#look at this gremlin smiling like a madman

[thebeanofdoom]

Spreading the SoapGaz agenda

I've noticed a critical lack of SoapGaz content in the CoD fandom so I'm determined to fill that hole myself, even if it takes me ages. So, here, have some headcanons that I've made up in my little gremlin brain.

Gaz was the first to fall in love with Soap and he realized it while watching the Scot try and balance various items on a sleeping Price's hat without waking him up

Soap on the other hand didn't realize he was in love with his best friend until said best friend almost took another tumble out of a chopper if Soap hadn't lurched forward and pulled him back by the front of his vest, toppling them both back onto the floor of the chopper and making Gaz land on top of him

Cue the gay panic of having our pretty boy Gaz right on top of him, add to that a big dose of adrenaline and Gaz thanking him in a breathless voice and there you have it: one gay as hell Scotsman by the name of Soap McTavish

Neither of them wanted to confess for fear of ruining their friendship, but Gaz especially had a problem keeping his feelings for the Scot under wraps so he went to Price to rant and rave about how "He smiled at me when we sparred and it was so worth the fist to the jaw"

Price doesn't get paid enough to deal with this

It all ends when Soap forgets one of his journals on a table in their rec room, going off to do sth else and Gaz walked in and saw it

Now, usually Gaz would never look at Soap's journal without his express permission but the Scot had been extremely jumpy lately, whenever Gaz got too close to him while he was sketching Lord knows what, so he was a lot tiny bit curious

He quickly checked if anyone was around before picking the journal up and it flipped open on the most recent drawing

Gaz froze when he saw himself on the page, a simple black and white pencil drawing of his face in various angles, smiling, frowning, concentrated

Was this how Soap saw him? And then he noticed something scribbled at the bottom of the page and his heart damn near beat out of his chest

There, at the bottom of the page were what seemed to be song lyrics: All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around

"Gaz?" Said man startled as he heard Soap's voice behind him. He didn't even try to hide the journal in his hand, his heart almost beating out of his chest as he turned to the man of his affections

Soap's gaze dropped to the journal in Gaz' hand, specifically what page the other man had been looking at and flushed a very attractive shade of red

Soap tried to get out some kind of explanation but he didn't get far before Gaz stepped closer in big strides, grabbed the Scot by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss

"I like you too," Gaz murmured after they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other and gazing into each other's eyes

"That's what I was hoping this kiss meant," Soap smiled

After that they became the sickeningly sweet couple that would give anyone diabetes from how disgustingly cute they were together (Ghost's words)

Price was just glad he didn't have to listen to Gaz rant about Soap's stupid mohawk that "the fucker somehow managed to pull off" or how sexy the Scot looked while lifting weights

To get revenge Price sat them all down and proceeded to pull out a safe sex lecture, including a powerpoint and free condoms

"No! Absolutely the fuck not! I got the talk from mah father once, never again!" Soap yelled, cherry red in the face and dragged a similarly mortified Gaz out of the room with him while Ghost cackled like a madman (he did grab the free condoms on the way out though :))

So, this kind of ran away with me and turned into more of a "getting together" ficlet but oh well, what can you do. I hope you liked it and if you got any other ideas for short fics, headcanons or otherwise CoD related shenanigans, come yell at me in my asks

[aceofspadegrass]

Crack involving Couch Stealing

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Chishiya Shuntaro, Last Boss, Niragi Suguru, Mira Kano, Ann Rizuna, Kuzuryuu (Brief Mention really-), Kuina Hikari (Also a brief mention), @brainwashedkittenstuff, @a-simp-20, and yours truly

Genre: This is literally crack. We stole stuff like gremlins.

3k words

I don't even know if I got us accurate you guys, this is literal crack- I tried my best okay? I hope you like it-

It all started with Hatter calling an emergency executive meeting.

Nobody of that caliber was exactly expecting it when Hatter made the sudden announcement, especially since it seemed too important to pass up. Whatever it was had to have been so crucial that it couldn’t have been done in private. Maybe there were new members that they had to attend for? Perhaps Hatter finally figured out where the heck the face cards could possibly be.

Maybe he got a new kimono and just wanted to show off to the group.

But still, they all show up to the meeting, and Hatter was impatiently pacing back and forth at the front. He seemed pensive, and that caught everyone’s attention, several pair of eyes watching the man clad in red. Finally, Hatter stops, slowly coming to the position as he turns towards everyone, scanning each and every face behind his sunglasses. “ We have a problem.” Hatter states, lowly and filled with suspicion and irritation. A few of them look at him curiously from their seats, Last Boss leaning a little closer as he rested his arms on the sword bag from where he stood.

“ What is it?” Ann asks him, and Hatter glances at her, the air tense as everyone waited for his answer. It had to have been something serious if Hatter looked this mad, but not where he would usually send Aguni and his little pack of gremlins to handle it without having to rally the group like this.

“…… Someone stole some of my kimonos and my good hats.” He scowls, tilting his head down where a shadow fell upon his face. “ Not only that, but they also took my couch. My fucking couch.”

Everyone was silent for a few seconds, trying to process this. Niragi was the first to react, scowling and groaning loudly, his eyes rolling in his head like an angry wave. “ Oh my fucking goodness, you called us here for a missing couch?”

“ And kimono and hat!” Hatter retorts, his hands slamming against the table and making it shake. Niragi scoffs, his lip curling. “ So? It’s just a bunch of shit, why do you care?” “ See, this is why you’re my least favourite.” Hatter looks directly at the barbeque lizard, who looks at him angrily, sitting up.

“ You take that back you egotistical lawn flamingo-“ “ Okay, settle down. Hatter, may I ask why you’re so riled up over this that you had to call us all here?” Ann looks at Niragi for a second with narrowed eyes before turning her attention back to Hatter, Niragi huffing and slumping back into his chair with a face of annoyance, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric of his shirt.

“ Well obviously, I need someone to be on the lookout and catch these criminals!” “ Oh, so you don’t know who did it then.” Chishiya croons, tilting his head slightly to the right. “ And so you expect us to figure out who, in this vast space full of people, took some of your supposed ‘precious’ items?” “ Yes! You got it!” Hatter grins, and Chishiya just looks at Hatter with that face, eyes half-lidded and slightly smiling in that way that nobody could tell what he was thinking at the moment. He doesn’t look away for a while, just staring straight at the madman they called their leader.

Niragi grumbles under his breath, but finally tilts his head back to Hatter. “ If we find these assholes, can I kill them?” Hatter just smiles, taking a step back and slowly unfurling his arms wide, his grin becoming wider. “ Well, you know what the rules are: Death to the traitors.” —————————————————————————————————

The Beach was huge, but there was no way that they could possibly miss someone carrying a whole ass couch, right? Wrong. Apparently it was hard as dicks.

The group of both factions asked and looked around for the identity of these people, but nobody has seen a thing, especially anyone carrying a whole couch around the Beach. Neither has anyone seen anyone with any kimonos or hats. A few offered the idea that maybe they hid it away, since they were just clothing articles and perhaps they were ready to take it away somewhere else or reasons unknown.

They even went through every single room in search of anything suspicious. Aguni had gotten the entire militant sect in search of these items, even if most of them had no real clue why these items were this important.

There was nothing. Every room was practically the same, with a few differences here and there that held a hint of individuality, but by the end they were all left in the same state of ransack. They couldn’t be neat about this, especially since clothes could be very easily hidden. A couch, less so, but an initial glance would always prove whether or not the couch was anywhere in sight.

Chishiya had resorted himself to just watching from a high spot, hidden from everyone as he stares below into the lobby. at a bird’s eye view. He had already sent Kuina away to ask people about what they might have seen, and now he just needed to wait if she came back with anything worth of note.

Ann was currently doing the same, in fact, seeing if she could piece anything together that could detect a potential suspect. So far, there was nothing of note. Not a single bit of clue of anyone with hats, kimonos, or what should have been a very visible couch.

Niragi and Last Boss ended up working together in forcing answers out of anyone that even looked remotely suspicious to them, and receiving the same answers of ‘ No, I haven’t seen anything!’ followed by either running or being frozen in fear of what the two could potentially even do to them. Mira and Kuzuryuu were taking the more simpler approach of just keeping an eye out as they went about their day, careful eyes watching everyone’s movements in the case that they may slip and reveal a connection to the robbery. A note, a simple sign, anything of worth.

Even Hatter was on the move, as he was adamant on retrieving his items back, no matter what. He’s changed out of his usual outfit in favour of a much simpler robe. Hatter knew that there was a chance he wouldn’t hold back, and he didn’t want to stain a perfectly good kimono in this natural punishment. After all, he had to uphold his own rules, didn’t he? Meanwhile, Aguni was out by the cars. There was a chance they could attempt to escape the Beach altogether. Now why steal a bunch of Hatter’s stuff in the meanwhile was unbeknownst to him, and likely unknown to everyone, but it happened, and now here he was.

“ Hey, what brings you out here?” A voice snaps him from his scan over the area, and he looks down to someone smiling up at him, dressed in simple modest swimwear of a tan variety, along with a head covering. Aguni looks around briefly, wondering where this person even came from, or whether this was connected to the case Hatter presented today. He looks back at her, who remained smiling at him, politely and without a hint of mischief or other intention. “ I’m looking for someone. Have you seen someone with some kimonos, maybe some hats? A whole couch, even.” Aguni asks her, as he’s asked others that dared even approach Aguni. The woman shrugs, staring at the cars with a simple curiosity.

“ Nope, not a clue. What kind of person has a whole couch? Isn’t that kind of ridiculous?” Aguni nods a little. It certainly did sound a bit ridiculous, but it was reality, and the reality of it was that someone stole a whole couch along with some articles of clothing. The woman lets out a low whistle, and looks back up at Aguni. “ Well, I wish you luck that you find what you’re looking for! Hopefully they haven’t gotten far!” With that, she walks away, apparently just on a simple stroll and with no ill intention of walking anywhere far. Aguni found the interaction a little strange, but he didn’t exactly suspect them, as they must’ve just gotten curious as to why he was standing out here by himself when there wasn’t even any reason to really be near the cars yet.

So he goes back to watching the cars, counting them just in case. He had to make sure nobody got away with this odd crime.

—————————————————————————————————

Hours pass, and none of them could spot a single thing. Not a single kimono, not a single hat, and no couch.

“ Are you sure someone stole your stuff? Because this is all amounting to wasted time.” Ann questions, folding pale arms over her chest as she looks to Hatter. Hatter nods with a firm determination, Ann continuing to look at Hatter with an air of a serene cold disbelief.

“ Do you mind proving it then? If you wouldn’t mind." “ Of course, of course! Right this way!” Hatter leads the group of executives through the hallway and to his room suite, opening the door and letting them in. Immediately, they could see the clear lack of one of Hatter’s couches, which made the room oddly empty, the table lacking its companion.

“ And look here!” Hatter gestures to his closet, and everyone comes over to take a look. For the most part, everything seemed normal, but a few hangers were clearly now empty, in a random selection that nearly hid the crime unless there was a keen eye that would recognize the pattern, Hatter pouting dramatically. “ A woe! And look down here.” Hatter waves a hand down at boxes on the ground. They looked untouched, but Hatter kneels down and pops off a few lids, revealing empty boxes that they figured must have contained hats at some point.

“And you’re sure you didn’t just misplace them?” Aguni asks, and Hatter whips around, a few pitiful angry tears in his eyes as he looks up at Aguni. “ Of course I did not! I wouldn’t do this to myself on purpose, and these hats were very important to me, you know!”

Aguni grunts slightly in acknowledgement.

“ You don’t suppose they’ve already left, have they?” Mira remarks, and Aguni shakes his head. “ None of the cars were missing from the parking area, so it’s very unlikely. They have to still be on the premise.” “ Come on, we searched every room, and nothing turned up! Every spot is devoid of anything!” Niragi throws a hand up in the air. “ We might as well blame it on ghosts or something like that." “ Ghosts aren’t real, and even so, they would not be able to take a couch, no matter how strong you would make them out to be.” Ann adjusts her sunglasses, and crosses her arms again. “ But it is strange how nobody was able to locate a single responsible party. There is no way this was the work of a single person.” Everyone else nods along, agreeing with Ann. It was certainly a strange case.

“ Let’s look once more, and see if anything new turns up.” Mira offers, and they all spread out among the Beach again, hoping a second sweep would turn up anything.

—————————————————————————————————

Lo and behold, a string of interest finally rears its head in the form of a woman, who was casually trying to put tape on what looks to be a beach ball. Niragi approaches her, who seemed rather invested in whatever she was up to. “ Whatcha got there?” He asks the moment he gets closer, noticing a bunch of iridescent streamers next to her. She looks up with a smile, and just twirls the beach ball in her arm. “ It’s something special.” She chirps, and Niragi raises an eyebrow, smirking. “ Oh yeah? Does this ‘something special’ have anything to do with a missing couch? Maybe some kimonos or hats?” She just smiles more, and settles the beach ball on her lap again. “ That’s silly, why would I have anything to do with a missing couch?” “ Because some idiots stole shit, and now we’re all on a goose chase to find out the culprits.” He stick his tongue out, leaning close to her and he swirls it around. “ And then we’re going to punish them for betraying Hatter. Death to the tr-“ Niragi suddenly gets cut off as cold water suddenly hits him in the face, and he stumbles backwards, wiping the water off hurriedly and grumbling loudly. “ You little…!” He wipes the water and opens his eyes only to be greeted with an empty spot, streamers and all. “ Oi, you bitch! Where the hell did you go!” He looks around the area, but somehow he managed to lose her, Niragi scowling and pulling out his walkie-talkie. There was no way she wasn’t a part of this. “ Hey, I think I found one of the culprits.” He says into the device, and he puts it away as he starts to scour the area for her. Niragi wasn’t going to let her out of his sight again.

At the same time on the other side, Last Boss was walking around trying to look for anything that might have been looked over, and someone comes up to him intentionally, Last Boss pausing and staring at them, internally confused as they smile. “ Hi! I like your hoodie, it looks cool.” Last Boss blinks. They weren’t even scared? That was…. very strange. He doesn’t say a word though, continuing to stare down at this strange person. “ Anyways, I wanted to ask someone, and you were the closest person. Do you think fedoras are valid?” Last Boss just continues to stare down at them, but he eventually offers a simple shrug. He wasn’t actually sure. They were just hats. Wait. “ Do you know who stole the hats?” He asks them, and they just stare back without a hint of knowing or not knowing in their eyes. “ It’s just a question that I wanted to get off my tongue. So, are they or aren’t they? What about top hats, those are cool too. You’d look cool with a hat actually. Maybe a beanie? Ooh, do you like beanies? They’re really soft and-” They continue to ramble about hats, and Last Boss didn’t really have time for this, beginning to unsheathe his katana and stab them. “ Ah, sorry! I must’ve been boring you. Bye for now!” They run off, and Last Boss watches them go. Maybe they were scared of him, and only decided to run the moment he started taking his sword out.

As it normally went. Last Boss slowly blinks, then ends up on his way. The walkie talkie goes off with Niragi’s voice announcing that he may have found one, and Last Boss silently acknowledges it, his walkie talkie continuing to go off as other militants ask for a description to keep an eye out for them.

—————————————————————————————————

Another hour passes, and even with Niragi’s discovery, they still couldn’t find anything. They ended up all taking a lunch break, passing around information on the topic over some sandwiches that Aguni made for everyone. “ So, our only lead is a girl with a beach ball?” Ann questions, her finger delicately wrapped around a sandwich. “ But you somehow lost here because….. you got hit in the face.” “ Fucking water…..” Niragi mutters, tearing a bite off of his own. Chishiya quietly smirks, leaning against the chair with his hands in his pockets. “ To think you got bested by water of all things. Who knew.” “ Shut it milk boy.” Niragi growls, mouth still partially full. Chishiya shifts slightly, getting comfortable. He doesn’t say anything, just watching and offering nothing more than a small lopsided smirk. “ This at least narrows the search. If we find that one person, we can find out who else might be responsible for this.” Aguni tells them all, and they all offer affirmatives in both nods and short agreements. “ So, the last place you saw them was….?” “ By the pool.” “ Right, so let’s search there thoroughly. It’d make no sense for anyone to bring a beach ball into the main building-“ Hatter busts into the dining area suddenly, grinning madly. “ I found them! I found them!” Everyone turns to look at Hatter, both with surprise and interest. Hatter rushes out of the hall, and soon everyone follows after him, Hatter running out and towards where the cars are. Once everyone got out there, they saw the culprit, or better yet, culprits. “ Hey! It’s the fucker with the beach ball!” Niragi yells out, pointing at the girl hanging out from the sunroof, grinning. She was partially covered with what was obviously Hatter’s beloved couch, haphazardly strapped to the car. If any of them squinted, they would also see her wearing one of Hatter’s kimonos, which only further incriminated her. “ And the hat person….” Last Boss mutters, squinting as an open robed person wearing what seemed to be a hoodie underneath judging by the hoodie atop their head hops into the drivers seat, the car roaring to life. Hatter frowns and begins to head over there, as does Aguni and his men, but the car quickly peels away, and laughter fills the air as Niragi and Aguni attempt to shoot the wheels useless and at the car, but whoever was driving managed to avoid every bullet, or really had no fear as they drove away, and the woman hanging out above the sunroof yeets an iridescent streamered beach ball, which added with the speed the car was going, made it a fearsome weapon as it hits Hatter square in the face.

