#if you wander around fandom for a little bit you can find out about sad parts of their backstory or interesting personality traits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geminiwritten · 2 years ago

Text

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I��ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #the boys #homelander #hughie campbell #frenchie #mm #mothers milk #the female #kimiko #karl urban x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot

2K notes · View notes

totallynotcoffeeturtle · 16 days ago

Text

The Devil Works Hard But...

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist

[1] [1.5 (You are here!)] [2 (Up coming...)]

Tags: fluff, pre-relationship, gn! reader, very little involvement with reader for this part lol Summary: Wanderer prepares for your upcoming not date while everyone else in Sumeru act like proud parents

A/N: oh wow part 1.5 of heart eyes on you with no pt 2 in sight, truly turtle fashion. /lh but part 2 is, at the very least, on my plans, AND i am expanding the fandoms i write for! yippie!

･˚‧･+‧��‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･Wanderer’s heart (?) still pounds against his ribcage whenever he thinks about your little invitation for a ‘hang out’ (NOT date). He coughs into his fist, trying to concentrate on the last of his work for the day that he has been dragging out much longer than he should. After a bit of thinking, he closes the books and puts them away. Rather than just sitting around and doing nothing productive, Wanderer decides to try and prepare for the outing with you instead.

Wanderer looks through his closet only to be met with the sad reality that he only has multiple variations of his usual outfits and nothing else. To make matters worse, he has no perfume or anything nice smelling! Maybe he should have just gone with the Traveler to make some ‘human contact’ and ask them for advice a while ago. But by now, Wanderer can do nothing but suck it up and somehow devise a nice casual outfit and some type of perfume that you like.

For the rest of the night, the puppet shuffles through his entire memory to at least try to find a scent you seemed to be appealed by and an outfit he can get quickly. Without notice, the sun has already come up and sucker punched him like the bastard it has always been. Wanderer sits up and finally comes to the reality that he needs assistance.

He completes his work with record speed once he has a set goal for himself and starts going down the list of people he knows, arranged from potentially most helpful to downright of no help at all, with a certain dancer in the plaza as the first target. By the end of the day, everyone managed to be equally unhelpful. Whenever he asks them for some advice, they just smile at him like a gossipy auntie in the market and pat his shoulder, saying that he is fine as is. LIKE THAT IS OF ANY USE???? The puppet almost wants to rip out his hair in sheer frustration but calms himself down. This is not like him to be so stirred up. He sighs and lies down for a quick break before returning to his search.

Of course, Wanderer knows full well that he has an abundance of charm but he also knows that you will be putting in effort to dress up as well. All that he wants is to match up to your level of care for the hangout! Days go by with snail-pace progress being made until the big day is right near.

He pushes the door open and walks down the street leading to the cafe, the first rays of warm sunlight chasing away any sleepiness left in his system. Wanderer sits down at a table outside, only a few hours too early, smoothes out an imaginary wrinkle on his shirt and checks out his breath again for the n-th time. He swallows to push down his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

taglist: @amyminhminh @xrmywaifxx @samyayaya @materialgrowll @secretsoflotus

#genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #drabble #gn!reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #wanderer genshin #scaramouche x reader

71 notes · View notes

bluejaysandblackbats · 9 months ago

Text

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Two: The Dewey Decimal System

Jason got out of bed early in the morning, looking for Jim. After a few minutes of looking around, he knocked on Barbara's bedroom door. Barbara opened her door and put on her glasses. "Where's your dad?" Jason asked.

"Good morning," Barbara mumbled. Jason stood there for a while, trying to figure out what he wanted. "He didn't change his mind. You can still stay here... But I think you should come into work with me."

"On the motorcycle?" Jason asked. Barbara laughed and shook her head.

"We're taking a cab," Barbara explained. Jason pushed a hand through his hair, and Barbara noticed a few circular-shaped burns on the back of Jason's hand and on his arms. Some were old, some were new. "Hey, where'd you get those burns?"

Jason shoved his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants. "Don't worry about it," Jason mumbled as he turned and rushed back to his room and shut the door. Barbara's shoulders dropped, and she cursed under her breath. Barbara was hoping that he'd just tell her. She took her shower and got dressed for work, and by the time she was ready, Jason was in the kitchen making breakfast as if nothing happened.

Jason poured himself a glass of orange juice. "Your dad is gonna lose it when he finds out how many days of school I've missed," Jason mumbled.

"Well, that gives you something to do this summer while I'm at work. You'll get caught up soon enough," Barbara replied. Jason put half of his bagel on her plate. "Thanks."

"It's the last one. I just didn't want to be a jerk," Jason replied. Barbara took a bite and smiled at him. He wore a striped sweatshirt that he found in the closet. It was far too big, but he liked it.

After Barbara finished eating breakfast, she went through the fridge and prepared lunch for both of them. Jason washed his hands and sat on the couch. "Want some eggs?" Barbara asked. Jason shook his head and turned the tv on. "So, just half of a bagel?"

"I'm full. Hey, what do I call you? Do I just call you Babs?" Jason asked.

"Or Barbara. You can call me Barbara," she answered, and Jason nodded.

"Barbara," Jason repeated to himself. She plopped down next to him on the couch, and Jason glanced over at her. He could still see glimpses of his mother in her, and it made him a little bit sad. He took a deep breath and lay his head on her shoulder.

"Did you sleep?" Barbara asked, her voice soft.

"Nope," Jason mumbled. She looked over at him.

"You know it's okay for you to go to sleep here," Barbara whispered. Jason nodded. "I'm serious, Jason."

"Yeah... It's one thing to say that. I've tried staying with people before, and it just doesn't work," Jason whispered.

"Well, you've never stayed with us... It'll be different," Barbara reassured him, "Come on, I'll call a cab when we get outside."

Barbara put her shoes on and grabbed their lunches. Jason followed her outside, and by the time they got to the library, Jason was half-asleep. Barbara nudged him.

"Do you know how the Dewey decimal system works?" Barbara asked. Jason shrugged, and Barbara went behind the desk and wrote a list. "Do you have a library card?"

"Nuh-uh..." Jason answered. Barbara shook her head and clocked in. She got him signed up for a library card and gave him a login for the computers. "Barbara?"

"When you find those books, you can come back here and read down here," Barbara whispered. Jason cocked his head. "There's a bean bag chair down here."

Jason nodded and waved before wandering the library. Jason hated to admit it, but he liked having someone care about him. He found the books in a short amount of time and joined Barbara behind the counter. As people came in and asked questions, Jason would playfully nudge her. Barbara kept her composure, only allowing herself to laugh when it was just the two of them. "Jason, stop," she chuckled as she playfully kicked at him.

Jason grinned and went back to reading. After a while, Jason grew silent, and Barbara almost forgot that he was there. She nearly tripped over him on her way to the book chute. Barbara opened her mouth to apologize, and he lay fast asleep in the bean bag chair. She took off her sweater and draped it over him. She continued to work as Jason slept, and when lunchtime came around, she crouched down and nudged Jason. He covered his mouth and yawned. "What happened?" Jason mumbled.

Barbara took her sweater and helped him up. "You fell asleep. It's time for lunch. Wanna come outside with me?" she asked. He nodded and let her lead him outside. Barbara carried their lunches in her other hand.

They sat on the benches behind the library, and Jason started eating his sandwich. "Barbara?" Jason asked.

"Hm?" she replied as she took a bite of her boiled egg. "What's wrong?"

Jason didn't say anything. Barbara chewed her lip. He finished eating the first half of his sandwich, and he sighed. "They're cigarette burns," Jason mumbled, "So, yeah."

"Did your parents do—?"

"My mom would never—." Jason paused to lower his voice. "My mom would never hurt me... I don't want to talk about that. I just didn't want you making stuff up in your head."

"It must be hard to talk about people who've hurt you—."

"It's not just—. It's not—. I did some of them," Jason whispered, "I don't want you to think I'm weird."

"I don't think you're weird. I mean, I look at you and I just sort of see a kid... I don't really know you yet. I do know that there's something special about you," Barbara answered, "I don't know what it is, and I don't really care at this point. Just know that I like you... And that I'm gonna look after you." She reached to touch Jason's wrist, and he pulled away.

