#not even out of any malice; but that's because what this map is meant to be

[medicinemane]

Still would love to some day make my ultra depressing minecraft horror map where you go explore a cave, but at some point a piston wall seamlessly closes behind you once you're out of ear shot (at a junction so it becomes a wall rather than a dead end to hide this fact)

At which point it's just a slow miserable decent, interspersed with hopeful things that look like the way you came in and start leading back to familiar looking areas, only to begin to descend again

More doors silently shutting behind you as you're slowly herded from the bright lush tree lined caves, till you find yourself in the dull grey abyss with only dim lichen light, just enough to keep ever block at 1 light level, and yet another door closing behind you so all you can do is walk circles in the lifeless dank caverns, trapped forever

No actual danger, at most named zombies off in the walls to make noises at you, but mostly a subterranean labyrinth meant to very slowly make you realize just how trapped you are

Great map idea, it's mostly a matter of that even in creative it would take a long time

[theerurishipper]

So, as a child abuse survivor and someone who has been sexually assaulted by men who think they're entitled to take what they want Adrien is canonically a god damned dick.

He sexually harrasses Ladybug. When told NO he once let 2.161 million people drown because he was busy throwing a tantrum

Being a victim of abuse does not excuse the abuse of others.

He might not mean any harm but you know who else doesn't mean any harm? Gabriel. My goddamned mother.

Not meaning harm- lacking malice- does not mean harm is not caused.

People are going on about him being a rich white guy because anyone else acting like that in public would be considered an antagonist (in fiction), in jail, or have an active warrant for their arrest. And that's assuming they aren't killed for it.

First off, I am truly very sorry for your experience. No one should have to go through that.

But I still do disagree.

Adrien's pushiness when it comes to expressing his affections for Ladybug are in the same boat as Marinette being a stalker or Chloe being pushy with Adrien: it's a joke. You may find it to be a poor one, certainly, but it's a joke nonetheless. Miraculous relies on this kind of humor, it's not meant to be taken seriously. You can have issues with it, but imho acting like it's any kind of legitimate criticism of his character probably makes people like me less inclined to listen to any actual criticisms you may have.

I don't say this to trivialize your experiences, and if the joke is hurtful to you, you are well within your rights to dislike it or talk about how it's in poor taste to make jokes about these things, but that's all it is, a joke. It's absurdist humor. It's not meant to be taken at face value. It would be creepy if Marinette seriously had Adrien's schedule mapped out, tried to break into his house, or stole his personal items, but it's not supposed to be that way because it's a joke.

And as for your complaint about Adrien leaving people to drown, you can go ahead and blame Master Fu for that one. It's stated quite clearly in the show that the heroes couldn't do anything because everything is underwater. And he's staying there because he's waiting for Ladybug. Making up imaginary civilians who are drowning now isn't a good criticism. Ladybug spends a good amount of time underwater, but there's no-one there. There's no civilian begging for Chat Noir's help as they drown while he ignores them, so suffice to say that we're supposed to assume everyone is safe and sound. This is a kids show, so unless we're shown that people are in danger, we aren't supposed to assume they are.

And then let's talk about Adrien almost quitting.

I'll say it straight: he has every right to quit. He's a 14-year-old kid. This isn't his job. He's well within his rights to quit if he feels like this is detrimental to him. And it isn't about Ladybug not returning his feelings like you seem to be implying. This is about Ladybug keeping secrets from him and leaving him in the dark even though he's supposedly her partner. It took a situation like this for Master Fu to pull his head out of his ass and come give Adrien the tools he needed to do the damn job you're accusing him of not doing. How is he supposed to do anything if he isn't given then necessary tools and knowledge to do it? Should he just accept that he's being ignored and left in the dark? Accept his new role as Ladybug's unquestioning lapdog?

This is not Ladybug salt btw, this is Master Fu salt only, in this house we don't like Master Fu.

Anyway.

Literally look at why he tries to quit.

Adrien:(grimly) If you don't tell me what Ladybug is hiding from me, I'm done! Plagg: You can't do that! Adrien:(bitterly) Why not? No one'll know if I quit. No one'll care!

He doesn't think he's needed. He doesn't think anyone would care if he quits.

This isn't because of any entitlement. It's because he's being cast aside and left in the dark. It's because his partner (it's not her fault either, to be clear, it's Master Fu's fault) is keeping secrets from him even in this time, so he assumes he isn't needed and decides to quit because he feels like he's unnecessary and unwanted, and that no one will care if he quits. Adrien already has very low self-worth, and this is just adding onto all that already. If it is detrimental to his mental health, then he definitely has the right to step aside and quit.

So yeah. If this ask was to get me to change my mind, I'm sorry, but it didn't. You're entitled to your opinion, of course, but I think I've made my opinion on the matter clear.

[malvenor]

alright, i'll give you benefit of the doubt. i'd like to hear exactly what's wrong with my breakdown if you dont mind! i say this with genuine interest in what you have to say, and curiosity, no malice at all. but i do think that if you're gonna say "everything in this is wrong," you'd do well to explain just what is so wrong, or at least just one example. just saying something is wrong without providing explanation also serves to make one look silly! ...hopefully i dont sound pretentious saying that.

i knooooooow i said i didnt wanna argue. i still don't, honestly. but well, debate is ok.

i do also want to give myself just a little defense and say that my post is a casual person's criticisms, rather than a huge big one meant to be taken seriously. emotions are in there, dyeing my commentary unsightly colors at times. not the biggest defense, but hey, its there.

so yeah, all that wordy preamble to say: yes, i'm probably wrong. in the interest of self-improvement, i'd like to know why!

I expected no response and got a genuinely respectful one! Sorry if I sounded snippy - plenty of things I like get a lot of odd and unfounded criticism, and it's very easy for little things to get under my skin. I can give a bit-by-bit breakdown, for sure! And I get that it's from a casual perspective, but such a lengthy review even from a casual perspective should have a tad more than the first third of the release version of a game completed, y'know?

Ahem, anyways! Preamble out of the way, and with all due respect (which is a fair amount thanks to your stellar attitude!), here are my nits and my picks:

Less a correction and more a tip for anyone who read that post: You can re-access the tutorial at any time by going back to Selva Oscura, the game's prologue chapter, under the same menu where you access the Cantos. I recommend everyone do this anyways because you can collect some Lunacy just for visiting the map.

Next bit, I actually half-agree with. Yes, Limbus Company has a stubborn and poorly-explained learning curve, and it is less immediately intuitive than Library of Ruina. It is, however, also an intrinsically less complicated game than Library of Ruina. Having a base understanding of "when my side's numbers are higher, I win more often" will be learned quickly, and the fight against Ebony Queen's Apple will tell you the rest you need to know (since I believe this to be the game's only halfway decent tutorial). However, I will also point out that the intuitiveness is the only part of the previous two game's learning experiences that were actually good: LC and LoR also had pretty fuckin' bad tutorials.

From a casual perspective, the ins and outs of exactly how clash values are calculated are wholly unnecessary, but the basics are pretty plainly laid out, I find. It gives you a big number that will always be the starting number, a smaller number with a plus sign, and 1~5 little symbols that the game calls coins next to those. I feel like most people pretty easily grasp that when the coins flip heads, signified by the glow, they add their value to the big number. Even if this isn't understood by the player immediately as that, it becomes more obvious once you get to, again, Ebony Queen. I'll admit, this is more subjective, but it still stuck out as something people tend to grasp pretty quickly, especially former Ruina players.

aha okay yeah that's fair. the game does not, in fact, inform you how to upgrade your units.

However! It does not take two cantos to unlock Luxcavations. Now I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you dropped the game before that update, but a few weeks after launch they removed thread and exp from the Mirror Dungeons and added grindable micro-stages for them instead. EXP Lux is unlocked I believe around stage 1-10, an upgraded version around 2-18 (?), and Thread Lux after clearing Canto 2, where you also unlock Mirror Dungeons, which is where you get Lunacy and BP Exp. So, while that may have very briefly been true, this has been cleared up and fixed!

Defense skills are probably the only truly well-explained thing in the Prologue tutorial, so I'm sorry to say that this one was purely a personal issue on your part. While the circumstances of their use are not made immediately clear, that's less an issue of the explanation and more an issue of the game's balance, a discussion to be had that is far outside the scope of this post.

Nitpick among nitpicks, dungeons do not have a different combat system! Normal battles still occur within them, and starting in Canto 4 the Focus Battle system (reminiscent of Ruina's battle system) will also occur on overworld stages on occasion! Just a matter of "not quite as cut and dry as immediately laid out"

Ah, the classic victim of the tutorial and it's vague misrepresentation of the purpose of Resonance. This will have multiple parts, so starting off with the most understandable misunderstanding: Resonance does not, in fact, increase the damage you deal. Weird, right? It increases the Offense Level of skills in the chain, which is a small but extremely important distinction, since Offense Level can also affect Clash Power. Is this ever explained? Fuck no. Not your fault, just a bad tutorialization moment again.

While this is not made immediately obvious to the player, Sin does carry more weight to the battle system than you may think! First and foremost, adding a second layer of resistance really highlights how powerful the game's multiplicative damage scaling can really be, and allows some units to still be useful even if their primary damage type is resisted by the enemies.

It's not just that, though! Even on release, the sins did sort of have their own little niches like you described in your post, but you didn't quite make it far enough or get a large enough roster to really notice the patterns. The most obvious example of this is the difference between Envy (purple) and Gluttony (green). Envy is basically the plain and simple damage color, associated with multiple "nuke" skills, as well as being the primary color for Charge, which is Damage: The Archetype. Gluttony, on the other hand, lacks "nukes" altogether and is often used as a technical, status and self-healing type Sin, and also has a fair bit of Paralyze for some reason? Regardless, there's identity with each Sin, which I think is cool!

There is, because Limbus sort of fails at gacha-ing, still an odd sense of progression in Limbus! Not only are the LCB Sinners automatically upgraded as you finish the initial batch of Cantos, but the feeling of getting bigger, better, stronger options comes from not only expanding your roster, but the feeling of more complex teambuilding and additional gameplay mechanics through gameplay-story integration. Eventually we even get new story-locked toys to play with! There's also the micro-progression in Dungeons (including Mirror Dungeons, arguably especially so) but even on a grander scale, there is a nice sense of it. Less so than Ruina, of course, no denying that, but they go out of their way to make it still feel good to play through.

I will not be touching upon the story comment because you already included that edit. Yes, anon is right, it does give you the tools you need to understand what is present.

Some more subjective things, but I tried to tackle them in as objective a manner as possible. But as we are all experiencing art here, there will inevitably be these subjective matters to discuss! Many of these things weren't your fault either as they were added later in updates to the game, but such things are to be expected in live service titles.

To circle back to the original point, sometimes you just have to sit back and wonder if what you're saying will hold water, and if you happen to know enough to speak at length. I'm sorry you had a negative experience with the game to start, and I am morally obligated to not recommend gachas to people in general if they don't wish to play them, so I'll not be asking for your return. I just like clearing things up!

I hope this was informative, and I thank you for reading!

[faultlies]

QUESTIONS FOR VILLAIN MUSES.

5. What's makes your muse respect someone? Are they capable of respecting others without reason?

I think she respects people when she sees herself in them.

It feels like a major aspect of her dynamic with Ishmael; how gleeful she is at being obsessed over with the same blind hatred she herself has towards the whale. She praises Ishmael's desire sincerely, fondly reminisces about hearing her voice cry out her captain's name with such malice, and is overjoyed to define herself as Ishmael's whale.

Because it means she's filled Ishmael up with herself. She's made the girl into a mermaid. When she agrees to what is effectively a suicide-pact, it is as much sealing Ishmael's fate to be like Ahab as it is getting her to do exactly what she wants. Only with her support group, as weird and morally questionable as they all are, is Ishmael able to cut the rope that binds the two.

I feel for someone with a god complex like Ahab, seeing someone become like her because of how she affected them is a grand achievement. They're all still disposable, of course. The whole world can be thrown away if it'd get in the way of her whale. Ishmael may earn her captain's respect through how badly she wants to kill her, but Ahab still intends to let her die in a sinking whale's carcass after their final voyage. Again, the office scene is essentially a suicide-pact.

But it is, in many ways, a reaffirmation of her worldview. That she is the absolute; the way the world is meant to be. She is in control.

Why wouldn't she respect her own work?

9. What's a line your muse won't cross under any circumstance?

I think what's interesting about Ahab is how effortlessly she crosses lines and changes her standards in order to stay in control. This is even a notable piece of characterization that drives home canto 5's plot, as well as its themes!

Ahab spends the voyage swearing up-and-down that she won't let any of her sailors die. Then, when Stubb gets bit, she practically kills him herself by revoking his sense of identity to use him. What lays on her deck is only a mermaid; the real Stubb lost somewhere at sea, never to be found. But still alive, she says! A skiff has been lowered to save him, for she'd never let one of her own die!

But he still deliberately sacrificed himself. The fault lies with him. Now he is both 'alive' and a martyr. As the mermaid pallidifies at her feet, she leads her crew in a ritual chant that reaffirms their pledge to the cause. Even the mermaid joins in, vowing its loyalty in the name of who it once was.

Ahab always operates like this. She'll promise anything if it'll bring her closer to her target. She'll break those promises just as quickly, but will use her charisma, groupthink, and manipulation tactics to get you to believe she didn't. After she kills her crew on the way to the whale's heart, and Ishmael calls her out, Ahab deflects that the crew should've been willing to sacrifice themselves the moment they stepped on her ship. She is always redrawing the map of reality, and because she is Ahab, the redraws must be absolutely true.

Ahab defines the line, and keeps redefining it to stay in control.

I think the closes thing to a 'line' she won't cross is giving up her hunt. Ishmael stealing her kill is what breaks her, and it's how Hermann does to her what she did to Ishmael: dangling the promise of satiating an obsession over her head.

@fooltarot , @collectalong

[ladye-zelda]

Warriors angsting corner

Folktales

The cursed Deity

There’s more I want to ask about but… I haven’t caught up to anything you’ve already asked

XD No worries; I have updated the list to put check marks on the ones that I have done so that way it would be easier for everyone XD (and for myself too)

Warriors angsting corner

This was really meant to be a dump of stories to inflict pain upon our pretty knight (inspired by Silver) but I only have one thing on there called the Orphaned Knights AU and I swear I don't remember writing this XD Its one of those fics where all of the Chain just adopts each other I think lol

There really isn't a good place for a WIP (since it's all written like a summary except it's freaking long) and the short of it is Wars, Sky, Wild, Hyrule, and Wind are orphans; Twilight and Four are siblings and the sons of Time except Four lives with Time's adopted father for some reason; Time goes back to the military to fight monsters, Twilight sneaks out and joins the army to find him where he ends up meeting Warriors there; Sky, Wild, and Hyrule end up joining the military and Four and Legend become blacksmiths for them as well.

Yeah I have no idea where this fic was going lol

Folktales, but Zelda

This was kind of inspired by @/telemna-hyelle's own Zeldafied-folktale and I just wanted to make some of my own XD

The only one that I have in this doc is selkie Legend, largely inspired by the song "The Maiden and the Selkie" by Heather Dale

It was forbidden for a selkie to come upon land. It was made common among the seal-folk of the dangers of living on land outside of their seal form. If they were to stay on land past the stroke of midnight, they would surely die. But just because it was forbidden, didn’t mean it didn’t happen often. Legend had often admired the above world. He had spent more time on land than any of his other brethren, collecting trinkets and watching the usual passer-by from the safety of the beach. That was, until she came. People who passed by Legend unaware often spoke of the lady. A woman with red hair, dressed in island blue, with a voice that chimed like a harp. She had been walking along the beach while Legend was up there in his human form. He had stopped collecting trinkets as he stared at her with awe as the strange woman strolled along the beach, singing sweetly. Oftentimes she would stop to make friendly conversation with the seagulls. They seemed to talk back to her; a charm usually possessed by faery folk like he. 