He yelps in pain as he’s knocked back, and everyone watches as the car drives into the sunset, couch strapped to it, and Hatter sits up, rubbing his face. “ Clever, clever……” Hatter opens his eyes as iridescence rolls away from him, Hatter shaking his head. “ But no matter, once we find them….. They’ll pay. They’ll pay hard.” And for these little thieves, they better be ready to face the consequences if they were ever caught. But, at least they had fun doing it~

[cas-kingdom]

To Wish Upon a Cloud

A/N: Nothing to say about this, really. Just a sweet little thing between Tommy and his sister.

That gif is as close to ‘farmer Tommy’ as we’ll ever get.

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: To Wish Upon a Cloud

Summary: On a rare summer afternoon, you ask your brother what he’d like to be if he weren’t Tommy Shelby.

Words: 1313

“What would you be if you weren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a farmer.”

“A farmer? You?”

“What? I reckon I’d be a good one. I could… keep chickens.”

“Chickens are too fast for you. You’d be racing ‘round after them, and they’d get under your feet and you’d curse at them, and then you’d want to pull out your gun and shoot them. But you wouldn’t have a gun because you’d be a farmer.”

“Farmers have guns.”

“Not for shooting chickens.”

“I’m sure any gun could shoot a chicken.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Finn-”

“Eh, now. Don’t insult him when he’s not here to defend himself.”

“I wasn’t gonna!”

“Alright, what were you going to say?”

“Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I was gonna say that Finn acts like a chicken more often than not and Isaiah shot him just last month, so I guess you’re right.”

“Isaiah shot him?”

“Uh. Accidentally. I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Mhm.”

“Look at that cloud.”

“Which one?”

“That one, there.”

“Looks like a toad.”

“Really? I thought it looked like Finn.”

Tommy Shelby tilted his head back enough to see the impish grin on your lips. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re a little gremlin,” he told you.

“Only when he’s not here.”

“Naturally.”

The two of you fell into a companionable silence, eyes staring up at the few clouds which were ambling mindlessly along their blue path, heading nowhere, yet providing you with amusement even after two hours of lying among the wildflowers on the top of the verdant hill.

Peace was rare. But you’d found it, as you always did when you were with your brother, and you were happy.

Tommy was happy, too. The moment he’d lowered himself down in the grass, arms flat at his sides and legs stretched out freely, he’d felt all his stress leave him, floating away into little wisps of nothingness, joining the clouds in the sky. You were in the exact same position, the top of your head touching his, bright eyes wandering aimlessly over the sun-kissed clouds and mind breaking down walls you’d put up over the past few weeks, filling the new-found spaces with absolute bliss.

Damn, were you pleased you’d managed to convince your brother to leave work for a few hours and join you in the hillsides.

“I think I’d want to be a cloud,” you said softly after a short while.

“If you weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

You let out a contented sigh. “Because look at them… they just wander about up there, letting the wind blow them through the sky. They don’t care which direction they go or where they end up, because they don’t have to. I’d like to have that kind of freedom.”

Tommy hummed. “No chasing chickens.”

“Nope. No chasing chickens. Just adventure.”

“Is your life now not an adventure?”

“Not the kind of adventure I want.”

He frowned lightly but didn’t comment on it. “I think you’d get bored as a cloud,” he decided on instead.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It might be nice for the first few hours but after a while you’d get annoyed that other clouds are going faster than you, and then you’d want to pull out your gun and shoot them.”

You grinned. “See, the difference between you and me there is that no gun can shoot a cloud.”

“Don’t clouds disappear when it starts raining?”

“I think so. We learnt something about that at school… they said that clouds are just water droplets, and when there are too many water droplets in one, they fall to the ground.”

Tommy hummed, hand idly pulling at the grass by his side. “I think you might relate to the clouds, then. Maybe that’s why you want to be one.”

“Maybe.” You supposed he was right. Sometimes, you felt so full of stress and worry that you wished you were a cloud and could simply let it all go as they did water. How easy life would be…

“And maybe you relate to a farmer.”

“Because I wish everyone was as under control as my chickens would be?”

“Because you want a quiet life, alone with your little cottage and your chickens, and your horses… nothing but open country as far as the eye can see.”

His hand paused at his grass-plucking for the shortest moment before starting up again. “Maybe. Of course, I’d have to have you with me, too. Couldn’t last long without my little sister.”

You smiled. “’Course.”

A large, white cloud fell into view and you stared at it for a while, watching as it lagged behind the others, so big it was with raindrops. A light breeze blew past you and you sighed in contentment yet again. “Let’s wish for them,” you said a second later.

Tommy moved his head a little. “What?”

“Wish for them. Our other lives.”

“Don’t you need a shooting star for that?”

“No, that’s boring. Wish upon a cloud instead.”

Tommy chuckled. “Wish upon a cloud?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

So, the both of you closed your eyes and wished. Tommy wasn’t so sure what for – it wasn’t as though he’d one day wake up in a bed in a little thatched cottage, a border collie in a wicker basket and a rooster yelling his wake-up call outside a glass-paned window – but he wished for it all the same, letting his mind be filled with illusions of another life. But that was all they were. Illusions.

“Tommy!”

“What?”

“There’s a chicken!”

Tommy had felt so blissful during the past few moments that the thought of opening his eyes to the blinding light of the sun was too much. Nevertheless, after your last comment, he begrudgingly flicked one open and shifted his head slightly to see you sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Look!” You attempted to push him into a sitting position, not relenting at his groan of protest. “I swear, it’s a chicken!”

“It can’t be,” he said, heaving himself up, “not after what we’ve just been– what the fuck?” Sure enough, through squinting eyes, he could see a black and white chicken heading straight for the both of you, followed by a frantically waving man a way behind at the bottom of the hill.

Tommy rose an eyebrow. Was this the world’s way of telling him something?

“We’ve gotta catch it!” you told him, standing to your feet and stretching your arms out wide.

Tommy watched you for a moment, quite displeased about the idea of getting up, but, seeing the chicken was getting nearer, did it nonetheless. 

One thing was for certain... Alfie Solomons would have laughed his head off at the sight of the infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders readying himself to catch a chicken, of all things. A horse? Sure. Tommy was good with horses and everyone knew that he’d be able to catch one easily. But a chicken?

“Fucking hell,” he said, seeing it come all the more closer. “When I said I wanted to be a farmer-”

Watching your brother steel his expression into one of pure concentration, duck down and move about like a madman was the funniest thing you’d seen in a long time, and you couldn’t even help him when the chicken got close enough, too in hysterics on the ground.

Nevertheless, when he shouted a “yes!” and you looked up, your vision was clear enough to see that he’d caught the dratted thing.

“You actually did it!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” He walked over to you, the chicken secure in his arms, his hand stroking the top of the animal’s head.

You stood up and walked over to him as Tommy put his hand in the air, signalling to the man he’d caught it. “Sorry. At least it proved one thing for us.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d be a fucking fantastic farmer.”

Peaky Masterpost

[kuroopaisen]

kuroo as your boyfriend

✧ a relationship with kuroo is guaranteed to be a good time. nobody’s going to keep you on your toes as much as this gremlin boy. and once you understand the ways in which he expresses himself, nobody’s going to make you feel quite as loved and respected, either. 

✧ listen, kuroo teases the hell out of you. it’s just a facet of his personality, and he loves getting a rise of you you. if possible, he loves using you as an arm rest -- seeing you get mad about it has the potential to make his day. he’s also quite the fan of poking your cheeks or your nose. but really, he does all of this because sometimes he just doesn’t quite know how to express how fond of you he really is.

✧ but you two?? would have the most interesting conversations. kuroo would love it if you could keep up with his own mind, and he’d always keep you on your toes in that regard. he’s a clever guy, and he’s good at observing the world around him and analyzing it. he’d really flourish with a partner who could indulge that, and who can add their own perspective. start talking about something you’ve thought about or noticed, and the boy’s going to be looking at you with total heart eyes. not that he’d admit to that, though 

✧ furthermore, he’s constantly challenging you -- whether it be by teasing you, or having a sincere conversation about where you wanted to go with your life, kuroo wants to see you be your best. he really cares about you, and he wants to see you flourish. how is teasing you supposed to help you become the best version of yourself, you ask?? kuroo just grins, and says that it teaches you to stick up for yourself. tell him that that’s bullshit, and he’ll kiss you as an attempt to distract you. don’t let him. 

✧ all he wants if for you to get along with his boys. sure, he enjoys playing volleyball, but the team is a big component of why he cares so much. and he’d want his partner to fit in quite naturally with them. you don’t necessarily need to know all that much about the rules of the sport, but if you can turn up to matches and cheer on each the boys in turn?? he’s going to be grinning like a madman. oh, and if you can get kenma to talk to you?? he’s ready to risk it all (and he’s going to be dragging you to kenma’s house all the time. kenma just learns to deal with it, so long as you’re not too loud--) 

✧ kuroo’s super affectionate. whether you’re at home or in public, he likes to have one arm wrapped around your waist or slung over your shoulders (at which point, he’ll absolutely lean his entire weight against you just because he can. good luck trying to push him off). he loves, and i mean loves kissing you on the forehead. he’s quite fond of a peck on the nose too. is it because he likes getting you riled up?? maybe. is it because he loves seeing you blush and he thinks it’s really cute?? alright, a little. is it because he just likes being close to you?? definitely. kiss him on the cheek and he’ll really struggle to bite back a smile. he just can’t let you know you’ve won. 

✧ for kuroo, he needs to be really close friends with someone before seriously considering dating them. i think it’s much easier for him to relax like that with someone he knows so well, and it means he’s not going to doubt that he has feelings for you. he’s confident that he’s into you, and therefore it’s a lot easier for him to take the risk and commit. the good rapport you built up as close friends bleeds over into your relationship, and it adds a certain kind of depth to it. you’re in love with each other, yes, but you had such a strong bond before that and it’s obvious to everyone who meets you. 

✧ nobody can make you feel as understood or as heard as kuroo can -- and vice versa. he really cherishes that understanding between the two of you, and how you can speak so openly and frankly with one another. you both just,,, get it. in his mind, that’s one of the most precious things about your relationship. 

✧ you’re always laughing together. about everything. kuroo loves making you laugh, and it makes him feel just a little bit cool. nothing strokes his ego quite as much as seeing you throw your head back and cackle at something he’s said. he also thinks you look pretty cute -- especially if he’s gotten you to the point of ugly laughing. but, he loves it even more when it’s the other way around, especially if you can bring that obnoxious laugh out of him. it’s something that stokes his fondness for you, and if you come up with something witty, he’ll just be in awe of how he managed to end up with someone like you. throw bokuto in the mix and you’re not going to be able to breathe (although, whenever he’s around, you and kuroo just tend to roast him. blame kuroo, he always starts it) 

✧ he’s naturally very observant and intuitive, so he’s in-tune with your feelings. and he’s very good at reading you.no, really. try hiding something from him. you can’t. he knows when he can tease, and when to treat you gently. he’s compassionate, even if it’s not so obvious; but he takes very good care of you when you need it. he’s wonderful on those darker days; he’ll just hold you close to him, kissing you on the forehead and rubbing your back. he’ll do what he can to help take your mind off things, whether that be making you laugh until it hurt or just lying in bed with you all day. 

✧ please roast him for being a nerd. all he wants is for you to call him cool, but that would be conceding. of course, he’s just going to call you a nerd right back -- and he absolutely points out that you’re the one dating him -- but,,, that’s just the sort of relationship you have. there’s good depth and love in it, but you’re capable of being almost annoyingly playful with each other. nothing says romance like mutual roasting. 

✧ despite his appearance, kuroo is surprisingly endeared by cute things. so, do anything cute for him?? poor boy’s dying on the inside even if he hides it well. write him an earnest letter, or make him a homemade gift for him?? he really struggles to handle that. bake him something, and decorate it with some heart sprinkles?? you did it. you’ve killed him. cue him calling you lame as a last ditch effort to protect his dignity. 

✧ he’s never going to admit to it, but he loves getting the chance to feel all protective. this usually manifests in him being the big spoon. he just loves wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, propping his chin on the top of your head, wether you guys are standing up or lying down. his protectiveness does crop up in your day to day life, though; he’s the sort to stick up for you, to talk about our strengths and abilities whenever he needs to (just you try and be insecure around kuroo,,, it’s impossible), etc. but, he never seems unreasonable or over-the-top. he’s just using his brain, as usual.

✧ he’d come up with some pretty interesting dates, to be honest. he always manages to find an interesting documentary that’s currently showing, or a new exhibit at the museum that happens to line up with your interests, or something like that. look, he’s a big nerd, he gets excited about this sort of stuff. but on the flip side, he particularly enjoys low-key dates, too -- watching the sunset, or going stargazing int he backyard, or having a shitty movie marathon. at the end of the day, he just wants to experience things with you. and if he can discuss that experience with you?? perfect.

✧ you two have such a wholesome and cute relationship, but neither of you take things too seriously when you’re together. and yet, his maturity and way of looking at the world can really incur growth in the two of you -- and that’s the best thing about your relationship. 

[e-milieeee]

haunted

Summary: When Gabriel goes a step too far, Plagg has decided he’s had enough. 

Meanwhile, Gabriel Agreste has discovered that his house may or may not be haunted, because a vengeful spirit certainly seems to be after him. 

Notes: basically plagg being a little gremlin and trolling gabriel like he deserves. ft. gabe’s 3 remaining braincells. based on this post by @hamsternamedmarinette and @snail-noir im sorry its so crappy lol 

haunted

“Well,” Adrien is saying as he trudges inside the room and kicks the door shut. “There’s that, then.”

Plagg flits out from his shirt. His face is set in an angry mask, tail sticking straight up. “That’s that?” he echoes. “No, that’s absurd! Your father’s absurd! He should come back here and I’ll give him a piece of my mind and—”

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut. “Plagg, it’s fine. Forget it.”

Plagg makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. “So you’re just gonna take that? For weeks? He has no right.”

In his hand is the piece of paper—now crumpled—that his father had shoved into his fingers before he stormed off: the schedule for the fashion show. It runs for a week, but there’s also a terrifying amount of preparations to be done two weeks prior—all of which his father had decided he needed to be present for.

“I can’t risk making father angry,” Adrien settles with.

Plagg folds his arms. “Fine,” his kwami says curtly, in a manner of speaking that Adrien always finds hard to argue with. “Hypothetically speaking, then, if your father found out his plans had been cata—destroyed, would you be allowed to go out?”

“Plagg, I’m not going to break into my father’s study as Chat Noir to cataclysm his work just so I can go out with friends.”

Plagg smiles at him. It’s the smile Adrien had often gotten before he’d discovered the toilet paper in his washroom all scratched up and littering the floor. “Don’t worry,” comes the reply. “You won’t have to.”

***

Gabriel Agreste’s study is locked, but that doesn’t prove a problem for the small black shape that slips through the doors like they’re made of nothing more than mist. It’s dark, but cats have always seen better at night anyway.

There, on the top of his desk, lies the designs for the first set of clothes that are to be showcased. Meticulous notes. Fabric samples. Timing and schedules. Signatures and contracts.

The small, black cat picks the folder up with two paws. Then it crumbles into dust.

***

“Nathalie, did you touch the folder on my desk?”

It’s been a long morning—Gabriel had been up at 4 AM in an attempt to see if he could get an edge on Ladybug and Chat Noir. It had been horrendous to find someone to akumatize so early, and by the time he’d pinpointed his victim—forty five minutes later—he had nearly fallen asleep. He’d been pummelled by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Absolutely pummelled. And then, as if the situation couldn't help but get worse, Audrey Bourgeois had called him at six (just when he was about to go back to bed) and told him she couldn’t make it to the fashion show.

That woman had no regard for timezones. And no regard for him, either, because part of the marketing for the fashion week was Audrey’s attendance.

Gabriel was considering akumatizing himself when he realized the manila folder on his desk—that had been there when he left the night prior—was nowhere to be seen.

He searches through all his files. Crawls under his desk. Checks his lair. It's gone.

“Nathalie!” he bellows again, and she comes barrelling through the door to his office.

“What is it, sir?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “Have you seen the files for the fashion show? It was in the folder on my desk when I left.”

“Sir, I haven’t been in your office since last night, and I’m certain I saw your files there. Are you sure you haven’t misplaced it?”

Misplaced it, yeah. That’s what it was. Probably.

Now, what he needed was a nap.

***

The files do not turn up. Gabriel sends Nathalie to print them out again. The most important stuff is stored on his computer, but there are signatures he’d spent weeks getting.

He locks the files in his drawer the next time he gets it.

***

Tuesday morning finds Gabriel Agreste feeling much more refreshed. He even joins Adrien for three minutes during breakfast.

He walks into his office to find his favourite coffee mug in smithereens on the ground.

The files are still stored safely in his drawer. But there is a big, ugly tear across the dress he’d been working on for the past three months.

Gabriel screams.

***

Gabriel Agreste isn’t a fan of security cameras in his office. Especially because anyone with some hacking ability could possibly get their hands on the tape, and the last thing he needs is someone seeing him descending into his lair, or opening the safe behind his painting. Really—there’s simply too many sketchy things he’s done in the office for him to trust putting a camera there.

But he installs two of them nonetheless. His coffee mug could be an accident. But that rip on the dress? No, the only explanation is that it was intentional. But how?

Gabriel thinks of possibilities until he gives himself a headache.

***

“Father seems stressed lately,” Adrien notes to Plagg. There’s not much time for himself between busy schedules, but the moments in between he catches to talk to his kwami. The past week, stuck alone in his room with barely any interaction with his friends, has been draining. He cherishes the precious minutes he gets to spend with Plagg.

“Does he?” Plagg asks in a tone of practiced disinterest. “Well, he does have that really important fashion week thing coming up.”

“He asked me if I’d broken into his study a day ago, but he always locks his study. I think some of his files were missing.”

“Oh?” Plagg replies. “That’s terrible misfortune.”

