#the ability to scramble and scamper and get where he needs to go

[reviewcycle]

the sparrow (sajin komamura x reader) part 3

words: 1k posted on ao3 first

previous part, masterlist.

after your close encounter with what could have very well been your death, your journey with the ronin is at a momentary pause. in the town you must resupply, as well as get new clothing for the warmer weather approaching.

a hard shiver runs down your spine at the thought of leaving the tree, and almost immediately jin's voice telling you to stay still and quiet echo in your head. but... you weigh your options. where was he?

you were beyond terrified, had even been warned, and yet… you were worried for him. maybe he could fit inside your hollow (of course he couldn’t, there was barely enough space for you). but the sound of that singular howl chilled you deeply.

taking a quick peek, your eyes scan the bright white snow, it was dark enough to be an issue, but bright enough for you to see jin was nowhere beneath you. body frozen still, you hesitate, moving from this tree could very well cause you the end of your life.

against your better judgement… you can barely stop yourself from scampering down the trunk. internally praying to whoever would listen that whatever danger was in the forest wouldn’t choose you next.

your feet crunch too loudly in the snow, and you take a quick look around, your breath coming in small, quick bursts, puffs of cold air forming small clouds.

the coast was clear, and honestly you felt a little silly, there was nothing! you give a small huff of laughter. your eyes go to the ground, seeing jin’s footsteps and following them. along the way you decide to use the bathroom, since all of your residual fear made it prevalent earlier.

refreshed and on your mission to find your traveling partner, you strain your ears, listening to the woodland noises (or the lack thereof). your best plan to get away from danger? climb the closest tree, use your sword for protection. and… wait for jin to find you, if it came to that. keeping your actual tree and campsite in your view, as dim as it was.

traveling along, you go in a deliberate circle, looking for any sign of him. until you step wrong, tripping over some uneven terrain- you curse, shooting upright, hand on your sword as you look around. truthfully, you weren’t the best at fighting with it.

your clan centered working with magical items- their manufacture, improvement etc. it was how you made your necklace, and it was a bit of a shame you would need to see a different specialist in karakura town to get help on honing its ability. however, a different branch of your family put an emphasis on fighting.

tracking your eyes back down to the ankle you rolled, you realize there's a giant paw print. wolf? no... bear, at least it was big enough.

instantly, you're on edge again, looking around quickly before booking it as much as you could in the deep snow without drawing any attention to yourself. the tree was so close, but you felt the sense of some sinister foreboding presence. like you were being hunted. not bothering to look back, and spurned on by fear, you push yourself faster, launching at the tree and scrambling upward as fast as you could.

right underneath you, a heavy thud, followed by a guttural growl. whatever it was wanted you. badly. you bite down on the inside of your cheek, drawing blood as you scrape yourself higher, praying whatever was down there wasn't a good climber or jumper.

you pray too soon, the jaws of the wretched beast get so close to your leg you can nearly feel the loud snap of it's teeth in your bones. with little ceremony you drag yourself into the hollow, forcing yourself into the back corner and pointing the tip of your blade at the opening. you would be ready for it. whatever it was.

*

your ankle healed up enough in jin's opinion finally meant you could restock supplies and get some warm weather clothing. since jin was your official unofficial escort, you both met up again at the tavern- he had been standing there waiting for you. sitting across from him at a wooden table, you nurse your stew, savoring the warmth, even though the flavor was a bit bland.

he had arranged to get his food sent up to your accomodations, obviously because he wished to keep his helmet on.

"so..." you probe, looking up at him through your lashes. "any news on the missing girl?" absolutely you had to ask, hopefully it lead him in the opposite direction so you could go to karakura on your own.

"yes actually, someone fitting the description had been seen heading in our direction." he seemed pleased, happy to restore a family of their lost member. if only he knew. the thought made your stomach churn. hopefully he never found out. you couldn't go back, not now. possibly not ever.

"that's great, i'm glad." though it was nice to not have to cook tonight or for breakfast since the tavern did both, you were quite honestly pretty satisfied despite your near death encounter.

"also, the keeper of the tavern informed me we secured the last available room, for a reasonable price as well."

cringing, almost on reflex, you reach for your coin purse to pay him the difference and he immediately denied you, ignoring your gesture. "don't be like that, sparrow. i almost left you to that.... beast. the least i can do is pay."

you're unmoved. "you carried me all the way to town." you whisper yell, not wanting the nearby tables to hear you. "i can't let you pay for the room!"

he shrugs, "you can pay for the next one." jin shut the conversation down with seven words, his thick arms folded across his broad chest. to shut up your stumbling, shoving some more stew into your mouth.

together you both head upstairs- jin to the room, and you decide a bath was in order, so you leave him to his devices- so he could eat. after your surprisingly lush bath, you knock on the door to the room.

there's shuffling before he opens the door, having to bend down a bit to see you clearly. he was too big, as usual. you duck past him, hearing the door close and you set your bag down before your eyes are drawn to the centerpiece of the room- the enormous bed.

the singular enormous bed.

[whatanoof]

I have a few corruption ideas in mind for cal and I'm just. Okay so like-- reader grinding on/teasing him, maybe while they're hiding in a cave or an empty room in an inquisitor base-- purposefully to the point where he can't hold himself back and he just cums right then and there 👀

Or-- reader accidentally projecting some very, very dirty thoughts towards Cal (bonus points if it's virgin!/inexperienced!Cal), and his reaction to said thoughts ;3c

Don't feel obligated to turn these into full fics or anything tho!! I just like to share my thoughts w ppl and see what they think abt it 🥰💛

SKDJFO THESE ARE GOLD I LOVE THEM.

Oh babe, this isn’t an obligation. This is my PLEASURE. Don’t mind me with my slightly force sensitive reader learning how to weaponize her inexperience against her very innocent boyfriend.

A/N: These turned out a lot more fluffy than I had in mind at first, and probably more so than you had in mind, anon. I'll to expand a little more on these, but I wanted to give you what I have now. More to come!

NSFW TOWARDS THE END 18+

You were two weeks into your relationship the first time it happened. It’s early morning on Bogano, the rare off-day where Cal doesn’t have to take a quest anywhere. The grass glistens in the early morning light, dew droplets sending sparkles of light through the air. You sit in the field, watching the sunrise with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a steaming mug of caf clenched tightly in your hands, gracing your morning with its fragrant smell. Happy chirps and beeps echo through the stillness of the morning as BD-1 scampers around the field, chasing a butterfly that’s been disturbed from its early morning food quest. It’s so domestic that it almost hurts. It reminds you of life before the Purge, when everything was better. Except, now you have Cal.

Not beside you of course, he’s actually the reason that you’re even awake to see the dawn. He stands stock-still in the grass several meters in front of you. He’s relaxed, breathing in the crisp dawn air, eyes closed against the rays of light beginning to conquer the horizon line.

Cere stalks back and forth in front of him, “Focus, Cal.” She hefts a round fruit in her hands about as big as her head. “Sense the life around you. What do you feel?”

Cal pivots slowly on the spot until he’s facing you. “I feel you. And her.” His brow is creased in that one spot between his eyebrows. You want to kiss it. 

“Not us, Cal. The life all around us. There’s a reason I chose Bogano for this lesson.” Cere’s disapproving tone is a common staple around here. The crew has learned to accept it as a sign of affection.

“A bogling. On the ship. It’s looking for food.” Cal says.

You smile. The newest addition to the crew has been nothing but a joy to you and a pain in the ass to Greez. It’s always stealing his favorite snacks and making a mess of his ship, if you count it’s tiny nest in the corner of the kitchen to be ‘a mess’. 

“Better. Expand, Cal.”

Then you feel something at the edge of consciousness, something familiar and strange all at the same time. It wasn’t so much a thing, but a feeling. A presence. If you had to describe it in words, you couldn’t. But if you had to try, it would be in swaths of color and emotions that blend and swirl in the invisible eye of your mind. It’s warm, reds and oranges and yellows fluttering against each other, tinged around the edges by blue, the same blue as Cal’s saber. Cal. The presence is undeniably Cal, the warm colors echoing back to his fiery spunk and stubborn affection. 

Your eyes open. When had they closed? Cal is right there, his hand stretched out in your direction. Cere watches cautiously, eyes flicking between you and him. You see her reluctance to interrupt the moment. 

As if called back to the ground by your distraction, Cal opens his eyes with a soft gasp. The presence retreats, fading from your short grasp as you try to chase it. Your gaze bores into Cal, trying to focus your mind on reaching back out to him. But you can’t.

Cere speaks, “That’s enough Force training for today.” She tosses the previously forgotten fruit directly at Cal’s head. “Think fast. Form V today.”

His lightsaber materializes into his hand, cleanly slicing the offending object out of the air in a single smooth motion. But Cal doesn’t hesitate for a single moment, flowing through different saber forms without difficulty. Cere calls a variety of commands, and each gives way to another attack by Cal. The saber moves like it is an extension of his body, like a deadly serpent that flickers in and out of the air.

This continues for a long time, long enough that you have time to finish off your caf. The drink warms your insides. Watching Cal working so hard to strengthen his connection to the Force warms your heart. Examining the definition of his shoulders and his muscular torso warms other places. Your eyes drift to his ass, emboldened by the illusion of ignorance. You allow your mind to drift. 

You and Cal started dating two weeks ago. There was an irresistible pull between the two of you, to the point where the crew forced you two to acknowledge it. Cal had been cautious, but permission from Greez and a blessing from Cere was all the encouragement he needed, because as he had said so eloquently, “Like you. I like you. A lot.”

And you like Cal. A lot. Nothing physical had happened beyond a single makeout session and more cuddle sessions than you could count. You know that he’s unsure about sex, and because of that you’re more than willing to wait for him to be ready. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look and daydream. 

Your gaze drags over his body, imagining for a moment how it would feel. What it would be like, to be allowed close to him to make him feel good. What his skin would taste like, how your fingers would feel threaded through his bright hair. The sounds that he would make as you go down on him. 

A gasp from the field snaps you out of the daydream. Cal’s facedown on the ground; all you can make out of him from here is the fringe of his poncho and his shock of red hair contrasting against the green environment of Bogano. You stand, hurrying over as Cere helps him up.

“Cal?” She's concerned, you can see it in her eyes even if she won’t verbalize it. You’re worried too. In all of your time aboard the Mantis, you’d seen clumsy Cal maybe once before, and that was because he was goofing off in an attempt to make Greez laugh.

He doesn’t respond to Cere. His gaze snaps up to you, and he says your name urgently. Your brow creases, “What?”

His face is flushed red, and he’s panting as he shakily kneels in the grass. “I think you’re Force-sensitive.”

---

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be easy!” He looks so earnest, like a kicked puppy dog. You avert your eyes. Looking too long means that you will fall prey to the terrible innocent eyes.

“I said no. What’s so hard to understand about that?” You cross your arms tighter over your chest. You know that arguing is futile. Cal is the most stubborn person you know, even more so than Greez and you have witnessed the intense food aggression.

“Babe, it’s one rock. You’re not going to get hurt.”

“I might when it’s going to be flying at my face!” Cere had insisted that you learn to control your Force sensitivity, at the very least so that you could learn how to guard your mind from others. But, she placed Cal in charge of your training. Merrin’s Force abilities were nothing close to what you could hope to accomplish, and you believe Cere’s exact words were, “It will be good for Cal to learn just how irritating training a Padawan can be.”

And so your Jedi boyfriend became your Jedi Master. It was quickly determined that your Force sensitivity was nothing close to the level of Jedi. Your talents extended to thought projection, minor thought detection abilities, and, as Cal had been so excited to learn, basic telekinesis. 

That had been an accidental discovery, actually, brought out of a session wrestling with the Mantis’s control board wiring. You’d lost concentration for a split second, and in a flash of light and electricity, you were nursing a burnt finger. Merrin was attracted to your area by the flash of light and pained cry, and was incredibly surprised to find you with various medical supplies hovering in front of your face while you soaked and bandaged your finger. And she’d snitched on you.

So now you’re on a no name forest planet, facing down your boyfriend who’s threatening to throw a rock at your head in order to force out your hidden telekinesis, because as soon as Merrin witnessed the feat, you’d lost all voluntary control over it.

“Cal, this is a bad idea.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yes. Leave me alone. I can shield my thoughts now, that’s all I wanted to do.”

“Oh come on. It doesn’t excite you even a little?”

It does, but not enough that you’d be willing to have a rock thrown at your face. You roll your eyes and throw your hands up, “I’m going back to the ship.”

But as soon as you turn, something sparks on the edge of your conscious mind, and you whirl with an outstretched hand. The rock sails past your fingers and bonks you on the forehead. You clap a hand over your head as pain throbs at the point of contact. “Ow!”

You whip your head up and glare at Cal, who’s standing there, mouth agape and eyes so wide that you can see the whites from here. When he meets your eyes, he shrinks back and turns to run.

“Cal Kestis you are going to pay for that!” You lunge after him, nearly tripping over a root as you scramble after your soon-to-be dead boyfriend. 

He disappears around the corner of the clearing with you hot on his heels. Trees tower over your head in every direction. The only thing interrupting the perfect vision of nature is the dorsal fin of the Mantis spearing up into the sky, guiding you to safety.

And Cal’s running away from it, leading you further into the forest. Branches whip at your face, but you can’t pay attention to them when you’re focusing harder on not losing Cal as he ducks and weaves through the foliage with all of the ease of a jungle cat. Then you round a corner, and he’s gone. 

You’re gasping for breath as you stumble to a stop in the midst of the forest. Damn it Cal. You want to rest, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow Cal to get away with this. He knows that if he gets away now, you’re probably going to be cooled down by the time he gets back to the Mantis, and you can’t have that. You tamp down your anger. Gather yourself. Feel the world around you. Now hold it at arms’ length. You bring your mental shields up slowly, guarding yourself and calming your racing heart through a few deep breaths. Then, you let the barriers down, allowing the world to rush back into your mind. You exhale slowly, combing through the sensations like Cal had taught you, searching for the presence that had become so familiar over the past few months. There!

A flash of warm colors in the midst of the muted Force signatures of plants.

You whirl, scanning the tree branches above you in time to see Cal make a break for it. He’s overhead, about ten feet off of the ground and running along a tree branch so gracefully that it seems like he’s skimming across the air. He’s heading for a vine. ‘Sneaky little--’

‘Sneaky little what?’

You gasp as he teases back through the Force. Your brow sets in determination, and you narrow your gaze on the vine that he’s reaching out for. You settle on it, and reach out. Your consciousness brushes the vine, pulling it just out of Cal’s reach. His outstretched fingers close just short of the vine, and he loses his balance.

He hits the ground with an oof and you plant a foot on his chest. “Sneaky little laserbrain.”

“Babe you did it!” He grins up at you, unrepentant and ruffled from the mad dash through the forest, “Don’t you love your amazing boyfriend who just helped you to learn another Force trick?”

You smile, “I do. But--” you press harder on his chest with your boot, “--you’re still going to pay for that.”

He groans, “I just paid by falling out of a tree. How else would I make it up to you?”

Without your bidding, ideas leap to your mind. “Oh, I have some.” Cal, between your legs and making you cum with only his mouth. You, on your knees for Cal against one of these trees. Riding Cal back on the Mantis, topless and gasping his name as he brushes up against that one spot inside of you that makes you sing. You don’t project them, but you’re aware that your shields aren’t up, and Cal’s Force presence is hovering on the edge of yours.

Cal’s face reddens as he gapes up at you. All of this time, and he still gets worked up at the bare idea of you naked. It’s a little cute. He springs to his feet, “Let’s go back to the ship.”

You hum, looking at him thoughtfully, ‘We don’t need to go back to the ship for a couple of those.’

He chokes, and you smile as you grab the front of his poncho and back him against a large tree. This is going to be fun.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || iii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause? iwaizumi made a decision for you. but, life goes on. 

warnings: f!reader, Emotions 

wc: 4.6k (i’m so sorry we had a lot of ground to cover)

m.list | ch. 2 ↞ ch. 3 ↠ ch. 4 

last time...

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

✧ ✧ ✧

“He disgusts me,” Amaya shivered, angrily shoving a spoonful of strawberry kakigori into her mouth. “Piece of—”

“It was ages ago,” you sighed, picking at the mountain of flavoured ice in front of you. “It’s not that important…”

“Yes, it is,” Amaya leant forward across the table. “It’s his fault, right? He kissed you.”

You bit your lip, giving your friend a pitiful look.

To say it was ages ago wasn’t quite a lie. It was finally the summer holidays, and it’d be a few months since that fateful afternoon.

You hadn’t wanted to spend your summer break thinking about this sort of thing. It felt like a waste of emotional energy.

But you just couldn’t get it out of your head.

You kept replaying the same few moments over and over in your mind – the kiss, the morning after it, the conversation…

“In my humble opinion,” Amaya sighed, preparing herself another scoop of kakigori, “I think he should answer for what he’s done.”

“Please don’t say anything,” you whined, reaching across the table and grabbing her wrist. “Don’t do anything, either. I don’t want to cause a mess.”

“He’s the one who caused a mess,” Amaya huffed, dropping her spoon into the kakigori bowl. “You have a right to be pissed.”

“I am pissed,” you sighed. “It’s just… I kind of get where he was coming from, you know?”

“No.”

“Well, like—” You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear your mind. “If we’d broken up, that’d make things really awkward.”

“Isn’t it already awkward?”

“I… yeah…”

“I just think he could’ve gone about it better,” she shrugged. “That’s all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, twirling your spoon between your fingers. “You’re right about that, at least…”

Amaya watched you for a moment, pursing her lips together. You knew what she was thinking. That was reason enough to fear any potential advice.

“Date someone else,” she suggested. “Maybe that’ll help you get over him.”

You grimaced, cursing her for being able to read your mind. “No thanks.”

“Why not?” Amaya asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Yahaba seems to be into you.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Ew, no! He’s on my brother’s team.”

“And?”

You shot your friend a dithering look. “That’s the problem, Maya,” you scoffed. “If Iwaizumi’s not ‘good enough’, then I doubt anyone else on the team is.”

“Did your brother say that?” Amaya gaped.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But that’s what Iwaizumi implied.”

Amaya scoffed, screwing up her nose. “Men aren’t worth it.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s true…”

“And men,” she said, pointing a finger directly at you, “don’t deserve you.”

“You know what?” You grinned, tilting your head at her. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” she replied, waving a hand at you.

You sighed, stretching your arms above your head. “Besides, if I end up going to America, I don’t want to deal with a long-distance relationship,” you grimaced. “Sounds tough.”

“What, you wouldn’t fight for love?” Amaya teased, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

You stuck your tongue out at her, screwing up your nose. “Shut up.”

Amaya giggled, looking down at her phone screen.

You took the opportunity to treat yourself to some of the kakogiri. The two of you had barely made a dent in it.

Amaya dropped her phone back into her pocket, tilting her head at you. “Hey, aren’t those qualifiers coming up soon or something?”

“Hm?”

“For your brother’s volleyball,” she shrugged. “You said something about going to nationals?”

“Oh, right!” You perked up, nodding. “If they win these preliminaries, they’ll finally get to go to nationals.”

“This is your brother’s last chance, right?”

Your stomach sank a little. “Yeah. He’s… he’s been working really hard.”

“Really hard?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or too hard?”

“What do you think?”

She sighed, placing her hands in her lap. “Right.”

You pressed your lips together, frowning.

“Hey, hey,” Amaya hummed, leaning over to flick your forehead. “Try not to think too much, okay? We’re supposed to be having fun.”

You smiled at her weakly.

“No more talk of boys,” she decreed, waving her spoon at you. “They’re a waste of time anyway.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There might be a thousand other places you’d rather be than outside Seijoh’s gym. But, you’d come to the conclusion that God hated you, and therefore would take any opportunity to submit you to some kind of punishment.

Tonight, it was this – standing outside a gym where a mass of sweaty teenage boys congregated, one of which was your brother, and another the Iwaizumi Hajime.

Tooru had always finished practice late, but this was just ridiculous.

Initially, you’d been content with walking yourself home after class, asserting that you were grown up enough to trawl the streets of Miyagi without a chaperone.

But recently, you’d signed up for the student council. You were surprised they let you in so late in the year,

Your parents had been chuffed with that, proclaiming that you were “finally showing some initiative” and that it was “a great way to teach you some responsibility.”

You hadn’t told them that the real reason you’d joined was because you were worried about Tooru.

You peeked inside the gym, eyes scanning the brightly lit hardwood for any sign of your brother.

You didn’t bother to check your watch. It was far too late in the evening for that anyway.

The boys were scrambling around on the court, jumping and spiking and all that volleyball stuff. You managed to catch sight of your brother, who, by your observation, was very much in the zone.

Perhaps maybe it would be okay for you to sit in on—

A flash of spikey hair was enough to make you recede, drawing yourself back into the dark.

You sighed, turning around and slumping yourself against the wall. Somehow, you felt even more exhausted than before.

Fuck this.

Fuck school and all it’s damn responsibilities.

Fuck your brother’s determination to overwork himself until he’s falling apart at the seams.

And fuck Iwaizumi Hajime.

Maybe you should just head home. Tooru would come home eventually, and…

No. That defeated the point.

You’d just have to wait it out, Iwaizumi Hajime be damned.

A few more minutes passed. You heard who you believed to be the coach call out an end to practice, followed by a resounding “Yes!”

You sighed, checking your watch. Seven o’clock. Even that would be considered a late practice.

Usually Tooru would usually wave the rest of the team out, spending the next hour on his own.

But not tonight.

You scampered through the gym doors, making a beeline for your disaster of a brother.

“Hey, Oika-chan!” A voice called out, making you stumble in your approach.

Ah, Matsukawa.

“Hey,” you waved absentmindedly, unsure of how exactly to process that nickname. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue

“Stop calling her that!” Tooru yelled from the other side of the gym. “It doesn’t even sound cute!”

“You’re just jealous,” you shot back instinctively. “You just wish you were me.”

Tooru scoffed, ready to launch into a new tirade.

But you weren’t listening to him. Against your best efforts, your eyes sought out Iwaizumi. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Ouch.

Sure, you’d be avoiding him as best you could; finding excuses to be in your room or out with your friends whenever he was round at your house, always positioning Tooru between the two of you whenever you were forced to spend time with him... But, that didn’t stop it hurting. 

You shook off the disappointment and continued your route to Tooru.