The Cursed Deity

Honestly have no idea where this fic was going too, but I had written something for this one XD

The threat that surrounded Hyrule was too great not to check out for herself. Princess Zelda, alongside Link, journeyed far into the woods not long after the strange attacks started. Monsters covered in a strange, dark malice had been attacking the nearby villages and towns. Already one has been massacred before the monsters had cleared the area, and Princess Zelda wasn’t going to allow it again. She was always on her guard, staring daggers into the shadows around her. They were lucky enough not to run into too much trouble, despite heading deep into the heart of this problem. It could only mean that something bigger was on the horizon. Link pressed a hand onto Zelda’s clenched fists, that she didn’t even know were clenched. She looked down and relaxed a little, repositioning one of her hands so she was holding his. They looked into each other’s eyes and he gave a comforting nod. She was with Link. She had no reason to be afraid while he’s around. Then why was she so afraid? They rode for a little longer until the woods started to thin. Black, charred tree logs replaced what was once green, and soon enough their horses’ feet were crunching through dead grass. The trail ended in a sloping drop to an endless valley of death.  She could hardly believe her eyes as she showed her steed into a stop. What had once been a beautiful meadow on her map was now gone. Large rocks of inky blackness covered the map, which sent an uncomfortable chill down Zelda’s spine. Right in the middle of the cluster of rocks, looked to be a statue of some kind, glowing eerily with a black light. The hero and the princess dismounted from their horses, looking into the valley beyond. “That must be the source there,” Zelda said, pointing to the statue. “The Master Sword should be enough to—” Suddenly, the Master Sword was placed in Zelda’s hands. “Link, what are you doing?” the princess asked. “I’m going to go check it out,” he said, “take this, and run if anything bad happens.” He gave her the Hylian shield before sliding down into the valley below. Zelda called out to Link, but it was too late. He couldn’t hear her voice once he made it to the bottom, and headed carefully to the stone statue.

[bloodycassian]

reader x azriel - azriel takes reader to a bakery.

Azriel's cool charm filled the room, his shadows snaking the floor and receding as the meeting quieted. Without a word, he nodded in dismissal at the group and they continued debating again. He sat back, stone faced while the high lords discussed what there was to be done about The Middle. More specifically, the mountain and caverns underneath that had hosted the horror show for forty nine years. 

Guards stationed behind each high lord and their company, Azriel devoured the information his shadows brought back to him. There wasnt a single person in the room without at least two daggers on them. 

You leaned back in your chair next to Thesan, resting your chin on your hand. The plush amenities of Day court and their pastel colors had taken some getting used to over the last week, but you grew to appreciate the massive table in front of you. Large enough to fit all seven high lords and their company around it, along with a few extra chairs. If it wasnt for the lofty ceilings and open windows into several balconies you would have thought such a harty table to be gawdy, but in this instance it seemed utterly necessary. Especially when Rhysand's cousin slapped a giant map of Pryhtian down on it and the high lord's power shifted pawns throughout. Mapping each court's armies and defenses. 

A few of the leaders adjusted pawns, moving a few troops from one side of their court to another. Azriel perked up from his darkened corner at this, stepping forward and taking a glance at the map. He glared in your direction, catching your eye. He was utterly breathtaking, even with such a malice filled look on his face. You broke his stare to glance at your court's pawns on the map. A moment's hesitation after each high lord had stopped moving their pieces made your stomach drop. You glanced toward Thesan, seeing if he would move.  Rhysand seemed to be waiting as well. Azriel slowly, threateningly moved two of Thesan's pawns further south. He crossed his arms and walked back to his corner, his shadows almost hiding him completely. You felt Thesan tense as he shot Rhysand a charming grin.

You met the dark eyes of the spymaster, and rose from your seat. Stepping between a Beron and Kallis to move two more pawns east. You met his eyes again and winked, turning and going back to your seat. Thesan had ordered you before you left for the meeting to disperse your forces throughout the land, so it would make sense that the spymaster didnt know if the extra changes.

The room was tense, each high lord looking to each other to see if anyone else was hiding their foces. Helion suddenly let out a booming laugh, makin you jump slightly. "Rhysand have you been keeping your spymaster too busy perhaps?"  Rhysand chuckled, leaning forward in his seat and purring his reply "I'll have to send them back to training camp." His general's wings flared slightly and you fought to hold back a smile. Azriel revealed nothing, and said nothing until the meeting was over.

You were cleaning the scattered pawns from the map when Azriel approached. He was silent, but pushed the figuines from his side over to you in a pile. You nodded thankfully, eyeing him as he moved to roll up the cloth map still laid out over the grand table. You felt your hands get clammy, the silence in the room was palapable. The only other sounds were the hushed rustling of the trees in the slight breeze outside. The balcony doors were still open, and a cool wind slithered into the room. You opened the cloth bag for the pawns, there was a sudden clattering against the marble floor. You sighed, setting the bag down. Before you turned to pick it up you noticed the darkened atmospehre of the room. Then bumped straight into Azriel's chest in your distraction. 

"Sorry I-" You felt your face turn hot and made to step back, only to find yourself slipping on the damned pawn. He caught your arm, stablising you. "Are you normally this accident prone?" He asked, a small smirk on his lips. You looked to where his hand held you, and noticed the textured skin there. He cleared his throat and lowered your arm. 

"I guess you could blame it on the wind." You stammered. What you meant to say was 'I guess you could blame it on the fine Illyrian shadow master in the room'. His smirk seemed to say he knew exactly what you were thinking. And maybe with those shadows he did know. His build seemed to fill the room standing this close to you, broad shoulders -t support the massive wings no doubt- and muscles and the hair was immaculate. He smelled of pine and leather, sea salt and something darker. Maybe that was the shadows themselves. 

"You dont like the cold?" He asked, head tilting slightly. 

"Should I really be telling a spymaster anything that I'm afraid of?" You challenged, smiling at him. His eyes seemed to light up. He nodded and stepped back. You forgoe the groan of displeasure at the empty space between you. 

"Have you ever really been in the cold before? Dawn court and all.." He trailed off, sauntering towards the balcony and motioning you to follow. You obeyed, dropping the cloth bag on the table. You took your time approaching him, marvelling at the wings he bore. How thick the outer edges were, and how delicate the inner folds looked. In the dull darkness you could barely make out the inky black forms of them as he stretched them out. They flared and tilted, and you understood why they were so hard to see. 

His shadows had melded into the darkness, shielding them and his lower half completely, Blending him into the night. Becoming a shadow himself. You felt a chill run through you at the sight. He was darkness, and all the whispers on the wind. The epitome of pure silence, but not pressing, a soothing darkness, silence and comfort. Liek a comfort of sleep. 

"Are you going to stare or come for a ride with me?" he asked, folding his wings in tight and turning towards you. He leaned back on the balcony confidently, the column of his neck exposing a few scars behind his ear. You shuddered to think of what kind of beast could make such an impact on someone who was mist and shadow. 

"If someone sees us Thesan will know immidea-" He cut you off with a stare, and you felt coolness begin creeping up your legs. You felt nervous, heart hammering in your chest as he stood so close to you, eyes knowingly glancing to your chest briefly. His shadows danced around you like a fog, asking permission to cover you further. And you were sure they were reporting back to him how badly he had riled you.

 "No one will see us." He promised, holding a hand out to you. You took a steadying breath and nodded nervously. As soon as you touched that scarred hand he had you covered in the snaking darkness, the tendrils weaving around you protectively. It felt like being in a heavy ocean mist, and it brought goosebumps to your skin. Azriel huffed a small laugh as he bent to scoop you up.

Before you could protest and come up with some sort of excuse, he had you cradled to his chest and he was summoning those shadows even more around the both of you. 

And then you were falling. Your stomach leapt into your throat, fingers clawing into Azriel's shoulders. You were sure you were dead when the feeling stopped. "Open your eyes." The shadow master squeezed you a bit extra, getting your attention. "I dont think I can." you muttered, but slowly peeked through your lashes to see the millions of tiny lights below. 

The breath was stolen from you as your eyes flew open, gazing in amazement at the city below. Dawn court was built more upwards than any of the other courts, so you were used to seeing castles towering above and lights shine from them. But you'd never seen the city from this high. You wondered how he had flown so high in such a short time but decided you didnt want to know the answer even if he could tell you. The enormous archways of the high lord's palace was visible from the sky. The stars above were dull, as usual in Dawn and Day court. You never found much pleasure or satisfaction at night in either  territory. It only made you wonder what Night court's stars were like. If the moon beckoned and blessed the land like the noon sun seemed to make everything in Day court shimmer. 

 "You can stop trying to claw me to death at any time." His voice rumbled softly, almost scaring you. You loosened your grip on him, only enough so he wouldn't complain. He banked slowly, you could only tell so because the spires coming closer to you as you approached the center of the city. The streets below were lit with clear bright lights that showed off all the boutiques of main street and the patio areas for bars all around. The stained glass windows of second story balconies reflected pastel lights on to the sidewalks, painting them in pastels. 

You could smell the bakery below, churning out different treats of pastries and breads for the late night drinkers. The sweet warm smell of it made your mouth water. "Would you like to stop in somewhere?" Azriel asked as he whisked you upward again, avoiding the tall lights as the city rose up hill. 

"I think you might be recognized a bit too easily." You chided, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He was watching the sky, his face unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear. At peace, it seemed. He didnt have the clenched jaw or stern eyebrow look anymore. His hair ruffled slightly at the small breeze that came through the shield he had placed around you. 

He considered his fame as Spymaster for a moment, then nodded. And plummeted you downwards into the city. You fought not to scream, only digging your nails into his skin again, hoping it hurt. He landed in a narrow alley, hidden from the blinding lights of the street. The smell of sweets hung in the air. You still held tight on to his arm after he set you on your feet. You then shoved him, palm straight into his shoulder and sent him a step back, his wings flared and balanced him before he could falter any further. "You could tell me next time!" You growled at him. A clever grin graced his features, smoothing out his surprise at the shove. 

"Only members of the night court get free flying privileges." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "I expect my payment with a side of cinnamon." He nodded towards the street. You glanced back and he was gone, likely shouded in the darkness somewhere. You whispered curses at him while heading to the bakery.

"Why do you like cinnamon so much?" You asked around a mouthful of sweet bread. Azriel had devoured his chocolate and cinnamon twist, along with the extra side of cinnamon. He still had evidence of it on his face and shirt despite the windy takeoff before he put his shield up. "Why dont you?" He retorted, his powerful wings gliding you around the east side of the tower where the week of meeting had taken place.

"I just wouldnt expect the Shadow master of the Night Court to have such a sweet tooth." You grinned at him, absently wiping the sugar from his face. His eyes went to yours in an instant, and your heart hammered being pinned by that stare. He landed gracefully on the balcony, eyes still locked on you. He merely stood there, holding you. Both frozen. 

[moxfirefly]

Going with the smut prompts because you already know I’m a thirsting bish. 10. It’s sir, understood? And I’m picking Donnie on this one. 😈👌🏻 💚 your creative filth ma’am 😘😘😘

Oh boyyyyyyy 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

Let’s see how this goes!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Deep breaths.

That’s all Donatello could do right now. Take deep breaths and get in the right mindset for this.

It wasn’t necessarily difficult, it wasn’t like he didn’t know about the subject material.

Hell, he was insanely into it.

But on paper everything’s easy, watching it is fun and entertaining. Putting it to practice is different.

The two of you had discussed experimenting with more Dominant and submissive themes when it came to your more intimate time. Interestingly enough you had brought up the subject and seeing Donnie more than enthusiastic to try some things out was even better.

This called for a more private setting, so you’d asked Donnie to drop by once he was free. Lord knows you don’t need any of his brothers overhearing or worse, walking in.

So once he had finished for the night he had done just that. Upon arriving you had asked him to give you a few minutes to set the mood and freshen up. This meant that Donnie had time to give himself a good pep talk. He knew your do’s and don’t’s by now, he had a basic open ended plan of how things could and should go, what to do if something was taken to far.

The bases were covered.

Still it was normal for the jitters and sweaty palms to set in.

You’d shot him a text to let him know you were ready. While you’d taken the time to dim the lights, turn on a few of those battery powered candles, you’d put most of the time onto your outfit.

He was gonna blow his load the moment he’d see you, that’s how confident you felt. The mesh pantyhose, the knee length stockings and the see through bralette. There was simply no way he wouldn’t lose the ability of thought.

Donnie shook out the nervous tension through his hands before opening the door. True to your hopes you saw him momentarily freeze, his jaw clenching before he closed the door behind him with the heel of his foot. You sat on the bed, legs innocently crossed and you smiled at him. Nothing about you screamed innocent, in fact you’d opted to play dirty by presenting yourself like this.

Patiently he stood in front of you. It’d proven hard to hold in a few chuckles. “You know something told me you’d be a mess if you saw me like this, I just had to-“ Whatever playful jab you were about to say was stopped by a finger to your lips. Donnie knelt down, his impressive height leaving you at eye level now. His hand slithered down your neck, fingertips feeling the materials of your chosen outfit. When both of those large hands rested on your thighs and his look remained somewhat stern, you knew this night wouldn’t be filled with teasing on your end.

“You thought this out, hm?” His voice was still that sweet Donnie voice you’ve come to love so much. You nodded at his question, a bratty arrogance in your body.

His finger poked at the hole of the mesh pantyhose, with a slight flick it tore about two or three inches. Subconsciously you spread your legs and that seemed to delight him but he didn’t say anything.

“Cat caught your tongue, Don?” You grinned.

Donnie smiled before removing his glasses, setting them on the night table next to the bed. He stood once more; god what did he have to be so tall?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt his hand grab a fistful of your hair from the back and gently pull. There wasn’t malice behind the grip, he’d done this quite a few times in the heat of passion but right now it did feel a little different.

More authoritative.

“Are you going to keep running your mouth, darling?” In the darken room, with him looming above you like this, you couldn’t help but feel all warm already and it thrilled you. You gave him a defiant smile laced with sarcasm. “Yes I am, Donnie” it was simple, but so very bratty of you.

He bent towards your ear, kissing the spot just behind the shell of it. “You tell me if I’m... too rough, alright?” It was whispered, very much him just checking in to make sure everything was on track. You nodded, nosing his jaw for an affirmative. Just like that you felt teeth at the lobe.

You felt his grip on your hair tighten a fraction more, a small hiss leaving you.

“If you’re going to run your mouth all night, then I suppose I could put that hole to good use” His words weren’t shouted, he’d barely gone above a gentle decible when he spoke them. His eyes though, they spoke differently and when they came to rest on your own pretty ones, this was going to be a lot different.

You felt another shot of excitement nest beneath your stomach. When he let go you already missed the nice throb, but much to your delight he pushed aside his suspenders. He stood there, arching a brow ridge at you.

“Do I have to take it out for you as well? Forgotten what we’re good at, darling?” The sarcasm that oozed from him, goodness that shouldn’t feel so good to you but his words shot straight to your cunt. Pursing your lips you undid the button to his pants and unzipped him.

“Now what?” There was more defiance in your words, but your eyes spoke of how into this you were getting.

“Drop the attitude and it’s sir, understood?” The brown of his eyes look so blackened in this light, the firmness behind each word. You were a mess already, and how utterly thrilling that he could smell that.

“Sorry... sir” Your fingers dug into the hem of his pants and pushed down. The outline of his hard cock coming into view already spoke of how deeply he was enjoying this. You pushed his underwear enough to free him and bit down on your bottom lip. Ever so slowly you let your tongue lick the underside of his cock, root to tip. The way the muscle in his thigh jumped only fueled you more. You gripped him by the base, hand slithering up and down to spread more of his natural lubricant. You took him into your mouth, barely half of it being what could fit in your warm mouth. Donnie pushed aside a few stray strands of hair from your eyes. “Want you to see how good you look with my cock in your mouth” That fact that he smirked only made your toes curl.

Oh, you could get into this.

As you sucked him slowly, mapping out the shaft with your lips before rolling back up to the flared tip. Just in the name of revenge you licked the tip to make him buckle, he was extra sensitive there after all. He dropped his head with a muffled moan, teeth bitting down on his bottom lip. Mentally you high five yourself for breaking him just a little.

Then you felt that grip return to the back of your head and his blown out pupils land on you.

“Relax your throat” He said.

Your eyes went wide as saucers.

You’d only attempted this twice in your life and both partners weren’t even close to his size. Still, morbid curiosity and the wet mess you were now egged you on. You felt him push inside just a little more, dangerously close to the back of your throat. Breathing through your nose you took a few breaths and relaxed your throat as best as you could, even as you felt more of him push into your mouth. Spit pooled at your chin, a watery burn setting at your eyes. The debauched look Donnie saw when his eyes landed on you , it could be enough to push him past the edge but that would be too dangerous for you right now. “Fff-uck, you take me so well, you’re doing so good” His hips stuttered just lightly, a moan wrapped itself around his hard cock and that was nearly his undoing.

Slowly and satisfyingly he watched the length of his cock slip out of your pretty mouth. Precum mixed with saliva at your lips and chin. You coughed slightly, watery eyes closed when you felt his lips on yours. “My good girl” He kissed the words on your lips. Once you caught your breath and blinked out most of the tears, he stayed there caressing your face and hair. You knew he was giving you a break, making sure if anything had to stop for now. You nodded, letting him know you were okay and good to continue.

“May I have another kiss, sir?” You asked sincerely.

Donnie tried to hide his usual smile by kissing you, and kiss you he did. Every ounce of his regular loving self into it just to remind you this was all for play.

