#so i took matters into my own hands and drew this XD

[the-traveling-poet]

it’s me again, and I’ve found an idea! Okay so, I’d like to request a Levi x lieutenant reader where the reader is sick but she is as stubborn as a mule and every time someone points that out she just brush it off some way, or elude the questions, until she feels so sick she can barely stand, and ask Levi for help? Thank you Lynn! 🤎🤎

Head-Cold

What started off as a slight cough and a runny nose, now consumed your every waking moment in the form of a head-cold. The worse you get, the more your friends and comrades worry for your health. But you’re fine, right? Your stubbornness to be seen by a medic doesn’t go unnoticed by your Captain, who takes matters into his own hands.

Pairing: Levi x Lieutenant!Sick!Reader

Warnings: Language, sick reader, mention of vomit SFW, fluff, xReader

A/N: Love this idea! Seriously tho the “I don’t need help I’m fine” trope that turns into the “Crush has to take care of you” trope? UNDEFEATED. Also this request is ironic cause I’m coming down with a head cold myself xD As always, if this doesn’t meet your expectations, I’ll rewrite whatever you prefer!

Enjoy~🤎

The moment you woke up feeling nauseous, you knew today was gonna be a great day.

Rolling out of your bed with a stuffy groan, you shuffled over to your private bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. Crusty eyes looked back at you from your reflection, and a red nose drew attention to the color in your face, making you look fevered. Placing a hand on your forehead, you could nearly confirm this was the case.

Mumbling incoherently to yourself, you tried your best to clean yourself up before you had to make an appearance for the day. Before leaving your dorm room, you’d gone through at least ten tissues and wiped your face with a damp wash cloth nearly just as many times. With your hair pulled up neatly away from your face and your clothes adjusted properly on your frame, you put on your best ‘I’m fine’ face and strode out into the hall.

Steadying yourself on your feet, you slowly made your way down to breakfast with the others in your regiment, gliding your hand along the wall to keep your ever wobbling balance.

Shit…Light headed, dizzy, nauseous, runny nose…what’s next, a headache?

You entered the hall and found your way to the kitchens to grab a bowl of what appeared to be soup.

Thank god, maybe this’ll help my poor throat…

You scanned the room over with tired eyes and spotted your fellow superiors sat around their usual table. Stifling a yawn, you trudged over and plopped down near Hange and Nanaba.

“Lieutenant Y/N,” Commander Erwin greeted you formally from across the table.

“Mornin’ C’mander,” you replied back in a stuffy tone, rubbing slightly at your nose.

The conversation happening around you paused, but you were too busy suffering to notice until a hand placed itself on your shoulder. Looking over, you spotted Hange giving you a confused look.

“Y/N, dear…Is everything alright?” they asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Y/N, you look sick. Are you sure you’re alright?” Nanaba pestered from your other side.

“Sick? Ehh…maybe. Nothin’ I cant handle doe.” You sniffled, your throat feeling worse from trying to talk in a volume they’d be able to hear you in.

“Maybe you should go to the infirmary…You shouldn’t attend to duties today if you’re ill. You’ll just make yourself worse and possibly spread it to someone else!” Hange’s assistant, Moblit, spoke up from the other side of the scientist.

“Nah, I’ve had a lot worse, so therefor I can’t complain. This won’t kill me.” you argued stubbornly, taking a sip of your soup to hopefully help with the aching pain there.

“You’re sick. I smell it on you.”

You looked up to see Mike joining your table, a bowl of soup in his big hands as he sat down across from Nanaba.

“I’ll be fiiiiiine,” you sniffled, ignoring their concern. You’ve dealt with many hardships in life, both physical and mental. A little head cold wouldn’t be your downfall.

Finally giving into your stubbornness, they dropped your case and resumed their previous conversations. You attempted to follow suit as you ate, but a sudden wave of nausea made you set your spoon back down with a nearly inaudible groan. Deciding you couldn’t stomach anymore, you went to stand on shaky legs and discard your bowl.

Normally you’d let one of the others have what you couldn’t eat, but if Mike was right (and his nose always was) about you being sick, you didn’t want to risk infecting anyone else. Ever you were the considerate one, despite your dismissal of your own issues.

Before you could leave the hall, you found Levi walking in with an empty cup in his hand. After refilling it, he sat near Erwin at your table. He caught your gaze, and you were quick to look away shyly.

“You look like shit,” he greeted.

“Mornin’ Levi,” you greeted back, now trying to hold in a sneeze. As Hange eagerly filled him in on your situation, you rolled your eyes and made to leave the mess hall.

Training wasn’t going to be fun…

══════════════════

Only twenty minutes in, and you were sweating like a pig. In order to catch your breath, you’d had to resort to breathing through your mouth since your nose was completely plugged up and runny.

Great. Just great.

Your legs shook and your head spun as you got off the ground for the nth time. Taking several shallow breaths, you closed your eyes for a moment and silently prayed to anything that might be listening that the torture would end soon.

“Oi, Lieutenant.”

You snapped your eyes open with a muffled ‘huh?’ and came face to face with the gaze of a glaring Captain Levi. He was running the training course today. He stood several feet away from you, not wanting to come any closer after all Hange had told him.

“You shouldn’t be out here training, you’ll make yourself worse. Go to the infirmary,” he commanded.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him breathlessly, wiping at your brow and nose.

He sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “The one time I go easy on a brat and they refuse,” he mumbled to himself.

“That’s an order, L/N. Go.”

“You can’t orber me roun’. I’m a Lieutenan’.” Your stuffy voice was getting worse, paired with the scratching of your throat.

Another frustrated sigh left the Captain, but he really wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fine, have it your way. I was just trying to help, but if you want to make yourself worse, be my guest.”

As he started to walk off, you suddenly gasped and held at your mouth.

“Oh gob oh shid,” you mumbled, catching Levi’s attention. He turned back around, only to see you taking off in the opposite direction; a hand over your mouth and stomach.

He grimaced to himself, knowing immediately what was going on.

“Damn brat…”

Not wanting to vomit in front of everyone, you had raced back into HQ, desperately trying to hold down what little breakfast you’d managed to eat earlier. Throwing your dorm room open, you raced to the bathroom and barely made it to your personal bathroom before it all came back up.

You clutched the bowl of your toilet with shaky hands and coughed, grimacing as your throat burned. After brushing your teeth and cleaning up the bathroom, and yourself with a quick shower, you decided to finally take your friend’s advice.

Not to go to the infirmary, but instead to rest. Locked away in your room, you ignored the knocks and muffled voices at your door as you curled up under the blankets on your bed.

It may have been warm outside, but you were freezing. Despite the sweat that clung to your body, you attempted to rest.

══════════════════

What felt like an eternity later, the sound of your door being messed with woke you up out of a deep sleep. Rubbing at your sweaty brow, you groaned as you saw your locked door handle twist.

Your door opened slowly, and with blurry eyes you could make out a head of raven hair. Shuffling under the covers, you looked over your shoulder to see Levi approaching your bed.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled sleepily.

“You missed lunch. And dinner,” he stated quietly, and it was only then you noticed a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh…What time is it?” you yawned, trying your best to cover your mouth and sit up, but the dizziness came back in full force, making you groan and lay back down.

“A little after eight,” he responded, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

“I tried to check up on you earlier, but you must have really been out of it.”

“How did you even get in here this time?” you asked with a raised brow. “I locked the door.”

“I picked the lock,” he stated in a ‘you seriously have to ask?’ tone of voice.

Shooting him a look of disbelief, you shook your head and attempted to sit up again.

“Why are you even in here? I’m sick. You might get sick.” You pointed out, knowing how skittish he was about germs.

With a sigh, he sat on the edge of your bed. “I decided to swallow my pride and make sure you didn’t die in here. Firstly, that’s a lot of paper work for me. Secondly, someone has to help your stubborn ass. Might as well be me.”

“And why’s that?” You pushed for more information, a smile slowly making its way onto your face. Though his face was turned away from you, you could make out a very faint pink hue blooming over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Why not me?” he mumbled.

“Awe, you do care,” you chuckled, voice a little raspy still from sleep and your scratchy throat.

“Shut it, brat. You’re stuffy, and it’s annoying to listen to you talk. The sooner you become less annoying to me, the better.” he grumbled, shooting you a pointed look over his shoulder that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Starting to understand, you couldn’t help but grin. Maybe he did care a little more than he was trying to let on…

“You wouldn’t have had to hear me talk like this if you hadn’t come in here,” you pointed out teasingly.

He didn’t have a retort for this, so instead he sighed in annoyance and picked up the forgotten tray of food.

“Eat your damn soup already. And take some meds for god’s sake. I grabbed a couple bottles on the way up here.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the tray from him, your fingers lightly brushing against his hands. He stiffened slightly at the contact, but made no comment. Instead, he quietly observed you taking a sip of the warm soup. He refused to tell you, but you could tell this wasn’t something that had been served for dinner. He had to have made this himself.

For you…

“Thanks, Levi. I guess I could maybe use the help.” You smiled at him, scooting a little closer to where he sat.

“Yeah no shit, now eat.” He didn’t move away from you. Instead, he discreetly moved a little closer.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to ask for help from time to time, you supposed. Especially if being sick meant you got to spend some time with your favorite Captain…

[katyspersonal]

3 for Aldrich, Aldia, Willem & Laurence

9 for Maria

11 for Micolash & Aldrich

24 for Laurence

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

As for Aldrich, I vaguely recall finding out that he checks the traits I like the most? He was one of the characters I've learned about through fandom and not on my own, and I think this ancient meme about summarises it:

Also:

@val-of-the-north SHUDDUP you're basically so horny for Laurence/Logarius/Snatchers that you can't even picture them in your mind in any way but being naked!!!!!!! *casts the stone back at u*

With Laurence, like with Mico, it was the very first glance at the character in Youtube compilation with boss themes and concept art image. I did not know the lore yet, but the design and the music made me imagine Laurence as sort of aged, sagely librarian. I could not imagine back then that his boss fight would be him being a "helpless abhorrent little mewmew" as kids call it! Heck, I thought he'd have dialogue despite the monster form x) In a way, my first impression was not wrong, with the cut content of him actually talking even in a beast form, and implication of him being a son of Cainhurst cut content librarian NPC! I have intuition for cut content before having information, hahaha!

I have nothing to say about Willem. It might be a memory gap thing, but I swear at some point I feel I was turned off and then booted back up with liking this character already installed in my system x) As for Aldia.... ugh for fuck's sake... yeah, it was this legend:

I was absolutely floored by this stupid vid even without knowing any context, but I also instantly liked this character. I didn't even know his name yet, but the voice acting and long yapping about philosophy already pulled me in XD (Also unironically, this video is precisely how I give relationship advice fhfhdds)

9) Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Yeah, I know this person. I know them very well. I know them more than anyone else. Someone who was misguided (by their destructive influence mentor figure, by their own foolishness and past history, or combination of both, who can tell anymore?) into committing awful things, then despaired over their sins and attempted redemption but also failed in some way? This person is me. At some point I've found myself in front of horrible truth about my past life and personality, and knew I was guilty and sullied forever. That it was over for me as a human being, but that didn't matter, and I could only keep people safe by locking myself away and trying to serve something better.

......annnnd it took a few years of more informed people to (metaphorically) shake me and slap my face into lucidity, explaining to me that I've fallen for the "BPD demonization" that was going far beyond than my individual failure as a friend, and we are always accused of abuse and causing irreversible harm when the worst we do is being emotionally overbearing. I kept losing trust to those friends, telling them that they were enablers who tried to gaslight me into thinking I was not 'that much of a monster', until it was other people with BPD who 'shook me and slapped my face into lucidity'. xd Nonetheless, even though now I know the truth about how society treats BPDs, I remember the feeling of being so monstrous and harmful that I was not even allowed to "touch" people with my dirty hands, how my reality used to be. So, I could write Maria going through this effortlessly, especially considering what she did was more plain and tangible!

In fact... thank you for asking me about this, because I kept wondering why I had such frequent dreams about being Maria, and why the Maria in my dreams acts like abused child that took back control against Gehrman despite my portrayal of the guy being so different. And now the puzzle is solved! That part of me still lives inside, it seems.

