#on first listen i was a little wary in the beginning and then just couldn't stop smiling

[mikimeiko]

Albums I listened to in 2024

From Rotting Fantasylands - Nero's Day at Disneyland (2013)

[bluehwale]

Ok sooo, you said that I could send my request and I couldn't wait any longer. The first fic is when they confessed for reader, but I'll love to know how they met reader and how they became that tight friend, a prequel if you will. That was it, thanks dear!

"the rainbow thief": the beginning | demigods! poly ateez au

01 / ‘the rainbow thief’ masterpost / next

summary. you never expected to be in a camp meant for demigods but, here you are. you also didn't expect on becoming friends with a brooding emo boy who introduces you to five of his friends, nor do you expect to meet two bickering best friends but, here you are. or alternatively, you meet eight boys that makes your life much more bearable.

pairing(s). ot8 demigods! ateez x daughter of iris! reader (son of hades! hongjoong, son of athena! hwa, son of apollo! yunho, son of poseidon! yeosang, son of zeus! san, son of aphrodite! mingi, son of dionysus! wooyoung & son of ares! jongho)

word count. 2.7k

genre. crack, flustered joong, fluff!, san being clumsy (again)

warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, alcohol intake (wooyoung and his wine), impulsive writing so it's not the best, camp half blood universe inaccuracies help

note. thankyou for the req and im so sorry i posted it so late!! i totally forgot abt tumblr bc i was having too much fun on my spring break im sorry T_T but it's here now!!! i also won't be accepting any more requests for demigods! atz </3

Hongjoong feels sick.

“I think you’re fine.” Yunho frowns, pressing his palm against Hongjooong’s forehead one last time just to make sure. The healer did everything he could, even resorting to human hospital’s protocol check-ups when his hyung refused the usual nectar and ambrosia because he insists that, “something’s really wrong with me, Yunho, and I don’t think those can fix it.”

The healer can only groan inwardly at his friend’s stubbornness because there’s nothing a little nectar, ambrosia, and his glowing fingertips can’t fix. But of course, he continues to entertain him as he’s not in the mood to test the patience of a son of Hades today.

“What are your symptoms again?” Yunho asks flatly, inflating the cuff wrapped around Hongjoong’s upper arm to gauge his blood pressure again (in truth, he doesn’t know how to read a blood pressure monitor but does it anyway for Hongjoong’s sake) to appease his “patient” who is currently sitting on a cot because he feels “sick.”

“I had this really weird feeling in my stomach, like, it feels like my organs are squashed around and everything inside me turned upside down,” Yunho frowns. Okay, that sounds pretty serious. “And my face got all hot, my feet couldn’t stop twitching, and I stuttered too!” Hongjoong continues, bringing a hand to his head in worry. “This doesn’t feel like me at all.”

“Hyung, was there anything that made you feel anxious?” eyebrows furrowed in concern, Yunho regards Hongjoong carefully. “If there’s anything troubling your mind lately, I’m here to listen.”

“No, I don’t think it’s anything like that—”

An unfamiliar figure suddenly pops inside the curtain circling the cot, momentarily surprising Yunho and leaving Hongjoong stunned once he recognizes the person in front of him. 

“Sorry, hi,” you grimace, feeling apologetic towards the tall boy you scared with your uninvited presence. You just got here, alone and wary, with a few scratches here and there from being chased by monsters, so you hope the cute boy with soft looking hair in front of you is the person you’re looking for and that your day won’t be even more ruined by an embarrassing moment of you mistaking him for another person. “I was told to find a Yunho here? They said he could give me something to help with my injuries.”

Forgetting entirely about his hyung’s complaints, Yunho rapidly deflates the cuff still circling Hongjoong’s arm and rips it off in a rushed manner, earning a loud yelp from the poor raven haired boy still sitting on the cot (he did not end up checking the numbers on the monitor).

Hongjoong feels his heartbeat quicken when your gaze lands on him once you stand on your tippy toes to look over Yunho’s shoulder in curiosity. A smile threatens to creep up on his own face when he notices your eyes brighten and a sweet smile curling up your lips. “Oh, Hongjoong! Hi!”

“_____. Good to see you again.”

Yunho flicks his eyes back and forth between you and Hongjoong, mischievously grinning at the interaction you’re both having because it takes awhile for Hongjoong to warm up to people and it seems like you’re new, so to think that Hongjoong has warmed up to you that quick, you must be quite the character. Or maybe, the emotionally stunted son of Hades has finally taken an interest in someone.

Yunho leans towards the latter. And he can’t wait to tell the others about this so they can all tease him about it.

“Oh,” you take note of him sitting on a cot and remind yourself that you’re in the infirmary, causing your eyes to rake over Hongjoong in worry. “Are you okay? You’re hurt?”

“No! I’m perfectly fine!” The raven haired boy who was previously complaining about his “weakened knees” suddenly sprang up from the bed, seemingly energized, and pushes a gawking Yunho over your direction with a tight grip on the back of his shoulders. “You should let Yunho check up on you then get some rest. Hope you feel better soon.”

You smile in thanks at the boy you met a few hours prior, the first person who greeted you when you stepped foot on camp, and bid him a goodbye as he turns to leave the infirmary to let Yunho tend to you alone.

Before he could, however, you nonchalantly tell him, “I like those glasses on you. Looks cute.”

A pause, and then, there it is.

Hongjoong’s cheeks slowly flame a bright pink, the soles of his sneakers nervously squeaking against the hardwood floors as he turns his head to face you with his eyes flicking to every corner of the room and anywhere that does not land on your figure. An intangible noise escapes his throat. “T-thanks.”

Oh. Yunho slaps a hand over his mouth as he tries his damn best to stifle in the laughter to save face of Hongjoong’s dignity. 

Hongjoong’s not sick.

For the first time ever, Hongjoong is flustered.

  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ✺◟( • ω • )◞✺

“That’s _____? Hongjoong’s _____?”

Hongjoong smacks the back of the two-tone haired boy’s head as he hisses, “If you don’t lower your fucking voice.”

Wooyoung’s yowl of pain is followed with a death glare shot at his hyung, the slightly tipsy boy hugging his ‘I LOVE DIONYSUS’ mug close to his chest to avoid any unnecessary spillage of perfectly good wine. “What was that for?” he cries. “They won’t even be able to hear me,” he grumbles, pointing to the group of Iris kids noisily huddled together in celebration of winning a game of Capture the Flag against the Athena kids. An impressive rarity. Athena kids are known to be very strategic with their battle plans, even in mere simulations like the game they play every Friday, which is why the Iris kids are especially happy. 

Yunho tsks at the slurring of his friend’s speech, forcefully wrangling the mug of wine away from the alcohol fiend. Or at least, he attempts to, for the son of Dionysus quickly snatches the mug to avoid his prying fingers, an expression of mocking retaliation sent his way.  

“She’s so cool,” Mingi dreamily sighs, having hearts as eyes as he continues to look at you in awe. You’re in the center of the Iris kids circle, a wide smile plastered on your lips as everyone else rejoices on your team’s victory. You meet eyes with both Hongjoong and Yunho (who is still busy trying to keep his feral friend at bay), sending an excited wave their way in greeting which earns back a proud thumbs up from Yunho and a genuinely heartwarming smile from Hongjoong.

“You have to introduce me to her!” Mingi gasps eagerly, hopping around Hongjoong while flailing his arms in glee, unknowingly landing hits on the silently seething raven haired boy who pointedly glares at him in return. 

“You can do it yourself.”

“Someone’s doing it right now,” Jongho points out, the rest of the boys turning their heads to see their own Seonghwa hyung, the head counselor of the Athena cabin, make his way towards you and shake your hand with a gentle smile. It seems that he’s congratulating you for your win and Jongho chortles at the obvious twinkle in the eldest’ eyes. He’s trying to make a move on you.

And he can see why Seonghwa, alongside Hongjoong and Yunho, has taken an interest in you. 

Because although your fellow siblings are urgently trying to sweep you into the dining pavilion for a celebratory dinner, you still take the time to meet the three new faces that are close friends with Hongjoong. Amidst the conversation between the rest of the boys and you, Jongho gets why it’s so easy for Hongjoong and Yunho to be close to you in the span of a week. Your contradictingly soft but bubbly personality seems to shine out of you, easily melting the coldest hearts (cough, Hongjoong hyung, cough), and the way you always seem to have an easy smile on your face softens just about anyone.

It’s easy to like you.

“Who are they?” you question your siblings once you’ve sat in the Iris table in the dining pavilion, distractedly biting onto your chopsticks as you try to be discreet in sneaking a look at the two lone boys sitting separately in the Zeus table and the Poseidon table. Both tables that, apparently, have been unoccupied for years.

A new kid of the big three; Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, always garner attention because they’re so rare in quantity. Especially now that there’s two of them, one of your siblings, Yuna, excitedly jumps to inform you. “We don’t know their names yet but I heard they came in while we were just starting the game. Probably why we didn’t hear anything about them until now,” she shrugs, shoving another piece of gimbap into her mouth. “But the other campers said they got claimed immediately after coming here! That’s usually unheard of from the big three.”

Your brother, Keeho, who took the displeasing choice of sitting beside Yuna grimaces in disgust as he force shut her open chewing mouth. “Don’t talk while you’re chewing.”

You take another look at the two boys sitting silently with their heads slightly lowered, taking note of the unhealed scratches and bruises blooming all over their skin. You gasp, turning back to Keeho to ask, “What happened to them?”

“Heard they were hunted by a minotaur which is why they’re both forced to come here. All of the Apollo kids were stationed at our game earlier in case anything happens, probably why they haven’t had the chance to be healed.”

You shovel the rest of your food down your throat, almost choking in the process which earned a few panicked concerns from your siblings, but you ignore them and quickly move to the closest table, the Zeus table, after chugging down water from your goblet. 

“Hi! I’m ______. It’s nice to meet you.”

The blonde looks up in surprise to see you and you use the short pause to take a good look at his face. Soft slanted eyes that oddly remind you of a cat’s greet you alongside a shy smile that spreads across his face and pops out both of his dimples. 

Oh, you think. You didn’t expect him to be so handsome. You’re screwed.

“_____,” he repeats your name, pleasantly basking in the friendly smile you give him. You slightly waver at the way he says your name so sweetly. “I’m San. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“How are you liking it here?” you ask, trying to start a conversation in hopes of easing his first-day jitters. “I’m also still pretty new here. Just got here last week, actually.”

You can see the tension seep out his shoulders after hearing that you’re one of the newer campers as he gladly sighs in relief. “I’m pretty nervous, I don’t really know what’s going on,” he lets out an emotionless chuckle. “I just found out that my dad isn’t my actual dad and that Zeus? The dude up in the sky? Is apparently my real dad.” 

“Yeah,” you grimace, you still haven’t fully grasped that either. “It took awhile for me to get kinda used to things here but I also somehow feel that I belong here,” you look at him, hoping your effort of comforting him is working. “I think you’ll fit in here soon enough. It’s okay to take things slow.”

This time, San genuinely smiles. “Thanks _____.”

“By the way,” he adds in a whisper, tugging your wrist to bring you closer to him, inadvertently causing your cheeks to warm. “I don’t know much about my… dad or Greek Mythology in that matter, but isn’t he like a major dickhead—”

A thunderous clap of lightning pierces through the suddenly darkened sky, striking a tree that stood closest to the dining pavilion, erupting it in booming flames. Surprised screams break out throughout the dining campers, everyone quickly turning their heads to look at San; the most probable culprit of angering the God of the Sky that one of their trees is now on fire.

“Oh, oops,” the guilty boy winces. “Sorry.”

“San, was that you?” a voice came from behind you, requiring you to turn around to see who it is and oh– it’s the boy who was sitting at the Poseidon table; the other new camper. The raven haired boy looks at you, taking in the horrified look on your face as you resume watching the tree burn after attempting to nod at him in greeting. “Man, what’d you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” the blonde boy Yeosang unfortunately calls his best friend, whines. “It’s just… maybe I said some words I shouldn’t have or whatever. Anyways, can’t you fix that? Shouldn’t you have, like, water powers or something?”

“We literally just got here, idiot,” Yeosang rolls his eyes, though he thinks it’d be pretty cool if he does end up having powers. He turns to your direction, taking the chance to talk to you now that he sees you’ve snapped out of your daze. “I’m sorry about him, he must’ve given you a hard time.”

San lets out an offended “hey!”

“No he didn’t,” you giggle. “It’s just,” you point at the still burning tree and a few campers circling it with buckets of water in hopes of putting out the fire. “It’s not everyday that you see stuff like this.”

Yeosang turns around, whistling lowly once he actually takes in the damage his best friend (his best friend’s dad, actually) has done. “Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” he says.

“Eh,” you shrug. “The Demeter kids are probably upset about it but it’s nothing they can’t fix.”

Your eyes widen, you totally forgot why you wanted to approach them in the first place. “Speaking of fixing,” you usher San out of his table and exchange proper introductions with the raven haired boy named Yeosang before dragging them by the wrists to the Apollo table. “You should really get those wounds healed. The Apollo kids here are the healers, they’ll know what to do.”

A tall boy, who Yeosang presumes to be Yunho based on your calls of his name, smoothly steps out of the table with his siblings and introduces himself to both of them. You told the healer about what you heard, that they were both hunted on the way here; hence the bruises from struggles of their escape. His eyes take in the exhausted figures of the two boys and he tells them that they should follow him to the infirmary to heal and rest up.

“Hey! Wait up!”

A boy with two-toned hair surprisingly holding a can of Diet Coke instead of his regular mug, skips to the group of four, tagging along the remaining of the boys behind him. Already exchanging greetings and introductions, the two new boys are slightly surprised at how friendly they all are but they absolutely do not mind at all, despite how they feel like their bones would crumble in exhaustion at any moment. 