“Oi,” you barked, jabbing a finger at him. “Hurry up. I’m making dinner tonight and you’re going to enjoy it.”

Tooru screwed his nose up at you, grimacing. “But I still need to practice.”

You came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his elbow. “Too bad.”

“Aw, don’t complain,” Matsukawa grinned, suddenly appearing and looping his arm around Tooru’s shoulders. “We don’t all have a cute girl vying to cook us dinner.”

“Ew!” Tooru shrieked, shrugging off Matsukawa’s arm. “Don’t be gross that’s my sister!”

“I slave over the countertop for you and you don’t even have the decency to respect my efforts,” you scoffed, deciding to ignore Matsukawa’s half-compliment. You weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“Just stick it in the fridge,” Tooru sighed. “I’ll heat it up when I get home.”

Agitation brewed in your stomach, your mouth turning dry.

If he stayed here, he’d just overwork himself like he always did. And he’d come home sore and exhausted, bandages on his fingers and bags under his eyes.

But the prefecturals were so soon. If he wore himself out now, he wouldn’t be able to play to the best of his ability.

“Tooru, that’s not fair and you know it,” you whined. “Please.”

He tutted at you, shaking his head. “Now, now, as the older sibling, it’s natural law that I know be—”

“Hurry up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbled, coming up behind Tooru and kneeing him in the back.

Tooru yelped, stumbling forward and out of your grasp. “Iwa!”

“We’ll clean up just fine without you,” Iwaizumi muttered, stepping away from your brother.

He caught your eye.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he going to speak to you? Acknowledge you? Make you feel like things weren’t as weird as they were?

He just gave you an almost imperceptible nod.

You gave him a small smile in response despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Of course, Iwaizumi understood. He probably understood better than you did.

“Come on,” you whined, grabbing Tooru’s elbow and yanking him towards you. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, dragging him towards the door. After a small scuffle he grabbed his bag, whining about how he was still in his sweaty gym clothes.

You waved off his concerns, telling him it was his own fault. Mustering all your strength you managed to push him outside, reprimanding him for wasting so much of your time.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time as you left. You weren’t quite sure why.

But Iwaizumi met your gaze for just a moment, his jaw tense.

That look stuck in your mind for the rest of the evening.

✧ ✧ ✧

The last thwack of a ball on the court.

Your brother, body half-twisted and arms outstretched, fighting to the very final second.

Everything the team had worked so hard for, gone. Crushed.

All those hours, all those late nights spent practicing, all the sweat and grief and band-aids.

All meaningless.

It was written on their faces. Regret, disappointment, shock.

And Iwaizumi. Poor steadfast, honourable Iwaizumi.

You’d never seen him cry. Never. But there he stood on the court, doing everything he could to hold back the tears.

You couldn’t even guess at what was going through his mind: probably some guilt about letting everyone down, for not being the best version of himself for the team.

You hoped, for his sake, that nobody else was paying attention to him.

Tooru patted him on the back. A firm, solid slap.

Even you could tell how much meaning was in that one gesture.

You gripped the barrier tightly, your knuckles beginning to ache. You watched with bitterness on your tongue, ready to cry the tears that Tooru refused to.

By the time you meet the team outside, you knew he didn’t want a hug. Even if you wanted desperately to give him one, he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s too angry for that.

You don’t know what to say; he’s worked so hard for this.

They all have.

And now they have to walk away from it all, no real victory to their name. Oikawa Tooru – destined for greatness, but yet unknown outside of Miyagi. He never did make it to nationals.

You bit your lip, regret and frustration and sympathy twisting in your stomach. There’s nothing you could’ve done, but by God you wished you’d done more.

Something. Anything.

But you’re just his little sister, a girl with nothing to offer. You hadn’t even stepped into the manager role when he’d asked you to in your first year. You’d been so distant from this world of his, a distance you’d only widened since that little hiccup with Iwaizumi.

You turned to the team, racking your brain for the appropriate thing to say.

You bowed. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

It felt empty, but you meant it. You knew that most of all, Tooru was proud of the team. Proud of what they’d built together.

It’d been three years of pain, but they’d done it together. And you knew, deep in your heart, that they’d given their all for him. That, at least, you were grateful.

You didn’t say goodbye.

Your fists are clenched at your sides as you exit the building, rushing home on aching thighs. You hadn’t even realised you’d been tensing so hard during the game.

Thoughts stumbled through your mind on the walk, trying to sort themselves out.

Should you have said something to Iwaizumi? Offered him some comfort?

He was obviously shaken by what’d happened. But perhaps that would’ve been stepping over a line. Maybe it would’ve made him uncomfortable.

And yet, you regretted not addressing him. He, more than anyone else, had given everything for Tooru.

His time, his sweat, his heart.

He couldn’t give anything to you because…

You swallowed, shaking your head. Now wasn’t the time to feel bitter.

Once you walked through the front door, you raced to the kitchen and rifled through your cupboards.

Bread flour, yeast, sugar…

A peek in the fridge.

Milk, butter, eggs.

You set everything on the counter, clattering around in your cupboards until you find a bowl, a whisk, a wooden spoon and a baking pan.

Your next few hours are a flurry of measuring ingredients, kneading dough with aching thumbs, checking oven temperatures and waiting.

You did all sorts of things to distract yourself during the waiting period: cleaning, reading, homework, laundry. But you could only do them in spurts, little five-to-ten-minute blocks until your anxiety returned.

You’d have to sleep this off.

By the time the oven finally pinged, letting you know you were finally free of your baking duties, you were exhausted.

But you rushed back over to the oven and took out your loaf, inspecting it once over. It looked okay – not as good at Kaori’s, but passable. Hopefully it tasted alright. You didn’t have the guts to check.

You let it cool as you grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled out a little note.

“Good job today, you asswipe. You inspire me to work harder and go farther.

I’m so proud of you.”

You bit your lip, looking it over once. Is it sensitive enough? Is it too sensitive? Would it bring him comfort? Would it piss him off?

Hard to say.

You sighed, folding it over so it could prop up like a tent.

You cut off a third of the loaf, still hot, and plopped it on a plate. You wrapped the rest of the loaf up and placed it in the bread holder. Perhaps you’d have some tomorrow.

Tooru’s room, usually a place that was very out of bounds, was the next stop on your anxious little trip around the house. You placed the plate on his bedside table, propping the note up next to it. Hopefully this would make him smile, even if just by a little.

But you didn’t want to wait up to see.

The comfort of your own bed was calling you, coaxing you into an early night’s sleep.

You laid down with a sigh, unsure of whether or not you could be bothered to have a bath.

A little suggestion crawled through your mind, dragging itself along by it’s fingernails.

You tried to shoo it away. It was a terrible idea, really. One that was bound to end with you feeling quite shitty.  

But tonight wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about your feelings.

You sighed, picking up your phone from the bedside table.

Hey, you typed.

[YOU] 7:31 PM: I hope you don’t mind me texting you like this, but thanks for looking after Tooru so well.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at the name “Iwaizumi Hajime” at the top of your screen. Taking a deep breath, you tapped the blue arrow.

The message slipped into the grey space above, into the train of messages that hadn’t moved in months.

You stared at it a moment longer, fingers flitting anxiously around your screen.

Oh, fuck it.

[YOU] 7:33 PM: And thanks for being the best Ace he could’ve asked for.

It’s not what you wanted to say. It’s not what you feel like you should’ve said. There’s so much more, so much left unsaid.

But tonight isn’t about me, you reminded yourself. It’s about him. About them. About all they’ve been through together.

You waited a few minutes, heart hammering in your chest.

A response.

[Iwaizumi] 7:37 PM: Thank you.

[Iwaizumi] 7:37 PM: I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Argentina?” You hissed. “But that’s—”

“On the other side of the world,” Tooru shrugged. “What are you so mad for? You’re the one who wants to go to America.”

You had nothing to say to that. The two of you were sat at the breakfast table, your pieces of toast left untouched.

When Tooru had told you he wanted to talk to you this morning, you hadn’t expected this.

“When do you leave?” You asked, a lump forming in your throat.

“Soon,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to work out boarding and whatnot.”

“So… you’ll leave as soon as that’s sorted out?”

“That’s the plan.”

“It’s like you’re rushing out of here,” you mumbled, picking at your nails.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he grinned. “I’ve just got to make sure I can get ahead. The sooner I start, the better.”

You looked up at him, frowning.

He wasn’t the little boy curled up in the bathtub anymore. He’s a young man with the tenacity to form his own destiny, circumstances be damned.

This day was bound to come.

But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

✧ ✧ ✧

A week passed. And then a month.

The year ended before you knew it. The festivities rolled on, but not without a hint of melancholy.

Each New Years celebration was tainted with the realisation that, after he left, chances were you wouldn’t see Tooru again until the same time next year.

You returned to school for the third semester and everything seemed like it was moving in fast forward.

It’s well and truly changing.

Student council swallowed you up, your family made a point of spending as much time with Tooru as they could, and life plodded on.

And before you knew it, you were standing at the airport at five in the morning, your parents to one side and Iwaizumi to the other. Your older sister, Kaori, was also there, hand-in-hand with your nephew.

For a farewell, it was quite the turn-out.

“Well,” Tooru took a deep breath, looking between the small crowd of faces in front of him. “You all better miss me.”

“Don’t push your luck, Tooru,” Kaori teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tooru tutted. “Almost sounds like you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“I am,” your nephew piped up.

“Takeru!” Your mother chided. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s fine,” Tooru grinned. “He obviously just doesn’t know what else to say.”

Takeru simply stuck his tongue out at your brother, who just laughed as he stepped forward to ruffle his hair.

Tooru turned to you, grinning. “It’s now your job to take him to volleyball practice.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Really, that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, hopping towards you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You be good, okay?”

“Always am,” you mumbled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Study hard,” he hummed. “And don’t talk to boys.”

“Tooru!”

“I’m serious!”

“Don’t worry about me,” you huffed. “Worry about yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, pulling back. “Stop being such a worry-wort.”

You pouted at him. “Stay hydrated or I’ll kill you.”

“You know I will,” he tsked. “Which one of us is the athlete?”

“And don’t overwork yourself,” you continued, “or I’ll crawl out of the TV like Sadako and drag you back to Japan.”

“You know what?” Tooru grinned, letting you go. “I fully believe you’re capable of that.”

“Be afraid.”

He ruffled your hair; a sure signal that your conversation was over. You bit your lip as he moved over to talk to Iwaizumi. You tottered around to where your sister was, wrapping your arms around her waist – partly to give Tooru and Iwaizumi some privacy, partly to seek out some comfort.

She chuckled, standing on her tiptoes and propping her chin on the top of your head. “It’ll be okay.”

“Hm?” You blinked. “Oh, I’m not sad. Not at all.”

“You sure about that?” Kaori chuckled.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Glad to be rid of him, actually. It’s my turn to get the biggest bedroom.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to text me, okay?”

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“And visit me more often!” Kaori chided. “I feel like I don’t see you enough.”

“I’m sorry,” you whined.

Kaori was right about that, at least. You’d spent the past few months focusing on Tooru, and before that, you’d been moping about Iwaizumi.

Some sister you were.

You peeked out the corner of your eye at the two boys you’d just fled from.

They were fist-bumping. Why they couldn’t just get over it and hug one another, you’d never know.

Especially seeing as this would likely be the last time they saw each other in a very long while.

Even if this was what Tooru wanted, even if this was a decision made on his own merit, something about it still felt off.

You want to be happy for him. You want to celebrate this new chance, this opportunity to make a name for himself outside of this tiny prefecture. But the melancholy wouldn’t budge; it’s like it’s rooted itself deep amongst the marrow of your ribcage.

You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself.

You needed to be happy for him. And if you couldn’t, you needed to fake it.

“Alright,” Tooru sighed, addressing all of you as he stepped back and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. “I’m off!”

“Call us when you get there!” Your mother called after him, her eyes glassier than they were moments earlier.

“Will do,” Tooru called back, waving a hand over his head but not turning back.

“Make sure you eat well,” Kaori yelled. “Like I taught you!”

“I will, don’t worry!” Tooru called, ever more distant.

You wondered if there was anything you could shout out, anything you could implore him to do. But nothing came to mind that you hadn’t already said. But even that didn’t feel like enough.

Tooru passed through the gate, turning around to give you all one last wave.

He was so bright, so brilliant.

He always had been. But it was as if passing through that airport gate had freed him of the roots twisted around his ankles, finally allowing him to fly.

You frowned. What a stupid thought.

Once he was out of sight, your parents sighed.

“Alright, everyone,” your father yawned. “Time to go.”

You shuffled out of the airport in silence, your eyes cast to the ground. You lagged a few steps behind your family as you let your thoughts consume you.

How was this all going to work out?

It wasn’t like Tooru was just leaving for university. If it was just for education, there’d be a time frame. But he hadn’t given your family any of that.

He was just… going to Argentina. For how long, he couldn’t say. Would he be gone one year? Five? Ten?

Was that really for the best?

But he seemed optimistic. Maybe this would be the opportunity he needs. Maybe this would change everything.

“He’ll be fine.”

A voice over your shoulder made you jump. You turned to see Iwaizumi, a look of genuine concern on his face. You hadn’t even noticed him come up behind you.

“He always finds a way to land on his feet,” he said, digging his hands in his pockets.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m worried about him.”

Worried about his safety, worried about his health, worried about his tendency to overwork, worried about the possibility he could be lonely, worried about his sense of self, worried—

“But, if he’d just stayed here, he’d never be satisfied.”

You paused, looking up at him. Iwaizumi was staring ahead at the early morning sky, something relaxed in his features.

“He’s got to keep pushing forward, no matter what,” he continued, looking at you. You caught your breath, but you didn’t look away. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for his losses.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

He was right. Iwaizumi was always right when it came to Tooru.

And you were grateful. Of course you were.

But a nugget of regret was buried deep in your heart.

Iwaizumi wasn’t worried about Tooru at all. He believed in him, trust him to go forward.

And yet you don’t feel the same. You can’t.

You can’t have the same faith in your brother because you don’t know him well enough.

Maybe you never would.

✧ ✧ ✧

More time passed.

Your holidays ebbed by in a haze, a flurry of friends, family, serious conversations about your future, and a little bit of snow.

You were trudging home in the waning afternoon after a day out with friends when you saw him. He was coming back from the opposite direction, bundled up in a jacket, with a scarf slung haphazardly around his neck and beanie pulled low over his hair.

You wondered if he’d bothered spiking it up this morning.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi raised a hand at you in some paltry greeting.

“Hi,” you nodded, slowing to a stop in front of your house.

He looked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Admittedly, that was usually how he looked at you.  

“How are you?” It was a simple question, but you were more curious about it than you’d like to admit. The two of you hadn’t spoken since Tooru left, your interactions limited to brief nods and hellos if you ever happened to bump into each other in public. Nothing deeper than that.

“Good,” he said, finally breaking eye contact as his gaze flitted to the ground. “I, uh… I leave for uni tomorrow.”

Your heart stopped in your chest.

Iwaizumi was leaving too, huh?

Not that there was much of a friendship for you to miss. But something about him leaving really solidified it all.

Tooru had left to pursue opportunities much bigger than those offered to him in Japan, and now Iwaizumi was off on his own journey.

Your stomach swelled, a quiet nausea rattling through your body.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. “Well, good luck.” There was a long, painful pause.

He was looking at you again, something else in his eyes. Did he want you to say something else? Ask more questions?

“You’ll do great,” is all you managed to say, a tight smile stretched across your lips.

“Thanks,” he breathed, something between a sigh and a chuckle.

You hurried through your front door, a strange anxiety prickling over your skin.

Whenever you spoke to Iwaizumi, it never felt like enough. Like there was more to say, more to admit.

But regardless of what had happened, regardless of your regrets, you had to move on.

You should’ve done so months ago.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: this is SLOPPY but please forgive me! a lot of ground to cover,,, a lot of feelings to unpack,,, 

[superhusbands4ever]

DinLuke (Skydalorian) Fic Rec List

Hello all! Like many of us, I have fallen into Dinluke hell since the season 2 finale of The Mandalorian, so I have compiled a list of Dinluke fics that I love for you all to read. I’ve sorted them by series, and long fics, and one-shots. Incomplete/in-progress fics are marked with **. If you are like me and you absolutely LOVE force-sensitive Din Djarin, those fics will be bolded. If you want a rec list of just force-sensitive Din fics, let me know!

Enjoy!

Series

**Seperate Ways by PepperPrints - Explicit - iconic, exquisite, 1000/10, peak art, would recommend

With Moff Gideon defeated and the Darksaber reclaimed, the rumours of newly named Mand'alor Din Djarin spread through the galaxy... along with the stories of the Child he carries with him. Determined to meet him, Luke Skywalker arrives on Mandalore -- but before he can get any closer, he has to prove himself worthy of Mandalorian standards. 

**Skydalorian by Celestial_Alignment - Explicit

What if Din and Luke met pre-episode 4 and continued to run into each other through the years.

The Mandalorian ends up at Tosche Station and meets a desert youth who is apparently named "Wormie."

**The Vanishing Breed Series by @dosmit-raeh - Mature

The first thing Din noticed was the fire in the hearth. Near the hearth was a small, handmade crib, and from the crib came an excited cry. It spread through Din's chest like a bloodstain, perhaps it had in fact pierced his heart. He knew that little voice.

“Hey, you,” said Din softly. He dropped to his knees as the Kid scrambled out of the crib and scampered to him, crawling into his lap and burbling happily.

“That’s the most excited I’ve seen him in months,” said Skywalker. Din hadn’t even noticed him sitting across the room at a rough-hewn wooden table, nursing a cup of something. He wore the same carefully neutral expression he'd had on Gideon's ship, but his clothes were now desert-colored and hung loose around Skywalker's wiry frame. His hair was in disarray and it made him look much younger than he'd seemed on the ship; there, he'd seemed world-weary and ancient. Now, Din felt an insane need to protect.

Skywalker raised his cup at Din in greeting, a lopsided smile on his face. “He’s missed you," he said.

“Feeling’s mutual,” said Din gruffly.

___

The Mandalorian becomes Din Djarin. Din Djarin becomes.

(Luke helps.)

**Beskar and Kyber by Insomniac_with_dreams - Not Rated

“This is going to be awkward,” Luke sighs down at the baby in his arms. R2 beeps besides him and Luke nods in agreement. “Nothing to do but go back.”

His X-Wing is almost completely dismantled, sparking where wires hang limply. There is no way he’s getting off of this cruiser until it’s repaired. There aren't even any escape pods on board all of the docking bays empty. He hadn’t anticipated this, and now he was going to have to walk back to the bridge with the baby and explain himself to a heartbroken Mandalorian.

**you and i have memories by itBlackLeader - General

“What are you doing ?” A quiet voice asks behind his back.

Luke only responds with hums of contentment and a gentle tap on the grassy ground next to him.

(Luke and Din enjoy a quiet evening.)

Long Fic (Multi-chapter & 10K+)

Smoke Signals by Thestorans - Explicit - 23.5K

"Din Djarin"

He hears his name and it scares him enough to throw up his blaster, finger hovering over the trigger that is pointed right at Luke Skywalker's heart.

(or the one where a Jedi meets a Mandalorian and things get complicated.)

More Than His Armor by twoseas - Teen - 12.6K

Din visits Grogu at Luke’s academy more than any other parent. Luke isn’t complaining.

**Fates of the Force by starkjoy - Explicit

Six months after Grogu's rescue, an unexpected encounter launches Din on a quest throughout the galaxy alongside Jedi Master Luke Skywalker—a journey that may alter their fates forever.

the warmest bed i’ve ever known by ceedawkes - Explicit - 11.5K

pre-original series, din djarin is injured on a remote planet and found by an incessantly chatty farm boy named luke skywalker || i won't ask you to wait, if you don't ask me to stay || aka "making out with hot farm boys doesn't count as breaking the creed if he's blindfolded during it". edit 12/29: now with a post-series chapter 2.

**Worlds Apart by PepperPrints - Teen - honestly an absolute favorite, it only has 3 chapters so far but I’ve already re-read each one a million times

Having safely delivered the Child, Mand'alor Din Djarin inherits the Darksaber, a ruined planet, and the burden of Moff Gideon's fate. That burden brings Din to the New Republic on Coruscant, where he's thrown into a shimmering world of galactic politics even less familiar to him than the planet meant to be his home.

Din isn't the only one on Coruscant with his hands full of a once forgotten order - the Jedi is here too, and as their paths cross, Din will be forced to navigate both what's expected of him, and what he wants.

**we could be enough by @snap-dragon-pop - Teen

Din Djarin fights a war he never wanted to be a part of, and Luke Skywalker slowly makes a place for himself in a family he never knew he needed.

**he feels like home by bilgegungorenoo - Teen

Luke is in love.

And Leia doesn’t even need her strong Force bond with her twin to know that.

Or, 5 times people try to convince Luke to ask Din out, and 1 time Din takes it upon himself to do it.

**Family is a Funny Thing by SkylaDoragono - Mature

He promised the child he would see him again; he just didn't realize how hard it would be for him to stay away, even with the responsibility that came with the Darksaber breathing down his neck.

**Kir’manir by @iamonewithyouandyouarewithme - Teen - this one is one of my top 5 favorites already and it only has 2 chapters so far lol

He lets go of everything.

He reunites with his son, sees with his own eyes that he is safe, and just as quickly loses him again.

He gives the child to the Jedi, watches them prepare to leave. He sins, removes his helmet; feels the faintest touch of his son's tiny hand against his tired skin.

And then Bo-Katan shoots the Jedi in the back.

**For All The Things My Eyes Have Seen by Strawbebbi_Daiuiri - Teen

“He missed you.” The Jedi laughed. For a moment, Din didn’t respond, too wrapped up in the moment. Not that he probably would’ve responded anyways, but his focus was on the child in his arms. The feel of the other man’s stare, however, brought him back to where he was. ---- Or, the one where Luke and Din don't realize they're in love with each other for way too long and raise children together.

**no path runs smooth series by @andillwriteyouatragedy - General

"I don't know what game you're playing, here, but you know you have to go with the Jedi. This is your destiny."

"Luke." Din looks up to the Jedi, scanning him through his visor. As if he can see his face — and Din hopes even the most powerful Jedis can't see through beskar — the Jedi smiles at him again. He clarifies, "The Jedi? Has a name. I'm Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin."