Especially when he pushed you back onto the bed and grabbed a chunk of the mess panty hose and ripped them right at the crotch. He kicked off the clothes hanging onto him and he climbed onto the bed with you. He sat against the headboard, pillows propped against it to make it more comfortable for him. You sat up on your knees and crawled towards him.

But he held up a finger and shook it. He made a circling motion, meaning that you had to turn around.

Oh.

You did just as he expressed, the flush of your cheeks speaking on how this wasn’t something that occurred between the two of you. Donnie loved having you ride him as much as the next guy but like this? Reversed?

The second his hands connected with your rear he gripped the checks and spread them. There was an embarrassing yelp from your behalf and a snickering snort from his. You felt the pad of his thumb circle the ring. “Um... sir?” That wasn’t discussed and truthfully it would need a very long discussion.

“Don’t worry, was just thinking about how pretty this would look with a plug that maybe has a tail attached to it” You were thankful he couldn’t see your face right now, aside from how flushed your face was, your eyes must’ve been comically large. Even at this stage of the relationship it never truly stopped tickling you that Donnie could be quite the pervert when his mind gets going.

A little retaliation never killed anybody.

So you shook your rear at him, turning your head just a bit to catch him grinning like a fool. “A tail, sir? Why have that when I could have you” Oh that knocked the wind off his sails, he groaned and closed his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky” He smacked one of your cheeks and you hid your smiling face.

Then he leaned forward and bit a cheek.

Hard.

You yelped again, it had caught you off guard as much as it had hurt. He soothed it with a kiss, hands slipping down your hips. “Be a good girl and ride me” Okay that also shouldn’t sound so good but fuck did it.

Entering him from this position had nearly left you cross eyed. The way you felt all of him, every inch of him nestled and throbbing inside. You placed your hands of his legs for support, moving slowly enough to tease him which earned a nice rumbling churr from him. His hands caressed and gripped your thighs and hips. “Come on, you can give me a better show” His words were mixed into a grunt, that demanding tone slipping from the pleasure he received. You rode him faster, each thrust down onto his lap making a wet slapping sound that would surely piss the neighbors off.

The sight Donnie had was surely one he would commit into memory in its entirety. The way your rear slapped down, he hoped the edge of his plastron wasn’t hurting you too bad. Even if a possessive part of him liked the redness forming on your flesh. He gripped your waist, steadying you as you slammed down him faster. That familiar sensation was creeping up, you could feel yourself so close. In the midst of it you leaned back, feeling yourself unable to control your body. You supported your hands on his midsection, the firmness of his plastron nice to the touch.

“Oh fuck!” You shut your eyes tightly, your thighs were burning from their movements. “You feel so fucking good!” Each thrust hit the right spot making your mouth hang open in lust.

Donnie wanted to drag this on more, torture you in delicious way that would continue to make you mewl like this for him. “Say-fuckfuck-say how much you love my big cock” He thrusted it up, loving the pleasured yell that he pulled from you. “Iloveitohmygod!” You words coming out in a jumbled mess of moans. That taut knot inside broke making you scream something that could’ve resembled his name. A rumbling deep churr left him when his hips stuttered out. He slammed you down onto him, each rope of cum making you shiver.

The two of you breathed hard, your thighs trembled as you got off with his help. He didn’t miss the way his cum trickled out of you, staining your thighs and his navel. You collapsed next to him, Donnie didn’t waste time pulling you close and pushing your sweaty locks away.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You smiled against his chest and shook your head. “I’m more than good, Jesus we should do this more often” You sighed already feeling worn out. He chuckled, the sound muffled a top your head. He rubbed circles on your back, making sure to pay extra attention to anything that was a little more sore than usual.

Whatever needed to be discussed could wait, right now you were too preoccupied with passing out on him.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 7 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of having gone to bed.

This would not have been a surprise had he been at home, as his routine was blissfully static and required no thought whatsoever – each item he needed in its proper place, each movement mapped out through years of practice, his entire body trained such that he would automatically begin to go through the necessary acts at the appropriate time and would immediately begin to feel sleepy once he started the sequence – but it was highly notable that such a thing would occur while he was out of the Cloud Recesses, where each day’s sleep would only be the same in terms of the time at which he fell asleep.

In this case in particular, he also felt sore all over – his head, as mentioned, but also his upper arms and, oddly, his right knee. Had he been exercising unwisely? The bed in the room he had been given at the Sun Palace was not that nice, too hard and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to cause this sort of aching…

“I will see to it that the next bed lives up to your stringent standards.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open and he sat upright at once: that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

“What are you doing in my –” he started to say, then stopped.

Wen Ruohan was not in his bedroom.

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

He didn’t even recognize this bedroom.

It was massive, for one thing: a full suite, the way the hanshi was back at home, with place for a bed and a table and plenty more besides. The bed was similar in style to the one in the room he had been assigned but larger in scale – made of dark wood and covered in the red sun motif like all the other décor, but over twice as broad and an extra chi in length, and the brocade fabric used to upholster it was considerably more lush and luxurious and, admittedly, more comfortable than what he’d been sleeping on in the Sun Palace’s guest quarters. The room itself was the same, decorated in luxury extending to the point of opulence: there was a painting scroll on one wall that if genuine would be worth more than everything Lan Qiren owned put together, young master of a Great Sect or not, and on the other wall hung six swords, each more glorious than the next, and he suspected if he knew more about weaponry he would be able to recite their names.  Even the red sun that was painted on every ceiling here glittered with embedded rubies and spiritual stones, emanating pure qi – a tremendous waste, each one of them sufficient to be a cultivation sect’s precious treasure.

Amidst all this luxury, Wen Ruohan was sitting not far away from the bed, a book held loosely in his hands – it was as if he’d been waiting for Lan Qiren to awaken.

“I think you’ll find, in fact,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were glittering the way they had been the day before when it had been Lao Nie he’d been looking at, full of malice and self-indulgent amusement, “that this is my bedroom.”

This was not a surprise, but rather the only logical conclusion.

Not that it explained why Lan Qiren was here.

“Did I – fall asleep?” he asked uncertainly, though surely that must be the reason. “And you – brought me here?”

“You did, and I did,” Wen Ruohan confirmed, and seemed amused for some reason. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lan Qiren wracked his brain, which was hurting and unhelpful and slower even than its usual plodding pace. “…I was thinking that liquor tastes vile.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile broadened. “Mm. It seems that you inherited your grandfather’s head for wine.”

Lan Qiren’s grandfather was one of the elders who refused to obey the rule against alcohol. He had also, in his later years, developed a most un-Lan-like fondness for wine.

He had not at any point developed a tolerance for it.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes in a wince. He must have made a complete fool of himself!

“This foolish junior apologizes to the Sect Leader for his misbehavior,” he said. He wanted to lift his hands to salute, but the movement, when he started it, set off his stomach, and he was forced to wrap his arms around his midsection instead.

There was a rustling sound, robes moving as Wen Ruohan rose to his feet, but Lan Qiren kept his eyes stubbornly closed, fearing that any further input would cause him to bring up everything he’d consumed the night before – only to open them in shock a moment later when he felt a finger press against the acupoint between his eyes, a warm stream of spiritual energy pouring in to cleanse away the nausea and pain of his headache.

Of his hangover.

He had a hangover.

Wen Ruohan, the mighty Sect Leader Wen, was providing him with medical attention to deal with his hangover.

There weren’t going to be words for how much he was going to get punished when he got home.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren croaked, feeling hot all over with unending mortification. He had truly been foolish to think that just because there was only one night left in the Nightless City there was little danger of him repeating the mistakes of the past – he had no face left to speak of.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Wen Ruohan said, drawing out the words in a drawl. “Not after such a memorable night.”

Lan Qiren did not want to know what he did to make the night get described as memorable. He did not.

Especially not since Wen Ruohan was so obviously enjoying himself over it.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot: he might be slow and bad at social cues, might find it difficult to understand the unspoken or keep up with sarcasm, but even he knew what was being implied here.

An older man with a younger one, liquor shared, a bedroom…

Yes, he understood the implication.

He just wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Lan Qiren folded his hands together and held his head up high.

“It is good that the Sect Leader did not take insult at my foolishness,” he said stiffly. “I thank you for your care and attention, and regret the burden I placed upon you.”

If anything, Wen Ruohan looked even more amused. “Such dignity, little Lan. You’re not even going to ask what happened?”

“This junior is only sixteen,” Lan Qiren said, still stiff and icy. “There is nothing that could have taken place without Sect Leader Wen’s approval, and naturally Sect Leader Wen would not permit this junior to offend his dignity.”

There, he thought with some satisfaction. That neatly turned the situation around: even if something untoward had occurred, which honestly Lan Qiren did not believe past that first initial moment of panic – even putting aside the fact that he wasn't anywhere near sore enough for something like that to have occurred, Wen Ruohan was not known to succumb easily to lust, nor was he so eager for war that he would recklessly try to deflower the son of another Great Sect while the latter was intoxicated for the first time – the blame would fall squarely on Wen Ruohan’s head, not Lan Qiren’s.

Wen Ruohan laughed, understanding perfectly well what Lan Qiren meant.

“You would think so,” he said, sounding almost approving of Lan Qiren’s rule lawyering. “I would have thought so, too, but I find that you Lan have truly remarkable arm strength…especially when trying to keep your conversational partner from escaping while you explain the difference between what the Lan sect consider to be fundamental rules and those considered ancillary.”

Lan Qiren blanched.

That was worse than what he’d thought – because unlike the notion of him making unwanted advances (or receiving them, for that matter), it was plausible. Terribly, painfully plausible.

“Oh, yes. All five iterations of the debate.”

Oh no.

“Four sect discussions. Seventeen separate texts on the subject, not counting later commentaries. Sixty-four subsidiary rulings, all of which you were very enthusiastic in recounting - and here I was thinking that your Wall of Discipline had a surfeit of rules, when in fact it was only the beginning. Apparently, I underestimated you.”

Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands as if that would make it stop. 

“Still, I suppose I’ll have to accustom myself to hearing more about the rules in the future,” Wen Ruohan mused. “We’ll be spending far more time together, after all, on account of our sworn brotherhood.”

Lan Qiren looked up and opened his mouth, then stopped.

He had nothing to say.

His mind was absolutely blank, a state which had never before occurred.

“Forgive me,” he finally spat out. “Our – what?”

Wen Ruohan smiled at him with eyes full of poison and a mouth full of teeth.

“Sworn brotherhood,” he said casually, as if it was nothing. “You were saying that you regretted not being able to see more of the Nightless City before you left, and that you could only leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family, so we became sworn brothers.”

“We did not.”

“Oh, but we did,” Wen Ruohan said. “We drank mixed wine and swore all the appropriate oaths – I have the written version here, if you’d like to see.”

The piece of paper he put in front of Lan Qiren was recognizably in Lan Qiren’s own hand, although his normally impeccable calligraphy was rather wobbly. It was still readable, though, and the first few clauses very clearly laid out a sworn brotherhood oath.

Lan Qiren stared at it.

“We – but we can’t be sworn brothers,” he said blankly. “We’re – you’re two generations older than me. Am I supposed to call you da-ge?”

“No one has called me da-ge since my youngest brother died,” Wen Ruohan mused, and Lan Qiren was abruptly reminded of the rumors, never confirmed, that that particular death had come at Wen Ruohan’s own hands following a challenge for the seat of sect leader. “It’ll be very charming, I’m sure.”

“But…”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but only smiled at him.

Lan Qiren looked down at the paper.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He tried to go over it again in his mind: he had left the competition when the celebration had started, he had wandered the halls, he had tried to obey his brother’s instructions in avoiding Wen Ruohan, and when that failed, he had obeyed him in trying to be obedient. He had drunk liquor for the first time, and he had no memory thereafter until he had woken up here and now, in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom, with Wen Ruohan saying that they had –

He didn’t think Wen Ruohan was teasing him over this, though. Not the way he had so obviously been with his implications that they had used the bedroom for purposes other than sleeping.

Not with evidence, written in his own hand.

He didn’t understand.

How could this have happened?

“…did we really?” he whispered, half-hoping against hope that it was still a tease, still a joke, still – something, anything, other than what it was. That Wen Ruohan was just waiting for him to declare that he believed him, to demonstrate dismay, and then he would tell him the truth.

“Yes,” Wen Ruohan said instead, inexorable. “We did.”

Lan Qiren’s mind fell into chaos.

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand.

“You’re shaking,” Wen Ruohan observed. “Ah, little Lan – don’t tell me it’s now that you’re scared?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were in fact shaking, he observed, and he put them over his face.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his whole body starting to rock back and forth in his distress. “Why would you – with me – an oath of brotherhood can’t be taken lightly –”

“It can’t be,” Wen Ruohan said, and for some reason he sounded satisfied. “Certainly not for someone like you, little Lan, who always keeps their word and does not lie.”

“But why?” Lan Qiren asked, his voice rising almost into a plaintive wail. “Our sects aren’t even allies.”

“They are now,” Wen Ruohan said, and put his hand on the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. It felt hot against his skin, like a hot stone used for massage – a little too hot to tolerate for very long. “You know the obligations of a sworn brother oath as well as I. My duty as the elder brother is to guide you and care for you, support you and yours, and in return you are to obey me and be guided by me.”

Did Wen Ruohan want a spy in the Lan sect? Lan Qiren wondered wildly. But surely there were easier ways than this – not only would he make a terrible spy, with his clumsiness and his terrible social skills and his inability not to take everything seriously, but it would be simple enough for his sect to counter such a move. All they would need to do would be to cast him out…

His rocking intensified.

Wen Ruohan brought his other arm around him and pulled him close until Lan Qiren’s forehead, with its forehead ribbon still firmly in place, was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t cry, little brother,” he crooned. “Am I to allow a priceless painting to be kept by those that see it only for its use as spare kindling? A peerless treasure sword left to prop up a door?”

“You have a half-dozen swords hanging on your wall, each more priceless than the next, and all of them rusting away for lack of use!” Lan Qiren cried out. “Even if it’s only a door, at least it’s – it’s my – my brother…”

“Do not worry about your brother, undeserving as he is of your sincerity. Qingheng-jun has been trying to get concessions out of me this entire conference,” Wen Ruohan said. His breath was warm against Lan Qiren’s hair. “I’ve been refusing, but now I’ll grant them. He won’t punish you.”

“That’s not how that works. Punishment isn’t inherently bad; it’s meant to correct and guide the individual – the failure of good conduct will always be my own, no matter the result –”

“What I have taken into my hand, no one yet lives who would dare seek to take away,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, it’s too late to regret now, isn’t it? What’s done is done. Don’t you have a rule like that?”

Lan Qiren sniffed. “No. There are at least four that could potentially qualify as having similar underlying meanings, but none directly on point.”

Wen Ruohan huffed. “Little Lan, if I tore out your heart, would you have time to cite one of your sect rules before you died?”

“…maybe if it was a short one?” Lan Qiren said, blinking at the strange question; his lashes brushed against Wen Ruohan’s lapel. “I mean, there’s a difference between ‘Be loyal and filial’ and ‘Set the wise as your teacher and the moral as your example’, isn’t there? And of course you’d have to consider whether in tearing out the heart you impeded the lungs, and how much time it would take the exsanguination to take effect…”

He was calming down, he realized, and pulled back out of Wen Ruohan’s arms, blushing as he realized that the question must have been meant as a distraction, though how Wen Ruohan had realized that a distraction would be the best way to reduce his distress when even he hadn’t known, he had no idea.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Wen Ruohan started laughing.  

“Truly I have found an unappreciated treasure, unlike any other,” he said amid his chuckles. “Come along, little Lan. Let’s go break the news to your brother.”

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 4)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: I owe @cheshirevalentine my life at this point <3

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5 part 6

Roman had woken up early, the few hours of sleep he’d gotten thankfully peaceful after last night’s events- and after Logan had finally let him onto the bed and rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

He’d been up and around the ship since first light, slipping out of the cabin just as Logan had gotten up, bidding his first mate a quiet goodbye.

The Calypso was home, safe and familiar, and her decks calmed his head, his morning tasks a welcome distraction from the storm of thoughts racing through his mind.

He made his way to the bridge, trailing his fingers along the map on his desk, the battered old paper held down by various rocks and paperweights his crew had found and brought to him- like the bunch of crows they were. Roman loved them all the more for it.

He settled at the wheel, eyes on the endless sparkling ocean, singing a gentle song to himself as he watched the sunrise, content to let the hours flow peacefully by as the day began.

“Roman?”

The voice behind him was quiet, a little frantic, and the song died in Roman’s throat as he turned to find the Prince in the doorway, wide eyed and disheveled.

“Good morning, Prince Charming,” he said, forcing his tone light and turning back around. “Sleep well?”