11) How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Already answered this for Micolash here: ( x )! As for Aldrich, it was through properly analysing the bigger picture and context of his actions. I've figured that his madness was, in fact, being informed on what was far too ahead of everyone else around him! He, like the rest of the cast, is trapped in the rotting, doomed world in which the only choices are 1) "die with dignity" or 2) commit something unthinkable from moral standpoint for a chance to escape. And will morality of the rotting world will matter in the new world anyways? Won't it all be left behind and be forgiven?

The guy also tried to take everyone else he could with him, like sort of a fucked up Noah's Arc! I can tell that they reused the concept with Rykard, at least, I am glad they know what works xD I'd say that the sadism he experienced upon eating people was either result of insanity (he understood a thing no one should understand), or still didn't exclude the bigger purpose (egotistically revelling in how holy he is helping everyone and doing what no one else dared, which would be like my Laurence). In any case, I have the strongest respect to the courage it takes to transcend the bonds of morality and compassion in order to to greater good. Being burdened with the knowledge of how the world really works, and choosing to push through instead of still being bound... This is why I also like Fauxsefka; learning how this world works, she chose to turn people into Kin so they can't ever become beasts. I am weak for this trope, you don't understand.

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

Laurence appears in my dreams only in two contexts: 1) Micolaurence or 2) dreams about finding secret files in Bloodborne that reveal his canonical appearance before beasthood! I can tell the latter comes from my everlasting unsatisfaction with my design for him, because I love it but it doesn't feel "fitting" and I can't identify why!

The former, I think, fandom rubbing onto me x) In two of these dreams, I was Laurence. In other two, I was Micolash. In one of Laurence dreams it was mutual, in the second one I was in love unrequited. In one of Micolash dreams, it was mutual, and in another it was not.. Basically, my dreams allows me to experience this ship from every possible angle. o_o Waiting for more I guess fhhdfsfd

______________

Thank you for asking! And.. without exaggeration, you've just done quite a psychological work on me by just asking the right thing. I need to think about that, hahaha

[erictmason]

“BOUND FOR FREEDOM, YEAR FIVE, DAY FOUR: “Game”

“A Game of Thrones”

"There's no avoiding it, is there?" The tiredness in Sally's voice was clear, but Sonic could tell it ran much deeper than mere physical exhaustion. The two had been on the run for quite some time, and he had never heard such a weary tone in the princess' words before. "In my experience, that's how it usually goes with the worst stuff," he replied, trying to play it cool without sounding dismissive.

Sally drew her knees close to her chest, ears flattening to her head as her gaze turned to the simmering camp fire. "...I've always known my father was a hardened man," she said. "I was his prisoner as much as his daughter, after all."

She fell silent then. Sonic watched the fire dance in the reflection of her eyes. "But...?" he prompted softly.

It took a moment before Sally reacted. "But even after I met you...even after I learned how cruel a King he really was..." She paused again, arms tightening around her legs. "...somewhere, deep down, I think there was still a part of me that hoped..." A low sigh mixed into her words, "he could still see reason. That somehow, I might be able to...talk him down." She let out a low, coughing laugh. "I know how foolish that sounds, but-"

"It doesn't," Sonic quickly spoke up. "Hopin' that things can be better...'s'what keeps people like me..." He rolled his fingers along the ground. "...like us...going."

Sally's eyes moved from the fire to the hedgehog. "...I suppose it is," she said. Then she looked away again, now into the rising smoke drifting into the night sky. "Now, though...we know. I know. He sent Elias...my own brother...to kill me." Her voice grew a little more ragged with each word. "He was prepared to sacrifice both of his own children to hold onto his power." Sonic could see the growing tension in her shoulders...her hands...even just her brows. "There's no other way. If this world is ever going to be free...he has to die. And I have to kill him."

The resignation in those words struck Sonic. He realized then it was why he'd been so keenly aware of the difference in Sally's tone from the very beginning. It was the first time he had ever heard defeat overtake her spirit. He did not care for the feeling it stirred in him. "Maybe," he said, "...or maybe not." Sally closed her eyes then, letting out another bitter sigh. "Don't get me wrong," the hedgehog continued, "however all of this ends...it was never going to be easy. But you..." He chuckled just a little, in spite of everything. "...you've already surprised me in a whole bunch of ways."

The squirrel's eyes popped back open, and she suddenly turned her gaze to the hedgehog. "You said it yourself," he told her. "The King was ready to see you and Elias dead t'get his way. But because of you...that's not what happened. You and your brother are both still alive."

"For now," she whispered back.

"Yeah, for now," Sonic said. "Folks like me? 'For now' is all we can ever count on. It matters, a lot." His fingers flexed lightly, as if remembering a certain sensation. "I'm just sayin'...maybe better things aren't possible for the King."

And with as much sincerity as he could find, he smiled for her. "But that doesn't mean they aren't still possible for you."

((lol yeah my plans for keeping pace with my own Event Week just completely fell through this year, so enjoy me playing catch-up over the coming days even more so than usual. XD As for this particular pic, I decided to take the chance to revisit that "Empire" AU of mine I keep teasing at.))

[scatter-kinnin-patter]

“What the frickin ding dang gosh darn dilly willy hecking shark juice banana chicanery hootin tootin rasberry frickin FUCK are you two doing here?!”

💚|💚|💚 💚|💚|💚 💚|💚|💚 

[night-chant]

MLQC Scenario - Hidden Talent

If I miraculously and accurately linked your actual hobby with your favourite dude, how??--- I-I mean, yes it was on purpose of course! (I didn’t even get mine right XD)

Featuring: MLQC Guys + reader

Synopsis: You have a great passion for your favourite pastime, but for some reason, you’re too shy to let anyone know about it but then he finds out on his own.

Warning: Fluff (except Victor’s??)

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

Victor:

Creative writing

Sometimes poetry but often, creative writing since you loved spending time working on your historical romance novel. You never showed it to anyone, in fear that it would be ridiculed for any cliché use that you cherished.

At first, Victor assumed you were just writing a report on your laptop but sometimes, your eyes would light up as you eagerly typed out multiple sentences.

Did you find your report on Miracle Finder’s plummeting ratings that entertaining to analyze?

“How’s the progress?” he asked from behind and you hastily flipped the computer shut.

“Okay, I guess.” The light in your eyes instantly vanished.

Huh. He should’ve known. “The deadline is in two days. Did I give you too much time to spare?” When you didn’t answer, he went on: “What are you writing?”

“You’re going to say it’s stupid.”

“If you expect me to say that everytime a dummy does something, I’d lose my voice already. I only say if it is truly disastrous. Let’s see it.”

You reluctantly handed the laptop over. You started a couple of pages on chapter 18, but you expected he’d glance at the first few lines and turn back to you. Instead, he took a few minutes, perusing with a blank scowl.  

Any hope shattered when he started pointing out all the grammatical errors and that the plot so far isn’t logical. Your face felt hot. He was treating even your story as a report.

“The girl should’ve told him the truth in the very beginning,” Victor said, “so none of this mess would happen.”

Your blood was boiling. What, now he’s the CEO of some publishing company?? “Yeah, well, maybe he’d just call her a dummy and dismiss what she says like he always does!”

. . .

Victor would turn and leave with your laptop. Starting from page one, he would read each dialogue and analyze the characters more carefully.

You two will not end up like that couple. Not if he could help it.

Lucien:

Painting

You enjoy nature, especially animals and landscapes.

Sometimes, Lucien and you took a stroll around the forest by the Loveland University so you could get some real-life references.

No matter how vibrant the pigments were, they never drew Lucien’s attention away from you and your concentrated scowl and the slight peek of your tongue as you carefully painted an arc for the branch of a willow tree.

“They don’t look right,” you mumbled, breaking his trance. “But I’m not sure why.”

“Your hand is shaking,” he said, reaching out. “Here, I’ll hold it still for you.”

Maybe it’s because you were embarrassed that you didn’t realize the issue before or maybe because he was leaning very close, but your hands were shaking even more.

However, with gentle guidance, the branches you drew together were natural and lovely, interlaced with one another just like your hands.

Kiro:

Dancing ft. singing

If the rhythm is inspiring or if it’s just your favourite song, you’d probably be in an imaginary music video in the next moment. (Of course, when you were alone.)

Back to reality, it was Kiro who dances but he usually sings more in his performances in concerts.

He didn’t expect you to be a dancer too.

Kiro came home earlier than usual one day. Savin had let him go ONLY because he wasn’t acting too rebellious that day.

Before Kiro even opens the front door, he heard blaring music, almost reverberating off the wall.

His approaching footsteps were completely muted and a familiar voice was singing both parts of a duet song. Then after, an eerily familiar song . . .

You didn’t notice him as you were dancing away to his latest single.

But when you do, all you wanted was to hide in a closet.

But he thought Miss Chips was adorable and gushed about your accurate choreography.

You both probably ended up dancing to Kpop or Disney songs.

Gavin:

Knitting and needlework

Your mother taught you the basics, but you loved the activity so much that you made your own small, simple projects.

Sometimes, Gavin returns from missions with torn clothes and you were always willing to sew them up again if possible.

He finds your talent in knitting very intriguing, how your fingers and yarn and needles danced around one and another like hummingbirds.

Subconsciously, he thinks about the future, when you two would be older and when you would be making knitted garments for your two’s grandchildren.

Wait what do you do with all the clothes you knit now?

One day, he informed you that he would be away for a long mission.

You were bummed. “You have to return on the 20th or earlier! Or else I won’t stop knitting this very scarf until you do!”

When Gavin got back, he noticed that the scarf was pretty long.

“You did take breaks, did you?” he asked, holding your hands as he examined them.

You rolled your eyes when he took your joke to heart and so literally.

You wrap the long scarf around him (maybe a couple times keep it clear from the ground, even considering his height).

Good thing the scarf was big enough to cover part of his face because his ears and cheeks grew pink from your gentle gesture.

He untangled the scarf just enough to loop it around you too, narrowing the distance between you two until you were against his chest.

“Thank you.”

He liked to wear it during autumn and winter ever since.

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I’m writing this as I wait for a game to download reeee

Masterlist

[bokettochild]

About Legend having insane leg strenght: what if the reason he never brags about that is because he's embarassed about it? He thinks that pulverizing a boulder with a kick is either something everyone can do or too similar to a bunny. One day he and Four get dumped into a monster camp without their items or weapons and Legend takes desperate measures to ensure they don't die: anihilating the entire camp with only his legs. He is unironically and literally capable of killing someone with his /1

This ask references this post btw, so, check it out if you need context!

Honestly, I loved this so much! THANK YOU!!! But I am half asleep, so the cool stuff I saw in my head is being stinky and not comng out. I'm sorry, hope you like my half-asleep drabbl of Legend being weak as shit while simultaneously having the strongest kick out of the whole Chain XD

Legend hates being at Ordon.

It’s not that he hates the people; he’s used to country folk, he was raised around them, heck, his grandparents have the same strong twang in their voices that everyone in Twi’s village does! He loves the fresh air and the sounds of animals and the sight of growing things everywhere he looks.

But he hates looking around and seeing Twilight’s entire village (even the freaking kids!) wander around lifting things that probably equal his entire body weight!

Seriously, Malo (that was the terrifying toddler’s name, right? That’s what Twilight said when he introduced them all, right?) could lift up a small goat with ease, and he was an actual toddler!

What was Uli feeding her children that they turned out this strong? Were all the village women using it? How on earth was every person in all of Ordon fully capable of throwing Legend over their shoulder?

It hadn’t happened yet, but Legend was on guard because it was only so much time before someone figured out it was possible, and it wasn’t as if he could fight them off.

He wasn’t jealous, definitely not. Not even when he saw Twilight carrying a mother goat across the village with an easy stride as he brought the nanny back to her pen. When he buried his face in his arms and sighed it wasn’t because he was remembering how much he had to tug and pull to move a basket of apples, no, it was just because the mere thought of carrying goats for the foreseeable future made him tired. Definitely.

But this strength was just an Ordon thing, right? It was totally just something that was common in Ordon, and Legend took comfort in that as he sat on the front porch of Uli and Rusl’s house and helped with the mending.

Even their blankets were heavy, what the heck?

But then Sky walked past.

And Sky was carrying a barrel, an entire barrel. One that swished and clunked with the sounds of grain filling it, and if the small trail of spilled seed that followed after the hero meant anything, then that thing was full.

Okay, so Skyloftians were strong too, no big deal.

Big deal.