One Shots

HOT SINGLE DAD IN YOUR AREA NEEDS YOUR HELP by coldishcase - Teen - crackfest but honestly relatable and funny as hell

A bright red box appears in Luke's vision, declaring in big, bold basic lettering: "HOT SINGLE DAD IN YOUR AREA NEEDS YOUR HELP." He's seen several just like it by this point, each more insistent than the last.

Someone needs his help, apparently. They sure have an interesting way of asking him for it, though.

How (Not) to Meet Your Son’s Boyfriend by fifteenminutesoffame - Not Rated

“You’re blocking the sunlight,” Obi-Wan chides, cast in shadow from Anakin’s hovering, his eyes still closed.

“Will you pay attention?” Anakin snaps. “Luke has made me a grandfather.”

i think i’m gonna marry you by snapdragonpop007 - General

It is an ancient tradition on Mandalore, that before you can ask for someone’s hand in marriage, you first have to defeat them in battle to prove your abilities to care for and provide for the family you’ll have. If you are not a capable warrior, you are not a capable spouse.

Luke didn't realize he had already skipped that step.

Got Me Hypnotized (So Mesmerized) by wasted_wallflower - Teen

“Thanks. For what you’re doing, I mean.” The words come out stilted and slow, and not for the first time, Din curses his inability to talk to people like a normal person. Luke Skywalker smiles at him, ducking his head with an undoubtedly bashful expression on his face, while the kid (Grogu, he reminds himself) chatters between them. “You’re welcome.” He says, that smile still on his face, and oh.

Oh no.

Din Djarin does not have a crush, despite what everyone else thinks. Enter Luke Skywalker.

[teamxdark]

I still want to post anything at all so. Here's the first unedited chapter of SatCK.

Also, once it's done, would people rather it all be posted at once, or a chapter a day? Let me know!

The clouds loomed low, obscuring the sun and showering the world in gray as a lone raven landed on the bones of a long-dead animal. He tapped his beak to the skull, as though to test the hardiness of the material, his eyes flashing with what might have been a sense of superiority before he looked back at the empty dirt path that cut through the grass and took off into the air.

The path did not remain empty for long; a girl ran along it just a moment later, her long purple cloak drawn closely over herself and her boots kicking up dust as she ran. In her hands, she clutched a staff tightly to her chest, which heaved with exertion as the girl kept running, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.

At first, everything looked peaceful and devoid of life behind her, and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

Then, from the endless gray that covered the land, dark creatures spawned from the shadows, transforming from dark spots with glowing magenta eyes to massive beasts of all kinds, both landbound and flying, burly and nimble, and all clad in faded, heavy armor while wielding great blades that glinted dully, even with the lack of sunlight.

The girl stopped as she realized that she was trapped, while from a nearby tree, the raven watched calmly. As the monstrous warriors surrounded the girl from all sides, the bird took flight, swooping high up into air before dropping down, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed.

One minute, there was a raven in the air. The next moment, a pair of black metal boots touched the earth, and the imposing figure of a man in heavy armor stood at full height before the frightened girl. He approached her, drawing his blade, his eyes glowing through the slits in his helmet as he approached, promising death. In the air, thick with tension, his voice cut through, clear and full of malice.

“This is the end for you and your treason. I will see to that myself.”

The girl’s hands trembled as they fumbled with her staff, then steadied themselves with a great show of effort. The girl took a deep breath, forcing down her nerves, and struck the ground with the magical artifact, summoning forth its magical properties as she began to chant, summoning a blue light all around her that had the armored beasts recoiling and the man with the sword halting in his tracks.

That was all she needed to finish her spell.

“O brave knight, swift as the wind! Heed my call!” she implored, looking up at the sky as though the answer to her troubles would fall before her. From all around her, the cyan light glowed bright, until it exploded upwards, a column of magical might, piercing through the clouds and striking the heavens, leaving a sole spot of light in the otherwise gloomy sky.

And something did, indeed, fall down to her, and it fell with a scream that cut itself short as the being, a blue hedgehog, faceplanted in the dirt road.

This wasn’t what Sonic had been expecting out of today.

He lifted his face, shaking away the gravel, and scrambled to his feet, scampering forward until he caught one chilidog that, like him, fell from above, and then leapt in the other direction to catch the second one just before it hit the ground. Sonic sighed in relief, bringing himself back to his feet and taking a look around.

“Hey… where am I?”

The sound of footstep behind him prompted him to turn around, and he saw the girl approach him, her eyes widening and her lips parting as she looked upon him. For a second, no words came from her, but she appeared to find her tongue quickly. “Being from a distant world, forgive my abrupt summons!” She knelt beside him, still shaking from her run, and slid her hood down, revealing delicate features and long, pointed ears.

That’s not something you see every day on a human…

Movement from over her shoulder distracted Sonic from the girl’s unusual ears, prompting him to look over at the group of beasts in armor, which were beginning to encroach upon them. Sonic took a look behind him, beholding the armored man who stood stock-still, beholding him without a word, his shadowy aura growing thick around him.

Sonic let out a chuckle, quickly finishing off one of the chilidogs in his hands. It didn’t seem like he would be having lunch with Amy after all, but he couldn’t let such a delicacy go to waste. Making a mental note to apologize to his friend once this was over and maybe reschedule the whole thing, Sonic tossed the second chilidog to his other hand, spinning it idly around as he spoke to the girl. “Oh, I get it,” he reassured her. “No problem! I’m used to stuff like this!”

Enemies all around? Overwhelming sense of dread? Tension in the air so thick you could choke on it?

He was called in to fight and rescue this girl, he was sure of it.

With a grin, he threw his snack up high into the air and dashed off, leaving behind a gust of wind as powerful as a shockwave. He vaguely heard the girl gasp as he ran through the cluster of armored enemies, creating another shockwave that, to his surprise, made them evaporate without any more fuss. Sonic pushed the surprise away 一 there was bound to be a reason why, and it wasn’t like he had to know it now or anything 一 and refocused on returning to his spot, catching the chilidog before it was anywhere close to the ground.

He glanced back at the girl, who was staring at him with open astonishment, her hand in front of her mouth and her eyes wide. Sonic allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smirk at demonstrating his abilities so cleanly, then turned back toward the last enemy, the armored man, who still hadn’t moved from his spot and was still staring at him.

Sonic began spinning his snack around again. “Don’t forget to blink,” he taunted, and finally, the man moved, bringing his sword 一 a bright, golden blade that didn’t match his dark getup at all 一 up and before him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a face like yours,” the man said, pointing the tip of the blade at Sonic.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You’ve got all that armor in front of your eyes! How about I knock it away and you can get a real good look--”

“No, you mustn’t!”

A hand grabbed tightly over his arm, stunning him enough that he fumbled with his free hand and sent his chilidog tumbling to the ground. Sonic looked from his ruined treat to the girl who stopped him as she swung her staff before them both, causing a vortex of dirt and wind to surround them. As Sonic felt himself begin to get pulled away, he reached out a hand to his fallen treat and the final enemy that he had yet to even try to defeat, but it was all in vain. The armored man charged forward, but his sword only struck empty air.

The man cursed under his breath, turning away from the vanishing point and walking a few paces away, crushing the chilidog underneath one of his boots without a second thought. “She’s slipped away from me again,” he growled, the dark aura around him growing stronger. “And now she has an ally of the worst kind…”

The man kicked at the ground, wiping some of the remains of meat and beans away as he did so, and wasted no more time in jumping into the air and transforming back into a raven, shedding a single feather as he soared away, over hills and valleys, clearing a town and swooping over the outer wall of a magnificent castle, landing before five people standing in wait, clad in polished, presentable armor. He transformed back into his true form, and all five knelt before him, bowing their heads without hesitation.

My knights...

For just a moment, the man’s gaze swept over the five before him, something akin to pride sparking deep within him, before the feeling extinguished itself as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but coldness in its wake.

“She’s escaped me again, but I shall continue to give chase,” he informed them, seeing a few ears perk up as he spoke. “At this point, I cannot stand another day knowing that she evades me. Spread out, and slay her on sight. I no longer care if it is by my hand or not.”

Five heads nodded, still bowed, and the man felt satisfied until he remembered the other important piece of information.

“She has recruited an ally, a magical warrior. You will know him when you see him. Do not fall for his tricks, and slay him as well. Mercy is not an option. We have no time to lose.”

With that, the man turned away and leapt into the air again, transforming back into a bird to continue his search, while behind him, the five lifted their heads and got to their feet.

“That was vague,” one spoke; a green hawk with two fanned blades.

“Hush, Brother,” another one said; a purple cat wielding a rapier. “Our king has much to handle and no time to spare. It is our duty to help shoulder his burdens as best as we can.”

“I apologize, Percival,” a third one piped up; a pale gray hedgehog with long spines, “but I must agree with Lamorak. We do not know what this ‘magical warrior’ of hers looks like!”

“More likely than not, he will be travelling with her,” yet another spat; a black hedgehog with red streaks in his fur. “If we find one, we will almost certainly find the other, and even if we don’t, our king has made it clear that we will know him when we see him. Now, let us depart.”

“But must we?” the final one asked; a red echidna with two axe-like swords. “She is the Royal Wizard, after all!”

The black hedgehog’s head snapped over, his voice taking a hard edge as he spoke. “She was the Royal Wizard, and in any case, the king’s orders are absolute, Gawain.”

“Yes, but--”

“We have been given our task,” the gray hedgehog said, walking up between them both. “If he demands that they be slain, then slain they shall be.”

This seemed to pacify the black hedgehog, who nodded once before racing off, with the gray hedgehog close behind. The one named Gawain heaved a sigh as the one named Percival approached him. “Without loyalty to the king, we are nothing,” she reminded him sternly, though the next second she looked off to the horizon, where the hedgehogs had become little more than specks. “Still, the king… he has changed,” she murmured, much softer and thoughtful. “And this kingdom…”

“That would be putting it lightly,” the one called Lamorak scoffed, nudging Percival with his shoulder, much to her annoyance. “I need no magical gifts to see that there are troubling times ahead of us. However, there is not much else for us to do.”

“Only our jobs, and to trust our king’s judgement,” Gawain finished the thought, looking at one of his blades with a resigned slump to his shoulders. “Very well. I shall not be the one to disappoint him.”

Yet even with those words, the unease did not leave the knights as they left the castle walls in search for their targets.

[duchesschameleon]

dreidel, dreidel, dreidel

summary: Aaron and Jack’s Hanukkah education continues with playing dreidel and some shenanigans ensue. (continuation of light the candles)

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN Jewish Reader words: 2.3k a/n: Happy Hanukkah everyone! I’m so excited I finished this in time for the first night (I just lit my menorah) and I hope you enjoy it! There are some resource links at the end to explain dreidel, show pictures of what one looks like, and to the song referenced in the fic. The song is also linked as you’re reading the fic. As always, feel free to ask me questions about Hanukkah and I will answer to the best of my ability!

Jack insists that you teach him how to play dreidel so he can play it at Rossi’s annual holiday party. Aaron smiles at the two of you sitting on the couch as you show him the dreidel and explain the game. Thankfully, you’d been able to find a dreidel that had the sides labeled so it’s easier for Jack to pick up on the game and learn the different Hebrew characters.

Of course, you’d also sang the dreidel song which Aaron laughed at. You shot him a glare; you’d never claimed to be a good singer. The song is just helpful, especially for kids. And one of the few Hanukkah songs you can teach Jack. Jack sings along, catching on quickly. You smile, happy that he seems to be so interested in Hanukkah and celebrating it. Aaron’s hand falls on your shoulder, squeezing as he joins in the song. You feel so surrounded by warmth and love, despite only being with Aaron for a few weeks.

They’ve made this spot for you in their lives, and even when midway through Hanukkah the BAU had caught a case and had to travel, Aaron made sure you weren’t alone for lighting the electric menorah you had grabbed from your desk. The one he’d given you. Even if you were lighting it at 10 pm, after a long day at the local precinct, he was there with you. By the eighth day, he was trying to say the prayer with you, stumbling over the unfamiliar words. It’s a sense of comfort, not being alone and having someone to take in the beauty of a fully lit menorah with you. Of course, an electric one isn’t as beautiful as the real candles you have back home, but Aaron tells you that Jack wouldn’t be opposed to one more night of Hanukkah, of a fully lit menorah, maybe some latkes, and definitely some dreidel.

Which is how you found yourself here, on the couch beside Jack playing dreidel while the candles burn low in the menorah in the windowsill. Aaron’s hand stays on your shoulder as he comes around the couch to sit next to you, curling into your side.

“So, do we use the same dreidel for the whole game? Or do we each have one?” Jack asks you.

“Usually, all the players use the same dreidel. It’s more fair that way,” you explain.

“Fair? Why would using a different dreidel be unfair?” Jack looks confused, his eyebrows furrowed just like Aaron’s.

You pause, searching for the right way to explain this to Jack. “Well, some dreidels tend to land on one symbol more than others. To keep the game even and fair, everyone uses one dreidel so there’s no chance of cheating,” you say slowly.

Jack still catches on though, clearly inheriting Aaron’s brains. “So there are some dreidels that land on gimel more? So that means I’d win more!”

“Yes, I guess that’s what that means,” you laugh, “but c’mon, that takes the fun out of the game doesn’t it? And what would that get you anyway, more chocolate? We aren’t playing for money.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh next to you and you lightly elbow him in the ribs. “More chocolate isn’t a bad thing!” Aaron says in defense.

“He can always ask for more chocolate! He doesn’t need to cheat to get it. And shouldn’t you be putting a stop to this?” You raise an eyebrow at Aaron, and he matches it, leaning in to peck you on the lips.

“Can we bring the dreidels to Uncle Dave’s next weekend?” Jack asks, drawing your attention back to the game at hand. All the dreidels Aaron had bought and the ones you’d brought over from your place are strewn across the table.

“Sure we can,” you start slowly, “were you, uh testing them out?”

Jack nods, his smile wide and blinding. “Yup! I know which ones mine. We can teach everyone else! You said before they don’t know the game. That means I can tell them that we each pick a dreidel.”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “So, you want to help me teach everyone dreidel?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun. Please?” Jack asks, his big, brown eyes pleading with you. You sigh and nod and Jack lets out a whoop of excitement, throwing himself back into the couch cushions. You laugh and turn more fully towards Jack, reaching your fingers out to tickle him. He laughs and Aaron joins in, the both of you tickling Jack mercilessly until he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

At bedtime, Jack gives you a big hug and you kiss his cheek as he scampers off down the hallway. Not much later, you’re giving Aaron a kiss goodnight as you leave the apartment, a little more excited for Rossi’s holiday gathering the following weekend.

A few days later, Aaron calls you into his office around lunchtime. You go, glancing at the pile of consults on your desk and wondering if you’d missed something on one of them. He motions for you to close the door as you enter and you do, your suspicion growing.

“Did I miss a paperwork deadline? Why the closed-door meeting?” you ask, a slight panic to your voice.

“No, no this isn’t work related,” Aaron reassures you and you take a deep breath as you sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. “It’s about Jack. And Dave’s party.”

You nod, silently urging him to continue.

“Jack wants to help you teach the team dreidel, as you know. He also wants to, well, he wants to omit or slightly alter some of the rules,” Aaron explains. You raise an eyebrow as Aaron continues, “He says it’s their fault they never asked you how to play before, so he wants to make, well his own rules.”

You nod slowly, catching his drift. “So, Jack wants to fudge some of the rules to his advantage? This have anything to do with the questions he was asking the other night?”

Aaron bites his lip as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Ok then. Could be fun, teaching this team a lesson.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh at that and you smile at him. He releases you, saying that’s all and you return to your desk.

Dave greets you with a hug and a kiss on each cheek as you walk into his house, a bag on your arm filled with supplies Jack had requested, via a text from Aaron’s phone.

“Let me take that for you,” Dave says, reaching for the bag.

“It’s fine, I’ll bring it to the living room. I need to show it to Jack anyway.” Dave motions his understanding as he retreats to the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner.

You make your way to the living room, delighted to see not only traditional Christmas decorations but some blue light strands and even some blue and silver tinsel. The menorah Aaron bought for him and Jack is on the mantle, all nine candles in place, and you can see gelt on the coffee table. It makes you smile, Aaron being so insistent that there are Hanukkah decorations and even bringing his own. You feel his presence at your back, broad and close and you can just smell his aftershave and you turn to smile at him.

“Jack insisted on the menorah. Even though Hanukkah ended, he wants to see it fully lit one more time. And give you the opportunity to teach the team the prayers, if you want,” he explains, ever aware of the personal boundary that comes with prayer.

“We’ll light them once everyone’s here and the foods in the oven,” you say, “maybe we can pull up that song you found that actually has the prayer in it?”

Aaron nods, remembering the YouTube spiral Jack inspired in a desperate attempt to find more Hanukkah songs. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving you a hug before he goes into the living room and sits on the couch near where Jack and Henry are playing by the tree. JJ looks up from where’s perched on the arm of a chair Will’s occupying and smiles when she sees you. You make your way over to them, saying hello and placing the bag under the coffee table.

“What you got in there princess?” Derek asks, leaning down to peek in the bag.

“You have to wait and see,” you say, slapping his hand lightly. Jack meets your eye and beams, and you wink back at him. He scrambles up to give you a hug and squeezes tight, his excitement palpable.

Once everyone arrives and the food is in the oven to cook or stay warm, the whole team settles in the living room. You quickly explain the menorah and light the lights with “Hanukkah Blessings” playing from Aaron’s phone and then it’s time for dreidel.

Jack bounces on his knees, excited to share this game and explain his version of the rules. He’s perched next to you on the couch as you take everything out of the bag. You put the dreidels in a pile, and Jack takes his out of his pocket and places it in front of him. The team tries to keep their faces blank as you pull out gelt, some money, and a few pieces of paper out of the bag.

“So, this year we’re playing dreidel. Jack is going to help me teach you guys how to play. Dreidel is the spinning top game kids – and adults – play during Hanukkah. The little pieces of paper tell you what the symbols mean. They’re Hebrew characters and not all the dreidels have them written on them. The goal of the game is to win the pot. Depending on what your dreidel lands on, there are different actions. Jack, do you want to explain?”

He nods, “There are four sides to the dreidel and each has a different symbol. We start by each putting some money into the pot. Then, we take turns spinning our dreidels. If you land on nun, you do nothing. If it lands on gimel, you win and take the pot. If you land on hei, you take half the pot, and if you land on shin you put money in!” Jack explains, pointing out the characters on the dreidel.

Everyone nods along and then there’s a scramble to claim a dreidel. You notice Jack pushing one towards Henry and smile, knowing he’s looking out for his buddy. Spencer tests a few out before choosing one and shoving the others towards Morgan and Emily. Aaron catches your eye from across the table and your smile turns a little sharp, excited for the chaos that is about to ensue.

“Jack! How do you keep winning?” Morgan yells after the third time Jack landed on gimel, winning a sizeable pot. You have to hand it to him; he’s done a great job hiding the fact that he has a loaded dreidel. Spencer definitely knows what’s going on and has thankfully kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to play along and see the fallout. You’re fairly certain JJ has caught on to the plan, eyeing the piles of money in front of Jack and Henry. You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile and just shrug in Morgan’s direction.

“Lucky kid?” you say, as you put a dollar in the center of the table to start the pot again. Morgan grumbles as he does the same and Will commiserates with him. “It’s not like there’s a strategy to dreidel, it’s really in the luck of the spin.”

And oh, that was the wrong thing to say. Emily’s eyes light up in recognition and she gasps. “No way!” You and Aaron lock eyes and wince a little, knowing that the game is up. You’d both been holding back laughter and enjoying seeing the team get more frustrated as the two kids rake in the money while their own piles dwindled.

Dave catches on next, humming and sitting back in his armchair. He raises his glass of scotch to you and Aaron, conceding the game and just shakes his head.

It’s Penelope who gasps next and points an accusatory finger at you, “You didn’t! Are these even the official rules of dreidel?” she asks, her voice a little shrill.

You blush and look down, knowing you’ve been caught. You pat Jack on the shoulder as you tell him, “you had a good run buddy.” Jack looks at his pile and nods, understanding that the game couldn’t go on forever. Morgan squints his eyes and looks at Jack. He starts shaking his head and you know he’s putting the pieces together. “Technically, these are not the official dreidel rules. But you guys never asked about playing it before, so we figured we’d have some fun with it,” you explain with a shrug.

“Wait wait wait, we?” Morgan asks, pointing fingers at you and Jack before turning to Aaron, “Hotch you let your son hustle us?” Aaron just shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Do you even play dreidel with real money?”

You shake your head, laughter bubbling in your chest. Will looks betrayed too, but JJ ruffles his hair and points out the pile Henry has. It placates him a little, knowing that Henry wasn’t caught up in the shenanigans. Jack belly laughs as Morgan shakes his head and talks about never playing dreidel again with him. Penelope and Emily have their heads together and you’re a little scared that they’re planning revenge, but you turn your attention to Spencer instead who’s now seated on the floor next to Henry and spinning the different dreidels with him for fun.

“We are never talking about this again,” Derek says, pointing a finger at you. “I cannot believe you let Jack hustle us at dreidel! And change the rules!”

Penelope laughs and places a hand on Morgan’s arm, “Morgan, think about it, now we have the perfect prank for any newbies on the team!” she exclaims. “BAU initiation – you must get hustled by the kiddos at dreidel!”

resources: all about hanukkah

all about dreidel

Hanukkah Blessings

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Not for the ship but for the hilarious scenario: Mina takes Todorki out for ballroom dancing lessons. Todoroki is really good as it turns out, and Mina comments “Todoroki you’re on fire”, to which she means that he accidentally activated his left side

This idea was absolutely adorable and I honestly could’t resist!!! I took a few liberties regarding the circumstances for the class but I hope you still enjoy this!

As far as Todoroki Shoto was concerned, he was only there out of necessity. 

Part of being a Pro Hero was the occasional glitzy, black tie events that involved the paparazzi, ridiculously exotic dishes and - worst of all - dancing. Shoto didn’t necessarily hate dancing. Fuyumi had taken some dance classes when they were younger and he’d enjoyed the few moments of reprieve where he was allowed to watch her work through complicated steps. It was something be found admirable, but not exactly something he’d want to participate in himself. When the cultural festival rolled around, he’d been more than content with his position on the effects team as opposed to the dance team. That wasn’t to say he thought that dancing was pointless or anything of the sort. He had watched how hard the dance team had worked in their rehearsals and knew how taxing the craft could be. He had the utmost respect for people that enjoyed doing dance as either a hobby or a profession. It just wasn’t something he was particularly interested in learning for himself.

