#he believed that the scarf that was given to him was their red string of fate

[monoshii-wasu]

First Meeting and the start of an obsession

[mixing0]

Miscellaneous Taranza headcanons of mine:

Spider Spells:

Taranza is well-versed in magic and spells as I'm sure we're all aware of, but what I like to believe is that there are spells he knows that he hasn't shown us yet. He has given these spells special names to better suit their function. For example:

The Jumping Spider spell increases how far he can jump, from a couple feet to possibly a mile away.

The Diving Bell Spider is a spell that allows him to breathe underwater for a short while.

The Huntsman Spider spell increases his size tenfold.

The Wolf Spider spell increases his physical attack power to the apparent strength of your average Knuckle Joe.

and The Brown Recluse Spider spell turns him invisible for a short time.

Clothing:

It's a hallmark of modesty in Taranza's species to wear web cloaks. Not necessarily a uniform, but more of a basic. It is their suit and tie, so to speak. The scarves and "shirts," for lack of a better term, were gifts. Taranza, who is gifted with thread as an added bonus of being the master of puppetry, made the scarfs himself. One for him, one for her. The shirts were Sectonia's end of the bargain, being bought from an expensive tailor in the Old Odyssey area. They exhibit the favorite colors of each of them, with the red patterns claimed to resemble "the stretchy and malleable chain that binds us in love," or so Sectonia claims. The gloves are no more than gloves. Orange ones are said to be stronger, while pink ones are more geared toward magic.

Photography:

This is one that I've thought about and routinely gone back on. I would like to think that he would be a photographer, sharing his love of nature, and exhibiting its beauty without the hassle of upkeep. It would be really convenient for him, too. Since he's a spider, he can string up some webbing to hold the camera for him, allowing for cool angle shots, motion blur effects, and the ability to put himself in the photo without help. Plus, he can incorporate webs into the picture for aged looks. But there are a few problems with this, at least for me. Cobwebs/spider webs are synonymous with age, collecting in abandoned locations, and couped up in corners of deteriorating homes. And age is synonymous with death... Do you see where I'm going with this? I feel like making him a photographer, and using his spider abilities in this way is too much blatant foreshadowing of Sectonia's death. Even if he doesn't use webs in his pictures, I still feel it's too much. He spends his life preserving nature, immortalizing it in Polaroids, and I feel that if he were to do the same with Sectonia, it would defeat the purpose of the flower, which I find to be a better immortalization of Sectonia than a simple photo. There are more stimuli associated with the flower than a picture. You can smell the flower, the picture has no scent. So I personally don't believe this hc, but I feel like I want to. Maybe it would be better suited for his role in the Dreamy Gear AU. Who knows?

[junosartsthetic]

Warmth

This fic is my baby. I love her. I’m very proud of myself for this one. Also, my fics have been fucking up on dark-mode mobile so please let me know and I’ll try to fix it. It’s annoying as hell and I’m not 100% sure of the reason. This will be reblogged multiple times by me because Avdol deserves all the love in the world. Thank you. 

Warning(s): fluff, alcohol mention, reader is called miss, I believe that’s all, just cuteness and pining

--

You’d never been to a city like New York City before. The massive buildings at every turn, towering over the bustling streets like parents watching their kids at a playground. People hurried every which way, gloved hands carrying more bags than you thought possible, and yet whisking themselves towards more shopping centers. Every aspect of the neon city glowed at night—red, yellow and green stop lights shimmered against the wet pavement. Strings of lights coiled around every pole, tree, and window, illuminating the snow as it fell and dissipated onto the concrete, soon to be stepped on by ever-moving pedestrians. Cars honked, intermingling with sleigh bells echoing as workers ushered shoppers into their stores, wearing Santa hats and jingling with every movement. There wasn’t a spot in the city where life didn’t reside—stray cats and pigeons scouring for food in the cold cityscape. Paws and claws clicked on the snowy ground. Even a few stray dogs nestled themselves into boxes and under dumpsters, seeking shelter for the night. It was, in fact, one of these dogs that brought you and your companion to New York City.

Even after a day of searching, you hadn’t spotted the small black and white animal anywhere. You supposed it was a big city, and he was a smart dog. In fact, to call him a mere ‘dog’ might be an insult to his character. He possessed something you didn’t think animals could have—a power you and your compatriot shared. A stand. 

Upon hearing of this powerful canine, the Speedwagon foundation ushered you both off, handing you a small file with the little information they had on the mutt. There wasn’t much inside—just his breed, a possible stand, and a name. Iggy. In bold red lettering, they also had the audacity to put ‘DANGEROUS. WILL ATTACK IF PROVOKED. NOT FRIENDLY.’ You rolled your eyes, gloved hands shutting the file and sliding it back in your bag. You understood how important this stand-user was, and how valuable it would be if he became an ally, but also had your doubts, reasonably. This wasn’t a person—he couldn’t be bargained with. And given the fact that you were here—the foundation wasn’t planning on rolling out the red carpet for his arrival.

Your stand specialized in capturing and restraining—a small squid-like entity with long, ever-winding tentacles perched on your shoulder, nestling itself into your scarf. It wasn’t the most powerful, but you had yet to find a user that you couldn’t capture. The suctions and muscled arm-like appendages held on harder than a cowboy in a rodeo. Your stand, combined with Magician’s Red, were sure to get the job done one way or another. 

The stand’s user crossed your mind, and you looked beside you to where he strode steadily along, his ever-present red overcoat flowing behind him just high enough to avoid getting wet. He walked with a refined determination, like a pool player who had hustled long enough to see and know everything. In a way, he knew what you would do before you did it. That’s probably why he was so good at fortune-telling. 

You studied his face—two pale lines, mimicking your stand’s tentacles, curved down his face, crossing his strong cheekbones and ending at his muscled jaw. Your eyes wandered back up, staring into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes, set on the world in front of him, pulled you in like the depths of space pulling in a lost astronaut. His hair, usually up in knots, rested down, curls and coils trailing around his shoulders and along the sides of his face. His gold-medallion necklace jingled with every step he took, matching the bracelets adorning his arms. He wore no gloves and no hat, and you sighed in jealousy. Having a fire-producing stand must’ve been nice in such cold weather. Even bundled up, you shivered at the nipping wind scratching at your sensitive face. You fell in step with him, scooching just a tad closer. You could feel the warm aura radiating around him—though couldn’t pinpoint if that was his stand, or simply your imagination. Either way, it was nice. Of course, you didn’t voice these thoughts, too afraid to speak to the man besides basic greetings and the facts of the case. It’s not that you didn’t like him—in fact, it was the opposite. You’d known about Avdol for a while, even before meeting him, and knew he had a handsome face and appealing personality, but to see him, and meet him? It’s like you were drowning in quicksand, struggling to find a grip on yourself. You were too scared to speak, afraid he’d dismiss you. You weren’t even sure what that meant. Dismiss? It’s not like he’d leave you to struggle on the streets of the city forever. Even if he didn’t like you, he still had a mission to complete.

Your heart clenched at those words. Didn’t like you. You hadn’t said more than a few words to the man—why would he dislike you? He had no reason to. Besides, you and he were paired by the foundation for more than just your stands. You had compatibility. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked next to him, teeth beginning to chatter.

Luckily, you were almost back to the hotel. You were hungry, tired, and cold. A day spent in New York City? Fun. A day spent in New York City checking every dumpster, alleyway, and backstreet in search of a dangerous and powerful dog who could attack at any moment? Not fun. In fact, you would’ve abandoned this mission by now if you hadn’t been placed with someone you would rather die than disappoint. Hah. That might be a bit dramatic. Maybe.

You brushed those rather dark thoughts aside, your only focus being the hotel doors that shined in front of you. You fell behind Avdol, whispering a thank you as he held the door open. He smiled, nodding. A blush burned your cheeks, and you whisked by him quickly. If you stared at his expression for too long you might think about kissing it. 

Deciding to take the elevator after a particularly arduous day, you pressed the white ‘up’ button, watching it light up gold. You glanced at Avdol, seeing that same gold color reflected in the chandelier of the hotel lobby sparkling in his eyes. You smiled softly, hiding it in the folds of your scarf. 

The silver doors opened, and you stepped into the spacious elevator, seeing yourself in the many mirrors lining the wood-accented walls. You always found it strange how they put mirrors in elevators, but didn’t mind in this instance. 

You opened your mouth in an attempt to break the silence, but decided against it. What would you say that didn’t sound desperate? Nice weather we’re having? You scoffed, shaking your head as you stared at the climbing floor numbers.

“Is something wrong?” he spoke, deep voice startling you. You face him, seeing a look of concern cross his face.

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you replied quickly, voice cracking from disuse. You stifled another self-deprecating scoff at your own stupid reply. Should you keep talking? “I just—”

The doors parted open, revealing the fancy gold carpet and speckled walls of your floor. Deciding against finishing your statement, you walked out, throwing your gloves in your bag and digging out the room key. You hoped you’d scrounge it out in time to walk in without facing Avdol again, but didn’t succeed. You supposed it didn’t matter too much—you had a shared room, regardless. Not that it wasn’t a large room, with two queen beds and an entire jacuzzi in the bathroom. The full-sized fridge was fully stocked with all the alcohol you could ever dream of, too. The foundation really spared no expense. Well, except getting separate rooms, that is. 

“Let me,” he said, pulling the key from his pocket and sliding it into the lock. It lit up green, and he opened it, gesturing to allow you in first.

“Thank you,” you replied curtly, stepping inside as you set your bag down and took off your coat. The cold air consumed you instantly. You winced, sliding it back on. Did someone turn the heat off before you left? You let out a breath, seeing it materialize in the air. You looked to the wall, reading the thermostat. 30 degrees fahrenheit? That was below freezing! No wonder you continued to shiver. The temperature was no different than outside! You shot a glance at Avdol, who too noticed the freezing atmosphere.

As he was closer, he shut the door behind him, turning to press a finger on the heat button. Nothing happened. “Seems it’s out-of-order,” he said. “I noticed the lobby was rather cold, as well. It might be impacting the entire building.”

You huffed. Great. Not how you wanted your night to end. You walked inside further, slipping your boots off and sitting in the bed, legs swinging off. You picked up the white hotel phone, dialing the lobby. It rang. Someone picked up. “Hi, we are in room—uh-uh. Yeah, it’s freezing—okay. When are they—alright. No, I don’t think we’ll need any extra blankets—okay. Alright. Buh-bye.” 

You set the phone back on the receiver, hands rubbing your arms in a useless attempt to warm up. “The heat’s out in the entire building,” you said, letting out another sigh. You were doing that a lot today, unfortunately. “They called in a repair, but they won’t get here till tomorrow.”

He hummed. “That won’t be good for business,” he quipped as he searched through the small kitchen area. Finding what he needed, he pulled two cups from the cabinets, pouring a brown powder into both. “Care for hot cocoa?”

“Oh, sure. I haven’t had that in a while,” you mused, staring at his broad shoulders as he worked. “Not since I was a kid, I think. My mom used to make it for me after I played in the snow for hours. Used to come in nearly frostbitten. I don’t know how she did it, but even with the cheapest hot chocolate mix out there, she somehow made it taste delicious—” you paused your story, realizing you’d gone off on a bit of a ramble. “Sorry. I got a little lost talking there.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, voice gentle and deep, like an endless ocean on a peaceful day. You resisted the urge to drown in it. “Your story was nice. You never talk much, so I enjoyed listening.” 

“Well, thank you. We only met like a week ago, so I’ve tried not to scare you away with my stupid rambling,” you admitted, wrapping your scarf around yourself tighter. Maybe if you wrapped it tight enough you could escape this situation you put yourself in.

“It takes more than that to leave me frightened,” Avdol replied, stirring the drinks. You heard the metal spoon tap gently against the mugs. You smiled. You missed that sound. All those childhood snow-days. 

One thing your mother didn’t add to your hot chocolate, however, was the assortment of alcohol Avdol turned his attention to, hands gently caressing and turning each bottle to find a specific type. Finally, he grasped a dark-stained glass bottle, liquid sloshing inside. You saw his stand materialize beside him, pulling the lid off. You laughed silently. No time for bottle openers, you supposed. 

“Do you drink?” he asked, pouring the liquid inside one mug, the glass clinking against the cup.

“Sometimes,” you said. “When I feel like it, I guess. But go ahead. I’m intrigued. This is definitely not like my mother used to make.”

He laughed—a low chuckle that brought fire to your cheeks. He had a handsome laugh, as odd as it sounded. And you were the reason for it. You made him laugh. You smiled to yourself.

He turned around, handing you a mug of the steaming beverage. “Careful. It’s hot. Compliments of Magician’s Red.”

“Thank you,” you said, blowing on it gently. You could feel the heat radiated through your fingers and up your arms. It was a nice juxtaposition to the freezing room. You took a sip. “What kind of drink did you mix in?” you asked, tasting a milkiness. It contrasted surprisingly well with the rich chocolate flavor, and the bitter aftertaste added to the warmth hugging your body. 

“Irish cream,” he replied. “A friend of mine showed me. He usually drinks enough for the both of us, but he’s got better things to do than play dog-catcher.”

“Well your friend knows some things,” you said, taking another long sip. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“Hah. I don’t think Mr. Joestar needs any more ego. He might tumble over with a head that big.”

You snorted, drink invading your nose as you did so. You sniffed in an attempt to rid the burning liquid. “He sounds like a fun time.”

“He’s almost seventy, yet lives life like he’s twenty. But he’s a good man,” Avdol said, drinking his own spiked hot chocolate between sentences. You two sat like that for a while, he on his own bed and you on yours, having little conversations about nothing in particular. It felt like a breath of fresh air. Your shoulders relaxed, and while it may have been the alcohol, you quickly loosened up your anxious demeanor.

“Ya know,” you said, hands resting on your chin as you sat cross-legged on your bed. “When I first saw you, I felt like Bambi learning how to walk. I was petrified of saying anything because you’re just so—breathtaking. Everything you do is determined and graceful and I never thought I’d be sitting here drinking hot cocoa talking about my childhood with you.” 

“You flatter me, miss (Y/N). I am just a man, like anyone else. I have my limits. And my weaknesses—this dog actually seems to be one of them,” he mused, looking over his mug to shoot you a cheeky smirk. You stared back, cheeks burning. You set your cup on the nightstand. You decided you’d had enough to drink for one night. 

“I’m sure we’ll find him eventually,” you said, sliding off the bed as you finally took your coat off, leaving you in a long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants. It was still freezing, but you felt. . . warmer after the conversation. “I’m gonna get ready for bed if I don’t freeze to death first.”

He nodded, standing up and grabbing your cup. He set both in the sink, beginning to wash them. “Take your time. And don’t freeze to death.”

You laughed. “No promises.”

It didn’t take long to change into your nightgown, complete your nighttime routine, and sit yourself back on your bed in preparation to sleep that night. Avdol followed suit, donning a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. It was a large change from his normal attire, but you enjoyed seeing a more casual side of him. He didn’t look like a stand-user fortune-teller dog-catcher. It allowed you to imagine him as a friend instead of a coworker. And you enjoyed that. 

What you didn’t enjoy, however, was the temperature dropping by the minute, leaving you shivering as you tried uselessly to snuggle deeper into the blankets. Was it even legal to leave the heat broken on a night this cold? Regardless, you were miserable.

Finally, after a half-hour of tossing and turning, you got up, prepared to put your coat back on if it meant keeping warm throughout the night.

“Are you alright?” spoke Avdol from his bed, sitting up to look at you in the darkened room. He illuminated a small flame beside him, casting light onto your miserable face.

“I’m too cold to sleep,” you confessed, shivering. You resisted the urge to step closer to the warm fire lit beside him. “It’s impossible in a room this cold. What I wouldn’t give to have a fire-based stand right about now. You’re lucky,” you joked. He stared at you, silent, before finally voicing his thoughts.

“I don’t mean to be crude when I offer this, but would you like to share a bed? It’s possible you might actually get frostbitten in these temperatures,” he explained. He scooted himself over, gesturing to his former sleeping spot. “I promise I’m a gentleman,” he mused.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking a few steps away from the coat rack and towards his bed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“There’s plenty of room. I insist,” he replied. You nodded wordlessly, tentatively sitting on the bed and sliding your legs under the covers. The warmth compared to your bed was like night and day, and you quickly sank yourself almost completely under, letting out a sigh of relief as you turned to face your frozen wasteland. 

You sensed a hand come to rest on your shoulder, heat radiating softly from the large palm. You glanced behind you, noting the hand of Magician’s Red. Avdol looked at you, as if asking for permission to continue. You nodded. “Thank you, Avdol. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and your stand ability. Freeze, I guess,” you joked. 

“It’s no trouble. If you need anything else, please, just let me know. I don’t mind. I’ve got enough heat for two.” You heard the ruffle of sheets, and assumed he’d rolled to face the window, his back towards yours. It was like the heat dissipated, and your body shivered impulsively. You were unsure if you imagined it or not, but it’s like a cold front settled over your body. You bit your tongue. Every fiber of your being wanted to pose a question that you might never recover from. But a small part held back. You couldn’t ask such a thing. He was a coworker. A new friend. Friends don’t ask that to friends.

“Avdol,” you spoke up. “Is there any way you could. . . I’m still sort of shivering. And I don’t want to bother you, or make you uncomfortable, but—”

Sheets ruffled again. A hand—not of a stand—came to rest over your waist. Silently, he pulled you against his chest, his chin resting just behind the top of your head. His legs entangled with yours. Lips brushed against your ear as he leaned down. “Is this okay?” he whispered, breath tickling your neck.

Any words drained from your mind. Instead, you placed your hand atop of his, still wrapped around your torso. You squeezed his much larger hand, rubbing your thumb over it softly. You didn’t have to speak—he understood.

‘Stay.’

[liviavanrouge]

Cave of Wonders Oc

@dibbledoodle

"A student of Scarabia who tends to up and vanish after class, unable to be found by professors and students until he pops up willingly"

Taleb Ansel

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Height: 187 cm

---

Voice Actor: Kaito Ishikawa

Intro Line: "You came searching for me? Sorry I disappear a lot after school and club"

---

Other names

-Tally(Jamil, Kalim)

-Tal(Cater)

-Nurse Shark(Floyd)

-Roi Du Ghost(Rook)

-Ghost Idiot(Leona)

---

Star Sign: Leo

Birthday: August 18th

Homeland: Land of Scalding Sands

Species: Tiger Beastmen

Occupation: Student

---

Grade: Senior(Held Back)

Class: 3-A

Club: Equestrian Club

Best Subject: Animal Linguistics

---

Dominant Hand: Left

Hobbies: Disappearing easily

Pet Peeves: Liars

Favorite Food: Onioned Fish

Least Favorite Food: Anything with mushrooms

Talent: Telling truth from lie

---

Family:

Taigar(Father)

Three unnamed younger siblings

---

Appearance: Taleb is a tall young male with caramel skin and semi visible muscles. He has thick, yet silky, black hair with hints of blue and yellow at the tips and roots which he states is unusual for his kind. His eyes are a bright orange with a hint of red around his pupils. His hair is usually in a braid(During class) or a ponytail(Outside of class), with star clips that Kalim gave him a long time ago. As a ponytail he uses the hairband Jamil lended him when they were kids and has kept with him ever since then. Due to being a tiger beastman he has tiger ears instead of human ears but they're black with white stripes, alongside his tail.

Dorm Uniform: Taleb wears the standard Scarabia Uniform, but he's usually wearing black/red eye shadow given to him by Rook. His uniform consists of a black and red sleeveless jacket, an undershirt, a yellow belt, black parachute pants and black sneaker-sandals. HIs uniform comes with several gold accessories that he tends to not wear. He has stickers on his sneaker-sandals, the stickers given to him by his siblings.

The sleeveless jacket is cropped, and reaches the mid-torso. The jacket has a red underlining, wavy gold stripes on the sides, gold trim, and a red sailor-like collar with a black, wavy stripe along the sides. Connecting both sides of the jacket is one gold chain. Under the jacket is a black sleeveless hoodie with red underlining, gold hoodie strings with tassels at the ends, and a gold, wavy stripe along the top of the hood. Taleb has his hood half up during his time in the dorm, stating that sometimes its hard to keep it like that.

Taleb wears his yellow belt like a scarf with the ends going down his back to his waist. The belt has a silver buckle, and along with black stripes, has the word --Scarabia-- repeatedly printed on it. On both ends of the belt are small designs resembling a snake’s head and tail.

His black parachute pants have a red fire design near the bottom. Hanging over the pants on both hips are maroon pieces of fabric with an intricate gold design. The black sneaker-sandals have gold plating near the toe, and a large golden scarab in the center.

