#i meant to write concerned first but my hands are really cold right now and i ended up accidently typing confused and it worked so i kept it

[ao3screenshotss]

[bunji-enthusiast]

I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!!! 💕💕

No joke, I love reading your stuff! It always has me kicking and giggling :}

I hope you're not stressing yourself out with the writing tho!! I know you prod want it perfect or close enough to it, but please remember it always doesn't have to be 💕

I love dogday as much as the next person but- huggy was my first and even tho you barely even write him I still end up loving him so much when you do lol. I really liked your jealousy one! I was hoping you could do one with huggy?? With an employee reader pls. So sorry if that's every little information, not rlly the best at requesting still.

Tysm!! 💕💕

{So sorry if I send this when request r closed}

Jealous, Jealous Toy

Note || AHHH your so sweet, absolutely I’ll try to write Huggy for this :)

WC || 642

Sypnosis || What happens when a jealous toy gets possessive of an employee?

Order was an important piece to your life, you liked to be orderly and keep things to an absolute T. Even if it had meant fraternizing with your superiors, though you weren’t much of a sociable person really. Being more so closed off and introverted, you simply had opted to be straightforward and cold when necessary, never to employees younger then you or even lower then your position at Playtime Co.

Many had viewed you as odd when you began talking to the life-sized huggy, made real and ready to always interact with children. Benign enough to be harmless one would guess, just nobody would ever truly understand the level of ferocity one would possess if you were there. If anyone in the room had seen the same thing you did when that very event had happened, nothing was estranged enough to be sure – yet you still couldn’t explain it to this day.

Huggy Wuggy was interesting, strange but very cuddly to hug (as he was made to do). You always had thought he was neat, clean and cool to a point. 

“Hey Huggy! How are you?” Yet ever as always, the Huggy Wuggy statue had remained cold and conclusive, never moving unless it was in strange specific circumstances. “Right.” You never expected him to move anyway, another voice had snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey brat.” Your superior, though he was one of the many, he was like an older brother to you. You thought he was lazy for lack of a better word, but his work ethics and accountability of words from other employees had proved that otherwise. You let out a large breath, stifling a feigned huff. “Yo, what’s your deal Daniel?” You asked him.

He nodded his head at your weaponized words, then walked up to you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Just needing you to fill out some paperwork, ain’t nothing major then I’ll–” A choked noise escaped his throat, causing you to look up from where you stood, eyeing him wearily as you began to get concerned as to why he looked so pale.

“Daniel.. You alright man?” His hand on your shoulder fell off from where it had laid so gently, Daniel’s other hand raised to the spot he seemed to be in such a ghostly panic about. You too had been shocked, seeing Huggy’s row of teeth hanging over Daniel’s head, you didn’t know what to do. Huggy never had behaved in such a way, leaving you to raise a brow – lips pursed as you maintained calm in the inconceivable silence. 

“Huggy..” You began, raising your hands as a gesture toward Daniel to back away slowly. “Chill out, that’s just my friend.” Daniel had obeyed you, inching away from Huggy who clearly seemed to be pissed off. Conveying a means of anger as his hands were outstretched toward Daniel ever so slightly, Daniel nodded once more and slowly he had done so, trying to get him to cool off at the same time as you were.

“Can you get him to stop.. This?” Daniel whisper-shouted, you shrugged. Then you looked up at Huggy, maintaining a sense of eye contact with his own eyes. It struck a sudden chill throughout your spine, causing you to flinch as you had noticed his murderous intent, now it was slowly dissipating the further away Daniel had gone. “I think he doesn’t like you very much, I’ll come later for those papers all right?” To which he had nodded with an exasperated sigh.

Finally once he was out of sight, Huggy seemed to be less tense now – teeth relaxed and resuming his original position. You sigh, crossing your arms as you try to coerce your own mind about the events that had happened just mere seconds ago.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you my friend.”

[wcnderlnds]

here for you | peter parker

・❥・ summary: after getting kicked out, peter comes to the rescue like always ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: this is my first time writing for my beloved peter parker!! its also the first time ive wrote anything in like a month. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

The rain was falling hard in New York City. It was one of those cold, rainy nights that had most people bustling through the streets with their umbrellas hurrying to get home. Unfortunately, you were one of those people. The heavy thud of the raindrops falling on your umbrella and the usual sound of the busy New York traffic were the only things keeping you grounded in that moment. The puddles on the pavement soaked your favourite pair of boots as you aimlessly wandered, suitcase full of belongings trailing along with you as you dragged it across the concrete. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. Your original plan had been to sit in front of the fire, cup of cocoa in your hand as you watched Love Actually. Too bad you had forgotten to pay your darn rent. 

Money had been tight lately. Balancing a part time job and university was no easy feat. So much so that you had ended up sacrificing your job for the sake of your mental health. You had thought your savings would be enough until you had a better grip on things to find another job but you were wrong. The well had run dry and after another missed rent payment, your landlord had kicked you out. 

When it rained, it definitely poured.

As you stepped into a particularly deep puddle, the familiar sound of a ‘thwip’ sounded above you. Craning your neck up, you spotted none other than the famous Spider-Man perched on a lamppost, head tilted as he looked at you almost like he was examining you. The corners of your lips almost tugged up into a smile as you imagined the concern in his eyes under that mask. Peter Parker had shared his secret with you almost the day he’d found out himself. You were his best friend after all – the two of you told each other everything. The eyes on his mask widened in questioning.

“Got kicked out,” you shrugged. Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. Not that walking through the streets with everything you owned in a suitcase didn’t.

After checking to make sure nobody was around to hear, Peter spoke. “Meet me at my place. Gotta take care of something first.”

With that, he swung away no doubt on his way to tackle some crime. At least in a city like New York, Spider-Man was never short of something nefarious to keep him occupied. The whole city was like a hub for superheroes and criminals at this point. It was so much so that you were almost desensitised to it. Maybe that had something to do with the fact your best friend was one of those superheroes. Your feet carried you to Peter’s apartment, knocking on the door when you approached. No answer. He must still be out. A sigh passed your lips as you sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as you waited for that nerdy, cute friend of yours to arrive. The raindrops from your jacket were dripping on the floor. Huh, you hadn’t realised it had been raining that hard. Probably too lost in your own thoughts. 

It was ten minutes later when the door to the apartment opened – Peter must have swung in through his window. The pros of being Spider-Man meant you didn’t have to deal with such meander things as walking. Sometimes you wished that spider had bit you so you could swing your way through the city without a care. His mask was in his hand as you stepped through the threshold, the door shutting behind you. His big, brown eyes looking at you with concern.

“I know you have questions and I’ll answer but I really need to get out of these wet clothes right now,” you cringed as you pulled your jacket off, your jeans sticking to your legs.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure, sure. You can… use the bathroom. You know where it is,” Peter nodded, his cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of you getting changed in his apartment. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like that but he couldn’t help himself. Throughout the years Peter had somewhat started to develop feelings for you. It was something he beat himself up about every single day because there was no way you felt the same way for him. Why would you? You were incredible and he was… him. No, Peter would always keep this secret to himself. There was no way he was ever going to lose you so if it only meant friendship then he’d take it.

“You should have told me you were struggling to pay rent!” Peter exclaimed. Once both of you had gotten changed, you’d situated yourselves on Peter’s couch, a blanket thrown over the two of you as you filled him in on your situation.

“Peter, no offence but you can barely afford to pay your own rent let alone help me.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

A smile lit up your face, hand reaching out to give his a squeeze. “I know and I am so lucky to have someone like you looking out for me like that but I could never ask that of you.”

Peter’s eyes glanced down at your hand atop his, barely containing how sweaty his palm was starting to feel at your simple touch. He was down bad. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a gulp, shaking his head. “You know I’m always going to be there for you, right? Always. No matter what happens. I would do anything and everything in this world to help you and protect you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

His words hit you straight in the feelings, your heart beating a mile a minute like it was about to burst out of your chest. The sincere look in his eyes, the way he always seemed to make you his number one priority – there was nobody who looked after you as fiercely as Peter did. Despite everything he’d been through with his family and losing Gwen, he had never let you down. The second your eyes met his it was like the whole world had stopped still. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as Peter’s delicate fingers reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture making your stomach do flips.

“Stay here with me…. for as long as you want,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you leaned into his touch. The moment lingering between you, neither wanting it to end. There would be many, many more moments just like this one – you just didn’t know it yet.

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Ok, ok you don't need to write anything for this if you don't wanna, BUT I don't have anyone to talk yandere stuff with so imma rant about one of my favs here quickly.

So caramel arrow right? Her whole life as been working hard to be the best dark cacao warrior, even when she was younger or her dough would crack, she would train and when she was banished her loyalty never wavered. Not once.

Untill, she meets reader cookies during her banishment, let's say you left a little after she was banished bc you could see how bad things were getting there. So middle, middle you become friends and travel together protecting the villages and what-not.

But after a while carrow finds herself looking to the reader for emotional support and guidance during this time, so she ends up being just as [if not more] loyal to reader cookie than dark cacao cookie. [I mean, if dark cacao dosent want her back then why should she go?]

Because of that she has this big dilemma about her loyalty to the king vs to the reader, personally I imagine she would try to run away or force the reader to leave with her because her obsession would win against her loyalty to the dark cacao kingdom.

Anyway wall of text done ^^u I don't really write, so sorry if it's not verry readable.

Don't forget to drink water btw ^^

A Grip Too Strong

So initially I was confused when you mentioned like middle and stuff but I realized that I think you meant like- MC is a citizen of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. So I hope I'm getting that right, I'm just mentioning it just in case.

This is my first request in a while, so I kinda just randomly typed out whatever. So if the like point of view or just the general writing style isn't very story-like, that's on me. I literally just blabbered lmao

Another point I want to make is that Caramel Arrow isn't filling in her canonical role of the story. I just wanted to point that out because it'll make sense towards the end.

Tw: kidnapping, overly clingy (but also not??)

Caramel Arrow was extremely saddened and frustrated by her king's willingness to banish her under Affogato's untruthful tongue. She felt so alone without her comrades by her side and her job, which she had trained so vigorously for. Yet she carried on, her determination still brewing within her heart.

She was expecting to be alone for who knows how long. To her surprise, she finds one of her people while her usual patrol on a blizzard day. She had spotted the cookie every now and then in the citadel, but she didn't know them at all. She approached them, confused as to why they were leaving; after all, she is the most loyal to his majesty.

"May I question why you are leaving the kingdom?" Caramel Arrow puts away her bow, tapping the toe of her boots to get the extra snow off.

"Oh. You are Caramel Arrow Cookie, I assume? I'm not sure if you know this, but the Kingdom has been crumbling the last few months.." The cookie responds, shifting the pack on their back slightly.

"Oh no. It's probably under the hands of that sickening Affogato. Is it really that terrible?" Caramel Arrow makes a concerned face, wondering just how bad the kingdom's state is.

"The food is scarce, and the soldiers are slaving away trying to reinforce the wall. It's definitely taking a toll on every cookie within the citadel." They answered, glancing back at the wall that defended the citadel from the Licorice Sea.

"I see. What is your name?" Caramel Arrow changes the topic, not wanting to wallow in the negativity any longer.

"MC Cookie." They respond, making a small smile.

—————————————————————————

Since then, MC and Caramel Arrow have travelled together. On the patrols, Caramel Arrow hunted the beasts, while MC gathered supplies or helped the villagers recover from the attacks. The two worked diligently as a team, surviving in the cold snowy lands outside the citadel.

After a few months, the two became good friends. They were each other's comfort during times of struggle. They opened up about each other's childhood stories or embarrassing moments. At night, they would stay up later than usual chattering about lots of topics. Although Caramel Arrow had been separated from her comrades, she found herself enjoying MC's presence a lot.

As their relationship with each other gets closer, Caramel Arrow continues to indulge in MC's presence. Soon, she confides in their comfort. She tells them her worries for the kingdom, and the sadness she feels for her king abandoning her; especially when she had been so loyal to him from a young age.