As the nine of them move together towards the infirmary, Wooyoung keeps bugging Yeosang with stupid questions that makes San laugh. (“Can you turn water into wine?” “If I could, wouldn’t that be blasphemy? And shouldn’t you be the one who turns things to wine?”). He’s never met anyone like them and they’re a bit odd but he thinks that he likes that.

He looks at you walking side by side with Yunho, an imposing Mingi trying to squeeze in the very small space left between you and the healer who is now glaring at his tall friend. Jongho watches from the sides, enjoying the suffering his hyung is going through and letting out amused snickers now and then. Seonghwa and Hongjoong look like they’re fighting over something, arms messily flailing against one anothers’, with Seonghwa letting out occasional squeals. San can’t tell if they’re play fighting or serious. 

The blonde smiles, shoving his hands down his pockets. Staying at camp doesn’t sound all too bad now.

“I think you’ll fit in here soon enough.”

He thinks so too.

[languajix]

Cabin 14 Beach Day RP

Cabin 14 RPed the beginning of their collaboration project with Cabin 15 for the beach sports day event! Then we fic-ified it a little for readability.

As morning broke across the campground of the Fandom Family Reunion, whatever passed for the sun began to rise and paint everything golden and glowing, warming the scales of the turtle known amongst his cabin as Uncle Mike. He had just been on an early morning walkabout, popping in to say hi to a few friends he'd made thus far while his nephews napped in their little bedside nest.

As he approached the front door, he noticed a flyer stuck to it. Interesting. He tugged the loose piece of paper off as he scanned the contents, rocking on his heels and growing more excited by the second, then burst through the door and brandished it in the air with a grin.

"Hope everybody packed their swim trunks and snorkels! Looks like we've got a beach sports day!"

Spirit POV

Everyone on both floors of Cabin Fourteen were bustling through their usual morning routines. While his brother Mika brushed his teeth in the bathroom, Spirit sat on the edge of their bunk, swinging his legs, watching everybody do their thing. ICE Donnie was blinking himself awake from his pillow pile, rubbing his eyes with a groan. Uncle Mike's baby turtle nephews were making little sleepy peeps as well.

Through the gaps in the second floor railing, Spirit could see Scout and Scav leaning towards each other, deep in some sort of conversation that had morphed into nonsense noise by the time it filtered down to him. On the other side, Angelo had his back to the cabin, arm raised, glowing a little like he was doing some sort of magic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spirit even thought he might have caught a glimpse of one of their special ops cabinmates moving past a window. Maybe. They were really hard to spot unless they wanted to be seen.

Then Uncle Mike burst in with an announcement! The next event was going to be...

“Beach?!” Spirit squeaked in excitement, he’d never been to the beach nor had he ever had a beach-related experience in the past, but there was a first for everything!

Uncle Mike raised the flyer in the air as though it would help prove his point in any way, wrinkled and folded over on itself as it was. "Yep! I've been by the lake before, and there is, in fact, a beach! Sand, something that I am pretty sure might be water if you squint... looks like it's going to be a fun day! I might see if my almost-brother Don wants to watch the kids; maybe they can build sandcastles or something."

Don. Spirit remembered Uncle Mike coming back to the cabin in the past couple of weeks with some stories to tell, saying he'd met a younger version of his brother - the Donatello who was in another dimension. The Donatello that Uncle Mike had met at the camp was apparently double mutated, or something - big, with lots of teeth, and Uncle Mike couldn't understand him through the growls, but as with most things, that didn't stop Uncle Mike from talking and trying to make friends.

Uncle Mike hopped towards his duffel bag at the foot of his bed, rummaging around in it for a second, and then humming happily while pulling something out: a strip of red fabric with two eyeholes.

He leaned in towards everybody currently in the cabin. Then he leaned back, looked around as though wary of spies or sneaky listeners-in, and finally leaned back towards his cabinmates. "...okay, everybody in here is going to see through my disguise faster than Clark Kent's glasses, so I'm letting you in on a little... secret. Me and a buddy of mine who is equally as handsome and fond of the color orange - we might actually be twins from another ooze - are gonna be causing some chaos. This guy has lots of great ideas, honestly, and I can't wait. We are cooking, as the youth say.

...But! Since this is a Raph-themed event, it's only appropriate for a Raph to be the one doing it. And if at the end of it all, they can't pin it on me because they think my brother - who is conveniently not here - was behind it all? Well then, that would be just too bad, wouldn't it?"

He dangled the red mask in front of them with a very devious grin and a wink. "I can trust you guys not to tell, right? Keep my secret identity?"

It took a second for Spirit to grasp what Uncle Mike was saying before it finally clicked and he let out a gasp and clapped his hands with a cheeky smile, “your secret is safe with me, Uncle Raphy!”

"I knew I could count on you, Spirit," Uncle Mike Uncle Raphy said, deepening his voice and doing a funny accent. "You make me - your red, buff, grumpy-on-the-outside-but-soft-on-the-inside uncle Raph who has been here the entire time - very proud. And if the best most awesome uncle Mike was here in the room with us, I'm sure he'd say the same."

With that, Uncle Mike pulled his own mask off over his head and worked at wrapping the red one around his eyes, doing up the knot with his singular hand. He started to frown and flex his arm muscles a little. Was this how Uncle Mike's Raph acted? Frowny and kind of silly, with a deep voice and an accent?

The cabin door swung open again, a little more controlled, this time, and Raphael and Cerulean made their way inside, boxes and boxes in hand. "Hey guys! We brought breakfast!" Raphael grinned, brandishing the towering stack in his arms.

"And news," Cerulean chimed in. "We met a few of our cabin neighbours people over at the mess hall. They're planning a capture the flag event and were wondering if we want to join."

Uncle Mike, er, Uncle Raphy coughed, as though the fake voice was kind of rough on his vocal cords. "As an experienced Raph of many years, capture the flag sounds right up my alley. I'm in." 

From the far wall where he was rifling through a cupboard, Marco frowned and looked down at Cerulean. “Sounds like a battle, I’m in. Let’s make sure our buddies on the roof are informed. I would be surprised if they are not spying on us now. I’ll bring one of my brothers with me.”

"First things first, we brought some rolls, some toast, some boxes of cereals..." Raph walked over to the kitchen and plopped his stack of boxes down on the counter, flipping the lids, pulling out the steaming contents of the baked goods and setting them out on the table plate by plate. It all looked so good that Spirit wished, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, that he could eat. Raph gestured over the spread. "Take your pick, guys."

"Good idea. We can strategise during breakfast." Cerulean pulled out a kettle to make some tea. He reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly typing a message before sending it.

Marco hummed in thought. "...well, is mystic powers a rule? If it isn’t, then I’ll take my Leo with me."

"Not sure. We didn't want to set anything in stone before we get everyone's agreement," Cerulean clarified as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

Marco smiled, his sharp teeth peeking out just slightly, giving it a menacing edge that sent a thrill down Spirit's spine. “Heh, for once I’m excited for one of these lame events.” Knowing Marco as he had for these past few weeks, Spirit could tell he was planning to scare the crap out of the other camp members.

“Wait are we playing capture the flag or going on a mission?” Spirit inquired as he drifted closer to the kitchen. He thought this was going to be a family friendly game; was he wrong?

Hunter POV

Hunter and the rest of their family followed Navy down from their little corner upstairs as the smell of fresh food wafted up through the kitchen and slowly filled the cabin. His big brother quickly whispered to them to feed themselves, and gave a quiet thank you awkwardly to the air, as none of them knew who brought the food.

As they sat down to eat, the conversation started flowing again over their heads, and Hunter could tell the moment Navy caught the mention of a game, perking up. “Oh, I'm sure it'd be great to do more socializing with other cabins! You know, since we've really not gone out and done much, and-”

“I don't know if a game of capture the flag would be good for ‘socialization’, big guy,” Hunter butted in, taking a bite out of the toast he had grabbed. He continued talking with a full mouth. “It's sort of, like, a competition.”

Navy clapped his fins together. “Well, uh, we can make it a friendly competition!”

How optimistic. “With those guys?” Hunter gestured with a thumb in Marco and Cerulean's general direction. “Good luck.”

"...Well you're certainly perceptive, aren't you?"

A figure shifted into view from behind Marco. He tipped his goggles up from the bridge of his beak to settle above his orange mask, right-eye seemingly brighter than usual. Once completely exposed, his palms found place in the 'empty' holster pockets hanging from his hips.

"Due to current circumstances, I will be the sole participant amongst my unit. I do hope that's not a problem."

It was one of those sneaky guys from the roof. The orange one. Mikhail. Hunter hadn't had much of a chance to get to know them all, personally, because they were always off doing some sneaky thing or another, but he was in tune enough with his instincts that he could usually smell or hear when they passed by. There were some things you just couldn't hide. Not from him.

Marco raised a brow. "Mhm, fair enough. I would rather not lose to a bunch of kids, so let’s not lose, okay?"

"Then perhaps we should call everyone for a quick meeting, yes? To figure out who would be joining the event." Cerulean drummed his fingers on the counter he was currently leaning against.

Marco nodded. “Hm, yes. I already have my pick. Not that you already hate him or anything, hence that’s why he’s tagging along.”

“Oh, fantastic.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “This will absolutely contribute to a great team environment.”

“We will be discussing the nitty gritty of the game with Cabin 15. We probably should make our way there after breakfast. For the meantime, tea?” Cerulean pulled out a couple of mugs.

Spirit turned to Mika, who was peacefully chewing on some cereal. “Are they planning a murder or a game?” He asked. Mika just air tapped his head and continued to eat. “Don’t worry about it,” was all he said.

Marco slightly raised his hand. “I’ll take a tea, if you don’t mind.”

“Before we go, I assume everyone here wants to win?” Cerulean poured a cup and placed it in front of Marco with a decisive thunk, eyeing him and Mikhael. “Any suggestions on how we ensure that?” His tone was light but his eyes said otherwise.

“There he goes again,” Raphael mumbled, chewing on his toast. He nudged the glass Navy was reaching for towards him.

Navy took the glass offered to him, taking a sip. "You know, I feel like I should be a little more worried about the people I'm surrounded by."

Hunter squinted at his brother. "You didn't get that idea when I told you one of them pulled a gun on somebody?"

Looking up from his bowl of ramen, ICE raised his only hand, "...following that subject, are weapons allowed?"

“Possibly, although I doubt permanent maiming would be allowed.” Cerulean tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Hunter scoffed at ICE. "I don't know if you should participate, shrimp." He stuffed the rest of his toast in his mouth, talking as he chewed. "Have you looked at yourself lately?"

ICE glared at him darkly, slamming his hand on the table and pushing himself to his feet, leaning towards Hunter as his chair scraped on the floor. "I would suggest you take that back. I know where you sleep."

Hunter huffed through his nose, crossing his arms across his plastron. "Cute."

Cerulean sighed. “Save the animosity for the other team, please. “

ICE hesitated, then sat back down, crossing his arm over his plastron. "Yeah Hunter, listen to the cabin leader," he said with a smug grin.

Cerulean raised his eyebrow but didn’t refuse the statement.

Hunter squinted his eyes and rolled them, but settled on just growling deeply and continuing to eat. It wouldn't be worth it to compete with someone that stubborn. Navy looked over at ICE with genuine worry in his eyes, and mouthed 'I'm sorry.'

ICE smiled innocently back, and whispered "Its alright, I'll let it slide."

Marco took the cup and swished the liquid around. “'Ensuring victory.' It’s hard to solidify a plan against enemies we don’t know. ...well, so-so we know. For now, we know that it’s consisted of versions of all of you. Every weakness that is yours could be theirs-“

Cerulean hummed, “true. The lack of information is unfortunate. My brothers and I had only minimal interactions with them and the information we had is lackluster. Does anyone here have longer interactions with the other cabin?”

While the two of them bounced ideas, Uncle Mike sighed, looking over at his nephews, currently curled up together on the bed. "I guess Don is probably gonna sit this game out, so I'll see about dropping the kids off with him. As a Raph, I can't let down our cabin by missing out on the action. It wouldn't be very Raphlike of me, y'know."

“Raph? I thought you were Uncle Mike?” Raphael bit the spoon he held in his mouth.

Uncle Mike gasped dramatically, holding his hand against his plastron. "You think I could be that amazing, spectacular brother of mine whomst've I love so much but rarely tell him outright except in life or death situations? Ha!"

Hunter was still struggling to get a proper read on Mike. He trusted the older turtle, for the most part. He hadn't done anything to not deserve that trust. He'd actually done more than anyone else in the cabin to gain Hunter's trust. There was just something so strange about thinking that Mike was supposed to be a version of Scout, his youngest brother. And the fact that, supposedly, Mike had three brothers in his own world, one of which was meant to be a version of Hunter himself. A turtle who he was currently trying to impersonate...

Mike glanced around for listeners in, then pulled up the very edge of his red mask and whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Raphael: "It's a secret identity. I am about to commit many crimes and they're never gonna pin them on me. As long as everyone here can keep my secret, at least." He winked and straightened back up.

Oh boy.

Maybe he really was a Scout.

Raphael blinked once, twice, before grinning in understanding. “Okay then, Uncle Raph. Oh, this is going to be weird,” he mumbled.

Hunter folded up another peice of toast to swallow whole. "It wasn't already weird?"

ICE POV

Tap tap tap, FE!Donnie skipped over to the breakfast table, breaking the tension by adding his own. "Sorry to intrude, buuut, I have some things prepared for the event!!” He smiled as he slipped what looked to be small pink balls in Marco's direction.

Knowing how the True Colors guys felt about most of the Fear's Embrace crew, ICE glanced at Cerulean, who looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes.