The uniform includes a few golden accessories, including a collar necklace, a bracelet, and a shoulder cuff worn on the right shoulder, shaped like a snake.

---

Personality: Taleb is often commented to be closed off and rude towards others, but in reality he's not good at talking to people and secretly worries if they'll like him. He's lazy at times which is more often than not the reason why he disappears, with the other reason being that he loves to wonder and go wherever his feet takes him. He does have a more aggressive side, but it only appears when those he cares about is in danger or being treated wrongly.

He has a sense of justice, believing in innocent until proven guilty, and is willing to give the guilty party a second chance to redeem themselves and make up for their mistakes. He gets mad when others lie to him, finding it a meaningless thing to do, thus causing him to blow a fuse and snap at the liar instantly. He's fond of those who tell the truth, finding them to be reliable people and allies.

He's not good with those younger than him who are not his siblings, feeling awkward, afraid to be near them, or amused whenever he's with a younger student or someone else's kid, but nonetheless he is good with kids and able to calm them if anything happens. He's kind to the younger students and is willing to help out even if he's busy with them.

---

Backstory: Taleb was nearly stillborn due to birthing complications but the Al-Asim family got the best healer(Thea Vanrouge) to come and help. His mother passed after giving birth to his youngest sibling but felt no resentment to the newborn child, instead helping his father care for them. He grew up with Kalim and Jamil for about four to seven years before his family decided to leave. He's given gifts by his two friends before he leaves, traveling across the sands with his family and learning how to survive in the vast sandy land.

He learned from his father on how to burrow into the sand and hide even though it'd be a bit difficult for him to hide his white stripes. His father called him a natural survivor despite not looking like other tiger beastmen and comments that he was proud of how his son would grow up.

Taleb would also take his siblings sand sledding, finding the biggest dune or pile of sand and sliding down it on whatever they could find.

---

Signiture Spell: Taleb's spell is called "Truth or Lie." It allows him to see inside someones soul and see if they're more honest or more dishonest, those who are more Honest are given the option to have one wish that grants them anything except for another wish, love, or to bring back the dead. Those who are more Dishonest turns into sand for an hour. He is unable to properly use it on those with a balanced soul.

Spell: "Tell me Truth or Tell me Lie....Truth or Lie!"

---

-Taleb got held back due to the fact that he'd walk out of classes and disappear for hours

-He likes having his hair played with

-Taleb is twisted from the Cave of Wonders, and is stated to possibly be a tiger-god due to his appearance

-He likes to sing lullabies to anyone younger than him that's willing to listen

-Floyd calls him Nurse Shark due to how great he was with kids, which was revealed in the first Halloween event

-Taleb is able to punch through a thick sheet of metal

-Had Taleb participated in saving Idia from Eliza he would've been able to take Idia's place

-Taleb means 'one who seeks for something', while Ansel means 'Gods protection', possibly hinting that Taleb is the new tiger god

@anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @writing-heiress @zexal-club @marrondrawsalot @abyssthing198 @teddymochi @pekoetiikapu

[bellafarallones2]

Christmas OT4 (ish) for @thiswasinevitableid. I can hardly believe it's been another year of talking about Amnesty characters with you, but it's been a great one.

Normally Duck was worried whenever his cat got near the tree, because it was usually just a matter of time before she started knocking off ornaments. But tonight it wasn’t the ornaments she was interested in. Now she was just sitting next to the tree, staring out the sliding-glass door onto the balcony.

Duck always put his Christmas tree up in the corner of the living room next to his apartment’s small balcony, which had a string of white lights wrapped around the railing. He had the lights on the tree set on a timer, too, so when he came home after dark he could see them greeting him from inside his dark apartment. 

“What’re you looking at, huh?” Duck bent down to scratch behind Annie’s ears and then looked out himself. He couldn’t see much. There was the yellow glow of the streetlight in the parking lot, but the big tree that provided good views of birds and squirrels during the summer was pitch black. 

Except for a pair of glowing red lights. 

Duck blinked. 

The lights blinked back. 

Duck took a step forward, and the lights disappeared. The place where they’d been was indistinct darkness. 

“Well, fuck.” 

Annie made an annoyed-sounding mrow.

–

The next day at work Duck was preoccupied thinking about the red lights in the tree. The eyes in the tree, he would think, if he didn’t know that was ridiculous. 

He was manning the desk in the visitor’s center, where he basically made sure nobody tried to steal any of the displays, answered questions about maps, and occasionally sold someone something from the very small gift shop. 

Could the lights have been the tail lights of a car, reflected somehow? Yes. That must be it. 

“Duck?”

Duck blinked to attention and took in the man standing in front of him, pink-cheeked from the cold. 

“Is that what you’re still going by?”

“Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Duck stood up, excited, and then immediately looked around to see if there were any children in the vicinity or old people that he’d just scandalized. Joseph Stern laughed, looking handsome as he ever had in a black coat and steel-blue scarf. 

“Holy shit, Joe, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll laugh.” 

“...What is it, your honeymoon?” That was the most ironic thing Duck could think of, given their history. They’d been best friends in high school, sleepovers almost every week, through the rough times while they both discovered boys and then that they were boys, but drifted apart while Joseph had been studying for the SAT and Duck had been smoking weed in the woods. And then Joseph had come home from college for the summer, and they’d reconnected, and even though Joseph had always known and said as much that he was going to get out of this shitty little town, he hadn’t been too proud to admit that he’d always had a crush on Duck. They’d spent every moment they could of that summer together.

“No,” said Joseph instantly, and Duck caught his gaze going down to Duck’s left hand to check for a ring. There was none. “I’m single, actually. And I’m here looking for bigfoot.” He said that last part in a low voice.

“No shit.”

Joseph nodded. “There have been some credible reports recently from this area.”

“Really? I haven’t heard any.”

“I heard about them at work. None of my colleagues took them seriously, of course, but hey, I’m on vacation.” 

“Hey, good for you.” 

Joseph shrugged. “I’d rather have two weeks off for Rosh Hashanah than Christmas, but hey, I’ll take whatever break I get.”

“Sure thing.” Duck remembered what he’d been thinking about before Joseph appeared. “Hey, I don’t know if it was bigfoot, but I did see something weird last night.” 

Joseph leaned forward, and Duck explained the whole story. 

“Woah,” said Joseph. “And this was last night? At your apartment? Can I come over tonight and see?”

“My shift ain’t over until six, but after that, sure! I’d been planning to stop at Wendy’s for dinner on the way home, if you wanna join.”

Joseph’s eyes were sparkling. “You know you don’t have to tell me about a cryptid to get me to have dinner with you. I’ll see you at six.”

–

Winter was, generally speaking, Indrid’s least favorite time of year, but Christmas did have its merits. The eggnog, for one. The colored lights, blinking in the darkness. And over the years he’d learned a few ways to make the cold more bearable. 

That was why he’d shown up for dinner at Amnesty Lodge tonight, despite how awkward it was for everyone involved. The younger sylphs mostly didn’t know who he was except to know they should be polite to him, and Mama always seemed vaguely suspicious of him. 

Only Barclay seemed happy to see him. Barclay gave him a hug when he arrived and didn’t care that he was stiff and half-frozen underneath his frayed sweater. And after dinner Indrid took up a place in the kitchen, drying each dish as Barclay washed them. (It was an interesting exercise for his future vision, working out where each piece belonged.)

When the last dish was dry, as were Barclay’s dishwater-reddened hands, Barclay turned to face him and smiled. “Would you like to come to bed, little moth?” 

“Yes please,” said Indrid. 

Of all the ways to make the cold more bearable, Barclay was perhaps the most pleasant of all. 

Barclay hung up his apron and Indrid followed him down the hall. They could hear raised voices from the lobby at their back. “Goodnight, everyone!” Barclay called, and a chorus called goodnight back. 

Barclay’s room was small, which was nice because it was very warm. The overstuffed bookshelf made it seem both smaller and warmer. There was a quilt on the bed and a crocheted afghan folded at the foot. 

“Tell me what you want,” said Barclay, locking the door behind them. 

“Oh, it’s not so much what I want, as… I think we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”

Barclay’s eyebrow quirked. “I think so, too.”

“I’d like you to take your disguise off, if that’s alright.”

“Are you going to take yours off?” Barclay unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It was rather tight, and his undisguised form would have popped at least one button. Then he took off his pants, too. Indrid hadn’t really appreciated human bodies before he’d seen Barclay’s. Barclay had been how he dipped a toe in, so to speak, to being attracted to humans. 

“I don’t think I’d fit in your bed - I’d like to be in your bed. I don’t think I said that already.”

“I did ask if you’d like to come to bed, and you said yes, so I figured.” Barclay took off his bracelet and set it down on the bedside table. Instantly he grew half a foot and also a full coat of fluffy auburn fur. “C’mere. Bed time.”

“Bed time,” Indrid agreed, and joined Barclay underneath the covers, burrowing up against Barclay’s fluffy chest. Silvain, Barclay was warm. So warm that… Indrid sat up, pulled off his sweater, and then lay back down. Now, in just a tank top, he could feel Barclay’s fur against his bare arms and neck and face. He had to turn his head to the side to talk. “How would you feel about this encounter becoming sexual?” 

“I’m down. We’ll have to keep quiet.”

“You’ll have to keep quiet. My mouth will be otherwise occupied.” Holding his glasses to his face with one hand, Indrid shimmied his way down the bed until his head was between Barclay’s thighs, which was, if such a thing was possible, an even warmer and better place to be than in Barclay’s arms. 

Interspecies relationships were frowned on in Silvain, especially between sylphs as different as Indrid and Barclay were. Even though on Earth the rules were much looser (and even though now such relationships were becoming more accepted in Silvain, as the population decreased and the number of members of each species shrunk), for Indrid, no matter how many times he and Barclay did this, there was always a slight thrill from the taboo of going to bed with someone warm-blooded. 

He kissed each of Barclay’s thighs, mentally thanking them for being so warm and strong and nice to touch, and then kissed the head of Barclay’s cock. He held the shaft in one hand, the testicles in the other. Not rubbing or squeezing, just holding. Even soft it was a formidable thing, thick and uncut. (Indrid had been rather alarmed the first time he’d encountered a circumcised penis among humans.) 

“Fuuuuck, Indrid,” said Barclay. “I’ll - I’ll do you after, I promise.”

Indrid could feel Barclay getting hard. “You do such a good job taking care of people,” said Indrid quietly. “Just let me take care of you.” 

Indrid took the head back into his mouth, using his soft human tongue to caress the tiny opening at the tip. The foreskin slid back easily in his hand, exposing more sensitive flesh to tongue at. The sensitive spot just below the head. Visions of Barclay coming were already flooding his mind, and he salivated in anticipation. But they weren't there yet. 

Indrid pulled off enough to take a few deep breaths, a strand of spit connecting his mouth to Barclay. He stroked the shaft soothingly, gently, both because it was what he needed and what Barclay would like. 

“Indrid, Indrid,” Barclay almost-sobbed, hands gripping the bedspread. 

“You can hold my hair,” said Indrid before diving back down. The head of Barclay’s cock, fully hard now, reached his throat easily. Barclay’s claws felt divine against his scalp, fingers tangling in the silver strands of Indrid’s hair. Indrid’s eyes were half-lidded in the pleasure of the moment. Barclay’s hips were twitching with the effort of not fucking Indrid’s throat. 

As far as Indrid was concerned, this was the true meaning of Christmas, the lights in the darkness, something star-bright glowing now in his chest and belly. 

Barclay came so deep in Indrid’s throat he couldn’t even taste it. Then, clumsily, Barclay tugged him back up the bed. 

“Mmm, I didn’t think I’d be getting two desserts,” said Indrid. 

“Indrid,” said Barclay, and kissed him. 

Indrid often forgot about kissing, since it didn’t work so well with his natural mouth, but this mouth was very good for it, or maybe just Barclay was very good at it. 

Either way. He kissed back joyfully, and his own human cock made its presence known against Barclay’s hand. 

He’d only really given himself a cock to begin with out of a sense of completionism, only later discovering the pleasure it could bring him. An eager little beast, it was, whenever Indrid remembered its existence, demanding warmth and friction and release. 

“I don’t want a blowjob,” said Indrid. “Because I don’t want you to stop hugging me.”

“Mmm, alright, if you insist,” said Barclay, and pressed a wet kiss to Indrid’s neck that made him squirm happily. One strong arm was wrapped around Indrid’s back, keeping him close, while the other fumbled with Indrid’s jeans. “Sensitive little thing.”

“I’m not,” Indrid insisted, even as he could feel his orgasm about to crash over him. “I just, I just get ahead of myself.” 

“I’ll say. Are you even going to let me get your pants off or are you going to make a mess of yourself?”

“The odds aren’t good,” Indrid managed to say. In the end he made it halfway. 

��

The eyes weren’t there when Joseph and Duck got back to Duck’s apartment, though Annie, Duck’s magnificent gray Maine coon, was sitting on her cat tree looking at the window like she was on patrol for them. 

“Shit,” says Duck. “I’m sorry.”

“Most people only see a cryptid once,” Joseph pointed out. “Actually most people never see a cryptid at all, but of those who do most only see one once.” 

“The thing is that Annie’s been looking out that window every night for a week, so I figure it’s been out there, even before I saw it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I would happily have come here just to see you.” Also, Joseph believed Duck more than he would have believed most other people. 

And it was that, combined with his innate sense of curiosity, that made him take a detour to the living room when he got up from Duck’s bed in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Annie was sitting there next to the tree, staring out the window, tail swishing across the floor. Joseph stood next to her and looked into the darkness. 

A pair of red eyes looked back. 

“Holy shit,” said Joseph quietly. He fumbled with the white plastic latch to the door to the balcony, strategically using his leg to keep Annie inside, and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. The air was freezing but he could hardly feel it. The eyes were still there. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out a hulking shape perched on a thick branch near the trunk of the tree growing near the balcony. 

“Holy shit,” Joseph said again, leaning out over the railing to get as close as he could, straining for any detail his eyes could make out. 

Huge wings spread soundlessly. Joseph stumbled backwards on instinct as the creature took flight, two wingbeats carrying it effortlessly towards the balcony. It alit on the railing, looking even taller than it was. 

“Hello, Joseph Stern,” the mothman said. 

“Hello,” Joseph whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. “I have so many-” 

“Questions for you. Yes. I’m here because I like looking at the lights.” One clawed hand gestured to the white lights on the railing and the colored ones on the tree inside. 

“What?”

“You were going to ask me what I’m doing here. I like to sit in the tree to look at the lights.”

“Incredible! You can-”

“See the future. Yes, but futures, plural, would be more accurate. There are many.”

The door slid open again. Duck was standing there, carrying Annie in his arms. “Joe? What are you doing out - oh.”

“Hello, Duck Newton,” said the mothman. 

“He can see the future!” said Joseph to Duck. 

“Can we have this conversation inside?” said Duck. 

The mothman nodded. Duck stepped back inside, and Joseph followed, and the mothman closed the door carefully behind all three of them. 

“Have you really been here every day this week?” said Duck. He let Annie down to the floor, and she cautiously went up to the mothman, who offered one of his four hands for her to sniff.

“Yes,” said the mothman. “I like to look at your lights. Is that alright? I assumed you wouldn’t put them so near the window if you didn’t want them to be looked at.” 

“No, no, that’s fine,” said Duck.

“Mr. Mothman, it’s an honor really, I’m in Kepler looking for bigfoot, I never thought I’d see you -”

“I know him,” the mothman interrupted. “Bigfoot.”

“...Can you introduce me?”

The mothman was quiet. Then he opened his mouth, and looked over at Duck. 

Duck had been studying him closely the whole time. “Do you look like this all the time?” said Duck finally.

“Ah,” said the mothman. “No. I can disguise myself as a human.” 

“I don’t suppose you happen to go by the name Indrid Cold?”

“That is the name my parents gave me,” the mothman - Indrid - said indignantly. “I go by it because it is my name.” He seemed to deflate a little. “I… there were very few futures where you recognized me.”

“Really? You’re quite memorable”

“Wait,” said Joseph. “You two know each other?”

“I have visited the national forest and spoken with Duck in his capacity as a park ranger,” said Indrid. 

“That’s all it’s been?” Duck teased.

“No,” said Indrid, tapping his claws together. “I… I like you. But I thought I shouldn’t say so in front of your lover.”

Duck and Joseph exchanged a glance. “We ain’t exclusive,” said Duck. “I mean, I hadn’t seen Joe for years before tonight.” 

“Can I see your human disguise?” asked Joseph. 

“Yes, one moment,” said Indrid. He went out again and flapped into the tree, and then for a moment he disappeared and Joseph was afraid he’d never see him again. But then Indrid appeared again, holding a pair of sunglasses with round red lenses. 

“The fuckin’ glasses,” said Duck softly. “I’d wondered why he never took ‘em off.”

Indrid closed the balcony door behind him. The instant the bridge of the glasses connected with his nose, he wasn’t there anymore. Instead there was a tall, slim man in jeans and a thick sweater patterned with little reindeer. 

Indrid did jazz hands. “Ta-da!” 

“It really is you,” said Duck. 

“It’s me,” Indrid agreed. “I, ah, as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t normally show myself to people.” As a human it was much easier to read his body language, see how he curled into himself. “But tonight I wanted to be seen.” 

“We see you,” said Joseph.

“You want a hug?” Duck opened his arms and Indrid folded himself into them. And then Indrid reached out a hand to Joseph, and the three of them were hugging. 

Despite himself, despite this being quite possibly the most exciting moment of his life so far, Joseph yawned. 

“We should really be gettin’ back to bed,” said Duck. 

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be on my way-” Indrid said, and pulled away until Duck’s grip on his hand stopped him. Indrid looked up, surprised. 

“Or you could join us? For sleeping? I got a nice big bed.”

“He does,” said Joseph.

“Truly?” said Indrid. “Duck, I, I’ve been trying to court you. Like a human would. I’m just not very good at it. And if I’d known you, Joseph, I would have tried to court you too, but I didn’t until tonight.”

“Then let us court you by taking you to bed.” 

Indrid allowed Duck to lead him by the hand to the bedroom. 

–

Cuddling twice in one night was an unheard-of-luxury for Indrid, let alone with three different people. Though he never mistook dreams for reality, he was still a little surprised when he woke up the next morning in Duck Newton’s bed, with the smell of coffee in his nostrils and Joseph still in bed beside him. 

“Good morning,” Indrid said softly.

“Good morning,” said Joseph. 

Indrid could tell that Joseph was looking at his lips. And there were futures of Joseph kissing him. 

Luckily Indrid had had recent practice with kissing. “If you’d like to kiss me, you should.” 

Joseph leaned forward and kissed him. 

“Does my true form excite you or do you just find my disguise handsome?” said Indrid. 

Joseph blushed slightly but didn’t get a chance to answer before Duck appeared in the doorway. “I’m about to make eggs for myself,” said Duck. “If you want me to make some for you too, now is the chance.” 

“Yes, please,” said Joseph, and all but leapt out of bed. Indrid followed them back to the kitchen. 

“Coffee’s in the pot and mugs in that cabinet over there,” said Duck as he cracked eggs into a bowl. 

“Thank you,” murmured Joseph, and poured himself a mug of coffee. Then he turned back to Indrid, who’d used his future vision to take the seat at the kitchen table least likely to be occupied by either Duck or Joseph. “Can you really introduce me to bigfoot?” 

“Yes, I can ask if he’d like to meet you - oh. Ah. It seems you already know him.”

“What? Oh, of course, he can disguise himself, too… who do I know who’s secretly bigfoot?” Joseph turned to Duck. 

“Don’t look at me,” said Duck. “If I was bigfoot you’d know about it by now.” 

Joseph looked back to Indrid. “I promise my motives for wanting to meet bigfoot are normal.”

“Normal?” said Indrid. 

“I don’t want to hurt him. Or you. I don’t need to take pictures. And it isn’t a sex thing.”

“Oh?”

“I just… I want to satisfy my personal curiosity.”

Duck hid his smile behind his mug of coffee. 

“If bigfoot wanted to have sex with me I wouldn’t say no!” 

“I’ll ask,” said Indrid.

[sleepystarsiri]

Bad Sans Poly w/Error

I was given a prompt to ramble about and... Ended with a drabble instead of a small ramble...

A drabble of 2536 words... Written over the course of 11+ hours. Fun!!

————

Error was unsure of the BSP, happy for them, but unsure why he was jealous. Yes, he was single, but... He was happy being alone. He didn't have to risk another relationship ending by being glitched out if he was single...