“Father says he thinks a thief snuck in in the middle of the night and stole them, but we have security cameras all around the house and nothing happened.”

“Spooky.”

“Plagg…”

Plagg only shrugs. “Perhaps your house is haunted,” he replies disinterestedly. “Good thing you’re not scared of ghosts, Adrien.”

***

The house is haunted, and Gabriel cannot sleep.

The most terrifying part of watching the footage is that he sees nothing. There is no movement. No nothing. But then, the next morning, his files inside the locked drawer have disappeared.

Nathalie asks him about the dark rings around his eyes. He drinks two more cups of coffees in response.

***

Gabriel’s eyes are burning, but he’s determined to stay awake.

He likes to think himself neat and meticulous, but even he has his breaking point—his desk is littered with coffee cups, and he’s resorted to drinking energy drinks to keep himself awake. There’s less than ten days until the fashion show starts. It’s been so heavy on his schedule that he’s barely found time to akumatize three three people the past week.

Ladybug and Chat Noir must be having a field day while he’s sitting miserably in his office, waiting to catch the thief, too exhausted to summon up more akumas.

The clock ticks past midnight. Gabriel nearly faceplants into a coffee mug.

Another cup of redbull.

By the time it’s two in the morning, nothing shocking in particular has happened. Every time the flashing light of a car drives past the front of the house he starts, sits back down, and struggles to keep his eyes open.

It’s 2:04 when a crash sounds outside of his office.

Like a madman, Gabriel scrambles up from his seat. He knocks over a half-finished mug of coffee in the process, but that doesn’t matter. The door of his office slams open. He trips on a rug. But he gets up and runs like he’s never run before.

With all the force he can muster, he slams his palm down on the light, and the once-dark staircase and hall become bathed in golden light. The chandelier flickers twice and he stares down at the hall with half the mind to wonder if he’s going to finally see the ghost.

Gabriel is the only one in the hall.

He checks once more. Then again. Then again. But there is no one there, no source of the crash—

Oh, no.

The painting he’d bid at an auction twelve years ago—one that had cost a fortune—has fallen off the wall and face planted into the floor. The sight of it physically hurts Gabriel, and he’s scrambling towards it in a mixture of fear and anger when another noise sounds in his office.

In the months of being Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste has felt a generous range of emotions. But never has he felt such bone-chilling fear.

He heads back up the steps with robotic movements numbly. Down the corridor. Into his office.

There is no one there, and the mess that has been made is moreso his fault than of the invisible thief—or ghost—but then Gabriel sees one of his locked drawers open and the contents inside dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

The next day, when Nathalie finds him out cold on the ground, he attributes it to the exhaustion and the amount of coffee and energy drinks he’d consumed. But deep down, Gabriel knows that it’s the terror that’s finally caught up.

Either way, he faints.

***

Gabriel is confined to bed by a very concerned Nathalie. She usually heeds to his instructions, but the rare insistence from her and his own fatigue lands him out of commission for the day. It doesn’t stop him, however, from giving her a set of instructions.

“First, my office,” Gabriel croaks. His throat hurts—he must’ve caught a cold as well. “Please clean everything up and reinstall the locks. And then… and then…”

He thinks of the missing files—three times—and grits his teeth. “Cancel the fashion week.”

Nathalie’s jaw drops open. “Sir—”

“I know,” Gabriel mutters. “I just… I’m left with no choice. I’ll reschedule. Make up some excuse.”

She dips her head. “Noted, sir. Is that all?”

Gabriel gives her a miserable nod. She’s halfway out the door when he remembers.

“Nathalie!” he yells. “Get me a shaman, too.”

***

“The fashion week is cancelled.” Adrien looks up from practicing piano. “Father is sick, I think, which might be why. Nathalie looked super stressed when I saw her before my lessons.”

“Cancelled?” Plagg echoes dispassionately. “Huh. That’s too bad, I guess.”

“No, that’s good! I mean, it’s not good that my father is sick and Nathalie is stressed, but… at least I won’t be hounded about preparations. I even got permission to go out today.”

“Huh,” Plagg replies. He settles himself into his wheel of cheese. “I guess you’re lucky after all, then.”

Notes: yeah idk what i wrote but master fu is the shaman they hire and he finds out gabriel is hawkmoth and arrests him and the end if u wanna know what happens next 

Here’s my fics masterlist! 

[headfulloffantasies]

Consequences

The title of Mand’alore catches up with Din Djarin.

Part 4 of Clones and Kings

Read on Ao3

“Do you think all of Master Yoda’s species have Jetii powers, or are we just lucky enough to find another one?” Wolffe asked Rex.

They sat side by side on the ramp of Mando’s ship drinking in the first rays of sun Rex had seen since Jakku. The Mandalorian had left them to guard the ship at the landing dock while he took Not-So-Yoda to pick up supplies at the market. Five credits said Mando would come back with a new toy for the kid.

“I don’t know. The kid still gives me this look sometimes like he knows what I’m thinking,” Rex grumbled.

“That’s not hard, vod,” Wolffe joked. “You have a terrible poker face.”

Rex shoved his brother’s shoulder. He missed this. The camaraderie between clones. It had been far too long.

“Well?” Rex asked Wolffe. “What will you do now?”

Wolffe turned his mechanical eye towards Rex. “I want to rejoin our brothers. Do you know if any others live?”

Rex shook his head. “You’re the only vod I’ve found since the end of the war.”

“And the Jedi?” Wolffe asked.

“The baby or Luke Skywalker?” Rex asked.

“I was thinking Commander Tano,” Wolffe growled. “I’d like to serve under someone from the old days.”

Rex closed his eyes and basked in the sun. “I’m here on Commander Tano’s orders. She’s doing shadow ops these days.”

Wolffe scoffed. “You don’t look very undercover, brother. Babysitting doesn’t suit a Captain.”

“I’m doing my best,” Rex answered. “Commander Tano said watch the Mandalorian and the foundling. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Speak of the devil,” Wolffe nudged Rex.

Mando came lumbering out of the crowded port towards them. He had two bursting satchels slung over his shoulders and Yoda the Younger riding his hip carrier.

Rex stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Hold him,” Mando dumped mini-Yoda in Wolffe’s lap. Wolffe froze. Mando ignored the clone’s obvious discomfort. Rex smirked. Served Wolffe right for teasing Rex about the kid.

“Let me help,” Rex offered Mando. He took one of the satchels off Mando’s shoulder.

“Din Djarin.”

Mando went stiff as a board. His hand drifted to his blaster. Rex craned his neck to see over Mando’s shoulder.

“Kriff,” Rex spat. He unfortunately recognised the red-haired woman marching towards them with her blue helmet under her arm.

“Is it too late to run?” Mando asked.

“Pretty sure she’s seen you,” Rex answered. “You could try shooting.”

“Din Djarin,” Bo Katan repeated. She came to a halt with a respectable space between them. Then she dropped to one knee. “All hail the Mand’alor.”

Rex gaped. Mando still didn’t turn around. His shoulders had come up around his helmet.

Wolffe made a choked noise. “You’re the Mand’alor?”

“Mand’alor,” Bo Katan said to Mando’s back. “It’s time to return to your duties as ruler.”

“I am doing my duty,” Mando turned sharply to look down at her. “You and the other advisors were informed of my intentions to collect my son while the Jedi is busy.”

Bo Katan scowled. “Yes, but we assumed you’d bring the child home with you. Not gallivant around the galaxy reliving your bounty hunting glory days again.”

Mando went silent and still. Rex took a half step back. Mando radiated violence from every line of his armour.

“Inside. Now,” Mando finally ground out.  

Bo Katan straightened up and followed on Mando’s heels up the ramp into the ship. Rex trailed behind. He glanced back at Wolffe still sitting in dazed confusion. Yoda in Training took the opportunity to climb up Wolffe’s arm and sit on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Rex snapped. “Bring the kid. They might reconsider tearing each other to pieces in front of a child.”

Mando stomped into the cargo space where the carbonite freezer blinked and the frozen bounty sat in its slab. Rex hoped Mando’s helmet was heat shielded from the death-rays Bo Katan beamed at the back of his head. Mando grabbed the bounty and spun the slab around so Bo Katan could see its face.

“Do you know him?” Mando asked.

Bo Katan barely flicked her eyes disdainfully over the frozen Devorian. “No. Should I?”

“This man,” Mando explained. “Was selling beskar. He claimed he got it off a Mandalorian he killed.”

Rex shuddered.

Bo Katan crossed her arms. “So, you avenged a brother. That doesn’t-.”

Mando cut her off. “The galaxy’s underworld needs to learn that beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. I intend to make the life of anyone selling beskar unprofitable. Once they realise the steep punishment for trading our heritage, no one will want to buy beskar. Then the Mand’alor can sweep in and claim the remnants to give back to our people.”

Bo Katan chewed on this. From her pinched eyebrows she clearly thought it foolhardy.

Rex found himself staring at Mando in a new light. The man had honour in spades. And patience and ruthlessness to carry out his ambitious plan.

“That will take time,” Bo Katan finally said.

“Yes,” Mando inclined his head.  

Bo Katan visibly struggled with this concept. “Fine.” She bit out. “I assume you have your next target.”

“Yes.”

Bo Katan lifted her chin. “Then I will accompany you.”

“Absolutely not,” Mando snapped.

Bo Katan didn’t back down. They locked in an intense stare. It didn’t really seem fair when Mando had his helmet to shield his face. Rex read the resolution in the line of his shoulders while Bo Katan grit her teeth.

“You may accompany us on your own ship,” Mando relented, much to Rex’s surprise.

“How gracious of you,” Bo Katan bowed her head. Mando escorted her off the ship.

Rex watched them go by in bewilderment. He caught Wolffe’s eye. Wolffe looked twice as flabbergasted as Rex. Good. Rex was the superior officer. He shouldn’t experience the same surprise as someone under his command.

Itty bitty Yoda saw a chance with Wolffe distracted and wiggled out of his grip. Rex dove and caught him before the kid could make another of his famous escape attempts.

Mando came back with defeat dragging down his shoulders.

“Why’d you let her tag along?” Rex blurted out.

Mando took Yoda Junior from Rex’s hands. “She’d only follow us anyways. At least she’s not trying to kill me for the Darksaber this time.”

“You’re the Mand’alor,” Wollfe gasped. Mando refused to respond. He tucked his child into his arms and swept up into the cockpit and sealed the door.

Wolffe pointed up the ladder. “He’s the Mand’alor.”

Rex dropped a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Steady. Take a breath.”

Wolffe’s hands came up and gripped either side of Rex’s face. “Holy kriff, that madman is the Mand’alor!”

Rex carefully extricated himself from Wolffe’s fingers. “Do you need to sit down?”

Rex assumed Mando had locked the cockpit because Mando had finally decided to indulge in his afternoon meal. He’d open it after he had his helmet back in place. For now, Rex reckoned he’d like to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Rex laid out his bedroll on the floor and placed his blasters within reach. “Wake me in thirty,” he instructed Wolffe.

Rex woke in twenty to something punching the breath out of his solar plexus. Rex bolted up. Huge liquid eyes stared back at him.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Mando’s tired voice said from above. “I don’t know if he understands words yet.”

The twitch of Un-Yoda’s smile said he knew exactly what people told him but he enjoyed chaos too much to bother obeying. Master Yoda had shared the same wrinkled smirk. Rex narrowed his eyes. The child mimicked him and showed off his sharp teeth.

Rex scooped up the child and held him at arms length far away from those biters.

Mando took the kid again. “We’re almost there,” he said. He trekked back up to the cockpit, his cape swirling behind him. He left the door open. Rex took it as an invitation. He started for the ladder.

Mando had the Wee Little Yoda asleep in his lap. The kid made cooing sounds in his sleep.

Rex sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Mando said nothing for a long time. Rex relaxed into the silence. He stared out at the glowing streaks of stars passing by. Mando’s helmet caught the glint as he turned towards Rex.

“Do you think I’m being an irresponsible leader?” Mando asked.

Rex thought he was asking a question high above Rex’s paygrade, but he answered anyways. “I think a ruler’s responsibility is to take care of the people around him. So, if he never leaves the throne room, well.” Rex left that there. “But a ruler who knows the needs of his people because he’s out among them is a good man in my books.”

Mando sighed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Rex nodded. He’d known the Mandalorian from the first day they’d met. The man was simple. That didn’t mean he was foolish. He was probably the wisest person Rex had ever met. That included Master Yoda, because the old gremlin hadn’t managed to see a Sith plot ten years in the making. Rex might have a bias. Didn’t make him wrong. The point was; Mando wanted two things out of life. To care for his son, and to live his Creed. It didn’t seem like much to ask. Too bad Bo Katan thought different.

“How many Mandalorians have you tried giving the Darksaber to?” Rex asked carefully.

Mando tipped his helmet. “Everybody but Boba Fett.”

Rex imagined Boba Fett leading an army of beskar clad Mandos. It would be like someone unleashing a nuclear bomb to get rid of an anthill.

“That’s smart,” Rex squeaked.

“Fett commed me right after I got it and threatened to dismember me if I offered it to him,” Mando finished.

That tracked actually. Fett had complicated history with Mandalore and he had his hands full on Tatooine last Rex heard.

“We’re here,” Mando announced. They dropped out of hyperspace.

Rex had to know something before they plunged into the lion’s den.

“What is this really all about?”

Mando leaned back in his seat. “Mandalorians have been hunted for our beskar ever since our ancestors abandoned Mandalore. There are those who would see our reuniting as strategically unwise. Before I ask them to make themselves vulnerable, I have to prove I can protect them.”

And that right there was why Bo Katan could never rule Mandalore while Mando lived. She just couldn’t compare. Nice try, Princess. Come back with some scruples and a better attitude.

The planet they’d landed on looked like a wasteland. Only sparse vegetation managed to poke through the grey dust. The trees grew twisted in spindly bunches. A dark fog spread over Rex’s feet as they exited the ship.

Bo Katan’s ship landed behind them. She emerged with her helmet on and guns at the ready. Mando leaned casually against the side of his ship with Yoda the Imposter snuggled into the satchel at his hip.

“Alright,” Bo Katan said. “Where’s your beskar thief?”

“This way,” Mando stalked silently into the gloom. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look. They followed at a distance.

“Not many heat sources on this planet,” Wolffe reported, tapping his cybernetic eye. “Place seems abandoned.”

“So, it’s a good spot for lowlifes to hide,” Rex summed up.

Wolffe shrugged. They trekked through the fog. Rex kept his blasters in hand. Nothing moved in the sparse trees. The dry earth under their boots crackled with every step.

They approached a ridge of rock. Mando stopped.

“Hang on,” Mando started. “Something’s not right.”

A blaster bolt scorched the ground inches from Mando’s boot. He drew and shot in the blink of an eye. Rex pulled Wolffe behind a boulder. A bolt cracked against the stone above his head. Rex heard the sound of return fire.

Rex leaned out to sneak a peek. Mando hadn’t moved. He held his ground and aimed his blaster.

“We have to retreat!” Rex yelled. “There’s not enough cover here.”

Mando didn’t seem to hear. He sprayed the ridge with a shower of fire. The return shot clipped him on the pauldron. The force of the blow spun him to the side. Rex’s stomach jolted as he realised Mando had shown his vulnerable flank. He opened his mouth to shout.

Bo Katan barrelled out of nowhere and crashed into Mando. She tackled him behind a tree. Rex ducked back into his hiding spot.

“I thought the Jedi were bad,” Wolffe growled. “But Mando’s kriffing crazy.”

The blaster fire from the ridge stopped.

One by one their rag tag crew peeked out of their cover.

Rex risked stepping out from behind the boulder. He pointed his blasters. No bolts came careening to cut him down.

“All clear,” Rex announced.

Wolffe joined him, spitting curses.

Rex turned at a sound of surprise from Bo Katan.

Mando shoved himself into Bo Katan’s face. “Don’t do that again.”

Bo Katan met his ire with her own venom. “It is my responsibility to defend the Mand’alor.”

“You shame me in battle again and I’ll throw you in a sarlacc pit,” Mando growled.

A squeak came from Mando’s satchel. The tension dropped from his shoulders. He pulled Yoda the Pretender from his pouch. The tiny toddler gripped Mando’s thumb tightly.

If Rex wasn’t still worried about blaster bolts raining down from above, he would have melted over the Jedi baby.

“Can we please find some new cover?” Wolffe voiced Rex’s thoughts.

Mando and Bo Katan broke apart. Mando reached for the side of his helmet. Rex assumed he was shifting through heat scans, looking for the trail their mark might have left.

“This way,” Mando headed out around the side of the ridge.

Bo Katan watched him go. Rex gestured for her to follow, determined to keep his position as rear guard. He had some experience from chasing around kriffing Jedis.

They moved as a tight knot through the trees. Wolffe bumped his shoulder against Rex’s.

“Does this feel like an ambush to you?”

Rex nodded. “The shooter had us pinned down. He didn’t need to retreat. Unless.”

“Unless he went to warn his backup.”

Rex scanned their surroundings and cursed the fog.

The rounded a bend and ran straight into four bandits armed to the teeth.

“Kark!” Rex shouted. They were surrounded.

Wolffe and Rex moved as one; diving behind the nearest tree. Splinters and blaster bolts rained over Rex’s head.

Mando landed in the dirt next to him. Mando grunted and gripped his side.

“You hit?” Rex demanded. He raked his eyes over the spot where Mando pressed his hand. Bless the armour for saving Mando’s life and curse it at the same time for hiding the injury from Rex’s sight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando shouted back. He yanked out his blaster and took up firing along with Rex. Rex had a kriffing time getting a single shot off with the sharpshooter pinning them against the trees. He also had no eyes on Bo Katan. Much as he disliked her, Rex hated to think she might have fallen.