But then his father insisted he look into taking some classes for the sake of appearances.

Fuyumi had been quick to suggest a dance studio he could take the classes at. The only stipulation had been that he would need to find a partner of his own. When he had thought about it, asking one of his classmates made the most sense. They’d be about his age, his height, and could probably benefit from the classes as well.

And once he determined that, figuring out who to ask became a rather simple task.

“Huh, not nearly as ritzy as I thought this place would be,” Ashido commented as they approached the dance studio. Her arms were folded behind her back as she took a step closer to the door, tilting her head this way and that to get a better look at it. Ashido, as the cultural festival revealed, was the best dancer among them. It only made sense that she’d make for a good partner in a class like this. “Since your family is rolling in the big bucks, I figured it’d be one of those hoity-toity kind of places. Like, the kind where they’d yell about ‘the culture’ of dance if you missed a step.”

He shrugged. “A friend of my older sister teaches the class we’re here for,” he said before moving past her to open the door. He held it so Ashido could slip in first before following her.

The young woman at the front desk perked up and smiled brightly at them. “Hello there! How can I help you kids?”

“We’re here for the ballroom class led by Hitsugaya-San,” he said.

She blinked and tilted her head. “Ah, excellent! What are your names?” she hummed, grabbing a clipboard from the small wall behind her. After verifying they were on the roster, she pushed up from her seat. “I’ll lead you up. You’re going to be on the second floor, in studio room C. I believe Hitsugaya-San’s already in there doing warm-ups with the other early arrivals.”

As they followed her up, Ashido leaned over to Todoroki. “Hey, Todoroki-Kun, this instructor isn’t gonna be, like, super strict, is she?” she asked quietly, seeming a bit uneasy. That seemed rather out of character for her.

“I’m not sure,”

“But you said she’s a friend of your sister!”

He blinked slowly and stared at her. “Yes, she is,”

“So you’ve met her, right?”

“Once or twice. Again, she is my sister’s friend; not mine,” he said patiently. He tilted his head at how Ashido ran a hand through her pale pink curls and groaned quietly. “If you’re worried, you shouldn’t be. This is a beginner’s class. I doubt it will be too difficult. Besides, you’re a talented dancer.”

“I’m good when I’m doing my own thing!” she lamented, peeking at him.

Their guide stopped in front of a door. “Here you are, you two. Have fun!” she said before scampering off.

Shoto, however, turned his attention back to his classmate and frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re so worried. You have a great sense of rhythm, excellent timing, you choreographed the entire cultural festival routine… Why would a dance class be so intimidating? Because it’s a more classical style of dance?”

“I just told you… I do better when I can just do what feels right, you know? I’m terrible at following directions! I hate being restricted in how I can handle something!” she confessed, fidgeting her fingers.

“But you aren't,” he said, tilting his head slightly. Sometimes he didn’t really understand his classmates but this seemed like a strange one. “We’ve been in countless situations where your ability to take charge and know when to stand down have proven helpful. Not only to you, but to our class as a whole. It’s not that you can’t follow directions, it’s just that you know when you should and shouldn’t. I think that’s an admirable skill to have.”

The other stared at him for a moment before she let out a small chuckle and shook her head. “Geez, do you really have to be the package deal, Todoroki? Handsome and encouraging is such a lethal combination,” she said.

He wanted to argue with her that he wasn’t really all that attractive, but she opened the door and headed inside, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along with her. When they entered, a woman about Fuyumi’s age with maroon hair and bright purple bangs glanced over at them. She smiled as she walked over. “Ah, hello again, Shoto-Kun. I take it this is one of your school friends?” she asked, settling one hand on her hip.

“Hello, Hitsugaya-San,” he answered with a small nod. He then indicated the horned girl beside him with one hand. “This is Ashido Mina.”

“Um, hi. Thanks for letting us join your class, Hitsugaya-Sensei,” Ashido said with a nervous waggle of her fingers.

The other laughed at that. “Oh, goodness, hun! Don’t call me Sensei! That sounds way too stuffy!” She flicked the end of her ponytail over her shoulder casually as she spoke. “You guys can just call me Akiko-San, okay? I’m not gonna sweat about formalities like my mom and the other instructors do. Besides, you two know Fuyumi, so I can let it slide. For now, just line up along the mirror and do some stretches. Let me know if you need help figuring out how to stretch, but I think you know what to do.”

“Thank you,” Shoto said as they headed to join the others. After a few minutes of warm-ups and a few more students showing up, Akiko finally called them all together to get started. Another instructor had come in to join her, the pair of them giving the beginners a rundown of the basic steps they’d need to know for that lesson.

As they took the floor together, adapting to the steps they were shown, it became clear that Ashido was a natural at it. Shoto was grateful as she kept up with him, their steps perfectly timed and in sync. The longer they worked through their movements, though, the more she relaxed and started to have fun. Akiko took the time to even praise them for how they were doing when they broke away to do a small habit of ad-libbing in their motions, Mina taking the lead.

“You two are catching on quick! Might need to bump the pair of you up to the intermediate class!” Akiko giggled, clapping her hands as they pulled off a quick side step leading to Shoto dipping her.

Shoto had to be honest with himself; he enjoyed this one-on-one session with Ashido. He’d always known her from their class work, sure, but she was much more a member of Bakugo’s begrudging circle of friends while Shoto himself tended to spend his free time with Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida and Yaoyorozu. From the few interactions they had, he knew she clearly cared about the people around them and wanted to be a Pro Hero from a place of passion. He found that admirable. Outside of the cultural festival, however, he hadn’t really taken the time to get to know her better. And, to put it bluntly, he realized that she was just fun to be around. Her energy was just one of enjoying whatever she was doing and it was infectious, leaving him to have a blast himself.

It was nice and reminded him of a time long ago when he was always as carefree as he was dancing at that moment with Ashido leading him along the floor.

Mina herself giggled and Shoto felt a small smile turn up on his own lips. “Your feet are on fire, Todoroki!” she said.

“Thank you, Ashido. Your own movements are rather incredible as well,” he said, pivoting his body to allow them both to stand upright again.

She opened her mouth to say something else but gasped. “T-Todoroki! You’re really on fire!”

He blinked before glancing at his shoulder in surprise, a small flame blazing up and starting to make quick work of his shirt. “Shoto-Kun! Put it out!” Akiko yelped, scrambling back to flail a clipboard she’d had for checking who was in attendance at a nearby smoke detector.

He covered his other hand in a thick veil of ice and clapped it down on his shoulder a few times, dozing the flames before the smoke alarms could go off. His shirt, however, was now missing the entire sleeve. “Ah… Sorry, Akiko-San,” he muttered quietly.

She let out a small sigh and shook her head at him. “I swear, you teens these days are something else. Let me see if we have a spare shirt you can change into real fast, okay?” she chided lightly before turning to speak to the other instructor. Presumably about finding a replacement shirt for him.

He glanced over to see Ashido covering her mouth with one hand while the other wrapped around her middle, muffled giggles and snorts escaping her. “You give the phrase ‘burning down the dance floor’ a whole new meaning, Todoroki!” she laughed, throwing her head back to release a few louder peals of laughter.

And Shoto chuckled himself. If this was what having friends was like, he was glad his walls had dropped.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 7)

Mai hasn’t stopped by yet, Snapdragon supposes that it is just as well, she hasn’t finished her gift yet. It is quite simple but she is still proud of it. She hopes that Mai will enjoy it as much as she is thrilled to be making it.

So far the necklace has six charms, a very vividly colored paradise-peacock feather, a small elephant-rat paw bone, a naturally polished and very shiny stone with a hole in it, an aged fork, a clam shell, and one of several old coins that she had found buried in the jungles of Hira’a.

She thinks that the cord can hole at least one more trinket and a few beads. She scampers through her piles sorting through ribbons, thimbles, and empty bobbins. She inspects shards of glass before ultimately deciding that those are all too pointy to wear around the neck. She picks up a crab claw and puts it on its own pile, a candidate for being the final trinket. She finds her collection of beads and plucks out a few black and dark red ones, Mai seems to enjoy the gloomier shades.

She scrambles over to her plant specimens. Mostly they consist of interestingly shaped twigs but there are several dried leaves, petals, and roots. She thinks that the leaves and petals are too frail to be threaded onto the cord. But the roots, those might very well work. And they would make sense too. Mai works with flowers and plants so the necklace should have at least something to represent that. Snapdragon’s current necklace represents her.

She feels it against her chest. It has at least eight charms, a few of them don’t mean anything in particular to her. But she has recently added snapdragon roots between the tiger-monkey claw and her a dusty, broken geode. A tiger-monkey claw for her fierceness and her love of climbing and a rusty cog for her love of old factories and abandoned places. There is a coconut chip to remind her of her days in the jungle and a blunt tip of a broken dagger. She isn’t entirely sure about the geode but it speaks to her on some level. The coins, beads, and the piece of tattered red cloth are more for show than anything else.

She twirls the root in her hand before ultimately deciding that they will be the perfect final addition to her necklace. She ties it onto the cord with a satisfied smile and holds it up. It is perfect, an asymmetrical cluster of things that don’t seem like they should go together. But they are harmonized in their chaos.

Her smile fades, she isn’t sure that Mai would like to wear something so odd. Especially in a palace full of watching, judging eyes. She supposes that it’s okay if she only wears it around her and then takes it off when she gets to the palace.

.oOo.

It is raining quite heavily but Mai doesn’t particularly care. The pounding of the drops drowns out the angry beating in her mind. Zuko is being unbearable. Everything is an argument, everything is taken so personally. And she doesn’t care for that Jin girl that he has been bringing around.

She can’t quite place it at first but she thinks that it might be a twinge of jealousy one that she wishes she could permanently purge. She isn’t sure why she is jealous, she has made it clear that things were over between the two of them. And yet she can’t shake that nagging sense that it should be she who is going to be attending Ember Island Players shows with him. That was their thing and now their thing is being shared with some ditzy, doe-eyed, air headed…

Mai tightens her fists in her pockets. Small puddles are gathering uncomfortably in the folds of her robes and she has no one to blame but herself. Why does Snapdragon’s factory have to be at the very other side of the city? Why did she neglect getting herself a palanquin ride?  Zuko probably wouldn’t have let her borrow one anyhow. Not mid-squabble.

Her feet slosh through puddle after puddle, soaking through to her socks. She shudders, there is no greater discomfort. No greater suffering. But at least she isn’t bored.

She finds Snapdragon, also soaked thoroughly, leaping from puddle to puddle. She, unlike Mai herself, seems absolutely delighted to be dripping wet. She hasn’t yet noticed mai. Even in the misty gloom, Snapdragon is a splash of color. The necklace she wears today is particularly flashy as it clanks against her chest. Mai is inclined to believe that she has chosen it specifically to stand out in the drabness.

“I’m glad that you’re having fun.”

Snapdragon comes to an abrupt halt, kicking up a splash of oily mud. “I like rainy days sometimes.”

“You would enjoy playing around in the mud.”

“It’s too slick for climbing ‘n jumping on roofs today.” Snapdragon shrugs. “So I’m pretending that the puddles are roofs ‘stead.”

“Interesting.” Mai remarks stoically.

“I ain’t realize you liked walks in the rain.”

“I don’t.”

Snapdragon tilts her head, “then why are you walking in the rain?”

She shakes her head, “just...don’t worry about it. Can we go inside, I need to wring my clothes and hair out.”

Snapdragon flounces over to the door and holds it open, “after you, hotwoman.”

Mai rolls her eyes. Normally it would be enduring, today she just finds herself annoyed by the woman’s uppity antics. She sighs and gives her hair an overly forceful twist and squeeze. She can’t let herself take her frustrations out on Snapdragon. The girl has been nothing but pleasant.

“Hey, stay right there! I gotta go get something!”

She doesn’t give Mai a chance to answer before darting off and scrambling up her rickety ladder. It is probably a good thing, she very well might have muttered a harsh, ‘where else am I going to go, Snapdragon?’ Mai rubs her hands over her face. Maybe she should try to lighten the mood. Maybe she should try to drink in some of the delight that Snapdragon radiates.

The girl comes back down with another one of her gaudy necklaces. She is beaming from ear to ear. “What do you think?”

Mai inspects the jewelry. “It’s...uh...it’s unique. Very you.”

“I was trying to make it more you.” She holds it out. “See, the roots are supposed to represent your flower shop.”

Mai tries to muster up a smile but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“It’s for you.” She retracts her hand slightly and thrusts it out again.

Mai takes a deep breath and tries for a joke, “I don’t know if I can pull off a trash necklace.”

Maybe it is her deadpan delivery, or maybe she has simply uncovered and hit some hidden raw spot, but Snapdragon’s face falls. Mai could slap herself. “No, no. I mean it’s a cool necklace, I like it. I just wanted to make a joke.”

Snapdragon forces a laugh. She doesn’t try to hand the necklace to her again.

“You’re not going to offer it again?”

“It’s alright, Mai, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” She forces a smile.

“I do want to.” She holds her hand out. Snapdragon sets the necklace in her palm. Mai tries to make small talk with her but she mostly answers with simple yes or no’s while toying with the charms on her own necklace.

And Mai considers that maybe Zuko isn’t the problem at all. Maybe it is her. She does have this amazing ability to drag everyone down instead of allowing them to lift her up. It always happens eventually. She wishes that she weren’t so unremarkable.

.oOo.

By dusk the rain comes to a slow. After an hour or so of getting nowhere in conversation, Mai had declared that it would probably be best to make her way back home before it gets dark and the second round of storm clouds roll in.

She can see them lingeringly darkly on the horizon as she scuttles her way over a heap of wooden beams and crates and shimmies up the husk of an old war tank. She squeezes herself into the hatch and slips behind the wheel. She imagines the war machine roaring to life in a cough of black smoke. Imagines the raw power of it. Imagines being something more than just some downtrodden alley dweller. Maybe then Mai wouldn’t be embarrassed by her. Maybe then, she’d have a chance with the woman.

Her gift was accepted out of pity and nothing more, she knows that Mai is just going to chuck the necklace aside when she gets back to the palace and pretend like she has no idea where it had come from.

Snapdragon gives the rusty metal wheel a turn. Maybe if she spent less time lurking in abandoned places, people wouldn’t abandon affections for her. She supposes that it is hard to love someone who is constantly covered in dust and grime. All the same, she loves her hobby, she can’t really see herself without it.

She finds a little corner of the tank to curl herself up in and wait out the storm. It comes suddenly and with a surprising fury. From the sound of it, the drops are thick as they pelt the side of the tank. And the thunder shakes the ground. It is probably a horrid idea to hole up in a metal tank so she hustles out of it and into the rain.

The puddles are no fun anymore and the rain throws itself violently into her face. She thinks of going into the factory but it is entirely metal too. The lightning strikes it over and over again with a terrifying fury. And yet it manages to stand on, powerful and admirable. She thinks that it is what keeps her safe from getting struck; the lightning is so enticed by it that it doesn’t bother with her as she heads towards Mohi’s home.

The wind lashes at her with a fury and she wonders if and hopes that Mai has made it home.

Maybe if she were a shaper, smarter, noblewoman she would have thought to offer letting Mai stay with her at Mohi’s. Would have walked there with her a while ago.

But she isn’t smarter. She isn’t a noble woman. But she isn’t anything grander than what she is now. Isn’t anyone impressive. She’s just Snapdragon, a girl who doesn’t even have a real name.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Comfortember Day 14 (Alt prompt-Jacket)

Since I wanted to write about my OCs today but a road trip would not be so fun for Robin (metal in cars is uncomfortable to be around for too long), so here's an alt prompt instead! (I'll probably do a road trip for someone else later though, because that's a GOOD ONE)

Winter in Los Angeles is barely winter. At least according to Kira, whose school in Oregon saw real snow every year. Robin's never seen more than faint flurries. It sounds magical, but if it's even colder than the weather is today, he'll pass.

A chilly breeze is blowing off the grey ocean, and the dampness hangs in the air, making its way into his bones. He zips his dad's jacket up as far as he can, tucking his hands in the pockets. He hasn't taken anything out of them, there's a gum wrapper that crinkles with real foil, the kind almost no one makes anymore, a lighter almost out of fluid even though Robin doesn't think Adam ever smoked, and a peppermint candy that's covered in dust even in its plastic wrapper.

In the other pocket is a folded picture of Robin and Ellie. Robin is standing in the yard and Ellie is bent down over him, both of them looking at the camera and smiling. The picture is creased in half at Robin's shoulders in the picture, the crease thick like a seam and worn white, like the photo's been opened up and closed again multiple times.

With the sun down, the chill creeps through the streets like the shadows. Robin steps into the slight shelter of the side of a building. The vamp they're looking for hunts this area and they're basically on stakeout patrol (and John has already made EVERY possible variation of a pun on that) until he shows.

Kira scampers up the side of the building to perch on a fire escape three stories up, getting a good overhead view of the area. Kira reminds him of the alley cats, agile and lethal. She's a shadow, moving fast and striking faster. Robin's impressed with her ability to take advantage of every handhold. She'd tried to teach him too, but too many things she uses to help her climb have too high an iron content. And since wearing gloves can be dangerous because of potential slipping, Robin finally decided he'd leave the climbing to her.

With her on watch, John and Robin prep their gear. Cody's back in the van on comms, watching their local surveillance feeds. John says one of the best things that happened to hunting was the digital camera. Vampires actually appear in digital images as themselves. Film cameras capture them as they truly are. Showing their real age, or in some cases only a skeleton. Robin remembers the vampire informant they meet with who buys cheap film cameras and takes pictures of himself because he wants to feel human again.

Thinking of the photos the vamp had in his pocket along with his little black book reminds Robin of the one tucked in his. He fingers the worn paper, wondering how many times Adam touched it before heading out on a hunt.

A faint tapping above him catches his attention.  He turns just in time to see Kira hop down from her perch with a gracefulness his own numb, cold-heavy limbs could definitely not replicate.

MOVEMENT IN THE SECOND ALLEY NORTH, she signs, and John nods and relays the information to Cody quietly. It's no coincidence, Robin is sure, that that's the one place they're struggling to get video coverage.

Unfortunately, it's a false alarm. Just a local shop owner a shortcut on his way home. Which means it's back to their posts.

Robin tries not to lean on the cold brick wall, it feels like it's sucking the warmth out of his body. He takes slow breaths, hoping no one can hear over comms that they're shaky. He's good at keeping his teeth from chattering, but the shaky breaths he can't help. His cheeks feel wind-bitten and his toes are cold.

John turns and glances at him when he raises his hands to blow on his fingers, and Robin quickly tucks them back in his pockets.

"Are you cold?" John asks.

"I'm fine." It comes out too fast, too desperate, a conditioned response to being asked that many times before and not liking the results of total honesty.

"Oh really? That why you're shakin'?" John asks. "You coulda said you were getting too cold. You can wait in the van..."

"I'm useless in the van," Robin says. "By the time I get out the door you guys will be where you need to be."

He's cut off by the knocking sound again, as well as Cody whispering over comms. "There's movement northeast of your position. Hard to get a clear visual."

Kira scrambles down from her perch again, and they head toward the source of the movement.

This time, it's not a false alarm. Fortunately, the vamp is easy to bring down. He's the kind of predator who likes laying in wait and getting the drop on victims, and in a full-on fight he surrenders almost immediately.

The adrenaline of the arrest pushes the cold aside temporarily, but by the time they're heading back to the agency with the vamp in the secure section of the van, Robin is feeling the chill again. The van is warm enough, but even so, he feels like he'll never really get warm again, the damp chill like fangs sinking into his bones. He tries not to think about Arion or that cell.

He startles when someone spreads something over his lap. John is looking at him with concern, his own jacket off, that's what Robin felt. And from her seat, Kira is digging through the emergency kit to pull out one of the brown shock blankets. The ones they carry are different from everyone else's; wool is more effective for Robin than the reflective insulating material in the regular type. They have a couple of those as well, since the rest of his team is human, but Robin feels a little warmer just at the thought that his specific needs have been considered.

Robin wants to insist he doesn't need it, but John is already wrapping him in the blanket the best he can while Robin is huddled in his seat, and it's not worth the effort to try and figure out a way around the painfully obvious truth.

"Next time, tell us if you're not okay, alright?" John asks. "We're not gonna make you stand out there and freeze to death."

"I should be fine. You and Kira were alright."

"That's not a good enough reason. If anyone told you it was, then they better answer to me." John frowns. "We don't all handle things the same. And we don't have to. You don't see me scaling walls like Spider-woman over there." He puts a hand on Robin's shoulder and Robin could swear he can feel the warmth through the blanket, his jacket, and his shirt. "You don't have to be okay just because someone else is."

Robin nods shakily. It's going to take time to undo the things Michaels and the Silver Blade team beat into him, literally and figuratively. The constant reminders that he wasn't allowed to struggle because none of the rest of them were, so he'd better suck it up and stop acting like an entitled brat.

But they'll get there. And he knows it.

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[norsenightingale]

Caged Birds - Part One -

**So I got an itch to write some Draco Malfoy  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ How you doin?**

Pairing: Draco/Original Female Character (Adeline Maxwell)

Rating: Currently Teen but Mature in the future

Tags: Arranged Marriage, Romance, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut

Cold. Rainy. Dreadful.

Those were the words that she would use to describe everything about this day. Adeline pressed her forehead delicately against the cool glass window and stared at a few raindrops running in front of her face. This stretch of road seemed to go on forever but now she could see the trees slowly begin to part and all at once a massive house came into view.

“Malfoy Manor, Lady Maxwell,” the driver announced, and she sat up a bit straighter.

The car turned into a stretching driveway surrounded all the way by large, lush gardens and hedges. She wished to see them in the sunlight, when the world wasn’t covered in a layer of clouds. She thought they would be beautiful that way.

The chauffer navigated nimbly around the circular fountain right in the middle of the driveway, coming to a stop perfectly in front of the mansion. She heard the driver’s door open and close but Adeline didn’t move. Her own door was pulled open gently and a hand was held out.

“We’ve arrived, M’Lady.”

That was enough to snap her out of her trance. Adeline placed her hand gently in the outstretched one and pulled herself slowly out of the vehicle.

