suspicion. An unruly crowd…and an astonishing lack of guards. At the Grand Magic Games, there’d always been a ton of guards. Way more than he wanted to be there, honestly. Did this have something to do with the whole “underground” thing?

He looked at the group again, then realized something important: it was him they were looking at nervously. Nervously, and like…he was crazy or something.

It had taken time, but the years had made Natsu wiser–cooler–about situations like this. Even as his stomach sank with the realization that getting home was going to be a much harder task than he’d initially realized, he acknowledged that he’d need to be careful about mentioning Magic here. Dropping his hand, he forced a small smile at them then turned his attention back to the arena, where Mad Cow continued to chase This Nashi around the edge of the arena. Meanwhile, his mind continued to reel, loud to himself and no one else.

“–IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE SHE’S CAUGHT IN A CLINCH, HERE, AND THEN OUR NIGHT WILL BE OVER!” the commentator was blaring. It was sort of surprising, how easily he’d been able to tune out when Natsu’s ears were registering so little. “I HATE TO SAY IT–” (Based on the glee in his tone, Natsu doubted that.) “–BUT HOWEVER MUCH OF AN EXTRAORDINARY FIGHTER SHE IS, SHE’S STILL A FEMALE FIGHTER. HER OPPONENT HAS WELL OVER A HUNDRED POUNDS ON HER [*4]. AND, AGAIN, I HATE TO SAY THIS–BUT THERE ARE JUST PHYSICAL BARRIERS NO CHICK FIGHTER WILL EVER BE ABLE TO OVERCOME! RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A DOG FIGHT, AND NOT ONE SHE CAN KEEP SCRAPPING IN! SHE’S NOT GOING TO COME OUT AS THE ‘UNDERDOG,’ THIS TIME–”

“Man, she’s getting her ass beat!” someone from the group broke the awkward silence as This Nashi was swept aside by a blow that caught the guard at her ear.

“Maybe she’ll make a comeback!” another guy said, tremulous but hopeful, as a log-like shin crashed into her stomach.

“She definitely will!” the guy who’d first spoken to Natsu said, though there was a distant note of doubt in his voice as she barely reeled from an arrow-fast straight right.

Despite the awkwardness of their last interaction, Natsu couldn’t help appreciating these people, who were so devoted to this world’s Nashi. He decided to end their night more positively. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a somewhat bored tone, eyes on the girl still gliding backwards, dancing away from the hits and kicks or else blocking them. He felt, rather than saw, the group’s eyes jumping to him, some of them quickly leaping away only to dart back.

“What do you mean?” the first guy ventured when he said nothing else, edging a little closer once more.

Natsu crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes thinning as Big Boy brought down a hailstorm of fists on This Nashi’s head. His eyes tracked the way a particularly big hit caught her forearm–but only barely, seeing as she’d slid out of the enormous range even as she blocked. Just like he’d thought…

His stomach churned uncomfortably. It was eerie and cruel, how much her movements and the memories aligned–

“OUCH! That hurt, Daddy!” After the exclamation, Nashi began grumbling, vigorously rubbing her forearm where his fist had just him.

“Woops!” Natsu chuckled sheepishly, “My bad!”

Despite the fact that she was still rubbing the arm he’d tapped with a light hit, the little girl who barely came up above his knees scowled.

It was midday, now. In their front lawn; his and Happy’s house, now much larger with the rooms he’d added for Lucy and their kids.

“But–” He grew serious. “–you think your enemies will take it easy on you, Nashi? You think they’ll give you a break because you say ‘ouch’?”

She dropped her arms to her sides and scowled–pouted, really. She was so cute, he couldn’t have kept his lips from quirking into a grin if he tried. Strutting forward, he planted a hand on top of her head, rubbing the unruly locks. He only grinned wider when she turned her scowl/pout up to him. “Sorry, kiddo, but they won’t!”

Lucy would have lost her mind, if she saw the interaction. Natsu could just hear her now: “NATSU, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! SHE’S FIVE! BE CAREFUL, WOULD YOU? BLAH BLAH BLURGH BLAH– !”

He never really got Lucy, when she acted like that. Nashi was a Dragon Slayer, like him. She could take much more than a normal human, but would never learn that she could if he didn’t show her! Not to mention that Igneel had been way tougher on him, when he was five. Besides, he didn’t want his kid to be some weakling! What father did want that?

Not any good ones, that was for sure. Especially not when their kids had Nashi’s determination and drive.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he apologized again, still rubbing her head affectionately. “But you’ve got to understand…if I hurt you, it’s because I know your enemies will hurt you the same way…I don’t want it to surprise you. I want you to be able to fight back, still. You do still want to be a big-time Dragon Slayer, don’t you?”

She stared up at him dubiously, but the smile caught on quick. She’d never been able to resist smiling back at him.