MC patted her shoulder, responding, "You have every right to feel sad and betrayed. The king might be meddling in problems he sees most important, like the wall. I'm sure the advisor doesn't help either. Your banishment is not your fault at all. It's a misjudgment on the king's end." MC makes proper eye contact with her, trying to properly communicate their thoughts to her.

The archer sighs, her posture a little deflated. She mumbles back, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I would be lying if I said it doesn't hurt though."

MC notices she was still a ball of sadness. They glance around in thought, trying to find something that could make her happy.

Snow.

"Can I ask..." MC hesitates, pausing for a single second. They continue, "Did you do snow fights when you were a kid?" They make a smile, kicking some of the thick snow.

Caramel Arrow was a little caught off guard but managed a grin. "Of course! What citizen of the Dark Cacao Kingdom has never played a snowfight?"

Within minutes, the two cookies had two snow forts built and hurling snowballs at each other as fast they could. Perhaps childish, but the nostalgia was definitely there. Poor MC has to dodge as many snowballs as they can, Caramel Arrow has such an excellent aim. They laugh and banter at each other, a friendly competition rising.

Soon, they tire from the play, laughing at each other as they're both covered in snow. They're sat next to each other on a nearby log, still poking fun at each other.

"My fort was prettier than yours!" MC challenges, smiling so much they're mouth is getting tired.

"Well, mine was more practical for the actual thing! Decorations don't matter in the play of war!" Caramel Arrow laughs, slinging an arm around MC's shoulders.

"Still, at least mine was nice to look at!" They lean closer from the arm weighing down on their body. Their posture was slightly bent.

"Funny." She pauses, looking over at their face. "I'm glad you suggested the idea. It really reminds me of home..." She smiles, slightly sadly.

MC pats her back. "Don't get all mopey now, we're still at home. There's still a bunch of snow everywhere and the black sea full of ugly monsters." They try to comfort her with some humor.

She chuckles, "Yeah, you're right. We're still at home."

—————————————————————————

As the Cookies of Darkness and Affogato were overthrown by Gingerbrave and his companions. Caramel Arrow was given an invitation to return to the kingdom once more as a Watcher. MC was overjoyed for her, knowing she could finally be happy again. They themselves were ready to return back to the kingdom since the overall state was much better than prior.

But to everyone's surprise, Caramel Arrow refuses to go back inside the citadel. She refuses to let MC move back within the citadel. She wanted to explore the world and spend her days having with them.

"Caramel Arrow, this is our home. We can't just leave it. Everything's okay now. You can get your job back!" MC pleaded, trying to convince Caramel Arrow that they should return.

"Why? That place no longer feels like home. The betrayal, has affected me in ways I've never felt before." She explains, shaking her head. The frown on her face only supplemented her disappointment.

"I know that but- but you can start anew! Your comrades miss you! You protect the kingdom greatly. They need you, Caramel Arrow." MC tries to reason, taking her hand with their gloved one.

"MC, that's not what I want in life anymore. This isn't home for me. You're my home. I want to explore the world, and have fun with you. Only you. If I have to suffer, I want to suffer with you." She firmly states, pulling them closer to her.

"...But I don't want to leave! I'm not meant to travel the world. I like home." MC grows a bit panicked, finding her behaviour abnormal. Didn't she love her homeland? Wasn't her loyalty to the king?

"Don't worry, you are. I'm always with you. I'll protect you." She picks up MC swiftly, putting them over her shoulder. She immediately starts to trudge away from the citadel. The Sun's gleam beating down on the two.

"H-Hey! Let me down! Caramel Arrow! Listen to me!" MC struggles against her, but her grip is too strong.

Just like her loyalty to them. Too strong.

—————————————————————————

Idc how buff you are, that girl is a buff kween and will absolutely pick you up.

This kept expanding and expanding as I wrote help- I didn't expect it to be this long. I have homework to do lmao.

But I really liked this one! The chronological order helped me adjust to writing again.

Comments and thoughts, you may blabber all you want.

- Celina

[icycoldninja]

Could you write a Sephiroth x GN!Yandere reader?

Ooh, a yandere reader fic! I've wanted to write one of these for ages! Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Together forever (Sephiroth x GN!Yandere!Reader)

You'd become obsessed with Sephiroth the moment you laid eyes on him. His long, shimmering, silver hair, paired with his lovely, delicate face and those glittering neon green eyes captivated you. Everything about him was pure perfection--as if he were designed just to snatch your attention and hold it, even after he left the room.

You couldn't stop thinking about this gorgeous angel, your mind was constantly fixated on him. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the sound of his voice, all of it was so addictive.

You didn't realize it at first, but your obsession soon evolved into something much more than a mental preoccupation. You started stalking the man, following him around wherever he went, no matter how far away he traveled. You were willing to give up everything for him, forsake your friends, family, fortune, and even your home, if only you could make that man yours.

Sephiroth was well aware you were stalking him, but he never thought much about it because you were just a lowly mortal--you couldn't touch a blessed, all-powerful Chosen One such as himself. Therefore, he let you continue with your creepy behavior, not bothered by it in the slightest.

Not showing concern towards your acts had to be the worst mistake Sephiroth could have ever made, because in doing so, he allowed you an opportunity to break into his hideout one night and ambush him while his back was turned. The normally alert ex-SOLDIER would have usually sensed an intruder, but since he didn't take his not-so-secret admirer seriously, he let his guard down.

Once he found himself with a knife pressed against his throat, Sephiroth, being the arrogant, prideful man he is, still thought of your actions as weak and pathetic. He was so sure he could disarm and decapitate you with ease, but he was quickly proven wrong. For starters, you were way stronger than you looked--it seemed that your obsession with him resulted in you working out and gaining quite a lot of muscle. Not only that, but you had clearly been taking martial arts and weapon weilding lessons, as the way you held your knife was nothing short of expert.

"What do you think you are doing?" He demanded, struggling, for the first time in his life, to escape your grip.

"Hush my darling," You cooed, running your fingers across his smooth, supple skin that felt oh-so-lovely under your fingertips. "Don't be afraid. I'm here now--now we can be together, forever."

Sephiroth squirmed in your hold, seething with rage. He knew you were crazy, but to think you'd have the audacity to hold him at knifepoint to mumble some nonsense about being together!? As if! He'd like to think he could do better than you.

Deep down, however, there was a little spark of excitement that resonated throughout Sephiroth's core, waking up the cold, numb heart that had lumbered in his chest for so long. To be controlled and dominated like this was an entirely new experience for him, and perhaps, if you played your cards right, it would become something he could enjoy, especially if you meant what you said.

A small smile appeared on his face as you lightly dragged your blade across his throat, barely grazing the skin with the metal.

"Together forever?" He repeated, green eyes glinting with mischief. "Can you really keep that promise?"

Giddiness spreading through your body at the possibility of your dreams becoming reality, you placed a hand on Sephiroth's angelic face and turned his head so he was facing you.

"Yes, I swear it with my life," You told him. "And my knife." You noticed the smile on Sephiroth's face looked softer and warmer than his usual evil smirk. It seemed the prospect of having a constant companion was appealing to him in ways beyond carnal needs.

"I promise," You repeated, turning him so he faced you and throwing your arms around his shoulders. "I promise we will be together forever."

Slowly, tenatively, fearfully, Sephiroth's arms came up andaround you, reciprocating your hug.

"That...is all I need."

[strangesthirdeye]

ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴍᴇɴᴛs? ( sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ x ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴʟᴇss ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: When an experiment becomes a non-experiment

Warning: IT'S SHERLOCK HOLMES! HE'S OUR FAVOURITE POOKIE. Mention about car crash and accident, minor injuries, light angst but ending fluff and sweet. Lack of reaction from the reader, Sherlock being Sherlock, Burned, Lack of John Watson but there is still John Watson, serial killer, knife, cliche confessions. Brain injuries, medical thingy, Mrs Hudson is reader's grandma.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Y/n?!"

You jerked from your reverie and glanced to the side to see Mrs. Hudson whose expression changed to concerned. She gushed over you and approached your side with her signature mumbling with the hint of worries in her tone.

She then touched your hand which was red due to burns with hot water over to the sink and opened the tap water to cold to help your burned hands.

You emotionlessly looked at your burnt hand with blank eyes.

"Blimey, Y/n. Luckily I saw you, dear. Otherwise, your hands would have been badly burned" she gushed with worry as she splashed cold water on your burned hands.

You just stay silent. It's not like you have feelings or emotions to show off but really, you don't know what emotions you should show whether it's smiling or sad. Your brain is just.. blank.

It all started when you were involved in an accident that caused your head to suffer serious internal injuries which meant you had to be operated on immediately, leaving you with a shaved head and lost emotions which doctors explained were due to damaged which cannot be avoided when operating on your head. Just your limbic system seems to have a problem.

So here you are, with blank face watching your hands get treated by your grandma who is still mumbling about your whereabouts. She's the one who is always with you so she understands your conditions since you were involved in an accident. She's the one who offered you to live with her claimed that she's just missed her granddaughter even though in reality she just worries about you.

You sometimes don't understand why she wants to take care of you so much when you can take care of yourself but well, it's Mrs Hudson we're talking about.

Mrs. Hudson clipped the stapler for the bandage on the side of your hand with satisfaction. She sighed before turning her gaze to you who stared at your bandaged hands with a deadpan.

"Now, you need to be careful next time, dear. If you want to do work, make sure you concentrate on it for a while so that nothing happens, okay?" she gently rubbed your bandaged hands.

You turned your gaze to your grandmother blankly and nodded in understanding. "thanks, nana" you muttered flatly.

Mrs Hudson shook her head dismissively. "no need, dear. At least you're okay."

You stared at her blankly before nodding. "Right"

Mrs Hudson looked concerned at you. "is your head still sore?"

"no" you shook your head.

She nodded with understanding. "If you say so, don't forget to take your medicine, dear. If your head still hurts, feel free to seek me out. Nana is at the kitchen okay?" she kissed your head gently before retreating to the kitchen probably cleaning all those things you're done earlier.

You stared at her back with no emotion running inside your head nor did your face show any emotions. It's like you are a robot. But why does your inside feel warm and comfortable? Why do you feel like you are being hugged with a period heater all over your body? like someone just hugs you from the inside. Why do you feel this way?

You shrugged. 'this is new.. might search about it later'

You bring your attention to your bandaged hands with a deadpan look. Should you feel something about this or should you just leave it alone? Most people react when they're injured whether they cry or yelp in pain. But you don't. you just shut up and stared at your hands with empty eyes. Is like something you normally do but not always. Your hands feel stretched under the bandages it's like your hands are full of chewing gum and you try to pull it out but to no avail it doesn't come off.

You frowned. It's probably taken a few weeks to heal which you don't mind as long as you wash the burn. You looked around your flat trying to figure out what to do next but then you came out with nothing. You leaned against your sofa with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. Your mind is empty and just staring into space.

But your peace didn't last long when you heard footsteps rushing from outside your flat to the flat above.

221B. You are neighbors with the infamous Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.

Honestly, you don't know them at all, you just know them from your grandmother. She always complained about them. Always. And you think you can memorize her 'not your housekeeper' speeches by heart as long as you live with her.

You ignored all the rushing above. Eyes closed trying to take a nap for a while but then a voice of shouting from upstairs was heard causing you to open your eyes and stare at the ceiling directly to the floor of the flat above.

Mrs Hudson came out of the kitchen and peeked her head from the edge of the kitchen and into the living room with frustration. "Oh, that young man will be the cause of my heart attack soon if he shouts like that all the time" Mrs Hudson complained before she went back into the kitchen.

But the shouting was still heard again but this time Mrs Hudson's name was shouted from the man on the upper floor. Mrs Hudson stopped everything she was doing.