"People promise things all the time, Barbara... But, it doesn't mean you'll keep your word. People change their minds," Jason whispered. Barbara didn't argue with him. She just nodded and went back to eating.

Jason put his food away and went back inside. She didn't follow him. After Barbara finished eating, she went back inside to look for him. Barbara nudged her coworker and asked, "Max, have you seen a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes?"

"YA. Are you babysitting?" Max questioned in return. Barbara shook her head and went back to looking for Jason.

He sat on the floor reading, and she looked down at him. "Mad at me?" Barbara asked. Jason shook his head. "I hope you stick around long enough for me to make good on my promise."

Jason wanted to smile, and he wanted to believe her, but he just couldn't. He wouldn't look at her. Barbara crouched down in front of him and tapped him on the nose. She knew it'd take a while to earn his trust, but she was willing to wait. "Thank you for telling me. You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did," she softly thanked him, opening her arms. Jason embraced her, and she sat across from him.

Jason showed her the inside of the book in an attempt to change the subject. "The Statue of Liberty was a gift from the French?" Jason asked.

"Cool, huh?" Barbara replied.

"It's all ancient history to me," he joked. Barbara shook her head and messed up his hair.

"Wanna come back behind the desk? Max is harmless," Barbara offered. Jason hesitated before joining Barbara on her way back to the desk. "Max, this is Jason. Jason, this is Max... No personal questions Max, just know that he'll be coming to work with me sometimes." Jason shook Max's hand and plopped back down on the bean bag chair.

Barbara clocked back in and worked the front desk while Max put books back. Jason tugged her pant leg and asked her for a bookmark. "Going back to sleep?" Barbara asked. Jason nodded.

"I mean... if that's okay," Jason mumbled. Barbara nodded.

Jason drifted off to sleep quickly after their conversation ended, and he slept until the end of her shift. "Do you want me—?"

"Don't wake him up yet. I'm just gonna check out his books, and I'll get him. Don't worry," Barbara whispered, "Um, Max... Remember you told me about your girlfriend's little brother?"

"Is that who this is? Dick doesn't have a little brother, though. Unless," Max turned around to look at Jason, and Jason took a sharp inhale of breath and woke up.

"He's not Dick's little brother... He's um... He's my—. Jason, do you wanna check out your books so we can go?" Barbara asked just as her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. "Sorry, Max, I gotta take this. It's my dad." She told Jason she'd be out front, and she stepped outside to answer her phone. "Hey, Dad."

"Is Jason with you?" Jim asked.

"Uh... Yeah, he went to work with me. I just didn't want to leave him alone. Why? Is something wrong?" Barbara responded.

"To get guardianship of him, I would have to notify his parents—."

"His parents aren't alive. He told me himself last night—."

"But that's just it. I think Jason believes that. I did a little digging, and I found out I did take his father in a few times, and during that time, Jason was in the care of Catherine Todd. She legally adopted him when he was an infant, but his birth mother's been missing since shortly after he was born," Jim explained.

"What do you mean birth mother?" Barbara asked. Jason came outside carrying a stack of books. "Dad, we'll be home in a little bit. I'll talk to you then... Bye." She hung up and took a few of Jason's books from him.

"Is he mad at me?" Jason asked. Barbara shook her head. "I can't stay there anymore, can I?"

"Jason, you can stay with us as long as you want," Barbara reassured, "It's nothing like that..."

41 notes · View notes

ghost-helper-clover-undertaleau · 11 months ago

Text

The main six’s (updated!) character bios all in one place! Mainly so I can link them in the intro post.

Text versions under the cut.

Clover:

(Neutral/Pacifist route)

They/ Them (the Fandom would murder me otherwise)

Age - 12ish

Clover fell down into Mt. Ebbot to find the other Humans, NOT EXPECTING TO MEET THEIR GHOSTS.

Now having to search across the Underground to find their SOULs, Clover has to make sure everyone's happy & generally OK so once they reach the surface... They'll be sure that the ghosts can truly rest in peace.

Clover is admittedly a little silly despite trying to be a cool cowboy. Falling over from time to time, not having the best aim... Needless to say, Flowey's had to RELOAD quite a bit.

And by a bit, I mean a lot.

————————————————

Patience:

She/They/Its

Age Upon Death - 9

Wanders the Dark Ruins looking for their big brother (Bravery), commonly following random monsters & watching them out of pure boredom.

They commonly lose their plush, "Bunnie", around the Ruins, as while they can manage to hold it... It still falls out of their grasp when they aren't paying attention. Don't worry, Clover helps them find it again!

————————————————

Bravery:

He/They/Its

Age Upon Death - 15

Guiltridden after causing the deaths of himself & his little sister's (Patience), Bravery's soul is buried in Snowdin's thick icy snow. Barely out of reach from reuniting with his sibling.

Clover & Patience come across Bravery's ghost, said ghost immediately rushing toward them upon sewing Patience. Hugging her tightly. He tries his best to guide Clover while also taking care of & diverting most of his attention toward his sister.

But could you BLAME him he missed her SO MUCH.

————————————————

Perseverance:

They/Its

Age Upon Death - 14

Perseverance is very unhappy about the circumstances of their death, & complains about everything in the Underground because of it. They'd rather just study all the flora & fauna while being left completely alone. Regardless, the other Humans still talk to Perseverance for company despite them being antisocial. Except for Integrity, who also likes to be left alone. They tolerate Integrity because of this.

Perseverance's soul is found by a monster trying to get it to Asgore or a Royal Guard member early on in the dunes. Luckily, Clover stops them &... Perseverance just complains that they could've handled it & didn't need some "cosplayer'''s help. Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.

————————————————

Kindness:

All/Any Pronouns

Age Upon Death - 14

Kindness befriended quite a few monsters during their time in the Underground. One of them, Kindness's closest friend, managed to keep his soul safe from getting nabbed by royal guards. So Kindness keeps close by their house, using her ability to only really pick up cooking utensils to help her friend out. It also likes to wander around finding new ingredients & such. He commonly likes to ask Perseverance for their notes on plants & spices even if they can be a bit difficult sometimes.

Clover & company find Kindness in the Wild East's Saloon, hanging out with her best friend as she inspects a Feisty Slider. Then spotting Clover being dragged in by Ed & Starlo, & watching the chaos unfold. Yes, they were sad that the had to say goodbye to their friend, but it was for the greater good.

————————————————

Integrity:

She/They

Age Upon Death - 16

We all know what happened to Integrity, right? Killed some monsters. Killed by Axis. Soul was used by Chujin for experiments. Well, Integrity's soul has been stuck in the basement for... A while. Hidden away by Ceroba so she wasn't reminded of her grave mistake.

However, her soul is able to wander quite a bit away, all the way to Steamworks & back because of her... High LOVE...

It's also because of this that she has more of a presence to Monsters, Maybe a figure flickering in & out of existence, or scattered footsteps in the sand. The other souls are... Also a tiny but wary of her because of this. She's silent & scary. : (

Clover encounters Integrity throughout their journey, but Integrity only really starts to stick around in the Steamworks. But... From a distance. Depending on the route, either because of Ceroba or Flowey.

#GHC!clover #GHC!patience #GHC!bravery #ghc!perseverance #GHC!kindness #GHC!integrity #ghost helper clover au #undertale #undertale au #undertale yellow #undertale yellow au #ut #ut au #uty #uty au #ghc au

32 notes · View notes

justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, I just read your rules for fanfic requests, and I was wondering if you could do a Spy X Family request just some nice fluff

So this cute little fanfic is about Yor Forger teaching. Anya how to swim has a sort of bonding activity between the two. However, Yor begins to question herself if she's the mother anya really needs before anya helps her out from her sadness by having a bit of a water fight

Basically just a cute little fanic about mother and daughter bonding

Is this ok?

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the fanfic!

Fandom: Spy x Family

Characters: Yor Briar x Anya Forger (platonic)

Word Count: 0.8k (804 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While teaching Anya how to swim, Yor wonders whether she's the mother the young girl needs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright Miss Anya, straighten your legs out and stretch your arms in front of you.”

Anya did as she was told, trying her best to keep her balance in the water. Despite Yor’s firm grip on her waist, Anya could feel herself tilting sideways.