“...Yeah,” she admitted finally, feigning reluctance.

He lifted his hand off her head, cupping it around his ear and leaning down towards her. “What was that?!” he shouted. “I couldn’t hear you…what was it you want?!”

“I–pfft–I WANT–” Her small smile turned to a grin–the big, corner-curled grin only his daughter ever could or would achieve. The one that always melted his heart.

“I WANNA BE A DRAGON SLAYER!” she managed to roar through her grin. “NO–I MEAN, I WANNA BE THE STRONGEST DRAGON SLAYER EVER!”

“HELL YEAH, YOU DO!” he roared back, the pride managing to make his chest burst even as he squared up again, preparing for more training. An adrenaline only teaching one’s prodigy could spark electrocuted his system. “IF THAT’S REALLY TRUE, THEN COME ON, NASHI! YOU’VE GOT MORE IN YOU! I KNOW YOU DO!”

“OH YEAH? WELL I DO! I GOT WAY MORE IN ME!” She dropped into the stance he’d taught her, grinning for everything she was worth. The sun illuminated her smile.

He somehow managed to grin even more widely. “Right, then listen up!” he commanded. “When Dragon Slayers fight, they got one big advantage: they can take a whole bunch of hits–then still get up. So that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

“...Huh?!” The little girl’s eyes bulged out of her head. “You’re sayin’ I’m gonna let myself get hit?!”

“Well, not too hard,” he elaborated. “And not too much…you’re just gonna play defense for a while, see?” He moved for her, throwing a fist much more slowly than he normally would have. Automatically, she wove away, eyes wide on his face. His right fist was followed by his left, then a kick–all too sluggish to be real. She easily moved around and blocked all of them. “This way,” he continued, throwing another kick. “You can learn the guy you’re fighting, how step, how they breathe…”

“How they step…how they breathe…” she repeated to herself in a murmur, eyes flickering all over his body as he continued to pantomime a real fight. Natsu couldn’t help but grin. Nashi was a distractible kid, but when it came to fighting, she was always on the ball.

Natsu didn’t mind one bit when Lucy blamed him for that.

“...how they fight,” he finished.

“...how they fight!” she whispered.

He started speeding up his movements. Let her orient before he lit up his fists. She mirrored him, flames igniting her much smaller fists. Their dance became even faster “That’s it, Nashi!” he praised as she leapt back from a kick, only letting it clip her shoulder. “Get into the flow of it! Read my movements! Remember, breathe, and–”

“She’s reading him,” he murmured, voice softer than he’d meant it to be. “Fending him off and waiting for the right moment; his hits are only clipping her.” His hunger was catching up with him again, as was his pain. He ached. He wanted to sleep. And…

…It hurt. It hurt too much. Knowing it wasn’t his Nashi…that just made it hurt more. Each hit, each block, each flash of those brown eyes…they felt like shards of glass piercing his heart.

I can’t stay here, he realized.

“What was that?” the girl in the group asked, venturing closer to him.

His heart was heavy, sinking as he watched the girl. Embarrassment washed over him as he realized that had been a stupid thing to say in the first place. This wasn’t his Nashi. She wasn’t using what he’d taught her because he hadn’t been the one to train her. Hell, she probably wasn’t even gauging her opponents’ movements; she was probably fighting for her life, here.

She would lose.

“Nothin’,” he replied thickly, dropping his arms even as he watched the girl roll away from a rather impressive and extremely long-ranged crescent kick, not even the man’s big toe catching her at all. “I was wrong…enjoy the rest of the fight, guys.” He used the ensuing beat of silence to stare–for just one more second–at the girl. This world’s version of his girl.

Without thinking, he went to heft up his backpack, only to sigh in quiet defeat–the exhale almost visible even in the warm air–as he remembered it wasn’t there; he was just a weakling in this world. That’s why his back (and whole body) felt so heavy.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” the first guy who’d spoken to him said as he turned away, pushing back through the crowd. His tone was an odd mixture of relieved and disappointed. Natsu said nothing, merely waving.

Overhead, the booming voice–which he’d tuned out during the competition–continued to sound off. “–AN ADMITTEDLY UNBELIEVABLE DODGE, BY ,” it said, clearly shocked, as Natsu pushed past a woman who was obviously excited to be moving closer to the arena. “BUT THE NEXT FLURRY OF BLOWS LANDS, ALTHOUGH IT APPEARS SHE’S BLOCKED MOST OF THEM–”

“YOU’RE DONE, BITCH!” roared Mad Cow, so loud that he managed to drown out the commentator–who went silent, anyway. This made Natsu pause, his brows knitting with fury.

