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silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

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Break your arm? I'll take care of you (BSD Fanfic)

Hiiiiii, I bring a fic of broken bones and soft fluff for Ranpo's b'day.

Don't have all that much to say really, other than enjoy!!! And that this was a collaboration with Saapphirx and that they have some art for this fic :D

So enjoy! And leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed!!!

[14:09]

O. Dazai: There’s been an accident. Ranpo’s in the hospital.

That was the text that Edgar received, and the one that he had nearly missed because he’d been so lost in his writing that he hadn’t heard his phone buzz at first; it was only because Karl nudged the device towards him that he realized he hadn’t imagined the sound and reached over to look at it, and his heart dropped right into his stomach as he read. He read the message once, twice, five times, before he realized that he needed to actually respond. He needed to know if Ranpo was alright—he needed to know how hurt he was to know whether or not he should either start panicking or start planning a funeral.

[14:12]

E. Poe: What happened?

It only took a few minutes for the response to come through.

[14:15]

O. Dazai: The case we were working on went wrong, the guy we were after got a hold of Ranpo and he got hurt.

E. Poe: How hurt?

E. Poe: Dazai? How hurt??

Before Edgar could interrogate Dazai more as to Ranpo’s condition, the man texted him an address; the hospital that they must’ve been at, and Edgar was quick to get ready, replacing his sleepwear with clothes faster than he had ever dressed himself before—it was nothing fancy, just a hoodie and some worn sweatpants, because now was not the time to get dressed up. He had to get to the hospital, and to Ranpo, and see his partner. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios of what he would find when he got there.

Ranpo beaten black and blue… Ranpo on life support… or worse.

Ranpo dead.

Edgar shook that idea from his head and tried to think positively. Because if Ranpo were dead, then Dazai would’ve called or come to speak to him himself rather than send a text. And if not Dazai, then one of Ranpo’s other co-workers would’ve come. And if Dazai was texting instead of calling, then that meant that Ranpo was just injured; he wasn’t close to death, nor would he be on life support, he would just be injured. It was just a matter of how injured that had Edgar so stressed because Ranpo and injuries were as commonplace as him catching a summer cold.

In other words, it happened a lot.

He still remembered the last time he’d been summoned to the hospital because Ranpo had been injured whilst working; because his love was being stupid, playing some sort of game with his coworkers where they couldn’t touch the floor that had resulted in him slipping and cracking his head open on a desk. And the time before that had been because Ranpo had tripped down the stairs chasing a criminal, somehow managing to apprehend the criminal, but also spraining his ankle. And then there was the Caffeine Incident, the time he and Dazai had both gotten their hands stuck in a pipe—to this day, Edgar still didn’t know the whole story—and not to mention when Ranpo had gotten himself locked in a closet for the long weekend and hadn’t been found until his co-workers returned the following Tuesday; an incident that continued to haunt Edgar to this day, because he hadn’t been in town when it had happened.

So yes, he was worried, very, very worried, but he actively tried to stop worrying as he dashed out the door, making sure that Karl had plenty of water and food just in case he didn’t make it back that night. There was no point in worrying until he knew for certain what Ranpo’s condition was because worrying would only lead to him panicking and that wasn’t going to help anyone—that much was certain. If only because it had happened before.

Because there was nothing like getting to the hospital to see how your partner was doing, only to have a panic attack upon arrival and needing to be walked through breathing exercises by said partner’s co-workers.

Good times.

So rather than take the trains, which would’ve taken longer and most definitely caused Edgar to panic, he elected to take a taxi instead; faster, and he could stare at his phone whilst the driver did his job, staring at the screen and desperately hoping for any kind of update. But Dazai was as cryptic as he was weird, so Edgar didn’t hold much hope in receiving an update from him. Again, something he’d gotten to over the years of dating Ranpo and having to deal with his and Dazai’s very strange friendship.

Bzzt, bzzt.

Edgar’s eyes flew down to his phone the moment it vibrated in his hands, and if he’d been standing, he would’ve collapsed from utter relief because there it was, the update he’d been praying for.

[14:29]

Y. Fukuzawa: As Dazai most certainly neglected to inform you; Ranpo is in stable condition. He’s currently in surgery, but he is stable. I will meet you outside and brief you when you arrive.

Immediately, Edgar promised to send Ranpo’s boss a gift basket of some sort for knowing exactly what his employees were like and taking the liberty to update Edgar himself instead of leaving him to worry endlessly. Stable�� he’s stable at least, that’s good. Surgery, not so good, but stable means he’ll be fine. Edgar relaxed into the leather seat of the taxi, letting out all his stress in one, singular breath as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, just relieved that Ranpo wasn’t dying. He focused on that one word; stable, that one, singular word, and repeated it to himself, quietly under his breath at first, before letting his voice fade and just letting the word repeat over and over in his mind.

He continued to repeat it for the rest of the trip.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a terrifying and intimidating man, one that Edgar only spoke to whenever he came over for his monthly dinner with Ranpo, and even then they only ever exchanged a few polite sentences with each other, although he had gotten better over the years—in fact, he’d managed to hold an entire conversation with Fukuzawa last time, something that he was pretty proud of. But whilst Edgar was normally scared of Ranpo’s boss, this time he was a welcome sight, and the moment that Edgar noticed Fukuzawa standing outside, he made a beeline towards the man, words already forming on his lips.

“Fukuzawa—” Edgar barely started to speak before Fukuzawa raised his hand.

“I have not received an update since the one I gave you just before.” Fukuzawa said before he turned on his heel, and after placing a hand on Edgar’s back, guided him towards the entrance.

“What happened?” Edgar asked as they passed the doors, shivering as the cool air and sterile smells washed over him. He hated hospitals.

“The suspect that Dazai and Ranpo were after took off, and they chased him.” Fukuzawa began to explain. “They split up to try and corner him, only the suspect was expecting them to do that, and attacked Ranpo when the opportunity arose. Ranpo fought back, and the two of them fell down a flight of stairs as a result.”

Edgar sucked in a breath as he listened. He always knew Ranpo’s job was dangerous, had heard far too many stories of near misses to believe otherwise. There’d been far too many times where Ranpo had come home from work with a haunted look in his eyes because whatever criminal he’d been chasing at the time had died, or one of his co-workers had been killed in the line of duty. But seldom had Ranpo been at the end of those events, and that was what was stressing Edgar out. Because Ranpo, while fit and more than capable of holding his own if needed, was so small and scrawny compared to his co-workers, and most criminals liked to try and take advantage of that.

They always failed, because Ranpo wasn’t stupid and loved using his size to his advantage, much to the chagrin of his co-workers—Ranpo had received so many lectures from Fukuzawa about self-preservation that even Edgar knew them all by heart at this point.

“How—how hurt is he?” Edgar asked weakly, just barely managing to get the words out. His hands were starting to shake as his mind conjured up several kinds of injuries, almost forgetting that Ranpo was stable as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Fukuzawa’s hand moved from Edgar’s back to his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “A broken arm, that’s all. It’s a bad break—hence the surgery—so he’ll be off work for a while—”

“But it’s just a broken arm?” Edgar said before realizing that he’d interrupted Fukuzawa. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

There was another squeeze to his shoulder before the hand fell away. “It’s okay. I understand that you are worried about Ranpo. Rest assured; it is just a broken arm. We just have to be patient and wait.”

Edgar could’ve collapsed with relief right then and there, but he forced himself to keep walking, following behind Fukuzawa as the man led him towards the waiting room. Immediately he spotted Dazai, sitting on one of the chairs with his head on his hands as he glared at the wall. One leg was bouncing up and down, no doubt from the stress of what had happened. If there was one thing Dazai took pride in, it was his ability to predict another person’s actions; it was what made him a good detective in the first place, and Edgar knew he was just beating himself up over what had happened to Ranpo, running over the hundreds of other plans he could’ve used to prevent his work partner from being injured in the first place.

Slowly he walked over and took a seat in the empty chair next to Dazai. He didn’t say anything, but Dazai’s leg stopped moving anyway, and his eyes slid over towards him.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to break the silence. “He got the guy.”

“P—pardon?”

Dazai turned to look at him. “Ranpo; he got the guy. Took a steel bat to the arm, and just held on as they went down the stairs together. By the time I got there, Ranpo was slapping handcuffs onto him with only one arm.”

Oh my god. Edgar buried his face into his hands, because it was just like Ranpo to focus on arresting a criminal instead of himself. “Fukuzawa said it was a bad break…”

“Oh yeah.” Dazai nodded. “The worst break I’ve seen and that’s saying something. But you’ll see what I mean when he comes out of surgery.”

“Or you could just tell me…?” Really, Edgar was starting to grow tired of Dazai’s cryptic answers. He just wanted to know the severity of Ranpo’s injuries, was that really too much to ask?

Dazai threw him a teasing grin. “Now where’s the fun in that, Poe? Just trust me when I say you’ll be shocked.”

And shocked Edgar was.

It took a few hours for a doctor to come out and speak with them, telling them that the surgery had been a success and that Ranpo was being moved to a room where he would stay a few days for observation before being allowed to go home, but that he was allowed to have visitors so long as they were quiet. And really, that was all it took for Edgar to stand and ask—he was pretty sure it was more of a demand than an ask—the doctor to take him to Ranpo. The doctor gave him an odd look before just nodding and soon enough, he was sitting in Ranpo’s room in a chair placed beside his partner’s bedside, just watching as his chest rose and fell, reassuring himself that Ranpo was alive and would wake up from the anaesthesia soon.

Edgar scooted the chair closer to the bed and reached out to grab Ranpo’s uninjured hand, running his thumb over the back of it—taking care to avoid the IV of course—as he rested his head on the covers and just continued to watch Ranpo silently. His eyes looked over the bruising that marred Ranpo’s face, no doubt from his fall down the stairs, and there was a large graze underneath his eye. Edgar was almost certain that there were more grazes and bruises scattered about Ranpo’s body, but they were simply hidden by the gown the other was wearing. Either way, he knew he would be hearing about how painful and annoying they were for days to come.

But that wasn’t what Edgar was focusing on.

No, what he was focusing on was Ranpo’s arm, the one he wasn’t holding; the limb in question was resting on Ranpo’s stomach with a pillow underneath it for support, and said limb was swathed in more bandages than Edgar had ever seen in his life. The bandages covered the entire limb—even a couple of Ranpo’s fingers were bandaged—and disappeared beneath the gown, which was more than enough for Edgar to understand the severity of the injury; as if the fact that Ranpo had just had surgery to fix the damage wasn’t already enough of a tell.

“I did tell you, you’d be shocked.” Dazai’s voice right in his ear caused him to jolt and turn to glare at him. The man cackled as he slunk around to the foot of the bed and leant against the railing. “The doctor’s just updating Fukuzawa so that he can fill out the incident report, and then he’ll be by to update you.”

Edgar sighed and nodded, returning his head to the bed and silence fell upon the room. But despite the silence, Dazai’s presence was loud, the guilt that the other man was feeling, was drowning the room and creating a suffocating atmosphere. And that combined with Edgar’s residing anxiety, was bound to end in disaster; and since Dazai didn’t seem inclined to say anything anytime soon, that meant it was up to Edgar to fix it. At least temporarily. He sat back in his seat, allowing his hand to fall away from Ranpo’s as he fixed Dazai with a look. “Ranpo does not blame you, Dazai.”

A scoff. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I don’t.” Edgar said. “But you and I both know what Ranpo is like, and that he has never said the words I blame you, when he gets hurt in the line of duty. What makes you think this time is any different?”

“Because this time he needed surgery.”

Edgar shrugged. “Your work is dangerous; surgery was bound to happen sooner or later. Did you blame Ranpo when you needed surgery after being shot last year?”

There was a very long silence as Dazai bowed his head, no doubt remembering the incident that Edgar was talking about, and eventually shook his head. “I did not.”

“Then stop blaming yourself until Ranpo tells you he does.”

Twelve weeks of recovery… that’s going to make Ranpo miserable. Edgar thought as he ran the doctor’s words through his mind again. It was just him in the room with Ranpo now, Fukuzawa and Dazai needing to go back to the office to fill out the appropriate paperwork—although both had promised to come back tomorrow to visit and see how Ranpo was doing. And since Ranpo was still unconscious, Edgar had all the time in the world to just sit and think about what the doctor had told him. Apparently, according to the doctor—and the x-ray’s he’d been shown—Ranpo’s wrist and hand had taken the brunt of the attack, several of the bones snapping upon being struck.

