#lil peace sign grim

[andminnequin]

I’m so sorry I’m still on Book Four I know I’m lazy but here take meme

[missashketchum]

Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon!

It's time for Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon headcanons!

Enjoy!

Riddle- Bulbasaur

Bulbasaur is the ringleader of Ash's Pokemon, and Riddle respects it a lot

to be able to keep 50+ chaotic Pokemon in line, despite many of them having the ability to toss Bulbasaur around like a salad

respect

Bulbasaur also has none of the Adeuce shenanigans and is constantly using his vines to stop them

Riddle and Bulbasaur have very peaceful teatime with each other

and by peaceful, I mean the two relax at a table drinking tea and eating cookies

while Ace, Deuce, Grim and Ash goof around

they need the "parental supervision" a Riddle put it

ignoring the fact that Ash has raised Pokemon from eggs like they were her own kids lol

all in all, Riddle and Bulbasaur are actually the most peaceful duo in this entire thing

Leona- Rowlet

ever since Rowlet arrived in TWST, Leona has been waking up with it sleeping somewhere near him

next to him

on his lap

on his shoulder

it was in his hair once

and every single time when he woke up, he would either scare Rowlet awake so it would fly away, or he'd just throw it

but last time he threw Rowlet, Ash threw him, so no more throwing Rowlet

as time went on, he sorta just learned to accept the fact that Rowlet was now his sleeping buddy

and no matter where he hid, he would always be found

no one brings it up to him either, because who wants to tell leona kingscholar that he's getting friendly with a fricking owl

that's right, no one

except Ash, of course >:)

Azul- Dracovish

Azul thoughts Dracovish was kinda derpy (tbh, he kinda still does)

but when he sees Dracovish's Fishious Rend practically obliterate the practice dummies

he suddenly glad that Ash didn't use Dracovish on him when he Overblot...

she did, he just doesn't remember :/

Dracovish was relentless btw

Dracovish loves being petted, and once jumped into the Octavinelle water tank just to make Azul get out of his office

then, once Azul gets out of the office, Dracovish pops out and asks for pets

at this point, Azul caught onto it, but doesn't have the heart to stop it

he won't admit it, but he does like Dracovish

Kalim- Totodile

Kalim and Totodile meet for the first time

then Ash has trouble getting Totodile to go back to Ramshackle with her

the two are immediately glued together and dancing and playing around in the water

jamil is tired

they're literally best friends when the day ends

Kalim and Totodile are hugging each other, huge crocodile tears in their eyes as Jamil and Ash have to physically separate them because it is past curfew, dammit Kalim

Kalim is actually one of the very very few that a majority of Ash's Pokemon like

Totodile especially

did I mention that they're best friends now?

cause they are

it's fun loving Water UM/Type solidarity

Vil- Unfezant

ahhh Unfezant

so agile, so graceful

done so dirty in all of her battles, she deserves better

Vil first meets Unezant as she's flying around with Ash's other Flying-types, and he's never seen a bird do as many elegant aerial tricks as her

is intrigued with how well maintained she is

meanwhile, Unfezant is wondering who the hell this boy is and why he's looking at her like that

is, ironically, unsettled by Vil at first because all he does when he sees her is analyze her, which makes her very uncomfortable

retaliates by sending string gusts of wind to mess up his hair

and Ash has to proceed to tell a very irate Vil that he's making Unfezant very uncomfy and the wind thing was her way of making him stop

guess Rook rubbed off on him more than he's like to admit...

slowly, Vil begins to actually talk to Unfezant, especially complimenting her flying prowess, and Unfezant starts to kind of like him a bit

now messes his hair up as a sign of appreciation :)

Idia- Pikachu

literally who else could I pick?

the biggest lil shit there is >:)

despite being a cat guy, Idia was immediately interested in Ash's only Electric-type

"kinda like a marketable plushie..."

was almost zapped for that comment

but he WAS zapped for picking Pikachu up to look at him

Ash tried to warn him, even went to grab Pikachu back from him

cue Pikachu zapping BOTH of them

cue Ash having to explain that Pikachu does that with people he doesn't like

also cue Ash having to explain that she's used to it because Pikachu literally electrocutes her as a sign of affection

Idia is mildly concerned, but seeing as she isn't hurt he lets it slide

tries to keep making friends with Grim and Pikachu and the two are not having a good time :/

keep the crazy cat boy away from the electric mouse pls

Malleus- Charizard

“ah, what a fearsome yet protective dragon you have”

“but… Charizard’s not a dragon…?”

cue blue screen

he even has Ash pull it up on one of her Pokédex’s

sure enough, not a dragon

at this point, with what happened with iris, Ash is used to people mistaking Charizard for a dragon

Charizard, however, is a bit ofended (cuz that's just how he is 😅)

so he tries to flame Malleus

doesn't work on him, but Ash gets caught in the crossfire and gets covered in soot

cue malleus being genuinely concerned for the human

cue ash having to explain she's used to it and it's a sign of affection

again

rather impressed with Charizard's display of moves

"dragon tail?"

"he's not a dragon >:T"

[of-blood-and-bells]

Lil story below the cut

Twisted bonds

It was more symbolic than anything. 

A sign of unity for the flock. The connection that ran so deep, even death could not part their ways. The people saw it as a sign, a blessing that needed to be acted upon. They demanded the union, to show them their faith was not misplaced. No matter the punishments, the demands, sacrifices, the flock would not relent. It was… inevitable. And it was best to rip the bandage free before it began to fester and infect what little faith that remained.

It was funny in a way. How ironic it seems to see the bands forged for their union made of the same shackles that held them prisoner. The chains that bound them as vessel and deity now woven and twisted into a noose made for two. An omen of the past, present, and future. 

There wasn’t a spark of anything that could be considered love. Not a moment of peace or trust between them since the beginning. If anything,  they were a single match throw from burning each other to the ground, taking everything and everyone else along with them.  No, there was no room for love with what they were, what they had been through. But despite it, there was a bond. Silent, unbreakable, eternal, Begrudging.

There was a mutual understanding. A shared knowledge that if one sunk, the other would be dragged down with them. No matter how they tried to stay ashore, the boat would rock and both would drown for falling overboard. It was tested again and again. If one were to perish, the other would follow. A knife to the heart, a rip of the gut, a drop of poison… a bullet to the brain. Though they would never admit it, they knew. This was hell, and this connection was their punishment.

It was fall, a fitting time for a wedding regarding death. Surrounded by the vibrancy of red and orange trees, and the unmistakable sent of leaf decay. The cold nip of winter bit at her skin, dragging across like knives as each step closer to the archway. Her dress itself was something out if a dream. A deathly black at the top trailing down into a rich bloody red at its train. Rubies and onyx littered the bodice, each one a grim reminder of the lives lost to make such an extravagant gown. Her crown wrapped around her head as though acting like a tiara, and giving her a veil to hide behind while her life is bartered away to this… filth.

She hated every moment. 

Being dressed and dolled, the gitz and glam. It was inconceivably impractical. The heavy fabric, the lowered guards, the general atmosphere of the flock celebrating what she equated to her second imprisonment. To trudge through all that only to be met with his conniving, scheming face. It had to be some kind of torture. But it was for the cult. And if this would shut them up, then so be it. 

------------- This took me entirely too long but go pixel pen powers i guess. i just wanted to draw Ewelia in a dress ngl. So yea, enjoy.

[cheezeybread]

Hello! May i have a request with Jade and the reader who is experienced on hiking and camping.

When reader found out that there is something relate with camping or mountain expedition club (the Mountain Appreciation Club) they immediately wanna join the club.

Jade might surprise (or amused) on how well prepared they were and reader explaining that they were one of the member hikers as a 'Gadget Hiker' and ever went to Appalachian Mountain that is one of a dangerous mountain when at night.

I hope you like the idea and have a good day! 💞

Fun Fact! .....mmm, Jade go brr.

He's such an interesting character to me because he plays his cards so close to his chest. Like, we get why Azul is the way he is because we know his backstory. Floyd is pretty much an open book. But Jade? He's just a silly guy who keeps his thoughts to himself. But is still just as terrifying as his twin!

So fun!

Anyway, I love the request, and I hope I do it justice here!

I got a lil carried away :/

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Being bored was something you never thought would happen in this world. There was far too much for you to do, after all! You had to survive, for one thing. You had to help Crowley with his work! You had to clean on campus and fix up Ramshackle the best you could! You had to study for classes that you couldn't even take exams for half the time due to your lack of magic! You had to make sure Grim didn't fail his classes, because if he failed, you would, too! You had to help other students with their emotional issues! You had to-

But after some time, the distress and anxiety it all caused you to think about became...rather mundane. The worry of what might happen and what tomorrow might bring didn't seem so terrifying to think of. It had become your norm, after a while. You weren't too sure if it was a necessarily good or bad thing, but at least you weren't constantly burnt-out and an anxious mess!

With this newfound inner peace, however, came the inevitable "boredom". Or something like it. The craving for something new.

Or something reminiscent.

Walking out of Alchemy class after a particularly rough day, you hoisted Grim up onto your shoulders- as became the norm, since his stubby legs couldn't keep up with your gait- and began the trek back to Ramshackle.

But something caught your eye as you passed by the main corridor of the building. A cork-board with many different posters and papers on it that you couldn't even see the board underneath it anymore. Some of the papers were pinned with the same tack, some were stacked up so tightly that they fell to the ground in a cluster of assorted papers.

There were a variety of things to catch your eye on there- job advertisements, offerings for contracts, odd jobs to do around school, study tips, tutoring help, library hours, all sorts of things that would pertain to students at NRC.

But the one that caught your eye most was a club poster. It wasn't very good, by any means. A plain white background with basic pictures of mushrooms, trees, and fauna placed carefully around the print in the center of the page.

"Mountain Lover's Club

Meets at 5'oclock every Wednesday, Room 2-B"

There were no names signed on the paper to show who owned the club, nor the other members in it, but the word "mountain" was enough to send a delighted chill up your spine.

The intense memories of your old world, of the birds in the trees, the sound of wind rushing through bushes and water running nearby, of the feeling of rocks underneath your feet and rough tree bark scraping across your hands flew through your mind, and you stared at the paper for a minute longer than you should have.

"Oi, Hench-human!" Grim yowled, smacking his paw across your face (gently, of course, and without his claws out) to get your attention "What're you staring at that for? I'm hungry!"

"Hm?" Jolted out of your thoughts, you glanced to Grim with an absentminded smile "Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Let's get back home," as an afterthought, you glanced at the paper one last time, memorizing the time and room number before continuing on your trek "And if you ever hit me again, Grim, you're going to have to sleep on the floor."

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"Room 2-B, 2-B, 2-B," You repeated under your breath like a mantra, walking through the halls of the main building an hour after dropping off Grim at the dorm. It felt odd to be in here after class, you thought to yourself. It didn't seem like the same place without a horde of students rushing to their next classes, or idly standing in the hallway taking up space.

Of course, there were other clubs meeting in this building, and occasionally one or two students would pass by you, or you would walk by a room with several students quietly chatting inside, but even so. It still felt empty.

You crossed your arms together, peering at every room's door, looking for the right number combination. Eventually, you stumbled onto lucky Room 2-B! The wooden door was open slightly ajar, so you knocked quietly on it before pushing it open the rest of the way, stepping inside.

It was a classroom you've never been in before, but looked to be something relating to math, given the half-erased equations up on the chalkboard. Chairs and desks were pushed neatly to the walls of the room to allow for more floor space, and there were a stack of textbooks underneath one of the desks. Something that wasn't part of the classroom, you could guess, was the folding table set up in the middle of the room. Set on top of it was a cage, of sorts, made up of glass.

"Hello?" You called out, wincing at how loud your voice sounded in the empty room. Huh. No one was here. But this was the right room, you were sure of it. Maybe the group went out to get something and would be back soon? Either way, you could afford to spare a few minutes waiting on them.

So you curiously stepped forward, towards the table, leaning down a bit to properly look at the cage. A terrarium, you knew by looking more closely at it. Inside was a pile of loose, fluffy dirt, and on the table beside it, laying on a towel, were small containers. Some were filled with more of the dirt, one had different colored moss, one had what looked to be seeds in it, and one (with the lid tightly firm on it) held a mess of squiggling insects that looked similar to the ones on your world, but too different to be exact.

The sound of footsteps, light on the floor, could just be faintly heard before someone entered the room. Before you could turn around, you heard them ask "Can I help you?"

To say you were frightened after turning to face the person would be an understatement. To say you almost had a heart attack would also be an understatement.

You turned, and for a moment, you got a flash of when you had last met this man. Sharp teeth, sharp claws, a predatory look in his eyes as he twirled around your group like a cat playing with his food.

He stared at you, baring his teeth in a sadistic grin, his brother beside him mimicking the same expression.

"Now, now, it wouldn't do for you to accomplish your task so easily now, would it~?"

You let out a breath, taking an instinctive step back. Which, unfortunately for you, was right smack into the table behind you.

Jade's eyes grew wide as the polite, forced smile left his lips, and he moved far too quickly for someone of his size, darting not towards you, but for the objects behind you. He wedged himself between you and the table, grabbing onto the table itself with one hand, and steadying the terrarium and containers with his other arm; while propping you up so you wouldn't stumble any more.

"Careful!" He hissed, as you practically shoved yourself off of him and moved closer to the door.

You tried to catch your breath- it all happened within a few seconds of him coming into the room, and frankly, you didn't have the mental fortitude to process it all as fast as it occurred. Lifting up a hand to signal for him to give you a minute (not that it mattered much anyway, since his back was still to you and his attention on the table), you steadied yourself and took the opportunity to examine the situation.

Jade Leech, one of the twins working with Azul, hunched his long figure over the table, his hands darting between containers to check their contents. The last time you saw him was not just when he and his brother were stopping you from reaching the museum during your contract, but when Azul had overblotted. Both of the times you saw them were more than enough to leave a lasting impression on you.

They were formidable in every sense of the word, and in any form they took. In the sea, they were creatures who could squeeze you so tight you'd burst. Fast and deadly, predatory instincts ran rampant through their blood. On land, they were still just as intimidating, with powerful capabilities in magic and physical strength. Together, the twins were an unstoppable force. Even separate, they were immovable objects. With Azul and Floyd, after the incident was said and done with, you knew where you stood with them. Floyd was an open book- he had no qualms with sharing how he really felt, and although he did occasionally have ulterior motives, you knew that he was pretty straight-forward. Azul was standoffish after everything, most likely ashamed and insecure about his show of grand weakness and "cringe", as Floyd put it. Azul left you alone as long as you left him alone.

But Jade? Whoo, boy, that man was an enigma! He was silent, deadly, and just as cunning as Azul was. He was a man of few words, in most situations, and the thought of getting on his bad side was enough to make your stomach queasy.

Oh, well, best to try and get on his good side now, at least.

"I'm sorry- you just- scared the crap out of me," You began, finally able to regain the use of your voice.

Jade straightened himself up, deciding that the objects on his table were no longer in harm's way, and turned to you, a curious look in his eyes "I apologize, as well, I should have known better," He said softly, that same polite smile plastered on his face again.

Oh. You hadn't expected him to apologize. How....strange.

"Ahem, well, I guess we can put it behind us, then," You continued "Is this the room that the Mountain Lover's club meets in?" Please say no, please say I'm in the wrong room, please say no, please say no-

"Indeed it is," He responded with a gentle nod, his smile widening a bit "Do you have interest in mountains, by any chance, Prefect?"

Say no, say no! "I do," You idiot! "I was wondering what all this club does- are the rest of the members coming soon, or...?"

"Oh, no," Jade chuckled, crossing to the other side of the table and taking a seat busying his hands with building the terrarium, packing the soil down on the bottom "I'm afraid it's just myself at the moment. But as for what we- or shall I say, I- do...I hike in the mountains just off-campus and gather specimens I find interesting. Leaves, plants....seeds," He smiled and held up the container that had some small black seeds in it to demonstrate his point. As he sprinkled some of them into the soil, he continued "I also gather different species of wild fungi to experiment with, both in dishes and otherwise, as well as to grow in the Botanical Gardens on campus."

Glancing back up at you with a look that sent goosebumps crawling up your arms, he asked "If you're interested in joining, or, say...wish to understand the 'club' a bit more, then might I suggest joining me for an excursion tomorrow? I'll be spending all of the late afternoon and night looking for nocturnal flora- plants that you can only find during the nightly hours."

You wanted to say no. As much as you loved the mountains, and nature, and missed your home, you wanted to say no.

But the feeling of a cool breeze on your skin, the scent of the trees and flowers, even the itching feeling of unwanted bugs on your skin forced you to open your mouth and say:

"I'd love to."