"I made smoke bombs too! We can throw them off!" FE!Donnie smiled ear to ear as he dropped a bag right in the center of the table. Awesome!!

Hunter put his head heavily in one hand. "No, you were right. It's gonna be weird."

ICE grinned and waved his hand to get FE!Donnie's attention. "Now that's my kind of guy! I'll take extras." He'd take them all!

Out of the corner of his eye, ICE just barely noticed Mikhail retreating into a corner to observe from afar. The cool special ops guy raised a hand to cover his mouth as he observed in silence.

FE!Donnie grinned as he waved to Mikhail. “Hey buddy! Want some smoke bombs? Can’t win without teamworrkkkkk!!!”

Mikhail quirked a brow, not giving the eccentric Donnie an answer as of yet.

“You’re just in time, Donnie, care for some toast?” Cerulean smiled, motioning at the spread before them.

”Oooooo! Sure!” FE!Donnie wiped some dust from his face, reaching for a slice.

“If we’re going for the win then what about placing traps around our flag so it’s harder for the other team to get it?” Spirit suggested, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Marco nodded, leaning forward. ”...Good idea, we could split up into groups, one that defends the flag and the others attack.”

“Some hidden mines would work.” A voice sounded from the door - Captain, leaning on the doorframe with Angelo smiling on his side.

"Jeez, how freaky are you guys?" Hunter looked around at all of the schemers, and ICE could feel his judgement from across the table. "Like, can I get a freak meter?" He gestured up and down with a flat hand. "Like how freaky are you being today?"

"Freaky enough to explode our opponents; they wanted a competition... we’ll give them one.” Marco smiled slightly, showing off his sharp teeth before taking a sip of tea. He was brutal. ICE could appreciate that.

“I want a pitfall trap! Team rocket style!” Spirit voiced.

“I heard we’re having a competition?” Angelo bounced on his heels. “Something about beating our opponents? I’m in!”

"Oh boy, they're gettin' the kid into it..." Hunter covered his eyes and groaned slightly.

“I like how you think. I have some pitfalls, too, back in the base. Put some spikes in there and it’ll take care of some of the incompetent intruders.” Captain gave a respectful nod to Spirit.

Spirit's eyes grew wide, and he returned Captain's nod with a thumbs up, looking a mix of nervous and excited.

“Nope!” Mika jumped up, flailing his arms around. “Let’s try to keep this as PG as we can, please?!” 

Spirit pouted, “you’re no fun...” ICE nodded in agreement. PG was for wimps. He'd seen worse his whole life, really.

“Maybe something a bit nonlethal, hmm? Perhaps some of those sleeping agents we saw in action that night?” Cerulean prompted Mikhail with a raised brow.

“Or we can just knock em out with something,” Angelo shrugged.

"...I could stun them. You wanted to see my power, right? I’ll have at 'em..."

“Oh yesyesyes yes please!” Spirit cheered at Marco’s offer.

Mikhail tilted his head. "Chemical warfare is Don's field and he's tapped out at the moment. But really, any form of incapacitation is preferred. Pretty sure it's going to have to be a layered process though to make sure they stay down and can't use their abilities out of panic or the like. Relying on a single point asset to take care of targets is never ideal."

Mikhail waved his hand lazily in the air.

"...Something something 'single point failure'."

“Making sure they stay down is pretty important, maybe I could make something…” Captain mumbled.

“Ooh ooh! You could use those tiny robots of yours with a dose of tranquilizers!”

Tranquilizers! ICE perked up more. The more bloodthirsty his cabin got, the more exciting things were.

Captain’s eyes widened. “Angelo, you’re a genius!” He began to pace, “we can set a designated time after we knocked them out so the robots can inject more tranquilizers to keep them down.”

"Combine that with something that can stunt power-use and that should cover everything worth major consideration," Mikhail said.

Marco chuckled. "...Nice to see some teamwork, but let’s make sure we have some fun and, most importantly, let’s not lose, fellas!"

Uncle Mike (wait, he was going by Uncle Raph today, right?) nodded approvingly. "No turtle left behind."

Marco looked out the window in the direction of the mess hall. ”I can go to the meeting point to go stalk the competition; I’ll send information to Chip so he can pass it on to you all. Anyone want to come with?” He turned to give Cerulean a pointed glance.

Cerulean seemed to consider it for a moment, before stepping forward, looking determined. Flipping over to mission mode, or something. "That might be a good idea. Do you need stealth or conversation?"

"Conversation, I'd rather not give them a reason to get their guard up." Marco rubbed his face, sighing, as though he wasn't looking forward to it.

Cerulean placed his hand on his plastron and smiled. “Then may I accompany you?” He glanced at Captain, “and perhaps... Chip, was it? Could send the information back to you.”

Captain’s frown deepened before he finally nodded. “Suit yourself.”

Marco stood up and looked down at Cerulean, clicking his goggles on. "...alright, kid, keep your guard up but not to the point it’s noticeable. Let’s go.” The antennas bounced as he walks over to the door.

Uncle, uh, Raph? blinked, taking a bite of toast. "Glad they didn't ask me," he murmured to Mika and ICE, out of earshot of Marco and the True Colors guys. "Don's my bro, and Mikenstein is my not-twin, y'know, and I probably know some stuff, but I don't wanna let down anybody. Them or us. So I'm not getting in the middle of this. Yet, anyways."

Captain POV

Chip floated over to Captain, whirring in a way that almost came off as nervous. It wasn't unwarranted, Captain was still a little bit interested in dissecting him, but that could wait. The mission was more important.

A hologram appeared in front of Captain, showing video footage from Marco’s goggles. “Here you go, sir!!” Chip chirped. “Hi again! Sorry for trying to disassemble you that time,” Angelo smiled. He prodded Captain's arm with his elbow. An encouragement.

“I’m not going to apologize. It started it,” Captain mumbled, walking to the table and turning so everyone could see the screen. Everyone present leaned in, interested in whatever their team members were about to discover at the meeting point.

Sitting down, Captain tapped his headgear, starting a new file to store the recording.

“You are lucky my sir made me work with you." The digital eye frowned. “But you do have access to some parts of the system! Of course, Marco implemented a kiddy firewall..." 

Chip turned to Angelo, then. “I accept your apology, at least SOMEONE HAS MANNERS!"

Captain’s fingers twitched in annoyance, but he brushed it off. There would be a chance to take revenge later. He ignored the babbling robot and focused on the recording.

Meanwhile, Angelo grinned. “Very cute! Kinda like-“ Apparently remembering their agreement to keep SHELLDON’s intelligence on the down low, he changed the subject. “I really like those markings you have,” he leaned over Captain's shoulder to point to Chip.

“Hm? Thank you! The ones on my rings are symbols, for a recipe! Kinda like a reminder!”

On the side of the hologram, the screen also displayed a file system. At a glance, Captain could see they were all locked. One of the locked files was a video labeled as 'The Incident.' Fascinating.

“Oooh what kind of recipe?” Angelo leaned on the back of Captain’s chair to get a closer look.

Captain stayed quiet, eyes scanning the files along with the camera recording.

“...Well, uhm." Chip whirred, appearing to process a thought before deciding to be open with them. “Are you aware of the substance Empyrean?”

Empyrean? Captain had gotten some good images of Chip in their earlier encounter, but he turned to make sure the 'recipe' was properly recorded just in case, as subtly as possible.

“Hmm? Of course! That’s what made us after all.” Captain glanced back to see Angelo had started to float, kicking his feet up behind him.

"Well it’s also used for Marco’s medicine, it’s what makes him kinda tired all the time and cranky - he wasn’t always like 'this.'"

Angelo’s open and playful expression immediately shuttered off. His feet hits the floor. “You know that can be dangerous right? He’s risking double mutation every time he uses it.” He crossed his arms. “Where do you even get that much empyrean? The council should’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

"Since the Kraang has plagued most of our world, it’s not too difficult to find. Mainly from a large crashed Kraang ship that’s not far from our base."

Angelo blinked. “Oh. Yeah the whole living in an apocalypse thing.” He leaned back, “Still. That’s very dangerous. I would hate to think what would happen if something went wrong. Experimenting with Empyrean is…” Captain could feel the way Angelo shuddered beside him, “dangerous, to say the least.”

"...it’s difficult when your resources are limited. Sometimes we don’t have a choice. So sorry - we got a little off topic..."

“So are we heading out to the mess hall, or cabin? And are we going now or later?” Spirit asked.

“We are currently researching our competitors. Marco and Cerulean will give us the go whenever they are ready.”

FE Donnie laughed. "Ehehe! For a robot designed by Marco, you really like to spill secrets. BUUUT luckily, spilling secrets are fun when they’re Marco’s!"

Angelo brushed past Captain as he pulled away, and Captain glanced out of the corner of his eye to watch him make his way to Raphael's chair and rest his chin on his head. Raphael patted his arm in comfort.

On the holographic iPad, a pop up message of a thumbs up showed from Marco. “Oh! It would seem he is signaling for the rest of us!” Chip said, hovering over the holographic iPad. FE!Donnie jumped up from where he had decided to flop down on the floor. “It’s game time, fellas! Let’s show ‘em! Make sure you don’t alarm them with any of our plans!! Any questions?” he stood there with his arms behind his back for a moment, barely waiting for a response before chiming in, “Good no questions! I’ll see you there!!”

He ran off playfully. “Yippe, game time!” Spirit cheered. He tugged insistently at Mika’s band tails. Mika quickly finished the rest of his cereal and got up from his seat to appease his ghostly brother.

“You have to play in my stead Mika!” Spirit pointed at him like a general giving orders, and Mika saluted at his brother. 

“The opposing team will know no peace.” Spirit nodded upon hearing confirmation and smiled. “Now let’s hurry! I wanna meet the other cabin members!” Mikhail pushed his self off the wall and popped his fingers, already heading out. Captain heard him chuckle in amusement at everyone's excitement. Mike gathered up his nibbles and followed behind. Navy herded his brothers to go along with the group, Scout skipping along in front. ICE followed along behind Navy, still in the process of putting on his eyeliner.

Captain felt the buzzing of his own 'go' signal from Cerulean and stood up. He glanced at his brothers who no doubt also felt it, and tilted his head towards the door.

"I guess we're going now," Raphael stood up, making Angelo, who was still clinging to his neck, rise up with him.

Angelo climbed and sat himself on Raph's shoulder, ducking along when Raph passed the kitchen doorway so as to not hit his head.

Time to see what the other cabin had in store.

-

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Hold Every Memory by @languajix

Ghost of the Past by @wandering-ghost

Second Shot by @twignotstick

Fear's Embrace by @karonkar

True Colors by @v-albion

It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising

Covert AU by @chessman-protocol

[toointojoelmiller]

look for the light: a last of us fic

ch 1 (prologue)

BTHB prompt inspired - "electrical outage" - Jackson loses power, Joel can't find Ellie, and panic ensues (for @bearrycool). This is a prologue - plot action starts next chapter. cross posted to ao3 here ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4

---- T.

While they were showing Joel and Ellie around Jackson for the first time that past winter, Tommy had joked to Maria that it was like Ellie was Joel’s shadow. He felt a bit guilty about it, seeing her all those months later when they showed up at the gates again. The headstrong kid who seemed quick to get her claws out wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She been raw around the edges and clearly didn't trust easily back then, but she returned as a different and darker sort of wary, drifting behind Joel like a ghost.

Joel had insisted that Ellie get looked over at the clinic, and she insisted just as firmly that he do the same. Tommy found himself tagging along, and he stared at Ellie on and off as they waited, taking in the worried crease in her forehead that seemed like a permanent part of her expression, and the way her eyes flitted from Joel to the ground and not much in between. She was distant, as if she was separated from the world, watching and listening from behind a pane of glass. Just an echo of the girl he remembered.

Tommy left them to settle in for a day, and then another. By the next morning he told himself that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he bit the bullet and invited them over to meet the baby. Joel had looked shell shocked for a few seconds, but he’d agreed.

When the knock at the door came, right on time, Tommy found only Joel waiting on the other side - no scrawny teenager tucked into his side.

“I can’t stay long. Ellie, uh - she’s real tired,” he’s said at once, scratching the back of his neck like he would when he got fidgety. “Sleepin’ a lot. She didn’t feel up to comin’ but I can bring her by another time - uh, if she wants to, I mean.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy said, trying to keep his voice sounding light. It was weird to hear his brother talking so much, but when Ellie was the topic of conversation Joel seemed to have a lot to say. He still didn’t really know what to make of this Joel - so different from the man Tommy had known in Boston who would have to turn around and walk away if he was caught off guard seeing a child.

It was Joel’s first time inside of their house, and as Tommy started to show him around he felt a dumb little surge of pride at how Joel was nodding approvingly, taking in the cozy home that Maria and him had worked hard at building. The nodding stopped and the good feeling evaporated when Joel's eyes locked onto the chalkboard memorial above the fireplace, the blood running out of his face, his small smile sliding away instantly.

For a moment they stayed frozen. Tommy was at a loss for words, watching the light from the candles flickering in Joel’s increasingly wet eyes. When his tears spilled over, Joel excused himself to the bathroom and locked the door.

The years after Sarah died had made Tommy an expert in the ways that grief can unravel and collapse time. As Joel’s sobs sank down on him, burrowing into Tommy’s skin, he felt for a few moments like it was twenty years ago all over again – no, twenty one now, somehow. Watching Sarah die was the worst pain Tommy had ever felt, and he knew that he couldn't begin to imagine how much worse it had been - still was - for Joel. But that was different now - Maria was upstairs with the baby, so he could imagine it, and just the thought of what happened to Joel’s baby girl happening to his made him stomach clench, flooding him with the urge to run upstairs, get her in his arms and never let go. 