Their entire visit to Ordon, helping to hide away animals and supplies before a local monster band stole them, was spent with Legend trying desperately to not be jealous as he watched everyone from Wind to Time lift and carry things that he couldn’t even knock over if he pushed against them.

It wasn’t even that most of thing things were heavy, it was just... he was weak.

Uli’s gaze when she’d figured out the truth had been surprised, eyes blown wide with shock as she watched as Legend, who’d opted to help indoors since he knew working outside would lead to him being more a burden than an aid, struggled to lift buckets of water to fill the wash basin. Dark brown eyes had followed him as he’s left the bucket outdoors and stomped inside, hissing and wheezing under his breath as he moved his attention to his bag and grabbed one of his power bracelets.

“Hun,” Uli’s soft country twang caught his attention as the woman drew close, concern filling her warm gaze. “Are ya’ feelin’ alright?”

And reputation or no, Legend’s Gran would have his hide on a hitching-post if he even so much as dropped his manners. There was something about country folk that was so inherently polite and welcoming, that even the salty vet couldn’t help but return with the same manners that his Gran had pounded into his head since childhood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Crimson trailed up his neck to blossom across his cheeks and shoot up his ears. He tried to ignore that Uli had a baby on one hip and a bushel of food on the other, breath contained and relaxes as she stood there, no hint of strain in her face or body language. His fingers trailed along the clasp of his power bracelet, shame building inside as he shuffled his feet.

You just can’t walk away when lady’s talking to you, especially if she’s being all polite like and just makin’ sure you’re okay.

“Are you injured?” The farm-wife pressed. “You were huffy something huge with that there bucket.”

And Legend would like nothing more than to sink into the earth as he glances over the full bucket of water that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t lift. “I’m just not much of a farm-hand is all, ma’am. I’ll be right as rain in a tick, just needed to grab something I forgot.”

And while the look Uli gives him is a bright smile, he knows worry when he sees it peeking out of someone’s gaze. He tries to ignore that, instead turning back to the chores he’d been assigned and trying his hardest to ignore ethe fact that no one else was wearing power bracelets when they all came back for dinner that evening.

He’s not strong. So what? He can lift his sword well enough, and he can do most other things too when he wears the power bracelets.

Yes, he knows that Ravio warned him about not developing muscles if he relied on objects so much, but he’s never had time to work out or build any muscle mass, so when he needs it it’s a bit more important to just get his work done rather than hope he’ll develop it. He’s paying for that, and he knows it, but he can’t really help that he doesn’t have the time or space to really do anything about it.

Oh well, at least the others haven’t caught on.

Warriors hefts a huge rock over his shoulder and throws it, chuckling deep and loud as he smirks at the rancher. “Beat that!”

They’re clearing a road where an avalanche swept through and blocked off the main entrance to a local town. They’ve been at it for hours, and while Legend tries his hardest to be discreet by sticking to things he can actually lift, even if it does require his bracelets, the others have devolved into a contest to see who can throw stuff the furthest.

There’s nothing on the other side of the road except for the edge of a swamp, and even Legend has to admit that it’s ridiculously satisfying to hear each of the heavy stones go ‘plop’ as they land in the marsh.

Twilight smirks at the captain, all his sharp teeth on display as he hefts a rock that’s the size of Wild and easily bigger than half of the rest of the heroes. “Watch and learn, city boy.” Twilight grunts (well at least it took some effort) before throwing the boulder and watching with the rest of them as it soars through the air and lands with a dramatic ‘splosh’ in the middle of the swamp. Cheers erupt from the younger heroes, and a few even drop their own burdens to give a brief round of applause.

Warriors humphs shrewdly, gaze thin as he looks over at Twi, who only cocks a brow in challenge. “Anyone think they can beat that?”

Legend finds his gaze meeting Four’s swirling hazel, and they both quickly look away from the captain, both well aware that the biggest rocks they’ve lifted are maybe the sizes of their heads, and no where near the horrific loads that the taller heroes are tossing left and right.

“I’ll try!” Wild’s eyes are flashing as the kid clambers over the rock slide, eyes darting to and fro until they land on what has to be the biggest, most horrifically sized piece of rubble Legend has ever seen. The Champion beams, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles briefly before taking the stone in both hands and lifting it over his head and throwing it.

The swam erupts in goop and several of their group yelp and have to dark back as smelly water sprinkles the edge of the path. Wild beams down from his perch on top of the pile, hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Who dares challenge my strength?”

“How about you, Vet?” Warriors nudges him lightly, chuckling with a cocked brow. The man is just teasing, and he doesn’t mean any harm, but Legend finds himself irritated anyways. He doesn’t know what it is about Warriors, but the man gets under his skin entirely too easily.

“No thanks.” He grunts, hefting his own stone (so small in comparison) a bit higher and adjusting his grip as he walks over to the swamp.

Wild scrabbles around above, knocking stones aside and sending them rolling down towards the vet. Legend rolls his eyes, dodging quickly around a few and kicking some of the larger ones in the direction of the swamp.

He smiles to himself at the satisfying ‘plonk’ as each one hits the surface.

Four’s head aches and the next time they see Warriors they’re going to kick him in the shins.

The captain is good at planning, usually, but if his planning means that Four is waking up to stare around a vast room where people in red and black PJ suits are eating bananas because said plan went wrong, then they think they’re a bit justified in wanting to kick the captain.

They’d reach to rub their head, to adjust the headband that’s riding too low and letting their hair all hang in their eyes, but their hands are bound behind them, and they’re left huffing their breath and scrunching their nose in an effort to relive their irritation. Their mind is too wild to shake their head, but they let their eyes wander.

Legend’s violet gaze meets theirs, sharp fury bubbling below the surface as Legend sits across from them, hands bound behind him, a rope leading from his wrists to a hook in the wall that is definitely higher than either of the two of them can reach.

As unkind as it is, they breathe a sigh of relief to know they aren’t alone (even if being four people in one body technically means that they’re never alone as is). It’s...nice, having Legend around. They don’t know what it is, but the taller boy feels safe and that’s something that they, especially Red, fond comfort in.

But the fact that two of them are here means that Wars is getting both his shins kicked, fair is fair.

Legend squeaks in that harsh way he does when he’s angry, a poor and rather adorable attempt at a growl, but apparently, he’s unable to make any sort of guttural noise, so the squeak is the best he can do. “I am going to strangle Wars when we get back. Yiga? Seriously?”

They raise a brow. “Weren’t we fighting moblins?”

“And a Talus. Unless these guys have transformative rings, then someone messed up.” The vet grates out, but before he can try and unravel their situation any more, a masked face is shoved into the vets own, one of the pajama clad banana eater’s apparently trying to leer over the vet, breath strong and rank even behind his mask.

“So! The friends of the hero awake! You will call me Astorah! Leader of the Yiga and supreme priestess to Lord Ganon!”

“I’ll call you annoying and maybe alive if you let us go.” legend drawls, unimpressed. “Seriously lady, get your face of mine or I’ll knock it in.”

They smirk. Legend is as polite and well-mannered as can be around the country villages, but the minute he’s away from thick mountain drawls and country twang, the Vet becomes a sour and salty speaker who’s as likely to threaten you as o smile at you. It would almost be funny if they weren’t being held captive.

Astorah makes an indignant sound, hand shooting out to smack Legend across the face. The vet can’t do anything to stop it, and the blow sends his head swinging to the side, a faint grunt escaping as the self-declared priestess stands to her full height (she’s taller than either of them at any rate) and promptly orders her subordinates to see to it that the prisoners be brought to ‘the mountain’.

“The hero will be looking for his friends,” The pajama clad leader declares excitedly, hands rubbing together like a villain in a bad stage play. “So, let's help him out, shall we?”

The vet and smithy exchange a glance, each somewhat surprised at how... pathetic their opponent seems to be.

“Their screams should do the trick; all heroes listen to cries of help after all.” There’s a mad waver in her voice and the pitching is all wrong.

She’s delusional. Vio whispers, and the rest of them are inclined to agree.

Across from them, legend scowls as another red and black clad weirdo comes to grasp his binds, unhooking them from above as yet another does the same to Four.

Ideally, they would try and escape now, but legend only follows along slowly as Astorah leads them through the endless halls and up step after step, murmuring, laughing and shrieking loudly as she goes, hands fluttering and gestures erratic as Legend’s scowl grows more and more each minute.

It all seems rather pathetic, all thing considered, until another, larger, more intimidating individual stops them, voice harsh as it grates out something in a language neither hero can understand. Astorah protests and shrieks at the figure, but they disregard her and instead turn to the heroes.

“Put them back, screams echo within a cave far better than on a mountain top.”

Four’s stomach sinks. Being outside means being closer to escape, means finding the others easier and kicking Wars for landing the in a battle where two of their own had been captured by the enemy.

Legend seems to be of the same idea, his eyes flashing as he pulls at his bonds, tugging away from the guard holding onto him.

The oddly garbed enemy slaps him again, but Legend doesn’t seem to be affected, only pushing harder and biting towards the next hand that swings his way. Astorah pulls away with a light sob, shrieking when Legend’s teeth keep hold of her hand while the enemies around them erupt into action.

Fours unsure of what happens next, their head is still spinning, and quite honestly, they’re sure Hyrule will declare him concussed when they get back, but he does see blows being thrown Legend's way, blades being drawn as shouts echo around them.

There’s a dark of movement, and one of the enemies falls. Four stares in shock for half of a moment before turning their gaze to Legend, who, for all intents and purposes, looks half feral.

Blood stains the Vet’s bucked teeth and his hair swirls as he spins and ducks beneath blows. His hands are still bound tightly behind him, a rope trailing on the ground as Legend evades contact, yet somehow still manages to down another enemy.

Four would try and help, but their mind is spinning, their brain not yet up to date with what their eyes are seeing, that and they’re still bound themself, their arms are fastened behind them and they’re not even sure how Legend is managing to get blows in.

And the he sees.

The vet’s boot swings up to make contact with one of the jaws of the enemy.

Yiga. Wild had told them about them, the Yiga clan, people out for the hero’s blood. The word only comes to mind now, but they’d had to tune out of the battle for a brief moment to remember it. They’re brought back to it as the sound of an agonized scream breaks through the air, accompanied by the harsh snapping sound that Four knows too well from having broken their own bones.

Legend fights with his hands behind his back, kicking out like an angered horse and injuring any who step near. It’s impressive honestly, watching how blood spurts and bones crumple from the force of the vet’s blows, and all that without having use of his hands.

The Yiga back away, eventually leaving the room entirely as Legend squeaks out an angry Legend sound after them, before turning his attention to Four. Four says nothing, and it appear Legend thinks that that’s okay, because he darts towards the door they had been headed too, leading Four with nervous glances being thrown back over his shoulder every few minutes.

The mountain top they emerge onto is higher than Four expected, and they want nothing more than to snuggle down in the cozy parka Legend once leant him, but they have none of their items, and they’re lucky to even be out in one piece.

It takes a lot of work to climb down a mountain with their hands tied, but their fingers are too cold to make any good of the knots, and they manage in the end to climb down. They’re in the last legs when Four notices what looks like a small group of travelers below, and they can almost hear the singing of the Four Sword from them.

They’d dropped their blade in their battle, the very reason they were caught in the first blade. They’re not happy someone else touched it, but they are glad they didn’t leave it behind.

“Four,” Legend’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, and as they turn to face him, they find that Legend’s face is flushed, ears twitching nervously as he avoids their gaze. “Could you...not tell the others about all that?”

“About what?” They clamber down another stone, Legend still within sight as he trails down beside them.

“The...kicking.” Legend flushes. “I know you guys- most of them anyway- could have it handled better. I just, Wars is bad enough as is, I don’t need him bring up my lack of strength next time he decides he needs ammo to mess with me.” There’s a scowl on the vets features as he hops down and across and small hold in the mountain side. “I get it, I’m weak in comparison, they could probably have beheaded those guys with their bare hands, but mine fingers are shit o a good day and-”

Four doesn’t know if they actually figure something out or randomly spew words, but Legend’s eyes turn to them in surprise when the smithy stares down at him. “You do know most Hylia’s can’t do anything by kicking each other, right? I’m planning on kicking Wars when we get back, and the most it’ll do is bruise him.” Their voice is flat, but they let Viol take over, he always had the best endurance out of them when it came to rocky places anyways. “You kicked a man’s ribs in, Legend.”