He lost his first love that way. So why... Why when he was with the others did he feel like he was going to cry when he saw their soft, gentle affections toward each other? It hurt... It made his chest ache and his sockets sting with tears.

He ignored it, pushing the emotions down whenever they surfaced. He could sense the confused, wary looks from Nightmare, but he ignored them. He started to distance himself, holing himself away in the Anti-Void. He barely had the energy to keep up his job, but he managed to.

Instead of visiting the castle to check in, like he usually did, he just laid around in his section of the Anti-Void, bundled up in blankets and watching UnderNovela. That was how Nightmare and the gang found him when they got worried enough to break the unspoken rule of staying out of Error's 'home'.

It was... A chaotic mess, not the normal neat area Error preferred.

Error was asleep in his beanbag chair, curled into a small ball, wrapped in his blanket. He looked terrible. His sockets had bags under them and his scarf was messy, frayed and stained with chocolate.

Concerned, Cross reached out to touch Error's cheek before the others could stop him. Instead of crashing, like they expected, he nuzzled into the hand, purring sleepily. Cross stroked the bags beneath Error's sockets and Error yawned and slowly opened his sockets. His eyelights were hazy and unfocused until he blinked...

Then he gave a glitched screech and jumped backward, tumbling over the back of his beanbag chair.

Cue a freakout and panicked apologies from Cross... Followed by a pause as they saw what was in the beanbag chair. Error had been cuddling up to hand-made dolls of the BSP. He glitched, sputtering, and made his strings yank the dolls up to the tangle of strings and dolls that made up the 'ceiling'.

He hissed at the poly, glitching and blushing vibrantly. He tugged his scarf up to hide his face, emotions all over the place. Embarrassment, panic, affection, love, sadness, pain, anxiety.

Nightmare’s confused, shocked expression morphed into one of realization at Error’s emotions. He stared at Error with a wide socket and Error caught his gaze, tensing up. Shame flooded Error’s emotions as he looked away, his glitches increasing in number.

“Error...” Nightmare said gently, his voice cutting through the air of the Anti-Void, and the glitch tensed up.

“I d-don’t want t-to taaa-talk about it, N-Nightmare.” Error growled lightly, his voice glitching more than it had before.

“Error, we’re going to talk about it. One way or another. You look horrible. When was the last time you washed your scarf? When was the last time you left the Anti-Void?” Nightmare growled back, stalking toward him as his tendrils flicked angrily. Error winced slightly at his approach, feeling the weight of his anger, his concern.

“Yyyy-Yes-Yesterdayyy.” He grumbled, curling up and tucking himself into his coat. “I’m fff-fine. D-dd-don’t need ttt-to talk about iiii-it.”

“Error.” Nightmare’s tone went gentle as he knelt in front of the glitch. “Please. We need to talk about this.”

The glitch just twitched, shaking his head. He growled faintly, twitching violently, before he exhaled a soft mist of shimmering blue, red, yellow, and green. It dissipated moments after he exhaled it.

“I ddd-don’t want to ttt-ta-talk about it.” He muttered irritably, curling up tighter. He pressed his face into his knees, trying to remain calm.

“Error, please.” Nightmare repeated gently, reaching out and holding a hand toward him. Error glitched out, then muttered mutinously, but gently placed his hand into Nightmare’s. He fizzled at the touch, then calmed. It always happened when he was awake, if he didn’t outright crash. Nightmare’s lack of a traditional Soul meant his touch wasn’t as overwhelming or as painful as everyone else’s. “Thank you.”

“Sss-still don’t want-ant to talk a-abou-out it.” His voice glitched out a bit before he sighed and closed his sockets. “...But… F-fine. I’ll ttt-talk.”

“Thank you.” Nightmare repeated, clearly relieved. “Come on, Error. Let’s get you into clean clothing, fed something other than chocolate, and into a comfortable place.”

He gently pulled Error up, the glitch swaying slightly on his feet before he steadied himself. He winced and reached up to rub his skull, sleeve sliding down and revealing scratches and burns up and down his arm. He didn’t really care, since he usually was covered in scratches and scrapes. Ink’s paints were a bitch to deal with…

Nightmare gently grabbed his arm, pushing his sleeve up and Error blinked, eyelights hazy, before they focused and he looked at the scrapes.

“Oooh-ohhh… Ink caaa-caught me. Fresh-ssshhhh had to come ggg-get me.” Error said, reaching up to rub his face tiredly. Nightmare narrowed his socket, doubtful of his explanation, but not wanting to call him out. “Don’t give mmm-me that look, Nnnn-Nightmare. I’m not an iiii-idiot. I know whaaaa-at they look like, wh-when paired with my sss-state. You can asss-ask Fresh if you dddd-d-don’t believe me.”

He rubbed his arm, glitching as he tried to heal it. It healed a bit, then glitched back to how it was. He grumbled slightly, squinting at his arm in annoyance.

“...Alright, I believe you.” Nightmare sighed before he gently healed Error’s arms. The other glitched a bit at the influx of magic, then settled. He was trying to ignore the concerned (and suspicious) stares of the others. Killer’s stare was the most suspicious, but he was slowly starting to realize what was wrong.

“Glitchy.” Killer called lightly, firmly, and Error slowly looked over, staring toward where Killer was. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, so he was hard-pressed to see anything, especially not that far away. He made a glitched sound of acknowledgement. “You’re depressed, aren’t you?”

“Whaaa-aat Sans isn’t?” He quipped back, rolling his eyelights, but nodded slowly, making Killer’s sockets widen a bit.

“Are you depressed because of us?” Killer clarified and Error shrugged a bit, the reaction noncommittal. Killer rubbed his face, sighing loudly. “Are you depressed because we’re so affectionate in front of you?”

Error shrugged again, closing his sockets. He swayed in place, trying to stay on his feet. Nightmare moved and scooped Error up bridal-style, making him glitch out and nearly crash. He clung to his scarf, curling his fingers hard into the fabric. It took him a few moments to calm down, blinking away the error signs that popped up in his sockets.

“It’s not because of us, per se.” Nightmare told Killer and the others, adjusting his grip on Error and opening a portal to the castle. They walked through, the portal closing after the last of them was through. “Error, don’t fall asleep now, you need to clean yourself up and change… And eat.”

Nightmare gently tapped Error’s cheek with a tendril, but he growled and lightly nipped it, earning a startled moan from Nightmare. It took a moment to process and Error crashed while Nightmare flushed. The others started laughing at the two, while Nightmare huffed and continued to walk. He put Error down on a bed before backing off. Moments later, Error rebooted and his face flushed brilliantly.

“Sss-so-sorry-” He stammered to Nightmare, tugging his scarf over his face. Nightmare blinked, then started laughing.

“You really do have it bad for us, don’t you?” Nightmare sighed and Error hissed at him, glitching out wildly, then forced himself to calm. “Oh, hush, don’t get so defensive.”

Error just growled at him, carefully rolling to his feet. He staggered a bit, then caught himself. He blinked a few times, then squeezed his sockets closed, shaking his head wildly to clear it.

“Uuu-ugh. Ffff-fuck-fucking Voices...” He rubbed his head, then glared at Nightmare, crossing his arms and trying to ignore his embarrassed flush. “And ss-sh-shut up. I don’t waa-want to cause aaaa-any ripples.”

“Ripples?” Cross piped up and Error nodded, motioning vaguely between the members of the poly. Cross blinked, then deadpanned. “Wow, you’re more oblivious than I was.”

Error narrowed his sockets at him, growling lightly, and Cross rolled his eyelights.

“You’re an idiot if you think we don’t want you to join, stars, glitchy, we’ve been dropping hints for AGES!” Killer complained, throwing himself onto the bed, pouting at Error, who glitched in surprise.

“W-what?” He sputtered, confused, and Dust snorted, amused at him.

“Go get a shower and we’ll talk after, while you eat.” Dust ordered, Horror staring sternly at Error and nodding sharply, firmly. Error knew that stare, it meant he was to obey… Or Horror would bodily force him to do so.

Error sighed and nodded, then slowly made his way toward the bathroom to get a shower. He paused to take his scarf off, stroking the fabric nervously. Dust moved over and gently took it, knowing how it felt to be attached to a scarf.

“Go shower, I’ll wash this myself.” Dust told Error, who nodded, then headed into the bathroom. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, but he managed. He closed the bathroom door, then stripped and carefully headed into the glass-walled shower. He closed it and turned the water on, huffing softly. The walls were made of frosted glass, so he was only a vague dark blur behind the glass.

He stepped carefully under the stream of water and began to wash his body, careful of all of the injuries littering it. He was more injured from Ink than he’d let on, and didn’t want to let on. He heard the bathroom door open and paused to glance over, not that he could see. But… It was just one of them getting the clothes Error had left piled in the middle of the bathroom.

Error focused back on cleaning himself before he cut the water off and opened the door to the shower. He leaned out, grabbing a towel and pulling it back into the shower. He dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his hips, walking toward the door. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped, turning to stare at the long, irritated red gash across his torso. It went from his right shoulder to his left hip. He sighed, reaching up to touch it.

“Fff-fucking squid. Stupid f-fucking-ing Soulless abomination...” He growled lightly, pressing his fingers against the gash, scratching harshly at it. That was a mistake and he clapped his hand over his mouth, rushing to the sink. He doubled forward, spitting and gagging into it. The noise made the others rush in.

They were met by the sight of Error coughing and spitting blood into the sink, a long gash across his torso trailing vivid red down black bones. He groaned, bracing himself on the counter as he slowly recovered, chest heaving from his coughing and gagging fit.

“F-fuckkk-king abomination… N-need to figure out w-where the hell his c-coding core i-is-sss...” He huffed to himself, then pressed a hand to the gash, focusing. His torso began to glitch, dark pixels began to slot themselves into the gash, sealing it and hiding it from view. He sighed in relief, then wiped the blood from his mouth and chin, spitting the last of it into the sink. He washed it out, then turned to leave, only to pause at the sight of the others.

Oh. Fuck.

“...Error. What the fuck was that?” Nightmare tried to ask it gently, but his voice was shocked and confused.

“...Eh-hhhh. Geno isn’t m-mmm-my bro. I was Gee-Geno. I’m ffff-from an alternate tttt-timel-line, a darker o-one.” He tried to explain, scratching at the back of his skull. He was trying to ignore the lack of clothing on his part. “Iii-it’s hard to expla-aaaain.”

“...Sooo- You’re wary of being with us because you’re still in love with Reaper?” Killer asked blankly and Error glitched and shook his head.

“Oh, n-nooo. No. I haven’t l-lov-loved Reaper since I beee-became Error. I los-ssst my memories from-mmm before for a looo-long time… So the o-only-yyyy emotion I feel for h-hiii-him is fond remembrance fo-ooor a past love.” Error clarified, shrugging and lowering his hand so it dangled by his side. He shuffled slowly toward the door. “I neeee-eed clothes...”

“Huh? Oh, right! S-sorry!” Cross sounded confused before the group shuffled out. Dust left a pile of clothes, topped by Error’s scarf, on the counter. Error closed the bathroom door and dropped the towel, pulling the clothes on. Ah, the usual ‘Sans’ outfit… He hated it. At least he had his scarf. He put his scarf on, tucking his face into it, before he shuffled out.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, twisting his scarf around, in his fingers.

“So… Why are you wary of being with us, Error? If not because of holding feelings for someone else?” Dust asked, leaning against the wall and playing with a knife he’d stolen from Killer.

“...’s because ya lost… Yer first love… When ya turned ta Error?” Horror asked slowly, tilting his head as he looked at Error. He looked startled at being read that easily, but he nodded.

“Yyyy-yeah...” He sighed, closing his sockets as he rubbed his face. “Thaaaa-at’s one reason.”

He flopped backward onto the bed, throwing an arm over his sockets.

“What are the other reasons?” Dust was now interested, moving over to sit on the bed near him. He leaned down to stare at him, looking curious.

“...Ttt-tou-touch.” Error moved, staring blankly up at Dust. “T-touch-ch hurts. Nightmare ddd-doesn’t-n’t have a traditional Soul-lll so it doesn’t h-hurt as much… Nor i-issss it as overwhelming...”

“Cross could touch ya earlier.” Horror pointed out and Error shrugged.

“Ddd-don’t know why… Uuuu-usually I crash from tou-uuuuch.” Error stated, then froze as he felt a hand on his. His sockets filled with error signs, but he blinked them away. “Ow.”

He turned his head to see who was holding his hand. It was Dust. He stared, shocked, then turned his hand to gently hold Dust’s. He marveled at it, a static-y purr starting up in his chest. He couldn’t help it… Even with the pain, he was touching someone aside from Nightmare!

Sure, it was a bit painful, but nothing he couldn’t handle, nothing that he didn’t deal with daily. The glitching hurt sometimes… But… Stars, he missed touching people…

Nightmare smiled, looking away as his tendrils swayed happily. The happiness Error felt was clear on the glitch’s face and in his aura. He suddenly snapped his tendrils out, catching Error and keeping him from pouncing on Dust.

“Error, don’t jump the gun, you’ll crash. Small touches are the only thing we know are okay, we don’t know how you’d react to hugging, let alone cuddling.” Nightmare chided gently and Error slumped in his hold.

“I mmm-miss being able to-oooo hold, hug, ccc-cud-cuddle, etc others…” Error sighed, looking down.

“Baby steps, Error, baby steps.” Nightmare reassured, gently stroking Error’s skull with one hand. Error sighed and nodded slowly.

[tryingmybestpls]

Liability

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x Reader, platonic!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The reader deals with the repercussions of Steve’s actions and death of the three people closest to her.

Rating: R

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, mentions of death, feeling alone, depression, you know the vibes

Bucky and Sam had been put in charge of making sure Y/N Stark was okay. Steve had made them promise on his deathbed that they would look after her. Of course they had agreed, not wanting to argue with a dying man. Sam and Y/N were best friends and well, Bucky had nothing else to do and he wasn't going to disobey his best friend's wishes.

Things were okay for the first month after Steve died. Well, as okay as it could be all things considered.

Bucky and Sam moved into the townhouse that Y/N had shared with Steve to make sure she was okay. It was unspoken agreement between the three of them: they were going to move in since they didn't have any other place to go and Y/N had more than enough room. She had just lost her brother, her best friend, and the man she loves so they expected her to be barely holding on, to be extremely upset-but she seemed okay. Sure there was moments were she would suddenly start crying or days were she wouldn't come out of the room she had shared with Steve, but both men had expected this. Y/N was grieving after all.

Then she told them that she was going to stay upstate with her sister-in-law and niece. Y/N missed them and wanted to make sure they were doing okay. Sam and Bucky thought nothing of this-in fact, they were happy that she wanted to see them. Her face seemed to light up when talked about her upcoming trip and both men thought that being away from the city and with her family would greatly benefit her.

Y/N had given them both a hug the day she left, telling them that she would give them a call when she had arrived at Pepper's. Nothing had seemed amiss as they had helped her fill her trunk with bags.Sam had offer to drive her, but she had insisted that she can drive upstate by herself. Y/N had looked so happy, truly happy when she climbed into the car. She had given them a huge smile as she waved, pulling away from the curb. Both men had felt so relieved, thinking that this was the best thing for her. For the first time after Steve has died, they felt like a weight has been lifted off their shoulders.

Y/N called later in the day when she had arrived at Pepper's. She painted a vivid picture of how excited Pepper and Morgan were to see her, how good it felt to be around her family. Y/N had even said that her and Pepper talked about Tony, which Y/N had said made her feel a lot better, made her feel not so alone. Bucky and Sam were happy and content with her situation, making her promise she'd call again.

For the first couple of weeks, she did call. Y/N always had something to tell them too. Sometimes it was her and Morgan had spent the whole day swimming in the lake or her and Pepper attempted to make some vegan sourdough bread. Y/N always sounded happy over the phone, which made Bucky and Sam think that things were looking up, that she was getting better.

And then the calls stopped.

The calls stopping wasn't an immediate cause for concern. Bucky didn't believe that Y/N, -as a grown woman-needed to check in with them every single day or every single week. Sam wasn't as so optimistic. He knew Y/N and he knew that she kept her promises. Even if she had gotten busy or was doing really good, she would have at least sent them a text. It wasn't like her to go completely dark on them. But he also know it wasn't his place to force Y/N to check in. After all, she was an adult.

And then Rhodey had called.

Sam and Rhodey didn't call each other a lot so when his name popped up on Sam's phone, the Falcon knew that this situation was serious. Sam wished for the best, hoped that Rhodey was just calling about a mission or something have to do with the government.

He wasn't so lucky.

"Hey is everything okay with Y/N? She hasn't been answering her phone." Rhodey questioned, immediately making Sam's stomach drop.

"She's upstate with Pepper. She left a month ago. I thought you knew that." Sam replied, which quickly got Bucky's attention. Bucky stood up a little straighter, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Sam, I'm upstate with Pepper and she hasn't seen Y/N since Steve's funeral." Rhodey quickly responded, following by a sigh and some muttered curse words. Sam felt sick to his stomach, bile rising up in his throat.

Rhodey explained that Y/N had been calling Pepper every day, but the calls stopped a few weeks ago. Rhodey had tried to tell her that Y/N was probably just busy, but Pepper knew something was wrong. So Rhodey had called, trying to ease Pepper's worries. Sam told him that Y/N had said she was going up to go see Pepper and Morgan. Her calls to him having stopped around the same time as her calls to Pepper did.

Y/N Stark had just vanished into thin air.

Sam knew they had to work backwards in order to find out some idea of where she was and that had led them to the closed door leading into Y/N's room. Neither of them had been on the other side of the door. It wasn't their place to go into her room, their room. Yet, seeing that no one knew where Y/N was, they didn't have much of choice.

Bucky and Sam didn't know what to expect when they walked through the white door, but they didn't expect everything to seem so...neat. Everything seemed perfect. The bed was made, clothes were neatly put away. One thing that did seem weird is that all of the pictures in the room were all laying picture side face down on the surfaces they were on. Pictures that were hanging on the walls were covered with a multitude of things-a t-shirt, a pillowcase, or a scarf. While it wasn't an immediate cause for concern, it did make both men feel incredibly uneasy. The pictures aside, everything looked normal and incredibly clean. Not a thing was out of place.

Other than her cell phone, resting on the dresser. The same phone that had been calling both Pepper and Sam.

There's one thing that remains completely consistent with the Starks and that's the fact they are both incredibly smart.

Y/N Stark had been on the run with Steve, Sam, Nat, and Wanda. She was good at hiding, amazing at it. Y/N knew that her phone could be tracked and that they would be able to see what location she was calling from. While Sam wanted to just give her the benefit of the doubt and just pretend she was hiding out on a resort somewhere, he knows better. The fact that she had created a system to talk to both Sam and Pepper using prerecorded responses hinted at something much darker-something that he tried not to think about.

After some digging and pulling some strings, Rhodey and Sam find security camera footage of Y/N buying four different bouquets. They're able to follow her car via the footage to three different cemeteries. Upon visiting each one, the three men find that she had left flowers for her parents, Tony, Natasha, and Steve. Using the time stamps on the videos, they learn that she spent almost an hour at each cemetery, with the last one being the cemetery where Steve was buried. After that, the trail went cold and they were back at square one.

Then her car was found by Rhodey, exactly halfway between the city and Pepper's home, hidden on an old stretch of road.

Every piece of luggage was perfectly in its place, exactly where Bucky and Sam had helped her put it. Her shoes that she had been wearing had been left on the passenger seat, her wallet left behind in the glovebox with not a card out of place. There was no signs of a struggle. It just look like she pulled off the the side of the road for a minute. Y/N didn't want to be found and since she didn't want to be found, she had been smart. If someone had taken her, they would have been sloppy and messed up along the way. Not Y/N. She knew better.

The people that she had left behind were at a complete lost. They were all terrified, none of them wanting to think about what might have happened to Y/N or what she was capable of. She had lost three people incredibly close to her-her brother, her best friend, and the man she loves. People have lost a lot less and done a lot worse to others and themselves.

"Is there anywhere the two of them had? Any special place they'd go?" Sam asks Pepper once all of their leads dried up. The woman is clearly distraught, wringing her hands and her eyes rimmed with red. Rhodey hadn't wanted ask Pepper, but they were left with no other option. It doesn't take long for her to answer. She must've been thinking and thinking about where her sister-in-law has gone the couple of weeks they have been looking.

"There was this little farm house an hour outside of the city that Steve kept telling her that they were going to raise a family in. It-It has a big oak tree. You can't miss it." She answers, looking up at Sam and Bucky, "Please, please find her."

-

Pepper was right. They couldn't miss the house.