"Y/n, why don't you go up to the top flat and find out what does that man need?" Mrs. Hudson suggested.

"me?" you cocked your head to the side.

"yes, dear. At least he is quiet, so that there is a bit of peace in this flat" Mrs Hudson said, waving her hands towards you as of shooing you out of the flat.

You got up and went out on your grandmother's orders without any thought. The steps are arranged up the flat stairs leading to the upper flat.

There you see a flat that is a little messy from the stairs. The flat door was wide open showing the contents of the flat. Files and papers scattered on the floor and table and empty cups on the table. In fact everything in the flat is out of place. You didn't make any comments instead you just continued your steps until you reached the door of the flat.

You peek your head out of the door. There Sherlock was sitting on his chair with his hands in prayer and his eyes closed.

For a moment you thought that you interrupted his peace but then Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at you with confusion written on his face.

oh, i forgot to mention that Sherlock never once met face to face or got to know you while you were sitting with your grandmother. So, obviously he is a bit confused about who you are. Sherlock narrowed his eyes before he got up and strode towards you dramatically.

You didn't show any reaction. In fact, you're not sure how to react to that. You try to feel intimidated by him but you can't. You just can't. Sherlock is now standing in front of you and looking at your face trying to deduce all the information related to you. You stared at his face with no reaction show on your face. You know about him even if you have never met him. Mostly from your grandmother who always talks about it. Complaining about his rather strange behavior or anything unusual he did.

Now you wonder what your grandmother complained about Sherlock now that you are in front of him. Sherlock parted his gaze on you and turned around walking towards his chair and anchored his back to the chair. He leaned back on the chair with his eyes focused on you.

"You are not clients" he said bluntly.

"I'm not clients" you replied flatly.

"You are Mrs Hudson's granddaughter" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Yes" you replied simply.

Sherlock cocked his heqd slightly to the side. Confused with the lack of reaction to every reply you reply to him. Not to mention your face is very natural with no reaction plastered on your face. This irked something in him.

"You recently lived with Mrs Hudson after the car crash and now you live with her permanently. You work at a bookstore judging by how close off your personality is. Introverted, obviously. Now you are still looking for a job which has not been accepted after just sending the form application which probably they won't send a response" Sherlock made his deduction.

You stared at him with a pointless look. Nothing to show on your face. Sherlock narrowed his eyes after he finds that you didn't respond with any snarky remarks to him that people always say to him.

"anything to say?" Sherlock stared at you intently.

"Should I say anything?" You replied.

"People always respond with inappropriate responses" Sherlock clasped his hands together in front of his mouth as his eyes focused on you.

"Car crash, it's true. Living with my grandma permanently is true. Only the last one was a bit true. The one who wants to hire me as an employee has sent me feedback and I'll start next week. I am introvert and also used to work at the bookstore" you replied bluntly.

Sherlock grunted not satisfied with what you said. He leaned the back of his head on the chair he was sitting on while closing his eyes. You cocked your head to the side a little.

"Do people always do that?" you asked him

"do what?" Sherlock responded without looking at you.

"saying something that is not inappropriate to you" You continued.

"Always" Sherlock replied.

"Aren't you mad at them?" you asked

"Not if it has happened many times." Sherlock said. "If you become me, you must be used to it"

"Same as me now. I used to be angry when people said that to me like that now that I lost the feeling of anger. Not only anger but other feelings too" You said before deciding to sit in the seat in front of him.

Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at you for a moment. "You lost other feelings"

You nodded. "yeah, anger, happiness, sadness, fear, nervous. I don't feel all that anymore due to car crash. The doctor said that I have a damaged limbic system, all my emotions and feelings are gone, leaving me acting like a robot" you said without showing any reaction.

Sherlock looked at you solemnly. "so you don't feel pain? Bored?"

You nodded. "that too"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three months later, you and Sherlock started getting along well. Well, not until Mrs Hudson tries to let you socialize with other people so that other people is John. At first John was a bit confused because he never saw you nor did you ever see him because during those 3 months he spent a lot of time at his house with his wife and daughter leaving Sherlock alone in the flat. But then when he knew you and knew your conditions he started to be friendly with you and treat you like family.

You as usual only say yes and get along well with him because you don't know how to react so you are just friends with him like you are friends with Sherlock.

Sherlock well, he always experimented with you with various things just for you to show any emotions and feelings. He always said that he can trigger you to show your emotions and feelings even if it's just a little. But not all become.

There was a time he's trying to say something hurtful to you just to make you feel angry or sad but he ended up getting slapped by you with your usual blank face. He smirked at that because he knows that in your neutral face, you must be feeling anger from the inside. But for some reason the feeling of your hand made him feel something in himself.

There was a time when he offered you to join him in solving a case. Which is a serial killer case. Of course. He introduced you to Lestrade and Lestrade as usual treated you kindly without feeling disturbed by your emotionless face. He already went through everything on Sherlock so he's used to it. But the real part is the serial killer managed to attack you with his knife which you dodged but your arm didn't. Not major but only minor. You only need stitches.

Lestrade is obviously concerned with you while Sherlock.. well Sherlock with his still going observation about your feelings and emotions determined to observe you who is still being stitched, trying to find any kind reaction you bring out. Like pain.

You winced faintly while your face still remained neutral. But Sherlock saw the look on your face. It seems like you don't show any kind of emotion and feelings externally but internally. And then without hesitation, Sherlock held your injured hand gently, hoping to ease the pain.

That was two weeks ago, your arm still has stitches that will leave a scar. Today, Sherlock tries to do an experiment different from the others. He wants to know if you are capable of feeling affection. Which is not sure but he wanted to try.

So right now, he, John and you are chilling in the flat while flipping through all the files regarding the current case. Thanks to Lestrade who was willing to bring all the files to their flat.

John sighed tiredness and boredom. He put the files he was holding on the table next to his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. He glanced at you and Sherlock who were sitting facing each other on the floor still flipping through the files solemnly.

He sighed for the second time. "I'm going home now, Mary must be waiting for me"

Sherlock hummed while you bid him goodnight but eyes still on the files in both hands. John shook his head and got up from the chair and walked out of the flat to his house.

Now that John is gone, Sherlock can start his observation (Experiment). He turned his gaze from the file and stared at your face who was so neutral while you were flipping through the files unaware of everything but tasks in your hands. Sherlock placed the files from his hands on the floor before slowly he moved himself to sit next to you.

You didn't realize that Sherlock had changed his position from facing you to next to you because you were still busy with the files in your hands. Sherlock sat next to you and thought for a moment about his next move.

Now he needs to do something to make you flustered. As someone who has never done anything romantic, Sherlock sure knows how to do something romantic after half a day of searching about romance on Google. Now, what he needs to do is he needs your attention on him so that he can think next moves.

Sherlock took a deep breath before he spoke. "Aren't you tired?"

You hummed. "not really.."

"It's quite late, you know.. It's 2 in the morning.. Aren't you sleepy?" Sherlock said slowly moved his right hand to your back and rested his hand on the floor so that his position was closer to you. (don't know how to describe it)

"I have severe insomnia since the accident so no.. I'm not sleepy" You replied, eyes still observing the files.

Sherlock nodded. "but it's a bit late.. maybe we can continue it tomorrow?"

You frowned. "But you said you need an answer as soon as possible-" your sentence hung in your mouth as you turned your head to Sherlock's face which was close to yours.

Sherlock stared at your eyes that were staring at his eyes. That neutral face of yours that he used to look at his face closely made him forget his next plans.

Too lost for words to be uttered by him when he saw a face that he himself did not see how perfect it was. You were stunned and observed every curve of his face. Starting from his colorful eyes, his pointed nose, his sharp cheek bones and ending with his reddish lips.

It's like seeing an angel in front of your eyes. His face looks like it was made by an experienced artist. Very detailed and too perfect. How can this man who is claimed by the public as rude, psychopathic and robotic have this kind of beauty? Now you see Sherlock's face up close. Noticed his faint wrinkles on his pale skin. Not to mention his thick curly black hair. Gosh, you just want to run your fingers through his hair.

'oh, what are you thinking?' you thought strangely. Never do you think like this. Plus why is your heart beating fast.. Why do you feel like something is about to burst from your stomach. Something that doesn't hurt.

Sherlock stared at your face for a long time before his right hand that was on the floor began to move and gently palmed your cheek.

Your face feels warm in his hands. Your skin is red and yet your face doesn't show any kind of reaction. You still don't say anything but letting him do his next move.

"Y/n?" Sherlock called out.

You looked at his eyes. "yes?"

'fuck off about the experiment I'll do this instead' Sherlock thought before he took a deep breath.

"I've been wanting to say this for a long time, ever since you started accompanying me in every case." Sherlock started.

"what is it?" you put your hand in his hand that palmed your cheek.

"Those things that I did to you during the few months you accompanied me in the cases, were just experiments to get what kind of reaction you had.. Things like saying bad things to you and so on were just experiments. But then, I felt something which I didn't expect.. Something that was like a spark of firework in me when I helped you to express your feelings and emotions" Sherlock said.

You frowned in confusion.

"I did not realize that my experiment would backfire on me for expressing my feelings and emotions. You also know that I am the type that never shows any kind of emotions in public for the sake of my image. But then, when that is you... I feel like I want to express all kinds of feelings and emotions to you and you alone" Sherlock put his other hand on your cheek. Now his two hands palmed your face. Thumbs unconsciously stroke your cheeks.

"It's something I've never done but it doesn't hurt if I try, right? I understand if you find it a bit inappropriate but I'm telling something honest from my heart.. I love you" Sherlock said with a tender plus lovingly.

You stared at his face yet your face didn't show any reaction but your face was red and warm in both his hands. Mouth agape you exhaled a short breath before looking down flustered.

You are flustered. Finally you are flustered with his confession. Sherlock noticed your reaction. His heart was quite happy with your reaction but his face showed concern as he never saw your reaction which was extreme for you to deal. He knows you are still trying to deal with your feelings and emotions but he is still concerned with the amount of emotions and feelings you are calculating now.

"Y/n? are you alright?" Sherlock still palmed your face.

You turned your gaze from the floor to Sherlock's eyes before without hesitation you kissed his lips with force. Showing how much you really want him and how much you really love him. Sherlock's eyes widened before he too reciprocated your kiss. He angled your head up with his hands so that he could kiss you deeply.

You put your left hand on his shoulder while your right hand is on the back of his neck. But as a normal human being which you two don't think you two are normal, parted away from eaxh other faces and stared at one another with affection. For the first time you smiled sweetly making Sherlock's heart beating fast. Both of you brought your foreheads together and leaned against each other with smiles on both of your faces.

"I love you too" you replied with a smile.

Non-experimental results: successful.

[xximpressions]

Hope (Chapter 3)

Kelly Severide x reader

Series Summary: Sometimes, we all need a little hope.

Chapter Summary: Remain calm

Word Count: 1,057

A/N: This has become such a fun piece for me to write, I just had to do another chapter. Enjoy! 💜

Previous | Next

Chicago Fire Masterlist

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“Battalion 25 to main, I need CPD sent to my location now!” Growled out Chief Boden as he kept his eyes on the tense scene in front of him.

As he explained the situation to dispatch, you were trying to remain as calm as you could while standing with your back to your attacker. You weren’t sure when he appeared, but you were certain of the cold touch of metal currently brushing against your neck.

Knowing now was not the time to panic, you kept your hands up and began to talk to the person behind you.

“Hey man, what’s your name?” 

There was a moment in which you didn’t think he would reply.

But once he did, you followed up with,

“Ok, and what’s going on here?”

“I had to do it,” was his quick, but cryptic answer. “Fire is the greatest purifier.”

Immediately understanding this person probably wasn’t in their right mind, you made the decision to keep up the conversation since that meant he would keep talking.

And if he kept talking, that meant he was distracted.

