#which happened once before and i mostly fixed it but i was burnt out from it at the time

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

idk who needs to hear this, but if you realize 30k words in that there's a task you're going to need to do, do it then. fix things and do the task as you go.

under no circumstances should you wait until you're 130k words in and all you want is to curl up under the covers with this thing you've written for you and you alone, because you will find that it is rife with errors you can't look past and you will spend h o u r s trying to wrangle it into something resembling what you wanted.

[aziraphales-library]

Heya ! I'm looking for some fics that are set post season 2. Not fixits exactly, not that I would mind fixits. But I'm looking for long canon compliant fics. Also, is there a tag for such fics ?

We have #good omens s2 and #canon compliant tags. On ao3 you'll want to use the tags "Post-Season/Series 02" and "Canon Compliant", which is what I did to find you these...

scherzo in f-sharp minor, for orchestra by astrhae (M)

It was a truth universally acknowledged that an angel in possession of no memory must be in want of a wife. No, that was the wrong book. The wrong line. Aziraphale frowned. “What,” the gentleman before him asked, “and I mean what, are you doing here?” ----------------- Or, two years after things fall apart, Aziraphale shows up at Crowley's doorstep without his memories. The easy part is getting it back, the hard part is getting them back together.

Until the Bitter End by sentientsky (T)

After learning the truth about Heaven's plans and fruitlessly trying to fix a corrupt system (and maybe also having his memory messed with a little bit in the process), Aziraphale slips back to Earth in search of Crowley.

i will make it better, if only for us by davethefish (T)

With Aziraphale in Heaven, everything that Crowley loved has left the earth. He doesn't know what to do, so he starts small. Maybe someday he'll love the earth as much as he loved Aziraphale. It's time for him to remember why he chose to stay in the first place.

Black Holes and Revelations by ArtisticRising (E)

Crowley takes a leap of faith… into the heart of a black hole. It’s the last card Crowley has to play. He can’t do this without Aziraphale… and he’s betting that Aziraphale can’t do this without him. Act I (Black Holes) ends around Chapter 6 (10 if you want the smut babes). You could leave the story off there. Up til chapter 6 you have a whole story that’s pretty much G rated. From there my thirst comes out like a sexy little demon in tight jeans and a vaguely downwards saunter. Act II (Revelations) is an attempt at season 3. Treat it as a separate work that builds off Act I. Lots of plot twists ahead/theories/speculations that I won’t spoil for you :)

The Ineffability of Gray by kitfornow (NR)

Fifteen years have passed since Aziraphale returned to Heaven, and still sometimes Crowley feels shell shocked and embarrassed and grief-stricken. And mostly, he still feels numb. Fifteen years isn’t really so long, in the grand scheme of things, and yet these have somehow been the longest years of his existence. He can almost feel time crawling by, laughing at him. But slowly, so slowly, Crowley began to try again. To try harder. To find a piece of himself that Aziraphale had not touched. To find a piece of himself that does not need changing. On his good days, he can open up. His friends come over to the flat, once in a while, and Maggie brings new records and Muriel brings burnt cookies that no-one complains about because they're so proud of them. They'll exchange stories and simply enjoy each other's company for a few hours. And sometimes, he feels almost alright. Until Crowley turns around and Aziraphale is there, standing in front of him, trying to stop the world from ending all over again.

hurry back, please bring it back home to me by Percyjacksonfan3 (T)

“Why should I?” The demon interrupts cuttingly. “You’ve made it perfectly clear where your priorities lie and anything I say won’t make a bit of difference.” “That’s not true at all.” Aziraphale replies after a long hurt moment. “And you know it. Besides, you’re being stubborn. You’ll help me eventually.” Rage flashes over Crowley’s face. “You think so, do you?” Aziraphale juts his chin up stubbornly, ignoring the unpleasant feelings Crowley’s expression stirs in him. “Yes.” Aziraphale needs Crowley's help in saving humanity from the Second Coming and despite what happened between them he's determined to get it. After all, it's not only that he needs Crowley, but his plan also includes their car. As for the other matters between the two of them... well there's no reason those can't be sorted out along the way as well, is there? Or, a possible take on Series 3 that includes the Bentley, a resurrected Jesus Christ set on bringing about the End of Days, and an angel and a demon who are stupidly in love with each other but are both suffering from a lack of experience on how to actually deal with said emotions. Emphasis on the stupidly.