*Ooh, I’d better keep her straight.*

Yor’s hands pulled Anya back into a flat position and the young girl was able to get her arms and legs stretched out.

“Good job Miss Anya! Now, try kicking your feet, one at a time.”

Anya gave an experimental kick and felt herself move forwards in the water. She tried again, speeding up her legs until they were splashing up and down across the water’s surface.

She turned to smile at Yor, only to find the woman’s face and hair drenched and a surprised expression on her face. Anya couldn’t help but giggle and upon hearing the girl’s laugh, Yor’s face broke into a wide smile.

“Wonderful Miss Anya! You’re doing so well! Now, let’s try with the arms.”

Anya nodded, her expression determined. If she could master the art of swimming, she would surely be able to get a stella at the upcoming swimming competition and the mission would be a success. There would be world peace and she would be praised as Starlight Anya, the girl who swam faster than anyone!

She stretched her arms and legs out again.

“Alright, put your face in the water and try swinging your arms in circles, like windmills.” Yor instructed.

Anya lowered her face into the water, closing her eyes despite the goggles pressed close to her face. She swung her arms, feeling the water slide around her, disappear, and they slap back into her as she brought her arms back down.

*Ah, she’s not quite doing it. Her arms need to slide into the water, not smack down. But I suppose that’s okay…*

Anya heard Yor’s thoughts and gasped, air bubbles flying from her mouth. If she was going to swim, she was going to be the best at swimming. But as she was about to try again, she felt water flood into her nose and mouth and she had a pulled her head up quickly.

As soon as she was above water, Anya began coughing and gasping. Yor made a noise of surprise and began gently snacking the young girl’s back to try and help her clear her throat.

“Oh, are you alright Miss Anya?”

Anya nodded, tears pooling into her goggles from the coughing.

“How about you go over to Loid for a while and have a break?”

Anya nodded again and Yor helped her float over to the side closest to where Loid was sitting, dangling his feet in the pool. She lifted Anya out and set her down next to her father.

Loud rested a hand on the young girl’s back. “You okay?”

Anya coughed a few more times, wiping away the last few tears. “Uh huh.”

Loud turned to Yor. “I’ll sit with her for a while. Why don’t you have a swim yourself?”

Yor nodded and kicked off from the wall. As she floated away on her back, she let her mind wander.

*Am I doing enough? Miss Anya’s a lovely child and I want to be the best mother I can for her, even if I’m not really related to her. Loid’s very kind and is always patient with me but I’m worried about what he might be thinking. What if I’m not good enough. Am I the mother Miss Anya needs? Maybe Loid should find someone else to take over…*

SPLASH!

Yor gasped as water crashed over her face. She swung her legs down to bring herself back to vertical in the water and looked around. Anya was floating in the water next to her, Loid holding her under the armpits. The young girl had her hands poised above the water, ready to send another wave at Yor.

She smiled at the woman. “Water fight!”

Anya hoped this plan would work. She had heard Yor’s thoughts from over by the side and was gripped with a sudden panic. Was Yor going to leave the family? What would happen to the Folgers if she left? There was only one thing for it. “Plan: Show Yor That She’s a Great Mum by Having a Water Fight” was a go!

Yor flicked her eyes up at Loid who also shot a small smile her way. “Anya’s pretty keen on having a water fight with you. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Yor looked back at the eager girl and felt herself smiling as well. She might not be the best mother, but she was doing her best and Anya certainly seemed happy enough.

“Well Miss Anya, I’m happy to oblige. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

#writing #fanfic #fanfic request #spy x family #yor briar #yor forger #anya forger

8 notes · View notes

squish36-writes-and-draws · 1 month ago

Text

13 November: Unraveling

Word count: 455 (sad, I know)

TW: Swearing at the usual level

General Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously

@poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @corruption-exe @rusted-phone-calls

@when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes

@callum-hunt-is-bisexual @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @sillyguy-supreme

@void-kill @thefoxysnake

Unraveling Project Specific Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed/upgraded): @cutebisexualmess @crippling-pages @daizythegreat @sophiefostersno1stan @iggydancebreak

@theleopardstalker @you-will-meet-your-downfall @multi-fandom-lunatic

On Ao3 or below the cut!

First (3 November) / Previous / Next

I, being the nerd you all love me for, spent most of the day reading about the gays™ in the library and uh fun fact: homosexuality has been legal in France since 1791 thanks to it just not being mentioned in the penal code from that year, but apparently that’s pretty early for a human country. I don’t know what year it is but it’s nice to know that I won’t be guillotined for anxiously waiting for the gardener whose name I don’t know to appear once again.

Not knowing people’s names is kind of turning into a theme. We should all wear name tags. Although, I would absolutely change it every day just to fuck with people so maybe that’s not the best idea I’ve ever had. I mean, considering that I’m the architect of the great gulon incident, it is pretty hard to be the best idea I’ve ever had.

I also wandered around Paris for a bit because reading all day would make me a dork and I’m definitely not one of those, right? Right? Anyway I tried to find where Sophie and Dex went on their little excursion and by excursion I, of course, mean kidnapping. Too bad I cannot figure out how French spelling works to save my life.

There’s the memory of how Sophie said it, but my little polyglot brain is apparently unable to figure out whether it’s, like, a direct translation into the Enlightened language or a borrowed word and if it’s the latter case, it’s got no clue how to transcribe it, meaning I get to stand here and not know where I’m going. I just went to the Eiffel Tower for a bit of entertainment instead.

Also did you know that you can’t take pictures of the Eiffel Tower at night (or, at least, you can as long as you don’t admit to anyone that’s what you’ve done) because the lights are copyrighted? That’s my other fun fact of the day. At this rate, I’m going to be impossible to converse with in three to five business days.

Another one, just for the exile of it: a group of otters is called a business. Well, it was a busyness but that’s what you deserve if you’re looking at old spellings of words.

If I don’t get actively threatened by gardening shears tomorrow, I’m probably going to be hopping to another city. I probably should anyway, just to be safe.

There’s no telling how Gethen found me last time—actually, scratch that. He got told to go somewhere, I’m certain. There’s no telling how his commanding officer (most likely mother dearest) found me last time, but I think she underestimates just how annoying I’m willing to be.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #keefe sencen #kotlc keefe #character: keefe #series: unraveling

3 notes · View notes

panie-wanie-dean-bean · 2 years ago

Text

he won't leave my brain

Fuck, hi, I never thought I would be posting this but I need these thoughts out of my brain or so heLP ME GOD-I'm fine. For those who have yet to look at the tags, this will be talking about the game, or rather the au I've made for, Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack. The creators have said they don't want anyone under eighteen to be near this game or fandom. Adults only folks

Alright now that I've worn down the kiddo's attention spans let's hop in

So, like I said before this is an au, a royalty au to be exact, just not in the way you'd think. See royalty aus are usually used to end up with a royal spouse or partner of some kind, but that's not what this is, sorry to disappoint ^^; The royalty is just how this all starts out

So, most people in the fandom know about Joseph at this point, troubled teen turns into a troubled adult that's trying to be a better person, and then he dies a little bit but we're glossing over that for now. This au is very similar to that, in this au Joseph is the heir to the throne but doesn't want the crown. His parents don't respect him, treating him like a simple fallback, insurance that the kingdom will go on without them, and nothing more, leaving him in the care of the castle staff and leaving it at that

It's because of this neglect that Joseph ends up wandering around the castle at such a young age, meeting the sons of both the head guard and royal chef. A few months later he got even bolder, wandering out into the town and meeting the daughter of a librarian. These four became inseparable, and quite rambunctious in their teen years. It was at this time Joseph's parents decided enough was finally time to act like parents "You're the heir to the throne, the entire kingdom! It's time you started acting like it"

Their only mistake was allowing him one last night. He spoke to his friends about what happened, and how he'll never get to hang out with them again. He'd lost all hope but the librarian's daughter, who had always had her head up in the clouds, had an idea "Why not join the circus?" The circus, the one that came once a month every year, the one they had all gone to every night it was in town, the one the head guard's son broke his nose trying to imitate, it was perfect, to a bunch of sad teenagers anyway.