This allowed Kelly the time he needed to sneak behind the bulk of one of the firetrucks which placed him about ten feet behind the guy still holding you hostage. Taking one last glance around the bend, Severide confirmed the knife-wielder was still facing the other way and was busy answering your questions.

Leaving the cover the truck provided, the Squad Lieutenant crept as quietly as he could towards you both.

But just as he was about to pounce, the deranged man caught sight of him from the corner of his eye.

Turning swiftly with you still in his arms, your attacker yelled out, 

“Stay back!”

As he thrust his blade out in Kelly’s direction as a warning.

But that, thankfully, was all the diversion you needed to act on your own behalf.

Using one hand to keep his weaponed arm extended and away from you, you stomped on the man’s foot and drove your sharp elbow back into his gut, forcing him to double over. Then, with the assistance of a little gravity, you used both hands to roll him over your shoulder and to the ground. Once his back hit the cement, you began twisting his wrist as you authoritatively said,

“Drop it!”

Whether from the pressure of your hands or from the tone of your voice, your command was followed as the knife fell to the ground from your stunned assailants grasp.

It was fortunately at this moment that uniformed officers from CPD showed up and were able to handcuff the subdued man as they got him up and led him to the back of one of their cruisers.

You watched them for a moment before turning to the member of Squad 3 who you only officially met this morning. But now, he wore an expression of shock rather than stoicism.

Still feeling the jitters of your own adrenaline coming down, you let out a laugh of disbelief as you said,

“Talk about a wild first day!”

Shaking his head as if even he couldn’t believe it, Kelly incredulously replied with an impressed smile, 

“Yeah, I’ll say! Are you alright?”

Waving away his concerns and your jangled nerves, you responded as casually as you could,

“Oh yeah, not even a scratch!”

To hide your trembling, you followed up by saying,

“Thank you for having my back though. I really appreciate it.”

To your statement of gratitude, Kelly sincerely said,

“Anytime.”

 By then, Bowden had finished his hurried approach towards you both.

“Are you okay?” Asked the Chief with growing concern.

“I’m completely fine, Uncle Wallace. No harm done.”

With your reassurance, Bowden still insisted you get checked out by Gabby just to confirm that you were in fact healthy while he and Severide went back to dealing with the house fire still blazing behind them. 

Though not all of the firefighters witnessed the way the hostage situation was resolved, they all had most certainly heard about it by the time the trucks had made it back to the house.

Arriving just in time for lunch, almost everyone was sat at the tables enjoying their individual meals. This excluded Cruz and Otis, of course, as they were reenacting the drama for everyone who had missed it. Otis was in the middle of their retelling as he said with ultimate pride,

“And THEN! She pitches him over her shoulder like he’s a sack of potatoes!”

Joe and Brian mimic a slower version of their narration—to humorous effect—only for Joe to stand back up and finish by saying to their audience,

“I’m serious! It was like something out of a movie!”

There were a few more chuckles in the room at the excitement on their faces while you wore a bashful smile on yours.

“It was nothing guys.” You humbly try to brush off.

“Like hell it was.” 

Came the automatic rebuttal from the man who had witnessed it all first hand. 

Looking to Severide with surprise, you caught the look of admiration in his eyes before he asked,

“Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

Although you were glad today’s stunt seemed to have earned you the respect of the house, your mind kept flashing back to the moment where everything was happening and all you could think about was your instinct and desire to live. Trying not to remember a time in which you had felt similar emotions, you simply replied, 

“Oh, there was always a free self-defense class to go to in New York.”

Considering your flippant wave and vague response, Kelly got the distinct impression that this was actually something you did not want to talk about.

Taking the hint for what it was, the Squad Lieutenant decided to switch topics.

“Well, for days like today, we all meet up after shift at this place called Molly’s and grab a drink. Maybe you could stop by tomorrow and get to know everyone a little better?”

He was met with kind and welcoming sounds of encouragement from around the table. So much so, that all you could say was,

“I’d love to go!”

And while you felt the genuine warmth coming from the people that worked so closely with your Uncle, Kelly felt a strange happiness that his simple invitation had been accepted.

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[iamyoursonly]

Meaning of love (22/01/2024)

writing this broke my heart, poor suguru didn’t deserve this kind of treatment but i just had too i’m so sorry :(

Why did you love me? I always wanted to ask. I wondered what did I deserve to have you? How could a person be so perfect like you and you are here by my side? Did I save the world in my past life or did I become king or something? Just how did I get you to love me?

Every day I would sit down and take my time to ponder about this question, slowly, and thoughtfully. Honestly, I still haven’t had the answer yet, but I’m sure you can answer that yourself right? So I head over to your place it’s freezing and I’m wrapped in the scarf that you gave me for Valentine’s Day. I wish that it wasn’t the scarf that was wrapping around my neck, but your arms.

I rang your doorbell, twice. I could hear your footsteps slowly approaching the door, then a click. You open the door and I could see your pupils widen and as you see me.

“Why are you here?” you asked me, I said you were in shock and surprised that I was here, it was like you didn’t want me here. But I just automatically assumed that you had some unfinished business going on so I just shrugged it off and went into your apartment.

I sat down on the couch, it smelt like you, a scent of a tad bit of lavender mixed with smoke. It smells refreshing, but just a bit on the bad side. I sighed. “Did you smoke?” I asked you. You just sat down on the couch and rolled your eyes. “Does it matter?”

I was flabbergasted, speechless, and a bit shocked. You never talked like that to me. it was like you were a stranger to me. Why are you acting like that?

Concerned, I asked you, ”Are you okay, darling?”

Your gaze was cold, cold as ice, as if icicles were piercing into my eyes. And I didn’t like it at all. So I put my hand on your cheek, and ask again. “Darling, are you alright? Tell me what happened?”

Instead of responding to my kindness, you pushed me away. “Who do you think you’re calling ‘darling’? Darling here, darling there? Who do you think you are?”

I was speechless, literally. How could you say something like that to me, your fucking girlfriend. My eyes welled up with tears as I ran out of the apartment, the question leaving my mind entirely because obviously you don’t love me anymore.

As I reached home, I broke down. The tears that woke up couldn’t help but roll down my cheeks. I kept crying and crying until I couldn’t, and the sun rose without me knowing.

All those heartfelt moments we have had together had disappeared into the back of my mind. Those memories of what we once were had dissolved into nowhere. The tea parties and the late night movies with you, all those have become a part of the memories I wanted to destroy. Because I really didn’t deserve you, I deserved better, way better.

Now I just sit back and wonder why did you even kiss me first if you weren’t going to love me forever, all those empty words that I thought meant the world were just lies. Why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty? But you gave me your promise to love me forever and now where has the love gone?

Love. What is that? What even is love? My question switching from do you love me to what is love. “Suguru,” I weakly muttered, “I truly did love you, I just wish you could return this love with a smile but not a scowl.”

I would love to find out the true meaning of love. But this time not with you, just myself.

masterlist

[moongoopy]

little helper

cont: working alongside shiu kong meant meeting toji and toji meeting you.

c/w: violence, reader is shorter than toji, reader has the luck ct (like haruta shigemo)

c: toji x reader

a/n: sorry if ooc and something i realised so far about my fics or drafts or writing or whatever is that i get too into the writing to add the x reader part oopsies guys, i'll try to make the reader and character make out every five seconds in the next fic trust!!!!

Being Shiu Kong's little helper was so relieving for him. First off, he didn't have to deal with the egos of other curse users and second, you were bubbly company. 

You didn't fit the scene of being a handler at all but money was money so he couldn't blame you but he atleast show some concerns when the streaks under your eyes turn out less.

"What was it this time?"

He watches you wrap bandages around your wrists while he let the cigeratte dangle at his lips. He made sure to get a new lighter when he does go to the store, the lighter was being stubborn for this round's smoke.

"Well, after that one curse user with the pigtails was threatened by how I pointed him out, he sent his little curses at me." He breathed a sigh as you lit his cigeratte for him with a spare you have on yourself and he shook his head.

"Aren't you atleast a bit scared by how sharp you're being? You're down to three." Having looked at the small mirror in the mortuary, you stretched a bit at the skin under your eyes. Yep, just a bit more till you die, you guess. You shrugged at Shiu. If a bunch of curse users can't handle a bit of truth, they can simply drop dead at a bounty you'd present to them. Shiu scoffed in amusement, you were a gem.

"Anywho, just watch your mouth for the next. He's not that feisty, hell, he doesn't really let anything get to him but you'll be working with him next. He slipped a profile to you when you were done taking off the clothes of a corpse that was carried into the mortuary by the latest mission and you promptly read it. You took note, scanning the profile again. Putting aside the jewellery of the corpse, you asked if Shiu won't come this time.

"Nah, I need to fix a few things with the funding until then, just give me updates about his responses." He stuck his hand out and you threw your lighter at him and he waved his hand, exiting the mortuary. Toji Fushiguro, he looks stone cold but you'll get to see him. The next day.

For now, the body of a dead man awaits you as you meticulously set him apart.

..

Summer in Tokyo was a bummer especially since the clothes you wore was too snug against your body. So much for professionalism, what you'd do to be half naked right now.. Patting down your sweaty skin with a clean cloth, you exhaled in gratitude at the airconditioning in the ramen shop you walked into. Fushiguro should be around here.

He wasn't hard to spot, he was a large, towering man and you sat down next to him.

You ordered a Ochazuke because of the sweltering heat, you made sure it was enough to forget about the weather and not that you have a client to tend to.

"Did Shiu sent you?" Gosh, his voice was deep that you flinched a bit when you gave the yen to pay and his lips quirked up a bit. You smiled, nodding to the man who looked you up and down rather blatantly. He took a sip of his soda before gesturing at you.

"Was he too caught up in something else to send a pipsquek in for me?" He grinned, putting his can down and is pleased that you didn't back down.

"You're one to talk when the soles of your slippers are loose," You put down the folders of the bounty next to his ramen. "My name is [Name], nice to meet you." You nodded happily, looking back at the waiter that gave you a heads up to how long you had to wait.

He made a noise of amusement, bringing his head down to stuff a fishball in his mouth and placed down his chopsticks.

"Hmm, that's interesting. You're so bold, is it because of your luck, you think you can get away with anything?" You chuckled wryly, shaking your head and played with the pen on your lap. You uttered towards him how nobody can just insult you without any confrontation and he nearly snorts.

He plays this little game of trying to mock you more, finding ways to make you tick but you held up good. He's beggining to like this little helper Shiu sent, one that was so undettered and nonchalant but acting so polite to keep an act on. When your Ocazuke arrives, it was his time to leave.

You pointed to the folders you let him read, asking if he got all that and he dismissed you with a wave.

He didn't even answer your question, rude. But you gave a long sigh. For such an attractive man, he's so adamant on trying to piss you off. Maybe it started to work after being called a little helper instead of an assistant.. but you won't admit that. Right now, you had a nice, cold meal to enjoy and dug in.

After a while, you finished and left to the park. It was oddly very quiet, wouldn't there be more people in this time of day? Well, it was a weekend so maybe people preferred their walls of their home for now. You kept the folders close and took out your phone to dial Shiu.

"Hello-?" The service was quite bad, you weren't sure if it was Shiu or you.

"Shiu?" You leaned against a lamp pole, adjusting the phone between your left and right ear. His voice is a strange mash of words that you couldn't make out.

"….man…gone…" A bunch of question marks litter your brain, who now?

That's when a bullet shot your phone and the graze of the bullet against your skin made you clutch your hand and curse. You swiftly turned back and gasped. It was the man you stripped the other day, well stripped was too perverse of a description rather taking off his clothes to examine would be better. Anything could happen in the Jujutsu world so why was a corpse trudging towards you? You'd made sure nobody knows that this man is dead, his family wouldn't know either or unless some other curse user slip up and went on a monologue.

This guy was dead serious on something. Maybe killing you slowly? Cause the way his hand grip tightly against the saw that he switched out was alarming. Gun slipped into his back pocket, he approached quickly.