Jade's teeth clacked together as he chuckled, the sharp things looking as if they might be ready to tear into your skin at any moment. "Wonderful. I'll meet you at the campus' exit tomorrow at...shall we say 5 o'clock? Most classes will be done by then, and it gives you a chance to get homework done." How thoughtful. As a hindsight, he added "And I do hope all of that contract nonsense is water under the bridge, to quote a land-dweller's saying, right?"

You swallowed thickly and forced a smile, flashing him a thumbs-up "Yup! Water under the bridge- I'll see you at 5 tomorrow, bye-" And with that less-than-graceful statement, you ran out of the room as quickly as you could and back to the safety of your own dorm.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

At 4:45 in the afternoon the next day, you set out of your dorm, giving a tearful Grim a goodbye hug and pat. Grim was convinced you wouldn't come back alive. While you hoped otherwise, you couldn't say that you didn't think the same thing. As soon as you told Ace, Deuce, and Grim what you were planning on doing, the entire trio began yelling at you for being such an idiot...and then started mourning for your future demise at the hands of Jade Leech.

"All night, alone! In the secluded mountains! With HIM!" Ace yelled, practically tearing his hair out. As with Grim, you shared Ace's pain. But you needed some sort of connection to your homeworld, and if Jade could show you those mountains and help you establish that connection, then by Sevens, you would go up in the mountains with him!

After the boys finished their pre-funeral for you, you got to work on packing. It was fairly difficult, since you didn't have the privilege of having your old belongings here with you, but skipping out on a class and borrowing some money from Trey (with the promise of working at Sam's shop to pay him back) gave you the opportunity to buy some of the items you would need for the excursion. Bug spray, hiking boots, good pants, a jacket, hat, water, food supplies, sleeping bag (just in case), emergency supply kit, medicine....everything that you packed in your old bag back at home, you bought and packed then and there. Good thing you were used to the heavy backpack, or else you would most definitely be struggling to walk right now! As soon as you tugged that backpack on, all of the old muscles in your back that had been honed to hiking perfection perked right up, almost seeming overjoyed at being used again.

Already at the exit to the school's campus was none other than your new hiking buddy and potential murderer. When he saw you approaching, he made a show of checking the time on his watch "Prefect! You're five minutes earlier than the set time."

"So are you," You pointed out with a small smile.

Jade raised a brow, considering your point "Fair enough. Being early means being on time- being on time is considered being late for some."

"Very wise, Shakespeare." You nodded sarcastically.

"Who?"

"I, uh-" Shoot, new world, they didn't have Shakespeare here! "Nothing. Lead the way, Mister Leech."

Brushing aside your awkward blunder, Jade began to walk off of campus, his own backpack eerily similar to yours, you noticed "Now, during this trip, I will not be sharing any of my supplies unless it is under an extreme circumstance. You had time to prepare ahead, and I expect-"

"I know, I'm good," You interrupted him, holding up a hand as you jogged to walk next to him. You felt better already, more at home, as the two of you made your way to the nearest treeline. The rising slope of the mountain was enough to send an exhilarating rush through your veins.

"Oh, you are, are you?" Jade smirked "We shall see, Prefect, we shall see."

And see he did. The two of you began the trek up the mountain, taking the time to admire every bit and piece that nature had to offer on the way. When an unknown creature came into view, Jade was prepared to pull you back to safety, but was surprised to see you keep your distance, despite curiosity about the animal. When there was a pond, Jade expected you to immediately dunk your water bottle into the water to fill it back up, but was shocked to see you pull out a water purifying device to cleanse it of bacteria before filling up your bottle and offering him the use of the device, as well. Bug spray? You had some already. Bandaid to cover up that nasty-looking scrape from a rock? You had one already out of your bag. When it got dark? You pulled out a lantern of your own instead of mooching off of Jade's light.

"Prefect," He started after a few hours of hiking, his breath heavy from walking so long, but filled with a delighted energy nonetheless "Tell me, how did you know to bring all that you did? I expected to be covering for you left and right, but each time, you leave me in a state of utter confusion."

You laughed at this, pausing to look at an interesting bug perched on top of a branch eye-level to you "Ooh, well, I said that I liked mountains," You explained, catching back up with him "Back on my world, I was pretty into all this nature stuff. Hiking like this was enough of a thrill for me. I know what to pack like the back of my hand, and your world is similar enough to mine that my list of things to pack is still good."

As Jade stopped suddenly and squatted down to dig a peculiar-looking blue mushroom- one of the "nocturnal flora" that he was hoping to find, apparently- you leaned up against a tree.

"I even hiked up on the Appalachian trail way back when."

"The what now?" He asked, pulling out an empty container and gently placing the mushroom inside before locking it and stuffing it back into his bag. He stood up and began to walk again, with you alongside him.

"It's this mountain range back at home. It's considered suuuper dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." You smiled at the memory "There's a lot of things that can go wrong up there. You could get lost, trip and break a leg without getting found for a few days, tons of predators, venomous animals, you name it!" You sighed, closing your eyes for a second as you recalled the feeling you had of traveling that path "Oh, but it was so beautiful..."

Jade was quiet for a moment, and you glanced back over to him to see what if he had wandered off or something. But he was still next to you, as silent as ever. But he was just watching you with a small smile on his face. Not the same smile that gave you the willies, that reminded you of a killer ready to eat his next meal. But one that was a little softer around the edges, one more...genuine.

"What are you looking at?" You asked with a snort, lightly hitting his arm. Imagine if Ace were here to see you hit Jade Leech! He would die on the spot!

"Ooh, nothing, Y/N," He answered quickly, quickening his pace to walk ahead of you "Hurry up, we're nearing the top!"

You just rolled your eyes and tried to match his pace. It was a few minutes before you realized that that moment was the first time he called you by your own name instead of 'Prefect'.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The top of the mountain was truly a sight to behold. There was a small clearing, and a pond that held even smaller fish inside of it. And alongside all of that, there were a multitude of flowers sprouting up everywhere, despite the colder temperature. They had white buds with a pink dash of color on the outer ridges, and a purple antenna-looking thing stood in the middle of the flower.

"Those are commonly called Dead Lillies," Jade explained once you remarked on their odd looks. He was currently unpacking some of his stuff, since the two of you decided to rest a bit before heading back down "They bloom in colder temperatures, and the stalks contain a sappy liquid that can be used as glue- it's popular amongst hikers, mainly because said sap can close up a wound without introducing toxins to the bloodstream, and because the petals taste of honey."

"Huh," You remarked, tugging off your backpack and sitting beside Jade. He offered you one of the nutrition bars he had brought along for the trip, despite claiming at the beginning that he wouldn't give you anything. Despite you having plenty of snacks, you accepted it with a smile "Pretty cool...you sure do know a lot about land for a mer-thing, don't you?"

"Mer-thing?" Jade gave you a sardonic look "I believe the correct term is mer-man, although what would I know, I'm just a mer-thing!"

"Shut up, you know what I meant!" You reached a hand out and shoved him lightly.

"Fufu, I suppose I do know quite a lot about land for a sea-dweller," He nodded "I find the difference in our plants and nature to be...well, rather fascinating! Under the sea, where my brother and I were raised, at least, it's quite dark. Not much grows under there, and what little does isn't quite as pretty as the flora up here. When we first came to live up here, I was taken aback by the stark differences and felt compelled to look into them more."

"Cool," You agreed, laying down in the grass to look up at the night sky.

This trip certainly was quite a...well, trip. You started out uneasy about it all, to say the least. But as the time dragged on, you noticed a difference in how Jade acted. As soon as he was in nature, not surrounded by students, he was...more calm. Relaxed. He smiled genuinely. He laughed.

And, most importantly, he didn't scare the crap out of you. Unless he wanted to- but even then, you could tell that he was just pulling a prank, and didn't want to genuinely upset or hurt you.

"I quite like the stars," Jade admitted once he settled down into the grass as well, using his jacket as a pillow to rest his head on as he stared up at the sky. His expression was one of utter delight, like a child looking at something wonderful for the very first time.

"Oh?" You questioned, propping your head up with a hand as you glanced at him "Are you interested in Astrology, too? Land and sky?"

The eel-mer waved a hand at you flippantly, not bothering to look at you "No, no, nothing like that. I just...like the way they look." With his mouth slightly ajar, the tips of his bottom teeth barely visible, and the shine of the star's lights in his eyes, he looked...oddly at peace. He finally looked his age. He wasn't the terrifying, intimidating figure that sent most of the students at NRC running away like cowards. Right here, he was...just a teenager. A teenager far, far away from his home that somehow managed to make a new home on land, in the solitude of nature.

You quite liked this teenager, you realized.

Maybe you would join the club, after all.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

[comfortless]

write swagger. anything for swagger. anything. i’ll take a crumb, I’ll take medic x swagger i’ll take any overdone trope give me something for this man!!!! i love u and your writing sm syl i’m sorry this isn’t a köni request but..

Spin Cycle

Roland “Swagger” Kaminski x mercenary fem!reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS: 18+ minors do not interact! violence, enemies -> lovers, implications of sex (no actual smut), swagger points a gun at your head sorry, reader may have a gun kink.

i hate(love) you, lele!! i listened to this guys voice lines so many times they’re just embedded in my brain at this point. lil rushed & not proofread, so there may be some mistakes, sorry!

wc: 3k

Cold. Wet.

This isn't the weather for a battle. This isn't a night to die. But some lack taste in the intricacies of being victimized, and as her sight settles on the enemy maneuvering through the war torn warehouse, she realizes he certainly doesn't have a preference in which way he's ripped apart. The mask covering his face tells her everything she needs to know, he's dead already, hiding beneath an ugly cover to conceal his identity; an unknown, evil thing in her eyes. She would be doing him a favor. Mercy for the man marching around wearing a face not his own.

She slowly positions her pistol, quietly aiming as her finger brushes the trigger. Once, to prepare herself for more blood on her hands. Twice, to make peace with his creator in his stead— he wouldn't have the time nor the delicate nature for it. Thrice, because she likes the feel of the cold metal against her fingertip; it grounds her, tethers her to the reality of what she’s here to do. Lucky numbers be damned, it was all for the thrill of it.

She pulls the trigger and the bullet rips from the barrel as she bites her lip.

To her chagrin, it buries itself in the wall behind her target. To her relief, it definitely struck. The man buckles to the dirtied floor with a groan, gloved hands reaching out to apply pressure to the gash in his calf. It's not enough to kill, they both knew it, but it would put the buck down long enough for her to reload and fire a shot right into his brain. She wonders if she could tell what his face actually looked like when his mask was blown off and gray matter spackled  the floor behind him.

"Knew you were in here, you slimy bastard."

The voice pulls her from her thoughts, and if she were forced to have any sort of virtue left she could be honest and embrace the fact she isn't the most coordinated mercenary out there. Her pistol clatters to the floor. She quickly slips further into the dark, not bothering with her lost weapon for the time being as she positions herself behind a crate to hide.

"Your aim is shit. Your hands must be shaking."

The man's voice continues to rasp. He's taunting her, wants to lure her out. There's something playful about his voice that sends a swell of unease from her chest to the pit of her stomach. The man had just been shot, and that surge of confidence couldn't stem from a wounded man unless he had some sort of a plan. She's been here so many times with so many different flavors of prey that the warning signs aren't lost on her.

She swears she hears the click of him replacing his magazine, the static of his radio, the sound of ripped fabric and a lightening quick application of a makeshift tourniquet. The thought that the gunfire gave out her position crosses her mind.

"Come out, fucking coward."

She's been here so many times, in the dead of night, playing this one-sided game of cat and mouse. She's seen blood, felt the sting of a bullet carving it's way through her, and she's never been afraid. Not until tonight.

This isn't a night to die, yet she's pissed off the fucking grim reaper.

A church bell rings out in the distance, some small mercy. It plants the seed of an idea and she follows the path her mind carves with her hand grasping for a knife at her belt. The knife rips through the quiet air of the warehouse, coming to a clatter some three meters behind him after she tosses it. The man takes the bait, fires several shots in the direction of the noise as she quietly finds her escape. Delivered from death by the heavenly portal of a broken window.

But when it comes to the intricacies of being victimized, it's very rare that things play out so simply. Hunting is a messy task, and one slip up can so quickly prove that prey often have fangs, too.

Her target, some Polish elite soldier, Roland Kaminski, isn't a buck at all. Bucks are easy, they're skittish and stupid. You fire off a shot at one of them, they buckle or prance back into the plush foliage of the forest for cover. When thundering footsteps can be heard in the dark, just past the safety of the broken window, she realises she's not dealing with another deer. Shes got a frenzied boar at her heels.

She's defenseless, her arms scattered in the darkness of the warehouse the boar is charging from, and she finds she lacks the will to break her ankle jumping down onto the pavement below. This is the line where the hunt becomes a proper fight. Her pulse beats like the thunder tearing apart the sky above her, every muscle in her body pulled tight like a spring waiting to maul her impending threat.

The fight never comes.

One moment, he's charging through the wreckage inside like a behemoth with a taste for human flesh, and the next he's simply staring at her while he's shrouded by the dark. It's almost comical, really, her thoughts flood with pictures of horror mascots as she teeters on the windowsill, staring right back into the wide, dark eyes of his mask. They remain in a stasis for a moment, both breathing shallow, both watching the other. Then, he does something that surprises her. Surprises and infuriates her.

He pulls his radio up to his mask, breathes out a heavy sigh as the sound of static cuts through this pair's silence. The grim reaper has the audacity to pretend his frustration over arches her own, and she's gritting her teeth wondering how likely it was she could free his esophagus from the column of his neck with her mouth alone.

She feels his gaze rove over her, lingering along the empty holster at her hip and the garter on her thigh.

"Target's down."

He's lying to his team, lying because he pities her, and she can't think of a thing more insulting. A mercenary is no different than a prostitute, money for flesh, pain or pleasure. She's aware of it, she's seen her fellow mercs gunned down without a second thought from their enemies. She's heard the men in her company boast of ravaging paid women without thought. For some time, she's considered they may all be beasts, but the grim reaper is sparing her. Sparing her, because he doesn't see her as a threat at all. A defenseless woman clinging to a broken window like it's the only tether she has to the world at all. He's no boar, no blood-stained reaper, just a person. He doesn't see her as pounds of flesh to march into battle before him. She sees humanity, and he sees an insect unworthy of his bullet.

"I tried to kill you," she breathes out, enunciates each word careful and slow as she tries to get a read on him, praying her assumption isn't true. There's the creaking of broken glass beneath the toes of her boots as she pivots herself to fully face him, standing in the window with the backdrop of a dark sky threatening violence. The man shrugs his broad shoulders, turns away, as though nothing has even happened. Her stare drifts to the tourniquet on his calf, and it dawns on her that he isn't even limping.

"I wouldn't even need a minute with you." He sounds bored. The pity stung enough. She wasn't just a hapless rabbit in his eyes, she was a gnat. A nuisance to top it all off. "Who are you working for?"

She falls silent, teetering on the ledge of the windowsill in silent debate. The jump would end in injury, but the darkened sky and the rain could cover her. There’s a building less than half a mile away and if she just made it there then—

“Answer.” Roland’s gruff voice sounds out in the quiet warehouse again, and she hazards a glance up just in time to catch those dead eyes of his peering at her from over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

“No?”

“I don’t have a name.”

Roland merely huffs at that, rolls his shoulders a little. He’s confident, a bit too arrogant for a man that’s been shot. She may have seen a boar, and he may have seen an ange, because he has the audacity to give her a comforting pat on the shoulder with a gentle swipe of his thumb along her neck.

Tells her, “Get lost.”

Follows it up with, “Let us never meet again.”

She doesn’t die on this frigid, rainy night, but a part of her is lost with him. Lost with a man that looks at her as though she had tiny angel’s wing, buzzing at her back. Lost with a man who’s entire existence is an enigma to her. Shoot to kill, and she hadn’t. Shoot to kill and not ever would she again, not to him, not to the man who gave her mercy when she deserved none.

— — —

She finds herself working alongside the Polish GROM. Realistically, she had returned sopping wet to her shabby hotel and spent hours researching how to work her way in. She doesn’t know why, but she’s found herself enthralled in a shadow, worshipping him in her own way. All for a chance to see her should-be reaper. And she’s no elite, can barely keep her trigger finger steady, but supplementing for a fallen soldier is the standard and she’s got enough falsified experience under her belt to look the part of a proper gunman.

It pays enough to keep her afloat until the next thing piques her interest or her contract ends, whichever comes first. Her room is simple, a barren mattress and dark walls, a concrete floor. It doesn’t feel homey, but no place ever does nowadays. Small blessings are found in the fact she doesn’t have to share the space, it’s hers and hers alone.

She spends her first few hours inspecting the place for bugs, then takes to staring up at the ceiling, listless, because what the hell had made her so impulsive? Roland could have already had his head blown clean off by anyone else by now. Did she even want to see him? To choke him with his own words or thank him for his kindness?

