#one-sided heroshipping

[krakenshaped]

A piece on unrequited love || Part 1 || Part 2 ||

[blackypng]

Edo my little chew toy....

[s-ephiroth]

Sephiroth Week 2021

to the moon!

[ on AO3 ]

Day 4: Stained (Wing)s

Clumsy as he had been when dealing with it — enough to earn a worried scolding from Angeal afterwards, but far from Gillian's ears to avoid a real scolding — he still felled a dragon with a single blow.

So for a good few weeks, all the village talked about was Sephiroth.

Sephiroth, our hero, they liked to say.

Sephiroth, who saved our turnips.

Almost like a chant, as he went down the old, beaten road, tiger on one side, fox on the other.

Sephiroth, Sephiroth, Sephiroth.

He was garnering a reputation and growing tired of the pedestal really fast, not wanting the pressure of heroship, only to live his life as he always had since he was left in the village, instead; simple and helping people without any titles or rewards to avoid dwelling too much on his mental scars. Exchanging odd jobs for gil. Assisting those closest to him the best he could.

Lying down on the grass with the one graced with the power of the king of the beasts, sometimes.

They owed each other a long story, anyway.

"So," Angeal started, after brushing a strand of silver hair away, "he told you. About how he feels."

"Yes."

"What brought it on? He only ever told me when I pressured him to."

Which, in retrospect, hadn't been something Angeal was very proud of. But it was necessary. Foxes were tricksters who kept far too many secrets to themselves until the last possible moment, otherwise. Even if it was so stressful.

Genesis already had too much stress in his life, what with a family that left him behind as if he was nothing when they finally cultivated enough power to ascend to the heavens. Literally no wonder why he was so bite-happy.

Angeal tried not to think of their little spitfire ascending as well. The thought of both losing Genesis and having him attain godly powers was a little scary.

He kissed Sephiroth's forehead, instead, while giving him space to talk; ever so gentle and patient with him.

"...I asked him about where I could find an immortal with wings."

"And he was sarcastic with it?"

Sephiroth melted a little. Ah, trust Angeal to know them both better than they knew themselves.

"Yes. I told him I won't go on my own, but…"

"It would still be a personal journey to understand yourself, so even if we went along, you would need to confront your angel on your own at some point, right?"

He curled up against the tiger a little more, feeling a bit… exposed.

Maybe too exposed.

"Yes… It's my problem to deal with. But I… I promise not to go away, alright? I… hn. I don't want to leave you behind."

Angeal smiled fondly at him.

"If you had to leave, I would probably let you," he said and stopped Sephiroth with a finger against his lips to avoid the interruption for a moment, "because I love you and know you would probably come back if you went."

"...And if I don't?"

"Then I would honor what we had and keep the good memories, I guess. Hm. Maybe assume that you're happier elsewhere and make amends with it."

Sephiroth fell quiet, listening to the sound of a tail moving against the grassy ground while not knowing exactly how to reply to that, and feeling his own cheeks a little more heated than usual.

But there was another story, one about woodcutters finding a very long sword in a river after seeing something fall from the skies. Some people were saying that it came from the moon of all places.

And somehow, Angeal had kept it until it felt like the right time to let it go to Sephiroth's hands.

Probably one of the best choices he made, right after kissing Genesis without any manner of declaration one day, just because he couldn't find good words for it. Or right after letting the natural course of things follow with getting Sephiroth into it as well. Hm. Probably both. The best choices always came in threes, after all.

"Do you think…" asked Sephiroth, with a little hesitation, "that I also came from the moon?"

"Oh? I don't know. But it would definitely explain your hair being the same color as it."

Perhaps...

Well, if it was the case, maybe he could still look at Sephiroth at night, if he ever left.

It was a nice way to think about it.

-

There was more than one dragon.

And no, they weren't arriving by accident or coincidence. People from a place called Midgar were sending them and other monsters to "soften the land". Or, in other words, to run them out of their home just so that the land was free to explore and drain the resources of.

But some of the beasts always arrived wounded, for some reason.

Sword markings, Sephiroth noticed after a few dragons slain in some manner or another on the end of Masamune and his companions' swords, claws, fangs and magic.

Almost as if something or someone was trying to slow down the monsters but couldn't defeat them for whatever reason.

And as far as he understood, their swordwork was very good, even if the monsters still lived. It made things a bit easier to deal with; at many occasions, it was just a matter of cutting off a neck and putting the creatures out of their misery.

(At a few others, headaches tried to paralyze him; more and more intense as time went on, always making him see sights much worse than a dragon's carcass.)

When war was officially declared, Genesis’ tails had split once again.

He learned to navigate both new sword techniques and having three tails instead of just two at the same time. And taught both Sephiroth and Angeal how to use the fox beads that the common folk called materia, while he was at it.

Because the Midgarians would bring their own magical beads with them; mass produced by whatever forsaken means they used instead of carefully cultivated by foxes and tanukis alike. And they would certainly demolish the village with magic, if they didn’t know how to counter.

For some reason or another, the situation felt way too familiar for Sephiroth.

The feeling of being stuck on one side of a conflict, having to fight instead of living his life as freely as he should. But this time, the enemy… Something about fighting against Midgar felt right, for whatever reason.

Even if it eventually meant rolling down a cliff in the heat of the conflict after being hit by one of the huge machines the enemy brought, until he could no longer hear either of his companions calling out for him.

Well, it was bound to happen.

At least, he still had his materia on his person.

It was just a matter of finding shelter from the heavy rain and hoping that Genesis and Angeal, along with the rest of the people fighting, were well and able to stand their ground.

Or it would be just that if the cave he chose to enter, with blue hydrangeas taking all over the place, wasn’t already taken by someone with golden hair, piercing blue eyes and broken wings with ruined feathers stained with blood.

[general-yasur]

Lloyd and Jorge (Heroshipping)

Lloyd and Jorge started out enemies to lovers. Lloyd is the grumpy superhero who didn’t pass 3rd grade and Jorge is the sunshine genius superhero.

They take care of one another because that’s easier than taking care of themselves. Jorge picks out Lloyds outfits in the mornings and Lloyd learned how to cook for him.

Jorge does his best to make sure Lloyd experiences life away from being a Ninja. They always end up on the wackiest adventures while they learn more about themselves and explore how to be in a healthy relationship.

Jorge makes Lloyd feel safe and with him he feels like Lloyd Garmadon who happens to be a ninja. Not a Ninja who is a person on the side. He loves to listen to Jorge talk and his nightmares seem to stay away when they sleep together.

Lloyd is Jorges biggest advocate and believes in him. When people are afraid of Jorge, Lloyd isn’t. Jorge loves this. He loves to talk to him about every little thing because Lloyd is his person. Although a rare sight, Jorge is always searching for the green ninja’s smile. Lloyds laugh is like a symphony to him and when he gets to conduct it Jorge is on cloud 9.

They are Heroshipping because they have vowed to save the world together til death do them part. Heroism is how they met and it’s how their story will end.

I love ocxcanon ships. So fun so cool. You can use this post as an excuse to info dump about your ocxcanon ships btw

[aion-rsa]

Batwoman Season 3: Batwing, New Gotham Villains, Promise Wild Year

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Batwoman‘s second season had a lot of ground to cover following the departure of Ruby Rose as Kate Kane post-Season 1. Let’s recap! Season 2 introduced Ryan Wilder (Javicia Leslie) as the new titular hero with Ryan finding the Batsuit among the wreckage of  Kate Kane’s crashed plane. From there, she decides to use the suit to get justice for her adoptive mother’s death. Mary and Luke let Ryan keep the suit warm and keep the city safe while they wait for Kate to return, eventually growing into a tight team of their own.

Season 2 had to ask the question: what happened to Kate Kane? And devoted much of its top half exploring the answer. Kate was presumed dead after the plane crash, then thought to be Safiyah’s captive, then presumed dead again, until it was ultimately revealed that she was brainwashed by Roman Sionis to believe she was his late daughter, Circe.