"You had the time to steal some pants too, amazing." You pull out your gun and aimed for him and that's when he turned aggresive, his saw swinged quite hard and you'd barely avoided a slice through the neck as he roared.

His eyes were rolled to the back of his head as you shot his chest twice and he gurgled.

"Give me back my life!!" His yell was quite distorted, it was obvious enough that he was a curse out for blood but why you? Could it be because you did the autopsy, that wasn't great considering you weren't even the killer.

You pull out a knife from your thigh strap and stabbed his throat, bringing up to his face so the blade came out through his nose. Some blood got onto you but you yanked yourself away from him and he chokes on his own blood.

He shouted out a "No!" and made a clean slash at your waist which you shrieked to. You gave a hard kick to his stomach making him fall before running away from him. You turned many corners, clutching your bleeding waist in such pain. You quickly added bullets in before shooting back. It dettered him a bit but he regenerates quickly that it was crazy. There was some cursed energy in your weapons but how strong was this man's thirst for vengeance?

"Fuck, you have to be shitting me." You were getting lightheaded, the cut was deep and it was torturous.

Suddenly, a figure zoomed behind you and you gasped as you were thrown over their shoulder like a sack of potatos. The hand squeezed a bit of your ass and you sputtered in pain and shock.

It was Fushiguro, he was so damn fast.. so this was his abilities.

"Thought you'd be better at holding off on your own but I shouldn't expect much from a little helper." He teased with such a sultry drawl in his voice that you couldn't help but punch his back. He chuckled, such a sweet thing. He should've let it drag on a bit longer. Just to see you wince in pain, call him a sadist. He puts you down near a wall before settling the fight with the curse that was chasing you.

"[Name], shit." Shiu was there thankfully, he almost tore your blouse apart as he dabbed up the blood and wrapped bandages around your waist. You shifted a bit in your spot and handled the rest of the bandaging yourself and rested against the wall. You faintly snicker, seeing your boss so worried about you made something tickle inside you. He grabbed your face, nearly shouting at you in exasperation.

"You're a dunce, you know that?"

You shrugged like normal.

"How else would I contact you, sir? You were breaking up in call." He sighed, examining he two lines left at both sides of your eyes. He argued that this wasn't your usual route to go back to the centre anyways, a place with more people would be better for you to be at. The only thing you can utter is that yhings just happen and there was nothing else to do.

Shiu and you watched as Toji strutted back to the both of you. He was really handsome for a poor man, it was humourous. He had the ego with it too.

Toji's hand wind back to toss you something and it was a ring with initials dented on it.

"Looks farmiliar?" He smirked at you as you looked at the entirety of the ring.

"Yeah.. unfortunately." The initials matched the new mission you passed to Toji an hour ago. It couldn't be just a coincidence, it was another familial issued bounty just like the first.

"You'll be seeing more of me then, pipsquek." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the irritation you couldn't hide. He squished your head in his hand and moved past Shiu and you. While Shiu went to catch up with Toji who was too quick to go, you let out one last deep sigh for the day.

"Cowabummer."

----

a/n: clap with your cheeks if you guys want a part 2 jk the only thing i can think of is toji begging shiu kong for a dollar so lets see

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian—Epilogue

There was some conclusion to the story of Haldir and Mildrithe at the end of Chapter 5, but I didn’t want to leave it there because she’s only 6 years old and they have so many years left together! But I also didn’t want to be writing chapters of this until the end of time, so I did an epilogue that checks in on them at 7 different points across her life, just so we can see how they’re getting on and the ways that they still love and support each other through the undeniable challenge of raising a human in an elf’s world. (Catch up on other chapters by going to the very bottom of my pinned post.)

The seven little mini-stories take place when Mildrithe is 8, 12, 16, 20, 28, 40 and 78. If you don’t want to think about what happens to humans when they get old, then stop after the sixth story! They’re numbered in the text so you can do this easily.

********************

1. “Be careful there, you’ve got it the wrong way around.” Haldir reached out and gently took hold of the knife handle, turning it so that the sharp edge of the blade now faced down.

Mildrithe shrugged and grinned at him, a prominent gap in her smile where a tooth had recently fallen out. Then she sat back to watch him finish serving the dessert. “Do you really think this will be the best cake I’ve ever had?”

“I really do,” he said. “It came straight from the lord and lady’s own kitchens. Nothing but the best for your eighth birthday.” A little honeyed frosting clung to one of his fingers, and he dabbed it onto the end of her nose, making her giggle. “Ask Idhrien if you don’t believe me.”

Idhrien nodded in mock solemnity. “I’ve studied the matter thoroughly, and I can promise that you will find no better in all of Middle Earth.”

Mildrithe looked back excitedly at the pieces that Haldir was now transferring onto plates, but as she claimed her slice, her expression turned thoughtful. “You really don’t celebrate your own birthdays at all? Not even with cake?”

Haldir and Idhrien exchanged quick glances. They had discussed many times how best to address these questions that touched on differences between their kinds, but it still felt fraught to him. Mildrithe always accepted the answers she was given, but he knew the recurrence of her questions meant that she still had difficulty truly understanding what she was told and he struggled with how best to explain things in a way that was appropriate for her.

“When you’ve had as many birthdays as we have, they seem less important somehow,” he said. “We don’t really change from year to year, so there is less to celebrate. But you — you’ve grown so much. You’re even smarter and taller and stronger and braver than you were a year ago. Though you do have fewer teeth now.” He poked a finger into her ribs, and she giggled again.

“I think you have changed,” she said as the giggle subsided. “From last year.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows popped up. “How is that?”

“You’re more…” She trailed off, searching her mind for just the right word. “More like you.”

He smiled because he knew she was right. He was much more at ease now than he had been during their first fragile months together, when he knew so little of her and absolutely nothing of being a parent. But they were figuring it out together, and that was worth celebrating. “Well then perhaps I should have a party this year after all. Just a little one. Idhrien, you and my brothers.”

“That’s all?” Her brows drew together, a small crease of concern appearing between her eyes, and he reached over to give her a hug.

“That’s all I need.”

**********

2. “She’s going to be fine, Haldir. I promise.” Idhrien gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “Children of Men get sick all the time, and this is just a little cold. I checked with Eithoril, and she said a few days of rest are all that’s needed.”

He grimaced, and she could tell that no words of the healer were going to sway his mind.

“Alright then,” she said, putting a hand to his cheek. “I’ll go let Rúmil know that you’ll be staying home today. Give her a kiss for me when she wakes up.”

“I will, and thank you.” He walked her to the door and then went back to his place beside Mildrithe’s bed. She had been asleep all morning, a welcome respite from the constant coughing and sneezing that had dogged her all night, and he sat quietly, drawing small sketches of her resting face and ready to be on hand in case she came to need anything.

“Ada?”

He looked up from his sketchbook to find her blinking her way awake, and his heart melted, as it always did when she called him that. Dad. It had taken a few years, and he had never suggested or pushed it. But the first time the word came from her lips — part of an excited squeal when he returned from a particularly long patrol the summer she turned ten — was one of the happiest moments of his life, and he would never tire of hearing it.

“I thought you had to go?” She coughed and rolled over on her side so that she could see him better.

“I decided that it was more important to stay here with you,” he said, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Uncle Rúmil can handle everything for me until you’re feeling better.”

Her eyes drifted down to the sketchbook in his lap. “Are you drawing me again?”

“Of course. You and your mother are my favorite subjects.”

She held out her hand, and he passed the book over so that she could look at his work.

“Don’t you ever get tired of drawing the same things over and over?”

He watched as she flipped through the pages, all covered in delicate pencil sketches of Idhrien, Mildrithe or the two of them together. Laughing at a private joke. Playing in an early snowfall. Wading in the river, the hems of their dresses held above the water line. Snuggled up, side by side, reading a book. Each scene as different to him as the sun from the moon and as special as the shimmering field of stars that covered the sky above Lórien each night.

“I would draw you both forever if I could.”

**********

3. Mildrithe’s arrow went well wide of its mark yet again, and her shoulders slumped down in defeat.

“I’m never going to get this right. I don’t know why you even bother trying to teach me. I should just leave archery to the elves.”

Haldir wrapped an arm around her, partly to comfort and partly to straighten her spine again for another try. “I have fought alongside good archers from nearly every race in Middle Earth, including plenty of Men. It’s something that can be learned by everyone with time and practice.”

She looked up at him from the corner of her eye. “Did you ever fight alongside a Rohirrim?”

An uncomfortable little pang echoed in his chest, and he suppressed a wince. She had begun asking more questions about Rohan of late, ever since she turned sixteen. He didn’t begrudge her the knowledge and answered every question for her that he could. But while Idhrien believed the questions were a natural and expected part of growing up, a small voice in the back of his mind had begun to worry that perhaps Mildrithe was growing unhappy in Lórien. That she might eventually feel the undeniable pull of her homeland and decide to return. That he would lose his only daughter even faster than her mortal nature would dictate.

“I never had that privilege,” he said, and she mercifully accepted the answer without further discussion.

Drawing another arrow from her quiver, she fit it to the string and took careful aim.

“Check your feet,” he said. “And keep both eyes open. Even if you can aim well with one eye closed, you always want to be able to see what’s happening on all sides of you.”

She made the adjustments, blew out a long, slow breath and let the arrow fly. It hit the target, just a little left of center, with a satisfying thump, and she turned and jumped directly into his arms.

“I did it, Ada!”

He spun her around twice before setting her down and pulling back to look at her beaming smile.

“I knew that you could.”

**********

4. When Haldir got up to look out the window a fourth time, Idhrien closed her book and cleared her throat.

“I’m sure everything is fine, Haldir. A twenty year old girl out with her friends is going to test her limits a little.” She smiled. “We’ve all done it, even you. Orophin tells some very good stories about your younger years.”

“If Mildrithe is out now getting into the kind of trouble Orophin and I used to get into, that does not ease my mind.”

She got up from her chair and came to lean lightly against him at the window. “And yet you turned out fine.” She kissed his shoulder. “Much better than fine.”

They stood together for a few more quiet moments before they finally heard the sound of feet on the stairs and Mildrithe’s amber hair came into view below. She rushed up the steps two at a time and burst into the room, streaking past them with reddened eyes and wet cheeks.

“Mildrithe! What happened? Are you hurt?” Haldir caught her arm as she ran by.

“I’m fine,” she choked out, holding back a sob. “Though it should surprise no one if I was hurt, since I’m just a mortal. Too weak for this world.”

“Don’t say that.” Idhrien smoothed away a lock of hair that clung to Mildrithe’s dampened cheek and took her hand. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, mortal or not.”

“I didn’t say it. Gwerenor did.” The sob she fought to suppress began to force its way out. “He said it wasn’t worth making friends with me. He said I won’t be around long enough to bother with.”

“He said what?” Haldir had long suspected that Mildrithe was a little sweet on Gwerenor, and he had never thought the young elf was particularly deserving of her affection. But now he fought back the urge to go find Gwerenor and drag him across all of Caras Galadhon by the ear to give an apology for such a heartless remark. Idhrien saw the flush in his cheeks and put a calming hand on his arm.

“He’s right, though, isn’t he?” Mildrithe looked up at them through her tears. “I’ll die long before you, and even then I won’t go to Mandos as everyone else will. I’ll be alone. Forever.”

She gave up fully on trying to hold back her distress and wept openly. All of Haldir’s anger vanished in an instant, replaced only with pity, and he wrapped one arm around Mildrithe and the other around Idhrien, pulling them all together into a tight little trio.

“He’s not right,” he said. “No one knows for sure what the fate of Men is beyond this world, but elves and Men are both children of Eru. And he surely doesn’t want to separate his children from each other forever.”

“Do you really believe that?” Her voice was small and muffled, her face pressed against his chest.