Finally, Rex caught a break in the assault. He peeked around the tree trunk. Two of the four bandits were advancing. Rex aimed at the Twi’lek holding an elctro-spear.

Sizzling electricity leaped from the tip of the spear and arced past Rex’s ear.  He ducked back and jostled Wolffe.

“This feels familiar,” Rex shouted in Wolffe’s ear.

“We’re evenly matched now,” Wolffe yelled back.

“Hold your fire!” A male voice suddenly ordered. The bandits quit shooting. Rex leaned around the tree.

The tall Twi’lek twirled his electro-spear. He surveyed their little group.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Twi’lek bared his eye teeth in a nasty grin. “We’re going to pry those two Mandalorians out of their armour and sell that beskar for a fortune. You other two can either help us and take a share of the money; or you can die just the same.”

“I got a counter offer for you,” Wolffe shouted. “You can take that spear and ram it where the sun don’t shine.”

The Twi’lek’s face turned stormy. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The other bandits lifted their weapons and renewed their firing. Rex ducked back down.

Mando shoved Not-Yoda into Rex’s hands. “Watch him. I got this.”

Mando vanished like a puff of smoke. Rex cradled the child against his chest to shield him from the stray blaster bolts. Sharp claws found their way past the collar of his breast plate to cling to his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Rex promised. “Your buir has a plan.”

The crack of shots continued to deafen Rex.

A sudden explosion rocked Rex against the tree. He curled around the Jedi child as debris rained down. Rex poked his head out.

Mando stood in the center off the destruction. Even through the smoke Rex could see his chest heaving. Three of the bandits lay on the ground at his feet. Rex didn’t see the Twi’lek leader.

Out of the smoke, a figure tackled Mando. Mando threw him off. Rex heard the groan as Mando pressed a hand to his side. The thick fabric between the beskar plates looked darker than it should.

The Twi’lek rolled and came up with a vibroblade. He slashed at Mando with the knife. Mando brought his arms up and caught the blade on his vambraces. The screech of metal on metal shrieked in Rex’s ears. He grabbed his blaster and took aim. The Twi’lek danced around Mando, hopping and weaving so much Rex couldn’t get a good shot.

A lucky kick knocked Mando’s feet out from under him. He hit the ground in a clank of armour. The Twi’lek raised the knife over his head. Rex shouted too late.

“Djarin!” Bo Katan plowed out of nowhere. Her wrist blade blocked the vibroblade’s descent. She plunged her other wrist blade into the Twi’lek’s chest. The bandit made a gurgling noise Rex wished he could block out. The body dropped and landed on top of Mando.

Bo Katan kicked the corpse aside. She offered her hand to Mando. He smacked her hand away. Mando got to his wobbly feet. He wiped the blood from his breast plate. He left a horrible handprint smeared across the silver beskar.

Rex hurried to Mando’s side. Yoda’s Progeny whined and begged for his father.

For the first time, Mando ignored his son. He pressed his visor into Bo Katan’s face.

“I warned you not to do that again.” Mando’s voice growled through his vocoder.

Bo Katan lifted her chin. The painted eyes on her helmet were cold. “If you died in battle, that kriffer becomes the next Mand’alor. I can’t let that happen.”

“Not until you get your shot first,” Mando snapped back. “We’re done.”

“You can’t dismiss me,” Bo Katan snarled. “I’m the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore.”

“You want your throne?” Mando unclipped the Darksaber from his belt.

Rex held his breath.

Mando extended the saber hilt to Bo Katan. “Go on. Take it.”

Bo Katan seethed in silence.

“That’s what I thought.” Mando turned his back on her.

“I will challenge you for the throne,” Bo Katan promised.

“I appreciate the warning,” Mando drawled. He limped back the way they’d come.

Wolffe caught Rex’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Rex shrugged. They fell in together and trailed behind Mando.

They were barely a pace out of Bo Katan’s view when Mando’s knees buckled. Wolffe snagged his arm and kept him from cracking his bucket against a tree.

“Kriff,” Wolffe hissed. “You got bacta on the ship?”

Mando nodded.

“Alright. You’re going to have to walk. I can’t carry your weight in beskar.”

Rex carried the anxious Yoda the Younger after his father leaning hard against Wolffe’s side. The child whined and wiggled, reaching for his buir.

“He’s alright,” Rex tried to soothe the tiny Jedi. “Your buir is strong.”

They got to the ship and Wolffe dragged Mando up the ramp. Mando directed Wolffe to the med kit. Wolffe flipped it open and started rifling through the contents.

Rex knelt beside Mando sitting with his back against the ship’s wall. Blood had soaked through the flight suit under Mando’s arm. Rex set the Jedi down and grabbed for the clasps on Mando’s breast plate. A gloved hand clamped down on Rex’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Mando growled.

“We got to get at the wound,” Rex explained.

“I’ll do it myself,” Mando grabbed the kit from Wolffe. He threw himself at the cockpit ladder.

Wolffe yelped a protest. “You’re going to need help.”

“It’s forbidden,” Mando insisted.

“Fine,” Rex snapped. “But if you die up there, I’m not delivering the Darksaber to Bo Katan. I’d rather eat my bucket.”

Mando managed a bark of a laugh. “I’ll make it my final wish to have that kriffing thing tossed in a supernova.”

“That I can do,” Rex promised.

The cockpit sealed behind Mando. Wolffe stood at the door and stressed in silence so strongly that Rex was certain he would manifest the emotion as a Force Ghost.

“Make sure to use plenty of gauze,” Wolffe called through the door. “And more bacta is better than too little.”

“Vod,” Rex snapped. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure?” Wolffe snarled back. “That kriffer jumped into an ambush to detonate a karking bomb. I don’t put much stock by whatever brains he might have left in that bucket.”

“Stop being a mother bantha,” Rex grumbled.

The door opened. Mando stomped out right past Wolffe and Rex to snatch up Small Fry Yoda. He slapped the panel that revealed his private bunk. Mando paused there, not turning to look at them.

“Thank you. I owe you a debt,” he said.

“The only thing you owe us for is forcing us to work with Bo Katan,” Rex answered.

They couldn’t see Mando’s smile, but Rex watched Mando’s shoulders relax. He retreated into the bunk and closed the door behind him. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look.

“Do you think he sleeps with the bucket on?” Wolffe asked.

“I can hear you,” Mando’s muffled voice came through the door.

End

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 4

hey, so OG chapter 4 will now be chapter 5 as the gremlins hijacked this chapter.

part one here   previous part here   ao3 here

--

            Damian stared in quiet horror as he looked over Ladybug’s exploits after hacking into Paris’ servers. His sister—the one he took down with little effort—had been defending the city for a month before he appeared. From the video of “Stoneheart” he could tell she was given no training. And her partner was flirting with her! When he should be focusing on the mission!

             What gathered from further research was the following: his sister and her ‘partner’ were untrained. Their teammates were also untrained. A team of ten untrained teenagers—perhaps younger—were tasked with keeping a villainous coward from stealing their magic artifacts, and with stealing his in turn. A team lead by his sister. A very alone, scared girl from his one interaction with her. Smart (he saw now she knew how to save her own skin. Redirecting his attention was a good move at the time). She is smart and creative because if she isn’t, then her city and her will lose. Be under the control of some madman.

             He had to get there, and he doubted he could convince Jon to help him at the moment—why are kyptonians always fighting one another when you need the assistance of one?

             Father would stop him.

             The League was keeping Father in Gotham and he didn’t have individual access yet…

             He was stuck for the moment, and did not like it. Perhaps Grayson could prove useful? He’d ask once the man was done resting from patrol.

---------

             Cass was enjoying Paris. She spotted the possible sister at the bakery with her adoptive mother. They were happy. Cass likes that.

             Cass moved quickly through the crowd, managing to make it to the bakery.

             Marinette ran into her.

             “Ah! Sorry!” the girl managed to catch her things before they hit the ground.

             Cass waved her hands, indicating there was no harm or foul. The girl was no clumsy—Shifu Cheng was ill-informed. Those reflexes and her expression before indicated nothing but an intense focus on something else. On what, Cass wasn’t sure.

             Yet.

             For now, Cass took a seat in the bakery, smiling at the kind woman working the front. Sabine Cheng, the woman who raised the maybe-Bat.

             Cass began doing her own research, messaging Babs that she saw Soup Girl for a moment, and would be assessing her parents. She knew of cases in Gotham where things weren’t always right, and she wanted to be certain that this girl was safe, regardless of if she’s a Bat or not.

--------

             Tim decided to ignore Babs offer in the end. The possibility of owing Jason was low given both him and Cass are on the Case. Jason is good, don’t get him wrong, but the chances of Jason actually talking to the girl in a real conversation before the rest of them? As Red Hood?

             This is a calculated risk and the odd are in Tim’s favor. (Well, not in Jason's.)

--------

             Steph hummed as she went over the designer pool she was looking over. Shockingly low given its Paris—granted 200 girls is a lot to investigate… she didn’t give the others all the information she had though.

             According to Damian, she “posts a disgusting amount” which means she’s posting or tagged often. When she used some of Babs old filtering program with social media involved, it brought the candidates down to 30. She could go through thirty teenage designers social media and comb over who at least has some genes that are dominant from the Wayne side. Her natural hair had to be medium brunette at the lightest, so the natural blondes took out seven candidates right off the bat. While blue or green eyes would give them more priority on the list, eye color genes are weird. Weirdly, five of her candidates had attached earlobes, so she only had 18 left after that filter was put on… Bruce’s hair isn’t curly, so two girls with intensely curly natural hair were taken off the list. Bruce’s thin lips only knocked out two more candidates.

             That left Stephanie Brown with 14 designers in Paris to find and investigate in the right age range, because she doesn’t think Bruce started having sex at 15, unlike Tim who is allowing college kids into his ‘could be Bruce’s daughter’ mix.

             Stephanie is also going to need a plane ticket to meet these girls, and that means getting help from one of Wayne kids… Or stowing away on the private jet that she knows Tim can and will be using sometime today to do ground work himself.

             She’s cool stowing away—Babs is covering for her on principle since Tim wouldn’t take the deal. Steph was smart enough to relinquish one piece of blackmail in total in exchange for use of Babs filtering tech—she has more than that thanks to one Supergirl spilling a number of things Babs has done over the years. Has Stephanie mentioned she’s the only one of the Bats to listen to Oracle, Queen of Technology, in this bet? She is, and she is better for it.

-----------

             Marinette managed to make it to the Agrests Mansion with little issue this time. Today she was going to one of the production lines with Gabriel to learn how to reset the machines and program them to follow any simple stitch pattern she wanted. It was good.

             She also noticed that during none of her times with Gabriel, was there a single akuma sighting. Not an attack—those never happened anywhere near their time together. It was an… interesting pattern. She was beginning to suspect that if Hawkmoth wasn’t Gabriel (he was akumatized, it can’t be him. Get that theory out of your head Marinette), then it had to be someone who worked for him, and high on the food chain.

             She made sure to memorize each of his ‘supervising managers’ and partners’ names. One of them had to be Hawkmoth. And Gabriel had to be someone that this Hawkmoth either really respected or really didn’t want handle re-scheduling with. Which would be all of them…

             She really wished she had more time to dig into their lives herself. For now, she had to trust Max and Markov to do the research… which reminded her, her name had been pinged on multiple searches in Gotham last night. From numerous devices. If the Bats were planning anything…

             Marinette gripped her purse a bit tighter. Her team has her back. She just doesn’t want them caught up in this mess too. She wishes that Aquaman never showed up. If he hadn’t, then the Bats wouldn’t be looking into her civilian life, the one they already knew about but only now deemed worthy of their attention.

             She wished they would just stop—she won’t look into the Great Detectives. She knows she’s not one of them. That she wouldn’t hack it in Gotham. But Damnit, in Paris? Her Territory—she does more than hack it. Sure, she may have blown herself up that one time, and yes, there is the timeline where as Princess Justice she may have sort of broke the world by forcing it to conform to that akumatized version of hers’ idea of Absolute Justice (apparently she was ruthless, made no exceptions and took out a third of the Justice League using Multimouse at the time on top of it all). Yes, she is not a perfect leader. Or hero. But Damnit, her (admittedly two) supervillians have been almost caught twice. Her re-akumatazation rate is much lower than any of the Justice League’s heroes’ normal villain or general crime recidivism rate by more than a little. By a lot. She’s not some Detective but she’s a damn good strategist, a champion at improvising and she and her team do work with the public and victims and reworked so much of Paris’ social culture to lower akuma-creating circumstances and keep the public emotionally healthy.

             She’s no detective.

             She’s a Guardian. That means caring about the details that shift the bigger pieces. That means adaption with what is there and creating what she needs. That means knowing her limits and getting help—to set an example and prove that not even her or Chat are an island. That even superheroes need help, need others and need to work together.

            She’s no detective. Detectives work alone.

            Her? She’s forged a team that (she hopes) could become the new Order of Gaurdians with her… some day. For now, they’re heroes with the same mission and different roles to play.

            Marinette just wishes that she could shut up this hunch since its been disproven. Her instincts on guilt and possible baddies aren’t the best—Adrien’s job is to sense what’s wrong and take them out. Hers is to make whatever is needed to help fix things, to push someone forward and help them grow. Her job to craft a better tomorrow today… and to do that, she lost the parts of her that picked up Danger. She can still find Caution signs (and her anxiety will always invent danger) but real Danger detection went to Adrien when she agreed to become Ladybug in the first place… And until both her and Adrien renounce their roles as the pair wielding the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses, she’ll always be missing it.

            The same way Adrien is missing his ability to think outside the box—seeing things as what they could become to help them went to her. He can only see potential threat and act on them. She can only see potential aide and act on that.

---------

            Jason grinned when he managed to make it into Paris. The second there was some damn akuma attack, he was grabbing the baby Bat and hunting Hawkmoth his way—she need the jewelry? Fine. She can have it. The guy brainwashing kids? The one that slaughtered the city? He’s Jason’s. ---------

            Bruce didn’t like being benched. He doesn’t like not knowing he had another child. He especially doesn’t like that this one is constantly preventing an apocalypse and his allies can’t be bothered to even send him anything about it. Not even a basic ‘she’s not living on the streets’ like Jason did. Or ‘she’s got parents here, calm down’ so he could get this stupid instinct to storm Paris and take on the bastard threatening his family that he didn’t know he had.

            Apparently Barbra has a hunch, but isn’t sharing until she has “conclusive evidence” of his daughter’s identity. Damian just isn’t speaking of it. As if being someone’s father biologically gives him a built-in alarm system for when he’s had a child and the ability to track them down at birth. Damian being raised in the League of Assassins should be enough proof to the contrary there.

            The others were… he wasn’t absolutely certain, but fairly certain his self-proclaimed ‘middle kid club’ were tracking his missing daughter down themselves. Possibly to claim her as part of their group, specifically.

            God, she was so young, It was before he even heard of the League that she was born. In that lifetime before becoming Batman. Would she like him? He was absent her whole life—did she want to meet him, meet the family? They’re a mess, he knows it. But they’re his—he chose them and they chose him. Would she chose him too?

            He watched another video of Ladybug in her early days, before she and her partner (dear god he’s cat-themed. Is it genetic? Should he test her and himself for some ‘drawn to dresses-as-a-cat’ gene?) were given any kind of training.

            She blew herself up to stop her city from being taken over by ‘Animan’ and his creatures.

            His daughter.

            Exploded.

            (She died. She died and he didn’t know. God he’s a horrible parent, and he hasn’t even parented her yet.)

            She died.

            To keep her city safe.

            She somehow reconstituted. But her face, in that video, she was shocked.

            His daughter should be dead but she’s not.

            Magic, he’s so glad his daughter uses magic.

            He. He’s going to need to consult someone. Raven? Raven should work. He can’t talk to the Justice League—nothing wrong with talking to the half-demon all of his Robins that lead the Titans has worked with.

            Loopholes.

            The Justice League is horrible at closing them.

---------

            Dick wanted to be mad when Damian came clean to him about the needles. He wanted to freak out over almost losing a sister he hasn’t met.

            He did.

            But.

            But this is Damian.

            Damian who still has trouble connecting. Who still flinches at certain tones of voice and phrasing. Damian who desperately wants to do Good but… struggles.

             Damian who has all of Bruce’s communication problems and then some.

             So no, Dick did not scream when he found out Damian only sparred “the blood daughter” because she looked too frail and weak for her to be considered anything resembling a threat to him. He did not sigh when he found out that Bruce didn’t know when Damian assumed he did. He did not hit himself when Damian discussed the various weapons he’d gifted her as a apology with the bouquets over the years and their meanings.

             He did take a deep breath, and begin explaining from this baby bat’s stance what had happened.

             “Imagine for a moment that it was me before I became Robin, and I was almost killed by someone who only let me live if I never contacted a shared parent or that parent’s known family. How do you think Pre-Robin me would have responded?”

             “You would have feared for your life and done whatever you could to prevent contact.”

             “Now, imagine I wasn’t told who to be avoiding, only aliases.”

             “You would avoid everyone with an alias that you did not help them create, and keep them from unknown aliases.”

             Dick snapped his fingers. “Exactly. That’s what this sister, what are we calling her?”

             “Her alias is Ladybug.”

             “Yes, that is what Ladybug was going through before Aquaman made contact.”

             Damian was quiet for a moment. “She must be on edge.”

             Dick nodded at that. “She probably is.”

             Damian furrowed his brow. “Do you think the League would allow me to contact her and end our agreement?”

             Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, but we can try.”

             “… And if they refuse?”