Edgar was ever so grateful that Ranpo had gotten his arm up in time to block the bat from hitting him in the head because he couldn’t even begin to imagine that injury…

But it wasn’t the bat that had wound up doing most of the damage, but the fall that had followed afterwards. Because falling down a massive amount of stairs while holding onto another person with an already broken wrist did nothing but make the injury even worse. So what could’ve been just a broken wrist that needed a cast for a few weeks, turned into a completely broken arm that needed surgery to fix the bones because they had shifted out of place. And a minor concussion; they couldn’t forget the concussion. Edgar let out a sigh, just knowing that the next twelve weeks were going to be a very challenging time; with Ranpo’s arm the way it was, there was no way that his partner was going to be able to do anything himself, which meant that Edgar was going to have to step up and take care of things, which meant that he’d need to take time off from his own work, which meant a loss of income—

“Nngh…”

—and while Edgar had more than enough money to cover all their bills until Ranpo could return to work, and was more than happy to do as such, he knew that doing so would do nothing but make Ranpo upset. Because while Edgar had been born into money, Ranpo had not, and hated accepting any kind of financial aid, preferring to starve and suffer than accept help. Over the years that they’d known each other, it’d gotten better, but Ranpo still insisted on paying his own way more often than not, and he knew that not being able to work was going to hurt him. Still, Edgar would do his absolute best to make Ranpo’s recovery—

“Edgar, you’re thinking too loud again…” Edgar froze as a finger poked his forehead, and he looked up to see Ranpo, barely conscious, but still conscious and blinking slowly at him.

A smile quickly grew on Edgar’s face as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed so that Ranpo didn’t have to crane his head to look down at him. “I think I’m thinking just the right amount, actually.”

Ranpo hummed, looking around the room as he took in his surroundings. His eyes flitted from Edgar to the machine monitoring his vitals, then back to Edgar, before finally falling to his injured arm. Edgar watched quietly as Ranpo gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and winced as only his pinkie twitched. “Ow…”

“Maybe don’t do that, dear, you just had surgery.” Edgar said, reaching over to carefully rest a hand on the bandages, drawing Ranpo’s attention back to him. “I’ll go get the doctor—”

“No, I’m going to go to sleep. I’m tired.” Ranpo interrupted Edgar before he could even finish his sentence, and shuffled to get more comfortable in the bed before closing his eyes.

I should’ve expected that. Edgar sighed and moved his hand until he could hold Ranpo’s uninjured one, and gave it a gentle squeeze until those green eyes flicked open again and focused on him. “Ranpo, let me get the doctor first. She needs to talk to you, and the faster that happens, the faster you can get some sleep.”

“Ugh, fine. Go get the stupid doctor then.”

“Please don’t call the doctor stupid. She did just put you back together.” Edgar stood and leaned over to gently press his lips to Ranpo’s forehead, feeling even more of his stress leaving as Ranpo smiled at the gesture. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Ranpo let out a hum, and Edgar reluctantly drew away so that he hunt down the doctor that was in charge of taking care of his partner. Thankfully, that didn’t take all that long to do and soon he was back by Ranpo’s bedside listening as the doctor spoke to him about his arm and the care that would have to go into making sure it healed properly. A lot was the answer; Edgar listened as the doctor explained that Ranpo was more than welcome to go home to recover, but that he would have to come back to the hospital to remove his stitches and get the bandages exchanged for a cast in which his arm would remain until the twelve weeks had passed.

Unless there was a complication or problem, in which case, he was to return to the hospital immediately, but Edgar was praying there wouldn’t be. He didn’t think his heart would be able to cope with any more stress.

But ultimately, the doctor made sure that they both understood that Ranpo was not to use his arm under any circumstance, no matter how much he wanted to.

Ranpo huffed the moment the doctor left the two of them alone, an unhappy look on his face, one that Edgar recognized easily because he’d seen it on his partner’s face many times over the years. It was a look of despair born from the knowledge that for a short time, Ranpo wouldn’t be able to live as he normally would, that he wouldn’t be able to do what he loved, and that he’d be stuck at home for such a long time. And it was a look that Edgar always hated seeing, so whenever it appeared, he always tried to do what he could to ease the pain.

He slowly rose from the chair and crawled onto the bed, and, whilst being mindful of Ranpo’s arm, stretched out beside his love so that their shoulders were touching, and their legs pressed together. He felt Ranpo begin to relax beside him. “I’ll be there to help you, you know that.”

“I know.” Ranpo’s head dropped to rest against his shoulder as he sighed, good hand fisting the blankets beneath it. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“You help me all the time.” Edgar said with a shrug. “When I overwork myself, when my mental health crashes, when I’m stressing over a deadline, you’re always there. So what kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t there for you when you needed help?”

“A terrible one.” Even though he couldn’t see Ranpo’s face, Edgar could hear the smile in it. “Thanks Edgar, and… sorry if I worried you.”

Edgar smiled, and rested his own head on top of Ranpo’s. “It’s fine, dear, I’ve come to accept that you’ll be worrying me until the day we die.”

“Some people would say that’s a bad thing to say.”

“And you?”

Ranpo snorted. “I think it’s a very you thing to say.”

Five weeks into dealing with Ranpo having the use of just one arm, Edgar liked to think he had a handle on things and that everything was going well. In the beginning, it’d been hard, because Ranpo had insisted on trying to do everything himself and did not hesitate to snap at Edgar whenever he tried to help. And honestly, his partner had done very well at first, taking things slow so he could actually get them done. It wasn’t until Ranpo had tried to shower on his own in that first week that he’d realized help wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Edgar’s heart still skipped an entire year whenever he remembered the thud and the wail that had followed when Ranpo had slipped over in the shower and whacked his arm against the tiles. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, Ranpo had avoided injuring himself even further, but that hadn’t stopped Edgar from being filled with so much stress as he’d called Fukuzawa to ask for a ride to the hospital—he was the only person that Edgar knew of with a car, and Ranpo had been in so much pain that there were tears—and he was forever grateful when the man showed up not even ten minutes later to help.

And with some x-rays—that showed no new damage—and painkillers—that left his partner drowsy—Ranpo was sent home with a warning to be more careful.

After that incident though, Edgar quickly became Ranpo’s personal butler, not that he was complaining of course. He would rather cater to Ranpo’s every whim if it meant not seeing tears in the other’s eyes.

Every morning, he would drag himself out of bed and down the stairs to wake Ranpo who’d taken to sleeping on the couch, claiming that he slept better when he didn’t have to worry about rolling onto his arm in his sleep. Edgar shared the sentiment, but he missed having Ranpo in his arms while he slept; he slept better when he knew Ranpo was beside him, but he would take the other’s comfort over his own right now. After waking Ranpo, came breakfast—always something simple because Edgar wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, even if he was good at it—and then came the task of getting Ranpo dressed, but only if his partner deemed it a non-pyjama day. Most of the time, Ranpo was content to laze about in the clothes he slept in, which Edgar couldn’t fault him for, because it took a lot of effort to get Ranpo’s injured arm through the sleeves of the shirts he usually wore.

But anyway, after battling with clothes—because it truly was a battle—it was time for Edgar to do some work; his partner had insisted that even though he was unable to work, Edgar didn’t need to stop working because of that. Of course, Edgar protested against that idea, because what if Ranpo needed him and he wasn’t there to help? Trouble always seemed to find Ranpo no matter where he was and no matter what he was doing; literally, Ranpo could be watching a movie and he’d still find some way to hurt himself. It was a skill that terrified Edgar, and one that Ranpo vehemently denied the existence of. But eventually, after a few more arguments, Edgar had compromised by saying that he’d only work half-days, giving him the rest of the day to spend with Ranpo, and Ranpo hadn’t complained—he’d even seemed happy with the idea.

And once Edgar was finished with work, it was time for dinner which was, once again, a simple affair, and then he and Ranpo simply spent time together until one or both of them passed out. Most of the time they would watch whatever show that Ranpo had started that day—being unable to do anything resulted in a lot of free time—or they would read books at the opposite ends of the couch, just sitting in silence whilst Karl curled up on one of their laps or the couch itself. And it was there that Edgar would remain, just waiting until Ranpo would fall asleep in which he would get up and make sure his partner was comfortable, often covering him with a blanket before dragging himself to bed. Sometimes he was joined by Karl, but most of the time he wasn’t; the raccoon choosing to keep Ranpo company while he was injured instead.

And that’d been their routine for five weeks now.

Only another seven to go.

“Edgar, my wonderful writing man, it’s almost lunch time, which means you need to stop sleeping.” Edgar let out a groan as Ranpo’s voice assaulted his ears, and rolled over with the intention of getting some more sleep. He’d stayed up a little too long writing last night, having been hit with a burst of inspiration, so he was rather tired. So instead of getting up, he rolled over and dragged his blanket over his head—the wrong choice to make apparently. “No, Edgar, you can sleep more later. Get up! I’m hungry!”

The blanket that Edgar had wrapped around himself was pulled away harshly, and he let out an undignified yelp as he chased after it, eyes flying open to see Ranpo standing beside the bed, looking satisfied with himself. A quick glance to the clock showed that it was just past one, meaning neither he nor Ranpo had eaten yet, and more importantly; he had missed work. Shit! I should’ve set an alarm.. “I’m sorry, dear, I’ll get you something to eat now.”

Ranpo fixed him with a look as he scrambled to get out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as they tangled around his legs. He was freed from his struggles when Ranpo stepped on the edge of the blanket and it feel to the ground in a heap that Edgar stepped out of. “You were up late writing again.”

It wasn’t a question or a statement; it was a simple fact, and despite that, Ranpo voicing it still made him flush in embarrassment. “I was… I was about to go to bed when I got hit with some inspiration and I didn’t want to forget. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. You don’t get enough sleep anyway.” Ranpo interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You left your phone downstairs so I woke up when your boss called to ask where you were.”

“O-Oh… did you, um, answer?” Edgar froze in front of the closet door, hand on the handle as he looked over his shoulder towards Ranpo.

Ranpo scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t answer the phone—” that was a fact that Edgar knew all too well, “—but I did send him a text to say you were sick.”

Edgar sighed. “Please tell me you just said I had a cold and not that I was not dying. I’m still getting sent ‘get well’ cards from the first time you did that.”

“Yes, I said it was a cold, don’t worry.” Ranpo said, coming to lean against Edgar’s side and looked up at him, snickering. “Besides, you have to admit that was funny.”

“For you, maybe. For my co-workers, not so much.” Edgar opened the closet door and rifled through the various clothes hanging up, trying to find one of Ranpo’s shirts, which would be much easier to find if Ranpo didn’t just hang his clothes on the first hanger he found. “Are you going to take a shower today?”

“Only if you take one with me.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, having expected that answer. “As if I’d let you shower on your own until that cast comes off.”

“That was one time, Edgar. One time!”

“And one time too many. It was terrifying to see you on the floor like that.” Edgar finally found a shirt and pulled it out to show Ranpo. It was one of his own shirts actually that he’d even forgotten he owned, but it was big and would probably be much easier to get Ranpo into—and out of—than one of his own. Ranpo studied the shirt for a moment before he nodded his approval, and Edgar returned his attention to the closet. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. Please be careful if you try to undress yourself.”

“You need to stop stressing so much, Edgar, otherwise you’ll go gray.” Ranpo called over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom, leaving Edgar alone on the room, not that he would be alone for too long since he would be joining Ranpo momentarily anyway.

He rolled his eyes fondly at the words, quickly pulling out some clothes for himself before he followed Ranpo into the bathroom, snorting when he stumbled upon Ranpo in the middle of a wrestling match with his shirt. “Do you need a hand?”

“No!” Came Ranpo’s response as his head disappeared into the shirt. Edgar watched in an amused silence as Ranpo squirmed about before his head suddenly reemerged and he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it into the corner of the room. “See? I got it.”

“Okay great, and what about your pants?” Edgar asked, stepping further into the room to place the clothes on the counter top. He crouched in front of the cabinet and searched through it, looking for the roll of plastic wrap he’d put in there so that they didn’t have to trek to the kitchen every time Ranpo wanted a shower. Where is it—ah! There it is. Edgar grabbed the wrap and stood, turning back towards Ranpo.

“I got them covered too. Just watch.” And watch Edgar did, as Ranpo hooked his two working fingers into the waist of his pants and shimmied them off, along with his underwear, before he threw Edgar a massive grin as he tossed them over to where his shirt lay. “See? After five weeks, I’m not a total invalid.”

Edgar merely rolled his eyes, and held out the plastic wrap, waiting for Ranpo to hold his arm up before he began to wrap it until there was no chance of water getting through. As such was their routine every time Ranpo had to take a shower—which wasn’t too often because it was simply easier to fill the bathtub and get clean that way, but there was just something about showers that soothed his partner, so if Ranpo said it was shower time, it was shower time, and nothing could change his mind.

Once Ranpo’s arm was wrapped, Edgar ruffled Ranpo’s hair affectionately. “You’re doing very well, dear.”

Ranpo’s cheeks began to burn, and he ducked away from Edgar’s hand to slip into the shower. “Of course, I am! I’m a genius after all; there’s nothing I can’t do!”

“Well, there are the trains—”

“Edgar, please shut up.”

Edgar very much liked showering with Ranpo, even before Ranpo had broken his arm and needed someone to be in the room—or in the shower because who was Poe to turn down showering with his partner? —with him to make sure he didn’t slip and fall. There was no explanation for it really; just there was something about awkwardly standing under the showerhead together, sharing the water, and washing each other’s hair and bodies that was calming and just… loving. Every time that he and Ranpo showered together, it was just… nice. And this time was no different; Edgar made sure that he kept his touch gentle as he ran his hands through Ranpo’s hair, washing it free of the shampoo he’d just washed it with, smiling at the pleased noises that the other was letting out as his head rested against Edgar’s chest, eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep there, my love.”