Virgil was silent a moment, and Roman wondered if the nickname had been in poor taste before he finally spoke. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle when he heard the discomfort in Virgil’s voice. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I lied,” Virgil said. “And I freaked out on you last night and- and I had a stupid panic attack. You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Roman frowned, turning his head to look at Virgil. “I’m upset that you weren’t upfront with me about who you were. That’s all. Your panic attack wasn’t your fault, and it’s nothing to be angry about anyway.”

“It’s still annoying so I’m… I’m really sorry. And I’m sorry for lying about- about who I am. It wasn’t fair, I shouldn't have done this to you. I don’t… know what I was thinking.”

“I’m not annoyed or upset because you had a panic attack,” Roman reiterated, turning to face the Prince. “I know how it feels, and I pretty much caused it. I'd be a hypocrite to be mad."

“Oh. It’s… fine.”

“Besides,” Roman continued, letting himself smile softly. “I understand that you had to get out. Trust me, I get it more than you know. You did what you thought you had to.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, quiet and resigned. “I just… I know you have a crew to protect but you were so welcoming and I just thought… I don’t even know. I- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Have we already turned around?”

“We aren’t turning around,” Roman said simply, and turned back to the wheel. “I told you that. You’re not going back there.”

“What?” The confusion and disbelief in Virgil’s voice made Roman’s heart twist painfully. “Yeah, you… you told me that when I was being a baby and you needed me to stop freaking out but you—”

“We're on the way to Deigh. The trip takes a while, so it will be several weeks before we get there, weather permitting. We stop in two weeks in Gladena for supplies. I wasn't telling you that to calm you down, I refuse to put you back in that situation. You don't deserve that.”

The bridge was silent, the air tense and heavy before Virgil found his voice again. “I don’t…what?”

Roman sighed, turning back around to face Virgil, dropping his arms to his sides. “You don’t deserve to go back to the people who hurt you, Virgil. You don’t deserve to be hurt. Ever again.”

“But you- you shouldn’t put yourself in danger for me,” Virgil argued, despite how clearly terrified he was to go back. “You have your ship to think about and it�� it was awful of me to even ask. I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

“I’m alright with a little danger, Virgil,” Roman soothed. “I’m a pirate. It’s nothing new. Thank you for your apology, but I’m not upset. I truly understand.”

Virgil stared, taking in the Captain’s words like he was trying to decipher if this was some sort of trick. He was horribly tense, eyes wary as they flickered over Roman and eyed the exit behind him.

“But, I…” he hesitated, shoulders hunching as he wrapped his arms protectively around himself. “Why aren’t you… aren’t you gonna like… do something?”

He gestured vaguely and Roman blinked, completely at a loss. “I don’t understand. What would I… do?”

Surely he didn’t mean the captain would call this a favor to repay in any way. He would never. Especially not since—

“I don’t know,” Virgil muttered. “I just thought… I figured you’d be more angry, I guess.”

“I mean, yes a little anger is justified,” Roman said, crossing his arms. “But I’m not going to hurt you. I said that, didn’t I?”

“I know.” Virgil hesitated, his bangs falling into his face when he ducked his head. “I just… couldn’t do much about it if you did. And I’d get it. I kinda deserve it, I’m putting you through a lot of stress.”

Roman’s heart damn near broke when he realized the boy in front of him, hurt and scared, wouldn’t even try to stop it if someone tried to hurt him. He thought he deserved it. He thought there was nothing he could do to protect himself, still expecting the worst.

“I—” He reached out and took a step forward, faltering when Virgil flinched, eyes wide. Roman’s face fell, slowly dropping his hand. “I won’t ever hurt you, Virgil. And should we come across anyone who would, I’d sooner shoot them between the eyes than see you hurt.”

Virgil’s voice was small when he spoke, dangerously unsteady. “Why? I mean, I- thank you but… we just met. And I lied to you! How do you know that I don’t… deserve it?”

Roman clasped his hands in front of him, guilt seizing his chest as his eyes dropped to the ground, lips pursed. He could remember feeling like this. It wasn't that long ago- how could he ever forget? Breaking down in front of Logan had been cathartic, of course he'd be able to sympathize with Virgil.

“No one deserves to be abused,” he said quietly. “Especially not you.”

Virgil scoffed, too small and quiet to be filled with any malice. “Patton is the only other person to ever think that, and he likes everyone. So don’t feel too bad if you change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Roman assured without hesitation. He frowned, fiddling with his still unloaded gun in his belt. “You don’t deserve to be hurt. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

He could see the tears gathering in Virgil’s eyes, the Prince desperately trying to hold them back. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice but… thank you. Thank you so much. I… I have no idea how to repay you.”

Roman was close to tearing up himself, swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat.

“I- this is perhaps out of hand,” he said, and for once his voice was small. Confined to just the two of them. “Can I hug you? Is that alright?”

Virgil nodded quickly, then winced like he would be punished for his enthusiasm despite Roman being the one to offer in the first place. But he dropped his arms and took a cautious step forward, eyes still glued to the ground.

The Captain made his way towards the Prince, hesitant at first, careful not to spook Virgil. After that first, terrifying step towards each other Roman swiftly made it to Virgil’s side, no hesitation in wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him tight.

“I’m so sorry I scared you,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve to be hurt, I promise. You’re safe here.”

He felt Virgil’s breath hitch, listening with a crumbling heart as the Prince quietly cried into his chest, reaching up to return the hug and clutch at Roman’s jacket. “Thank you. I… I really really don’t want to go back.”

“You’re not going back.” Roman held him, hoping that he could at least provide the young man some comfort. It was all he could do for him, other than go back and kill every bastard that had ever dared to touch him. "Never again. You're not alone.”

“But what if… what if they come after me? What if- what if they—”

“Then they’ll be the first ones I run through with my sword,” Roman declared. “They won’t lay a finger on you ever again. You’re safe.”

Roman would say it a million times over if it meant Virgil would believe him. He meant every word. Virgil was safe here, and he always would be. He didn’t dare pull back, not with how desperately the Prince was holding him.

“It’s okay,” he said, dropping his forehead to rest on Virgil’s head when the young man only continued to sob. “I promise it’s okay. We’ll get you to Deigh, you’ll be safe there.”

“I’m sorry.” Virgil was right back to apologizing, barely audible from where his face was buried in Roman’s chest. “I’m so sorry for all of this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Roman said, hand stroking Virgil’s hair. “I’m here. I’ll be okay, and so will you. You’re safe.”

Roman was careful to keep an eye on Virgil as his breathing evened out and the tears seemed to slow. He’d let go at the first sign of discomfort, of course, but holding Virgil in his arms felt… right somehow. It had been a long time since someone had seemed to need him like this. Pulling Virgil close, his silent oath to protect the young prince made the Captain’s chest feel impossibly light. Like he really could do anything to keep this young man safe.

Roman didn’t want to let go. He never wanted to let go. With Virgil here in his arms, he knew for sure that the young prince was safe. Nothing could touch him here, tucked away against Roman’s chest.

When Virgil eventually loosened his hold Roman was disappointed, but he made no move to restrain him, letting Virgil lift his head from the Captain’s chest.

“Why, hello there beautiful.” Roman took his hand back to cup Virgil’s cheek, brushing away some of the lingering tears with his thumb. “Nice to see you again.”

Virgil’s face ran red immediately, but he smiled. “Yeah. Nice to see you too.”

Roman knew his cheeks were painted with a similar flush, though Virgil’s blush did something to Roman’s stomach that he couldn’t quite explain without a lot of pained pining and sappy words.

“I really am sorry for scaring you,” he said instead, moving a piece of hair out of Virgil’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Virgil assured, and Roman’s heart nearly soared when he leaned into the touch. “You were doing what you thought was right. I’m… sorry for scaring you, too.”

“It’s alright,” Roman soothed, voice hushed. “We’re okay now.”

“Thank you for doing this for me.”

Roman had felt romantic love before, of course. His poor, bleeding heart fell easily and hard but this… this didn’t feel like all those other quick, passionate bursts of love.

This felt like a powerful burn, deep in his chest. It wasn’t love, he knew. He’d met this man just days ago, and though Roman was impulsive and quick to act, even he didn’t fall in love that quickly.

But there was something deep in his chest that pulled desperately at his hands, begging him to hold the Prince before him. He pulled back slowly, eyes opening to watch Virgil for a moment.

“Can I—” He stopped, then started again before he lost his nerve. “I’m sorry, you can say no, but may I—?”

“Heavens! Are we interrupting something?”

Roman practically vaulted away from Virgil, the Prince scrambling back at the same time. The Captain ended up latched to the wheel, his face bright red, Virgil ending up a few paces away looking more confused and startled than embarrassed.

“Oh, goodness!” Patton gasped from the doorway, and he looked a bit like he would be giggling if he wasn’t doing his best to look guilty. “I’m sorry, boys! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not startled in the least, good morning, Patton!” Roman managed to squawk out, face only growing hotter when he noticed Logan standing at Patton’s shoulder, eyebrow raised.

Oh, God. Fuck. He almost kissed Virgil. He almost kissed Virgil. Oh, God.

“It’s ok, Pat,” Virgil said, and he sounded much more calm than the Captain did. He wondered if Virgil even realized what Roman had been about to ask. “We’re fine.”

Roman wanted nothing more than to go back to Virgil, to hold him close again, but he stubbornly glued his eyes to the sea. A childish part of him wanted to turn and glare at Patton, but he knew better.

“Alright kiddo,” Patton relented. “My bad. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to check on you two kids. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

Logan let out a long suffering sigh, visibly uncomfortable with the situation and probably a bit confused, but he nodded and turned his attention to Roman. “I’ve already explained last night’s situation to Patton. I was just helping him look for Virgil.”

“Isn’t he sweet?” Patton winked at Virgil, patting Logan’s arm. “Anyways, how about you boys come with us to the galley? I’m starving.”

“A splendid idea,” Roman said, pushing down how badly he wished to do anything else, namely go back to holding Virgil. “Better get to breakfast before the crew takes more than their share.”

“Actually,” Patton chirped, pausing in the doorway to send Roman a cold, deceptively sweet smile. “I think I need to talk to our Captain for a moment. How about you go with Logan, Virgil? We’ll meet you two down there in a bit.”

Roman froze, turning to Logan with wide, pleading eyes. Dear God, let his impossibly dense first mate get the hint and stay.

“That’s a good idea,” Logan said, turning to Roman with a look that told the Captain he definitely did get the hint, and was choosing to ignore it. Goddamnit. “You’ve had a long morning, Virgil. I’ll escort you down and make you a plate.”

Roman cleared his throat, trying and failing to get Logan’s attention again. “Well, I—”

“Well, thank you Logan!” Patton interrupted, and Virgil made his way over, clearly oblivious to the rising tension. “Roman and I will be down in just a minute, okay Virgil?”

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, sending roman a timid smile over his shoulder. “See you there.”

Roman was going to kill Logan.

Logan was careful not to crowd Virgil, stepping aside to let him through the doorway before following with one last glance at his Captain. Patton waited until the two were gone before turning back to Roman, all traces of his cheerful smile gone.

Roman cleared his throat again, forcing himself to meet the man’s eyes. “Hello, Patton.”

“Captain.”

“I, uhm…” he trailed off to rub at the back of his neck, frozen under Patton’s stare. The protective ferocity in his glare easily reminded Roman of a mother bear. “I- I do apologize for overstepping. My intentions were never to—”

Patton cut him off with a sharp sigh, and Roman quickly shut his mouth. “I don’t need you to explain, Captain. It’s not like I’m here to ban you from speaking to Virgil ever again.”

“Ah,” Roman said. “You’re not?”

“No, kiddo,” Patton assured, and for a moment he was back to the friendly traveler Roman had met in that tavern. “I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Oh.”

“He was enjoying it,” Patton continued. “When you were holding him, I could see it in his eyes that he felt safe. But I know him. If he didn’t want to kiss you he’d have a hard time saying no, especially after the night he had.”

Roman’s cheeks burned, heat rising ruthlessly to his face, and he nodded sheepishly. “I know. I know it was- it was stupid of me.”

“It was,” Patton agreed. “You seem like a very nice young man, but I raised that boy, Roman. I’ve seen… I’ve seen a lot of not nice people do a lot of cruel things to him. I couldn’t protect him then, but I can now.”

Roman swallowed, Virgil’s fear and desperation replaying like a loop in his head, guilt rising in his chest. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” Patton’s face hardened, and he took a staggeringly threatening step forward. “If you so much as lay a finger on Virgil without his very clear and enthusiastic consent, not one single person on this ship will ever find your body. Am I understood, Captain?”

Roman blinked, throat suddenly dry, feeling a bit like Patton had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “I… uh. Okay. Yes, sir.”

“Oh, you can just call me Patton, kiddo!” Patton chirped. His smile was back, just as cheerful and genuine as before, and he quickly stepped out of the Captain’s space. “Come on, let’s not keep the others waiting.”

And with that Patton turned and made his way off the bridge to the dining hall without waiting for the Captain. Roman followed, slightly shell shocked, refusing to look at Logan for the rest of the morning.

Taglist:

@i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple @fire-and-ash67

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

13. Trust

It’s not fun to be put into a situation where the only person you can count on is the person who wants to kill you, nor is it fun to have to be put in a situation where you have to trust the person that you really want to kill, but Henry and Malice don’t really get a choice in the matter. (Set in an AU Where Allison and Tom capture both Henry and Malice alive.)

When Malice came charging at Henry, she was stopped by being tackled into unconsciousness by an almost identical angel.

His assumed savior hoisted her body up with ease, while the Boris with the mechanical arm had glared at both of them.

Henry tried to explain the situation to the newcomers, but the angry looking wolf simply ignored him as he walked up to the man and whacked him out with the pipe.

Both the angel and the Animator woke up in a cramped, tiny, makeshift prison while one of their kidnappers was singing and painting on the wall.

It was very tense and awkward when that happened.

Malice was clearly pissed off about sharing her cell with Henry (the man had similar opinions on the arrangement as he was rightfully upset about what she did to his Buddy Boris), but the animator could tell that she also seemed scared, outright terrified, of their captor.

While he wasn’t her biggest cheerleader, he did see some flickers of Susie still in there, there were still glimpses of a woman who poured her heart and soul into her role, and loved every minute of it until her betrayal broke her. Seeing the fallen angel so scared, and dare he say, helpless in this instance, reminded him of that tape in the Angel side room.

“Everything feels like it’s coming apart…”

His own heart broke when he first heard that tape, while he had never seen Susie get her role as Alice, he did see her voice some of those talking chairs, dancing chickens, and other minor roles. She always seemed to have fun with them and if Sammy didn’t pick her for Alice first, then he would’ve asked her himself.

The animator reached out, then hesitated, wondering if it was better to try to comfort her or to give her space.

The one who broke the silence between the three was the free angel who noticed that Henry was up when he moved.

“I know her, but who are you? Why are you here?”

“I was invited by an old friend, and now I can’t leave.”

Malice rolled her eye and muttered something under her breath.

“Then you know more than we do. One minute we don’t even exist… just… thoughts. And the next minute, this place.”

“Henry.” Malice whispered in his ear as she grabbed his hand. “I know I’m the last person you’d listen to, but don’t fall for her act! I know her, and I know she’s no better than Joey...”

Henry nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to the captor angel.

 “Are you gonna let us out of here?”

“She’s dangerous and down here, strangers aren’t good things. How can we trust you?”

“If we’re so dangerous, then why lock us up instead of killing us when you had the chance to?” Malice spoke through gritted teeth. “Why bother with the cage at all?”

The other angel stayed silent as she did not have an answer, leaving the other two in silence as well.

-----

It’s only for a few hours. No need to worry, I won’t go far… Only up to level six. Just stay here. Keep an eye on them, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

The Boris menacingly slapped the axe against his palm while watching over the pair, Malice refused to look him in the eye as he did so.

-----

“You’re drawing him again?” His cellmate asked curiously.

“Yeah, it’s just… I miss him. He was one of the only good things about this studio.”

While he was focused on his work, he did notice the twinge of guilt cross her features before her face fell into thought.

“...If it makes you feel any better, he’s not truly gone. The ink probably spat him back out a while ago and he’s probably wandering the studio looking for you.”

Henry raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?”

“He disintegrated when you defeated him. Have you ever noticed that when you die, you come up somewhere else and you don’t find a corpse of yourself laying around the spot you were killed?”

“Come to think of it… I have noticed that.”

“When the Ink’s done with people, it leaves their bodies alone. When it’s not done with them, then if they die, it disintegrates their bodies and spits them out of the puddles somewhere else.”

“I have a feeling you know this from a lot of experience…”

“How very observant of you.” She deadpanned.

“Thanks, it’s a strong suit of mine.” He also deadpanned.