             “Then we find another way. We’re Bats,” Dick reassured Damian. He just hoped the missing members weren’t doing anything too rash…    

-----------------

             Marinette made a (painful) decision. Adrien and her would swap miraculouses—at least until there were less pings on her sites from Gotham. For added protection, she kept the Mouse miraculous on. Chatte Noire was less known, and she doubted Wonder Woman or Aquaman informed Batman about the miraculous of Creation and Destruction’s particular… refusal to let anyone but a pair chosen together to wield them at any point.

             Chatte Noire would only be on call for a day or so… what’s the worst that can happen?

--------

the characters are jinxing themselves, and procrastinating the (vague) plot of Shenanigans. i swear. 

if anyone can message me on how to add in a read more, that’d be great since i know these can get long to scroll past for mobile users.

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @laurcad123

[thesupremepuff]

I’m new to Tumblr so I hope I don’t screw this up, but here I wrote a fanfic for The Soul Stone War, an interactive fiction game by @intimidatingpuffinstudios! There is somewhat of a spoiler in here so be advised before reading, SPOILER ALERT! Hope anyone who reads it likes it! ❤️ Pairing: Tristan (OC) x Eledwen Warnings: Absolutely none, aside from the fact that my formatting stinks because I don’t know what I’m doing. 😂

A Memory Restored

Tristan couldn’t tear his gaze away from his soulmate’s expression; even beneath the hood of her cloak, he could see her staring intently at something, but what? He and his companions had only just entered the small town, yet it seemed the picture of peace. Overgrown grass moved in the wind like waves, smiling faces reflected a content population, and cheerful music could be heard from the open windows of the inn. His brown eyes scanned their surroundings as one hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword—had Eledwen’s cover been broken in a matter of minutes?

After a moment’s search, he found his target, what had drawn the attention of his soulmate: a positively nefarious group of little girls making flower crowns. A few of them had decided Straasa would be the perfect model for them, with the bolder ones tugging on his sleeve and pleading with a puppy eyed expression Tristan knew his friend couldn’t deny. Well, that’s a relief. He had just begun to unclench his jaw when he took another glance at Eledwen and realized he recognized that look. A sense of wistfulness lurked in her eyes, with the corners of her lips quirking up for just a moment as her gaze moved from one crown to another in wonder. He could feel the weight on her heart, a longing for what could have been, just like at the Festival of Pies. And just like at the festival that night, he knew he had to do something—anything—to restore what was missing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the group left town the following morning, Tristan’s face lit up in a bright, albeit tired, smile: he had learned how to make a flower crown, and Eledwen had no idea. He couldn’t have done it without a certain elf’s help; she had been instrumental to making his plan work, being the only one who could find a way to distract Eledwen for hours on end. Meanwhile, he had taken up a wholly unfamiliar occupation as a flower crown model for the village children, posing for what felt like ages as they drew him wearing their creations. In exchange for his undying patience, they taught him how to craft the crowns himself. He had a feeling the malicious little gremlins took a long time to teach him on purpose, but that didn’t matter anymore. At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself as he grimaced at the crick in his neck.

“My one, are you alright?”

Her smooth voice seemed to dull the ache a little bit, and he turned to see her brows furrowed as she studied his face.

“Mmhm, yeah, I’m alright,” Tristan replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, strong shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of the world on them sometimes.

“In fact,” he continued with a smile, “I’m better than alright.” Eledwen hummed in contentment as she snaked an arm around the small of his back. Oh, he could hardly wait for the reveal later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well, Frell. Tristan paced around the woods, searching like a madman for the soft, pink flowers like the children had used at the village as the others set up camp. They were nowhere to be seen. In this entire valley, he’d seen the little suckers wherever they traveled. Then, the one night he needs them, they abandon him? What kind of sick cosmic joke was this?

Grumbling under his breath about feeding the next pink bud he saw to Agnes in retribution, he saw it: a patch of stunning violet and white flowers. What they were, he had no clue; having grown up in Trident’s Teeth, it took little effort for him to distinguish between varieties of trout, but plants? The extent of his knowledge on flowers was that he thought they were pretty. And had he known any better, he wouldn’t have grabbed the stems so enthusiastically; he did not know better.

He yanked his hand back with a curse—the freaking flower had skewered him! The insolence! With a huff he took a closer look at the things; each one was covered with sharp thorns, an obstacle he had not been prepared to face by his teachers. His stomach began to drop; what if he didn’t do this right? He didn’t want to bring her a mangled heap of weeds, accidentally stripped of their petals from his inexperience.

Then he remembered her face, the way she eyed the delicate crafts in the village. Tristan had fallen in love with a beautiful soul that was hurting, a pillar of strength who had weathered storm after ruthless storm. Pressure began to build behind his eyes, and he swallowed thickly as he made a solemn promise to himself: he would ignore the pain of a thousand thorns, fight any evil, say whatever needed saying—if every night he could hold her in his arms and feel her heartbeat, knowing it kept beating looking forward to another day, then he would do anything.

A shadow soared over the trees, but Tristan knew not to be startled. He stood, watching Eledwen fly away to scout the area as she always did when they set up camp. A chuckle slipped past his lips; every time he saw her fly, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world. The thought of someone looking at her wings in anything but awe bewildered him. This, at least, was going according to plan; she would be gone for about an hour, his window of opportunity. There wasn’t a moment to waste, then. Gritting his teeth, he set to work.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Upon returning to the campsite, Eledwen immediately sensed something amiss. Morkai and Straasa sat talking in front of the crackling fire as Daelynn practiced with her lute opposite them. Tristan would usually be there, too, and he usually would have already approached her, liking to keep an eye on the sky for her silhouette. Instead, she saw his shadow sitting in their tent, only visible because of the lantern he had lit inside.

She didn’t hesitate to enter; was her one not feeling well?

The sight that welcomed her once she had stepped inside was one she would never forget. Her love sat cross-legged, a smile lighting up his entire face at the sight of her. With one swift motion he stood and hid something behind his back, his broad shoulders practically shaking in excitement. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

“I—I made you something. Back at the village, I noticed these and, I thought you might like one of your own. Here, stick your hands out and close your eyes.” He seemed almost...nervous? Why was he nervous around her? Eledwen’s eyebrow rose at the request, but she complied anyway; she trusted her soulmate, and she couldn’t help but be curious.

Something soft and fragile met her palms, a sensation that reminded her of days gone by many years ago. Could it be...? Her eyes flew open at the thought, and she saw she was right: it was a flower crown, the most beautiful one she had ever seen, in fact. Pure ivory petals contrasted bright purple ones, stems woven together intricately to hold the structure together. It was perfect. She felt moisture run down her face as she met his equally watery gaze, familiar crooked smile eliciting a shaky laugh that she nearly didn’t recognize as her own.

“Tristan, I...it’s—I love it. Thank you so much, my one.” Eledwen had never been overcome with such happiness; no one had ever made her a gift before, let alone one so thoughtful. How had he noticed? She had been subtle in her observation of the crowns at the village, she knew it.

When his hands came up to hold her own, another wave of emotion hit her: they were covered in cloth. That’s when she noticed the little pile in the corner of the tent. About the size of an anthill, a mound of thorns lay beside where he had sat. A blush rose to his cheeks as she gently laid down his hard work and examined his bandaged hands.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, really,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, pausing to press a kiss to his palm, never breaking eye contact.

“Tristan, you shouldn’t have—“

“You’re worth it.” These words were spoken with such confidence, she didn’t have it in her to argue. And for the first time in her life, she felt like maybe it was true. So when he picked up the flower crown and gently placed it on her head, she didn’t say a word. Eledwen giggled—she had forgotten she could giggle—and graced her soulmate with the most radiant smile he had ever seen. She held him and never wanted to let go, kissed him and never wanted to stop. And for as long as she could help it, she never would.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Rebellious Royalty (Pt.2)

-------------------------

"So I guess we're roomies for a bit huh?" said Remus, sitting in the center of the room, Charlotte attempting to sit on him.

"Yeah, sure, for now," said Virgil, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

"Awe cmon Virgie I'm not that bad!" Remus said, half mockingly.

"Charlotte, bed," Virgil muttered, watching the dog out of the corner of his eye.

"If I have to share a room with you theres going to be a few rules," Virgil said flatly.

"Oh you're no fun," Remus pouted.

"You may be here for a peace treaty but that doesnt mean you're going to walk all over me," there was a hint of a growl in Virgil's voice.

"Rule number one, dont touch my binders or flags, if any of them are ever out of place Charlotte will let me know, and Charlotte isnt as nice as she looks," Remus merely nodded, seemingly unaffected by the information, at least that was somewhat of a relief.

"Rule number two," Remus laughed, earning a groan from Virgil "stay on your side of the room, I dont want you near my stuff," he finished.

"Any other rules oh strictest Prince of darkness?" Remus cackled.

"Yeah, dont bother me when I'm working, and if possible, never talk to me again," Virgil said, before taking a book off the shelf and sitting next to Charlotte to read it.

The rules seemed to work fairly well most of the time, though it seemed that Remus had little to no concept of personal space.

"Remus get out of my face, I'm busy," Virgil said, moving his book in front of his face to block Remus.

"C'mon Virgie I'm bored why cant you have a little fun once and a while?" Remus said, snatching the book out of his hands and dashing down the hall. Virgil groaned and took off after him.

"Its a nice day out Virgie! Why dont you and I go for a walk? C'mon- itll be fuuuunnn," Remus said in a sing song voice.

"Why would I want to be alone with you?" Virgil narrowed his eyes, Charlotte circled around his legs.

"Look Virgie I know we got off on the wrong foot but I'm trying here!" Remus said, pouting slightly.

Virgil let out a groan and fidgeted with his hands a bit more, gods he hated confrontation like this. "Fine- whatever- let's just go." he muttered.

"Ah ah ah, not until you're in one of those giant hoodies you wear when you're exercising, I'm not going to ruin this peace treaty because you ran out of breath on a nature walk," Remus said, dragging him inside. Charlotte followed close behind.

The walk wasnt half as bad as he'd expected it to be, Remus actually seemed very knowledgable on most of the plant life.

"So you spend a lot of time in the woods huh?" said Virgil, smirking.

"Of course! The perfect place for a horrible gremlin such as myself," Remus smiled, the glint in his eyes reminiscent of a madman.

"You've got the horrible gremlin part down that's for sure," Virgil said.

By the time the two got home for dinner it was nearly nightfall, Remus' brother Roman seemed worried about their prolonged disappearance.

"Where were you two!" he said as he checked the two of them over for injuries, or so Virgil assumed.

"Relax Ro we were just out on a walk," Remus said.

"Well c'mon, dinner's about to start," Roman said, running inside.

"You guys go on without me, I'm gonna go change,"Virgil said, walking to his room before getting an answer.

Dinner was Virgil's least favorite time of the day, every other meal time he could eat alone in his room, but during dinner he was now stuck with not only his parents nagging about his lack of friends, but two teenage boys who talk to much for their own good.

"So Roman tells us you and Remus went out today?" his mother said, there was no hiding the smile on her face, and it annoyed Virgil to no end.

"Yes, just for a walk though," Virgil replied, focusing on his food rather than his mother's face.

Later in the night Virgil was having his usual horrible time sleeping, Charlotte's head resting dead center on his back. He was trying to get through it, to go back to sleep, but as always, it didnt work. So instead he decided to take a walk through the halls.

"Where ya going Virgie?" Remus' head appeared from the hammock he'd decided to tack onto the wall.

"Cant sleep," Virgil said flatly. He heard Remus' feet hit the floor and rolled his eyes.

"I'll go with you," he said, walking next to him. Virgil was going to object but he was to exhausted, so instead he just continued walking, ignoring the man behind him.

----------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@oceanart123

@spooky-scary-virgil

@official-lucifers-child

@youtuberswithalex

@misunderstoodshadowling

[narashikari]

The Saber cast reacts to Touma going up against the Megid in a sugar-fueled rampage.

“I- I knew that he was bad whenever he had coffee but I didn’t think it was this bad,” Mei confessed in an exasperated tone. 

The swordsmen and the editor watched helplessly from the sidelines as a completely loopy Touma barrelled through the Megid and Desast like a wrecking ball, sending them flying in all directions. They ducked as Touma’s sword spewed flames that nearly burned their faces off. 

“You should’ve warned Ren before he gave Touma that Starbucks cup,” Rintaro scolded gently. “Though... to think that drink caused all of this...”

“Ren said it had like six shots of espresso and ten pumps of syrup,” Kento sighed as he side-stepped out of the way from a poor henchman running away from his caffeine-and-sugar-high-fuelled opponent. “At that rate, you’d either keel over from the caffeine and sugar, or...”

He looked back at Touma, who despite his state seemed to be making some progress- the Megid and Desast were retreating, the latter muttering obscenities under his breath. When the villains were gone, Touma turned back to them, dropping his transformation to reveal the manic look in his eyes.

“Did you guys see that? Huh, huh?” The overly-eager author’s grin was almost akin to a madman’s. “Did you see me beat them, on my own?” 

“Yes, yes, we saw.” Rintaro smiled indulgently at his boyfriend, trying to shake him off his shoulder which he had grabbed in a vice grip. “Dear, please let me go, I’m losing feeling in my arm-”

Touma pouted but let go, though he seemed no calmer than he was a moment before. “I wanna go fight some more! Hey Kento, let’s have a spar!”

“No, I am not sparring you while you’re half-crazed on sugar and coffee, Touma,” his childhood friend retorted. “Pretty soon you’re gonna crash and it won’t be pretty-”

“That’s not what you were saying last night when the three of you-”

“Touma!” Mei yelled in outrage, “You can’t talk about that here, we’re in public... Oh, I’m going to kill that little gremlin for what he did!”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Ren was just trying to be nice!” Touma said. “At least he’s not trying to-” 

And, as if a light switch had been flicked, Touma’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out, right into the panicked arms of his three lovers. 

“...What were you saying about him crashing, love?” Rintaro asked Kento, laughing as the other two shook their heads in disappointment.

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.9

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 9/16

Previous <- Chapter 8

Chapter 10 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 9: 7 Months

Katsuki glared at his reflection in the floor length mirror Mina had mounted on her closet door. His pants hung low on his hips, open so he could stare at himself. Between his hip bones, he could see the small bump gently distending his abdomen like a very small tumor. A very, very small tumor that at any point in the next two months could blossom into a full fledged beach ball, but he doubted that it would this late in the game. Thank god for that.

His jeans didn't fit like they used to anymore, both because of his still rather rigorous workout schedule, but also... There was a squishy layer of fat around his waist. He was fucking developing love handles, and wouldn't stand for that.

Not only that, but his chest had begun to fill out more. It distressed him every time he pressed against his pecs and felt the squish instead of immediately meeting firm muscle, and his nipples had started to leak a watery white substance every time he did. He knew it was just his body getting ready for the baby that would be welcomed to the world soon, but it didn't make him happy.

He didn't have to be happy about any of the changes to his body, much less almost-milk leaking from him. He'd hated the whole concept and process of pregnancy before, and he still hated it now. Like he'd said to himself multiple times, 'The joys of pregnancy, my fucking ass.' He was absolutely not thrilled that he'd had to improvise pads to soak up his weird nipple liquid so he didn't leak through his everyday clothes.

"Bakubro, what are you doing over there? Don't you, like, have a date or something?" Kirishima asked from the bed where he, Mina and Ochako were spread out agonizing over the mass amount of homework Aizawa had assigned for the weekend. He's already finished it, and Kirishima and Mina had dragged him down, grabbing Ochako on the way when they spotted her in the halls.

An impromptu meeting of the 'Baby Boom Protection Squad' as Mina had started calling them.

"I'm getting fat," Katsuki growled, still staring at himself. Even his face had lost a little of its sharpness, and not to puberty. He couldn't handle it. Catch him the very day he gave birth pressing weight like a madman with a newborn strapped to his chest. He couldn't live like this.

Ochako lifted her head from where she'd been face down against her book, blinking blearily up at him. "I don't see anything, Bakugou. If there is something different, then I can't tell. You look the same as ever. Which is to say, hot. Which is not fair. I'm not going to look that hot when I'm pregnant."

"Then I guess you can't see this baby bump either?" he growled, turning to pull down the waistband of his briefs a little lower for their appraisal.

The three aspiring heroes scrutinized his abdomen before sighing in unison. "I don't see anything," Mina whined, rubbing at her forehead, "I'm still a little bitter about being robbed of big pregnant Bakubro, to be honest. How are you not even showing?"

"That'd be so weird if he were though," Kirishima said, dropping his head back down.

Katsuki sneered over at them. "Just because you're alphas doesn't mean you get to slack on knowing what your omegas' pregnancies are going to be like. Everyone's bodies are different and every baby is different. That goes for betas and female alphas too. Not everyone is going to look like a pregnant woman on television."

"Right," Ochako piped up, "My aunt is small like Jirou. When she was pregnant, she didn't show until the second trimester, and even then, it only looked like she was carrying around an apple under her shirt."

"Point made. I'm most likely not going to show at all. Thank god for that. And I don't want to show. Fuck all of that."

"But come on," Mina wheedled, "You would look so cute all big and round. Imagine how dramatically Mido would die seeing you like that. He wouldn't be able to stop touching you."

"Like I'm ever going to let him touch me again after this," Katsuki sniped back, zipping up his pants with finality.

"You're such a liar."

Ochako jumped in before the conversation could veer too far off track, and returned to the original point. "Anyway, if there are any changes, it's no wonder you notice them. It's your body after all. You would notice any small changes first. Well, you and Deku maybe."

"Yeah, don't remind me. I've been avoiding that fucker like the plague whenever we get back from school so he doesn't smell this tit juice on me."

"Ew!" Mina screeched, sticking out her tongue in disgust, "Why did you have to describe it like that!"