And it’s not funny, it really isn’t, but they giggle, watching as Legend flushes before their eyes, and when the others trail up towards them, gazes curious and concerned, Four is laughing hysterically.

It could be the head wound, it could be Legend’s face, but the thought that Legend was able to kick a man's ribs in and hadn’t done so to any of them yet was both surprising and highly relieving for whatever reason, and it’s hilarious listening to Legend try and explain himself as the vet protests and struggles against the fact that apparently Hylian’s don’t usually have enough leg strength to kill people with.

Yes, people died back there. Yes, Four just watched them die. Maybe it’s Shadow’s influence, but Four can’t find that they're overly bothered. They are tired and injured and cold, and if they can laugh about something as ridiculous as Legend’s strange strength imbalance, then Hylia danggit they’re going to!

They never do kick Wars’ shins in, they giggle to hard at the thought that Legend doing so could actually break them, so they topple over before they can lift their feet.

[flowercrown-bard]

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

--

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  5.2

Author’s Note:  I saw this on pinterest and thought it applied to Xiao XD  P.S.  Do you readers like that the story is in 2nd POV, or should I change it to 3rd person?  My thinking is this POV allows me to get away without mentioning appearances or a chosen name so ya’ll could be put in OC’s shoes?

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

Is it just me, or is he looking my way?  You caught Childe in the act while you and your team retreated into the opposite tree line after Aether had taken the dragon tooth.  Something didn't feel right.  The trees seemed to close in on you like tunnel vision.  Was he planning on attacking you with the skirmishers at his side? Was he going to show his true colors now?  Is it time to face death?

He dismissed the soldiers and retreated from the direction you had all spotted the skirmishers in the first place.  He made a point to cast a meaningful glance your way.

I can't let it happen now, you looked to each of your teammates as you all ran through the snowy woods.  If he brought all of those Fatui agents on board with taking you out, the entire group would be overwhelmed.  The sheer cold puts us at a disadvantage.  Bennett could get hurt.  Xiao can't fight with his full strength.  When was the last time Aether and Childe sparred?  I can't rely on those results to protect me either.  

No one was paying attention; you could slip away and try to strike a deal with the Harbinger.  Bargain for Xiao's freedom and safety. You were hypersensitive to the weight of your coat on your shoulders, and the crunching of snow beneath your boots.  He can't hurt us now...not now!

You peeled away from the group and they continued to run towards a cave several hundred yards from their current position.  No one had heard you.  When you finally reached the first firepit, you found Childe waiting next to it.

"Oh there you are, ojou-chan!  Did you get the tooth? Where are the others?  They didn't run into trouble, did they?"  He greeted you with his signature friendly stature.

"Drop the act, Childe." You came to a halt maybe ten feet from him, with your back to the firepit.  It warmed your body significantly and you could finally feel your fingers and toes again.  He was on the far end of the open area.

"Whatever do you mean, ojou-chan?"  The mask didn't crack.

"We're alone now.  Is that what you wanted?"

Childe stared at you for a moment before breaking out into a loud fit of laughter.  "Oh ojou-chan, you know me so well〰"  He took a couple steps toward you.  "You should know I've been meaning to talk to you."

"That's close enough."  He stopped.  "I know what you're after."

"Oh?"  A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes, one that you've never seen before.  "Enlighten me then."

"I don't want Xiao dragged into whatever mess you brought upon us.  Whatever your plan entails, it ends with me."

"A noble sacrifice for a man that will not love you," he smirked.  "Why do you try to protect him when he can clearly fight for himself?"

"He's been through enough already," your hands closed into fists as you recalled his horrific past.  "I'll go with you, but only if you give me your word you won't take him too."

"Ha!  I feel no need to fight you, ojou-chan."  The sincerity in his voice attracted your gaze back to him.  "I don't wish to hurt you."

"Huh..?"  That's out of character.  Is this some sort of trap?

"I...have other goals in mind.  They require your cooperation, of course.  And your cutting of ties with the adeptus."

"Cutting ties?  Why would I do that?"  Your brows furrowed.

"My loyalty lies with the Tsaritsa, but I have a special interest with this mission after meeting you, ojou-chan," he made his way closer, and you stood in total confusion.  "I will personally see to it that you will not get harmed at all in Snezhnaya.  It all depends on your answer."

"You...I don't get what you mean.  What answer?  What exactly are you asking of me?"  Whatever it was, you sure as hell weren't going to agree with it.  But as soon as the questions left your lips, you knew.

He does like you.

Childe took note of the realization--and the fear--on your face and continued. "Surrender is a valid option, I promise I'll be gentle.  This is a simple route that avoids all the fighting and pain.  All you need to do is allow me to love you, and I won't harm your friends.  You have my word."

"L-love me?"  The words left a terrible taste in your mouth.  "I...I could never!  I could never love you, either!  You killed my Granny...you stole her house from her frail hands.  You...You!" Your sword made a metallic sound as it was unsheathed.

Childe inhaled and manifested his bow.  He nocked an arrow onto his finger and drew the string to his cheek.  "A most expected answer, ojou-chan.  Thank you for strengthening my resolve.  This will be much more enjoyable now."  Whatever turmoil that shone in his eyes was long gone  and replaced with pure malice.  "Let's make this a fair fight."  The arrow shot into the fire and extinguished it.

"Tch." You ran toward him as fast as you could in the snow, and crossed sword with lance.

"Not bad," your opponent grinned with satisfaction.  "Where'd you learn this technique from?"  You somehow managed to keep up with his unrelenting blows thanks to the muscle memory that belonged to Xiao.  "I don't recall the adeptus ever training you."

"Ngh!"  He landed a kick to your stomach and you fell into the snow.  Childe let you get back up, completely high on the thrill of fighting you and more than intent on dragging it out so he could watch your fighting spirit diminish.  I may be keeping up with him, but I can't land a solid blow like this.  You slowly removed your two remaining jackets and tossed them into the snow next to the extinguished firepit.  If I can somehow finish the fight quickly...You knew it was a hopeless battle.  A fight between a non-vision wielder and a harbinger that wields both vision and delusion? Complete and utter self-annihilation will ensue.

"I admire your tenacity, comrade," he watched the jackets fall.  "But now that I have my answer, there's no reason to wait any longer."  He shoved his lance towards you when your guard was down.

"I won't let you hurt him!"   You swung your blade to parry, and a sudden blast of material sent the two of you flying backwards into the snow.  Your vision was suddenly looking into the tree canopy.  "Ugh, wha--?"  You sat up to find ice shards scattered across the snow.  Something cool and metallic sat in your free hand.  You opened your palm to reveal what you least expected.

A vision.

You stared at your hand with bewilderment while Childe rose to his feet with a mixture of shock, admiration, and annoyance.  "I see.  An unexpected development," he remarked with cold eyes.  "It's a shame you won't have the chance to wield it properly against me.  He drew his bow and aimed for your chest.  Another block of ice manifested before the arrow could pierce you.

You placed the artifact into your jean pocket, and you rose to your feet with a newfound confidence.  Maybe you could beat him here and now.  Images of Xiao's fights involuntarily crossed your mind, and a lance of ice materialized in your hand.  You held it so that the tip pointed directly at Childe.

Another clashing of blades, this time converting Childe's into an ice sculpture.  But not before you had managed to freeze his leg into the snow for a hot second.  You ducked at his swings, parried his attacks, and followed through with a sequence of your own--or rather Xiao's--attacks.  It looked like you were gaining the upper hand until Childe caught your blade in his gloved palm.

"Thank you for the entertainment, ojou-chan," he growled.  "But this is where it ends for you."  Did you really think he hadn't studied your newfound techniques during your previous fighting session?  So naïve of you, ojou-chan.  You can't use the same tricks twice.

You retracted your weapon and lay waste another blow.  He easily parried it.  You engaged in a combo before swiping your feet at his legs; he leapt away before you could knock him down.  You were frustrated now, your movements becoming sloppier with each passing movement.

There's the real you, he mused.  His frozen blade dug into your dominant shoulder with such force that he had you pinned to a tree.  He felt nothing but sadistic pleasure course through his veins at the sight of you squirming in pain.

"Gah!" A shriek escaped your lips and your lance dropped from your hand.  You tried to claw the spear out of your body as he stalked ever closer to you.

"I don't even need Foul Legacy to kill you. You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams," Childe stalked towards you as he twirled a new hydro polearm behind his body, stopping once its blade pressed against your neck.  He could kill you in an instant, and he would if he wasn't required to bring you alive.

You were seething with anger and hatred. It was stupid of you to go after him on your own, to seek a peaceful resolution to this conflict when you knew all along that there wouldn't be one. It didn't matter now. Your anger subsided, shoulders releasing themselves from the tension in your muscles once you thought of an idea. Even the pain in your dominant shoulder seemed to subside a bit.  Your sudden change in demeanor made Childe's grip loosen for a moment as he questioned the newfound peace emanating from you.

Your eyes closed and your lips curled into a smile. Adeptus Xiao, you called to him in your heart.Please hear me and answer my prayer for protection.

A sudden gust of wind blew against your back, and Childe faltered. He looked to you for an explanation, and you met his gaze through his mask. "I know, but he can."

Xiao burst into Childe at an incredible speed, knocking him square into another tree. The trunk splintered in half from the force.  He conjured his polearm and held its blade at Childe's throat. "Why the sudden politeness in your prayers?" He called out over his shoulder without taking his eye off the Harbinger.  I'm cursed with hearing her rambling whenever I'm gone, and only now she speaks politely to an illuminated adeptus?  Despite that thought, he actually loved hearing your voice reach his ears.

"I-I don't know.." WAIT, he COULD hear me all this time?!  Blush further tinted your pink cheeks that were red from the sheer cold.

"Tsk," Childe spit blood onto the snow and glared at the yaksha.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't decapitate you here."

Childe wasn't going to give him a reason and debated on conjuring his polearm instead.  Here he was, about to die at the hands of the damned yaksha, and all because he had decided to give you a chance to 'escape' a portion of the hardship that awaited you.  Signora would lose what respect she had for him if she ever found out.  Oh well.

"Ngh," you writhed against the tree.  Your feet were just inches from solid ground, making this injury all the more painful as you hung from the lance.  You couldn't move your dominant arm anymore.  Xiao let go of Childe's collar and moved to your aid.  He slipped your other arm over his shoulder so he could relieve the pressure off of your injury, then yanked the spear out without warning.  Your shout of pain scared the nearby foxes away.

Xiao gave the Harbinger one last glare before he lifted you in his arms and took off at an incredible speed.  It was only a matter of seconds before the two of you caught up with the rest of the group, who were waiting just inside a small cave that held mysterious lab equipment.

"Be careful,"  the yaksha set you on your feet but refused to remove your arm from around him.

"There you are!  W-where'd Childe go?"  Bennett paled when he saw your injury.  "Here, let me see that."  Aether, Paimon, and Xiao exchanged knowing looks while Bennett examined your shoulder.  "You should sit down.  This isn't anything I can't fix!"

"What happened? Did Childe...?" Aether trailed off once he returned with a bowl of water from a boiling pot.  

"Mn," you winced when Bennett peeled your shirt off of your bloody skin.  "I thought he was conspiring with those agents when we were making a run for it, so I followed him."

"A foolish decision," Xiao grumbled.  He took the water from Aether and held it to your lips.

"Were you at least able to find anything else out about his plans? Or Signora?"  Paimon spoke up.  "It's not worth getting hurt over if you just throw yourself in harm's way like that."

"I thought he was going to..." your eyes flicked to Xiao's for a split second before they fell to the ground.  '--Hurt you,' you wanted to say.  But the yaksha would not hear of it if you said something so foolishly naïve.  You were just a measly human after all, with little knowledge of fighting and a large heart that wanted to protect those around her.  A big heart could only go so far; it proved useless in your battle today.  Or did it?  You nearly jumped up when you remembered, "I have something! I got something from this!"  Your loud yelp scared the daylights out of Bennett, and he nearly yanked the stitch out that he had just put into your skin.  You dug into your pocket and pulled out the artifact.

"Is that--?!"  Paimon and Aether sprung to their feet simultaneously.

"A vision?"  Xiao's eyes widened slightly.  And a cryo one, at that.

"So cool!" Paimon spun around with excitement.  "You're officially one of us now! Er, not that you weren't to begin with--"

"Congrats,"  Aether nodded and flashed you a toothy grin.  