“I really do.” He kissed the top of her head. “You won’t be alone. I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

**********

5. Mildrithe snuck another look at Haldir from the corner of her eye as they walked. His face was calm, but he was often one to keep his innermost thoughts and feelings inside and she worried about what he might be hiding. Whether he felt resentment or betrayal amidst his sadness. Whether he thought she was ungrateful. The idea that she might be hurting him stung her, and she reached for his hand.

He looked down and smiled as she laced her fingers through his. “The first time you did that, your hand was barely big enough to get around mine at all.”

“And you looked so startled that I wondered if holding hands meant something very different to elves.”

He laughed. “We’re maybe not as free with our feelings as others. Me especially.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m just glad you didn’t give up on me.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she pulled him to a stop by their joined hands. “I would never give up on you, and that’s not what’s happening now. You know that, right? This is something that I have to do for myself, but it changes nothing about my feelings for you. Or Naneth.”

“I know that.” He brushed away a tear that slid down her cheek. “I know it’s been…difficult for you here at times, being different from everyone else. And you’re old enough now to start a family of your own, and I can see how that will be easier for you outside of Lórien.”

“It has been difficult sometimes, but never because of you. You made this my home, and I’ll always love it. And I’ll be back to visit you. All the time. So much that you’ll wonder whether I even left.”

He kissed her cheek. “It will always make my heart happy to see you.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, eventually coming to the forest’s edge, where they met the small traveling party that would ride with her to the town in Rohan’s Eastfold where she intended to start again. Haldir checked and then rechecked her saddle, her bow, her water canteen. Using his best Rohirric, he went over the planned route with the head of the party and asked a steady string of questions about the expected weather, the terrain and the security precautions they had planned. He cast a careful eye over the packed supplies carried by a small pony and added a few items of his own that he had brought in case they were needed.

Mildrithe watched him as he created task after task that required his attention before she could depart, and when he turned back to check her saddle again for a third time, she gently took hold of his arm.

“Ada, I think you’ve done that already.”

“Have I?” He laughed a little at himself even as his eyes reddened and took on a glassy sheen. “I suppose I have. So I guess that means you’re all ready to go then?”

“I guess.” She reached out and brushed away the tear that rolled down his cheek this time. “Unless… maybe you’d like to come with us a little further before you head back?”

He hesitated and then smiled. “Well, maybe just a little.”

**********

6. Two small pairs of feet stuck out from below the edge of the curtains, and every time Haldir walked past, furtive giggling could be heard.

“Now where have Holtwin and Seftceln gone?” he asked in a loud voice. “I can’t find them anywhere.” There was more giggling from behind the curtain. “Mildrithe, I’m sorry, but I seem to have lost your children. I’ve looked everywhere, and they’ve just vanished.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” said Mildrithe, shaking her head. “Because their grandmother was planning to take them swimming in the river, but I guess we’ll have to cancel that now.”

Holtwin and Seftceln burst from their hiding place and ran in excited loops around the room. “Grandpa couldn’t find us, but we were right there the whole time!”

“You’re very tricky,” said Haldir, smiling. “I have to stay on my toes when you two are around.” He scooped them up, one in each arm, and carried them over to the door. “Your grandmother is waiting outside. Go and enjoy the afternoon.”

They scampered happily down the stairs, and Haldir returned to sit next to Mildrithe, who had collapsed into a seat with her feet propped up on a small table in front of her. She laid her head on his shoulder as soon as he sat, and she breathed a happy, but tired, sigh.

“I don’t know where they get their energy,” she said. “From the moment they wake up until the minute they fall asleep at night, it’s non-stop for them. And then also for me.”

“Does Éathmod not help you?”

“He does. He’s a wonderful father. And you’d think two forty year old people could stay on top of a three and a five year old, but they run us ragged. Why did you never tell me parenthood was so exhausting?”

He laughed. “Because ultimately that part doesn’t matter. By the time they’re grown, you won’t even remember the tiredness. You’ll just remember how much you loved having them with you.”

She reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’re right as always, Ada.” She snuggled her head back down on his shoulder and yawned. “I could fall asleep right here, right now.”

“Go ahead.”

“You won’t mind? I came all this way to visit with you, not to sleep.”

“It’ll only be for a little while.” He pulled a blanket from a basket at his side and spread it across her. “And besides, I love just having you with me.”

**********

7. The voice of his wife came into Haldir’s mind suddenly. Insistently. You need to get here quickly. There is less time than we thought. He dropped everything and ran.

He made only one stop on his way out of the city, borrowing a horse from Lady Galadriel’s household, and he raced through the forest and then across the plains of eastern Rohan on its back. With every pace, he prayed he would arrive before it was too late.

Mildrithe had been sick for several months, and he and Idhrien had taken turns traveling to Wielburg to be with her. At first, it had seemed a simple unlucky streak of normal illness, though a flu or infection was dangerous enough for a woman of nearly eighty. But as time wore on and the cures prescribed for those standard ailments had no effect, it became clear that something more serious afflicted her. Something that only steadily worsened, bringing fever, fatigue and suffering in its wake.

He arrived days later, well into the night, and jumped from the exhausted horse to rush inside. The rest of the household had all gone to sleep, spent from long days of worry and care, and Idhrien sat alone at Mildrithe’s bedside, gently holding her frail, palsied hand. The smooth, firm skin of his wife’s fingers against the thin, creased skin of his daughter’s brought a sob to his throat, which he stifled as best he could. All the years of knowing that this moment was coming had somehow done nothing to prepare him for it in the end.

He leaned down to kiss Mildrithe’s forehead, and she opened her eyes slowly when she felt his lips. It took her a moment to find his face and bring it into focus, but she smiled at him, a smile of quiet pride. “I waited for you, Ada,” she said, her voice a faint, hoarse whisper, and then her eyes drifted closed again.

He was about to implore her to keep fighting, to do whatever she could within herself to go on, when he heard her voice in his mind and it stopped him short. I am ready. It had never been easy for her to access the ability to exchange thoughts – most mortals never achieved it successfully, and only her years in Lórien had helped her along – and he knew that she had put all of her last strength into the effort.

He sank down to his knees and bowed his head. He could hear the aching rattle in her chest with each labored breath and feel the fevered heat emanating from her body. More than that, he could feel her exhaustion, her pain, her willingness to give in to the release that hovered at the edge of her consciousness. He couldn’t deny her that last relief, and so he drew a terrified breath and spoke the words he knew she had waited to hear.

“It’s alright, Mildrithe. You can go now. Remember us and how much we love you until we can find you again someday.”

Idhrien wept silently at his side and eventually stood to raise Éathmod and his children from their beds to say their own final goodbyes. People came in and out. There were more tears and embraces. Minutes ticked away, and then hours. And through it all, Haldir sat silently, safeguarding Mildrithe in sleep one last time until his watch was ended shortly before dawn.

He went out to view the sunrise alone, sitting beneath the canopy of a rowan tree in full bloom, small white flowers covering every branch and fallen petals making a carpet beneath the boughs. After a few minutes, Hýdigan, Holtwin’s youngest daughter, wandered out and came to his side. “Is Grandma gone now?”

He turned to face her, a little five year old with a head of reddish-gold curls, big hazel eyes, and a small rounded chin. She looked so much like Mildrithe as he had first seen her, decades ago that felt like only the passing of a moment to him. He made room for Hýdigan to sit in his lap.

“No, little one, she’s not gone. You won’t see her now as you’re used to seeing her, but she’s still here. No one is really gone as long as they remain in our hearts and minds.”

They watched the first rays of the sun emerge from behind the rolling hills of the horizon, bringing the start of a new day in their wake. He couldn’t count how many days he had already seen nor how many were still ahead of him, stretching off into the boundless future. But he knew that Mildrithe would live alongside him, in his own heart and mind, for every one of those days. And in this way, she would never be truly gone. He would carry her into eternity.

********************

Last notes: There’s a little more osanwé in the seventh mini-story. It’s very unusual for a human to be able to use it, but Tolkien did say it was possible and, if anyone is going to be able to, it would be a human raised among elves. But even then, it takes a lot of effort for Mildrithe to do it.

Mildrithe named her son Holtwin (which means “forest friend”) as a tribute to Haldir, and her daughter Seftceln (“soft breeze”) shares a name with Mildrithe’s late sister, who saved her life by hiding her during the attack on their village. Holtwin named his daughter Hýdigan (“thoughtful one” in Rohirric) after Idhrien, whose own name means “thoughtful” in Sindarin.

[ibims1seb]

A Gift

Please note that this is my first post. I have lurked in the shadows for a bit and finally found the courage to actually post some of my writing. I would really like feedback, be it on my writing or on how this app works. Thank you very much and enjoy this little treat of Whump :)

TW: captivity, Whumper turned Whumpee, sort of multiple Whumpers, knifes, ropes as restraints, dehumanisation (not sure), implied kidnapping, implied beating, strong language, (tell me if there is more)

They could feel the man glare at them with such a force that, if they weren’t restrained, they’d be cuddled in a ball, trying to disappear. But at least, they weren’t forced to look at those harsh eyes. They kept their stare on the floor in front of the man’s feet. Away from his narrow lenses, his frown and his curled brows. Just, as far away from his face as possible. However, their curiosity betrayed them and the crouched down figure started to risk a glance up at their captor. And they regretted it.

The moment their unsure eyes met the others’, they regretted giving into the temptation. They saw an unreadable expression that could only be described as furious. Those eyes cut daggers in… not… in them. He was staring expectantly at a person somewhere out of their sight. Still, they pulled their gaze away from the tall person in front of them, not wanting to risk being met with the same fate as whoever had angered the man.

“Are you uncomfortable in these bounds, little one?”, they swallowed. He had probably noticed the fast movement of their head and mistook it for a struggle. Sure, the ropes digging into their skin at their feet, wrists and elbows was anything but a nice feeling, but they weren’t going to invest energy into a lost cause. And then there was also the nagging fear that they’d just imagined the concern and sincerity in his voice. Maybe this was all just a trick to get them to speak so they could be kicked again. So, they stayed silent, hoping that that would be the correct answer to his question.

“You can answer truthfully, if your scared about that.”, there was inpatients dripping from behind the well acted concern, so the bound person answered fast, tripping over their breath while they tried to talk.

“Y-yes…”, the air hitched in their throat and the sound of their voice made them shudder. It was raspy and dry, filled with fear.

“Yes what?” Of course he wasn’t really concerned. He just wanted to test how obedient they were.

“Y-yes, the bounds are un-uncomfortable…”, they rasped out, picking up a little bit of volume to ensure they wouldn’t have to say it again. There was silence, but they could basically hear that stare again. But now, they knew it wasn’t meant for them. Who would blame them, that they would find fabric bruising their body unpleasant? He surprisingly didn’t. The snap of a finger coming from somewhere above them killed the silence and there was a hustle to their right. Footsteps quickly rose, running towards them, making them tense even more against the restraints. The feet in front of them started to disappear and they couldn’t suppress the flinch when cold hands moved down their back to their wrists.

“Relax,” he muttered, pressing something cold and thin in the tiny space between their back and the rope. A knife. The realisation made their breath hitch again but they tried to stay as still as possible as ordered. The metallic cleaver lingered there, hesitating. “Will you continue to be this good when I free you?”

They nodded, not really sure what else to do. They just wanted to be able to move their hands again and hug them self tightly because no one else would do it. The blade made quick work of the restraints and as soon as they could move again they clutched their hands around their chest, fearing they might disappear if they don’t. Someone petted their back gently they knew who it was, before they could hear him rise again. There were footsteps and they though it was just the person who had brought him the knife but his voice echoing through the otherwise soundless room told a different story.

“Who said you could leave!” They could hear the smile on his face but his voice was cold, suggesting that the grin was as meaningless as anything else.

“I- sir please! I am sorry. I- I didn’t—“, they recognised that voice. It was the person who had taken them. Who had kicked them every time they breathed louder than they’d liked. The one who hissed insults at them while they cried.