It was an aging colonial located in the middle of nowhere, with farmland and forest surrounding it. Its white siding was covered in moss in place, making it look more green than eggshell. The wrap around porch had been ripped off in places, leaving gaps. Some of the emerald green shutters have been torn off completely or were hanging by a single hinge. Most of the windows were broken and Sam was pretty sure it was leaning to the left a little. On the second story, an entire part of the roof has caved in. The best part of the entire place was giant oak tree. It was absolutely massive-probably the biggest that either man had seen. An old tire swing hung from one of the lower branches, the rope fraying but still somehow holding on.

Bucky and Sam glance at each other before getting out of the car and walking up the gravel driveway. It was eerily quiet and everything seemed to be at a standstill out here. The porch steps creaked and felt like it was going to collapse under their feet. The porch itself was warped, some planks missing completely. Sam sighed and carefully knocked on the door, really hoping for the best. There was no response, so he tried again. When there was no answer again, Sam reached for the door knob, finding it unlocked. The door creaked open loudly and both men were prepared to see the absolute worse waiting for them inside.

Yet when Sam and Bucky step inside the house, their eyes immediately land on her.

Y/N was nestled in a nook of one of the windows that still had glass in its panels, knees drawn up into her chest.  Old, moldy, and decaying furniture from decades earlier still filled the home. Mementos of someone else's family and life left behind, as if the home's inhabitants had gotten up one day and never came back. Pictures still left in their frames, their photos weathered and abandoned, It reminded Bucky of home, of the life he was ripped away from and he understands why Steve had like the house so much. It was a house that was out of place and out of time, just like the Star Spangled Man With A Plan.

"I was hoping you guys just let me be." Y/N announces, not bothering to turn her head to look at the pair. She rests her head against the window, nails digging into her calves. She was wearing a dress that was once white and the men could see her skin was littered with cuts and bruises.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam announces, taking a step forward. The warped wood floors creak under his weight, announcing his movement. Y/N chuckles humorlessly, her breath fogging up the dingy glass.

"He said that we were gonna buy this house. Told me that he was going to marry me and we were going to settle down. Told me that we were going to have a family together. Told me that he wanted a family. Told me that for five years." She tells them unprompted, eyes flicking down to look at her knees, "And he did want all of that. Just not with me. I was just a replacement for her."

Bucky and Sam don't know how to respond. They know that there's nothing they can do, no way that they can defend Steve for his actions. Neither of them were happy with the man abandoning his grieving girlfriend in order to live out a half-baked fantasy. Y/N knows this too, which is why she continues.

"I told him to go. I told him if that's what he wanted that he could go. Told him I was going to be okay. He had already made his mind up at that point. For some reason, I-I didn't think he'd actually leave." Her voice cracks, her cool facade crumbling. Her nails digging deep crescents into her legs, "Why-Why would he leave me? I just lost Nat and Tony and he left-"

Tears roll down her cheeks as she releases her grip on her legs, loosening her hold. Her lower lip quivers, unable to rein her emotions back in. The question wasn't for Bucky or Sam and honestly, Y/N doesn't even know who she is asking.

"My brother-My brother got his family and I-Steve kept telling me that we were going to get married and have a house full of kids." She forces the words out through the emotion, finally turning to look at Bucky and Sam, "Did you know that he and Peggy had three children together, Sam? I don't think he told you that when you got the shield."

Her eyes flick back down to look at her knees, tears rolling down her face. The house has gotten a lot colder, especially as the sky starts to darken outside. Y/N lifts her head, resting it against the frame of the window.

"I bought this house. It was going to be his Christmas present this year. A push in the right direction, if you will. Tony told me not to do it, said it was a bad idea. And he was right. He was always right." Y/N announces, a bitter laugh slipping out of her mouth, "And now I'm stuck with this fucking shithole."

For the past eight years, Y/N has been in a relationship with Steve. He was the man she loved, the man who she saw herself marrying and having children with. Y/N had turned on her brother and gone on the run with Steve, even though she knew that might cut off ties from the only family she has. When Thanos snapped his fingers and made half of the universe disappear, Y/N had clung to her boyfriend. Sure she'd go visit Tony, Pepper, and Morgan and would occasionally see Natasha, but she practically spent every waking moment with Steve. After the Snap, after she saw how happy her brother was, she knew she wanted a family. And Steve-Steve just kept telling her that they would have a family one day.

Y/N had been too distracted to see the cracks in their relationship. She was too in love with Steve to see that he hadn't loved her the same amount. Too in love to see that she was only a replacement for the woman he truly loved. When the cracks started to slip through, Y/N tried her best to fix them by making excuses. She had layered and layered excuses onto of each other in order to hold her relationship together. And while Y/N should've known better, she just didn't want to face the music and see everything for what it was.

That had worked until Natasha died, until her brother snapped his fingers. Until Steve told her that he was going to leave, not taking how she was feeling or what she was going through into consideration. Until he told her that he just didn't love her in that way. Until she had to keep how betrayed she felt to herself as she played the role of the dutiful, mournful girlfriend at his funeral. After that, everything came tumbling down around her and she was thrown back into reality.

"I told him.. told him that I wanted to end it all and he didn't care. Didn't even try to talk to me about it. Tony was the only family I've ever known and Nat was my best friend and he-he should've been there for me and he wasn't. He didn't care because he was already going to be gone. Another dead Stark didn't matter to him." Y/N turns her head and narrows her eyes at them, "That's why you two came here, isn't it? To make sure I didn't off myself?"

"We wanted to make sure you're safe-" Bucky starts, but Y/N quickly cuts him off with another bitter laugh. The super soldier glances at Sam, not knowing what to do in this situation.

"You wanted to? Don't bullshit me. You guys didn't move in with me or come to check on me because you two actually care about me. You two promised Steve that you'd watch over me, like I'm a fucking helpless child." Y/N snaps, glaring daggers at the two of them, "If he cared that much, he'd fucking be here, but he isn't. Steve made his choice and because of that, he doesn't get to have a say in my life anymore."

"Okay fine, we won't bullshit you. Yeah, he did ask us to take care of you, but you act like we weren't friends five years ago, Y/N. I have no idea what you're going through, but don't you dare act like I don't fucking care about you." Sam fires back, tears filling his eyes. More tears stream down her face as he continues, "Before the snap, you and me were thick as thieves. I care about you, Y/N, and you've had Pepper, Rhodey, and me all worried sick. Yeah, we were scared that you'd hurt yourself because we know you and I know how bad you got when we were in hiding, so we have every right to be worried about you."

It's incredibly quiet, quiet enough to hear a mouse sneeze. Bucky felt incredibly awkward standing there. He had only met Y/N a few times before he moved into her home and every time he had been around her, Steve was there. Obviously, he doesn't know Y/N as good as Sam does-hell, he barely knows anything about her-but he knows when someone is doing bad and Y/N is clearly doing bad.

Y/N leans her head forehead, pressing it against her knees for a moment. Her chest felt hollow, almost as if it was going to cave in on itself. She would love to pretend that she was doing completely okay, love to pretend that Sam and her family were wrong in their assumptions of why she had disappeared. Y/N would love to pretend like everything was okay, but she was tired.  She was incredibly tired, utterly exhausted. Y/N was done trying to pretend like nothing was wrong, done hiding everything in order to keep up appearances for the people around her. She let a shakily breath slip out of her mouth as she lifts up her head, resting her chin on her knees. As if he could feel the energy in the room shift, Sam turns to look at Bucky, silently asking if he could leave. The super soldier nods and without a word, he walks out the front door, shutting it behind him. Sam knows Y/N and he knows for times like this, she doesn't need an audience. Its already extremely hard for her to share what she is feeling and having Bucky there isn't exactly helping.

"I can't do this anymore, Sam. I can't." Y/N admits quietly once the door is shut, tears steaming down her cheeks. "I tried to stick it out for Pepper and Morgan, but I can't. I-I was going to do it. I had a goodbye message recorded and everything."

Her confession sucks all of the air out of the room, the only noises being her sniffling and the sounds a house as old as this one makes. Sam can feel his heart breaking in his chest makes his way over to her, crossing the room in seconds. He moves to sit on the edge of the nook she's sitting on. Up close, Sam can see how red her eyes are, how dark her under eyes are. He knows she most likely hasn't gotten any actual rest in few days-most likely since she's been gone. Her legs and arms are all cut up and bruised, her white dress covered in dirt and occasionally some sprinkles of deep burgundy. Her cheeks seemed a little less full and Sam wonders when was the last time she ate was.

"And you wanted to do it here?" Sam asks, his voice soft. Y/N just nods in response, unable to look at him. The man clasps his hands together as he continues, treading the waters as carefully as possible, "I-I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through okay? I'm not going to bullshit you. All I know is that you're hurting and you have every right to be."

"It just hurts so much, Sam. Everything hurts and I-I don't want to hurt anymore." Y/N manages to get out, not bothering to wipe the tears that keep rolling down her cheeks, "I'm tired. I'm so God damn tired and I want to be with them."

"Do you think that's what Tony wants? Do you think he wants you to join him? Do you think that's what Nat wants you to do?" Sam questions delicately, to which Y/N shakes her 'no' in response, "I know it hurts, but ending it? They don't want that for you. We don't want that for you. You still have so much life to live, kid. And I know it's horrible right now. You're going through pain that is way too much for one person to carry, but you don't have to go through this alone. Sure I'm not Nat or your brother and I'm sure as hell not Steve-but I am here and I want to make sure you're okay."

Y/N raises her head to look at her friend and Sam can see the hurt written all over her face. Her pain is visible and he feels like a shitty friend for not noticing it beforehand. Sam carefully reaches out and rests his hand on top of hers, a tear slipping out of his eyes.

"Just come back with us, okay? It's not going to be easy and it's going to suck, but I can't bury another friend, Y/N." Sam's voice cracks, his throat constricting with emotion. It takes her moment-and for that moment Sam is absolutely petrified, wondering if he said all the wrong things, wondering if he made it all worse-but then she nods the world's tiniest nod before breaking out into full on sobs. It was like all of the pain and hurt had finally broken through and she was finally reacting to it all. Sam wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her against his chest as she cried and cried over the family she lost.

[tamhrayis]

but arent u dissapointed for EM conclusion? u yourself believed eren would survive and then he just didn't. what saddens me the most is that he really could live. there was a way for that to happen (u believed it yourself). it hurts even more that some characters got almost disney ending meanwhile EM (main characters) got the saddest ending from all. i think they deserved better after all the sh*t they went through. their ending was cruel, but to me not really much beautiful. one is dead and the other one is alone without any alive family member. yes, maybe mikasa will be able to open her heart to someone else, but she could never love anyone as much as she did eren, lets be honest here. if yams really wanted to kill eren i think he could at least wrap EM conclusion better. the last time they physically talked to each other was when E said to M that he hated her. they could at least talk to each other before decapitation, or maybe after decapitation in paths - tell everything to each other, say a proper goodbye (maybe a hug? kiss?) and then eren dies. now when we know that mikasa really killed eren in 138, we cant even 100% say whether eren knew she kissed him.. this ending yams gave them to me doesnt seem satisfactory. if eren really had to die i think they deserved at least a proper confrontation and a goodbye. but i still think they deserved to live together. overall i dont mind the ending, but i dont like the ending EM was given. :(

Hi! Let me state my view.

I genuinely wanted Eren to survive and get a positive conclusion with Mikasa. I really did and I believed it. But I never let it blind me and think that what I want must happen (as many people in our fandom wanted their “endings” to be true).

To be honest, as much as I love EM and was sad over the fact that they couldn’t get together, I looked at the story from writer’s perspective rather than reader’s.

Yes, EM’s happy ending would be great and we wouldn’t grieve over it as we do now, but on the other side, Eren’s survival would be full of controversies both in AoT’s world and real life. I think people somehow degraded Eren’s role to just being a shipping tool in ship wars without actually taking into account what kind of person Eren is as a character.

He is very contradictory and controversial. Eren is a maximalist and a literal adult child that didn’t quite change from what we have seen from his first appearance in the story. Even Eren himself said that he was always like this, a boy who desperately sought freedom that doesn’t even exist on practice.

Eren was never actually free in a sense that he himself described it. He was a slave to his fate, circumstances and personal ideas. Eren couldn’t look beyond his ideas, but at the same time, he would scrap them for his personal happiness even if it was temporary.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that Eren was a bad person and he deserved to die like this, but that’s simply who his character was, a person full of tragedy. Eren couldn’t live in the present and enjoy his time with his friends and Mikasa. He literally lived in the past and future. Even if Eren actually survived, I personally doubt that he could be as happy as we imagine him to be. Eren had a strong sense of conscience and responsibility.

He never wanted any of this to happen, but he still went for it, because...That’s what Ymir, Eren himself and his fate wanted. As long as Eren was alive, he couldn’t escape the burden of responsibilities and decisions. Even in ch.138, Eren was still conflicted if he did the right thing by eloping with Mikasa.

Yeah, he probably could live under a fake identity or permanently isolate himself from society and live with Mikasa for he rest of his days, but it would be still nuanced, because his character itself is very flawed and nuanced.

Undoubtedly, Eren and Mikasa deserved their happily ever after, but the world they live in still wouldn’t be merciful on them.

Other characters got their own endings, but I personally wouldn’t call them “Disney endings”. Armin, Annie, Pieck, Reiner, Connie and Jean will need to directly face the consequences of rumbling and deal with all the mess Eren has left behind. Historia’s ending is close to “Disney ending”, but she also will need to deal with everything.

Levi deserved to have a peaceful life after everything he saw. Falco and Gabi had to have a normal childhood/teenage years after being child soldiers.

Mikasa got a tragic ending, but I would say...her ending is still full of mystery and I feel like there’s something that yet has to be revealed by Isayama himself. All in all, I think everyone got pretty much open and ambiguous endings.

However, what makes me positive is that no matter where they are, Eren and Mikasa are tied by the red string of fate and their love for each other isn’t bounded to specific place, time of dimension.

After all, it wasn’t a permanent goodbye. Mikasa still smiled and said “See you later”. The bird came to wrap the scarf, which means that Eren’s spirit isn’t dead.

They will definitely meet again someday and their reunion will be beautiful.

Note: extra EM CD drama will come.

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[violetwolfraven]

Modern!Wormsies Headcanons because I’m terrified wormsies is going to die before 2021 gets here

Tw for mild horror. I don’t think this is that bad but read at your own risk. I don’t l know why I created it I just felt compelled to but don’t read it unless you’re as insane as I am and are fully prepared to read the most cursed thing I have ever created. Seriously. This is by far the most cursed thing I have ever written. Good luck. 💜

So anyway they’re not selling to survive obviously since it’s modern au.

In my modern au they’re all theatre nerds cause why not.

So they’re backstage one day and Race finds this blue thing behind an old set that has probably been there for several years.

Lo and behold, it is a worm on a string.

And Race is kinda weirded out and wondering who left it there but he’s like aight guess I’m keeping this thing.

He ties it to a strap on his backpack and forgets about it for the rest of rehearsal.

Then Romeo (one of Race’s 3 adoptive brothers, the others being Jack and Crutchie) notices it and f l i p s o u t.

Romeo drags over Specs and Jack and Crutchie to show them the worm Race found and they’re all like omg this is the best thing we’ve ever seen.

Race is still kinda confused but like hey whatever this might as well happen and he just figures if his brothers and his little brother’s boyfriend are gonna obsess over worms, why not join in?

They all get worms somehow. Romeo gets a green one, Specs gets a purple one, Jack gets a dark blue one, and Crutchie gets a yellow one.

When they all show up to rehearsal a few days later with worms, a few others pick up on it and are like lmao let’s join in on the insanity.

So anyway Albert gets a red one, Smalls gets a green one, Mike gets a purple one, Ike gets a yellow one cause it’s the opposite of purple, and Elmer gets a green one.

All the others are all kinda just whatever do what you want don’t involve us in your insanity.

BUT THEN

Over the course of the next couple weeks, only a couple more people join in on getting worms.

Sniper gets a purple one and Finch gets an orange one.

But what’s strange is that everybody starts noticing...

The kids with worms pick up choreography...

Faster and Better...

Than the kids without worms...

They’re stretchier and more agile...

...almost like..?

Almost like...

They...

don’t...

have...

spines..?

They wiggle just like their worms wiggle wiggle wiggle.

And Specs is the most logical of the ones with worms but even he fully believes his worm gives him special powers.

They spend their snack breaks talking about this and a few more people decide to get in on it.

Jojo gets a yellow one, Mush gets a dark blue one, and Blink gets a light blue one.

Davey, Spot, and Katherine still refuse to believe in this.

Sarah got a pink worm and they were all terribly disappointed in her.

But anyway they hold out their lack of belief despite how the kids with worms continue to perform better in dance numbers than the few left without.

Kenny caves and gets a dark blue one somewhere in here.

There are now a lot more kids with worms than kids without and the holidays are rolling around.

Ike gets Hotshot a red worm and Hotshot in turn gets red worms for all his crowd on the stage crew (Bart, Rafaela, Joey, Hildy, York, and Vince).

Hell, even the crew kids perform better with worms, it turns out.

Cause they can run fast to get places they need to be and squeeze through spaces they shouldn’t be able to squeeze through.

But anyway Katherine and Davey and Spot are starting to get a little creeped out.

Cause their friends and partners are starting to act more and more like they’re in a cult, even more than the cult that they’re already in (the drama club).

They pretend their worms have fucking personalities and make tiny hats for them and stuff.

And the ones left without worms are dropping like flies and getting assimilated to the other side.

Buttons gets a light blue one, Tommy Boy gets a pink one, Henry gets an orange one, and

And Sarah gets Les a green worm.

That’s kinda the last straw for Davey.

He fucking waits until his siblings are asleep and he throws their worms in the trash.

But mysteriously

They both have their worms back in time for rehearsal.

And Davey gets home that night and there’s a light blue worm waiting on his pillow.

He throws it away but it’s tied to his backpack strap the next day.

He flushes it down the toilet and it shows up in his favorite hoodie pocket.

He tells Katherine and Spot, super freaked out, but they don’t really believe him cause there’s no such thing as magic worms... right?

Then Katherine finds a purple worm on the seat she usually sits in during breaks.

She’s moderately creeped out so she leaves it there and goes to a different seat but the next break the worm is on that seat.

She can’t remember seeing anyone move it.

Meanwhile Spot is making out with Race behind a curtain (obviously) and Race

Race fucking pulls a red worm out of his sleeve like a scarf trick and gives it to him.

Spot is super weirded out by this and wants to just throw the dumb thing away the minute he and Race are done making out, but he just...

He can’t.

He can’t get rid of the worm, so he ties it to his backpack.

Katherine and Davey are mildly horrified that Spot has given in and won’t give up his worm even though you’re encouraging their cult-like behavior, Spot, come on.

Spot insists that he could throw away his worm if he wanted to, he just... doesn’t want to. And besides, he can keep up with the others on theatre stuff now, so why would he?

So Kath and Davey are

The

Last

Ones

Left

Without worms.

Davey’s worm is still following him around but he refuses to give in and he always gets rid of it as soon as he finds it but it always pops up again.

Katherine’s shows up less frequently, but it starts getting more and more frequent and she starts getting more and more freaked out as one night, she goes into her room and that fucking purple worm is on her pillow.

None of her friends have been to her house in the last 24 hours so this development is fucking terrifying.

She calls Davey and flips out on the phone to him about it and he’s trying to calm her down but Sarah ends up stealing his phone after a few minutes because she’s my girlfriend, Davey, not yours.

When Davey gets the phone back, Katherine is significantly calmer. He asks her if she threw the worm away.

She

Didn’t

Throw the worm away.

She claims it’s fine, that they might as well give in, Davey, we’re the last ones left without worms, just out of stubbornness. And anyway our friends with worms are doing fine; look at your siblings if you need proof.

Sarah and Les are having a tea party with their worms and Davey is getting pretty scared at this point.

He’s the last one left without a worm, though that blue one still always seems to show up wherever he is.

Until

Opening night

Of

Their

Show

Afterwards everybody’s pumped up and ready to go to Applebee’s to celebrate and Davey is relieved because no one has mentioned worms in the last 24 hours or even really looked at the ones still tied to their backpacks.

He thinks maybe the others got bored with it and this thing is finally dying, especially since that damn light blue worm hasn’t showed up today either.

But then Davey is just sharing a nice coffee alone with Jack backstage (which he hasn’t done since the worm thing started because honestly his boyfriend was creeping him out).

Jack suddenly starts crying, and Davey’s all like hey what is it? Babe look at me what’s wrong?