"Yeah, congrats!"  Bennett also flashed you a bright smile and observed the trinket in your palm.  "Wow, we're like, polar opposites!"

"Heh, yeah," you nodded with a faint smile.  Your eyes found Xiao's, which were locked onto your vision.  "Xiao?"

"You received a blessing from the very god that's hunting you.  Do you not find that odd?"  His lack of enthusiasm made your chest ache in disappointment.  

Was he not proud of such an accomplishment?

"Yeah now that you mention it," Paimon held her chin and thought.  "It is really weird.  Why would she make her target more powerful? Wouldn't that just make it more difficult for her to capture you?"

"Did Childe say anything about it?"  Aether prompted.

"No," you shook your head slightly and pursed your lips.  "He seemed as surprised as I was."

To be blessed with the cryo vision, one must commit an act that revolves around love, Xiao's brows furrowed.  Had she done something on the behalf of her grandmother, or is this all in the Cryo Archon's plan?  It never crossed his mind that you had gotten it on his behalf.

[mamabearcat]

I'm going to shoot you number 50 for the InuKag ask thing XD

Thank you @sassybratt9791 and @rougescribe who also asked for this prompt. It's a little more angsty than I'd originally planned, but kinda sweet also.

From the Touching prompt list. 50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up.

💖

“It’s okay if you want to leave”, she said quietly.

Inuyasha huffed exasperatedly, tossing aside the three year old gossip magazine he’d been thumbing through, which hadn’t really been keeping his attention anyway. He turned towards his wife, sitting on the chair next to him. Her shoulders were hunched and head bowed, fingers twisting together in her lap, as if she were trying to make herself look smaller, less conspicuous in the brightly lit waiting room. He knew this was difficult for her. It was difficult for both of them, but now she was just being ridiculous.

“Kagome, we’ve only been waiting for half an hour past ten. We’ve waited months for this appointment, and I had to beg for the day off work. We’re here now, okay? Even if we have to wait all day to see the damn specialist, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to go anywhere.”

Her eyes flicked towards him, and then back to her lap, fingers twisting together so tightly her knuckles were pure white. He could scent the fear and nervousness pouring off her, and a cold spike of fear pierced his spine as he watched her trying to keep her shaking hands still.

“I mean… me. If… if they work out that it’s impossible for me to have children at all, I would… I would…” The corners of her mouth turned downwards as her bottom lip shook, tears filling her eyes to dull the grey sparkle that he adored. “You’re so good with kids”, she whispered. “I see you with Miroku and Sango’s girls and they love you so much. You were born to be a Dad, Inuyasha. And…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I love you. But if you chose to leave I-“

“Shut up.”

He put his hand over her mouth, stopping her from saying one more word, not wanting to hear any more, uncaring of the curious stares they were now getting from the other people in the waiting room.

“Don’t you dare!” His voice was low and vehement, furious. “In fact, how dare you. Do you think so little of me Kagome? Of the way I love you? Of the promises we made to each other? ‘For better or worse’ Kagome. I love you. I love you! Would you leave, if we were going to see an infertility specialist for me?”

She shook her head rapidly, causing the hot tears to roll down her cheeks, spilling over his hand which was still held over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with barely controlled sobs. He took his hand away, pulling her sideways into a tight embrace.

“For someone so smart, you can think some very stupid things sometimes”, he said, his own voice thick with emotion, as he stroked her hair, pulling her head to rest in the hollow of his throat. “And it doesn’t matter to me if we have kids or we don’t. As long as I get to live my life with you. I chose you. And no matter what happens, I would still choose you. And I will continue to choose you from now on, every damn day. You got that?”

“Yeah”, she whispered. “It just didn’t seem fair.”

“I’m already the luckiest bastard I know, being married to you.” He kissed the top of her head as she giggled wetly, doing her best to wipe away the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve.

“Mr and Mrs Takahashi? The doctor is ready to see you now.”

Inuyasha drew in a deep breath. “You sure you still wanna do this?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him, her eyes red rimmed, eyelashes wet with tears, but her expression more peaceful than he’d seen it in weeks. “I just want to try. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. As long as it’s together.”

She nodded, taking his larger hand in his, and entwining their fingers.

“Together. I promise.”

[lavendertwilight89]

3 & 10 please darling

Heyyyyy @superpixie42

10. Shortest wip of the year

Lucky was my shortest clocking in at a word count of 1109 xD

3. Favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Uhmmmm... That's super hard because I have so much that hasn't been published just yet. But... I guess if I have to pick, I'd prob say from the second chapter of Lover--it's just very different from my usual writing because I don't hit heavy angst? And this fic is LOL

Spoiler's ahead

Kagome sat there, face pressed into his shoulder and he won’t admit he may have gotten a little emotional in telling her about his past. Inuyasha also wouldn’t admit to burying his face into her sweet smelling hair and letting his breath hitch. Eventually, the hanyou couldn’t take the sobs of the woman beside him and he allowed himself to engulf her in an embrace--bringing her onto his lap so they were wound together more intimately than they should have been. But it didn’t fuckin’ matter. He didn’t matter. Kagome did. Her feelings did. And if she wanted to hold him, then fuck, he’d let her. And if she needed comfort? Fuck it, he’d give it to her. At the end of the day, she was everything he couldn’t have, but he would drive to the sun and back and make sure she knew she was important and loved.

They stayed like that for however long it took for Kagome to stop sobbing. Her arms retreated, though she didn’t pull away, even when his grip loosened to allow her to, if she had wanted it., Only her hands moved, slowly stroking his chest--comfortingly and soothingly as she drew circles on his chest, from his abs to his pecs. Inuyasha refused to misread the contact. Kagome wasn’t like that. She was too kind, too giving, and too loving… “Inuyasha?”

“Hn?” Inuyasha mumbled.

“I care.”

“I know.” He did; Inuyasha did know. That’s why it hurt so much when he was such an asshole. Kagome didn’t deserve his harsh tone, his harsh words. And yet, he couldn’t stop when he tried to dissuade her from caring about him. The wall he had built around his heart and mind had been meant to be impenetrable...yet somehow, Kagome had broken down those walls.

“No--I don’t think you do. I care about you.”

“I get it--”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome huffed as her blue sapphire eyes burned holes into his eyes. There were still tears embedded within them, and he wanted to gently brush them out because they should never have been there. Especially not for him. “I--Do you... Do you know how much I care? Do you know what… what you mean to me?”

Her voice was barely heard, even with his madly twitching demonic ears and hearing. Did… What did… what did that even mean??

Kagome’s eyes searched his for what felt like an eternity before he felt her shift subtly enough to where he felt mesmerized. Her body moved like a dancer, even though she merely moved upward, so swiftly he hadn’t had time to notice, time to deflect, time to realize what a bad idea this was--how emotional they were, how caught up in the moment they were and--

Her lips touched his. Tentative. But fierce. Smooth. But heated. They were softer than he imagined. She tasted like honey--just like her goddamn scent, sweet like nectar, and demur like lavender . Even just the brush of them--Inuyasha was lost. Any self-control he had, any self-esteem he had was gone in the fucking wind as he inhaled her sweet tasting breath and opened his mouth and heart and let her in at the cost of his own sanity and morals.

Thanks for the asks love!

End of the Year Asks

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Heya! I absolutely adore your CorNyx aus and fics, especially HoT. The culture of the Galahkari is fascinating and Lucian's learning about it is my favourite part of your stories. I was wondering what your inspiration is for the world building? Also are there any tips you have for creating authentic feeling cultures?

paefhsldjvb

Thank you Anon! <3

I have tons of fun writing exactly that. XD

You know, those are two very difficult questions for me because I'm never sure how to answer them. But I shall do my best:

Doing worldbuilding for a fanfiction can be harder and simpler than starting from scratch at the same time. On one hand someone already did the groundwork and you can overwrite them how you want. On the other you need to make sure what you do doesn't clash (too much) with the already existing information.

If we look at Galahd, there is hadly any information at all. So we are in the unique position in the fandom to practically start from scratch where Galahd is concerned.

I started the worldbuilding process for Galahd very early. Like during the first half year the game was out early. There was barely anything known about Galahd at the time.

It's a group of islands (location unknown)

It has a river

It looks like it might be a jungle or something like that

Nyx and Libertus are from there

Galahdians (or at least the men) wear tattoos and braids

They aren't well liked in Insomnia

And that was basically it. Not much to go on, right? But with this information - sparce at it might be - you can start asking questions. 'How?' and 'why?' and 'what?' I treat it like a logic puzzle.

Galahd is a group of islands. So it stands to reason they eat a lot of fish and sea fruits. Which means they need fishermen. Those fishermen need boats, so you need people who make them. And those boats are made out of wood, so you need a lot of trees and people who cut them. This checks out because Galahd looks jungl-y in that one pic we have of it.

A lot of information/ideas I drew from fanon. Like that Galahdians are good hunters, or that the braids are important. And then I took these bits of information and started asking questions again.

There is a lot of tweaking involved and it's a very fluid process. I'm sorry if this isn't of much help.

Inspiration wise, I do my best to not draw from one real life culture specifically. One reason being that the only culture I really know is my own, and I don't want to do the others injustice. But I am taking bits and pieces here and there, if they fit with the information I already have.

Like Galahds tradition of oral history. The method how they tell the stories is inspired by the Ancient Greek storytelling tradition. Specifically Homer. Now, I'm no poet, so what I write aren't poems, but I like to think that there's a rythm to the Galahkari stories. I certainly drew the use of epithets from Homer. (I should add that stories like the Odyssey and the Iliad come from a longstanding oral tradition and Homer was simply the one who wrote them down.)

I don't want for this to get too long, so I won't get too deep into the language(s), but here I picked a handful of real life languages and played scrabble with them. Sounds stupid, I know. That is how I got my first few words. Then I started to think about rules for pronounciation and started to inch away from the languages I used in the beginning and it started to become its own thing. (Honestly, this topic could very easily be its own post.)

Moving on:

There isn't a definite answer to how to construct a culture. And certainly only one right answer. Me personally, I start with the location and the topography when worldbuilding. Because this information heavily influences how the culture works. A desert culture is vastly different than on living in a European like climate. This informs how people dress, what they eat, their relationship to things like water and food. Climate and terrain also narrow down what animals there are and which ones humans might use as a food source or as pack animals.

Another big point is how the different cultures play off of each other. How do their rules clash? How might they be similar? How will they influence each other?

Let's take Galahd again.

Solheim is the starting point. It was an Empire spanning (most of) Eos. (Really, how big it was isn't quite clear to me when it comes to canon, but I headcanon that it spanned most of the Lucian continent and a second landmass that got destroyed in the Astral War.) So, it doesn't really matter if it was destroyed during the Astral War or if its destruction was the catalyt for the War. What is important is the fact that the Astrals were the ones who did it. A thing like that will create ripples.

Which is where the whole religion aspect comes in. It stands to reason that most of Eos worshipped the Astrals in one way or another because they are very real god-like beings. So when they destroy the ruling power of a large part of the planet there will be consequences.

Some people might think it's devine retribution, so they will get even more stringent in their faith. Others will lose faith in the beings who destroyed their livelihoods. This creates friction - conflict. One partly will immediately think the other wrong and maybe even blame them for what happened in the first place. (Religious conflicts are ambudand in our history, so there is lots of inspiration to draw from. Though, again, I specifically chose not one specific example.)

The Galahkari were formed from the people who lost their faith in the Astrals, and as a result of that, were persecuted for it. They could not stay in one place for long, so they became nomads. And a some years later the islands of Galahd were discovered and most of the people emmigrated there to be safe.

And this informs the very basis of the Galahdian culture and how they move forward as a people.

You see where this is going? One action snowballing into another. And always there is the question: What are the consequences of this?

I hope this was helpful. Seeing as it went all over the place without much of a structure. If something isn't clear, feel free to ask anytime.

[joezworld]

Any headcanons about Ever Ace and the other new A-class Evergreen ships? This totally isn’t just because I love your version of Ever Given and want more of her and her family XD

The following is an excerpt from How to Avoid Huge Ships, Or: I Never Met a Ship I Liked by Capt. John W. Trimmer (National Writers Press, 1982)

Chapter 14: The Emotional State of Ships

For most captains, the emotional state of a seagoing vessel (other than your own, of course) is often seen as irrelevant - after all, who cares if the seven hundred foot tanker about to run over you and your ketch is a nice person or not?