He put his head in his hands and silently berated himself for not putting the memorial away like he’d wondered briefly if he ought to. It had seemed wrong somehow, and a brief chat with Maria had confirmed the feeling – it would be a disservice to the two pure and forever gone souls that they had agreed together to keep alive every day, even if it could only be in memory. But now, listening to Joel’s muffled crying from behind the closed door – it sounded like he was covering his face with something, and the damp and crumpled hand towel Tommy found on the floor later that night seemed to confirm it – leaving it out for Joel to be confronted with seemed downright cruel.

The stairs creaked as Maria slowly walked halfway down them, the baby asleep in her arms. She shot Tommy a curious and concerned look and tilted her head in the direction of the bathroom door. "Let’s try another night.” she suggested, frowning.

Tommy nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. This was too fast – shoulda known better. I’ll take him back to his place.”

It had been a while, but Tommy knew how things would play out from here. He wondered how long Joel would shut down for this time. It was a comfort that it would happen somewhere safe, for once – but newly concerning to think of Joel losing himself in a bottle and falling into bed for days on end, now that he had a kid living with him.

Maria gave him a sympathetic smile as she turned to walk back upstairs, but the bathroom door opened at the same time, and Joel came out, red eyed and breathing deeply. Tommy stood quickly, expecting Joel to head straight for the door, but he didn’t. His eyes found Maria on the stairs instead, and he nodded at her before looking at the little bundle in her arms. Tommy felt a flutter of worry in the back of his throat.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said to Joel, and then glanced to Maria, silently urging her to go back upstairs. “We can do this some o-”

Joel’s voice wasn’t gruff like Tommy expected it to be as he interrupted him. “Tommy… they’re not this small for very long,” he said quietly. “Like to meet her now, if that’s alright."

The words dried up in Tommy’s throat. Steady as ever, Maria walked down the rest of the wooden stairs to join them. “This is Charlie,” she said with a small nod and a pointed smile directed at Tommy that was more of a warning than anything else. The message was clear – keep your brother in check.

Tommy held his breath as he waited for Joel’s reaction. He was baffled when a grin showed up on Joel’s face - speechless as Joel asked to hold her, and settled down on the couch with Charlie cradled in his arms. Dumbstruck when Joel glanced towards the chalkboard and said, with a slight tremble in his voice, “Had Sarah on my mind a lot today. Was just a little caught off guard, seein’ her name written out like that is all.” His eyes – soft and sincere and full of gratitude - moved to Tommy, who was feeling as though he had fallen into another dimension. “S’good of y’all – doin' that.”

He looked back at Charlie, leaning his head in closer. “She’s a Miller, yeah? Charlie Miller?”

Tommy cleared his throat, his voice sounding thick with emotion as he nodded and said, “Yeah. Charlotte Miller. Charlie for short.” He swallowed, knowing exactly what Joel was going to say next.

“Does she have a middle name?”

He tried to answer - opened his mouth, took a breath, but the words wouldn’t leave his throat. He looked towards Maria, who somehow always knew what he was thinking and stepped in for him.

“She does,” Maria said in as gentle of a voice as he’d ever heard her direct to Joel. “We thought Charlotte Sarah sounded nice.”

Joel looked at Tommy, grief and sorrow and love flashing across his face, and he bowed his head as he cried again. Tears dripped down onto the soft blanket swaddled around Charlie. Tommy couldn’t help but cry a bit too, wiping his hands across his face and taking deep breaths to try to hold himself together.

“Your daddy was the best Uncle, right from day one.” Joel murmured as he sniffed, looking down at Charlie and leaning his head in closer as he spoke to her softly. “Hell of a lot for me to live up to.”

Joel had manners, so he asked about the birth, and how Maria was feeling, but it seemed like he was half listening, lost here and there as he looked down at the baby girl he was holding. He touched her little dark tufts of hair, held and commented on her tiny fingers when she wiggled an arm free from the swaddle and her hand came poking out from the blanket. When she started to fuss, he automatically cradled her head and shifted her in his arms so she was tucked upright against his chest, smoothing his hand up and down her little back and swaying softly from side to side as he cooed to her - all of the motions and instincts clearly still alive, bubbling to the surface from wherever they were buried. There was still sadness in his eyes, and a heaviness in the air, but it was obvious that Joel had been changed, too, by whatever had happened on the road. A part of him that had been dead for decades was back to life.

He was true to his word and didn’t stay long, keeping one eye on the clock and leaving at what was clearly a pre-determined time. When he left, he was in a hurry - rushing to get back to Ellie, as if half an hour of separation was unbearable.

Tommy laid awake in bed for a long time that night, unable to stop thinking about the sight of Joel with Charlie in his arms. The way he’d been tracing her nose and the soft skin of her face with his fingers. Hearing him say Sarah’s name out loud for the first time in god knows how long.

Jackson felt like holy ground. Charlie was a miracle, and a safe place for her to grow was, too. This was a third - the pieces of his forever broken big brother were somehow glued back together after all these years.

He’d tried to ask shortly after they arrived, and again a few days later, but Joel dismissed Tommy’s questions about what the hell had happened to the two of them after they left for Colorado with a short and firm, “Not now.” As time passed it became clear that ‘not now’ was probably going to mean ‘not ever’.

Even on a night that they wound up piss drunk together on Joel’s porch after the girls were all asleep, Tommy couldn’t get anything out of him beyond a darkly muttered, “She went through hell because of me, and it ain’t my place to tell you about it.” It was a fair point, and really wasn’t his place to pry, so Tommy stopped asking. ‘Winter’ and ‘Colorado’ and ‘Fireflies’ were off limits words when Ellie was around. The few times he slipped up, Joel sure let him know about it.

Maria had originally been of the mindset that it would be best for Ellie and Joel to jump in with both feet, meaning Ellie going to school like all the other kids, and getting a work detail sorted out for Joel as soon as they could. It only took one look at Ellie for her to change her mind - her sallow looking skin and the dark circles under her eyes, how painfully skinny she was - not to mention the unnerving way she would space out sometimes, staring at nothing as Joel rubbed her shoulder and spoke quietly to her until she came out of it. Maria spoke with the council, and her go to words when she talked to Tommy about Ellie changed from 'healthy routine' and 'socialization' to 'coping' and 'stabilizing' and 'easing in slowly'.

Apart from Joel leaving the house briefly on that night he met and held Charlie, he and Ellie were hermits for a while as they first settled in. Tommy dropped off meals for them, and as he’d chat briefly with Joel in the entryway of the house - filling him in on how Charlie was doing and how they were all sleeping, usually - he’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Ellie on the living room couch, tiny under a pile of blankets with the glow from the TV lighting up her pale face, and what looked like every movie, book, and board game in Jackson piled around her. Often there was a pretty over the top assortment of food around her - dinner piled high on one plate on the coffee table, looking untouched, and massive helping of apple crisp on another - a glass of water and a glass of milk both set out where she could reach them easily. It made his heart ache, reminding him of the way Joel always went a little crazy when Sarah would be sick on the living room couch – popsicles weren’t enough, they had be her favourite flavour (the fact that red was Tommy's favourite flavour first did not spare him from Joel's wrath when only red and blue were left in the box), and Tommy would be sent on a daily Blockbuster trip so she would always had something new to watch.

Joel must have been doing the right thing, because the time spent hibernating and spoiling her seemed to do the trick. They showed up in the dining hall together for dinner one day, Ellie still quiet and nervous and close to Joel’s side but no longer looking like she might just disappear. Once daily appearances in town slowly turned into more regular outings, and pieces of the Ellie Tommy remembered from before finally started to peek through the fog.

Over a breakfast of bacon and eggs one day, Tommy bit back a grin as he watched Ellie surreptitiously loosen the top of a squeeze bottle filled with ketchup before passing it to Joel. When it splattered all over his shirt and pants, she laughed so hard she was wheezing. Joel rolled his eyes, grumbling at her and trying to shoot her what was meant to be a withering look, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. He wiped a glob of ketchup off of his shirt with his hand and flung it at Ellie’s face, getting rewarded with a screech that woke Charlie up and earned both of them glares from Maria.

It went both ways, how they healed one another. How each needed the other to breathe. Tommy found himself hoping every night that they would never lose each other, certain that neither could survive it - a miracle, and a sword hanging overhead. 

read next chapter here

cross posted to ao3 here

[justsomerandomfanfic]

So, I'm going to start with the Marvel and Harry Potter fandoms first and then probably come back for more matchups in the future, and romantic please.

So, I'm a straight female, pronouns are she/her, proud Ravenclaw. I'm 5'1, blonde hair, blue eyes, an introvert until I get close to someone than I'm very sarcastic and silly. I like to think I'm pretty good listener and very loyal to my friends and family plus my cat. I have a very serious hand kink when it comes to guys, and I tend to fall for the bad boy who deserves a chance, and I wouldn't be afraid to stand up to him or his family. I tend to be a little naive and too trusting sometimes but I make it a point to never take any crap from anyone. I love classic rock-n-roll music, especially Def Leppard, AC/DC, Van Halen and others like that; favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip and I'm sucker for roses (preferably dark blue ones), stealing a guy's shirt to sleep in and lots of cuddles.

I hope I provided enough information, if not, message me if you need more.

I hope you like your matchups! <333 I'll be here if you ever need more matchups! :) Thank you for requesting! I had a lot of fun writing this <333

---

(Romantic) matchup;

---

Marvel;

Bucky Barnes:

🥃 You were at a small bar, (you weren't normally for them), it wasn't a bad one, not loud or crowded, but open, bright, and even had a few arcade machines and the music was blasting, but playing at a nice level that wasn't going to give you a headache - it was a nice place to go with friends, which were with you; you were just having a good time, tapping your foot to the music that you chose (Def Leppard) that played on the jukebox

🥃 And then he walked in, signalling the bartender and ordering himself a drink - you couldn't seem to look away, until you did, snapping out of your head and getting back into the conversation with your friends; it wasn't until you met the mysterious man again

🥃 However long later, you and Bucky had become a couple, (you were a bit nervous and a bit introverted when you first spoke, but you got used to him, and Bucky got to see the more silly and sarcastic you) - the beginning of your relationship with the man was slow but beautiful and interesting to say the least; it took a great deal of time, but Bucky finally revealed to you most if not all about his past

🥃 You'd often stay home with Bucky, eating your favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream together while watching movies - which would then end in cuddling, your hands playing with his, ending up just talking or just listening to Bucky talk; he loves that you are a good listener, and loved listening to you talk about anything and everything

🥃 Your friends were a bit wary of him in the beginning, when you introduced Bucky to them - they were a bit worried, because of the Winter Soldier times - but you stood up for him, telling them that Bucky was actually a very kind and wonderfully sweet guy, and that he was mind controlled; your friends dropped it, and seemingly got along with him

---

Harry Potter;

Draco Malfoy:

🐍 You knew Draco during Hogwarts, obviously, but as a Ravenclaw, you hardly been around the young man expect for when your house and his mixed during classes - but you didn't get to actually meet him until two years after graduation/the Battle of Hogwarts; and it was then that you saw that behind that mean exterior that he had shown through school, on the inside, he was actually a very misunderstood man (and you realized it even during the battle, you knew because of his family, he was scared that they'd hurt him, friends, or family)

🐍 You met when you were both just out and about, you were out shopping for stuff for your cat, and when you saw Draco, you recognized him immediately, and he remembered you as he walked over (almost nervously as you were feeling), before apologizing; he apologized for anything he had said to you that may have hurt your feelings, you totally forgot about what he said to you back in first year, but he remembered, and you appreciated the apology (he then asked if you wanted to join him for coffee/tea)

🐍 From then on, your little coffee/tea meetups happened more often, almost every weekend - and you got to know the real Draco, that he likes apples, the color red (funnily enough), and reading - you exchanged your interests, your love for dark blue roses, classic rock n' roll, and your beautiful cat child

🐍 Soon enough, those cafe dates ended up traveling to dinner dates (where Draco would take you to the finest restaurants in London), to pic-nics on hills of wildflowers, to movie and music nights at your place - your cat is best friends with Draco at this point - and you also may or may not have stolen almost all of Draco's shirts; he knows where they went, but he's not getting them back any time soon

🐍 So, with his hand in yours, you sit back, showing him your favorite movie series, (along with other fun Muggle stuff - just the two of you, spending time together, having the time of your lives

[bjarkanart]

Heya! Since I haven't been able to draw much in the last couple of weeks, I took some time to write a bit and finally decided to go for multiple chapters cause I'm a really slow writer so I posted the first chapter of my Death Stranding AU Imodna fic, I hope it's at least decent...

Here's a little snippet. The rest is up on Ao3, let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 🙏

Most people who knew her in Gelvaan would say that Imogen Temult was strange. With her purple hair and lightning scars, the fact that she could hear their thoughts and talk in their heads if she so chose, and sometimes hearing her screaming in the middle of the night if they passed her room, it only made sense for them to be wary of her and try not to get close.

Imogen knew what people said and thought about her, so she tried to avoid them as much as they tried to avoid her, which was hard to do when everyone lived piled up underground like a colony of ants.

 

When she was a kid, Imogen would always try to help someone out, always curious, always with a smile on her face. And people didn't treat her differently from the other kids at the time.

Then, something shifted.

Her father grew distant the more she grew up and Imogen had no idea why. She had tried to ask him. Tried to understand. But her countless attempts at trying to get an explanation from him only ever ended in disappointment and hurt the more she pushed the matter. 

She stopped trying to get answers from him when the word "daddy" started leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The once soothing term of endearment sounded like an anomaly or a foreign language even to her, as every time she spoke the word out loud, it was met with silence. Imogen had grown tired of running after a man who felt more and more like a stranger she just happened to be sharing an apartment with.

Imogen was fifteen she was diagnosed with DOOMS and when the nightmares started.