“Thank you, Henry,” she nodded toward the man. Without hesitation, a large black umbrella was opened and stretched out over her head. “My bags?” She questioned, smoothing out the bottom of her dress.

“They’ll be taken up after you’re settled in, M’lady.”

Adeline nodded. She knew the answer to that question already but a part of her was trying to buy a bit of time, standing in the shadow of the intimidating building. She supposed there was no point in delaying the inevitable and began walking towards the arched front doors. Henry was at her side, holding the umbrella closely over her to avoid any bit of water soiling her hair or clothing, but she still felt as if in this moment, she had never been more alone.

After what felt like an eternity, she was face to face with the front entrance of Malfoy Manor. She stared at her reflection in the snake's head doorknockers but before Henry reached out to use them, the door was swung open to reveal a small, disheveled looking house elf.

“Come in, Mistress,” she squeaked, “Master Malfoy is waiting for you in the library.”

Adeline nodded to the elf and turned to Henry.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “I suppose this is goodbye.” The chauffer made no moves to try and hide the tears obviously beginning in the corner of his crinkled brown eyes. “Would a hug be terribly inappropriate?” The old man chuckled softly but nodded his head. Adeline’s face fell, “Right, I probably already knew that.”

“You’ll be alright M’Lady. They’ll make sure of it.” Henry squeezed her shoulder gently and then closed the door behind him before he could make too much of a spectacle.

“Follow Dottie, please,” the house elf muttered, and Adeline obeyed. They passed several rooms decorated with statues and portraits, one with a large grand piano in the middle, a huge spiraling wooden staircase, and a candle-lit dining room before coming to a stop. “Master’s in here,” Dottie motioned toward the closed doors. Adeline tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before the she was led into the room. “Master,” the little elf’s voice trembled, “Dottie is pleased to present Mistress Adeline Maxwell.”

Dottie moved to the side to allow her master to better see their new house guest. Adeline stepped foreward cautiously, her hands clasped in front of her. Draco closed the tome in his lap and cast his eyes toward her, slowly traveling the length of her body up and back down. A small smile curved the corner of his mouth.

“Hello,” he stood from the armchair. “It’s nice to finally meet you Lady Maxwell.” Adeline accepted his outstretched hand and was surprised when he immediatly leaned down to plant a small kiss on the back of hers. She cleared her throat.

“And you as well, Master Malfoy.”

“Please,” he scoffed at the name, “Call me Draco. Dottie!” He barked, “Prepare a room for Lady Maxwell. The big one, in the west corridor.” Dottie scrambled at his order, peeping out a quick ‘yes, Master’ before vanishing into thin air. “You’ll be staying in your own room, only until after the wedding of course, can’t have anyone thinking we are anything less than a proper couple now can we?” Draco chuckled.

“I’m not sure a ‘proper couple’ would only be meeting a week before their wedding,” Adeline sweetly smiled, “But then again, a traditional couple would, wouldn’t they?”

Draco raised his eyesbrows at her response, taken back by it. “I suppose so,” he shrugged. “Arranged marriages are traditionally the way things work in the inner circles of pure blood families. Do you have a problem with marrying me?” He asked and Adeline felt that he was genuinely curious. She thought for a moment.

“I don’t know you,” she finally answered honestly.

“Then let’s get to know each other,” Draco said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Sit, have a cup of tea, and ask me anything you’d like.”

Adeline accepted his invitation, sitting in the arm chair directly across from the one Draco was occupying earlier. He poured two cups of tea from the small table between them and offered one to her. “Milk or sugar?” He asked.

“Milk, thank you.” He poured a small splash into her cup. Adeline delicately took it from him and stirred it absent mindedly, magic dripping from her fingertips without the use of a wand.

“I heard you were blessed with incredible ability,” Draco awed, “wandless magic is quite impressive.” Adeline locked eyes with him but said nothing. “What is suddenly occupying your mind?”

“I’m just thinking about what I want to know about you.”

Adeline took a sip of her tea, her tongue running across the seam of her lips while she thought. “You attended Hogwarts?” She finally asked and Draco nodded. “Slytherin house I’m assuming?” He nodded again. “What was your favorite course? Was there anything you were particullary skilled at?”

Draco sat back against his chair. “I enjoyed potions mainly because of the professor but I was a skilled in most courses.” She nodded.

“Did you have a girlfriend while you were in school?”

Draco nearly choked at her boldness. “I… I didn’t have a girlfriend per se.”

Adeline tilted her head. “If not ‘per se’ then what was it?”

Draco though about all those years of Pansy Parkinson following him like a lost puppy. “She was a girl that liked me and I allowed her to be around. That was all.”

“You didn’t date, then? Didn’t have a girl that you liked as much as she liked you?”

“No,” Draco shifted in his seat. “I was promised a beautiful woman to be my wife two years before I attended my first year of Hogwarts. There was no point in silly school crushes or girlfriends when I knew I was spoken for.”

Adeline seemed satisfied with that answer. Draco knew there was no point in asking her the same questions. She was sent to Beaubaxtons with the express purpose of keeping her away from other men. He was also kept up to date on most of her actions throughout her life, even if she wasn’t given the same luxury. He knew what courses she was taking, who she was friends with, where she went on most nights. He was always aware of what she got up to, she just never knew it.

“What do you want, or rather,” she corrected herself, “what do you expect from our marriage?”

Draco wondered how honest he should be with her. If he truly delved deeply into his wants and expectations, she might never look at him the same way again.

“I want us to respect one another. I need a partner to share my home and life with and I want a wife to fulfill the duties that she is designed for.”

“And those duties would be…?” Adeline trailed off.

“Well, duties of the marital bed of course.” Draco smirked. “But don’t worry, I want to satisfy as much as I want to be satisfied.” His fingers danced delicatly aganst the smooth fabric of his dress trousers and she couldn’t help but watch them move nimbly as he tapped.

“Do you believe in love?” Was her final question, and the one that resonated with him the most. He wasn’t sure if he believed in love but he believed in a life where they could enjoy each other’s company.

“I believe that you and I will become very, very close.”

“Mistress Maxwell’s room is ready, Master,” Dottie’s squeaking voice interupted and he made no effort to hide his rolling eyes.

“Show Mistress to her new room,” Draco ordered, “and draw a hot bath for her after you’ve given her the tour.” He turned his attention back to Adeline. “We can continue this at dinner if you wish. Go get settled.”

“Follow Dottie, please.”

Adeline obeyed and followed the small elf as she scampered quickly up the stairs and down the corridor. Adeline wanted to stop and admire every room, every work of art on the walls, but she knew that if she did she might get lost in the massive manor.

Finally, Dottie stopped in front of a dark set of wooden double doors. Dottie paused only briefly to make sure Adeline was still behind her and opend them, revealing the most ornately decorated bedroom she had ever seen. Each and every square foot of the room was a dark marble, accented with silver and emerald. Several bookcases covered the walls, reaching the entire length of the floor to the ceiling and a roaring fireplace was centered in front of the canopied bed.

“Mistress’s clothes are in the closet,” Dottie pointed to a second set of doors on the left of the room, “along with some things that Master purchased prior to her arrival. I’ll prepare your bath while you pick out something to wear for dinner, Mistress.”

Dottie scampered off through the third and final set of doors in the room, revealing even more dark marble and a large clawfoot bathtub in the very center of the bathroom. Almost immediatly the room was filled with the scent of vanilla and dozens of white candles were lit around the bubble filled tub. It looked positively divine and she couldn’t wait to slip into the hot water.

“Dottie, I’m not sure what to wear. Would you mind choosing something for me?” The little elf enthusiastically nodded yes.

“I always chose Mistress Malfoy’s clothes, it would be an honor to do so for you, young Mistress. Do you need help getting undressed?” Adeline shook her head.

“No, thank you. You may go.”

“Yes Mistress,” Dottie nodded, “I’ll be back in a moment or two with your clothing.”

When Adeline was finally alone she wasted no time ridding herself of her clothes and sinking neck-deep in the hot water. She audibly sighed, the warmth easing the tension from her muscles and lulling her almost to sleep. Perhapse she did fall asleep, because the next she knew Dottie’s little hands were washing and combing through her long hair.

“Mistress has beautiful hair,” she complimented. “Much prettier than Mistress Malfoy’s if you don’t mind Dottie saying.” Adeline laughed. Truly laughed for the first time in days.

“Thank you, Dottie,” she chuckled and Dottie smiled.

“Dottie picked a black gown for Mistress, undergarments and some shoes.” She pointed to the items laid neatly across the bench in the bathroom. “Master Malfoy requested something nice.” Adeline couldn’t help but notice the black lace that seemed to adorn every item except the black heels.

“Are we having guests this evening?” She questioned the house elf but Dottie shook her head.

“No Mistress, Master just wanted you to look your best.” Adeline’s stomach tied in knots. He was already treating her like a trophy to be displayed. There for him to enjoy looking at and nothing else. She slowly stood from the water and a robe was tied around her magically.

She ran her fingers across the clothes laid out, they were silk and obviously of high quality but they were not hers. Adeline remembered Dottie saying Draco had purchased some clothing for her before she arrived.

‘It figures he would have bought lignerie’ she thought, holding up a very lacy bra and panty set. She put it on anyway, not hating the way it made her look and feel much more confident than she usually did in her own undergarments. Dottie helped her slip the gown over head and zip it up, though it left her shoulders and a portion of her back exposed. She put on the red-bottomed heels last and gazed at herself in the mirror.

She looked expensive. She felt expensive.

Finally Dottie dried and straightened her dark hair with a snap of her fingers. “Mistress is ready?” She questioned. Adeline took a deep breathe and nodded, following Dottie back out of the bedroom.

[yeeter-parkor]

Training is hard when you don't wanna hit people...

peter is to pure for this world.

read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610966

summery:  Peter Parker is too strong for his own good, and he holds himself back so much that Natasha and Steve have no idea what he is really capable of. Natasha decides she needs to fix that.

“Peter, come here a moment,” Natasha said, her voice commanding, causing Peter to tense slightly. They had just found out about him being Spiderman after the bridge incident, and they hadn’t seemed to be thrilled about it. To be completely fair, they were perfectly nice to him, but they hadn’t been the most forgiving of Mr. Stark allowing him to join as they might have let on if the dead frogs in the lab were anything to go by.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, scurrying over to where she was standing and looked at her, searching for clues as to what they were about to do.

“Me and Steve have decided that, contrary to popular belief, we will not be killing Stark, yet.”

“But,” Steve interjected, “you are going to have to prove to us first that you can keep yourself safe out there.”

“But sir I-”

“No but’s, your sparring with me first, then Steve, okay. If we don’t beat you to bad then we will consider letting you go out on your own again.”

“Have… Have I not been?”

“No. Go get changed and meet us in the training room.”

He scampered off, socked feet sliding slightly on the tile floors, which he was sure wasn’t helping them take him seriously, but he was honestly so excited he didn’t care. He knew he was stronger than both of them, so he would have to hold back quite a bit, but at least they would have to take him seriously then. He threw on a black tee and shorts with leggings underneath, helpful when you do a lot of flips, and hurried back down, trying to set his face to look as grown-up as possible, he didn’t want them holding back because he was a kid.

Clearly, his attempt at looking mature hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped, because Steve chuckled when he re-appeared.

“What?” He asked, probably sounding majorly winey.

“I like your socks.” Was all the soldier said, reminding him that he was still wearing Spongebob socks. He cleared his throat, trying his hardest to not blush, which he had a feeling wasn’t working, as he slipped on his sparring shoes.

“Peter, are you ready?” Natasha asked impatiently from the mat.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, scrambling over to her, and ignoring Steve’s laughter.

“Good. We’re going to start easy, alright? Just try to block this time, no need to attack, okay? We’ll go for three minutes. ” “Got it!” He exclaimed, resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. He couldn’t help being excited, he loved sparring. The chance to get moving and work out some pent up energy, without the chance of being shot was great.

“Go!” Steve yelled from the side.

Wasting no time, Natasha took a jab straight at his head with a high roundhouse kick, which he leaped away from with ease. She was holding back, but clearly not my much, and allowed her swings to carry more weight as the fight went on. Not that it affected Peter though, he hadn’t even gotten close to being hit.

“Peter, keep your feet steady!” He heard Steve call, a worried tilt to his voice. Peter just grinned. Because of that, he was going to do everything in his power to stay off his feet. He flipped and spun and dogged for the whole three minutes, and Natasha hadn’t even gotten close to hitting him. He could see a mix of pride and frustration on her face as the bell rang.

“Okay Peter, this time you attack me. Remember, I spar with Steve all the time, I can take a hit.”

He looked at her dubiously. He wasn’t positive he could kill her with one hit, but he was, and he could.

The bell rang again before he had time to protest, and Nat jumped into a defensive stance. Reluctantly, he started the match, being sure to pull his punches as much as possible without them noticing, which wasn’t really working all that well.

“Come on Peter, you need to get a hit in,” Steve called again.

“Hmmph.” He huffed, putting most of his focus on not hurting his friend, but he did speed his swings up enough to startle the assassin, who was having a difficult time blocking all of them. By the end of the round, Peter had albeit unintentionally, gotten almost a dozen hits in.

“Okay Nat, you ready to switch out yet?” Steve called. Peter watched as she seemed to weigh her choices for a moment.

“Peter, if I spare with you again, will you actually try and hit me?” She asked.

“I um, I don’t think I will hit either of you.” He said honestly.

“Yeah, let’s switch.” She called, climbing over the mat rail.

Peter watched silently as Steve took her place, shifting anxiously. He saw Natasha pull Steve’s ear to her lips and whisper something.

“Don’t go easy on him, he’s stronger than he’ll let on. I want to see him really attack.”

Suddenly, Steve was in Natasha’s place, staring at him with icy (Ha) blue eyes, analytical and hard. It was his fighting face, not angry, but by no means soft ether. Peter had only a second to register the ring of the starting bell before Steve was lunging at him. Aiming straight for his head. Peter’s spidey senses screamed as he flipped away, dodging and ducking only slightly faster then Steve was swinging. He had learned it a few months ago, when a petty criminal got wise, after seeing Peter operate at his full speed. He ended up okay but had a massive scar on his side. He almost matched Steve’s pace, making sure that he still didn’t know his real speed.

“Come on Pete, you gotta punch back,” Steve grunted, already sweating.

“I think I’m good, thanks.” He said, trying and failing to sound tired.

Peter ducked, allowing Cap to make contact with his shoulder for a moment, seeing the frustration growing behind his eyes.

“Peter, stop letting him win, we need to see what you can do if you expect us to let you out again,” Natasha said from the sidelines.

“He is not letting me win,” Steve said indignantly, “I’ve barely hit him.”

“Look at him Steve, Pete, you haven't even broken a sweat, I need to see how capable you are or this will be a waste of everyone's time.”

Her words stung a bit, so Peter revised him plane of tiring Steve out. He caught Natasha’s eye, and she nodded approvingly, seeming to understand his silent request for permission. The next time Steve swung at him, he didn’t duck, but instead caught his fist and used to flip himself over Steve’s back and kicked him hard. Not hard enough to kill him, obviously, but hard enough to send him flying across the gym. Everyone was silent for a moment, Peters eyes wide. “I am so sorry!” Peter exclaimed, running to where Steve had landed. He was already picking himself up, wincing.

“Don’t apologize, Peter, that was exactly what I wanted,” Natasha said. Her expression never changes, but Peter swore that he saw pride in her eyes.

“You wanted that?” he asked, pointing to the (rather large) crater that Steve had made where he collided.

“Well, maybe not that specifically, but I wanted to see how hard you could hit, although I am guessing by your appearance you are still holding back.” She amended.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, indignantly.

“You aren't tired or sore at all, and you seemed way to calm when you kicked him over here, almost bored.” Peter paled at that, he hadn’t wanted to offend them.

“I-I’m not bored, I swear.” He said.

“Yeah, sure. Steve, will you get Thor, and Tony please, I want them here.” Natasha said, directing her words to Steve, who had sense picked himself up from the floor, although looking slightly worse for the wear. Peter winced at the bruise blossoming on his temple.

“Yeah yeah, I’m on it.” He said, turning.

“And get some ice, the kid gave you a good bruise.”

“Sorry!” Peter shouted after the grumpy soldier as Natasha chuckled.

“Don’t apologize, Peter, someone needs to bring his ego down a notch.” The redhead said with a smirk. “Besides, he can take a hit. Tony’s wall, however…”

He was about to apologize when Steve returned with the other two in tow.

“Okay, guys, come here,” Natasha said, walking over to a screen near the far right wall from Peter. “FRIDAY can you play the footage of Peter and Steve from 3 and a half minutes ago?” Natasha asked. FRIDAY obliged, showing the two of them sparring on the screen for about 30 seconds before Peter kicks him. He snuck a glance at Tony, trying to gauge his reaction, he at least didn’t seem mad they were sparing, if anything he looked amused. Onscreen Natasha nods, and screen Peter kicks screen, Steve, causing Tony to laugh in a not-very-professional fashion.

“Look mid-guardian, the child kicked you!” Thor said happily.

“Yes Thor, I am aware,” Steve responded.

“Aw, why so salty Cap? You finally believe me that Pete can kick your ass? Or just past your bedtime?”

“Boys!” Natasha interjected. “The point of this exercise was to get a good idea of Peter’s abilities, but it was made clear that Cap was not as good a match as we had hoped he would be, so I was hoping that Thor would be willing to spar with him.”

“Are you sure that is wise, women of spiders, I do not wish to harm him.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Tony said, “He may not be an even match with Thor, but I think he will be fine.”

“Good enough for me.” Natasha said, “Just try not to kill him, will you Thor.”

“I would never kill a child.”

“Okay, still not a child,” Peter said quietly.

“You’re 15 Peter, that is child aged,” Steve said.

“Weren't you applying to the military when-” Peter started, only to be shoved onto the matt and hear the bell ring.

“Okay go!” Steve said loudly, causing a laugh from Tony and a suspicious glare from Natasha.

Thor swung at Peter with almost twice the force Steve had used, and Peter immediately realized that Thor would beat him if they used pure strength, although not by much. He could tell the Asgardian was holding back still. Of course, Peter still had the advantage of his speed and sticky-ness, which he planned on using to his full potential. They fought for a solid half an hour before he could sense the others getting bored. Peter hadn’t been hit once, but he hadn’t hit his opponent ether. Thor had also grown frustrated, letting more and more of his power fall into each missed blow.

Finally, Peter was starting to actually feel tired, which was nice. He actually enjoyed not having to constantly be monitoring his strength in a fight. Except by now Thor was panting, and clearly fed up, and Peter had a feeling that they were moments away from a hurricane if this fight didn’t end. He glanced at Tony and Natasha again, making eye contact as they both nodded their approval, Natasha looking stern, whereas Tony was downright gleeful. With their approval, Peter aught Thor's next missed punch before he had been given a chance to recover, using in to swing himself over, causing Thor to lose his footing and get launched over Peter’s head. He landed with a residual thud and everyone stood quiet for a moment, the only sound being Peter and Thor's loud breaths. Until they heard a ding coming from FRIDAY

“Footage saved” Which sent all of them into laughter.

“Good job, man of spiders, you fought well. I am glad we are on the same side in battle.” Thor said, rising from the floor which was now definitely dented . Peter looked up at the other three, smiling slightly at their expressions. Natasha was smiling, Steve looked completely dumbfounded, and Tony- Well Tony looked happier then Peter had seen him since Clint accidentally ate a frog head. “So… can I go out on patrols again?” Peter asked them hopefully.

“Yeah kid, I don’t think there’s a criminal in the city that could take you,” Steve said, almost causing Peter to bring up Rooms, but he bit his lip.

“Hey FRIDAY, you saved both those fights to my training file, right?” Tony called to the ceiling.

“Yes, and the first one can also be found in ‘Capsicle Is Melting’”

“Good. good job kid.” Tony said. Peter didn’t think he stopped smiling the rest of the day.

[gerbiloftriumph]

The Size of Hope

(also on ao3)

Mordon isn't certain what to make of the fairy tale king his goblin friends captured, and King Graham has no idea what to make of the huge and clumsy goblin who keeps running into his path. The two warily team up, but neither one belongs in the goblin kingdom, and some pain runs deeper than either expects.

(Gen canon-expansion fic putting scrapped fragments from the subtitle file back into the game. Full fic warnings: bruising, canon-typical violence, self-hatred, abuse, Goblins Do Not Make Good Friends)

~*~*~

2/5

(1: Seen)(2: Found)

~*~*~

Mordon had guard duty again. Not of the fairy tale prisoners. That was a quality position. Being so near the Gingerbread Man Baker, or the Wicked Witch, or especially the king himself—guarding them was exciting and dangerous and fun and thus meant for better goblins than himself.

No, Mordon’s guard duty consisted of standing a little distance ahead of the goblin king’s castle and looking as important as he could. He didn’t even get a spear. He just had to stand there. He took it as seriously as he could, but he felt himself curling back down into his crouch when his friends came by. His friends had gotten to be in the fairy tale prison. The fun job. They were energized, excited by being so close to the stories.

Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising when they started hitting him. Maybe one of them half-remembered some mistake Mordon had made earlier, or maybe they didn’t like how Mordon was standing, or maybe they just (he thought this extra quietly) didn’t like Mordon. With one thing or another, they found it was more fun to start thumping him. It turned into a game, like most things with the goblins did. One would hit him, and he would turn to face them, and then one would thump him from behind, and he would whirl, but he couldn’t fight back because then they’d really be angry, and if they got angry….

Mordon felt hot tears racing down his cheeks beneath his helmet, but he fiercely blinked them back. It was just another night in the kingdom. It was just how it was.

But then, a shadow loomed against the wall, flinging all of them into sharp darkness.

The shadow was huge, curved, deadly.

Dragon.

The goblins around Mordon screamed and fled, scrambling away, vanishing down tunnels. But Mordon stood frozen. A little voice in the back of his head wondered how a dragon of that size would fit in this place, how it would come all the way here without being seen or heard by anyone else.

And then he saw the truth standing across the gaping hole the goblins called a moat. Not a dragon. Or at least, not the full sized one the shadow might have led them to think. It was just a baby dragon. A tiny little useless thing. Held in front of a light to cast a shadow to frighten people who weren’t willing to look beyond first glance. And the person holding the baby dragon to the light was…

The king.