“What did I say!?” They couldn’t help themself but turn around. They wanted to know if it was really them. If they had really conditioned them so well in their 24 hours together, that they could identify the voice that would most likely appear in their nightmares.

“I- please, sire. I had to discipline them! They were a disobedient little shit!” There was an involuntary squeak of disapproval escaping out of their throat, which earned them an angered look from their real captor. The other man, however, didn’t even acknowledge them. He seethed with anger that they could dare to insult his lively gift.

“I highly doubt that you want to continue that speech of yours.” Venom spilled from every word like water overflowing a bathtub, the amount so deadly that any snake would bow in front of him. They probably would regardless, the thought squeezed into their mind and in any other situation they would have giggled at it. But there was no time for fun and all they could do was stare at the scene, eyes wide from anticipation.

“Guards, next time I see them, I want them to be cowering in a cell!” He ignored the pleads for forgiveness and the half assed apologies trying to justify their actions and just watched, probably smiling at the struggle. He seems like the kind of guy to smile at that, they though bitterly, would he be just as happy if it was me who struggled? They didn’t want to think about that. They didn’t want to think at all, if they were honest. They were exhausted from the events of the last two days and wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

“Well, to some degree I’ve got to thank you.”, not sure if they heard that correctly, they looked up at the man, confusion hanging over their face like a veil. But they were not graced the opportunity to ask what he meant, since he, to, had questions. “Now, what was your name again, little one?” He got down on one knee, caressing the side of their face.

“Wh-Whumpee, sir.”, it didn’t feel right to call him sir, and the small mask of surprise being replaced by a… prideful?… grin said the same, but they were still very aware of how helpless they were. If they were obedient, maybe he’d let them go back to their family.

“Well, Whumpee, I am Whumper. And you are going to live with me from now on.”, his smile was cold and his eyes were filled with an unidentifiable lust, that made Whumpee shudder. Their eyes widened noticeably which made the other man chuckle darkly.

“Bu-but my family! M-my home!” Tears threatened to fall, but they were to shocked to even acknowledge, god forbid, stop them. Whumper’s expression grew soft at that, while he cupped their cheek to force them to look up at him.

“This is your home now. And I am your family from now on. Your only family!” The hand on their face moved again, a thumb trailed along their cheekbone, wiping away the tears of helplessness.

“N-no. Please!”

“Shh, you’ll forget the time before this soon enough. Then, you don’t have to be sad anymore. Because your with me.”, Whumpee could do nothing but silently sob into the hand of their captor.

“You there! I want them to be bathed and clothed comfortably before they go to bed,” he commanded and turned his attention back to his gift, “We’ll talk more at dinner, m’kay?” The captive could do nothing but look at him with sad, tearful eyes. It made whumper’s heart ache, but he forced himself to get up so that they could be taken to their room. Soon. Soon they’ll forget every sadness and love me how I love them, he sighed, I’ll protect them from everybody and everything.

But himself…

Part two

Masterlist

[duraznita-frescante]

hi!

is it possible that you could do an agere oneshot where scar gets chronic pains and regresses with a mumbo cg? /nf

🌱 — "to be loved (is to be seen)"

⇒ regressor! scar & cg! mumbo

⇒ word count: 1.3k

...

🌿 — this was the very first request sent in and my first ever time doing a writing per a request so thank sm!!! i hope i did okay with the prompt, i tried my best drawing from different sources on living with chronic pain so i really hope i did it justice with the right amount of sensitivity and respect. i love writing for cgmumbo so i hope you enjoy my writing of him as well. thank you!!!

(also also my computer kept changing mumbo to mambo so a really hope i caught all of those LMAO)

The idea of flaking out once again on a plan set weeks ago forced this rolling feeling in his stomach. Was that dread? He’ll go with dread. Scar was dreading the idea of telling his friends that he couldn’t build with them today despite being one of the ones to pitch the idea in the first place.

But standing in the middle of his kitchen, he could barely will the strength to make himself a proper meal. Or even one at all.

A soft whine bubbled up from throat and he rubbed his face as the deep-set thrumming of his joints came to a brief crescendo before simply sitting on the cold tile. His head thumped gently on the cabinet behind him and he wondered if he could get away with sitting here all day, letting the tile cool down his aching legs. The pattering of little feet quickly dismissed that idea though, he turned his head just as Jellie rounded the corner, an indigent meow filling the air and hitting sharply against his ears.

“Hi, Jellie,” Scar greeted with a smile as she came over, butting her head across his knee and up to his waist, leaving her soft grey fur on his pyjama pants in her wake. Eventually, she settled in his lap, this time to meow directly into his face. “I know I’m supposed to message someone by now,” he says quietly, letting his hand run down her back, another meow follows.

“But asking him is hard…” he whined as Jellie jumped out of his lap and bumped her body against the cabinet next to him that she knew held her cans of food. The idea of popping open a can made his fingers ache. “But Jellie needs breakfast…” Scar concluded, watching as Jellie paced the kitchen to better project her demands for breakfast.

He pulled out his communicator and typed out a message to the lesser of two evils. Evils, in this case, was breaking the news to his friends that he was having a bad pain day or telling Mumbo the same. He needed Mumbo first, for Jellie of course. What with how his fingers ached as they did, opening a tab can would not go too well for him.

[GoodTimesWithScar] come o ver [GoodTimesWithScar] jellie is askin for you

It didn’t take long at all for Scar to hear his front door creak open and the familiar light footsteps of Mumbo Jumbo, slightly clicky from the dress shoes that he insists are comfortable for everyday wear.

To someone unfamiliar with Scar and his fluctuating pain levels, the sight upon entering the kitchen might’ve been concerning. One might think he’d fallen, maybe they would fuss over him and insist they check him over for injury. And in some distant past that was Mumbo as well– that was everyone who’d joined in those early days. But now Mumbo knew, and all of his friends on the server knew, this wasn’t an ordeal that needed to be dealt with urgency and pity.

“Bad pain day?” he asked with a reassuring smile, squatting down to Scar’s level. Scar confirmed with a soft huff that might’ve been a chuckle or indication of pain. It didn’t really matter, they both knew what it meant. Scar held out a tin can that he managed to get out of the cabinet while waiting for Mumbo.

“Fingers too bendy ‘n Jellie hasn’ had b’eakfast,” He slurred out, his mind relaxing at just the sight of his caregiver. “Open, please?”

“Of course,” Mumbo took it gently and spoke as he peeled off the metal top and placed it to the side for Jellie to enjoy, “And what about Scar, has he had breakfast?”

A definite shake of the head that threw Scar’s fringe over his eyes was what he got in response.

Mumbo chuckled lightly and Scar grinned at the sound, letting his hair be pushed to the side to make way for the kiss pressed onto his forehead. Those same hands settled on either side of his face, holding him.

“I think…” Mumbo drew out in that exaggerated way that he knew made a little Scar hang on to every word, “It is a wonderful day for a bedroom picnic, what do you think?” Bedroom picnic was this fun activity that the duo made up many moons ago in which you bring everything entertaining and enough snacks to last you the day into somewhere comfy, usually a bedroom, and stay there. It was reserved for days like these when being anything but stationary was far too laborious on Scar’s body. He could spend the day napping and being small in between to try and ignore the aches.

“I can’t! I’m ‘posed to help Gri and ‘mpulse to build today and– and I don’t want them to be mad at me,” Scar pulled himself from Mumbo’s gentle hold and oh did that hurt Mumbo more than it should have.

“What? Why would they be mad?” In Mumbo’s anxiety-ridden mind, thoughts of the worst flooded his brain. Had Grian or Impulse said something rude? By mistake or otherwise? Did someone else say something rude? Someone new? Had Mumbo himself said something off and he didn’t even notice?

“I just– I said that I could an’…an’ I can but I can’t even though I p’omised,” Scar rambled on half coherently and just like that, those irrational thoughts drained from his mind. Yes, of course. Of course Scar wasn’t upset over what anyone else would have said, he’s had a lifetime of experience to tell him that what others say about him doesn’t matter. But it seems he’s in his head today and this is clearly something that’s been on his mind for a while. To Mumbo, there were a few options on how to handle this.

The first, well, wasn’t viable and would not even happen now that he was here. The first option would be to just let Scar exert his body with the idea that he had to in order to please his friends, an option that could only happen if Scar were in the headspace for it– read, an adult headspace that was at suboptimal mental health.

But Scar isn’t entirely an adult right now and as young as he is right now, he doesn’t have the mental power right now for the nuance of overexerting himself for the sake of others. If he did, he would not have called for Mumbo in the first place.

“I see…” Then there was the second option, “Well, those two in particular know Scar very well,” Mumbo continued, “and I think they’d be very sad if they knew their best friend was hurting because of them, hm?” Play into Scar’s endless sympathy. Nobody can be sad on Scar’s watch, be it while he’s big or little, everyone must be happy. He designed and built a whole theme park for the sole purpose of seeing his friends happy.

And it worked like a charm

“I don’t want Gri to be sad!” He exclaimed loudly, the idea of his best friend being gloomy just unbearable.

“Just… Grian?” Mumbo couldn’t help himself, he had to tease a little bit if Scar was going to cling to one idea at a time.

“Or Impulse!” Scar tacked on as well, the lighthearted jab flying over his head.

“Gosh, I don’t want them sad either, now that I think of it,” Mumbo pretended to fret, knowing just how much the little one needed some dramatics to get the whole message. “And if a hurting Scar makes them sad…” he trailed off, looking off to the side with a finger on his chin.

“I know! A Scar that’s not hurtin’ will—will make them happy!”

And with a little bit of storytelling logic, Mumbo is victorious in fixing this issue without a single tear shed.

“What a clever lad, I think that will make them very happy,” he says softly, letting himself fall away from the exaggerated way of speaking. “Let’s head back to bed and then tell them this great news together, yeah?” Mumbo stood from his space on the floor and extended a hand toward Scar. In response, the younger raised both of his arms in silent request.

And who was Mumbo to deny him?

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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[getblackout503]

Sorry this one took me a bit longer to post, Burn out has been really getting to me. But I promise to continue writing since we are nearing the end of this fic.

————————————————-

Raiding the base and freeing all the victims was the easy part, the hard part would be fighting the behemoth that was Zenon. Yami was no stranger to what that man was capable of, an unfeeling, cold hearted, soulless husk of a man. One who had no problem killing if it meant getting things done quickly. So as he watched the trucks drive closer he had to prepare himself for a war, and as he got ready he told Luck and Manga to drive all the innocent people freed to safety.

“Here they come.” Charlotte said, she grabbed her sub-machine gun and loaded it.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Jack cackled. “Whoo! I’m about to make a name for myself yea.”

“I don’t think you walk away from this.” Dorothy said as she prepared for the coming battle.

“You just let people know what happened here today.” He smirked. “When y’all get out of here, have a drink for me.”

“God, you’re an idiot.” Charlotte sighed.

Seven black armored trucks pulled up being led by a black car, stepping out of it was Zenon Zogratis himself. Zenon had a blank face, no emotion, nothing.

“He’s just as dead looking as they say he is.” Dorothy commented as she prepared her nerves.

“What motivates you to attack our warehouse?” Zenon said in a monotone voice.

“A lot of things,” Yami said, now staring down at one of his daughter's abusers. “First, freeing all these victims from your family, second ruining your entire filthy empire, and finally, getting back at you for hurting my daughter.”

“Oh, this is about Amara?” Zenon just blandly asked. “Very well then, let’s get this over with.” He simply waved his arm and all his men raised their weapons.

“Now Nacht!” Yami yelled out, and Nacht hidden in the shadows fired.

All of a sudden one of the trucks seemingly blew up, taking out several of Zenon’s men. Zenon shocked turn the face them, Yami simply smirked at the priceless expression on the emotionless man’s face.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t have a plan did you?” Yami waved his hand and fire reigned from different angles. “We would never fight you head on.”