“’m not sleeping… it just feels good, that’s all.” Ranpo murmured, lifting his head off of Edgar’s chest just enough for his eyes to be seen, if only to try and prove that he hadn’t just been dozing. Edgar wasn’t stupid though, he knew Ranpo far too well to be fooled by that, and he wasn’t going to say anything because it made him feel happy that Ranpo trusted him enough to keep him upright when he was tired.

He hummed and guided Ranpo’s head out of the shower spray so that he could scrub some conditioner into his hair. “I’m almost done, so you’ll be able to take a nap if you’re tired.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up. “I’m tired of sleeping all the time. I want to do something else.”

“Well, you have been stayed inside for five weeks, so we could go outside for a bit?”

“No thanks.” Ranpo said even though he looked like he was truly considering taking him up on the offer. “Knowing my luck, I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck—hey, I know! We can play a game together!”

Wait, what? Edgar’s hands stopped moving, experiencing mental whiplash from the sudden change in topic.“I’m sorry?”

“Ugh, you heard me. I want to play a game.” Ranpo repeated, slower this time, tilting his head back to look up at Edgar. “I haven’t played any of my games since I broke my arm, and I want to.”

Edgar had to stop and think over what Ranpo said for a moment, tilting Ranpo’s head back just enough so that he could rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his partners hair to make sure that he got all of it out. “Okay… but how exactly do you expect to play if you can’t hold a controller?”

“You know, for someone so smart, that’s a really dumb question. You’re going to hold the controller for me, obviously.”

A sound idea, if only for one problem. “Uh… Ranpo, you do know that I’ve never played a video game in my life, right?”

“It’s not that hard, Edgar. You just have to listen to what I tell you, and you are very good at that.”

Somehow, Edgar doubted it was as simple as that, but like usual, there was no point in trying to argue with Ranpo whenever his mind was set on something; in this case, videogames. He sighed and reached over to turn the shower off. Something told him he was going to regret his decision, yet he still opened his mouth to agree. “Alright, we can give it a try. But please, don’t yell if I don’t understand. I learn quick, but not that quick.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ranpo stepped out of the shower and stood, patiently waiting until Edgar grabbed the towels, draping one around his shoulders, and using the other to dry Ranpo’s hair. Ranpo grunted and continued, “can we hurry it up? I want to play!”

“Patience, my dear.” Edgar said, letting the towel drop to rest around Ranpo’s shoulders while he lifted his own to start drying his own hair. “We still need to get you dressed.”

Ranpo huffed, but nodded. Edgar was glad when Ranpo fell silent since that meant he could focus on what he was doing and not get distracted, and therefore, be done faster. He was quick to dress himself, pulling on one of his turtlenecks because the days were starting to get cold, and then some paw-patterned shorts that Ranpo had gifted him a birthday ago. The entire time, he could feel his partners eyes watching him impatiently, and he did his best to ignore it as he used his fingers to comb his hair back and tie it up a little, letting half of it fall against the back of his neck. If Ranpo was going to coerce him into playing a game, he wanted to be able to see what he was doing.

Once he was dressed, it was time to tackle the battle that was getting Ranpo into clothes, which wasn’t as difficult as it sounded, but was still only possible with two people. It would’ve been different if Ranpo had been able to use his fingers, but the cast on his arm only allowed him the use of two of them, and Ranpo was impatient, so it was easier to just have Edgar help him in the first place. First came the shirt, shoving Ranpo’s broken arm through the sleeve before pulling it over his head. Next came the pants, in which Edgar simply crouched so that Ranpo could use him for balance as he lifted one leg through the hole and then the other.

And that was that. “All done.” Edgar said as he stood and left the bathroom, Ranpo trailing behind him. “What game—”

“We’re not done yet!” Ranpo interrupted, making a beeline for the closet, searching through it until he emerged with two pairs of socks. “It’s cold! I don’t want cold feet, and neither do you!”

With a roll of his eyes, Edgar complied with the unspoken demand, helping Ranpo into the socks first, making sure that the pants were tucked into them just the way that Ranpo liked them, and then pulled the other pair over his own feet. He didn’t care much for socks, not in the way that Ranpo did, but the socks that the other had pulled out were the ones that had been handmade for them by one of Ranpo’s co-workers for Christmas a couple of years ago, and whenever Ranpo wanted to wear his own pair, Edgar was expected to wear them too. So he did, even if the weather wasn’t quite cold enough for woollen socks.

For the same reason that he was about to play a videogame for the first time in his life.

Love.

In hindsight, Edgar should’ve known that Ranpo wouldn’t hold up to his promise of not yelling, but he also should’ve known better to expect Ranpo not to in the first place. How many times had he had to listen to Ranpo yell at the characters in his games for being stupid and failing to survive? Too many times, far too many. After the first yell, in which Edgar had jumped and nearly thrown the console in his hands, he should’ve called it quits then. But he didn’t, because he was an idiot in love, and despite the occasional yells, there was so much life in Ranpo’s eyes, life that he hadn’t even realized was missing in the first place.

Not that he was saying that Ranpo had been lifeless of course, but his partner certainly hadn’t been as happy as he usually was over the past weeks, so it was nice to see that happiness return. And well, it wasn’t that bad really; Ranpo toned down the yelling after the first jump, although he was still loud by Edgar’s standards. And if he really had to admit it, gaming with Ranpo was just another bonding experience—one he probably wouldn’t engage in again once Ranpo had the use of his arms again, but he may just sit and watch Ranpo play one day.

And no, it was not because the game that Ranpo had picked was one that required him to think, not at all.

“No, don’t put him there, Edgar, he’ll die. He’s a mage, not a tank.” Ranpo whined from where he lay on the couch, stretched out with his back against Edgar’s chest, arm resting on the pillow he’d stolen from the arm chair on the other side of the room. His head thudded against Edgar’s shoulder as he threw it back with a groan.

“Then where exactly do you want me to put him?” Edgar cried, tilting his head to the side so that he could see the screen better, and looked just a little frazzled at trying to figure out what it was that Ranpo wanted him to do with the character. As much as Ranpo knew what he was doing in this game when it came to strategies and the characters, his instructions to Edgar were very much unclear, and it was just a little frustrating. “He kills everything in one shot!”

“Yes, so put him two spaces backwards out of enemy range.” Ranpo pointed to the square in question, speaking as if the solution was obvious, which as he spoke, Edgar realised it was, but still. “And then move the actual tank in front of him as protection, just in case.”

“Dedue is too far—”

“I don’t mean Dedue, I mean Felix!”

“Felix isn’t a tank!” He may have never heard of this game before, but that much he knew from the few hours they’d been playing this game already, mostly because of how many times he’d gotten Felix killed until Ranpo had taught him how to increase stats. And then he’d become their strongest character.

“So? He’ll dodge all those enemies and kill them, so therefore, he’s a tank.”

Isn’t a tank supposed to take hits, not give them? Edgar thought, but did as Ranpo asked. He was the expert here after all, but he was still going to say something about it. “I find your logic there a little flawed, dear.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing. So, unless you think you know better, do as I say.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, and fell silent, and thankfully, Ranpo did as well, only speaking up to give new instructions. And honestly… it was nice, to have Ranpo resting comfortably against his chest, to feel his heart beating and his warmth; all things that Edgar hadn’t realized he’d been missing until this moment. Because, sure, Ranpo had been home for five weeks, and would remain home for another seven, and they had been spending more time together than they usually could because of their conflicting schedules, but not like this. This was different, and Edgar wanted more of it. He wanted to hold Ranpo close until his beloved fell asleep in his arms, regardless of his injury, he wanted to help Ranpo more even though he’d already been doing more than enough. He wanted to—

“Edgar, your phone’s buzzing.”

Huh? A quick glance showed that his phone was indeed buzzing from its spot beside him. “Oh, it’s Fukuzawa.” But before he could even pick the phone up to answer it, Ranpo leaned over and swiped it up. “Ranpo!”

“What? He only calls you when he can’t get a hold of me.”

That may have been true, but that wasn’t the point. But before he could say as much, Ranpo was thumbing the screen and answering the call. Edgar sighed, and shuffled down the couch a little, putting down the console—after saving of course—and stretching out his legs so that he was laying on the couch instead of sitting, just listening as Ranpo chatted with his boss. With one hand, he wrapped an arm around Ranpo’s waist, holding Ranpo’s injured hand and thumbing over the cast—Ranpo wouldn’t feel it, but it was the gesture that mattered—and with his other, he reached up and stroked his hand through Karl’s fur; the raccoon had been sleeping peacefully on the back of the couch the entire time they’d been gaming, and let out a quiet chatter as he was petted before pulling his tail over his nose.

Then, Edgar closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the arm of the couch, letting Ranpo’s voice fade into the background a little. He was rather tired from working, and making sure that Ranpo was taken care of, more than he thought he would be. Edgar closed his eyes; perhaps he’d take a quick nap, and enjoy the feeling of Ranpo’s back against his chest, warm and heavy. It’d been far too long since he’d last been able to hold his love, and it was one of the many reasons why he wished that Ranpo’s arm would heal quicker, you know, aside from the fact that Ranpo’s arm was broken—and also, itchy, and achy according to the complaints Ranpo voiced every other day.

But he also didn’t mind it, because it allowed him to dote and take care of the person that meant the most to him in his life, it allowed him to cook and clean, and make sure that Ranpo was comfortable, but most of all, it allowed him to spend time with someone he usually only saw on weekends because of their conflicting schedules. And it made him a little sad to know that once Ranpo’s arm was healed, that life would go back to the way it had been.

But just a little.

Edgar didn’t know how long he slept for, but the next thing he was aware of was a finger gently poking him in the cheek. He opened his eyes to find Ranpo staring up at him, and yawned. “Yes, my love?”

“You need to sleep more if you’re passing out on the couch when I’m chattering in your ear.” Ranpo commented as he stood, offering a hand towards Edgar. “Fukuzawa says hi and thanks as well. Apparently he thinks I’m being annoying. As if, I’m a delight to take care of.”

You just keep telling yourself that, Ranpo. Edgar’s lips twitched, and accepted the hand, using it to pull himself upright. “What did Fukuzawa want?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Just to see how I was, but also to let us know that he’ll be bringing dinner over tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s problem, right now, you need sleep.”

Edgar didn’t even try to argue as Ranpo dragged him out of the living room and upstairs, and he didn’t say anything as his partner nudged him into bed, but he did speak when Ranpo crawled in after him. “Ranpo, what are—”

“Shut up you, I’m not stupid.” Ranpo said as he forced Edgar to lay back before he curled up into his side, resting his arm across Edgar’s stomach. “You’ve been wanting to cuddle.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“No buts!” Ranpo pressed a finger against his lips to stop his words. “Just accept what’s happening and sleep. My arm will be fine and…” Ranpo’s voice turned into a whisper, “maybe I missed this too.”

Edgar simply smiled and reached down to drag the blankets over the both of them. “Well then, I can’t say no to that then now, can I?”

“Nope! Now hurry up and sleep!”

“Yes, dear.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #hurt/comfort #fluff #domestic bliss #injury #writing #fanfic

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gunslinginnhogtyin · 4 months ago

Note

Date?

@splinter-sister

Send me “Date?” and i'll answer... // @splinter-sister

Who asks for it:

[x] Your muse asks mine

[ ] My muse asks yours

Type of date:

[ ] Platonic Date

[x] Romantic Date

[x] First Date

[x] Double date with: Mack & Gale (i'm so down for a three way thread!!)

Location for the date:

[ ] Movies • [ ] Romantic Comedy • [ ] Adventure Movie • [ ] Animation (Pixar/Disney) • [ ] Horror • [ ] Drama • [ ] Buddy Movie • [ ] ___ (other options)

[x] Restaurant • [x] Expensive/High Class (dine n' dash perhaps?) • [x] Small and familiar • [x] Fast Food

[x] Nature • [ ] Beach • [ ] Park • [x] Forest • [x] …and having a picnic

[x] Visiting a Museum (i want a ferris bueller moment for these two in an art museum or smthn)

[x] Visiting an amusement park

[x] Visiting a haunted location

[x] Staying at home • [x] Watching movies (old westerns or cheesy rom-coms they make fun of together 8")) • [ ] Playing Video Games • [ ] Reading

[x] cooking, WRASTLIN', board games, kush smoke sesh (other options)

The date might hopefully end with…

[x] …holding hands

[x] …a kiss

[x] …in bed

[x] …knowing each other better

[ ] …sleepover between friends

[ ] …a marriage proposal

[x] both of them plastered as hell looking up at the stars (other options)

Should you reblog this?:

[ ] Yes. I want to send you one.

[x] Yes.(but u already did one! x))

[ ] No.

#splinter sister #date?

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phantomuheist · 6 months ago

Text

@iiguess said: 3, 5, and/or 21 for the mun meme!

send me a number and I'll talk about it | Accepting

3. Roleplaying with yourself

I can understand doing it in drabbles and all that or if you're a multimuse (heck, I do it), but by yourself if you have multiple blogs, it's kinda weird? Not to say that you're a loser, but I've seen it happen before and I can't say I understand the point of doing that if you have writing partners. Maybe you're bored, I don't know. Not my cup of tea.