Kirishima sighed. "Or you could just tell him, you know, as the father of your child? Solve one of the problems?"

Katsuki snarled and glared at him as he pulled on his improvised padding and then his undershirt before layering over his button-up. "Yeah, no thanks. That shit would give the game away, and I'm almost at the finish line."

"Okay, whatever you think is best," Kirishima conceded, but the look on his face told Bakugou all he needed to know about what his best friend thought of that particular course of action. "Stubborn ass."

"Whatever."

"On the plus side, you look great!" Ochako chirped, smiling.

"I always look great." God, he was hungry. He wanted ice cream, and he glanced down at his phone for the time. There was still another thirty minutes before Izuku was supposed to come back from his errand. He turned for the door.

Eyes wide at the sudden change of pace, Mina asked, "Where are you going?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "To get ice cream."

The three scrambled after him out the door.

.....

"Waaah?! You guys are eating ice cream without me?" Kaminari cried indignantly when he found them in the common room crowded around a table with an empty carton of ice cream and four heaping bowls. "And you ate it all too!"

"Should've gotten here faster instead of having a disgusting PDA session with your boyfriend and girlfriend," Katsuki said as he deliberately stuck his spoon in his mouth.

"You're one to talk!"

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize my boyfriend was sitting in my lap. You guys should have told me. I would have shared."

Ochako snorted into her bowl and smacked around fruitlessly for a napkin. Katsuki silently pushed her napkin against her searching fingers.

"That's not fair!" Kaminari shouted before grumbling, "Should you even be eating that? You've been putting on some weight recently. Right around the middle." He indicated the region, sweeping his hand over his stomach and waist. "And here." He pointed at his own cheeks.

Katsuki stopped breathing as anger boiled up. Mostly anger at the liars sitting at the table with him.

"Man, who says stuff like that?" Kirishima complained before Bakugou could blow up and ruin the whole treat they'd been enjoying.

"Yeah, that was so mean, Denks," Mina chimed in with a frown, "Bakugou is as fit as ever. Where did that even come from? Did the date not go well?"

"It went fine!" Kaminari uncharacteristically spat defensively, but tears were bubbling up on the rim of his lashes.

Thinking about it, Katsuki hadn't seen him come in with either Jirou or Shinsou. His omega whined plaintively, and with a growl, he kicked out the chair near him. "Get a fucking spoon, sit the fuck down, and don't start crying. If you get tears in my ice cream, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

Kaminari slouched off to the kitchen to grab a spoon and slumped into the chair before scooping out a small bite from Katsuki's offered bowl. They ate in repressed silence until Izuku came through the doors with Shinsou, looking surlier than normal, and Jirou, looking rather put out with wet eyes, behind him. Kaminari didn't look up, and Izuku sighed as they got to the table.

'Here come the class alpha, pack leader, whatever the fuck, to the rescue.'

He took the spoon with a mound of partially melted ice cream that Katsuki offered him before leaning in for a kiss. Their mouths were sweet and minty, and Katsuki could have stayed there forever.

But Izuku pulled away after a moment. He handed back the spoon and gripped Kaminari's shoulder. "Come on, Kaminari. Let's go talk, all four of us." He looked to Katsuki apologetically. "Can you give me another thirty, Kacchan?"

Katsuki waved him away, shoving the rest of his bowl at Kaminari before diving into Ochako's proffered bowl.

The four walked away, Izuku in the lead, and back outside the way they'd come.

"I wonder what happened," Mina mused.

"I know. Those three always get alone so well, I thought," Ochako piped up around a full mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, gremlin," Katsuki scolded before waving his spoon around, "Isn't it obvious? It's pre-post-graduation drama bullshit. Most likely. None of them are applying for the same agencies or even in the same city, and with all three being alphas, it's probably mate related too."

Mina and Kirishima glanced at each other. They'd dated back in second year, but had decided to see if they could find omega mates before settling down together. Katsuki was pretty certain that no matter what happened, they'd still end up mated with a gaggle of pups in tow. Alpha-alpha matings, fundamentally different from alpha-omega and alpha-beta matings, had a low success rate primarily due to their biology telling them to go fuck themselves. If any alphas could make it work though, it would be those two.

"He never talked to me about any of that," Mina mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you have shit hearing. It's not that hard to figure out if you just pay attention. That and he only ever talks to Deku about that shit as far as I can tell. I just happen to be there sometimes. Perks of being mated to the pack alpha." Katsuki also knew how to keep his trap shut, clearly.

Kirishima sighed. "That'd be too bad. Kaminari is head over heels for both of them."

"Yeah," Mina sighed as well, and Katsuki scowled as the mood soured.

"Hey, sad sacks, quit with that shit. My hormones are too high for you all to be sad."

Ochako interjected before either of the pair could shove their foot in their respective mouths, opening up a conversation for what they thought finals would be like and what agencies they'd been considering.

Katsuki fell into the rhythm of conversation, but was out of his seat when Izuku finally came back inside with tear stains on his shirt.

He huffed as he wrapped his arms around Katsuki. "Let's get out of here. Everyone is too emotional right now. I'm drained."

"Agreed."

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 34

34. The memorable habits of Miss Donovan (and bar fights)

(A/N: here there be violence and dismemberment)

The physical injuries had healed well.

And now that both Jekyll and Hyde knew, that they had something like a family for the first time in their life, the wounds on their soul were beginning to heal as well.

But Hyde didn't feel strong enough to come out and go around to pursue his hobbies for a while.

Jekyll therefore had the pleasure of staying in control for almost a month, before Hyde got fidgety again.

“Are you sure you want to go back to that?”, he asked one evening, when Hyde demanded to be let out again. “Perhaps that scum will be back-”

“If he knows what's good for him, he won't”, his alter ego snarled in response.

“Hyde, I really don't think this is a good idea.”

“I need this, Jekyll”, the younger pointed out. “And so do you. Do you think I haven't noticed how you've gone back to your old self-repression? You want to be free again. And so do I.”

The Doctor didn't argue anymore.

He did laugh, though. “You're truly incorrigible.”

“Look who's talking!”, Hyde retorted.

Jekyll finished his work for the day and left his office.

Poole frowned, when he told him that he would go out tonight.

“Are you sure, Doctor?”, the elderly servant questioned. “Only a month after you-know-what?”

“It's alright”, Jekyll assured him. “We will be more careful this time. Don't worry, Arthur.”

Poole shook his head. “You're truly incorrigible, Henry.”

The blond chuckled. “I know.”

Only Poole got away with that cheek towards him.

“Mister Hyde! So good to see you again!”, the cash carrier* cried eagerly and approached the small brunette, when he entered the bar.

Hyde hid his scorn behind his creepy smile and told him that tonight he was just here to get drunk.

When he looked around, he recognised some men, he had bested on other occasions.

Some of them saw him and glowered, but Hyde didn't worry about them.

They wouldn't have the guts to do anything, he knew.

He jumped onto the counter and threw a Sovereign onto the table.

“Long time no see! The usual?”, the barkeeper inquired and Hyde nodded affirmatively.

“The usual. And pour it, where I can see it!”, he added scowling, when the barkeeper turned his back on him to pour the drink.

The man gulped. “Alright, alright!”

He stepped to the side, so the smaller man could see everything, poured the ale and handed him his pint.

“Thank you”, Hyde purred with false sweetness and strode over to his accustomed seat in the corner.

To his surprise, someone was already sitting at the table.

And it was none other than-

“No way!”, he exclaimed, “Miss Donovan! Fancy meeting you here!”

She turned her head, recognised him and grinned like a bedlam girl. “Likewise!”, she responded, “Been a while, hasn't it? Come and sit with me, Mr. Hyde!”

He did so.

This time she wasn't cross-dressing. Instead she was sporting a black and red dress. Her flame red curls were in a ponytail and she wore dark red lipstick and rouge.

Probably to lure men in.

Hyde knew a trap, when he saw one.

“How've you been?”, she asked cheerily.

“I'm getting better.”

“I can tell. Up to your debauchery again, eh?”

“Well, what can I say? I am and always will be a depraved man.”

“It's fine. Just don't go forcing yourself on people ever again. Now that you know what that feels like.”

Hyde frowned. “Oh, don't worry. I learned my lesson in that regard.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“Sooo”, Hyde drawled, “What are you doing here in a bar?”

The ginger shrugged. “Eh, ya know. Getting up the pole and looking for girls.”

Oh. So she's a queer too …

“Well, this is a brothel, so-”

“I'm not here to dab it up”, Miss Donovan revealed, “I want to find a lady-friend. Kinda hard for me to keep one.”

He looked at her in confusion.

It was hard for him to imagine.

Alma Donovan was an attractive girl, in almost every way. Even the piercing, feral look in her eyes – so much like his own – could be enticing. He certainly knew that a lot of men had a thing for wild, temperamental beauties.

She explained: “I'm mad. Maybe Luise told you, but I like to stab and mutilate blokes. They just 'ave to look at me funny and then they can say bye-bye to their crown jewels.”

Hyde cringed.

“Do I have to worry about losing mine?”, he queried.

She shook her head. “Unless you ever hurt a woman again, nah. Besides, you already got a taste of your medicine and promised to never do it again. So you're safe.”

Oh thank Heavens …

“And I have quite a few other quirks”, the ginger continued, “So every time I actually manage to get meself a girlfriend, it doesn't last long. I'm looking for a lady, who can put up with me madness.”

Oh.

Well, he knew a few tough girls. Tough enough for him, at least. And he was a madman himself, after all. So in theory, they would be able to handle that madwoman here too. But …

“Just out of curiosity, how do you treat your lady-friends?”

Suddenly, Miss Donovan grinned like a Chesire cat.

“Oh, I spoil them rotten!”, she cried excitedly, “Luise gives me a handsome allowance and I make quite a lot of money by placing bets! I'd give them the best I can afford, take them out for dates, protect them from perverts, teach them how to defend themselves and how to read and write, take care of them, be there when they need me-”

The plural form got his attention. “Them?”

Miss Donovan scratched her head awkwardly. “That's the other problem. Monogamy isn't me thing. That and the fact that I get into trouble so often … well, you get the idea. Have been jailed several times too. Luise cuts me allowance every time she has to bail me out.”

One of these girls, eh?

Hyde laughed: “Miss Donovan, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

“Call me Alma”, she requested, “Miss Donovan was me mother.”

The brunette grinned. “Call me Edward then.”

They shook hands and proceeded to chat about this and that.

Unfortunately their conversation was interrupted, when Hyde felt a presence behind himself.

Alma frowned. “Uhh, Edward?”

“I know”, he muttered and turned around to come face to face with a huge bloke, who was glaring down at him. He reminded Hyde of a gorilla Jekyll had once seen at the zoo.

“Can I help you, Sir?”, he asked coolly and with an unaffected expression.

“You sick in the head?”, the taller man snarled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Ye heard me!”, the gorilla growled.

Hyde looked past him and caught sight of some men he remembered roughing up. They were whispering and staring at the gorilla, like he was off his head. Which he certainly was.

“I have a score to settle with ya!”

“No, you don't”, Hyde responded languidly. “If we'd brawled before, I'd remember you.”

One of the workers in the background stood up and put a hand on the moron's shoulder.

“Are you off your rocker?!”, the man hissed, “That gremlin looks small, but he holds a candle to the devil.”*

A gremlin?!

He heard Jekyll snort in his head and almost laughed too. But Hyde was in a good mood, so the other man was off the hook. Besides, that was one of the more harmless things he'd been called so far.

“Well, you would know, wouldn't you?”, Hyde remarked, smirking.

“See, Sir”, he turned back to the gorilla, “That man would have a score to settle with me. And so do those three gentlemen in the back.”

He pointed at three other men, who were sitting at one of the other tables. The worker returned to his chair at their table.

“They're just wise enough not to”, Hyde continued. “And you should be too. Or you can just tell me what you actually want.”

“Ye must be that Hyde-fella”, the giant growled.

“'Sup?”

“I heard things about ya!”

“Really now?” Hyde's eyes narrowed. He was starting to feel extremely agitated. Why couldn't that twit just leave them alone? Normally he would have punched him in the gut by now, but he didn't feel like getting himself another house ban.

“Ye start brawls and beat people up for kicks”, the bigger man growled.

And you don't? Hypocrite.

“Even if they're over twice yer size-”

And what does that tell you?! Sod off!

“-Almost killed some old geezer for no reason-”

How the hell did that bastard know that?! Sir Danvers Carew hadn't pressed charges or given his name! The only witness had been a maid and Lady Summers had bought her silence. No one knew that it had been him!

Hyde feigned ignorance: “Some old geezer? Rumours! I can't think of one!”

Jekyll snorted: “Fibbing, Hyde? That's not like you.”

Shut up, Jekyll. Besides, it's easy to deny, when he doesn't say who he means.

Well, at least the fib had the desired effect. It threw the other off. Good. So he had only heard rumours about it. He couldn't prove anything. He didn't even know, if it was true.

The brunette scoffed: “Telling stories with no basis on reality? Pathetic! Now, for the last time, who are you and what do you want?”

I swear, if I have to ask one more time-

“I'm Bob Smith”, the gorilla told him.

“And I'm Queen Victoria”, Hyde responded, mimicking a falsetto and batting his eyelashes. “Guess who I am!”

Some people cackled in the background. Alma chortled and even Jekyll laughed in his head.

The gorilla's scowl intensified. “I'm tryin' to talk to ye, little shit!”

“As am I. And I'm currently failing. And I'm sorry for that. But I'm just so irritated! Because a plastered gorilla just strolled up to me and my friend, interrupted our conversation and is trying to intimidate me, like I'm one of the underage attendants!”

Hyde stared him right into the eyes. He could tell that, if he stood up, he still wouldn't even reach up to the giant's chest, so he didn't bother. Also, he'd bested men of that size before, some of them being professional brawlers. And he was in the perfect position to-

Suddenly the gorilla grabbed him by the collar, which made him gasp in surprise.

“Don't give me that sass, ye brat!”, he snarled. “I'll tear ye to pieces an'-”

Before he could continue, Hyde decided that he had enough and kicked him in the nuts with all his strength.

The gorilla let go and wailed like a little girl. Then he dropped onto the floor, clutching his crown jewels and cursed up a storm.

Priceless.

Utterly priceless.

The brunette scoffed: “Look at you! Acting tough, but a simple knock in the nuts is enough to knock you off your feet. Pathetic.”

“Oi!”, Alma suddenly piped up and stood up. She came around the table and grabbed the man by the hair. “I remember you!”

Her ice blue ice narrowed to slits.

“I saw you 'ere a fortnight ago! You're that piece of shit, who walked off with one of the underage attendants! That ten-year-old gal, if I remember correctly.”

So that gorilla is one of those blokes, huh?

“Ew! Gross!”, Jekyll groaned in disgust. “And you call me a dirty old man, Hyde! At least I don't use children to satisfy my carnal desires!”**

Yes, that's one of your redeeming qualities, Hyde thought drily.

Meanwhile Alma was grinning maniacally. “Why, there's only one appropriate way to 'andle blokes like you!”

To the brunette's surprise, she charmed a knife from her glove. “Now”, she purred darkly, “You will find out, why they call me 'Unmanning Alma'!”

Ohhhh, this is going to be good!

“Hyde, no.”

Hyde, yes!

Hyde was quite convinced, that the knife was blunt. Which made this whole thing even better!

But before more could happen, someone new entered the brothel.

He couldn't believe his eyes. “Lucy!”

She turned to face him. “Oh, Mr. Hyde! Good evening!”

He frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave this place!”

The black-haired woman smiled. “Don't worry, I'm just here to get my clothes. It took me a while to find a room somewhere, but now I finally have a nice one.”

Hyde composed himself. Finding a nice and affordable place to live was extremely hard here in London, he knew that.

Lucy went up to the pimp and they began a talk, which quickly turned into an argument.

His eyes narrowed.

Oh no, that snake was not going to take Lucy's things for himself!

“Is there a problem?”, he asked the pimp icily.

The snake began to talk some gibberish about Lucy having debts.

“I see”, Hyde replied coolly and turned to Lucy: “When you moved out, how much did he charge you?”

“Sixty Pounds”, Lucy huffed. “And I paid! Now he wants another twenty!”

“Sixty? Her possessions are worth less than forty – which I know, because I calculated it. But since you're so eager to rob an ex-prostitute, let's settle this business once and for all.”

Hyde turned around, rummaged in his bag and then turned to them, his hands behind the back. “Alright”, he began darkly. “In one hand I'm holding my bag, that contains medical equipment, as well as all the money you could ever dream of. In the other, I have a walking cane stable enough to bash someone's skull in. Of course”, he added with a sneer, “The other option would be that you land behind bars for hiring underage prostitutes. Just a brief reminder, the age of consent was raised up to sixteen last summer. But then again, when has that ever stopped people from lusting for little brats, eh?”

The pimp stared at him for a full minute.

“Her debts are more than settled”, he finally uttered weakly. Then he backed off and let Lucy get her last things. When she returned downstairs, the snake was waiting for her and shoved a bag of money into her hands. “Here you have twenty pounds, just keep your mouth shut!”

Hyde snorted. The things people did to avoid getting apprehended!

“Oh shut up!”, Jekyll scoffed in his head, “You turn into me, when you get into trouble with the police!”

You shut up, Jekyll!

“No, you!”

Just for the record, I haven't got into trouble with the police since that Carew affair! Now shut up and let me enjoy the show!

“What show? This one or Miss Donovan castrating that paedophile?”

Oh, right. He had forgot about that bugger.

When he turned to the red-head, she had knocked the gorilla out cold and was staring at Lucy, like she was the most gorgeous thing in the world.

To be fair, the black-haired woman was the most beautiful girl he knew.