The king was here.

The king was out of his locked room.

The fairy tale king and his shiny hat had come out of the darkness, and the king had tricked the others, just like the king in the story had done to the pied piper. Mordon wasn’t sure what to do, and he felt the panic rising in his chest. His friends were gone, and the king was standing across the moat looking…yes, looking directly at Mordon.

Should he run, too? Should he get help? The king was dangerous, deceptive, clever. What help could his friends even give him? Would they hit him and call him a liar about the baby dragon? They would probably just claim all the success if they did catch the king, wouldn’t mention that Mordon was the only one who had (bravely? stupidly?) stood there.

But…but the king knew the stories…and….

Mordon raised a hand in wary greeting, out of some reflexive desperate instinct more than anything, and the king, after a long, thoughtful pause, did the same. A gentle hand, raised to greet him, to acknowledge him. Mordon hesitated a moment longer, but then the king smiled at him, just a little bit.

Mordon hadn’t ever been smiled at before. Just bared teeth and growls and insults and usually a kick or several. This felt…nicer. Nice enough that he wanted another smile. He made a decision—good or bad, he didn’t know, but it was his choice, at least. He raised a finger to the king, telling him to wait (imagine, Mordon, asking a king to wait!), and scampered off to find the drawbridge crank.

As the king crossed the bridge, Mordon thought again about running away, but…this felt too important.

And he wanted another one of those smiles.

So he crouched, fidgeting, at the edge of the castle entrance, and then the king was next to him and his shiny hat was still glittering in the light, and Mordon secretly thought that the king’s crown was better than the goblin king’s crown. Just a little bit.

“Hi…I’m Graham,” the king said. He looked apprehensive, but he stayed, he waited. And that was strange and unexpected and foolish and fascinating.

Mordon cautiously replied, “I am…Mordon.”

The king—Graham—startled, stepping back a pace. “You…speak my language?”

“Mmhmm.” He could read it, too, a bit. He’d taught himself as best he could, hoping that if he could read from the books of fairy tales (always written in the language of humans), and translated it for his friends, they might like him more. Like they liked the goblin king, who had books upon books and held reading parties where he would read out the stories and the goblins would act them for him. Somehow, the ability to read didn’t make Mordon more popular. It was only magical when the goblin king read the stories.

The king was looking at him intently. Mordon crouched lower, more like his goblin friends would want. “You’re pretty big for a goblin,” the king mumbled, apparently to himself instead of to Mordon.

But Mordon was used to not being spoken to. “You…want to see Goblin King?” he asked. Why else would the king—no, Graham—be here?

“Yes. How can I find him?”

Mordon twisted his long fingers together in terrified thought—but he had gone this far, and the king hadn’t hurt him. And maybe the human king had something important he had to tell the goblin king. That was in the stories, too. Kings with daughters they needed marrying, or kingdoms to give away, or other important things that were too big for Mordon. So, probably, he would be doing the right thing by the book by showing Graham where to go.

You couldn’t go against the story, after all.

“Follow me,” Mordon said, and loped off into the darkness, taking twists and turns down the warren of tunnels that made up the goblin’s inner court. Graham hesitated for a mere moment before stumbling after him, made clumsy by darkness.

~*~*~

The goblin was not what Graham had expected.

For the first time, Graham could see him unobstructed by shadows and distance. For the first time, he could stand next to him. For the first time, he thought that if Mordon stopped crouching, he would be of a height with Graham. Perhaps taller. For the first time, Graham’s thoughts started to tell of something all together too distressing—he shoved the idea away. How tall was Acorn, after all? How tall had Achaka—no, stop that, don’t you dare think about that.

They walked in silence through the roughly hewn corridors, taking turns that Graham, had he been on his own, probably wouldn’t have even noticed. They slipped from shadow to shadow, Mordon just as keen to avoid company as Graham.

This, Graham thought, is the worst idea. I’m following a goblin I met three minutes ago to face some unknown enemy on his territory just so I can try to, what, talk him into letting me go?

Still.

Mordon, despite being a goblin, didn’t seem like the others (and not just because of the height). Hadn’t mocked Graham. Hadn’t threatened him with any violence (yet).

Graham was curious, and Graham was desperate, and Graham was willing to play along. Mordon might be leading him into a trap, or he might not be, but after watching the other goblins abuse him, Graham felt a stubborn need give the goblin a chance.

This is definitely the worst idea.

“Like your hat,” Mordon said, softly.

“Um, thank you,” Graham said, surprised.

Mordon stiffened. Apparently he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud.

“I have another hat,” Graham said. “No, I suppose it’s had another hat.” He paused, leaning against the wall. The nerves and the exhaustion and a nagging ache in the back of his throat were all catching up with him, biting into him. Not a good time, Graham. “I don’t know that I’ll ever see it again,” he continued, trying to hide his breathlessness with an airy nonchalance. Trying not to show weakness, like he could distract Mordon with conversation until he felt like could walk again without feeling as though his knees were going to give out.

Mordon was staring. At least, Graham thought he was. The helmet made it hard to be sure. He braced himself, certain he was going to be tackled, that this was it, that he had made the wrong choice— “You…sad about other hat?” Mordon asked.

Oh. Graham nodded, rubbing at his throat absently, relief making him feel like his knees really were about to give out. “Yeah, I am. It was special to me. It had a big red feather in it. My mom gave it to me before I went to go become a knight.”

“Mom gave it.” Mordon seemed to be thinking hard about that. It took a long time for him to connect what he wanted to say. “Goblins…don’t have those. Goblins are big family. All the same.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment, but Mordon didn’t seem to want to let the idea go. “What else does hat have? Like mine?” He gestured to his helmet.

Graham smiled wryly at that, which Mordon seemed to like since the goblin straightened up another fraction of an inch and stepped a little closer to hear the answer: “No, not like your helmet. It’s blue, and I guess it’s a bit tattered. It’s made of cloth, not stone like yours. Do you ever take yours off?”

“Goblins hate Mordon’s face.”

“Do they now?” Graham bit his lip. “Why is that? Where are you from?”

“Grew up here. Goblins are family.”

Not a helpful answer. Could he ask Mordon to take off his helmet? Or would that cause some sort of etiquette meltdown? Mordon had been helpful so far, but Graham was still fully aware of the consequences of upsetting him—he didn’t carry a spear, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to bring Graham down with the weight of that stone armor, and he could have other things with him, like a dagger or something. Best to keep quiet.

But Mordon was still thinking. “Where hat gone? Could we get it?”

“One of your…friends took it away, when I first came. I haven’t seen it since. It could be anywhere.”

“Or could be here.”

Graham perked up a little. “Why would you think that?”

“Guards from then, come here lots.”

Graham thought about that for a moment, but then decided against it. Looking for his hat was just too ridiculous a risk, no matter how much he wanted it back. That would land him back in his not-so-cozy pit of a cell, maybe this time with a few extra restrictions tied in place. “That’s okay,” he told Mordon. “It’s not important.”

“It is,” Mordon said, a little stubbornly. “You want. We could…”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe after I get a chance to talk to the king, we can think about it. But right now, you’re with me. Let’s get out of here.”

~*~*~

Mordon couldn’t stop glancing over his shoulder as they walked, and every time excitement flickered through his heart, not unlike the jolting feeling of accidentally touching hot metal. This was better than playing. This was real. He was walking with the king. And the king wasn’t wearing a tattered costume and carrying badly painted props: the king was real.

And Mordon wasn’t playing a villain. For the first time since he could remember, someone wanted him. The king had even said so. “You’re with me.” That meant something. It had to. Words spoken mattered. He practically floated down the cave, hardly thinking about where they were going but thinking about costumes and plays and heroes and monsters and—

His helmet suddenly felt like it was too tight, and his armor felt like it was rubbing even worse than ever before, pinching his elbows. Graham was only still with him because Graham didn’t know about monsters. Didn’t know about what was under Mordon’s helmet. If he knew, he’d hate Mordon. Like the goblins did. He’d want to leave, like the goblins did.

Mordon bit down so hard on his tongue that his eyes watered. He just knew this was going to go wrong. It always did.

[crysta-cub]

Caught in a Blind: Chapter 3: Like a drop in the Forest

Stretch needs to get Edge home, Fast. Last Chapter Next Chapter 

Read on AO3 

or continue on

“Get DOWN!” Edge whispered harshly, as he yanked on his sweater. Hurriedly, Stretch crouched down, feeling the brush of nearby branches. His grip slipped, losing his hold on Edge and unceremoniously dumping him into the snow. Three thunking sounded right above his head, magic crackling into nothing. Stretch scrambled to feel around for Edge, finding the other monster curled up and shaking. Was that a whimper?  “sorr-mrph.” A gloved hand was quickly placed over his mouth, effectively silencing him. Stretch’s soul pounded in his chest, listening for whatever threat Edge had sensed. He didn’t hear anything for a while before he felt Edge relax and let out a sigh. “Kid, Look At Who You’re Attacking Next Time!” Edge yelled out. “Did I do well, Mister Papyrus, Sir?” A young voice called out. Stretch vaguely recognized that voice, but not from his own universe. The Tale one? Edge gave a harsh sigh  “Good Ambush But You Need To Be Aware Of What Your Opponent Is Doing Before You Attack.” What the hell is going on? Edge’s is instructing their attacker, and it's a kid? Wait, kid, that rung a bell. “Yes sir, mister papyrus sir. I only saw your head from behind and that weird hoodie. Stood out in the bushes.” The voice came a little closer. “What were you doing?” The sound of crunching snow halted as Edge growled warningly. “It’s None Of Your Concern. Unfortunately I Can Not Train With You Today.” A sound of disappointment came from his right and then it struck him. It was Monster Kid. “We’ll Have To Do A Rain Check. Maybe You Should Check In With Undyne, I’m Sure She’d Like A Little Target Practice.” “Yes Sir, Mister Papyrus Sir!” Stretch heard the kid scamper away, hearing the tale tell sound as the kid fell and scrambled backup to run off again.

“heh, didn’t know you took on apprentices.” Stretch chuckled lightly as he gathered Edge back up in his arms, hearing him groan as he was lifted. Stars, how could he have been so clumsy. Edge coughed before drawing in a harsh gasp. “He’s a good kid, got to give him as much advantage as I can.” Though Edge’s voice sounded pained, but there was a hint of pride he had towards the kid. Stretch gave him a smile as he stood. “Take a few steps to the left and go forward. There’s not much ahead.” “right, marching forth, mister Papyrus, sir.” Stretch chuckled, missing the other’s non-response, as he began to follow Edge’s directions again. The crunch of snow beneath his feet greeted his non-existent ears. He couldn’t help but notice the scent of spice and sweat wafting from Edge, with a tinge of something else. Stretch would have found it pleasant, had it not also carried a hint of dust with it, Stretch fought off a grimace.

“so, uh, what do you teach the kid?” Stretch wasn’t sure, but something told him to keep Edge talking. He carefully picked up the pace, just a tad. Why can he smell raw magic? There was a breath of a pause before Edge spoke, slower than Stretch thought normal. “The General stuff. Self defense, honor, tracking. The list goes on. Not sure how to teach him how to cook though. I’m not experienced with cooking without arms.” “so long as it not finger food, you should be fine.” Stretch joked, noticing the silent chuckle from Edge, cleverly disguised as an annoyed huff. “you sent him off to Undyne, is she training him too?” “Yes, when she has available time. It actually helps her to calm down and allows her to  concentrate on something other than the guard.” There was a fondness in Edge’s voice. “It also helps in keeping the kids safe and out of trouble. Most of them end up wanting to join the guard, which is a great help.” “that sound great, didn’t know you were so good around kids.” Stretch smiled at the thought of Edge teaching the kids of the underground life lessons. It definitely was shining a new light on the monster in his currently burning arms,

“Stretch, stop.” Stretch stopped in his tracks, soul beginning to race. “Calm down. We’re taking a break.” Edge sounded tired but amused. “I thought we were in a hurry.” Concern infiltrated Stretch’s voice. “we should really get back to your place before dark.” Stretch could feel Edge shake his head, “It’ll be fine, we’re close. You’re beginning to slow down and, in all honesty, I don’t need you dropping me again.” Edge’s sounded ragged, the grip of his hand tightening on Stretch’s sweater, “ok, that’s fair.” Stretch knelt down in the snow carefully and adjusted Edge to lean against him while allowing his arms a moment of rest. “shouldn’t we be at your place by now? i didn’t think i went that far.” Edge was breathing heavier, voice seems strained “It’s not that much further, told you we’re going the long way. There are less monsters to encounter this way. Last thing we need is someone seeing us and thinking we’re easy targets.” Edge leaned heavily against him. “How are you doing?” “Uh, still blind, but, um, i’m alright.” Stretch was dumbfounded. Here Edge was, with who knows how many broken bones, probably in a shit load of pain and not complaining one bit and he was checking to see if he, Stretch, was alright. He felt Edge nod against his chest. Silence filled the space, Stretch could hear as snow shifted off the branches of nearby trees. He concentrated on the sound of, as well as feel, every huff of breath Edge seemed to be struggling to make. Wasn’t he breathing better when his chest was pressed against him?   It wasn’t long till Stretch could feel Edge’s skull roll over his chest, as if the ability to hold it up was too much. Plus there was a slight dampness he began to feel through his pants and his sweatshirt that Stretch wasn’t liking. “Edge?” There was no response. Carefully, Stretch shook his shoulder. “hey, Edge.” “Yea?” Stretch felt Edge’s head lift from his chest, as if startled. “i think we should get going.” Stretch began to reposition Edge in his arms before standing. “G… good I...idea” Did Edge just stumble on his words? “Turn to the… left and walk straight a few feet...” Stretch could feel as Edge suck in a breath, as if the motion caused him pain. “you… doing alright Edge?” Stretch clenched his jaw as he followed Edge’s words, and felt the need to hold Edge just a little closer to his body as he felt a few tremors ran down the other’s spine. “Stop worrying… I’ll be fine.” Edge rasped, that wasn’t comforting. “Now, Slow down, you’re going to step” He felt the other suck in a breath sharply. “Step down, just like that. Now, take a step to the right and keep going”

“Edge, you seriously don’t sound good.” Stretch worried as he followed the instructions the best he could.  He felt every brush of tree trunks and rocks as they passed by. Edge wasn’t guiding him as well as he was earlier. Plus, the damp spot on his sweater was growing. “I… I need you to concentrate on getting” Stretch could feel Edge shutter in his hold as his voice began to shake “getting to the house.” At Edge’s graveled command, Stretch gave a sigh and continued through the woods.  It wasn’t long before he began to notice Edge’s skull falling occasionally against his chest with a slight thud as he walked. Edge’s grip on his sweater kept loosening and tightening. “I am. but if…” “Stop.” Stretch came to a sudden halt. “Turn left, right there.” Stretch waited for Edge to continue, soul buzzing with nerves. “Straight ahead is the house. You should be able to walk,” Stretch heard a low groan from the skeleton in his arms, “walk straight to it without any trouble.” Edge’s bones shook in Stretch’s hold. “Maybe you should put me down, it’ll be easier for you to…” “No!” Stretch cut Edge off, feeling the skeleton jerk in his arms. “I’m not putting you down, We’re going there together. I won’t leave you behind.” Stretch felt a sharp jolt of a laugh. “Alright.” Stretch began walking straight, taking larger steps to try to hurry to the house. “You’ll have to,” Edge attempted to cover a cough in Stretch’s shoulder, “Follow the wall to the left, it’ll bring you to the door.” Edge sounded winded, sending a pulse of nerves to Stretch’s soul. Stretch swallowed down the nervous magic. “ok, Edge, just stay with me ok.” Edge’s hand slowly began to lose grip as he brings his head to rest at the crook of Stretch’s neck. “Stretch…” His voice weak. Stretch was hesitant to answer, his voice wavering a bit as he did. “yea?” He swore he was not holding onto Edge too tightly. “I’m... I’m sorry.” Much like cutting the strings of a marionette, Edge suddenly fell limp, throwing the blinded skeleton off balance. He caught himself from falling or dropping Edge onto the snow. Stretch panted from the sudden shock.

“Edge? Edge!” Stretch shook Edge’s body, trying to rouse the fell monster. “Edge, come one. this is not the time for the silent treatment.” Stretch was trying not to let himself panic as his voice began to tremble and his soul began hammered in his chest. “Edge, come on. wake up.” “Edge?” Silence was Stretch’s answer. Edge was unconscious in his arms, and the size of the damp spot on his sweater was even more worrisome. Stretch shook himself out of his stupor and squared his shoulder. He knew where he had to go and what to do.

“alright, Edge, we’re almost home. don’t you dare dust on me now.” Trudging through the snow, Stretch found his lost strength and determination. Edge’s dead weight was no longer a burden holding him down. The thick layer of snow below his feet no longer slowed his progress as he pushed towards his goal. ‘don’t dust.’ He held out the hand holding Edge’s legs waiting for the presence of a solid surface. His imagination trying its damnedest to get the best of his, making him imagine the feel of grit in his hands. ‘don’t you dare dust.’ There it was, Stretch stopped suddenly as his hand touched against a wall. He brushed his hand against the wood surface, just to be sure of what he felt. His goal was close, he reminded himself as whispers told him he was out of time. ‘don’t you fucking dust.’ He shifted Edge so that his elbow from under the unconscious monster’s back now stuck out, and Stretch used it to guide him as he followed Edge’s directions to go left, slowed at the corner until his shoes hit the cement sides of the Fell brother’s steps that sat in front of their door. Stretch’s bones began to shake. ‘please, don’t dust on me.’ Stretch used his foot to find the top of the first step, then the next, helping him safely step on top. Stretch turned to face the door, becoming all to aware of how shallow Edge was breathing as he laid lifeless in his arm. ‘please don’t dust.’ He raised his foot to kick the door only to hear as the knob turned and the door squeak at the same time making Stretch’s foot only met air. “hey, what the fuck! Stretch? oh shit” Stretch jumped at his nickname. He felt a hand grab him by the moist sweater and pull him inside. Stretch stumbled forward, determined not to lose his precious load as he was brought down hard onto his knees. “what the hell happen’d? fuck, it’s everywhere.” Red growled as he picked at his sweatshirt before moving on to Edge, checking him. Then there was a hand on his face where the gunk still covered his face. “i got ambushed, this gunk was thrown in my face, I can’t see and Edge… he saved me, but… shit, he’s not doing well, Red.” Stretch explained in one breath, panting with exhaustion. He felt another presence kneel in front of him, their arms mirroring where he held the unconscious skeleton. “STRETCH, LET ME TAKE HIM FROM HERE.” the all too loud and calm voice coming from Rus was a sudden comfort as Stretch let him take on Edge’s burden. He felt as the other stood up and rushed past to carry Edge up the stairs, the squeak of the second to last step a reassuring sign that Edge was in good hands. “PAPY!” Suddenly Blue rushed to Stretch side, hugging him tightly. Stretch returned it quickly, soaking in the comfort his brother provided, proof that he was safe. “What Is That Stuff?” Blue’s small hand brushed against his cheekbones as his delicate fingers moved to pick at the edge of the gunk. Suddenly Blue’s hand was smacked away. “don’t you dare peel that off, not ‘less you want him to stay blind.” “what?” Stretch exhaled. “But How Do We Get It Off?” Blue questioned for him. Red growled, there was a sound of scrape of bone on bone, as if the other was rubbing his brow. “I ‘ave to get a cream for it, it’s one of Alphys’s experiments gon’ missin’. it’s a face mask mixed wit’ magic suppressors and drainer. It drains the victims magic and prevents them from using it. peel it and the effects become permanent.”  Red got up, brushing off his coat. “Don’ do anythin’ stupid. I gotta make sure my bro don’t dust.” With a pop, the presence of Red was gone. “But wait, what shou…” Stretch stood up quickly, suddenly hit by a sense of vertigo. His head began to spin. Sound and awareness seemed to fade into a haze around him. The last thing he heard was his brother yelling out before he fell. “PAPY!”

[xechoecho88x]

You Are To Me

Prompt: 

A: “If you do this, you’ll die!”

B: “If I don’t, thousands will die. I’m not more important than all those people.”

A: “You are to me.”

Pairings: Royality, Analogical

TW: Some violence, some injuries, fighting  (Tell me if you want anything else added)

-NOT GRAPHIC-

--

Roman ran through the Imagination, breathing hard. He was covered in bruises, scratches, and cuts, his hair was messed up and smeared with dirt. He gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. 

Roman cursed as he turned sharply, trying to lose his pursuer. He fell into the mud, staining his white outfit. He scrambled up, eyes widening as he caught sight of the creature who was attacking him. 

She was grotesque. Venom dripped from her long fangs and her beady black eyes seemed to stare into his soul. She looked similar to a dragon, except not the kind from Dragon Tales, or even the one from Cinderella. No, this dragon was simply terrifying. She had spikes that were needle-sharp and thin, covering her body. When this dragon was little she looked more like the dragons from How To Train Your Dragon. During this time, Roman had “lovingly” named her the Dragon Witch. 

As the dragon grew, she grew more and more out of Roman’s control. Now the Prince had to protect the emotions and aspects from her. This involved fighting tooth and claw, literally in the Dragon Witch’s case, figuratively in Roman’s. As that was his sworn duty as protector and ruler of the Imagination. 

The witch readied her staff and shot a beam of magic toward Roman. The creative side panicked and disappeared back to the Mind Palace, back to safety. Abandoning his post as protector of the city of emotions and aspects.

Roman collapsed to his knees in fear as he reappeared back in the Mind Palace common room. He was shaking, and if tears were leaking from his eyes, he’d never admit it. He was so close, so close, to being hit by whatever spell the Dragon Witch had casted. Who knows? That spell could’ve been fatal. He closed his eyes in hopes of calming himself from his near-death experience. However, it seems that Patton had been making his way through that room in order to reach the kitchen so he could start making dinner for the sides. 

“Roman? Kiddo?” Patton asked nervously. He shifted from leg to leg as he stared down at the seemingly injured side.

Roman’s eyes snapped open. “Padre!” he exclaimed gazing happily at the moral side. 

Patton helped up the princely side looking over his mud-stained clothing and various scratches with concern. He quickly left the other side as soon as he was back on his feet. 

He returned quickly, or maybe it seemed that way to Roman, he was kind of spacing out at this point, regretting abandoning his subjects. Patton lugged a First Aid kit along with him. 