All of this uprooting driven by impulsivity for a man who told her not to meet him again and yet she’s here, walking about the compound like she truly belongs.

She should have cut her hair, tried to make herself look different from the trembling mouse on the ledge that night, but a part of her wants him to see her. Recognize her, bring him down from that gilded throne of his where women like her are just nuisances instead of a proper challenge.

Only, she’s not a challenge. Not at all, because the second she meets him in the stairwell her mind starts swimming and all she can do is stare. He looks a bit tired, likely having just returned from some dreadful mission, even wearing all black he’s covered in sprays of dust, the denim of his trousers painted darker in some places, blood.

“Ja jebię.”

He hadn’t forgotten.

His breath sounds shaky, and she’s not sure if it’s because the gas mask in its proper place or if he’s actually surprised, startled. If anything could shake him down from his pedestal she imagined meeting the woman who tried to kill him once again would do it.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than your aim, pizda.”

She imagines that he would probably like nothing better than to put a bullet through her right then. The man merely laughs, something breathy and low. She’s surprised him, probably both startled and impressed that she even had the balls to face him again. She likes that, likes that little laugh, that his voice isn’t angry, that he’s playing with fire just as much as she is.

“What are you doing here?”

“Contract,” she states simply, not bothering to hide the way her gaze rakes over his body in the yellow haze of fluorescent lighting. “Just a few months, filling in a gap.”

He mutters something under his breath, a string of Polish and French that she doesn’t quite catch. She knows that he knows she’s infatuated, taking to follow after a wild coyote like a house pet.

It’s a dirty word, infatuated; dangerous in a way that scares her more than facing down the barrel of a gun.

Roland takes a step towards her, brushes her hair from her face with a touch too rough and leans in close to look at her, inspect her as though she’s not even really here, some figment of his vile imagination. She just… lets him. Despite her better judgement she lets him grip at her face like she’s nothing but putty in his hands.

“Here to kill me?” He asks his question as he retreats from her and drops his hands to his sides, staring at her as though she’s not an implant in his force, but an implant on the planet itself.

“Not this time.”

He gives her a tilt of the head and a grunt in response before brushing past in a hurry.

— — —

The following morning, she wakes to several rapid knocks at her door. Sounding just impatient enough to pull her from her sleep with her heart fluttering like a small bird in her rib cage. She readily hops out of bed and dresses before turning the knob to reveal something she didn’t expect— Roland. It’s the first times she’s seen him without his gas mask, but she recognizes him immediately. He’s more handsome when he doesn’t look the part of a famished buzzard seeking out carrion.

“Kaminski.”

“Swagger,” he corrects and she can’t help but laugh at the usage of his callsign. She wants to know how he got stuck with that, something so embarrassing it makes him sound as though he’s some teenage boy desperate to fit in or perhaps even a pirate, not the man she sees before her.

“We aren’t on the field.”

“Today we will pretend.”

He grabs her arm in the very same boorish way he had grabbed at her face just yesterday, and leads her down an empty hallway in silence. Each step seems to echo louder than the last. She wonders for half a moment if he does intend to kill her, hazards a look up at him expecting to see some flame of gruesome determination in his eyes only to be met with a calmness that makes her reconsider.

Today isn’t a day to die, either, it seemed.

He leads her to a room of bulletproof glass and well-placed targets. Pulls his gun from his holster after inspecting that she hadn’t thought to bring her own. She feels silly when his touch goes to prod at her hip, dips along the waistband of her trousers to seek out a weapon that just isn’t there. She’s ill-prepared and now her face feels hot all while Roland didn’t seem to have so much as a care.

“I’ll teach you to shoot,” he huffs as he steps behind her and places his gun in her hands, an ugly thing she recognizes to be a SIG P226. The metal feels cold and heavy in her hands, but she handles it well enough. It doesn’t particularly help that one of his arms curls around her middle to keep her steady. It’s even worse that one hand remains splayed over hers as she holds the gun.

Shooting when you’re in a desperate situation is difficult enough. The thought that death could be approaching doesn’t keep most grounded, not her at least. It makes her shaky. This is far worse. The man is so close she can smell him, gunpowder and something pungent and clean like mint. She feels his warmth cover her back, his fingers digging a bit into her side.

“I’m ready.”

He grunts in response, maneuvering her a bit closer to a small window carved out in the glass.

“Then shoot.”

So, she does. She misses, of course, and she feels even more silly when he mutters something into her shoulder and deliberately moves and angles her arm properly. The only thing good is that the gun’s recoil is soft, because if she were pushed any further against him she may very well melt down into putty.

Again and again she takes aim and fires at the brightly colored target through the window. After what feels like hours she’s finally hit some place that makes Roland give her an appreciative pat to her tummy.

“I’m improving.” She feigns his confidence, puffing out her chest a little in pride.

“Are you?”

He steals the gun from her hand and draws away to face her properly. There’s a tension she can’t place, something strange in the flicker of his eye.

“You saw—“

Her words are cut off when the man tackles her to the floor, covering her entirely as he pins her from either side. A sharp intake of oxygen is stolen as her spine tingles in pain from the sudden force. She yelps, he laughs, and none of it is funny because he’s still holding a loaded fucking gun. Only, worse, when he presses the muzzle against her cheek and uses his free hand to fix her wrists to the cold floor beneath her.

He tuts at her when she doesn’t try to fight him off, only looks up at him with wide-eyes and parted lips, a face too warm to only depict fear. If he didn’t know before, he knows now. She catches a mischievous glimmer in his eyes right before she tilts her head to kiss the cold steel clutched tightly in his fingers.

Roland stiffens above her for a moment, every muscle in his body pulled taut, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering.

“Not pizda,” he whispers as he clicks the safety back on and shifts to holster the weapon. “You are like a…”

“Ange?”

“Non,” he laughs. “Aniołku.”

If she didn’t know before, she knows now.

— — —

Any training session is spent with Roland.

Every mission they’re tethered to one another.

Any free time she finds yourself having is spent with him, even seeking him out herself just as often as he comes pounding at her door.

It feels both natural and absurd, sharing meals with the man she almost murdered, covering him as he covers her, both finding themselves less and less willing to be on their own as the days pass by. The progression just doesn’t halt, a train plowing off track, the man has his blunt talons curled into her and she just doesn’t have the sense to beat him back because she knows she’s got her teeth embedded just as deeply into him.

It doesn’t even come as a surprise when she starts her mornings peeling herself away from him, still sleeping peacefully in her bed. His room lacks taste— too barren, too bogged down with well-oiled metal and violence. She’s spruced hers up in the free time she has with small items, things she can pack up and carry with her to whichever side she finds herself pulled to next.

The thing she keeps most sacred, however, is a little photograph of him, one he had insisted on her keeping on the bedside table, despite being in flesh, wrapped tightly around her each and every night.

She picks it up, turns it over in her hands a few times before the weight of a heavy hand splays itself out across her middle, languidly tugging her back down.

“Stay,” he murmurs, someplace lost between dreaming and waking.

“Just for a bit,” she whispers in reply, nestling close, curling against his chest.

“Forever, aniołku.”

With a soft inhale, she falls back against him in a tangle of limbs and warmth, a part of her lost to the fantasy of permanence.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

ange: angel (French)

Ja jebię: fuck me

pizda: cunt

non: no (French)

aniołku: angel

[sparrowsupportgroup]

₊˚.༄ sweetness for the void ₊˚.༄

“Sweetness that can burn the tongue, that’s what Mhin hungered for.”

pairing: kuras/mhin

fandom: touchstarved

a/n: a lil’ story that I wrote for someone for the Secret Cupid gift exchange :) I hope y’all enjoy!!!!!

Sweetness that can burn the tongue, that’s what Mhin hungered for.

In the bitter nights, as the blood of a wretched Soulless stained their clothes and hands and face, Mhin’s stomach would feel a strange pang, their stiletto knife heavy in their grasp. Mhin would scan the despicable body for any signs of life - for the mere flutter of an eyelid, for the tick of a pulse under vile, translucent flesh, for the weak, grating rasp of something unworthy trying to cling to life, trying to survive - before delivering the killing blow, their blade sinking into the beast’s jugular with little effort.

Sometimes, Mhin would slit a Soulless’ throat knowing it was already dead, not for any reason beyond the grim satisfaction of the further destruction of something they deeply detested. It was their work; it was their responsibility. But on nights like those, that queer pang would throb in the core of them, like a second, sicker heartbeat, much more prominent than the many pulses before it.

As the vermin’s blood began to pool at the toes of their boots, their pallid, somber face shining back at them in the gore, Mhin finally realized the size of the void expanding inside them; this void was a galaxy, a phenomenon, a dark whirlpool that devoured the light and the stars and the moon in search of the one thing it desperately carved.

Sweetness that can soothe the ache; that’s what Mhin wanted but would never admit.

But Kuras knew. Kuras always knew what was wrong, even when something ails the soul and not the body.

Mhin tried not to make eye contact with the doctor; they didn’t want the hopeful, almost demure gleam of Kuras’s eyes to be imprinted in their mind, nor did they want his eyes to catch the vibrant flushing of their cheeks.

So, Mhin had no choice but to stare at Kuras’s present for them, being slid in their direction like a peace offering on a plate: a slice of a spongy light brown and white cake crowned with red and blue berries, smelling of warmth and loveliness.

“It’s a gift,” Kuras murmurs, a gentle smile playing on his lips that made Mhin’s stomach lurch pleasantly, though they refused to understand why. “A cake. Angel food cake, to be exact.”

Kuras’s eyes sang with a certain whimsy then, as if he and the universe were in on a miraculously clever inside joke that Mhin wasn’t privy to.

When Mhin didn’t say anything for quite some time, Kuras’s brows immediately furrowed with apologetic empathy. “I did not make the cake myself if that is your concern.” Kuras smiled again, but there was a melancholic glow to it now. “My attempts at baking have been…less than satisfactory, I’m disappointed to admit. I thought it was in your best interest to purchase a cake instead.” Kuras’s eyes shifted away, as if ashamed, and Mhin’s heart sank. “I apologize that it is not to your liking.”

Mhin quickly picked up a fork. “That’s not it,” they bite out and instantly grimace, their voice sounding much harsher than they intended. Kuras looked at them, patient as ever, and Mhin silently cursed the way his golden eyes sparkled so earnestly, how the honeyed brightness of them stoked the dwindling flame within Mhin’s blackening spirit.

“It’s just…,” Mhin searched for the right words, their mind working faster than their mouth, much to their agitation. “Why? Why would you buy me a cake?”

This time, Kuras is silent for a moment. His ever-watchful eyes observed Mhin’s face for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, now three. Mhin felt like a moth, forcefully pinned yet anxiously fluttering, under Kuras’s arresting gaze. What do you see? What will you find? What do you want?

“I am concerned for you.” Kuras finally spoke, his eyes soft and beautiful like a sunrise, and Mhin swallowed, a strange warmth glowing inside their chest. “I believe you deserve something sweet, for all the troubles you have endured in Eridia.” Sweetness that can fill the void.

Sweetness cannot thrive in this festering city, in this decaying world; sweetness was to be drained from the root before it even had a chance to bloom from the cracked concrete. Mhin knew this all too well, tendrils of resentment snaking around their heart. Yes, they knew how cruel the world can be. But Kuras was different; Kuras was the sole white pearl entrapped in a sea of black tar. He has mended their wounds, protected them as they chased the fitful phantoms of sleep, stood beside them in the dirt and grim and racket of the Wet Wick, a comforting hand on their shoulder. Kuras would not harm them. Kuras would not harm them. He would not.

And so, even with the familiar venomous whisper in the back of their mind hissing, what if you’re not safe here? What if he’s not safe?, Mhin speared the slice of cake as if it were a floundering Soulless and stuffed the bits of the desert in their mouth and swallowed and -

Fluff. The taste of soft fluff, as if made from a sweet spring cloud woven by Kuras’s healing hands and sugared with notes of vanilla and nutmeg, coated Mhin’s tongue. All those nights when they would go to bed in the cold, alone and covered in blood, high from the adrenaline of a Soulless kill, with their stomach and soul empty; the many torturous days scouring Eridia for a cure for their curse, feeling lesser than an ant hunting for food on the sordid ground; the aching pit inside of them, ravenous and hollow and always demanding more more more, never content, never satisfied; it all faded away to nothing, to nothing more than gossamer webs spinning in the wind.

None of the pain mattered anymore. Nothing mattered except for the present, the moment where Mhin exists now, where they stuff their gullet full of sweet angel food cake and Kuras just drank it all in.

Mhin didn’t notice it then, but Kuras was subtly mirroring their movements, mimicking the flexing of their fingers around their fork, the rise and fall of their hand from the plate to their mouth, the savoring of a delicacy filled with both sugar and spice, loaded with fluff and joy.

With the sweetness still heavy on his tongue, Kuras watched Mhin eat the angel food cake across from him. For the first time in his long-suffering eons spent alive, Kuras felt true, aching hunger.

[princeofdarknessblog]

i want to get a head tattoo of willy Wonka candy and trippy swirls like trippy word winds

I have a face tattoo on my face with a music not with in a rain drop a evil and a Halo music not

The devil cross up side down on my back

A Buddha army sleeve

A willy Wonka army sleeve

The devil on my chest and Jesus on the other side of the chest and a the blood of Jesus in the middle of my chest

I want a skull and a scarecrow on top of each other like Hamlet or Edgar Allan Poe

Then next to it I want a ace of spade and a Jack of spade and a king of spade and the words joker going down the side

I want a red man lil devil and the grim ripper blad with a pich pitchfork connected

The grim reaper tattoo

And a thigh of Egypt design

Thot and I want king a King Tut design design with palm trees going down the side and I want a child peace and a nother child peace and I want

A willy Wonka w on my hand

i want a spy kids Floop f with puzzle pieces in side of the Floop f that says you can dream my dream going a round the Floop f

The willy Wonka purple hat from the willy Wonka first movie that is glow in the dark and has music notes coming out of the hat

Willy Wonka and the golden ticket for glasses

Biggie smalls

Suge Knight

G-easzy

1pac

I want a tattoo of a moon on the beach late at night with the aqua teen hunger Force puzzle pieces aliens standing on the moon before glow in the dark with there rocket ship that is glow in the dark

As the antichrist these are all of the tattoo that I want the devil and my grandfather Williams to visit me at my mom house I skream from my girlfriend and not one help out Eminem and Eminem wife and 2pac brot me back home to kill me I don't want to be signed to a record company record label company what so ever I don't want to be signed to shady records or death row records what so ever I hate work for death row records and shady records 2pac and Eminem and Eminem wife are trying to kill me I am not sighing a thing to no record label company what so ever

[rhymingtree]

HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR

What better way to start off 2024 than with my favorite fictional darlings and villains. Am excited. We're gonna pretend I don't have a trip tomorrow. Or school on Wednesday. And unfinished assignments.

Darke, you've been one of the greatest parts of my year as well as your writing. I'm so glad I get to greet you a happy new year, and that I get to spend it talking to you.

Ok now time to suffer.

Oliver Walsh. He was in something of a box but that was putting it nicely.

A gift box. With a very violent demented lil present inside. Wrapped up with a pink bow and a fuck ton of security measures.

Fun.

Oh, but it's ginger... not so fun.

They gave him a cot? WHY? That's awfully nice of them.

Nearly the entire wound Perseus left reopened during the fight; you’d popped the stitches Raffa had done a few days prior and Oliver had somehow managed to tear it open further. The knife wound in your thigh was cleaner than he’d thought it would be; the bullet in your shoulder wasn’t. Neither were the breaks in your arm or the bruises on your ribs. Everything seemed to hurt. Even breathing was sometimes difficult but you were slowly making it through.

Damn... I know the answer to this question but I still gotta ask, how the fuck is she still alive?

Like

Gurl the grim reaper is watching you from the corner as you speak just staring at you in awe

I didn't mention it last chapter but I'm curious to see if Tony's gonna get any POVs going deeper into how he's processing the whole situation

But also, Peter. This is unfairly traumatizing for the poor kid. He's fifteen and already his trust issues are so severe that if I think far out enough, SM:FFH and SM:NWH would probably never happen. He'd probably learn not to trust anyone. When he meets Mysterio, he'll probably just remember Ghost.

And then he'll remember Oliver. And then it'll be, is Quentin like Ghost or like Ollie, is either conclusion even good?

I remember we talked about SM: FFH in the BSU and how Ghost and Jack would fit into the whole thing but...

is it too much to ask to just let the kid breathe? get some therapy first? Hang out with his friends and get into college and love MJ in peace?

What if he wanted nothing to do with you once he learned who you really were?