However, like many common beliefs in the marine industry, this is an incorrect one. The mental state of vessels is vital to continued safe navigation.

First, we must mention the obvious: An unhappy ship is a dangerous ship. Think about the last time you drove to the store while upset. Now pretend you weighed several thousand tons and required a mile and a half to stop in an emergency. I imagine your car insurance premiums might be a bit higher, no?

Then we must mention Fleets.

Allow me to explain: While this may be seen as a massively reductive statement, most large vessels (and most living machines for that matter, including commercial aircraft, railway locomotives, and even large dragline cranes) are best viewed as pack animals. When left alone to their own devices (and the growing economic benefits of 'machine autonomy' have meant that more shipping lines are allowing ships to go off by themselves!) vessels will often form a "fleet", as they call them, which substitutes for what we humans would call a joint family.

A fleet may include any number of vessels and relationship combinations, ranging from a number of single vessels who consider themselves siblings, to sets of separate married couples, and even groups of non-monogamous vessels whose conduct would make a Mormon blush. That being said, regardless of type, bonds formed in this manner are extremely strong, and will often overcome any difference between vessels - see the growing trend of former US Pacific Fleet vessels and their former Imperial Japanese Navy spouses!

Now, what does any of this have to do with the continued safety of marine navigation, I hear you ask? Well, let me put it to you in the simplest terms possible:

If you were to wrong me in some way, I might decide to take legal action against you, or I might lick my wounds and walk away. I might even go to the police if the offense were serious enough.

If you were to wrong a ship, and the offense were serious enough, they wouldn't lick their wounds, they wouldn't pursue legal action, and they most certainly would not go to the police. Most ships believe quite strongly in the merits of what could be charitably called 'extrajudicial punishment'. Most ships, if they are in such a relationship, would bring this to the attention of their fleet-mates, at which point you would not have one, but several, maybe even a dozen, extremely large and extremely angry ships going after you.

-

Of course, any discussion of the often-overlooked subject of Fleets is incomplete without at least a brief mention of the US/Canadian Great Lakes Fleet, which has managed to continuously add to their numbers through a process they call 'Lake-napping'...

-----

April, 2021 - Great Bitter Lake, Suez, Egypt

The Egyptians were insane, Given concluded. Aside from the obvious - where in the name of all that floated was she going to get nine hundred million US Dollars? - they'd actually called their Navy on her, like some kind of Triad enforcer making sure a mark didn't get away without paying.

He was a tiny ship, really - some old design that made its priorities clear, judging from his open-air flying bridge and thick hull, but the massive anti-ship missile pods on his aft deck showed he could punch well above his weight.

She'd tried speaking to him, but they didn't have a language in common - and that was impressive all on its own. From the short, clipped sentences, and badly accented Arabic, he seemed both Eastern European and decidedly unfriendly.

As the sun set on the end of the first week of what might be a very long stay in Egypt, she wondered if the line might abandon her here. The cheap fucks had already been making noise about replacing her with another, bigger ship, but Ace - still in the shipyard, but already proving herself to be just as loud and annoying as any proper 20,000+ TEU ship, bless her - had made enough noise about "not being a rebound date" that their hand had been forced.

Of course, that was all before the Egyptians decided that they wanted nine hundred million dollars, so who knows?

Another ship went by - the backlog still wasn't through, and convoys continued at all hours. This one was one from CMA CGM, and while she couldn't quite catch his name in the dark, she could absolutely catch the scathing French insults being hurled her way as he passed by.

"Je parle français, toi voilier sans hélice." She sniped at him, relishing in the startled yelp that trailed him into the night. The tugboats pulling him along laughed, and he growled at them as he moved further into the lake.

The missile boat looked at her with what might have been admiration, but it didn't stop him from keeping his guns trained on her as he changed his watch position to a spot off of her stern.

She honestly considered running - the mockery she'd get once she left Egypt might be too much.

As the next ship in line approached, she got a ping on one of the company radio frequencies.

Tuning in, her brow furrowed in confusion - now that everyone had satellite internet downlinks, internet chatrooms had become the primary communication method across the fleet. Evergreen Lines ships had all gravitated towards Discord instead of WeChat or Line, but their server had been strangely silent for most of the last week.

Opening the channel, she caught a flash of a call sign - What was Elpida doing out here? Wasn't she on the Australia run?

"Don't say a word, we've got it under control."

"You what? Who's we?"

Elpida swept past , literally - she was breaking the speed limit for this part of the lake, and had probably been doing so in the Canal too - the ropes to her tugs were taut, and judging by the Arabic screaming, they were trying to get her to slow down or at least let go. She was high in the water - her decks empty of containers - what the hell was going on?

Given was too big for the swells to affect her, but the Egyptian Navy ship wasn't, and he yelped in whatever his native language was as he rocked and rolled in Elpida's wake.

Behind her, a distant cry that sounded suspiciously like the word "Now!" rang out, followed by a deafening cacophony of foghorns.

She'd shut down her radar - because what really was the point? - and it took a worrying few seconds for the Furuno system to spin to life and return a clear result.

Or... what might be a clear result.

All hell seemed to be breaking out behind her - the convoy had broken formation and was going in what seemed like every direction possible. At least ten ships were now going berserk behind her.

The Navy ship, by far the smallest vessel out there, (except the tugs, who were fleeing for their lives, it seemed) spun around towards the main shipping lane.

Collision alarms immediately started wailing on the Canal's common channel as a very large blip on the radar screen (Who turned off their AIS transponders in the Canal?) slowly swung towards him.

The Egyptian seemed stunned for a moment - he'd drifted back into Given's range of vision, and his expression ranged between sheer horror and mildly poleaxed - before he calmed himself and stood down the ship bearing down on him.

That calm look lasted for a few minutes, but as the blip got closer and closer his confidence faded. The doors to his missile pods swung open, but his nerve broke before he could fire them, and the water around his stern frothed up into a roiling tempest as he set off at full astern.

It wasn't enough. He'd held his ground for just long enough for the other ship to reach him.

Slowly - this whole event was playing out in breathless slow motion, because nobody was actually that speedy - a bulbous bow, riding high out of the water without a load of containers, ploughed towards him. It was followed by a bowsprit, one that was so huge it looked like it could have been Given's own.

Then came the name: EVER ACE.

Then came the collision.

Ace (?!) didn't so much collide with the Egyptian ship as she drove over him. His low freeboard meant that the impact with her bulbous bow had his far side dipping into the water. Once his deck hit the swells, it acted like a giant scoop, and his keel was to the night sky within a few seconds. He'd been hit at an angle, so once he'd been pushed free, he slowly rolled back up, a much more traumatized and injured vessel than he had been a minute ago. More importantly, the water gushing out of his missile tubes meant that he was no longer a problem.

"Hey!" Ace boomed as her pilothouse drew even with Given. "Best Sea Trials Ever!"

Behind her, another ship - this one laden and looking a lot like Golden - steamed by. "Stop hanging around and get her out of here!"

"That would be my cue." Another voice called from behind her.

"Tex?" He was in Manila!

"Who else would it be?" Texas Triumph, thick Texan accent and all, steamed up. "now let's jus' get you settled up here and we'll blow this joint."

"This is a rescue?!"

"For sure pardner! We've been planning this since those highwaymen said they was keepin' ya here."

"Stop talking and get her out of here!" Golden bellowed from further up the river. It seemed like she was now intimidating some other tugboats from intervening.

"Well, ya heard 'er." Tex said. "Les' go!"

Given had been so distracted by the appearance of so many members of her family that she hadn't even noticed Tex slipping lines through her hawseholes until they went taut and she was yanked from her moorings by Tex steaming out in pursuit of Ace's retreating form.

She just barely managed to get her anchors retracted before Tex really put some power on, and began to pull her across the lake entirely.

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

Later...

The War Zone

Ever Given Escapes Custody Suez Canal Authority claims no responsibility, Egyptian Navy vessel possibly damaged. BY TYLER ROGOWAY April 17, 2021 THE WAR ZONE

📷@mahmou10_ships VIA @SUEZWATCH_EGY

SHARE TYLER ROGOWAY View Tyler Rogoway's Articles @Aviation_Intel Details remain limited at this time, but there was an incident in the Great Bitter Lake. At least one Egyptian Navy vessel has been severely damaged, and MV Ever Given, who had been held in the Great Bitter Lake by the Suez Canal Authority, has now fled the Canal into the Mediterranean Sea.

Again, details are extremely limited, but based on social media reports, marine tracking data, and radio reports, at approximately 11:47 PM Egypt Standard Time (EGY) a disturbance was reported by the Egyptian Navy craft - their identity is still unconfirmed, but images posted to social media seem to indicate that the vessel is a former Soviet Osa-class missile craft. The vessel reported that "A convoy has gone mad" and he was "under attack from multiple vessels".

While a convoy had transited the canal at that time, it is unclear if they were involved in the attack, or if one occurred at all.

We've reached out to Evergreen Lines, The Suez Canal Authority, the Egyptian Navy, and the individual ships believed to be involved, including Ever Given.

We will update this piece as more information comes available.

Contact the author: Tyler@thedrive.com

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[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

You’re Not a Monster

Dean x Reader

a/n: I’m putting an authors note here because I don’t know how to tag the reader. She’s a werewolf shapeshifter. She shifts into a wolf like in all of my A/B/O fictions I’ve written. Basically it’s Twilight shit that I write my werewolves. XD Don’t mind me.

Bingo Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Warnings: STRONG ANGST, Language, SPN level gore and blood, scary situations, Fluff end to the rescue.

Summary: Dean discovers something different with the reader and it changes their relationship. Is there anything worth saving after Dean learns the truth.

Word Count: 2,609

Square: Quote A (“How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?”) @supernatural-jackles​. SPN Tell me a Story Bingo.

a/n#2: This is not part of the Finding Him storyline.

a/n #3: My dumb ass forgot to credit the creator of this gif, I space out and forget, I’m not dumb...but credit for the gif goes to @supernaturalfreewill​

~

“Shit.” She muttered, as she morphed back into her human form to find a very furious looking Dean looking back at her.

They were on a wendigo hunt, when a wendigo almost had a upper hand on Dean, she had morphed into her white wolf form to get out of a tight situation with another wendigo.

Wendigos, though fearless of their prey. But when they are the prey, it’s a whole other ballgame. They began to back off of the hunters. But Dean fired off two flare guns to kill the two wendigos before they got away.

“Dean, I can explain.”

He grabs his colt, loaded with silver bullets. Aiming it at her.

“Dean.” She begged.

“We talked about everything.” He shouted. “Whatever happened to that? When were you gonna tell me about this?”

“Well, how about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?” she suggested with a shaky voice.

“Talk, now.” He demanded. Ignoring her suggestion. Keeping his gun up and pointed at her.

“Well, my mom was human, and my dad was a werewolf. I don’t know what else to really say.”

“You fucking morphed into a giant ass wolf!”

“I’m not that big honestly.”

“Y/N!”

“Half Breads like me are smaller than the pure breeds. And a certain gene causes the morphing. Most werewolves don’t morph, you just see the fangs and the claws. My kind morph.”

“Now answer the second question.”

She swallowed thickly. Still nervous and scared of the man she’s trusted and loved for years.

“I was never going to mention it to you because I was scared of this. I’m still scared of you finding out somehow some way, and killing me in my sleep.”

For the first time in the night, she saw her flash across the older Winchester’s face.

Faint foot falls can be heard, Sam entered the cave room where they stood. Sam seeing Dean aiming a gun at Y/N.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shouted at the scene.

“She’s a monster, Sam. And she’s lied to us, all this time, she’s lied to us!” he shouted.

“That’s not true, Y/N, tell him.”

“What can I tell him?”

“Dean, do you count how many times she’s had our backs?” Sam asked. “There was that werewolf case in Minnesota when the pack leader cut you up pretty badly. She murdered that son of a bitch and saved your ass. And then there was that witch in Mississippi, the witch turned you into wolf, we couldn’t move you around the city like a normal dog because people knew a wolf from a husky. She managed to find the counter spell, turn you back to human. Then there was that ---”

“I get it Sam, but she could have told me she was part fucking wolf!”

“She had all that time still, all that time to kill us and she didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter Sammy.” He says, lowering his gun looking at her with disgust. “I can’t trust her.” He says to her.

“Dean please!” she begged tearfully.