Zenon and his men took cover and opened fire as well, all the while Yami and his gang fought back. Bullets flew, bodies fell, and yet Zenon continued to stand. Yami knew if they took out Zenon all his men would soon follow, but how would he take him out when he was surrounded by heavily armed soldiers. Yami turned his head to dodge a speeding bullet and once he did his eyes landed upon the still burning warehouse they had set to after evacuating it, then it hit him, he knew how to get to Zenon, it was risky but it was one he needed to take.

“Charlotte, I need you guys to cover me!” Yami yelled out.

“What are you planning Yami!?” Charlotte called out, concerned at how he would answer.

“Something stupid.” Yami answered, and before Charlotte could say anything Yami was off.

Zenon in the midst of the chaos saw Yami go off into the burning warehouse, he knew that Yami was the mastermind behind the whole stunt, he knew Yami and his gang were the ones responsible for hijacking his trades, and freeing the Zogratis family’s merchandise. Both non living and living in his mind, so now against his better judgment he went and followed the man into the fiery inferno.

“Didn’t think you’d actually follow me in here,” Yami turned to look at the Zogratis man. “I thought I’d have to trick ya, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Save your pointless banter, I simply wish to end this pointless squabble.”

“Such big words for such a cowardly human being, a real embarrassment to the human race.”

“Like you’re any better than me, we’ve both committed sins in our lifetimes.”

“Yeah we have, but at least mine were for people I care about, and not just for my own gain.” Yami spat at Zenon with poison.

“I do what I need to do to survive.”

“Right, by taking away the freedom of others.”

“Please, they never had freedom to begin with.”

“You sick fuck!”

“Tell me, do you do this for someone? Are you seeking revenge for someone we’ve taken?”

“What do you think?”

“Let’s see,” Zenon slowly reaches for his pistol. “Seeing as we recently retrieved Amara, It would be safe to assume you are attacking us for her. But you know if my brother went to retrieve her then he would never take her here, unless she told you about her past. And in that case…” Quickly both men drew their firearms and shot a bullet, with Yami barely dodging the bullet and missing his shot. “This is merely a distraction, let me guess you have one of your men sneaking in now don’t you, and you have my sister occupied that being the reason she isn’t here, isn’t it?”

“Heh, you’re just as smart as they say you are.” Yami told the man.

“Someone has to be the strategist.”

“Well for all your smarts you sure couldn’t tell I was leading you into a trap.”

“What trap? leading me into a burning building with no back up?”

“No,” Yami chuckled. “By not sending a group to find my guy who blew up your truck and not looking behind you.”

Zenon then heard a gun click and quickly turned only to feel a pain in his chest, now looking up he is met with the face of Nacht.

“Guess we shocked you real bad with the explosion you didn’t have time to send someone to catch me.” Nacht told the incapacitated Zogratis on the ground currently bleeding out.

“Took you long enough.”

“Clam it, I saved you.”

“H-How?”

“It’s simple, ain’t it?” Yami reloaded his gun and Nacht did the same, as well as kicking Zenon’s away. “Nacht saw me leading you in and followed behind.”

“In battle you always have to keep your eyes on all the players.” Nacht said.

“Now, got something else to say Zenon .”

“W-Whatever y-you’re doing, w-who-e-ever is sneaking in w-will never defeat Dante.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“W-whatever you think she is, w-whoever you think she is, just k-know she will never go b-back to you.”

“…tell that to satan…you sick bastard.”

BANG

“Yami?”

“I’m okay…”

“…okay…”

“Come on, the others will need our help to defeat the last of the goons.”

As the men walked away from the now corpse of the Zogratis the flames grew larger soon consuming the corpse, the flames consumed the warehouse once used for such a deplorable act. Now setting the motion for the collapse of the Zogratis’ kingdom, the general dead, the strategist dead, and all that stands in the way.

Is the king of darkness himself.

[skeeballcatt22]

Even though Disgrace is really old and I've taken the ideas and stories for my own personal work, it's still a big part of my writing journey. Here's a scene I rewrote:

“It’s not a prank,” a cold voice seethed from the roof of town hall. Grian sat above them all, dark eyes shaded by shaggy and dirty bangs. Grian jumped down, landing on one knee right in front of Etho and Xisuma, displaying the blood stain on his back to the two. He stood up, straightening his ripped tank top.

“You okay there, dude?” Ren asked from the crowd.

Grian flipped his hair out of his face, giving a clear view to the myriad of scratches on his face. “Peachy.” He looked back at his admin and Etho and then back to the crowd.

 He leaned casually forward on the railing, clicking his tongue, “It’s not a prank, it’s not some big ‘gotchu’; I blew the mansion sky high. Wasn’t gonna finish it anyways,” He added the last part under his breath. Grian looked dictionary sick; pale skin, sunken eyes, and red nose. His expression sat neutral on his face, “And, y’know what? It’s really nothing to anyone’s concern, y’know?” He stood, stretching his back, “I’ll just rebuild it or something!”

Impulse stepped up, “We can help you, if you want,” He said, “We could help get you some of those materials back.”

“No, really, don’t bother with that--”

“Grian, really, if there’s something  you need help with we are here for you,” Cleo oftered.

Grian put his hand up before anyone else could speak, “I get it; y'all want to help me. I appreciate it, I really do, but I made this mess, and I alone will clean it up. I got upset and KA-BOOM! Y’know?” He laughed in a way that added to the strange air of his behavior.

A small part of Xisuma wanted to be proud of him for coming forward with what happened, but the rest of him was too unsettled by it to fully commit to that conclusion. Grian turned around and shoved his way through Etho and Xisuma to get into the town hall.

Mumbo narrowed his eyes from the back of the crowd, “We should go talk to him.”

“Why would we want to?” Bdubs said. Doc shoved him and walked with Mumbo to the steps of town hall. The hermits moved out of their way, Ren asking if they had any idea what was going on. Scar came with them, reassuring the hermits that, as their mayor, he would bring answers shortly. Iskall and Bdubs stayed behind.

They walked up the steps and Scar turned to address the crowd, “Now this was a strange way to start the day, and I can promise that answers will be brought shortly! I hope knowing that griefing isn’t a potential causation eases your nerves!” 

“We’ll go talk to him,” Mumbo told Xisuma. The admin gave a solemn nod. They walked into the town hall, the empty room devoid of the diamond throne, only Grian standing in the center, a clear view of the blood stain on his shirt.

“Grian-” Doc stepped forward first, Grian suddenly turning around, fists readied. He lowered his arms seeing Mumbo and Doc.

“Oh,” He said as if he wasn’t about to sucker punch Doc, “Sup guys.”

“Sup,” Mumbo said, laughing softly in an attempt to ease Grian’s nerves, “You doing okay, buddy?”

Grian’s smile looked like his own for the first time in… actually a while. “I should tell the truth shouldn’t I?”

“I think that would help everyone, yeah,” Doc said, harsher than he meant it.

“Yeah,” Grian chuckled, “Um, well, I just haven’t… felt like myself recently,” He started pacing, immediately putting off Doc and Mumbo. “I’m sure people have started to notice it, but my dumbass can’t remember how to act.” He stopped pacing and looked Mumbo and Doc in the eyes, another thing that made the room stale. “Like, you guys, you look terrified.”

“You don’t normally stare at me like that,” Mumbo admitted. 

“See!” Grian said, starting to pace again, “Let me guess, I don’t normally pace either?” Doc and Mumbo shook their heads. Grian sighed and stood still, eyes on the ground. “You want the truth? The truth-truth? I'm not the great builder you think I am. I’m not smart, I’m not socially adept, I’m not anything you think I am.” He looked away and crossed his arms, wincing, “I’m not what you think I am.”

[h4zardousch3micals]

Performance Of A Lifetime - Prologue

Previous • First • Next

Wow. I can't believe I actually finished writing something for once lol.

I really tried to make sure I wasn't copying Plushii-gutz's Fallen Stars (which you can read the first part of here, please do it's fantastic) but "bad things happen to the Celestials" is a really niche topic so I'll absolutely take this down if it's too similar ^^"

Content warning for brief mentions of injury? Also keep in mind that if I'm able to continue this it will get darker so keep an eye on this segment for content warnings and stuff

So, uh, yeah?

___

Celestial Island was quiet, at first.

Amongst the shattered bricks and swirling sands, twelve stone statues stood motionless. Anyone that could see it knew it was a tragedy, but few truly knew just what had happened here. One sculpture sat at the middle of the island, as though it were the centerpiece. It stood tall and magnificent, with its staff held high into their air. Its expression was strange: so calm and yet so petrified with the strangest hint of sadness. Not even a critter dared to move, as though the entire monster world had plunged itself into silence as a form of respect.

That was until, a little boat appeared on the horizon. Two pairs of curious eyes watched the island: crimson red and penny brown. They had been observing this strange place for a while now, only just gaining the courage to approach.

"...Oh my Galvana..." One uttered, their soft voice barely above a whisper, "Is it really? Do you think it—"

"Looks like it." The other replied.

They didn't want to believe it, they couldn't believe it, "...But how do you know for sure?"

"Let's take a look."

The water was an inky black as the smaller one grabbed the oars and started rowing again; the moon sparkled and shimmered in each hypnotising circle of ripples. When they reached the side of the island, they scrambled clumsily up the mess of floating boulders and ancient bricks. The more timid of the two nearly fell off, hitting their back on the sharp rocks and only narrowly being caught by the tail. They could feel something crack as they struck the cliffside, but it subsided after a moment and no tingling or numbness followed - they prayed that meant they hadn't damaged their spine.

"Come on." Though they didn't offer any sort of concern through their words, even though the darkness their worried expression was as clear as day.

"I'm fine." They reassured, dragging themselves up the rest of the way. When they saw what lay before them, their jaw dropped, "It- It's really?"

"By the stars..."

A dozen statues stood before them: as tall and as mighty as the legends claimed. Floating chunks of the Island displayed each element's symbol, as though they were the information plaques in some kind of museum. The ground felt unstable beneath their feet, as though the whole island could crumble away at any given moment and yet, paradoxically, so strong and sturdy that it could survive the end of an era a thousand times over.

"Wh-... What's wrong with them?" The one with the quiet voice whimpered, sympathetically glancing at two sculptures which resembled a tiny-but-mighty fae and a column of crystals. Something felt very, very wrong; as though they had stumbled upon the most forbidden secrets of the universe.

The other ran their hand across the fluffy mane of one statue. Instead of shifting and moulding to the movement like fur should, it remained as still as, well, a statue. The cold stone seemed to sap the warmth right out of them, "No life in 'em... Like statues..."

"What?!"

"Statues... Statues!" Their eyes widened at the realisation, as though everything made sense now, "Remember that Island off in The Storm? With the living statues?"

"Yeah..." Though they had never visited themselves, they knew well the stories of the artificial and alien Wublin Island. Ancient scrolls suggested that the monsters there were connected to this place through their creator: so it made logical sense. An awful thought crossed their mind, "Do you think—"

"Yes, something happened here." They didn't need to hear the end of that sentence; their colleague was extremely predictable.

They waved their paw frantically in front of one of the carving's faces, as though that would wake them up, "What are we gonna do? We have to tell someone, right? Let an archaeologist know or something?"

"And tell them their Gods fell out of the sky dead as a doornail?!" They bristled, a mix of anger and disbelief swelled into a furious screech, "That'd create chaos!"

"Well what are you suggesting we do?" They yelped, fearful of their teammate's outburst despite being physically much stronger than them.

Neither dared to utter a word for a few too many uncomfortable seconds, as though neither dared to wake the slumbering deities that surrounded them. Then, they got an idea. It hit them like a meteorite, the whole world suddenly morphing into a new reality as the pieces fell into place. It was ridiculous - dangerous, even - but it might just work. And if they were able to pull it off: they'd be the most powerful beings to ever walk this planet. Maybe even more powerful than...

"We do what we always do..."

"...we put on the performance of a lifetime!"