After all the sleep he lost trying to get you back? After all the memories he scoured through for a sign or a clue? Yeah, I doubt it girlie

“You should have killed him.”

Oh Jack... super soldiers of the same mind you two... it's a bit depressing

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, turning back to the man and folding his arms behind his back, “Fear?” “Love. For who he used to be,”

And now I weep harder

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. From this breath to my last. I love you through hell and heaven. Chaos and peace. I’ll always love you. No matter the time, or the place, or the circumstance, or the universe.” 

Damn Darke gimme a break before my fucking lungs collapse

Or the universe, don't FUCKING

I am taking no man as my husband unless they propose to me exactly like that. Word for damn word.

Buckyyyy

my boy i'm so sorry darke is hurting you

He was running himself in circles when he really wanted to run toward her.

Ow.

I also wanna run. Into a wall. Or off a ravine. Or into the sea. Or...

I love the whiplash of Jack talking to Ghost and breaking me apart in a few lines of dialogue and then Sam talking to Bucky and the bittersweet comfort.

Wracking guilt in two different tones. I love it.

And they allowed Wraith to waltz through the Tower like he owned it.

Well... Walsh would have blown the whole tower to fucking smithereens if he ever found out anyone besides Wanda knew.

He threatened the poor girl without even having to open his mouth. She knew more than anyone he was a ticking time bomb.

No but I genuinely feel so bad for everyone they kept in the dark

The accords fiasco wasn't entirely a personal conflict (excluding the reveal of who killed Tony's parents), it was personal experiences influencing political and tactical beliefs.

This is different. These were direct lies by people they trusted. By letting Walsh play them like fiddles, Steve, Clint and Wanda was walking a thin line between life and death, and every little move anyone made could snap that line and get them all killed.

Everyone deserves some free fucking therapy

now that i think about it, I wonder why the US government didn't see all the shit Ghost pulled in Europe and not sent tac teams on her ass.

Don't they usually stick their nose into that kind of business? Wouldn't the US do that?

Underneath the masks that the man wore, he was still Ollie. He was still his friend.

But Turner, your friend was the mask. He never existed.

Dark eyes flicked up at him as Walsh caught sight of him through the window. Walsh stared at him for a moment, his eyes never changed as a smile split across his lips to show off cracked teeth. His stare was blank, his smile nearly demented.

He'd do great in a horror thriller movie

She was wearing the same clothes she had when he’d seen her last.

Oof... I can smell her from here. My girl needs a shower. Maybe three.

I guess it's reassuring that even after everything, Ghost still had a heart to mourn the friend she lost and see the remaining glimmer in the rust. Even if it was never really there.

“No, sir.” “Don’t call me ‘sir’,”

Hmmm but you liked it

I like it too

Boone keep doing it maybe he'll take his shirt off

“If I can figure out time travel this weekend,”

Which reminds me

How is Thanos' rampage for the Infinity Stones going?

“What am I going to be doing?” “Me.”

Boone Cavanaugh, the luckiest woman on earth

“What are you—” She cut him off with a searing kiss and a Cheshire smile before she turned on her heel, “Montana! Go!”

Yall are killing me

Tony Stark fucking cockblocked them from miles away how fucking dare he

Duke took a shower. Good. Great. GHOST IT'S YOUR TURN THERE'S STILL SOME HOT WATER LEFT

GET YOUR ASS IN THERE YOU STIIIINK

Damn, Duke and Boone get their dicking down tonight but Ghostie and Bucky are left to mope in the most complicated LDR situation ever... Darke you're cruel

Death notices.

Hmm. The chill that just ran down my spine at this...

“He caught me off guard,” Boone said, pursing her lips, “I was almost in the middle of someone.”

Putting salt in Ghost's very lonely possibly very horny wound there...

“I’m in,” Tony said, a smirk playing on his face as Sam lifted his head from his hands.

Don't be so smug. You're only in because she let you in. Congratulating yourself for walking into a door someone else opened for you is pathetic.

But then again he's a nepo baby multibillionaire. He does it all the time.

The Phantom of Paris. The Killer in Kyiv. The Specter in Sicily. The Devil of Dubai.

Oohh I like the ring to those ones lets make more

Muerte en Medellin. Multo ng Manila. Prague's Phantasm.

I don't know why I included my own city in there, it's not like I want her here. She'll make the traffic worse.

Oh god, they know she'd been engaged now

They know so much now

They've seen her whole fucking life

“Кем она была?” Who was she? “She is everything.”

Well, to Bucky, yeah. She is.

Oh my god are they actually

IS HE ACTUALLY

FIRST PROPER REUNION???? SINCE THE GALA???????

REALLYYYYY???????

“Nap. Food. Shower. Repeat,” he said, holding up a finger after each word as he leaned back against the desk lazily, “At least three times. Maybe more.”

See? Raffa and I are in agreement here.

Emphasis on the shower part.

“When they said you felt things…more… More,” he said, his teeth clenching together as he flexed his fingers, “I didn’t think it meant this.”

Is it because the body produces more testosterone in super soldiers? Or is it estrogen that goes up? I cant remember which hormone elevates emotions but it's one or the other i think

It's probably testosterone

Or it could be a completely new hormone that pops up in super soldiers because their pituitary glands are whack now.

Who knows? I don't fucking know. I wish I did though.

I'm so scared that this whole kill him-don't kill him is just Darke putting people on edge

She's about to pull some shit

Thanos is coming and Darke is pulling some shit

How dare she

I can't be worrying about this many things in an economy like this, c'mon now

But you still hadn’t been able to listen until Raffa threatened you.

The chanclas that man can throw strikes fear in the heart more effectively than even Oliver's mere existence

What if he whips out the belt. Or the broom. Or just the rampaging Spanish.

He learned a lot from his abuela and he isn't afraid to apply his skills on Ghost.

BUCKYYYYY

OH IT REALLY IS A HAPPY NEW YEAR

HURRY START THE EMOTIONAL TALK

AND THEN TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF

... never mind he's mad he's fucking mad GHOST RUN

or no wait dont you've been doing that all year

im sorry i let my horniness get ahead of me again

“Cavanaugh was right,” he said lowly, his eyes softening, “You need a shower.”

SEEEEE?????

girl. you stink. The stench is making everyone brutally honest about it.

Maybe she'll actually do it if you're in the shower with her

nudge nudge wink wink

... i need to air myself out on a different fic because this is getting out of hand

oh

I forgot that when they do take their clothes off, Bucky is gonna see everything...

I was most definitely not in the right headspace to read this

He fought the urge to kiss everyone, to try to make it better despite everything they’d been through.

Oh stfu thats

thats too fucking sweet

You know how i'm like... ready for the angst adn gearing up for the crying I'm about to do and then Bucky says this:

“Woman,” Bucky said, exasperated, “Quit arguing with me.”

And it was the most dom thing I HAVE EVER IMAGINED

turns out I'll be weeping in more than one place tonight

ANYWAYS

“Is this…” you asked, glancing down at the soup he’d given you. He nodded, making sure the spoon didn’t slip from the bowl as you stared down at it, “It’s the only real recipe I know.” You frowned, looking up at him as your eyes began to sting, “I only made it for you once.” “Right after I found you,” he said with a tired smile.

Did you hear that Darke? Through the din of fireworks and firecrackers? Did you hear my heart crumble into pieces from miles away?

Now I want fucking soup.

And I want a Bucky to take care of me.

Oh my god.

wtf.

Perfect start to the year. I'm all haggard and sad and horny and so damn happy and I'm ready to fricking die.

I'm tapped out on caffeine. And on water. I'm dehydrated from all the tears I just let out.

Daaaarke

I'll be yelling at you later. I love you. Happy new year.

CHAPTER 101: DIVIDED WE FALL

To all my live reactors,

Please, please, please, hide your reactions under a Read More cut. I don’t want any spoilers floating around. 

&

To all my Anonymous Avengers, 

If you want to react in my asks, feel free. However, I won’t be answering any of them until at least Wednesday if they contain spoilers. 

Thank you,

Darke

┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑

“Destroy it,” the Doctor said without hesitation as the Soldier opened the door of an SUV for him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ace?” the man hummed, glancing over his shoulder and caught the redhead’s attention, “All of it.”

Ace nodded, turning his back to the man and moving toward another car before he paused, “What about her?”

“She is gone,” the Doctor said, grabbing a new pair of glasses from inside the vehicle and sliding them up his nose, “For now. Come. We must move.”

The Soldier nodded, rounding the SUV and glancing down the hall before ducking inside the vehicle. It took off before he had time to close the door. The sound of the engine hummed through the dimly lit tunnel as it traveled.

The Soldier paused, glancing over his shoulder and at the darkening tunnel as the lights flickered.

“What is it?”

“Кем она была?” Who was she?

“She is everything.”

The Soldier nodded slowly, facing forward as the Doctor turned to look at him, “Я знал ее.”

I knew her.

┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙

CHAPTER 101: DIVIDED WE FALL

✪ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ : Aғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

♜♠ Tʜᴇ Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ & Tʜᴇ Sᴘʏ

⧗ Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Rᴏᴏᴍ

☞ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ: Oʀɪɢɪɴs

»Jᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇ sɪᴅᴇ Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

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[second-star-to-motunui]

Road Trip!

Feat. The First Years; Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, Sebek Zigvolt

Prompt: Headcanons for going on a road trip with the boys.

Reader is gender neutral.

Likes and reblogs are heavily appreciated

Who invited him.

Chaos is guaranteed on this car ride if Ace is there.

He is constantly getting distracted by shit on roadside signs and trying to get the car to stop at the weirdest and sketchiest attractions.

When he’s not arguing with Grim over snacks or annoying the current driver with “are we there yets?” he’s all up in your space, chatting with you about the destination and the excitement of arriving.

Don’t worry he’ll pass out about an hour into the drive probably on Deuce’s shoulder oop.

“Ayo, are we there yet? No? Can you drive faster? What do you mean that’s illegal—GRIM STOP POKING ME!”

Offers to drive but nope. Unless we wanna get into a car crash, this boy is not allowed behind the wheel. No taking chances with this guy’s road rage.

He’s trying to stay calm on the ride, but gets pulled into the arguments with Ace and Grim quite a few times.

Him and Epel are the Keep-Grim-From-Eating-All-the-Food Squad.

He loves to play video games with you when you’re bored. He brings a laptop to watch movies too.

If there’s any car trouble on the road, Deuce is the guy to fix it!

“Uh-oh, sounds like we blew a tire. Don’t worry, I can change it! You guys go relax, I’ll be done in no time!”

Designated Driver #1

He’s very focused when he’s driving. This car is full of precious cargo and (while he won’t admit it out loud) he cares about his friends very much and wants everyone to be safe.

So much so that he forced Grim to sit in a baby car seat because he’s so tiny. Many angry cat noises ensued.

When they make pitstops, Jack loves to take Yuu to stretch their legs by going on short little walks around the area. He worries about their lil human legs getting sore.

Jack usually decides what food places to stop by so everyone isn’t eating anything but snacks and fast food.

“Stop fighting back there, guys! There’s a rest stop coming up, I’ll pull over so you all can stretch and use the bathroom. Just keep your heads til then.”

Road trip master here!

When it’s road trip time, Epel is the one to make all the plans. Snacks, entertainment, first aid, pillows and blankets, camping supplies, he has it all covered!

He looks up any fun places they’ll be passing before the ride and makes note of them.

If he gets sleepy and you offer to let him lay in your lap or on your shoulder, he’ll claim he’s not a child but he does it anyway. What? You’re comfy and Ace is hogging all the pillows.

Anytime Jack isn’t driving, Epel has to sit in his lap because of the space he takes up. Angry baby yelling ensues. it’s my ship leave me alone.

“Oh, are you hungry? Here I packed some apple slices, pretzels, and—Grim, back off, you just ate! Here, take your pick!”

Designed Driver #2

Sebek is the stressed parent. He knows this is supposed to be fun but he needs everyone to CHILL.

The type that won’t start the car until everyone buckles up. That includes Grim, get your butt BACK in that baby seat!

Very stingy, with the aux cord. Sebek only plays his music when he’s driving. Yes, it’s just a playlist of songs Malleus is fond of, let him simp in peace.

When not driving, he talks your ear off about stories from his hometown, most of which are about Malleus or the Thorn Fairy.

“You want me to turn this car around?! I will turn this car AROUND! Jack? JACK! Make Ace put his seatbelt on THIS INSTANT!”

[bingoluka]

Need You

Summary: After a case gone wrong, and an injury left unattended, Loki realizes that even Gods need somebody.

Notes: Includes wound depiction and good ole' angst! Also a lil' Wowki but I'm a little bitch baby.

...

When he said it hurt like hell, it hurt like hell.

Each case tended to go wrong in its own unique and terrible way. Whether one of them leaves with a torn shirt and headache, or a deep gash and a broken spirit, one thing was certain; that Mobius and Loki looked out for each other.

Though, Loki would hardly admit he had grown quite fond of the man he called his partner.

Beyond that, he would hardly admit when he really, truly needed his help. He was independent, he knew this, and sometimes asking for the help or pity of another more than once seemed too much mental strain- for both him and whoever had the bad fortune of being alongside him. He hadn't realized the severity of the injury at the time, as a large piece of metal tore away at his abdomen while swimming from an impending tsunami. His magic had already begun to heal him, fixing the initial trauma while the freezing water numbed him.

He has assumed the blood in the water hadn't been his.

Now there he was, wandering aimlessly along the TVA corridors, wishing desperately he could lay his inhibitions to rest all the while sparing his friend the worry. Though, he knew it was unlikely.

The air felt cold against his skin, each step sending a fiery blast of pain across his stomach and up to his back. He grimaced. Pathetic, he thought to himself weakly. Who are you without your power?

"Loki? Loki!"

His voice sounded distant at first, so much he grew concerned he had never heard it at all. A sharp exhale left Loki's mouth as another pang sent shockwaves through his body.

"Oh no- oh no-!"

He stumbled, his legs crossing wildly over each other and he fell into the wall next to him. He began to sink to his knees, the pain becoming overpowering as he fought to stay present. How was it getting worse?

He realized then the wound no longer felt cold. It felt hot, burning as fresh blood spilled from the wound. Loki realized then how little healing had taken place.

"Loki? Hey, hey look at me."

Mobius's voice was soft, calming as it was fearful. Loki wanted to melt into the other, hide from the agony.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. "I thought it had healed- I thought- I thought it wasn't this bad-"

"Shh," he whispered, keeping a steady hand on Loki's back. "Loki, can you walk?"

Loki stopped for a moment, his eyes falling to the ground in shame. His breathing was already erratic, jumbling his thoughts and rationality to the point he wasn't sure of anything. He looked up at Mobius now, his eyes scanning his for a sign.

"Come on."

Loki hadn't realized how many people were there with them. Maybe it was adrenaline, or his partial loss of vision from the wound, either way, the voices began to filter in at that moment. Agents and hunters, some workers he had never seen all gathered around them. Mobius had taken one side, while a hunter had him on the other, leading him out of the hall when his body began to go limp. He fought against it, begging himself to stay upright just long enough to prove he was capable. But he wasn't, and they knew this. His knees buckled beneath him, sending both him and the other two staggering forward with an "oh-!"

He could feel them ease him to the ground, pain shooting through him again as he made contact with the floor- causing him to cry out.

"We need to address the wounds here," Mobius said, his voice sharp and heavy. "He's deteriorating, either we let him use magic or we heal him ourselves."

"We can't just let that happen, we have to be outside of the TVA," someone said. "We need to take him somewhere else."

As they spoke, others had taken to pressing against his wound to suppress the bleeding. At first, it was agony. But after a while, he felt a warmth come over his body, a peace he had never felt as the pain melted away. He knew it wasn't supposed to happen, Mobius frantically calling his name being a sure sign, but the relief was something he couldn't deny.

"Loki! Stay with us, come on-"

Before he slipped into sleep, the last thing he saw was Mobius over him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. God, he was tired. But he regretting falling asleep all the same.

...

"If I would've known he was hurt, I wouldn't have taken my eyes off him, what more is there to understand?"

Mobius looked at Renslayer for a moment. Defiance wasn't typically in his nature, though he'll admit his actions spoke otherwise. He was more a calm deviant, not driven by a harsh nature but rather a calm and collected one. She sighed, resting her pointer and thumb on the bridge of her nose.

"I know, I know. But we can't have events like that happen, Mobius. Half our team was distracted, imagine if the variant had struck then?"

"You know I respect you, Renslayer. I really do, I admire you and you know that. But this just seems wrong, he's still a person," Mobius said, frowning. "I know in the grander scheme of things we have a lot to worry about but I saw humanity out there. A collective force of good working toward an unspoken goal."

"Which is?"

"Making sure variant or not, we're taking care of each other."

...

Loki woke on the couch that night.