And Jack just goes I’m sorry love I know it hurts now but it’s better in the long run trust me.

That’s when Elmer, Specs, Sarah, and Mush burst in behind them and grab Davey, shoving a bag over his head and dragging him somewhere.

When the bag is taken off of Davey’s head, he’s tied to a chair in the middle of a choir room that all his friends have somehow squeezed into.

They’re all holding their worms.

And Davey is like guys if this is an elaborate prank it wasn’t even that funny to begin with but now it is very very much not funny.

But Sarah just goes in a sad tone it’s not a prank Davey.

Les not looking like he’s trying not to laugh is what makes Davey believe it’s not a prank.

And Davey is legitimately terrified at this point because even Spot and Katherine are looking at him with a solemn kind of pity and when he asks them for help they just shake their heads and tell him everything will be okay.

He turns to Jack and is still clinging to that last little bit of hope that one of the people he loves might not have gone off the deep end.

That last little bit of hope that the boy he loves is still the boy I fell for. I know you’re still in there so please just untie me Jackie.

Jack looks like he’s trying not to cry but he doesn’t move.

Instead he says I love you Davey. It’ll all be over soon.

Do it, Race.

Race steps forward and Davey just about has a heart attack because

He’s

Holding

That

Goddamn

Light blue

Worm

And he takes some rainbow duct tape out of his pocket and tapes it to Davey’s shirt.

And the others all start chanting one of us one of us one of us as Davey can practically feel the spine leave his body and travel to another dimension where there’s a man who collects them.

It turns out the others were right that he should just give in.

Now it’s time for them to get the rest of the school.

Edit: here is my attempt to justify myself for this. 💜

[some-dr-writings]

Kiibo x Reader One-shot: Could I see red twine too?

How was one able to see this red string? Did it look like any other red string or was it special? Did it feel different? Was there a scientific explanation behind it, or not? Was it chemicals in the brain, or… something else.

Was it something only a human could experience…

True, not every human could see this red string tied around their pinky, but many did, and those who didn’t were still very human with emotions so… wouldn’t he be able to see it too? Kiibo though not human, was built to be the next closest thing and he had emotions too! He was also a real person so…

If he could see the string, wouldn’t that be proof he was a person? A person deserving of some respect, someone who could be treated as human!

But he could not. True, he could just be aromantic, but… it hurt. Sure people had fallen in love and married those who were not attached to the other end of their string, they were able to be happy, but… if Kiibo had a soulmate, surely they would see him as human, right?

He just… Kiibo didn’t want to feel so isolated, so alone, so, if he had a red string tied to his pinky, even if he never met the person on the other end, it’d bring him some comfort, knowing there was SOMEONE other than Dr. Idabashi who would treat him like he was any other person.

“Huh?” After adjusting his glasses, making sure he had read the address correctly the middle aged man smiled as he strode over to the kitchen table. “Kiibo, there’s a letter for you.” “A letter for me!?” “I believe so. I don’t think any other person named Kiibo lives here, or did you secretly build yourself a twin sibling unbeknownst to me?” As he walked past the table, the man placed the letter on it, continuing into the kitchen. No matter how many times he saw it, a pang of pain and guilt shot right through Kiibo seeing that prosthetic leg. It had been years, and he could walk on it like he was never injured, but Kiibo could never not feel unsettled knowing some other ‘Kiibo’, ‘himself’ had caused such irreparable damage.

When he managed to tear his gaze from the man Kiibo looked to the letter, flabbergasted at what was written on it. “Hope’s Peak Academy…” Hope’s Peak, that prestigious academy, recognized him? But what talent could he have!? Surely this meant the school recognized him as human, right? Why else would they invite him!? W-was this his proof!? Proof at last of his personhood? If such a place recognized him, surely-

“… oh.” “Hmm? Something wrong Kiibo?” “Ah! Nothing! Nothing, I’m just… shocked.” A clanking sound rang out as the man dropped his spoon, clamping his hands over his mouth, desperate to hold in his laughter, which still came seeping out as a chuckle. “S-shocking you say.” Instantly Kiibo’s entire face flushed a bright red, realizing the pun he had accidently made. “I’m going to my room!”

After closing the door behind himself, he flipped on a fan on his desk, sitting before it, hoping it’d help him cool off faster. Then, soon enough he looked back to the letter. “Ultimate Robot.” He was planning on going to Dr. Idabashi’s school of robotics, it’s not like any other school was going to accept him… Well, except for Hope’s Peak, that is. So, no matter where he went, he’d just be ‘the robot’. So, what difference did it make!? It wasn’t going to matter where he went, did it?

“Kiibo? Are you alright in there? It’s been three days.” “Yeah! I am!” The man stood by the door, a deep concern welling up within him. “Care to talk?” “No.” “… Well, if you ever do want to, I’ll be in my office this evening.” “Okay.” For a moment he continued to stand by the door, finding it hard to bring himself to move. He wanted to say more, but what, he was unsure.

“Um, Dr. Idabashi?” “Kiibo!” The man practically pounced on Kiibo, engulfing him into a hug. “Dr.- Ida- DAD! You’re crushing me!” “Accept the hug, you scared me holding yourself up in your room for a whole week!” After holding on for a moment longer, the Doctor let go, taking a step back. “So, what is it you want to see me about?” He smiled, his voice so kind and warm. “Well… I’d like to go to Hope’s Peak! Please don’t be disappointed!” “Oh Kiibo.” He placed a hand on Kiibo’s head, lightly stroking his hair. “What could there possibly be to be disappointed in?” “Well… Don’t you want me to go to your school? I mean, your own creation not wanting to go to your school, wouldn’t it look bad or hurt you?” “… Maybe, but this is about what you want, not me.” “But-” “No, buts. Those are for sitting. Now, do you want to go to Hope Peak, or not?” Kiibo clutched the letter. In both places he’d simply be seen as a robot, there would be no way to go around it, but, just maybe, in a school not centered around robotics he could be seen as human as well. And Idabashi seemed alright with it, so… this was alright, he wasn’t hurting his father again, right? “Y-yes. I want to go to Hope’s Peak.” “I’ll get started on the paperwork then.”

This was it, no turning back now. Kiibo was at Hope’s Peak. It was certainly an experience. He met some great people like Shuichi, Miu, and Gonta, and he also met some not so great people like Kokichi, and Soda. However, there was one person that always stood out to him, you. You didn’t attend Hope’s Peak, not even as a reserve course student, but at a different High School nearby. You first met one another after school. “Excuse me, but are you a cosplayer?” “Oh, uh, no. I am K1-B0, a robot.” “What!? No way! You look too human, and what would a robot be doing at a clothing store anyway? I don’t think they need clothes?” “That’s robophobic!” “Huh? Robo…phobic?” You were baffled seeing the guy point at you. It was… an interesting first introduction. However, you both often ran into one another in the same shopping outlet so through chatting you were able to get a better introduction. “Hope’s Peak, huh. I have no idea how you can stand going there, it sounds so stressful!” “It is exciting. Almost everyone has rather loud personalities and being so skilled in such a variety of things only adds to that.” “I could never keep up in a place like that!” “I don’t know about that. You get used to it.” In his hectic school life Kiibo rather enjoyed the peace and calm he always found around you. That was what made you special. Whenever he saw you, no matter how bad his day had been, no matter how many times Kokichi had called Kiibo an unfeeling robot, or Soda tried to dismantle him, you were able to brighten his day. Soon he found himself going to that shopping district every day hoping to meet you again.

There was something else that also made you stand out.

“Hey, Kiibo. This little boutique a few streets over just opened, want to come check it out with me?” “Sure! Let’s be on our way!” As you took his hand Kiibo felt... something. It was like a shock, or a spark, the feeling was there for the briefest of moments, but it was definitely there. He soon forgot it though, getting preoccupied was chastising you for deciding to run on the slick wet ground so closely to the street!

In his time away from home Kiibo often texted Idabashi, about his day, if he noticed and glitches or malfunctions. “So, did you meet with Y/N today?” “Yes, but I have other friends besides them.” “Really? You never talk about anyone else though.” “I do too! Just scroll up!” Then Idabashi sent multiple screen shots of Kiibo writing entire paragraphs about you. He blushed, embarrassed that his father would do this. This didn’t mean anything, Kiibo was just good at giving thorough reports, and given he spent much of his time with you, of course his experiences with you would be lengthy. “So… when are you going to ask them out?” “DAD!” “So did I make you blush?” “DAD STOP!” Though he meant too, he forgot to report that spark he felt.

The next day he was going to be with his classmates but... “Are you sure you want to spend your birthday like this though? I’m sure your classmates have a surprise party, or something planned for you.” “I’m sure, being with you on my birthday is the best gift I could receive.” Admittedly, he felt magnetized to you, and he already knew why. “Aw. Thank you. Since we’re here, I might as well give you your gift.” You picked up the paper bag you had placed beside the bench the pair of you sat on and picked something out. “Ta-da!” You tossed it over Kiibo’s head, then tightened it around his neck. “The red scarf at the boutique!” “I saw you eyeing it and thought it’d make for the perfect gift, since you didn’t buy it for yourself for some reason.” “Ah, thank you Y/N!” How were you able to do this he wondered. Somehow, every time you met, you talked, even when he simply looked over the texts you had sent to one another, his affection for you only grew exponentially and there seemed to be no signs of it stopping… Even that spark, himself momentarily unable to function, so many emotions flooded him, he simply couldn’t keep up… He couldn’t imagine spending his birthday any other way than being with his crush. Being with you was enough for him, but then you just had to go and get him this scarf. For a moment he worried you were going to make him malfunction again.

“So, what do you want to do?” “Oh, uh… I don’t know.” “Come on, there must be something. Like… Hmm… We could take a walk around the park or-” “That sounds good.” “Alright then.” You quickly stood up, taking Kiibo’s hand, dragging him onto his feet with you. But then you yelped, pulling your hand back. “I’m sorry! Uh, static electricity.” “Okay.” You reached out for Kiibo’s hand but this time he ripped his hand away. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that. Just in case there’s more.” That was just static electricity, right? “You are okay though?” “Static is fine Kiibo. It’s surprising but doesn’t hurt too much. I appreciate the concern though.” Did… did he hurt you? He looked to your hand and arm. You seemed fine, he couldn’t see any signs of muscle spasms nor were there burn marks where you had touched him. You didn’t say anything last time he felt that spark, so maybe that was just static and nothing more… even if he felt that spark again. Besides Dr. Idabashi modified him so he couldn’t hurt anyone again, he couldn’t. You even said you were fine but… Kiibo stuffed his hands into his coat pockets.

Kiibo watched as the leaves danced about in the air, carried along by the wind. He rather liked those warm reds, oranges, and yellows. Autumn was probably his favorite season now that he thought about. Not too hot, not to cold, not rainy, sure there was wind, but it just added to the beauty of the season and could do minimal damage to him unless it was very powerful. He adored the crunching sound of leaves beneath one’s feet, and that chattering that came along with it…

Chattering?

Looking for the source his gaze landed on you, who was hugging yourself, rubbing your upper arms with your hands. You shivered and closed your eyes as another gust flew past. “Y/N, here.” “Oh no, Kii-” “I insist!” He draped his coat over your shoulders, making sure to not accidentally touch you in the process. “I’m fine really.” “No, you can get sick, I can’t. You need this more than I do.” “But you can’t enjoy your own coat. I know how much you enjoy fashion; this feels wrong.” You probably weren’t thinking when you said that, not taking the implication of those words into consideration. He didn’t need the coat, you did, so that reasoning didn’t matter… Even if it caused a soft warmth to ignite under his breast plate. “I can enjoy it plenty seeing you wear it. It’s becoming on you and matches nicely with your turtleneck. “O-oh… thank you.” A light pink dusted your cheeks, likely an effect of the cold. “Let’s go to that café and get you warmed up.” He pointed to a little café at the across the street from the park before leading the way. “But you can’t eat, won’t you be bored?” “Your health is my top priority right now.” “But what do you want?” “I want you to enjoy yourself. That’s all” “… But it’s YOUR birthday, not mine. Come on.” Oh… that’s why you said that, because it was his birthday. Now it made sense. Birthdays are always treated as special, even for inanimate objects, though that’s mostly for buildings, but… it made sense now.

“Well… I know there will be a fireworks display at the lakeside tonight. What do you think?” You simply stood there, straight faced, not saying a thing. “… Y/N?” “I’m not giving you my input. If that’s what you want, if that’ll make you happy, do it. I’m just here to tag along for the ride that is the amazing Kiibo’s life!” “Amazing Kiibo?” “Yes! You, my friend, my companion, my partner in crime, are amazing! What? Can’t take a compliment?” “Hah! Finally someone has noticed!” He smirked, placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, the most dazzling, most kind, most selfless man in the world, Kiibo Idabashi!” You chuckled seeing the confused expression on Kiibo. “Something wrong? No one’s called you by your full name before?” “No, Y/N, Idabashi is not my last name, I don’t have one.” “Really dude!? Dr. Idabashi is SO your dad, don’t deny it.” “He’s my creator, of course he’s like a father figure to me.” You face palmed before searching through the coat pockets, taking out Kiibo’s phone once you found it. “What are you doing!?” “Hacking!” “Guessing my password is not hacking and GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!” Kiibo tried reaching for his phone, but you held the phone out of reach with one hand, while the other easily pushed Kiibo back. “Well… fine.” You then passed him his phone back. “But only because you’re my favorite person in the world.” “… Your absolute favorite, out of all the billions and billions of people on this planet?” “Yep!” You simply smile with your eyes closed, just making your entire expression all the cuter. Wait… “favorite person…”

…

A deep blush covered Kiibo’s entire face as those words sunk in, that fact that YOU of all people said that sunk in, sinking so deeply into him, this memory was one he would be able to recall with perfect clarity without even a speck of dust out of place. He smiled. It was the kind of smile that seamed to radiate, being infectious, the kind of smile where without even seeing it, you could feel the soft and kind joyous jubilation it reflected.

Then it was evening? “Kiibo! Oh, thank FUDGE you’re alright.” “I told you he’d be.” “DAD!? What are you doing here!?” The good doctor chuckled seeing Kiibo’s baffled reaction. “Kiibo! Did you really think I’d miss out on your birthday!? I better up my father game, this is pathetic!” You sighed with relief before smirking, Kiibo already realizing you had more than enough evidence to make your case. “Dr-” “Don’t you mean Dad~?” “… Dad, why are you actually here, it’s evening now?” Dr. Idabashi crossed his arms, and playfully huffed clearly trying to play it off as out of annoyance. “I AM here for our birthday, and… You froze, compounding a lot of data, making sure that precious memory was kept in a safe place and was recorded at the highest settings. Y/N here got worried and used your phone to text me you needed help. I told them you’d be functioning in no time, but they didn’t seem to believe me till you awoke just now.” Before Kiibo could say anything, you held up your hands, as if trying to show you were innocent, clean of any crime. “I didn’t look through anything. Just texted your dad and nothing else, I swear.” You passed Kiibo his phone back. “Thank you, both of you, and I’m sorry for worrying you.” Idabashi lightly chuckled, placing a hand on Kiibo’s head, ruffling Kiibo’s hair, despite said hair refusing to budge. “It’s alright, now I know there’s a few tweaks I should make, but that’ll be for another day. Go and have fun now.” “We’re not going to run a check?” “We’ll catch up at Hope’s Peak, for now, I’m bestowing Y/N with the honor of being my assistant and checking that your mobile functions are still working.” He smiled walking away…

though he couldn’t resist taking one last look. You took Kiibo’s hand, and the pair of you chatted about something before running for who knows where. It did Idabashi’s heart good to see his son had found such a companion. Kiibo didn’t have many friends before Hope Peak. Hopefully, this was the start of a new chapter in Kiibo’s life. Then again, this is the path Kiibo chose, of course it was going to lead to something great.

“Come on! We have to hurry, or we’ll miss them!” “I know and I am!” “Well hurry faster!” A giddy laughter erupted from you as you raced against the setting sun. It was practically gone already, but you had to make it. “We can make it!” “We can see the fireworks from anywhere around here!” “Yeah, but we need the best spot!” Slipping down the hill, racing down the path, weaving through the slightly forested birch wood, you came to a stop beside the giant lake. You fell to your knees, completely out of breath. “Y/N!” You gave Kiibo a thumbs up, showing you were alright while still letting you catch your breath. Then your heard it. That crackling boom as the world around you was half dark, half momentarily bursting with bright colors before it faded. Kiibo kneeled beside you, just wanting to be sure you were alright and didn’t pull a muscle. When you turned to look to the sky Kiibo saw the array of rainbows that exploded, captivating the sky reflected in your eyes. This was certainly the best way to enjoy fireworks he decided. You smiled so dreamily, Kiibo could just get lost in this moment forever.

Then you placed you hand on his cheeks. Immediately they ignited just as brightly as the fireworks above. “Beautiful” was all you said under your breath, closing the distance between the two of you before there was none at all.

As you backed up Kiibo could see your cheeks were much like his own in that moment. “W-w-w-w-wwhaaaaaaaaaaaa…” While Kiibo was left reeling you seemed to realize something. “I AM SO SORRY!” S-sorry? Sorry for what!?” “I DIDN’T ASK FOR PERMISSION! DID I MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, I’M SO SORRY I KIND OF JUST GOT CARRIED AWAY IN THE MOMENT AND I- I’M, I AM SO SORRY!” “No! Nononononnononononono! It’s okay! Don’t worry!” The both of you buried your faces into your hands, unable to bare looking at one another out of sheer embarrassment. After a few moments of composing yourself you spoke up. “Uh… H-happy birthday? I got you a second present?” Why did you have to say that!? Kiibo could not handle all this. “u-uh, so the kiss was a present?” “No, I just wanted to give myself an excuse! Damn it Kiibo! Why do you have to be so smooth, and handsome, and a dork and adorable! Ugh! Well, cat’s out of the bag. I, have a crush on you too.” “YOU LOOKED THROUGH MY TEXTS WITH DAD!? YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T!” “I didn’t.” Kiibo froze, realizing what he just admitted. “H-how did you know then?” “Kiibo, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It was pretty obvious.” “I- really?” You simply nodded, watching as Kiibo crumpled over, wondering just exactly how obvious his feelings were. “Wait Kiibo, don’t panic! I don’t want you to freeze or whatever again!”

After a few minuets of the both of you panicking you finally calmed. You sighed, so glad to see Kiibo slightly better. “Uh, sorry I kinda did that out of nowhere.” “Don’t be! I, I-I liked… it. And… we like each other.” “Yeah.” You nervously chuckled, still feeling guilty about not asking for consent to kiss Kiibo first. Kiibo tugged at his scarf with a hand, looking down to it, the sky light up, allowing him to take in that bright red. “Y/N… I’ve never had a red string around my pinky, for as long as I could remember, but! I… I can’t imagine a better person to be with than you!” He held up an end of the now untied scarf to you. “Maybe, because I’m not human, my red string is different, more physical, tangible, and because of that I get to choose my soulmate! So, would you…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, that blush spreading across his cheeks again seeing you wrap the scarf end around your neck. “Don’t mind me, go on.” “… Thank you.” “No, thank you. I like this idea, of choosing my soulmate.”

Epilogue:

It was late into the night when the fireworks display ended and even later when Kiibo had returned to Hope’s Peak, having walked you home, and slowly walking to school, texting you constant updates that he was alright and not freezing again. Upon entering his dorm room Kiibo immediately leaped onto his bed, rolling around giddily giggling. “So when’s the weddi-” “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Kiibo chucked the pillows and blankets at the voice before he could even stop himself. “Gee, what a great way to greet your dad.” “I’m so sorry! Are you alright!? Did I hurt you!?” With an exaggerated sigh Idabashi got up and dumped the quilt and sheets in a heap back on the bed. “I’m fine, but we still have that checkup, remember?” Getting no response he looked to confusion at Kiibo, who was lightly blushing and softly smiling holding one of his hands close to his chest, looking at his pinky.

[cakelanguage]

This took much longer than I thought it would, but work has been absolutely exhausting lately. I'm honestly just excited that I get to share this with you all because I really wanted to participate in Hurt!Noct Week. This is a combination of day 1 prompts: buried alive and captured by Nifleheim (at least sort of?). This is just the 1st chapter, but I figured I’d share at least this bit for now. I hope you enjoy this!