That night they all left without even a goodbye, they all had their own issues with their real homes, finding much more comfort in each other. Lucky for them a girl from the circus who was just a few years older than them took pity on them and took them in, having seen them at so many shows before. She became a sort of big sister to all of them, but most of all to Joseph. They just clicked, and bounced off of each other incredibly well during improv training, so much so that she even decided to match his colors to hers

As the years went by everyone found their role. The royal chef's son became Rory Rainberry, a member of the group for sure, but mostly known for the mouth-watering confections he whipped up for the stands outside of shows. The head guard's son became Knackadan Drizzle, a strong man, lifting over ten times what the average man could. The librarian's daughter became Cloudy-Belle Sue, known best for her incredible stories, that could make the audience laugh, cry, and cheer all in a few minutes. The girl who was already in the carnival was called Daisy Chain Jane, simply calling her the contortionist would be selling her short, having been raised by clowns she can do just about anything around the big top, the tight rope, juggling, animal taming, you name it

Then there was Joseph, the shining star of the show, now known as Sunny Day Jack he was seen as the best clown in the biz, second only to his "big sis" but he would always deny such a claim. This was a team effort, there were no leaders among them, just friends doing what they love

and I think that's all for now, sure I have ideas for how Jack could meet his sunshine, and how he dies, but do you see how fucking long this thing is already? Do you see now why I had to write this? I've been keeping all of this in my brain and I can't keep it in anymore. If you've made it this far, thank you, really you super didn't have to, but if you like what you see here and want more I'd certainly write scenarios or headcanons for it. It feels weird to say I'll write headcanons for my own au but I can't think of what else to call those bullet-point lists of what a character would do in a given situation. Alright, is that it? I think that's it, see ya!

#sdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sdj x reader #sdj au

42 notes · View notes

amnevitahwritesstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Cora and Kaveh decide to go straight back to his house after their Cheesecake Factory date instead of returning to the cave.

Fandom: Noumena Series

Pairing: Cora/Kaveh

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: One-Shot

[I posted this on AO3 years ago but am just now getting around to posting it here.]

AO3 Link

⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯

A Moment of Peace

Cora couldn’t remember being this nervous about sex in…a while.

Because that’s what was going to happen. Sex. With a man, not a boy. A man so wildly out of her league she had trouble wrapping her head around why on earth he was showing any interest in her at all. And yet he was.

Interested.

At least it certainly seemed that way with all the attention he’d been paying her throughout the day. And that kiss he’d given her at dinner. And that secret smile he was giving her as he pulled into his driveway.

Cora fumbled with her seatbelt buckle as he cut the engine and glanced sidelong at her in amusement. Oh god, was she blushing? She resisted the urge to touch her face like an overexcited Jane Austen character and exited the car as quickly as possible. Kaveh, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected and calmly unlocked the front door to usher her inside.

“So I know I promised you Mario Kart but I might’ve lied a little.”

Cora swallowed. “Oh?”

“My parents forgot to include a Wii in their investment properties.”

“How negligent of them.”

“Very,” Kaveh agreed, inching closer to her. “I suppose we’ll have to find something else to occupy our time.”

Cora’s heart started galloping. Jesus, what was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she was a virgin. She’d had sex before! Multiple times! With girls! And boys!

But not a man, her brain supplied helpfully.

“Ok,” she replied stupidly.

Kaveh’s smile turned soft. “You know we can actually just play games or something. We don’t have to do anything else if you’re not comfortable.”

His words were kind and Cora appreciated them, but she also didn’t come here to quietly sit on the couch and make awkward small talk all night. She was tired of talking. She was tired of constantly feeling panicked and on edge and being forced to worry about existential threats and condescending bureaucrats and her shitty father.

“I don’t want to play games. I just want something nice for once. Something normal. Can you give me that? Just for tonight?”

In the dim light Cora thought she saw a flicker of sadness on his face, but it was gone before she could really study it. “Yeah. I can do that.”

⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯●⎯

Things moved quickly after that. Within what seemed like mere minutes Cora found herself sprawled out on the California king she’d spied earlier that day with fingers threaded through her hair and lips moving down her neck.

He was…really good at this. God, he could probably charm a habit off a nun. Which only made it more apparent how out of her depth she felt in comparison. He was doing all the work here and meanwhile she’d barely done more than let him lay her back and awkwardly let her hands wander over his back.

Feeling a burst of bravery (and annoyance with herself for just laying there like a dead fish), Cora urged him back just enough to grab the hem of her shirt and awkwardly wiggle out of it.

“Sorry,” she said, her bravado flagging a bit. “Super sexy I know.”

Kaveh seemed charmed though, and grinned as he bent down again to kiss her bare shoulder.

“How did you know I was turned on by aggressive wiggling?”

“Oh, you know,” Cora said, “You seemed the type.”

“Do I?” He was mouthing along her sternum and even though she knew exactly where he was headed it still caused her to gasp when he sucked at her nipple through her bra.

It was little surprise when the rest of her clothes disappeared onto the floor somewhere though it was a surprise when she found him sinking down between her legs with a very determined look on his face.

Oh fuck. She hadn’t shaved down there recently. He wasn’t going to do what she thought he was…was he? He kissed the inside of her thigh and Cora couldn’t help but shiver.

Ok, apparently he was.

It’s not that she had anything against him going down on her exactly, but she also didn’t really have a lot of experience with this particular act either. Teenaged boys weren’t exactly all that interested in giving oral sex as they were receiving it (at least in her experience) and Cora and her girlfriend had never quite gotten past the making out and fingering each other stage of their relationship before the messy breakup.

Kaveh didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed…really into it. Then again, Kaveh was also thirty-five and had probably been eating women out since she was in grade school. Fortunately Cora wasn’t given any more time to ruminate on the man’s sex life as he finally shouldered her thighs apart and set to work on having sex with her instead.

“Oh my god!” The first touch of his tongue on her clit was shocking. Apparently so was her reaction because he paused to glance up at her with those jade green eyes.

“You okay?”

“Uh huh,” Cora said breathlessly. “Just…wasn’t expecting it.”

Kaveh was a smart man though, and seemed to hear what she wasn’t saying. “Has no one ever done this for you?” Cora rolled her head up to the ceiling to escape those probing eyes of his.

“…No.”

Instead of being put off by that though, he gave her that mischievous smile from earlier and just said “Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

And it was those words, I’ll take care of you , that sent a shiver down her spine. Because frankly, embarrassingly, she was in desperate need of someone to take care of her. Someone who understood how out of control her life was right now and, instead of dismissing her or piling on endless impossible responsibilities, said ‘Here, let me take the reins for a while. You don’t have to worry about anything right now’. And god, if that didn’t make her want to let him inside her right now and never let him leave.

But instead she just said, “Okay.”

As it turned out, Kaveh was just as good at cunnilingus as he was everything else. Which was to say: very. He knew just when to toy with her clit and when to let his tongue wander elsewhere when it became too much. But he was also good at paying attention to what she responded to best and following it with a single-minded focus she’d never really been subject to before. By the time he eased two fingers inside her she was a shaking, sweating mess clutching at his beautiful hair like a lifeline. He curled them searchingly and brushed against that spot, the one she’d always had trouble reaching on her own, and her hips jerked and her insides clamped down on his fingers like a vise.

“Holy fuck!”

“Ah, there it is,” he teased, voice sweet but fingers mercilessly rubbing until her breathing grew labored and uneven. Once he returned his attention back to her clit it was almost no time at all before her body was seizing and shuddering out an orgasm.

Jesus fucking Christ , she thought dreamily. All Cora got out though was a strangled “Oh.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Kaveh. Then he pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe off the excess… her …all over his beard. Cora watched him, mind blissfully blank, as he discarded the rest of his clothing.

He was less intimidating with his clothes off. No six pack abs or rippling muscles here. It couldn’t be more obvious that he was a man who lived by his words, not his body, but if anything that only made him feel more real. More human. Her eyes roamed south and she saw that, yes, he very much had been into what he’d done to her. Cora reached her hand out to him, beckoning.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

In seconds he was back on the bed, licking into her mouth at the same time his cock was pressing its way inside her. He groaned against her lips.