Wait, couch?

He had expected to still be on the floor. Though he knew Mobius would never, it wasn't out of the picture that another agent might let him stay on the ground. After all, they weren't too fond of him. He went to stretch, the sharp pains from his stomach stopping him in his tracks as he remembered why he was there.

The room was dark, dark enough that beyond his fixed point on the couch, Loki could hardly see a thing. A voice pierced the air, causing him to jump.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

As Loki realized who it was, he sank back into the couch.

"Fine," he mumbled. Mobius raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You didn't seem too fine back there when you were bleeding out in the halls of the TVA."

"Well, I was," Loki snapped, staring up at the ceiling. He realized how foolish he sounded, but at that point, he didn't care.

"Loki, what happened on that mission?" Mobius asked gently, ignoring the other's outburst. Loki sighed a bit, trying to shift his position.

"I didn't-" he cut himself off with a wince as he moved wrong, the pain burning at first, then turning into a dull ache. Mobius looked down at him worriedly.

"I didn't think it was that bad," he said hurriedly. "I was so cold from the water I didn't feel it. I just assumed the blood hadn't been mine."

It was grim. The idea of the blood in the water was so common for that moment, so anticipated that he had nearly bled out yet speculated it was from somebody else. It brought into focus the severity of even human apocalypses.

"But the blood," Mobius said, frowning. "I should have been able to see it on your shirt when we got back. I didn't see any."

"My magic had healed it for the most part," Loki said. "Just not enough. Once I returned it must've begun to reverse."

As Loki spoke, he noticed Mobius reaching for the hem of his shirt. He quickly blocked his hand with an offended "Hey." Mobius chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm just trying to see it, come on."

"You don't need to," Loki glared. But of course his efforts didn't deter Mobius, who kept his steady gaze.

"Loki," he said gently. "Come on, let me see."

Loki sighed, wordlessly lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal the array of wounds, accented by the much larger wound that ran across the bottom of his abdomen. He heard Mobius's breath catch.

"Geez..." He murmured, gently brushing a finger across the uninjured skin, which even then was sore.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked sadly. Loki cast his eyes to the side.

"An unspoken rule amongst warriors in Asgard was to each their own. It wasn't uncommon to receive wounds in battle, it was seen as noble to keep them to yourself."

"Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Mobius said with raised eyebrows. He added a hasty, "No offense."

"No, I agree. They were all morons," he said lightheartedly.

Mobius laughed now, bowing his head as he did so. Loki smiled a bit, still somewhat troubled by the pain but not enough to mention it.

"This is your apartment, then?" He said, trying to initiate conversation so Mobius wouldn't see as he began to sit up.

"Hey, not so fast," Mobius said, placing a hand on the small of Loki's back. "Your powers may be back, but you have a ways to go."

"I'm alright, really."

"I'm beginning to think that phrase holds less ethos each time I hear it."

Loki huffed, barely managing to sit all the way up. He looked around the room as his eyes adjusted. It was a small apartment, most of his items being placed in the living area. Books, dusty empty bottles, wooden furniture accented with water stains and loose change. The carpet was plush, he noticed, like something you would see from the nineties. It was all very cozy and welcoming.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, assuming that's what Loki had been looking at. "I didn't really have time to clean."

"Mess?" Loki frowned. "Mobius, you bring me into your home and you really assume I'm going to judge the state of it?"

"Well, to be fair, I don't get a lot of visitors," he smiled. "Now you need some rest, alright?"

If Loki had just an ounce more strength, he would've shot back some snarky response. This time, however, he found himself too tired to think of one, so instead, he flashed a quick smile.

"I'll be here if you need me."

If you need me.

Loki pondered on the words for a while. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the weariness finally catching up with him. Before he never would have admitted he need someone, much less someone with no relation to him. But in that darkened room he gathered he had a change of heart. As he felt himself slowly fading into the warm embrace of sleep, he felt a hand run across his head, gently brushing his unkempt hair back in a stroking motion. He wanted to open his eyes, to see Mobius, but he stayed still just long enough to hear the words,

"Glad you're alright, Lokes."

Before contently falling asleep.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  4.1

Author’s Note:  So I’m thinking of updating every other day or every two days? I tend to write compulsively and neglect my schoolwork lol.  Juggling this with work and school will be difficult if I post every day (I can’t help it though, I love updating every day!) So yeah.  Also if anyone has chapter filler ideas or prompts they want me to write out, message me or comment below! Back to the story!

..........................................

Xiao had just cleared a band of hilichurls when he came across the small stuffed bunny lying on the ground.  It was tattered and worn, but still held its original color.  He picked it up and dusted it off, glancing in the direction of the crying girl at the top of the hill. She had been crying over her stolen toy so Xiao took it upon himself to return it to her.  

He may or may not have destroyed a portion of the rice crop in doing so...but no matter! The girl was happy now.

"Thank you Mr. Adeptus!"  She gave him a toothy grin and hugged her bunny close.  "Thank you so much!"

"It was no trouble."  Xiao didn't return her smile and began to walk across the bridge that oversaw most of the rice crop.  What was it with mortal children and material possessions? Was it like him with his yaksha mask and spear?

"Mr. Adeptus sir, would you like something to eat?"

"Mortal food is not to my liking."  He continued to walk away despite hearing her disappointed 'oh.'  His eyes landed at the top of another hill, where the hall of Quince Village sat.  I should check on her Granny while I'm here.

"Welcome to my humble home!  How may I--" Granny's eyes widened significantly when she caught sight of Xiao.  "Oh my, it's been some time.  Is she alright? Has something happened?"

"Mm."  Xiao flicked his gaze around the building before he closed the distance.  "She's fine.  The Fatui will pose a significant problem.  They may come to you first."

"Oh," Granny rolled her eyes.  "Don't worry about me then, dear.  Just make sure she's safe.  I can handle the Fatui's interrogations just fine."

"There's no telling what tactics they may use or what they're after.  Make no mention of my interactions with you, nor how you found her.  It is for your own safety."

"Consider it done!  Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

...........................

"Wait, what?" You and the rest of the adventure team had returned to Quince Village on your request.  

Well...when you say 'the rest of the adventure team,' it was just you and Aether.  Diluc and Bennett had returned to Mondstat on your way here from Liyue Harbor.  After your little confrontation with Childe, he claimed there was unfinished business with the Fatui in the harbor and had to remain there.  You didn't believe it one bit.

"Yeah! Do you think he doesn't like me?" Lil Luo's shoulders drooped in sadness.  She held her tattered bunny tight against her chest.

"'An adeptus that doesn't smile," Aether met your eyes.  "That sounds like Xiao."

"W-well, when was he here?  When did this happen?"  You had to refrain from shaking her little shoulders for answers.

"U-um, maybe a week ago?  I saw him a couple more times after that, but he never smiled back at me..."

"Xiao," you whispered to yourself and scanned the fields for any sign of him.  "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Four days ago, I think."

"You want to look for him, don't you?"  Aether raised a smug brow.

"Can we?"  You pleaded.

"We're here on your request.  Might as well stay a bit, right?"

"Thank you so much!"

"You can just repay us with food," Paimon popped up and was practically drooling at her own imagination.  Aether nodded in agreement.

The three of you--correction, two of you-- climbed the hill to the village center while Paimon floated carefree alongside Aether.  The second you reached the top, you were greeted with a disturbing sight.

Fatui agents.

"W-what the hell?"  You instinctually grabbed the hilt of your sword, as did Aether.  "What are Fatui doing in Quince Village?"

"Paimon has no idea.  Let's get them!"

"Doesn't your Granny live here?" Aether sent you a worried look.

"Yes, she does."  You marched right up to the nearest agent and puffed out your chest.  "Excuse me, what's going on here? Why are you morons moving my Granny's stuff out of the house?"

"Who're you callin' morons?" The agent scoffed through his mask.  "Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'?  Scram.  Get out of here.  Damn kids."

"This is MY house," your blade pressed against his neck in a flash.  "Get off of my property."  Aether followed your lead and drew his weapon too.

"I'm afraid it isn't your home anymore," an all-too familiar deep voice flowed through the air. Zhongli shot the agent a look that caused him to leave the situation to the consultant.  "I sincerely apologize for not being in touch recently.  The funeral parlor has been quite backed-up lately thanks to Hu Tao's mismanagement."

"What are you doing here?" Paimon asked the question that was on all your minds.  "The funeral parlor is so far south of here."

"The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor serves all of Liyue," answered Zhongli.  His piercing eyes turned their attention to you and Aether.  "As you know, the parlor is partnered with the Fatui."

"And? That doesn't explain why you're here," you snarled.  Don't get anything mixed up; you were happy to see him.  But the Fatui at your house? Not as much.  

Zhongli released a short sigh and closed his eyes.  "We received a call from one of your neighbors.  It appears your grandmother died last night of a heart attack."

Something hard panged within your chest and it was suddenly difficult to breath.  "That's not...possible."

"Hey," Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the world seemed to sway beneath your feet.  He slowly led you to the ground.

"That's horrible," Paimon muttered.  "Was it...painful?"

"Paimon!" Aether hushed.

"No.  It was rather quick.  She had not suffered long."  Zhongli knelt so that he was eye level with you.  "I had sent someone to meet up with you in Dihua Marsh, but it appears as though the messenger never met you.  My apologies for the oversight, dear friend."

"Then," you gulped, "why are the Fatui here?"

"Your grandmother had signed the house over to them a day or so before she passed."

"What? Why would she do that? She loves this house!"  Your tears dried before they had the chance to fall.  Your fists tightened as you struggled to determine who the enemy was.  Was it Zhongli?  He was technically Fatui if he worked with them.  Xiao could have been wrong about him.  "Who's in charge here?"

Zhongli almost appeared hesitant to answer.  Xiao managed to reach the grandmother in time, but it appears she still had to make some sort of arrangement to guarantee everyone's safety.  To think that Childe had somehow known to come here--

"Tch."  You stood up and brushed past Aether, heading directly toward the Fatui agent that had the audacity to tell a twenty year old to go back to school.  "Hey, dumbass!"  You gripped the collar of his coat and yanked him close.  "Tell me who's in charge here."

"Heh, want to fight your way out of a contract, eh?  Don't you worship the God of Contracts?  You're not gettin' your stupid house back."

"Tell me who sent you."

"A certain Harbinger," the agent taunted.

"Give me the name!"  You back-handed the masked agent hard enough to hurt him and split your knuckles wide open.  The blood splattered onto the wooden floor and soaked into his jacket.

"Hey, wait!"  Aether grabbed your shoulder.  Zhongli watched him do so.

"You're in luck, sweetheart.  You'd give quite the show badmouthing Childe."

"Wha--"  You stumbled backwards and knocked into Aether.  The two of you shared a look of shock, concern, and betrayal.  "This is all under Childe's jurisdiction?"

"Uh-huh," the agent lifted his mask slightly and wiped at his busted lip.  "He should be on his way back to Liyue Harbor by now, if you wanna try and take it up with him.  But I'm tellin' you he ain't gonna budge."

..........................

You stood alone in the rain.  Zhongli had arranged for a proper funeral and had refused to charge you for the provided services.  He had even managed to retrieve one of Granny's necklaces from the Fatui's grasp, and gave it to you.  He and Aether were alongside you, what...twenty minutes ago?  They decided to leave you alone in front of the new gravestone to grieve.  The funeral was simple, per your request to hold true to Granny's wishes.  The entire village had grieved with you.

"I'm sorry I came too late for a visit, Granny." The words came out robotic and emotionless.  The look on your face was blank.  You placed a small bouquet of glaze lilies on top of the stone; Zhongli had you sing to them before picking them.  "Things got busy, and Childe...well, I'm sure you met him, didn't you?"  You let out a dry bitter laugh that blended with the sound of raindrops.  "I love you.  Thank you for taking care of me even if I was a brat sometimes."

Could it be that you had been the cause of her death just like you had caused your parents'?  Just how much blood was on your hands?

You felt nothing yet everything at the same time.  Your eyes were dry.  After the initial shock, you hadn't shed a single tear.  Thus was your usual reaction to death; you were usually at peace with the idea of it.  If it was their time, it was their time.  But you were not convinced her death was caused by her heart.  

Childe.  Could he have resorted to such extremes to get the house? Or was it for something more?  Perhaps he was the true danger Xiao had warned you about.

Your chest ached, desperate to release the pent up storm of emotions whirling through you.  The wind picked up for a moment.  "Xiao?"  Your hoarse greeting was met with a grim-looking yaksha.  It was possible you were just imagining him in a time of need.  You hadn't seen him in a month now.

Xiao blinked and gave you a once-over as he stood beside you.  He had heard your sorrow like it was blaring in his ears.  His eyes fell to the gravestone, and his expression saddened further.  "She's dead." His question of disbelief sounded more like a tactless statement of fact.

"Yeah," you half-winced, half-scoffed at his remark.  "She's dead."  You knew all too well that he didn't mean any harm.  "Why're you standing in the rain?"

"I don't concern myself with the weather, but you should be inside.  Mortals are fragile."

"I don't particularly care at the moment." Your words cut through the rain like a blade of ice.  

She has lost all of her family now, Xiao realized.  He watched you with admiration at how strong you were acting even though it was clear you were trying not to break.

"I came back to visit and check in on her," you opened up after a few minutes of silence.  His glance towards you prompted you to continue.  "And then a little girl told me an adeptus had saved her toy bunny.  That was you, wasn't it?"

"Mm."

"Did you...see her?  My Granny?"

"I have spoken with her several times over the course of several years.  I did not think it would be the last time.  What happened?"

"Heart attack."  You swallowed.  "When I reached the house, the Fatui were clearing it out."  You caught the color draining from Xiao's face.  "What? Do you know something?"

"So my suspicions were correct," Xiao muttered distastefully.  He looked around the graveyard.  "You're sure they all left?"

"Yes.  Zhongli said that before she died she had signed a contract to hand the house over.  But she wouldn't do that so easily."

Satisfied with his scan of their surroundings, Xiao folded his arms across his chest.  "I told you I would inform you of our predicament when the time is right.  The time is now."

"After my Granny just died?"  Your undirected anger manifested at his words.  

"The Fatui are after the two of us."

"Why?"

"Our guess is they wish to create adepti soldiers or yakshas using the technique I used on you when you were a child."  Your eyes raised at 'our.'  Xiao's gaze flicked to you briefly.  "Zhongli."

"Wait, why would Zhongli be involved with this in the first place?"

"He is the former Lord of Geo, Rex Lapis--"

"Wait wait wait, he's what?!  But that's not possible, Rex Lapis is--"

"--Only a select few know his identity.  Do not go around telling."  You nodded, head spinning from all this new information.  "Childe was tasked with identifying and obtaining us.  If anyone gets their hands on an adeptus or your blood, it could spell the downfall of humankind."

"What exactly is my blood?  Why would they want me?"

"My blood runs through your veins."

"U-um...?"  You shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

"That is how I saved you," Xiao uncrossed his arms and faced you fully.  "It allows you to withstand more adeptal energy than the ordinary human, which is why I can be so close to you.  It also increases your body's healing capabilities.  It is the only reason you survived that day.  It is also the only reason you survived your lawachurl wound."

"...Why didn't you tell me this before?" You mumbled beneath your breath.  The rain hitting the earth nearly overtook the sound of your voice.  "We...We could have saved her."  Your anger leaked through your voice.  It wanted something to blame, something to lash out at.  You caught yourself before you could say or think something you didn't mean.  It was a heart attack.  Xiao is not to blame for this.  Childe is the enemy.

"Childe was listening in on our conversations.  I could not disclose this information to you so we would have the advantage to work in the dark against the him."  He stared down at the gravestone.  "I am...sorry.  I did not recognize the stress it would put her through. She was optimistic and happy when I last saw her."

You shook your head.  "I doubt it caused the heart attack.  I just want to know what they did to make her sell the house," your hands curled into fists.  "Childe will pay for this."

The two of you silently stood in the rain for some time before Xiao held his hand out to you.  "You will get sick if you stay out here longer.  Let us meet with the rest of the team."  You placed your injured hand in his, having forgot that it was aching the entire time.  Xiao's eyes narrowed at this, but he did not question you.  With your blood, it would heal by tomorrow morning.

[a-lil-perspective]

Interspersed

A/N: Here’s a lil Tech X Reader drabble I wrote while doing a big sad over the weekend. Also to rectify the disgraceful lack of Tech content on my blog. Also also, to utilize a beloved Hamilton quote from my prompt list. Anywho. Soft Tech drabble in which Tech is sleepy and suddenly questions his own intelligence. A very big mood. Not to worry; the S/O is here to help. :)

He’s doing it again.

Another day turned to night, with no end in sight.

Another project, another fixation, another night the bed is cold and stiff. Another leave he doesn’t spend with you.