5. dash commentary

It can be very fun to participate in if we exclude the fact that I live in the future compared to US timezones and I almost always miss the good stuff when I'm in Dreamland. It sucks, but when I happen to catch it live, it's the best as long as we're mutuals! It's weird when I comment on someone I don't know, so I tend not to do that and stick to my lane.

21. your current rpc

I've been here for so many years and I don't regret it. I've met some wonderful people. I had my first relationship which ended in failure. I met some toxic people who are now out of my life, but still haunt me to this day and I like talking about them. It's a ball of emotions. I plan on staying until I get too old for it, so you'll have to tolerate me even more. :3

#iiguess #Mun answers;

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sageywritings · 6 months ago

Text

Call

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER USES LANGUAGE THAT SOME MAY FIND OFFENSIVE AND TOUCHES ON SENSITIVE TOPICS THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND UPSETTING. (fw: slurs, suicide)

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

One call in progress. "I hate phone calls."

Long overdue, here is chapter 12 of Flames of Change. A lot of my time away I've spent rewriting the first three chapters and uploading them to AO3. I'm in the process of uploading all the chapters there, so if you would rather read that version, check it out under TheOneCalledSage. But, I'll continue to upload here. Me and my irrelevant blog against the world, baby. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Ospreay family belong to me

Sienna Umberon belongs to @gruntnuker-rwby

Dusty Millaray and T belong to @wetsliceofbread

The door flinging open with a loud slam did very little to disturb Dash. He was already awake, and although sleep had evaded him for the past hour at least, he still laid curled up hoping it would embrace him soon. But, his body was too acclimated at this point to the same confined surroundings, and seeing the same guards watching him for what felt like the millionth time, and the same early wakeup call from the medic Sienna sent to check his vitals. Dash rolled over and creaked his eyes open, still trying to maintain the facade of sleep even though the racket meant it was pointless. It was like he was begging the alarm before class for five more unattainable minutes. He was expecting the medic to kick the bars and bark at him to wake up any second now.

But instead, all he saw through squinted eyes was Sienna pacing back and forth in a crazed hurry. She was mumbling in a hushed tone, too quietly for Dash to make anything out. On about the seventh or eighth cycle of turning toward the door, she finally noticed three or four Fang soldiers in the doorway, each with important questions or paperwork for Sienna but none of them daring to be the first one to present it to her.

“I need this place to myself for a while. So everyone OUT!” Now the guards were tripping over each other to see who could get away from Sienna’s flame-bearing teeth the fastest. Dash could hear the tornado of papers being abandoned from his cell. The last one out didn’t want a reprimand finding its way up the chain of command. Or worse, a reprimand from Sienna in the form of fire being flicked their way. Once left alone, Sienna put two fingers to both her temples and rubbed with an excruciating groan. Now she talked louder, but still as if Dash couldn’t hear. “They have to know by now, right? They have to, one of them had to tell them. How does this keep happening? Why do they keep showing up now of all times?! What am I, haunted??” Dash sat up on the bed, with Sienna unaware, her back turned in search through a cabinet for the next stashed bottle of booze she would claim as a victim.

“So. How was he?” Dash finally spoke up. Sienna’s spin cycle of rumination halted. Dash wanted to add a comment about how it was a bit too early to drink. But he didn’t want to test his possibly sleep deprived warden’s barely existent patience. Otherwise the next bottle of whiskey would be aimed right at his head with speed and precision that would’ve made him jealous on the baseball field.

“What?” Sienna said angrily.

“Sol. You saw him, right? Did you make sure to tell him hi for me?”

“You think this is funny? I keep running into your fucking team!”

“And that’s my fault?” Dash said, unable to contain a disbelieving laugh. “Oh look! It’s the consequences of my own actions! I thought they’d never catch me here!” Sienna snarled and suddenly reached in between the bars to snatch the heir by the throat. Dash gasped and tried to prop his foot against a bar to try and pull away, but Sienna kicked the bar, sending pain reverberating up to his already damaged knee.

“You don’t get to talk about actions! Look where your actions got you! Forgotten by your precious family name that you defended at any cost no matter how many lives had to suffer in your shadow!” Dash was choking for mercy. His legs were starting to give out. In a last ditch effort, he reached out to try and pry Sienna’s hand off of him, just for her other searing hand to lock onto his forearm. “It’s your fault you're here. It… it's your fault we can't be together!” She suddenly let go, and Dash dropped onto all fours in a vicious coughing fit. It was like Sienna was brimming with so much rage she couldn't transfer it to her muscles. So instead, she settled for an alternative and grabbed her own arm. She grimaced but didn't let go as the skin around her fingers began to glow red.

“What… what are you doing?” Dash asked shakily, his voice raspy in between coughing.

“Like you care,” Sienna mumbled with ears down. She was right, part of him didn't. Part of him wanted to watch her self-destruct. But part of him remembered what she told him. How she was the reason he and Dawn were still alive. He felt care in between the pulses of pain throbbing through his arm and his neck. He wanted to tell her to stop, to knock it off, although the chances of her actually listening were somewhere between slim and none. The door flying open again, however, did the trick and she let go. The White Fang rookie that drew the short straw scrambled in.

“Boss!” he called.

“I told you I didn't wanna be bothered! This better be good,” Sienna yelled. He nodded sheepishly and outstretched his hand to offer up a phone. After a moment to let her fingers cool, she took it for inspection. The screen was dark at first, but then illuminated to reveal a call with an unknown number already in progress. “I hate phone calls,” she thought to herself, surveying it a little longer as if someone else was going to take it from her if she waited. But, she put it up to her ear and spoke bluntly. “Speaking.” The voice on the other end was calm, almost scarily assured, like it was nothing more than a standard business affair.

“Where are my kids?”

An uncontrollable grin took over Sienna's face. This was exactly what her spirits needed. The voice she had been dying to hear grovel and beg.

“Well, well. Hello Toney. I got one of them with me right now,” Sienna said with a triumphant chuckle. She hoped the sense of victory in her voice oozed right into Tone's wounded, defeated pride. Dash was already perked up before she held the phone up to him. “Say hi to the daddy that forgot about you.”

“Dad?! Dad whatever you gotta do, just do it and get me and Dawn outta here!” As his volume raised, so did the irritation in his throat before he was cut off by another loud cough. “I haven't heard from Dawn in weeks. We've been here long enough, we gotta get her out! Just do it!” He couldn't hear his dad respond before Sienna put the phone back to her ear, thanks to the racking coughing fit that doubled him over. He didn't even know if there was a response to listen to.

“See? He's alive,” Sienna sang into the phone. “No thanks to you. It's been damn near a month now and you've done nothing to try and get your kids back? Not even a whisper from you, just your cronies. It's almost like you want your kids to die. Don't blame you, your son is annoying as hell.”

“I see,” Tone said. If any of Sienna's attempts to get under his skin worked, he didn't show it. He was still in negotiation mode. It was the complete opposite of Dash's silent panic. “And what, may I ask, are you planning on doing with him and my daughter?”

“Oh Toney. I don't want anything but to see your nice little family reunited. But others in the White Fang? Well, they have a looooot of plans involving your children. So what happens is entirely dependent on what you do next.”

“So what do you want from me?” Tone asked. Sienna found his unwavering stony demeanor disappointing. She really wanted to hear one of Remnant's most powerful oppressors pleading at her feet for mercy, not acting like he was trying to get her to cut to the chase. But, that didn't stop her from letting out a hellish cackle.

“What I want? Your obituary,” she said. Again, no vocal response. She wished she could see the face on the other end of the call. “But we'll settle for some reparations. To pay us back for the trouble we went through getting little Dawn and Spicy, you will transfer five million lien to a specified bank account. Once the payment is received, we'll provide you their location and you can head back to your cute little estate or take a vacation to some private island to destress, whatever rich people do, I dunno. So, we got a deal?”

There was a pause. A long pause. The seconds ticked by long past uncomfortable lengths. Sienna tapped her foot impatiently before silently scowling. “C'mon, clock's ticking Ospreay. Otherwise that begging you heard will be the last words you'll ever hear from your son. I know you got enough brain cells in that dying skull of yours to know how blackmail works, so why don't you-”

“You're a fucking idiot.” Sienna's eyes flared with shocked anger as she slowly stared at the phone, only to be met with the call runtime. Her eyes then shot at Dash as if looking for an explanation. But he merely shrugged, alarmed and lost. “It's obvious I've worked in this world longer than you have. You're out of your depths. I have been working to make sure you are fucking sorry for ever stepping foot in my home, you stupid, pathetic mutt!”

“Ooooooh mutt, that's a new one. I don't know, I enjoyed stomping my muddy feet all over your clean floor. Might have to do it again some time,” Sienna replied, stubbornly refusing to let him shake her confidence. Her disobedience knew no bounds. “And for being so full of shit, now your kids cost ten million.” Dash's eyes widened at Sienna's gall, silently mouthing his worry even though it fell on “deaf” ears. There was another pause.

“Bold. I would almost commend you. Almost. You see, I have a reputation to uphold. My business is a stalwart amongst Atlas. If I didn't hold myself to being a beacon of strength and consistency, then who knows what else in Atlas could fall? So with talk of this renegade ‘bounty hunter’ coming onto my property and making off with my kids without consequence, that would most certainly be a sign of weakness.” Another pause, though this one shorter and much more tolerable, until uttering just two more icy words.

“Sienna Umberon.”

Sienna's ears instantly pinned back. For once, her body went cold. Even her blood was frozen with fear in her veins. She glared at the phone as if he could see her through it. Then she spun around looking at every corner of the room. Was something bugged? But, not even the piercings or mismatching eyes would give her away to him. “How the fuck does he know that?!”

“It's that reputation I wanna destroy. Remember, do anything too brash and I'll start sending you back your kids IKEA style.” Sienna refused to acknowledge he nailed her identity. However, the threat that had Dash keeping a grateful eye on all ten of his fingers in his cell only produced a light chuckle from his father.

“I see you haven't grasped the gravity of the situation. You think I'm still bluffing.” The phone dinged in her ear loud enough where she had to tilt her head away from it. The notification was a text message. It was a picture from the night of the Ospreay raid taken from under a table by a frightened partygoer of Sienna sauntering right to Tone's face. “I know who you are. I know your marks.” Two more messages came in quick succession, kicking the first photo she was still studying up the screen. The first one was a screenshot from the Vytal Festival TV feed of Team JASR lined up for their first round match. One of Sienna’s hands was on Amber’s shoulder to ease her anxiety from the massive crowd while the other was claws out, ready to fight. The second came from a social media account that set off sirens in her head - DownTheFoxxhole. It was Alex’s account, and the picture was a selfie her brother took of them. “And I know who you hold close.”

Sienna grit her teeth and made sure to turn her head away so Tone couldn’t hear her seething. Her tail flicked sparks in every direction. The next sound the phone made caused Sienna to cock back like she was going to spike it, but instead of more “evidence” it was just an excessive heat warning. She grabbed a bottle to unload her semblance in order to spare the phone. All this time he was simply building a case. This wasn’t life or death to Tone. Nothing could be to a man who thought he was the definition of untouchable. This was just another trial in a litany of defense cases against himself, except this time he didn’t need the skeezy but insanely skilled lawyer the Schnees gifted him upon forming their alliance.

“So you will return my children,” he went on, “or I will make sure these photos end up on every scroll in Remnant. It would merely take a couple of phone calls. I’m sure every news station would want to have the inside scoop on the identity of this kidnapper that has captivated their headlines.”

“I know you’re not bluffing. I’m not fucking stupid! Congrats, you and your little bootlickers can use the internet.” Sienna could no longer play cool and stifle her resentment. The stress relief bottle was getting softer, melting and sagging where it touched her palm.

“I’m sure you have enough dying brain cells to understand how blackmail works. So, do we have an understanding, Miss Umberon?” Tone said. His self-satisfaction came effortlessly, and it was enough to stop Sienna’s heart due to the fury it was causing. She didn’t come this far to back down now.

“Shut down everything you run, make a public announcement acknowledging the number of faunus you’ve killed and endangered for the sake of money, and never go into business again. Then we’ll have an understanding.”

“Fuck…” Sienna said, barely anything more than an emotion riddled sigh. She pressed her clenched fists to her forehead until no amount of aspirin would make this headache go away easily. She closed her eyes. She wanted to cry. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to burn the whole world down and start something new in its ashes. Something alone. But instead, all she could do is scream. “FUCK! I’M GONNA KILL HIM. I'M GONNA SO KILL HIM!”

“Hm,” Tone hummed, unmoved. “Speak with your higher ups. I have a feeling I will be hearing from you very soon. And remember, if you cross my deal, I will make sure to personally bash that blonde little faggot’s head in and mount his tail on my wall.” It was a good thing the “negotiation” was over because that was the last thing that phone would ever do. Smoke and sparks poured out of it before Sienna finally sent it hurtling into the concrete. Whatever parts weren’t liquified bounced and shattered into pieces.

“What the hell happened?? Is he paying the ransom or what?” Dash finally worked up the courage to make his presence known again. Sienna paid him zero attention. She was too busy going back to pacing the floor again, now at double time thanks to the frenzy she had worked herself into. She was kicking aside pieces of broken phone as she did so. “Sienna, what happened?” Dash called again louder to get through her mumbling of wanting to kill him over and over again.