This was nothing like that drunken fuck with whatshisname from the bar a few months ago. For one thing she was wetter and more relaxed than she’d been during sex in…a very long time. She wasn’t worrying about Earth’s impending doom, nor was she wasn’t worrying about Ampersand or Nikola or Obelus. Instead all she could think about was the man inside her. His lips at her ear, the sweat on his back, and the way he felt rutting into her like her cunt held the secrets of the universe. It felt so good to finally be wanted for something other than her connection to aliens, even if it was only because she was warm and wet and willing.

Cora was content for the rest of this to be just that, but Kaveh seemed to have other plans because before long she felt his hand worming its way between them to bring her off a second time. She was still shuddering her way through it when she heard that tell-tale groan every man made to signal the end of the line.

As he rolled to the side, Cora felt nothing but mindless bliss but as she lay there the awkwardness she’d been avoiding began to slowly creep back in. Was she supposed to go now? Surely he didn’t want her here all night? Hadn’t they both gotten what they wanted?

“I can practically hear you thinking over there,” Kaveh moaned.

“I just…don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Wait, what?” He seemed suddenly taken aback. “Do you think I want to kick you out or something? Why would you think that?”

Cora didn’t reply, not really sure how to answer that question without sounding pathetic.

“Honey, you can stay the night. Hell, stay the week. I’m in no hurry to kick a pretty girl out of my bed.”

“Oh,” she said, overwhelmed but relieved.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. It felt strangely chaste after everything they’d already done.

She smiled. “Okay.”

#my fanfiction #a moment of peace #truth of the divine #noumena #cora sabino #kaveh mazandarani #noumena fanfiction #fanfiction #amnevitahwritesstuff

1 note · View note

justice4sasuke · 2 years ago

Text

Character Roundups Round 6: Team Hebi/Taka

Ah yes, the old "we need someone for Sasuke to bounce off of" gang.

Team Hebi/Taka as written and framed by Kishimoto: Kishimoto doesn't give a solitary shit about those three and he constantly either makes them jokes, expositors, or in the case of Karin uses her to make Sasuke seem evil when he's having a breakdown.

Bonus! Fandom interpretation: There are some fans, particularly Sasuke fans, that seem to think that this group is good friends or something. The one "friend" moment for that is really just an excuse to have Sasuke see Team 7 in them and after that is mental breakdown time. Of course that's not so say people can't like to think of that or imagine it, just don't tell me that they were ever close or anything. The thing is literally all of them were using each other to their own ends and I'm not saying friendship CAN'T come from that but in this case it did not.

How it should have gone: I'm going to do a little thing for each of them, but first and foremost. DON'T TURN YOUR CHARACTERS ONLY INTO JOKES! Treat them with some respect and care. Okay, let's do this.

Suigetsu: Besides being a character for Sasuke to bounce off of, Suigetsu is really only here to exposit on the swordsmen of the mist bless his heart. Also he is the only one of the four genuinely scared of Orochimaru so it makes me really sad that he ends of hanging out at Orochimaru's hideout with Juugo and Karin in the end. That's the number one thing I would get rid of, let the boy go home to the Mist Village or something. Other than that I'm not sure what to do with him. I agree that it works best for Sasuke to have someone to bounce off of before beating Itachi, but after that there is nothing for them to do so what DO you do with them? Especially Suigetsu who is there to just be kinda a dick as far as I can tell. Between the three of them he is the least attached to Sasuke. He's more trying to fuck around and find out.

Karin: Ughhhhhh Karin...I actually liked her more before this blog and by that I mean I found some stuff she did funny. Reading through this for a blog with a focus on Sasuke made me more uncomfortable with how forward she is towards Sasuke despite him not being into it. Yeah, Sakura is forward too but at least she wasn't physically like Karin. Also in my eternal pettiness it bothered me that through this blog I found a lot of people thought she and Sasuke were a good idea and/or they felt sorry for her. Not that it's wrong to feel that way just that I don't think that should effect anyone's opinion on Sasuke since Karin is SO disrespected by Kishimoto and the narrative. Honestly, the best thing I think to do with her is not have her being concerned that Sasuke is "evil" during the Kage Summit arc and if/when Sasuke stabs her she actually is over him instead of acting like she is when she isn't.

Juugo: Contrasting Karin, Juugo was never a character I cared about until doing this blog. He really has nothing going on and him reverting into a child for a bit was fucking stupid. But having thought about him for a bit he actually had a lot of potential. If you're going to say Juugo's...thing is actually sage jutsu related then I think that's good reason to say Juugo did not need to be locked up. He had to find peace within himself and within nature and Orochimaru was just screwing him over like he did everyone else. Then Juugo could start his own life somewhere instead of hanging out with Orochimaru forever which is apparently what everyone does after the epilogue. This would also get rid of Juugo's necessity for Kimimaro/Sasuke so at least from the Juugo > Sasuke end of the relationship that would make it easier to develop a friendship between them if you wanted any friendships between Team Hebi/Taka at all.

Well, the fact of the matter is Sasuke's story has nothing to do with them once Itachi and defeated so they just have to kind of wander aimlessly after that and they do. I'm not entirely sure what they would do after that whether I have any good ideas for them individually or not.

#character roundups

19 notes · View notes

brokenmusicboxwolfe · 1 year ago

Text

I had intended to post photos from the convention tonight, but honestly I am as too depressed.

To be clear, this was NOT the fault of the convention. It’s a lovely convention full of enthusiastic and friendly people. I’m sure the majority will remember it joyously, as they should.

Now I did go into the convention with several disadvantages. On top of the lack of sleep, the trip began with a flat tire! (What is it with me going to this convention and flat tires?!?!) My money situation was worse than I’d expected and I couldn’t get my blasted ankle brace and boots on without agony.

At the convention I had an extreme excess of pain and serious lack of funds, neither of which makes for a ton of fun when you are spending seven hours walking around in a room full of people selling very nice things they’ve frequently put their heart and souls into. I was walking about with my sleep deprived brain only able to focus on PAIN.

See, my nature is to wander around chatting with everyone I can. I then divide up what money I have and buy some little things from as many people as I can. The more love and enthusiasm they have, the less I worry about whether it’s my thing. Over the years I’ve bought a lot of really bad comics from people I want to encourage to keep creating.

This year I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t have the energy. I especially didn’t have the money.

When I did I talked the pain was screeching away in the background. And when folks found out I was too broke to spend, they naturally would lose interest in chatting. Sometimes it wasn’t even about the money when they would turn away as I was mid sentence.

The problem is me. Boring, useless, broke me. I’m not interesting or funny or whatever it is people like. I can’t even plug into any fandom deeply enough to be embraced. I like geeky, nerdy stuff, but I don’t have a single passion.

In the past I have been better at this. Maybe it’s like when people starve for weeks they can’t launch into a four course meal. Their bodies can’t take it. I’ve finally gone too long on my, too little human connection. I’ve starved for people, and when thrown into a room of them I’m a wreck.

I dunno. A room full of people, and everyone either with or meeting up with someone. Families. Friends. It reminds me of my being alone.

I did try to call Mom at the con. I struggled to find a place away from all the noise, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get her.

Somehow I just felt like such a damn freak. I wanted to feel a sense of belonging, amid folks that actually know the things I enjoy and many that actually make things. But even among geeks I’m a weirdo in so many ways. I won’t make a list. I’m too tired and sad. No point in dwelling on it. I belong nowhere. That’s just the nature of being me.

The trouble is a part of me lives in hope. I hope that this time someone will like me. This time I will make a friend. I will find some sense of connection, of belonging, a break from my isolation….

A bit much to ask of just seven hours wandering around a convention center full of strangers. I’m not special enough to pull that off. Weird, odd, but not appealing.

Again, just the nature of being me. All these decades it shouldn’t bother me. It bothers me

On a minor note about the con, my concern my Discworld shirt would inspire people to expect me to know about the subject proved utterly unfounded. I had several people ask me what the shirt was about, never having heard of Discworld or Terry Pratchett. If anyone knew they didn’t say anything. It’s a rather obscure fandom in these parts.

Anyway, this is too long a vent. The con is over for another year. I’m depressed and lonely and am feeling a sense of despair.

The central point is simply I am doomed to be an outsider. I feel a bit like someone that put their hand out as they were falling and failed to catch anything. Maybe I need to finally accept that there isn’t any point in trying anymore?