It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. She’s not your daughter. He refused to look back, forced himself to take another step, then another. She’s just some fighter from another world who’s, apparently, out of her league. She’s not–

A loud slam, like a body falling on a mat. “SHE’S DOWN! I REPEAT, ’S DOWN!”

Natsu smirked. “See, dumbass?” he murmured to himself.

“IT’S ALL OVER, FOLKS! SHE’S–”

All of a sudden, a fleshy CRACK rang through the air, followed by an enormous chorus of gasps and cries of surprise from the crowd. A deafening silence ensued.

“... HOLY– UNBELIEVABLE!” the commentator managed. “A KICK FROM THE GROUND–AND O’NEIL'S BACK ON HER FEET! THEY’VE GAINED GROUND FROM EACH OTHER, AND MAD BULL–MAD BULL IS NOW TRYING TO RECOVER!”

Despite himself, Natsu slowed even as he urged himself to keep walking. Even as he continued to force himself not to turn back. Looking back is only a distraction. It’s not Nashi. That is not Nashi. It’s not–

“Man, I really hate guys like you, you know that?”

The seething voice was what made him stop, closing his eyes. There was just…something about it. A growl. A fire. Something that punched right back into his memories:

“Remember, breathe, and keep your eyes on my chest! That way, you can see my whole body at the corners of your eyes!” A combo, one which he pumped more speed and power to than before–throwing her off on purpose.

“Oof!” she grunted as she landed on her butt.

“There, when you fall– that’s when you make your comeback! Now that you’ve watched your opponent, and tricked him into thinking you’re down– now is when you get back up and blow them away! That’s how a Dragon Slayer fights! That’s how a Fairy Tail Wizard fights!” She stared up at him with huge eyes, shining with admiration, and flushed cheeks.

He grinned.

“So?! Get up! Always get back up, Nashi! I’m not asking the impossible of you–you can do this! I know you can!”

“I–I will!” she scrambled to her feet, fists blazing with gold heat as she lunged for him. “I’ll always get back up! No matter what, I’ll–”

His chest seized. He clenched his jaw, knowing he needed to make himself keep walking, but unable to do it. Even as people churned around him, trying to push past him, he found himself shoving them off, refusing to move from exactly where he was. One foot planted in front of the other. Half-hovering. Eyes still closed.

Whatever just happened had quieted the crowd, an anticipatory sort of silence that made him clench his fists, eyes still closed.

And then, Natsu’s world flipped upside down:

“You didn’t even bother to study my previous fights, did you?” Her growl carried across the hushed crowd. “Tch, typical…if you had, you’d know: You’d know I always get back up!”

His eyes flew open.

He whirled back around and watched, wide-eyed and world rocking, as the pink haired girl rose. Rolled her shoulders against her ears, one at a time. The grin was gone, a heavy, intimidating scowl having taken its place as she recovered, getting her feet back underneath herself, her stance back in place. Her nose was wrinkled in fury. Her eyes burned.

Natsu’s lips parted on a gasp as he stared.

Mad Cow scoffed, hunched and rubbing his chin with a hand like a mitt. Natsu guessed that This Nashi must’ve caught him there–probably with a kick, given the size difference. That must have been what made the crowd react with shock. They were recovering now, though, getting louder.

“And why the fuck would I bother to do that?!” Mad Cow shouted, dropping his hand. “I don’t need to! Every guy you’ve faced could’ve beaten you easily if they’d quit acting like even more of a little bitch than you! You shouldn’t fucking be here anyway…fucking birds, knowing dudes will take it easy on you so you can take advantage of it and collect the reward…well I’M NOT ONE OF THEM!” He roared the last part. The bitter fury in his voice was a kind Natsu was familiar with.

“Studying what you can find of your opponent’s fighting style–that’s basic! And you wanna sit here and bitch about how I don’t deserve to be here, you lumpy-headed fuck?! ”

“The FUCK you just call me?!” McCow snarled back.

“YOU HEARD ME, SHITWIT!”

“THAT’S IT!” the man shouted. “I’ve had it! I was gonna take it easy on you, but–”

“THAT’S MY LINE!”

It seemed that was both their limit.

They flew at each other. But now, everything was different, and Natsu doubted that anyone without a trained eye and fighting experience like him could recognize it.

Apparently, the commentator was one such person: “THIS IS–THIS IS INCREDIBLE!” the voice boomed, full of disbelief, as the girl caught the fist rocketing towards her face with a hard elbow, making Mad Cow let out a roar of pain. She kicked away an arm flying towards her head, and launched a sidekick at his now-uncovered stomach–one that landed hard. She built on the damage, bearing down on him as he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own heels. A right roundhouse followed by a left to his head. Despite the fact he was obviously disorientated, he caught the first one– blocked it and tried, unsuccessfully to catch her foot–but not the second, which cracked into his ear and made him stagger, her chasing him and hammering him with surprisingly powerful blows. Each one of her hits accumulated speed and strength.