An idea popped into Hyde's head.

He took the surprised Lucy by the hand and guided her to his new friend (who quickly hid her knife).

“Let me introduce you to Lucy Harris, a woman who's too good for this sinful world – don't you dare deny it, Lucy”, he added, when she wanted to object. “And this is Alma Donovan, a friend of mine, who is just as mad as I am.”

“Charmed!”, Alma cried enthusiastically and shook the blushing woman's hand. “It's an honour to meet a remarkable lady such as yourself!”

“Uhm … likewise …”, Lucy mumbled shyly, obviously not knowing how to deal with this.

Jekyll laughed in Hyde's head.

“I didn't pin you to be a match-maker!”, he teased. If he had been corporeal, Hyde would've stuck his tongue at him.

Oh shut up, if these two hook up, it might give me an advantage!

“Sure, Hyde. Whatever helps you sleep at night! There is no way you could be doing this, because you want two people who helped you to be happy!”

I would strike you, if I could.

“But you cahaaan't!”, Jekyll taunted him. “Come on, Edward! You know that I'm right!”

The brunette puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

Better half, his arse! Also, how old was that man again? Oh yeah, fifty! He was a dirty, fifty-year-old bastard!

A groan got their attention. Oh, the gorilla was waking up.

The two mad people excused themselves and dragged the half-conscious man outside and into an alley. Hyde kicked him in the solar plexus for good measure, to render him defenceless.

But when Donovan had her blunt knife out, Hyde laughed and took a scalpel out of his bag. “That knife is too blunt. Use this, that'll be quicker.”

Alma took the medical tool and made short work of the man's nether regions.

She and Hyde cackled maniacally as the child-molesting bastard screamed, then left him to writhe in agony.

“I need to go back”, Hyde told her, “I still have to pay for my drink.”

She grinned. “Maybe Miss Harris hasn't left yet”, she hoped.

I'm sure one of her ex-colleagues is keeping her back for a few minutes to chat, he assumed.

And sure enough, he was right.

Lucy was leaning outside, next to the door and chatting with one of her colleagues, who had crept outside for some fresh air.

Hyde recognised the other woman. That French girl … what was her name … oh right, Marianne.

Alma went up to them and joined in their conversation, while he went back inside to pay.

Everyone was obviously glad, when he paid up and left the place.

Then he had a short talk with the three women (Lucy inquired how he was doing), before turning to go home. “Goodbye, ladies! It was fun to pass time with you!”

“Likewise!”, Alma laughed and waved back.

Then they all went their separate ways.

Hyde was still elated, when he arrived at his flat.

Sure, he hadn't got up the pole tonight, but damn! He had found himself one sister in arms!

“This was the best evening in ages!”, he exclaimed happily.

“I can imagine it was”, Jekyll deadpanned and appeared in the mirror.

“This is my nightmare!”, the blond groaned and shook his head. “You found a partner in crime, who's just as deranged as you are!”

The brunette cackled and revelled in the other's exasperation.

Meanwhile Lady Summers was doing paper work, when her telephone rang and she jumped.

With a frustrated sigh, she took the receiver. “Hello, Lady Summers speaking?”

In the next moment she winced and held the receiver away from her ear.

“You, Luise! I just had the best evening ever!”

Why did Alma have to shout into the phone like that?!

“Let me guess, you castrated someone?”, the Lady sighed in annoyance.

“That too, but I met some really interesting people!”

“Did you now?”

“Yes! First off, I stumbled upon Hyde in a brothel-”

“What were you doing there?!”

“I'm coming to that – and we chatted about this and that, when this huge gorilla of a man interrupted our conversation and started to annoy Edward-”

Oh, so it's first name basis now?

“-and you won't believe this! It was the same guy, who screwed that little girl the other day! The one I didn't get to punish, because I had to leave early!”

“Aha.”

“And just as I wanted to give him, what he deserved, this absolutely gorgeous woman walked in! She was so cute and beautiful, damn! It's true love, I know it! And Edward introduced me to her! Her name is Lucy Harris! She's so adorable! I asked for her address and get this! She just moved into the house where I live! Isn't that amazing?! Maybe I'll finally have a lasting relationship! And I also got to know a Frenchwoman, who is apparently a former colleague of Lucy's. A really bricky**** lady, I tell you!”

The Prussian needed a minute to process all of this.

Then she recovered her spirit.

“That's nice, Alma. But you still haven't told me what you were doing in a run-down brothel bar in Soho.”

“I was looking for a potential girlfriend! You know how hard it is for me to keep one! And every woman in Whitechapel knows me. They don't want anything to do with me. I don't even know why! I'm doing them a favour with what I do! Anyway, I hoped that maybe I'd be luckier in one of the other districts. And I thought prostitutes would be a good thing to start with, because they're tougher than others.”

That's in the eye of the beholder, the Lady thought drily.

“Have you told Mr. Hyde about your favourite pastime?”, she asked curiously.

“Yeah. But he was calm about it, after I told him that he has nothing to fear. He even helped me castrate that child-molesting gorilla! I think I found myself a brother in arms!”

Lady Summers groaned: “This is my nightmare! You found a partner in crime, who's just as deranged as you are!”

---

*cash carrier - Victorian Slang for: a pimp

**Hold a candle to the devil - Victorian Slang for: to be evil

***My version of Jekyll is anti pedo. Anything younger than eighteen is too young for him. Hyde likes them twenty (like himself) and older.

****bricky - Victorian Slang for: brave, fearless

[stitchships]

In Which I Pine for Herbert West

Hey I got a new f/o and it's torturous and I immediately needed to write this. Sorry if it's a bit wonky but I hope you like it!! It's the first good art thing I've done in weeks lmao.

Tw for animal death and typical Reanimator bullshit.

-

Eleanor Miller is, to say the least about her, an intelligent woman.

Now, she does seem to take a bit too much of her beliefs from conspiracy and myth, sure. But she knows where believing ends and common sense begins.

Though at this point, it seems she's thrown all of that out the damn window.

The walls surrounding her seem all too fitting, she's seen movies. She knows creepy, creaky, basements are where fucked up things happen. And from the things that surround her, it seems that that's just a little too on the nose.

 The medical student is accompanied by one Herbert West. A small man, even a few inches below her, who seems to have zero grip on socializing with other people. And yet, she followed him home, crept down the stairs behind him, and is watching the scientist now as he flits about the dead rat on the table.

"So, when's the show gonna start?" The blonde asks, rubbing her bare arms. She'd left her coat upstairs, not realizing the chill would permeate his secret laboratory. The gold buttons of her nice button down reflect the eerie green glow of the syringe in his hand. "I'd prefer not to freeze to death down here, God only knows what you'd do with me.."

 Her question goes unanswered and her joke gets no laugh but a small huffing sound from West.

 "Patience, Miss Eleanor, it's a virtue." He shoots her a look, no emotion clear upon his expression. "Now if you'll observe here, this is an obviously dead rat, and in-"

"Dead rat, got it." She cuts him off, making a serious face and stepping closer, her shoulder brushing against his. He frowns.

"As I was saying, in my hand I have my Reagent. Which I so kindly offered to demonstrate the use of for you." He points the syringe at her smug smiling face as he talks, though careful not to shake it up too much. She gets the point and closes her mouth and gives the man an inch of space, earning her a satisfied nod. "Good. Now, I'll inject it here, into the brain and that will.."

 His voice drones on, but her focus fades out, gaze trailing away from his working hands and up his arms, towards his face. West isn't a conventionally attractive man in any way. He's small and mean looking, with little room for emotional expression. A gremlin of a man, and somehow Lenore's mesmerized by him, watching his lips as he speaks, she can't help but run her tongue across her teeth. However, she hears something awful that breaks her focus and leaves a blush on her ears from the loss of self control, a terrible squealing from the table.

"My god.." Her hand raises to her lips, entranced by the broken, but very much alive rat as it writhes and cries out. There's a shimmer in her eye, and though she doesn't see it, the man beside her seems to take interest in that untold excitement she keeps locked in tight. "You've really done it, you little madman. It's back."

 He opens his mouth to speak, but her gaze doesn't leave the gruesome animal, and she rambles onward instead. "Just like Frankenstein... albeit, less lightning and less... humans." She looks at him, a smile on her face and she notes his baffled look. "Though. It could work, couldn't it."

Herbert can only adjust his glasses and look to the still squeaking rat on the table, unable to match her wild eyed stare. "The last test was unsuccessful but, with just a few changes I believe it could be truly possible." He speaks, "And I'd prefer to not be compared to that character, he and I, nothing alike. I'm not making monsters, I'm doing so much more."

"That's okay." She speaks, voice surprisingly steady. "If you're the Frankenstein, I can be the monster." She runs a hand through her blonde hair, and doesn't flinch as he finally silences the animal he'd moments before returned from death. "Just try not to hate me like he hates his, okay?"

 He's taken aback by the casual nature of her statement, unable to figure out why she seems so.. attached. But now isn't really the time for that, and he simply says what sounds best as he removes his bloody gloves.

"Somehow, I don't think I could."

[golden-redhead]

Insanity

Ouma is Momota’s unhealthy coping mechanism.

Oumota, post-game Virtual Reality AU (with a twist). 2203 words. Spoilers. Dedication for @tricky-leader

Read on AO3.

Insane.

This is the only word that comes to Momota’s mind as he watches Ouma paint himself to be the villain of this season, a tablet with Team Danganronpa’s logo on it grasped tightly in his hands.

He is watching that scene after the very end of the fourth trial, just after Gonta gets executed. He watches it over and over again, to the point where he can almost trick himself into thinking that he doesn’t feel nauseous anymore. His eyes hurt and he is fairly certain that they’re bloodshot, but he stubbornly stays where he is, hands clutching the tablet close to his chest with enough force to make his knuckles turn white. The faint bluish glow of the screen hits his eyes as they search Ouma’s face when he says all those horrible things, lips stretched in a sickening smile of a madman. Momota himself isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he knows for a fact that he’ll know once he finally finds it.

Maybe he’s hoping to notice some crack in Ouma’s act.

Anything that his tortured brain would use against him to prove him that all of this was avoidable, that if only any of them noticed sooner and Saihara figured it out faster, if only someone knew… The truth is, he doesn’t know what would have happened if that was the truth. Breaking through Ouma’s endless walls of lies and distrust and deftly masked fear sounds like a mission impossible to anyone.

Sometimes, Momota wonders how would it feel to be a part of the audience of Danganronpa’s fifty-third season, just one of those people who get to enjoy the game from the outside, blissfully unaware of the trauma and the empty feeling in your stomach that haunts you long after you make your big comeback to reality. Would it be easier to decipher Ouma if he was simply watching him act like a character on a show, safe and sound on the other side of the screen?

He remembers himself from the times when he was simply one of the fans. He remembers himself from the times when the idea of this senseless suffering would excite him, make his heart beat faster, face flushed and eyes wide and fervent. He was never quite on the same level as Saihara who was one of those hardcore psycho fans who jack off while watching the executions, but he still enjoyed the show, his pulse quickening whenever he saw it airing. The more bloody the season, the better. He remembers the elation he felt when a big fat envelope with a familiar logo on top found its way into his mailbox, stuffed with a short ‘Congratulations, you’ve made it into the 53rd season of Danganronpa!’ note and a contract.

Back then, he celebrated.

The copious amount of alcohol, music blasting at full volume and girls, many girls, who would pass through his bed, moaning and writhing under him, only to be followed by another. He was at the top of the world.

None of that matters anymore. None of that is important now.

He wonders who would have ended up being his favorite character.

Akamatsu, while entertaining to watch, was just a goody two-shoes, so sweet that it was almost nauseous. The only thing that he would have found even remotely interesting about Akamatsu was her ending, but it simply happened too quickly.

Saihara also wouldn’t have been his typical choice, too meek and cautious. Too innocent. Momota was always more into the potential culprits rather than heroes. To think that he ended up being one of them… If there’s one thing he can say for sure about the writers working for Team Danganronpa it’s that they’re sick fucks. The absolute worst. He wonders if it gives them some sense of perverse satisfaction, all this twisting of their original personalities into people that they barely recognize, people who feel so distant and yet so familiar.

Then again, Momota has no right to complain. If anything, Team Danganronpa actually fixed him. He feels a shudder crawl down his spine just thinking about the Momota from before the game. This angry creature he used to be, not caring for anything or anyone. He was so full of shit back then, always ready to lash out, ready to attack, eagerly awaiting for any chance to feel provoked just to have an excuse to fight. This person is still inside him, trapped somewhere under the thick layer of ideals they stuffed him with. Still, he got lucky. Being stuck with this new identity might feel weird, but between the old and new one he would choose this new Momota without a moment of hesitation.

Not everyone can say the same thing, though.

His mind flashes to Korekiyo and he grimaces with distaste. This whole incest subplot, especially when paired with the fact that he was a murderer even before the game started, was a bit of an overkill, even by Danganronpa’s standards. He almost feels sorry for the guy. There’s no redeeming trait Korekiyo could rely on. His personality was reduced to being a fucking creep and Momota feels an intense sense of unfairness everytime he thinks about it. There’s also some relief, though. This nagging voice muttering good thing it wasn’t me at the back of his head. Even though the villain characters tended to be interesting, Korekiyo had a fairly small fanbase and would always end up at the very bottom of every favorite character poll. Momota has no idea how Korekiyo is doing now but he can’t imagine him being happy with what Team Danganronpa had done to him.

So yes, Momota considers himself lucky, at least in this one aspect.

Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars might be a fake name, a fake persona, but it’s the one he fully accepts and chooses to embrace, if only so he can keep some resemblance of sanity.

Anyway, now that he thinks about it there’s no way that he would choose Saihara as his favorite and Korekiyo is obviously also a definite no.

Out of his two sidekicks Harukawa seems like a much more likely option than Saihara. Old Momota would have been overjoyed. Pretty girl? An assassin? What a delightful combination. Sexy, too. Good looks on one hand and the promise of some professional and well-executed bloodshed on the other - what more could one ask for? The fans must have been ecstatic when her real talent - none of that boring caregiver or whatever bullshit - was exposed. Of course, if things went like they did in the end, he would have been pretty disappointed that ultimately Harukawa became one of the survivors and never actually got the chance to kill anyone. With how much of a deal they made out of her hiding her talent it was probably frustratingly underwhelming to never see her in some bloody action.

Well… that’s not entirely true, he still remembers the sting of an arrow piercing his arm, but that’s besides the point.

He briefly wonders what he would have thought about his own role in the killing game but quickly dismisses it. Momota Kaito from the game was way too heroic for his liking, a tragic hero who would literally let himself bleed to death just to save everyone.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Lame.

He really should have wrapped his hands around Saihara’s throat once he gained his trust.

And then there’s Ouma.

The trickster.

The antagonist.

The mastermind.

The martyr.

There are so many words that one could use to describe Ouma and none of them would ever be good enough.

He escapes all the definitions, remains a mystery even after the game is over while the rest of the participants get to go home, rest and - hopefully - heal. Even weeks after the game ended Internet forums and websites continued to speculate about Ouma’s character. It’s been quite some time since a character made such an impact. Danganronpa has been going for fifty-three seasons and even despite having many devoted fans some of the appeal started to fade. Teenagers being thrown into a world in which their only choice is between hope and despair can become boring after some time, especially with such a defined structure of the show. Unexpected culprit in the first chapter, double murder in the third one, unclear situation in the fifth … Momota knows it all.

Still, Ouma managed to do something that no character did in a long time. He brought back something that made Danganronpa so alluring all those years ago, when it was still a new concept that would provoke outrage and controversy. Hell, some people even say that he single-handedly saved the name of the entire franchise. There’s no guarantee that there will be any future seasons, but even if there won’t be - Danganronpa definitely went with a bang. And all of that because of some purple gremlin with a death wish.

The same gremlin who was now trapped in a coma with no means of escape, enslaved by the very contract he signed with his own hand.

Team Danganronpa made good use of all the loopholes in the law, exploiting any ambiguity they could find to keep Ouma in the simulation as long as they deem it necessary, possibly long enough for them to revive Danganronpa and put him in the next season. It wasn’t clear what exactly they were planning to do, but as long as Ouma was involved, it was sure that they would definitely make profit off of him, seizing the opportunity to its maximum potential.

No one ever won against Team Danganronpa, despite the fact that many tried. If what the press has been reporting was to be believed then the company was basically drowning in lawsuits. And yet, they managed to evade every single one of them and keep the biggest sensation they ever created clutched tightly in their grasp, using Ouma as leverage to achieve their goal, bending both the law enforcers and fans to their will. There would always be fans begging for more, defending the series with blind adoration, their thirst for blood never quite satisfied. They were the precious children of Team Danganronpa, the ones who didn’t know the life without Danganronpa in it and couldn’t care less about Ouma’s future as long as they got what they wanted.

Danganronpa created the society so obsessed with killing that it lost all traces of humanity.

Even though Momota was once part of it, all of them were, it doesn’t feel right anymore. None of it feels right. The fact that it took him so long to realize, the fact that they literally had to screw with his brain to make him see that… it doesn’t feel right, either.   

And so Momota watches as the fourth trial, because there’s very little besides that that he can do, watches as it comes to an end and Saihara utters his infamous line. The one that fans quote all the time.

The one that marks Ouma’s even further descent into madness.

You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

And almost as if tapped with a magic wand, Ouma’s face turns blank. For a long second he just stares at Saihara, for once quiet and still, and it’s a second that lasts a lifetime.

Momota thinks about how scary it looks.