Ryan and Alice confronted Circe and were able to dose her with aerosolized Snakebite, which finally brought Kate back. Mary, Luke, Sophie—and the audience—were all able to get closure with Kate, and Kate gave Ryan her blessing, officially passing the torch. Season 2 was one of reinvention, and it solidified Ryan Wilder as Batwoman. The finale also left us with some major clues as to what to expect in the forthcoming third season, which is set to premiere in October. Let’s discuss all of the major happenings set to occur in Batwoman Season 3, from new villains and heroes, to which mysteries could be solved…

Luke Becomes Batwing

One of the biggest moments in the Batwoman season 3 finale came when Luke finds a Batsuit created for him by his late father. He suits up for the first time and saves Mary from a Bane-ified Tavaroff, signaling his introduction as a new hero, Batwing.

Luke comes out of the season with a new suit and a new outlook on life, but it wasn’t without some major derails. After surviving near-fatal gunshot wounds, Luke went a little dark side until a run-in with John Diggle (David Ramsey) reminded him of who he was. 

“I think that scene between them was one of the best parts of the episode,” Ramsey told us when we spoke to him about a potential relationship between Diggle and Luke. 

“Both of them are still on a journey,” Ramsey says. “Part of Luke’s journey, part of that transition, John Diggle’s already made.” 

Diggle started out as Oliver Queen’s bodyguard and evolved into the hero fans know and love. Luke Fox was Batwoman’s “Man in the Chair,” and helped both Batwomen make the suit their own before stepping into a suit himself. 

“For Fox to begin to walk those same steps and to have a man that looks like him, that sounds like him, that lost his father like him, to have those similarities… I think it’s good writing for Fox, specifically, because he doesn’t know John Diggle,” Ramsey says. “So this will be a totally new relationship.”

Luke is a Black man in a notoriously corrupt city who will be taking up the mantle of Batwing. Without the direct guidance of his late father Lucious Fox, or the original Batman, Bruce Wayne, Diggle could serve as a mentor, a role we’re not used to seeing that character in. 

“I think in terms of our universe we haven’t really seen that. Just having this character begin to grow into a Batman, and to have someone who’s already done it, that has been through the same thing he’s been through, looks like him, can talk to him, I think that kind of mentorship on television, I think, is just rich.”

Ultimately, the people behind the mask are who we root for and who we tune in to see week after week. Batwoman has given us characters and relationships that are compelling and resonant. Luke has always been integral to the team, and his experience in becoming Batwing will be important to explore.

“To come back [from what Luke experienced] and then find another Black man who took interest in him, who sees the similarities, and can speak to that, can speak to fatherhood, can to speak to mentorship, can speak to losing his own father, can speak to coming into his own heroship, if you will… it’s great because ultimately you can see them fight together,” Ramsey says. “All the superhero stuff is there, but I just think about it on the other side of it, in terms of storytelling between these two Black men, one younger, one older, I just think it’s great for TV.”

There’s a lot of potential for Diggle to mentor Luke, especially as Diggle makes his own heroic transformation. 

“Obviously, John Diggle has his own destiny that he’s going into,” Ramsey says, hinting at the Green Lantern journey Diggle is on. “But how he fits, going into the mythos of other shows, I think that’s one of the things I would love to recreate, just that relationship between Diggle and Fox.”

The Truth About Ryan’s Mom

After Ryan and Alice temporarily team up to rescue Kate and recover her memories, Alice is arrested by GCPD, and Kate leaves Gotham to find Bruce, officially passing on the Batwoman mantle to Ryan. When Ryan visits Alice at Arkham Asylum, Alice reveals that Ryan’s birth mother, presumed to have died in childbirth, is alive and well. That’s a major revelation for Ryan and it’s going to be a major part of her story going forward.

Robin Givens was recently announced as a series regular, Jada Jet who is described as “passionate and hard working, a woman who has worked her way through life’s ups and downs to climb her way to the top — all while being extremely protective over her impetuous son. A woman with a deep past that forced her to give up her first-born child, Jada is a woman with a good heart, but will do whatever it takes to protect her family.” 

Ryan has survived a lot of trauma, and overcome a lot of personal obstacles. The discovery that her biological mother is not just alive, but thriving, could completely upend her reality.

Batwoman Season 3 Villains

Batwing will feature prominently in Batwoman season 3 and he’ll be likely recovering the villain trophies Circe stole from the Batcave. If the items that washed up on a Gotham river are anything to go by, the Bat Team may be facing off against iterations of Penguin, Mad Hatter, and Poison Ivy. The latter seems especially likely, given that Poison Ivy was name-dropped in an earlier episode, and may have existing ties with the current crop of Bat heroes.

Poison Ivy and Penguin are both iconic Batman villains, and bringing them to Batwoman is a strong declaration of faith in Ryan Wilder⁠. 

Poison Ivy is a meta who can manipulate greenery, and control people using pheromones. Penguin is a physically-deformed criminal mastermind.  

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Both characters have been mentioned in the Arrowverse before⁠⁠—Lex Luthor wrote about Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy in his journal, pre-Crisis, and Penguin was name-dropped by Cluemaster. There is also an inmate in Arkham Asylum named O. Cobblepot⁠—but they haven’t yet appeared on-screen. Allowing Ryan and Luke to face-off against A-list villains shows confidence in the show and in the characters.

Batwoman Season 3 New Characters

Dougray Scott (Jacob Kane) exited as a series regular post-Season 2, but Batwoman is shoring up the ranks with a new series regular: Victoria Cartagena will be joining the cast as Renee Montoya for the third season. Montoya has seen several on-screen incarnations in recent years, including in Birds of Prey and Gotham, where she was—pause for dramatic impact—also played by Cartagena.

I guess #Reneemontoya and I have some unfinished business❤️ So very excited to join this new group of talented artists, writers & crew who are doing their thing over here! They have welcomed me wholeheartedly! Grateful, humbled, hype AF… #batwoman #fullcircle https://t.co/eeNCmptT7v

— Victoria Cartagena (@VickiCartagena) July 20, 2021

This version of the character is not intended to be related to the Gotham version. She is (via Deadline) a “former GCPD officer who left the force when she could no longer stomach the corruption inside the department. She now runs the ‘freaks division,’ which hasn’t seen a lot of action… until now. Righteous and pragmatic, and LGBTQ+, she’s a woman with a very personal (and mysterious) mission to help clean the streets of Gotham in the right way, by whatever means necessary.”

We’ll also get Nick Creegan as Marquis Jet, who, according to Deadline: “A sexy playboy who grew up in a lavish lifestyle, Marquis is too charming for his own good and wields his power with a ne’er do well attitude. He views life as one big joke and that sense of recklessness has a tendency to clash horribly with his no-nonsense mother Jada Jet. When he meets Ryan (Leslie), he sees in her a like-minded young go-getter who like him is just waiting for the right opportunity to make his mark on Gotham.”

What are you excited for in Batwoman Season 3? Let us know in the comments below.

The post Batwoman Season 3: Batwing, New Gotham Villains, Promise Wild Year appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2V2jB9z

[mismagireve]

10 Days of Heroshipping!

time for something dumb and adorable

this is just a fun lil event to chill off from all the deaths and things in the recent dragonfable story, as well as show some love for our heroes and and shamelessly indulge in oc/canon shipping.  i suggested a week earlier, but after some thought, just five days wasn’t enough for everything i wanted to do!

you’re free to draw, write, animate, record, sculpt, or whatever you want to do to for any particular day.  likewise, you’re free to depict any ship as platonic if you want; sometimes love is about being there for someone and tickling them mercilessly instead of going on dates and smooching.  go wild my dudes!  just tag your entries with #10 days of hero shipping so we can find them all and enjoy them, and tell u how awesome they are.  late entries are always welcome since we all got lives outside of fandom, and sometimes art takes time.

so without further blabbing, here are the prompts!

Day 1: Hero/Hero

whether it be an NPC on the side of good like galanoth or aegis, this is where you’d celebrate the shippy vibes between one hero and another.  or if you want to take a more literal approach, the shippy vibes between your hero oc and another’s!  shipping is shipping my dude, im not gonna deny u the piece you want because of semantics.

Day 2: Hero/Villain

this is where we put our heropulchures.  our herovaals.  villains are some of the best characters in the game, and they generally have a very interesting dynamic with the hero.  why not explore that dynamic a little? B)

Day 3: AU

sometimes canon sucks.  sometimes canon doesn’t suck but u wanna be a mermaid or a vampire or fight everybody in a mad max style apocalypse.  i feel u either way my dude.  today is the day where u can explore the what-ifs of your ship.