So back to another year of being alone in my hick town where not a damn person shares a single one of my interests, and 90% of my time is spent alone on the farm, in the woods or whatever.

Oh well. I’m not entirely alone. Maybe some of the animals sorta love me and I can “make friends” by sculpting them badly into being….

#my day #greenville nc comic con #depressed #i wish I could feel a sense of home

2 notes · View notes

maglors-anion-gap · 2 years ago

Note

61 and 73 for the writers asks?

[from this ask game]

^ I am still taking asks because the paperwork continues (day two crunch time) and I am trying to reward myself in increments

61. Why do you continue writing fics?

hmmm so tolkien has been my longest fandom, and probably the only one I won't leave. There's something so uniquely appealing about it. In general, I would say that I continue writing because I still have things to say. I have lots of things to say about tolkien in particular, and his world is so expansive that I find new paths to wander down just as soon as I think I've explored all I can explore.

With tolkien in particular, I think I am engaging in a process of self-discovery. I think a lot about why I spend so much time writing about awful, sad, defeated, brave men. Or men at all, really. It was a source of a lot of strife within myself because it's really hard to not compare yourself to what you're writing about as a trans person. I feel like there's a lot of scrutiny over what people choose to write about, and whether or not individual people are writing too much of something. Sometimes I feel like there's a quota for other material I need to reach before I can write more of my bread and butter, and some of that is baseless paranoia and some of that is the very real hall-monitor behavior that people engage in (either because they think the best way to get more of the content they like is to guilt people into it, or because they're the self-appointed defenders of XYZ True Community Members). There's basically no way to do anything as a trans person that will satisfy everything so I finally said "fuck it I'm going to write what I want and I'm going to stop being polite to people who act like that's a problem."

That was a bit of a tangent, but I think I can circle it back around again to say that I'm not done writing about things that interest me. I'm writing about men because I'm a man, and because I love men, and because I can think about being a man or about how life kind of sucks, or about how being a man sometimes sucks. I'm never going to be done being a man, or loving men, or thinking about life and manhood and pain. I think I scratch that itch so easily with tolkien because every character is so much larger than life. It's a myth text within a (fictional) myth text. Someone posted a while ago about people misunderstanding the purpose of Orpheus - that he's not a man but an archetype, the personification of grief. In general, I think fictional characters, especially myth text characters, function in this way - as archetypes for people to relate to and explore without having to directly confront or explore themselves.

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Oh god that is literally such a hard question? How am I supposed to answer that without being self-effacing - or conversely, weirdly grandiose? God let me think about it.

Hmmm Okay mouthfeel. This sounds like small-beastie-posting, toddler-posting if we are being generous, but bear with me. I am constantly thinking about putting things in my mouth. I describe ideas that I like as being "tasty." What would it be like to taste the sunlight? Or the wind? Or the moist dirt under a rock? Now describe them in metaphorical terms. I pick weird, easy-to-ignore objects in the environment and give them a little flesh. I think it does a lot to make the setting seem real - people are always noticing small strange things, taking in odd sensory tidbits, even in the most stressful or ludicrous moments. Multiple people have described my work as very sensory. So there's my answer for that.

Funny answers: 1) allergic to writing works over 15k, 2) never produces anything set post-second-age, 3) abnormally high incidence rate of boypussy (boypussy georg, if you will)

#ask games #.... do i need to tag for boypussy mention? ....

6 notes · View notes

vrishchikawrites · 3 years ago

Note

Post-post-post cannon Wangxian being completely in love in the cloud recessess as teenagers who time travelled back to their own 16-17 year old bodies on accident.

In love. Wangxian are in love. In love. Just smooph and fluff.

Like they're effortlessly in love. (No matter how much Jiang Cheng yells and ties to control Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian casually refuses to hear any of it, as he'd been ignoring Jiang Cheng's homophobia and hate forever by the time they both came back by accident. )

Also wwx doesn't hide his genius and every one around him is like senpai *heart eyes* (honestly he's almost forgotten how to hide his effortless genius.)

(Just FYI, don't have to include this: this Wei Wuxian has long since come to terms with all his war and Sunshot and Shiji related trauma— just FYI.)

I just want to read as much of the smooph, smushy fluff and love you can stomach writing please.

Extra points if you can show them both just effortlessly and absentmindedly flirting.

(You don't have to incude this, but: They just take like a weekend off and go raze the main Wen family to the ground casually— back late with Starbucks— "We were night hunting. What do you mean the Wen family died? So sad. We feel so bad. Don't we feel bad?" " Mm. Feel bad.")

Thank you so much for existing in this fandom. I love your fics. I love you. 💖

Xichen is proud of his brother but he can't deny that he is sometimes concerned for him as well. Wangji is a dedicated and accomplished disciple but he is isolated from his peers. Xichen has friends and confidants but Wangji is simply content to be by himself.

That is concerning, even for a Lan.

He had hopes that incoming disciples would manage to shake him up a little but that hope didn't last long. Year after year, Wangji continued to remain aloof, not expressing any interest in the disciples.

But something has changed this year. Xichen didn't even know what was going on until a few weeks into the introduction of the guest disciples.

He spots them by chance. Young Master Wei is cheerfully waving at a vendor, his smile wide and bright, ensnaring the old woman's entire attention.

Wangji is right by him, Bichen in one hand but the other…

The other is placed on the small of Wei-gongzi's back.

Xichen watches as they move on from the vendor. He sees how Wangji seems to shield Wei-gongzi from the crowd, angling his body slightly to ensure his companion can walk freely.

It is a gesture of protectiveness. It is a gesture of possession.

Xichen studies their body language carefully. Wangji seems content to follow Wei-gongzi around, his expression closed but gentle. There are no frosty glares or pursed lips. His brother, for once, looks entirely relaxed. Everything about him is loose and easy underneath all of his Lan elegance. His shoulders slope gently, his spine isn't as rigid, and his walk is steady.

The First Jade has never seen his brother look so settled.

Wei Wuxian seems happy too, his smile incandescent and lovely. Almost as tall as Wangji, the boy is the very antithesis of his brother. While Wangji is sedate and content, Wei Wuxian is nearly bursting with energy and joy. His silver eyes sparkle in the sunlight and his long hair sways with every movement of his body.

Xichen's heart softens at the glimpse of such open beauty. There's certainly something alluring about Young Master Wei. He seems to suffuse his surroundings with happiness.

There's something in the air around them.

Despite his lively mind wandering from one stall to another, Wei-gongzi always finds his way back to Wangji, looking at him with a hopeful smile and a cheerful comment.

His brother's expression is unfamiliar to him. Wangji looks like his entire world is smiling up at him.

'Is this love?' He wonders to himself as he watches his brother gently pull Wei-gongzi out of a running child's way. He doesn't miss how the touch lingers, fingers curling slightly around the slender wrist before pulling away.

There are many eyes following Wangji and his friend, and all of them have indulgent expressions. The people of Caiyi town have seen Wangji since he was a child. They know him and his nature well enough.

Xichen suspects they're just as happy to see Wangji roaming the markets leisurely as a pretty butterfly flutters around him.

"Is that Lan Wangji?" Nei Mingjue observes, stepping up beside him.

Xichen nods, "And his friend, Wei Wuxian."

"Hm," his friend says, "I've been hearing that name a lot recently. They say the only reason Jin Zuxian beat him in the rankings is because of his looks."

Xichen chuckles at Mingjue's tone, "Ah, Da-ge, you must hate that."

His friend rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his tea. "How do looks matter when you're facing down Fierce Corpses?"

"From what shufu says, Young Master Wei is Wangji's equal in many ways." Shufu had been wary at first, wondering what sort of chaos the son of Cangse Sanren would bring to Cloud Recesses. So far, Wei Wuxian has proven to be a mischievous but brilliant student. "He challenges shufu in class. They end up having loud, angry debates," Xichen chuckles because he knows his uncle, despite all appearances, loves being stimulated, "He mentions the boy often." There's a comment about Wei Wuxian almost every time he has tea with his uncle.

He looks at the two younger master's thoughtfully, "I didn't expect this."

"Are they courting?" Nei Mingjue asks bluntly, "Because your little brother is acting like a husband already."

Xichen stills and looks at the pair again. That is what's off about their body language. They move around each other confidently, not like a young couple in fresh blooms of love.