Roman blinked and suddenly he was on the sofa, the top of his muddy uniform thrown off to the side. Patton knelt before him, wiping his wounds with disinfectant. Roman hissed in pain, feeling the sting of his cuts. 

“How did this happen, Ro-ro?” Patton asked him gently.

Roman shook his head. “I-I have to get back.” Roman muttered. “I was dueling the Dragon Witch, I need to save the citizens of the Imagination.”

Patton blinked. “You can save them later, I’m sure they can deal with it for a little while longer. You’re only one side.”

“They can’t!” Roman exclaimed, getting up from his spot on the couch in agitation. “I’m the only one that has a chance! Now…” Roman looked around for his sword and his uniform. 

“Roman.” Patton said, looking into said Side’s eyes. “Rest.”

“Patton! I-” Roman exclaimed in exasperation. Then suddenly, his eyes seemed impossibly heavy. “You didn’t…” Roman muttered sleepily, appalled that Patton wouldn’t listen to him. 

“I’m sorry, Roman, but you need to rest.” Patton said, eyes dimming from the glowing it was doing previously.

Patton had many powers as leader of the “light” sides. One such was the ability to cause other sides to fall asleep. 

Roman’s world went dark. 

When Roman re-awakened, Logan sat in the armchair next to the couch. The logical side studied him for a moment before getting up from his seat and walking over to where Roman was resting. “You’re awake.” 

“No thanks to Patton.” Roman grumbled. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long enough!” Patton called, once more, from the kitchen. The sound of running water made Roman deduce that Patton was washing dishes. 

“About an hour.” Logan stated. 

Roman scrambled up into a sitting position. White-hot panic shot through him. He’d been away from the Imagination too long! What could the Dragon Witch have gotten up to when Roman was resting?

Logan looked down at the Prince in concern. Roman was almost hyperventilating at the idea that he had failed to protect the citizens of the Imagination. 

Virgil then appeared on scene. Walking in from the kitchen, it was likely that he was helping Patton clean the dishes. The emo nightmare crouched in front of Roman. “Breathe” He said, staring directly into Roman’s brown eyes. 

Roman nodded and closed his eyes, regulating his breathing pattern. But now, Roman was itching to run back to the Imagination, ADHD kicking in at the best moment possible. 

“Roman.” Virgil said, to get the flamboyant side’s attention. He clearly noticed Roman’s fidgeting, despite it starting only a second before. “We’re going with you, to kick that b-witch’s butt!” 

Roman felt deeply touched. “I would gladly welcome you all, however, it is too dangerous. I simply cannot condone this. I don’t want you all to get hurt because of my inability to solve my own problems.” 

Virgil simply scoffed at Roman. “We’re not going to get hurt. And even if we do, it is no way your fault. I mean, we chose to go? Hello?”

Patton poked his head in the common room, again. “First, Ro, eat your dinner. You were asleep while the rest of us ate.” Interjected Patton. 

Roman glumly accepted. However, he was NOT going to just “let the other sides join him on his quest to defeat the Dragon Witch”. They didn’t understand. They didn’t realize that she was much more dangerous than what Roman had made her out to be. He didn’t want them to know how hard it was to defeat her every time. How he was never quite able to kill her. 

After Roman had finished the spaghetti that Patton had lovingly made for him, he stated that the others were not allowed to join him. 

  “Isn’t there strength in numbers? Logan?” Patton asked in counter to Roman’s previous statement. 

“Statistically, the chances of winning are much higher with more people to help.” Logan answered in agreement. 

Roman sighed. He didn’t want to give this up, because he didn’t want his fellow sides to suffer at the hands of the evil Dragon Witch. But he knew that they were too stubborn. The chances of them making it out with minimal injury were higher if Roman gave them instruction, weapons, and armour. “Alright, come to my room.”

Patton’s eyes immediately brightened and he scampered up to Roman. Logan smiled in satisfaction and Virgil gained a look that seemed to say, Of course you gave in. I knew you would. 

Roman’s room held an assortment of different armours and weapons, not just swords. However, most did not seem to fit what Roman considered that they needed. He summoned a highly protected piece of armour. The inside was padded with kevlar and it covered everything up to the user’s head. The design was rather simple, something you might expect from a cartoon depicting a medieval knight’s armour. The design also held light blue accents. The helmet was somewhat similar to a samurai’s helmet. However, it wasn’t as fancy, more protecting than anything. The helmet also had a clear visor that slid down over the face. This could be used to protect against flying materials and as a defense for your face. Roman handed the armour to Patton. Roman received a confused expression back. 

“Wear it.” Roman grumbled, “You’ll have a lower chance of dying.”

Patton nodded and slid on the armour. 

While he was putting it on (armour takes a long time to put on, there are many pieces and it can be difficult to maneuver), Roman summoned another set of armour. This one was much more practical. Moving in this piece would be much easier. The chestplate, shoulder pads, arm gauntlets, and boots were constructed out of a magnesium-based alloy. This alloy is known for being lightweight and strong. The rest of the armour was stylized kangaroo leather. The armour was mainly black with indigo accents scattered throughout. The helmet seemed to be based off of a Roman Legion helmet. This allowed the front of the helmet to be open. Roman handed this set of armour to Logan. It was entirely based off of his personality, practical, but effective. 

The next piece of armour was almost a combination of the last two. The design was very clearly based on what samurai armour looks like. The armour was functional, but protective. The tassets, spaulders, gauntlets, and chestplate were all constructed out of a titanium alloy. The rest was made from a thick leather. Small spikes constructed of steel stood up on the armour. The armour itself was mainly black, however, the straps and small details were violet in colour. The helmet that accompanied the armour was matching, unlike the other pieces of armour. The helmet was the same titanium alloy that was used on the armour with the same steel spikes sticking up from it. The helmet was painted black. The horn design on the front was much smaller than most samurai helmets, this was supposed to help maneuverability. The horn was balanced and was violet in colour, as Virgil’s colour scheme normally was.  

Roman tossed the armour to Virgil and got to work summoning weapons for his friends. Patton received a shield and spear. The spear was to keep enemies far away from him and the shield was to protect him due to his armour disallowing free movement. Logan received a crossbow and a quiver full of arrows. Roman saw that fitting because of Logan’s precision and ability to make quick movements. Virgil got dual katanas. The skill needed to control both at once was large, however, Roman had full confidence in Virgil to be able to use them. Roman handed each weapon to its corresponding side. Roman then spun around and grabbed his own katana. 

The other sides were familiar with his sword, but not in it’s blood-stained state. Patton let out a small gasp at the sight, Virgil took a step back, and Logan simply inspected the sword, no doubt determining how dangerous the upcoming battle will be. 

Roman narrowed his eyes, “Let’s give that Dragon Witch what is coming to her.”

Roman stormed through the portal into the Imagination with his fellow sides trailing him. Patton glanced at Roman once they stepped through, concern lacing his eyes and tone. “Ro? Where’s your armour?”

Roman spared him a glance, he was wearing what he usually wore in videos and such. “My uniform is lined with dyneema.” Came the concise response. 

Logan nodded with understanding. Dyneema is known for being one of the strongest fibres and is said to withstand knife (and possibly sword) stabs. 

“It doesn’t matter right now, we have to save my people and defeat the Dragon Witch. Logan and Patton, stay more at a distance, Virgil, I think you’ll be able to land a few hits, I will join you at close confrontation. This isn’t going to be some easy fight, this will be physically and mentally trying. Do as I say, and try to keep out of trouble. Good luck.” Roman told the others. The feeling of dread was heavy in his stomach. He hoped with all of his might that they would all come out unscathed. However, that hope could not possibly be a reality. Roman did not expect to come out of this battle alive. 

The sides walked quietly through the Imagination, Virgil and Patton being racked with worry and suspense, Logan and Roman planning and checking their materials. Roman suddenly came to a stop and put his hand up, signalling the others to stay quiet and stop. He quickly glanced around the tree he was hiding behind.

The Dragon Witch had her back faced toward them. She was located in a clearing, seemingly resting. Roman had to admit, the sight was almost beautiful. She was surrounded by flowers and sunlight leaked through the canopy to form a spotlight around her. The Dragon was lying down and seemed very peaceful. Her black scales glittered in the sunlight. The scene was almost picturesque, Roman almost hated to ruin it, but he knew how much terror and destruction came with the half asleep witch. 

Roman looked to his friends with pain clear in his eyes, “On the count of three.” His friends nodded solemnly. Virgil glanced at Logan and gave him a quick kiss. Roman almost felt sick. Virgil was saying ‘goodbye’ in his own way. In that moment, Roman made the decision that his friends would come back alive. No matter the sacrifice. No matter what. Roman couldn’t take this away from them.

The tension leaked from the Dragon Witch’s shoulders. Roman took a deep breath and let it out. “Three.” He whispered. Logan’s eyes narrowed. He met Roman’s gaze and gave a slight nod. 

“Two.” Regret pooled in Roman’s stomach. Why was he putting his friends in danger again? Virgil gave him a small touch, reassuring the Prince. Virgil tensed, getting ready to move as soon as Roman said so.

“One.” In a split second, Roman and Virgil had launched themselves from their hiding place. Roman had caught Patton’s gaze. Patton gave Roman a smile. Roman knew that meant that Patton put all of his trust in the regal side. 

Fueled with new determination, Roman leapt into the air to land a blow against his enemy that he had known most of his life. This was the battle of Roman’s lifetime. 

At first the battle had gone in the side’s favour. Roman had been pleasantly surprised, but soon enough they started to lose. Virgil and Roman had landed a few good hits against the Dragon Witch, but soon enough she was awake and was fighting full-force. Thankfully, she couldn’t find Logan. He shot many arrows at her that she had not deflected. 

She shot spells out. Roman had managed to avoid them thanks to Patton and his shield. Virgil was not so lucky, however. He had been trying to use his shadow magic to deflect the Dragon’s magic but she had easily overpowered him. Virgil fell. Patton let out a scream. 

Roman’s eyes widened, this what he was trying to avoid. Logan had quickly grabbed Virgil and both disappeared from sight. The Dragon Witch turned and stepped even closer to the city. Panic and fear fought for control over Roman. 

“Patt, can you distract her? I will attack her whilst she’s occupied.” Roman planned quickly out loud. Patton gave a determined nod. Then he slipped away, toward the Dragon Witch.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing!?? Roman’s internal mantra screamed at him. He positioned himself behind the Dragon Witch. Patton was dodging her attacks and even landing a few blows. Roman felt strangely proud of him. 

Roman stabbed her in the back. The Witch roared in pain and threw him backward. He slammed into a tree and his vision blurred. Logan was suddenly standing in front of the Dragon Witch, distracting her even more. Virgil was swiping attacks against her. Patton rushed over to where Roman laid. 

“Ro?” Patton’s voice shook. 

“I’m fine.” Roman said struggling to get to his feet. Patton offered his hand, looking over Roman’s injures. 

The Dragon Witch suddenly flapped her wings and took to the sky. It was a strategic retreat and was perfect for the sides. Virgil glared up at her as she flew away. Logan and Virgil then walked over to where Roman and Patton were standing. 

“You okay Princey? That was pretty brutal.” Virgil said with some concern, clearly holding back his emotions at the moment. Roman suspected it might be in case they overpower him. 

“I’m fine. I actually have a plan on how to defeat her. Logan, Patton, weaken her down. Then Virgil will capture her with his powers, and I will deal the final blow. How have the armours been holding up?” Roman explained and asked quickly. 

“It might work.” Logan said thoughtfully, “The armour has been very protective and I assume has been working.”

Virgil made a noise of agreement. “I won’t be able to hold her very long, so we will have to act quickly.”

“Not a problem.” Roman agreed. “Now, we have to find her quickly, in case she recovers.”

“She’s at your castle.” A new voice informed him. 

“Ah, of course.” Roman said, ashamed he hadn’t thought of that sooner. “Wait, who are you?” Roman asked as an afterthought, suddenly questioning the information’s credibility. 

Remy stepped into the light. He grinned. “Hello, your Highness.”

“SLEEP!” Patton cried excitedly, giving the aspect a large hug. Remy smirked and returned the hug. “Hey pop.” He said nonchalantly. 

“Let’s go.” Roman instructed, determined to end this once and for all. 

The sides had gone on a short trek to Roman’s castle. The Dragon Witch stood atop setting fire to surrounding buildings. They had immediately leapt into action. The plan quickly took a turn for the worse. Logan and Remy had ended up in the Dragon’s vile claws. 

Virgil was trapped in a spell, unable to move or speak. Let alone try to cast a spell on the Dragon Witch. 

Roman turned to Patton in desperation. “I have to attack her.” Roman informed Patton. 

“N-no you don’t!! We can come up with another plan!”

“I have to.”

“B-but, if you do this, you’ll die!”

Roman looked at Patton, sadness clear in his eyes. “If I don’t, thousands will die. I’m not more important than all those people.” The Prince gestured over the burning city, eventually landing on Logan, Remy, and Virgil. 

Patton’s eyes filled with tears. “You are to me.”

“I’m sorry Patton.” Roman whisphered, leaning in and giving Patton a quick kiss. It was intimate and full of love. Patton desperately clung to the belief that it would not be their last. Roman smiled at Patton. He was struck by the realization of how it echoed Virgil and Logan earlier. 

“I will see you later.” Roman firmly disbelieved in ‘goodbye’s. 

Patton nodded, his face felt wet. Roman would return! He had to! But, in reality, Patton was entirely unsure. 

Roman charged. The Dragon Witch had dropped Logan and Remy in order to duel Roman. They dropped with dull thuds. They were now locked in combat. 

Roman was landing plenty of hits on the Dragon Witch. She was also landing plenty of hits on Roman. He was now bleeding from multiple wounds. But she had dropped Virgil as well. He quickly recovered and slammed the Witch with a spell. Roman took the opportunity to slice her head off. 

The Dragon was quick and stabbed him through the stomach with a claw. But fell to the ground, dead a split second later. 

“Roman?” Patton asked slowly.

The world suddenly blacked for Roman and he collapsed to the ground in pain and blood loss. Patton’s scream was lost on his unconsciousness. 

In the dark side of the Mind Palace, Remus let out a small gasp. Deceit ignored it, the Duke always faked hurt, or made odd sounds. He stopped ignoring the ‘darker’ half of creativity when his voice warped. “Roman.” Remus said in pain, deadly serious.  

The splitting of creativity wasn’t perfect. If one side was in extreme pain, the other could feel some of it. Deceit stood up quickly. “What happened?” He hissed. As self-preservation, Deceit protected all of the sides. 

“He’s… really hurt.” Remus said quietly. That scared Deceit, Remus was never quiet. “No one hurts my brother but me!” Remus suddenly screamed. The Duke grabbed Deceit’s hand and teleported them to the light side of the Mind Palace. 

The Light Sides were clearly in disarray. Logan was tending to Virgil and Remy, bandaging wounds and putting ice on their bruises. Pieces of various types of armour were scattered over the floor of the room. Patton was kneeling next to the couch, holding some gauze. Roman was lying on the couch, clearly unconscious and bleeding heavily from multiple wounds. The injury of main concern was his stomach. He seemed to be bleeding the most heavily from that wound and that was where Patton was now pressing down the gauze.

Remus let out a sound of distress and fell to his knees, staring at his twin. His older brother was not supposed to get hurt! 

Deceit rushed over to Patton and was suddenly helping Patton with Roman’s wounds. “What happened?” Deceit questioned.

“The Dragon Witch, she’s never coming back.” Patton said. 

Virgil sat up, “She better not.” He waved away Logan, who was trying to get him to lay down. The anxious side walked over to Remus and gave him a quick hug. Virgil was trying to be reassuring. It worked somewhat. 

Eventually, all of the sides were surrounding Roman, staring down at his unmoving body. Suddenly, his eyes creaked open. “Did someone die or something?” Roman said, still half-asleep. 

“I would hope not.” Virgil said. 

Roman’s eyes widened and stared at everyone looking down on him. “When did I become so popular?”

“When you almost died.” Deceit said. Roman jolted in surprise suddenly realizing that Deceit and his twin were standing there as well. Roman leaned in toward Remus, arms outstretched for a hug. 

Remus leapt into the hug, tears leaking from his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Roman closed his eyes surrounded by his best friends and (maybe) boyfriend. “I am too.”

--

Cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad. Enjoy~

[thefreckledone]

Satori (Between the Lines) - Part 13

Sakura furrows her brow, watching Mizuki-sensei intently as he holds up a large leaf. She’s poised to take notes as needed, ignoring the scoffs that come from some of the less academically inclined students. To be fair, few of her classmates match Sakura’s passion for academics. Just because they will not be tested on the theory behind this technique does not mean it is unimportant.

“Over the next few days we will begin to access your chakra,” Mizuki says. “Now, we are just accessing chakra at this point; we will not even contemplate channeling it until next month.” His smile firms into a scowl as he stares them all down, trying to impress upon them the importance of these rules. Even though some of the clan children have received training in chakra manipulation, they were always under vigilant supervision from their parents. Mizuki alone could not supervise thirty children attempting to wield their chakra. His frown fades to a smile as they all nod. “I thought we could end today with a small demonstration of what we’ll be working on for the next month. When we start manipulating chakra, your first task will be to push your chakra into a leaf.”

Mizuki makes an exaggerated flourish to the leaf in his hand. A couple of the children giggle and his smile widens. “Now, what you will be doing is burning away the center of the leaf with pure chakra and keeping that chakra there, not allowing it to spread elsewhere.” Mizuki draws on his chakra, enacting his words.

There is a smattering of gasps and clapping, mainly from civilian-born children. The clan children are jaded to such simple feats of chakra, but there is awe in the faces of the civilian children. Mizuki feels a slight pang of nostalgia, remembering his own joy when he was introduced to chakra. Where has that magic gone for him?

He shakes himself of these errant thoughts, looking over his students. “Can anyone tell me why we complete this task? What does it help build?”

Most of the students shuffle a bit, breaking off eye contact in hopes of not being called on. Sakura, an exemplary student as always, meets his gaze and smiles eagerly. Mizuki doesn’t fight the urge to return the smile, nodding at her. “Sakura?”

“These exercises will help build our chakra control,” Sakura says. “Developing chakra control will help us when it comes to putting chakra into the jutsus we do. It’ll also help keep us from injuring our chakra coils as we practice.”

“Exactly right, Sakura,” Mizuki replies. “Chakra control is foundational to every ninjutsu you will perform if you become shinobi. An individual with smaller chakra reserves may very well beat someone with greater reserves because they have better chakra control. Your ability to control your chakra and employ it to your will may be the deciding factor in the survival of you and your unit.” He pauses, voice gentling. “I’m not trying to scare you; I only wish to impress upon you the importance of these sometimes tedious exercises. They’re needed to perform the awesome ninjutsus you see shinobi perform. And that’ll be it for today! Uzuki-san will start proctoring the afternoon spars in fifteen minutes.”

Most of the students scramble to their feet and scamper outside, but Sakura lingers. Mizuki greets her kindly, well-used to Sakura staying after lessons to ask questions. Once, he believed she stayed afterwards out of a reluctance to attend to the more physical side of Academy training. He has seen her vast improvement in that area over the past few months and yet still she stays, excited to speak with him one-on-one.

Mizuki truly doesn’t mind it. All of the Academy instructors play favorites. It’s a behavior that isn’t frowned upon; after all, the entire infrastructure of Konoha’s shinobi world relies upon it. What else but nepotism would have the succession of Hokage determined based on familial or mentorship bond? So Suzume dotes upon the Hyuga students who come through, Daikoku sings the praises of the Uchiha, Iruka shows a soft spot for the Uzumaki brat, and Mizuki?

Well, Mizuki is civilian-born and civilian-bred; he doesn’t care to kowtow to any of the clan children that he teaches. The clans have done nothing for him but prevent him from rising among the shinobi ranks. His refusal to attach himself to any of the clans has garnered him no favors.

So Mizuki’s favorite student is Sakura. Her intelligence, her curiosity, and her dedication seem a reflection to him of the boy he once was. And Mizuki would prefer to keep her spirit from being crushed by the system if at all possible. Loathe as he is admit it, her friendship with Shino is wise, even though he doubts there is any calculation to it. Of all of the clans, the Aburame clan is the most decent, though that is not saying much.

“May I help you, Sakura?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Sakura replies, fingers fidgeting but back straight. Her parents have taught her well in regards to her posture. “During my field experience assignment I received a bit of chakra control training. I was wondering if there are any books I could read on additional techniques. I checked the library, but all of the books for chakra manipulation are restricted access to genin and above only.”

Mizuki rubs his chin, pondering her question. “I’m afraid the Academy doesn’t have any reading material available to your age group, Sakura-chan. There is a fear regarding damaged chakra coils. Have you asked Shino? He may be able to lend you a book from the Aburame clan’s library.”

Sakura’s nose crinkles. “We looked through the available books at his house; everything related to chakra control is specific to hive hosts. Ino offered too, but the chakra control in her family scrolls concerns uses related to the mind.” Sakura’s face falls a bit. “I can’t do any of those exercises.”

I’m not a clan child, lingers unspoken but understood between them.

Again, Mizuki marvels at the discrepancies between civilian and clan children. The Academy, in theory, should put all of the students on equal playing ground by the time they graduate. The students should become rounded, prepared individuals, ready to be genin. And yet everything is set up to the clan children’s advantage, from the spars where they can practice their family techniques to the focused attentions given by Academy teachers. The basic repertoire of ninjutsus and fundamental skills learned at the Academy are nice, but the implicit understanding is that the knowledge gained from the Academy is not enough. Clan children receive ample supplemental training at home, both in secret techniques, clan-specific jutsus, and practical knowledge passed on by family members. Civilian-raised children?

Well, they earn the privilege of acting as fodder on missions. Or, if they manage to scrape by, they can make it to the illustrious rank of chunin.

“I’m not allowed to pass any of the books on to you,” Mizuki says, words coating his tongue bitterly. “However, we can get some practice in over these next few months, depending on how you progress.”

It is a paltry platitude, nowhere near what he would like to offer her, but Sakura stares up at him as if he offered her the world.

“Thank you Mizuki-sensei!” Sakura says, throwing herself at his legs in a hug before darting away.

Mizuki watches her go, smile slowly falling away. One day, sooner more likely than later, Konoha will snuff out the bright spark that makes Sakura Sakura. And Mizuki knows there is little he can do to prevent it.