Day 4: Hateship

sometimes shipping isn’t about good vibes and sunshine.  sometimes shipping is about throwing people that despise each other in the same direction and watching them tear each other apart while still also caring for each other, ya know?  today’s the day for such shipping.  let’s see those ships that your hero loves to hate.

Day 5: Broship

conversely, here’s the day to celebrate those ships that are less about shipping and more about one or more peeps and your hero being Bros.  and not just Bros, but Best Bros.  sit back on the couch with some popcorn and let your broship chill.

Day 6: Tragic Ship

also known as ravenloss day nah but here’s the ships that are doomed to fail, regardless of whether or not they involve tomix.  make us cry fam.

Day 7: Feelgood Ship

okay so maybe including tragedy in an event centered around escaping canon tragedy wasn’t the best idea.  to make up for it, let’s see some schmultz fam.  the cutest, feelsiest shippy nonsense u can think of.  make me wanna d’awww.

Day 8: Beach Episode

dragonfable is an anime right.  u gotta have a beach episode, fam.  u just gotta.  have some cute fun in the sun, or destroy your enemies in volleyball and waves.  so long as it’s on some kind of beach, everything is good my dudes.

Day 9: Next Gen

everything’s better with babies.  sometimes.  regardless, let’s see the next generation after your ship.  whether this is your ship having children and raising them with parental shenanigans, or your ship being old men yelling at clouds and complaining about adventurers these days, let’s take a peek into the future and see some new faces!

Day 10: Free Day!

GO NUTS FAM YOU EARNED IT

and there’s the prompts!  now i figured it’d be a good idea to give u guys time to plan out your entries and brainstorm, so for a date, how about starting from March 5th to March 14th?

[eclissy]

10 Days of Heroshipping 3/10

AU

An RWBY AU! I struggled a long time with what AU I wanted to do (plus school got really busy again) and ended up with this. I already have Ty involved with an RWBY AU with my friends’ OCs but I wanted to try something different with this. It doesn’t follow RWBY’s overarching story. This is a plot I came up with including Ty and DF characters in the RWBY setting.

2331 words

Hero/Drakath (Again)

Plus very brief notes on the AU at the end.

There was nothing Drakath hated more than those self-righteous hunters and huntresses. Their job was to fling themselves at the Grimm or whatever the King wished them to until they succeeded in getting honorably killed in action. A hunter that lived long enough to see their hair grow white was a failure.

And yet, the whole lot of them managed to commit an even worse crime.

They turned their weapons on his father, the rightful King, and a member of theirs usurped the throne.

Drakath would do anything to drag the pretender out from the stolen throne and execute every last Hunter and Huntress in Remnant.

But as he hid behind a wall of intermodal containers, aura depleted down to dregs, Drakath realized a Hunter was going to kill him before he could set foot home.

Or to be more exact, this was a former hunter looking to make Drakath his fall man.

“The academy will find the corpse of the former Prince of Vale, one half in a sad corner and the other in the mouth of a Grimm he tried to set on the city,” Frostscythe walked down the aisles between the huge intermodal containers as his once compatriots warred with the Grimm he and Drakath let loose. The Hunters were winning.

“Then, it would just be a sad end to a sad line. No connection to Sepulchure or myself.”

Frostscythe struck his fist against steel and the echoing noise made Drakath scream into his hands.

“Out, coward!” The former Hunter goaded the Prince. “Find honor in death before they mark your failure in the books.”

Drakath clutched his family’s sword, infuriated but not enough to face Frostscythe.

There was still a way out of this! If he could sneak by Frostscythe, find the exit, get by the hoards of hunters and Grimm, survive a journey thousands of miles back to Sepulchure without being caught, and…beg for forgiveness.

Honestly, that was the worst part.

“Ah, I see,” Frostscythe tapped the handle of his weapon on the warehouse floor. “Honor and courage is alien to you. Perhaps the chance to grovel will appeal more.” The suggestion and its timing stabbed deep into Drakath’s skull, causing the grip on his sword to tighten until his gloves tore.

“If you crawl out and kiss the ground where I walk—“Frostscythe barely stifled a chuckle as Drakath pulled himself up, ready to cleave the former Hunter in two the moment he turned his corner. “—I will consider killing you quickly. How’s that?”

He had repeated the option Drakath loved to give to his victims. It had been a long time since the Prince had been angry enough to leap into fire but he was no victim! He’ll carve out Frostcythe’s spine with his own scythe before that.

“Found you!” Frostscythe exclaimed.

Blind to where he was going, Drakath leaped out and swung his sword with all of his might. The air that he cut parted so easily that the Prince tripped and fell over.

Frostyscythe keened anyways, thrown on his back, and slid towards the back wall of the warehouse. His armor sparked on the cement ground. Managing to swing his scythe into the ground, Frostscythe swung himself back up and met with the blade of a huntress.

Her red scarf billowed in the wind tossed up by the sparking energy from her sword smashing against Frostsycthe’s arm guard. It blasted the hanging lights to shards.

Pulling his scythe from the floor, Frostscythe swung and left a deep nick in the huntress’ white armor.

“No! The Grimm have been defeated already?” Frostscythe panted, proved wrong by the ongoing sounds of battle outside.

“I went ahead, you big ol moldy slushy!” The huntress twirled her blade, having flipped back on top of one of the containers. Vicious cracks had formed in the sword but they glowed from the effects of the embedded dust, sealing closed. “After all—“She ran a gloved finger over the scar on her armor, her bright smile holding no irony. “—I couldn’t miss a reunion.”

“Wretched scum!” Frostscythe’s aura flared, casing the floor in a layer of ice. “I’ll crush the shards of your frozen shattered corpse.”

The Huntress’ grin fell into opened mouthed awe.

“Oh shit!” She said. Not at Frostscythe. The tip of the sword peeking out from his thigh was way more eye catching.

Drakath dug his blade deeper, wrenching it out the side of Frostscythe’s leg with a roar of effort. The former hunter toppled and fell, wailing at the horrendous wound.

“Now, who did you say was going to be groveling on the ground?” Drakath quipped, turning to see his work and gagged. Bile rose in his throat and the Prince pressed his palm against his nose and mouth, stumbling away from the sight.

His weak stomach saved his life. The moment Frostscythe fell on his back, that huntress erased any chance of him getting back up.

One of the huge steel containers, filled with heaping tons of dust, was tossed on top of him. Frostscythes legs stuck out from under the thing, twitching every so often.

“How’d you do that?”

Drakath jumped. Somehow the huntress had snuck up on him, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at his Marquis blade.

“Is it the sword?” The huntress asked, deciding to turn her attention to him directly. She came nose to nose with him, freezing the Prince in place. His mouth moved but no words came out. “Or is it your semblance?” She circled around him, dragging her hands softly over his chest.

From under the giant steel crate, Frostscythe groaned.

“Damn it,” The huntress went over the prone criminal, attempting to plunge her sword into his leg. The blade clanked and clanged, blocked by the remnants of the man’s aura. “Seriously, pretty boy. What did you do?”

“Pu-p-pu-PRETTY BOY?” Drakath fumed, face on fire. “How dare you refer to me so vulgarly? I am Prince Drakath and I should be the rightful King of Vale! My sword and semblance can pierce through any commoner’s aura! It is a sign of my right to rule over you peasants!” Drakath spat.

Meanwhile, the huntress caught sight of the table and blackboard where the circle of criminals had planned their activity. She took the chair by the table and smashed it on Frostscythe’s legs. It broke into pieces but unfortunately, Frostscythe stayed whole.

“Nice, nice,” The huntress nodded, peering over her shoulder at Drakath. “Say, I’ve heard a little about you. Your face is even plastered over the bounty hunter boards. Weird, they all turned out being bad sketches,” She strolled back to Drakath and he brought his sword up between them, wary. “You’re cute in person.”

“Shut your mouth!” Drakath hissed, hands shaking. Slowly, his fear transformed into bewilderment. Very insulted bewilderment. “And what do you mean ‘heard a little about me,’ I am the Prince!”

“And I am Ty,” The huntress bowed in a dramatic sweeping gesture. “A transfer from Mistral.”

“That makes no difference,” Drakath tsked. “Have you been living in a basement?”

“Only for a little while.” Ty kept approaching until she had him pressed against the wall. Easily flicking Drakath’s sword out of the way, she flatted her hand against the spot by his ear.        