The commentator picked up again, saying something or other about “striking machines”, but Natsu didn’t hear. His eyes were wide, now, and glued to the girl cracking her shin into her opponent’s nose, teeth bared. The expression on her face…the fire in her eyes…the speed of her hits…her fighting style…it was like he’d begun watching the fight currently happening through one eye and a stream of memories through the other, his breath going still in his lungs–

“–No matter what, I’ll always get back up!” screamed the little girl, running forward and hammering him with fiery strikes, kicks, and even elbows. They’d only just started elbow work. Natsu staggered back with each good combo she landed. He put in the effort to make it look convincing, pride swelling within his chest.

“That’s it! Build on it! Faster…harder! C’mon!”

This Nashi slipped underneath and into one of Mad Cow’s big overhand hooks, the corrected trajectory of his fist barely skidding over her shoulder as her right fist tore up, slamming into his chin. Even as his eyes rolled and he staggered backwards, her expression was so mutinous it was almost funny.

But as good as the uppercut was, it turned out to be a set-up:

“LOOK AT THIS COMBO…CROSS, HOOK–WHOA! AN ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING LEG KICK! CLASSIC MUAY THAI-INSPIRED COMBO FROM TURNING–”

“FUCKING BITCH–!” Mad Cow roared, but his opponent cut him off with a voice like thunder.

“I’M THE BADDEST BITCH YOU’VE EVER MET!”

“I’LL ALWAYS GET BACK UP! I WILL! I’M GONNA BE A GREAT DRAGON SLAYER, JUST LIKE YOU! NO–I’LL EVEN BEAT YOU, ONE DAY!” Nashi took a deep breath, and Natsu grinned, allowing the pause in the fight, because he knew what was coming. The catchphrase both like his and not. Inspired by him, but all her own.

Her fists blazed brighter than ever. The sun illuminated her grin.“JUST WATCH ME, DADDY! DON’T EVEN BLINK! BECAUSE I’VE–”

“–GOT A FIRE IN ME THAT YOU’LL NEVER PUT OUT!”

Mad Cow’s eyes were wild with fear as he desperately swung for another, big lead cross–one which spelled his downfall. The Dragoness leapt off her left leg–her back leg. Her right shin cracked into his already dipping head.

He fell forward and bounced off the mat, limp as a ragdoll, while the audience screamed all around him.

Even as the giant fell still, she made for his prone form, fist raised, but didn’t fight at all when the black-collared man appeared seemingly from nowhere, grabbed her around the waist, and practically threw her away. Instead, This Nashi– The Nashi skipped backwards, smirking, and raised a wrapped fist.

And that was the realization which thundered through Natsu, now gaping up at the victorious, pink-haired fighter stalking towards the edge of the cage: not This Nashi. The Nashi.

After seven, grief-filled years, Natsu Dragneel was absolutely sure he had just found his daughter.

*1. Yes, there will be quotes from the original series (the anime dub, sub, or the manga depending on whichever version I like best) at the beginning of each chapter. HOWEVER. The quotes are not spoilers and are often only tangentially related to my plotline. The one for this chapter, for instance, is specifically about Edolas, but is not actually true of the world where Natsu has landed.

*2. Yes, I know the canon Edolas Nalu child is “Nasha.” I decided on “Nashi”, instead, for reasons which will be explained later.

*3. Sorry in advance, but I pretty much kept what little I remembered/liked from 100YQ and ditched everything I didn’t. Same with the original story, but way more with 100YQ. Idk what it is but even though I’ve read the whole thing, 100YQ has this unique quality where a lot of what happens slips straight out of my mind as soon as I’ve read it. In one eye, out the other. So you’ll just have to roll with me, sorry.

*4. Real-life inspiration for Layla (/Nashi) comes mostly from Ronda Rousey, whose biography I read and happen to have on hand, along with Kaoklai Kaennorsing (especially his fighting style). Those are the two main ones. If you’ve read My Fight, Your Fight, you’ll understand how Layla (/Nashi’s) personality is inspired by her–especially as you go on. I highly recommend looking up the Thai kickboxer/Muay Thai fighter Kaoklai Kaennorsing. He has been called the Giant-Slayer because he did, in fact, defeat opponents who had over 100 pounds on him. Watching his fights is just an incredible experience. Other inspirations include Rose Namajunas, Connor McGregor, and some others. There are also several fictional inspirations including and outside Fairy Tail which I won’t bore you with (some of them I’m sure fellow anime fans will be able to guess lol).

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nashi dragneel #nasha dragneel #gruvia #gajevy #jerza #fan fiction #fanfiction #2nd gen #post-canon #if this is wonky i'll fix it tomorrow. too tired now.#nalu fic

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