#it’s fine the power of aus heals all wounds

[slytherinshua]

☾　REBORN, UNDEAD　( 성한빈 )

genre angst , fluff , vampire au , undead au , former vampire!hanbin x former vampire!fem!reader   cw blood and battle mentions (from the past in pt 2) , crying   wc 1363   request no   note for @nonononranghaee from the moot fic form (although ik you just went on hiatus but it's okay read whenever ur back !!) also please please read part 1 and part 2 of this fic series before reading part 3 because this will not make sense without reading part 2 esp!!! there will probably be a part 4 to this as well and we'll see after that. thank you so much for all the love on this series so far as well <3   net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

“Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t.”

In eighteen hundred years, Hanbin had never broken a promise to you. Until now. He was painfully aware that somehow, something had gone wrong on that battlefield. He couldn’t remember what, but something alerted him that everything was very, very wrong. 

“Y/n? Y/n! Where are you?” Hanbin’s shouts landed on deaf ears, echoing around the dark void without anyone to receive them. He didn’t know where he was, or how he ended up there in the first place. The last thing he remembered was you holding him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead with tears in your eyes. Why were you crying? Why did you look so scared?

His gaze dropped to his hands, inspecting them as if they would give him some answers. They looked normal, but something felt different. He couldn’t feel his magic surging in his veins. Before, he could sense his heart beating slowly if he focused, but now, it felt like it was pounding in his chest, so loud he couldn’t stop hearing it. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth: no fangs. 

Was he… no longer a vampire? 

He touched his collarbone, feeling for the tattoos. They were still there, yet they didn’t react to his touch. No glowing, no surge of his powers, just stillness. He gulped. For the first time, unquenchable fear filled his body.

For hundreds of years he had learned to live a certain way. Always close to you, so that his powers could be strongest. Always in harmony between his natural body and supernatural vampiric features. He never needed to worry about sickness or the cold. He could transform into a bat at will or heal wounds, both physical and mental. 

He felt useless now, unable to do any of the things he used to. Lost, without a single direction to go towards. He couldn’t remember what he did as a human; what he used to fill his time with. It was too long ago to recall. He felt like he had just been born again, with no sense of how to go about the world. He’d have to learn all over again. But first, he was determined to find you. 

He wasn’t himself without you. You had held a part of him for too long, caring for his soul as if it was your own. If he wasn’t with you, he had no purpose. So, he took a few steps forward, slowly getting used to the feeling of the ground beneath his feet. Every step took energy he wasn’t used to expending. He felt weak, as if he could pass out at any moment. A pounding headache across his forehead and a weak unstable feeling in his knees. He had never felt this weak as a vampire. 

With each step he took, more ground appeared beneath his feet. Slowly, a sort of town came into view. It was quaint. Little wooden cottages topped with red roofs. Signs pointed out the street names and directions. He stopped to read a few, figuring out which way to head next. He hesitantly chose the town centre, deciding it was a reasonable spot to start. 

People stared at him as he walked by. He didn’t care to find out why. Years of only caring about your opinions trained him to not give them a second glance. He knew his purpose, sure of himself and confident. Although he was scared to admit that his confidence was wavering without you by his side. 

He reached the town square where an official looking building stood next to a fountain. He assumed it must be the governor’s office or some mayor’s building. Maybe he could get a list of residents? He stepped up the stairs, pulling the door open to be met with a fairly empty entranceway. There was a line of counters, behind which secretaries typed away at their typewriters and scribbled on paper with pens. He walked up to one of the open spots on the counter, face-to-face with an elderly man who’s fingers flew across the typewriter with practised ease.

“How may I help you?” His accent was thick and his tone weighted down by dull tiredness. He didn’t seem fazed by whatever had caused the other residents to stare unabashedly at Hanbin. The old man barely blinked twice at him.

“I’m looking for a list of residents in the town. I need to contact someone.” Hanbin said quietly. The man nodded, muttering that he would find a list in the back somewhere. As Hanbin was left alone for the time being, he surveyed the other people in the building, each talking at the counter as well. They were too quiet for him to make out the conversations; his hearing significantly weakened since he lost his powers. One voice stood out, though.

“No, not Hanjin— I’m looking for Hanbin! Sung Hanbin.”

Hanbin’s eyes widened, his head whipping around to try to find the owner of the loud voice. 

“How many times do I have to repeat myself? He’s about 180cm tall, has dark black hair, pale skin, and a slim face. He has to be in your records somewhere.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure we can find him, rest assured. What did you say his birthday was again?”

“June thirteenth.”

“What year?”

“25.”

“1925?”

“No. 25. The year 25. Zero, zero, two, five.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I follow. Do you mean to say he is over nineteen hundred years old? No human has ever—”  

Hanbin had never felt his heart race so fast. Adrenaline pulled at every muscle in his body so suddenly he could hardly comprehend what was happening before his legs were rushing him over to where you stood, arguing with the lady at the counter.

“Y/n,” He called to you, and time seemed to slow as you turned your head. “Excuse us,” He mumbled quickly to the lady at the counter, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out the door of the building. He kept walking, his hold on your arm tight, afraid you would disappear. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, entranced by his appearance. Once he had found a secluded area, he stopped walking, trailing his hand up your arm to your shoulder instead.

“What happened? Where are we?” The questions flew out of his mouth. You didn’t have an answer for him. 

“I’ve been looking for you for days.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you looked at him. You touched his cheek with your hand. It felt warm. 

“What happened on the day of the battle?” He asked again, prying for an answer. You shook your head, tears falling. You just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him, head against his chest. Shaky breaths in as you felt his heartbeat; steady, fast, warm. 

“I don’t want to think about it.” You told him quietly. Hanbin could only hold you, mind confused and worried. There were so many questions he had. He was sure you had the answers, if only you’d tell him. But he wouldn’t push you, not when you clearly were in a delicate mental state. 

He wished he could feel you like he used to. You had only been in his arms a few minutes, but it felt different. He couldn’t relax your body with a spell, or get a peek into your thoughts. He tried to figure you out from the outside, and that was a difficult task. 

“We should get you new clothes. These ones are soaked with blood.” You mumbled after a while, face still buried against his chest. Hanbin looked down to his sleeve, noticing for the first time that he did have very obvious stains. No wonder he got so many curious stares. He wondered what they were from. Surely, it couldn’t have been his own blood. He wasn’t injured or bleeding. 

“Y/n, what is this town?” Hanbin asked anxiously, as he spotted someone looking at you both from across the road. 

“It’s for the undead. Everyone here has already passed away, including you and me.”

“What?”

zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

@emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @nicholasluvbot,, @stantxtforabetterlife

[caelesjjk]

entangled | jjk&kth - teaser

⟶title: entangled

⟶au: marvel au

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle

⟶wc: 1.5k for this

⟶banner: by meee, and yes I’m insane and made a new one

⟶warnings: mentions of blood, kissing, a boob grab and an ass grab, but no actual smut for this, Jungkook calls you Data

⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings. I know a lot of people have been waiting for this fic, and you’ll have wait just a bit more. But in the meantime, I offer this little teaser to hold you over. A little glimpse of spidey kook. First chapter will be posted in just a few weeks!

Also, if you asked to be on the taglist just now that I tried messing with it for a long ass time and got annoyed lol. I may try again for the actual fic.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing it’s just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers.

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your bathroom vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” He asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers were really something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality.

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you.” You whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off his hands and sit them on the countertop before they’re coming up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. He’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth.

“What does it want?”

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. But no one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours, “but Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Seokjin Kim, also known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He had helped Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school.

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” You tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?”

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.”

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull your hand out of his, but his web shooter from the other wrist shoots a web at your torso, using his inhuman strength to pull you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the ground is no longer beneath your feet and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge and swing you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek, “just another minute.”

You keep your eyes squeezed shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to open your eyes just the slightest bit. You see the sun completely setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

Jungkook shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” he kisses you before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” you melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.”

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body is hot and on the edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

[firstelevens]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

tagged by @abarbaricyalp

no-pressure tagging @sesamestreep @philtstone @trans-elrond @iasmelaion @sambambucky

the actual thing that I am currently working on is the next chapter of the D&D AU and I'm trying not to jinx that, so instead here's an excerpt from an idea that came from a "loss of powers" prompt and immediately got way too long

In the eight minutes that it takes for Yelena to pilot the jet down the runway and up to the mouth of the hangar, Sam has managed to envision every possible bad situation. He thinks about the aftermath of explosions, about alien poisons and unknown creatures rising from the sea. Even as the gangway comes down and Sam hurries on board with two of the medics, he’s envisioning something nightmarish.

It’s more frightening, somehow, to see what’s actually happened: Bucky is laid up on a stretcher, paler than Sam’s ever seen him and shivering uncontrollably in spite of the multiple blankets and jackets that Yelena has laid over him. His lips are nearly blue, his breathing shallow and rattling just a little. There’s bruising showing beneath the collar of his compression shirt, winding back towards his left shoulder.

“Dislocated shoulder?” asks one of the medics, peering at the bruises when Sam shifts the collar out of the way.

“Unlikely,” says Sam, biting back the impulse to say something more cutting about knowing who the hell he’s treating. Bucky is unconscious, but Sam still murmurs an apology when he stops the gurney transfer to hit the plates of Bucky’s vibranium arm in the pattern that Bucky taught him. He catches the arm as it detaches with a click, hefting it against his shoulder. He doesn’t know if the bruises came from the arm or from something else, but he’ll be damned if he lets them get worse.

The medics wheel Bucky back to the infirmary and Sam hands the vibranium arm off to Torres, trusting him to find somewhere safe for it. He turns to Yelena and motions for her to follow as he stays by the gurney’s side.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, as she joins them. “If you’re injured at all, the medics can take care of it for you.”

But Yelena waves off the offer, focused on Bucky. “He was cut on his stomach,” she says, before Sam can ask, “but he could walk after, so it was not so bad, I think. He took another one to the leg. That was worse.”

“And the shrapnel?” asks Sam.

“Grenade,” Yelena says. “He pushed me out of the way. Would have been fine, except they were trying to blow up the door from a steel shipping container. It came down on his leg.”

“Fractured?”

Yelena shrugs. “He would not let any of us see. Was his ankle, maybe.”

Sam steps back and lets the medics transfer Bucky to a bed. His shivering gets worse with the blankets removed, but there’s no way to check on those injuries without cutting open his shirt.

There are bruises everywhere, still purple and angry. As they cut the shirt open, Sam braces for the sight of a bad gash on Bucky’s stomach and is met instead with a dressed wound, a fresh compress taped down at the edges.

He turns to Yelena. “When did you do this?”

“He did,” says Yelena. “This morning. Or maybe yesterday? Time is strange; we lost hours on the jet.”

“Yesterday?” repeats Sam. “When did all this happen?”

“Thursday, late night,” says Yelena. “He said it was okay. We came to the safe house, he cleaned the wound, he hopped around on one foot, and I laughed at him and it seemed like it was fine.”

“And then what?”

“It should have healed overnight,” says Yelena. “Alexei and Walker, they were caught in the blast, too. By morning they were back to normal.”

“Yeah, that’s how the super soldier healing works,” Sam says absently. 

It takes a second for his own words to sink in, his eyes dropping to Bucky, laid out on the table with all his injuries still fresh.

Sam has seen Bucky break a rib and rough-house with the boys twelve hours later. He’s seen new cuts turn to scars over the course of a jet ride home. The last time Bucky got shot, the only reason they rushed to treat him was because there was a chance the wound would heal over the bullet before they could get it out.

Particularly bad injuries will leave their mark for a few days, but normal bruises have never lingered like this on Bucky’s skin, and lacerations heal so quickly that Bucky tends to refuse butterfly bandages for them on principle. (Except for the one time that AJ and Cass were there to see him get patched up, when he was suddenly a model patient, and allowed Sam to fuss over him for twice as long without a single complaint.)

“But how…?” he starts to ask, then looks up at Yelena. “You said there’s no change?”

“None,” she says. “But there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

She goes into one of the many pockets on her vest, patting around until she gets to the right one. She unzips it and pulls out an evidence baggie, which she holds up for Sam to see. Inside is the kind of dart that would go in a tranq gun, but the vial at the back is broken.

Sam takes the bag and peers at the dart. “Where’d this come from?”

“I don’t know,” Yelena says. “I found it embedded in Alexei’s body armor. The blast must have broken it.”

“What does it have to do with Bucky?”

“Because someone in a sniper’s nest shot one at Walker also,” says Yelena. “And I thought I saw Barnes pull something from his neck before the grenade.”

He frowns. “And they didn’t fire them at anyone else?”

Yelena shakes her head. “They missed when they fired at Walker, so maybe it’s nothing.”

“But you don’t think so, or you wouldn’t have brought Bucky back here.”

“Whatever this is, it’s dangerous. I think it is not so good if the Contessa knows about it.”

It’s not too much of a stretch of the imagination for Sam to picture what Fontaine might do if she found out about a chemical compound that could affect the serum this way. Hell, it’s not a stretch of the imagination to picture what most powerful people would do.

Sam thanks Yelena and tells her to rest up before she flies back. She’s going to say no, he thinks, and then Kate appears and says something about mac and cheese, and Yelena is being pulled along with her whether she likes it or not.

When Joaquín comes through the doors a second later, Sam is surprised to see him already wearing his flight suit. “How did you–?”

He grins. “Give me a little credit, Cap. This is Bucky we’re talking about.”

He can’t find it in him to argue the knowing grin on Joaquín’s face. “Thank you,” he says, handing over the evidence bag. “Fly safe.”

“I always do,” Joaquín says, zipping the baggie into a pocket and turning on his heel. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

As the infirmary doors swing shut behind Torres, Sam looks down at Bucky, who’s back under multiple layers of blankets as one of the medics gets an IV in his arm. The shivering has come down, but his lips still look blue, his breaths still shallow.