Frostscythe was still making rude noises under the steel container.

“Lib? Are you there?” Ty called back to the rest of warehouse. “Sorry, but could you take care of that? I think Pretty Boy’s too tired to finish him off.”

“Who says I’m tired?” Drakath attempted to sound threatening, attempting to shove Ty out of his face. His knees ended up buckling and if Ty didn’t hold him against her, Drakath would have broken his nose in the fall.

“Apologies, my Prince.” Ty referred to him correctly but it still made Drakath feel queasy in the worst way possible. The worst way possible! It made his ears burn…like he had an allergic reaction! Right? Right!  

“You’re a huntress, are you not?” Drakath narrowed his eyes up at the brat. He imagined that she was still attending Beacon with how she looked. “What now? Drag me back to your teachers? I’ll kill you before you can lay a finger on me.” He said, clinging to her.

“Let me think,” Ty tried to straighten Drakath as a young blond child, likely Lib, dragged a jug of gasoline over to Frostscythe. “If you were with the Slushy, I’m guessing you were conspiring with him and whoever else was working in his circle.”

“And what of it?” Drakath was standoffish, forgetting that he shouldn’t be sharing any link the players serving under Sepulchure had.

“Huh.” Ty gazed down at him, considering.

“Ty? I don’t have a match.” Lib yelled, crouching by the panicking pair of legs. His voice was high and breaking in places, characteristic of a kid barely out of the single digits.    

“Oh,” Ty glanced around before looking back to Drakath. “Do you have a lighter?”

“Are you serious?” Having found his balance, Drakath gaped at the huntress. “You can’t set him on fire!”

“Why?” Ty asked, genuinely curious.

“What do you mean, why?” The Prince didn’t mind killing. He was about to kill Frostscythe himself but this was…it’s not…gods above who would…

The Prince groaned, clutching his aching head.

“I just want to keep my lunch down!” Drakath had not and would never want to know what roasting flesh smelled like.

“Well, Pretty Boy--” Ty was rummaging through her pockets for anything that could set some flames off. Maybe a gun. She could have left a gun in her back and didn’t notice. Everyone in remnant had something close to a gun. It wasn’t such a strange idea.

“—I’m not a Huntress just to hunt Grimm. We need to keep order too.” Ty fished a gun out from a side pocket on her bag. What did you know?

“By setting people on fire?” Drakath exclaimed, incredulous.

“By killing everyone in my grade.” Ty finished, turning and firing the gun at an empty wet spot on the floor. “Uh, Lib?”

The kid shrugged, turned his palms up, pointed them in the direction of an open door, and back to Ty and her new toy.

Both the Prince and the Huntress rushed out, following red footprints out to the docks. Floating far out at sea was a block of ice containing the wanted fugitive Frostscythe.

“Oops,” Ty grimaced. Sure, someone could swim out to him. Someone who wasn’t her. Drakath read that from her facial expression, creasing his brows at her. “It’s not like I can’t but only in swimming pools. The ocean can go suck out a brown starfish.”

It was just as well. Ty shouldn’t be the one who takes down Frostscythe anyways.

Bright searchlights shone on Drakath and Ty, reminding them of all the action that had happened around them. All of the Grimm had been defeated, leaving two loose ends to be taken care of and one had just sunk below the waves.

Drakath wanted to crumple and the desire to do so worsened when the Headmaster of Beacon Academy descended to Ty on a Helicarrier the Prince had previously taken.

Warlic stepped out, somewhat perplexed at how Ty was linking arms with Drakath, unbeknownst to the despairing criminal.

“I see that your second initiation has gone as remarkably as the last,” The headmaster nodded to Drakath’s astonishment.

Initiation? A mission like this was used to serve as an initiation for a bunch of brat hunters? Surely, the Kingdom was falling apart at the seams without his family’s lead.

“So he will be your partner?” Warlic asked.

The remark snapped Drakath back to attention.

“What?” The Prince’s eyes nearly popped out at the arms trapping his. “The nerve of you! I would never—“

“Then what are we?” Ty asked, killing the rest of the words in his throat.

The Prince was stuck between the sea and a slew of authorities who may or may not have the option of bringing him in dead.

Gritting his teeth, Drakath gripped Ty back without really needing to. ‘Acting the part’ was a good excuse as opposed to fighting off terror.

“Real mates.” The Prince held back a stutter.

One of the teachers whispered to Warlic, worried.

“We can’t allow this!” They said, making perfect rational sense. Warlic had already been turning away from the pair.

“Considering how we have a cache of information on the Shadowscythe, this could be seen as an advantage,” Warlic explained himself. “As opposed to the amount of students who turned their backs on the Kingdom last year, having one or three isn’t such a travesty in comparison.”

“And you trust Ty?”

“I trust that Ty terrifies him.”

Overhearing bits of their conversation, Drakath shook Ty’s hands off.

“I will make it my mission to destroy your false King and the traitors who foolishly thought they could get rid of me.” Drakath swore, finding himself prisoner to a very strange situation.

Clasping her hands behind her back, Ty walked ahead of him.

“I can’t say I’m with you on the King thing. In fact, I love Alteon,” Ty leaned on her heel, gazing back at Drakath with interest. “But you wouldn’t be able to stop me from tearing my old classmates to shreds even if you cried,” The statement sent a chill up Drakath’s spine. “But since we’re partners, how about some tea? Maybe coffee at late nine? I have to treat my cute new partner after all.”

Everything about Ty, from the top of her head to her the toes of her red stained shoes, made Drakath’s stomach quiver. And yet, the Prince’s throat was parched, his body ached, and he needed time to think.

“Coffee.” He stated, strict and without any hint of wanting to make formalities with this freak.

“Absolutely.” Ty offered her arm and Drakath caught himself only after he took it again.    

It was something I really wanted to try. The Hero ended up in a class of aspiring hunters and huntresses who decided that villain-ing matched them better. Since her reputation was bad already, Ty goes off to ‘capture’ them in hopes that she won’t get thrown in prison for no reason. And she grabs Drakath anyway.

[kari-izumi]

I propose we adopt the Yu-Gi-Oh Naming System. That one is boatloads of fun, trust me! Usually the names got picked cuz of some common trait or some big moment, like Kaiba and Joey Wheeler being called Puppyshipping because Kaiba compared him to a mangy dog (...we changed it to Violetshipping no cuz fandom was a veeeeery different place in 2001 than it is now). It gets even more fun coming up for names with characters who have never even spoken in canon

but I got some suggestions if we wanna go that route:

Allura/Lotor: Royalshipping...seems pretty obvious. Or even Alchemyshipping for all their researching together. Yeah, that.

Pidge/Hunk: Techshipping, because Modulationshipping is way too much of a mouthful (but damn, Sam Holt called out his son-in-law like that I just--💚💛)

Klance: Bondshipping, because let's face it, that is The Moment(tm) most of us really fell for that ship💙❤️ I considered Rivalshipping, but I think that one really fits Jeith a lot better since it's been so one-sided

Allura/Lance, easily the gold medalist in the Portmanteau Olympics: Supportshipping...cuz they do lean on one another quote often and they've both grown up quite a bit for it 💖💙 other alternative include Blueshipping for their shared Lion connection

Pidge/Lance, which goes by more names that Sean "Puff Daddy" "P. Diddy" "Puffy" Combs: dipping right into Yu-Gi-Oh's well for this one--Polarshipping, because there's no two characters on the team who are so far apart in personalities, yet compliment one another so well in my extremely biased opinion 💙💚

Wait, is that why Jounouchi and Mai are named that?? Because of the two different worlds of rich girl and poor boy? I've been trying to figure that out for over a decade WHAT THE F

Keith/Hunk: Because this was just so damn beautiful in season 7 💛❤️ I'm calling it Inspireshipping for Keith's acknowledgement of being impressed with how far he's come and I'm sure Hunk is too.

Sheith:...you know, I might need Germany or Japan fandom to take this, because nothing in English captures the spirit of that. If any language has a word for "These two mean the world, they're more than friends and less than lovers* but would die with the other," we can use that.

*at the time of this post, two weeks after season 7

Otherwise, I guess I could settle for Astralshipping in honor of season 6 🖤❤️ Or Globalshipping in honor of all the International dubs that went all in on this being an explicit, definitely-not-bros-a-all love confession.

Shiro/Lance:...um, Astralshipping 2: Quintessant Boogaloo....? Cuz Lance saw Real Shiro in the Astral Plane like Keith did with gaydar

There's so much with so little. Probably Heroshipping, since Lance looked up to him in the Garrison days.

Hunk/Shay: oh, my sweet, sweet babies. I hope Season 8 delivers like Santa on Christmas for you two 💛💛💛💛

Promiseshipping is a great name for you 😘 But please, Shay...the Balmera planet needs to be parked waaaay further away from Earth sweetie lol

Shiro/Pidge: Season 7 has effectively killed any (very distant) future fic stories for the best possible reason, but damn do I love one sides crush stories of Pidge looking up to him 💚 I dub thee Secretshipping, and no, the possible double meaning was not at all intentional and all to do with reference to episode 3 where he let's her know he's aware of who she truly is 🖤

Shiro/Allura: Leadershipping is way too damn easy.

Maybe something to acknowledge how many times Allura has saved Shiro (which I can count at least 3 occasions to Keith's 6, holy shit!), including transferring his soul into the body of his clone? Or how Shiro's the only one in the group who doesn't question her resolve to go into the Galra base in season one because "She's the princess UwU" like Coran did?

Hmmmm...maybe Resolveshipping? Because Allura is so goal focus on being a great leader and Shiro resolves to survive literally everything the universe throws at him...? Eh, it's 9:30 at night as I type this.

And finally:

Shiro/Matt: boy, this ship name. If Allurance is the gold winner, Shatt is the one that was 1/10 of a second away from placing on the team, like my uncle in the 1984 Olympics. How did y'all miss the boat and not go with Miro or Matashi?

ANYWAY

I got two ideas: Arenashipping for when Shiro jumps in to spare Matt from the gladiator battles (cuz look at how little he was, he was such a guppy back them, awwww)...or Missionshipping for both being on Kerberos when all these wack hijinxs began. Anything is better than frigging Shatt OMG

Alright, that's all I got, I left a few off so ppl can add to this if you want, but I'm all for other suggestions for the ones I tossed around. 👍👌

most fandoms: pretty and creative ship names (ex: bumblebee, stormpilot, pricefield, etc.)

voltron fandom: shatt

[ewatsonia]

10 Days of Heroshipping: Hero/Hero

[claps hands together] Happy first day of 10 Days of Heroshipping! For the prompt of Hero/Hero I’ve got some Alexa/Mazurek~ Premise is borrowed from Talk Like a Pirate Day 2015 but things go a little...differently ;) Enjoy!

Alexa covered her mouth, but couldn’t hold back a snicker as she admired Mazurek’s handywork. The ink scribbled beards, mustaches eye-patches on the unconscious ninjas were just too funny for her not to laugh. They’d be getting out of there quick, she was sure, but she wished she could see the look on their faces when saw the damage.

Alexa had always attempted to remain kind of neutral on the whole pirates vs ninjas rivalry but Maz was a good friend. She’d gotten closer to her than anyone over on the ninja side so there was admittedly some bias as of late.

Mazurek put her hands on her hips, a very pleased with herself smirk on her face. She let out a hearty chuckle. “Ye be a good First Mate Alexa.”

Alexa shrugged. She didn’t think much of that, she’d found some stuff and helped kick a little ninja ass. Nothing big. “Hey, friends help other friends out. I’m sure plenty of others would’ve done it for you.”

“Yer the one that helped me though luv.” Mazurek pointed out, she tucked away the ink pen in one of her pockets. “Ever think of bein’ a Captain?”

“Uhh, not really no.” Alexa wouldn’t fancy herself an amazing leader, she could organize a group people if she had to, but being any sort of authority figure was...intimidating. There was also the tiny detail that she was completely terrified of being on open sea.

“I think ye’d make a good one.” Mazurek turned to face her, and Alexa swore she saw sparkles in the woman’s pink eyes. “And I be needin’ one for the newest ship in me fleet.”

Alexa gripped a longer strand of her bangs and twisted it in her hand. She was flattered that Mazurek thought so but... “That’s...uh that’s super nice of you Maz but erm. I can’t accept. I’d be a terrible captain.”

Mazurek laughed good naturedly and clapped Alexa on the back so hard that she lurched forward. A pirate’s life had given her some strong muscle. Though, Alexa had certainly...taken notice of that before. “Lass, ye gotta have more confidence in yerself!”

She wasn’t wrong but Alexa’s frighteningly low self image wasn’t the issue for once. It was embarrassing, honestly but she should explain. She slid her hand down her face, the cool metal of her spiritloom contrasting with her warm face.

“Maz, I can’t swim. I’m terrified of water. Putting me charge of ship is a disaster waiting to happen.”  Red rushed Alexa’s face as soon as the words left her mouth. Hero of Lore, terrified of the sea. What a laugh that’ll be for a pirate.

Mazurek rose an eyebrow, but she didn’t laugh. There was another, less harsh pat on Alexa’s back. “No need ta’ look so ashamed luv, the sea’s a force to be reckoned with.”

There was a sheepish, relieved smile on Alexa’s face. Thank the Avatars.

“Still leaves th’ matter of yer reward for helping out though.” Maz put a finger to her lips, contemplating this. Going by the smile that graced her features, she had an idea. Alexa put up a hand.

“I don’t help people for a reward, Maz. I’m uh...not exactly hurting for money or anything.”

“Don’t worry yerself none about that. I be having...somethin’ else in mind.” Both of Mazurek’s brows went up this time and there was mischievous little twinkle in her eyes. She also got noticeably closer to Alexa’s personal space. Alexa squinted suspiciously at her.

“Maz...what do you mean-”

Alexa was interrupted by the answer to that question. That being, Maz taking her chin between her finger and thumb, and pulling her over to plant a kiss on her lips. She’d grabbed Alexa fairly aggressively, but the kiss itself was deep yet soft. Alexa let her eyes shut as Mazurek’s hand wandered up to run through her hair. She exhaled contentedly, someone’s fingers in her hair was one of Alexa’s favorite sensations.

When they parted. Alexa was a completely flushed, stammering, mess. She was definitely blushing harder than she had revealing she couldn’t swim. “I..that…”

“Got ye a bit starry-eyed, eh?” Mazerek asked, a coy grin on her face. She chuckled, not expecting an answer from Alexa. “Been wantin’ ta do that for a while now, I have ta say.”

“I...really?”

“Aye, yer a gorgeous lookin’ woman and the Hero o’ Lore ta’ boot,’course ye caught my eye.”

“Uhm. Thank you.” Alexa didn’t know what else to say. Her dating life wasn’t exactly thriving, especially since her stint in the ice so she couldn’t say she was used to compliments like that. Mazurek chuckled again.

“My, if I knew ye got this flustered when someone kissed ye I woulda done it a lot sooner.”

[krakenshaped]

A Piece On Unrequired Love || Part 1 || Part 2 ||

[flamestoillusions]

Day One: Hero/Hero

10 Days of Heroshipping

I have never gotten to write Tannim’s canon possibilities too often. But figured to go with Falwynn because I don’t see her around too often. Also, I was unashamedly inspired by this series of sketches.

“Tannim,” Falwynn called, earning a soft hum from him as they trekked down the dirt path. Her eyes glanced towards him and she wondered, “doesn’t it get tiring to carry around your sword?”

 He furrowed his brow for a moment, “My sword?”

 She gave a sharp nod, “Yeah, I mean it’s pretty heavy right?”

 “Well, not really. Prolly not much heavier than your crossbow,” he noted as his gaze drifted towards the hilt over his shoulder. She stepped before him, “No way, really? Let me try to swing it! Um, ahem, that is if you’re willing.”

 She said that but Tannim found it hard to say ‘no’ to her. Especially when he noticed the stars in her eyes and enthusiasm in her tone. They stopped along the road as he drew Cinder. The wavy design of the blade caught her eyes before its tip was stuck into the dirt. Falwaynn noticed the real problem with the sword—it was practically taller than her!

 Tannim gestured towards the sword with a small smile on his face. Falwynn braced herself before reaching for the hilt. She could feel the softness in the cloth as it’d long since been broken in. At first she tried to pull it straight up but even as she saw the sword start to lift, her arms couldn’t reach high enough.

 “Go wyn!” Tannim called as she tugged. She gave one last pull before deciding this way wasn’t working. Pausing, she considered how to go about it. Then it came to her. Falwynn changed her grip before pulling the hilt towards her. The sword tilted and she heard cheering beside her. Okay, I got this, she thought before stepping back to accompany the blade’s size. Closing her eyes in concentration, she thought there was a little give.

 Tannim clapped as he noticed her breaking ground. A crack formed as she gave a hard yank. Cinder broke free, flinging clumps of dirt. At least one landed on his head, “Hey…!”

 Falwynn opened her eyes. Holding the hilt in one hand and reaching to his mess of brown hair, she started to brush the dirt out, “Sorry, sorry…”

 “It’s al’ight,” Tannim replied as he also shook the dirt from his hair, “though I think you’re almost there. How’re feelin’?”

 “Are you sure it’s as heavy as my crossbow?” she asked with a hint of teasing accusation as she regained her grip. Tannim chuckled as he squatted by Cinder’s tip, “I’d like to think so. Need a lil’ help?”

 “I think I got it,” Falwynn grunted as she lifted the sword a little from the ground, “I just gotta—”

 The weapon wobbled under her hold.  She stared as she tried to steady her grip and lift it further up. However, it would go no further. She leaned over and breathed, “This is…I think I’ll stick to daggers, sunshine.”

 Tannim stood and came along Falwynn’s side, “Aw, that’s too bad ‘cause I think you could do well as a swordswoman. All ya need is…”

 His hands found hers and led her right hand under the guard and the other beneath it, “a lil’ change ‘ere.”

 He slipped behind her and placed his hands around hers. They brought the blade up. He nudged her leg to guide it forward. She felt a little more stable holding it as he said, “an’ ‘ere. But now that ya got this far. You can swing it ‘round like this.”

 The two swiped to the left then the right. The blade was brought to the front as if to square against an imaginary enemy. Falwynn then led them through the battle. Imagining the weaves and strikes she could do with a shortsword, she stepped forward and to the side. Back and to the right. Tannim followed her steps in a strange waltz.

 Falwynn ended with raising the sword above her frame. He helped bring it up with an arm but didn’t think of their height difference and didn’t realize he lifted her too. But not one to pass up a chance she leaned in and surprised him with a kiss. He returned her gesture as he used his free arm to keep Falwynn from slipping.

 A whistle made them break away as an older caravaner slowly trekked past with the ridiculous load of wares on his back. Pink painted both their faces and nearly made them drop the sword.

 “Um, ahem, should we be on our way?” Tannim asked as he put her down, taking Cinder back into his grip. Falwynn readjusted her cowl as she said, “A-Ah yes, let’s.”

[esteemedbastard]

Like a Broom

“You’re unfairly good at everything, but I’m strong enough to carry you bridal-style and this for some reason renders you speechless” AU.

Edo might have an impressive physique, earned from hard work and activity, but he’s lighter than a feather to Judai.

(GX heroshipping (Judai x Edo) one-off, Japanese dub names used. Takes place during Season 2.)

Contrary to popular belief, Judai Yuki can hold a grudge and be annoyed by someone else. Underneath his excitement over dueling Edo Phoenix, he’s...kind of pissed off.

Edo is annoyingly perfect. He has two PhD’s, competes in multiple sports, and speaks five languages--and that’s not even including his stellar dueling history. Within two days of his arrival at Duel Academy, Edo can add a loyal fanclub to his list of accomplishments. 

Who cares about any of that? He never saved the world or dueled against Yugi Mutou’s deck and won. Who did all that? Judai did that! Sure, Judai didn’t beat Kaiser Ryou like Edo did, and yeah, Edo kicked Judai’s butt that one time, but Judai got him back! They’re even now!

So why does Edo walk around the campus like he owns the place? He struts his stuff in the halls when he barely attends class, spends more time talking on the phone than interacting with his classmates, and dines in the Blue Dorm--sorry, the White Dorm--when he lives on his boat 24/7!

Edo even uses the fitness facilities, surrounded by adoring fans at his every beck and call. They bring him water and towels and change the weights on the machines between his reps. Judai thinks they’d wipe down the machines for Edo if he asked them to.

“He pisses me off so much.” Judai grits his teeth. Across the floor, Edo chats with his fans. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a gray tank top, and his hair is pulled up into a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. Even when he’s sweaty and red-faced, he’s still unfairly gorgeous. 

...Wait, did Judai just think about Edo as “unfairly gorgeous?” No way.

Edo catches Judai staring and winks at him, smirking. Judai nearly drops his weights. What a smug little bastard! Grabbing his water bottle, Judai abandons his workout for now. He’ll come back in a few hours when Edo and his clucking hens are gone.

Judai goes to the locker rooms, grabs his stuff, and quickly cleans up before he heads out. He goes down the stairs into the main hallway as Edo enters the locker rooms behind him and his fanclub disperses. Just as Judai comes to the bottom of the stairs, his phone pings with a new message from Shou about dinner. He briefly stops to read it and reply with an affirmative.

Upstairs, Edo leaves the locker room and Judai is struck by a sudden case of the jitters. Edo changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans during his stint in the locker room, and suddenly Judai wonders why he wears those expensive suits when he has such an impressive bod--

Nope, nope, nope. I’m not going there. Judai’s face flares bright red and he stuffs his phone into his bag, preparing to leave. He’ll deal with his awkward feelings later.

Too late! He’s been spotted. “Judai!” Edo calls out to him and descends the stairs a little faster to catch up with him. Judai feels even more fluttery. Edo should not call his name with as much affection as he does. Edo is all smiles and his cobalt eyes are excited. He looks like a little child on Christmas morning--like his dad drew another Hero card for him to see.

It’s really cute. And yeah, Judai just think about Edo as “really cute.” Maybe he’s not so bad when he’s like this, dressed casually and away from his fans. Judai smiles a little.

Edo picks up his pace and opens his mouth to say something, but he hits the next stair awkwardly and slips. He careens forward, scrambling to grab onto the railing as he tumbles towards Judai.

In hindsight, it would’ve been funny if Judai stepped to the side and let Edo fall on his pretty face and maybe break his nose. But in the moment, Judai holds out his hands and Edo almost falls into Judai’s arms.

Supporting Edo’s back with one arm, Judai bends slightly to wrap his other arm around Edo’s knees until he’s cradled like a princess in Judai’s arms. 

Silence fills the air as Edo and Judai study each other for a moment. They’ve never been this close before; skin-to-skin. Edo feels light and warm in Judai’s arms. He smells lightly of sweat and whatever expensive cologne he put on this morning. Edo lightly curls his fingers into Judai’s shirt and leans into his hold.

It’s a good thing Principal Samejima banned the paparazzi from the island (on the grounds that Edo is a normal student and should be treated as such), or else they’d have a field day. Judai can just see the tabloid headlines now: Pro League Duelist caught cuddling with Duel Academy’s Dropout Boy! Does Edo Phoenix have a Secret Boyfriend? What a nightmare.

Judai’s brain finally gets unstuck and he comes to his senses. “Do you want me to, uh, put you down?”

“Sure.” Judai might not be the best at reading the atmosphere, but Edo’s word choice and facial expression indicate he’s not totally thrilled with the idea of leaving Judai’s embrace. He does seem to realize Judai can’t hold him forever and slips out of his arms.

They stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. Judai searches his mind for something to say, but every word dies to dust on his tongue. 

Edo coughs. “I was...going to ask you about the new cards you received. I only got a brief look at them during our duel.”

Something in Judai’s mind registers that Edo’s talking to him, and proper protocol dictates that he respond. “Uh, yeah, um. Yeah?” His response is far from proper, but Edo seems satisfied. 

“I’d like to see them again--outside of a duel. Maybe we could talk strategy?” Edo gives Judai a sideways look. His earlier smirk returns. “What about over dinner?”

“Uh, dinner? Tonight? Well, um, I’m grabbing dinner tonight with my friends, but...I’m free on Thursday night.” Judai is a complete and nervous mess. If someone reopened the Spirit Gates and challenged Judai to a duel with the Sacred Beasts, he’d probably be less nervous than he is right now, trying to figure out if Edo Phoenix is asking him out on a date.

Yugi Mutou never had these problems.

“Thursday works perfectly for me. I’ll be by the Red Dorm to pick you up at six. See you then.” Another wink, and Edo turns on his heel to leave back to his boat.

“Yeah, okay!” Watching Edo go, Judai feels a little annoyed that he can walk away unruffled while Judai feels like he has a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He decides to get one more nudge in there, just for good measure.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Judai calls out to Edo, “see you at six!” Surprised by the sudden shout, Edo stumbles over his feet before righting himself. He glances back to glare at Judai before continuing on his way.

Judai grins. Looks like this Dropout Boy can sweep a Pro Duelist off his feet.

[eclissy]

10 Days of Heroshipping 2/10

Hero/Villain

Drakath/Ty. My flagship, my first, what I’m more or less known for in the DF fandom. This time I wrote a in-secret-relationship fic about Drakath getting embarrassed over the Hero seeing his baby picture. The feelgood ship day isn’t here yet but it just ended up that way. Even if it is Hero/Villain. 

3105 Words

Other than to steal a good bit of coin, Drakath had his bandits attack travelers and villages for the mere sake of it. Every fire was a reminder that he still existed and that this land belonged to him.

Then there was the third reason; sentiment.

Drakath would lie, saying that what they were taking was valuable before hogging the result of the day’s work for himself. Not to sell or spend on anything frivolous or to meet his ultimate goal.

Just to have.

“What do we have here?” Drakath slowly walked up beside a carriage he and his men had captured, banging his fist on the fine wood as he made his way to opening its door.

Seizing the carriage so close to the walls of Swordhaven was brazen indeed but oh so satisfying, terrorizing a traitorous noble flying the usurper’s colors. The ease of the success added to it.

The Prince, excited to see how fearful the noble would be to see him, threw the door open. If they did not recognize his voice, surely they would throw themselves on their knees beg forgiveness for stealing from the rightful royal family!

A kiss was blown his way instead.

Closing the door, Drakath kept his hands pressed heavily against the handles, glancing back, aghast, at his men.

They were all waiting with bated breath, becoming confused when the Prince stood still, blinking at them.

What was he going to do? Just tell them to go home?

“S-sire?” The closest bandit edged towards him when the carriage’s passenger began knocking on the other side of the window.

Panicking, Drakath threw his back against the carriage door like he was trapping a monster inside.

“Run!” He yelled and all of the bandits strategically bolted in different directions, fear overtaking the suspicion of how wildly out of character it was for Drakath to do something selfless.

Accustomed to how knights and adventurers typically came down on criminals, they disappeared quick, either alone or in pairs to cut losses. No one could catch all of them

But, the Hero already got what she wanted.

Once the coast was clear, Drakath flung the door open and jumped into the carriage. His torso made it to the cushiony seat but his legs hung outside, kicking as he shouted at the Hero.

“What are you doing here?” The Prince, struggling to climb up, scowled as Ty giggled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in Swordhaven? What would have happened if we torched the carriage? You foolish, reckless, insolent—“

Ty laid herself flat on her stomach across the carriage seat, leveling her face with Drakath’s. It halted his nagging, just about made him swallow his tongue even.

The Prince cursed himself and the bizarre phenomenon that caused him to suddenly become shy in such close proximity to Ty’s plain face.

“Why did you stop?” She asked, resting her chin on her palms. “You’re adorable when you’re worried.”

Drakath clenched his teeth, only able to manage a quiet “Shut your mouth. Why would I be worried? A monster like you has a head made of stones. Nothing could scratch that,” He kept rambling. “Worried! Me? That’s hilarious.”

Sliding out of the carriage for more space, Drakath straightened his clothes. It was far too intimate inside for him to think properly. Ty was about to hop out after him, stopping when the bandit blocked her off.

Without looking at her, Drakath offered her a hand to get down.

“Well, it’s only proper.” He muttered, wondering why he felt the need to do that when his face was already on fire.

Bemused, Ty took his hand and carefully stepped out. Drakath’s shoulders stiffened, hyper aware of himself should he mess up somehow.

“Truth is, I wanted this to be a surprise,” Ty explained, stepping around to the back of the carriage while Drakath pretended to nurse a crick in his wrist. “Of course, I should have known that you’d be on top of this. Then again, I was afraid someone else would try to take them.”

Opening the compartment behind the passenger compartment, Ty revealed a cache of royal heirlooms.

Officially, they were the heirlooms of the former royal family. Mostly dusty robes, silverware, and packaged paintings among other trinkets, none of which Alteon’s family felt comfortable using or having around.

Usually, they were kept locked away though a few officials, thinking their pockets could get heavier, sold them off under Alteon’s nose. The thought of his family’s history getting handled like novelties made Drakath’s blood boil.    

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Ty mentioned offhandedly, noticing how a small smile had spread across the Prince’s face.

Startled, Drakath shook it off and coughed, clearing his throat.

“How did you get these?”

“I bought them.” Ty replied, holding a cape from the seventh King’s time. Such an ancient and hallowed garment demanded a careful hand.

That was suddenly the farthest worry on Drakath’s mind.

“You’re going to get in trouble!” Drakath exclaimed, already glaring at every tree, bush, and pebble hiding a potential spy. “They’ll find out that we’re–” He rapidly pointed from Ty to himself. “—You know!”

“Amazingly good friends?”

“Lovers!” Drakath blurted, instantly regretting it once Ty’s mouth spread into a huge opened mouthed grin. She tried covering it and her laughter, one arm crossed over her stomach and a hand pressed against her mouth.

“Don’t say anything.” Drakath fumed, trying to not rip clumps of his hair out.

“I’m not! I’m not!” Ty waved her hand at him like she was wafting away the jokey mood. “Don’t worry about a thing, Lover Boy.”

“There! You said something!” Drakath tugged Ty over and squished her cheeks with his palms, trying to make her stupid grin go away. “H-how else would I have put it?” The Prince kept viciously smushing her face.

Apparently, the way Drakath spoke was antiquated to Ty, who had to be from some other universe. That was what they were, weren’t they?

Worked up, completely a fault of his own, Drakath shoved her away, turned his attention to the heirlooms, and roughly rummaged through them.

“Ehem,” Ty was already right next to him. “If it makes you feel better, I told the trafficker that I was buying them to lure you out. My daring Prince would dash out, rushing to reclaim his family’s belongings—“ She stepped back and Drakath’s gaze followed her. “—I would make the catch. So…” Ty spread her arms. “Did it work?”

For a good solid beat, Drakath stared at her, nonplussed. The stoic facade erupted into a scowl when he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Very soon after, he kicked and chipped a nearby stump. Miraculously, he didn’t hurt himself trying to do that. The longest sufferable groan stretched on as the Prince slumped over, cursing himself over and over.

Ty expected more of a show from the God of Drama himself, getting tackled off guard when Drakath jumped into her hug, pinning her against the back of the carriage.

“Heehee,”Ty giggled, tickled when Drakath buries his nose into her hair. “I love you too.”

Jostled by the movement, a painting leaning against the compartment’s wall wobbled. The corner of its cloth covering became loose, revealing a silver frame that caught Drakath’s eye.

“Huh?” The Hero felt Drakath stiffening. “Are you alright?”

“One moment.” Drakath broke from the embrace and took the painting out into the sun. Taking care, the Prince stood it on the grass, using the carriage to support its back.

Curious at the sudden shift in atmosphere, Ty watched the bandit pull the corner of the cloth away a smidge farther.

“Could it be…” He murmured, taking a peek inside. His green eyes snapped wide and he slapped the covering back on. “No.” He said. Not the ‘no’ as in ‘no, that isn’t it.’

This was the ‘no’ as in ‘I want no part in this.’

“Is the vermin around?” Drakath asked, getting nothing but a pointedly blank look from Ty. “The dragon,” Drakath sighed and Ty didn’t change. “Lib.” He decided on using the vermin’s nickname.

“Remember that carriage driver?” Ty asked.

“Wait, you’re telling me that the baby dragon wore a human costume that well? I saw him take the horses and run!” Drakath watched Ty blow her cheeks up.

Great, he must have done something ‘cute’ again.

“Magic then.” The Prince saw the disguised dragon in the corner of his eye, walking quite leisurely to his Dragonlord.

“I know it’s a charm and all but when you put it that way,” Ty trailed off, somewhat perturbed at how real the illusion’s lazy eyes rolled at her. “Hmm, I don’t think I’d notice it if I didn’t know. You’re very good at this, Lib.”