“No! Your daddy is too worried about his precious bottom line! Is that what you wanna hear? I was fucking right and you didn’t wanna listen! That’s the reason you’ve been left here to rot for weeks!”

“Quit with the bullshit already and just tell me what happened!” Dash said. To his heartbreak, there was no snarky comment, no shit eating grin, no teasing at his expense. Only a deadpan stare as she pushed her hair aside with a glowing red arm, the same as Dash's. His sternness trailed off. “You're… you're not joking.” His heart sank. His eyes widened before glazing over into a blank stare. He knew Sienna's asking price was steep, but still easily affordable for Ospreay Industries. So to be stuck in this hell with seemingly no end, and left to wonder what his sister has been going through. Did the money really matter that much? Was his dad's pride really that important to him? “What did he actually say?”

“That he's gonna make me regret breaking into your house, crap like that. Nothing about ‘saving’ you and Dawn. He's just focusing on blackmailing me.”

“And how’s he planning on doing that?” Dash inquired. No reply from the bent over fox faunus as she searched for her next dose of firewater for her nerves. “C’mon Sienna you gotta suck it up and use your words!”

“It’s for me to know and for you to find out at the side of your dad’s deathbed! Sorry I’m just full of disappointments for you today, Strawberry Shortcake,” she said without turning around. Then she mumbled on to no one besides herself in particular. “Typical medic bullshit, telling me to slow up, she better not have hid it.”

“Lemme guess,” Dash said after a moment of contemplation. “Your teammates. Or your brother. Knowing my dad, probably both. He likes to be thorough.” The loud crashing and tossing of the cabinet’s contents that weren’t Sienna’s sole objective came to a sudden stop.

“Lucky guess,” she grumbled.

“It’s not much of a guess. You only like four people, Sienna.” She finally spun around, causing Dash to recoil, until she saw the smile on her face at finding the bottle she had been yearning for.

“That’s not true! … It’s five people. Leo’s a cool brother-in-law,” she said, ears lowering a little.

“Wait.” Dash’s stare grew far away, a thousand yards past Sienna inelegantly tearing off the top of the bottle. His eyes moved like they were calculating something, dots being connected. “If he goes after your team, then mine won’t be that far behind! Sol will try to defend Amber, and Sapph will help. And anyone that helps them, he’s just gonna go after them too!”

“Yuuuup. Glad to know we’re in this sinking ship together!” she said, raising her glass in a mocking toast.

“Sienna you gotta let me outta here!”

“Like hell I do! You and your sister are my only way out of this mess! I gotta talk with the High Leader. Ugh that fuckin pain in my ass. He’s gonna be pissed at me if we kept you alive this long and get no ransom money out of it. I kept trying to tell him the reward would make everything worth it. Now the reward is just keeping my identity safe. That bastard is gonna try and sell me out.”

“Our reward is keeping our friends safe! We’re the only ones that know what’s going on! We can warn them! I can maybe get my dad to stop, he might listen to me. But that’s only if you let me out to talk to him.” Sienna shook her head during his whole explanation, only stopping to down another swig. “Does your chain of command really mean anything to you if they’re just gonna view you as a ‘necessary sacrifice’?”

“And what about you?!” Sienna said with renewed indignation. “You’re the one keeping all your dad’s business secrets safe. You keep thinking he’s the victim here when he clearly left his own kids here to die! If you had just helped me like I asked and let me have it my way, he woulda been dealt with by now!”

“For a woman who swears she doesn’t kill, you sure sound ready to murder,” Dash said. Sienna stayed dead silent. Not because she had a lack to say; there were a thousand words ready to spill past her lips. But, she kept them pursed shut. Nothing she had to say would’ve been worth wasting her breath on him. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to compose herself as much as the internal whirlwind she was facing would allow her. An uphill battle if there ever was one. But, she figured the last thing she needed was to scorch her insurance policy.

“You still don’t get it. You’re still blind to the world around you. Do you even know where you are right now?” Dash paused. He hadn’t a clue where he actually was. The only answer he could come up with was hell, and Sienna was the personal demon assigned to him. After going unconscious in his garage, he woke up in this cell. He couldn’t even guess what continent he was on. Sienna got tired of waiting for an answer. “You’re in an abandoned factory that used to have your name on it. Tore down part of the forest for Ospreay Industries’ latest state of the art crime against humanity. The White Fang converted it into something useful. Guess your loss is our gain.”

“Tsuyukusa?” The town name came to Dash almost instinctively. A small town in the snowy north of Mistral, where Atlas’ influence was stronger than their own home kingdom’s much further away in the south. No one besides the locals or the biggest of geography buffs in Remnant would know this place if it wasn’t for its lone claim to infamy. The reason Dash prayed he never ended up on the path to this town. He prayed he was wrong, up until Sienna nodded her head.

“You automatically knew.”

“I remember the headlines well,” Dash said meekly.

“Oh, you remember them? You remember the people that died here? Or do you only remember what dear old dad wanted you to hear while he was throwing money at his latest PR mess. Shutting this place down and relocating somewhere new for a show of “good faith” to get the journalists off his ass while in reality changing nothing. The new place is run the exact same way. And if the workers couldn't relocate with the factory, well sucked for them.”

The truth was Dash remembered this incident very well. He remembered all the headlines his father let past his filter, and this one was far too big to hide from his son forever. His dad would always explain how the headlines were always blown out of proportion. The papers were just looking for some explosiveness to generate more readers and get them riled up. He was told those same things for so long that he believed them, and he would spout them over and over at Beacon. All the smear campaigns, the threats from the White Fang, his family were the victims here. Dash could've and should've felt more victimized than ever with the beatings he had been taking while held captive. But, he didn't feel like his family were the ones suffering. Not equally at least.

“I heard it all. I even heard a few of the workers left behind from the move jumped from this very roof. That's… not true, is it?”

“Wanna see the memorial built for them?” Sienna asked, back turned and arms across her chest. Dash closed his eyes. He had always clung to that plausible deniability. If he didn’t see it personally, maybe it didn’t happen. But now, he was face to face with the truth he spent his whole life avoiding. He was living in it. It was all around him. Only a small clinking noise got him to peek in between his fingers without removing his hand from his face. A freshly poured glass of whiskey sat in between the middle bars of his cell.

“Figured you might need that right now,” Sienna said, still facing away. She was about to take her leave before Dash stopped her once more.

“Sienna. You gotta at least do me one favor.”

“I don't have to do anything.”

“Tell Dawn what happened here. Tell her the truth. She deserves to know.” Sienna sat motionless before her shoulders raised and fell with a deep sigh.

“Fine. And by the way, I wasn't kidding Dash. If it means saving my friends and my brother, I will make your father's skull my personal cup.”

{some time later}

Why was this so hard? It was just a White Fang captain having to tell the bounty she scored that her dad left her here to die. Not like it was anything she couldn’t have figured that out by now. And not like Sienna was supposed to care. No one else wearing her mask would. But, it still ate away at her as she rehearsed what she was going to say in her head at least half a dozen times, just to shake her head and start over each time. The damned walk there wasn’t helping matters. It was already long enough to make Sienna wish to sink her butt into a bean bag chair every time she took it; the dread was only making it feel longer.

It seemed like no one hardly noted Sienna’s arrival into the room upon first glance. Dusty was leaned back in his chair, his mask doing the job of trying to obscure that he dozed off for a nap. The typing from the fennec fox faunus sat across from him was too soft to stir him. Their double monitor setup illuminated pale skin, a sandy reddish pixie cut, and a pair of fox ears that were the only thing getting them to clock over 5 feet tall. Even if their head was plain to see and not buried in work, they would fuzz even the most attuned gender radars. Dawn was actually the first to spot Sienna, though she did so silently. She stopped scribbling in her sketchbook, which was at least a couple dozen pages more filled than the last time Sienna noticed it.

“Finally relieving us from our post, Captain?” T asked without pulling their eyes away from the screens.

“Not yet. Just came to check on the girl,” Sienna replied before looking around. “Where’s Karma?”

“She got tired of doing action poses for the kid’s drawings, so she subbed me in. Kept telling me I’d make a good muse,” Dusty spoke up, revealing he’s awake.

“Yeah, if the brave hero needs to defeat someone sleeping on the job, then consider me inspired.” Sienna rolled her eyes. Her comment did little to rouse the Tango Squadron leader apart from sitting his chair back on all four of its legs. She wanted to expect more from both of them while on watch duty, but she knew she wasn’t going to get it. So, she ignored them and turned to Dawn, trying to play off the fact her heart was beating out of her chest. “Still not gonna talk to me?” Dawn shook her head. Sienna was just hunting for anything she could use to stall for time, even though she knew she should just rip the bandage off. Why now of all times was her trademark bluntness failing her? Eventually, her eyes fell to Dawn’s book, which the young socialite had lowered from her guard without realizing. On it was a drawing of her brother, the #1 on the back of his jersey proudly - or a lot of times, arrogantly - bolstered on his back. But instead of fighting some goon in a White Fang mask vaguely in the shape of her or Dusty or Karma, it was a man armed with a sword and shield that Dash stood over in victory.

“Wow, you’re getting better each time I see you. You really nailed your brother. Who’s the other guy though, an original character or something?” In a jolt, Dawn immediately pulled it back to her chest. Sienna sighed and dismissed her own question. Conversation was going to get her nowhere even if the small talk did work. “So… I heard from your dad just now.”

“Y-you did?? So he’s finally coming to get me and Dash?” Dawn said, finally perked up enough to speak. Sienna swallowed hard.

“Um. Yeah. Soon,” she awkwardly sputtered out. She wasn’t technically lying. She knew in her head one way or another, this was going to end soon. Neither the White Fang hierarchy nor her father were patient enough to wait on this for much longer. But, she couldn’t face Dawn with anything more than a mere half-truth. Not even Sienna’s claws could match the sharpness of the truth. However, there was no bright surge of optimism evident on Dawn’s face. Instead, her face mirrored her falling heart.

“Soon…? Th-that’s it? All he gave you is soon?” she said. She hung her head, hiding her face underneath her bright red locks. “I… I shouldn’t be surprised. Why would I be a priority? I haven’t been one since Dash left for Beacon. And dad hasn’t pulled himself away from his work since then.” At first, her words weren’t burdened with the weight of untamed emotion. She sounded unsurprised, more resigned to her fate than anything, which honestly hurt Sienna worse. But as she kept talking, the cracks became more visible. Her words trembled as tears began falling and staining the artwork in her lap. “I-I’m no heir. But Dash.. why would he leave us? Why would he abandon us to be left with terrorists??” Hearing this from her gutted Sienna, and it even brought Dusty to remove his mask and look over with concern.

“Is that really all they told you is soon?” T asked with a disgusted groan. “I knew this plan was a mistake, expecting the capitalist machine to pay up their precious money. We shoulda just offed the two of them.” Dawn finally looked up, her teary eyes now filled with a feeling none of her captors and even none of her family had seen from her before: defiance. She hummed a crayon over Sienna’s shoulder, drilling T in one of their fox ears. “You brat!” they growled after a flinch before rising from their chair. But the moment T took a step toward the cell, Sienna stood up with her hand aflame. Dawn reeled back and closed her eyes, but her fear of punishment was abated slightly when she saw Sienna was glaring daggers at her comrade.

“You lay a fucking finger on her and not even the High Leader is gonna stop me from turning your ass into fucking barbecue, got it?! She’s my responsibility! And I’m gonna handle it.” Dusty stood between the two of them, lightly pushing T away as their cue to leave. He knew even all 7 foot plus of him wouldn’t stand a chance of stopping the fiery fox. No one outside of the deep circles of hell did. Neither of them needed to, however, as she stormed out the room, leaving no one more astonished than Dawn at her surprise savior.

#rwby #rwby fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby oc #wf!sienna #flames of change #dash ospreay #sienna umberon #dawn ospreay #tone ospreay #dusty millaray #flames of change t

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captaindibbzy · 8 months ago

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I realise for people who have not been following me for so long they forgot a time I wasn't haunting their dash "my dad is getting weird shit off the Chinese" probably sounds bizzar.

Part of living with my dad is witnessing him go through phases, and some time ten years ago he got really in to Lazer cutters. While looking on eBay for things he got in touch with a company based in China that sells Everything. Just EVERYTHING.

They had something like 7 Lazer cutters just hanging around in a warehouse. When you order things from china it is exported and ends up in the UK it can not be shipped back to china, but by UK law they must accept returns of everything they sell online. So what do you do with all that stuff? Mostly it goes to landfill, but it needs to go somewhere first. You can't just ship it to the dump, and if they let you keep everything and gave you your money back it would be a bad business model.

So these Lazer cutters are sitting in a warehouse after being returned, usually for being broken but we'll get to that in a bit. Dad says, well you can send them to me, I'll look at them, see if I can fix them, and if I can I will. I'll sell them, and then I keep some money, you get some money.