He brushes away some of the hair sticking to Bucky’s forehead—the only part of him that Sam can reach—and opens up the app that Bucky made him download a year ago, insisting that he might need it one day.

There are exactly two contacts saved in the app. Sam hits the second one and waits.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 23/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on Ao3 (current chapter)

Read on Ao3 (from beginning)

Evan thought he should be more afraid, having a vampire’s fangs this close to a vulnerable point.

He thought he should be panicking, in fear for his life, wondering what the fuck he was thinking, offering to let Tommy drink from him.

And yet, all he felt as his vampire took his hand and brought it to his mouth, inhaling deeply as though he were savoring the bouquet of a fine glass of wine…was calm. His magic was a warm and content glow throughout his whole body, radiating the rightness of what he was about to do. He was helping his vampire, sharing the power of his blood to help him heal, to keep them both safe. He was not looking forward to the pain of the bite, exactly, but he didn’t fear it. And he didn’t need Tommy to—to hypnotize him into accepting it, or whatever it was that a vampire’s thrall did. He didn’t want to be lost in a haze of false perception while Tommy drank from him.

The bite hurt when Tommy’s fangs sunk into the flesh of his wrist. He could tell his vampire was trying to be as gentle as possible…but it was still the teeth of a predator tearing into him. It wasn’t much worse than the burn of a tattoo needle, though, and he breathed through it until he felt Tommy’s lips close around the bite, not quite cold, but not the wet heat he was used to when people put their mouths on his body. Then he felt the bizarre sensation of suction, felt a pulling draw from the wound, though Tommy didn’t withdraw his fangs.

He hadn’t pulled off to slow the flow of blood, Evan realized. To make it harder to take too much, even accidentally. His magic trembled in his chest, a surge of warmth racing through him at the simple care. His eyes fluttered shut as Tommy swallowed, mouthful after mouthful of his blood, his magic swirling inside him, the warm glow of it intensifying, growing brighter and brighter until he felt like it was spilling out of him, wrapping around both him and his vampire, rushing over the two of them like a wave as Tommy drew part of Evan into him. The pain of the bite faded, swamped under a growing sense of connection.

He swore he could feel the connection the way Tommy was—heat and life rushing through him, his heart swelling with gratitude for the gift he was being given, a desperate desire for the closeness, the intimacy of the connection to never end.

He was shocked to realize he didn’t want it to, either.

He reached with his magic, throwing himself headlong into the bond between them, letting out a gasp when he felt it surge, strengthen, grow. He could feel his vampire, could feel Tommy, could feel the two of them together…the way it was supposed to be. The way it was meant to be.

And then an electric charge raced through him, his magic flaring the way it had the first time Tommy had drunk from him, the way he couldn’t remember it had until this very moment.

He was lying on a sagging bed in a cheap motel room, his vampire looming over him, and he had never felt so safe, so protected.

He was cradling his witch’s hand in his palms, his fangs deep in the wound his witch had trusted him to make, the sweetest blood he had ever tasted spilling into his mouth, and he could not remember if he had ever loved anyone so fiercely.

He was sitting in the cold snow, his baby brother in his lap, growing limp and quiet as the spell their parents had set on them tore his magic away from his small body, and he had never felt more scared or determined.

He was standing in the moonlit, snowy field watching the shadows of the night that had changed his family forever—the night that had haunted every aspect of his life for as long as he could remember—play out in front of him as they had a hundred, a thousand, a million times before, and he had never felt more exposed.

Tommy would know. He would know the secret that Evan’s family had kept for over twenty years, the single, horrible act that had hung over Evan his entire life and colored every interaction he had with his parents, his sister, and his coven. Tommy would know it all. His vampire would know why his magic was the way it was, why Evan’s own family treated him like a dangerous animal that couldn’t be trusted, why his coven had turned on him so easily when he’d stood accused of Doug’s murder.

Why there were only three beings on the planet who had ever seen something worth loving in him.

Tommy would know.

His magic spiraled around them, fragmenting his perceptions into what felt like a hundred different viewpoints, watching the memory from a hundred different perspectives. His vampire’s hand tightened on his, the pull of his blood into Tommy’s mouth blending with the remembered pull of the spell that had been meant to steal his magic until he was caught in a dizzying loop of sensation. Tommy would know.

He blinked heavy eyes and watched a bit of color start to creep back into his little brother’s chubby cheeks, the relief sweeping through him almost great enough to cover up the pain of the spell latching into his magic.

He watched the boy he’d never known and had loved all his life bend over the baby that he’d been and kiss his cheek, whispering love and reassurance with his last breath.

He watched a child he hadn’t known existed until this very second sacrifice himself for the infant that would grow into the man he was coming to realize he’d do anything to keep.

Evan gasped, his eyes flying open at the same time Tommy’s did. He gaped up at his vampire, his chest heaving as he watched the haggard pallor and lines of pain vanish from Tommy’s rugged features. The shirt he’d been wearing was bloodstained and torn, but before Evan’s eyes, the gaping wound in his chest started knitting together at an incredibly fast rate.

He winced as Tommy withdrew his fangs, moving as though he was about to brush his lips over the twin puncture wounds that now decorated his wrist. Blood pulsed sluggishly from the punctures and he tried to pull his hand back, only for Tommy to tighten his grip. Not enough to hurt. Not enough to even prevent him from pulling away, really. But his vampire didn’t want to let him go, and God help him, he didn’t want to, either. The reassuring feel of Tommy’s calloused fingertips pressing against his skin felt grounding. Soothing.

“Evan,” Tommy said, his voice low and quiet…and faintly horrified. Evan swallowed roughly, devastation welling up inside him.

Tommy knew.

“What was that?” his vampire asked.

*

He didn’t speak immediately. He couldn’t. He’d never had to explain what had happened…everyone in his life either already knew and had been forbidden from speaking of it or absolutely could never know. Tommy seemed to understand, busying himself with gathering up the blankets and sheets he had bled on and tossing them in the corner of the room. He grabbed a threadbare, but surprisingly clean, towel from the bathroom and tore a neat strip off of it and took Evan’s wrist back in his hands, efficiently wrapping the makeshift bandage around the still slowly bleeding wounds.

He did not appear to be even a little tempted by the sight of the fresh blood, and Evan wondered how fucked up it made him that he was actually touched.

“We’ll hit up a drugstore or something as soon as the sun sets…get an actual first aid kit.” He plucked at the bloodstained shirt he was still wearing with a grimace of distaste. “And something I can wear until we get back to the house.”

Evan blinked slowly, irritated with himself that it hadn’t occurred to him to take care of the shirt yet. At least as much as he could—try as he might, he’d never quite mastered the kind of charms it took to repair things. He chanted the cleaning spell, though, watching as the horrific bloodstains that told the story of how badly his vampire had been injured dissolved away, seeming to bleed back into the fabric in reverse, any remaining traces of it vanishing from his skin.

“Can’t do anything about the hole,” he mumbled, his voice sounding slow and exhausted even to his own ears.

Tommy had been running his hand over the clean—though still badly torn—shirt but looked up sharply when he spoke. “How do you feel?” he demanded urgently.

Evan couldn’t help but smile, despite the anxiety swirling in his gut. “Just tired,” he said. It was true. His limbs felt heavy, and he wanted badly to just stretch out on the bed and go to sleep for a little while. He didn’t feel weak or dizzy, though, and told Tommy as much when his vampire pressed him.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Tommy suggested, as though reading his mind. His stormy blue eyes raked over Evan’s body, a small furrow of concern etching itself on his brow. “We’ve still got an hour or two before sunset.” He sat down at the small table, his leg bouncing slightly as he watched Evan.

Evan could almost hear the questions racing through his vampire’s mind.

Tommy was clearly willing to put his curiosity on hold for Evan’s comfort, and for some reason that simple fact almost had tears rising in Evan’s eyes. He bit them back stubbornly, breathing through his nose until the sting subsided. He had not felt this cared for since the night he’d left Maddie standing in a parking lot near the border between Pennsylvania and Ohio.

The last five years had not been completely devoid of kindness for him. He’d had casual friends and acquaintances. There had even been a few lovers, though nothing that had ever progressed beyond infrequent hookups. He’d thought Jonah Greenway had cared about him, at least a little—though of course that had all been a spectacular lie. No one had looked at him like this since Maddie and Sally, though. Like he was something precious. Like he was something that deserved to be treated gently. Like he was worth caring about.

Like he was worth…loving?

He remembered the strange feelings that had swamped him when his magic latched onto Tommy as he was drinking from him. The way that for just a few heartbeats, he felt like he was seeing through Tommy’s eyes, feeling what Tommy felt. He wondered how much of the emotion that had washed through him was what his vampire was actually feeling…and how much of it was his own desperate desire.

“Could you…” He stopped, a lump rising in his throat and his cheeks heating.

“What do you need, Evan?” Tommy asked gently.

You, Evan thought and couldn’t bring himself to say. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Would you, uh, sit with me for a minute?”

Damn it, he was not some touch-starved child in need of reassurance. He hadn’t needed someone to hold his hand until he fell asleep since he was six years old and had nightmares for a month after Maddie snuck a copy of The Wizard of Oz into the house so they could see at least one of the movies that their parents didn’t want them watching. But…he desperately wanted Tommy close. His magic ached for it, the phantom feel of his vampire’s calloused fingers stroking the skin of his wrist driving him crazy. He just needed Tommy beside him right now.

His vampire tilted his head, a strange look flickering over his face. Evan was afraid to let himself believe it looked like longing. “Of course,” Tommy said, as though there was nothing he’d rather do than indulge even the smallest of Evan’s whims. Evan couldn’t help the sigh of relief as Tommy stood up and slid onto the bed next to him, maneuvering himself so that he was sitting up against the headboard the same way Evan was.

It was only a double—nowhere near big enough for two men of their height and bulk to lay comfortably separate. The mattress sagged even further under their combined weight, and their bodies slid naturally closer to each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Evan saw Tommy lick his lips, and then his vampire hesitantly raised one arm, reaching slowly towards Evan, giving him time to shake his head or shy away from him. Instead, Evan sighed in quiet relief as Tommy’s heavy arm draped over his shoulders, pulling him even closer. Some tension he hadn’t even been aware of seeped out of his body, his magic settling in a way it hadn’t in years. For a single, mad moment, all he wanted to do was turn and bury his face in the juncture of his vampire’s neck, let Tommy hold him until the rest of the world faded away.

“I don’t know what that was, or how you saw it,” he said, unaware that he was going to start talking until the words were already out. “I’ve never, uh, I mean…I’ve had that dream, or memory or whatever before but no one’s ever, uh, no one’s ever shared it with me. Is it—was it you? Does that happen when you drink from people?”

He could sense Tommy turning to look at him, could feel the weight of his vampire’s gaze on the side of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from a patch of mildew on the cheap wallpaper above the old TV mounted on the wall. “Something like that can happen,” Tommy said carefully. “When we’re thralling someone. But it’s usually just flashes. Pieces. Never that clear or that solid. It…I saw something when I drank from you at Gerrard’s party. Not the—not that. I think I saw the day you were banished.”

A dull pulse of surprise shot through Evan at the admission. Then that meant…

“You already knew who I was before Grant and her coven came to your house?” he asked, stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He felt Tommy stiffen beside him, felt his arm start to lift, ready to let Evan get up and away from him if he wanted to…but Evan found he didn’t want to. He was curious, not angry. After a moment, Tommy seemed to realize that as well, and he slowly relaxed.

“I mean…I think it’s obvious why I didn’t say anything at first,” he said, a wisp of wry humor creeping into his words. “You did try to fry my ass at least a couple times when we first met.” Despite himself, Evan let out a snort of laughter, and he felt his vampire relax further. “After that—it was your secret. Your business. I didn’t want you to tell me unless you wanted to.” He sighed softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said significantly. He sounded like he meant it.

Evan knew he meant it.

“Daniel was my brother,” he said quietly, the familiar ache he felt whenever he thought of his older brother pulsing beneath his ribs. “He got sick when he was seven or eight, I think. Leukemia. And there are, I mean, there are healing spells and rituals, but bodies are…complicated. Witches aren’t gods, you know?”

“The spells didn’t work?” Tommy asked. Evan shook his head, biting down hard on his lip.

“My, my parents took him to doctors too, of course. But nothing worked. Not medicine, not magic. He just kept getting sicker and sicker. Eventually, there was nothing the doctors or the coven could do.”

“So, what I saw when you let me drink from you. That was a…”

“Memory,” Evan whispered. He finally turned to look at his vampire, in time to see him reel back a little in confusion.

“You were a baby,” he said. “How could you—”

“It wasn’t my memory.” He started twisting the hem of his borrowed sweatshirt in his hands, barely resisting the urge to reach over and grab Tommy’s free hand instead. “There’s a ritual. It’s left over from ancient times…back when it was a lot more dangerous to be a witch. When…when losing a powerful coven member, if, if they were sick, or hurt, or whatever—it could mean life or death for the whole coven. It lets you transfer someone’s magic to another member of their coven. To, to make them stronger, and give healing magic a better chance of working.”

Tommy’s face went carefully blank, but the faintest sheen of red shimmered in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” he said. “In almost a thousand years, I’ve never heard of witches being able to do something like that.”

Evan looked away again, taking a shaky breath. “It’s a forbidden ritual. The magic can only come from someone who hasn’t started formal training. It can’t be…settled, I guess? So, the witch has to be young. Too young to have a familiar, at least, but, uh, the younger the better. Apparently the spell works best with, with a baby.”

Tommy’s arm tightened around him, and when he glanced over, the red in his eyes had grown brighter. “What happens to them?” he asked, his voice deadly quiet. He sounded like he already knew the answer, but wanted Evan to confirm it.

He shrugged. “Officially? They just lose their magic, and never get to be full members of the coven.”

“What about unofficially?”