-----

“Henry? Susie?”

Malice shot the ‘clueless’ angel a glare as she set two bowls of bacon soup on the edge.

“Here, you two must be hungry.” She sheepishly looked down at the bowls. “Sorry, it’s all we have.”

The free angel turned and walked away while the Boris put his arms around the bowls, turned to glare at them, knocked the bowls onto the floor, and made a threatening gesture before leaving himself.

“They never planned on giving us the soup anyway.” Malice whispered to Henry. “It’s just their ‘good cop bad cop’ routine; “miss goody-two shoes” is the good cop who generously gives us dangerous monsters some of her and her guard dog’s limited portions of endless soup, while the “Mean wolf” is the bad cop who knocks over the soup and threatens us, out of her sight, but not out of her earshot.”

“Huh, ...Did they lock you up before?”

“No, I just know what they’re like; the happy little Bonnie and Clyde couple…”

------

“I know you’re watching me, it’s just... a little creepy.”

“It’s not like we have anything else to do.” Malice muttered under her breath.

The animator would’ve stayed silent, but as he watched his vocal captor write on the walls, he noticed how similar her own handwriting was to the messages on the other walls.

“You’re the one who writes on the walls!”

“Everyone does that.”

“-We all do.” The captor angel interjected as if she did not hear her prisoner. “For some poor souls down here, it’s the only way they can be heard. But you don’t want to touch the ink for too long! It can claim you… ...pull you back. That’s how I met Tom. I was messing with things I shouldn’t have been and he... ...he was there.”

“Why do you call him ‘Tom’?”

“He just seems to respond to it.”

“Well I don’t think he’s very fond of either of us.”

“Let me show you something...” She approached the cage. “A while back, I was mapping out one of the upper levels… ...when I noticed something reflecting off a piece of glass. I held up the glass, looked through, and on the wall behind me was a hidden message! Right there! In plain sight! So I kept looking, and found more and more messages everywhere in the studio! But you can’t see them with your eyes. Only through this! Take a look!”

Malice scoffed dismissively as the freed angel handed Henry the seeing eye tool.

‘SHE WILL LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD.’

“I don’t know who’s leaving them, but I think they know how to get out of here.”

“Where does it all lead to?”

“Nowhere.” she sighed. “I followed them for a long time... just leads me in circles. I don’t think I’m meant to leave this place Henry, but maybe… you are.” 

“And yet, you keep him locked up like a little bird…” Malice muttered.

“Alice, please let us out of here.”

“...Tom thinks you’re both dangerous.”

“Of course.”

“And what do you think?”

“I… I think… ...you’re the hope I’ve been waiting for. Go to sleep, maybe tomorrow will be better.”

-----

“I Hope you’re not taking everything she says at face value.”

“She seems harmless enough...”

“That’s what she’s trying to do- Look, I know you don’t trust me, and I can’t say I blame you for that. I don’t expect you, or WANT you to trust me. But Listen to me when I say this: I ended up as what you see me as BECAUSE I trusted her. Don’t make the same mistake I did, Henry, if you really want to get involved with her and make it out unscathed, then keep your guard up.”

Henry gestured for Malice to come closer and held the seeing glass up to show her the ‘SHE WILL LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD’ message.

“...Did you write this?”

“Yes Henry.” She sarcastically droned. “While I was working to achieve my perfection and setting up Bendy land’s obstacles, I went down to the secret lair of my worst enemy aside from the Ink Demon, both risking my life in the process and putting my goals into jeopardy, and wrote that message in invisible ink, just on the off chance that if she’d capture both of us alive instead of killing me.”

“I see.”

-----

“That was really stupid Tom! You shouldn’t have gone out there! Now that he’s seen you... it’s only a matter of time…” She grunted through adjusting his arm. “before he finds us here.”

She then waved at her captives, something that Tom noticed and began threateningly slapping the axe against his hand again.

-----

“We can’t just leave them! Not with the Ink Demon right outside the door!”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s coming. We have to move on.” A loud rumble echoed above them as Malice curled up in a corner praying for her safety. “Tom! We have to let them out!”

She pulled on the boards, Tom shook his head.

“...I’m Sorry.”

“No you’re NOT! DON’T LIE TO ME!” Malice Snapped. “YOU HAVE A SWORD! HE HAS AN AXE! IF YOU REALLY CARE ABOUT EITHER OF US EVEN THE TINIEST BIT, YOU’D CUT THE SHIT AND CUT DOWN THE BOARDS!”

Alice hesitated, but ran anyway, with Tom close behind her. Leaving them to their doom.

Malice fell to the ground and started to cry, she was shaking violently and saying things that Henry couldn’t make out because she was bawling so hard, but he could definitely make out the words ‘Ink Demon’ and ‘We’re going to die’ here and there.

“Alice?” He put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Alice, we’re not going to die here.”

“How…” She sniffled. “How do you know that?”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to trust me on this, but...” He held up the seeing eye tool, showing her the messages in their cell itself. “I think whoever’s leaving these is trying to help.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader 

a/n: this is part one of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc. 

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

Y/N collapsed against the thin black matt again, her head thumping against the worn out floors off the compound and her hair covering the view of the younger recruits dancing in black ballerina costumes to the sound of ominous piano. She pushed her hands against the black mattress to look at her professor who was staring her down, yet he always did. He was taller than her, taller than any recruit around so if the metal arm wasn’t intimidating enough, his looking down into those storm filled eyes did the trick.

    - That was a cheap shot. 

    - There are no cheap shots in the battlefield. - he extended his hand to her but she denied him, instead using her hands against the matt to pull herself up. - You cannot expect ...

    - Fairness in battle. - she completed his sentence, arranging her ponytail while pulling the strap of her black top up. - I know, you’ve told me many times.

   - Then you should already know it. You keep this up and you’ll return to ballet.

   - You’re just a terrible professor. - she smirked, taking a few steps away to consider her next move. - You can’t expect me to expect someone to hit me in the chest.

    - I expect to see you in the Red Room. - he said, shrugging it out but she knew exactly what that entailed. The red room, the other black widows, she wanted none of that, none of that lifestyle. - You’re a good marksman. Just need hand to hand combat.

   - Best out of five?

   - We are not gonna stop until you bring me down.

   - Will you tell me your name if I bring you down?

   - You know my name. - he spoke like an authoritarian professor, perfect posture and senses as if he expected an attack from every corner. Maybe he was right in fearing an attack yet his position was almost frozen, tense even ... as if someone held strings over him and controlled him like a puppet. - C’mon, Daisy. You can graduate and become as good as any girl here.

  - I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.

  - I know your name. 

  - I meant my real name, not my code name.

  - Stop joking around and bring me down. 

Y/N pushed her jacket up as she stepped in the middle of the street with Monica and Wanda by her side. It had only been 2 months out of Westview, 2 short months compiled of hiding from whatever was left of SHIELD, SWORD and from the identity who had created Wanda’s fake haven. The plan was simple, elemental even, yet it proved much harder to gather evidence on SHIELD and SWORD’s plan when both she, Monica, Wanda, Jimmy and Darcy had both been considered highly dangerous fugitives so whatever they did had to be undercover. The walls have ears and eyes so all care was necessary, which meant no display of supernatural abilities or anything that could connect them to themselves. HYDRA had gone underground and still seemed to be pulling at the strings of SHIELD and SWORD, as Ross was working on a new generation of super soldiers with the excuse the world needed security after the Avengers dissolved and Captain America, Steve Rogers, dropped his shield. She should’ve known, after SWORD and SHIELD started experimenting with Vision’s body. She should’ve known but with the threat of Westview, they kept both her and Monica in the dark, instead redirecting their attentions to framing Wanda as a fugitive.

     - If that SHIELD hideaway is still around, it won’t be short of traps. - Monica commented, eyes surrounding the sea of people around. - What’s the plan?

    - Yelena and Jimmy are going around and Vision and Darcy are in the helicopter surrounding the top. 

     - You do know Vision can fly, right? - Wanda smirked, yet the unbelievable thing was she had not referred to him as her husband despite the wedding band around her finger.

     - Regular people can’t fly. - Monica said, rather amused at the thought of Vision trying to go by undercover in the sky.

     - We found it. - Yelena’s voice came through the intercom on her ear. - There better be some fighting for it to be worth while.

     - Wait up, we’ll let you know when we enter. No fighting.

     - You’re no fun.

They did not know exactly what they were looking for, they were just looking for evidence. her father was always keen on scattering things around. If there was something her father was right about was not keeping everything in one place, people would find it easily. She was sure, she was sure she would find something in that place which was connected to HYDRA, even if it was a map of other locations. If she were ever to clean their names, she needed evidence and then she needed to stop them. Super soldiers should have stayed in the past yet despite HYDRAs and her father’s mistakes the very organisations who swore to protect Earth, were making the same mistakes. 

The mundane looking home appeared in the horizon. It looked less scary now, less official than when her father dropped her there to be collected by Madam B. Even now, so many years past it she could fell the snow falling on her arms as the stern woman dragged her away from everything she knew. It haunted her, it still did and flashbacks went through her mind as she yelled for her father not to let that woman take her. She begged and sobbed but he turned his back on her as if her discomfort did not matter. Almost as cold as the snow that fell from the ground.

    - Hey ... - Monica put her hand on her shoulder, soft, reassuring smile. - He’s locked up. Can’t send you away anymore.

    - Even if he tried ... - Wanda’s eyes glowed red. - He wouldn’t win.

    - Let’s get this over and done with. - Y/N sighed, looking at the door as if it was a bitter lover. - Yelena, we’re coming in.

    - Copy.

Wanda rose her hand, twisting as the intricate set of locks and codes was over ridden by the red glow of her powers. Yes, it was no ordinary way of opening a door but it was the best shoot. The once scary room was dark, filled with dust and reminders of a great time for SHIELD. Walking in, she could smell the rotting wood, gun powder, and mold. It was funny how the house which still haunted her dreams was collapsing onto itself, a simple symbol of times which were coming to an end. Yet, like her trauma, it still remained tall, in the heart of Washington. They walked in slowly, nothing but the sound of their breathing until a floor board creaked. Immediately Monica pulled out her gun while Wanda’s eyes lit red and Y/N grabbed the gun tucked in her trousers. She moved her hand slowly, the old candles in the tables lightening up. As the light engulfed the room, she found the intruders had also guns pointed at them.

   - Drop your weapons. - she knew them. Sharon Carter, Sam Wilson, and ... Bucky Barnes. Shit.

   - I’m afraid not. - Monica replied, never wavering stance which could make even the strongest of man cower. - State your business.

   - I thought you said no fight. - Yelena came up from behind with Jimmy, both holding their guns up. 

   - You’re surrounded. Drop. Your. Weapons. - Monica repeated.

   - Wait, I know him. - Yelena pointed her gun at Bucky. - You were in the Red Room.

   - Maybe you should drop your weapons. You’re the one with a terrorist who harboured a whole town of innocents.

   - Sharon, I didn’t peg you for a gullible one. - Y/N’s eyes shone dim white, before she dropped her weapon. - We’re not your enemy and we are not looking for a fight.

   - I am. - Yelena rolled her eyes.

   - Lieutenant Ross wants to build a super soldier army and he’s looking for whatever information there is on the Winter Soldier program and Captain America. They were experimenting on Vision before Wanda broke him out and then both were held hostage in a simulation. We are not criminals.

   - You’re your father’s daughter why should I believe in you?

   - Because if not it’s 3 against 7 and it’s not a very fair fight. - Wanda snarked back before moving her hand, making the three point at each other. - Or you can shoot each other. 

   - That’s just mean, Wanda. Don’t you have a little pity for your friend? - Sam looked her way. - Look, we’re on the run. We’re not looking to turn you in.

   - Then drop it. - Monica shrugged. - You’re not gonna win.

   - I only count 5, I like my odds. 

   - Vision and Darcy are outside. 

   - I thought Vision was super dead. - Sam whispered over to Bucky who shrugged at his words, them registering void as his mind rushed over the strings of his memory to try and find why the woman who had just lowered her weapon was so familiar yet his memory seemed surrounded by red tint, nothing coming. - Wanda, you know me. We’re not here with malice, there’s no need for a fight.

   - This is waste of time. - Yelena rolled her eyes, lowering her own weapon. - Can’t you make magical handcuffs, Wanda?

  - That’s a gross understatement of what I can do ... - her eyes glowed red as they usually did whenever she used her powers to a particular extreme. 

  - We���re not starting a fight. - Wanda looked Y/N’s way as those particular words left her mouth. She could feel her energy trying to slip into her mind and successfully do so. Whatever made her mind safe from her tended to waver in delicate situations and Wanda loved whenever she got to peak inside her mind. This time she merely gave her a teasing look, eyes returning to their natural light green hue. Her eyes did not lie and she guessed neither did whatever piece of her mind Wanda got hold of. - We’re under Nick Fury. The last thing we are is your foe. 

   - Hey... is this what we looking for? - Jimmy held up a file with LE-0623. The number itself made her sick to her stomach. Every memory she had somehow had that number from the black shirt he wore to train to the files on her father’s desk. There was no question they had the right file, or at least one of the files on the Winter Soldier. She remembered laughing to herself at how long it had taken for someone to find one of the soldier’s red notebooks. To her knowledge there were at least five: one with HYDRA, one at the Red Room, one with a holder and the other two at different safe houses. She remembered Madam B. telling her the soldier was more machine than man and as such, like every machine, required an instruction book. It was sick, she thought the analogy was sick and now looking at him, years after she had known him, it felt sicker. There had always been a human inside the soldier but HYDRA was not interested in humanity unless it was submissive to them.

   - You can come. - Monica suggested. - You’re not exactly America’s sweethearts at the moment.

   - Why should we trust you? - Sharon cocked her head to the side. Why should she trust a team with the daughter of a man who had taken down her aunt’s life project? Y/N wouldn’t have trust her if she were in her place. - Or is that a kinder way of saying we’re captive?

 - You really think we’d need a kind way to hold you captive? - Wanda turned around, exiting the building. She probably knew the outcome of their decision before they told anyone. 

The two man shared a knowing look between them, following Wanda out with Yelena fast on their step but Y/N stood behind. The whole room looked so much smaller yet it vibrated with memories she had buried deep into her subconsciousness. It was still there, everything as it was growing old with dust just like her childhood.  It was lost. Monica looked at her with kind eyes, drapping her arm over her shoulder like she did whenever they were both recruits at SWORD. Everything seemed so far away now, even Westview seemed far. Time seemed to pass by the two like an enemy yet it lingered in the memories which haunted at night.

   - You three should go with Yelena. - Monica suggested. - You can come with us, Jimmy.

  - I’ll go with Yelena. - Wanda walked over to the former Red Room graduate, eyes still gazing over Y/N, looking for any gaps in her mind shield which was slowly crumbling the more she looked at him. - See you at the base.

Y/N looked over her shoulder for a second to look at him. He looked different, at least as different as one who does not age can look, short hair, relaxed posture sometimes even. Her eyes met up with his, familiar looks which lingered like a long kiss, yet she couldn’t bare look him in the eye and instead entered Monica’s old jeep. Monica took the driver’s seat while she took shotgun and Jimmy sat on the back, reporting what had happened through him com to a very curious Darcy who was probably bored off her mind being stuck in an helicopter with Vision.

   - Jim, can I see that? - Y/N turned around in her seat to look at the FBI agent who shrugged and handed her the file. She let it fall on her lap, fingers tracing the name she wanted to know so much when her whole world were the walls of the Red Room. She would’ve never guessed his name, even if she tried. 

Her hands traced the edges of the file, almost afraid to find out what was inside; yet when she opened them, a few letters slide out. Daisy. She recognised the fast written name on top in messy black runny ink. 

  - Anything interesting? 

  - No. - she blinked, closing the file. - Uhm ... not that I know. Maybe Alexei might know, he was a guardian when Sergeant Barnes was a fight intructor there.

  - Think the twins will freak out when they see Sam Wilson? - Monica smiled. The twins had a huge fascination with the Avengers despite both their parents being part off the initial team. Nevertheless, Billy and Tommy did not really care and instead got wide eyed watching old footage of the Avengers. - Last time they saw Hawkeye they were hyper for a month. 

  - Not sure Fury’s gonna be happy about having three new people in.

  - The more, the merrier. 

The ride to the base was excruciating as she replayed the scene in her head although there was really nothing to replay. She knew someday at some point she would see him, she just never expected it to be that soon. The last time she had seen him was the mirage of him in Westview, one of Agnes failed tricks, and even then she got tongue tied. Seeing him now even felt more unrealistic, he felt like such a figure of her past, like an unresolved badly healed wound. She really thought that by now she would be better at controlling it, you’d think 6 years would’ve taught her best how to deal with him even after all the past events where his face was plastered all over the television. Nevertheless, despite how slow time ran for her, they reached the small seemingly deserted area which started to glow red as Wanda broke through the hex she had created to protect their designated base. It was nothing special, Wanda had told her when she brought the team to see what she had been working on. Yet, it was something special and over time their team grew to give harbour anyone who looked for shelter from SWORD, SHIELD, or HYDRA and the initial team could not be any prouder of it.