Ibiki pens out a summary to his most recent interrogation session, a scowl stretching his scars. The Kumo nin was recalcitrant and unruly, unsurprising truthfully, but something about him stuck with Ibiki. Maybe it was his soft spoken tone, gentle, but firm in his convictions even as Ibiki systematically tries to break him to pieces. Maybe it’s the fact that his eyes were the same shade of brown as Idate’s. Hell, maybe it’s the fact that Ibiki is running on two hours of sleep for the past thirty-seven hours.

Still, something about this prisoner clings to him, refusing to let go.

Ibiki startles at the rasp of paper in the corner of his office and he looks up, suddenly remembering Sakura’s presence. Her attention is focused on the large book she’s holding, something about agriculture in the Land of Tea or some other drivel. He’s never seen anyone as voracious a reader as Sakura is; Ibiki thinks that she would be happy to read about grass growing.

Hell, that’s probably what she’s reading about right now.

Only Sakura.

Ibiki scrubs a hand over his jaw, the bristles of his unshaven face prickling against his hand. The tightness of his scowl eases as he watches her, utterly absorbed in her reading. Such single-minded focus won’t serve her well in the field, where she’ll have to maintain multiple domains of attention, but, for now, it’s alright. Something in his chest warms as he realizes the absolute trust Sakura has in him, to so willingly relax in his presence like this.

If someone had told him a year ago that an Academy student would feel so comfortable around him, he would’ve laughed in their face before dragging them before one of the Yamanaka to assess if they were a plant. After all, no one felt comfortable around him; in what world would an Academy student?

And yet, despite all of the odds, Haruno Sakura has wormed her way into his life. He knows that she was intimidated when they first met, his loud, abrasive nature making her uneasy. But she shed those fears quickly, offering him simple kindnesses that fell by the wayside long ago for him. When was the last time someone gave him a guileless smile? Brought him a homemade lunch? He thinks it was sometime before Idate disappeared, before Ibiki made chūnin and was slated for the role of commanding officer of T&I.

Ibiki stares down unseeingly at his hands.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt human.

Sometimes, it feels like the blood will never be washed clean.

He scrutinizes his hands intensely, hearing for a moment the screams of the Kumo nin in his mind. His hands are spotless; he wore his thick gloves during the session and fastidiously cleaned up thereafter.

Still, it doesn’t prevent the creeping, crawling sensation of iron coating and flaking off his skin.

Ibiki shakes his head roughly, scrambling that train of thought.

He doesn’t have a clue as to why Sakura likes him or why she chooses to stick around. He knows he isn’t good company; his social life is nonexistent outside of interactions with some of the more unstable members of the Intelligence Division. But he’ll do what he can to encourage her to stay. He knows that he’s unworthy of her kindness and friendship, but he’ll accept whatever scraps she offers. Ibiki may be forever bloodstained, but he doesn’t mind.

He’ll be better able to protect Sakura that way.

Less morals to hinder him, after all.

“What are you nerds doing in here?” Anko asks, popping in unannounced as is her wont.

Sakura nearly jumps clear out of her skin, but Ibiki merely sighs, shaking his head. “We’re working, Anko. A task you are entirely unfamiliar with.”

Anko’s eyes take on a manic gleam as she sizes him up, but Ibiki just watches her in turn. He’s just as unhinged and dangerous as she is, only in a different way. Anko smirks, mania easing in her eyes, as if she knows his thoughts.

“The work I do is much more fun, old man,” Anko taunts.

“I’m three years older,” Ibiki says.

“And a helluva a lot uglier,” Anko snipes back.

Ibiki snorts, choosing not to rise to her verbal jabs. Anko’s attention shifts beyond him to Sakura, who sits quietly with her book closed in her lap.

“How are you doing, kid?” she asks, smirk softening into almost verging on a smile.

“I’m well,” Sakura replies. “And you, Anko-san?”

“Doing fine,” Anko says, flapping a hand to dismiss Sakura’s concern.

“Oh!” Sakura perks up, rustling through her bag. She pulls out a small, wrapped package. “I have something for you, Anko-san.”

“You do?” Anko asks, true surprise flitting across her features before her expression settles to apathy.

Sakura jumps to her feet and rushes toward Anko, offering the package to her. Anko takes it and opens it with deft, eager fingers. “Dango?” Anko asks, pulling out one of the sweets.

Sakura nods enthusiastically. “Sarasa-san bought me some from a nearby vendor for helping her out with some of the detailing on this leather bag commission she was working on. She needed my help because I have tinier fingers for the fine details.” Sakura raises her hands, wiggling said fingers. “And the vendor gave me a lot so I thought you might like some too!”

Ibiki notices the way Anko’s lips start to curl into a secret smile before she firms them, keeping her expression neutral. Still, her hands betray her as she gently, reverently, takes a stick of dango and presses it to her lips. “So you help in a leather shop?”

Sakura lights up and begins to speak about the various projects she’s assisted on in the merchant district. Most of the jargon flies over Ibiki’s head, but he enjoys the clear enthusiasm Sakura has for the topic, her eyes sparkling and hands gesticulating wildly.

Anko’s eyes cut to him and she tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

He nods in turn.

No matter their differences, no matter Anko’s general dislike of him, they are united in this.

Sakura is an important person to both of them.

And Ibiki thinks there is very little they would not do for her sake.

Sakura curls her toes in the grass, luxuriating in the heat of the ground beneath her and the sun above. It has been a long day and her body aches with the satisfaction of the all-out spars she participated in, leaving her exhausted. Her eyes slip shut as she enjoys the simple pleasure of relaxing.

Truthfully, she is a bit frustrated. Though Sakura knows that she made the right move in withdrawing from apprenticeship with Shikaku, her progress in learning ciphers has slowed. If she were honest with herself, her learning has outright stalled. She does not regret her decision to cut ties with Shikaku, but she hadn’t realized the true dirth in cipher knowledge. No one else has that knowledge or, if they do, they do not care to share it with an Academy student.

Sakura purses her lips, pulling up a bit of grass. She’s gotten complacent, used to being handed the knowledge as she asks for it. Not too long ago she was finding work arounds to get basic shinobi knowledge before she entered the Academy. She just needs to get creative again.

Grass falls on her face and Sakura startles upright, sneezing. Eyes smarting, she meets Celadine’s passive gaze.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Sakura says, rubbing at her nose. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you,” he replies.

“Right,” Sakura huffs, shaking her head. “Your superior didn’t pull you off detail when the news got around?”

Celandine cocks his head.

Sakura flings herself back down onto her back, staring up at the sky. “I’m no longer the apprentice of Nara Shikaku.”

Celandine remains silent for a long moment and Sakura turns her attention to him. “It matters not. You are still interesting.”

“To you or to your superior?”

“Both,” Celandine says.

“Huh,” Sakura mutters.

She doesn’t think that she should enjoy his company as much as she does. He’s undoubtedly odd, his mannerisms flat and restrained. He holds himself a lot like some of the high-level shinobi that she catches glimpses of sometimes; though she’s never seen one as young as Celandine. Sakura knows that all of her friends-Torune especially-would be against her continued association with him if they knew.

But they don’t know.

Sakura pats the ground beside her. Celandine just stares at her and she clears her throat, offering him a tentative smile. “Sit down with me if you like.”

Celandine takes the seat with a sublime sense of grace that Sakura doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to accomplish, no matter her years of training. She takes a moment to feel envious before refocusing.

“I’ve been meaning to ask; are you allowed to speak with me? It doesn’t exactly seem like the best idea as your target.”

Celandine’s eyes slant away from her, a strange lilt to his lips. “I received no orders regarding not speaking to you.”

Sakura cannot keep herself from laughing at that, rolling onto her side as she does so. Celandine watches her quietly, his chest feeling light. They spend several long moments like this until Sakura manages to calm herself.

“I see you enjoy bending the rules to fit your needs,” Sakura says. “I can understand that.”

“Your clothing is green,” Celandine says blandly.

Sakura looks down at herself, groaning at the sight of grass stains across the bright yellow fabric of her shirt. “Otou-sama won’t be pleased,” Sakura says as she gingerly pats the stains. “Looks like otou-sama and I will be doing the washing early this week.”

“Your father washes the clothes? Why not hire someone else for that task?” Celandine asks.

“Otou-sama likes to do it himself when he’s in the village; he says it’s relaxing,” Sakura replies. “I like helping him. We go down to the river to wash and usually eat our lunches afterwards.”

“Aren’t there more important things that both of you need to do?”

It’s a question that Mebuki asks Kizashi often as well. So, Sakura draws on her father’s steadfast reply, “What’s more important than spending time with family?”

Celandine falls silent and, from the slight furrow of his brow, Sakura can tell he’s pondering something. She plucks out several pieces of grass, eying them for quality. She chooses the greenest and plumpest among them, cupping it between her hands and pressing her thumbs up against her mouth. Glancing askance at Celandine, she grins when she realizes that he is still contemplating something.

Sakura blows hard into her hands and ensuing sound tramples the quiet between them. She notices with glee the way that Celandine jumps, turning a doleful look on her.

“What are you doing?” Celandine asks.

“Playing a grass whistle,” Sakura says, grin widening. “Well, more like a grass trumpet.”

“How do you do it?” he asks, peering down at her hands with interest.

Sakura’s grin softens at the spark of interest in her eyes and she opens her hands, placing the blade of grass into his. “Here,” she says, cupping his hands around it. “Let me show you.”

[dreamsinthefoxhollow]

Resident Evil vs Super Soldier

It was night in the city. I had joined a group of around fifty. They were just regular people who lived in the city, but who were now the survivors. We had taken shelter in a low-level apartment. It was a good place, lots of concrete and few ways in. While they were upstairs doing their scared people thing I was out in the courtyard. There were some lights off in the distance, maybe 3-4 blocks out. That's where the things were at. They weren't making the light. They were just in the part of the city that was still well-lit. It was safer here, in the dark. The light from the stars overhead, and the glow in the sky from the city lights, were more than enough for me to see by. It wasn’t that I had especially good vision at the moment, it was just good enough that I could see (with that old fake night filter from cheap movies). I could also see that there were little things crawling about in the grass. At least one was nearby, probably a few more out of sight. I could hear them rustling. Then I caught one trying to sneak into the building. I chased it down and caught before it could get in the doors. It was silvery and thin, like some kind of worm with dozens of short legs. It was a mean little thing. If it got ahold of anyone it would have easily ripped them up and infected them. It was also very crunchy when I squeezed it to death in my hand. That was kind of gross and messy. It bled blue slime. This was bad, though. If those little things were here, and found the people in the building, which it seemed they had since they were headed that way, it meant ... Damnit. Couldn't even wait for me to finish my Snake Pliskin monologue. Other things were running across the courtyard. They could have been dogs, but without skin, and with heads larger than their torso, and lots more eyes than needed. There was someone else there, watching from a balcony. He kind of reminded me of Bucky, the Winter Soldier. He had apparently been watching me skulk about the courtyard, and was now standing at alert, ready to start defending the building. I shouted that he needed to get the people out. I'd handle this while he got them to safety. I would create a distraction! It sounded good, and he apparently went along with it. I drew a weapon, some kind of oversize automatic pistol firing in short burst mode. It didn't take many shots to take down the four-legged things scampering through the grass. But that was just the beginning. After a few seconds more were running across the dark courtyard. I shot them, too, but there were a lot more this time. Dozens. And they were getting bigger. At first, I was brave, and foolish, and heroic. I ran towards them, shooting, shooting more, shooting even more, making sure I was giving the herd a good rout. But when they started to get bigger and faster and meaner I had to change tactics. Well, I had to but I really didn't. I felt around in my backpack/hammerspace for a good rifle, while still firing with my other hand. Problem was, I couldn't seem to get a rifle. It was just empty 5th dimensional bag. Then things got worse. Now there were things easily the size and shape of hogs, and maybe even hippos. These were crazy fast, highly muscled, red, dripping slime, skinned beasts. They circled me as I circled them. I was trying to stay out of a straight attack line, while dodging others that were jumping in from the sides, while shooting at everything that was moving, while still feeling around for the missing rifle. I imagined in a moment I'd have to resort to pointing my finger and making "pew pew" noises. The pistol ran out of its bottomless ammo cache as I found a stubby rifle in my other hand. I whipped that out and ... oh so nice. That thing was devastating. While those big things were absorbing my pistol fire until they had too many holes to function, this rifle was tearing them apart with bursts of explosive round. I couldn't help but give a wild laugh.I managed to break through the wild rush of beasts and make my way to the lit city area. But the things were flooding the area, and I swear they were somehow getting as large elephants, but much faster ... and leaping ... along with things that may have been humans, but were also skinned and red and oozing slimy stuff. Worse still, they were all increasing substantially in numbers. Even my superhuman abilities were getting to the limit as the piles of bodies grew and waves of things sprang in from all sides. Retreating was a good plan. I had given the people enough time to get out of the building, I hoped. It really was only just a few seconds, maybe 30 or a full minute, since this had all started with those first few running hound things. It was hard to tell time while in the middle of a heated battle. Maybe it was more like five minutes. Regardless, I was out of time. I managed to clear a space enough to dodge closer to some pillars of a building. The massive wave of things was coming from only one direction, swarming along the avenue in a red wave of disgusting fleshy red bodies. I fished around in the bag again and pulled out some kind of really large shotgun. Not like just large, but like huge and stubby. Like a cartoon version of a hand cannon. I fired it just above the seething horde of things still charging at me. It had a heck of a recoil, and in a moment dozens of streaks were filling the air as the canister shell opened over the crowd, and then there was a nonstop rumble of explosions as all of the released mini-shells carpet bombed the area. I dropped the single use weapon and ran while the bodyparts were flying. We were going to meet at the city center, where there was a delegation of higher beings, the keepers of this place. I caught up to the crowd of regular people, still being led by that one guy, just as they got to the base of the central towers. I picked up what looked like a large cat and tucked it under one arm. The cat seemed to both be pissed at me and grateful. The central towers were monolithic black walls curved to form a broken circle around some more curved monolithic walls, which ... It just kept going in layers, each a taller set, with the center roughly some kind of spire reaching up into the night sky and out of sight. We didn't make it much past the third set of walls when there was a really ugly noise from out in the city. It was screaming monsters mixed with screaming sirens. These sirens were the kind only used for really bad things, like tsunami, earthquakes, or the city blowing up with nuclear-level weaponry... The higher beings glided down and plucked all of us from our feet and flew up to the higher reaches of the spire. I had the uncomfortable honor to be one of the last to be picked up so I got to watch as explosions the size of full skyscraper buildings were going off just a few blocks away, getting closer, one every second or so. I could see flames and debris in between buildings. It was an uncomfortable sight. We all were safely spread out among the tops of the spires. The tops of these things were flat and huge, like an entire city block. They were also a dull red, almost rust colored. Most everyone was clinging together and staying far away from the sheer dropoff edges. I was speaking to one of the beings, an androgynous, tall humanoid with angelic wings of something that looked like glowing mist behind it. We knew each other and were on good terms. I was told the things we escaped from were not yet done. They would be coming up to where we were, eventually. We couldn't stay there. The beings could help us relocate to another part of the world, as soon as they figured out what was the best place. But things went really bad really fast. Some of the larger beasts had managed to climb the spire and were clawing over the edges. I whipped out the rifle and let loose a full auto attack on the nearest to me. The beings flicked others away with psionic shoves, like flicking ants off the rim of a cup. But the beasts were too many. In sheer numbers they were closing in, despite being flung away or turned into shredded burger by my rifle. Even that other guy was in the fray, with a sort mini-gun looking thing that was dealing even more damage than I was. Then we were suddenly zooming through the night air. I couldn't tell if we were unceremoniously dumped into some kind of teleporter, wormhole, or just carried really fast through the air. I just knew that things had gone very wrong and very bad, because the higher being who had carried me (and the cat) was telling me we had to seek shelter because the higher beings themselves were under attack from something else far greater than we had seen, something far worse, and threatening to even them. Not only did my angelic ride give me bad news, they had apparently been unable to get me to the intended destination. I was dropped on a mountain top maybe 200km outside the city. I was separated from the others. The mountain was all black rock. It was cold. I could see the city still lit up with little glowing searchlights and a little blob of citylight aura. Then it was just a large blob of blinding light. Ah yes. The nuclear option. Wait. The blob was getting way too big. It looked more like a molten bubble than a nuke. It was getting way too big, way too fast. Did some nutcase overload the antimatter power generator under the city? I backed away and scrambled off the rocks and onto a dark path carved in the solid stone on the sheltered side of the mountain. The air around me shifted from a nearly still, cold mountain breeze to a warm draft. The sky overhead turned orange and silver. I heard voices in my head. Not those of the higher beings, though they were still present at the moment, urging in multiplicity of tone to get to safety, and not just for us but for themselves. These new voices were microwave broadcast voices coming from something orbiting above the planet. I was being instructed to head to a military launch facility less than half a km away, but kind of straight down the side of the mountain. The higher being voices were snuffed out suddenly. The air around me started to glow, and the ground began vibrating uncomfortably. I knew there were other survivors dumped all around me, out of sight, but the new voices kept urging me to not worry about them and get to the facility. I scrambled straight down the side of the mountain like a drunken barbarian running through a cornfield that happened to be growing on a near-sheer cliff. The facility was a collection of black buildings with trusses and armored walls. I ran under some kind of archway and slammed against a metal-truss-lined wall. I was sheltered from the glowing air. There was a pipe there and I grabbed it and held tightly to it. I mean, it looked like a pipe, but it was actually a teleportation interlock lever. The archway was a teleportation site. The voices in my head said to remain calm and hold on tight because it was going to be close. At the same time the glowing around me had turned the night in a sun-like mid-day, and the heat in the air was causing steam to evaporate off the scratched armored sleeve on my arm. I could see parts of the building bathed in the light start to glow red and yellow as they were superheated. Oh, this wasn't just some large nuke, or even an antimatter reactor overload from the city power station. This was an orbital planetary sterilization wave. It swept over the facility, turning the air into charged plasma. The cat still tucked protectively under my arm yowled in words I could understand. "We are so fucked, you f-"

We both were laying on the floor of a brightly lit room. The walls were scratched and silvery-white. I sat up. I was steaming, and parts of my armored outfit (of course in black) which weren't scratched, dented, bloodied, or shredded, were burned like torched rubber. The cindered edges were still glowing in fading oranges and reds. Smoke trails were curling up in the still air from ... well, from me. The cat sat up beside me, completely silent and seemingly stunned, unburned, uninjured, but stained with all manner of grime. I picked the cat up again and we exited the room through an armored airlock. I set the cat on the ground as several uniformed soldiers checked us with some instruments. They referred to the cat as Kaiht, or 'A Kaiht,' as in that was one of what it was. It sure wasn't just a large cat, and was treated, and talked to, like a person. Kaiht was led out and the soldiers helped peel off the armored parts I was wearing. Thankfully I had some leathers underneath so I didn't need a change of clothing, at least not right away. Once out of the room I marched straight towards a very specific area. The hallways were clean and bright and would have looked like a very modern and upscale office building, if it were built using the layout plans of a submarine. The halls were narrow with exposed boxes or conduits at random. I reached the location in the maze of halls with the lone soldier escort having to double-time to keep up with me. I had reached an observation deck. This was a rather large ship, and I wanted to see out the back. There were several other people there, all survivors from the catastrophe, just as myself. There was only a dozen or so of us. I didn't see the other guy among them. We gathered on a balcony-like platform and gazed into a sea of pure, blinding white. That ... wasn't exactly supposed to be that way. Someone pointed into the sea of white. I had to squint and blink several times before it changed into the familiar black of orbital space. There was the planet we had been on, slowly receding. I could have covered my view of it with an outstretched hand. It was very indistinct and fuzzy, out of focus. The lower ¾ was a hazy mix of blue and brown, while a crescent covering the upper ¼ was a glowing haze of hellfire. It was spreading. From our vantage point we were looking at the unburned side of the planet, and the crescent was the sterilization wave coming around from the far side. Another few minutes and that wave would fully engulf the surface. Everything would be more or less a molten sea of lava and slag. Then, the process would repeat. The planet would glow brighter. Then again. And again. It wouldn't stop until the entire ball of planet was around the temperature of a small sun. That would take a few hours. The group and I went separate ways when we walked back into the ship. They were solemn and comforting each other, or in shock. Civilians. They'd probably never heard of such a thing, much less seen it, or lived through being in it. Lucky bastards. Also, the billions of unlucky bastards still on the planet, right now, inside that glowing crescent, or a few minutes away from being turned into carbon dust. That was a lot of death on someone's hands. I marched again, this time without an escort, since that guy stayed with the shellshocked people. I made it to a dining area/meeting room. There was food set out on large plates, one at each of a dozen or so seating places. A few people were already there and nodded to me as I entered. I recognized one as one of the higher beings, now gracing us with a more corporeal presence instead of straight-up godlike visage. They poked at the food with an amused tilt of their head. Kaiht - I think that was her name as well as her species - walked over and hopped onto a nearby chair. She was big enough to look down at the plate, but still looked like a huge, white housecat sitting in a chair at a table. I recognized two others as pure, secret-handshake-club military. Others were part of the ship's crew. Someone else walked in from a doorway next to what looked like a projection screen. She was a tall black woman in a slightly different uniform, and had that air about her that said she was more than 100 percent in charge of this entire rescue, and planet destruction, and more than just this ship we were on. She sat at the head end of the table. I sat beside Kaiht. We both picked at the food with disinterest, but Kaiht tore into it after a moment of cautions sniffing. I was busy staring at that woman. Oh yes, that woman. We knew each other quite well. We were not on the best of terms, but still on terms that meant we wouldn't be actively shooting at each other without due cause. She nodded and gave me a very curt and short version of "hello" worded more like, "Glad you could join us. Sorry about the last second teleport. I hope you weren't cooked too badly." She was snide, but I knew her enough to know she meant it literally, and would not have waited until the last millisecond if it hadn't been necessary. I also knew that planetary sterilization wasn't something she could just order on a whim, no matter how high up in the relative food chain she was. She picked at the food on her plate and turned toward the screen. It lit up with a little flickering of scintillating light pinpoints, before forming a holographic image next to the table. Ah yes. Here would be the real higher-ups who gave the orders to murder billions of civilians, and who would have explanations about the sea of monsters, and probably new orders for all of us.

Then I woke up.