Evan’s lips twisted into a bitter, humorless smile. “Unofficially, the Venn diagram between covens who had someone ‘miraculously’ recover from something and covens who had a family lose a baby to SIDS or something would be a circle.”

Tommy let out a sharp hiss, his eyes flashing fully red for a moment before he forced it away. His grip on Evan stayed tight, though, even pulling him closer to Tommy’s side. “And your parents performed that ritual,” he growled.

Evan nodded, a barely perceptible jerk of his head. “You saw,” he said. “They were trying to save Daniel.”

“Don’t talk like—” Tommy started, but then broke off, shaking his head. “How did you…your brother did something to the spell, right?”

“He refused it,” Evan said quietly. “Refused to take my magic, so the spell turned on him instead. I was…I was only a few months old, I couldn’t…there was nothing I could do.”

“Evan,” Tommy said. Something faintly horrified in his voice. “You were children.”

Evan shrugged, one shoulder. Logically he knew it was ludicrous to think he could’ve done something when he’d barely started to sit up on his own. Logically, he knew that nothing that had happened was his fault. Both Maddie and Sally had tried over and over to get him to believe that with both his heart and his head. Some days he could do it better than others…but he didn’t think he’d ever quite gotten there entirely. After all…

“He died for me. When he refused the spell and let it reverse—he knew it would kill him.”

Tommy didn’t speak for several long moments, and only the fact that he hadn’t let go of Evan, was still holding him as close to his side as possible, kept Evan from spiraling into the fear that Tommy would see it the way his parents had—that his vampire would look at him and see only a parasite, vicious, murdering leech. “It—that felt like I was watching it from the outside,” Tommy said finally, his voice coming slow and deliberate, as though he was thinking through his words carefully. “But it was also like I was living it.”

Evan shrugged again, frowning. “That’s how it always feels. Almost like it’s some kind of divination magic? I don’t know—I’ve never been very good at divination. Or maybe it’s a side effect of me taking his, his magic. But it’s his memory. It’s…it’s the only memory of him I have.”

The only way his older brother had been real to him and not just a figure in faded pictures that his parents hid in the attic. The memory of the night he died and the magic that he’d given up to save Evan were the only parts of his older brother he had left. His parents and coven had done their very best to erase every memory of Daniel’s existence…but they could never pluck out the visions from Evan’s head. It was both a blessing and curse. The memory was the absolute worst moment of his brother’s life—Daniel had been hurting and terrified. Terrified for Evan, terrified for himself, terrified because his parents had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it was also indelible, tangible proof that his brother had loved him.

“That’s why your magic is so strange. Why the banishment didn’t affect you the way Howie and Grant thought it should,” Tommy said, again not sounding like he really needed Evan to confirm anything. Evan nodded anyway.

“Not to, uh, brag or anything, but our coven is really strong. Buckley witches are always powerful, anyway, and I—”

“You have twice as much magic as any other Buckley witch,” Tommy finished for him.

“Even if I’d been guilty, it would have taken years for my magic to fade. Being innocent? And having so much power to start with? It’s only just started to fade in the last couple of years. Not having a coven bond is what actually holds me back.”

“God, Evan,” Tommy said, staring out over the room with an angry, bewildered frown. “And the rest of your coven just…went along with this?”

“Most of them don’t know. They think my parents took all three of us on a family trip when the doctors started talking about hospice for Daniel. You know, so they could ‘make memories’ and be together. They think Daniel died while we were all on the trip. My parents kept their familiars from talking about it. Our coven leaders swept it under the rug. Gotta protect the reputation, you know?” He laughed softly, and there was no more warmth to it than his smile.

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a coven like that,” Tommy said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Evan went quiet, daring to lean a little harder against his vampire, and closing his eyes when Tommy just pulled him impossibly closer, tucking Evan against his side like he never wanted to let him go. Evan was startled by how intensely he wanted that to be true. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had wanted to just sit and hold him like this, and he was seized with the need to soak the comfort of his vampire’s touch up for as long as Tommy would let him.

“I hated it,” he whispered, the words spilling from his lips before he could think better of it. “I felt like a ghost in my house. If it hadn’t been for Maddie and Sally—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I used to wish Daniel had just let the spell take me, sometimes.”

Not often.

And never for very long.

He’d had Maddie and Sally. His sister and his familiar had loved him with all their hearts, and between the two of them he’d never truly been alone until the day he was banished. Sometimes, though…when his parents seemed to look right through him instead of at him; when coven members treated him like he was something to be avoided, something that might taint them if they got too close (whether it was because they knew the actual story or simply because they saw others treating him that way)…sometimes he’d wondered if his brother’s sacrifice had been worth it.

He heard Tommy inhale sharply, and then his vampire’s arm shifted around him. Tommy turned his body slightly onto his side, drawing Evan into the same position as easily as if Evan weighed nothing. “Don’t say that,” he said fervently, reaching up with his free hand to cup Evan’s face. The touch of his rough palm against Evan’s cheek was almost electric; Evan swore he could feel sparks where the vampire’s cool skin brushed against his. “Please don’t say that.”

“Tommy,” he started, but was unsure of what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you. To both of you. But it wasn’t your fault…and I’m so glad you’re still here. Fuck, Evan—you have no idea how glad I am you’re still here.”

Evan’s heart skipped in his chest, his magic sparking through him like fire in his blood. He leaned forward, helpless to resist the pull he felt towards this man, resting his forehead against Tommy’s with a shaky sigh. He reached up and covered the hand resting on his cheek with his just breathing as his magic rushed through him, pulling him, guiding him, calling him ever, ever closer to his vampire.

He didn’t mean to kiss him.

It wasn’t a conscious decision on his part. Not something he thought out or considered or weighed and measured before he did it.

He just did it.

He pressed his lips to Tommy’s, and had only a fraction of a heartbeat to fear, to think he might have made the worst mistake of his life, before Tommy groaned low in his throat, shifted his touch on Evan’s cheek to grip his jaw, and kissed him back. Softly, at first, almost reverently, until Evan ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lips and then he surged against Evan like a starving man offered a seat at a feast. Evan tilted his head to a better angle, fisted his hand in the torn remains of Tommy’s shirt, and licked into his vampire’s mouth with just as much fervor.

He felt Tommy’s arm slip down around his waist and was ready when Tommy slid down backward onto the mattress, stretching out and drawing Evan on top of him. Evan pulled back for a heartbeat to take a breath, and then kissed him again. Again, and again, and again, and it had never felt like this with any of the girls and boys he’d kissed growing up. Never felt like this with and of the random hookups or one night stands he’d had over the years. Kissing Tommy felt like finding a part of himself he’d been missing his whole life. Kissing Tommy felt like coming home.

They only pulled apart when Evan’s lungs started screaming at him, and he sat back, straddling Tommy’s hips as he stared down at his vampire, want and desire and need rushing through him like a forest fire. Tommy’s eyes were sheened with red, and he ran his hands roughly up the sides of Evan’s thighs.

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked, sounding almost as breathless as Evan felt, which had to be some kind of feat for a vampire. Or maybe just proof that he was affecting Tommy as much as Tommy was affecting him.

He grinned down at his vampire, sliding his hands up under his torn shirt and spreading his palms against the hard muscle of Tommy’s stomach. “Are you?” he countered, and Tommy’s answering laugh sounded like pure delight.

“God, Evan,” his vampire groaned, his hands sliding up to curl possessively over Evan’s hips.

Evan shoved Tommy’s shirt up further, his fingers catching on the rough skin of a raised scar, high on the side of Tommy’s chest. He bent low, needing to taste, wanting to kiss and suck and bite until Tommy was just as dizzy with want as he was. He feasted his eyes on Tommy’s firm, broad chest, his eyes skating over the scar he’d felt as he…

Evan froze.

It was a cluster of faded red marks, the shape vaguely circular…almost like some kind of flower painted onto Tommy’s chest. He stared at it, all of his desire, his arousal, his desperate, breathless need draining away until he was absolutely ice cold.

“Evan?” Tommy asked, sensing the change in Evan’s mood and motions immediately.

“No,” Evan breathed out, a tremor running through his hands where they rested over the ridges of the scar. “No, nonono…oh God. Oh my God!” He scrambled backwards, almost throwing himself off of Tommy, scrabbling to the end of the bed as Tommy sat bolt upright, frantically calling his name.

“Sorry,” Evan gasped, almost hyperventilating, his eyes riveted on the scar, unable to look away. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”

[the-painted-siren]

Again

Summary: Lloyd and Arin, as featured in the constant cycle of violence that was built on Ninjago’s foundation. Notes: Happy Dragons Rising Release Day! I wrote this one for a game of Who Wrote That, where the prompt was “plot twist.” I waited to post it since it featured themes/ideas from DRS2P2. I had fun with this one. Somewhat inspired by a Hades AU I’m working on with some friends. Tags: depictions of violence, major character death (kind of. It's temporary and symbolic. Death is an illusion in Ninjago.)

Ping!

1 New Message

“Fine then. Let’s end this. Meet me in the clearing where the monastery used to be.”

Arin’s feet drum against the earth in a hard, steady rhythm. There’s a sense of comfort in the movement—memories, warmth, laughter, flashes of him sprinting up one thousand steps toward the place he once called home. It used to hold his family there, or at least the people he once thought were a cheap replacement for the one he lost in the Merge. He once held them close to his heart—he still does—but at what cost?

His thoughts burns away before he reaches the top.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lloyd rises to his feet. Old history writes a story across his features. Once he was a mentor, once he was a master. Now he is Arin’s grief-driven opponent. He is a protector at the cost of everyone else’s lives.

“I had to. I have to beat you.”

“This is your fault. It has been your fault since I first started training you.”

Arin swallows his fear and regrets. He takes them like a bitter pill. He is only here because of the choices he made. He chased after Ras. He learned the ways of the Wolf Clan. He is the reason the monastery burned down.

He is here because he has written himself into this loop.

That’s the thing about each ninja’s story—numerous and always increasing as they may be.

They have a beginning: they are the hero, they are called to fight, they strengthen their powers until they’re unstoppable.

They have a middle: they enter the fight, they pour every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears into every punch. They stand at the edge of the world.

They have an end: they have a burst of determination. They race toward the end, they drive the final blow. They win.

Arin can only hope that—this time—his story will be the same.

He catches Lloyd’s first strike with the sturdy handle of his war hammer. He grits his teeth, pushes back against the force that rumbles and rages and roars for dominance.

Arin had forgotten how strong Lloyd really is. He had forgotten that Lloyd could take his head off if he genuinely wanted to.

Lloyd’s second strike almost does. It’s well-times, it’s thought out. He pulls his sword back and whips it back around toward Arin’s neck and only misses by the width of a hair.

Arin rolls backwards, stumbles to his feet. His awkward footwork creates enough time for Lloyd to drive home the final blow. The sword pierces through armor and cloth and bone. Arin screams, wrapping his hands around the hilt that Lloyd grips.

“I’m sorry,” Arin whispers.

It’s a repeated prayer, he’s spoken those words more than he can count. He realizes after so many interactions, so many apologies, so much fighting for what he believe is right: if Lloyd ever forgives him, it’ll be a blisteringly hot day the Neverrealm.

He closes his eyes and sinks back into a river of blood. A freezing cold chill crawls through his veins. Exhaustion settles into his body like a heavy blade finding its home on the weapon rack. The hands of time brush over his skin, healing his wounds, sewing up his cuts, and softening his bruises.

He bursts awake.

Ping!

1 New Message

“Fine then. Let’s end this. Meet me in the clearing where the monastery used to be.”

Arin’s feet drum against the earth in a hard, steady rhythm. There’s a sense of comfort in the movement—memories, warmth, laughter, sprinting up one thousand steps toward the place he once called home.

It all burns away before Arin reaches the top.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lloyd rises to his feet. Old history writes a story across his features.

“I had to. I have to make it out of here, even if it kills us both.”

“This is your fault. It has been your fault since I first started training you.”

That’s the thing about each ninja’s story—numerous and always increasing as they may be. They are clear cut. They have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Arin tightens his grip on his war hammer and charges toward Lloyd. His story has a beginning, a middle, and a beginning again.

Over and over.

It’s a foundation that he must destroy.

— — —

There is a universe out there where Lloyd and Arin are mentor and student. They exchange warm smiles, sparring matches, and lighthearted quips between blows. They are friends and they are inseparable.

There is a universe out there where Lloyd and Arin are hero and villain. They exchange vindictive looks, vicious strikes, and harsh words among pleas for mercy. They are enemies.

They are doomed to repeat the endless cycle of light versus darkness.

It is the same universe.

(There is a spark. There is hope. The fight can end.)

(He must be strong enough.)

[xxxnightcorequeenxxxv3]

More Lore Stuff magical girl AU

I had a back-and-forth with @dannyphantom-justiceleauge on Discord. I got some more video recommanations for more stuff. And we chatted a lot about lore stuff they were curious about after my first post, so here is the summary of what we discussed + some extra bits. Their magical forms Regarding their magical forms, they do gain a bit of heightened flexibility. But they have to train in it to unlock more power-up forms. They do not change with them as they age; they are in the limbo stage at almost adulthood. (Insert joke about Tim forever being 17, blaming the magical girl curse for his stature. p.s it's not the curses doing) It's a curse and not a blessing, so why? First of all, the curse is all about self-preservation over the well-being of its Robins; it will heal them from lethal wounds as it needs them to be as strong as it is, but their mental healing is neglected. It is partly self-aware to the point that it wants to grow stronger. How does it get stronger? by having more people cursed into magical girls. But it can't curse people in quick succession. It has to recharge. It heals by forcing the Robin to transform when they are not in view of interference. the magical veil kicks in hard drive. So, the only one who can see her for the rescue portion is a fellow Robin. And the cursed has stay as magical girl form for the duration of the healing prosses. As the curse comes with an unwanted genderswap for everyone. it takes a toll on some of them harder than others. Can't exactly reassure the family you're fine when you're not you; they are lucky they can text. (Good thing Dick got a big apartment) The side effects of healing are also no joke. They are felt as phantom pains for every Robin, sharing the burden of hurt and taking energy to heal. In magical form, this manifests as a white streak on the individual who has had a prolonged stay in their magical form to heal. Babs, Jay, Tim, and Dami, I'm pretty sure, are in Got streaks club. The curse is also a danger magnet. The stronger it's Robins, the stronger it gets, you know. It also comes with the side effect of not being able to speak about the curse or warn anyone about it. The only one they can communicate about the curse freely is a fellow Robin. This is part of the magical veil I talked about. It makes people unable to connect the dots on who the Robins are as civilians. but it can also hide them from detection if they get badly hurt for eveyone but thier fellow Robins. Or for shorter times when to be in public as normal is needed. The Curse also makes them forget where they got the powers from. So, they have a hard time keeping track of the cursed music box. However, it usually stays close unless it wants more Robins. Living situation. They are more spread out, such as Cass staying with Babs. Tim gets smuggled into the manor under the pretense he can stay until his parents return from their trip. (it's been months) Dick gets his apartment still as they need some to go, not under Bruce's watch. How did it get to that point? Well, someone accidentally took the OG cured box with them to school on "accident". That's how Tim found it after it got " lost". Bruce is a bit of a better parent in this AU; got therapy for kids, as he saw them struggling and them "not" being vigilantes meant they could make use of therapy, unlike him. Though the Curse's Gaise is keeping them mum about their identity. So, they have to speak in metaphors if they want help from the therapists. So I read this book, I had a nightmare, on the news, scary game. Not to mention the body dysphoria. But that one is a bit of a sliding scale for who took it worse.

as @dannyphantom-justiceleauge put it; "I could see Tim being more fluid, and Cass being agender. Dick isn't as bothered by it as he feels he should be but that's more because he has a healthy relationship with gender than because he's comfortable with the.. changed parts. Hes him no matter the body even if its a bit weird Tim and Cass are fully in the, eh it doesnt matter camp. Babs, Jason, Damien, and Steph are having struggles tho

Duke also strikes me as less bothered by it. He has different priorities."

Jay may not have had to deal with voice cracks for his extended stay as a magical girl, but the growing he did, but not know it, it was a bit of a shock to him. bigger body and different voice when he finally got turned back into a guy really rocked his mental health. But on the positive side of things where, they could adapt the coping skills they learned in therapy. Bruce don't know what the kids are up to with the magic thing. He just thing they got close sibling bonds and likes to hang out. Alfred knows the kids are up to something but can't say for sure what they are up. His best guess is they are hanging out with friends doing gymnastics with friends as a sort of club thing. Bruce's thoughts on the Magical girls. Of course, he is worried for their safety, as he has been repeatedly saved from peril by them, who would jump in the way of lethal attacks to protect him. He is under the misconception that they are using tech and not magic. He made the mistake of commenting on the white streak in someone's hair. And got the explanation that it's a side effect of them kinda dying for a bit. causing him to jump to the conclusion that if their hair turns all white, they'll die. (They won't, but he doesn't know that) all in all, causing him grey hair. He likes that the use non lethal attacks, and kinda has a mini freak out when he learns they got a lethal mode. Who are they fighting? Rouges, mostly, But they are trying to Cleanse Gotham of curses cuz that's the only way to break their curse. We talked about weapons having 3 forms. The initial one you see in the first post is an alt mode and their lethal mode. Because i planned on doing power ups. The weapons also come with sound effects. Think Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha's weapon with voice effects. Also, on a side note, Dami was not happy with his base form weapon, only to be likewise annoyed when a long time after he found out the lethal version of his weapon is a sword. The first one to unlock lethal mode is Dick after what Joker did to Jay and Babs. (when the gloves come of their is penance to pay clown) Think escrima sticks with eclectic blades attached. His alt mode is just bigger flags. Babs i've also fully wotk out it starts as a hula hoop, turs cyr wheel in alt mode then a Giant Shuriken for lethal mode. Cas's Weapon Voice clips.

Dami's

Babs's

Duke's

Dick's

Jay's

Stef's

Tim's, I will have to share later Cuz I accidentally exceeded the limit of uploads in a day ops. But to make it up to you, I'll tell you Tim's full weapon sequence.

Base form twirling baton, alt mode is a more extended staff, and lethal mode is a scythe. and a bonus vids for @dannyphantom-justiceleauge suggestions that gets included in the AU.

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

[empressgeekt]

HTTYD/Trolls - Crossover - Branch is Adopted by Gobber au

Okay, so people liked my Branch Winchester Au, so here's another one I've been stewing on for a while.

The au starts with a five year old branch running away from another horrible foster home in the newly settled pop village. he just wants to get away, be somewhere ....or more accurately the sea of HTTYD. Little Branch (now human) is left bobbing in the stormy sea, for who knows how long, eventually washing up on the shore of Berk.

At the next Dawn, young Gobber and Stoick would be walking the stony shore, just having a moment of peace between the noises of chiefing and working in the forge, and the never ending dragon raids. Stoick would be griping to Gobber about his and Valka's fertility issues, he's not mad at Valka, he's just worried that he won't get an heir before he's at the gate of Valhalla. Then they find a tiny body washed up on the rocks. The child is clearly not from berk, his hair like coal, and skin the color of tree bark. And somehow alive.

Strange appearance or not both Stoick and Gobber rush to Gothi with the child in hand. They get some odd stares from the village, but other then that they know to wait for an announcement on the discovery. Gothi sees the child right away, and after a few hours allows Stoick and Gobber (and Valka having joined them while waiting) into her healing hut to see the child. His wounds wrapped and bundled up near her fireplace. She scribbles into the dirt that she read the child, and that he was sent by a higher power to be raised as a berkian, after his own tribe and house wronged him greatly. Valka is immediately pissed off (stoick's in love), after all the child couldn't be more then five, what tribe and family could've possible done away with a child so young. Not to mention the fact that she and stoick had been struggling to conceive, only made the whole situation worse. Seeing his wife's distress Stoick immediately begins planning to take the boy in, but Gothi stops him, saying that while the boy was sent to be raised by them, he wasn't to be Stoick's child. When asked who the child belongs too, Gothi points to Gobber.

Gobber freaks out and says he can't handle a kid. He never got married for two reasons, and he only tells people one of them, and that was because of how much drama and worry a family can have. But still he's no match for the combine wrath of Gothi and Valka, and reluctantly, takes the child back to his hut to recover. Stoick stops by that night, with some mild mead, and let's Gobber vent. He does not understand why the gods would send him a kid, Gobber hadn't had a family since he's parents died when he was a teenager, and they never had any children other then him, so Gobber was the last of his house and he was fine with that. He had his job, he had his friends, he was fine. Stoick tries to be comforting, saying the gods must have a reason, and maybe he'd like the kid. That maybe the kid was always meant to be his, but since Gobber never married they had to get creative to get his son to him. Gobber is not comforted.

Branch wakes up three days later and he is terrified. The man he's staying with has a hook for a hand, peg for a leg, and the longest mustache that he'd ever seen. He spends the day hidden underneath his covers, wanting nothing more then to wake up in the warm forests of his home.

Gobber is at a loss of what to do with the obvious terrified child in his hut. What was Gothi thinking, he couldn't handle this. Eventually he resorts to luring Branch out with food, and manages to get the kid to talk over a bowl of stew, cause while Gobber is a great smith he is also a fantastic cook. The child's name is Branch which, given the color of his skin and the green tunic he was where Gobber finds very ironic.

It's awkward those first few weeks, Gobber is basically trying to figure out how to take care of a kid. Feeding, and making sure he's getting to Gothi on time for healing checks are things he can handing. Branch overall is a much calmer wee one then most of the children in berk, definitely a thinker (not that Gobber minds they need more thinkers on berk), but it still feels like there's a wall between them.

Branch is very confused, about everything. Gobber is nice, he doesn't make Branch feel like something is wrong with him. Gothi is weird, and she's weird about wanting to see his tongue, but she's gentle. His new Aunt Valka is very nice, but her husband is big and scary (much to stoick's dismay). It takes a little while but eventually, he gets comfortable enough to ask questions, and heals enough to leave the hut. The first day that Gobber takes him to the forge, Branch is immediately fascinated by metal work, much to Gobber's joy. The wall between them began to crack, as Branch paid close attention to everything Gobber said regarding to smithing. Eventually, Branch asks why they makes so many weapons. All Gobber said is to protect themselves. From what? Well Branch got his answer after an early winter hit berk.

One Night Branch would awaken to screams and the smell of smoke. Gobber is ready to run out to the forge to do his job during the raid, only this time he has a child to think about. He has no choice but to drag the child with him through the chaos and snuff him in the forge while the smith got to work. Branch is constantly asking what's happening, and all he gets in answer is two words "Dragon raid". At some point in the night, Gobber asks Branch to grab something for him, and needed to do something other then quietly stew in panic, Branch quickly becomes Gobber's fetch boy, and was put in charge of keeping the coals warm. The raid last until sunrise, and by the end of it, he just clings to Gobber's too exhausted to be scared. Gobber carries the child home to sleep, any wall between them now broken.

For the next year, Branch would continue to help Gobber around the forge, while at the same time learning to read, and once the boy had written Norse down, Branch ate up any book put in front of him. Gobber carrying him home every night after the boy would fall asleep while studying in the forge. Sometime in Feberary, his Uncle Stoick and Aunt Valka have a baby, and once deemed safe, Gobber and Branch are the first to seeing little Hiccup, and upon seeing the little loaf of fur and baby, Branch was sold, nothing would happen to this kid. Not on his watch. Gobber even lets Branch help forge the baby sized axe that Stoick requested for his son.

Then came one of the worst nights in Branch's life. The raid had been normal at first, Branch helping out in the forge like he had been taught. Until someone screamed about the Chief's hut being destoryed. Not thinking anything but that little Hiccup was in danger, Branch runs out of the forge towards the now burning out...only to see his Aunt Valka being carried off by a stormcutter. For a moment, it's not Aunt Valka, and it's not a dragon, it's Grandma and the bergen. Branch runs back to his hut with Gobber and begins to sob into his bed. Gobber would find him there curled up underneath the blankets, just sad and scared. Some how Gobber gets his boy to open up about his grandmother and Gobber does interperate it like Grandma was carried off by a dragon and not a bergen, but the message was the same even if the details were a little fuzzy. Gobber comforts Branch saying that he'll protect the child, always. This is the night that Branch starts calling Gobber Dad.

Stoick falls off the deep end right after Valka was taken, he goes on crazy month long blind searches for her, and Gobber goes with him to stop Stoick from doing anything more stupid. At some point Gobber has enough and starts to try and talk some sense into stoick, afterall they both have lads at home, and Stoick is missing his son's infant years. It hurts, but Stoick knows that Gobber is right, all that's left of Valka is Hiccup, Stoick needs to protect him now, and he couldn't keep Gobber away from his own son too.

While his father and uncle were away, Branch was put into the care of Gothi, Hiccup was sent to say with his aunt (Valka's sister and soon to be Snotlout's mom), but Gobber and Branch were the last of their house so Gothi was the next best thing. During those months, Branch tries not to be a bother, Gothi is pleased to have a set of hands nearby so willing to help, and like with smithing Branch would pick up on healing rather quickly. He even helps her with patients once's he capable enough.

Eventually though, the searches stop and Gobber comes home for good.

Years seemed to fly by after that, Hiccup grows scrawny, and is quickly made a target by his peers for bullying. Though, the Forge becomes a safe place, Branch has six years on the other kids, and they knew they can't mess with him. The smith's son does not tolerate bullying or teasing when he's working, especially when it comes to Hiccup. He can't hate the other kids though, after all their still kids being kids. One of them he even feels bad for, little Fishlegs clearly didn't want to pick on Hiccup but also didn't want to be bullied either. Branch will throw hands if it gets physical, however.

Though there's one kid that Branch has a special hatred for. Dagur. The berserker heir, is not someone that Branch initially gets along with, especially after a swimming trip that almost ended in Dagur drowning Hiccup. A bitterness between the two only grow from there, and it bring out this cruel protective streak that Branch didn't know he had. Something is wrong with Dagur, and Branch isn't sure what, but it makes the heir dangerous. And unlike the other kids, Branch doesn't intimidate Dagur because their closer in age, and Dagur did always have more muscle.

By the time the movie rolls around, Branch is a smith in his own right at the age of 20. He and Gobber work in the together, with Hiccup joining them after picking up and interest in inventing. A hobby that Branch also enjoys, together they come up with all sorts of gadgets though Stoick almost never lets them test them. Gobber's proud of his boy, though now Branch is his own man. His son is strong, smart and rather good looking, the few suitors Branch has on Berk look at him with a decent level of desire. Sure, Branch wasn't the usual beefcake of a viking, but his figure was lean and strong, the darker hue of his skin also gave him an air of mystery. However, Branch made it very clear he wasn't interested in any of them.

In the meeting hall,

"Trolls exist! They steal your sock but only your left one what's with that?"

"Dad, trolls don't steal socks, and you only have left socks. They keep vanishing when I do the laundry."

"Because trolls keep stealing 'em!"

*sigh*

Branch is the first one to meet Toothless after Hiccup shot him down. When Hiccup is sneaking through the forge after he and toothless got tied together. Branch spots them and follows them back to the cove. There Hiccup explains and begs Branch not to tell his dad, and Branch says he won't as long as Toothless won't eat Hiccup. He helps the younger boy and dragon get unstuck, before marveling at the rigging that Hiccup made for Toothless. Branch wants in, mostly because it could mean finding a better way to keep the people in the village safe. Together the boys, learn more about dragons by studying Toothless, theories and findings Hiccup tests in the training ring.

After the disaster of a final test, Branch tries to follow Hiccup and Stoick and ends up witnessing their fight, and Stoick disowning Hiccup. This cuts deep and Branch looses all respect for the chief. He says goodbye to Hiccup before they leave, saying they'll always be brothers. Branch goes with the others to raid the nest, only to keep his father safe however, the rest of the village Chief included can go burn for all he cared.

Sadly this does mean that Branch is out of the dragon riding part of the battle, but I do plan on giving him a dragon at some point. Not sure which kind though, I'm thinking maybe a sand wraith, or dramillion, or maybe just say screw it and partner him up with Light Fury. I think they could make a fun duo, loner grouch with a very snooty over grown cat, who very protective.

---

It's late I'm going to split this up.

[sunbeamah]

JJK Mermaid AU just sitting in my documents-- Yuuji centric!

Naturally, Yuuji is the pearl of his pod-- the most beautiful and strongest mer there. His tail is pink and shimmery, sparkling golden in the light-- but beyond appearances, it's also very powerful. He has mating requests coming in from all the different oceans and seas.

Much to the displeasure of his nine older killer whale mer brothers.

So they set up a system-- in order to even ask to court Yuuji, you have to fight and defeat all 9 brothers, starting from the youngest (Shooso) and ending with Choso. Only 4 mers have ever beaten all 9 brothers. Inumaki Toge, Okkotsu Yuuta, Ryoumen Sukuna and Gojo Satoru.

In Inumaki and Okkotsu's cases, they genuinely wanted to court Yuuji, but ended up meeting and falling in love with one another. (Inumaki took 3 tries to defeat all 9 brothers, while Okkotsu did it in 1). They'd show off for Yuuji and push themselves harder and harder upon seeing the other, until they reached a point where it wasn't about Yuuji anymore. They weren't even thinking of him (no hard feelings though!)

Inumaki's tail is white with navy blue markings down it, his fins are very fine and large, they appear to be wavy as well

Okkotsu's is white at his hips, but quickly fades into black. There are speckles of white decorating the topmost parts, and his fins tend to have white veins running through them

In Ryoumen Sukuna's case, he called Yuuji boring, which offended the brothers and caused them to challenge him. He fought all 9 and won. Yuuji ended up fighting him afterwards, and even though he lost he continues to fight Sukuna whenever they come across each other. Sukuna (though he'll never admit it) enjoys these matches.

Sukuna's tail is a thing of legends. He's a 10-tailed octopus, a bad omen for all those that lay eyes on him. They're a dark pink to match his hair, and have black markings to match those on his upper body.

In Gojo Satoru's case, he wanted to piss the brothers off. He'd heard of their strength, and how they were undefeated across all 7 seas, and thought 'lol I could take them'. Unfortunately, he could. He doesn't do anything with his courting privileges except swim in at random times to hang out with Yuuji and piss the brothers off.

Satoru's tail is pure, blinding white, with a bright blue iridescent sheen to it. The fins are long, wide and appear to be very thin, but there isn't a single scratch or tear on any of them, a pride point for fine-finned mers

There are mers who are allowed to talk to and interact with Yuuji despite not having defeated the brothers, of course. They're a trusted minority, and their ranks include:

Ieiri Shoko

She healed Yuuji when he was sick as a guppy, and treated Shooso and Tanso's wounds from their many fights. Her tail is a murky grey, and the very tips of it are black.

Kugisaki Nobara

Their pods travelled together for a while when they were younger, and they had great fun sparring together. She's his closest friend! Her tail is a classic green (the little mermaid hehe), though she dyes it in gold around her hips and at the veins and tips of her fins-- a modern, fashionable practice

Nanami Kento

Looked after guppy Yuuji after his grandfather passed and before his brothers discovered him, and greatly disapproves of Gojo Satoru, urging him to stop visiting Yuuji. A trusted ally on all fronts. His tail is white and heavily spotted in black. There are blue tinges by his hips, and some parts of his fins are torn

Haibara Yuu

Nanami's pair, who also looked after Yuuji! An honest mer with good intentions that they fully trust. His fins are slashed right through the middle, but he still maintains an excellent swimming speed. His tail is a classic dark blue, blending into darker waters easily

Yoshino Junpei

Despite his obvious interest in Yuuji, it's clear the mer doesn't have the courage or audacity to try to propose any kind of courtship. The brothers trust his cowardliness (they're very dramatic and rude). He's a glowing blue jellyfish mer, though some of his stingers are perpetually bright yellow with electricity

And now for the list of beaten mers, and who they were beaten by:

Mei Mei - Choso

Kamo Noritoshi jr - Shoso (5th eldest)

Todo Aoi - Choso (brutal fight)

Zenin Mai (forced by her clan to fight) - Shooso (2nd youngest)

Zenin Naoya - Eso

Juzo (curse user who wanted to make Gojo into a coat rack) - Sanso (7th eldest)

Haruta (made creepy comments, had to use all 6 miracles in his first fight, tried to run after. didn't work.) - Tanso (3rd youngest)

Toshihisa (one of the curse users who fought Kusakabe) - Tanso

Manami - Kotsu (6th eldest)

a LOT of unnamed mers, usually beaten by the youngest 4. Rarely does anyone ever get up to the eldest 4.

Some mers request to fight Choso straight from the beginning, and he'll honour that request if all his brothers consent to it, but he absolutely DETESTS those that do ask -- he feels that they're disrespecting his younger brothers by not fighting them, or that they don't think Yuuji is worth all the effort of fighting 9 brothers.

Tsukumo Yuki once challenged all the brothers at once, including Yuuji, to offer courtship to Choso. She won.

Now she trains with Yuuji so that if a potential suitor defeats all his brothers, they'll have the hardest time fighting him as well.

Her tail is black with an iridescent sheen of gold, and the tips of her scales are brown. It makes for an eye-catching look!

[adventuringblind]

Mend Me

Lando Norris X Reader

Genre: Magical Realism via Superpowers (kind of), A mix of fluff and angst

Summary: After a long history of being running and hiding, she finds someone who isn't afraid of her. Enough to risk it all for him. Feat Oscar and Carlos being a chaotic duo for once.

Warnings: A tad dehumanizing (if you really squint), mentions of hospitals, mentions of blood/wounds/weapons/bruises, reader literally bring someone back to life,

Notes: This is incredibly experimental. I like these kinds of AU's that incorporate racing still. It's fun to see different concepts come to life in a normal world! I'm currently working on a few A/B/O fics and a few other experimental things :)

Side Note: and another request! I had so much fun writing these two and this story in general! I'm hoping to write more like this, or for these two specifically, in the future!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

This is not the life she envisioned for herself. The running, hiding, forging papers to try and keep herself safe.

Stupid unnatural abilities that she never asked for. A danger rating that started at three and moved up steadily as these abilities expanded. Classified within a unique group that tends to be more isolated due to their nature.

A healer is what her new papers say, a danger rating of five. Her armband required across the globe remains the same color. Unassuming and weak, which is how she needs to be perceived.

Powers, abilities, magic, auras, whatever you want to call them, manifest in different ways. Some are element based, some a material, some deal with things like the mind and soul. Smaller groups include shapeshifters, psychics and mediums, shadow work, and her own group.

Those who deal in life and death are not to be messed with. The healers and the reapers. Which, you would think wouldn't be dangerous. She was lucky enough to not be sentenced to a life in captivity. The reapers can decide who dies when, if they are strong enough. Usually prompted by the healers if they person is out of reach. It's a peaceful passing. Yet that doesn't stop people from fearing that kind of power and control.

No, she's a healer. Lower levels are kept as doctors and nurses. Knitting wounds together, feeling the pain of others, being able to x-ray a body without a machine, are all useful.

Raising people from the dead? yeah, that tends to freak people out.

Her wound transference started small. A scraped knee on a friend became her own, but without a mere itch. Soon it progressed into deep lacerations which bled less on her and healed faster. Then it was bigger injuries like broken bones and concussions.

Training was required for anyone with abilities. In order to see where they fall in rating, where they can be utilized, and make sure they have control over the chaos.

She spent ample time in the local hospital with the other healers. The paramedics had rushed inside. The body nearing death. They flatlined, mangled in different ways, yet she still managed at the age of sixteen to bring them back.

The amount of pain she was in was nearly unbearable. She'd almost killed herself in the process.

Her rating shot up to seven after that and she was whisked away to a facility for people like her. They moved her up to nine after another year. She'd managed to bring back someone who'd been dead at least a day.

She's a necromancer.

Whatever she is, they all knew they couldn't stay in that place. Inevitably escaping with their combined powers. She'd never run so fast. She was provided new classification papers and sent off to a different country.

Which is how she found herself here. Traveling and healing despite the prior adversity. She likes this job, specifically because she's strong enough to manage drivers and personnel in the paddock who hurt themselves with their own abilities, but not enough to look conspicuous. Which is a fine line she's toeing, but she makes it work.

She has regulars. Max Verstappen frequently asks her to come around. Metal tends to slice him when he's not grounded and specifically more agitated. Lando has a tendency to hit himself in the head with things when he's excited and the telekinesis decides he needs something right that second. Carlos shapeshifts into a bear, which comes with its own set of problems (she didn't know she'd have to be a vet, also). Then there is Alex, who always seems to be summoning feral street animals.

The year she started; she was nineteen. Lando and Carlos were teammates then. The Brit a in his sophomore year of the sport. The number of bruises on both drivers was ridiculous due to Lando randomly pushing and pulling random objects was ridiculous. Carlos even joked he might have been doing it on purpose at the time.

It was 2021, and the encouragement of Daniel, that got him to ask her out. An invitation she accepted. It was nice, but there was that lingering fear in the back of her mind that he would figure her out and turn her in.

A night out in 2022 is what changed everything for her. The ability to trust and a longing for connection driving her to spend the night with him.

Now, her suppressor band is strong enough that she's only supposed to wear it for twenty-four hours maximum. She'd put it on when she woke up the morning prior and hadn't taken it off sense. Lando had asked if she wanted to take it off, let their energies meld together. A privilege only people like them have. But she'd declined and he hadn't pushed.

She slept in. The best sleep she'd had in a while, mind you. Yet the pain firing through every nerve of her body had her crying. She hadn't cried in pain in so long. This was entirely new to her, and if she's honest with herself, terrifying to experience.

~~~~~

Lando stirs beside her. His hands cup her face and eyes scan her body as he attempts to understand what's wrong. She's unresponsive and he panics. Enough to call Carlos and ask if it's something to do with her classification of power. She could've overdone it, or it's the residue of a different injury she took on herself. Whatever the case, he needs help.

"Lando, mate, she's a five right?"

"Yeah? why?"

"Suppressor bands for five and up tend to be stronger than four and below."

Lando pauses for a second. "Aren't you a seven?"

"And I take mine off in intervals." Carlos' explanation makes sense. Enough for Lando to calm himself and locate the chain on her wrist. "Just take it off and see if it helps. It might not be immediate though so give it about ten minutes and then call me back."

"Thank you, Carlos."

"Not sure what we'd do without her. Maybe kill ourselves? So, you better keep her alive, mate!"

Lando ends the call. Her body seizing in his arms in a scary kind of way that makes him want to vomit.

The chain doesn't come off easily. The second he manages to unclasp it; she becomes deadweight in his arms. But he doesn't get the kind of relief he is hoping for from it.

The aura she has around her is strong and intense. The kind he's never felt before. It's not nauseating like when Carlos or Max is high on emotion, this is serene. Like he's never felt better in his entire life. Which is strange, considering how strong it is...

He calls Carlos back. This cannot be normal for a five. The fact he has it off, but she's sweating and gripping his hand like she's in turmoil makes him wonder.

"Did it work?"

"Uh - possibly?"

There is a brief pause. "What does that even mean?"

"Okay, so, energy of a five healer, is it supposed to be this intense? Cause I feel like I'm on cloud nine and she's still in pain." He wishes he could reverse it, just get her to settle and not look like she might die until he can help her.

"I'm coming over."

It takes Carlos too long to get to his room. His anxiety is getting worse by the second. She's finally exhausted herself enough to fall asleep, but her energy is still permeating the room in a way he can't describe.

Carlos nearly falls over when he steps inside the door. "You like this?!"

"I feel fantastic!"

"Well good, we know you have a soulbond now. We'll talk more about that later. I'm going to pass out if she doesn't have a suppressor on."

Lando whines, but he knows Carlos won't last like this. He just hopes something reset and bought them time to figure it out. He puts the chain back on her wrist and Carlos immediately looks better.

"Verdict?"

"She's not a five, that's for sure." He inspects the chain and her arm band. Carlos' own brown band is still around his bicep. The shapeshifter colors. Lando's is yellow for the energy category, Max's is red for the secondary elements, and Alex's is brown with a green stripe in the middle for the animal handlers. Her band is white with a black ring in the middle, the reapers are the opposite. The number attached to her band is a five. It's the same as a legal document.

Lando snatches the band off of where it lays next to his own. Sure enough, when he flips is around, A different number is crudely patched over enough that nobody could make it out unless staring for an obscene amount of time.

Lando hands the flipped band to Carlos. "She's a fucking ten."

Carlos hums and examines the elastic in his hands. He then fishes a suppressor ring out of his pocket and switches hers for the one he brought. The energy is still there, but the Spainard doesn't look like he's going to be sick anymore. Lando claims this as a win.

On the other hand, he can't fathom why she didn't trust him enough to tell him. "I don't understand-" The crack in his voice is embarrassing.

Carlos gets him to sit down next to him on the edge of the bed. He places Lando's hand on her shin and they watch the tension she was holding in her body disappear.

"Have you ever seen how the treat anyone six and above?"

"No... you never talk about it."

Carlos sighs. It's a pained one; eyes distant as he recalls memories. "Fives toe the line of being stronger than the people deem safe. These universal numbers used to classify us aren't just for the amount of energy we exert, it's what we can do as well. I shapeshift into a bear, which can be destructive, but I can also do it with fewer breaks and for longer stints."

"What does that have to do with any of this?" Frustration now evident.

"Relax, I'm getting there." Carlos gives him a pointed look and quiets himself. "Six and above tend to have more restrictions. They want to make sure we can't cause any chaos or start wars or something. Reapers are immediately labeled as tens. Healers start small but increase depending. I met a good few back in school that ended up being taken away for some unknown reason."

"So, she's a ten, meaning she can do what?"

"I'm not sure... but she is definitely at risk if anyone were to find out."

Carlos stays with him. Explains to him what is probably happening due to the extreme suppression of this kind of energy. He explains this soulbond thing. How their energies mesh well together which is what was giving him that euphoric feeling earlier. It's not rare, Lando is only a three himself, but for her it is because of the intensity.

It's around midnight when she wakes up, panting and drenched in sweat. Whatever these higher energies are, the seem to communicate for them. Carlos gets next to her and switches the suppressors again. He's giving her the familiarity in a stressful situation with no words.

"Fuck - Lan, I'm so sorry!" Her voice is hoarse and cracked. He wants to tell her that he's fine, that he understands, but words aren't there. Not when she looks this sick.

He opts for the physical contact route instead. The gentle kind, so he doesn't scare her. This hug feels different than any he's had before, but he assumes it's because his aura is actively seeking hers. "We have a soulbond. Our energies mesh together quite nicely."

"So, you know now? You're not going to turn me in?"

"Absolutely not! Carlos has been giving me a crash course and everything. I'm sorry that you are treated so horribly..."

She grips onto his shirt and sobs harder than she has in her entire life. It's broken, and Lando can't help but wonder when the last time somebody cared for her and her abilities alike is. "I'm not leaving you, okay? I might be a three, but I'll do my best to keep you safe." And he means it. He has every intention of keeping her out of the clutches of those who would see her locked away.

~~~~~

Lando convinces her to quite working under the FIA and let him take care of her instead. She still attends to the drivers since she can, because she wants to.

It's never a surpise when she receives a phone call from across the paddock asking for her assistance. It's more fun this way, not having the constant pressure of people watching her for any semblance of too much power.

Carlos keeps a close eye on her when she looks on the verge of overexerting her power or suppressing for too long. He had her and Lando set alarms for when to take it off and put it on again.

2023 comes around, and both her and Lando are more relaxed this year. Car wide, the Brit would rather die, but otherwise, he's fine.

Oscar is a rating six water manipulater. Carlos makes sure he knows where to find him if he ever needs anything. The FIA tends to get on the case of higher ratings.

It's because of that rating that Oscar manages to figure out she's not what she says she is. Lando gets wildly defensive when the Aussie brings it up. She just laughs when he threatens to throw his teammates dinner into his face.

They all get along nicely. Lando manages to not send random objects at Oscar despite various threats, and she still finds herself in every garage.

Then Vegas happens, and everything changes.

The crash replays on the screen, but she can't hear it over the sound of her heart. Their soulbond had only gotten stronger, she can feel his pain and discomfort now because of it.

As an established healer, Jon lets her tail him to where Lando is. The medical team only lets her go so far.

But it's worse than anyone is letting on. She can feel his heart slowing, the internal bleeding more than they originally thought.

He's still alive when the race ends, but he won't be for much longer. They won't let her inside. Oscar and Carlos can barely get past the front desk to where her and Jon are sitting outside the door. Doctors are still working away at a problem they haven't found yet.

"They won't let you in?" Carlos gives a look of utter confusion. "Wouldn't it be helpful to them?"

"Yes, but I'm too emotional to be in an operating room as a five."

Oscar's face lights up. "How far does your energy reach?"

"Decently, why?"

"If me and Carlos take our suppressors off, then we can blame the energy on that."

The three of them take off their suppressor in unison with Jon watching the end of the hall in case someone comes around the corner.

The wall makes it hard to navigate. But she knows Lando's aura like it's her own. She's mapped his entire body, healed him more times than she cares to remember.

The flatline of the moniter rings through her ears.

She finds his heart. Where he's bleeding out, where his ribs are cracked and splitting him open.

And she fixes it.

Lando sits up on the table, heat beating erratically, but he's alive. The doctors don't know what to do with themselves.

They open the door. The only one there is Jon, teary-eyed, but not from sadness despire what he says.

~~~~~

Lando is high on painkillers. Though he wishes his human healer were here to make it better. He just wants to meld with her, thank her without words.

Jon had filled him in on the details. It's not safe for her at the moment, but his teammate has her, and Carlos is on his way back to Lando after helping get her settled.

The Spainard drives him back. Even stopping for food on the way since none of them have eaten and Carlos has this perpetual need to store food for the winter. Lando always gets him honey as a joke.

"When you see her, don't panic. There's blood we have yet to clean up from the incisions they made. But it's mostly just pain and exhaustion."

Lando nods and opens the door. The sight is odd, more so than scary. She's on the bed, pale, and covered in different fluids. Her mouth is open, and Oscar is dripping tiny water droplets inside. Her supressor bracelet has been ditched, but her ring is on so the other two can be around her.

Her eyes drift towards him the closer he gets. "Lan!" She tries to sit up but fails after two seconds and yelps in pain.

"If you'd just take the water and stay put, then you might not be in as much pain." Oscar scolds her, but she just rolls her eyes.

Lando crawls onto the bed next to her. His hand drifts over where he heart is, and he places her hand over his. "I'm alive because of you. I can't - I just - I don't understand why they didn't let you in. You're not dangerous. You saved me."

"Lan, it's okay... I'm happy being considered dangerous as long as I have you around."

"Ay! What are me and Oscar then?!"

"Rivals, according to the media." Oscar muses and drops another bead of water into her mouth.

"That was planned and executed well, okay, we make great rivals." Carlos nearly jams some kind of pastry into Oscar's face, but he opens his mouth just in time. "What am I going to do with you three?"

Lando doesn't have the energy to ponder the question. Him and his lover end up falling asleep at some point. Both of them are still in pain and in desperate need of rest.

He wakes up to a call the next morning from Jon. His trainer is adamant about speaking to all four of them.

Yeah, they all get lectured about how he had to go get tested and was humiliated by the hospital staff when they laughed at Jon's own ability. "Aparently, making people sneeze isn't an ability. But I'm happy you're okay, Lando. I would've missed you, buddy."

"I second that!"

"And a third."

Everyone looks at her expectantly. Some kind of response swirls around in her head. Maybe witty or sarcastic with the way she's smiling to herself.

"If you died, Lan, I would've never forgiven myself." Her energy taps on his. It envelopes them, warm and comforting. Their bond still growing stronger as their souls dance together around them.

"Gross, you two should get a room."

"This is our room!"

"Your point?"

Carlos and Oscar can't stop their laughing fit. Delerious from the long night they had previously and little sleep then managed to get. Still, Lando goes back to being in his own world.

He's wrapped up in her, and she's wrapped up in him. Exactly as it was intended to be.

"Reckon you could make an undead army?"

"Osc - I swear to god-!"

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Patch of Happiness

Pairing: John!Michael x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a archangel Michael x reader where Michael used young John Winchester vessel? Where the brothers find out that Michael have a sweet side that is only with reader despite the fact that she is half witch and half demon but is the most sweet and innocent girl that someone can meet and Michael just want to protect her from everything and the fact that she is pregnant with his baby so the baby would be a tribrid (angel demon witch) something crazy, powerful, and new? Just fluff and cuddling between Michael and reader and happy ending. 

Summary: You're trying to live your life and help others as much as you can while Michael is out doing what he does best. When two hunters fall into your lap, Michael realizes the danger of the situation and comes right home, ready to give up everything for the woman he loves.

Square Filled: nurse au (2020) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Hi, Gertrude. How are you doing today?” you greet your patient with a smile.

“Oh, just fine, dear. You know I love seeing your face but I hate being back here.”

“I know. You did a great job last time. The cancer has gone down a bit. The treatment is working.”

“Good. I’m glad,” she smiles.

“I am here to take some blood and be on my say. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“You’re never a bother, dear.”

She puts out the same arm you’ve been using for the past year to take blood. She has been battling cancer for a long time and has been seeing you for treatment since the beginning. The best part about being a nurse is seeing patients grow and heal. Gertrude is on her way if she keeps up the treatments.

You grab the blue tourniquet and tighten it around her upper arm to constrict the flow of blood. It makes for an easy vein. You wipe an alcohol pad across her skin to sterilize it before poking at her skin to get her veins to show.

“You’ve been drinking water, right?”

“Eight glasses a day. My daughter makes sure I have it. I forget sometimes.”

“You have good veins. You’re doing everything right.” You grab the butterfly needle and she looks away before you stick her with the needle. She’s been doing this for a long time but seeing the needle enter her skin still makes her squeamish. “Alright, the needle is in, you can look now.”

“How have you and the baby been?” she asks with a smile.

You place your left hand on your growing stomach with a shy smile. When her blood is done filling one tube, you take it out and push in the next so that the second tube can be filled.

“He’s doing so good. Kicking a lot,” you chuckle.

“Awh, that’s good, dear. I’m glad to hear it. I remember having my first child. It seems like she never slept because all she would do is kick me.”

“Yeah, I’m glad he’s not much of a mover, especially when I’m sleeping. He must sense I need a break,” you wink. You get done filling all three tubes before taking the needle out and placing a cotton swab over the wound before tying it down with two pieces of skin tape. “Alright, I will be back in a little bit. You just relax.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she smiles.

You leave her room and head back to the nurses’ station where you package the blood correctly and have an intern rush this to the labs to get tested.

“So, when is Michael going to come by again?” one of your nurse friends, Jessica, asks. “We miss him.”

“You only miss his cookies,” you smirk.

“Maybe,” she shrugs with a smile. “I can’t help it. His cooking is so good.”

Whenever Michael does have time to come down, he always brings something he cooked for you to share with the other nurses. It’s his way of apologizing for never being around all the time.

“He’s busy with work,” you keep it vague. “I’m not sure when he’s gonna be back. All I know is that it’s soon.” You grab three more empty clean vials to take someone else’s blood who is next on your list. “Gotta go.”

You’re halfway to the patient’s room when you get a searing pain in your stomach. This kind of thing has happened before so you don’t want to alert anyone about premature labor or anything. You walk to the nearest bathroom and make sure it’s empty before leaning over the sink. You take three deep breaths and try to calm down in hopes it will ease your son’s worries.

“Baby, Mommy’s doing fine. I’m okay.”

That doesn’t seem to ease him so you look at your reflection and change the color of your eyes from their natural tint to pitch black. You use some of your magic to calm your son down which works once he feels the comforting aura. As soon as you know he’s not going to cause you any more pain, you turn your eyes back to their normal color and ease up on your magic.

“There you go, baby. See? Mommy’s fine.”

You’re half-demon and half-witch who doesn’t like to use powers unless you really have to. The only time you will is if a patient is in critical condition with no hope of survival. You have some healing abilities and try to help as many people as you can. You’re not as evil as a demon but you’re sweeter than a witch. Maybe that’s why Michael took to you many years ago.

You’re different than the others.

You leave the bathroom and continue with your shift, going from room to room to gather vitals, take blood, and check up on patients to get them anything they need. Once the clock strikes twelve, you take your badge and rush to the time clock.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes!” you announce to your friends and clock out.

You’re on your way to grab a quick bite from the cafeteria when two men step foot into the hospital.

“Help, he needs help,” the taller one says.

“Are you okay?” you rush over without thinking you’re supposed to be taking your lunch. “What happened?”

“He’s been stabbed. I can’t seem to stop the bleeding.”

“Come here.” You take them to an empty room and lay the shorter one on the examination table to get a better look at what you're working with. You unbutton his shirt and see a deep ash on his abdomen. “Oh, yeah, they got you good. What happened?”

“I walked into a knife.”

“Accident,” the taller one says at the same time as the shorter one.

“He accidentally walked into a knife,” the taller one grounds out, giving the shorter one a weird look.

“Right. Let me get the doctor in here.”

You’re about to leave when the shorter one sits up.

“Sweetheart, I just need some stitches and I’ll be as good as new.”

“This is a stabbing. I need to get the doctor.”

“Alright, then I guess we’ll leave. Come on, Sammy.”

He tries to get off the table but you gently push him back down so he doesn’t go anywhere.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he smirks.

“Wait here,” you sigh and leave the room. You return with a kit that will help you stitch his skin back together. You open his shirt the rest of the way to clean the wound when you notice something on the left side of his chest. An anti-possession tattoo. “You’re hunters.”

“I mean, sure, we like to hunt animals here and there but nothing serious,” the tall one stutters.

“That’s not the kind of hunters I’m talking about, and you know it.” You dab the wound to clean it and the man hisses. “I know an anti-possession symbol when I see one.”

“How do you know about hunting?”

You look at both men and flash your eyes black to show them what you really are. They lean back in shock but you’re quick to ease their concerns.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” You change your eye color back to normal and continue to fix the man. “I’m half-demon anyway. Half-demon and half-witch.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Helping as many people as I can with the curse I’ve been given. I didn’t choose to be this way. I was born a witch, a full-fledged witch who was happy in her coven. My coven was ransacked by a group of demons who took a liking to me. Long story short, I was with them for five tortuous years when they finally put a blade in my heart. Well, I had created a serum I kept in my body, much like the hex bags Rowena kept in her body to keep herself from dying, and I was brought back to life. Only this time, I was half-demon. I don’t know how or why because I never saw those demons again. Now I just keep to myself and help out as many people as I can.”

You don’t tell them about Michael because you know he’d be pissed if you kept telling people about him. He’s very hated in the hunting community, so the more people know about him the more you and your son can be in danger. You’re not sure why because Michael is nothing but sweet, kind, and loving. He’s good but most people don’t see that.

“What about you two? What really happened here?”

“I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We were on a demon hunt not far from here when one of them stabbed my brother. I usually do the stitching but this seemed a bit too deep to just patch up.”

“Winchester?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard about you two. I never thought we’d meet. I tend to stay away from hunters.” You quickly fix Dean up and place a large cotton pad over the wound, securing it with skin tape. “I was on my way to get something to eat if you two want like to join me?”

“Sure,” Sam smiles.

You clean up the mess you made and escort the two brothers to the cafeteria. You and Dean get a hearty lunch while Sam gets something mild like a salad.

“Not to point out the obvious but I can see you’re pregnant.”

“Your point?” you ask and take a bite of your food.

“We’ve met a half-human, half-demon child before. He was too powerful for his own good.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t met a witch-demon-angel tribrid before.”

Shit, you weren't supposed to tell them that an angel impregnated you.

“You got pregnant by an angel? Which one?” Dean asks.

“Doesn’t matter. I know what you’re going to say. Every child of an angel ends up motherless. They all die giving birth but not me. I am not going to let my child only know pictures and videos of me. I made a spell so powerful that I can draw from when I give birth. I don’t have to die.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Honestly, me either. It might not work. It’s all speculation at this point.” Your phone rings and you smile when you see who is calling. “Sorry, excuse me.” You answer it. “Hi, baby.”

“Darling, I’m sorry but it’s going to take a little bit longer until I can come home.”

“It’s okay, I get you’re busy.”

“I hate leaving you all alone without protection.”

“I don’t think that will be an issue. I met two hunters who I hear are the best. I just met them. Plus, I have my magic to protect me.”

“What hunters?”

“Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Michael’s ears ring at the mention of them. Panic envelops his entire body.

“Change of plans. I’m coming home right now.”

He hangs up abruptly and you pull the phone from your ear in confusion.

“That was weird,” you mutter. Since you stayed and helped Dean, your lunch break was cut down by fifteen minutes. “I have to get back to work. You can stay here and hang out if you want.”

“Sure, thanks,” Sam smiles. You leave the cafeteria to return back to work and Sam turns to his brother. “Are we staying?”

“She’s a demon/witch who got pregnant by an angel. Of course, we’re staying.”

Sam and Dean kept a close eye on you from a distance while you worked until your last break of the day. You don’t have to clock out for this one since it’s only fifteen minutes so you grab a granola bar to snack on and your tablet. You almost run into the brothers because you’re not watching where you’re going.

“Oh, hey! Have you been here the whole day?”

“Yeah, you know, just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Thanks but I’m okay. I have a couple of more hours left before I get to go home. You don’t have to stay here.” You walk around them to find an empty on-call room when you spot your boyfriend standing at the nurse’s desk. “Michael!”

You run into his arms and kiss his cheek but he’s staring at Sam and Dean with a deadly look.

“You alright?”

Sam and Dean are floored at who you’ve just kissed because they know exactly who this is. Dean met him when he went back in time to meet his father. It’s like he’s staring at someone he used to know but he has to remind himself that the person in front of him isn’t a young John Winchester. It’s Michael, the archangel.

“You know him?” Sam asks.

“This is my boyfriend,” you grin.

“Can I talk to you two alone?” he says and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be right back, darling.” He takes them to an empty room and allows them to go in first. “I don’t care what you want. You win. Take whatever you want. Just leave her alone.”

“You don’t even know what we want,” Dean says.

“I don’t care. I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll leave Heaven alone. Just don’t bring her into it.”

Sam and Dean look at each other before the younger one nods in agreement. They make some sort of deal where Michael leaves everyone alone and no one will come after you or your son before and after birth. Michael leaves the room twenty minutes later and brings you into his arms.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Now? I have two more hours of my shift.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he smiles down at you. “I’m not leaving you anymore.”

You’re his entire world and he’d give up everything to make sure you’re safe and sound, even giving up the throne.

“Let’s go home, then,” you smile back.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[pjunicornart]

Papercut (Reclaimed)

I've decided to reclaim Papercut for the fandom! Here's the explanation.

Papercut (a Fell variant of Paperjam) was originally created by the person who created PJ's Daycare and NaJ. I'm not name dropping them because... I just don't want to. Anyway, the creator (if you know you know) is not a great person. I believe fandoms can reclaim characters from people who were less than role models. Now, a QnA under a cut:

Doesn't Paperjam already have a Fell variant? Yes. They already have a canon Fell and Swap variant if I'm remembering correctly. That being said, this is what I propose for Papercut: He's a completely original variant away from the Fell labeling. He's from a universe where he was named Papercut instead of Paperjam. Outside influences made him edgy instead of it just being his nature.

What did you change about Cut's design? For starters, I made his design less "rule of cool" and more practical. Admittedly some of the AU Sans designs I think are bad because they follow too heavily on the rule of cool. His outfit ties into his new story. Plus, if I'm going to draw him again, I want his design to be simple. Second, I desaturated the color palette, except for around his face. I kept the "hairstyle" Cut had, because I think it makes him stand out compared to other Sanses.

What's his lore? Currently I'm going for a troubled teen angle. Gets mixed up with the wrong crowds, been in and out of juvie, that type of thing. He's clearly hurting, but his environment and home life make it worse and hard for him to stabilize his life. Speaking of his home life, Ink and Error are NOT his parents... creators... people. They don't even exist in this AU. Instead, his parents are two completely different people who will NOT be classified as Sanses. These two people are one of the many reasons for Cut's rebellious persona.

What are some specific details about Cut? He's 17, a cis boy (amab), and pronouns he/him. Because he's been suspended and put into juvie a lot, his formal education is lacking. He can read and write just fine, but he won't be able to answer questions about history or sex ed. If his parents cared, they'd realize he needs serious help in this regard. But they only care about themselves and making sure he's out of the way. He's been arrested for minor crimes - Theft, vandalism, and misdemeanors. His vandalism is graffiti, of which he is quite skilled. His graffiti includes the usual stuff (tagging and such), but also political and artistic pieces. He thinks he's only into girls.

Does he have any powers? Yes, but he's not especially powerful or skilled with them. He can control paint fairly well since graffiti art has given him practice with it. He got this power from his mom. His other natural born ability is a blade only he can summon. This is something he inherited from his dad's side of the family. All the men on this side have their own unique blades. His is a dagger with a serrated blade for a ripping flesh effect. As for learned abilities: Teleportation (short distances), Healing (can't heal major wounds, but he can heal a bruise), and various stat boosters (attack, defense, and speed - minor changes). He's not particularly powerful because he hasn't taken the time to learn his abilities.

Will his story have anything to do with The Playground? We'll see. His story is still in the early stages of being fleshed out, so things are definitely subject to change. However, if he were to be in The Playground, he would become Playjam's third little brother.

Since he's technically not a Fell variant, could he be put into RNaJ? Yeah, he definitely could! He'd probably skip class and hang out alone. Maybe smoke a joint or two. Very confrontational and rude at first, but if you tolerated him enough he might open up a little. His vulnerability will be layered under tons of jokes, though.

Outfits, roleplay, and fan stuff? Outfits: I don't have any more at the moment, but if you wanna design some, be my guest. Roleplay: I'm down to roleplay as him, but you can also rp as him if you wish. I'm not gonna police you about it. Fan stuff: Everything is pretty loosey-goosey right now, sooo... go nuts.

Any more questions I didn't address can be sent to my ask box!

[mushroomnoodles]

color refs for three AT characters i have converted to my vamp au to populate the vampire king's inner circle (especially since a few of the tarots die in an attack) info under the cut

TEMPERANCE - doctor princess

TEMPERANCE (also known as doctor) has the power of intuition- an uncanny ability to just know something about someone, no matter how little she knows on the subject itself. she's smart, helpful and kind by instinct, and the youngest member of the inner circle. she was an individual who was seeking humble apprenticeship under the great scientist and princess bonnibel bubblegum, and she is keen to learn even now- provided she gets to have her fun on her own time.

she has limited medical knowledge but tends to wing it just fine, and acts as the closest thing the vampires have to a medic. (vampires are rather durable and heal fast, and don't catch disease.) she attended a few of THE HANGED MAN's history classes before being promoted to tarot rank and they get along well with each other.

JUDGEMENT - flame king

JUDGEMENT (who never disclosed his true name) was once the bloodthirsty, ambitious prince of a small country along the shore, hundreds of years before simon and betty's time. he acknowledges himself as cruel, perhaps even evil, but vampires have no moral obligation, he argues. he's rude and arrogant to all except the vampire king, whom he treats with utmost respect.

when JUDGEMENT's father died, his elder brother naturally inherited the throne. but JUDGEMENT felt he would make a much better king, and slaughtered him in cold blood. his brother left a large, gaping defense wound on his cheek, and JUDGEMENT's crime was discovered. swiftly banished, JUDGEMENT was eventually turned into a vampire and turned his fury back on the people who had forsaken their rightful king- laying waste to the land and people with his newfound pyromancy and a vampire army, given to him by the vampire king in exchange for his loyalty. how long that loyalty will last is anyone's guess, but JUDGEMENT seems to respect the king in a way he has never shown anyone else. he and THE WORLD tend to work together a lot despite constantly butting heads.