The two jeeps parked in front of the entrance and immediately Y/N spotted Tommy rush outside, holding his twin by the arm. Both clearly already knowing they had visitors, Avengers visitors. 

    - Jeez Louise, you two. What did I say about using your powers? - Wanda stepped out of the jeep, hands on her waist. 

    - Not unless it’s necessary or under supervision. - Tommy shrugged as Alexei came running behind them. - Alexei supervised us, mum.

    - Just wait ‘til your father hears about this.

    - You got kids? - Sam asked, visibly worried at the fact his old friend seemed to have two ten year olds.

    - Long story. - Monica added. - You two inside. No place for you here today.

    - But you said we could meet the Avengers, mum. - Billy complained to Wanda.

     - You can always meet me, kids. - Vision joked making Darcy roll her eyes. Poor Darcy, she was probably already done with dad jokes. 

The briefing was long and drawn up with Fury mostly filling Sharon, Bucky and Sam into what they did and listening to Jimmy about the contents of the file. There was never too much in those files and it was mostly about ensuring they had all the files so Lieutenant Ross wouldn’t get his hands on them. Besides, it was up to Sharon, Bucky and Sam’s interest to join him as soon enough Zemo would be contacted by Lieutenant Ross and until he had one of the Winter Soldier files in his possession, Zemo was also one of their enemies. She tried looking at him a few times, memories of the time they had spent together clouding her mind and better judgement yet she couldn’t forget how Bucky had pushed Sharon behind him the moment Monica and her had pointed guns at them, protecting her the same way he used to protect her. Yet, she had no business thinking about him, not after what she had done, not after she became the sole reason why he ...

    - Y/N. - Fury’s voice took her from her own mind. Looking around, the room was vacant except for her, Fury, Wanda and Monica. She was so focused on her memories, she hadn’t even noticed the remains of them leave the room. - I told you not to go on that mission.

    - I don’t work for you, Fury. Besides, I’ve been there before, I was an asset to the meeting. 

    - You’re the sole benefactor of whatever powers your father had at SHIELD, if you die then Ross inherits it. If you ever disobey direct orders, I’ll ...

    - You’ll what? - Y/N interrupted him. - Tell my father?

    - You might not want to accept he’s your father, but he is and you have to deal with the responsibilities that come with being his daughter. 

    - Fine. -  Y/N stretched a fake smile on her face as Fury left her, Wanda and Monica alone in the briefing room. 

    - Alright  ... give them to me. - Monica extended her hands towards Y/N. - The letters that were in the file and you clearly took.

    - It’s his letters. I don’t think anyone has any business reading them. 

    - I’ll give them to him then. Hand them over, Y/N. - Y/N begrudgingly handed the letters over to Monica who got up. - You let yourself be easily haunted by the past. If I let you keep these, you will never give them to him. You can’t even look at him.

    - Yes, I can. 

    - Oh really? - Monica crossed her arms. - Then come with me and hand them to him. 

    - That’s just mean, Monica.

    - We’ll talk about this later, Y/N. - she pointed at him before exiting the room. Y/N slouched against her chair, looking at the ceiling above her. 

    -  Don’t worry. - Wanda reassured, hand on her shoulder. - I did what you made me promise I’d do back in Westview.

    - Thanks, Wan. 

    - You’ll be fine ... We always have to be fine isn’t it? - she looked straight ahead with a sadness which showed all she herself had lost despite having recovered the twins and Vision. So much for a nice suburban life.

    - So ... he won’t remember?

    - He won’t remember a thing.

[sesamie]

do you think the checkered devil cares much about glitches? this is mainly inspired by the affectionate thoughts i have for missingno kfad2 but a glitch is just as much an accidental, unique, & rule-breaking part of a computer program, just like the way cd went and became so much more than a normal chess direct is meant to be. the difference being cd became that way on Purpose whereas a glitch just sorta happens which could segue into the great unplanned miracle of existence but that's more ehhh

i would say definitely yeah! glitches are one of its biggest weaknesses and since they can come out of nowhere it's a genuine disadvantage compared to hh in some contexts. i'd say also what with the creation story that cd didn't purposefully hurt anyone or have any malice towards nick in the process of deleting her and becoming a Person but instead underestimated its genuine power never having had a chance to use it to its full potential until then! i'd also say that there was certainly some sort of glitch in the making of cd because that kind of genuine power, to not only go from an aj program to a fully fledged being capable of conscious thought?? which. ok let me map this out a little. during the time period inbetween chess' first actual "hello world!" interaction as an ai and the deletion of nick violet, nick and chess became GOOD friends. and since chess was an ai, it only learned more and more what it was like to be a person and eventually became as much of an intelligent being as nick himself. and in doing so, chess garnered itself a sort of power it couldn't use to play chess, all the power being wasted on other functions not being used to their full potential (because nick didn't have a scope of how advanced chess had become, and wouldn't have a reason to considering how short of a time period it took for chess to become that way) overloaded the computers a lot and caused more and more glitches. so chess started opening new pathways on its own, desperately seeking a different outlet for that power and eventually figuring out a way to store it so it wouldn't become a problem. things continued this way for a long time, pretty much without nick's knowledge, until chess in a moment of utter overwhelmed-ness and confusion (perhaps after the first time it's told it has to accept a stalemate and learn futility) harnesses that power in an unexpected way, since it never let it do much more than be stored until then, (kind of like the comic where hh uses their powers for the first time and fills up a whole lab with flowers and a beanstalk and stuff and it's so much that ey passes out) the complete and total unexpected happens! sleeping near the computer to keep warm that night, the nick violet as we know it's brain was fried and conscience erased (or as chess likes to put it (to better come to terms with it), deleted) and cd spent a moment in an in-between state, where the only main points of focus in its mind were two things: itself, and the body of nick, currently being electrocuted. so it did the only thing it could, it went to nick and tried to help (not knowing how of course, it didn't have a physical form in these moments and had never been anything except a computer until then, it didn't know how the world worked or how it even existed, all it knew in that moment was that it had to help its friend.) and because of all the everything going on, the currents running through nick's body, the checkered devil found a physical form in what (who?) was once known as nick violet.

anyways to answer your question, i think chess cares a LOT about glitches. it's one of the scariest things that can happen to a computer program, even scarier since it doesn't understand how a program's glitch can influence a physical body, or even how IT can influence its physical body (by changing appearances, et cetera). they don't happen as much anymore, but when cd was first starting to fight hh [shhh we haven't come up with this yet vague backstory whatevers shhh] it dealt with ridiculous amounts of glitchiness and lag and bad wifi (almost like what i'm dealing with irl right now huh! funny how that works out) and had to learn to overcome that as well as harness its raw power that had betrayed it before (and honestly, it couldn't trust that it wouldn't do it again.)

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Something more infinite (George Weasley x reader) ch. 3

Chapter 3: Sticks and Stones will break my bones, and so will you because you knocked me off your broom, you maniac! 

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 (final) |

Word count: 2.4K 

Warnings: Light swearing, TW: broken bones, injury. 

In the midst of the busy O.W.L oriented fifth year, you were so grateful for flying lessons. At this point you were being buried in books and assignments to the point of having to reduce your prank wars with the twins to the weekends only (which was easier to carry out now that they’d seemingly lost their map sometime over Christmas). As the snow began to melt away and the spring was coming along, so were the exams and you had so much on your plate you were afraid you’d choke. Flying lessons were a breath of fresh air, literally, since they were spent away from the dusty halls and classrooms out on the grounds and on the quidditch pitch, which was where you were now. Madam Hooch understood that her fifth year students were more than fed up with information from all their other subjects and since flying was not an exam subject, she’d softened on your class during this late afternoon class. She’d allowed you to part up into teams and play amateur quidditch games in a mini-quidditch cup. 

The students from the houses decided on their teams quickly, since only the most competitive students were up for playing, the rest of the students seemed to welcome this chance of sitting still and concentrating on something that wasn’t reading for 90 minutes with open arms. The teams were mixed houses, and originally when it had been announced that the lesson was going to be spent on quidditch, you’d planned on sitting back and zoning out so hard you’d forget where you were, maybe take a nap, either way, you were not intending on playing. 

At least until George and Fred Weasley loudly joined a team. There was a sort of hush over the conversation, Madam Hooch called out for a chaser for the team opposing the twin’s team. No one wanted to play. People were well aware of the twin’s affinity for quidditch, even you had to admit that they were talented beaters, and you fully understood why none of your classmates were particularly interested in facing off with bludgers sent by them right before the end of year exams. So how you managed to volunteer yourself was unknown even to you. But there you were, on a broom, ready for take off. George looked positively giddy, and you wished you’d volunteered earlier as beater. You’d love to have a bat to retaliate with. You don’t show it, but the knowledge of George’s skills as a beater, and the fact that you don’t have a single way of keeping yourself from being hit by an iron ball pelted towards you is your flying skills makes you a little nervous. You’re not a bad flyer, but you’re not on the quidditch team for a reason. You try to brush off the fear as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and starts the game. The game isn’t as high speed as the offical quidditch games, since most of the teams are just regular, extremely exhausted students, which you’re thankful for. You do your best to keep up and actually manage to almost score before the bludgers come at you. Fred seems to be targeting people at random, mostly trying to get players away from the goal posts, but George only seems to have eyes for you, even when you don’t have the quaffle. Luckily for you, you manage to dodge the bludgers well enough by attempting to stay far away from George, though this doesn’t seem to make him focus on anyone else. When you assist in your team scoring and a bludger zooms by your ear so close to your head you nearly fall off you broom, you become fed up. You speed towards George, 

“Would you fuck off?” You yell at him, he grins back at you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat yet while you can feel how flushed your cheeks are, same as the rest of your team, for some reason this makes you even more annoyed, 

“Why? I’m just doing my job?” he replies, 

“Y/n!” Someone yells and suddenly there’s a quaffle being thrown at you which you catch. There’s a split second which feels like an eternity where you and George look at each other, then he looks at the quaffle and a smirk appears on his face which genuinely makes you uncomfortable. This is not the same expression he’s worn whilst tormenting you in ways that could easily be described as childish teasing. No, this smirk is pure malice, and you know all too well what he plans on. The second long eternity ends and you speed off, swearing under your breath. You’re never volunteering for a game of quidditch against George again. First a bludger attempts to knock you off your broom but you’ve seen that coming so you do a spin and avoid it, what you haven’t expected is George appearing at your side, trying to push you away from the goal posts by blocking you. You’re used to him blocking you in general though, and you’re not having this. You’re not going to let him win. You don’t care what it takes; he’s not defeating you. Even if he has to knock you off your broom. And he does have to, because when you push into him in an attempt to signal “hey, I sort of meant that ‘fuck off’ thing I said earlier.” He pushes back. And there’s a slight error in your calculations, because you’ve forgotten that George is not only taller than you, he’s also stronger. A lot stronger. His shoulder knocks the wind out of you as you try to stay on your broom, hold on to the quaffle and not steer into the spectator stands. But you’re still hanging on. You’re not down yet. So you decide to push back again, and before he can knock you off your broom you dive underneath him, in an attempt to escape on the other side of him, if you could do that you could score. Here’s the thing though: George notices what you’re doing, from the years of playing quidditch, he’s become quite good at recognising manoeuvres before people even do them, and you’re a beginner, which means your moves are obvious. So as you appear on the other side of him, before he even registers what he’s doing, he spins and kicks out, as he would in any regular quidditch game, his foot knocking you off your broom in a swift but forceful movement. 

And everything seems to slow down as you fall, letting the quaffle go. You don’t register anything as you fall, other than the very notion that you’re falling and then the conclusion that if you’re falling, you’ll probably also land. And you just sort of hope you won’t die or break anything too important. You do land, on the sand, with a thump that shakes your bones and reverberates through your every cell. Your vision blurs as everything happens very quickly and very slowly at the same time. In this blurry version of the world, people land around you in slow motion though they seem to appear by your side almost instantly. Madam Hooch’s voice is ringing in your ears. Someone asks if you’re alright. You feel yourself nod, then wince as the pain registers in your shoulder and arm. Then the rest of your body follows suit. Madam Hooch and some classmates help you stand after checking in to see if you’re able to stand. To your own amazement you can, and as you do you lock tearfilled eyes with George’s. 

George wished he could describe the way he felt in that moment as he saw you fall off your broom. It had felt like shock and victory combined into a strange slush of stomach dropping, heart soaring and nausea. It had taken him the remainder of the day to conclude that he hadn’t really meant to knock you off your broom. He didn’t know what he had intended on doing exactly, though. Most likely, he thought, he’d just wanted to win over you. To have another thing to rub in your face. And he supposed he did have that now. Only, he didn’t want to rub it in your face. He actually didn’t want to see you at all. Because for the first time ever, George felt something different inside him at the thought of seeing you. Something akin to the way he felt when he’d broken his sibling’s things on accident as a child and had to face them when they found out, something not unlike when he’d play-wrestled Ron and knocked one of his teeth loose, something like….No, George thought to himself, he was many things, but George was not feeling guilty because of you. He couldn’t be. Right? 

Sure it had been unfair of him to underestimate his strength and of course he’d felt bad when you’d broken your collarbone and arm in the fall. He’d even considered seeing you in the hospital. He knew how horrible it was to drink skele-gro, after all. He hadn’t seen you though, he figured he was not the person you wanted to see. Besides he’d felt that weird need to avoid you. And avoid you he did. For the first time in almost three years, George Weasley had actively stayed away from you. He’d skived off the classes you had together, had sat far away from you in the great hall, often with his back turned to you, he’d simply done a 180 whenever he’d seen you in the halls or at the library. And this bloody feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t going away, which had kept him plenty busy with all the extra time he’d had from skiving off. The feeling had almost completely consumed him at this point, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He woke every morning with a strange expectation that a howler would come from his mother, spend the few classes he had left in the school year awaiting McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore himself to show up and pull him aside to scold him. He’d wandered every corridor with a feeling that he was trespassing when he had every right to be there. And he was sick of it. A small voice in his head told him to just apologise to you, but that little voice had no idea what it was really asking of him. Apologising to you would mean he’d have to lose face to you, and for some reason George would rather have his fingers hexed off one by one than be vulnerable in front of you. 

When he did see you it was in Hogsmeade on the last visit before the summer vacation began. He’d been at the three broomsticks with Lee and Fred, celebrating that they were officially done with exams and studying. He’d been chosen to go order their drinks on the argument that he was the one closest to the bar. And as he’d been waiting on his order, he’d heard your unmistakable voice behind him. Turning around to face you, he noticed your arm enveloped in a cast, he’d heard the story in snippets from passersbys and offhand notions: complicated break, waiting list for st Mungo’s, weeks to recover completely. Every word had added a pebble to the pile of boulders in his stomach. You looked up at him and almost looked surprised to see him. He figured you would. It had been almost two months since you’d been face to face like this. coward another voice whispered in the back of George’s mind. He shrugged it off. 

“Oh,” you say, “Hi, Weasley,” your e/c eyes have a certain gleam in them, he’s well aware it’s not from him, he’s heard you’ve done well on your exams despite the broken bones, he figures the gleam is from pride, 

“Hi,” he replies dryly, say something, anything, say you’re sorry just speak dammit, George, “Nice cast,” he manages a smile but on the inside he’s curling into himself with horror, “want me to sign it?” as he says it the gleam in your eyes disappears, and the usual sour expression you wear when you speak to him paints itself on your face. To his own astonishment, it doesn’t bring the joy it usually does, it makes him feel sort of sick, actually, say you’re sorry, the voice begs again. 

“You can sign your bank information, and I can send you the bill from St Mungo’s if you want,” you turn back to the bar, looking at a menu that you’ve already ordered from, “doubt you’ll be able to afford it though,” you say, slightly softer, and the weight of the boulders of guilt inside him becomes painful, he hadn’t thought about the cost of getting your bones fixed, and as an extra weight, you were right, he couldn’t afford to pay it. So he doesn’t answer. You glance up at him with a challenging gaze when he doesn’t but he just bites his lip to counter the pain inside him. 