“Tech.”

He doesn’t tear his attention away from his work, makes no acknowledgment to your call. He’s positively hyper-fixated, and if he wasn’t troubled, he’d be in trouble, surely.

With the sound of your perturbed tapping somewhere off to his right, Tech rather nervously concludes he still might be.

He thinks you won’t see it. That if you’re fussing over the proficiency of his hands and the hunch of his shoulders, you won’t see the way his mind is racing, burning fumes. The way he’s… struggling. He’s a reputation to uphold, and this engineer simply can’t comprehend letting you marvel over anything other than his ingenuity. Certainly not of any mental ailment. Struggles are merely a kink in the neurotransmitters that with a little self-convincing, can be plucked out and overcome with all haste.

But that is merely the science behind it.

“I wonder how long you keep ignoring me before I start a betting pool from it. Don’t think I won’t, either.”

Tech bites his lip at that, hollowing his cheeks with an expression vaguely reminiscent of a scolded child. He can’t bring himself to respond, and a surreal frustration boils because of it. He always has something to say, words filling the space effortlessly. He should apologize, should reason, should rebuttal with something painstakingly factual—

But if he says what’s on his mind he’ll spill something that’s terribly insensible, and even more terrible:

Insecure.

Even still, Tech’s thoughts often broadcast far, far too loudly for his liking.

“Am I a capable person?”

It feels like such a trivial thing; silly, even. Of course he is capable, his title alone is a testament to such. These are inquiries not to be mused aloud, in Tech’s informed opinion.

You blink in confusion. “The most capable person I know.”

Tech says nothing at that, relying on the methods you use to upend him and on the ways you speak for him when he won’t—which is ironic, given that his every waking moment is spent talking, talking over you... and about you. However it’s widely known of the way he verbally shrivels away when his burdens require him to divert all of his energy to upholding the strain. Perhaps he’s more predictable than he’d like to admit.

Perhaps that’s why these feelings manifested in the first place, flourishing in his chest until they’ve become this far too constraining thing for even the brightest engineer.

“How are you certain?”

How are you not? you nearly ask. Instead, you arch a brow. “What is this about?”

There’s only the mechanical hum-drum of the hangar for a long moment.

“I feel inadequate,” is all he says.

“What in the kriff for?” You’re utterly baffled, gaping crudely no doubt. Tech can’t tear his eyes away from the project splayed out before him. It’s just randomized parts, really. Much like the current state of his headspace.

“I… experience a sense of dissatisfaction with my work, and everything that pertains to it.”

You shake your head slowly, unable to fathom where this is all coming from. For Tech, it’s unprecedented.

You frown, and then your lips pull down even further when you realize that he can’t even see it; he won’t look at you, and it’s maddening. “Well I experience a sense of dissatisfaction over the way you’re too hard on yourself and the way you won’t ever take a break unless someone forces you. Seriously, do you know what time it is—”

“No, you don’t understand, there is… more to it,” he murmurs conspiratorially, his face scrunching.

You open and close your mouth, now at a loss. The desire to grant him peace of mind is overwhelming; all you can dwell on. Tech is this whirlwind of coding that you all-too-easily get swept up in. He’s every foreign language accumulated in the databanks. He’s the answer to questions, and the questions to every answer. More often than not, it’s a challenge to keep pace. But one you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You soften, stepping closer to him. “Then help me understand.”

He purses his lips, considering.

“I fear that when it comes down to it, I do not perform as well as I could—as well as I should.”

Your steel your posture. “Tech. Your contributions are invaluable—you’re invaluable. To your squad, your brothers. To me.”

“I sometimes wonder if it is enough.”

“It is. You are enough.”

Chapped lips pressed to a grim line, the rim of his goggles ever so slightly inching down the bridge of his nose, Tech twitches at your touch to his armored forearm. He blinks hard in an attempt to alleviate the burn in his retinas forged from an unrelenting stare at things he’d rather not examine but does anyway. His hands have fallen slack in defeat against the table before him.

You gently turn his ragged body away from the workbench because Maker knows a hyper-fixated Tech has to be herded like a baby Shaak to get any coordinated movement from him in such state. You keep a firm hand braced along his upper arm and turn his face to yours, cupping his cheek.

“I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing, the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind. But I’m not afraid. I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be, either. Just let me stay by your side. That would be enough for tonight.”

The engineer finally brings deprived eyes up to yours. He extends a gloved hand out, soot-coated and all, and you take it with all eagerness, squeezing tightly. It always amazes you, the way he can piece together inventions and desecrate standards to formulate his own, paving a path far brighter than anything someone else could conjure up in their wildest dreams. The way he’s so unapologetically himself.

Except for now.

“I... apologize for pushing you away. That was not my intent. I suppose I am not too well-versed in emotional discovery—yet.” His determined smile almost overrides the crackling of his voice. Almost. He takes a deep breath, giving your hand a squeeze and continuing on at the reassuring one he receives back. “But... I would like you to be here with me. Very much so.”

You reciprocate the smile, and with a free hand you ruffle through his unruly tuffs, a stray chuckle escaping you at the sight.

“Well. I’d much rather be in bed with you than standing here,” you gesture to his less-than-ideal work surroundings in the isolated part of a mostly vacant hangar. Tech looks longingly to his project that’s more busywork than an actual project, sighing.

“Soon—”

“Has become now,” you gently chide.

“My work—”

“Will be there when you wake up. But more importantly, so will I. Rest now.”

With that you pull him along, ignoring his endless excuses and refutes, and the way he reaches out for his tools like a child and his beloved toy he can’t bear to part with.

You lead him out and towards the barracks, to your quarters, with Tech undressing in small increments along the way after he quit grousing under his breath. It’s futile; he knows your resolve is unshakeable. It’s a deduction he made long ago, in a sweet past that feels but a dream now. But then he looks over to you and remembers that it’s still very much an active dream. One that a part of him aches at the very thought of ever waking up from.

By the time you make it to the door, Tech’s helmet is tucked under his arm, turned up like a literal bucket, his gauntlets and other small armor components resting inside. A resourceful man through and through, with not a care in the world as to whether or not anyone stumbles upon his oddities. Public perception has never been a priority for Tech. So ahead of his time, ahead of the game.

You get cozy once inside, freeing yourself from a constricting uniform while carefully eyeing Tech in the doorway for signs of instability—it wouldn’t be the first time he’s nearly collapsed from exhaustion while removing his armor, utilizing his last ounce of strength left at whatever ungodly hour he’s finally reeled in.

Stripped to his blacks, Tech flops onto the bed and nestles against you, sprawled at an awkward angle with his head resting on your bare thighs. He wraps a tired arm around the circumference and squeezes like it’s that of a pillow. He’s got you in a vise-like grip, and you can’t help the snort it pulls from you.

“Why do you do this to yourself.” You caress his face with the back of your hand, gently scrutinizing the quivering Commando who’s now faced with the side-effects of potent caf shots he very much has an addiction to. They always hit him hardest once coming to a full stop in his endeavors, no longer masked by the methodical fidget of limbs hard at work. You feel his lips curl into a frown as his body involuntarily trembles.

“Do, what?”

You stifle a yawn, grappling for the blanket at the foot of your bed and draping it over the two of you; he’s chilled. “Fight like you’re running out of time,” a flick to his expanse of forehead. “Doubt that big brain of yours.”

Tech shoots upright, damn-near colliding his head with your inclined chin. “Technically, intelligence does not equate to a larger brain mass, at least not in us humans—”

“Stop talking,” you hum, pressing him back to your leg and batting away the fatigue rapidly seeping over you. You stroke up and down the corded muscles of his back to ease him out of the shakes.

Tech falls silent but only for a moment, revisiting the question that you both already know the answer to. He traces random, unsteady shapes over his pillow. “I do it for you, you know.”

“But you do it at the cost of yourself. And... of us.”

There’s a pervading sadness to your words, and it tugs at Tech. “I strive to be the best I can, for you and my brothers, and the mission.” It sounds like such a wormy excuse in his ears.

You lean forward, hair strands lurching with to kiss his cheek as you press your lips to the shell of his ear. “Be the best you can for you. Just stay alive. That would be enough.”

Tech squints contemplatively. With effort, he reaches up to rest a hand on your cheek. “Well then I must respectfully request the same of you.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry about that,” you smile down at him, fingers carding through his hair as your gaze flits somewhere far away. “We’re smart. We’ll make it.”

“I’m smart?”

As if he needs you to tell him that.

You scoff but it’s not heavy. “You know you are.”

“But what is ‘smart’?”

Either he’s pulling your leg (literally) or getting all philosophical on you, and in either case: exhaustion and a distant validation have successfully taken the reins in the conversation.

You roll your eyes. “I’m looking at him.”

The goggled member smirks. “Is he good looking?”

There’s this rare side of Tech that shines through in his hedge of exhaustion. It’s delightfully loony, one of those seldom instances where the precocious engineer retains his fleeting youth through fatigue-driven giggles and caricature expressions. It’s a lovely thing you don’t get to experience often, but when you do, you milk it for all its worth.

A playful swat to his backside. “Handsomest thing I’ve ever seen. The smartest, in fact,” you purr, thoroughly humoring him but also believing in him; the sum of your playfulness and your full endorsement. You sweep your hair out of his face, resting your forehead against his.

“What would I do without you...” he murmurs against the skin of your leg, lids fluttering heavily, drunk with exhaustion and undying appreciation. His goggles lie crookedly affixed to his face, which makes the entire sight that more endearing.

“Excellent question, Tech; what would you do without me?” You gingerly remove his corrective eyewear and set it atop the nightstand. Tech’s toothy, lopsided grin is truly a sight to behold. He ponders for a second, then lazily shrugs one blanketed shoulder.

“I’d never get tucked in.”

[maskyartist]

imma offer y’all a quick lil God AU for funsies. had the idea been done to death? yes. do i care? no.

- Ozpin is the God of Life. After a human woman managed to get in close with him only to steal...somethin, probably water from the fountain of youth, to gain immortality, he decided it would be safer for both others and himself if he were sealed away from the world. (or however Salem could be involved in this idk all that’s important is that Ozpin is sealed away)

- Ozpin’s only other connection to the outside with the other gods and such is through his messenger angel, Oscar! No one really believes him when he claims to be a messenger of the God of Life, seeing as Ozpin has never been seen in many many eons, but he’s persistent! He is the only person who knows how to get in and out of Ozpin’s domain, and is the only one freely aloud in and out at his will.

- Enter in everyone’s favorite man, Qrow Branwen, current student under the previous God of Death, Maria, to learn how to be a proper Grim Reaper. Qrow got the short end of his title as God of Death, where now everything he touches that is alive dies in his hands. He had a tendency to avoid people and even other gods just out of fear for their safety around him. He’s nothing but bad luck.

Still, that luck of his always brings him to strange places, and he ends up finding a small door hidden away within the godly realm. Curiously, he pokes his head in and it is a gorgeous place. Lush grass, trees, winding pathways, white flowers, it’s a beautiful forest and Qrow can’t find it in himself to fret when he takes a step and a small patch of grass under his foot turns brown and dead. It’s like the whole place had a way to calm him.

He explores, heading further in, curiosity being the only thing really fueling him, until he comes across...another person.

Pale skin, long white hair tied off, golden eyes scanning the pages of a book...he looks so calm, so peaceful, it’s almost unfair. When he does notice Qrow, he blinks slowly, like he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Goodness...this is strange...” He says, making Qrow frown. “Strange how?” The man stands and dusts off his robes, offering Qrow a kind smile and an amused chuckle. “Well, nobody should be able to enter my domain without my permission. But, I suppose it’s just fine. We can get this sorted out.”

He offers a hand. “My name is Ozpin. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. And...who may you be?

Qrow’s luck is terrible. That is how he found the God of Life after him being sealed away for years and years with no sign of survival.

edit: meant to add this before but im sick so!

After being guided out from Ozpin’s little domain by the god himself, and is bidding his goodbyes, Ozpin stops Qrow for a moment and carefully pins a little symbol onto his robes. The same simple gear that adorns Oscar’s tunic. “There.” He says with a smile as he admires his work. “With this, you’ll be able to come and go as you please.” Before Qrow can ask, Ozpin simply brushes a piece of his bangs back. “I appreciated your company today, Qrow. I would be honored if you entered my domain again. Perhaps we could have tea next time.” He chuckles. “As long as I am more properly equipped to have guests.”

And that is how the God of Death made friends with the God of Life. By complete accident. What are the chances?

[yannasunflower]

flux

on today’s episode of “yanna needs to stop writing new things and work on her wips”. i love this show and i wanted to write a lil something that’s been at the back of my mind for a while. always wanted to know what happened while Katara and Zuko waited to hear if they were able to win the war, or if their friends would survive or not. may keep this as a one-shot, may turn it into an actual fic with an Azula redemption arc and actual Zutara shenanigans and politics GALORE. who knows? enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

Katara is sure he’s dead. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life, to be precise. Azula’s aim is impeccable, Zuko has always been at least a little suicidal, and Katara is a waterbender who is absolutely useless against lightning. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s trying to convince her sputtering heart to keep beating even as she runs toward his prone body, so lifeless, so helpless on the cold, stone ground.

It is no place for a son of Agni.

She falls to her knees and doesn’t stop to listen for a heartbeat, just puts her hands to his chest and prays. The wound is gaping and raw and scorching. She tries to keep her memory from racing to another night on Appa’s back when she held the world’s future in her hands for the first time. Katara hiccups, not sure if she has felt fear like this since Aang took the same lightning bolt in Ba Sing Se. Lightning that put him in a coma for weeks, a wound that didn’t let her sleep for days at a time. 

Aang had been necessary to world peace but right now, looking down at Zuko’s pale, fine face, Katara knows in her gut that Zuko is just as instrumental to the future Aang saw, was willing to die, that they were all willing to die for. The comet is still streaking a path of fire through the sky and behind her, Azula is screaming like a wounded animal. 

Katara flutters her fingers, inhales, holds her breath, squeezes her eyes shut and tries to imagine the heart in Zuko’s chest, one that is red and bleeds just like hers would be if Zuko hadn’t been so damn noble, so honorable. The thought makes her flinch even while her hands stay steady.

And then she feels more than hears the first tremblings of a heart that’s alive. The heart beneath her stirs, beats, skips, and beats again, stronger and steadier with every passing second. She’s sobbing and thanking every spirit out loud she can think of: Agni, La, Tui, Yue, Agni again for saving his son.

Zuko’s body twitches, his fingers curling inward. Katara could jump for joy when his eyes open, still gold and bright. His voice is quiet and low but strong. 

“Thank you, Katara,” he rasps. 

Katara can’t stop herself from throwing her arms around his shoulders, sobbing freely now, unable to imagine a future where his heart had remained still forever. Was it only weeks ago she had wanted to throw him from a cliff?

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” she sniffles when she can finally let go of him, trying her best to give him a big, if somewhat watery, smile. Zuko smiles back, awkwardly like he does everything, and Katara resists the urge to hug him again. 

“Where’s - what happened to...Azula?” his words are halting. Katara helps him sit up, healer eyes careful to catch any wince. 

She jerks her head in Azula’s direction and watches as at first, understanding, then, an indescribable sadness passes over Zuko’s face. She helps him stand at his insistence and when he finally sees his little sister, chained and broken, tears streaming down her face even as she sends fire roaring into the red sky, Katara’s heart breaks. A single word is threaded in Azula’s cries, mama, and Katara’s breath hitches. She looks away, unable in that moment to see anything but a frightened girl she knows she cannot help. A war criminal, a killer, a teenager who was never meant to fight the way she did. 

Attendants are flooding the courtyard. Katara can see the understanding dawning on their faces, many of them scurrying in the direction of what she presumes are the Fire Sages who fled at the first sign of Zuko. She glances at him, sees the grim knowing in the set of his jaw.

“Find the Fire Sages. And someone sedate my sister.” Katara flinches. She does not envy the poor soul tasked with shutting a wild Azula up.

His voice rings through the courtyard, commanding, more powerful than he probably feels, sagging against Katara. She frowns up at him, guiding him to the stone steps and setting him down carefully, gently.

“I need to clean that wound and bandage it Zuko, now is not the time for state matters,” she admonishes, preparing herself to pull more water from the soaked ground. Zuko grits his teeth and she recognizes the way his eyes flash molten gold at her. Zuko is truly the most stubborn person she’s ever met, and she’s met Toph Bei Fong. 

“Scowl at me all you want, I’m cleaning that wound right this second, even if I have to tie you up to do it. Wouldn’t want your Fire Sages walking in on that I bet,” she growls. He shuts his mouth with a click and she gets to work, trying to be gentle, clenching her jaw at every hiss of pained breath Zuko lets out. With Zuko out of immediate danger, her mind wanders to Aang and Sokka and Toph and Suki. Spirits, her father and her tribe’s men. She wonders if Iroh and the White Lotus have recaptured Ba Sing Se, if they ever even had a chance in hell of it. 