You can also read this on AO3

-

He should’ve called Ignis. Or texted Gladio that he was going to be ten minutes late to their training session. Or Astrals, accepted Prompto’s offer to walk home with him even though his house was in the opposite direction.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d strolled down the bustling streets, thinking about the planned King’s Knight session later that night. He scrolled idly through the mission details, trying to formulate a plan of attack. The last time Noctis had attempted this mission he’d been severely outclassed and had to abandon the mission lest he lose what little loot he’d been able to pilfer from the dungeon. With Gladio’s character acting as their tank, he could have Ignis on range attacks and healing. Prompto had the best stealth stats so they could have Prompto looting the place while the rest of them took care of the bigger monsters. Noctis fancied himself an all-around player so he could assist wherever needed the most help.  

Caught up in his mini strategy session, he didn’t realize he was on a collision course with someone until he ran right into them. He stumbled, juggling his phone between his hands in an attempt to save it from meeting its demise on the pavement below.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man he ran into grumbled, brushing imaginary dirt off his jacket.

The man was dressed lavishly in a wide variety of patterns and textures. His coat looked sturdy and thick like it would keep out even the harshest of cold winds. The scarf around his neck was the brightest piece of clothing he wore—the reddish-orange silk oddly complementing the man's red-violet hair. Not a sliver of the man’s skin was visible besides the tip of the man’s fingers and his face under the shade of his fedora.

He had a right to be upset even if half of him wanted to insist that the man could have moved too. He shoved that thought down and instead nodded his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” Noctis apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Yes, I figured as much.” The man squinted at him, his head cocking to the side. “Hold on a moment, don’t I know you?”

Not for the first time, he was thankful for his privacy. His father had done a remarkable job at keeping him much out of the public eye. People knew who he was, but because he wasn’t in any of the newspapers or rag magazines that most celebrities appeared in he could go through life like normal. He didn’t have to think about paparazzi waiting outside his school or people approaching him asking for something or other.

“Probably not,” Noctis said, “maybe you’ve seen me walking home before? I go to the high school three blocks away.”

Shaking his head, the man inspected his face more thoroughly. “No that’s not it. I’ve definitely seen you before.” He felt as if the man could count his pores, and Noctis shuffled backward away from the man’s heavy stare. “Have you got an uncle that works at the palace? I used to work there.”

The man gave Noctis a private quirk of his lips like he was privy to some hidden joke that only he knew.

“Oh that’s… nice?”

The man nodded absentmindedly gaze still heavy on Noctis. “Hm, you really do look familiar,” he commented. “Quite handsome too.”

“Thanks?” Noctis looked down at his uniform and his loosened tie and wondered if there was a polite way to excuse himself from the conversation. He didn’t want to be rude by walking away from the man but he really did need to get going or he was going to be later than he thought to Gladio’s training session. “Well, I’m sorry for walking into you like that, but I gotta get going.”

“Right, right, of course.” The man swept a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s not like I can keep the prince from his important tasks just to talk with me.”

Ice filled Noctis’ veins as his title was casually thrown out by the man who claimed he couldn’t place his face. He stared at the man, uncomprehendingly. This was starting to look like the beginning of one of Ignis’ crime drama shows. Why did the man lie? What was his angle? What was going on?

“Who are you?” Noctis asked, channeling his calm façade to the max.

“A man of no consequence, I assure you.” The man waved him off with a few shooing gestures. “Off you go, your highness.”

Noctis gave him a wary look and an awkward bob of his head. He needed to get out of here. Ready to put this whole interaction behind him, he stepped to the side of the man to continue his route. Except he didn’t get very far before a hand latched onto his wrist with surprising force.

A violent tug had him wrenching himself back around, his shoulder twinging at the sudden jerk. Face-to-face with the man once more, Noctis saw how the man’s expression was colder, harsh in the afternoon sun. His teeth were bared in a sneer—looking for all the world like a coeurl.

“Let go,” Noctis ordered, now glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Didn’t you just tell me to go?”

A taunting smile peaked through the man’s sneer. “Now why would I do that?” He asked.

Noctis clenched his fists and bit out another order. “Let go of me, now.” He grabbed his phone with his free hand and quickly dialed the palace’s emergency numbers. It would be mildly embarrassing if Gladio found out he’d called the Crownsguard on a regular citizen, but his SAS kidnap training was blaring in his ears. “I’m warning you, I can have you arrested.”

A soft tsk came from the man who shook his head at Noctis’ threat. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

He opened his mouth to demand his release again, but all that came out was a choked-off yelp as something heavy struck his head. His knees refused to hold up his body and he collapsed to the concrete. The skin of his palms was torn in his attempt to catch himself, but he couldn’t feel it; the sharp pain by his temple shadowed the pain in his palms.

He turned his gaze back to the blurry figure of the man, who had been joined by another figure. His brain felt sluggish, his thoughts thick in his mouth as he tried to string a sentence together. “W-what—“

“Shh,” The man shushed, ignoring Noctis’ flinch as he tenderly ran a hand through Noctis’ hair. “Good night, sweet prince.”

The last thing he saw was a fist coming at his face.

Then nothing.

He regained consciousness with a choked-off groan. He felt like he’d gone through one of Gladio’s marathon training sessions and lost miserably.

Laying still, he took stock of his body. His lip was swollen and tender as he wet his dry, split lips. The right side of his face throbbed in-tune with his heartbeat and Noctis could barely get that eye to open more than a crack. What was he supposed to do? He’d been trained on how to handle a kidnapping situation; Cor had made it abundantly clear the variations in which people would try to snatch him up. But this wasn’t just a ‘what if.’ He’d been kidnapped not even four blocks away from his school.

It was a matter of figuring out what he could do to get out of here. He still had his magic though admittedly his connection to the Crystal felt like he was trying to pull at the energy through a strainer. Like sifting through a pile of hay for the needle—all of his abilities being the needle and the presence of his magic being the hay.

But that didn’t mean he was helpless. He just needed to approach the situation the right way and he could escape. He tried to remain calm, limiting his breathing to shallow breaths to keep up his ruse. This became a fruitless act when he heard someone or something step up behind him.

A familiar voice came from behind him. “It appears our guest of honor is awake,” the man cooed. Some of the man’s nonchalance had vanished, replaced by cruel giddiness. “And how are you, your majesty?”

Like hell he was going to go along with this guy’s fake care. His pride wouldn’t let him bite out a pleasantry, instead choosing to press his steely gaze on the eccentric man. His stare didn’t deter the man’s delight in his situation which only served to make his blood simmer in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off that face.

“I think you’ll find, Noctis,” the man loomed over him, nudging him lightly in the ribs with his boots, “that I have the upper hand.”

He didn’t. Noctis refused to believe it. He may not have had any weapons on him, but Noctis had dialed the emergency response number for the palace. By dialing the number he had ensured back-up would be on their way to his location in less than five minutes. Well, the location of where the call took place. He couldn’t feel the shape of his phone in his pockets, but the Crownsguard would be able to pick up on any trail his kidnapper had left behind.

All he needed to do was wait.

“What do you want?” Noctis asked, shifting his position on the floor to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower back. He could already feel the scar tissue there begin to burn and ache.

“Already wanting me to reveal my dastardly plan?” The man questioned. “How cliché.” Noctis’ face must’ve given away his annoyance because the guy clucked his tongue at his expression.

“I realize this isn’t one of your silver-spoon soirees, but it’ll serve as a good setting for the video.” He straightened and made his way over to the small set-up of… camera equipment? “We need you to put on your best performance, your highness.” He looked up with a cold smile that sent a shiver running down Noctis’ spine. “Though do save some for the main event.”

“So you’re gonna, what? Ransom me or something?” Noctis squirmed in his binds. “Is that your plan?”

Humming noncommittally, the man continued setting up his equipment. “Or something.”

“Not much of a talker huh?” He was banking on being able to get some info out of the guy so he could shout it over what was sure to be his ransom video.

The waiting was bizarre. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t feel like he was all there—though the main contributor to this was the head injury—the quiet sounds of rustling cables and footsteps gave him peace of mind amongst the simmering unrest and anxiety as the experience faded into less immediate danger. If only he could concentrate on his armiger and summon the knife he stored there—then he’d be able to warp out of his binds and escape.

A quiet huff of laughter broke through the silence; it took him a few moments to realize the laugh came from him . It wasn’t funny, not by a long-shot. He was being stupidly optimistic, especially since his vision still wavered between doubled and covered in black splotches. He probably had one hell of a shiner too.

He wished he’d called someone to get him.  

The derelict state of his mind was brushed away as a triumphant cry echoed slightly around him. He squinted at the man who looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Noctis asked, tiredly. He had no desire to give the man the reactions he was hoping for. Actually, the other being put off by his apathy made him feel better. “Did you finally get your whole… set-up ready?”

The man had the audacity to pout at him. “Now you’re just no fun,” he complained. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’ve brought you here?”

Noctis shrugged. “Not really?” The motion caused his chains to rattle in the tight space. “Most of the guys I’ve been kidnapped by all want the same thing: revenge or money.”

“I can assure you that my reason is definitely not for any monetary reason.” The man took a step towards him. “I suppose you could call it revenge, though I admit you are simply unlucky—to be chosen by the gods.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb along his cheekbones. “You do bear a striking resemblance to him.”

A nail dug it the flesh underneath his eye and Noctis hissed, attempting to turn his face out of the man’s grip. “What a pity,” the man said, releasing his hold on Noctis. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair that you finally be able to put a name to your captor.”

“Oh now you want to introduce yourself?” Noctis grumbled—because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life apparently.

Fortunately, the man seemed amused by his comment. “Do forgive me for my rudeness, your highness .” The mocking emphasis he placed on the title was not lost to Noctis, but he didn’t dignify him with an answer. “I’ve been reduced to the moniker ‘Adagium,’ by the royal line of Lucis.”

It sounded familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place where he’d heard it. Had the name come up in his studies? Was it a political thing?

Adagium sighed and shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. Your dear father is desperately trying to keep you in the dark.”

Noctis furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he’s keeping me in the dark?”

With a shake of his head, Adagium stepped back over to his equipment. “I’ve talked enough for now, it’s time we get the show started lest the party be stopped before it’s even begun.” Adagium grinned at him. “The stage is yours, prince Noctis.”

A red light blinked to life on the camera as Noctis stared into the lens. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Did Adagium want him to beg? To show whoever was watching the video that he was scared? He wasn’t. Scared that it is. Unnerved? Yes, how could he not be when he was kidnapped and tied up in some unknown location.

His captor sighed tilting his hat to cover his face and—

Adagium changed. No longer was he wearing the extravagant, pattern-clashing, textile collage of an outfit. He was in a set of armor, his face masked and hair tucked away under the rigid helmet. Noctis had only seen the armor in person once before on that fateful escape from Tenebrae as he reached desperately for Luna’s hand.

Magitek armor.

To see the man stripped of his individualism did more to bother Noctis than he expected. Something about the metal, placid expression staring at him had his stomach clenching nervously. How had Adagium done it? An illusion? But how? To his knowledge, illusion magic was typically only used by the messengers of the gods; he figured he’d already met all of them at this point with his connection to Luna.

With four jerky steps, Adagium stood beside him, a hand painfully clasping his shoulder. Noctis side-eyed the man as if he could glean some sort of direction for what he wanted Noctis to do.

Once again, Adadgium broke the silence. “Salutations, Your Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum,” Adagium said, “113th monarch in the long line of Lucis.”

He’d somehow managed to project his voice to see like he was behind the camera again. Another impossibility Noctis didn’t know how to find an answer to.

“As you can see, I have an auspicious guest with me, one I know you’re well-acquainted with. Won’t you say hello to your dear father, Noct?” Adagium asked.

Gritting his teeth, Noctis glared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t going to give the other what he wanted, not when he could still deny him of his game. If he could weaponize his silence, he would.

With an angry tut from Adagium, Noctis’ hair was yanked with a merciless tug, pulling his head backward and exposing his throat. He could feel the handful of hair desperately trying to cling to his scalp as he let out a small whimper at the rough treatment.

“What a difficult boy,” Adagium commented, “he must’ve been quite the child to raise. To think he’d forget his manners at a time like this.”

“Shut up,” Noctis growled.

“Oh he speaks! Splendid! Now while I’ve broken through that stony exterior, we can commence the show.”

Suddenly, a knife was pressed against Noctis’ neck. He flinched back into Adagium’s hold on his hair, but the knife followed, the edge of the blade making a small, shallow cut on the delicate skin of his neck. He was helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of his captor. And it didn’t seem like Adagium had any qualms against hurting him.

The blood that lazily oozed from the wound dripped down his neck and settled into his jugular notch like a morbid jewel. Noctis heard Adagium’s hum of approval and could feel the pressure of the knife increase slightly as if Adagium had lapsed in his awareness that he was the one holding the knife and thus in control of how far the blade entered Noctis’ flesh.

“Now, I understand why Lucis values black as a special color—it goes amazingly with blood red, wouldn’t you agree?”

He said it so off-handedly that Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to: Noctis, Regis, or himself. What was clear, was that Adagium had a deep-seated grudge against Lucis—the royal line in particular. But why? Was he from one of the outer nations that had been left behind when his father had to pull back the wall to just the city of Lucis?  

Adagium broke out of his musings, finally pulling the knife back enough that it was just resting against the cut. “Never mind that,” he said. “I expect you’re waiting for some kind of demand from me. Money? Some impossible wish for power? Recognition?” Noctis could hear the smirk in his voice, that deceptively playful quirk of his lips. “No, I don’t want any of those, not explicitly at least.”

What do you want? Noctis didn’t voice no matter how much he wanted to. This little video of Adagium’s seemed to be going nowhere which could be good if this was a live broadcast, build the tension maybe.

“My reason for kidnapping Noct is very simple: because I could.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Noctis’ brain stumbled to a halt. That’s it? Because he could? That didn’t make any sense, not when Adagium had brought up some kind of revenge. “What happened to your revenge?” Noctis asked. “You mentioned your reasons could be considered revenge and the gods.” He remembered the forlorn look in Adagium’s eyes before the rage had trickled back in. “You said I resembled someone, Adagium.”

He knew he was being bold, foolhardy more accurately, but his captor hadn’t revealed his name and Noctis was hoping if he brought up his aforementioned desire for revenge on film he’d reveal more of his reasoning. If the heroes in movies could get a villain to reveal their schemes, Noctis should be able to do it to Adagium.

Adagium’s grip on his hair tightened, Noctis crying out as several strands were tugged out of his scalp. “Oh Noct,” he purred, “I see you’ve decided to join the conversation.”

Noctis felt his skin crawl at the contemptuous pride in Adagium’s voice. He’d overstepped with his nosy questions.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Adagium said. “You remember Adagium, do you not Your Majesty? The mythical monster locked away in the dark depths of Angelgard for ages, lost to time amongst the words of false kings and fraudulent nations.”

Who was Adagium? Noctis wondered, a stray tear slipping down the side of his face towards his hairline. “Why?” Noctis whispered, afraid of the answer he’d receive but unwilling to let his question lie.

The magitek disguise rippled ominously, a black miasma seeping through the gaps of armor. Quickly, the figure of Adagium was being overshadowed by the mist. The tiny glints of gold light within the consuming shadows was what gave away the nature of the mist: Starscourge.

Eyes wide, Noctis struggled in the man’s grip. He remembered when the Starscourge had infected him as a child when the Marilith had sliced his back open and nearly severed his spinal cord. The burning agony of the scourge ravaging his body, when not even his coma brought him relief from its infection. The hushed cries of similarly infected at the edges of his mind like a web of anguish, ever-growing with each infected. Get away getawaygetaway.

His struggling was for naught as the black mirage leaned closer to him. “Why?” Adagium asked the hand that held the knife lazily dragged to the center of his chest. “Because I was saving people. Because that first false king was jealous and power-hungry, over-eager to be the one to wear the crown. And the rest,” he spat the word, “never bothered to question any of their forebears, convinced that they had always done what was best for the kingdom of Lucis.”

Noctis shook his head as best he could. “But why would they—“

“Because the gods didn’t stop them.” The knife in his hand pressed harder against Noctis’ chest and hissed at the sting of the blade. “But the time of reckoning is steadily approaching!”

With a flourish of his hand, the knife was sent away. Noctis thought it was eerily similar to accessing the armiger. “While all the pieces aren’t in their proper place just yet, a bit of ‘divine retribution’ soothes the soul.”

“What do you mean by divine retribution?” Noctis asked, his voice far quieter than he expected.

The miasma cloud seemed to grin impossibly wide, though he couldn’t discern an actual face. “I thought it would be perfect for you to atone on behalf of your forebears, Noct. And to have your father helplessly watch as he struggles to find you.”

Adagium stood behind him once more and wrapped his arms loosely around Noctis’ shoulders. “Let’s have the chosen, King of Light spend some time in the dark,” he purred, black ichor dripping onto his shirt. Onto his head. Onto his face. It was everywhere and Noctis couldn’t focus on anything else.

And then there was nothing.

[famouskittychild]

Dragon’s Whiskers

Summary: A little fluff piece about Fennec and Boba and their friendship. Fennec is going through a rough patch and Boba tries to help. Contains candy and some spice.

Warnings: some angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of injury; gentle prank; one instance of a non-romantic kiss.

Rating: PG

Word count: 2340

Ao3 link

 Author’s note: This is the very first fanfic I published here. Hope you like it!

When Fett had barged into her office in the middle of the night, and told her to either go to sleep or else tell him what to do to make her feel a little better, Fennec’s first thought was to drag his armoured butt up to the top of the communications tower and throw him off of it. Pretzel had padded in on soft paws behind Fett, following him through the door he had left open. She joined the other two grumpy felines on their pillows staring at the two humans for still being up instead of letting them sleep. All Fennec had wanted to do was to go back to burying herself in account books and ship logs and other details of the job and take her mind off everything else. 

“You are the last person I need help from” she had told him, ready for their next round of arguments, knowing it was usually him who lost his patience first. She must have been really tired because this time he had kept up with her.

“Great, you have a list of more usable people. Name some.” He had plopped down onto her reading chair, his lap promptly claimed by one of the ‘cats, than stared at her like she was on a list too; one for problems to be solved. “Nothing? Than how about, just going away from this all? Take a few days off. Visit a spa, or a forest, or a racecourse.”

She had sighed and hoped he'd still go away if she was just abrasive enough, but he had stood his ground. He had argued, he had asked; he had showed her planets to visit and speeder advertisements and had offered contacts for weapons upgrade specialists. It had seemed like he had tried to think of anything that might interest her and would cheer her up a little. Even the karking ‘cats had been on his side, taking turns at rubbing up to her legs and begging to be allowed onto her lap and be petted.

“Or I can just get you a blaster bolt on stun setting. That’d make sure you sleep a couple hours” he threw his hands up in the end, frustrated. Even that wouldn’t have helped. Knocked out cold wasn’t the same as a good night’s rest, and that was the thing Fennec needed the most. Her old problems with sleep were slowly creeping up on her in the past few months. Then last week happened, and she broke down in a way she hadn’t had in a long time. No wonder Fett had been somewhat worried about her. In the end, more embarrassed for making him worry over her and for keeping him from resting than actually believing it would help much, she had given up and gave him the name of a planet.

 All in all it turned out to be a great day. It was high time Fennec visited her home planet, and with all of the mess that went down a week prior and made her heart clench with grief at random times, it proved Fett right in being a welcome break from it all. Seeing the people who were so similar to her own family, hearing the familiar dialect and words particular to her homeworld - it made her remember where she came from. Being reminded of her roots helped to anchor herself again, something she needed in the storm that was her life lately. She hoped it will help her sleep better too.

She didn’t wanted to go as herself though. She didn’t wanted for anyone to recognize her, or know her as she was now, so they had put on hooded cloaks over their usual attires, Fett even leaving behind his helmet on the ship. They had arrived early morning and visited a few places: the Memorial of Ancestors, one of the schools she went to and another she would’ve loved to attend but never got to. Then they went over to the theatre district, watched a street performance, and even seen some dancers and musician at a park there. 

They finished the day off by walking around the Old Market. They started there with a late lunch and than spent a few hours wandering around at a leisurely pace, looking at all the different goods on offer and the people milling about. She stopped to buy a few things here and there: a comb, a scarf, some tea, and then some more tea. They debated about getting some treats for the furballs than decided they were spoilt enough already. They had made a wide circle around the rows of stalls with their rainbow of canopies and were on their way back towards the area set aside for spaceships, as the town lacked a proper spaceport. The last things she picked up were a stack of flat boxes at the handmade-candy stall named The Dragon’s Beard. She had put in her order earlier, knowing the crafters needed time to make the wide selection she wanted. And selection they had. Sweet candies of all kind, with syrups and berries and milks; savoury ones with cashews and nuts, spicy with peppers and roots and pickles. She ordered enough to bring back to let everyone have at least a taste of all the different types. Fett looked at the pile of boxes with uncertainty. 