Dreams of a red storm engulfing a town in the distance she had never seen before. Destroying everything in its wake as red lightning struck trees, splitting them in half. A tornado snatching houses from the ground and hauling them in the air to be blown away and far beyond the horizon. The wind was blasting all around her, deafening, overwhelming, spraying dust over her face and forcing her to squint with no clue on where she was supposed to go. She just knew she had to get away from the storm. Then a woman's voice would echo in her mind, telling her to run, repeatedly, every time she had that dream.

Imogen didn’t know that voice. But somehow, something in her gut told her it was her mother's, it had to be. But why was she so certain of it? She didn't know. She couldn't remember her mother. But still, she would always instinctively listen to her and run, run as far as her feet would carry her, as far from the storm as possible.

And Imogen would wake up panting or screaming and in a cold sweat. Chills running down her spine as she tried to comprehend why she kept having those strange dreams and what they meant. If they even had a meaning to begin with. Were they connected to her powers or did they have anything to do with her DOOMS since the condition made her more connected to the other side? She had dreamed of a few people she knew walking into the storm, to then learn of their passing the next day but had chosen to never share this information. People were cautious enough around her; she didn't need them to know she could tell when someone was going to die.

She also wondered if the place she saw in her dreams was maybe a memory of what Gelvaan used to be. But it didn’t make sense to her. She had never known a life before all this. 

Before the explosions. 

Before the craters. 

Before the Death Stranding.

***

There you go!

[pacifymebby]

if you’re feeling sinister / chapter four

Johnny

It was one of those hot, close kind of afternoons. Grey claustrophobic skies gathering over head. The air had that thunderstorm musky kind of quality. It can't have been helping the doomed feeling my insincts were beginning to kindle around.

"Larry!" yelled Van, his voice disappearing further down the coastal path Larry often walked back on. He usually met his secret lass down here, the one he didn't think we knew as much about as we did, they usually dawdled along the the cliff edge, blowing canabis smoke down into the dunes. "Larry!" shouted Van again, no longer leaving any quiet in which we could listen out for his return call.

We'd already walked the path once, earlier that afternoon once we'd done the first circuit of the town. We'd knocked doors and asked around anyone we thought he might have had anything to do with the night before. When we'd run out of people he might have spoken to we started knocking every other door coming up with any excuse to justify disturbing the neighbours day. And because Larry worked Saturdays and Sundays in the local shop he knew most people, so we knocked on most doors.

And we heard nothing, and people looked at us with dusgruntled confusion and sometimes they looked concerned or they said they were sorry and promised to let us know if they did hear anything, but mostly they just shook their heads and said no, they hadn't heard from him. "Out late last night was he?" asked that one like they suspected us of causing trouble, suspected that whatever was going on it was our own fault.

Now we were trailing the coastal path slowly, growing tense. Ignoring hunger, the sweaty grimy skin crawling sensation of having been out walking through the humidity all day. Already knowing we weren't going to get anywhere. Carrying on because we didn't want to have to go back to Larrys mum and tell her she needed to phone him in as a missing person. Didn't want to go back to the girls and tell them that it was all more serious than we'd first thought.

And as Van started shouting for Larry again I let out a sigh, shoved my hands into my jeans pockets and closed my eyes. Wincing when I said it.

"You think we should check the woods now eh Van?" I said knowing that saying something like that, in a town like this, was like signing the death certificate myself. Giving up all for the sake of not wanting to give up.

Van screwed his face up, turned back to me. Almost looked pissed off when he shoved his sweaty hair from his face.

"Why would he be there its fuckin miles from his house?"

"Aye but we've searched everywhere else haven't we..." I said looking over at Benji who had stopped now too and was listening closely with the same wary, knowing expression.

"Fuck, yeah, whatever he's right Van its the only place we haven't looked.."

"Aye but it wouldn't make any fuckin sense... Why would he..."

"If you follow this path far enough it skims along the edge of the woods further down the coast... You know where the trees thin out reet down in the dunes..."

"Thats fuckin miles away..."

"Maybe he was after elongating the evening with his lassie," I tried to smirk, tried to wiggle my brows and ease the tension but I couldn't do that when I was sugesting our best mate might have ventured into those cursed woods at night, with a girl or even alone, ten years to the month that our town had looked out onto something like hell. After they'd found my mum, after they'd found Peppers mum and a little later her dad, hanging - the manner of his death apparently evidence enough to prove him guilty of it all.

"Yeah," groaned Van taking a cig from his pocket and lighting up, "fine fuck it..."

The way I saw it there wasn't anything else we could do. No point trailing that path any longer when we'd already done it and found nothing. No point in knocking doors at this time in the evening because most of the neighbours wouldn't answer their door during the after dinner soaps.

And I didn't want to leave it too long. If something really was wrong then we needed the police to start looking for him sooner rather than later. If something really was wrong, if something was beginning all over again, then I wanted to be by Sukis side and I wanted Pepper to know I was there for her, needed her to know she wasn't going to relive that peril alone.

"Jesus christ," he groaned seconds later, running his hand through his messy hair, "fuck sake man he shoulda just stayed at mine.." but I couldn't let him think like that.

It was how my dad had thought about the night my mam went missing for years now. How my brother had always thought of it too.

She'd been on her way to pick Jimmy up from a football match down at the playing fields which backed onto the woods. Only she'd gotten confused, or my dad had gotten confused, because Jimmy had been going to his pals house for tea and hadn't needed picking up at all, and somewhere within that miscommunication our mam had been left alone in the dusky summer evening, smoking a cigarette at the edge of the woods. And they said that that was probably when Peppers dad had bumped into her. That everything had probably seemed fine to her at first, that he'd probably lured her away from the car, into the forest under false pretences. That by the time she understood what was really happening, what he really wanted, she'd have been out of earshot of anyone. And of course we wouldn't have realised anything was wrong until much later that evening, when she didn't show at Jimmys pal's house to pick him up and take him home.

There were so many angles to view it from that meant you could blame yourself, or blame some trivial detail which really, probably wouldn't have made a big difference. If dad had been on the ball he could have realised she didn't need to go for Jimmy before she'd even left the house. If Jimmy had reminded her before he'd gone to school that morning. And even me, perhaps if I hadn't been such a pain in the arse, always asking questions or needing constant attention... Perhaps then she wouldn't have been distracted, she would have taken it in and remembered later that Jimmy didn't need picking up. That there was no reason to head down to the football pitches that evening.

And if she hadn't gone what then? Perhaps she'd still be with us. Perhaps someone elses mum would have fallen victim to those woods instead. Could I honestly say I wouldn't have traded my mum for someone elses, could I really say that if I was given the choice, I wouldn't choose to kill someone elses mam and keep mine safe and alive and mine.

No. And neither could anyone else if they were being honest.

Even so, it was better not to dwell on things you could have but didn't do and so when Van groaned and tapped his cigarette nervously I had to cut him off and nip his melancholic self loathing in the bud.

"Its just a fuckin walk home Van, should be safe, anyone should be able to do it blind like... Shouldn't make any difference to his life whether he stops at yours a night or walks home alone half cut. Its just a road..."

"Aye,"said Van with dark eyes and a gloomy set smirk, "Ain't just a road though is it..."

And I knew he was right. It wasn't just a road and our little town where the forest met the coast, would never be just some other little town ever again. This was a place terrible things happened, a haunted place. And as I felt a familiar knowing shadow take over inside me, I felt the shudder of dread grip me as I thought about the woodlands we were about to go poking around in. Woodlands I was sure were never supposed to be disturbed.

"Cmon no point being morbid about it, may as well get it over with for fuck sake," said Benji. He'd been chain smoking the same as the rest of us but now he let his fall from his hand, grinding it into the ground beneath his trainer, leaving a print in the sand for someone else to find later if we didn't make it home.

So we picked up the pace, ducking back over the dunes into the woodlands we'd played in as kids until we couldn't anymore. They'd stopped feeling like a playground after everything that went down. After the police dogs, the white suits, the blue lights and sirens, the long days which dragged into even more painful nights, the cups of tea the neighbors made for my dad which were left untouched and curdling wherever they'd been set down.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and fell into step with Van. The floor beneath our feet was soft with pine needles, our trainers sinking deceptively into the top layer as we walked quickly, trying not to walk too quickly through the ever thickening trees.

"Larry!" shouted Van, his voice echoing and then swallowed whole, snuffed out by the evergreens.

He only shouted once or twice, his voice barely carrying, bouncing back to us so quickly that it was difficult to believe the forest stretched out for as far as it did. But we were at the foot of the long slope, the vast expanse of Ash, Pine and Oak which grew all up the hillside through the valley and didn't thin out until it met the old slag heaps miles out of town.

"Keep an eye out for..." I started trailing off because I didn't know what to say. "Well, anythin really..." I hadn't been paying enough attention to Larry the night before, too caught up, distracted by Suki. When I thought about it I couldnt have described any of my friends appearances from the night before because I hadn't really been paying attention to anyone else. Only Suki. And I felt guilty because even upon realising that fact it was her my mind remained revolving around.

I couldn't help myself, wondering what she'd be doing back at Van's, her and Pepper and Mia, perhaps they'd have been playing their video games earlier but now that it was dark and we were still out without them, they'd probably be getting nervous, probably find themselves unable to focus on a zombie game or a shit 80s horror. They'd probably be sitting in that awkward quiet, tension thick between them as they tried not to do anything that would make them look nervous. No one ever wanted to be the first to admit they were scared.

"Fuckin poirot over here..." smirked Benji cracking just enough of a smile to meet his eyes.

"Shit man this is fuckin pointless these woods are huge, even if we split up we ain't gonna cover it all by nightfall..."

"We ain't splittin up," I said quickly, quietly, my eyes meeting Van's through the ever darkening evening, "an its already night..." I shrugged, "so I don't know what you wanna do but if we go back now we have to go straight to his mam... She's gonna have to phone the police..."

"He might be back by the time we get back," shrugged Benji but we all knew it wasn't true. If he'd come back one of the girls would have phoned. We wouldn't still be out there looking for him. We wouldn't all feel so doomed.

"Maybe we should split..." said Van again, "just for a bit, have a wander round, cover more..."

"Fuckin no chance," I said shaking my head, a disbelieving grin cracked crooked as I shoved him playfully, "mr "I've seen every horror movie" and you actually want us to split up..."

"Aye mate am not so sure its a..." started Benji, his thought cut short by a wailing sound tearing through the trees.

The sound seemed to carry over our heads, like a fast moving cloud. Its echo lingering in the mist rolling in from the sea. I looked down to my shoes in the pine and saw the familiar grey vapour curling around my ankles and I didn't like the strange sensation it left on my skin.

For a second we all stood still, silent, looking at our feet, looking up at the thick dark green shadow of pine needles and leaves above our heads. The canopy blocked the evening light but we could all tell there wasn't much light left to be seen.

"Fuck was that?" asked Benji with a nervous twitching smile, "sounded like me demented nan..."

"Probably owls," I said with a shrug not wanting to admit how haunted that terrible keening had really made me feel. It had sounded so eerily familiar to me. A sound drifted in from childhood, the kind your mind forces you to forget until you hear it again.

"Maybe it was a ghost..." Van said with a small smirk, ironic and then suddenly wincing apologetic and embarassed by himself. "Sorry lad," he said quickly, taking out a cigarette trying to save himself, "sorry fuck I didn't..."

"Everyone thinks the woods are haunted," I shrugged swallowing a lump in my throat as my shoulders and jaw tensed tight, "theyve always thought that an all, not just since... You know..."

"Aye," said Van, "am still sorry though..."

And people always were and always would be. Sorry. Always awkward and apologetic. Those kinds of smiles were ones familiar to me after all this time.

"Cmon man," I said with a shudder, "we'll walk back into town, if he's somewhere in here the police will find him quicker than we can..."

"Aye but they won't go lookin tonight," he said, "always wait too long don't they..." he said, his eyes darker still as we all walked in step, each of us glancing over our shoulders every now and then, each of us checking for god knows what doing god knows what in our periphery.

"Yeah well," I said forcing a smile for his benefit, for mine too, "might not be waiting for anythin at all eh, blakes might be right... Maybe he's already home..."

But we weren't stupid and any lies we told to make eachother feel better... We all knew them to be just that. Lies.

The quickest way home however was unfortunately through the trees. It was quicker to head a little deeper into the woods and then veer for the football fields than it was to double back on ourselves and head back down the coast. Besides, there was little point treading familiar ground when were trying to think hopefully.

If we headed towards the footie pitch and the school we would perhaps stumble upon Larry unsuspectingly. I was hoping that my instincts were wrong but I'd always trusted myself more than I trusted anyone else and I knew that in this instance just like every other instance, I was probably right.

We probably weren't going to find Larry that night.

Knowing that fact only made the woods seem closer still. I felt every shudder in the pines like breath on my skin. Every twitch or snap in the trees drew my eyes searching for its cause. I kept trying to block it out, kept trying to tell myself to keep walking and looking straight ahead but it wasn't working to make me feel any less on edge. I wanted to be home with the girls, skip the fucking awful walk home and just be crushed up on Vans settee with Suki tucked under my arm and little Titch where I could see her. Needed everyone I cared about to be close to me. Knowing that it wasn't possible now left me feeling that familiar but ever strange seperation from myself. That hollow feeling in my bones that made me feel like my fingers weren't my own. Made me feel like I'd borrowed someone elses body for the day and I couldn't quite get a grip on the controls.

"Shit..." breathed Van suddenly stopping in his tracks so that I tripped over and into the back of him and Blakes had to stumble to stop himself crashing too.

"Shit..." I said quietly following his gaze. Just a little way in front of us was a car wreck... The bonnet crumpled into the trunk of a conifer. The glass in the pine needles hardly caught the light, it had been there so long it had been weathered by the rain, the dirt had set in and dulled it, muddied it. Only the largest plates remained.

"I thought they cleaned everythin up..." started Blakes trailing off because the answer to whatever question he'd been about to ask was right there in front of us, abandoned and battered, windows shattered, rusty skeleton chewed up. Left to the pines and the woods for them to do with whatever they liked.

"Yeah," I said, my mouth dry, my fingers searching my pocket for my light, "you'd have thought they would..." I said, fingers closing around pine needles and dirt in the pit of my pockets. No cigarettes to comfort me.

"It is..."

"Yeah," I said silencing Van before he could ask the obvious, a question we all already knew the answer to, "thats Titch's dads car," I said glancing over my shoulder. Checking my periphery. The painful sensation of being watched, skin prickling all over as I fixed my eyes on the car. That hollow feeling was rising, spreading through my body slowly so that I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving myself behind.

He'd crashed the car, he'd murdered Titch's mam and then he'd murdered mine too... It was the story everyone knew, and here was the evidence, here was the crashed car. Here was the broken glass. The rusting frame. The pine needles and pieces of bark he'd displaced. Like some museum exhibit.

Only Blakes was right. They had cleared the site. There'd been such a fuss in the local paper about it because some of us had wanted it cleared, some of us had wanted the scene disposed of, and others, those who believed Titchs father to be innocent, had wanted the crime scene preserved. So that it could be studied over and over, scrutinised for any new evidence. Anything that would prove something. Because it was one of those cases. The kind where everyone, no matter who's side theyre on, find themselves rooting for the same thing. When answers are in sshort supply people start to care less about the answers theyre going to get...

"Cmon we need to leave," I said struggled to swallow around the dry scratch in my throat... "An lets not tell titch about this yeah...actually lets not tell any of the girls about it eh?"

"Yeah," said Van nodding solemnly, "right blakes?"

"Right..."

But that would be our first mistake.  

[funnel-webbed-au]

Memories, Stained With Blood; Hearts, Carved From Sinew

Tag List: @skellebonez, @caxycreations

Riley's Notes: Hurt/comfort that also scratches the surface of the cruelty Nezha endured in the Funnel Webbed AU. All applicable CWs are in the tags.

It took very little to break the Central Altar Marshal. One just had to know what buttons to push.

Li Jing knew what buttons to push, knew where to stick his knife.

Nezha stood on the peak of the mountain, his body shaking with stress, with dread, at what he had finally gained the courage to speak about. There was no going back now, there couldn't be. He'd been struggling against himself for weeks to get himself this far. He had to tell his friend.

Sure, Sun Wukong wasn't the best kept together, but every once and a while, everything fell apart, and the Monkey King wasn't half bad at picking up the pieces and making sure everyone he cared about was okay. Nezha, thankfully, fell into that category of people he cared about, but it wasn't like either of them would admit it.

Seeing the ancient Deity in such a state made Sun Wukong wary.

"Listen, I know... I know I do not have the right to be here, but I spent a lot of time preparing myself for... a heavy topic of discussion I wish to make you aware of." Nezha swallowed hard, struggling to get his tremors under control. He could do this. He had to, he didn't have much of a choice. This was one of the first steps to truly making sure everyone knew the hideous, gory details of the way Heaven had liked to treat him... he had to give context to Sun Wukong for his sharp change in demeanor after they'd first met.

"...do you want to know why I... why I changed? Because that's what this is about."

Antares stepped aside as he saw the Deity's tremors worsen, as if he was ready to collapse at a moment's notice. Although they didn't have an obviously healthy relationship, the two had a deeper level of understanding between them than anyone could expect...

...for the darkest reasons imaginable.

Nezha took a seat in one of the padded chairs around Sun Wukong's recently refurbished cabin, moments before his knees would have buckled from the weight his heart was carrying with him. It was a wonder how he stayed standing, how he kept going and how he kept trudging forward... but a select few knew that he did it because it was all he knew. It was all he'd been taught. For all of his power, for all of incredible statuses...

The Central Altar Marshal breathed deeply before he spoke, his words uneven and catchy in his throat. "...you asked me when I stopped being fun, when I stopped being the bright, reckless and carefree young man that I'd once been... your answer is stained with my blood, Sun Wukong."

The monkey king paused, expression turning somber as he heard the words of one of his closest friends. The sun monkey turned to shut the door, then took his headdress off before he pulled a chair over. He sat across from his old friend, someone he'd drifted from when the tides changed and some fourteen hundred years had passed.

Nezha swallowed harshly, even as the venom in his veins burned his throat, reminding him that his time was running out. He had to make his peace before his mind was lost to the toxins coursing through his ichor.

"...they hurt you."

Sun Wukong's words were filled with a grim finality, a grim sense of certainty, like the deathblow that had been dealt to Nezha long ago, the blow that started the beginning of the end of the person he once was, of who he wanted to be. Nezha swallowed in response to those words, and without chiming anything in return, he broke his glamors...

...and the Monkey King's five times immortal heart stopped.

Those burn rings around the Deity's neck, upper arms, elbow, and wrists weren't even the half of the story, and it was still more than enough for the sun monkey to pause. Who could do such a thing to a Deity of such a high caliber? Who would dare to hurt his friend?

"Who."

The weight that a single word could carry could have never been more obvious. That word carried with it the crushing weight of a Demon who'd clawed his way tooth and nail to godhood, and had been thoroughly battered and shamed many steps of the way. That hatred was something Nezha had only heard of from those that hated the Monkey King.

Perhaps even those biased had a grain of truth.

It made Nezha's blood run cold. He refused to answer, and instead, the lotus on his tail closed, its pink shifting to indigo. As its scent dissipated, Sun Wukong blinked before he moved to sit next to his friend. He had to be there for him. Violence wouldn't solve anything now. His grudges, his hatred, his wrath could wait.

Nezha was more important, and he always would be.

Sun Wukong exhaled, and he made sure that the other immortal could rest, even if it was just for one day. He'd make sure it counted, make sure the troubled Deity had some support. He may never get what he needed, but at least he wouldn't be alone through his lowest points.

"I hate to admit it, Wukong, but..." The elder Deity hissed between statements as his cheeks flushed, and he spoke through gritted teeth. "I have frequent nightmares when I try to sleep alone. The worst part is that they tend to fail to wake me up."

Antares just smiled weakly. "Well, you're always welcome up here, even though it's... probably messier than you're used to... and I thought you said you didn't trust me."

"It's more complicated than that... I'll explain tomorrow." The Deity yawned, shaking his head with a soft grumble. It ill became him to be so tired before nine even hit, but it couldn't be helped with the state of his health.

Sun Wukong nodded, and as Nezha laid down in the spare bedroom, the monkey went to lie with him. He made sure to wrap his tail around Nezha's, which caused a lot of tension to evaporate from him.

As long as he had his friends, as long as he had his family, come Hell or high water, he'd get out of this. One way or another.

[sunakore]

#7!

hello this is nonserious and not compliant at all i just wanted an excuse to write lol

demon are called lathuri now yay! finally found a name for them. lathurie is plural for lathuri. icarus is now ivory. i honestly hate -us names for some reason.

wooo getting lore made yaaay i havent made their backstories yet but that will be the NEXT thing i do i promise i swear lmao. this little thingie has nothing to do with whatever im doing BUT their backstories will probably be based off of some things mentioned. i have new lore and i'll post info soon. lotta changes. and two new characters woohoo i'll mention them eventually

-

"I can reveal secrets about your past, if you let me," the lathuri said, linked hands propped beneath their chin. A gleam shone in their eyes, unnerving but holding a thousand strings of wishes and nightmares. Ivory couldn't help but be enthralled in a twisted sort of way.

Marelle hesitated, the hold on her knife slightly slacking. Ze looked to be contemplating on whether they should listen, or wipe out the demon with an easy strike. She looked to the two and tilted her head towards the demon. A silent question—should they hear them out?

Ivory didn't see the harm in it. Not like he had secrets to keep, anyways, and if the lathuri tried to run it wouldn't get far. He just shrugged. Nalani hesitated, before giving a nod. Marelle sighed, and regarded the demon with a wary gaze. "Sure," ze said.

The demon smiled. "Great! Let's see, hmm.." They closed their eyes for a moment, as if searching through a file sealed away in his mind. Ivory almost felt like they were still watching, seeing through their flesh and bone and picking apart every detailed. And then its eyes shot open.

"I gotta say," they began, tapping a finger against Marelle's forehead. She backed up in revulsion. "Abandoning your own blood for a bit of green? That's just selfish, don't you think?" Ze visibly froze. Her expression contorted into something unsettling that Ivory couldn't quite understand.

Nalani looked on with concern, but before he could speak up the demon turned to him. "It's a shame," they cooed saccharinely. "It's like she wanted to leave you. As if she had given herself that sickness just to get a better life that didn't involve you."

Ivory's eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck was it talking about? It must've been true, from the way Nalani's jaw clenched with a harshly tugged anger. But how did the demon even know? Did it look into their minds? He wondered if information spilled into their brain like an overfilled cup, or if images flashed through their mind. Maybe it was something entirely different.

...He almost found it fascinating. Plain rude, too. He knew lathurie didn't have a sliver of empathy to share, but it was already personal to begin with. Ivory's hands balled into fists. From perturbance or annoyance, he didn't know.

The lathuri looked at him. They raised an eyebrow, like they were staring at a language they couldn't decipher. Ivory nervously swallowed from the scrutiny. Eventually they said, "You're a hard one."

He tried to smile. "Thanks. I'm always hard." Marelle shook herself out of her stupor and glared at him.

The lathuri ignored him. They circled around him, a finger tapping their chin in contemplation. It muttered a few things under its breath, but it sounded like a tangle of jumbled words. Ivory didn't think he was that complicated. The smoothness of his brain wasn't exactly a difficult surface to navigate.

"I can't seem to read you." The demon halted and frowned. It looked genuinely perplexed. Jokes on them. "Why is that? Have you casted some spell, locking away any access to your mind?"

"First of all." Ivory lifted a finger to emphasize himself. "I don't have a mind. Nothing but air in here. Second, I guess you just kinda suck. That must be sad. You want my story?" He paused, running through every scenario that could've lead up to this point. This aggravating, stupid point. "I peed on my PS4 because it was overheating once. I called my mom a stupid hoe when I was 10. And I joined the circus to become a knife thrower when I was 12. Do you like my backstory, bitch? I sure hope you do, because it's cool as fuck."

Nalani stared at him, appalled. "...You peed on your..?"

The luthari hummed in interest. Yes! So that meant that Ivory's lore was as great as the others. You can't go wrong in the circus, can you? "Interesting," they muttered. "Very interesting. That...Hm. What made you decide to become a knife thrower?"

Ivory's eyes gleamed. "Do I have a fucking story to tell."

[amitsuma]

“Talk about Black.” For Kali 👀

Send “Talk about-” and a name for my muse to talk about that person!

The request coaxes a brief flinch, and a flare of color in her complexion.

❝I was… wary of him, at first.❞ The kai begins tentatively, sifting through memories. ❝And highly confused. I didn't know or understand who he was at the time. But I knew… he made me curious. He caught my attention, so I listened to him. And I believed him. And I… wanted to help him.❞ Those shy lips of hers soon form a warm smile, her hands close to her chest.

❝Over time, I've learned a lot. Lord Zamasu has taught me much of how things work, and what we're capable of doing to fix it. He's trained me, helped me hone my strength and abilities that I didn't even know I had. I know I'm nowhere near his level, and I likely never will be, but… I enjoy working my hardest. I enjoy when he tells me that I do well. Like he's proud of me.❞ Rather suddenly, her eyes draw low.

❝I didn't realize it at first, but… we share a similar origin.❞ The reflection abruptly turns somber. ❝We came from the same place. Worked just as hard, ignored just as often… I may be assuming, but I feel as though I understood him a little better once I learned this.❞ Her fingers fiddle with one another as her hands clasp together, lowering to hover just in front of her instead. ❝It made me want to try harder, want to do more. I… I've come to care about him, tremendously.❞ A statement she feels she made lightly. Her head raises, appearing melancholic.

❝I always try my utmost to do what I can. I want to make sure he's pleased, that I do well for him. I've… done many things that I normally never would have, and he's been nothing but supportive. … Admittedly, a part of me feels as though I'm being used.❞ She spoke this so frankly, all with a wry smile. ❝But I fear what his response would be, so I stay quiet. I keep working hard, I keep tending to him. I'm plenty content with how things are as of now… but,❞ she couldn't help but add. ❝Perhaps one day I can… well, convey how I feel.❞ She doesn't specify to what capacity she means, intending that detail to remain as hers and hers alone.

[elisethetraveller]

While she had been settled in Zaun for a good while now, the mage could not think of a single location large enough to host the people that would have to leave their homes. If they could even be convinced to do so. Even while dying, or especially then, people were a stubborn lot. In a place like the undercity where any material possessions were hard-won, she wouldn't blame people for being wary about leaving all that behind, even if it meant saving their lives. After all, what use was life if you had no foundation for living it. But that was a headache for later. First, they'd have to see if moving them to a place was even possible.

As expected, Silco, however, knew of a location that suited their needs. "I suppose it would be too much to hope they'd let us use the buildings free of charge? After all, they have just as much reason to want the sickness dealt with as you do." The mage had yet to meet any other chem-barons or baronesses, though if that was because her work kept her busy or her willful attempt at distancing herself from the political scene, she didn't know. "Even if it cuts into their finances, they still rely on a workforce and customers, both of which are currently in free-fall." An exaggeration, but not overly so. Zaun might appear to be an anthill of unending workers at a quick glance, but an epidemic such as this with no regard for strong or weak made it clear exactly how fragile that balance was. Not to mention that, from what she knew, a decent portion of the chem-barons made their business upriver, and with disease running rampant, the amount of Top-Siders in Zaun was lower than ever.

While Sevika moved as soon as Silco began walking, Elise stayed where she was. She was actively treating people, and even during their conversations, maintaining heart rates and organ functions while other medicines did their job. She couldn't just leave. Opening her mouth to protest, the mage didn't get the chance before the brawler's hand landed between her shoulders and pushed her forward, and while she did shoot a glare in Sevika's direction, Elise let herself get coaxed into following. If they ventured too far, she could always stop and go back.

The twists and turns they took led them away from the familiar neon-green streets of the Lanes and into the dimmer parts of the fissures. Where the underground elements were still wild and could only be mitigated instead of controlled. However, a curious thing took place as they ventured further and further away from the medical den.

While Elise at no point stopped and insisted she go back, the cool silver of her eyes began changing. In the beginning, it was merely a spark of red, like a shooting star across the sky, but as the air grew thick, it developed into a flickering glow of burgundy that the mage herself scarcely noticed. It was a light mirrored by the still-floating circle of crystals around her wrist. As pink, magenta, and red neons cut through the smog around them, casting long trails of colour in the heavy air, the glare became less apparent, even if its red was a far cry from the inviting passionate red of the signs.

"Most likely." The mage responded after listening to Sevika's explanation. This was not her first trip to the red-light district. Together with the deep fissures where the worst hit shimmer addicts gathered, it was the district she frequented most when her work allowed her to venture beyond the Lanes and the medical den. Breathing deeply, her nose crinkled as the invasive scent of perfume from a passing prostitute engulfed her senses.

While the gasses did little to affect her, the many smells and lights were another matter. Everything melted together in a colour wash of reds and violets, and no matter how she breathed, it was impossible to evade the scent of sweet flowers or cologne. Red eyes flickering to the side, the unnatural gaze chased away the nearest curious bystander, but the feeling of pressure didn't go away. Even her form seemed to have been swallowed up in the array of colour and smog as the neons bounced off her pale dress. It didn't help that she could feel her attention being pulled as a kidney back at the medical den threatened to collapse. Hopefully, this would be over quickly.

At Elise's next words, Silco fell quiet. It was a good point to make: The last thing, he wanted, was to accidentally make more people sick. Piltover could afford to be irresponsible because they were on the other side of the river and they turned blind eyes towards the suffering down below. Moreover, their better hygiene and cleaner streets meant that a lot of illnesses, which could find good ground to fester and grow in the Undercity, would never have survived topside. It was honestly insane how different their biomes were, all because of the difference in the levels of pollution. Sometimes, Silco wished he could bring all the diseases of the sickly months upstream, just so Piltover had to struggle too!

But that was wishful thinking and dreaming. If there was no practical way to do an idea, Silco didn't bother to entertain it for too long. Besides, the sickly months always meant that he was extraordinarily busy. He had an Undercity to keep safe. And while for most commonly occurring diseases, they had developed their own protocol, cures and safety measures, there was always the chance that some rare mutation or even a completely new disease threw everybody for a loop. Like the sleeping sickness did right now. At least, Singed protocoled everything, so once they found a cure, they would hopefully be better prepared for the next outburst.

However, right now, they were still in the mids of the epidemic. Containment and finding a cure were the utmost priority. Elise's plan made a lot of sense. They would of course need a big building in the Undercity, which might be able to hold the population of the hardest hit streets, which hadn't yet fallen ill. Where in the Undercity could he find a building, which even remotely met the requirements? The only thing, which came to mind immediately, was the red light district.

The Undercity didn't have a school. Most things were taught by adults to the children willing to learn. Normally that meant visiting the Promenade Levels, where the occasional poorer Piltie could be persuaded to teach you the basics of reading and writing and maths. Some even taught things like history and biology. Though few Zaunites sought out this avenue.

Silco said: "There might be a location, we could use. However, we would need to make an arrangement as the location, I have in mind, is not part of my territory. And we would massively cut into somebody's finances, so we are going to need to offer a lot of money for compensation. Not Shimmer, in this case, actual money." He puffed up his cloak collar and began to walk, not after giving Elise and Sevika a look and with a sharp whistle demanded: "Sevika, Elise, you're with me."

Sevika pulled her poncho over her metal arm and measured her own steps, allowing her to stick close to Silco. Her meaty hand placed itself between Elise's shoulders and softly coaxed her forwards. The small trio went silent as they wandered away from the medical den. Their route didn't take them to The Last Drop though. Instead, they were heading south towards another territory, which was very different from the bloodied, yet strangely open and organised streets of the Lanes.

The first thing, which stood out, was the heat. Gases rose from cracks in the floor, sprayed out of busted pipes and clouded the streets in a steaming odour. The warmth and the funny smell did little to hide the bright Neon-signs in predominantly red, rose, pink and magenta, which were all advertising the same thing: A damn good time for anybody, who had the money to pay for it.

Several prostitutes were leaning against walls and by the entrance doors of brothels. They had dripped perfume deep into their wide cleavage, which was part of why the air had this funny, kind of fruity smell to it. The women wore heavy makeup and had wound strings of pearls and colourful bands into their long, luscious hair. Some smiled and waved suggestively at Elise. Outside of them a couple of male escorts were wandering around in tight pants, long, dapper cloaks and wide-rimmed hats. They were smiling coyly in Elise's direction, golden teeth flashing.

However, despite all this behaviour, none of the sex workers went for Silco or Sevika. They had recognised that the Eye of Zaun was in the territory for business and not for the sake of pleasure. As they continued wandering, looking for seemingly a specific building, Sevika leaned over towards Elise and explained:

"The Red Light District isn't part of Silco's territory. Sure, the Lanes have a brothel through Babette, but she specifically chose to stay in the Lanes. Margot's the Chem-Baroness, which controls the Red Light District. She is the owner of the Vyx company. I presume, Silco brought you here to explain something and give his demand more weight."

[fantastic-nonsense]

It's kind of funny that the "I will have you without armor or I will not have you at all" line is as much about Inej as it is about Kaz in the end

Because there Kaz is, actually being emotionally honest for the first time in their whole friendship and flat-out saying he wants her (that he wants her to stay with him), but Inej doesn't trust his words. She loves him, but her own happiness and healing comes first and she doesn't think he's ready to give her what she needs out of a relationship.

And to her credit, she's right. He's not ready (which I've discussed a little bit before here); but neither is she in that moment. Kaz may be avoiding a solid 95% of Inej's attempts to get him to be truthful about his thoughts and feelings with her during Six of Crows, but she doesn't believe him even when he is truthful. So she throws her own armor up in that scene, and it doesn't truly come down until Crooked Kingdom's epilogue chapters.

We all talk a lot about Kaz's actions during CK and how he does everything in his power to ensure Inej has the ability and freedom to walk out of his life forever if she wants. But even after he saves her from Van Eck, even after the "if I couldn't walk, I would crawl to you" conversation, even after the net, even after the the Bathroom Scene and her paid-off indenture and keeping her at his side when he confronts Pekka, Inej still doubts him to the point where she goes to the harbor prepared to do just that:

Kaz had changed. The net. Paying her contract. She could still feel the faint touch of his lips on her skin, his bare hands fumbling with the knots of her bandages. Inej had seen the scant glimmer of what he might become if he let himself. She couldn’t bear to see him dressed in armor once more, buttoned back into his immaculate suits and cold demeanor. She wouldn’t listen to him talk as if the Ice Court and everything that came after had been just another job, another score, another bit of advantage to be gained. But she wouldn’t ignore his note. It was time to put an end to this thing that had never had a chance to begin. She’d tell him what she’d heard about Pekka, offer to share some of her routes and hiding spots with Roeder. It would be over. She turned down the light, and after a long while, she fell asleep with the note clutched in her hand. -Ch. 44, Crooked Kingdom

She clings to his final letter like a love-struck teenager but puts on a brave face and walks to the harbor the next morning ready to "put an end to this thing that had never had a chance to begin."

But Kaz surprises her by coming to the harbor with bared hands and the Wraith as an offering, and Inej realizes that her own fear and trauma and trust issues have been holding her back from seeing that his progress is real and permanent. He's now the one reaching out, and she's the one backing away in fear of what pursuing a relationship with him would mean. She states during this scene that she "would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying" without acknowledging that she's actively pulling away from the possibility of fighting in that moment. Her armor is what's getting in the way now, not his.

And it's fascinating, because her words come from an incredibly valid and understandable place! She's not responsible for Kaz's trauma or for making sure he heals; she's got enough of her own healing to do without taking on the responsibility of dealing with his as well. And like Kaz notes during the "I would come for you" scene, she's right to be wary of opening herself up to him given his previous behavior. She's technically setting an incredibly healthy relationship boundary here, and that should be acknowledged! It's something she should believe!

However, it's important to realize that healthy boundaries can become unhealthy boundaries when you're leaning on them as a coping mechanism instead of using them as an actual boundary...which is what Inej is doing here. She says she's willing to fight for him and their relationship, but in reality she's falling back on behaviors that (like Kaz's) helped her survive Ketterdam but don't necessarily help her create healthy relationships with other people:

When Kaz had brought her to the Slat, he’d warned her that he wouldn’t be able to watch out for her, that she’d have to fend for herself, and she had. It would have been easy enough to turn away when they called her names or sidled up to ask for a cuddle, but do that and soon it was a hand up your blouse or a try at you against a wall. So she’d let no insult or innuendo slide. She’d always struck first and struck hard. Sometimes she even cut them up a bit. It was fatiguing, but nothing was sacred to the Kerch except trade, so she’d gone out of her way to make the risk much higher than the reward when it came to disrespecting her. -Ch. 4, Six of Crows

She went to the harbor ready to strike first and hard only to have the rug pulled out from under her, because Kaz revealing the Wraith helps Inej realize that she's not actually setting a healthy boundary here: she's just closing herself off from him. So she takes a leap of faith, cracks her armor open, and offers him the same vulnerability in return: she tells him she'll come back, invites him to work with her to take down the slave trade, and offers him her hand. And he takes it.

It takes until that moment for Kaz and Inej to truly understand how determined the other is to fight for the possibility of a future together. Inej still doubted that Kaz cared for her enough to be vulnerable around her and trust her with himself; Kaz still doubted Inej cared for him enough to ever come back once she had the opportunity to leave. But then she offers a partnership and her hand. And he accepts both, and Inej acknowledges it as the promise it is.

And when she first sees her parents? That's when Inej's walls finally come completely crumbling down:

Had she really thought the world didn’t change? She was a fool. The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent. The boy beside her. The future before her. Anything was possible. -Ch. 44, Crooked Kingdom

They both need time and space to work on healing themselves, and it's probably going to take awhile. But they've already taken the first steps to dismantle the armor that's kept them both safe and untouchable in the Barrel, and they're also both actively broadcasting that they're willing to put effort into a potential relationship...and that open and visible reciprocity makes all the difference. They've been getting their communication wires crossed since the Ferolind, and it's only at the harbor that they're both able to see and accept what the other is offering: a path forward, together, with knives drawn and pistols blazing.

[quandaryqueen]

Shackles and crutches

Arkhamverse Edward Nygma X Reader

Just a number of toxic relationship headcanons. I love me some lovely angst, so here it is. Also, I injected some of my real life experiences here, so I guess this counts as venting. Squint and you'll see a lot of Mitski's influence.

That being said, this piece will contain themes of abuse ranging from physical, emotional, psychological and etc.

I do not condone nor glorify such things.

💚 How did it started... Well to make a long story short, what happened was a series of slow burn. Edward Nygma is a man who grew wary to those who grows close to him and try as he may he push them away even if it killed him to be touched, embraced, loved. And there came the time where one came close enough and he lets it happen without much of a struggle after for so long. It felt so fucking good and he doesn't want to admit that you make him feel this way. Old habits die hard, the distrust was still there. God, you have no idea if he lets his walls down completely, you'd know how to destroy this man. As if you already didn't know that, for a man who considers himself as an enigma he was so fucking easy to read.

💚 Everything was well. Well, at least you were meant to believe that. From the very beginning this relationship was doomed to become sticky for both parties involved. But you didn't know that. All you knew is that he hates everything but you and there's something so special about that. His only piece of sanity, the one who keeps him grounded. It was a huge fucking deal to him. He can go on and on about how you mean so much to him. But words are not his bond.

💚 So... What would you do with a loving feeling, when they only love you when you're all alone? He isn't exactly the PDA man as much as he loves you, that's okay, right? Everyone has boundaries. But what he does that's very upsetting was denying his relationship with you with fellow rogues.

Him? Attached to somebody? This somebody named Y/N L/N? The moron whom he can easily make them do his bidding? Ha!

You'd think that this was just him being protective. "I can let them know what my relationship with you is, or they'll make use of you for leverage."-kind of deal but no. It's more like, "I can't let them know that I'm vulnerable to someone."

Should the whole world know that the incredible mind of Edward Nygma couldn't resist such a primitive desire for companionship, they'd think he's another one of them— the weak-minded dullards.

💚 The very first crack of the relationship came in the form of Edward finding himself wrapped around Catwoman's paws. You have nothing against her, you know that's just how she is with everybody. But Edward liked the attention and despite being in a relationship with you, he yearned to press forward. And besides, Cat doesn't know your relationship with him, he often denies your relationship with everyone anyways.

💚 You know, Edward is difficult to confront. Mostly because it will become one-sided. It's funny because you were the one who confronted him and yet he takes over and would begin to talk over you, that you wouldn't get the chance to speak. He'd fill the whole room with arguments that doesn't correlate with the topics at hand.

"Edward, I'm not mad... I'm just upset that you let her—"

"Oh, so you have the utter audacity to claim that my meetings with Miss Kyle were of personal intention instead of professional? You're delusional, Y/N. Do you see me fuming when you'd talk to others behind my back?"

"Please, Edward listen—"

"Oh hark who's talking! You don't see me accusing you for cheating when you were getting a little friendly with everyone! You think I wouldn't know?! I'm not a moron!"

To save his hide, his voice flares raw numbering the times where he stayed silent when you would talk to others behind his back. He kept it vague enough, but filled it with implications so if you were to deny, he'd have an ammunition to claim that you were being defensive. If you were confused at his insinuations, he'd accuse you of playing dumb.

Either way, there's no winning in this one. If you were to confront him, he'd flip the table on you out of defense. He's perfect, why would he make mistakes? It's obvious you were at fault here.

💚 It was one of the red flags raised, but did you loved him less?

After that particular arguement, Edward noticed how reserved you became, dismissive even. He thought it was fucking petty of you to give him the cold shoulder but fine, two can play at this game... But then it lasts longer than he likes, he'd start getting antsy. Gets into a fit, destroying a few things and when the boiling point had simmer, he would collapse in heap of tears, just a sobbing mess. His head would start racing about how he doesn't deserve you, how you're always there and how he doesn't know how to live on without you. He'd start apologizing frantically, in his knees even, sobbing and clinging on to you.

💚 What was it that Edward did to make you so attached, shackled was the right word if you weren't being in denial. All your friends and family see is a man who throws a fit when things won't go his way and that's what he is, a manchild. That's why you can never bare to leave him.

💚 After the whole fiasco had somewhat cooled down, he's still plagued with the paranoia of you leaving and so he does all his might to ensure that you'd be there, by giving you abundance of whatever the fuck. He would start being clingy, disregarding his work for a while in favour of spending time with you, his... Significant other.

"Y/N-dear, I have a riddle for you: What's otherworldly, ethereal, and beyond undescribably beautiful?"

"Oh um..."

"The answer? You." He says, making you feel loved.

💚 By this he'd miss a lot of times working on his cluster fuck of metal and code, he'd drop you off again. At first it isn't bad, but all things spiral downwards as it lasts. And the cycle perpetuates.

Suddenly, you're the reason why he's distracted. Suddenly you're not the center of his world anymore. Suddenly you didn't exist.

💚 And repeat.

💚 The first time Edward raised his hand on you was a time when you told him the truth, when you started to realise the truth.

"You know what? No on with self-preservation would have stayed with you for long! That's why no one has ever been there for you! You make everything about yourself, you're so self-centred and arrogant--"

The back of his hand collides against your face, sending you reeling backwards with wide eyes. Your trembling hand reached to touch the sting upon your cheek, your glossy eyes laden with betrayal. The man before you was too enraged to even look you in the eye, or even turn around to look at you. He remains haunched over his desk, white-knuckling the edge of his table. It wasn't until you left, when he threw the desk against the wall.

💚 And when you'd attempt to leave, he'd use all of his resources to locate you and when he does find you...

"Y/N!" He latched his malnourished form around you, his arms were possessive shackles binding in you in place. "Why did you leave me? I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, please forgive me! Don't leave me, please!"

He cried on your chest, he held you tight that you couldn't breathe. He never wants you to leave, you're the only one that keeps him together, makes him feel loved.

💚 To feel so responsible for another's stability, to go as far to ignore your own just so you can be made certain that they're in the state of mind wherein they wouldn't hurt themself-- it was wrong. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't bear it if it ever comes to him letting himself go due to your negligence.

And so you stayed. Until you decayed.

[sweetdreamsshifter]

Grudges - Prologue (The Snap)

Newt Scamander x Fem!Magizoologist!Reader

A/N- I have decided to start a new multi-part series! Woohoo!! Who knows how long I'll let this series last for. I've already written a few chapters and a prologue, and I cannot WAIT to write more. Enjoy the beginning of my first ever multi-part series, "Grudges". (P.S. let me know what you think in the comments!)

Word Count- 601

Y/N = Your Name

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Finally, after searching for 6 days straight, the demiguise was right where Y/N wanted it. The creature peacefully ate away at the leaves he was holding, stopping when Y/N stepped into its sight.

"Don't worry, honey, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." Y/N said, offering a bundle of leaves to the demiguise. He slowly looked between the leaves and Y/N, carefully dropping the stem he now held and walking over to her. 

"See? I only want to help you. I don't think you belong here, now do ya?" She asked, taking a step away from the demiguise and opening her purse. Inside she had enchanted a magical habitat to hold the creatures she rehabilitated and relocated to their natural environments, if they seemed strong enough to survive in the wild.

Carefully placing the purse next to the wary demiguise, she held her hand out to pet him. He let her pet his head and soon moved closer to her, allowing her a better view of the marks on him. He had scratches along his neck and back, confirming her theory that he had been captured and forced into some cruel wizard circus.

"I can help you if you'll let me. You just have to follow me. I promise you more of these if you join me." Y/N carefully stepped into the bag to show the safety of it. As the demiguise started to step into the bag, a loud crack echoed through the clearing. When Y/N made it out of her bag, the demiguise was gone.

"Dammit!" She yelled, kicking her bag closed. Y/N turned around, trying to find the source of the sound only to find an equally-angered man storming towards her.

"What do you think you were doing? A demiguise isn't a creature you can just take! In fact, it's il-" 

"If you would listen to me, sir, and stop accusing me of something, then you would know that I am a magizoologist hired by MACUSA to heal and relocate this animal to South Asia!" Y/N yelled at the man, closing the space between them and pressing her finger into his chest.

"That can't be true because I was hired by the Ministry of Magic to do the exact same thing." He retorted, anger and confusion passing over his face like waves, his hand holding her wrist and forcing her finger off his chest.

"Look, I don't know who you are, much less if you're telling me the truth, but I suggest you step away from me before I break your hand as loudly as you did my chance of helping that hurt creature." The man let go of Y/N, allowing her to grab her bag and apparate back to her hotel room.

"What the hell was his problem, Wiggy? I mean, I was so close to helping that poor demiguise. Now who knows if it's safe!" Y/N ranted to her billywig who had been hidden in her skirt pocket as she sat at her desk.

"And NOW I have to tell Mr. McFey that I failed to help the demiguise and prove to the rest of the department that I'm the weak little girl they see me as." Y/N couldn't tell if her tears were because of her anger towards the man in the forest, her fear of getting yelled at, or embarrassed acceptance that she'll only feed into the sexist thoughts of her coworkers, but what she did know was that she was royally pissed and would not forgive the man in the forest.

[aziracrow-omens]

Though Crowley's reaction was subtle, the resulting effect on Aziraphale was substantial. He immediately began to second-guess his decision to go down there and then subsequently berated himself mentally for second-guessing. He had chosen to do this - all of it, from taking up the position of Supreme Archangel to descending into Hell on his own and demanding a meeting with no prior preparation or warning. Whether or not any of his choices were mistakes, the least he could do was take responsibility for his actions and own up to them. That was what was expected of someone in a position as high as his.

Furthermore, however he felt about making those choices, he had to at least seem certain about them or his reliability and competency in his new role could have been called into question. The unforeseen difficulty was that while Aziraphale had enough faith in himself to convince Heaven and all its angels of his self-confidence, the new Prince of Hell was an entirely different matter. How was he supposed to fool a being who, after 6,000 years, quite possibly knew him better than he even knew himself?

He took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself with practical reasoning. Crowley may have known him uncomfortably well, but Aziraphale was just as familiar with Crowley. At least, he thought he was. The new development of his promotion to Prince was a bit of an unexpected shock, but if he could just understand the motive behind that little act, perhaps everything else would all make sense.

Whatever he may have thought, though, Crowley still had the decency to oblige him with some privacy before criticizing Aziraphale's actions as 'hardly seeming professional'. The angel appreciated that, but the way the demon had viciously intimidated his fellows who had blocked his path to the door was still on his mind. Thus it took a moment for him to reorganize his thoughts enough to properly allow Crowley's words to sink in and then begin to formulate a reply.

"Technically, I did announce myself," he countered, drawing himself up with the intention of letting the demon know that he would not be as easily daunted by him as his subordinates had been beyond the door. "I just did it once I was here. As Supreme Archangel, I wasn't aware I was required to give prior notice in order to pay a visit. After all, human offices are subject to surprise audits and inspections all the time. And, seeing as I'm sure you couldn't possibly have anything to hide from me or Heaven, I didn't think you would have reason to object."

He inclined his head ever so slightly as he looked upon his friend like he could tell what else had changed in him from his new appearance alone. Aziraphale hated the way they were keeping up the cold, business-like attitude even when it was just them by themselves. It was possible Crowley was just behaving in such a way to get back at him for having returned to Heaven, but even if that were true, the angel had to admit that the demon addressing him by no less than his full title had stung a bit. It was also possible that, even though it seemed like they were alone, others could have still been watching or listening to their exchange somehow. He faltered, his careful irises sweeping the immediate vicinity for any hint of what might have worked as a camera or recording device.

"...As for what I have to discuss with you, there are a number of things, the first of which are the circumstances of your promotion." Finding nothing he could tell was amiss after a brief scan of the entire room, he settled his serious gaze back on those yellow, serpentine eyes. Even if he hadn't been able to find anything, perhaps Crowley would be able to signal to him somehow if there was something - or someone - they needed to be wary of while navigating their conversation.

"Didn't you mention having been asked back to Hell not long ago and that you had turned them down?" he asked. "What...what changed since then?"

There was, of course, the obvious answer of his decision to take up the Metatron's offer. However, Aziraphale needed to hear from Crowley himself whether or not that change had been the one to instigate the demon's own.

Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to believe the rumors. Not long after his ascendance back into Heaven as Supreme Archangel, there was word that a new demon had replaced Beelzebub as Prince of Hell down Below. This in itself was to be expected; after all, Heaven had filled their new vacancy, so why wouldn't Hell?

But it was who was said to have filled the vacancy that Aziraphale had trouble wrapping his mind around. Dagon had been his first guess, or maybe even Shax. But the Serpent of Eden? After all he'd said about not needing to rejoin Hell; not wanting to?

There was nothing for it. The angel had to go down to see for himself. He was certain it was the only way he would be able to reconcile himself to the idea. Being Head Archangel meant he had the right to go wherever he pleased. In fact, he was expected to meet with the new Prince in order to encourage future relations between Heaven and Hell.

Whatever he had imagined in order to brace himself, however, did not sufficiently prepare Aziraphale for the sight that met him when he got there. Atop the throne that Beelzebub had once occupied lounged a familiar redhead. Familiar despite the addition of shining, scattered snake scales and unusually long, sharp nails.

Those features combined with the slitted snake pupils and enlarged yellow irises hiding any glimpse of white sclera gave Crowley an overall more demonic appearance than Aziraphale had ever thought he could manifest. Looking at him then, it was difficult to even recall he had ever even been an angel at all.

Surely this was some sort of a trick. An illusion, perhaps; something to throw the newest Archangel off his game upon his first visit to Hell in his new position. After all, it was no secret by now that both respective offices knew that Crowley and Aziraphale had been in league with each other for millenia.

Perhaps this was some diabolical prank Hell had cooked up and Heaven hadn't opposed it if only to repay Aziraphale back for the trouble he'd caused them in the past. Just because the Metatron had promoted him didn't mean there weren't still some among the rest of the heavenly host who resented him. Yes, that must have been it.

Aziraphale cleared his tight, dry throat. "Supreme Archangel Aziraphale here on official business to meet with the newly-appointed Prince of Hell," he announced, trying not to choke on his own words. It was with no small amount of difficulty that he forced himself to look Crowley - or what resembled Crowley - in the eyes. "I...don't suppose you have an office where we can discuss our matters privately, Your Highness...?"

((Response to the Prince of Hell prompt

- aziracrow-omens))

@aziracrow-omens { it won't let me tag you }

Of course Crowley had not only known that he would, sooner or later, be seeing Aziraphale again. That had, after all, been the entire point of what he'd done.

He just hadn't expected it to go this way.

He thought there would be a planned meeting, that he would have time to prepare. Not that the Supreme Archangel would just march right into hell and request an audience with him without warning. There was, perhaps, a brief widening of yellow eyes, maybe a slight pursing of his lips, but nothing beyond that to betray his surprise.

Wordlessly, Crowley rose and, gesturing for Aziraphale to follow, led the way towards a door in the back of the room. Most demons stepped aside without prompting, clearing a path; those that didn't were met with a hiss and a baring of fangs that cowed them easily. Inside, Crowley was warring with himself---he'd chosen this, yes, and he'd known when he chose it that it would come with a certain amount of...theatrics to really sell the idea to hell that he was serious. But something about Aziraphale seeing him like this, leaning so heavily into this role, made him feel absolutely wretched.

The door was closed behind them, a quick snap of the prince's fingers ensuring it was locked and that their words would not be heard by any nosy demons who might be crowding outside or pressing their ears to it. Only then did Crowley turn to actually face Aziraphale, though his guard had not yet lowered.

"Showing up in hell unannounced, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale? Hardly seems professional. You must have something terribly important you wanted to discuss with me."

[wornoutmouse]

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play,  blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin. 

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors. 

Completely undiluted. 

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you  came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj." 

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America. 

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells. 

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness." 

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn. 

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.  

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed.  In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life. 

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned  brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek,  "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch,  I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.  

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now. 

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you. 

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web. 

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course." 

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole. 

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail,  keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second. 

Your large and in charge persona was cracking.  You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due. 

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat.  Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen. 

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth.  Your insides gripped him ever so slightly.  Sucking him back in as if he belonged there.  He felt used and it felt good.  His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity. 

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge. 

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?" 

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh. 

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.