Better than shipping things directly to the dump, so they say sure. He gets these Lazer cutters and for about a year our spare bedroom is full of Lazer cutters. And he does as he said, he checks them out, enjoys fixing them, or if they can be fixed he camabalises them to fix others. One I remember had a broken glass tube so the cooling didn't work, but it still had plenty of bits. He took it apart and sold the bits. He kept some money, and he sends the money on.

They get talking about other things in the warehouse and dad reaches this agreement with them where if they let him know they can send him electronics and he'll have a go at fixing them, and he'll sell them and split the cash.

Except it doesn't quite go like that. As mentioned they are Chinese and English is not their first language, so we start getting some Really Weird Shit. Memorable things include: a preserved rose, jewellery, a hammock with built in mosquito net, cheep lights (including one that has a hovering globe), and on one occasion a huge box of reusable physio bandages. Oh! There was the hoverboards. That was fun and also deadly.

Then one day they send us two pallets of projectors. I mean some poor sod in a lorry had to reverse down my very residential street to deliver two pallets to "the warehouse at [number][road]" which we are not. At which point dad gets in touch with them and says no, you can't just send me everything you don't want to sell yourself, or things that aren't electronic.

We have these projector's for years. We try selling the every which way. eBay, Facebook, giving them people. We saturated the local market with these projectors at a time when projectors themselves are very much going out of style as huge LCD TV's are getting cheep. We still have one or two somewhere in the house.

Things slow down for ages and we don't get many things for a while. We start getting letters though. Due to a change in UK tax law this company, which is more like a lot of companies in a trench coat, need a UK address to send mail to and dad does that. The letters come in and he sends them pictures of it so they can know what is said.

Then suddenly a few months ago they woke up from a hiatus that has been going on since the pandemic and started sending us things again. At first this is fine, electronics, things dad can fix. We've had half moon lights, phone screens, hair dryers, etc. Then the weird stuff starts creeping in again: the huge mechanical clock, the mirror made to look like a window. There's the very cute little kettle the other day. They sent dad a thermos for Christmas which was very nice, like an actual gift, not a return.

And today the rubber mouth with tongue that I do not want to Know.

I said above that most things are returned because they are broken, which is why they get sent here. Broken, dad fixes, then sold on. But actually most stuff that arrives comes in either perfectly functional order or cannibalised.

The working order stuff I figure people ordered cheep shit and wondered why they got cheep shit. Some doesn't fit UK regulation (the plugs on some of these devices! My god!)

But the cannibalised stuff is very interesting. Before we left the EU we'd get packages from all over Europe and Germany was the worst for this. People buy a device, take it apart, take out the part they need, then return it to the company saying the device doesn't work and they want their money back. Which they get, and we get the device. 👀 Sir. We see you sir. You cheepskate. Fixing things doesn't count when you're sending an identical one to landfill for the part.

And that's what I mean when the Chinese are sending us weird shit.

#personal

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shehungthemoon · 8 months ago

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WIP Ask Game

Tagged by my favorite @deadheaddaisy 🥰🥰🥰 This is gonna get long... RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

blood red and sweet as cherry wine

sentinel fic

bucktommy electric boogaloo

recruit rewrite coda!

clintnat fills

on the run scogan

Untitled Document (3 of these...)

alex rider 2

Nowhere Achingy Familiar, Still Nothing New

k/w breakfast for gael

n4 scog

how they love x

exorcist october

Haunted

g/m dance reinc.

OLD GUARD

chouse christmas magic magnus opus

ONE BED DRABBLE FOR PROJECT BLUE BOOK

Now that the war's over...

gunfire and shaking earth

Ok there are infinitely more but I'll just keep it at these more recent ones for now! Tagging ANYONE that sees this on their dash, not sure who all writes fic so it's an open invite! & @mirabilefuturum @vera-dauriac @mihrsuri @scare-ard--sleigh

#my fic #fic #tag game #jeez what's here #house md #merlin #mcu #alex rider #911 #im bored no more fandom tagging

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harpywritesfic · 1 year ago

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GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS! LADIES AND LAYPEOPLE, MORTALS AND IMMATERIALS, VAMPIRES AND VICTORIAN GHOSTS, GATHER ROUND FOR THE SECOND ANNUAL...

Today (October 29th) is my birthday, and to celebrate, I'm flooding the dash with Vampire Stephen fanworks! There'll be fics, art, and even champagne! (Kidding. I don't like champagne. There'll be cheese and pickles.)

I'll spam in bursts so no one needs to scroll past 20 vampire posts in a row. That's the plan, at least. If you'd like to be spared the madness, you can block the tag 'vampire day 2023'.

You have an open invitation to my inbox to throw vampire things (or other things) my way! Vampire tony is also welcome! Or werewolves or cats or anything. I'll even accept that cute vamp from baldur's gate 3. Ask me about vampire biology if you want. Send your vampire Stephen headcanons. Send songs I can put on my vampire playlist. Send anything halloweeny. Send pictures of your pets. Send bats or send Bats. Send me a functioning car. Send blood. It's all fair game.

Happy haunting, and stay spooky!

#yes the open invitation includes vamps. you are explicitly welcome #a celebration of myself might as well be a celebration of vampire stephen #welcome to the party everyone!#vampire day 2023

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professorlaytonpuzzlingprofessor · 2 years ago

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Submission Box Open for Statements!

Hello Hello! This is a Out of Character post for the Eye Avatar Arc! A big thing in TMA(The Magnus Archives) are Statements! How Archivists collect stuff for The Eye! so I'll be opening the submissions box up to receive Statements from the other rp blogs if they so choose!

This post is for General Info regarding giving Statements, and rules and boundaries! It'll also include helpful links for general knowledge! I'll put everything under a read more so I'm not taking too much space on your dash!

So the nature of Statements are someone telling The Archivist about a strange or otherwise supernatural events that have unsettled or haunted them. These events are tied to The Fear Entities. The Entities, also called the Fears, the Powers, the Dread Powers, and The Things That Were Fear are, well. Eldritch-like Beings that feed on fear. So! moving on, The Eye isn't the only Entity from TMA, and You all should know that! here's a link to The List Of Fear Entities in TMA. It also comes with other helpful info that should help, such as how they can manifest, objects linked to each Entity, etc! (Note: The Extinction, given its nature, will not be accepted as an entity related to a statement period.)

Now on the rp blog front, I know we have. some batshit stuff, and aren't the most serious rp community around.(Understatement of the century) So I am not gonna ask for 100% serious juice and make you stick to what is on the wiki. So you guys can get creative! Have alil fun! I know I've already deviated from what considered canon for TMA. That aside, Here's some other info that should be useful!

Hershel, having the Archivist Status, can Compel someone to give a statement or answer a question, and have it come out clear and eloquent, while speaking the truth.

Events from submitted Statements do not have to be something that has been talked about on your blog! Use this as an opportunity to character study! or Write a drabble! go ham!

There is some overlap with each Entity, so if you're writing something for the Web and you notice the Eye has something similar! Don't Sweat It! The Entities have been compared to colors sometimes clashing, sometimes blending.

I will be posting these, So I do ask that you do use the tags i've put in the submissions page for the sake of organization! so if need be the Statements can be filtered<3

Happy Statement Giving! Send an ask if you need anything clarified and I'll do my best to answer any questions! Also I will be updating this post with a FAQ if need be! Good Luck!

#ooc post

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networksupported · 1 year ago

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Toby, are you okay with me sending any of my muses to you? I forget who all your muses are so I'll have to refresh myself on them, but we haven't interacted in a while and thought I'd reach out!

@the-haunted-office

me, getting this message JUST as im writing a happy birthday ask to your guys:

AGDHD truly great minds think alike lmaoo

that being said, of course you can! i would've reached out sooner myself but i wasn't quite sure where i stood in the whole age section of your rules and i didn't quite feel confident enough to ask 😔-- no, but seriously, i'd love to rp with you again! i've been having a lot of fun watching your muses and their adventures and it's always nice to see you on the dash x)

pahaha. good luck trying to make sense of my muses-- even i don't know what's going on with them /hj no but if there's anything i can clear up about them ill try my best!

#my reply times are still not always the most...opportune but im certainly working on them being more consistent lmaoo #slowly getting there!!

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thirium-800 · 2 years ago

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Omg girl. I hope you don’t mind the like storm I send you daily ✨ I love that you’re able to find so much art that’s buried in tumblr!

For the getting to know…

First question is:

Okay, for real, what kinda music do you enjoy?

Is there a musical element in DBH that stands out to you? I love that you answered Kara for your character cause when I think DBH, I think of her soundtrack first, especially the intro song.

Is there a part of the DBH storyline that you wish could be different? If so, how would you like to change it? Could be a major plot bit or just getting to pet Sumo more!

Hello 👋🏻

Girllllll, absolutely NOT! it spurs me on 💙

I spend a lot of time browsing through old blogs digging out all the beautiful art and gifs I can find. I have an unholy amount of drafts 🤡 So it is LOVELY to see the posts being appreciated. I'll always try and reblog the original artist where I can too. It makes me so sad to see the blogs that have long since been abdondoned. There is so much beautiful art out there to see!

EXCELLENT gif choice 🤌🏻 anyone would think I had an obsession with Connor 👀 Not quite Knights of the Black Death but my favourite band of all time is blink-182. They hold a special place in my heart.

A musical element that stands out to me? It has to be Connor's Hostage level music 💙 I felt like I was there on that rooftop, in the future, doing crazy detective shit with technology that doesn't exist yet. I love that Nima Fakhrara used custom instruments and synths for Connor's tracks purposely for their robotic sound. It is just so fucking badass!

Kara's music always gave me a sense of melancholy. I think that is mainly due to the use of cellos? A beautiful instrument with such a haunting sound 💙 I also love the intro! Ahhhh it's just such a good game.

An element I'd change? So first of all, apologies to the Markus/ Jericho lovers out there but I found parts of the Jericho storyline a bit tedious 🙈 Finding it, making your way into it, finally getting there and then what felt like a whole lot of standing around in the dark? I also feel Josh's character could have been explored more too, being part of the main Jericrew. The inability to have Simon and Markus romantically involved is a travesty 🥹

That being said, some of my favourite interactions take place in the Jericho chapters! Lucy is bae and the Android who died holding Markus' hand genuinely shook me 💙

And definitely give Sumo ALL of the pets. Funnily enough, in real life I don't actually like dogs. If I saw a Saint Bernard in the street I'd be terrified. Definitely no petting 🙈

Sorry its so long, it appears I could ramble about DBH all day!

P.S. Thank you for the ask, I'm honoured. Your art is gorgeous and brings me joy when it pops up on my dash 💙💙💙

#dbh ramblings 🤣#Abandoned* not whatever the living fuck that typo says #Ask 💙

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butreverie · 2 months ago

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THE BESTSELLING AUTHOR & MEDIUM, IT'S CATALINA TORRES !

independent, fandomless, private oc based heavily on religious trauma, internalised lesbiphobia, & the concept of escaping your traumatising family home. renowned author & medium/seer catalina torres. | haunted by rach, 25, they/them.

╰─▸ i. bio | ii. stats | iii. verses | other blogs: @nocityfolk | dash only ! no under 21's or personals.

[ psst. rules below the cut !]

hi. i'm rach, they/them, lesbian, 25, australian. mutuals, please feel free to ask for my disco.rd for plotting/ooc chatting! personal tumblr available upon request, too!

SELECTIVITY: i’m selective which means i choose who i want to roleplay with and i won’t follow for follow. tldr; i'm mutuals only. please don’t let this deter you, as long as i can see our muses going somewhere, i’m likely to follow back! / please don't message me, send me asks, etc., if i'm not following you. i will block you.

CODES:��if you have a special code in your rules, i likely won’t send it. it can be kind of uncomfortable for me to do so but i can guarantee you that your rules will be read!

MEMES: memes are a great way to break the ice, and help build dynamics. i don't mind if you reblog them off me!

FORMATTING: i sometimes double-space and mostly use icons, but i'll occasionally match the formatting of the person i'm writing with. so if you prefer not to format or use icons, that's fine by me! i just ask that you use proper grammar and punctuation, and trim your posts.

RULES: following on from before, if i ever happen to break a rule, you’re free to pop into my ask & kindly tell me. i’ll make a note not to do it again. tell me gently and be kind, and i’m sure your sincerity will be returned.

IMPORTANT: if you ever need anything tagged, feel free to shoot me an ask, on or off anon, or dm me to let me know. i’ll keep your triggers in mind and make sure i tag them in future!

SHIPPING: i love shipping, & i would love to ship with catalina! i'm a big multi-shipper at heart, so she won't have a canon ship in her main verse. and while she's comfortable with her sexuality and with her lesbianism, she's hesitant to open herself up to love. i, however, am not & would love to ship with her!

USFW: this space will likely contain things usfw at some point, so i'll try to tag it as such when i can. side note but please feel free to send romantic/smut memes in if i post them, even if we haven't interacted. they're a great way to try out a dynamic, and i have a lot of fun writing them!

ETC: catalina is an old oc of mine from when i was 16, and she is very near and dear to my heart! that being said, i am not hispanic and i don't speak spanish, & much of catalina's experience being raised by religious parents is based on my own. if there is anything about my portrayal of her (as someone hispanic, mexican) that you feel needs correcting or is inaccurate to real experiences, everyone is always learning and i am 100% open to critic/feedback.