Ouma’s blank face is much scarier than any of his masks, much scarier than those twisted faces that barely look human anymore as he slips into the role of a bloodthirsty villain. Momota has scrolled through many threads filled with screenshots of Ouma’s most horrifying expressions, but that one that shows a complete devoid of emotion is by far the most dreadful, yet hardly ever recognized by fans as what it truly is. Momota feels stupid, really, when he realizes for how long he remained blind to it himself, how he was too focused on Ouma’s intentional misleadings instead of on cold hard facts. In his defense, however, Ouma is good at this. Maybe even too good. After all, even Saihara fell prey for his act. Ouma’s a skillful liar, exploiting any weaknesses he can find and never showing his true face, always hidden behind carefully planted lies.  

It’s not a surprise that Team Danganronpa doesn’t want to let him out of their grasp.

And maybe, just maybe, Momota from before would have fell prey, too.

Maybe in all of his brashness he would have become obsessed with this boy who looked like Momota could snap his bones in seconds. Maybe he would have been rooting for him against all odds, simply to see what would happen.

Instead, he’s stuck rewatching the game until it all becomes a blur, until he has it all memorized, imprinted behind the eyelids.

Ouma taunting and lying and smiling. Ouma being the one who, in his own strange way, saved them all.

Somehow he’s even more of a mystery after the end of the game, even if the truth slowly unfolds itself before their eyes.

There’s a weird sense of insanity to it all.

And so Momota finds himself re-defining this word, insanity, because it sure as hell isn’t what he thought it to be.

[amazable01]

Mr. Sanders Neighborhood

Collab with @theobsessor1!

Note: THE LONG AWAITED NEIGHBORHOOD AU IS HEREEEEEEEEEEEE!! I’m so excited, you guys, you don’t even know.

Link to AO3 is here

Logan lived in a quiet town, where extraordinary things never happened, and he’s always been fine with that. Today is peaceful as it is every day, so… why does today feel different?

He had awoken at the usual time of 6am, ate a healthy breakfast and began on chores. Logan had the whole house swept, mopped and vacuumed by 8, planning to get to laundry once he fetches the mail just like every Saturday Morning.

Logan puts the vacuum back in the closet before heading out the front door. He blinks almost owlishly, stepping outside to hear singing.

The source of the sound comes from his right, another man that looks like the stereotypical Prince Charming from children's fairy-tales. The outfit they wear further affirms the idea. It may even be contributing to making him look even stranger as he continues to sing to the birds sitting in a nearby tree.

The man looks over, spotting Logan watching him in bewilderment. He greets him with an enthusiastic wave and a bright smile as if his behaviour is perfectly normal.

Before Logan can process any of this, the gentleman is striding over to him. The princely figure introduces himself with a small bow. “Hello fine sir! I’m sure I need no introduction as you must know who I am already.” The stranger places a hand to his chest with a flourish, his tone dramatic. “I must apologize on mine own behalf for not coming to greet you sooner, but I have been busy redecorating the insides of my new home.”

Noting that the stranger has SOME form of manners, however odd he seems to act, Logan tries to remain polite, despite the fact he would rather hide in his house and avoid the odd person. “I believe you are mistaken, as I do not know who you are-”

The stranger promptly interrupts Logan, a string of offended noises escaping his lips “You don’t know who I am?! I am Roman Charming!” Making a dramatic pose as if that’s supposed to help jog Logan’s memory, Roman gives him a waiting glance.

Logan quickly shakes his head. “Sorry, I’ve never heard of you before. Are you some kind of... children’s entertainer?” He gestures towards Roman’s royal attire, expecting that to be the answer as to why he was dressed in such unusual garb.

“What?!” Roman appears even more offended and agitated than when Logan admitted he didn’t know the man, “I will have you know that I am ROYALTY, you peasant!”

This guy is clearly mental! Logan raised his hands, trying to come off non-threatening, fearful the man would grow angry. Knowing how strange he was acting, there is no telling what he might do. “I do apologize for the mistake, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have chores to finish.” Leaving his mail to sit in the mailbox, Logan hastily enters the safety of his home before the other could protest. Carefully making sure to lock the door, he breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to be away from the insanity outside.

Maybe if I’m careful, I don’t have to face any more of that ridiculousness, Logan muses.

Despite his best efforts, however, Logan might as well give up trying to avoid Roman. The man must be used to getting lots of attention, and seeing as there isn’t anyone else in the neighborhood other than them, Roman would often attempt to seek it out from Logan, much to the annoyance of the latter.

--------------------

Logan huffs with annoyance. Roman had followed him to work several times now, often talking about nonsensical things and being an overall distraction. And a nuisance, to top that. Logan had been contemplating kicking him out, when Roman wandered off into the bookshelves. Deep within the novels and biographies, lies an oasis of imagination and naivety. The children’s section.

Taking advantage of the moment of reprieve, Logan begins putting away some of the returned books. He hadn’t realized how long Roman had been gone until he realized that most of the books had been return to their places, and only a few remained on the return cart.

In his peripheral vision, as he puts another book back in place, he notices the manager heading off towards the children’s section. Logan doesn’t think twice of it as he continues working. She is the owner of the place, after all. Seeing her check up on things was nor-Shit!

Roman was still in there! She would likely not take too kindly to his strange delusions, nor would Roman take how she would react very well.

Making haste, Logan races off to the children’s section. He looks around, scanning the area.

The ceiling had been repainted into a bright blue, the walls depicting a forest that supposedly surrounded the kids as they played. Bookshelves were designed to look like trees sprouting with knowledge. A playset sits in the corner, a child-sized tower that could be climbed and played around. The tower was connected to the reading room, which was painted to look like a gigantic castle, where activities would often be held. A glass doorway across from the reading room lead to a outdoor garden, where stepping stones and benches often held older children finishing up a book, or younger kids enjoying the sun. A dragon statue laid outside, as well, to bring the inside theme into the garden.

All personal opinions aside, it had become a good place for children to stay, compared to the dark wood and clean counters of the normal library outside.

Logan spots the manager watching Roman. She doesn't look at all like he was expecting. Hesitantly he stands next to her, copying her as they watch Roman.

Roman is sitting by the child-sized tower, the children scattered around him in awe as he reads, no, dramatically acts out the story. A couple times he purposefully played the scene wrong, and with laughter the children would correct him as he feigned ignorance.

As Roman finishes up the book, Logan hears the manager hum in thought before walking over to Roman and pulling him aside to talk.

Logan quickly followed, hoping to keep the peace if things were to start escalating, only to freeze as she proposed something to Roman.

“I would be delighted!” Roman cheers, before turning to Logan, beaming. “I get to work with you now! How about that!”

Logan felt his brain shutting down. “...what?”

“I get to keep the little gremlins occupied while their guardians get their business done here! Isn’t that spectacular news?!”

“I believe I might require some air.”

Leaving the two before they could respond, Logan exits the children’s section and the library. He uses an arm to lean against the wall, taking some much needed deep breaths.

Not only did he have Roman as his neighbor, but now he was stuck working with him, too!

-------------------------------------

Roman believed he was royalty. And not just any royalty, but the child of Cinderella, someone who didn’t exist to begin with.

He’d searched everywhere for the so called “Storybrooke” that Roman claimed to have originated from, and it didn’t exist either!

Footsteps sound close by, but Logan hardly notices them. There’s a much more important problem right now.

Did a Roman Charming even exist?! Who was he?! Where did he come from?! Why did he appear out of nowhere?!

A hand places itself softly on Logan’s shoulder. He mutters to himself as he turns, still caught up in his thoughts.

Roman jolts back, removing his hand like he had been burned. He looked bewilderedly at his hand, before shaking his head and turning his attention back on Logan, concerned.

“Are you alright? You seemed a bit upset when you left the library.”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, an anxious mess. “To be honest? No. I am not alright.” He points at Roman “The world apparently thinks it would be hilarious to ruin my perfect life with some neighbor who has delusions of being a nonexistent character! You’re CONSTANTLY harassing me for attention, and now I have to share my WORKSPACE with you?!?!” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to bring his emotions back in check. “You don’t exist on ANY sites...h-how can I be sure your not some escaped convict, or madman?”

Roman tilts his head contemplatively, his eyes saddened. “I guess there really is no way of knowing if I am a madman, since I technically don’t exist outside of home... I sometimes forget that.” He continues, sighing softly.  “Even so, that is no excuse for my behavior. I am a prince, and I should act like one. I do tend to enjoy your company, however, so I hope you can forgive me, or we can start all of this over again.”

Logan just knew he was going to regret this decision in the future, and yet... seeing the sincere expression on Roman’s face had made him feel more than a little guilty

With an exasperated sigh, Logan sealed his fate. “You're forgiven, just… I sometime need my own space, and for the love of all things celestial, PLEASE tone down your dramatics.”

“Of course! I’ll make sure to be more considerate with both of those things!” He pauses. “Does...  does this mean I should decline working here?”

“No, it’s fine. As long as you don’t distract me while I’m working, I’m fine with it.”

“Yes! Work buddies!”

Logan might as well have lost his mind for what he just agreed to. Thankfully, the rest of the neighborhood will most likely fill with normal people to save his sanity.

After all, things couldn't get any weirder...

Right?

Taglist under cut

@pikachutali @0callmevirge0 @wolfishhel @anachronistic-cat @chemically-imbalanced-romance @nightmarejasmine @thepoolofthedead @broadwaytheanimatedseries @hanramz-the-fander @silversunshine2012 @tree4life25 @changeling-ash @Multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @thespiritsquid @crankthatyee @anangelridingintheimpala @alyssadashrub @nottodaylogic @corerianna @the-gayest-one-of-them-all @skelekitty42 @Emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @scorching-scotch @ab-artist @cloudchaser7

If you would like to be added, contact me or @theobsessor1 through an ask, comment, or dm!

[cuddleslutloki]

2018 fics, a year in review

i’m a madman, but even my crazy ass probably won’t finish and post another fic in the last 6 hours of 2018, so here are all the fics i posted on ao3 this year, plus some thoughts on each!

Hemlock Honey and Silver

this was my last ever supernatural fandom fic. literally the end of an era for me since i was in the spn fandom for so damn long and wrote so much fic, about two-thirds of which has been orphaned on the archive at this point because i didn’t like the stories anymore lol. 

i do like that one, though, and i’m actually alright with it being my last ever spn/destiel fic

Fire In Your Veins

this was my first time posting thorki fic! i was so, so nervous about it, but everyone in this fandom is so chill and lovely. i still like this one, and i don’t think i write enough 69ing lmao. also this fic was obvs the start of something bigger bc. i mean. i’ve written so much damn fic now lol since i only started posting in june. i was worried that i wasn’t going to be writing anymore, or that i’d never be posting on ao3 again because it had been literally 2 full years between hemlock honey and silver and the fic that preceded it. then i fell into thorki and i started writing fic and it’s just been such a huge, huge thing. bc i’m also writing original stuff again for the first time in forever.

Underdressed and All Out of Time

a direct sequel to fire in your veins, i really like it. i felt like i was able to characterize loki fairly well in this one bc i was very insecure about the way i wrote loki when i started out

A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them

who doesn’t love a fic title from a hozier song? i remember writing this fic and wondering if it was any good and if my characterization was okay and still being nervous and insecure in my writing, but it’s been very well received so i kinda got my inner critic to stfu which is nice lol. i also really enjoyed doing this vignette style story

To Always Face the Sun

what if :) loki was happy :) and thor had his brother back :) lol i really liked writing this and having loki being such a little shit tbh. can we tell that i like a happy ending in fic?

Blue On Gold

so i wrote an arranged marriage fic where they never actually get married and it’s still 15.8k lmfao. also the return of the vignette style, which was fun bc i got to do short, impactful scenes and build the narrative with them. i remember sitting at my desk at work, on my phone, writing this fic, then coming home and editing on a damn tablet bc my laptop bricked earlier this year

the warmth of your doorway

i meant to capitalize the title but at this point i’ve decided to leave it lol. i really loved writing this bc i felt very confident in the way i was building the scenes and the detail i was able to incorporate. i feel like this is where i really kinda go my voice back and i start to come into my own, if that makes sense? one of my fave fics i’ve ever written tbh. there’s a longer ‘verse for this, but after i finished this fic i got too distracted by new projects to try and continue it lol

Tell Me

this was my first trans!loki fic and he’s a trans man, and god i love it. i’ve got another ftm loki story as a WIP in my gdocs bc this story showed me how much i fucking love writing trans characters, and i really enjoyed the dynamic i put into this fic. there’s a sequel planned lol it’s gonna be dirty

Interwoven

i still haven’t managed to ever find the post that inspired this damn fic and if you wonder whether that drives me up the wall the answer is yes (: and fun fact! i intentionally never describe loki’s genitals in this fic, bc i was picturing him as a trans guy since i’d just written tell me and now i have a massive obsession with writing trans romance and erotica

Tie Breaker

in this house we love and appreciate bottom thor!!! also i loved writing the sparring at the beginning. it makes me wanna write more fics w/ brutal fight scenes lol. thor’s slutty drunk cape outfit is iconic and i’m gonna read that comic just for that outfit honestly

Pretense of Subjugation

i became drunkenly obsessed with loki manspreading on the throne of asgard and this was the result. this was the first thorki fic of mine that i’d had beta’d and it was vastly, vastly improved by it. the tips @ktspree13 gave me when she helped with this fic have affected literally every single fic i’ve written since

Double and More

so this is not the first thorki fic i ever posted, of course, however it is the first i ever started writing. i got to the point where loki’s in thor’s lap and then i kinda blanked out and let the fic sit for like... 2 or 3 months? then i opened it back up and i was like “oh i like this i should finish this” which is why i don’t delete anything anymore bc there’s always a chance i’ll come back to it

Ringback Tone

y’all owe @thotki for the wondrous idea they presented in discord that ended up creating this fic. i think i wrote this fic in like 3 days bc of how much fun i was having with it. the dirty talk was my favorite thing to write in this and i remember distinctly having this [:< moment when i was daydreaming about it

Seldom All They Seem

there was an impromptu bottom thor day back on 20 oct and this fic was my contribution. we can never have enough time travel, can we? i remember i think i took like a four day weekend from work and part of my motivation was literally wanting to finish this fic in time to post it lmfao

Fluffy Thorki Sunday Ficlets

i started doing fluffy thorki sunday back when i was on bourbonbucky and i continued it here, and i’m proud that i’ve written at least 1 piece for fluffy thorki sunday every sunday since i started. i love doing fluff and smut, and honestly even when my mood has been shit, i’ve always felt motivated to try and improve it at least enough to write some nice fluff. i put all of these on ao3 once i moved blogs

Let Love Disrupt

this is another fic we owe to discord lmao. i remember posting this when i was either very drunk or very tired and having to keep going onto ao3 on my damn phone browser to correct minor shit, and some not so minor shit like a typo in the title bc at first it said “distrupt” and that’s why i only post when i’m awake and sober now lmfao

Without Fear

i love werewolves (: a whole bunch (: and this fic is something dirty and wonderful that i’m proud of and THERE’S ART bc @nekokat42 is a blessing and takes commissions. kot i love u :3

On the Other Side Like Always

i have a lot of feelings about this fic. there’s an entire future in this ‘verse that i would so love to write, but i’m stuck on where to go with it. as it stands i am satisfied with this as a story of thor and loki coming together, and a story about how loki does something out of desperation but is finally given something genuine and comforting in his life like he’s always deserved. THERE’S ART from the wondrous @boltplumart / @mrhiddles bc allie is perfect :]

Runaway

when i tell y’all i’m a trash gremlin king. i do have a thing for writing underage characters with adults (probs due to messy personal history lmfao ain’t gonna look at that too closely) and so writing this one was a fun little bit of self indulgence. also it’s dirty and really plays into codependency, which i always like writing bc it’s a fun thing to explore in fiction

Sunset Rhapsody

this fic. was supposed to be. two thousand words. at most. then thor smiled at me, as the writer, and was like “i want to own him” and we ended up with 11k of thor’s obsessive bs and loki being brutal. joking aside, i love this fic, i love what i did with it, i have an original story i wanna write for my size kink anthology that will follow a similar thread to this one. also that torture scene. i don’t recall if i ever properly wrote torture before, but this did kinda make me squirm a bit when i was writing it and if you’ve read it you know precisely which scene i’m talking about lmfao

Right to Guard

this fic was honestly very emotionally satisfying for me in a pretty visceral way. writing thor just surrendering to love and spoiling the fuck out of loki was pretty damn cathartic. 

A Bite of Lamb

me making sure i never lose my title as a trash gremlin king. honestly writing thor’s POV in this fic was like >.> at myself a couple times bc it felt distinctly dark in a way i’d never written another character. a very, very unhealthy kind of obsession and this twisted logic where he’s trying to make it all okay. i really fucking love this damn fic tho and i’m happy with how it came out. 

Seamless

i was so, so frustrated and pissed off at work that i needed to let that shit out, so that was channeled into this very guilt-ridden turned tender fic, and i really enjoyed writing it. loved writing thor taking care of his baby sister. also! KOT IS FUCKING AMAZING and drew this bc they’re such a good fucking person ;A; like they sent me a message and just said “really liked this scene” and i was D Y I N G and i still am. thank you again, kot!

The Way A Rose Blooms

this was written for the thorki secret santa exchange! i drew @chickcheney and honestly the list of prompts was so, so good. bottom thor, arranged marriage, semi-public sex and trying not to be caught, body worship. i was like “damn did i draw myself wtf” bc that is all up my alley. 

Sugar Cookie

i honestly could not think of a better fic to finish off 2018 for me than sugar cookie. porn and emotions that’s all this is, but it features loki as a trans woman being loved and appreciated as she is with nothing extra expected of her and it was so satisfying to write. it makes me want to write original romance with trans women, which i’ll definitely do bc i loved writing this hungry and tender story and i’m very happy with how i ended it. 

so that was 2018 for me!