“There should be enough sweets there to give a sugar rush to everyone back home” he commented as she tucked the colourful boxes under the arm that didn’t already had a satchel on it with the rest of her finds. “Including even the droids. And the four-legged beasts.”

“Mmm, don’t worry.” It took her a bit to balance all her stuff, then they started to walk down the row towards their ship. “And not all of them are sweet. Want a taste now? Because I do.” 

She let him take the topmost, red box from under her arm, one with non-sweets. He fumbled with the knot on the string that held the lid on, and she almost asked if they should stop walking when he managed to undo it. He offered them to her first, and she took a green one - her favourite. He got himself a red one that she knew had ginger in it. 

“It’s nice” he said, and she felt that doesn't really sums up the truth. Although, he didn’t have the nostalgia that she had for the candies, nor did he pick a particularly strong flavour. She just nodded, enjoying the numbing spiciness in her mouth. 

Fennec kept an eye on him, knowing he will pick out the spiciest one of the box sooner or later. It was the one she had started with, the green one; a colour he tended to gravitate towards, though not today as it seemed. They were on their third round of the colourful savoury treats and almost back to the ship. She knew he had found it when he abruptly stopped and grunted, then twisted away, trying to hide his face from her. She felt laughter building in her chest, something she haven’t felt in a long time. 

Soon he gave up and coughed, and probably would’ve cursed if he could. Her laughter was still far from reaching the surface but her smile was wider than it had been in a good while. 

“I see you found the Dragon’s Whisker.” He coughed again as an answer and covered his face, eyes watering, willing the pain to go away. Dragon’s Whisker pepper was strong even for someone who was used to very spicy food like her, and he was way less so. “It will pass soon, it’s not the lingering-in-your-throat type.” 

After a few moments he could open his eyes again, and he stared darts at her. It just made her smile even wider. Then he stepped closer to her, head tilted to the side, and she only had a fraction of a second to think “is he going to kiss me?!” before he did just that, pulling her close with a hand behind her head and pressing his lips firmly on hers. 

“Spicy, eh?” he asked as he withdrew. A giggle had bubbled up and burst out of her while they stepped apart. Her lips tingled slightly where they were touched by his, and for a few moments the tingling sharpened almost into pain before fading again. It was worth it. All of it. 

 Fennec left the boxes and her satchel on the lower deck before climbing through to the cockpit behind him. Fett took the co-pilot's chair that was usually hers, and looked at her like a loth-cat that had stepped into water, accusing and indignant at their misfortune at the same time. She was almost sorry for him, but it was just all too funny. 

She piloted the ship out of the atmosphere and he supplied the data for the hyperspace jump. As soon as the automation took over, he got up to go to the lower level. She had planned on staying where she was and giving him some room after her prank, but he turned back from the top of the ladder. 

“Do you have something for this?” He asked, and her face must have showed her momentary confusion because he elaborated. “For the pepper. I still feel like my mouth is burning.” 

Maybe his avoidance of spicy food that she observed wasn’t just a personal preference. With his injuries, he might have been less tolerant to pain caused by chemicals affecting surfaces of his body. Not to mention it might have brought up bad memories. Feeling a bit guilty, she nodded quickly and got out of her seat. 

 Once on the lower level, she rummaged around in the container for emergency rations. She always kept a box of powdered milk around especially for occasions like this. She dissolved a portion in a glass with less water than normal to make the milk thicker and made him start to sip it slowly before apologizing. He waved her concern away. 

“I’m fine, Fenn, really. I’m just not used to living on your volume of spiciness.” He smirked at her, and she knew him well enough to know they were all right. The smile came easier now, and to show she wasn’t sorry that much, she punched him lightly on the shoulder in a fist-bumpy way. It made him pretend to be hurt there too. 

“Thanks for the day off. I needed it” She meant it, even if just right then she suddenly couldn’t look at him. In the darkness of the ship and away from the lively crowds, back on their way to the everydays, the grief had came back for a moment and tried to sink it’s claws back into her. But it was easier to resist it and the heavy cloud passed as fast as it had come. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and saw from the corner of her eye as Fett nodded and sipped his milk. It made her laugh again.

He sighed dramatically. 

“Yes, yes, mighty Boba Fett drinking his milk like a good boy. That’s another notch on your victory belt, isn’t it Shand?” He pretended to be grumpy about it, and she shamelessly grinned. Than he pointed at the pile of unopened boxes. 

“Are you planning on feeding me those too, or will you just keep them all for yourself now that I proved I can’t handle them?” 

She shook her head. 

“No, I got those for the staff.” 

“You’re evil” he commented fondly. She shot him a look of mock offence. 

“Only the red boxes are spicy, the others are sweets.” 

Now it was his turn to look indignantly. “You’re telling this to me now?!” He got up and picked out one of the pastel boxes. She started to object. 

“Those are not for you!” 

He was already fumbling with the knot on the string tied around the box. He looked up at her, face as innocent as he could manage. 

“I’m just collecting the import taxes.” 

She gave up and laughed. “Two pieces only! Or there wont be enough for everyone.” 

“You calculated that, right?” 

She didn’t, but he could think that; she just wanted to be contrarian to him. He finished undoing the knot and took a moment to survey the contents. Than he looked at her, eyes drawn into slits, suddenly suspicious. “Are these really sweets, or are you pulling my leg again?” 

“They are sweet. Promise. Can you smell the powdered sugar? The others had starch on them.” 

“You know my nose is mostly useless.” She did know, but these had so much sugar on them, she could smell them from where she was sitting. He took out a reddish piece and sniffed it. “Yes, sugar. I should’ve sniffed the others too, the lack of it might’ve given them away.” 

He popped the sweet into his mouth and closed his eyes as it was dissolving on his tongue. She let him enjoy the flavour for a moment before answering. 

“It would have, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I have mentioned that not all of them were sweet, remember? I thought you would disregard that and you did. Because I also told you they were candy and you took my word on that. Then you picked the ones with ginger and almonds, and those were kind of sweet, so nothing prepared you for the Dragon’s Whiskers. The thing is,” she waited for him to turn his face towards her again before explaining with a smirk, “as long as they are bite sized and considered a snack, we use the word candy. Local quirk. Sweet ones, savoury ones, spicy ones, the mix of those - here, they are all called candy.” 

“You” he jabbed a finger towards her “are an evil woman.” 

He took his second candy and closed the lid, watching her smile and shrug at him. It’s been a good day to be evil like that.

[milknette]

day 11 - star-crossed lovers

if my love was just a curse, then i have only tears to shed.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

"PLEASE, dearest, tell me the truth."

Marinette doesn't even look up as he speaks, his voice echoing from the otherwise empty dungeon.

"For what reason?" She asks, instead. "It seems you've chosen your side." Marinette spares him a passing glance, and it's so cold he almost takes a step back. "Who to believe."

"I was given no other choice!" He argues, holding almost desperately onto the bars that prevented him from holding her directly. "Lila is trusted by the people— trusted by my father, even! She's—"

"The divine messenger," Marinette finishes for him, though her tone drips of venom and nothing of the kindness he had known from her prior. Had he truly been fooled? "The woman who claims to speak directly to God." She laughs to herself; bitterly, almost angrily. "And yet it is I who is considered the heretic."

At that point, Marinette keeps eye contact.

Her stare is sharp and icy; the warm ocean blue he had familiarized himself with nowhere to be seen.

"How foolish."

Adrien grips the bars tighter. "Then tell me she's wrong," he pleads. "Tell me that you hadn't… that you're not…"

"Not what?" Marinette asks, voice almost terrifyingly devoid of emotion. "Tell me, dearest, what crime you've accused me of." She rages with quiet ferocity. "Tell me what I've done that justifies being treated like a monster." Her tone borders on cruel. "Say it."

They stare at each other, neither willing to back down. Accusing her outright, he knows, means that there's no turning back. There's a finality that comes with speaking it aloud— a finality that quite clearly meant that whatever they had with each other (if anything) is over.

So, Adrien ends it.

"That you've enchanted me to fall in love with you."

The words hang in the air, becoming much heavier when said aloud. He continues, quiet. "That I've been cursed to give my heart to a witch."

Marinette's strangely silent.

Then, almost vulnerable, she asks it:

"Was the possibility of you loving me so outlandish that only a curse could make it so?"

For a moment, he almost sees his Marinette; kind, loving, honest, and who he had loved so purely.

"Do you despise me?"

The 'no' escapes his mouth before he can even register it, shocking both of them.

Adrien knows he should hate her; loathe her for the sins she's committed to the kingdom— to him.

But he also knows confidently that his feelings are the complete opposite.

The only question that remains is whether that feeling of love to her is genuine.

He sighs, dropping down to his knees. He leans his head against the prison bars, exhausted. "I could never despise you," Adrien mutters, almost as if he were saying it to himself. "And that's the problem."

"Adrien, I—"

Then he faces forward, staring directly at her. "And you misunderstood," he starts. "I never believed the curse because I could never love you."

He smiles, though all he can really feel is the crushing sadness that threatens to bury himself whole.

"I believed the curse because I never knew I could love someone that much."

The silence is deafening.

Then, a single tear rolling down a cheek.

And in a moment, it becomes an overwhelming torrent of them.

Marinette finally breaks down, collapsing onto the floor as her body's wracked with sobs.

Adrien's never wished so terribly that he had some cataclysmic power to destroy the cell holding her hostage, and to hold her in his arms.

So instead he watches, almost helplessly, as she puts herself back together.

It only takes a moment.

(She never did make it his business to see her vulnerable; Marinette believed it to be the most intense form of intimacy, and she had always been too scared to take that step.

Now he knew her fears weren't unfounded at all.)

"I'm sorry," she finally says, after what seems like an eternity. "I had never meant… for any of this to happen."

He laughs lightly. "I don't think anyone could have expected this outcome," he says. "I'd have thought our story would finish with a completely different ending, really."

Marinette smiles, wiping her cheeks with a tattered cloak. "And what would that be?"

"The palace," Adrien hums. "I take over my father, and rule on my rightful place as king."

"How wonderful." She says, features softening. "Though I do recall you saying this was our story? How would I fit in?"

"Every king needs his queen."

"Perhaps Lila can fill that role."

They both share a laugh.

"No… only one person can fill that role, truly." Adrien stares at her, almost nervous, as he speaks up. "And that woman—"

"— is someone you'll find someday," Marinette interrupts, before standing back up. "Whoever she is, I hope she realizes how lucky she is to have someone so lovely by her side."

Marinette cups his cheeks, and the warmth that spreads throughout his body only yells his deepest desires:

How could  this  be evil?

She smiles, then presses a kiss to his forehead.

"I now release you from this curse, Prince Adrien of the Agreste Kingdom," Marinette begins. "Now live and love freely, without this monstrous witch to hold you back."

"Wait, Marinette—"

"There he is!"

Lila comes bursting through the entrance to the dungeon, a string of guards on her trail.

She immediately runs to him, almost yanking him away from her cell.

"My dearest prince," Lila cries, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I've been so worried! I've prayed and spoken with God, who by His gracious heart, has told me where you've been kept captive."

A snort.

The nun seethes at that sound, suddenly turning to face Marinette, eyes glassy with anger. "And you!" She growls, walking forward to roughly grab Marinette by her dress' collar; almost strangling the girl as she's held up. "Release Adrien from his curse, you damned witch—"

"Lila, stop!" Adrien pulls her away, allowing Marinette to be thrown back; coughing and breathing deeply as she falls to the floor. "There's no need to be cruel."

She glares at Marinette, before letting go.

"Fine." Lila says, though the lack of remorse on her expression is evident. She reaches upward and holds the cross on her necklace, rubbing it almost too intensely. "I'm confident that the Lord will pass upon her fair judgment."

At that she latches on to Adrien, then grins. "Now come with me, I have some great rituals to help remove the horrid stench of that witch from you."

He only nods, silent, as he's led upstairs.

He turns back.

"Goodbye, Marinette."

It physically hurts him to see her smile.

"Goodbye, Prince Adrien."

.

.

"Marinette, you are henceforth being trialled as a witch. What say you to this claim?"

"If it is a sin to love, then I will gladly admit I am guilty of it."

"Then we shall take that as your acceptance of the accusation. Prince Adrien, as the victim, what say you?"

"..."

"Prince Adrien?"

"..."

"See, he is clearly under the spell of this witch! We must kill her now to free him! Do it now!"

"Here, here!"

"No…"

"Kill the witch!"

"Wait…"

"Burn her at the stake!"

"... Don't!"

Screams, fire, a vision of black, then—

Nothing.

She's gone.

.

.

A dark red scarf flying in the wind.

A hand outstretched, grabbing it from the air.

A woman, running over.

A man, falling in love.

Between them, something is lit.

It begins the same way it ends.

In flames.

[doginshoe]

A Flicker Of You - September 1st

Summary: Ghost AU. If you could change someone's fate, would you? Death is at the end of everyone's road and always comes when you least expect it. It’s irreversible, except maybe for a flickering soul who haunts her own life and is shown that the red string stretches even into the afterlife.  

Part 1.

Pairing: Nalu

Genre: supernatural, mystery, humour

-

Natsu stuffed his hands into his pockets, hot breath mixing with the cool air to form a puff of fog. His dark eyes shifted uneasily over his surroundings, occasionally letting out a hiss as he tripped on a stump covered in crumpled dried leaves or having his foot sink into the wet dirt, suctioning onto the bottom of his shoes. He felt the itch to whine as he and his friends trudged further into the woods. Though, he knew his pride would never allow him to voice his own thoughts.

The young man didn’t think that Gajeel had meant this when he called them to have a ‘bit of fun,’ as he had described it.

Heading into the woods by the outskirts of Magnolia in the cold and middle of the night had never made Natsu’s list of fun. Not once. The tall pine trees made him feel small, their shadows making the forest even darker as it blocked out the pale moonlight and every snap of a twig had the hairs on his arm standing on end. He wouldn’t admit it, but the east forest had always given him the creeps and he generally tried to avoid it.

It was a feeling he couldn’t shake. Ever since he had come here in his junior year - a stupid bet to see who could last the longest out in the ‘haunted woods.’

  It had been fine at first. Natsu didn’t believe in monsters, or anything supernatural. Especially not ghosts. There was nothing in this forest that could hurt him. Except a wild animal, or possibly a serial killer, but he had shoved that thought to the back of his mind and laughed as he and his friends all ventured into the thick foliage.

He shook his head, pushing back down the growing knot in his stomach as his mind veered to what that stupid bet had led to. He had hit his head back then. That was all. Though, Natsu still couldn’t wipe away the memory of what he thought he saw that day.

The air had nipped at the back of his neck and the overhanging dark branches left him feeling uneasy as the wood forked out like a skeletal cage. The spring fog had blanketed the floor, the forest pitch black as the grey clouds covered any light that would filter through the trees. He couldn’t shake the sense that there was someone behind him, his smile slowly fading as he kept glancing back - eyes flicking from side to side before turning around to the back of his friends who were all pushing each other as they screamed out into the night.

He wasn’t afraid of anything, at least that’s what he had repeated to himself. There was nothing that he couldn’t protect himself from, and if he could fight it then he saw no reason to be scared.

Natsu still believed that.

Though, that night - he had stiffened when a chill had climbed up his spine, paralyzing him in place. He frantically searched for his friends that had been just ahead of him and felt his throat close up before he could speak. Yet, their forms had disappeared as the expanse of the forest stretched out before him. His stomach had dropped as he smelt the stale scent of perfume and he immediately jerked his head behind him.

Then he saw it. The light burned at his eyes, yet Natsu couldn’t bring himself to look away. He was stock-still as he locked eyes with… something. The wind picked up around him, pink locks whipping across his face as he heard a soft voice whisper into his ear.

“Please. Help me.”

The light got brighter until he eventually had to force his eyes to close and then he had awoken, chest heaving and drenched in sweat. His green eyes were blown wide as he came face to face with his friends who had all gathered around him. He had refused to calm down, pushing himself across the ground, smearing dirt along his jeans as he fisted clumps of leaves and rocks in his hands.

It had taken them a moment before he would listen to them. His best friend, Lisanna, was called out in the middle of the night so that she could take him home as he couldn’t stop shaking. They were convinced he was concussed. Though, nothing he had experienced had ever matched with what they said. Except for the gash across his cheek that indicated to them of his nasty fall once they had found him unconscious at the bottom of a steep hill.

Natsu rubbed at the prominent scar that had been left on his face from that night as he swallowed and looked over his shoulder, fisting the cloth of his pants inside his pockets before he tried to steady his breathing. That same feeling seemed to be resting on his shoulders at this moment - the lingering weight that had him rushing to keep close to Gray who stood a step ahead of him.

Natsu had sworn to himself that he would keep his distance from this place no matter what. Yet, he had allowed himself to be dragged out once his shift had ended at the ghoulish hour of 2am and he followed begrudgingly after Gajeel and Gray.

“What’s wrong? You scared or somethin,’ Natsu?”

He looked back up, eyes locking with his friends that had a smirk playing on his lips causing Natsu to scowl.

“Of course not!” He yelled, pulling his foot from the mud and taking another step after them. “I would never be scared of some shitty forest.”

Gray pulled a face, his smirk disappearing as his lips twisted into a frown and brows drew inwards. “Shitty forest? What the fuck does that even mean?” He turned his eyes up, gliding over the large trunks that towered over them as they walked before his smile returned. “You’re just mad that you’re scared of some trees.”

“Why don’t you come a little closer and say that.” Natsu gritted his teeth, fists already raising as Gray turned around and stopped. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as a screech resounded throughout the woods.

Natsu jumped back and all eyes turned up as an owl flew overhead, large wings spread out as it came to perch on one of the branches above them. It ruffled its feathers, head twisting around as it stared at them with large yellow eyes that seemed to be illuminated in the dark. A moment passed between the trio, the silence of the forest consuming them once again until Gajeel laughed.

“Ghi-hi, Not scared, huh?”

Natsu buried his face further into his scarf, grumbling as he did so, “I just got caught off guard is all.”

Gray clapped a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t suppress his grin as he chuckled alongside Gajeel. “Sure. Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone how chicken shit you are.”

“Yeah.” Gajeel started walking again, adjusting the bag hanging off his shoulder. “He won’t, but I sure as hell will.”

He shrugged off Gray’s hand, as they both started to laugh once more, and trudged after the leading male. “What are we doin’ out here anyways? You never even told us what you had dragged us out here for.” Natsu dug his hands further into his pockets, almost as if he could feel the air bite through his clothes. “It’s fucking freezing.”

“Speak for yourself. I think it’s nice out,” Gray murmured from his side and he threw him a burning glare, ready to butt heads with his raven-haired friend who let the breeze cool his exposed arms in his singlet.

“We’re conductin’ an experiment of sorts.” Gajeel ignored the bickering, his gravelly voice drawing both males’ attention. “Shrimp and I have another score to settle.”

“What?” Natsu shouted, “We’re out here cause you had another disagreement with Levy?”

Gray crossed his arms, his scowl mirroring Natsu’s annoyance. “You can’t bring us along every time you have a bet with your girlfriend. Especially when we all know you’re going to lose.” They both nodded in perfect sync. “That’s what you get for dating someone who’s too smart for you.”

“Oi,” Gajeel turned around, eyes blazing as he raised his fist at them, “Shrimp and I are neck and neck! And I ain’t losin’ this time around so expect a new winner after this.”

Gray rolled his eyes. “Yeah? So what exactly are we ‘experimenting’ with then?” His face didn’t change from it’s uncaring expression as he waited for Gajeel to answer. Though, Natsu felt himself lean back a bit, his muscles stiffening as their friend laughed into the night.

“Ghi-hi, we’re…”

The pause had a shiver run up Natsu’s spine and he only realised how creepy Gajeel really looked cloaked in the forest’s shadows with his piercings glinting in the slithers of light that shone down on them.

“...ghost huntin’.”

He raised up his arms, moving his fingers for extra emphasis as his lips quirked up into a wicked smirk. His black hair fell forward, framing his mischievous expression as his red eyes lit up with his excitement.

Gray scoffed. “You have to be fucking with us.”

Though, Natsu froze up. His eyes blew wide, much like a rabbit staring a predator in the face as he took in a sharp breath. The urge to turn around pricked at the base of his neck as the hair on his arms rose and he took an involuntary step backwards - the crunch of leaves sending shivers all the way up from his ankle.