[ please don't follow if you're: homophobic, racist, transphobic, biphobic, anti-palestine, pro-israel, anti-semitic, pro-trump, etc. i'm not interested! same goes for harry potter fans/blogs. i don't have banned fc's, either, but please no known zionists, abusers, etc. ]

#misc / rules.#misc / ooc.

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nanaarchy · 1 year ago

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20 Q's for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @assorted-candy! Thank you sm !! :D

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

Currently have 4! (Technically 5, but the last one is a meme fic so we don't talk about it...)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

41,928

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Danny Phantom !! Though I do have some crossovers planned/posted, especially with DC Comics. The crossover potential of this silly little fandom is Crazy!!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

4. Either Way, It Ends - 54 Kudos - A rewrite of Danny Fenton's accident, from the perspective of one Ancient Embodiment of Death.

3. Frosted Flakes - 127 Kudos - This winter, something bizarre happened to Danny Fenton. Nobody (except Dash Baxter) noticed.

2. Phantom Phuckery - 635 Kudos - Danny Fenton is tired of keeping so many secrets. The Casper High School Class of 2008 Group Chat suffers the consequences.

1. Invisible Case - 721 Kudos - The Bat Siblings are tasked with an investigation on Vladimir Masters, famous billionaire businessman and mayor of Amity Park. Why is everything so suspiciously covered up?

5. Do you respond to comments?

All the time :D Send a comment and I'll do my best to reply!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oops... Only two of them are actually finished... but probably Either Way It Ends. But that's just canon angst. My WIPs, however...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

From my current posted fics, Phantom Phuckery probably will have the best ending happiness-wise. That's the whole idea of an "ideal timeline," right?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Very rarely !! Though, I have gotten occasional "you should have done This or That for a better ending!!" or "why have you posted This fic when you should be posting That fic?" It's very rare, and I usually delete them, but whatever. I'll post what I want. Every one billion years. At 3am. On a Tuesday. Don't tell me what to do >:)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Have written it waaay in the past? But never posted it. It was for a different fandom I'm not really part of anymore. Considering all the relationships in my current fandoms... it might never happen again lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

So... remember that one fic I mentioned? The 5th fic I wasn't gonna talk about? Yeah... My friends and I were playing a game called Frantic Fanfic. You basically make a random list of characters and you have 10 minutes to write a story, beginning-middle-end, with two of them. I posted the one I wrote, True Italian Pizza, between Super Mario and Five Nights at Freddy's. You can imagine how insane that fic is.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Never, thank goodness !! (Though if you do wanna use any of my concepts/aus/headcanons, feel free to! but Please let me know, I'd love to hear your takes!)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Technically no, but I did make art for My Roommate's Haunted??? for Invisobang! I also have two WIP fics inspired by art for Ecto-Implosion. I'm not sure if it counts, but still! :D

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I have several, tbh? in many fandoms. For DP, probably Everlasting Trio. But really, I'm a sucker for Eldritch!Danny - and thus, he has many hands. Many many hands for many many little guys. Crossover ships are my jam tho, like Anger Management (Jazz x Jason) and Brain Dead (Tim x Danny). Also Bad Blood (Dan x Jason) is criminally underrated.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Okay. WIPs. I'm currently working on a Lancer-centered fic, and I really want to finish it. I'm worried I'll never finish my Danny Phantom x The Magnus Archives fic - I started it but it's still really early in the process. I wanna continue working on it after Ecto-Implosion and after the Lancer fic, but I'm not sure I'll ever finish it. Tho after that, there's my Jekyll!Masters and Hyde!Plasmius fic. I haven't started that one, but I know that once I do I'll definitely finish it at the speed of lightning.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I love silly little descriptions of random tiny details that don't really seem important until you realize it was actually foreshadowing for something way larger later in the fic. I love myself some motifs and symbolism.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fucking dialogue. Don't get me wrong, the problem isn't characterization or tone or anything. But if I do start writing dialogue, it's really hard to build a scene around the words I want to say. It gets too wordy and too long back-and-forth, and I really struggle with dialogue pacing. I wanna get better at it ngl - it's always either 100% scripted dialogue or no dialogue at all.

Also how does one write sad scenes without being funny. I keep throwing jokes and puns around to make it less uncomfy to write. but it just ends up being funny. how can I not be funny

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

LOVE when characters themselves speak in another language. I like to include it in italics (and the translation in brackets if necessary!) Unless it's something like, the entire conversation is in a foreign language, then I might throw in a "oh and btw this is all in Japanese but protag's brain auto-translates it to english ooooh anime logic"

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Surprisingy? My first ever published works were entirely original (though I was 8 years old, and thus they were obviously Shit™️)

I think my first actual fandom fanfic was for Percy Jackson, when I was like,, 9??? 10??? It was very obviously a self-insert 2nd-gen fic, but it was silly goofy and surprisingly not terrible.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I like them all in their own way !! tho ngl?? Either Way, It Ends lowkey slaps so hard - it's a short one-shot and deserved better tbh. Writing it was really fun !! I love dif depictions of Death in media, so go read it if u can :>

here you go my beloved authors, anyone who wants can join the bandwagon :D

@funghifungi @underforeversgrace @dashing-through-ecto @hannahmanderr @probably-dead @scarletsaphire

20 Q's for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @dp-marvel94! Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

I've just posted my 22nd work a few days ago!

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

37,763

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far, all my published fics are for Danny Phantom. It's a fandom that's near and dear to my heart and my favorite to write for. I've written fanfiction for myself in a lot of different fandoms over the years. Miraculous Ladybug, Mega Man (Star Force, Battle Network) and Fire Emblem are a few. (Will these ever see the light of day? Probs not, lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 5. Frayed Ends - 37 kudos - Jazz and Maddie are fighting more often. Jack wants to reach out and help his family. 4. The Same Blood - 45 kudos - Maddie and Jack try to help a sick girl that collapsed in front of their house. They don't know what to make of her condition. Danny wants to help.

3. Returned Home - 49 kudos - Maddie finds Danny at home after he disappeared ten months ago.

2. The Broken Pieces Left Behind - 66 kudos (tie) - Maddie knew what the portal did to Danny. If she could create something that essentially turned him into a ghost, she could figure out a way to fix all of it. Even if she hasn't made any progress in the past two months, she'll keep trying. She didn't account for what Danny wanted. 1 . What's Out of Out Control - 66 kudos (tie) - Danny thought he had it under control. He thought he could finally hang out like they used to always do. Tucker could feel the rift between them widening. It wasn't getting smaller anytime soon.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! There were a few comments from my two earlier fics that I never responded to and it's already been so long and I feel like I ended up putting it off too long to say anything now 😓But I'm so so thankful for all the comments I receive! I never thought anyone would read my work, let alone comment on it. I'm always between two modes of 'author commentary' and 'screaming thank you and running away'.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Lol, I love my angsty stuff and there are so many different flavors of angst, so it's hard to pick just one. I'd say the piece I aimed to write for Angst Fest, The Broken Pieces Left Behind, might be it. It ends on a rather hopeless note for the Fenton family that even I don't know how to make everything better for them

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Home for a Cat. It was for a Ectoberhaunt prompt that I was absolutely stumped on. So I decided someone was going to adopt a cat by the end of the fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Ahh, so I actually posted a fic on FFN wayyy back when I was in high school. I remember it being received pretty well but I got a really rude comment on a simple spelling mistake. Back then, I was just told I had dyslexia a few years prior and I had some really bad self-esteem issues tied in with that. So, yeah, that comment basically made me terrified to ever show my work to anyone ever.

It's been over ten years since then and I wanted to actually get over that fear. I impulsively decided to do Angst Fest with the mindset that no one would even look at what I posted. Not only did people look, everyone has been so kind!!!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lkdajldkf, nope. I get flustered trying to write basic romance and having two characters hold hands, lmao. Major props to those that can, it's definitely a skill that takes time to master just like any other genre.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also haven't had this either.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but it seems like a lot of fun.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Back when the show was airing, Amethyst Ocean (Danny/Sam) was my go to. I'm a sucker for friends to lovers tropes and it's really nostalgic for me. But, I don't really read a lot of shippy things for Danny Phantom, so ships don't make or break a fic for me.

If I'm looking to read romance, the whole Love Square (MariChat my beloved) with Miraculous Ladybug will always be great. Even if I jumped ship on the show around season 2 or 3 and I have no clue what they're doing now, lol.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I honestly have so many WIPs that are unfinished on my computer from over the years. Maybe a super old one that I titled 'Phantoms in the Daylight'. Angst once more with Character Death as the main pain point. I like the beginning but oh boy, does it get sloppy and confusing real quick. I'd need serious outlining energy put into it if I'd ever want to salvage it and I just don't have it in me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! Give me two blorbos and I'll make them talk forever.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Scenery and description. I love the dialogue portion so much that I end up running into the floating heads in an empty room problem in the first drafts of my fics. My first round of edits are dedicated to making sure I have a scene and grounding characters into it. And then I have to go back later to make it not feel so robotic sounding.

(Also a weakness but more as in fic than writing. Summaries and Titles. I stare at my drafts on AO3's editor for at least half an hour trying to pull something together, lol)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I can probably talk about this for hours, lol. I absolutely love foreign languages, especially when it comes to linguistics. So, I'll try to be brief, lmao. Short answer: depends on the fic but normally no. I already spend so much time fussing over the word choice/slang/formality/dialect characters use in my native language. I don't have a good enough grasp on another language for it to sound natural to the reader. ("They would not fucking say that" is my internal monologue during dialogue edits, lol)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It's a toss up between Pokemon and Danny Phantom. I first learned about fanfiction from a friend who showed me FFN for the Pokemon fics. I looked around the site and found all of the Danny Phantom fics soon after and got hooked on those. I started writing around then and it would have been for one of those two.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard to chose one! Writing technicality wise, I'm proud of how What Remains on the Table turned out. I consider description my weak point, so the original draft was 0 dialogue with very stiff descriptions. I was able to edit it to really practice my environmental storytelling. (Although, please mind the tags if you click the link as it does deal with the dissection topic)

I'm not sure who's been tagged and I'm not sure who writes fanfic, so @lavendarlily, @fangirlwriting-stories, @grub-xd, @nanaarchy and anyone else that wants to join!

#tag game #fanfic authors #danny phantom #crossovers #wip #my wips #writing #really need to hop back on the nanowrimo train tbh #ananapost

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4dtk · 3 years ago

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op.47 (you're the space in between the notes) — gojo satoru

pairing: soloist!gojo x violinist!reader (fem)

summary: gojo satoru always had a place in your life, whether it's from the endless teasing at the age of ten to the dashing photoshoot of him with his violin in the concert you aimed to meet him again at. although when you're caught in a messy situation, your childhood friend's first solution is to announce that you're dating. and so you're stuck in this predicament: for you to figure out your feelings and for gojo to get one more chance. at what? even he doesn't know.

tags: fake dating au, extreme slow burn! + fluff, angst, unsure of whether i'll include eventual smut, mutual pining, cursing, two idiots in love, they're so oblivious please, LOTS of jealousy, childhood friends to sorta strangers to lovers, gojo is a little OOC since he already knew reader from before, gojo is so damn whipped for reader, tension like no other, someone save nanami he's had enough of these two, brief classical music references

word count: 31k as of now (i'm not done writing it lol!)

a/n: ep 23 will forever haunt me. this is the result of the never-ending thinking of gojo as a violinist. send me an ask if you want to be tagged! <3 side disclaimer, i DO play violin but i'm not super well-versed in the music theory terms. i'll be using the terms of classical musical structure as titles for each part but i can't guarantee they're correct D:

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @fiona782

i. theme

ii. exposition

iii. development

iv. recapitulation

v. cadenza

vi. coda

vii. ???

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dreaminpetals · 4 years ago

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COMMISSION: norton & naib watch their s/o bleed out on the rocket chair, then comfort each other after 🧲 🔪

norton campbell ;;

Your heart dropped to your feet when you heard the chime that indicated a survivor had been knocked down. You prayed as you decoded ー Please don't be Nor, please don't be Nor ...

Hearing a laboured "Focus on decoding!" confirmed your fears. It was muffled, distant, but distinct. Norton had been chaired.

The frantic hammering of your heart in your ears overtook your senses as you sprinted towards the chair, shouting to Helena that you were going to rescue him. Your heart overpowers your brain whenever Norton is in even the slightest ounce of danger. This was one of those instances. You should have thought twice before hurrying to his aid.

You exhaled a sigh of relief when you approached his chair and noticed there was no hunter to be seen. Norton however had the opposite reaction. His expression contorted into one of pure terror when he saw you were the one rescuing him.

"Leave me! Get away from me!" His words fell to deaf ears as you dashed towards him, arms open and ready to free him from his confines.

Everything was going smoothly until you heard the words that would stay with you forever.

"Jack is behind you!"

It was a trap.

In a heartbeat, your back was slashed open and you collapsed to your hands and knees.

"Lovebirds," Jack hummed, stomping on your wounded back, earning a scream from Norton. "Now, where's that decoder..." he turned on his heel and vanished to hunt down Helena with an unmistakable bloodlust.