Mostly, she tries not to imagine her father’s face if Sokka never comes back. 

“Do...do you think Aang is out there, fighting my father?”

The question is quiet, almost a whisper. Katara pauses to consider it. She manages to flash a smile she doesn’t fully feel at him. 

“Aang always comes through,” she answers. It is as honest one she can give. It seems to satisfy Zuko, who leans back on his palms as Katara rips the hem of her tunic and wraps it around his torso. 

“If,” Katara can’t finish the question. She looks away, at the damaged rooftops still burning, gnawing on her lip. Azula is still shooting blue fire and sobbing and really she knows there’s a comet but how much fire does Azula have? Zuko waits. “If Aang doesn’t defeat Ozai...what will happen to us?”

There is silence for a moment. Katara is afraid to look him in the eye, to even look at his face, so she keeps her gaze focused on wounding the bandage around his chest, tightly but not too much. She ties it off much more carefully than usual, trying to avoid the moment when she will have to look up.

“He’ll try to kill me,” Zuko finally says after a long pause. He can’t run from his homeland again. Her horrified eyes dart to his, mouth open with shock at the mere idea of a father murdering his son. A grin almost curls at the corner of his mouth. Zuko knows that Katara, for all her strengths and intelligence, for all the awful, inhuman things she had seen during the war, he knows that perhaps the one thing she and her brother cannot imagine is that. He realizes, a little abruptly, he has never told any of them how he got his scar.

It’s a story for another day, one bathed in sunlight, where his father’s shadow cannot reach him. He likes to think that day will come, that it exists in his murky future.

The Fire Sages arrive, immediately falling to their knees and pressing their foreheads to the ground, still wet from Katara’s water. She glares at them balefully, disgusted by their spineless cowering and simpering. 

“Prince Zuko,” one whimpers, voice somewhat muffled by the floor. “The Fire Sages welcome your return as the rightful heir to the throne.”

Zuko says nothing. She can’t read his eyes or his face, smooth and imperturbable. With a pang, Katara sees the Fire Lord he could become. She is sorely tempted to tell the cowards to scramble in language she has picked up from travelling some of the coarser parts of the world. But this is not her nation, not her palace, and it is not her crown at risk.

“Sit up,” Zuko orders. He speaks with a new authority, one he never uses when talking to her. She blinks a little. It is hard to keep up with Zuko’s faces and sides at times. “Preparations for my coronation will begin immediately. You will declare me Fire Lord in the next hour. We can have a more formal ceremony at a later date.”

Whatever objections the Sage had been about to sputter died on his lips with one hiss from Katara and a little help from the water rapidly freezing around his wrists. Swallowing, hard, he rises to his feet, as well as his companion, who pulls a familiar object from his robes. 

“An honor, my lord,” this one rumbles and he meets Zuko’s eyes with a little more defiance than the first. Zuko holds his gaze. The air warms by at least a few degrees. While not versed in Fire Nation politics, Katara is somewhat sure the proper address should have been your highness. By the narrow slit of Zuko’s molten eyes, the slight had not passed unnoticed. She shivers. Katara resists the urge to throw the Sage into the ocean, to make him and his hard, dark eyes disappear. He is a viper in a snake’s nest, at home in a court that Zuko has not truly belonged to for years. The hairs at the back of her neck prickle. 

The ceremony is brief and to the point. Katara is beginning to scan the sky for a messenger hawk or some other sign that her brother and their friends are alive. The comet is fading away into the darkening sky. Every moment that passes is painful, agony really. Zuko stands up, shoulders squared and straight, crown gleaming in his black hair. Katara forces a smile, swallowing bile, taking his arm and walking with him to a chamber just a little ways down the hall. When the door closes after a bowing servant, she presses a careful finger to the wound, relieved to find it still closed and not-bleeding. 

Her body sags without permission. She is tired, deep in her bones and blood, with a world to rebuild in front of her. Zuko doesn’t look any better off, the dark circles under his eyes difficult to miss. He plucks the crown from his hair, letting it fall loose around his face once more. Katara brushes an errant strand from his cheek, gently, and she marvels at how Zuko no longer flinches from her touch. When had he begun to look at her with trust in those eyes? When did he stop wincing at every movement she made?

He leans into her touch, just a little, and she allows her fingertips to graze his cheek, enjoying the way his eyes fall shut seemingly without permission. There was a time when Zuko had found it difficult to sleep around her, and there was a time when Katara had stood guard outside his door, stiffening at every noise while he slept. Now, his eyes remain shut and it doesn’t take Toph’s hearing to know his breathing has slowed. 

They don’t move for what feels like days. When he stirs, Katara startles just a little, averting her gaze quickly, praying Zuko hadn’t caught her tracing the thick black (how unfair) eyelashes that fluttered against his cheekbones (too fine, too angled, the bastard even had good bone structure) with her eyes. She stands, wringing her hands, feeling the last of the water in her skin swirling restlessly. 

Katara orders tea and watches with no small amount of amazement as Zuko pours it gracefully. She had nearly forgotten his time working a menial tea shop job in Ba Sing Se. Somehow, the sight of an injured Fire Lord Zuko skillfully pouring her steaming tea is both humorous and disconcerting. 

“We should have heard by now,” she frets as the sky still darkens and time still passes with no word from any of their allies. Outside, she knows the palace is in disarray and the nobles are probably wondering if it is safe to come out yet, but Zuko is in no condition to appear before them as their new Fire Lord, he looks exhausted, La she wishes she could let him sleep. But the world is on fire and Katara is drinking tea mostly to preserve her sanity at this point, so damn the nobles and damn the politics. 

The waiting is almost worse than the fighting. After a few comfortable minutes spent in silence, Katara’s worrying breaks it again.

Zuko flashes her a familiar, exasperated scowl. 

“Stop fidgeting, for Agni’s sake,” he sighs. His tired, overly-patient tone is familiar. Afternoons watching him and Aang work through firebending forms flood her mind. She grins sheepishly. “If Ozai had defeated Aang, we would know by now. That’s not something he would keep to himself for longer than necessary.”

The words soothe her, but only slightly. Because by defeated he meant killed and the thought of Aang’s small, broken body is too much for her to bear. 

“Katara.” Zuko hesitates, and she waits, because they always know when more is coming, they always know when to wait for the other. 

“Thank you, for healing me,” he says and she can’t help but laugh at the genuine, earnest way he looks at her from under those unfair lashes. It’s a boyish expression in a face that long ago lost its roundness.  

“You already said that,” she dismisses him. “And I told you, I’m the one who should thank you. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You almost threatened the future of the world to save me.”

Zuko looks slightly confused. 

“You are the future,” he says and damn him he’s done it again. Her heart is sputtering, blood rushing to her cheeks and she briefly considers trying to bloodbend the blush away. Because Zuko’s face, no longer boy-round, permanently scarred by the cruelty of his father, is so damned honest and grateful and la, she is trying hard not to wonder what would happen if she leans forward, just a little.

Zuko’s eyes are more than gold, she finds, especially in firelight, and is this what Agni’s eyes would look like she tries not to wonder, tries not to see that she has leaned closer, unwittingly, or maybe not, her thoughts a jumbled tangle of heat and fear and spirits there’s still a war going on. But she can’t help but notice that Zuko isn’t moving away, is just watching her face in a way that sets her bones on fire and spirits, she wants to touch his cheek again - 

A rapid, soft knock on the door makes her gasp. She throws her body away from him in a ridiculously dramatic motion. It’s only a servant, asking if her new Fire Lord would like food, bowing all the while. Katara takes that moment to straighten herself, gulping in steadying breaths and pushing the stolen moment far, far from the front of her mind.

“Have any messages come for me?” Zuko asks and the servant girl shakes her head. Katara’s heart sinks and from Zuko’s thin mouth, fear is beginning to settle into his bones, too. 

It only takes a few moments of awkward silence after the servant leaves for Katara to start fidgeting again. She has just about made up her mind to take Appa to where the Fire Nation’s fleet had planned to raze the Earth Kingdom to the ground when a servant enters, bowing low at the waist, a sealed message in her hand. 

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but a messenger hawk has just arrived from Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko grabs the message hungrily, breaking it open and scanning the words before the girl has straightened from her bow. He sighs, deeply, and Katara reads it over his shoulder, nearly bursting into tears again with relief. 

“They recaptured Ba Sing Se,” she whispers. Her hand grasps Zuko’s shoulder and he reaches a hand up to clasp it silently. For a moment, the world straightens. 

“Please bring any other messages directly to me,” Zuko says. The girl can’t quite stop herself from blinking rapidly before bowing low again and retreating, red definitely crawling up her neck. Zuko looks confused and Katara nearly laughs. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she doesn’t think Fire Lords often say please when addressing servants. 

A distant scream sends Katara scrambling for her waterskin and Zuko trying to jump to his feet, failing miserably and crying out as he slumps back. 

“Stay put,” Katara orders him, forgetting for a moment the crown on Zuko’s head. She runs out before she can think too hard about it, her legs taking her to the courtyard, water already rising from the stones, fire burning in her veins because Zuko bled for this palace, these people, before a familiar wolf tail registers in her heart. 

“Sokka!” She definitely screams it a little, nearly falls at least twice as she rushes forward and throws herself into his arms, his healthy, alive arms. He’s on crutches and his leg is bent strangely but she doesn’t care because he’s alive and holding her tight and trembling against her. Suki grunts a little, bearing the brunt of his weight, but makes no complaints, smiling too broadly to feign irritation. 

Aang is standing next to him when she finally pulls back, a tired smile on his young face. 

“Hey Katara,” he says and he sounds his age for once but she doesn’t care because La, he’s alive and so is Toph and Suki and she’s going to cry again. She’s not sure who is hugging who but it doesn’t matter because all of her friends are breathing and here. 

“Where’s Sparky?” Toph asks when they all manage to disentangle themselves. Katara’s eyes widen and she gasps. 

She turns on her heel to find a very injured Zuko hobbling down the steps. 

She runs to him, throwing his arm over her shoulder and shooting him an apologetic grin. 

“Agni, did you think you could face Ozai alone?” he wheezes and she laughs because he is alive, too, and he took lightning for her, and everyone she loves may have just made it out of this war. 

The group rushes forward, murmuring sympathies, arms reaching out to embrace Zuko, and they fall into another tangled hug, tears streaming down faces, Sokka complaining about his leg, Toph grumbling about sappiness even as she slings to Katara like she’ll never let go. Katara looks at Aang and his grey eyes are still alight with something that is all him, all Aang the airbender, and he smiles at her the way a child who has not been ravaged by war would. 

Questions and answers will come later, as will healing and scars and hard work and negotiations. In the light of the lanterns and the moon and the small spots of fire the servants have not yet put out though, Katara clings to her family and begins to realize that the war that killed her mother is over. The war that took her father, took Aang’s people and Zuko’s innocence, took Azula’s soul. It is over. 

She is alive, they all are, and they are breathing in a new life, a future. Together.

[lils420]

A lil something for the kids - Part 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Y/n settles in in Wakanda. A few weeks have passed since Part 6

https://lils420.tumblr.com/post/617217077016756224/a-lil-something-for-the-kids-part-6-pairing

Warnings: Swearing, mention of Torture, a lot of hospital stuff.

The next few weeks, y/n followed a strict routine. It ranged from combat training to doctor’s examinations to hours and hours of what Shuri called ‘Fire Feast’; those sessions where y/n was using her power, again and again, until she would final control it. Sometimes, T’Challa came to these sessions, not to talk, but to observe. But apart from him and Shuri, y/n lived secluded. She didn’t mind that much, after all she had been alone for far longer than that before, but she did mind not being able to leave the tower. Every morning, y/n would wake up just before sunrise to watch it. It was by far one of the prettiest sights in Wakanda, and she regretted not being able to breathe it in. At night time, similarly, y/n watched the sunsets, whenever she could from there training room, as it had the biggest windows. It was spacey in general and y/n liked being in there. Apart from a range of weapons which were hung up on the wall, it also housed the other foreigner, the popsicle. Although he was put into something that looked like a fridge, and had multiple medical cords attached to his head and breast, he looked peaceful, sleeping the days away. Once or twice a day, a medic would come to refill some of the tubes, check his vitals and attend whatever needed attending to. The visits had increased the past few days and y/n wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad sign. Apart from that, she knew little about the man. His name was James Buchanan Barnes, or so it said on the fridge, and he looked about thirty, maybe thirty five. Sometimes, when y/n felt particularly lonely or sad, she would sit next to his fridge and tell him about her worries. Of course she knew he couldn’t hear her, but afterwards she always felt better. But usually, she went about her day ignoring him, and sometimes, she forgot he was there, until one of the medics would kick her out of the room to attend to him.

It was the beginning of July when things started to change. As y/n wasn’t allowed upstairs, she gathered little of what was going on, but one day, when Shuri came down to examine her and she looked particularly stressed, y/n decided to ask.

“Shuri? What is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Up there. With you and king T’Challa and... I don’t know. But your vibe is off.”

Shuri playfully hit her with a few sheets of paper. “At least I have a vibe.”

“I’d have one too if I was a princess.”

“I’d hAvE oNE tOo iF i waS a pRinCeSs”, Shuri sticked a few more white stickers on y/n hand, “No you wouldn’t. But regarding your question, T’Challa was crowned king a few days back.”

“I thought he was already king.”

“He needed to go through a ritual first. And everything was fine, until we heard of this one guy we’ve been trying to catch for a while, but after we caught him, he escaped and this morning a dude shows up, says his name is Killmonger and claims his Wakandan. Anyway, he brought with him the dude that escaped us and claimed he was rightful air to the throne.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Shuri pulled down her screen to read y/n’s vitals. “That’s not even the fucked up bit. He challenged my brother for the throne and this stupid ass accepted.”

Although Shuri said it lightly, y/n could hear her concern. Unable to think of something reassuring to say, y/n said the first thing she could think of. “Killmonger is a stupid ass name. At least T’Challa sounds normal.”

Shuri chuckled softly. “Yeah, fuck this dude. Also, you’re fine, everything is normal, no abnormalities.” She sighed. “Seriously, if you don’t give me something to work with soon, I might stop visiting you.”

Y/n frowned. “But, but I’d miss you”, she complained jokingly, elongating the u until Shuri smacked her with the papers again. “Yeah, well I wouldn’t miss you.” Now it was y/n’s turn to hit her friend, multiple times. Both were laughing until Shuri gasped for air. “Fine, maybe I can find a few minutes in my busy busy schedule for you tomorrow.” In that moment, a medic came in. Y/n was going to get up and leave, as usual, but she too was stringed up. Luckily, Shuri was with her. Apparently, the medic didn't feel half as comfortable bossing her around, as she did with y/n. Her work was barely noticeable, so Shuri and y/n continued with the check up. “Small flame”, Shuri commanded and y/n produced a small flame in her hand. “Blue flame”, once more y/n delivered. It went like that for a few minutes until the medic approached Shuri. “My princess”, she said in a deep voice, “Could you please look at this.” She held out her paper, but it was turned away, so y/n couldn’t see what was on it. Shuri studied it with a grim look on her face. “Oh, this had just been missing”, she sighed, “How long do we have?”

“We are not sure. Probably a few more months, maybe two. If we’re lucky, half a year.”

“Can we not refreeze him?”

“Not until he has woken up completely.”

Shuri sighed once more. “Fine. We will wait.” After the medic had left the room, y/n looked at the princess in confusion. “What happened?”

“The Winter Soldier. He is waking up.”

Y/n gathered that the Winter Soldier referred to James Buchanan Barnes, the frozen man. “And why is that such a problem?”

“It’s not under normal circumstances. But when he wakes up he will be delusional. He might have a short episode, an incident like the one you had, before remembering who he is. Nothing we’re not prepared for, but it takes time, and, at the moment, I wanted to concentrate on T’Challa.”

“What do you mean ‘an episode’?”

“You see, before he came here, he had been tortured for years to become this super soldier. In that state, he has killed many people, hurt even more. Stark’s parents were under his victims. We put him on ice to help him, to fix his mind, but we aren’t ready yet, so if he wakes up in the next few weeks, he’ll need time to readjust.”

Y/n felt her jaw drop. “What the fuck?”, she whispered, “This is a plot twist I was not expecting.”

Shuri laughed. “Oh Fire girl. You are so incredibly dumb. And I am so incredibly smart, which is why I must go now. My brother’s duel is about to start and he needs my brilliance.”

“Hope he doesn’t need to be humble to win. Because that you couldn’t offer”, y/n snickered, “But good luck! I am sure he’ll smash it!”