The weight on his shoulders made his knees weak as he swallowed. If he were to actually believe in those types of things then maybe he would’ve caught onto the familiar scent that seemed to pass in the second he took in a deep breath of air, or the shift in temperature as he suddenly felt way too hot in his jacket. But, he didn’t believe in that. He didn’t believe in ghosts and it was just his nerves messing with him from that night he had hit his head all that time ago.

Natsu shook his head, rolling his shoulders as he tried to brush off the anxiousness that was making knots in his gut.

His actions weren’t noticed by his friends. Both gearing up as Gajeel breathed air out his nose, fists clenched as he gritted out his rebuttal to Gray's disbelief.

“They are too real! N’ I’m gonna prove it.” He stuck a thumb towards his chest before he brought it back to point at the man in front of him. “To you and Lev’s.” His smirk turned into a grin, large and full of teeth. “Shrimp won’t even know what hit her when I tell her about the spooky shit we got goin’ on here.”

There was a pause before Gray spoke again, looking completely unimpressed as his dark locks swayed in the slight breeze in the forest. “Right. And you expect to find these ‘ghosts’ how?” He unlocked his arms from their place crossed against his chest, bringing up two fingers to quote Gajeel.

The Cheshire smirk was back in place as Gajeel tapped his nose. “I’ve done my research. Don’t doubt that, Ice Queen.”

He turned back to walking and Gray fought the urge to roll his eyes again, following his hard-headed idiotic friend - Natsu doing the same as he looked around hesitantly.

“You didn’t think I just took you out into the east forest without being prepared, would ya?” Gajeel shouted over his shoulder. “I’ve got it all worked out.” They continued trudging through the forest, yet his voice accompanied the wind now instead of the three men walking in silence.

“It might not be apparent to you two idiots, but there’s a helluva lot of signals if you’ve got the trained eye - and if you prepare for the right circumstances.” He snickered, “Ghi-hi, we’ve just gotta find the right spot. Then you’ll see.”

Gray couldn’t help himself as he spat. “Absolute bullshit. You just read about this on wikipedia, didn’t you?”

Natsu swallowed, hands squeezed tight in his pockets. He made sure to clear his voice before he spoke, forcing himself to join into the conversation as they continued to walk, “Yeah. Ghosts aren’t real, Metal Head.”

Gajeel stopped abruptly and held up a hand causing the two behind him to come to a halt. Both of the males raised a brow, but he only jostled in his pocket to pull out his phone. There was a moment as he fiddled with the device and then he held it up, the screen calling Levy.

“Just what in the world do you think you’re -”

“Shhhhh,” Gajeel hushed, a piercing glare being thrown at a grumbling Gray as they waited for the call to connect. Though, there was only the steady beep that followed as it failed.

Natsu would’ve hoped that meant there was no signal out here, but the shit eating grin that formed on Gajeel’s face was enough for him to know that it wasn’t the only thing it was telling the self-named ‘ghost hunter.’

He took in a breath of air. “I think this is it.”

Natsu looked over their surroundings. This part of the forest looked the same as the rest of what they had seen on the walk here. He didn’t know what he had been expecting - an alter? Or maybe a small clearing. Yet, the trees here seemed to close in and tower above them, the foliage so thick on the ground that he sunk down to his shins.

“You’re full of it,” Gray countered, but the dark haired male was already stepping forward as Gajeel started unzipping his backpack and was handing off the contents to his friend.

Natsu’s eyes blew wide. “What’d ya think you’re doing with all that shit? You planning on killing us and starting a porno out of it?” He watched Gray fiddle with the camera, large and chunky as he held it with both hands whilst he booted it up. The next thing was a tarp as Gajeel smoothed it over the ground before his eyes looked up at Natsu with an annoyed look. “I don’t know about Gray, but I am not into this!”

“Not today, punk.” He placed a candle on the floor that looked like it was from Kmart until another camera followed - smaller in size that Gajeel set beside him. “Now, what’re you doing just standing around ‘ere? Help me would ya.”

He had to stop himself from grumbling, only narrowing his brows as he came to kneel on the tarp that he had set down on the ground, crunching underneath his added weight. “What do you want me to do?”

The smile he got in return made him feel uneasy. “You’re gonna play the main part, pinky.”

Natsu watched as he finally pulled out the last thing. A box. There was no branding. Just a plain, stale white box that was ripped on the edges and looked as if it was falling apart whilst being lined in a thick layer of dust. Gajeel handled it carefully as he pulled open the side and slid out a wooden board that had Natsu reeling back.

“I’m not fucking using that!”

“Don’t be such a pussy, Natsu,” The man in front of him chided, ”All you’ve got to do is slide this thing around and say some shit. Come on - you owe me.”

Natsu scowled. “I don’t owe you shit. And why can’t you or Gray do it?”

“I’m filming,” Gray shrugged, a smile on his face as he seemed to focus the camera on Natsu’s disgruntled expression.

Gajeel shoved it further into his face. “And I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t miss anything by setting up another angle. This has gotta be good if Shrimp is gonna accept the fact that I’m right, Knucklehead.” His pierced brows narrowed. “And you remember when I worked a double shift last month to cover ya ass. Don’t think that I would forget about that.”

“Fine.” Natsu grabbed the board alongside the planchette before he shoved it on the ground in front of him.

“Wait-” Gajeel lit the candle and placed it in front of the board before he pulled back as he fiddled with the camera. “I’ll tell ya when I’m ready.”

The nerves built up in Natsu’s gut, his eyes burning holes in the board as he looked over the numbers and letters marked in ink on the wood. He had seen an ouija board enough times in movies to know what it was, but had never actually had one or used it. He didn’t mess with shit like this. It was unrealistic and he had seen people crack the myths surrounding them so he saw no point. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling on edge - a strange sensation pulling through his hair as the wind eased off.

He didn’t like this.

“Off you go.” Gajeel was grinning as he held up the camera alongside Gray. “It’s time to get summoning!”

Natsu eased his eyes back to the camera before he grumbled, pulling up his scarf as he grabbed onto the planchette. It was smooth between his fingers and he sucked in a quick breath as he slowly put it onto the board. He hesitated, but not from the ouija board. Natsu could feel something in the air, the similar presence stirring up more memories of that night that he had tried to push down. The candle flickered as the hairs on his neck stood up, yet he hadn’t started moving.

He flicked his eyes to the side of him. There was no zap of energy as he had his hand firmly pressed against the wood, but the feeling of something behind him was growing and he couldn’t help but feeling more anxious as more time passed.

“Hurry up.” Gray drawled, shoulders sagging as he looked bored. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go home.”

“Right.” Natsu sucked in a breath. The quicker he proved that there was nothing out here the quicker he could go home and sleep. He would be out of this stupid forest in no time and then he could never step foot in here ever again. A new life rule that he would follow - do not fuck with this east forest.

He cleared his throat. “Is, uh... anyone here?” It felt weird asking the question out loud, waiting for a response from the board as silence met the three males. Natsu tried to keep his hand loose, but his muscles were tensing as he struggled to keep his cool. His patience was wearing thin as the minutes passed - eyes flicking up occasionally to check their surroundings.

“I told you this was bullshit, Gajeel,” Gray stated, but the male in turn raised up a hand.

“It takes time!” He shouted, “Ya have to wait. Natsu, ask again.”

Natsu grit his teeth as he glared. “Would anyone like to prove this goddamn idiot right so we can all go home already?” His breathing was becoming more laboured as his agitation grew - stomach twisting into knots as he kept looking around the forest. There was something there, the sensation of someone behind him growing stronger and stronger giving him the urge to run.

“Hey - Natsu, are you alright?”

Gray spoke up, but he ignored him as he started again. “C’mon fuckers. Show yourself! If ghosts are real then prove it. Make some noise.” His voice was laced with anger. “We’re all waiting.” Natsu was no longer looking at the board, turning around himself as he stared out into the dark, but he saw nothing - only feeling the heat soak into his clothes as he started to sweat.

“Fuck this.” He stood up, letting the planchette clatter onto the thin wood. He wanted to get out of here, he wasn’t here to fuck with shit that didn’t exist. Though, he froze in place as he turned around. His green eyes were blown wide and his feet seemed to be buried in the mud beneath him.

“Oi! You’re not meant to let of -”

Though Gajeel didn’t get to finish as his camera began to sizzle and became hot in his hands. “Shit,” he cursed, letting the technology fall onto the foliage beneath him - Gray doing the same as he let out his own string of cusses beside him before meeting his gaze.

“Okay.” He sounded nervous now. “What the fuck is going on?”

Yet, neither could answer as Natsu screamed - blood curdling and making their hair stand on end as they both freezed up, staring at their friend who looked pale. His entire body was frozen in place as he stood with his back turned to them.

Natsu only had one thought in his head as he struggled to breathe, feeling his blood run cold as he came face to face with the transparent form of a girl in front of him.

I don’t believe in ghosts.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 54: Call to Arms

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

It’s finally here! Months of waiting on the minesona event, and we finally get to see more characters join the fight! Don’t see your minesona here? Don’t fear! With so many cool minsonas, i had to make more chapters to meet them all. If your character isn’t here, they’ll be in the next chapter!

I hope I characterized your sonas well enough!

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Storm belongs to @stormjay0​

Kai belongs to @the-cheshirefox​

Abyss belongs to @abyssvoidsstuffs​

“If the numbers you report are true, we aren’t going to be enough.” Xisuma’s voice echoes through Red’s mind. “Even with the best engineers, we can’t hold back this many enemies.” 

“We’ll need to search our world, then. People willing to defend what they love. To stand with us.” Avon’s suggestions are what sent the wanderers scattering. What led Red to where she is now. Flying over sharp mountain peaks in search of life. More than just a village, more than just a witch hut. Someone that will be willing to stand by the wanderers, no matter how weird them or their hermit friends are. And there’s one person that Red has met previous to her travels with Ecto and Avon. 

He looks at the map, old and still a bit soggy. It was strange visiting the ocean monument to grab what the visitor had given him so long ago. The illness has only taken more lives, and Red couldn’t face staying any longer than grabbing this map. He rubs a finger along the red X on the colorful parchment, before sighing and looking up. Into the tall spires surrounding him. How is he supposed to find one person among all this to climb?

Lucky for Red, he doesn’t have to climb, when the person he’s looking for can fly. A shadow passes over him, blocking out the sun with a feathered darkness. Ominous black wings spread open as the stranger lands, flight feathers cresting outward like spears against the empty air. A dark grey cloak sweeps back, an iron sword glinting in the midday sun. Red steps back, realizing he probably should’ve brought something to protect himself. Or at least an invisibility potion to hide with. All he can do is hold onto the statue, hold onto Fred like it’s his only shield.

But when emerald eyes turn and meet with Red’s, the menacing and mysterious stature eases into fluffy wings and warm smiles. “Red!” 

Red squeaks, purple scarred arms bringing him into a tight hug. But he welcomes the warmth, smiling to see a friendly face. “Hey, Storm. Has that poisonous potato stopped bothering you yet?” 

“Gah, I don’t know how you beat me. What are you doing out here?” Storm lets go of Red, sheathing her sword and tucking grey and purple hair behind an ear. 

The kipling looks around, searching for signs of trouble. Charred ground, abandoned nether portals, any sign that a hellspawn could be nearby. “I’m actually looking for you. Has… has anything odd happened to you lately? Strange things?” 

Storm’s confident attitude falters a bit. “No...why?” She leans closer to Red. “You look like you’ve been through some things. Here, I have some food.” 

Red takes the treat with a nod. “Things have gotten weird, Storm. I’ve seen a lot these past few months. Made new friends, and unfortunately some enemies as well.” 

“You have enemies?” Storm chuckles. She wasn’t sure Red could have such a thing. “I’ve been lots of places, maybe I know your new friends. Who are they?” 

“Ah...do you know Ecto? Tall, short brown hair and a passion for prickly plants?” Storm shakes her head. “Well that’s one. The other is Avon, she’s got big wings-”

“I’ve heard stories of someone called that. They weren’t exactly the kindest of tales, but I of all people should know to take people’s words with a grain of salt.” Storm runs her fingers over the purple marks that mar her arms. From what she’s heard, Avon is a protector, been through a tough childhood much like Storm. That automatically earns respect from her.

Red hears the sound of a pig in the distance, making him nearly leap out of his skin. He bites his lip, turning back to Storm. “Do you think we could take this to your base?” 

_____________________________________________________________

The dark shadows of the deep forest engulf Ecto, and every noise of the trees around her sends the desert dweller jumping and reaching for her sword. It was just a stick. She leans back, running a hand through her hair and breathing free of the paranoia. “I can’t wait to get back to the others.” 

Ecto pulls out a piece of cactus, crunching into the sweet and spiny skin and looking around the dark wood. Old oak, weathered and aged to a color beyond normal forests. White pillars exploding out into red or brown mushrooms, tall stalks of grass brushing in the wind. 

Wait. Ecto looks up, watching her own hair stand still between her brows. That’s not wind. A flash of green disappears silently through the thick trunks, fluttering sideways and leaving the grass to sway back to their places. Ecto shoves her snack into her mouth, and takes off after the mysterious figure walking away. 

Ecto was informed by a nearby village that a quiet figure was often seen lurking among the trees. Not just the pale faces of illagers that haunt the woodland mansion deeper within, armed with crossbows and axes and willing to cull at a second’s notice. Someone strange and different, like the wanderers are. Someone unique. 

Someone they need to aid them. Ecto stumbles over a root, and vaults across a fallen log. “Hey! Wait!” 

Ecto isn’t making up distance chasing after them like this. A spot of sunlight catches her attention, a gap in the thick canopy over her. And before Ecto can think of the ramifications of her idea, she clambers up the oak tree and into the leaves above. She spots movement below and ahead of her, and takes off sprinting. This time on the roof of the forest, over the thick shrubbery and tangled wood. Gaining on the stranger. 

Her highway brings her just above the figure, short brown hair bobbing over pointed ears. An elf. “Can you...can you like stop for a second? I just want to-” 

Ecto feels the leaves and branches beneath her disappear, her last footstep immediately pushing off. Giving her enough air time to grab the tall pole and balance her weight atop it. A small home in the clearing is just beneath Ecto, tucked in the canopy like a bat in a cave. The front door slams closed, blinds shuttering. Ecto keeps a firm hold of the pole with one hand, even wrapping her scarf around her waist to the dark wood and pressing her foot against the tall fencepost, dangling her other limbs off it. She growls, noticing the defensive nature of the person she was following. “This can’t be the right person. I’m out of here.” 

She slips down the flagpole, feet planting into the dark grass. Ecto takes a step forward, yanked back as she remembers the knot of her orange scarf. A string of curses escape her lips. And under her muttering curses, she hears the creaking sound of a door opening. “What are you looking for?” 

“My friends and I need help. We need people who can aid us in a battle.” Ecto frees herself from the knot, smoothing out her outfit.

“An adventure?” The girl rushes out of her home, putting herself between Ecto and the forest. She pulls out her axe, the enchanted diamond twirling in her hand. “You actually found the right person. I’m Kai, and I can help you…” 

Ecto takes Kai’s outstretched hand, shaking it with excitement. Thank the stars, she finally found someone. Days of walking, suddenly alone, without her friends or anywhere she’s as comfortable with as the desert.  “Great! My friends and I need brave souls who want to protect their home. You see, there’s an army within the nether about to invade the overworld and they totally want to destroy everything. It’s a big army and we need brave people who want to protect their homes like my friends and I do.” 

Kai blinks, quite alarmed by the speed of information sent towards her. But her mind is quick to untangle all the words. “I was expecting at least a name in there.” 

Ecto feels the need to hit herself on the head. She forgot about that… or does it even matter to her? “I’m Ecto. So you’re really going to join us?” 

The elf before Ecto rests the axe on her shoulder, a fire in her eyes. Determination blazing bright in the setting sunlight. “You can bet I’m going to protect my home, protect this forest.” 

“Speaking of…” Ecto looks around, spinning in a slow circle. Looking around at the dark oaks that loom in the twilight. “How do we get out of here?” 

Kai laughs, nodding her head in the eastern direction. “Follow me.”

______________________________________________________________

Avon looks up, watching a snowflake fall in a lazy dance from the clouds above her. It’s hard to believe this is the same stuff that destroyed Ecto’s home. It looks so peaceful here in this snowy taiga, the quiet and calm a dampened version of the peace she finds in the void. Jessie pokes her head out from beneath Avon’s cloak, chirping and gazing at the snow with awe in her purple eyes. She’s getting big fast, now as large as a fox and just as energetic. 

A puff of purple flame from the dragonets mouth is a welcome heat to Avon, even though it singes at her hair. Jessie chirps into the dark forest air, followed by a growl. Her wings flap against Avon’s back, lifting her cloak and brushing it against her wings.

Chirping answers back, but rather than a growl, a squeak responds. In the shadows of the night, Avon notices the snow begins to run. No, not snow. A fox. It pauses, looking back at Avon. Staring her and Jessie down. Avon steps forward, and the fox only moves when she’s close enough to keep on it’s tail. It’s leading her somewhere. 

Avon’s so focused on following the canine, it’s soft feet plodding across the pure white snow and the warm shuffling of it’s ivory fur that she ignores the racketing sound of bones. The icey creak of joints grinding together and frozen clothes torn apart like icicles. Not until an arrow is sprung free from it’s bow, striking Avon in the  shoulder. She stumbles to the side, wings opening to shelter the baby dragon from the attack. 

A stray knocks another arrow. Bones frozen together, grey tunic draped like snow across pine branches and brought to life in the angry cold. Avon pulls the arrow free from her shoulder, noticing the tipped head of the projectile. And she can feel it, like ice creeping into her own bones. Slowing her down, making movement feel like she’s fighting through meters of snowdrift. But it doesn’t stop her from drawing her trident. 

It doesn’t stop her from fighting the horde of monsters that appear in the shadows of the night. Zombies and strays, preying desperately for a life at the anguish and loss of their own. Avon pushes Jessie’s head into the protective warmth of her cloak, hiding the dragonet from harm and flattening her wings over the baby. And then she fights. She strikes down the zombies lurching forward, then throws her weapon to stop the barrage of arrows. It returns to her hand and she whips it around and knocks over another monster. Stabbing it clean through for extra measure that it stays dead this time. 

The whiz of a flame tipped arrow brushes past her hair, narrowly avoiding taking some of her ear with it. But the tip of the quarrel buries itself into the exposed bones of the skeleton, knocking it over and fracturing the fragile bones that hold it together. Avon pulls her trident free, and twists to face the shot the arrow came from. She reels back, the blue metal glinting as another flame appears. 

Dark grey eyes shine with curiosity, head tilting to the side and brown hair brushing against pale skin. Living skin. “You aren’t a stray.” 

“Neither are you.” Avon notes, but refused to put down her weapon. Just because the person before her isn’t undead doesn’t mean they won’t attack. 

But the girl puts away her enchanted bow, a smile easily appearing on her face. “Then there’s no reason for us to be at each other’s throats.” She steps forward, ducking around Avon’s pronged weapon and opening a hand for her. Behind the stranger in blue jeans and a black hoodie, the chitter of a fox eases the quiet snowy forest. “I’m Abyss and this is Snow, you look like you could use some heating up.” 

Avon cautiously accepts the invitation, the wind biting at her nose and nipping at her wings. She’s not ever ready for the cold. And Jessie is just as happy to enter the warm stone and spruce home that Abyss welcomes the dragons in. “So what brings a stranger like you to my forest?” 

“I...my friends and I need help.” Avon whispers, watching as Jessie slips free from her cloak. The dragonet chases Snow’s tail, before earning herself a warning snarl from the white fox. The black scaled dragon settles with curling up beside Snow, content with watching the flames of the fireplace. “If you value your home, this land, you need to be ready for a fight.”

“I’m not much of a fighter,” Abyss tips a mug around, watching the tea within it slosh and drip, “What endangers my home?”

“An army from the nether. They destroyed my home and others already, and they have weapons of destruction resting on the overworld’s doorstep. They want to invade and tip the balance of our world.” Abyss stands at Avon’s words, wandering across her book-lined walls. 

“The nether? That isn’t good news.” Abyss pulls out a book, eyes skimming over the ancient text held within the leather bindings. Fire and brimstone is what Abyss knows of the hell dimension. Burning away everything in it’s path. Especially snow and trees- everything she loves. She thought that all the dimensions were in good terms, or at least that’s what her studies have always shown. But times change, and it sounds like the balance threatens to tip. 

Avon watches as Abyss walks to an enchantment table, where a diamond sword rests besides an open book, floating beside it. Imbuing the weapon with magic. She snaps the book closed, and unsheathes the sword. Snow rises, plodding over to her owner and letting Jessie return to Avon. Abyss needs to say nothing further- she’s in.