“Don’t.” he snapped.

She snapped her jaw shut and she just let her tears fall freely.

“Find your own way back to the bunker, I expect you to be out before morning.”

They stood in the cave room in dead silence despite Y/N’s sniffles from her tears.

“Don’t ever come back.” He warns.

He holsters his gun, and turns to walk out of the cave. Sam couldn’t say anything to Y/N to make her feel better before she silently walked out not far behind his brother.

 One year turned into three, the Winchester’s and Y/N stayed apart but still kept up on hunting. That is until one hunt brought them together again.

It started with hearts being ripped out of college students in the Navajo desert.

Y/N was the first to investigate, one of the students place of death was just outside of an old reservation, a cave dwelling in northern Arizona.

Odd, I smell wolf, but I smell something else. She thought.

She heard a screech from a monster inside the cave dwelling.

Not wolf, wendigo. She panicked. Realizing she was unprepared.

The wendigo showed itself to her, being three times her size, head nearly reaching the caves ceiling.

“Oh, your one of the first wendigos…” she says to herself. Thinking out loud.

It let out another ear shattering screech. Y/N covered her ears desperately to save her hearing. But the wendigo drew its hand back, landing a hard swing of it’s claws. Knocking her across the cave dwelling, hitting the wall hard. Hearing a loud crack, she landed hard on the ground. She felt something warm and sticky ooze out of the back of her head.

She saw the wendigo crawl towards her before her world turned black.

 Weeks later, more bodies turn up, picking up the attention of the Winchester’s.

“If this is werewolves, why was the most recent death out in the desert?” Dean asked.

“Maybe their hold up in the old caves the Navajo natives stayed in? I don’t know Dean, but it was a little over two weeks ago. And their saying a person went missing last week, they were probably looking into the same thing we are.”

“Well, let’s go gank this son of a bitch, stop the bodies from dropping out here.”

With that, they loaded up the Impala for the 50 mile trek to the Navajo Cave Dwellings.

 “This looks so cool; I wonder how the Natives lived in these things.” Sam says fully mesmerized.

“Alright nerd, focus.”

Sam just rolls his eyes. As they searched higher along the cave dwellings.

“Oh my god no,” Sam breaths. His heart dropping to his stomach.

“What?” Dean asked, not far behind from Sam.

When Sam took off running, he managed to catch a good glimpse at what he was running to. More like who he was running to.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted.

Dean took off at his heel running to her side.

“Her wounds are weeks old; she may not make it Dean.”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll make it.”

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dean asked, trying to cup her head, his fingers dragging across dried blood. Pulling away, Sam seeing the dried chips of blood on his hand.

“Can wolves like her heal?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, I never looked into it.”

“Dean, what if she’s gonna die?”

“Sammy, listen to her heart, listen to her breathing, she’s still here with week old wounds. If she didn’t die yet, she’s not gonna.”

Sam began to investigate her wounds further. Seeing the infected gash on her stomach and chest.

“She’s running a bit of a fever Sammy; we need to get her out of here.” Dean says, after running a hand on her forehead.

“Dean, these are Wendigo wounds.” Sam says, pulling up her shirt. Causing the injured girl to groan.

“Easy, Y/N, you’re safe, we got you.” Dean soothed.

“Dean,” she groans. She seemed like she was awake, but her eyes weren’t opening.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Wendigo,” she whispers.

“I know baby, we know it’s a wendigo now.”

“Giant…Wendigo…” she mutters before her body goes limp in his arms.

“Giant wendigo?” Sam asked.

“Could be a hallucination?” Dean questioned.

There was a distant screech in the dwellings.

Sam looked on within the dwellings, and he caught first glimpses of the Wendigo.

“Um, Dean, we might have to abort this one.”

“Why---oh fucking shit.” Dean says following Sam’s gaze seeing the size of the Wendigo crawling out of the Dwellings.

“Sam, that death that was out here, was it even a werewolf?” Dean asked.

“Nope, they ranked it up to animal attack.”

“Then lets get Y/N, and lets get the hell out of here.” Dean says, scooping Y/N up with little to no effort. “Fuck this, lets get!” Dean shouts.

The Wendigo lets out a ear shattering screech. The boys didn’t stop, they hurried as fast as they could out of the cave.

A hand of the wendigo crashed near them, the impact causing them to fly out. Sam flying off left, rolling, and hitting a wall. Dean lost his footing, rolling down the walkway, loosing Y/N from his hold, his back hitting the wall of the pathway. And Y/N stopped halfway on the path.

The roll had dazed Dean a bit, before he noticed the Wendigo was moving to land his hand down to crush Y/N.

“Y/N! NO!” Dean shouted helplessly.

At the sound of Dean’s voice was enough for Y/N to find a small ounce of energy to wake and morph.

Her wolf form let out whine at the pain from the infected wounds. She stumbled to get her footing to jump towards Dean. The wendigo missing her just mere inches.

But the effort proved to be too much for her to handle. She collapsed onto Dean’s lap with a whine and huff. The wolf totally unconscious again.

Sam was first up rushing to his brother.

“Dean, we can’t fight this, it’s too big. And Y/N could be dying from those infections. Let’s get.”

“Help me carry her, she morphed.”

“I’ll grab her tail end; you grab her head.”

They did as planned, and they rushed back to the Impala. Laying the wolf in the back seat. Dean hurries to the driver seat, Sam already in the passenger seat. Dean turned the key in the ignition, roaring the engine to life. He puts it into gear, and he peels out of the canyon where the Cave Dwellings sat, driving full speed to the motel.

 Eventually she morphed back to her human form in her unconscious state as she laid healing in the older Winchester’s bed.

Dean was not letting up; he was going on two nights of no sleeps. He had not moved from his spot by her bedside.

“Dean.” Sam says entering his room.

“I’m not hungry Sammy.”

“Dean, you know when she wakes up and when she finds out you doing this to yourself she’s gonna kick your ass, you know that right.”

“Let her.”

“Dean.” Sam says with a sigh.

“I was so angry with her for her not telling me everything. But she did have a point, “hey guys I’m part monster, don’t kill me.””

Sam stayed silent. Letting Dean just talk it out.

“She would have a reaction to silver, I never looked into, I never asked her. And I pointed a gun at her. I was literally two seconds away from killing the one girl I loved. When there was nothing wrong with her.”

“Dean, your trust with her was broken. You took the time away to reflect, and you saw neither one of you were in the wrong.”

“I overreacted.” Dean says, rubbing his eyes to push the sleep away.

“You did, and there’s nothing wrong with it. She’s the most understanding girl I think, I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll forgive you Dean.”

“You remember that witch case?” Dean asked.

“The one where you were changed into a wolf?”

Dean nodded. “Remember you asked why a wolf?”

Sam nodded.

“It’s because of her. Somehow, some part of me knew she was a wolf. She’s my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? So, changing what spell did that witch use on you anyway?”

“She kept saying something about me walking around this world lost and alone. She said the spell would turn me into the spirit of my soulmate.”

“Wolf, because she’s part wolf.”

Dean nods.

She stirs with a groan pulling the boys attention away from their story to her.

“Sam, did you ever look into her healing process, is it different to us?”

“It is, she heals faster. But her wounds were infected. I gave her, her a shot to help her body fight the infection. Her color is coming back, she’s looking better.”

“She does.” Dean agrees, letting out a yawn.

“Dude, get some sleep.”

“I’m fine Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he exited his brother’s room.

 She woke up to the familiar scent of the Winchester’s, but the scent of one of the brothers was stronger than the other.

Dean.

She woke up in his room. Feeling a weight on her hip, she sits up slightly seeing him use her hip as a pillow. And he was sound asleep.

His arms looked as if they were trying to hold her as best as he could from where he sat.

She tried to sit up more, but a sharp pain stopped her. She winces.

“You might want to stay in bed, you were banged up pretty bad.” She heard Sam say in Dean’s dark room.

“Wait, what? How?” she asked, trying to understand. Remember.

“We were hunting werewolves, when one death of a victim took us to where you were.”

“Did you guys?”

“Oh, hell no. That fucker was way too big. I don’t think one flare would kill it.”

“You didn’t try?” she asked.

“No, we were more worried about you. You were in pretty rough shape.”

Dean stirred, snuggling closer to her, rubbing his head into her hip.

She ran her hand through his short strands of his hair.

“He was really worried about you, believe it or not.”

“I could feel it.”

“I guess that’s the soulmate thing.”

“What?”

“You remember that witch case, when Dean was a wolf?”

She nods.

“The spell used; Dean says the witch used a spell to turn him into the spirit of his soulmate. And he turned into a wolf.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I guess.” Sam shrugs.

In his sleep, Dean let out a big yawn. Almost pulling him out of his deep slumber.

“Dean.” She says.

“hmm.” He says sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Come to bed.”

With his eyes still closed, he works at pulling off his boots, taking off his flannel, shirt, and pants. Leaving his boxer briefs on. He pulls the covers off of her, and snuggles in close to her, wrapping an arm around her middle. And snuggling his head into the crook of her neck.

“At least he’s a sleep.”

“I know, like I said, I felt it. I could feel that he was going to wake up sore if he was gonna stay like that.”

“You two make thee most cutest couple, I’m just admitting that right now.”

“Did I just hear Sam Winchester refer to us as cute?” she smirked playfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just good seeing him happy again.”

“I know, I—”

“I know you could feel it, I’m heading to bed now darlin’, good night.”

“Night Sammy.” She yawned, letting the older Winchester snuggle more into her. “Night Dean, I love you.”

She woke up feeling a hand play with her hair, petting through her long strands atop her head.

She hums, snuggling into the hand. Hearing him chuckle. And felt warm plump limps kiss her forehead briefly.

She opens her eyes to a pair of beautiful green ones. “Hi.” She says softly.

“Hi, sleep good?” Dean asked.

“Better than I had in years.”

“I bet,” he says, giving her another peck on her head. “I called Garth, I’m having him get your things and we’re moving you back in with us.”

“I take it I’m welcome back?” she asked carefully.

“You are welcome back, soulmate.” He says snuggling back into her making her giggle.

“Are all caught up now?”

“I think we are.” Dean admits. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Never again, no more secrets, no more mistrust. Never leave me again.”

“I don’t plan on it Winchester.”

Their lips crash into one another in a passionate, much needed kiss.

~

Tags:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/8/2021

[onlyfortheplot]

Once Upon A Time:

I HEARD THAT YOU DO ANGST SO UMM BREAK MY HEART WITH AN CHEATER!BOKUTO! (Anyways feel free to ignore xD)-- Anon!

Pairing: Cheater!Bokuto! x Fem!Reader, Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Warning: Cheating,

Song: Happier--- Ed Sheeran

Synopsis:

Once upon a time, it was him that held you in his arms, whispering loving words into your ear.

You loved him, but not anymore.

“I miss you,“ he whispered to himself, as he watched your disappearing figure.

He really did.

Once upon a time, there was a prince, who held in the palm of his hand the world. He watched, as his world, his life, was slowly stripped from his grasp. His slippery fingers barley even attempting to latch on. So he watched as his princess hugged her own prince, whispering loving words into his ears. He watched. And waited. And waited.

Once upon a time, there was a prince, who you loved very much.

But the prince was not him.

A/N: I hope this broke your heart! Bro, I always loved the circle ending method, so i uhhhhh tried it!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT???? REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, BUT IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO SEE IN THE FUTURE...HMU ;) (Tag reposting)

MASTERLIST

Once upon a time, there was a prince. A great prince he was. Eyes gleaming with adoration as he stared at his queen. The grin on his face fighting the light of a million suns. Once upon a time, she smiled. Once upon a time.

He watched you now, numb, as you smiled. Your grin blazed, the corners of your eyes crinkling.You were beautiful. He watched, entranced, by the angelic glow that surrounded your figure as you walked in front of the dim lights of the restaurant. Your eyes, glimmered in the sparse light, mirroring the happiness you were feeling. The happiness that he was not the cause for.

Once upon a time, there was a prince. A handsome prince he was. His arms wrapped, lovingly around his glorious princess as he nuzzled his face into the soft crook of her neck. His princess had laughed, leaning into his sturdy touch. Once upon a time, she laughed. Once upon a time.

Six months. Only six months. But to Bokuto it felt as if only a few days had passed. He could smell the lingering scent of your coconut perfume, a little essence of cucumber added into the mix. He had memorized your scent, as if it were the only thing that mattered. You were the only thing that mattered. You are.