You weren't panicking yet. You could simply heal yourself, andー

You were out of self heals.

"The hunter is near me!" Helena wailed from across the map, sending ice straight down the spines of you and your boyfriend. The fourth survivor had been eliminated already. There was no saving you.

Norton's entire body was wracked by sobs as you lay curled in a ball on the ground, writhing around in utter agony. If it wasn't for the bar squeezing him down into the rocket chair, he would bandage you up and press endless kisses onto your bloodied skin, his own safety be damned.

He had never seen anybody bleed out before. The Prospector has always managed to heal his teammates, his only punishments being faced on rocket chairs. In Norton's eyes, you were going to die.

"It's okay," you choked out, "I'll be... be..."

"You're going to die," Norton whimpered in the highest tone you've ever heard from him. He sounded like a child with the way his raspy voice cracked.

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he think bleeding out was fatal? Oh no.

You ached to explain to him that the worst consequences were comas that lasted no longer than a week, but you were losing strength. Fast. As your throat closed up, speech became more and more difficult. It felt as if glass was piercing your windpipe, concealing the truth from your guilt stricken lover.

"'Sall my fault... fuck, I love you, okay?" He hiccuped through strained wheezes for air.

'Don't say that... I'll be okay...' you yearned to respond, but each second the invisible weight on your back grew, crushing you further.

Although your vision was spotting and blurring, you could see Norton tremble where he sat. His fingers gripped the bar holding him hostage until they bled. He was using all of his strength to attempt to free you somehow.

With one final, ragged breath, you closed your eyes and succumbed to your injuries. Norton didn't scream like you thought he would. He watched you sink into the ground in utter silence, sniffing back tears and coughing sporadically.

Despite the agony you endured mere minutes ago, you weren't rendered unconscious like previous, less fortunate survivors. You could walk, albeit with jittery legs and a weight on your back forcing you down. Having regained some strength, you noted that you could speak as well. Every bone in your body was aching for you to find Norton and save him from his unnecessary grief.

You immediately captured Helena's undivided attention when you hobbled into the manor, leaving a steady red trail behind you. She wrapped your wounds up with the first aid kit she kept on her, the smell of blood that lingered in the air faded with every careful swipe of your skin. Since you were in the room for injured survivors, Norton didn't see you when he stormed back into the manor. His physical wounds were nothing compared to his emotional ones. If only Helena finished patching you up just a minute earlier, he could have seen that you survived far earlier.

"Norton is in your room, by the way," Helena began, patting you on the back to signal that her work was done, "in the one you share. I asked where he was going."

"Our room," you repeated to yourself under your breath. You thanked Helena and promptly headed to your room, legs carrying you as fast as they could take you.

You were out of breath once you reached your shared room. A series of knocks on the door were greeted with silence. You noticed that the static sobbing from the room paused for a moment, then resumed.

Twisting your key into the door and unlocking it, you saw Norton swiftly hide your shirt underneath your pillow. Was he trying to get the last of your scent before it faded away forever?

"So. You've come to haunt me too." He spat, burning holes into your face with his unwelcoming glare. "Just like everyone else from the mines. Fuck off."

"Norton, it's me,"

"You're only pretending to be them. Second I acknowledge you're not real you'll go away."

His words shattered your heart.

Approaching him with caution, you kneeled onto the bed beside him and placed your palm on his cheek. He leaned into your touch despite his harsh words, his tear streaked face dampening your hand. "If I wasn't real, would I be this warm?" You whispered as soft as your voice could manage to be. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared into your eyes, searching for any signs of life. Your eyes were too warm and full of adoration to be a hallucination, a ghost, a memory.

"How did you...?" he began, teetering on the verge of tears again.

"I'm hurt, but... I'd never die on you, Nor. It's okay. I'm here." You pressed a nurturing kiss to his nose and felt his face heat up underneath yours. Pressing your forehead against his, he felt no malicious intent from you, unlike all the other visions he saw of his deported loved ones. He felt nothing but love and kindness from you, the same way he's always remembered you.

"It's really you," he uttered your name like a prayer, voice flickering above a whisper, before enveloping you in his arms and pulling you snug close to him. He bawled into your shoulder, letting the warmth of your body comfort him after one of the most horrifying moments of his life. You could feel his snot and hot tears bubble on your shoulder but you didn't mind in the slightest. You were home, in Norton's arms.

You knew that for Norton to cry in front of you, he was wounded deep. It was rare to see tears fall from his eyes and to feel him cling to you, terrified of letting go. Between pants, you could hear him beg for you to stay and never die on him. His pleas were answered by soft hushes and gentle kisses.

Norton pulled away for a fleeting moment to turn you around and examine your wounded back. There was a rip through your top and underneath were bandages stained with dry blood. Helena did a decent job of patching you up, though she definitely missed a few spots. Norton pressed chaste kisses to the exposed skin, his silent way of reassuring you he loved you no matter what.

"I'll kill him for doing this to you," your boyfriend hissed, teeth ghosting along your flesh. "I'll make him pay." His mouth was still connected to your back, and he could feel you shiver in response to his words.

"Nor, you don't needー"

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. If anyone... if anyone ever does this to you a second time, I'll..."

"Norton."

Your sudden sharp tone caused him to freeze. Had he gone too far? His demeanour immediately switched and he pulled away from you, offering you a toothy grin to show he sincerely meant no harm.

You pulled your shirt back down and turned around so your calm eyes could meet his wide ones. "I'll be okay. I'm more worried about you, if anything. Come here." You patted your lap and the back of Norton's fluffy hair soon met your thighs. He laid down and began to rub the tears from his eyes, before you pushed his hands away and rubbed them into nothingness yourself.

He loved laying in your lap. Whether he was having flashbacks of past events, or if he was hurt from a match, laying his head on your soft thighs and gazing up at you with love never failed to calm him down. He felt so safe and warm.

"Have a little rest, Nor. I'll be here when you wake up." You rubbed calming circles into his hair as he nodded. His eyes closed, then opened again to ensure that you really were there and you truly were alive. You shushed him, both hands massaging his scalp until he drifted off into a comfortable sleep. He would do anything for you.

naib subedar ;;

"Naib's been containing the hunter for so long, you think we should help out?" Luca asked you as the two of you drummed away at a cipher machine together. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling yourself away from the noisy machine and overturning your empty pockets.

"I don't have any self heals, though. I'll shout if I need anything." This time it was Luca's turn to nod as he smacked the machine, steadily making progress towards your escape.

You roamed the abandoned factory for a few moments before hearing a distant yelp and the sound of someone falling to the ground. You followed the source of the sound to the factory, and the metallic clunks of Guard 26 carrying your lover to the basement made your skin crawl. This rescue was going to be tremendously difficult.

"Don't rescue me!" Naib managed to rasp as the hunter slammed him into the rocket chair. You could hear the pain in his voice even though he tried to mask it. It was always like Naib to hide his true feelings behind a cold front.

You knew Guard 26 chairing your only rescuer in the basement was a recipe for disaster, but you wanted to at least attempt to save him.

Hopping down the stairs, you were met face to face with the hunter. Their cogs whirred as they advanced towards you, and you stunned them momentarily.

"Oh, you're so stupid [Name]," Naib sighed as your fingers danced across the bar holding him captive. "Go back to where it's safe!" You ignored his cries and slid to the side, dodging one of Guard 26's strikes. The floor began to light up in an array of colours under you which you miraculously dodged, earning a gasp from your chaired lover.

Unfortunately, you weren't able to pull off the rescue of your dreams this time. You attempted to psyche out the hunter and trick them into hitting the chair, but their spiked bat met your side before you could pull away. Despite arriving without even a scratch, the impact of being hit as you rescued caused you to fall to your knees.

 Blood pooled underneath you and you gritted your teeth as you waited to be chaired, the pain overriding your senses and bringing tears to your eyes.

That relief never came.

The haunting dings of Guard 26 slowly dissipated as they hopped up the stairs to find Luca. There were several other chairs in the basement, why didn't they chair you? It must be in their wiring to save as much time as possible.

You clutched at your stomach, wincing as crimson bloomed on your shirt. Panic hadn't filled your veins yet. You applied pressure to your wound, using the same healing tactics Naib had taught you before. Your plan was to do all you could while you were downed, then call Luca for help at the last minute.

Until Luca was terrorshocked.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Naib's the second you both heard him collapse against the cipher machine. Anxiety began to set in, your movements growing more sloppy. You nicked yourself more often, and Naib noticed it too.

"Easy there... Deep breaths, all right?" He cooed, wriggling to free himself from the grip of the rocket chair. His struggles were unsuccessful, though. No matter how hard he tried to escape for you, the chair wasn't merciful whatsoever.

You felt your body grow numb as you lost more blood. You could no longer feel the cold tiles of the basement. To you, everything was cold. You scooched closer to the chair Naib was trapped in and extended a hand. "Naib, I... I can't feel my legs," although his movements were limited, he was able to wrap his hand around yours and squeeze it tight.

"You're gonna be fine." He was lying through his teeth. Naib could see the glassy look in your eyes, hell, as your hand quivered in his, he could feel the life draining from it. Your voice wasn't a comfort to him anymore, every word you spoke was full of agony and he wished you would stay quiet as to not worry him more.

Naib has seen this before. He's been pinned under debris, forced to watch a comrade succumb to their injuries. It's why he's the man he is today. Always self-sacrificing, never leaving anyone behind. Yet he couldn't extend the same behaviour to you... his lover was bleeding out in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do. He tried so desperately to hide the fear from his face, but a single tear slid down his cheek and his expression sunk when he felt you begin to fade away. As you melted into the ground, Naib cried out your name until there was nothing left of you to hold. Then he followed.

You were awoken by the sound someone scurrying towards you. Rubbing your eyes, you saw a flash of colour before an excited hand met your shoulder. "You're finally up. Can you walk?" It took a few moments to process Naib's words. As you scanned the room around you, you spotted bouquets of flowers and numerous get well soon cards.

"What... what happened to me?" You groggily asked as you gazed at your hands. They had been bandaged up with care.

Naib swallowed hard as he replied, "you've been out for around a day. I've been looking after you... hope you don't mind." As your vision adjusted to the bright lights of your room, you noticed his shirt had been discarded and his chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. Both of you were left bruised and battered from that hellish match, it seems.

Your heart soared as you thought about how much Naib must adore you to watch over you like that. Though he acted coolly as if his actions were no big deal, you could sense that he was still worried about you. He touched you as if you were made of glass and his usual scratchy voice was replaced by a soft, considerate one ー an attempt to ease your anxieties and make you more comfortable.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," his hand connected to yours and eased your weight onto the floor below you. You stumbled over your feet, but quickly met Naib's chest as his arms wrapped around your back. "Easy there, I've got you." He let you lean on him for support and helped you peel off your bloodied shirt before drawing a bath for you.

Naib kneeled beside the bubblebath you rested in, scrubbing your hair with his calloused fingers. It tickled ever so slightly, you couldn't remember the last time somebody had handled you with such care. His hands maneuvered around your body with precision and care as he washed away all of the dirt and dust that marred your skin.

A comfortable silence hung in the air until you decided to speak up, "what about you? Do you want me to wash you as well?"

Naib's expression softened when he heard your voice. "Iー uh, I'm good." His blunt response didn't match his gaze in the slightest.

"I can see you wince every time you lift your arms. And you smell."

"...Fine." He huffed in defeat, beckoning you to scootch forward to make room for him in the tub. You felt the water splash as he took a seat behind you and pulled you into his arms. "Hey. What you did yesterday... don't do it again, okay? I don't want you getting hurt ever again."

You turned over your shoulder to face him and he offered you a faint smile. It wasn't like his usual smug grins, it was more tender, something he couldn't get rid of upon seeing you awake again.

You could keep your head in Naib's warm chest forever, his steady heartbeat and the occasional ripples of water filling your ears. You were on the verge of falling asleep when you remembered that Naib needed to be scrubbed too.

Lifting his arms up above your head, you escaped his gentle grasp and turned around to face him. His expression was one of grumpiness after you slithered free from his arms, but the second you grabbed a loofah and massaged his skin his gaze molded into a loving one. His cuts had faded and closed up but they were definitely visible, and they looked like they hurt. A lot.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless, I just wanted you to get out safe." You whispered between fond swipes of his chest, really getting the soap in there.

He rested his arms on the edges of the tub, huffing in response. "When I tell you not to rescue, don't rescue, okay? Your safety's more important than mine." You attempted to object to his brash statement, but he shut you up with a kiss and stole the breath from your lips. Your lips remained connected for a few lingering seconds, and Naib deepened the kiss right as you expected him to pull away.

"...I thought I was going to lose you," he muttered against your skin, pulling away and pressing another, sweeter kiss to the corner of your lips. "Water's getting cold... let's get out," he drained the tub and scooped you up into his arms, bringing you to your bed and wrapping you up in a bathrobe. You were perfectly capable of dressing yourself, but Naib's must-take-care-of-lover instincts refused to let you do that.

He snuggled up to you from behind, nose breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. "Goodnight, love." And you dozed off in his arms, ever protective of you.

#norton campbell x reader #norton campbell #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines

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