THE HERMIT - mr. fox

a curious case. THE HERMIT, true to his name, struggled to get along with his fellow vampires and his new form and shut himself away from them. THE HERMIT was never his tarot moniker but an apt description that stuck. despite his power, despite the king's interest in his abilities and knowledge, he is hardly ever awake these days. most of his time is spent asleep, because his subconscious can go wherever it feels like- he has mastered astral projection, and the sun has no effect on that self. and when he sleeps, he can dream- dream of a world where he has plenty of company.

this has allowed him to gain quite a lot of wisdom and perspective on himself- he knows himself well, and he knows he is happier free and unconstrained.

whenever he is summoned from his sleep, he is quiet, unhappy and unwilling to impart his knowledge.

THE HERMIT is hardly ever referred to, and is largely considered either nonexistent or an absolute waste of ability.

[lil-vibes]

Hi! Sorry for notification spamming you but wanted to tell you that your TROD tags made me lol, I LOVE your art so much and I’m interested in your AU too. Anyway, love your blog!

P.S. maybe I missed it but you said somewhere that your Narinder was pretty messed up for a few years post revival. Could you give some more details on that? Did he try to hurt them? Who had to take care of him, the lamb? What’s been the downstream effects? Basically, how is this cat still messed up lol.

dont be! everytime i get a notification i go yuppiee!!! im glad you enjoy my art :DD

okay okay its prime yap time under the cut oof i love my fucked up cat sm

Lambert, mainly, took care of him! They made sure that every comfort he needed was provided and were worried out of their mind the entire time. Their disciples helped watch over Narinder when he was unconscious, just so he wouldn't bolt the moment he awoke, and Witness Allocer stitched some of his wound and prepared a special painkiller blend for him. (in my au the high priests, aka the mini bosses, and the witnesses were very close to the bishops! Allocer made the same painkillers for Shamura as well.)

Okay so obviously his wrists and ankles were pretty fucked up from being chained for a thousand years and he's got a lot of internal damage as well bc some of the chains went through him (og Stychu hc that I adopted bc it's so good). Also just general wounds from the final fight and the unfathomable pain of shrinking down from his godly form.

Upon being spared, he did attack them in a post battle adrenaline and hate fueled delirium, right on the indoctrination stone and not only broke his arm (bc he put too much weight on it), but probably gave himself a heavy concussions by slamming his head on said stone seconds after the break happened lmao. After waking up in,,, just a Haze of agony he tried to get up and run away bc he was scared that the lamb would just keep him existing in this special Purgatory and shattered his opposite calf so there's that as well. Unlucky tbh

He bleeds like,,, constantly. All of the time, for literal years on end. From his eyes mostly, but also nose and ears and he throws up ichor a lot in the beginning as well bc his body is adjusting rapidly to being smaller and there's just No Space for the ichor to go, other than out. He’s constantly exhausted and spends a lot of time sleeping, and is very frail physically, if snapping two bones by simply putting weight on them didn't make it obvious enough lol

All and all not a great shape to be in, but! His wounds aren't actually what caused him to be bedridden for so long. It was the fact that he no longer saw himself as a god while still being one and suffering injuries befitting of one!

His body/the Red Crown isn't healing him as much as it’s literally regenerating parts of itself while he suffers everything that comes with that, alongside being out of the Veil/Gateway for the first time in forever and emotionally dealing with the deaths of his acolytes and the supposed betrayal of the one he allowed himself to trust after his family. In fact, Narinder barely heals at all for a while bc he was just mentally stopping the process. And also unconscious for a lot of it.

The other big reason is that god hearts are a great power source, but his heart has been in Lambert's chest since Silk Cradle. So he is Struggling ™ but he’d actually rather die than take his heart back he’s a simp like that smh

After he inevitably breaks and he and Lambert finally talk, he gradually starts seeing himself as a person again and his healing process gets easier. He still has chronic pain for his joints but eventually everything else heals alright :3

On a side note, his siblings bleed excessively and are disoriented for the first couple of days but are ultimately fine within the week. They are kind of horrified to learn that their brother is STILL struggling with the side effects of his imprisonment

[carnal-lnstinct]

Could you do a fic with 💘 realizing love with Vegeta on Namek with the 'enemies to I took care of you while injured to lovers' prompt? And have it be Vegeta who takes care of the reader and SFW? Please?

Vegeta | lovestruck

Anonymous asked: Hey! This is the Vegeta and injured reader on Namek anon, I forgot to add that I want the reader to be a normal human like Bulma and not a fighter, sorry! Thank you again! content: ( namek au, injured!human reader, established enemies/frenemies, wound patching, flirting, developing feelings ) warning: ( implied head injury, mentions of blood, reference needle / medical shot, referenced canon typical violence, referenced character deaths )

I just want to start a flame in your heart. - "I Just Want To Be The One You Love"

Gohan and Krillin had gone back and forth with the saiyan prince on who went into the healing tank first, Goku or you. Between the two of you, Goku had the most damage following the encounter with Ginyu, but yours were nothing to take lightly. You were human and by no means one able to manipulate ki like Krillin and the others, no treatment at all could be a slow and painful healing process even with the advanced alien medical supplies at hand. But Vegeta argued that Goku being the most useful should be the one to go first lest Frieza finally decides to return to catch you all short-handed and raise hell for all of you.

As you were slumped against the wall trying to stay on your feet, you finally spoke up. "N-No." Weighing the options before you, if you all wanted the chance to return home alive, then there was some truth in Vegeta's words. The tank was going to take longer to heal anyone, so Goku should be the one to heal up faster, as much as he can. "We'll need Goku, please let him heal in the tank. It's fine." Krillin seemed to hesitate but agreed, defeated with the stakes at hand. Goku was set up in the tank and the others were fitted in the battle armor provided by Vegeta for better protection against what remained. Krillin mentioned the elder namekian who surfaced their hidden power and suggested that he may be able to heal you as well. Though you were too weak to be moved and there was no guarantee that was an ability he had. Even being out in the open like that was risky with Frieza about. Krillin set out alone to check while Gohan went to stand guard, leaving you alone with your regrettably accepted ally and a healing Goku.

You managed to salvage what medical supplies you could and tried to balm and bandage yourself. Easing yourself into the only chair you started work on patching your swollen ankle. It burned like something was broken and hoped it looked worse than it actually was. No thanks to the stray energy blast you couldn't escape fast enough from. When you leaned over to inspect it, it felt like your eyes had crossed and the room spun in the opposite direction prompting you to sit back up, gathering your face in your hands with a soft whimper. You're not built for taking this kind of damage, it was a miracle for you to still be conscious after such an impact. Waiting for the ringing in your ears to subside, you took a deep breath and changed course, starting with your arm when the pair of white boots appeared in front of you.

You look to acknowledge the Saiyan Prince, seeing his mouth move and the words muffled in your ears as your head started to tilt over. He catches your head in both his hands making you look directly at him. It was hard for your eyes to stay focused on him, but you catch the wrinkle in his brow grow. Vegeta grumbles a few annoyed words to himself, pushing your chair closer to the wall so he could prop your head against it. Carefully guiding your head, he checks both your ears for signs of bleeding and then your nose. Lucky for you there was none, but he picked up on your dazed state watching you try to mend yourself and found the display pitiable. Second, of course, to his fellow saiyan currently in the recovery tank behind him.

"You earthlings have no idea what you've wandered into." Vegeta muttered contemptuously. What an earth woman of your power level was doing on the battlefield was the least of his concerns, but it had to be pointed out how stupid that was. Not that you caught his initial comment about your injuries to consciously respond. You and your fellows couldn't have picked a better time to come to this planet, he could do away with all his trifles in one place as soon as he gets his wish on the dragon balls. But unfortunately, he would have to rely on you all in one way or another until then.

You drifted in and out as Vegeta took over your patch-up, sharply snapping his gloved fingers in your face or, more harshly, pressing on painful spots to keep you alert so he knows you're not dying on him. Were you able to retreat from him you would. Despite what help he has been so far, it didn't compare to the damage he and his ally caused back on Earth and you're sure here on Namek too. But such thoughts carried a petty weight and it wouldn't save any of you now. Even for someone like him to take the time to help keep you alive, you managed to hold onto your consciousness a little longer. Annoyed, but alive to have that luxury.

"Thank you." You murmured genuinely through your daze, Vegeta lifting his eyes from his working hands to meet your gaze for only a moment. He sneered in response as he continued to work.

"I wouldn't thank me just yet, you know. This could be a complete waste of my time if your friends don't show up soon." He hints with a callous tone, a hard demeanor to maintain with such careful hands, and the white tips of his gloves smeared with blood from cleaning your wounds. But he is his nature, expecting a modest response to your gratitude was asking for much and you both knew you didn't have the energy to remark in kind. Doing this would also spare him the headache of the others fussing over your dead body if he just lets you die.

"For someone who worked for this Frieza person, you're a lot better than the others."

"Oh really, and what's that supposed to mean?"

What did you mean? Given the circumstances, Vegeta was more palatable than the rest of Frieza's henchmen you've encountered, for sure. The lesser of two evils, and all that. But maybe "better" was not the word you intended. Considering you've only known of his actions on Earth compared to his unprompted decision to help you was a little jarring, he was not what you expected. Your thoughts were all over your mind about it and body filled with too much pain to care about it too much. You give a weak shrug. "I guess... I dunno..." You want to fall asleep so badly. A tight pull on your bandages makes you wince, The Saiyan Prince chuckling to himself.

The last one to patch was up your sleeve, a wound the fabric wouldn't allow him to get to simply pushing it back. Moving through his efforts, Vegeta reached for the zipper of your flight suit and started to pull it down without a thought. Only when the sight of your revealed cleavage meets his gaze that he realizes what he's done and quickly zips you back up. You reopen your eyes and turn your gaze toward him, even your delayed reaction caught the sight of his wide eyes and flushing cheeks before he turned away from you.

Oh. So even the high and mighty Prince of Saiyans wasn't immune to an immodest moment. Honestly, if he had perverted intentions you wouldn't have noticed any in your state but a reaction that big couldn't be anything less of an innocent mistake. Still, to fluster the ruthless Vegeta with just the sight of your breasts hugged in your bra? It put a smile on your face, a soft giggle from behind your lips as you turn away with a light shade of flush in your own cheeks.

"W-What's so funny? I am patching your wounds, is all!" Vegeta quickly refutes any uncouth intent your mind may have conjured about him. His cheeks still glowing, but his scowl was certainly more feral. "Don't go implying any indecent behaviors from me or I'll leave you to struggle on your own, woman!"

"...(Y/n)." You corrected after laughing a little longer.

"What?"

"My name is (Y/n). Vegeta." He only grumped in response. You slightly adjust your posture and reach to undo your own zipper, Vegeta cautiously averting his gaze as you pulled it down just above your cleavage. The smothered sound of bubbles coming from the recovery tank reminds you that you are not alone, reeling in the temptation to fluster the Prince again. You were careful to remove your arm from your suit, then sunk back into your relaxed position.

"Did... Frieza tell you to come and kill our friends so he can have the dragon balls?" Your thoughts filtered out of your mouth without realizing it. Too late to take it back.

To your surprise, your freed arm is lifted back into his hands and you get a concise answer, "No."

"Oh...Then w-why you want'em?" You dared to ask feeling the frail hold on consciousness starts to slip away again. The cold touch of cleaning solution against your skin stops and Vegeta abruptly snatches his hands back.

"What's it to you?" He challenged. "I get my wish for immortality and the likes of you and even Frieza won't matter anymore. We're not going to be allies forever."

"Hmm...But you saw my boobs.." Thinking out loud again.

"I-!" Vegeta's face reddened in a mix of embarrassment and his own hot temper. He growled, then huffed weighing out his options. If he kills you now he loses all hope of getting his wish before Frieza. Instead, he stands up with a clenched fist and starts to pace back and forth. Your eyes follow him as much as you could before you were drifting off again. Vegeta lets you this time, restoring peace to himself. He stops in front of Goku's healing tank who appeared to be resting as well.

I'm taking back my birthright, Vegeta reflected. His destiny, so close to becoming tangible in his hands.

With another huff, somewhat calmer, Vegeta turns back to you. He approaches and flicks your nose to wake you back up. You blink a few times, vision struggling to focus on the Saiyan Prince and his familiar frown.

"What a pest. Don't go dying before your bald friend and the kid return." He warned, swiping up a needled syringe from the salvaged supplies and a small vile for pain management he found in his pacing.

"It's okay, Vege'... I won' leave you... If you're afraid..." You answered wearily, cracking a small smile. "Goku'll...save us when he arrives here." Vegeta rolls his eyes and filled the syringe with the liquid, promptly sticking it in your arm to give you a dose for your pain. A brief discomfort that like his bedside manners managed to recall your lucidity. Your other hand gently squeezed his wrist after he removed the needle, eyes seeming to wander before rolling into the back of your head as the nagging pains already started to dim. You let out a content moan, fingers slipping away from him as he moved to cast away the needle. He's really not so bad.

"Hey, I-If you're really...on our side for now...don't get my friends killed."

The Prince scoffed in response. A look of worry rose in your visage. You tilted your head in his direction. "Please... don't kill my friends."

You begged him, mercy asked of him before and denied for the thrill of slaughter. What made this any different when his destiny was on the line—What is one human's plea compared to the Namekians he took care of without hesitation or all those before who dropped dead at his feet? Your eyes softened on him, even heavy from exhaustion there was a twinkle in them that didn't go unnoticed. Drawing his focus into your gaze. "Please.."

Vegeta was unresponsive, staring over you from the gentle quiver of your pouted lips back up to your eyes. An anxious sensation ran through his chest, emptied it of its wholeness, and filled it with a bump of his heart warming the cage around it. Your hand reached for him again and his eyes appeared to widen as he impulsively withdrew from your reach, sneered at himself for doing so, and sharply turned away to hide his face from your eyes. He can't say why he retreated like that but somehow felt ridiculous for his unusual jumpiness.

"Stupid woman. They'll live as long as I need them to. You can imagine what happens after that." You blink slowly watching his backside, then close your eyes as the healing tank machinery and its bubbles filled the silence. A content hum vibrates behind your returned smile.

"You can buy me dinner."

[bluetorchsky]

Happy Father’s Day, lemme tell y’all about Accordion’s dad, Lucifer Arc, in my own AU, Deities and Dragons (DAD!AU)

Tw: Mentions of Abuse

I don’t have much to say about Violin’s dad aside from him being a transphobic, alcoholic asshole, with previous ties to some criminal gangs. Lucifer, on the other hand, was a quiet and timid man growing up. He was fine with inheriting the family business, Arc. Co (specializing in building and repairing bridges), and pretty much went along with what people told him to do.

He did learn how to assert himself later on, especially after meeting his future wife, Vivian. They both hit it off pretty well during their last few years in university. They married after graduating and started working together in the family business. Everything went smoothly at first. The business was booming, Lucifer was getting the hang of his new healing powers that appeared during their honeymoon, Vivian shared her secret of the hidden gem business she and her family had, and they both had their only child, Oliver Arc.

However, things started to change after Oliver was born. Vivian’s personality started to change, with her wanting more profit for the bridge and gem businesses, and Lucifer was experiencing blackouts and gaps in his memory. Eventually, Vivian told him that every time he came to from his blackouts, he seemed to be a different person each time. After some visits to a doctor, they concluded that Lucifer had DID, and had two distinct personas signified by his eye colour changing: Yellow for a more daredevil side, and blue for a cunning, dark side.

Lucifer still tried to run the business and be the face of the company, but he was deemed unfit to run the place because of his DID and after some debate, the control of the company was handed over to Vivian. He tried to reason with her but it was then he saw the woman he once knew turn into someone he truly feared: a tyrannical corporate owner hellbent on making herself richer. And if she had to beat him to get that goal, she would do so. This was around the time Oliver turned ten years old and he would not face her wrath until he became thirteen and endured the same abuse his dad faced for the next six years of his life.

Vivian was equally cruel to both Oliver and Lucifer, especially when she would beat her son at night for not following her orders, or failing any of his tests. When she beat Oliver, Lucifer refused to hurt his son but she made him heal his wounds so she could beat him all over again. The one time he refused, she laughed at him before stabbing him in the chest for his defiance. Oliver begged his mother to save his father, on the condition that he marries whichever person she chooses.

It was basically a living Hell for the two of them, but Lucifer did everything in his power to make sure his son was safe and happy, going as far as to help his son sneak out at night to see Trent, to keeping him away from his mother on special days like his birthday. Lucifer knew his son resented him for not being able to do more to stop his wife from abusing them, but he had no support from his family, who refused to see the abuse, and for his DID, as he struggled to understand and live with it.

Until Lucifer met Dr. Clara, who sensed his injures and the mental struggle he was going through. This would be around the time Oliver turned seventeen and was planning on leaving the city alongside Trent, who had enough of his own abusive parents degrading and ignoring him, while praising his younger siblings.

Dr. Clara would help guide Lucifer with his DID and other mental illnesses, and he was starting to find the courage to become assertive once more. This all came to a head when Oliver and Trent left with the help of Lucifer, once they were both nineteen. Vivian was erratic, blaming Lucifer for pushing away their son and accusing him of cheating on her with another woman (implying she had people spy on him while he was with Dr. Clara and her team). However, Lucifer was ready to fight back against Vivian, but not physically. With help from Dr. Clara, Justin Woods (Trent’s boxing instructor and former Wall employee), Wiles Merit (Parody of Miles Edgeworth, defense attorney and private detective), and Jerry Allwork ( @capturecharlesau ; A young businessman who took Lucifer’s side after learning of Vivian’s changed behaviour), Lucifer was able to get enough evidence to put Vivian behind bars. Specifically at The Wall, where Dmitri Petrov was more than happy to take in the corrupted businesswoman.

But in present day of the timeline, Vivian never made it to the Wall. She managed to escape during the ride to The Wall with help from her siblings, and planned to get revenge on Lucifer before trying to track down Oliver and drag him back to the business, one way or another. However, when she infiltrated the Arc Mansion and attempted to kill Lucifer, the mansion was suddenly covered in blue crystals, caused by the power of the Austrian Sapphire.

While Lucifer managed to escape but Vivian would meet her fate, caught and mutilated by the crystal, Lucifer would be knocked out and kidnapped by an unknown group of people, the same ones who unleashed the Austrian Sapphire’s powers, alongside some other gems across parts of Europe. Where he is now is a mystery and his location would be revealed once the Toppat Station reaches space, and some other events happen.

—————

That’s all I have for him for now. I would love to try and do something else for Accordion and Violin, especially as being new dads to Aurelia and Florence, but I realized I never did talk about Accordion’s dad that much, especially since he is important to my AU in some ways. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.