The illusion yawned, rippling until it dissipated, revealing the small blue scaled dragon bobbing up and down before the two.

“That aside,” Drakath gazed at Liberta gravely. “Do you want twenty pounds of raw liver?”

Liberta’s groggy disinterest was gone with a snap. He charged for Drakath, circled around his head, stopping next to the prince, nodding.

“Good,” He jabbed his thumb at the covered painting. “Torch it.”

“No!” Ty leaped in front of the painting, her dragon bouncing off of her chest. “Who are you and what did you do to Drakath?”

“Make that thirty pounds.” The Prince ignored Ty.

“You don’t have money to buy that much liver!”

“Ty?” Drakath clasped his hands together. “May I have money to buy thirty pounds of liver?”

“No!” Ty pushed his hands down. “I’d be paying myself anyways!”

“Alright, forget about the raw liver,” Drakath tsked, so intent on destroying the painting that he didn’t notice Liberta tearing the bottom of his cape into little shreds. “Ty, let me torch it.”

“You were going to kill anyone who wasn’t me if they had this,” Ty shielded the painting. “Is it cursed? Is that why you’re acting so—OH what the hell?” The Hero jumped a foot in the air when she laid her eyes on the most bizarre sight in her life.

Drakath sank down on both knees, chin dipped, with clasped hands raised, begging her.

“Please, Ty.”

“Are you dying?” Ty’s face was contorted, amazed at how wrong this felt. “The painting’s killing you, isn’t it?”

“Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t–”

The Prince clammed up, practically sucking his lips into his mouth.

Unfortunately, Ty caught it, expression going blank again as her hand found its way to the corner of the painting’s covering.

“Please.” Drakath started begging again. “I’m asking, please! I’m asking—NO!”

Ty tore the covering off and Drakath’s life was over.

“Holy!” Was the only word she could come up with at first. “This is holy!”

“Don’t look at it! Stop looking at it!” The Prince covered his eyes, unable to look at the painting directly without gagging. “It’s awful!”

Drawing in a slow gasp, Ty knelt by the painting, eyes shining.

“I think I’m going to cry.” Her hand hovered over the painting’s frame.

Surrounded by the silver border was a portrait, preserved for twenty some odd years. A young boy, spikey hair flattened, and obviously wearing itchy formal garments, tried to stand proudly. What gave him away was the slight wrinkle of the brow the painter must have gotten in huge trouble for. The boy, or the Prince, seemed to have a worry bubbling in his throat. Perhaps the need to call for mother or father? A cry for escape from the foppish cravat?

Every bit of it was perfect to Ty.

“If this had cost a trillion gold and both of my kidneys, I would pay for it up front.” Ty was cooing at the painting and it was killing Drakath.

This painting was everything he hated and more. The painter, who Drakath hoped had been beheaded for the travesty, had captured with skilled brushes, a clear picture of weakness.

He wanted to destroy the boy in the painting; rip the thing into shreds so small that they couldn’t be torn further. Then, set the pile of shameful dust ablaze.

There was nothing more he hated than weakness.

Or, now there was.

Somehow, it burned him even more when Ty could see it.

Putting those feelings so plainly to himself made the Prince sullen. Getting back to his feet, Drakath retrieved the covering and tossed the tarp back over it.

Sensing the change, Ty didn’t stop him. She stayed knelt by the painting while Drakath turned his attentions to the other relics.

“Do what you please with it.” Drakath said, curt and uncaring.  

For a moment, Ty hesitated by the painting. Drakath was very bothered, in a way that put stones in Ty’s stomach. Could she take care of it now?

Judging by Drakath’s stiff, joyless back, not yet.

The idea, however, was forming.

Home was far away, behind three walls and armed knights and adventurers out for his head. Drakath couldn’t come home yet.

Several years were spent returning to a cold tent or a sleepless room in a fortress filled with skeleton shrieks, and even worse, baby noises.

Drakath didn’t admit it to Ty but being allowed into her home was one of the best things that had happened since he had to flee from home. It was the closest thing he had to home. No, Ty’s cottage was his home.        

Just, not this time.

He had walked in through the front door, gone down the hall to find Ty’s bed room, and his past stared at him from the wall at the farthest end. What he had in his arms, a bag of valuables he took as the head of the bandit group’s share, dropped to the floor.

Everything inside shattered and he stomped on it as he burst into Ty’s room.

“A burglar?” Ty, sitting cross legged by her bed with her journal on her lap, raised her brows at him. “Sorta.”

“When I said that you could do as you pleased with that travesty, I didn’t mean hang the thing on the wall!”

“What does ‘do as you please’ mean then?” Ty’s smirk was wry, inviting trouble.

“I see how it is,” Drakath’s eye twitched. He didn’t know why he felt the need to peek into the hall but he did and winced hard. “You’re trying to prove something. Forget about it,” Ty didn’t seem threatened. “Forget about it, now.”

“That’s going to be real hard,” Ty said, flipping to a blank page. “How could I even begin to forget if you haven’t in two decades?”

The Prince took another peek at the painting. Yes, it still made his eyes die.

“Fine. I will be clear,” Drakath said with finality. “Throw it away.”

All at once, the air grew heavy.

Ty’s smirk disappeared but it didn’t fall into a frown; merely a straight line. She didn’t seem angry or sad by any appearance but any idiot could tell that she wasn’t happy.

“I wish I could thank whoever painted this. Same with the person who kept it safe,” Ty hunched over, resting her chin on her knuckles. “Did your father want to keep this?”

Taking deliberate steps, Drakath made her way over to where Ty sat. He was displeased with the Hero sitting there instead of the bed, though he did take the seat next to her despite that.

The answer to Ty’s question came with a sour memory.

Drakath’s father felt exactly the same way he did now. The Prince remembered the deceased King, eyes practically bugging out, jabbing his finger at the painting and the painter.

‘How dare you insult the royal name with such blithering weakness. I will have no welp presented as any blood of mine! Do you hear me, Prince?’ The King had turned to his son with a ferocity that it made the young boy’s throat close. Then, his father’s fury turned into harsh laughter. ‘Do you see this?’ He sneered at the painting. ‘This is no Prince. It is a shame.’

“You didn’t tell me why you hate that painting so much?” Ty glanced at Drakath, expectantly.

What was on his mind wanted to come out. It lay on the tip of his tongue, preparing for a reckless jump that would stop once it starts.

“No.” Drakath bit down on it and swallowed. A hint of worry bit at him when Ty inspected him but she let the matter rest.

“That’s fine,” She pulled her hair over her shoulder. “I might feel the same way if you found my baby clothes.”

“Just baby clothes?” Drakath asked, amusing himself with the idea of baby Ty in a potato sack.

“Just baby clothes.” Ty bit her cheek. “Just baby clothes.” She wrung her head. “Ahhhhhhhh damn it. My mom still has them. When she isn’t looking, I’m going to get Lib to eat them.”

“No.” It came out from Drakath without him realizing it did. He thought on it and found that it had been from reflex.

“So you’re my mom now.” Ty snickered behind her hand. The bandit would have told her to shut it again, if she wasn’t so glum.

Drakath bounced his knee, uncomfortable with how the day had turned out. He was aware that Ty had two mothers in her life and he was sure she wasn’t talking about the one who had her at birth.

“Why shouldn’t I throw that trash where it belongs?” Ty asked him.

“Just don’t.” He had nothing more to say than that.

“Why?” Ty had torn a page out of her journal, rolled it into a ball, and flicked it into a waste basket.

There were many who kept their homes cluttered, citing the reason to keep broken plates was sentiment. It wasn’t something Drakath understood.

Then he pictured a faceless woman, a stand in for Ty’s mother, carelessly tossing her clothes into a river as Ty watched.

“You can see whatever you want in that painting,” The Hero said, stretching her arms. “But I see my lover boy. How could I ever throw him away?”

“Oof!” Ty’s head bumped the side of her bed from Drakath slamming into her. If it had hit the frame instead of the mattress, a big goose egg would have sprouted from her noggin. “You could have killed me there.”

The Prince said nothing, arms hugging her neck tight. Ty couldn’t see his face with the side of it pressed against the back of her head. It was the shuddering that gave him away.

“It’s okay.” Ty leaned into him, the relaxed smile returning. “I love you too.”