There are no tentative glances, awkward touches, and hyperawareness. Wangji touches Wei Wuxian like it is his right. Like he is confident that his touch is welcome and desired.

For a moment, he feels a pang of worry. Xichen looks at Wei Wuxian, studying him carefully to see if there's any sign of strain or distress.

He finds nothing. Wei-gongzi responds to every gesture of affection like a flower blooming under the Sun.

"Ah." He realizes, "You think…?"

"Strong bonds form quickly between cultivators with matching potential." Nei Mingjue observes, "It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Your brother looks a little too enamored for this to be a teenage fancy."

Well, isn't this an interesting development?

---

"Your hair looks nice," Nie Huaisang says, hiding a smile behind his fan. Wei-xiong always looks good but there's something particularly radiant about him now. He seems to stand a bit taller, carry himself with a bit more confidence. His gestures seem stronger, somehow carrying more authority than before.

But the hair intrigues him. There's a glittering silver hairpiece in it and the strands of ebony are tied up in a neat style.

Neater than Wei-xiong's usual style. While Huaisang is certain Wei-xiong is perfectly capable of making himself as elegant as the Jades of Lan, he usually doesn't bother.

This was done by someone else's careful, loving, hand.

Jiang Yanli isn't at Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng would rather burn his own hands than show even an ounce of love towards his shixiong - something pricks when he thinks about that.

So there's someone else, someone willing to comb Wei-xiong's hair until every strand is glossy and straight, before tying it up with a silver and jade pin that looks expensive.

Wei-xiong is courting- no, he corrects himself, watching his friend wave enthusiastically at Lan Wangji, 'Wei-xiong is being courted.'

Wangji-xiong bows to his brother and walks towards Wei-xiong, his gaze softer than usual. His friend is smiling widely and immediately dissolves into excited chatter. Wangji-xiong doesn't seem bothered, just nodding occasionally and watching with indulgent patience.

There's something entirely lovely about the way Wangji-xiong's eyes remain fixed on Wei Wuxian's face. It is like nothing else is more important to him than Wei-xiong's smile and cheerful voice.

Standing together in the courtyard, both clad in white and glowing under the warm light of the morning sun, they look stunning. Huaisang's romantic heart sighs at the sight.

"What is he doing?" Jiang Wanyin hisses and Huaisang looks at him, startled by his icy tone, "I can't believe he's making a nuisance of himself again!"

"Jiang-gongzi-"

"Wei Wuxian! What are you doing, messing around?"

The loud voice catches almost everyone's attention. Wei-xiong looks over his shoulder and Wangji-xiong's expression turns frosty, all warmth draining from it immediately.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng," Wei-xiong grins but it doesn't have that sheepish, placating quality that Huaisang had seen before, on those rare occasions he visited Lotus Pier with his da-ge. This grin was full of confidence and almost... dismissal. "Why are you angry now?"

Was that tone... mocking?

Huaisang's lips twitch as Jiang-gongzi swells further with rage, "Wei Wuxian! How can you be so shameless? Imposing yourself on Lan Wangji, always trying to distract him. Think of our sect's reputation for once!"

"Do not speak for me." Wangji-xiong's voice is icy and it cuts Jiang-gongzi's rant short immediately, "Wei Ying is free to seek me out whenever he wishes. No one may stop him."

And that seems to be that. Wei-xiong laughs and Wangji-xiong guides him away gently like he's someone delicate and not the strongest cultivator of their generation.

But, Huaisang muses, even strong people deserve gentleness.

---

"Da-shixiong! Show us that one again," A Jiang disciple demands and Wangji looks up from his work. He has clear sight of the training ground from where he's sitting. Wei Ying is standing in the middle, surrounded by a few Jiang and Lan disciples.

They're all looking at him in adoration.

Wangji feels a flood of amusement and sets his work aside, content to take a small break. It is always a treat to see his husband in his element; teaching people and nurturing young minds. They may be back in their teenage bodies, but their soul is much older.

Wei Ying, with his natural ability to charm juniors and his hard-earned wisdom, is the perfect teacher.

"It is amusing to see you so smitten," Wangji looks up to see his brother smiling at him, "Wei-gongzi must be very special, yes?"

His brother probably aims to fluster him, he is so fond of teasing Wangji. But Wangji had been Wei Ying's husband for more than a decade before an accident sent them back in time. He is no longer flustered or overwhelmed by his feelings. "Very special," He agrees, unable to help glancing back at his beloved, "Very lovely."

Xichen chuckles, "He is indeed lovely." His expression turns sly, "Do I need to speak with Uncle? Betrothal negotiations may be complicated in this case."

Wangji remains unphased, "You may," He says calmly, much to his brother's surprise, "Wei Ying will marry into the Lans. Give no concession to the Jiangs. He is just their Head Disciple, not the part of the family."

"Wangji," His brother breathes, "You're that invested?"

"Un. Will marry Wei Ying. Give him a better life. A life of dignity, freedom, and respect. Free of unnecessary debt that no one should foist on a child."

That is enough for Xichen to understand. His gaze turns solemn and he looks at Wei Ying carefully, "If that is what you wish, brother, you will have it."

---

Wangji feels his heart still when he steps into the library pavilion. He gazes at the scene before him, feeling the stiff formality of his expression melt away.

Wei Ying is beautiful, sitting there and reading peacefully. The evening sunlight envelopes him, giving him an ethereal glow. He traces his husband's features, feeling something akin to desperate love. It has been so since he saw this face and this body. Mo Xuanyu didn't lack beauty and Wei Ying's radiant personality had only added to it.

But this is Wei Ying's true body.

Helplessly drawn, he steps forward. "Xingan."

Wei Ying looks up, startled to hear such an endearment aloud. Immediately, his face is aglow with a pretty blush even as he laughs teasingly, "Lan Zhan! Don't be so bold!"

He walks towards Wei Ying and settles down by him, closer than truly appropriate but this is his husband. "Research?"

Wei Ying smiles, drawing Wangji's attention to his lips. There's no one in the library so Wangji permits himself the touch, reaching forward to gently caress them, "Such beauty." He whispers.

Wei Ying blushes again, "Er-gege," He protests, "Have mercy on my heart."

His fingers slide under Wei Ying's jaw, drawing him in gently. His husband is sweet and compliant as Wangji kisses him, an innocent brush of lips and nothing more. "My Wei Ying." His voice is low, heated in ways Wei Ying recognizes. He watches as those enchanting silver eyes brighten with passion.

His Wei Ying buries his warm face in his neck with a moan of protest, "Mercy, husband. You're so cruel to tease me like this when you can't take me to bed."

It is indeed a challenge to not have their 'everyday' but Wangji can be patient. Xiongzhang is already working on it.

For now, he is content.

They sit like that for a long time, Wei Ying leaning against him, trusting and calm. No one disturbs them and Xichen only stops by once, smiling knowingly in their direction and pointedly ignoring Wangji's restraining hand around Wei Ying's waist, stopping him from pulling away.

They spend the rest of the evening exchanging soft murmurs and softer kisses.

Nothing will stand in their way this time.

#short prompts #wangxian #wei wuixan #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie huaisang #anti jiang cheng

602 notes · View notes

miss-kittyy · 4 years ago

Text

Rewriting Briarlight and Longtail’s Deaths

So I am disabled, like very disabled, I am %50 of the teenagers ever diagnosed with my special combination of pain disorders, and I also unfortunately hyper fixated on warrior cats, which is bad news for me because warrior cats is super ableist, and to add insult to injury, the fandom can also be pretty ableist.

My biggest problem with the majority of “anti-ableist” AUs is that they “fix” the ableism stemming from the narrative and able bodied characters by making the disabled character less disabled, this so bad for many reasons. I’ve talked more about in other posts. The justification that real life disabled cats are less doesn’t make it not ableist, since when was warrior cats meant to be realistic? If you’re making an au where the disabled cats function like actual disabled cats you also have to make all the cats genetically accurate, and retcon Lionblaze lifting a tree.

My problem with warrior cats is not that the disabled characters cannot become full conventional warriors, I’d like it if they got to choose what duties the perform instead of being crammed into the medicine den, but I don’t care about Cinderpelt not being able to complete a marathon. Most of the fandom seems to think the issue is that the disabled character are not useful enough, instead of the way that able bodied characters deny of them agency and make remarks like “you wouldn’t want to return to a life like her’s would you?”. Disabled people do not need to be “useful” to be worthy and empowering.

It’s very obvious that most of the fandom just wants the disabled cats to be more palatable to abled bodied people, so I’ve decided to make my own rewrite instead to hopefully make myself feel better. A lot of these things are inspired by my own experiences and not every disabled person is looking for the same things in representation, this is totally self indulgent.

The goal of this AU is to highlight the many unique and valuable aspects disability and how being disabled does not infringe upon anyone’s worth, ever.

- Longtail doesn’t die in the storm, Briarpaw is still injured, but he’s found besides her, trying his best to help her cling to life.

- after Briarpaw begins to recover he stands up to Millie and other cats insulting her quality of life, he says her journey will be hard, but it is one worth taking.

- She asks him why he’s an elder, and he decides to request to have his warrior ship restored as Briarpaw is dreading the life of an elder.

- On his first patrol the cats accompanying him insist on speaking to him in an incredibly infantilism tone, and whispering amongst themselves over what he can or can’t do, without consulting him,

- He initially gives up on patrolling after that insufferable experience.

- Briarlight begins to create marks and blobs on the wall of the medicine den using crushed up dead herbs she asks him to retrieve some berries for her, and he complies.

- Jayfeather shows him how he navigates the territory with the help of some of the sighted cats, and Mousefur is quick to volunteer as his guide. He finds her company surprisingly empowering. He realizes that it was not his blindness which was limiting his abilities, but the other cats attitudes.

- Mousefur and Longtail return with mouthful of berries and herbs, Briarlight describes to him what she’s drawing on the side of the den and he helps he mound the materials into paint.

- The cats begin to pop into the medicine den to see Briarlights painting and soon Jayfeather has to kick her out occasionally so they’d stop crowding him, she’s given the walls of camp to decorate instead.

- She begins to illustrate Longtails stories of the old territory and Bloodclan, and this new form of storytelling becomes a tradition amongst Thunderclan.

- because more young cats are aware of the clans history it becomes harder for the dark forest to recruit them, unfortunately, Blossomfall’s resentment towards her sister means she never cared to listen.

- Ivypool is still recruited and trained like in canon, given her relationship with the dark forest was much more emotionally charged and manipulative than just plain lies.

- at a gathering Longtail meets Grasspelt who inquires about Briarlight, Longtail is surprised about how little he knows as the she-cat had mentioned how well they got along as apprentices. Despite Millie nagging him not to tell him the truth about her daughter he does anyways, but puts much more emphasis on how well she’s doing than Millie expected. Grasspelt thinks this sounds really cool and decides that he is going to see her and her paintings, and that nobody can stop him. Longtail makes sure to put any opposing cat in their place, but Briarlight is a very respected Clanmate, so most warriors don’t say anything.

- Briarlight is nervous and doesn’t want to come out of the medicine den at first, but when Grassheart darts into the den holding berries and flowers for her to paint with she quickly warms up to her visitor.

- Grassheart is happy to tell Briarlight that he’s never been able to be a “functioning” warrior, and that he has always imagined that his spirit is shaped different, the medicine cat says his body is normal, but he’s never been able to keep focus in a fight or react as quickly as he should be able to while hunting. (He’s autistic because I say so)

- As dusk nears he’s visually hesitant to return to Riverclan and when Longtail inquires on why he says that he hasn’t felt so “here” for a long time. On the way back he wanders off and comes back with a chipmunk, when returning to Riverclan territory his father, Mintfur, is shocked to see his catch. After talking with his family a bit he realizes that it was the noise from the river that was making him so tense and dissociated, Brackenfur, who was escorting him, notices that he keeps rubbing himself on the ground and wincing.

- For the next couple moons Grasspelt returned to Thunderclan to bring Briarlight plants that only grow in Riverclan territory, he begins trying to fish from the quite lazy stream in their territory and soon both him and Briarlight have got it down.

- Longtail notices the sadness present whenever Grasspelt left and exclaims that it’s rather stupid that he’s living somewhere so unsuited for him just because of words long repeated.

- Grasspelt confesses that he feels the same, but knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything. Briarlight tells Longtail that her and the Riverclan warrior had been thinking of each other as mates for moons.

- Longtail accompanies Jayfeather to the next half moon meeting where he proposes his addition to the warrior code, “no cat should be confined to laws which harm them due to an inherent physical or spiritual difference.” (Cats don’t really know how brains work, so they see mental disabilities as a difference within a cats spirit)

- A moon later the leaders meet to discuss this proposition, it is accepted and Grasspelt makes the journey to Thunderclan for the final time.

- Grasspelt is renamed Grassspirit when becoming a Thunderclan warrior, unlike prior renaming of disabled cats this is a celebration.

- Grassspirit spends most of his time taking care of the elders and kits, he’s incredibly compassionate especially with kits and is able to solve many problems within the nursery.

- When twigkit and Violetkit arrive in Thunderclan Briarlight and Grassspirit help raise them, after Violetkit is taken Briarlight and Twigkit paint her on the side of Thunderclan camp.

- Briarlight still gets sick and her illness progresses without any treatment, Grassspirit notices her trying to hide it and when Longtail finds out he’s very upset. Jayfeather frantically treats her, expressing his frustration that she didn’t tell them sooner, the second Millie steps out she breaks down and explains that she just wanted to deal with it herself, and perhaps if she were successful Millie would finally treat her like an adult.

- Longtail gives Millie a stern talking to, he tells her that Briarlight is a warrior of Thunderclan and as her clanmate she should show her some respect.

- Millie is inherently very reactionary, as she had not realized the full extent of her suffocation, but eventually after a couple moons her and Briarlight begin to rekindle their relationship, like adults.

- Blossomfall sees how Brairlight wasn’t basking in their mother’s attention like she imagined, and feels the urge to seek out an actual sisterhood after ignoring Briarlight for moons and moons.

- Briarlight isn’t really mad at her sister, and understands why she felt the way she did. Jayfeather suggests that Blossomfall help Briarlight with her painting, Blossomfall seems put off with the suggestion of being her sister’s assistant.

- The interactions that follow are less than ideal, Blossomfall commends Briarlight’s able friends (Thornclaw, Poppyfrost, Alderheart, etc) for being so nice to her, as if that’s not what friends do. She seems very sad the entire time, sighing when her sister dragged her legs around with her mouth to sit more comfortably, even though she was completely fine. When watching her paint she comments that it’s good she has “something to keep her busy”, and finally she expresses her view, of Briarlight’s injury and her (Blossomfall’s) suffering being all worth it because of her talents, as if her life was not worth living to begin with.

- Briarlight tells her that if that’s truly what she wants she’s going to have to put more effort into understanding and respecting her way of life, and that she won’t apologize for their mother’s actions.

- When Blossomfall has her kits they take a liking to Auntie Briarlight, and Blossomfall seems to have reflected on their past interactions, trusting her sister to watch her kits. Briarlight teases a bit, a subtle way of telling her not to rush things, but they do begin to feel like something close to sisters.

- Right before Briarlight’s Nieces and Nephews are made warriors Longtail dies of Greencough. Throughout the entirety of his sickness he kept his sense of humour, his mean streak, and his immense love for what he had made of his clan.

- At his vigil Grassspirit began whaling like a bird in new-leaf, he insists that the vigil is too sad, and that Longtail wouldn’t want everyone moping around, for Starclan’s sake, his life was good. Standing amongst them, Longtail’s spirit can feel every cat in Thunderclan standing around him, singing the song of a life well lived.

#I imagine grasspelt as a chill stoner dude #next I’m gonna revamp my Ivypool PTSD headcanons cause I also have that lmao #warrior cats #warrior cats ableism #ableism #disability #warriors #briarlight #Grasspelt #briargrass #was #Longtail #warriors au #autism #warrior cats au #wa riot cats rewrite

549 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

#bnha 318 #midoriya izuku #BAKUGOU KATSUKI #!!!!#twowy mctwoface #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bakudeku #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

393 notes · View notes

gallavictorious · 3 years ago

Text

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

58 notes · View notes