Once upon a time, there was a prince. A loving prince he was. His love battling that of a thousand armies. His loyalty, defying that of the holiest gods. Once upon a time, she was happy. Once upon a time.

“Bokuto,” she had croaked, as she lay in her bed, a wet cloth draping over her forehead.

“My love,” he whispered, as he laid a small kiss against her knuckles.

“I love you.” she whispered, as she closed her eyes, falling into a restful darkness. Bokuto held a breath as he watched her chest. She took fragile breaths, her chest heavily dropping down as she took a larger breath in.

“Y/N, I love you.” he croaked as he laid his head against yours, snuggling into the damp pillow.

Once upon a time, there was a princess. Lonely and cold. She waited and waited and waited for her prince. That prince in shining armor. The one to hold her, kiss her, love her. Once upon a time, she waited. Once upon a time.

You still remembered the first moment you had seen Bokuto. Clad in his new sweater, pants hanging low as he sheepishly held it up with one hand. He drew the other hand up and through his multi-colored hair. He had looked soo… mesmerizing. So...heavenly. The crooked smile that he wore on his face only added to his beauty. You wanted—no need to talk to him. What was his name? What were his hobbies? What did he like?

It was the unusual urge that dragged you towards him, opting to accidentally spill your pile of papers right in front of him. His mouth slightly dropped as he looked at you in surprise. You gave him a small smile and a wave as you bent down, picking up the scattered paper.

“Oppsie!” he joked as he bent down, helping you pick up the paper. Your fingers brushed as you reached for the last paper. How cliche.

“Sorry,” you squeaked as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No problem!” he grinned, giving you a horrible wink.

“My name’s Y/N,” you offered as you quickly stood up. His eyebrow twitched, intrigued, as you held out an apprehensive hand. Take it, your eyes urged.

And take it he did.

Once upon a time, there was a prince. And a sad prince he was. His eyes dropped, the adoration that had beamed only days before, faltering at the sight of the small barrier. The princess watched, heart wrenching, as her prince slowly fell into an endless pit of despair. Once upon a time, he was happy. Once upon a time.

You didn’t know what to do. It was scary. You watched his back, leaving your small, shared apartment. Soundless, secretive even, as he opened the door, sneaking out. You buried your face in your palms. Digging your fingernails into your head, wringing your fingers through your hair. You were scared. You were nervous.

“What do I do,” you asked yourself as you laid back on the soft couch. You had tried to talk to him. To ask him, what was wrong. He had merely given you a firm look before closing the door.

You wanted to think he was meeting with his friends. That they were merely hanging out. That everything was okay. But, you knew— somewhere in your broken heart, that it was something else.

Once upon a time, there was a princess. She watched and watched as her prince sneaked out of the castle at night. And she waited. And waited. For an answer. For a reason. Once upon a time, she waited. Once upon a time.

“Why!” you asked, rocking on your hands as you leaned on your bed, hands clutching the undone bed sheets. You watched blankly at the purple spots that were splattered across Bokuto’s body. On his neck. On his chest. On his legs. Not a place untouched. He hadn’t even let you leave hickies when you had slept together.

But. there was almost little to no surprise. You could the slow moving separation through the mere span of three months. No more, did you sleep snug in his arms. No more, did you feel the whisper of a kiss as he woke up in the morning. No more did you feel the love. No more. It was almost a dream.

“Why?” your voice grew quiet at his look. Guilty. He was guilty.

“Y/N, I’m—”

“No you’re not,” you smiled as you looked at him. No. He was sorry for being caught.

Bokuto twiddled his thumbs, rocking on the balls of feet restlessly.

“I’ll leave,” you offered as you motioned for him to leave the room. He gasped as you stood up, walking to the closet. You seemed to grow frantic with her motion. With every action, a drop of your emotion leaked from your tightly-sealed bag. It wasn’t going to overflow. It was going to pop.

You let out a ragged sob as you threw clothing after clothing on the ground. Ripping your shirts off the hangers, as tears stung your eyes. You could hear Bokuto let out a low moan.

“No,” you hissed. “No.”

You bent down, pulling out a half-filled suitcase.

“Y/N,” he hissed as he stared at you, “were you—”

“Tomorrow,” you interrupted, “I was going to leave tomorrow.”

You looked up from your suitcase, heavy eyes landing on Bokuto. His shoulders seemed to sag at the gaze.

“Why?” he whispered, covering his hickied chest with his arms.

“I knew,” You knew before today. You just didn’t believe it.

“Y/N, it was a one time—”

“I’m sorry,” you let a whimper fall from your clogged throat, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a good girlfriend. I’m sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he pointed to himself desperately, “Please, no. I am sorry.”

You looked at him, adoration still clinging to you as you stared at him.

Once upon a time, there was a princess. She was tired of waiting and waiting and waiting. She was tired of giving and giving and giving. Maybe it was time to take the moment. She bid her prince a final adieu, giving a presumptuous bow. She didn’t look back, despite the desperate cries of her former lover. Once upon a time, she waited. Once upon a time.

He watched you, the small sway in your hips, the familiar movements of your fingers as you brushed the edge of your hair. He watched and watched and watched, as you let a small finger, stroke a larger hand. He watched. And watched. And watched.

You looked so happy, happier than you had been with him. Your skin was glowing, your gaze slowly resting upon your new prince’s face. You looked so...in love.

In love.

He looked away, his eyes burning from the tears streaking down his face.

Happy. Love.

He felt envy. Anger. Emotions he never had the right to feel. No. He didn’t the right to feel it. Not when he was the one who broke it. Broke you.

“Tetsu,“ you giggled, as clung to his arm.

“Babe,“ he whined as he grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him. “Why not?”

“Don’t be stupid.“ you huffed playfully, as you cuddled into his chest, looking up to him.

“Fine,“ he pouted, kissing the top of your head. “Love you, baby.”

You smiled, closing your eyes.

“I love you too.“

Bokuto gaped. It sounded so real and genuine, his eyes fluttered close.

I love you.

Tears fell faster from his eyes.

You loved him too, once upon a time.

Once upon a time, it was him that held you in his arms, whispering loving words into your ear.

You loved him, but not anymore.

“I miss you,“ he whispered to himself, as he watched your disappearing figure.

He really did.

Once upon a time, there was a prince, who held in the palm of his hand the world. He watched, as his world, his life, was slowly stripped from his grasp. His slippery fingers barley even attempting to latch on. So he watched as his princess hugged her own prince, whispering loving words into his ears. He watched. And waited. And waited.

Once upon a time, there was a prince, who you loved very much.

But the prince was not him.

[dreamdropxoxo]

Hmmm you know you’re gonna have to write more about the best friends living together thing, right ? (Thanks for it, it’s amazing, I love it)

Hello dearies 🥰🥰! 

Thank you so much for this messages. Honestly, I want to write 10000 more words in this AU xD But I limited myself to another 900 😂 I hope you like them. I went with @mrs-amber‘s suggestion of prompt Nr. 32. 

This is the official fourth part of the prompts 10, 4 and 26, also known as the casually-kissing-best-friends AU 😂.

The prompt is from the list here, where you find an overview over all my answers. (Original post of the prompt list here). 

32. A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

Damen didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous. Laurent looked so damn lovely and this guy was pawing all over him. And Laurent let him!

“Careful, Damen, or this poor guy might go up in flames right there,” Nik remarked wryly and handed him his drink.

“This is getting ridiculous. Either you want him or you don’t. But you can’t push him away and then expect him to run after you, Damen.” If even Nik took Laurent’s side, then he must have acted like a right asshole. “You’re his best friend and I think I don’t have to explain to you how Laurent reacts to people pushing him away. He won’t chase after you, Damen.”

Damen knew that. And when this guy let his hand drift lower, towards Laurent’s ass, something inside of him snapped. Nobody, and he really meant nobody would touch Laurent like that, except for him. He downed his drink and slammed the glass onto the bar before walking over to his best friend, ignoring Nikandros’ snorting laughter.

The man had rucked up Laurent’s shirt slightly and Damen could see the edge of Laurent’s tattoo at his side, right under the man’s fingertips. He wanted to snarl and rip his head off. 

He walked up to them and stopped right behind Laurent. Letting his eyes drift over the man in front of the blond in an assessing matter, he grinned, it was all teeth. Visibly surprised, the other man recoiled slightly, but didn’t let go of Laurent. This wouldn’t do. He should have taken the warning seriously when he still had the time. 

Damen pried the wandering hands off of his best friend and pulled Laurent flush against his body.

The blond tilted his head back and went pliant against him as soon as he realized who held him so possessively. He nuzzled his nose against Damen’s throat and that made his grin widen even further. 

“Damen,” he breathed, it sounded a little dreamily.

“You better go now,” Damen said to the asshole who had dared to touch Laurent and the man scurried off with a surprised and slightly regretful look at the blond in Damen’s arms.

“You had no reason to act like such a caveman, Damen. I wouldn’t have gone home with him.”

“But he touched you.”

Laurent turned around in his arms, his eyes searching when they roved over Damen’s face. “Is there a reason he shouldn’t have?”

And this was the moment of truth. Damen didn’t want Laurent to be touched by anyone else but him and he wanted to feel those soft, warm lips against his own again and he didn’t care anymore if he would ruin their friendship, because he wanted the blond with every fiber of his being. 

He buried his hand in the blond hair and tilted Laurent’s head back. The blue eyes widened in surprise, but there was no resistance. Damen lowered his head until he felt Laurent’s rapid breath against his lips and then, for a second, he hesitated, but Laurent’s eyelids dropped and then he couldn’t wait anymore. He pressed his mouth to the blonds, groaning silently when he felt these lips again. His eyes fluttered closed at the most perfect feeling he had ever experienced.

He took his time, there was no rush after all. Slowly, he moved his lips against Laurent’s. Only when the blond gripped his shoulders harder, did he trace the seam of those warm, soft lips with his tongue and when Laurent opened up to him without a second’s hesitation, he drew him flush against his body. Blindly, he pushed one thigh between Laurent’s legs. When their tongues met, he felt Laurent’s gasp against his mouth and couldn’t suppress a moan anymore.

He had no idea how long they kissed, he only knew that this was the most perfect kiss of his life and when he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against Laurent’s, eyes still closed. Taking one deep breath and then another, he finally opened his eyes and could see Laurent’s eyelids flutter open.

“Is that reason enough?”

“I don’t know, do you plan to run from me again, Damen?” Laurent asked quietly. 

“No. I don’t. If you want me, you have me.” It was as easy as that and Damen squeezed the narrow hips under his hands.

“You’re such an idiot. I’ve wanted you for years, Damen,” Laurent whispered, before placing a kiss to Damen’s jaw.

“Does that mean I can take you out to dinner as a date tomorrow?”

“We were planning to get dinner tomorrow anyway,” Laurent laughed and lightly bit the skin under his lips. “I know, but I want to take you out on a date, not as friends.”

Laurent snorted. “Fine, if you think it’s important to make that distinction, then you can take me out to a dinner date tomorrow.”

The relief that flooded to Damen at these words was dizzying. “Great! That’s— great.”

Laurent chuckled and then he turned his head so that he spoke directly into Damen’s ear. “Now, would you take me home, Damen?”

“Yes,” the word left Damen in a breathless groan. “Yes, I’ll take you home, Laurent.”

[minijenn]

Hhhh ok so can you believe I drew the above Pre-existing KH3 Olympus logo by hand? Because I fuckin did. See I need logos for each of the worlds in Keys for a special... project I have in mind, Of course I would have liked to straight up use the logos from the worlds that are already in 3 (Olympus, Toy Box, Corona, ect) since they’re all very nice and pretty. Unfortunately... there exists no high quality PNGs of those logos ANYWHERE on the internet.... so I had to take matters into my own hands and by that I mean I deadass had to COPY this logo BY HAND by myself. Now I did fix a few things up about it (namely I took out that ugly green glow that surrounded the text in game because why and this was the result! Honestly I kinda learned a lot about BG and shading while doing this, so that’s fun. Either way like I said I’ll be making/recreating logos for all the worlds in Keys, so keep an eye out for them! (also that logo is transparent, so feel free to use it if you’d like! No need for credit since the design isn’t mine to begin with ahahah XD) 

Here’s the OG btw, for comparison: