#leg injury i believe it gets taken off which is fun because that could have some awesome foreshadowing

[takamimami]

Hello! Congratulations on the followers!

Since you're open, my request is a Luffy x F!Reader with the fluff prompt "Is everything okay?" "I just missed you". I was thinking they spent the day apart, exploring a new island with different members of the crew, and when they meet again later, Luffy gets clingy because he had fun, but missed her.

I hope that's okay. Congrats once more, your writing is amazing ^-^

Ahhhh, thank you for being my first submission!! I am so happy to have gotten a Luffy submission first, I want to get more comfortable writing for him :3 thank you for the love, and I hope you enjoy!!

Luffy x F!Reader - SFW - "Is everything okay?" "I just missed you." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: Fluff, Zoro got lost, Luffy missed you, Use of Y/N --- word count; 1.3k

Your legs ached as you scaled the gangway back up onto the deck of the Sunny, and you could already feel the blisters forming on the bottoms of your feet. The day had started as normal as any other, with you and Robin sitting together and enjoying a cup of coffee while she browsed the newspaper she’d snagged in town after docking. The rest of the crew was still fast asleep, and you and Robin began to grow restless waiting for the rest of them to wake up. 

“I say we head into town and do some sightseeing before the boys wake up and just want to eat the place dry,” she giggles, to which you nod and begin making your way off the ship. Just before you two can clear the gangway, you hear a deep voice call out for you, flipping your head around to see Zoro watching you two curiously. He insisted on accompanying the two of you, which you didn’t argue about, and now thinking back on it, you wished you had insisted that he stayed back.

“I can’t believe you made us walk all the way to the opposite end of the island to look for you,” you groan, flopping down into the chair and kicking off your shoes as Zoro looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t make you do anything,” he chuckles, raising his hands and putting them behind his head nonchalantly, “I would have found my way back to the ship one way or another.”

You pick up one of your shoes and fling it at Zoro, who dodges it without even opening his eyes. Robin just giggles at your bickering, and the commotion has the remainder of your crew funneling out from below the deck to see what is happening.

“Oh, hey guys!” Usopp greets you warmly, he and Chopper running down the stairs and in your direction. 

“Luffy, they’re back!” Nami calls behind her as she stands near the helm, and a short time later your captain comes flying over the railing, stretching his arms with his devil fruit to pull himself to your body and wrap you in a koala hug. 

“Y/N!” Luffy calls out as he flies through the air, and you note that his usual accompanying giggle is missing, making you quirk an eyebrow at him as he latches on to you.

You don’t have time to question him, however, because the hug he envelopes you in is nearly bone-crushing. 

“Hi,” you grunt, struggling to keep a smile due to the pressure of the hug and the added strain to your legs now that you were supporting both of you. He notices your wince and lets go of you momentarily, eyes tracing over you to inspect you for injury.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You offer him a reassuring look, nodding your head in the direction of Zoro, who has now taken up his usual spot underneath the crow’s nest, “I’m fine, my legs are just sore from scouring the whole island in search of your navigationally challenged vice-captain.”

Your face falls when Luffy doesn’t even crack a smile at your jab, his lips remaining slightly down-turned as he inches closer to you.

Sanji’s voice cuts you off before you can ask if he’s alright, immediately pulling Luffy’s attention as he announces that dinner is ready. 

You all huddle around together on deck as Sanji brings out the food, and before you can even look around for a spot to sit Luffy tugs you down into his lap, holding your waist tightly as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You smile contently as you feel his fingers slip under your shirt, seeking the warmth of your skin as he rubs the soft skin of your stomach. The whole time you two eat he holds you in his lap, and you relax into his embrace as everyone recounts their day. 

You rarely spend a full day away from Luffy, so when Usopp begins telling everyone about their adventures of the day, you are once again confused by his lack of emotion or reaction. 

“Luffy! Tell everyone about the giant fish we saw on the pier!”

You take a bite of your food, expecting to hear Luffy’s emphatic voice begin to talk, but instead, you hear nothing but silence. Looking around at everyone, you notice they are all staring just past you, eyeing Luffy and waiting for him to speak.

You follow suit, turning to look over your shoulder, only to find Luffy staring blankly at you, not even remotely aware of his surroundings or the conversation that was transpiring.

“Earth to Luffy” Usopp presses, waving his hands to grab his attention. Luffy maintains his gaze on you for a moment longer, before snapping out of it with a confused “huh?”.

“Tell them about the giant fish we saw!”

“Huh? What fish?”

Everyone quickly loses interest in Usopp’s story as he starts recounting the encounter with a massive fish, and you look over your shoulder wearily to observe Luffy again. You can’t help but notice how distracted and distant he is acting, usually being the main one to entertain Usopp’s dramatic stories.

You decide not to press it at the moment, allowing everyone to finish eating and slowly drift off into their nighttime routines before pulling Luffy’s hand and leading him to the figurehead of the Sunny. You knew this was one of his favorite spots to sit, and you were relieved to see a small smile curl onto his lips as you two curled up together and stared out at the sea, the setting sun on the horizon casting shades of orange and pink along the sky.

“Hey, Luffy,” you hum, leaning your head back to look up at him from where you sat in his lap. You notice a twinkle in his eye as he meets your gaze, his neck craning down to look at you. “Is everything okay?” He furrows his brow in genuine confusion, and before he can ask for clarification you continue, “You seemed… distant earlier. I just want to make sure you’re alright, or if something is bothering you?”

You can see the wheels start turning in his head as he ponders your words, lifting his gaze to look back out to the ocean for a few heartbeats before looking back down at you, flashing his signature contagious smile.

“Oh, yeah, I just missed you, that’s all,” he giggles - the sound a soothing balm to your worrying mind as he leans down and tickles the tip of your nose with his. “I was bummed you were gone by the time I woke up, and I thought that maybe Usopp and I would run into you while we were exploring. So then when we didn’t, I kinda just came back to the ship and waited for you to get back.”

Your shoulders relax with his admission, and he giggles a few more times as you lean up further and place a feather-light kiss on his nose. “I missed you too, Luff,” you giggle back, snuggling further into his lap as a wave crashes against the side of the Sunny. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He grins as he lifts his head back up, another wave rocking the boat as you feel the chill of the evening air settling in. You yawn, feeling goosebumps prickle on your skin as the sea breeze sends a shiver through your body. 

“C’mon, Y/N,” Luffy croons, helping you to your feet as he leads you back down to the deck, “Don’t need you getting sick on me.”

You smile sleepily as you walk the deck, Luffy’s arm securely around you as he feels your tired legs struggling to keep you upright. He bids the rest of the crew a good night before lifting you up into his arms, your face nuzzling into his neck as he carries you below deck. In no time the two of you are snuggled under the blanket in the captain’s quarters, Luffy’s fingers tracing gentle circles in the small of your back as he listens to the sound of your breathing slow down. He pulls back from you to gaze upon your face fondly, savoring the last few minutes of your presence before sleep overtakes him.

Supernova Captains event is open until 10/11! Submit a request here :3

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[imwintr]

cold

pairing | corky x reader

prompt | “it’s a camping trip, and one character’s forgotten their sleeping bag” by scealaiscoite wc 1406.

Deciding to join the vandals on their Dayton run picnic was a last minute decision. Having never spent a substantial amount of time with any of them other than seeing a couple of them over your neighbor Kathy’s home in passing, it would be fair to say that you were skeptical about attending. Though Kathy’s husband Benny seemed friendly enough, no amount of friendliness would be enough to convince you that hanging out with a motorcycle club that had been recently accused of arson was a good idea. 

The only reason you even initially even considered the idea was because although you and Kathy had been neighbors for well over a few years, you hadn’t become friends until recently when she stopped by asking to borrow some sugar. She confided in you about Benny’s injuries and the whole Lakeside ordeal, so you decided to attend on behalf of her “moral support”. It wasn’t like you had much of anything else to do in the coming days regardless, having already taken several days off from work. 

Since you weren’t staying for the entire duration of the run–and obviously didn’t own a motorcycle–you settled on staying for two nights before heading back on the road. Already not being the biggest fan of camping in general, you attempted to shove down the ensuing dread that was bubbling in your stomach to no avail. That feeling only intensified when you actually arrived on the grounds and saw the copious amount of people that were already there. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to locate Kathy, who quickly introduced you to some of the other wives and girlfriends who had rode in with their partners. She furthermore introduced you to the Vandals’ leader and founder Johnny Davis, who you were initially wary of because of what you learned beforehand, but meeting Betty made you believe he still had to have some decency left under all of that bravado. Afterwards, you started getting approached by some of the members themselves despite Kathy’s attempt to swat the majority of them away–especially one Vandal in particular.  

This wouldn’t actually be your first time meeting Corky, though all of your other interactions were in passing with only a few words spoken. He asked you to remind him of your name before taking a seat next to you, causing Kathy to roll her eyes before resuming her conversation with Gail. Knowing that a good bulk of the guys in the club were bums who had no foreseeable future other than risking their lives riding motorbikes, you could understand why she was trying to steer you away from getting involved with any of them (not to mention the present circumstances she was dealing with in her own marriage). 

“Enjoying yourself?” he questioned, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had begun to slide down. You had to admit it, you found him pretty attractive, although you would never admit that out loud, nor would you willingly allow yourself to develop any feelings for him. He was probably just humoring you or trying to be cordial since it was technically your first time at one of their events. Little did you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I guess so, is this what you guys call fun?” you attempted to joke, which he thankfully seemed to pick on and gave you a laugh in return. Someone else decided to sit down on the other end of the bench, causing him to scooch over to where your legs and arms were brushing up against each other. Surprising yourself, you didn’t immediately move away from the contact. That awful feeling of dread you initially held when you arrived was long gone, replaced with an odd giddiness that made it difficult to keep a smile off of your face or keep yourself from laughing at each dumb joke he made. 

Never having been the type to hastily fall in love or believe in something as ludicrous as love at first sight, this was entirely foreign to you–and made your current behavior borderline unrecognizable to anyone that knew you beforehand. It wasn’t like you were constantly irritable or anything of that nature, but it wasn’t uncommon to see you donning an unamused expression when someone attempted a romantic advance. If someone were to tell you a week ago that you would be practically cuddled up next to a member of the Vandals a week later, you would have asked if they were feeling alright. As the day went on, you spent the rest of your time witnessing some of the club members’ absurd antics and listening to the girls conversate about what was going on in their relationships. 

By nightfall, groups had begun to break out and settle around individual campfires before turning in to go to bed. It was only then when you noticed how cold it had gotten with the sun having gone down, leading you to venture out to your car to retrieve a blanket. Noticing your return, Corky gave you a teasing smile before he asked “Still enjoying yourself?”. Rolling your eyes, you took the seat he had saved you between Wahoo and himself, and nodded before pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Are you cold?” He questioned, his smile fading and his eyebrows raising in concern. 

“A little bit.” you admitted sheepishly, suddenly feeling foolish for not packing better and being more prepared for the weather. “But I’ll be alright–” you were cut off mid sentence when you felt him gently grab your elbow so your arms and legs were touching just like before. 

“Better?” 

“I guess.” responding with a shrug, you giggled when he rolled his eyes in response, mirroring your actions from earlier. Around a couple of hours later, you guess he had gotten tired because he eventually decided to lay down on the log and propped up his leg behind you. You did your best to ignore Kathy’s playfully judgemental stare but it was kind of challenging when you were practically sitting in between Corky’s legs (which are quite long by the way). 

By the time everyone had decided that they were turning in for bed, you had really begun regretting your decision to just sleep in your car instead of bringing sleeping bags like everyone else and sleeping closer to the campfire. You weren’t looking forward to the cold leather in the backseat of your car, especially after sitting next to a human body heater and a campfire for several hours. Once you bid Kathy goodnight, you began walking out past everyone rolling out their sleeping bags to your car that was about 30 feet away. Hearing someone softly call out your name, you whipped your head around to see a familiar face removing his sleeping bag from his bike. 

“Where you going?”

“I didn’t bring a sleeping bag so I’m just gonna sleep in my car.” Saying that out loud caused you to cringe internally. Why didn’t you just bring a sleeping bag to a camping trip? 

“You’re gonna freeze, just take mine.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Apparently your back and forth was getting bothersome because someone from a nearby sleeping bag hissed for you to quiet down and go to sleep. 

“We can just share it.” He suggested before picking a spot to roll it out for the night. Despite not wanting to cause anymore of a commotion than you already had, you were still milling over whether or not to just share the sleeping bag with him or just head back to your car–but you made the decision to stay. If it was anyone else you would have been overwhelmed and anxious–but to your own bewilderment the man who was beckoning you to lay down next to him, whose legs were comically too long for the sleeping bag he owned–did no such thing. 

Squeezing in next to him you were immediately met with an arm snaking its way around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Rolling onto his back he left the arm around your shoulder and placed the other one behind his head, leaving you enough room to rest your head on his chest. There was no nagging feeling deep inside telling you to get up and run away, instead–you felt oddly at peace. 

Maybe hanging out with the Vandals for a few days wouldn’t be so bad.

[cyberexo]

FANTASTIC BYUN | A Byun Baekhyun Series

“You were supposed to die!”

warning: this series contains cursing, mentions & includes violence, detailed injury, and death.

GUIDE POST

word count: 1.2K

FANTASTIC BYUN | ONE

"So you're still in transition?" all three of you gazed at the newest edition to your group, Bonnie, Bennett had found her on campus ground doubled over from a pain she was feeling in her wrists, so he'd offered her a little help and brought her to meet the rest of you who were once just like her.

Why any of you were the way you were is unknown, you weren't born into it, it just sort of happened- there was a pattern where before becoming "superhuman" a traumatic event had taken place before, which makes sense however, non of you could figure out exactly what went down in your personal lives before this. It was as if the transition had wiped your memory clean of its cause.

Bennet had been the first, then you, Ben, and now Bonnie, it wasn't hard to come across one another, you all attended the same university, all lived on campus, it wasn't friendly at first; no one wanted to be taken advantage of; understandably, but the more time you spent around each other you were bound to become more trusting and open.

And that's how it's been for the past two years, explorative, fun, and the thrill was worth waking up for. Swinging around campus & the city at night with no care in the world- it was peaceful. Bennett had also scheduled random practice days in case any of you were to ever be in danger- a simulation to teach you what to do as well as what not to do.

Ben had joked around about going around the city and stopping crime- but this wasn't a spider-man movie, you were nothing in comparison to the arachnid icon but it would be a lie to say that it wasn't tempting. Still the risk wasn’t worth the reward in your eyes.

"I mean- I still can't do what you all can do so I must be," one hand holding onto her wrist to ease the burning pain you've all powered through before- it hurt like hell. "Well you've got us now, and it's best to not talk about it with other people who aren't.. us- you don't want people outing you or for word to go around about you being crazy," "Yeah- I was called a marvel moron for six months all because of a simple slip up so be careful," You added.

It was easy being this way in this generation, no one would actually take you seriously; the name calling was the most any of you got.

People don't buy a word you say until you physically did something what would lead them into believing you. It would probably be amusing to see the looks on their faces for a little while but of course it had its consequences- such as loose lips & social media, from one person to the next to a couple thousand and all of a sudden you're being mobbed by people you don't even know.

You had to approach people with caution.

Especially on a bad day, a bad day being; having wrist spasms, you can't hold anything without shaking or you'd shoot a web without meaning to- when you're experiencing a bad day it is best to stay in your dorm and away from classmates and from each other, sudden jolts in your joints that can cause a drastic change in whatever physical form you were taking, one second you're sat in your chair and the next your cross legged on the ceiling- you wouldn't even know where to start an explanation for that to anybody. Let alone a class of over 200 students who's first response was to probably record it all.

"How long does it take till the pain goes away?" she asked, "Depends, for me it was only a couple of days- oh and don't take any painkillers, it does nothing." Bennett advised, you & Ben nodding in agreement- "For me it took around half a year, it won't hurt 24/7 it'll get better with time. You need to concentrate on your mentality and ability to get the webs going, the more you release the less it'll hurt & soon enough you won't even feel it,” you added, offering her a reassuring smile that she wasn’t on her own, which she reciprocated.

This intervention made you wonder if you were going to keep coming across more people like yourself, you hoped not- thankfully all of you seemed to be good people who didn't abuse their powers to inflict harm on others, however, there is no guarantee that the next will be the same.

And about that you were right.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Baekhyun who was many miles away from your group sat at his desk moping instead of studying for his upcoming final exam in architecture, he couldn’t think of anything more boring, but if he wanted to lead a seemingly normal and unsuspecting life- he needs to do what needs to be done.

Previous to his transition he was a outgoing, sensitive and down to earth earthling- and that all didn’t come crumbling down right after, he was excited and uncontainable at first, didn’t do anything that would cause harm to himself or anybody around him, it was fun- really fun, and like every other good thing, it had an end.

His excitable persona faded, the feeling of being special and feeling like somebody who was above average significance went with it- nothing in particular triggered the mood swing, at least nothing that he could remember, which of course nagged at him, he wanted to know where it all started to go wrong but he couldn’t figure it out- frustrating and angering him further, telling himself he must’ve just gotten “bored” to suffice the itch to know.

The acts of terror started off simple, easily disguised as a friendly prank or something that he didn’t intent for to go so far in case of any extreme reactions he’d get from friends- whom he’s now lost, or strangers he found interesting enough to meddle with. Unfortunately that all grew old for him quite quickly.

Quickly moving onto business that was non of his, messing with people he shouldn’t be messing with- as well as putting his hands on items he had no business fiddling with or taking. After a couple of fights and wrapping several groups of men to a single lamppost he decided he wanted to chase after the adrenaline by doing something bigger- something worse.

And there was no stopping him.

There was nobody around that was like him, to his knowledge at least, no one with a sliver of resemblance, nothing ever good comes from not being around people who are like you- sure, it’s good to surround yourself with different people every now and again but the feeling of utter loneliness engulfing your existence was unavoidable, especially for a man like Baekhyun.

He had wished there was someone around to share this power he carried, his mind however would dismiss the thought as soon as he’d have it- his being feeling threatened by nobody but the thoughts occurring in his own mind, the weigh of his own internal negativity blurring the scenes of what it would truly be like if he were to come across a person as himself.

No one should ever come close to Baekhyun, or as he likes to call himself; Fantastic Byun.

[cilil]

A ⭐ for New Alliances | New Companions

and this part:

Melkor regarded him in silence, as if he was waiting for him to say something. Mairon met his eyes, then suddenly lunged forward to sink his teeth into the side of his neck, right where it met his shoulder above his clavicle. There was a grunt of pain, muscles tensing underneath and then warm, fresh blood filled his mouth.  He was elated. Melkor was standing still, letting him do this, not even attempting to push him off; but most importantly, he was bleeding for him. By Mairon's hand, a god had become just a little more mortal, and he loved it. 

from your fic for this year's Angbangweek's Injuries & Haste

Very interested in further insight into Mairon's emotions, thoughts and motivations behind this. <3

Thanks for the ask!

As for the first one, I would like to highlight two corresponding passages describing Oromë's appearance because I've been wanting to share some thoughts on him for a while now (second under the cut, we're getting into some spicy territory):

Oromë lay down on his side as if the grass was a large, comfortable bed and waved his hand to make the pieces of precious fur he had worn disappear. He had barely been clothed before, but now his shameless nudity entranced both Hunters. Blood-red and deep green runes had been painted on his fána, glowing and pulsing with a fey light as if ichor ran through them, and bone-white hair framed his ancient, beautiful face. 

Kneeling as well, Tyelkormo took hold of Oromë's strong thighs to part them, and his lord acquiesced without resistance. What he found, however, surprised him; he had expected to be met with a phallus worthy of a Vala, yet now he beheld the soft mound of a vulva, covered in soft, white curls.  His mouth watered. While he could only guess why Oromë had made his fána this way, it was a most delightful surprise.

Now, I probably don't have to explain to you guys (many of you being fellow writers) that I very deliberately tied Oromë's colors into his domain and hunting thematic - though I must say I'm a little proud of that. :)

I wanted to conceptualize Oromë a little differently from what I believe many people would instinctively associate with your "stereotypical hunter guy", I like to see him as more of a mercurial being with some chaotic-but-friendly pagan god vibes. In the Silmarillion, we get the impression that Oromë is quite scary when he gets angry, which leads me to believe that it must be a stark contrast to how he normally behaves, so I made him... kind of chill. He's less loud and more "polite" than Tulkas, exhibiting the kind of grace you'd see in a majestic wild stag standing in a forest clearing and looking at you with those deep dark eyes.

Oromë is an apex predator, but a refined one, and he's skilled in the more subtle forms of hunting as well which you may have seen at the end of the story in question.

Now to address the question I'm sure some have been wondering about: Why does Oromë have a vagina (the Oromëgina, as @i-did-not-mean-to and I have taken to calling it)?

As for the in-universe explanation: It's simply convenient for him. His wife loves it, it's practical for horseback riding, it removes an obvious weak spot from his fána. As a hunter, the shapes he takes are but another hunting tool that he needs to use to his advantage.

As for the meta explanation: I wanted to surprise both Celegorm and the readers and use the Ainur in general to celebrate body diversity. Oromë is a "manly man" kind of character, somebody everyone would be expecting to have a huge cock - and please don't fret, that is fun to write too and I will probably do so at some point - so it seemed like a nice subversion of expectations. Just like gender is part of our identity and our bodies don't dictate who we are, the Ainur take whichever forms they please without changing who they are. Oromë remains the "patron saint" of the proud and mighty-horse lords regardless of what he has between his legs.

~

As for the second passage, let's dive deeper into Mairon's fucked up little head (affectionately).

So his first reaction to seeing Melkor bleed was concern, because they both know very well what it means that he can now be hurt. You may or may not see hints of Melkor being just overall confused, as well as worried that Mairon might now think less of him. He is wrong, of course.

Aside from concern, there are two things that drive Mairon. The first is his lust for power. He has always been proud and ambitious, not quite willing to regard himself as inferior to the Valar, and Melkor has only encouraged his beliefs and fanned the flames of his pride, even going so far as to say he should have been a Vala. Mairon immediately becomes transfixed by the idea of exerting power over a Vala by doing something that should be impossible for him/was previously impossible. Yes, he is ruthless enough to have such thoughts about his own partner; the same ruthlessness Melkor also encouraged and nurtured.

The second is his morbid curiosity, going so deep that it's almost like an animalistic instinct. Mairon is a creator and inventor, he wants to learn and understand how things and beings work and will examine them from the inside and the outside. He will disassemble you like a ballpoint pen if you let him. And Melkor is of course no exception, rather he is a subject of particular interest because he's not only a Vala, but also a rather... peculiar being. Mairon wants to find out what this divine, formerly indestructible fána is made of and how it works, every little detail about it. He wants to (quite literally) sink his claws into the soil of the one territory that thus far remained forbidden and inaccessible to him.

And aside from all of that, Mairon is also testing Melkor in a way. He wants to see how far he can go, how much he trusts him, knowing full well that Melkor would, under normal circumstances, never let another Ainu just attack him and draw blood. Melkor's possessiveness of him has emboldened Mairon to behave in a similar manner, taking what he wants whenever he wants it.

He may or may not eat him.

[lalaboy]

🗡😋 for Helene please

Silly hc and badass for, ahem, My wife (yknow i say that a lot but i do wonder if anyone gets 'the reference') also imagine this is all like... au, rewritten.. i Still haven't finished wap

I think she burns Pierre's house down! hashtag girlboss!/s Now that could count as either funny or badass, i'll go with badass. I like to imagine his mansion (whatever it is) as a vessel for a lot of things with it changing depending on who we're seeing the perspective of (inspired by movie, The House, go watch it Now) Helene seeing it with architecture similar to a bird cage, lifelessly beautiful statues everywhere, no exits, no love only cold marble. And after a final confrontation between her and Pierre (dave you missed the opportunity for a Helene & Pierre so bad) she manages the impossible task of burning the manor of stone To The Ground. Symbolism for how she challenges what's considered unthinkable in there society, destroying what held her and so many other people captive to made up expectations, allowing new foundations and real warmth to grow. Then she just fuckin' dips! She fucks off to Poland, and rolling into the silly hc

I imagine she's the real reason Anatoles married to that polish girl! Her and that girl are in love baby! She sends her letters in Anatoles name all secretive though there obviously written by her. I think Anatole despite not being into the girl, is definetly annoyed by it (his poor masculinity, Sad Face /j) and uses it as leverage against her which isn't funny but considering in My end She gets to happily run off to Poland to her lover while he dies of like Dysentery in War or Whatever/j is very funny.

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (Finale)

Summary: The ghosts may have left, but the wedding they officiated is not something to be easily forgotten. Will unsaid feelings remain hidden? Idia thinks so, after seeing you with your admirers. 

Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

After that 3-star difficulty sidequest, it was finally time for the ghosts to leave. They were filing out through a shimmering silver portal to the Land of the Dead, which you joked about jumping into “for the meme”. Idia was quick to discourage it. The joke would’ve been funny at any other time than right now. 

Each ghost made sure to give the newlyweds their congratulations. Each congratulation made Idia want to take off into the night, never to be seen again. It was beyond embarrassing. Unbearable. Way past his limit of social interaction capability. Things were getting way too much to handle for his now-empty Energy bar. 

While Idia longed for the comfort and isolation of his dorm room, you were the one who thanked the well-wishers and said the goodbyes—from a safe distance, of course. 

“When we return, I want you to meet our baby!” Eliza announced before she stepped into the portal. You and Idia shared a look. As if reading each other’s minds, you checked your schoolmates’ faces for their reactions—which did not disappoint. Different ways of saying “Don’t come back!” filled the hall, in varying degrees of anger and vulgarity. Before she disappeared for good, Eliza huffed and stuck her nose up in the air—an expression that tonight’s failed suitors knew all too well. 

At her departure, the portal shrunk into a mere speck until it completely disappeared. Then came the loudest cheers of the night serving as Victory fanfare. It was all over! But before he went, Idia hoped to say goodbye and take a look at you in your suit one last time. Or maybe even ask you to hang out tomorrow, depending on his current Courage level. 

While he silently rehearsed his thank-yous and good-byes, he wondered if you knew that you were still holding his hand. He decided not to mention it. 

Unfortunately, his brief moment of (weak) celebration was cut short when he noticed that the now-mobile Groom Rejects were approaching. They might as well have red bars floating over their heads to warn him of danger. He froze, contemplating whether to: 

> Bear it and stay with you just until he was prepared to say goodbye (+10 relationship points -20 comfort LV)

> Just run off on his own without saying anything, ignoring your calls. (-10 relationship points +10 comfort LV)

For now, he decided to stick with Option 1. Just a little bit longer. 

“That was amazing!” Deuce exclaimed, rushing over to give you a high-five. You laughed and  met other high-fives, low-fives, fist bumps, and head pats that came your way with that lovely smile of yours. 

Suddenly, Ace rips you away from him. Suddenly, you weren’t holding hands anymore. The loud first-year put his arm around you and Idia couldn’t help but notice how easy and natural it looked. Meanwhile, there he was: someone who needed to rehearse his goodbyes. 

Clearly, there was a huge level difference here and Idia was the one disadvantaged. 

“Our hero!” Ace yelled, inspiring more cheers. The distance between you and Idia grew as your wave of admirers and friends swept you farther and farther away. He was an outsider once again, stuck watching the fun from the sidelines. Their eyes sparkled. Their mouths smiled. Their loud voices laughed and praised you and laughed with you again. 

They loved you. And Idia was no different. 

Everyone’s Friend and the Weird Shut-in. Was there hope?

“Brother, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Ortho’s voice cut through his stream of thoughts. Immediately, he feels the weight on his shoulders lighten. 

He watched as his brother, his beacon of hope, made his way around your fan club until he eventually reached his spot. Ortho wouldn’t care if he looked like a loser, standing there awkwardly at the side all alone. Finally, he was saved. 

My savior! “Ortho! Thank you, thank you…” 

“No injuries… tense muscles… an increase in cortisol production,” Ortho muttered, frowning. “Are you okay?” 

“No…” 

Ortho nods. “We’ll return to the dorm, then. But before that, we should thank the Prefect.”

“Oh… right.” Idia looked over to you, still surrounded by your “fans” like the SSR character you were. You listened to Azul, who prattled on and on about something that was oh-so-interesting that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. And Vil judged your suit’s design, reaching out to fix something near your neck. You cracked up at something Floyd said. You posed and smiled beside Cater as he took a selfie with you. 

His mind raced as it continuously spotted the students on his list and everything they did. What was so interesting about Azul? What was so funny about Floyd? Did you like Vil’s hardworking, confident attitude? Did you think Cater had a way with words? 

He looked away. 

“Ortho, I’m going back to my room,” he said with a heavy heart, admitting Defeat. He was underleveled, had zero energy, and zero SP (social points). He’ll see you… some other time. After his cry-sesh, maybe. 

“Huh? Don’t you want to talk to the Prefect first?” 

“I’ll just… DM them later,” he lied. In truth, all he wanted was to drown himself in a video game while he gorged on candy and tried not to think about you. Ortho’s eyes narrowed, but followed him as he sneakily left the hall anyway. 

You’d understand, right?

Once he and Ortho were out, he looked back at the hall doors, hating himself for being too shy and cowardly to make a move. He imagined charging back into the room, wedging himself in between your friends, grabbing your arm, and pulling you away. Then he’ll kabedon you and—

Who was he kidding? He can’t do that, and you probably wouldn’t like that. 

“It was terrible, brother. Nobody wanted to help!” Ortho said, and Idia thinks he didn’t need to be reminded that nobody liked him. 

“When the Prefect and I reached Diasomnia, we expected them to reject us too…” he mused. “But Malleus Draconia agreed to help us! Can you believe it?”

“Wait… Malleus-shi?” 

Ortho nodded enthusiastically. “Yes… because the Prefect talked to him… and then he cast a charm on them to help us ward off those ghosts! It was really nice of him.”

“I see…” Idia knew that you and Malleus were friends. But to actually help you and him? Maybe your relationship with the Diasomnia dorm leader ran deeper than he thought. Why else would he go through that trouble? 

“The Prefect volunteered without needing to be asked, you know,” said Ortho, who he now noticed was observing him carefully. Idia tried to ignore the way his brother’s eyes lingered on him as they walked (floated in Ortho’s case). 

“...I’m so glad their plan worked!”

Wait, what?

“Volunteered? Their plan?” All this time, he thought you’d been forced to do this by the Headmaster! You did always rant about Crowley promising you different sorts of rewards if you did jobs here and there. But… you got yourself into this mess… all for him? 

Idia looked at the hand you held just moments ago and dared not hope again. Maybe you would have done this for anyone else in his place. Maybe you treated everyone the same, and it just so happened that he was the one kidnapped by a ghost bride. 

Still, he felt bad for not doing as Ortho said earlier. It was too late to turn back, however, as Idia and Ortho finally reached the Hall of Mirrors. 

“Finally… I’m so tired,” said Idia, meaning it in all ways. But as he put one leg forward to enter the door to Ignihyde, he heard someone’s voice, along with the scuffle of shoes against the floor coming closer and closer to where he and Ortho stood. 

“Idia, wait up!”

Oh no. It’s you. Enter now! Enter now!

But no matter what his head told him to do, he remained rooted to his spot. He stood still despite his pounding heart, that elevator-like feeling in his stomach, and the blaring alarms in his head. 

Object of affection at 5m…

Ortho was probably seeing his vitals going haywire and giving him that look again. He turned to look at his brother… only to not find him there. 

Help… oh no…

2m… 

“Hey,” you gasped out, catching your breath. “When I turned around, you were gone…”

Yeah, same. Just like Ortho… 

No one said a word for a while. The silence was only filled by your heavy breathing as it slowly evened. Inwardly facepalming at himself, he decided to take the chance to tell you everything he should’ve said before he left. 

But before he could open his mouth and apologize for leaving, (gods know he had too many things to apologize for after tonight), he was taken into a warm embrace. 

OHMYGODSOHMYGODSOHMYGODSOKAYLET’SCALMDOWN

“I thought I was too late.” you mumbled into his suit. 

At that moment, without anyone else around, nothing else mattered but the safety of your arms. And damn, how good it felt to be embraced. Did anyone else get these hugs from you? Idia didn’t think so. He hesitantly lifted his arms up and hugged back. 

Looking up at the domed castle ceiling, he wondered what he did to deserve something this good. 

It’s okay. I can have this. He allows himself to melt into your arms, head drooping down to rest against your neck. 

“G-good thing you weren’t,” he finally whispered back, freezing as he heard you sob against his chest. Oh no, oh no, what do you do when your love interest is crying? Quick, quick, pull up the archive of romantic scenes from your memory. 

“Hey, hey, I-I’m okay, you see?” he said, patting your back awkwardly. You let go after releasing another sob to wipe your eyes with your sleeve. 

“Sorry I got your suit wet,” you said softly, turning your face away. “I’m really, really sorry about what happened there too.”

“About what?”

“The whole wedding thing...” You took a quick look at him but immediately dropped your gaze to the ground. 

Idia blushed. “I-It’s okay! D-don’t worry about it… I-” 

Come on, say more! Ugh… I hate myself. 

You pulled at our vest and slipped something out of it—an envelope. “I… wanted to tell you everything through a letter.”

Tell me what?

“But… Eliza came and took you before I could give it to you.” You avoided his eyes as your fingers tightened around the white envelope. Idia’s breath hitched, expecting you to crumple it. But to his relief, your fingers relaxed. Then, as if it took all your courage, you handed it to him with a slightly shaky hand. 

“It's old-fashioned, I know but yeah... just read it!” 

In the hall’s silence, he could hear your breaths quicken once again. 

“Th-That’s all I came here for. Goodbye!” 

Before he knew it, you were running off. Your arm waved frantically from a distance as every step carried you farther, farther away. He lifted his arm to wave back but you never saw it. You were gone and all he had left was the letter. 

His curiosity made him impatient. With fast and purposeful steps, he sprinted on the way to his room. What did he feel? Excitement? Dread? An unpleasant mix of both? His room, feeling farther than usual, was the only safe place he could experience whatever it was.

After a lot of walking and almost slipping over someone’s spilled soda (he cursed the shoes those ghosts made him wear. His very own would never fail him like that), he found himself in front of the doors, which slid open, revealing Ortho already inside. 

“You left me there!” Idia huffed. 

“Couples need alone time, brother,” replied his brother, innocently blinking.

“Wh-wha… we’re not a couple!” 

“Hmm? I could’ve sworn the signs were all there...”

A blushing Idia threw off the silly coat those ghosts made him wear and threw it over his desk chair. He sat on the bed, fingers racing to open the envelope. Ortho watched with great interest as two sheets of paper covered in your handwriting slipped out.  

Unfolding the first page, Idia took a deep breath and began reading:

Hey Player 1!

Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight last night. Maybe you can show me your new manga tomorrow? I know how excited you are about it.  I’m writing this while Grim’s asleep. He’ll never let me hear the end of it otherwise. 

I figured that this would be the best way to communicate my thoughts and feelings. This way, you won’t feel pressured to respond immediately. You can open and read it whenever you’re ready, in the safety of your room. I know it’s old-fashioned. But to me, a handwritten letter feels more personal—like I’m giving you a piece of myself. So here’s that piece of myself. Please, handle it with care. 

Beware. I’m about to get sentimental and mushy and cheesy and everything you cringe at! I hope you read on, anyway. 

First of all, I want you to know how much I admire you. Right from before we were friends, I was impressed by your intelligence and knowledge with technology. I’ve seen nothing like it back home. I always wondered why you hide yourself and those talents away. My curiosity drove me to want to get to know you. I’m glad I did. 

You were closed off. To you, I was just another normie. Do you remember? Your dismissal annoyed me, so I challenged you to a 1v1 match. I thought I was good, but you crushed me. I guess that’s where it started: our friendship… and something else. Soon, I found more and more reasons to admire you. Honestly, I find more with each passing day. 

I should have known, right from when songs started to make me think of you, that I was falling. I started to see you as, well, more than a friend. Your quick mind, your expressive hair, your soothing voice, your precious grin… your voice when you talk about things you love, your love of cats, and your candy, and your cold hands… Okay, I think you get the point.  But if you have time, I could go on forever. 

There’s something different in your eyes when you truly care. You say you’re bad at being sentimental and feel-y, but that’s okay! We express love differently. I see your love pour out in the way you perfect every detail on Ortho’s modifications, anyway. I’m sure he knows how much you love him. 

I want you to know how special you are to me. You’re so amazing, Idia. I wish you knew that. I want you to know that. 

I know it’s hopeless. You’re the young master to a noble house. I’m just… me. A homeless, magicless foreigner with nothing to my name. Nothing to offer but my feelings (and my superb gaming skills of course). I’m not asking nor expecting to be your special someone. But hey, I can be a top-tier teammate. A worthwhile BG opponent. A movie buddy. And most importantly—a friend. 

Our time together has always been a highlight of my difficult stay in NRC. The times we hung out in your room were my refuge from the outside world’s demands. Somewhere I was untouchable and safe from harm. Safe from demeaning remarks. Even if you never get back to this letter and decide you never want to see me again, I will always treasure the matches we played, the movies we watched, the candy we shared, and the memes we laughed over.

That’s all of it, really. Please don’t sleep too late. Watch your sugar intake. Listen to Ortho. Take care of yourself. 

Oh, and enjoy your new manga. 

Your best raid teammate, 

Player 2

Wide amber yellow eyes glistened as they repeatedly flitted over the words. A shaky thumb caressed the smudged ink from where a fallen teardrop marked the paper. Burning different shades at once, fire-hair slowly released itself from the tie it was forced into. Now free, it swathed Idia’s back in warmth like it should.

“Th-This can’t be real!” he sputters as he waved your letter around like he was fanning a bonfire. In a way, he was. 

However, Idia knew his hair wasn’t the only thing that kept him warm. He stared at the letter and it stared back. But no matter how many times he blinked, the words remained the same. You felt the same. 

“What have I done to unlock this route?” Idia clutched the letter to his chest, but noticed he was wrinkling it. “Nooo!” He quickly smoothed it over again. 

“They… they like-like me!” Saying it out loud made it more real. It was a fact! It was true all this time! Thinking of everything you did tonight: rescuing him like a true hero, running after him because you couldn’t keep your feelings secret for much longer… he couldn’t stop himself from swooning. 

“Like-like… did you mean love?”

“L-love?” Idia exclaimed. He suddenly felt dizzy, so he fell back onto his bed and talked to the ceiling. “It’s too early for that word!” 

But he knew the effect which that word had on him didn’t go unnoticed by Ortho. Well, at least he knew now that Idia wasn’t suffering from an illness. Can love be considered an illness? Idia recalls a documentary that said it was. Back then, he ate that up. Love made people do crazy things, after all. 

But ‘illness’ wasn’t an apt word to describe this dizzying happiness surging through him, was it? It was way too wonderful for a word like that.

“I’m so glad the Prefect finally confessed!” Ortho bounced happily, reflecting his brother’s joy. “I knew they would do it soon!” 

Mouth hanging open, Idia looked at his brother. “Wait… you knew?”

“I’ve known for a while,” Ortho giggled. “Vitals can’t keep secrets!” 

***

Contrary to plan, Idia didn’t touch his video games, nor gorge on candy, nor cry himself to sleep. Instead, he replayed the night’s events in his head over and over like a song he couldn’t get enough of. It had been two hours and thirty-five minutes since he read your letter. Two hours and thirty-five minutes since his world was turned upside down. In his reflection on the dark screen of his off tablet, he almost looked different. He saw someone who was admired. Wanted. Loved. 

Was that what you saw whenever you looked at him?

Ortho told him what the next move was: asking you out. He was scared. You might have changed his view of himself a bit, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly ready to go the distance and conquer the world, or whatever those overenthusiastic extroverts say. The night was still too much, and maybe he still needed those three weeks of being a complete hermit. 

Okay. Maybe with your help, I'll get there little by little. 

Perhaps you could watch a movie in his room... Would you be okay with that? You always hung out with him in there. But what if you wanted to do something outside? Eh, maybe it all didn’t matter, as long as you were together. 

When he put on his headphones, he knew which song to choose right away. There was one forgotten song in his music library that he couldn’t bring himself to delete. A love song. It wasn’t a bad one, because Idia would never keep a bad song in his music library. It’s just that the lyrics  were too happy—its singer so blissfully in love that it amplified the loneliness that had always been there.

Now playing: “Immortal Flowers” — SERPINA

This time, it’ll be different. Tonight, he puts it on repeat. He listens to it with a head for once clear of uncertainties. Instead, he thinks of fluffy otome scenarios. 

That date idea would have to wait. For now, he’ll imagine and dream of you, with your warm smile and open arms—skin basking in the glow of blue fire light. 

THE END. 

~

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

There you have it! Thank you for reading. I had fun writing this 4-part series. Would love to hear some feedback! 

Btw, the title of the song Idia listens to at the end comes from “Conversations with Persephone” by Nikita Gill. “What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” 

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

Whumptober No. 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But...

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Summary: Nothing could’ve prepared Geralt for Jaskier being brought to Kaer Morhen, nor for the sight of the bandages on his injured hands. Despite what happened on that mountain, Geralt wants to know who did this - who took away something so integral to the core of Julian Alfred Pankratz. But he doesn’t get the answer he thought he would.

Words: 2k

A/N: DAY THREE LET’S GOOO! And after two and a half months, I’ve finally gotten another witcher fic out! It feels good! I missed writing for this fandom so much (and it’ll help me ease back into Spider’s Thread), and this was SUCH a fun prompt fill for today. This was inspired by some of That Jaskier Content from the latest s2 trailer, and it’s... implications about the state of his hands. I hope you enjoy!

[CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Torture Aftermath, Hand Injury]

--

Nothing could have prepared Geralt for this.

No, there was nothing in this world - not even a miracle - that could’ve prepared Geralt for the moment he sensed a portal - one of Yen’s portals - outside the keep.

For the moment he ran out to a balcony and saw her there, having somehow - despite everything he believed, everything he thought he knew for certain - having survived the Battle of Sodden Hill; for the moment he’d lay eyes on a very much alive Yennefer… with a bard’s arm drawn over her shoulder to support him.

His hair was longer now, down to his jaw, and a burgundy leather jacket - adorned with ribs and folds just like that red doublet he wore as he looked down at him on that mountain, heart shattered - lay in tatters on him, bandaged hands peeking out of it’s sleeves…

He didn’t look the same - Gods knew he didn’t look the same - but Geralt still recognized Jaskier.

He was shuffled into one of the many, many spare rooms almost immediately, and Geralt tried talking to Yennefer. Of course, she’d been tense with him, but that was alright. At least she was alive to be tense with him. He’d take that over a particular alternative any day.

Speaking of tense...

The keep had never felt so cold as right now, when Geralt of Rivia stood in the doorway of Jaskier’s impromptu room. Here, the bard sat in an old chair, in front of a desk he did not look like he’d use to write on anytime soon. No, he looked at the wood slab despondently, not even seeming to notice Geralt.

So, he spoke up, speaking to Jaskier, his companion of twenty years, for the first time since that mountain.

“Jaskier… you’re here.”

Jaskier didn’t look at him, but he did speak.

“Wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know where else to go, and even if I did, Yennefer insisted - didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere else. Can you believe that? Yennefer of Vengerberg has a soft spot for me. The end of days may very well be upon us.”

His voice was hoarse. Geralt knew it must have been from screaming. His eyes drew down to Jaskier’s hands, where patches of horrendous blue and gods-damned purple peeked out from slivers of space between the bandages that showed his open skin.

“Your hands…”

“Oh, these old things?” Jaskier looked down at them,  “Well, Yenny did her best, but they still hurt like a bitch to play with. I won’t bestow new ballads on the world for a while yet. Sorry if you expected me to sing your praises…”

But his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t do that even if his hands were as good as they were that day in Posada, or in Cintra, or on that mountain…

Geralt pursed his lips, trying to hold back his question. He didn’t deserve to know, he knew that, but he had to…

“...Who did this to you?” he spat out.

Jaskier lifted his gaze to meet the Witcher’s, and he laughed. It wasn’t like before - like the sunrise in the spring, like the bloom of buttercups, like love and joy and all the things he came to equate with Jaskier’s laughter, however unconscious, unadmitted these comparisons were. No, it was an empty, sardonic, quietly angry thing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“And for what?” he asked, “So you can tear some fucker to shreds for laying a hand on me? Because you think I’m still your naive companion that would swoon at the thought of you exacting revenge on him for my sake? So you can make some grand gesture of brutality?”

“I’m not the one of us enamored with grand gestures.”

Jaskier tilted his head back and huffed. The shift in his movement made his hair move a bit, and Geralt realized he missed that little swoop - the little… floof, even - of hair that went down his forehead before, when his hair had been shorter.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said “us” about me and you.” Jaskier remarked, “Twenty years, and you acknowledge that I was something to you. Not sure what, but something.”

“You were…” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened as if he remembered something, “Oh! Right! I remember - a shitshoveler. The catalyst for all your plights, something life would bless you by taking off your hands.”

Guilt sliced into Geralt like a kikimora’s claws.

“Looks like life heard “taking” and “hands” and went straight to me…” Jaskier huffed with the ghost of amusement with himself, looking down at his hands.

“Of course you can still joke.”

Jaskier shrugged, “Not much else to do. They took my lute, and my ability to play it, but they haven’t taken my wit.”

He crossed his legs.

“The funny thing is…” he said, staring down at the cracks in the table in front of him, “There was a little bit there where, if you’d apologized, I would’ve forgiven you. But… there wasn’t a trace of you to speak of after that hunt. Nowhere I went. Not that I went looking.”

“I didn’t have time to look for you, either.” Geralt said, “I was with Ciri.”

Jaskier snapped his gaze up.

“Oh, come now, Witcher.” he said with venom Geralt only ever knew from bigoted villagers that Jaskier had tried to change the minds of with his songs before, “Does your prolonged lifespan render you timeblind, or has your head been so far up your ass for so long that you can’t even properly tell time anymore?”

“I-”

“Two years, Geralt.” he said, “A blink of an eye for you, maybe, but that’s how long it was between that damned dragon hunt and the fall of Cintra. Two years you could have found me, before Cintra fell, before-”

He snapped his jaw shut.

“Before who?”

“No, Geralt!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table to help him stand up. It seemed that his anger stopped him from realizing how bad that would hurt, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Geralt tried to step forward, but it was like the ground between them was covered in hot coals, and Geralt’s feet couldn’t have been more bare.

Once the pain seemed to quell, Jaskier’s eyes opened, and he glowered at the Witcher.

“You don’t get to know. You don’t get to make that bastard beg for mercy and act like that fixes anything - as if it does anything but conflate your ego that is so, so massive despite how much you hate yourself. You don’t get to take revenge on my behalf. You don’t get to act like this,” he held up his hands, “is anything compared to what you did to my heart.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you DON’T GET TO SAY THAT NOW.” he screamed, killing Geralt’s words before it could leave his lips.

Geralt saw tears in his eyes as he huffed shaky breaths.

“You don’t get to say it like some off-hand statement, only brought up since it’s relevant.” he said with a wavering voice, “You don’t get to only say it now that I’m here, fallen right in your lap because Gods knew where else Yennefer could take me. And you don’t get to say it like it means anything now.”

“Now?”

Jaskier lowered his gaze.

“...I sort of figured you were embarrassed. That you were too scared to get your head out of your ass, like you are with a lot of things, but once you did, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“But I heard you went to Cintra. Heard you went to claim your child-surprise.”

“What does Cirilla have to do with this?” he asked.

“Who do you think he asked about with each bone he broke?” Jaskier asked, snapping his gaze back to Geralt, “You? If it were just you, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“That isn’t the point. When I heard that after twelve years of running from your claim, you hauled your arse to Cintra to protect her, I realized that you were always capable of going back to unfinished business, to scorned places of the past - you could always do it, if it was for the sake of something important enough to you.”

Jaskier lowered his gaze again, smiling sadly - smiling bitterly. It was an odd thing, a bitter smile, but Jaskier, like a fine doublet, wore it well.

“I just wasn’t.” he said, “I’m not your destiny, or your djinn-bound soulmate. I was just a bard.”

My bard. Geralt wanted so badly to say.

“What could I have said?”

Jaskier’s lower lip quivered as he looked at the Witcher near-dumbfounded, as if his incredulousness were a dagger that cut him deep. He leaned back against the table.

“You tell me.” he shrugged, “For those two years, I was still stupid enough that anything would have worked. Really, I wished some of my eloquence rubbed off on you, and I could’ve gotten a plea that, in a spur of irony, I was one of the few blessings life ever granted you, but anything that sounded remotely like an apology would have worked.”

He put his hands on his hips. Geralt could tell how hesitant he was.

“...At least, it would have made me think I was worth an apology in your eyes, and I was worth all the work it could have taken, tracking me down to say it.”

He rubbed a patch of cloth on his trousers with his thumb. Geralt didn’t miss how the corner of his lip twitched.

“At least, I could’ve known that what you said really was just a product of the heat of the moment, sprung forth by a misplaced attempt at levity, and there was no truth to it. I was so desperate that I would have taken anything if it meant I’d stop missing you.”

“You obviously stopped missing me eventually.” 

Jaskier threw his head back again, “Wrong again, Geralt.”

He stood up straight again and walked across the floor, which, to Geralt, was still littered with hot coals he couldn’t dare step over.

“Do you really think that the venom in your words - the spit from your lips - the fury in your eyes could clear you from my mind? From my heart?” he walked right up to Geralt, though the space between them felt like it was pushing the Witcher away from Jaskier like a magnet.

“Do you really think that anything but the Gods themselves could’ve made me stop missing you?”

Geralt couldn’t say anything. Hearing Jaskier’s words… it was like a vocal hex, like someone had sewn his very lips shut.

(Perhaps if he had done so himself before that day on the hunt, things wouldn’t have gone so bad…)

(No, no, he still would’ve found a way to ruin things. He was Geralt of Rivia, after all.)

Jaskier was only inches away from him now - a distance like something from a dream, after they’d been distant for so long… but even though this was the closest their bodies had ever been to one another, the Witcher knew that Jaskier’s mind - his heart - was as far away from Geralt as it could ever get.

Jaskier was the one to break eye contact - as if he was still terrified of giving the Witcher the chance to break anything - and he looked down to his feet.

“...If you want to know who broke my hands, Yennefer knows more than I.” he said, “She’s the one that found me, told me more of who he was. All I have is a name for a face.”

Geralt turned to leave. Jaskier grabbed his wrist.

The touch burned.

“But…”

Jaskier lifted his head and looked Geralt in the eye.

“...You want to know who did this to me? Who ruined me? Who broke me?”

Jaskier’s eyes bore into Geralt’s soul, the ice blue of his irises piercing him like shards.

“Go look back on that mountain.”

[flowercrown-bard]

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

--

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

[chilligyu]

info: wen junhui/reader, teen+, soulmate au genre: angst, romance | word ct: 2k warnings: descriptions of injuries, scars, blood, hospitals summary: forever was a powerful word, and it was the only word he could think of when he imagined his soulmate. someone who was just as powerful as she was terrifying. because forever was a powerful word, and it scared him to no end. author's note: please read! this soulmate au deals with soulmarks in the form of injuries. once someone turns 18 their body will be marked with their soulmates scars and they will acquire all of their future injuries (i know it's a little confusing, story explains it better). if talks of scars and blood make you uncomfortable, respectfully, this fic will not be your cup of tea. thank you all!

Forever. Never, in all of Junhui’s life, had he heard a more terrifying word. He hated the permanency of it, the idea of being stuck doing one thing, being with one person. The thought of it alone made his skin itch. He loved being able to get on a train and go absolutely anywhere, loved never being tied down, loved being free. Sometimes he didn’t even know where home was, where he’d be sleeping, and that’s when he was most happy. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to.

What scared him most, was what he was destined for, what forever truly meant for him. For years he was told how his life would change, how it would never be the same once he became an adult. And he believed them. No matter how much he hated it, he’d have to be delusional not to. Because he’d been watching it play out on his skin since he turned 18. He’d been watching his body pucker with scars, little nicks here and there, for the better part of four years. A thin line across the back of his hand, a surgical scar on his stomach, it was so nerve-wracking. Because he hadn’t been injured.

His soulmate had, and he was a first-hand witness.

That was the sad existence he was left with, the one he’d been running from for years. He lived in a world where everyone was covered in the injuries and scars of their soulmate. Your body wasn’t a canvas of your own life, it was the story of someone else’s. And God Junhui hated that more than anything. That his life wasn’t his own anymore and there was nothing he could do about it.

It all became real for him when he came home from school on his 18th birthday. He shouldered off his bag and was getting ready to shower when he saw the bright pink mark on his stomach. A little thing, only two inches in length, half an inch wide, almost completely negligible. At first, he was confused, then scared, and finally—mortified.

No. He said to himself as he inspected the scar. Please tell me this is a lie.

For years he stared at his own body, repulsed and confused by the injuries that kept cropping up. His friends would laugh at the little marks, claiming that his soulmate was a complete klutz. Still, he refused to acknowledge it. He didn’t care what sort of scar showed up on his body, he refused to care. He refused to think about the one person who was tied to his entire existence. No matter what they were going through. He didn’t care when the eight inch gash appeared on his arm, nor did he care when he saw the surgical scar sprawled across his knee. It was just skin, scar tissue and skin. It didn’t mean anything.

Or that’s what he tried to convince himself.

Sometimes, if the injury was bad enough, he would even feel the pain from it. One day he was walking to work, and suddenly he was struck by an intense migraine. The throbbing alone was enough to make him want to puke. The world was spinning, he could barely feel the ground underneath his feet when he caught his reflection in a store window. His eyebrow had split open, a single trickle of blood streaking his face.

What happened? He found himself wondering despite himself. Are they—are they okay?

Before that moment, he had never actually bled from one of his soulmate’s wounds. And it terrified him. He had only seen the injuries once they’d healed, meaning that the danger, and pain, was over. That little bead of blood meant—meant that this was real. That on the other side of his scars was a real person. He hated forever, he hated the word, hated the meaning, hated what he was forced to endure because fate had better plans for him.

But still, he couldn’t help but wonder. And that was harmless, right?

Going to the doctor after that was interesting, because he had to get a full body X-Ray to see what sort of damage his new body had endured. Standard protocol when you turned 18, he’d just been putting it off for as long as he could. Injuries from his soulmate's childhood were clear against the backlight, several broken bones from when they were young, or reckless, or both. Without realizing it, Junhui found himself smiling at the sight. It was sort of comforting, knowing that he’ll always have this part of someone else. That it’ll never leave him.

He gingerly touched each wound and tried to imagine the story behind them. There was this one right up his shin, very old, very faded, it reminded him of the one time he fell off his bike as a kid. Maybe he had something in common with his soulmate. Maybe they had a similar past. He had no idea, but it was fun to wonder.

For periods of time, Junhui wouldn’t accumulate any new marks, and he felt lonely. He pretended like he didn’t, he continued on as he usually did. A string of flings and drunken escapades kept him busy, but they just—they weren’t as fun anymore. Car rides with no destination, late nights underneath the stars, the things he loved most no longer held the same weight. He felt stupid, selfish, wishing for some sign of his soulmate. Because that meant that they’d have to get hurt for it to happen.

And then, he thought he lost them.

He was getting set up for a gig, plugging in his mic and laughing with the stagehands, when he felt his life flash before his eyes. Like he’d been crushed by a car. The pain was so excruciating, he was finding it hard to breathe. Collapsing to the floor, he could’ve sworn that he saw a bright light above him. Tears streaked his face, his stomach churned like the red sea—he thought he was dying. He had no idea what was going on, until—until he realized that he was fine. That his soulmate—that his soulmate might’ve—

Pulling up his shirt, he watched a deep gash form on his stomach and a deep bruise color his whole abdomen. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he instantly fell back to the ground. Looking at his arm, he noticed the swelling. He was being covered in bruises, several of his bones were broken, and he only had one thought on his mind.

I have to find them.

He managed to get to his feet, finding his right leg weaker than he remembered, and he practically sprinted out of the bar. Pulling out his phone, he started searching every news site he could think of, looking for any news of any sort of car crash. Of any sort of accident.

Every few minutes or so, he’d check to make sure that his scars were still there. That his soulmate hadn’t left him. Because that’s what everyone truly fears, and the one thing Junhui has grown to fear more than forever. When you slowly see your soulmate's scars clear up, when your skin is your own once more, it means one of two things.

Either you’ve found your soulmate, or your soulmate is dead.

Please stay alive. He found himself begging, finally catching word of a couple car accidents in the past day. He scrolled through them, scrolled through the pictures of victims, desperately trying to find them. Dozens of faces blurred past his vision, and he finally stopped at a picture of a young woman. A woman with a small scar on her chin, just like the cut Junhui got when he was a kid and banged his chin on a coffee table.

After years of denying her existence, he had finally found his soulmate. For a brief moment, he was caught in some sort of trance, completely awestruck by the person who was a permanent part of his life. She was beautiful, perfect, everything he had ever dreamed of and feared all at once. It broke his heart, knowing that it took her getting hit by a car for him to find her.

When he figured out which hospital she was taken to, he hailed a cab and paid him extra to get him there as fast as he could. As he rode, he read the article more thoroughly, reading about how she was hit by a drunk driver, how she was in critical condition, and how she was in a medically induced coma. He had to fight back tears, knowing that she might not make it.

Arriving at the hospital, he showed the front desk her picture, desperate to find her any way that he could. They confirmed that she was there, that she had just got out of surgery. They kept telling him that only family could see her, that he’d have to wait until she was out of the ICU, and a million other things that he didn’t give a damn about. He had to see her.

“She’s my soulmate.” He whispered, trying not to lose it. “Please, please, let me see her.”

Even though the nurses were conflicted, they eventually let him in. Thanking them quickly, he sprinted down the hall to her room, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. Not before she was even a part of his life. Not before he could even tell her how important she was to him. He hadn’t even met her yet, and yet if she died – then his life would be over.

He slowed down as he got closer, his heart beating in his ears. She was just a few doors down, she was so close, he could feel it deep down inside. As he stood outside her door, he tried to calm himself down, he inhaled and exhaled, attempting to stabilize the raging storm inside of him.

Mentally preparing for the worst he reached for the door handle, his entire arm shaking. He was fully aware that she wouldn’t even realize he was there, that she’d be lying catatonic in a hospital bed with tubes and wires hooked up to her. He didn’t care. It was still an important moment in his life. He was about to meet his soulmate for the first time.

Turning the handle, he felt his heart stop when he saw her. Even though the actual sight of her broke his heart, something he couldn’t explain started to stir inside of him. Like—like his entire existence led him to this point. And while that thought alone would’ve terrified him not too long ago, it now gave him a purpose to strive towards. He wouldn’t run from this.

He approached her carefully, pulling up a chair and sitting beside her. As he sat there, he watched as the little scars across his knuckles started to disappear, and saw them reappear on her. Unconsciously, he started to check on every single scar on his body, finding himself frowning as they vanished from his skin. He would’ve preferred to bare them, knowing that they wouldn’t mar her beautiful body. And he’d miss the proof that she was meant to be with him. Fate determined that they were meant to be together, and for the first time—he accepted that. Because he finally learned that alone was a far more terrifying word than forever.

“I don’t care how long it takes.” He whispered, taking her hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[tomtenadia]

In your arms

Rowaelin moth - Day 15 - Bad day

This is set in the Island Dreams AU.

This fic is basically three years after the wedding scene and somewhere before the epilogue which is 5 years later.

Aelin had a bad day at the hospital and Rowan looks after her.

Aelin loved her job. A lot. When she got offered the job of senior emergency surgeon she had been ecstatic, especially after the London drama. She had many years of experience in a big trauma centre in London and a hospital on the islands would never be any close to the madness of the capital. There were days though, when a smaller sized hospital showed just how difficult it could get.

That was one of those days. She and Malcolm had been running around the A&E non stop directing the show and supervising the treatments. They had victims of a car crash happened just outside Stornoway, two different patients airlifted from two different locations with sever injuries, and on top of that the usual influx of people. Her day had got even worse when a 3 years old girl was brought in after an extreme allergic reaction to something she ate. According to the mother’s tale she had started having trouble breathing very quickly after the ingestion of the food. By the time the girl was brought in she had already been without oxygen for too long. Her heart had stopped beating soon after. Aelin had stood near the mother and tried to comfort the woman who had gone in shock herself at the sudden loss of her daughter.

Once free again she had rushed to the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach. Then sat on the bathroom floor and cried. It did not help that she was pregnant and hormonal. The girl’s death had hit her badly.

Her two girls, Freyja and Morrigan were the same age as the girl she had lost. The idea of losing them was so painful that would just send her into a full panic attack.

And now she and Rowan had decided to give it a go and add another member to their family. After months of trying they were finally successful and they now had a boy on his way.

Slowly she made her way back into her office and plopped heavily in her chair, her head in her hands while tears still run down her cheeks.

She picked up her mobile and phoned the one person who could help her.

Rowan picked up immediately.

“Missing your husband this much?” His voice cheery, but her chest tightened and more sobs broke through.

“Aelin, are you okay?” He asked her when he heard her sobbing over the phone.

“I just…” her voice broken “I just lost a three year old girl.”

Rowan was silent for a moment probably looking at the twins who she knew were at the bookshop with him.

“How?”

Aelin sobbed once more “anaphylactic shock.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice.”

A moment later she heard a girl’s voice and realised that Freyja had rushed to Rowan and now wanted to talk to her mum.

Aelin spoke to her daughter for a bit until she stated that she had to go back slaying the dragon.

“How have they been?”

Rowan chuckled “Morrigan has been playing quietly on the mat and coloured a couple of pages of her book.” He sighed “Freyja in the meantime has slain three dragons, saved a prince in distress, went on a quest to find the perfect marker and now is helping me tidy the books in the history section. If she sits down for five minutes I call it a success.” 

A small chuckle left Aelin. Their daughters were identical physically, but they were complete opposite when it came to behaviour. Morrigan was like Rowan, calm and quiet. Freyja was a hurricane. Constantly moving and full of energy.

“You could have left them with my mum.”

“Ach, mo chridhe, you know I love having them in the shop. I had a busy day and Freyja just loves to charm the customer with her babbling.”

After a moment of silence Rowan spoke again “how are you two?”

Aelin’s hand went to her stomach “baby and I are fine. The nausea today is not too bad.”

“You need to take it easy.”

Aelin huffed “I worked when I was pregnant with the twins, surely I can manage with just one tenant.”

“I know, but remember what Yrene said.”

“Tha.” She replied. She had been taking Gaelic lessons for a while now, especially because they had decided to raise their daughters to be bilingual, so Aelin had been putting effort in it. But her progress had been slower than she expected and she was still very shy in showing off her language skills.

In that moment her pager went off and she groaned. It was definitely one of those days “Ro, I need to go. Give a kiss to the girls.”

“Will do.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, fireheart.”

She hung up and ran outside, ready for more drama and a shift that didn’t seem to end. Malcolm met her halfway “Accident in a farm. Crush injuries and chemical burns.”

“This day just gets better and better,” she grabbed the protective gown he passed and while walking to the the A&E she donned the gear.

***

It was later than expected when she did manage to leave the hospital. It really had been the day from hell and all she wanted to do was curl on the sofa in Rowan’s arms while watching the twins play.

She stepped in the house and was quite taken aback by the silence. Their house was never quiet.

“Rowan?” She called, while dumping her messenger bag at the entrance and shedding shoes and jacket “Ro?”

He appeared a moment later with a towel around his waist and Aelin blamed the hormones because in that moment all she wanted to do was to jump him, but with the girls around that was a treat that would have to wait.

“Taking showers without me?” Seeing him in front of her, washed away the tension and the stress of a horrible day.

Rowan opened his arms for her and Aelin crashed in his embrace, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

“Where are the girls?”

“With your mum.” He explained “I thought that after the bad day you had, you could do with some peace and quiet and some care from your husband.” He took her hand and walked upstairs to their bathroom. He opened the door and Aelin gasped. The lights were off but there were candles all around the tub, which in turn was filled with bubbles and foam and Aelin could smell her favourite bath salts.

“I just thought you and I could relax…”

Aelin threw her arms around his neck and kissed him “you really are the man of my dreams.”

He kissed her back and then his hands started to rover along her body “but first… we need to get you out of these clothes…” he whispered and turned her so that her back was against his chest. Slowly he removed her shirt and then the trousers, his hand caressing her bump that had started to show. He then unclasped her bra and soon after her knickers were gone too. Aelin turned in his arms and begged for a kiss he did not deny her.

“You are stunning.” He said softly while his lips teased her neck.

Aelin in response snorted “I will be a stranded whale again, some of the weight I gained from the twins never left me and I have horrible stretch marks. Seriously, you need glasses.”

Rowan’s kiss deepened and her legs went weak. After three years of marriage he still had that power over her.

“You are gorgeous. And those marks are proof of the amazing job you did to bring our girls into the world. They don’t bother me.” 

She seemed to believe him and hugged against his chest “sorry,” a small sob broke from her lips “It was such a horrible shift today.”

“Shhh…” Rowan took her hand “nothing a bath with your husband won’t solve.”

Rowan slowly climbed in the big tub and then took her hand for her to follow him.

She sat against his chest, water lapping against her skin. She dunked her head under the water and then leaned it against his shoulder. Rowan grabbed some shampoo and slowly started massaging her scalp.

“This is perfect,” she moaned and Rowan kissed her neck, while his hand trailed down her arms in gentle caresses “just relax in my arms, I am here for you. Let me take care of you.”

Aelin closed her eyes and let the feel of him wash away the dreadful day she had. The pain, the anguish and the fears.

“Thank you for always being at my side. For being my rock.”

Rowan gently kissed her head “when I married you I promised I would be at your side in difficult times…” his hands covered her bump “You are my everything and making sure that you are fine after a dreadful shift goes under my job of husband.”

Her head turned slightly and kissed the length of his neck.

“At our wedding I also promised chocolate cake and, after we finish our bath, I have it ready for you.”

“Good,” she whispered while turning and straddling him. When they fixed up the house they got a bathtub large enough that would allow them to have some fun in it.

“Aelin…” his warning tone. She knew he was not keen on them having sex while she was pregnant, no matter how many times Yrene had told them it was okay.

“I thought you said you’d do anything to make me happy…” her hands slipped under the water and gripped him “your wife is asking you to help her forget.”

At those words he caved because knowing she was okay and happy was all he cared about.

And slowly, in her husband’s arms Aelin forgot about death and pain and only felt his love… healing.

In his arms, love pushed away all the pain.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus part 4

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue     Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3

“I will grant them handsome features and beguiling voices,” the maiden whispered, her own voice dripping with honey “that all who great them will be blessed from the meeting.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work!” Remus grinned smugly when Romulus was deposited back in in their room, their nanny shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Urghh.” Romulus whined as he hurled himself face first onto Remus’ bed, making his giggling brother bounce from the impact. “But it should have! It always does in the stories!”

What was the point of having a twin, Romulus wondered if they couldn’t even switch places to get him out of boring geography lessons?

Remus poked him until Romulus rolled over onto his side to pout at his brother.

“It’s because I’m better lookin’ than you.” Remus told him cheerfully.

Romulus thwacked him with a pillow. “We’re identical!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Remus grabbed a second pillow from the floor, “I’m still the cute one!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are to – oof!”

The pillow fight soon descended into a wrestling match, their shrieks and giggles echoing through the bed chamber.

Eventually they ran out of breath and Remus flopped back down on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. Romulus collapsed on the floor amongst the fallen pillows, batted Remus’ foot away from his face and gazed up at the family portrait hanging above their fire place.

They were identical. The artist had taken care to draw the crown prince a little bigger than his brother, closer to the forefront of the picture, but even so; their hair, eyes, nose - everything was the same.

Romulus glanced up at his brother, who was currently digging snot out his nose with every sign of enjoyment. Romulus gagged. They were not the same -Remus was gross!  

Except.

Everyone said what a handsome young man Remus was growing up to be. How brightly his eyes sparkled.  How confidently he held himself, even as a child. They never said that stuff about Romulus.

Remus shone, even when he was being gross.

“Your voice is better.” Remus said suddenly, snapping Romulus out of his sulk.

“What?”

“Your voice.” The older twin lent over the bed, staring his brother in the eye “It’s nicer than mine, ‘specially when you sing.” Romulus beamed, showing off his gap toothed smile. Their parents had hired teachers to drill both boys on the lute and harpsicord, but Romulus’ talent for singing was all him.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Remus smiled back at him. He’d lost a baby tooth that week too – one of his canines, giving him lopsided fangs. “And you’re way better at crying.”

“What! Well – your feet are stinker!”

“You’re worse at pranks!”

“Well you’re worse at fencing!”

“But l I’m the best at tickling!” declared Remus and leapt from the bed, pinning Romulus with his knee whilst his fingers attacked his brothers armpits.  The younger prince’s peals of laughter and cries for mercy were so loud nanny came rushing back to check on them, finding the future rulers of Notaleveale wrapped around each other on the floor, covered in dust and wearing matching smiles.

“I will grant them strength and creativity.” The mother smiled, she had a thousand eyes and all of them twinkled under the halls many candles “so that their rule will never be questioned.”

“Lord Venchi?”  Romulus asked.

The royal treasurer, normally one of the more composed members of his father council, was pacing the entrance hall alone, what little hair he had left sticking up in all directions as he tugged at it.

“Oh, Your Highness!” The he gasped when he caught sight of Romulus, “oh thank goodness! He-“

Romulus sighed. “What has my brother done now?”

Romulus had spent the morning on a rare visit into town, missing the days council meeting. It was completely unfair -  Romulus attended meetings almost daily, under Julius supervision, as part of his training to one day take over managing whichever aspect of the kingdom bored the future King Remus the most. They were mind numbingly dull sessions and it was only Julius’ steady glare that kept Romulus’ eyes open and his face attentive.

But today, visitors from the far south were attending. Which meant the session might actually be interesting. Which meant Remus got to go, and Romulus was immediately barred from entry. Instead, his father had asked him to represent the family at the ceremonial graduation of the latest batch of city watch recruits. So, instead of hearing tales from beyond the kingdoms borders, he had spent most of the day on a podium waving dispassionately at a crowd of braying onlookers.

It was always daunting, being around so many common folk. They lacked the decorum of the nobles at court. Whilst most seemed content to gape and sigh at him from a distance, there was always one who would shout out ‘my prince, look at me!’, ‘come here!’, ‘kiss my baby!’

Even with his fathers voice ringing in his ears – “no matter what you hear, stay by your guards side until you are back in the palace.” – Romulus had spent the day tense and unhappy, pinpricks of pain dancing in his skull. By the time he was allowed to speak he had quite forgotten his prepared speech and been forced to make up a quick poem on the spot. The crowd had seemed happy enough – the watch captain had tears in his eyes - but he knew neither Julius or his parents would be happy with his improvising once his guards had reported in.

He had hoped to get a few hours alone before the inevitable lecture, and were it anyone else he might have tried to sneak by without getting pulled into whatever chaos Remus had caused.

But Venchi was an old ally, one who had served his father wisely for years and who always took the time to compliment Romulus on his few measured contributions to the councils discussions, or to explain carefully any point he had missed.

He had also seen Remus at council. There shouldn’t have been anything left that the older prince could do to shock him to this extent.

“He-“ the old man looked like he couldn’t quite believe his own words, “He flipped the table.”

Romulus stared at him. The council table was ancient and enormous, made of a stone so old it’s real name has been lost. Moving it was impossible, the palace had practically been built around it.

“The Arkazeii  ambassador is being seen by a healer.” Venchi continued, “but I believe his foot Is broken, I-“

The side door behind them slammed open suddenly, crashing into the wall with enough force to make the hanging portraits shake. “I said.” Remus roared, a snarl on his handsome face, “Leave me alone!”

His voice was so forceful Romulus found he had taken three steps towards the main door before he stopped himself, face flushing. The order hadn’t been meant for him. Julius, who had clearly been chasing after the young crown prince, was now openly glaring down at Remus, two spots of colour high on his cheeks.

“Your highness I must insist-“

“Seriously?” Remus cackled, “You’re insisting?  Juju, honestly, I am not interested in what you have to say.” He barred his teeth at the King’s advisor, eyes wild,  “If my father wants me he can come get me himself but if not you can go and -oh.”

“Hello Remus.” Romulus sighed, giving the shortest bow he could get away with, “I hear your meeting went well.”

Remus eyes narrowed “Hello Romy, have fun getting your butt kissed in town?” he slug his arm around his brother’s neck, adopting a high pitched, sing song tone in apparent impression of the townsfolk “Oh Prince Romulus, you’re sooo clever and handsome and perfect. Won’t you pretty please sign an autograph and let me suck your di-“

“Your highness, please!” Venchi looked disgusted “There is no need for vulgarity.”

“Aww hey Vee! Wow, your hair is really going, you know the balder you get the more you look like my ballsack? Romy – I’m serious, picture him with two heads”  he held up his thumbs and index fingers and positioned them in front of the red-faced treasurer like a frame “I can’t be the only one that sees this.”

“You are.” Romulus snapped, shrugging his brothers arm off of his shoulders, “Did you really break the Arkazeii ambassadors foot?”

“The Arkazeii ambassador deserved it.” Remus snarled, good humour vanishing instantly. “They want to dig up Orenlla till it’s hollow. Use the rock to turn their sky black. Have you heard the stories outta that place? All the chickens are dying, ’s a travesty.”

“The chickens are- what? Just. Whatever. Not liking his trade ideas doesn’t mean you can hurt him!”

Remus eyes were always sparkling. Like a man on the brink of madness. “I can do whatever I want little brother.” He grinned at him with too many teeth, “you should try it sometime.”

“Your sons have all the makings of rulersss” the final fae smiled, her one golden eye glinting in the depth of her cloak. “My gift is for you. I give your children honestly and obedience.” She smiled sweetly, “May they bring you joy.”

“Your father is sick” Julius told him.

I know that Romulus thought but didn’t say. Watching the old man carefully.

They were in Julius practice room, at the top of the northmost turret, where Romulus had spent so much of his childhood.

“There is of course, still hope. And we have the finest healers, from every corner of the Kingdom.” Julius was pacing as he spoke, wringing his hands. It was profoundly odd, to see the old man so unsettled. But he had known Romulus’ father from when they were both boys. He loved him, as much as he was capable of loving anyone, and he loved the kingdom that he helped rule.

So Romulus found he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been with what Julius said next.

“Your brother cannot be allowed to take the throne.”

Since Romulus curse had been recognised, his parents had taken great pains to limit the brothers’ interactions, for both of their safety.

Remus could not keep a secret.

Remus was honest. He was honest at their mothers funeral when he’d announced to the mourners that she was ‘a bitch by anyone’s definition’ and honest later than evening when he’d sobbed into Romulus’ shoulder and cried that he would miss her.

He was honest when he announced to Romulus causally, over are rare shared meal, that he dreamed about killing him. “I’d do it with a morning star” he told him, slapping his spoon down onto the head of a roasted tomato and watching the red pulp fly about his plate. “Just like that.”

He was honest when he forced his way into Romulus’ room at night, shook him awake and told him, shaking, that the palace was haunted. That voices whispered to him from every corner - so loud that he couldn’t sleep.

He was honest when Romulus asked him, baffled, why are you telling me this. “I trust you.” Remus admitted, his voice thick, “You’re the only one I can trust.”

Just because he was honest, didn’t mean he was right.

Romulus gazed at Julius, his face carefully blank – a skill he had perfected over many council meetings.- and said “I don’t think you can order me to change our birth order.”

“No.” Julius smiled, and had the decency to look pained. “That’s not what I’m going to ask.”

In this room, Julius had tried every trick to strip Romulus of his curse. And when he failed, he’d dedicated himself to learning every possible way it could be exploited. In order to help protect him, of course.

“Sit there and listen to me until I finish.”

If Romulus didn’t hear an order in full, even if he could guess it, it could be ignored. As a child he’d sometimes escape his teachers simply by running away before they could give him the next task.

“The next time you lay eyes on your brother, kill him. Ensure no one can trace it back to you.”

Vague orders were still orders, and often more effective than those that were too direct. If he couldn’t prevent someone from seeing him, then he would have to kill the witness too in order to obey the instructions in full.

“Let no one know you did it. Tell no one of our conversation”

There was, by now, a long list of things Romulus was forbidden from talking about. It was one of Julius’ favourite orders to give.

“If anyone contradicts this order, ignore them.”

Contradictions were tricky. Normally the most recent order would take precedence, but often enough once the newer order had been completed, the old one would return.

“Do you understand me, Price Romulus?”

Romulus nodded and some of the tension left Julius’ shoulders.

He smiled at Romulus then, and lent over the bush back a strand of hair that had fallen across the young man’s face. He left his hand on Romulus cheek and gazed at him like he really was a kindly old mentor and Romulus his favoured pupil.

“This year, it will be the rise of King Romulus. You will be a just and fair ruler. I’ll make sure of it.”

***

As the second son of a King, Romulus future had never been certain.

His parents discussed it often. He should have become a commander in the army, or a leader of the church or married off to a neighbouring princess and become king in his own right. With all options too likely to lead to discovery however, it had been decided he would stay home, construct a reputation of studious detachment and become his brothers distant advisor.

Help him. Protect him.

Like Julius protected them.

Instead, Romulus ran away and became Roman.

Roman was loud and confident and sprouted poetry and song without hesitation. He basked in the attention from crowds and flirted  with every pretty face who crossed his path. He worked and earned for himself and argued back with anyone who disagreed with him and never sat still if he could help it. He kept Romulus and his memories of home buried so deep sometimes he forgot he’d ever had another name.

Even so, there had always been, at the back of his mind, the paranoia of this day. When he would be found. Recognised. Forced back to Romulus life.

He just didn’t think when it happened it would be so embarrassing.

They’d reached a fork in the road. The Marquis paused and whipped his head from side to side, presumably checking for witnesses although it looked more like he was trying to shake water free from his ears. He stepped in front on Roman.

“You.” He enunciated slowly and loudly “Turn left. Okay? Le – e -e f -t”

Roman stared at him.                                  

He had been kidnapped by an idiot.

With great deliberation he rested all his weight on one foot and turned left. And then kept turning, spinning in a circle a few times until the Marquis hissed “no!” and grabbed his arm.

And then dropped it immediately, wiping his hand on his sleeve.

“You. Just – follow me, alright? This way.”

Roman rolled his eye but did as he was told.  The man could have just told him in the beginning to follow him to wherever their destination was, and Roman would have done so. There was no need to give him a new instruction every few paces. But if the Marquis – what was his first name? Romulus must have known at some point – didn’t know the ins and outs of his curse then Roman wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

They continued on, the Marquis stopping every three feet to stare at him, or repeat some instruction, or glare at a crumpled map in his hands. Roman despaired. Romulus had had a crush on this man.

At first, Roman assumed he would lead him towards the Royal Palace and present his find to the Princess or to whatever other Notalevealian nobles were already here for the coronation. But instead he tugged him away from the wider streets, back down hill towards the main sprawl of the city.

“Where are you taking me, villain?” Roman asked after twenty minutes of marching “because I’m pretty sure we’ve passed that street lamp three times already.”

“Somewhere where your little friend won’t be able to help you.” the Marquis muttered, glaring at the lamp in question.

Roman felt his heart freeze. His friend?

He supposed it made sense. There was no conceivable way they could have been followed in the woods. Not without Patton or Virgil noticing. The Marquis must have spotted him in the market and followed from there, which means he would have at least seen Logan, perhaps the others too since he had been at the tavern…

Although why would a noble be at the Stevangie street market?

He tried not to let his anxiety show on his face, puffing his chest out and summoning his most haughty glare.

“Listen to me, lordling, if any harm should come to them I will personally-“

“Them?” The Marquis stumbled, map fluttering to the floor. When he spun to glare at Roman his eyes were enormous. “How many are there?”

Roman blinked, haughty glare ruined by his genuine confusion. “Erm,” he tried “lots?”

The Marquis audibly gulped, but before Roman could even attempt to interpret that the man’s face brightened, his gaze caught on something behind Roman. He smirked, some swagger returning to his step.

“No matter.” He said and grabbed Romans arm, dragging him towards a nondescript building in the centre of the street, unlocking the door and shoving the bard through.

It was a bath house. The back entrance, perhaps, but the damp in the air and smell of scented soap was unmistakable.

Roman tried, in his sleep-deprived, underfed, over-stressed state, to come up with a reasonable explanation for this.

He had nothing.

“Why-“

“Shut up” The Marquis snapped. “Walk that way.” He pushed Roman down a long corridor, past arched doorways through which he caught a glimpse of the bathhouse proper, and into a dusty looking stairwell. He had produced a candle from somewhere, but the dim light did very little to illuminate anything as they gingerly picked their way down.

When they finally reached the bottom floor Roman squinted to see boxes and crates of empty bottles– a storage room? But he had no time to take it all in before he was being dragged through another pair of doors. Two more rooms and another set of stairs later and the Marquis finally stopped.

The room he’d led them to was hot and humid. Sweat dripped down Romans nose after only a few seconds. At first he couldn’t work out what the noise that filled the room was, until his eyes adjusted enough to see the tubes running from the floor to ceiling.

“You’re lucky to see this.” The Marquis had to raise his voice over the rush of running water to be heard “This room is a modern miracle – the lifeblood of the city!”

Steveange’s heated bath houses were famous. So much so even Virgil had heard of them, and he seemed to take pride in knowing nothing about the outside world. Roman had assumed the city must have been built on hot springs or some other natural source, but this was something else.

“The furnace is below us.” The Marquis explained, as he propelled Roman towards the back wall. “The pipes bring water from the river, it’s heated and pumped up and out to every bathhouse in the city.”

He grinned with something like pride as he tapped one of the  pipes above Romans head, making it sing, “Arkazeii engineering and Orenllan iron. Lined with Orenllan copper of course…give me your jacket.”

“But. Notaleveale doesn’t trade it’s ores” Roman blinked rapidly, trying to remove the sweat from his eyes, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

Jacket was a generous term – it was a silken red thing, better suited to performances than travelling. But he enjoyed the way it billowed as he walked. The Marquis took it and without so much as a moments respect for the garment, ripped one of the sleeves clean off.

“Hey!”

“You’ve been away a long time.” the Marquis snarled, “you little fae touched traitor.”

Roman gaped at him, even as the man grabbed his right arm and began attempting to tie it to the nearest pipe.

“I used to look up to you” the Marquis continued, “you were everything a Prince should be. But you betrayed your father and put a curse of madness on your brother - all because of your own petty jealousy!”

He squeezed Romans wrist with enough force to leave bruises. And stepped back to admire his handywork. The silky material had no grip and it was painfully obvious the man was not used to getting his hand dirty. The resulting knot looked more like a bow. “You are no prince of mine.”

“Lucius.“ Roman knew he’d known his name. “That’s not true. That’s- that’s not even a clever story! Who came up with that?”

“Shut up.” Some of the panic from the journey had come back to Lucius’ eyes but it faded quickly “And don’t think you can scare me with my name, there is more iron in this room then anywhere else in the city.”

He grinned at Roman nastily. “Your little friends aren’t coming to save you.”

Roman stayed quiet, mind whirling. They thought Remus was cursed?

Well. He was. But not in the way Lucius seemed to believe.

They wouldn’t send a mad man to another kingdoms coronation would they? Had the seller actually been certain Remus was coming?

Tied up, exhausted and with a man who seemed to hate him glaring down, Roman started to giggle in giddy relief.

Lucius stepped back, looking unsettled, before reaching out, roughly grabbing Romans chin and shoving the remnants of his jacket into his mouth. “Stay here,” he told him, slowly and clearly “until I come back with your transport.”

He stood, taking the candle with him to the door. He paused for one moment before leaving, the flickering light illuminating a cruel smirk. “You had better hope I can arrange it before the furnaces come back on.” And he was gone.

Roman glanced above himself into the darkness, where his wrists were strapped tight to the currently cool metal. A rush of fear went through him, finally bringing him down from the giggling hysteria.

Alone In the dark, tried to think.

Roman was a bad friend. He lied to his companions as easy as breathing and took his own fears out on them.

Romulus was a bad prince. He had abandoned his kingdom and his subjects and allowed some sort of conspiracy to spring up in his wake.

But he was a good brother. Remus was alive. And he would stay that way.

After all, this afternoon he thought that Remus was here. That he would have to confront his past, escape the city, evade every member of the Notalevealian court and his  own friends and steal a horse.

Now all he had to do was get out of this basement and outwit one idiot who could barely tie knots and hadn’t even thought to pat him down to check for hidden daggers.

Easy-peasy he thought, his eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally overtook him.

Part 5

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (3/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)

Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade

Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day

• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.

• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.

• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!

• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.

• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]

• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.

• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.

• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.

• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]

• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.

• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.

• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.

Framing Shifts

• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.

Additions

• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.

Bonus Note

• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?

Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade

• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?

• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.

Framing Shifts

• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?

• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.

• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.

Additions

• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]

• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.

Chapter 231 – Path

The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.

          Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):

          1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.

          2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.

          3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.

• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.

• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.

• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?

• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.

• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.

• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.

          So here’s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?

• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.

          Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.

Framing Shifts

• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.

Additions

• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.

Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks

• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??

• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.

• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.

• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!

• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.

Framing Shifts

Additions

• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.

• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.

• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.

                                                           ---

So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.

Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.

FOOTNOTES

[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.

[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.

[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.

[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.

[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.

[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[faulty-writes]

Heyy!

I saw u had tensei on ur masterlist, could you write some fluff for him?

It's fine if not!

Ah, my second favorite Iida boy. He needs more love. 

[ Working for your longtime friend and love interest had its perks, and despite facing the challenges of being the only support agent at Idaten. Things get a little strange when Tensei requests you remove the airbags from his hero suit and while you refuse to go through with it. Tensei continues to try and persuade you, in his own strange way. ]

Your steps were rushed, echoing against the pavement as you ran past the sidekicks of Team Idaten. The street lights illuminating the area as well as the stars above that seemed to sparkle in conjunction with the moon. If you weren’t so panicked at the moment, you might have stopped to enjoy the view.

But knowing that Ingenium was possibly injured had you rushing to his rescue even if you were just a support agent who mainly crafted weapons and repaired everyone's hero suits. But Ingenium or Tensei as you knew him, was one of the most important people to you. There was a history that most already knew between yourself and the tubro hero, being that you went to U.A. together.

He was in the hero course, no surprise there while you were placed in the Department of Support. Being rather intuitive and creative, you would always make inventions that others found strange or too dangerous. Often belittling you to stick to basic support items rather than put your own style to them.

It was a little discouraging until a certain boy walked into the Development Studio and requested your help on his hero suit. That boy turned out to be Tensei who since then always encouraged your talent, despite being subjected to many of your malfunctioning inventions.

He was always your source of encouragement and you two were quick to become friends, that is until third year approached and you were nearing graduation. Tensei was full of inspiring ideas himself, one of which was creating an agency completely run by sidekicks who would work alongside each other and form teams depending on their specialty.

Most thought his idea was ridiculous. After all, who would want to be put in charge of a bunch of sidekicks when you could be the boss and rule over your own agency however you wanted? You didn't appreciate when people made fun of Tensei, considering you thought it was an amazing idea.

But, it also brought you a sense of sadness. You dreaded being separated from the soon-to-be pro hero. You knew you should have given Tensei more credit than that, considering he wasn’t someone that could easily let other's go, and to your surprise after graduation. He offered you a position at his future agency.

Stating that your talent would be useful in helping create weapons and suits for the future sidekicks that he would employ. True to his word, he slowly built the Idaten Agency from the ground up. Granted, he had plenty of help from his family.

But even so, you didn’t leave his side. In fact, you helped recruit some of the sidekicks that still proudly stood by Ingenium’s side. However, at times you wondered if Tensei realized just how much he meant to the Idaten Agency, how much he meant to you.

Your feelings for him seemed so obvious, but you often tried to make excuses for why Tensei didn’t catch onto them. The most common of which was the fact that he was solely focused on his hero work and always trying to bring his best forward.

Still, you were surprised that he didn’t hear how loud your heart was when you were alone with him or how flushed your cheeks got when he leaned in too close. You weren’t sure when these feelings for Tensei began, at first you were in denial. Believing what you felt was just a misplaced feeling of gratitude, but as the months went by and your feelings grew.

Maybe it was safer to say somewhere along the lines you had fallen in love with the turbo hero and love, as they say, made you do stupid things. “Tensei!” you cried as you finally spotted him and dropped to your knees, worry clear across your face as you took in how he looked.

A faint amount of blood dripped from the side of his head and his hair looked disheveled. The airbags that he requested you to install into the shoulder components of his hero suit had gone off, deflated among the rubble that he had caused when he ran into a brick wall.

You could make out a few cracks and loose panels in his suit. The eyepiece of his helmet was broken, laying on the ground by his side. You slowly reached up to brush your fingers along the sides of his face before moving his head so he was looking at you.

“Hey Y/n!” he chirped, his happy and uplifting mood unphased by the small accident he had gotten himself into. You let out a sigh of relief and dropped your hands from his face. “Tensei…” you said before letting your head drop and tried to take a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

You heard him move his arm, the metal pieces of his suit clinking together which made you raise your head once more. Then a gasp escaped as you felt the soft fabric of his gloved hand against your cheek which started to grow warm as you looked him in the eye.

You noticed there was dirt on his cheeks and part of the exposed skin of his neck. Apart from the blood dripping down the side of his head, he seemed otherwise unharmed. “Sorry about that, I guess I worried you. Huh?” you narrowed your eyes and glanced to the side, muttering a “You could say that,” in response which caused the hero to frown.

His thumb gently brushed against the side of your cheek which caused you to turn your attention back to him. Looking into those dark-colored eyes seemed to put you at ease, “Please don’t scare me like that again,” you said before reaching up to take his hand, pulling it away from your face before you leaned close to embrace him.

He looked surprised by the hug, his mouth falling open a moment before it softened and a smile came. This was followed by his arms wrapping around you, and a sigh of relief seemed to escape the two of you before you pulled away and leaned your hand against his shoulder.

“Let me help you up,” you insisted as you slid your arm behind his back, allowing him to place his across your shoulders. Buckling your legs, you pushed the two of you up. It was a little difficult because of the deflated airbags but as soon as you made it back to the Idaten Agency.

Tensei’s minor injuries were patched up and you promptly requested his presence after. Tensei had taken the opportunity to transform one of the floors of the Idaten Agency into a workshop for you, similar to the Development Studio. Everything you needed you had at your fingertips, including an examination table which Tensei was currently sitting on.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he began as you continued to look over the chest piece of his suit from your worktable. Your feet propped up against the wooden poles that made up the bottom of the stool you sat on and your fingers brushed over the small dents that you found in the hunk of metal.

The rest of the pieces that made up his hero suit were sitting in boxes, waiting to be repaired piece by piece. “Hm?” you glanced up, pausing in your movements. So many things were going through your mind, but more than anything you were worried about Tensei’s well-being.

Despite the fact that the only real injuries he had were the small cut on his forehead and his scraped-up cheek. You were worried that something worse might happen to him next time and you were rattling your brain to try and come up with a solution that would allow Tensei to take turns even at his top speed. It was tricky, near impossible actually.

But the man in question was very effective in shattering your thoughts when his voice broke through, “I want to remove my airbags completely,” you were thankful you were sitting, else your legs might have gotten too weak and to the floor, you’d go.

You looked at him with your eyebrow raised and your mouth slightly parted. Processing his words for a moment before you responded, “What?” you questioned as you leaned over the table, “I said-” you interrupted him. “No, I...I heard what you said Tensei,” you replied in clear disbelief and minor shock. How can he want to make that decision after what just happened?

“I...you can’t remove your airbags! If you take another hit like that without them, it'll be too danger-” your words came to a halt when Tensei got up from where he was sitting and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the table, he wore a smile as he invaded your space by leaning forward.

Hovering over the chest piece you were currently fiddling with. It made you a little nervous if you were being honest with yourself and you couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. Tensei had always been, in your opinion, handsome. Short messy hair that accompanied those unique shaped eyebrows of his, dark-colored eyes, and sharp square jaw.

All topped off with a smile that could light up a room, he was the ideal boyfriend-type, and while he was adored as a Pro Hero. Part of you was surprised that no one seemed to catch Tensei’s interest. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hands gently skim over yours.

You glanced down, watching as Tensei then grabbed your hands that were previously preoccupied. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you half prayed that Tensei wouldn’t notice the fact they were turning pink.

But you knew you couldn’t move away. Without trying, Tensei Iida was keeping you right where he wanted you. “I know,” he replied in his familiar cheerful tone and you watched his pupils move ever so slightly, and yours mimicked the movement.

“But I can’t hold the team back, I know I've always had a hard time taking turns even at my lowest speed,” despite your flushed cheeks, you frowned. You knew it was near impossible for Tensei to turn when using his quirk, especially with the speed he could reach.

But you refused to allow him to put himself in danger, yet you knew no matter what Tensei was going to do so willingly. “That’s why I put trust in my teammates, they aren't just sidekicks to be used. They’re heroes I look up to,” he gently ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

Tensei’s touch was so delicate, it was hard to believe some villains thought him to be intimidating. “I trust you with my hero suit and to make the right choices even if you don’t think it’s good for me,” you latched onto your lip and glanced down, the soft hum of the air vents above you filling the silence.

“But a hero doesn’t always have time to think about what’s rational, speed and timing is everything. If something slows me down, that means I lose seconds to save someone,” your eyebrows furrowed together, a suspicious glance in your eye.

“Tensei...are you trying to guilt me?” you questioned and felt his hands immediately release yours so he could hold them up in a surrender-type fashion. “Not at all!” he exclaimed before giving you a smile, but you knew better than to fall for it. “It’s too dangerous,” you said before getting back to work, missing the way Tensei’s lips curled up.

His eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to figure out a way to convince you, “Ah, hey!” you exclaimed as you fell forward onto the examination table, glaring up at Tensei who now held the chest piece you were previously leaning on. A chuckle left his lips, however, and you assumed he thought what he had just done was funny.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I couldn’t resist,” you rolled your eyes before pushing yourself up and slowly sliding off your stool. Walking over to one of the many boxes scattered across the floor, you looked around a moment before finding what you wanted.

A groan sounded as you lifted the shoulder piece of his suit out of the chosen box, the extra weight coming from the deflated airbag that still hung from it. Meanwhile, Tensei was busy staring at his reflection in the white paint of the chest piece he was holding.

“So, you really repair all these pieces separately huh?” he questioned just as you placed the shoulder piece onto the table, quickly grabbing a screwdriver so you could remove the deflated airbag and replace it with a new one.

“Yeah,” you replied as you began unscrewing the bolts around the airbag. “Wouldn’t it be easier to put the suit together and repair it that way?” it was almost cute how clueless he was about support equipment, still he was technically your boss and you owed him an answer.

“No, every little detail of a hero suit is taken into account and focused on with the utmost attention. I have to ensure every single separate piece works properly before bringing it together as a whole,” you finished unscrewing the bolts and placed them to the side before carelessly tossing the spent airbag to the floor.

Tensei looked away from the chest piece, watching as said airbag hit the floor. “Hm…” he stood there a moment, trying to think of how else to convince you to do what he wanted. Not that he was controlling, by any means. Rather, he was focused on finding a solution that would best help his team as a whole.

He walked back over to the table and placed the chest piece down, once again catching your attention. You lifted your head, “Are you sure there isn’t a way I can convince you?” he questioned, “I know it worries you, but-” you shook your head and once again slid off your stool.

“Oh no,” you replied as you walked over to him and poked his chest, “Hm?” he looked down at your finger before glancing back at you. “You know better than to try and bribe me,” you narrowed your eyes and Tensei let out a sigh before glancing at the ceiling, his lips perched up once more.

“Hm,” you gave a little victory smirk before turning back to the table, deciding that standing was a better option when around Tensei. You quickly examined the shoulder piece before walking over to the opposite side of the room where all your tools were on display. Hanging in an organized fashion on the wall.

Tensei watched you, he knew he was lucky to have someone like you working at his agency, and thinking back, he was surprised you had agreed to join him. Back then, it seemed like you were the only one who truly believed in him. His family had been in the hero business for generations sure, and he felt like he had become a hero more out of expectation than sheer need or want.

“Ah, there it is,” you said as you grabbed the tool you were looking for before you walked to another wall which was made up of various baskets. Each one holding a piece or item you might need. Carefully, you searched for another airbag, and once you found it. You walked back to your work table, laying both items down much to Tensei’s disappointment.

He reached up, running his hand through his hair but he was careful not to touch the gauze pad that was taped over the cut he had received. He was still determined to convince you not to reinstall the airbags of his suit. He stepped forward, “Are you sure there-” you interrupted him yet again, looking at him from over your shoulder with a small glare.

“Yes,” you replied before you resumed fiddling with the new airbag, trying to snap it into place, and Tensei felt as though he were running out of time. “Please?” he spoke sweetly as he walked behind you, looming over your shoulder as you continued to work. “No,” you said before reaching over to grab your screwdriver.

However, Tensei’s hand clasped around yours seconds later. You blinked and leaned to the side, “Tensei...” an awkward tension began to fill the air. “I can handle the screwdriver by myself,” you tugged on it once more, trying to make Tensei catch the hint you wanted him to let go.

But his fingers remained wrapped partly around yours and the rubber handle. “Heh,” he gave a sheepish grin and you jerked your arm back, successfully making the man release his grip. You gave another victory smirk before you reached over to pick up one of the many screws you had taken out and aligned it properly before getting back to work.

The fact that Tensei remained looming over your shoulder was a little nerve-racking, not only could you hear his breathing. You could also feel it against the back of your ear. You paused a moment, glancing back as if waiting for him to move. But you should have known better, while Tensei was respectful in many ways.

He seemed to hold some type of persistence when it came to certain things and while you already stated you wouldn’t do as he wanted. You had the feeling neither of you would be leaving the workshop until you came to an agreement. “I’ve always admired your talent,” he began, making you pause yet again.

“Um...thank you, Tensei,” you replied before continuing to turn the handle of the screwdriver. That’s when you heard a soft slap against the table and turned your head yet again. Tensei was now leaning over the table, his arm outstretched and fingers just barely touching the chest plate that was still preoccupying space.

He had another smile on his face and oddly enough, you couldn’t help but return it. “How long does it take to install a new airbag?” he questioned, and for a moment you wondered if he was purposely trying to distract you. You took a deep breath and placed the screwdriver down before bringing your hand to your hip.

You then turned to face Tensei, shooting him a soft glare which he seemed to notice and glanced away with a pout. “I was just wondering,” he said as he reached up to ruffle the back of his hair, “I’d hate to be taking up your time,” you chuckled at his words.

“You’re taking up my time by distracting me,” you replied before crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not removing your-” Tensei interrupted you. “Nothing will stop me from being a hero,” he stated and you lowered your arms a bit, “including airbags,” you wondered if he was trying to start an argument with you, then again Tensei wasn’t much of the argumentative type.

You took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. Then you lowered your head, “I know,” you muttered before you turned back to the worktable. Taking a moment to stare at the shoulder piece and the airbag that currently only had half a screw to keep it in place. You lowered your eyebrows, it was clear that you were worried more about Tensei’s well-being than he was himself.

But once again you were reminded that’s how Tensei was, always focused on doing good for others. Always willing to throw himself into danger if it meant he could save someone, but you couldn’t help but feel like this time was different. You were being directly involved, being asked to remove something you had installed into his hero suit for his own protection.

Your thoughts were broken when you felt two arms wrap around you, “Ah!” you gasped, not having expected the contact or the way you were pulled back against Tensei’s chest. Then came the pressure of his head against yours and the heat immediately rose in your cheeks, coloring them a soft pink.

You flexed your arms slightly, almost as if you were trying to break his hold on you. “T-Tensei what are…” your words trailed off when you felt him nuzzle against you causing a soft noise to pass your lips. “I know you're worried,” he began yet again and though your face was currently on fire, you raised your eyebrow.

But unlike before, you didn’t interrupt him. “But I would never do anything that risks losing you,” your eyebrows shot up and your eyes widened, “and I can’t risk losing anyone else, a hero proudly makes sacrifices,” he said before he leaned back up and reached over to take delicate hold of your chin.

Once again a soft noise escaped you as Tensei gently tilted your head to the side and leaned over. You could hear your heart echo in your ears as you stared into his eyes. Somehow Tensei always made it so you felt like the only person in the room, even if at the moment you technically were the only other person in the room.

He then brought that hand up to cup your cheek, still keeping one arm wrapped around you. All hope of Tensei not noticing your scolding hot cheeks was effectively thrown out the window at that moment. “Will you be my hero? You kind of always were,” his thumb grazed across your cheek and you took a deep breath.

“I...I’m your...hero?” you repeated, clear disbelief in your voice, and Tensei nodded in response. Your eyelids lowered before you glanced at the airbag you were currently trying to install, you felt his hand lower. Once more both of his arms were around your waist. You struggled for a moment, internally debating about what you truly wanted to do.

Tensei’s safety was your number one priority, but his friends and loved ones, and all those civilians that counted on him to be at his best came first to him. You hung your head in defeat, missing the small smirk that came to Tensei’s face as he knew he finally convinced you.

When you opened your mouth to speak, your words were suddenly rendered to nothing but a pathetic squeak. The reason behind the obnoxious noise was Tensei’s warm lips against the top of your head. He allowed them to linger there, buried against your hair before he finally pulled back.

You swallowed, not having realized how dry your mouth had gotten. But, you slowly turned and Tensei, in turn, momentarily dropped his arms from around you. However, his hands came to rest on your hips when you were finally facing each other.

You didn’t mind his touch and reached down, placing your hands on his forearms. A smile was exchanged between the two of you before Tensei leaned close once more. “Eep,” another noise escaped you and Tensei chuckled, though he kept any comments to himself.

Except for one, “Thank you,” he said as he rested his forehead against yours. “Heh,” you responded, trying to suppress the nervous chuckle that threatened to pass your lips. “You’re welcome, Ingenium.”

[natewrightt]

Hello, could you write a fluff Five x reader where they got married in secret while in the 60s and the siblings realize after seeing the couple being cute together and they think it's adorable how in love Five is ?

Please, love ur blog 😊💖

 Summary: Five Hargreeves enjoyed the sixties a lot more then he originally thought he would.

Ship: Five Hargreeves x criminal!reader

Warnings: none

Note: I added so many details because I love this concept LMAO. also I don’t know how I would be able to make them married because he’s in a 13 year old body??? but yeah I tried djddoidjkijsds 💖

“Hey, stop right there!” the cashier of Manny’s Groceries shouted, grabbing everybody’s attention.

But she didn’t stop.

She turned around and flipped the worker off, then ran faster out of the scene and she completely disappeared by the time the police had arrived. And besides, they didn’t have much to go by. The girl was wearing a large hoodie with leggings and converse. It was pointless.

That girl was none other then Y/N L/N, a 13 year old ‘criminal’ who lived on the main floor of an apartment building without anyone knowing. However, mentally, she was 60. A long time ago, her body was frozen by her parents because the girl suffered from a sickness that didn’t have a cure. Just recently she was unfrozen and given the cure, but her parents had died and now she’s all alone, stealing from stores just to survive. 

Y/N arrived in the apartment building and practically collapsed to the ground from exhaustion. Looking through the bag, she was relieved to find her favorite item: waffles. She would eat those delicious things if they were stepped on by the worlds dirtiest pair of boots. The starving girl stuffed about 3 in her mouth, being sure to swallow it down with a water bottle she had found on the ground outside. It wasn’t the best life to live, but it certainly wasn’t the worst.

She gazed at the clock on the wall. Shit! Y/N was going to be late. Getting up and running towards Elliot Gussman’s door, she was surprised to see that it was open. That paranoid man always locked his door.

You could say that Y/N was Elliot’s friend, or you could say that she was really interested in his crazy theories he makes up. Either way, it’s still fun.

“Elliot?” she called, holding the box of waffles like it was a weapon. The ruffling noise in the room had got quiet, and Y/N gulped. “Hey, if it’s not a good time, then-”

Suddenly, a boy that appeared her age was in front of her in a flash of blue. She was so taken aback that she fell over. However, she caught herself and the boy furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly impressed.

“Do you know Elliot?” He asked, weary of her every move. She scoffed, deciding to be sarcastic towards him.

“No, I just happened to walk into the room calling Elliot. Elliot as in my dead cat. Have you seen him, by the way? He’s ab-”

He covered her mouth with his hand, rolling his eyes. Y/N was prepared though, and quickly bit down causing the boy to scream curses, letting go. She ran to Elliot.

“You okay? What happened? Did he hurt you?” She asks frantically, checking for injuries. Y/N would never let the only person who treated her with respect get hurt. 

“No, It’s fine. We’re fine.” He responds in a panicked voice. Too panicked. She looks back at the boy who’s smirking at her.

“Yeah. Let the adults talk, okay princess?”

- 

The 3 of them sat in Elliot’s living room. He was explaining his theories to the boy (named Five, out of all the names to exist) and he was very interested in the theories Elliot was talking about, except he actually believed them. One them being how the man saw people come out of ‘black holes’ in the exact same spot at different time periods. He was SO interested, in fact, that he offered to look for them.

That made Y/N suspicious.

Very suspicious.



After some very serious research (stalking) she had come to a conclusion that Five Hargreeves was from 2019 and he accidentally teleported his family to different parts of 1963 and were now determind to get back to their original home. It intruiged her a lot if she was being completly honest. Luckily, Elliot had eventually made a little room for her to stay in and Five was often there. So, her and Elliot were officially “part of the gang” as some people would put it.

After some time, Five and her got along REALLY well. They were both incredibly smart (and both mentally the same age but that was past the point) and had the same hobbies and interests. It wasn’t long before a relationship had started.

Well, it wasn’t labeled. And they certainly weren’t friends. Friends don’t share secret kisses and hold hands under the table.

And they thought that they could keep it secret.

And for awhile, they did.

-

Luther and Diego entered the house to find a dead Elliot on a chair. They were both very saddened by this, but it quickly turned into concern when the two of them couldn’t find Y/N anywhere.

She was always with him.

So you can only imagine the panicked state Five was in when he came in.

“What do you MEAN you don’t know where she is?!” He seethed, looking around. “How is she not with him? She’s ALWAYS with him!”

“Five, I’m sure we’ll find her-”

“Your reassurance is useless. I’LL find her, not you imbeciles. Now do us all a favor and stay here and...behave please. I’ll be back whenever.” And with that being said he teleported away.

-

In honesty, Five wasn’t that worried. He knew exactly where she was. It was a hiding spot she would go to whenever she felt sad or nervous. He went there immediatley to find her in the fetal position in the corner, crying and covered with Elliot’s blood.



“Y/N?” He asked weakly. She looked at him.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Her voice broke. Five couldn’t bare to do anything but nod sadly, looking away. 

“It’s my fault.” She muttered, barely audible for him to hear. “I...I watched them, Five. I watched 3 guys beat the absolute shit out of him...I did nothing. I just ran! Like an idiot! He would be alive if I had just been there! Bu-”

Then Five did something that she (and he) never thought he would do.

He wrapped his arms around her torso and hugged her.

For the most part, Five wasn’t an affectionate person. The only thing he would allow were small touches on the hand if he was scared (which wasn’t often) and pecks on the lips if he was really feeling it.

It took her by surprise, but she melted into it, letting tears fall into his shoulder. He let her go when he noticed that her breathing was finally back to normal.

“You okay?” He asked softly again, wiping the remaining tears off of her face with the pad of his thumbs. She sniffed and nodded, making him smile.

“Not that this isn’t adorable...which, it is, but Five? We gotta go!” Diego’s voice was heard in front of them. They both gasped, turning to him with red faces.

“What are YOU doing here?!” he seethed, helping Y/N up. He chuckled before holding out a tracking device that showed Five’s location.

“Just in case you decided to turn against us at some point, I had this.” He explained, a smirk planted on his face. 

“Whatever, let’s go.” Five mumbled, walking out of the room, his face still a nice shade of red. However, Diego turned to the girl.

“Sorry about Elliot.” He ruffled her hair before exiting.

-

GUYS I KNOW THIS IS TRASH AND HER BACKSTORY DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE BUT BARE WITH ME HERE IM RUNNING ON 1 HOUR OF SLEEP AND CAFFEINE HFJKIUJHNDKIUJSK 

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Miguel Diaz fluff alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Miguel loves your smile. He’s a funny guy and he thinks your smile lights up a room so he makes it his mission to make you laugh as much as possible. If you have some crooked teeth, he thinks it’s adorable. Also, looking at your smile makes him think about your lips which just makes him want to kiss you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Yes, after he gets a stable job. He would love kids but he doesn’t want to be like his dad and end up abandoning his family so he would make extra sure he could support the child and you and makes a conscious effort to be there for his family no matter what. Asking about their day, being involved in their sports/clubs/hobbies, making snacks when they have friends over. He just wants to be the Cool Dad ™ and would probably try to teach them karate before they could even sit up.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He loves to have you sit between his legs and lean back against his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and make sure you’re always safe and warm. It’s the perfect position for movies, video games, deep conversations, baths. He will also often come up behind you at a party and hold you like this if someone is hitting on you or if you look uncomfortable or bored. He can whisper little jokes in your ear or kiss you on the cheek.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He loves fun dates. You both have always found fancy dinner dates really awkward. He likes something where you guys can move around, do activities, and just let loose. The go-to’s are usually mini golf, the arcade, the zoo, or just a nice picnic in the park. He often gets you little gifts before dates, though, like flowers, a stuffed animal, or a cool rock he found. His Yaya taught him never to show up for a date empty handed. And he’s a total gentleman, never making you uncomfortable or rushing things. Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless instructed otherwise.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You are my sunshine. As cheesy as it is, Miguel sees you as the shining light in his life. You make everything better, whether that’s an injury, a bad day at school, or losing a fight at training. He knows he can always go to you and be distracted by your beautiful smile.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Miguel first knew he was in love with you when you met his family for the first time. They invited you over for dinner one night and he told you his Yaya didn’t speak much english, so you asked him to teach you some spanish so you could talk with her. It wasn’t perfect, you made lots of grammar mistakes and really only said a couple sentences to her, but the effort you made combined with the smile on Yaya’s face made him fall absolutely head-over-heels.

If you already speak spanish, it would be seeing you talk with his Yaya and joke around with her over dinner.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

The most gentle boy on the face of the Earth. Like I said earlier, Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise. The first time you guys kiss, he barely moves a muscle. You had to grab his hands and put them on your waist. Even now, when he’s teaching you karate, he refuses to hit or grab you, so you honestly don’t really learn anything lol and if you’re sick or sleeping, he’s like a feather, so scared to disturb you. It’s like touching a kitten honestly

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He’s not too big on PDA, except for hand-holding. This is how he lets everyone know you’re taken without seeming possessive or gross. Miguel will grab your hand at the mall, at school, while y’all are cuddling, at the beach, literally whenever you’re in arm’s reach from him, he’s holding your hand.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Miguel’s first impression of you is that you’re this bright ray of sunshine. He’s drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh! And when he finally works up the nerve to say hi (Strike first!) he thinks his heart might actually melt. When you actually laugh at the joke he makes and hold out your hand to introduce yourself, he turns bright red and can barely speak omfg this poor boy. But luckily you think it’s sweet and keep talking to him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He did at first, we’ve all seen how he acts with Sam and Robby, but you lay down the law. You have to tell him that it’s not cool, it makes people uncomfy, and then he finally starts to work on it. Now he’s better. He still feels jealous sometimes, but he trusts you and can control himself a bit more.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

So your first kiss. You were giving him The Look for like 10 minutes straight and he never made a move. He just stared at you. So you had to be the first one to actually lean in, but once you did, he met you halfway. His kisses match his personality. Sweet, gentle, and goofy, but with a more dominant, aggressive side if you know how to bring it out ;)

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He did. After you had dinner with his family and he realized he loved you, he told you almost immediately. This boy just wears his heart on his sleeve. He was walking you home and when you got to your house and turned around to kiss him goodnight, he had a funny look on his face. When you asked him what was wrong he kind of went ILOVEYOU! Really fast and you had to make him say it again slower because you thought he had a stroke or smth lmaooo but once he took a deep breath and said it more clearly, you jumped on him and kissed his whole face and said it back a hundred times.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

When he first introduced you to Sensei Lawrence. He thought Sensei was gonna be super mean and make fun of you, but turns out you guys had a lot in common. You loved 80’s rock music, and responded to his sass with even more sass. Johnny almost couldn’t believe Miguel was able to get such a cool babe. You guys all had lunch after taking a tour of the dojo, and it was a super fun day! You all drove around in Johnny’s car with the windows down listening to Guns ‘n Roses.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Miguel spoils you in his own little way. His family isn’t as fortunate as others, but he still finds ways to make you feel special. Instead of a diamond necklace, he gives you a cool rock he found outside and cleaned up. Instead of taking you to expensive restaurants, he spends all day cooking with Yaya to make a nice picnic for you guys to have on the beach. And he saves up to buy you nice gifts for your birthday or anniversary.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Rose gold. You’re so beautiful to him and have this natural charm that everyone falls for. You’re so radiant and yet soft and unique. He just love love loves you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweety, sweetheart, baby, gorgeous, and Princess during more intimate moments.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

80’s rock music. He learns to love it through Sensei Lawrence. He even saves up to buy a record player so he can feel more connected to the past.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Build blanket forts, cuddle, bake cookies, he might even let you put makeup on him if you ask nice.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Humor. He loves cracking jokes and lightening the mood. If you’re ever feeling down you know you can go to him and he will turn that frown upside down in mere minutes. Honestly even just being in his presence makes you happier. He cheers himself up by working out, taking some alone time to get his feelings out, and then going out with some friends or with you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Umm, karate! Duh lol the boy is obsessed with it. Also superhero movies, video games, his day, he’s honestly kind of a rambler. He can talk about anything and everything if he’s nervous enough. Let’s not forget the gas station scene in season 1…

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You, dark rooms, white noise, puppies, linen scented candles, his mom’s cooking.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

His new muscles. Ever since joining Cobra Kai, he’s gotten pretty ripped and now it’s a struggle to get him to keep his shirt on. He worked hard for that body, he wants people to see how good he looks!

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

After college, he takes you on a hike up to this ridge overlooking a lake. It’s fall, the leaves are changing colors, and there’s no one around. You guys have been holding hands the whole time, but his hand is super sweaty even though it’s like 50 degrees out. You guys finally get to the top of the ridge and he grabs both your hands and tells you all the things he loves about you. This boy basically recites your whole love story, and as soon as he sticks his hand in his pocket you know what’s going on. He barely even got the box out of his pocket before you were jumping on him screaming Yes! You guys fell to the ground and he stopped you so he could officially get the words out. You were both crying, it was very beautiful.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

More Than Words by Extreme. You guys dance to this at your wedding.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Absolutely. Y’all marry pretty young, like right out of college. He knew you were gonna get married on the first date.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Iguana. He thinks they’re like little dinosaurs! He would name it Wade because we know he loves Deadpool.