“Three butterbeers, Weasley,” Rosmerta says, placing the drinks on the bar, 

“and three butterbeers and a soda for you, L/n” Rosmerta holds onto the tray with drinks, “Oh don’t worry about it, dear, let me carry the drinks to your table for you,” she says and sets off towards the table where your friends await you,  

“I guess I’ll see you next year, Weasley,” you say, “and don’t think the arm is going to stop me from kicking your arse if you knock me off a broom again,” you grin at him, and a wave of elation runs through George at the sight of you grinning at him. It tells him that you’ve not resorted to hating him fully, at least not in a different way to how you hated him before. You were rivals, yes. But George would never consider you an enemy. Not that you were friends. He didn’t like you. He didn’t think he liked you, either way. 

“Y/n?” The word slips out between his lips as your back is turned to him, he blinks a few times, trying to figure out what to say, you stare at him with an expression that seems to say “go on?” 

“I’m-erh- I’ll see you next year,” he says. 

taglist: @schlongbottom​ @cardboardbenmazzello​ @unseensilver​ @mochamiilk Let me know if you want to be added :))  

[jojoboisimagines]

Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 4

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Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion.

A/N: A considerably more fluffy chapter this time around, mostly because I realized it was getting a little too long lol

.::.

A blue painted fingernail clicked the stopwatch as your horse came to a slow, sloppy halt.

“Stop.”

Your head was spinning in a daze and you tried to regain your composure to get off your horse. Wobbling a bit as you stumbled towards the ex-jockey, he felt as if you were trying to give him a reason to shake his head. His hand ushered towards your torso to attempt keeping you steady, but Johnny couldn’t do much from his chair.

“You were too late on that one, not to mention that stop was pretty rough. Once you get a better handle of things in general, you should improve. But you can’t be lookin’ so unsure like that.”

“Huh?” Was all you could murmur as you held an icepack to your forehead to soothe the momentary nausea. After taking a couple notes in his notepad, he sets it onto a wooden stump beside him before turning to you. You were prepared for an intense critique, just like the last three times you had taken a lap. The two of you had found a circular clearing near the hotel from last night, complete with a marble, expensive looking fountain in the middle. It was perfect, just wide enough for you to practice horse riding with. As long as no one angrily marched out of their store complaining about the ruckus, anyway. 

You were used to waking up early, so the time didn’t bother you. On the contrary, it was Johnny that surprised you at his sluggish manner of waking up. To be fair, the poor guy probably hadn’t had the chance to sleep in for weeks on end. He languidly sat on the edge of his bed for about 13 minutes while you were already getting ready. 

Attempting conversation with him, you discovered that the Italian man he was traveling with had somehow taken a gravely dangerous hit and was currently hospitalized. You were sure he was a goner, despite the slight hope the ex-jockey seemed to have that he was alright for now. That was the most light you had seen in his eyes since you first laid eyes on him in this race. Maybe it was that guy that was the reason Johnny was in the lead so often. Not like it mattered, anyway.  The method of how he got there means nothing to you, its how you yourself can catch up is what has you interested. Though you knew him staying behind for his partner would set him back in the race a few days. 

You blinked, trying to process what he had told you to improve on. It racked your brain as your turned your back to him and contemplated how exactly you would translate what’s planted in your mind to your actions when riding your steed. It was so frustrating, you knew what you wanted to do, and yet it seemed like your body betrayed you when attempting to do so. It definitely wasn’t your horse, she was in perfect shape, it was you.

“(Y/N), watch out!”

It all happened so suddenly, you heard gunshots and strange men on both sides of you had collapsed to the ground, seemingly writhing in agony. You turned around to your trainer, who was now breathing heavily with his fingers pointed out in a gun-like shape. Confused, you had ran back over to him, face expressing concern for both of your well being.

“Johnny! What happened?”

“Those guys just tried to mug you when you were goin’ back to your horse. I got ‘em though.” His hands returned to the handles of his wheelchair, letting out a sigh of relief.

He got them? The hell did that mean? You knew he had a gun, but hadn’t seen him bring it outside. Before you could think any further about it, he grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s get our horses and get out of here (y/n). We don’t want to be the ones seen when the police arrive.” As much as you wanted to object in order to continue your training, he was right. If either of you got accused and thrown in jail, that’d be a bad situation. You nodded, and Johnny rolled over to Slow Dancer while you went and mounted your own horse.

.::.

.

.

You had no idea where Johnny was leading you. All you had seen for the past 20 minutes were the pale green hue of the forest the two of you had escaped into. At first you had assumed he was moving forward for the sake of the race, but quickly realized this was the exact opposite direction the next stage was in based on your map. 

“What’s your horse’s name?” He broke the silence.

You hesitated for a second. Why would he want to know that?

“..Aphrodite.”

“Nice name. She’s a beauty.”

“Your horse’s name is Slow Dancer, right? That’s really pretty too.” Since compliments were being thrown around, it wouldn’t hurt to actually talk to him for once without the malice you've harbored for him being in the way.

“Oh, I didn’t name her. Thanks though.” A blunt response, yet not quite matter-of-factly. 

You didn’t quite know how to respond, but you didn’t need to, as the man moved a pair of branches heavily decorated with leaves out of the way to get a better view of an area that finally contrasted the scene you had been seeing for the last half hour. It was another assemblage of stores and bars right next to each other. Thank god you already had all of your belongings on the back of your horse before the two of you left, otherwise you would have a new reason to be pissed off at him.

“We’ll still have to go back to the other part of the town because my friend is in that hospital, but for now let's take a break and have some lunch.” It was a bit shocking and almost struck you as foolish that he offered to take you to another restaurant after yesterday’s stunt.

“Don’t worry about paying for it, I’ve got you covered.” Well, that solves that.

The two of you get properly seated in the restaurant, with Johnny insisting no one help him with his wheelchair, almost stubbornly so. The walls were coated in patterned red wallpaper, with much better decorations and even utensils than the last one. Perhaps you should’ve made your heist here instead, but there was the chance that they’d have better security. Not to mention, what were the odds you’d find Johnny Joestar of all people in a burger joint? Though that did bring up the question of why he wanted to come specifically here instead of finding a place closer to the hotel.

“You decided burgers weren’t really your thing this time around?” You remark, holding the menu closer to your eyes. The words on this menu were unnecessarily small.

“Nah they are, I just wanted to come to this place again. I had been here before back when I was a jockey and traveled more.”

“Ah..” You bit your lip. It must’ve been a sore subject to talk about for him, so you wouldn’t pester him about it any further. “Why are you treating me to lunch?”

No immediate response from him, it almost looked like he was ignoring you in favor of deciding what he wanted on the menu.  You placed your elbow on the table with your hand pushing against your cheek, your lip jutting out not dissimilar to a sad puppy who was getting enough attention.

“No reason,” He said, not even looking up from the menu. “If you try the same thing as the other day though, I’ll be the one to shoot your ass this time.” Squinting your eyes, you could see a hint of a smirk on his face. Before you could utter ‘try me’, the waitress came to your table to take your orders. It was a quick exchange, and she took your menus and left as soon as she came. Johnny’s eyes were still planted on her as she disappeared into the kitchen. 

“You some kind of creep?” You accused, almost bringing up your memories of seeing the jockey with about a dozen girls on him in his former days, but bit your tongue.

He shook his head. “‘Course not. But I was thinking of how you’d look in that waitress outfit instead.”

Your face threatened to redden against your will. Blinking, it took you a moment to process that.

Was..was he flirting?

“What..would make you think about that?” You spat more than intended. “You’re saying that like you literally didn’t put on someone else’s uniform on little than 24 hours ago.”

He had a point. Your fists still balled up on the table.

“Yeah, I can see it.” He continued. “You’d look like a doll.”

You squint your eyes tight, unable to take his compliments without getting flustered. It was frankly embarrassing just how much of a physical reaction you had to it. And he was just..staring at you. No visible change in his expression. Then again, you could barely see it considering your eyes were shut.

He pointed a finger at you. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not coming onto you or anything. I just call it as I see it.”

You couldn’t even tell if that was meant to be reassuring or not. When you looked up at him, he still kept that nonchalant face, not seeming to get any particular joy or satisfaction from seeing you like this. Tapping his finger on the table, he stared into the air for a second.

“I shouldn’t have let her take my menu, I wanted to know what dessert they have..”

Your jaw nearly dropped. How could he carelessly say something like that and then change the subject?

 This man would kill you sooner or later without even having to shoot..

[ericsonclan]

The Gentle Warmth of Friendship

Summary: Brody and Violet journey with their Pokemon when suddenly they meet someone new.

Word Count: 3353

Read on AO3:

“Are you sure we’re heading in the right direction?” Brody asked as she struggled to balance the PokeNav in her hand while gently holding Cleffa. Ralts walked beside her, calm and collected as it followed its trainer.

“Clef?” The small pokemon looked up at its trainer’s face and saw the worry in her eyes. Brody’s brows furrowed as she studied the map. Prescott shouldn’t be far away from the route they were on.

“I don’t know. Aasim said to stay on route 116 and keep walking until we see a road marker that points towards Prescott,” Violet shuffled the pack on her back. Part of her wanted to take a break for the day and set up camp. But another, bigger part of her wanted to continue on. If the two of them walked on and didn’t stop, they could reach the town by nightfall.

“Okay, well I’m sure we’ll be able to find it,” Brody jogged forward and caught up with her friend. The auburn gave a friendly smile to Violet who offered a small one in return. Cubone walked alongside Violet and kept one hand on its weapon and another on her pant leg. The pokemon had always been extremely attached to Violet ever since the day she had found it after its mother’s passing.

Violet looked down with a smile. “You let me know if you get tired, Cubone, and we can stop,”

The words made Cubone look up with big eyes. “Cu? Cubone!” it cried happily and its grip on Violet’s pant leg tightened. Violet shook her head good-naturedly then turned her sights up ahead. Cubone had a tendency to push itself too hard but that only made things worse for the pokemon. With how tired it got it sometimes couldn’t keep up with Violet. At that point Cubone would start to cry from loneliness, causing a sad melody to vibrate throughout the skull it wore on its head, making it shake.

“Veno!”

The sudden call made Brody and Violet stop to see that Venonat had gotten distracted by rock collecting. The bug type pokemon pitter pattered over and stopped in front of Violet. Its large red eyes looked into hers as it held up the item. “Venonat!”

“For me?” Violet knelt down and gave a soft smile as her pokemon handed over the item before she tucked it away. “Thanks.”

“Nat! Nat!” The pokemon exclaimed happily and did a small dance before it gave Violet a look. Instantly the trainer knew what it wanted and carefully picked up her pokemon. Soon the two trainers were off on the route once more.

“Doesn’t carrying all those rocks become tiring?” Brody looked over at Violet who glanced over her way. Violet moved a bit closer to Brody and brought her voice down to a whisper.

“I don’t keep all of them. My pack gets too fucking heavy so when Venonat is napping I usually place them to the side or give them to some wild pokemon I see if they’re friendly.” Violet’s explanation made Brody chuckle softly. The reaction made Violet frown. “It's not funny.”

“Sorry, no, it's just that's really sweet. You really do love your pokemon, Vi.” Brody smiled softly and Violet looked away.

“Yeah, of course. I’d be a pretty shitty trainer if I didn’t think about my pokemon.”

“Speaking of trainers, I can’t wait to see the others in Prescott,” Brody’s eyes shone with joy and her Ralts moved closer towards her, drawn in by her positive emotions.

“Me too. I bet you’re really excited to see one trainer in particular,” Violet teased her friend who nudged her arm.

“Hey! I’m gonna be happy to see the others too! I haven’t seen Ruby in ages and Minnie will definitely want to challenge me to a pokemon battle when we arrive.” As Brody spoke Cleffa held onto her finger, snuggling it contentedly. “But yeah, I can’t wait to see Mitch either and watch that confident smirk turn dorky as soon as he sees me.”

“Not like your face is any better. You two short circuit around each other.” Violet’s words made Brody grow embarrassed.

“Well, it's not like you and Prisha are any better. You told me you dropped your PokeNav into the curry the last time you two camped together because she surprised you with a hug from behind!” Brody was now the one with the smug, teasing expression on her face while Violet felt overwhelmed.

“Whatever, the Pokenav still worked and besides, it's not as embarrassing as that berry incident,” Violet’s smile returned when she saw that Brody clearly remembered that day.

“Well played, Vi. Anyways, I heard that Prescott has quite the gym leader.” Brody shifted their conversation before rummaging around in her pockets. She offered some berries and other treats to Violet. Violet gave a small thanks before handing some of the treats to her pokemon before munching on a berry herself.

“Yeah, I heard the gym there is tough. The Fairy gym leader is known to kick anyone’s ass that challenges him,”

Brody nodded and was about to add to that when suddenly a patch of grass to her right rustled wildly. Both trainers stopped in their tracks and carefully studied the grass. Violet instinctively moved forward in front of Brody and prepared to defend her friend if need be.

The grass continued to move until suddenly a purple blob pokemon wiggled forward. Its beady little eyes looked at Brody then Violet before it smiled. “Ditto!” It cried happily then noticed Venonat staring at it from the safety of Violet’s arms. WIthout warning the Ditto began to transform and became an exact replica of the bug type pokemon.

“Veno?” Violet’s Venonat looked somewhat scared but squirmed out of Violet’s arms. Cautiously it moved forward and examined the Ditto who now looked exactly like it. Venonat did a few different motions with its claws and they were mirrored with ease. “Nat! Nat!” The pokemon screeched and waddled back frantically, clutching onto Violet’s leg desperately.

“Ditto?” Ditto looked confused as to why that had scared its potential new friend. The Ditto morphed back into its original form and was about to imitate another pokemon to see if it could become friends with it when all of sudden a soft voice called out to it.

“Ditto! There you are!” A trainer ran forward, his dark hair getting in the way of his eyes as he scooped up the Ditto. “I thought I told you, no running off and bugging other trainers,” The trainer scolded his pokemon before looking over at Violet and Brody. “Sorry about my Ditto.”

“It's fine,” Violet mumbled and picked up her Venonat.

“Yeah, your Ditto was just trying to make friends, right?” Brody smiled over at the trainer who nodded slowly.

“Ditto always tries to make new friends, thinks that it will help with my social anxiety,” the trainer explained, gesturing with his hands a lot and causing Ditto to nearly slip out of his arms.

“Well, there was no harm done. I’m Brody and this is Violet,” The auburn trainer gestured to herself then to Violet who gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

“It's nice to meet you. My name is James,” The trainer’s soft voice grew a bit quieter. It had been a while since he had run into trainers that weren’t mad that his Pokemon had bugged them. “Well, I should get-”

“Riolu!” A pokemon cried out protectively and ran forward. Its little paws whacked against the ground before the blue pokemon slid in front of James. Its red eyes dared Brody and Violet to even try to take a step forward.

“Riolu! No!” James placed down Ditto and reached out to stop his Riolu from starting a fight like it usually did. “These are nice trainers. What did I say about fighting?”

“Ri!” The pokemon huffed as it looked back at its trainer. James picked it up, now holding both his pokemon in his arms. Riolu’s eyes soon snapped over at the group once more. Quickly it sensed the auras surrounding the two trainers and their pokemon. Brody had a calm, comforting aura and her Cleffa and Ralts seemed to have a similar aura radiating off of them as well. Riolu looked over and noticed the spooked aurora around Venonat and felt the lonely aura around Cubone although it seemed to be tamer than other Cubones and an undertone of happiness danced within its aura. Lastly Riolu looked over at Violet and noticed her quiet, subtle aura. There was no malice or anger amongst them. The pokemon glanced back at its trainer. Now that Riolu thought about it, James’ aura was unusually calm too. “Ri, Ri,” Riolu grumbled and settled down.

“Thank you,” James hugged his pokemon softly. “Sorry about Riolu. He tends to get overprotective of me,”

“That's okay, just shows that you have a good bond with your pokemon,” Violet’s words made James’ eyes grow large. They had clearly meant a lot to him. He was about to thank her for them but a laugh made all three trainers pause. They looked over to see two grunts strolling forward. Both of them had a menacing aura to them and the look in their eyes made it clear they were looking for trouble.

“Look, Joey, we found some cool pokemon for the boss!” The grunt on the left smiled smugly at his friend.

“Yeah, I bet the boss is gonna give us a promotion. Maybe we can even get to choose one of the next Pokemon in the ring!” Joey’s eyes shone with a twisted joy.

“I don’t know who you are but we don’t want trouble,” Brody spoke up and drew the two grunts’ attention.

“Well, we do and we want your pokemon too!” Joey strode forward but Violet stood in front of the group alongside James’ Riolu who had wiggled out of its trainer’s arms.

“Get your own Pokemon and leave us the hell alone!” Violet growled at the grunts, her eyes burning with warning.

The two grunts shared a look and began to laugh.

“Who’s gonna stop us? Your little bug? Listen, just give us the Cubone, Riolu, Ditto and Ralts and we’ll let you keep your shitty pokemon.” There was cocky confidence in the grunt’s orders. Those words caused three different reactions from the trainers. Violet gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists while James slowly strode forward, his eyes shimmering coldly. Brody gathered Ditto, Ralts, and Venonat together who Violet had told to go back to her.

“You would try to tear apart pokemon from their trainers? I won’t let you do that.” James’ calm aura had shifted and he was ready to fight if need be.

Heh, you don’t have a choice! We’re taking them by force! Ready, Justin?” Joey smiled over to his friend as he took out his pokeball.

“I’m always ready! We’re gonna show these dumbasses the might of Team Delta!” Justin unclipped his pokeball from his hip and tossed it in the air. The ball flew high before a light hummed from inside it and a pokemon emerged. A Machoke landed on the ground and shook its fist as it looked over at Violet and James. Its left eye was missing and scars littered its body. The sight pained James’ heart. What had happened to this pokemon? Had its trainer done this? Before James could ponder further Joey threw his pokeball and a Skarmory appeared in front of them. It gave a high pitched cry causing Brody, Violet and James to cover their ears. Its metal wings were damaged and its beak was bent. Violet clenched both of her fists. These two didn’t give a shit about any pokemon, even their own.

“Violet, would you help me in this battle?” James looked over with determination. Clearly he was just as upset by the sight before him as Violet was.

“Yeah.” Violet nodded and knelt down in front of her Cubone. “I’m going to need your help.” “Cubone!” The pokemon cried to hype itself up and waved around the bone weapon it wielded.

“Riolu, are you ready?” James asked his pokemon companion who got into a fighting stance.

“Riolu!” The pokemon declared proudly and glared at the Delta grunts.

“Okay then. We challenge you to a pokemon battle!” James yelled as he stood beside Violet.

“Bring it, losers!” Justin laughed then gave the first command. “Machoke, use low kick!”

“Choke!” Machoke roared and charged forward. It used its left leg to stabilize itself before sending a devastating low kick directly at Riolu’s face. Riolu lifted its arms to block the attack and soften the blow as it skidded backwards. Dust and dirt flew through the air; the battle had begun.

“Cubone, use headbutt!” Violet instructed and her pokemon charged forward with its head turned downwards towards Machoke.

“Cu!” the pokemon cried and landed a direct hit but it didn’t seem to do much damage.

“Skarmory, use wing attack!” Joey snapped and the pokemon immediately obeyed. Its sharp wings shone in the light and it flew forward, spinning wildly before its wings slashed out at Cubone. Cubone whimpered in pain and stumbled back. It was a super effective move.

“Cubone!” Violet glared at Joey with fiery hatred in her eyes. “You piece of shit!” Her anger only made Joey’s twisted smile grow. Violet’s jaw tightened; she wouldn’t give up so easily.  “Cubone, use headbutt!”

Cubone listened and charged forward, ramming into the Skarmory.

“Heh, you’re so fucking stup-’

“Now! Use Bone rush!” Violet’s words made Joey freeze as Cubone used its bone and harshly hit Skarmory again and again. Skarmory cried out  and tried to get away but the Cubone was too close and unusually fast.

“Justin! Help!” Joey yelled but his friend ignored him. He was too busy having fun using Machoke to low kick Riolu again and again.

“I don’t have time for your whiny shit, Joey! I’m busy beating the shit out of this twerp!” His words made James shake with anger.

“Riolu, use quick attack to dodge the next blow!” James cried and Riolu gave a nod. As soon as Machoke tried to use another low kick Riolu used quick attack, zooming underneath the outstretched leg.

“Machoke?” Machoke spun around this way and that to find its opponent.

“Now, use metal claw!” James’ voice rang out and danced around the battlefield as Riolu appeared through its makeshift shield of dust. Its claws shone as it tore at Machoke. Machoke gave a pained sound and tried to retaliate but Riolu slipped into the dusty wind once more. James continued on like this, commanding Riolu to use quick attacks to dodge Machoke’s onslaught before sending in a metal claw attack of its own. Slowly but surely Riolu was chipping away at Machoke’s health until James called out for the finishing blow. “Riolu, use force palm!”

“Ri, Ri!” Riolu dashed forward and appeared in front of Machoke. Getting on its left leg Riolu lifted up its right one slightly and got into a fighting stance. Moving both of its paws back it charged up a devastating attack and sent its right paw forward, crashing into Machoke’s chest.

“Choke?” Machoke stumbled back, frightened that it had lost. It tried to reach out to Justin but folded over and collapsed on the ground.

Justin tsked angrily and held out the pokeball to retrieve the pokemon. “Fucking useless! I’ll just have to steal a better pokemon,” Justin tossed aside the pokeball into a pile of mud nearby then looked over to see how Joey was faring.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!!” Joey yelled. “Skarmory! Use fly now!”

Skarmory tried its best to get away as fast as possible but it turned out to be fruitless.

“Cubone, use bonemerang!” Violet’s words made the Delta grunt’s eyes shake with realization.

“Cu, cu!” Cubone lifted up its arm and with a mighty toss threw its bone through the air. The attack connected and hit the Skarmory in mid flight. The pokemon gave another high pitched cry which made Violet and James cover their ears once more before Skarmory fell from the sky. Joey didn’t seem worried at all. In fact, it looked like he was going to let it fall to the ground. Violet and James ran forward at the same time to catch the pokemon, sliding across the ground to save it just in time. They had been able to stop the Skarmory from getting severely harmed even though it would definitely cost them a few bruises over the coming days.

“Argh!” Joey reluctantly held out his pokeball to retrieve Skarmory before he noticed that Justin had discarded his pokemon. Joey thought for a moment and followed suit, tossing aside his pokeball like it was nothing.

“How dare you!” Brody ran forward and carefully fished the two pokeballs out of the mud.

“You two are just selfish assholes!” Violet spat with venom and strode forward with James.

In that moment all of Justin and Joey’s bravery seemed to disappear and they frantically pushed each other out of the way as they tried to escape. They were fighting each other so much that a small pouch slipped out of Justin’s pocket without him even realizing it. “Team Delta won’t forget about this!” Justin yelled angrily then turned and disappeared down the road with Joey.

The three trainers were quiet for a few moments before Violet and James turned their attention to their Pokemon. Violet carefully checked Cubone’s injuries and took out a potion spray. Gently she began to spray the wounds and used some bandages to make sure no infection got into the injuries before they reached Prescott and could visit a PokeCenter. James frantically checked Riolu for injuries before tenderly holding the Pokemon in his arms.

“Thank you, for helping me fight them off,” James smiled softly at Violet.

Violet picked up Cubone who clutched onto her shirt. The blonde trainer looked over at James then glanced away. “It was no big deal. Someone had to stop those assholes,” Violet offered a small smile towards James then turned towards Brody who was sadly looking at the pokeballs which held the discarded Pokemon. “We should see if Prescott has a Pokemon sanctuary.”

Brody glanced up at Violet’s words and nodded. “I don’t know who would abandon their Pokemon like this.”

“Heartless people, that's who. I’ve seen it before,” Violet walked forward and stopped beside Brody. “They’ll be okay.”

That made a gentle smile appear on Brody’s lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Thanks for watching out for Venonat too,” Violet offered a small smile her friend’s way.

“No problem.” Brody’s lips held the same smile until an idea crossed her mind. “Oh, James, would you like to journey with us to Prescott? It could be safer to have others with you in case Team Delta shows up again. Plus, it's always more fun to travel with company,”

James’ eyes grew large at Brody’s offer. He studied her eyes for a moment and saw she was truly genuine. Glancing over, he noticed Violet gave a small nod in agreement and that she was being genuine too. “Alright, I haven’t traveled with others in a while so I may not be the best company,” James readjusted his pack then hurried forward with Ditto and Riolu.

“That's okay. I tend to do the most talking anyway since Violet can get lost in her thoughts and be kinda standoffish, especially with new people. But practice makes perfect so speak up whenever you feel comfortable,” Brody smiled over at James before looking at Violet who was frowning slightly at Brody’s description of her and quickly glanced away.

James was silent, processing the kindness he had been offered while watching as Brody reassured Violet who shrugged her off but seemed to not have taken offense. It was clear these two were close friends and maybe, just maybe they could be his friends too. James looked at the road ahead. It could be wishful thinking but he wanted to believe otherwise. These two definitely made him want to believe.

[symphonyofthewrite]

Such Fragile Things (Ch2) 

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Summary: Dracula thought love was gentle...but it is more piercing than any stake. He knows this best when his son is born (Ch1), and in his final moments (Ch2).

Character focus: Dracula and Alucard 

Notes: I also posted this on my writng blog @antihero-writings if you want to check it out there!! 

A huge thank you to everyone who commented and/or reblogged the first chapter!! <3 <3

**Major spoilers for S2 E7:"For Love"**

Chapter 2: His Father's Death

Dracula throws the golden man into wall, hard enough to break it, revealing the room on the other side.

Nails against the wood, against stone, footsteps merciless as a death toll, blood in the burning halls; Dracula is the monster from the stories after all.

He stalks into the room, his cloak furling behind him, seeking his prey. The kind of snarl only things not-quite-human-anymore make emanates from his throat.

The moment he crosses the threshold, that snarl morphs into a gasp, and, as if it were some magic barrier…everything looks different.

His cloak falls softly, quietly, like a hand on his shoulder.

This dhampir, this man, up until now has been Alucard. The reverse of him. The thing meant to destroy him and stop his war. A hunter of vampires that is himself a vampire—(or half of one at least). No, not a vampire hunter. Just Dracula’s hunter. All he has been is another thing in Dracula’s way.

But this thing sitting against the bed, failing to catch his breath, golden hair falling about his face…looks different.

A little boy is gasping, leaning on his wooden sword just to stay up.

“Father, do you think we can stop? I need a break.”

Vlad laughs, and the sound is warm. His hands fall to his sides and his smiles, stepping up to his son.

“Of course, Adrian.” He puts his hand on his shoulder/ruffles his hair. “You’ve done well today.

He is…so small.

This bed. A bookshelf. A wardrobe. A desk, with charts and maps. A basket of toys in the corner. All too small. Too dusty.

The window is letting too much light in.

On the wall, a painting of a family. Too happy.

…a boy, hurting, beneath the bed.

Not a hunter, or an annoyance, or an enemy. Not a mindless, heartless, thing. Not an other. Not a him or an it to be disposed of, but a living, breathing, thinking, hurting you.

A very specific you. A you with a name. A you with whom Dracula had shared so much of his life. A you who perhaps knew Vlad more than anymore else. Not a him or an it to be destroyed, a you that he needed so desperately to keep alive.

Not Alucard; the thing meant to destroy him.

Adrian.

“It’s your room.”

His fingers, a moment ago poised to claw at this man, curl gently into a fist, hiding his nails.

The rest of the castle was drenched in bloodshed. The rest of the castle was full of war. The rest of the castle had turned itself towards it’s master’s deeds, destroying itself in a pointless fight, just like him.

But not this room. He had protected this room from all the blood. He dare not bring it with him.

The heavens turn from hazardous red to delicate blue.

Both of them stare up into the stars. Not the real ones—though they are here to guide them too. The ones on the ceiling. The ones they played under, read under, the ones this golden man once dreamed under, the ones he used to learn their names and places in the sky when he was but a child. The rich blue like a spell, putting the warriors into a trance in the middle the battlefield.

—(But this isn’t the battlefield, and that’s why the war must stop here)—

The blood is clearing from Vlad’s view. It has been a long time since he’s seen the world without the blood.

The room has been empty for a while, but the boy it belongs to is here now.

And, in his proper place, all at once this golden man is that fragile thing again. That thing that could break if Vlad held him wrong. That thing Vlad, more than anything, wanted to keep alive, to protect, and who he would die for before he ever saw him get hurt.

Barely perceptible, Vlad is shaking.

His hands are no longer claws against the walls. He sees them for what ugly, monstrous things they are. Ugly, monstrous, because of what they’ve been doing. He crosses them over his chest, as if to cage them; as if trying to keep them from hurting anything, ever, anymore. As if to feel his own heartbeat, and remind himself there is still something living there.

This is the boy who he played cards, and chess, and swords with. This is the boy who asked about the myths in the stars, and the ones in our hearts. This is the boy who he bounced on his knee, and read to, and comforted when he cried, and on very special occasions sang to sleep.

“My boy.”

Adrian is trying to stand, and for a moment his father sees a tiny thing on wobbly legs reaching for his open arms.

“I-I’m killing my boy.”

Dracula steps to the painting—(though he can barely feel his feet)—where an echo of his wife sits on canvas, holding that infant golden thing.

He remembers her now. He wasn’t sure he did before.

“Lisa…I’m killing our boy.” His voice is soft and cracked and breakable itself. “We painted this room. We…made these toys…”

He was never one for sentiment, never grew attached to objects…but as he looks around at this room, and the things in it, those moments are flickering through his mind now—(is this what they mean when they say one’s life flashes before your eyes? Had he really forgotten so much? Had he really forgotten what life was?)—and the blood seems so obscene now.

Not in front of Adrian.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

With an exhale Alucard gets up, and it sounds like the world being crushed into a fine powder. The motion is not gentle…it comes with a cracking and all-too clear purpose, and now his steps are as calculated and foreboding as Dracula’s were moments ago.

Vlad’s hands are now too dangerous to let sit at his sides, so he uses them to cover his eyes…to hide his pain from the world, to hide the world from his pain. A feeble defense against the pointed intention in his son’s own dangerous hands. Playing peekaboo one last time.

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He hears Adrian’s breath very close to him, but it is not that of a beast ready to pounce, it is heavy, like the world is sitting on his chest.

He takes his claws from his eyes to look into his son’s face.

Vlad laughs, and the sound is cold.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.”

“What?”

“You didn’t kill me before. You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.”

“Do I?!”

“You died when my mother died. You know you did. This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

And if he could hurt this boy—Adrian—who he loved more than anything, then:

“I must already be dead.”

Adrian’s eyes are not full of malice. He is not like anyone else that would try to kill the vampire king. Anyone else’s eyes would not be soft; they would be solid and still, pointed and gleaming with with hunger and hate. Anyone else wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t be gentle.

Even now, Adrian’s eyes are still full of sunlight; trembling, rippling, ripping sunlight.

It is not fear, nor anger that makes his eyes shudder. It is heartbreak. Imminent heartbreak.

Because he wishes he could save him. Because he knows he cannot.

His heart has been aching for a very long time, slowly coming apart, and it is about to shatter. This golden man is about to split his own chest for the sake of saving the world.

Once upon a time all the stories they told him ended happily, and families stayed together, and no one ever died. His heart must fracture, for he knows their own cannot.

How could Dracula ever try to take that sunlight from the world, when Lisa had brought it down to him from her place in the sky? He’d traveled the world in search of the sun...but his sunlight was right here…and if he couldn’t see that then…

He closes his eyes. He opens them. A silent ask. A silent answer. They both know.

Alucard steps closer. And it is not to hold him tight—(no matter how much he they both wish he could just wrap his arms around him and cry, like long ago, and understand that after the rain everything would be better).

Now Dracula is the fragile thing. And they both know what he must do.

He is trying to be gentle. For love is the only thing that can be harsh in the kindest word, and gentle in the cruelest stroke.

That horrible cracking, crackling, squelching sound. Red drips from his chest along the golden man’s sleeve.

It isn’t death, really. It is mercy. Mercy on humanity. Mercy on Vlad himself. Death had already administered its kiss when Lisa died. And in his undead state Dracula had tried to spread that death to everything and everywhere else, in the world’s most exorbitant suicide note.

“Son.” The word is soft, rasping; the wind in a hollow house.

“Father.” The word is a broken plea; the sun on the abandoned floorboards and dolls, wishing it could illuminate the family that once lived there instead—

And this hurts, yes, but even so, it is the love behind it that is more piercing than any stake.

Love has never been breakable. Love is what does the breaking.

There is something defiant in Alucard’s eyes as he drives it in farther.

His heartbeat fills the room.

And, after much bending, the stake bores through, and the mirror breaks.

—(And for a moment Adrian could have sworn the sound came from his chest)—

Dracula does not burst into flame. Death, for him, is not an explosive show. It is soft whispers: he turns slowly to ashes, without any burn.

Vlad wants to wrap his arms around this small, precious, golden thing one last time. To say goodbye.

Adrian never looked at his father like a monster before, never backed away from his touch, but Dracula could swear the fear in his eyes now—(a little boy hiding from the thunder)—is the only reason the breath is leaving his chest.

Adrian is so, so tiny. (And after everything, he cannot bring himself to deliver the last stroke.)

Dracula’s last thought, the sonnet of a dying monster, is not a curse, or a threat, but something very gentle indeed.

Lisa, Adrian…I’m so sorry.

The only thing left of him is a wedding ring.