Shuri’s face turned serious. “God, I hope so too”, she mumbled, before leaving the room.

[em-be-lievable]

The long drive home. (Ch 2)

Fic Title: The long drive home.

Chapter Title: A night without stars.

Warnings: angst like woah, mild alcohol abuse, awkward conversations, smoking, minor confrontation

Word count: Around 3000, it’s a short lil thing.

Summery: Roman made a mistake. He knew from the beginning that he had completely fucked up. But he never knew how much he’d regret it until Patton looked at him and all the stars in those big blue eyes were gone.

Author’s Note: This fic is incredibly therapeutic to write. Next DWAU coming soon, I just had to get this out and away from me.

Pairings: Past Royality, Moxiety, Logince, Remani, Former familial DLMP, Familial PattonxEmile- honestly it’s a mess, just go with it. 

Previous chapter is here, and it’s also available on AO3!

———————————————————————————————————

Roman had fucked up.

Roman had fucked up really badly. 

He had known he’d fucked up. Made peace with the destruction, and vowed to do better once he was able to see Patton again.

But he never really realized the extent of the damage until he was standing face-to-face with his mistake. All at once it seemed like every little red flag and every little warning sign finally hit him and it became clear that there wasn’t anything he was able to do to take it back. To make things how they used to be.

He had ruined it, like he always did. He just ruined everything good in his life beyond repair.

Roman felt like he was cracking apart as he meekly raised a hand to wave at Patton. Patton smiled at him and waved back, but it was wrong. The smile was not a beaming, shining display like he remembered. It was the same smile Pat used for strangers he met during his old customer service jobs. 

All the love and adoration Roman had been used to getting from Patton was gone. And something about that hurt him so much more than he'd expected it to. 

“Are you going to go in, or just stand in the doorway all night?” Logan sighed, pushing past Roman and moving into the living room either oblivious of the tension, or simply uncaring of it. The lankier boy maneuvering flawlessly through the crowd of people to get to the bar and throw back the first container of alcohol he came in contact with. 

"Salutations, Patton.” He stated flatly, “I hope you're doing well.” 

“Ehe, nice to see you too, Logan!” Patton giggled from the bar and Roman resisted the urge to cry. This scene was wrong. Logan and Patton were supposed to be best friends- Patton was supposed to throw himself onto Logan and cuddle him, and Logan was supposed to grumpily protest despite loving the affection. This exchange didn't feel like two long time friends reuniting, it felt like two aquaintances passing each other on the street. "How's the book coming along?”

"UUUGGGGHHHHH-” Logan groaned, throwing back yet more alcohol. “I'm going to kill Stephanie.”

Patton chuckled lightly, but the true mirth he'd hold for Logan's more dramatic responses was missing. “Is that your publisher?” 

“Yes.” Logan sighed putting his head on the bar top. “She pushed back the release date of the second book. Again. I swear, I don't know what requires so much time- Just publish the damn thing already!”

Patton laughed again into his cup and Roman was still resisting the urge to scream. That wasn't the way Patton laughed at their antics. Patton's laugh was supposed to be more bubbly, more genuine. This wasn't the Patton Roman knew anymore. The one from high school, who loved them more than anything. This was a stranger wearing a Patton suit. Someone Roman didn't know.

His entire being cried out for the real Patton, but no answer ever came. Just fake, sugary sweet smiles and hollow laughs in a mock performance of the Patton he had remembered. This new changeling of a man was all that was left. 

And one way or another, Roman was going to have to deal with it. “Long time no see, Patton! What’s new with you.” He tried, plastering on his best, fake brave face as he maneuvered around the crowed to join Logan at the bar.

“Oh y’know. Same old stuff as before.” Patton laughed out effortlessly, before tossing back the remains of his cup. Something in Roman frowned at this. That…didn’t seem like a real answer.

“Yeah? And what does that ‘same old’ entail?” He tried again, awkwardly chuckling in an attempt to lift the grim mood he was feeling.

“Oh you know! I’m still working too much, and playing video games when I’m not working.” Patton shrugged. “Can I get you a drink?”

Another fake answer from Patton, that left a distaste in Roman’s mouth. Why was Patton avoiding telling him anything? What was his job? What did he do? What video games was he playing? It felt like every option to delve closer into Patton’s personality was being blocked. Like Roman was doing nothing but running into walls.

When did Pat become so guarded? “Sure, I’ll take whatever you’re having.” 

Patton made a somewhat disapproving face, and the sorrow in Roman turned slightly defensive. “Are you sure? There’s alcohol in this.” 

“I am aware.” Roman sighed back.

“Roman drinks now, Pat.” Emile chimed in, trying to provide fillers into the holes of Patton’s memory.

“Oh? Really? You were so staunchly against alcohol as a kid!” Patton giggled, shrugging before fixing Roman the drink.

‘Yeah, and so were you.’ Roman thought to himself, but didn’t dare to voice aloud. ‘When did that change?’ 

“Here ya go, kiddo!” Patton chirped, handing over a plastic cup full of dark liquid over to to Roman. Roman grunted a quick ‘thank you,’ before going to take a sip. Maybe alcohol will make this exchange easier.

However upon tasting the bitter, and burning liquid on his tongue, Roman quickly spat up the sip back into his cup. Patton giggled. “Whoops! Guess I should have warned you- I make strong drinks.” 

‘Strong is an understatement!’ Roman whined internally, as someone- probably Logan, patted his back. ‘This is practically a cup full of straight rum!’ “Yeah, geez Pat.” He coughed out a bit. “How are you able to drink that stuff?” 

Patton shrugged, taking a big gulp of his own newly fixed drink. Roman winced for him. “College changed me, as a man.” 

‘Yeah, I can see that.’ Roman grumbled to himself, pouring in a bit more soda to make the drink more tolerable. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ 

Before he could open his mouth and try to fix this painfully awkward conversation, someone new entered and Patton enthusiastically went to go greet them. Roman watched from his seat, sorrow, anger, and confusion filling his heart.

“He certainly has changed.” Logan hummed from his seat besides Roman, earning a cautious look from Emile.

“‘Changed’ is an understatement! He’s a completely different person!” Roman whined eyes still glued to the bright blue of Patton’s back. “Emile who is that and what have they done with Patton?!” 

“Guys, be nice.” Emile sighed, taking a few empty cups and throwing them into the trash nearby. “He’s been through a lot recently. It might take some time for him to warm up to you again.” 

“It would certainly be nice to know what that ‘a lot’ is.” Roman grumbled bitterly, turning back to his cup. “Is it just me, or did he just dodge all of my questions?” 

“Roman.” Emile sighed, “Stop taking this so personally, alright? Don’t forget, we had to deal with Dee for months after you left. It’s natural for him to be a little distrusting.” 

Roman glared into his cup. Right, Dee. The little shit who tore up their friendship completely, but not all on his own.

It was true, Roman and Logan decided they couldn’t take it anymore. All of the lies, the shittalking behind everyone’s back- it had made them both paranoid to the point they didn’t want to be around any of the old members of their friend-group anymore. Like they couldn’t trust anyone in affiliation with Dee anymore. So Logan and Roman cut all ties with Dee and everyone else in favor of working on their book. 

Not for lack of trying though. Patton tried desperately to fix the situation. To make everyone happy, or at the very least keep some semblance of a relationship with Roman and Logan. And they…just shut him out. Roman was so frightened that everything he said would make it’s way back to Dee. That any information could be used against him.

He imagined he acted quite the same way at Patton as Patton was acting now. But the threat was gone; none of them talked to Dee anymore.

So what was Patton so afraid of?

—-

Patton liked being drunk way more than he probably should.

In his defense, he was a happy, bubbly drunk. Under the influence he loved people, and felt like nothing could hurt him. His troubles and worries felt so far away to the point he could no longer understand what it was he was so upset about.

Patton didn’t get drunk a lot, but when he did he relished the freedom from feeling it gave him.

And that’s how he found himself outside, sitting around the bonfire chatting up someone he didn’t know. She was very pretty though, and delightful to talk to even if just in casual conversation. Her name might be Valerie but Patton wasn’t that good with names, even when he was sober. 

When Valerie was called over by one of her friends Patton turned to the next available person and started listening to what they were saying. They offered him a cigarette and he took it along with a light- he was going to die young anyway from all the stress, might as well enjoy a few vices along the way. 

He was about half way through the nasty-tasting smoke stick when Roman found him, the other wrinkling his nose at the sight. “I didn’t know you smoke.” 

It took a moment for the words to register with Patton, and he smiled at the other while shrugging. “Well, y’know- When in Rome-an!” 

The pun put a face of cringe on Roman’s face, and Patton turned away. ‘Fine, screw you.’ He thought to himself, ‘If you disapprove you can just fuck right off like you did before. I don’t care anymore.’ 

“You do know that’ll give you cancer, right?” Roman tried with a dry chuckle. Patton frowned, taking a final drag and flicking the end in the fire.

“Yeah, and so will sunlight, the water, and pretty much all the food we eat, kiddo.” He stood up, “Right now all your cells are slowly setting on fire and we’re all going to die eventually. Why not at least enjoy it for a bit?” He walked passed Roman, pausing and then turning around- as if Roman was only a second thought. “I need another drink, do you want anything?” 

Roman frowned deeper, and Patton mentally rolled his eyes. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” 

Patton gave him a final shrug and headed inside, only getting side tracked by a few people and conversations, before they amassed a crowed around the bar. Finally the laughter and jokes were back flowing easily, and Patton could wash the nasty taste of Roman’s general disapproval out of his mouth.

After someone challenged him to shots, and abysmally lost in a Smash tournament consisting of every player playing Kirby the entire time, Patton found himself laying on the floor and giggling, Logan watching from a chair nearby.

“…So, Patton. How was your college experience?” Logan tried eventually, Patton noted the slight look of concern in his eyes- but decided he didn’t like it, and wouldn’t let Logan bring down his mood.

“Generally it sucked.” Patton shrugged, “The first few months were fun, but then the courses got really hard, and everything with Trevor happened- but then I met Toby and managed to graduate. So at least theres that!” He chuckled.

Logan furrowed his brows, pressing his lips together. This felt like a whole chapter of Patton’s life summed up into a few sentences. And there was so much he was missing from it. “What did you study that was so hard? And who is Trevor, and Toby?”

Patton giggled, that’s right- Lolo didn’t know. He wasn’t Emile, and he didn’t stick around for the shitshow. “I studied programming! Remember how I wanted to make video games? I decided to go into that- but it was super hard, and I don’t even make games now. I work as a tech manager for a banking firm and it’s super boring.” Pat sat up, grabbing his cup and taking another gulp of the burning swill within it. This probably had to be his last drink for a while, lest he threw up or passed out. “Trevor is a bitch, and will be only referred to as fuck-face mcgillcuddy from now on. Toby is cool. I met him at a party and we became like siblings. He’s super obsessed with Halloween- his full name is even ‘October.’ After I moved from Baltimore he still kept messaging me. Though he mainly just sends me memes.” 

Logan blinked twice. Somehow, despite talking more- Patton didn’t truly say anything. The most human thing that came out of his mouth was about Trevor, given that Patton never typically swore. Whatever happened with Trevor it was probably bad- Or maybe Patton was just drunk, Logan really couldn’t tell. Despite that there was nothing to really go off of for Logan to further the conversation. He wasn’t one to press a sensitive subject after all, so he had to find something else to go on.

“Toby sounds cool, I guess.” He tried, fidgeting in his seat. “Um, do you like dungeons and dragons?” 

“I LOVE dungeons and dragons!” Patton lit up, like an excited puppy. “I’m actually a DM for an online campaign! They even call me the Dadgeon Master!”

‘Oh thank god,’ Logan sighed inwardly, ‘At least we can talk about something, finally.’ “Roman and I do too. We’ve actually been interested in doing a campaign, but can’t find enough people to play.” 

“Well if you need a DM I’m down!” Patton hummed, giggles bubbling up from his chest. “I could build you guys an epic campaign!” 

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Logan smiled warmly, for the first time in what felt like forever. “I think it would be a fantastic chance for us to all catch up.” 

“Heck yeah! What kind of character do you play? I bet you’d make an awesome mage!” Patton prattled on, and Logan chuckled.

“Actually, I primarily play rangers.” He hummed, “I find the companion aspect gives me a strategic advantage.” 

There was something in that that gave Patton pause. Logan shrunk inwardly at the blank face Patton gave him, like he almost didn’t really believe what Logan was saying.

It made Logan feel small, and foolish. Like he was better off not opening his mouth at all. “Oh! That’s really neat kiddo! I never would have guessed!” Patton smiled, but it didn’t fix the weird vibe Logan was getting. If anything, it only felt more patronizing.

“Yes, well.” Logan got up, looking for any excuse to leave the conversation. “I think I better find Roman.” 

“You do that then!” Patton hummed sipping from his cup. “Catch you around!” 

Logan didn’t say anything back, as he ducked out of the sliding doors in favor of being literally anywhere else but in the same room with Patton. The night air only soothed his soul a fraction of a bit, as he distanced himself from the vile air that had come between them. Was Patton always like that? So belittling? Was Logan getting worked up over nothing?

It didn’t seem like that. When Logan looked back on his memories with Patton he thought of the sweet kid who was always at Roman’s house. The bubbly innocent kid who always had the best hugs Logan never knew he needed, and went along with all their hair-brained ideas, or was always willing to stay up into the early hours of the night playing video games with them.

That idea was so tainted now. So grossly bastardized that it felt like two separate idealizations of two completely different people. It actually hurt. It hurt Logan that Patton was acting this way. He didn’t even know what to do.

He wasn’t sure if he even liked Patton anymore, and it hit his chest like morning a loss of a departed loved one. 

—-

As Emile waved some of the last party attendees away, he sighed inwardly. This whole event was taking a lot more out of him than he realized, his joints screamed in protest of doing anything more tonight. As he surveyed the disastrous remains of his basement he groaned. If he cleaned up now he’d be absolutely wrecked tomorrow, and wouldn’t be able to make the most of Patton’s visit. But if he waited he might not have the energy for it in the morning, and his stepdad would be pissed. Just the thought of that made him feel like complete garbage, and he could already feel the pain induced mental fog start to fall over him. All he wanted was to lay down and rest.

Amidst his contemplating, Remy snaked a hand around his waist and pulled him into his side, kissing the top of Emile’s head. “Thanks for the party babe. Don’t worry about the clean-up, I got it.” 

“What about Patton?” Emile hummed nuzzling into his boyfriend’s chest.

Remy chuckled, “I think I’m gonna have Pat pass out on the couch for a bit. Gurl drank an awful lot.” 

“Yeah…” Emile sighed, pulling away for a moment to rub his face. “Do you think it was a bad idea to invite all of them tonight? Roman and Logan didn’t seem really happy when they left. And when I checked in with Patton he said he was fine, but he was also a bottle and a half of whisky in so I’m not sure how much I believe that.” 

Remy sighed, with a shrug. Emile knew this wasn’t really Remy’s area of expertise. While he had been by Emile’s side for most of the shitshow, he wasn’t directly involved with it. He didn’t feel the sting, the paranoia of never being to trust Dee. Of screen shotting their conversations just to have ‘receipts’ of his actions. Didn’t feel how much stress it put on Emile after Patton left for Baltimore. Or didn’t feel the sorrow witnessing the tears that came down Patton’s face as he, and Dee encouraged him to forget Roman and Logan after they left. 

Pangs of guilt hit Emile’s chest as he remembered how much a part of the problem he had been. And although Patton constantly denied it, Emile knew he was also partly to blame for how things turned out. How Patton turned out. Even if it was just a small part, he contributed to the destruction of the famILY.

Emile was shaken from his thought’s as Remy pulled him in once more, running a comforting hand through Emile’s hair in an attempt to soothe his boyfriend. “I think it was for the best. Babes have a lot to work out, but at least they got started. It’s gonna take some time and patience, but I think they’ll make up eventually.” 

“You sure?” Emile hummed, nuzzling deeper into Remy. “I think they’re hurting.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s natural that the start of this would be painful.” Remy reassured, pressing his cheek to Emile’s head. “Pat’s not just gonna forget a backstab like that. It’ll take some time but he’ll come around.” 

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Emile thought, but didn’t say anything. ‘Pat will never admit that he’s still angry. He won’t even talk to me about what happened. And we talk about everything.’

“C’mon.” Remy encouraged, tugging on Emile’s sweater softly. “Lets get you to bed. We’ll worry about this in the morning.” 

Emile didn’t say anything, he just let himself be slowly helped up the stairs and to his bedroom. Remy was right, the fog had settled in and it was getting harder and harder to think. He just needed rest.

He didn’t have enough spoons for this tonight.

———————————————————————————————

Nobody’s perfect. Not even Patton. 

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