- Mod D

[jfleamont]

never, sometimes, all the time

a snippet from my upcoming uni/band au - 1701 words

The kitchen is scarcely lit and there's a faint smell of burnt eggs. Someone cooked during the party, probably Marlene. Nevermind that this isn’t her flat; the boys don’t mind. They’ve known her for a couple of months, but they welcomed her with open arms, just like they did with Lily. They’re good, she thinks. These kids are good. They let her smoke inside the house tonight— well, James did. She only smokes every once in a while. Mostly when she’s nervous.

He's sitting across from her, one arm draped across the chair beside him, his head thrown back. His eyes are closed and his lips are slightly upturned; he looks content. Lily thinks he's smiling. 

No, he definitely is.

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system. Or the music, which is still playing, though at a much lower volume than before; the others are already in their rooms, passed out, so they don’t care. This is just for the two of them.

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t left.

“You didn't keep your word,” she tells him. He'd promised Sirius he wouldn't get drunk. They hadn't said why, and only exchanged what looked like a meaningful look that she couldn’t decipher. Not yet, at least.

He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “I've only had one drink. And I didn't know you paid so much attention to me.”

“Remind me not to do it again. Also, it was a Long Island Iced Tea. A strong one, from the looks of it.”

He shrugs. “The situation called for it.”

She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice just a little. “Is this about Peter?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

She waits for him to continue. He does. “It's just that we were so close to being great.” A humourless laugh, “Maybe I'm kidding myself. We weren't close at all.”

She notes the perfectly relaxed line of his brows. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but there’s no hint of anger on his face. “You don't seem too bothered by this, though.”

“Oh, well, I'm doing okay now. It's not too bad, I suppose.”

Lily snorts, and knows that he isn’t lying. “Yeah?”

He opens his eyes - they’re tired and soft like she’s never seen them - and fixes them on her.

“Yeah.”

“Always the optimist, you.”

He mirrors her position, resting his chin on his palm. “I had a good night, that's all.”

“I don't think that's all.”

“You’re right, it's not,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. He laughs quietly, a hint of anxiety colours his voice.

“So? Tell me,” she prompts him.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and looks behind her for a moment. “I have a plan. Mind you, not a good one, but it's a plan. It's sort of insane and if I'm being honest, it’s probably the worst idea I've ever had.”

“Are we still talking about the band or…?” 

“I found a solution for next week's gig,” he announces grandly, smiling from ear to ear. The only thing that is missing is the jazz hands.

“You found a bassist? That was quick. Who is it?” 

“You.”

She blinks. Several times. James’ smile has faded a little, and his expression looks careful.

“You've got to be joking.”

“Told you it was a crazy idea.”

Lily doesn’t want to think about the implications of this. Being friends with the people Severus couldn’t stand was one thing, but actually performing with them? That couldn’t happen. It’s not like she cares about him anymore. No, that’s not it. Maybe a part of her misses him still, and she used to be a people pleaser when she was around him, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s the fact that she has been questioning every single decision she has made ever since she left Severus behind. With him, it felt right… until it didn’t. Who’s to say that this won’t happen again? She doesn’t trust herself anymore, and this is brand new territory.

“You want me to join your band. You?”

James sits up straighter and gives her a funny look. “Why do you sound so surprised? You're brilliant.”

“But… I can't.”

“You can't or you won't?”

“Can't! How am I supposed to learn your entire setlist by next week?” she exclaims. She doesn’t mean to raise her voice, but she can’t help it. The more she thinks about this, the less confident she feels.

“Actually it would be better by Wednesday.”

He doesn’t look apologetic at all. Strange, since he was so worried about asking her a minute ago. Either he’s mad - and this is a very real possibility - or he just believes she can do it, which, really, is another form of insanity. 

She tells him so. “You're not right in the head.”

“Evans—”

“I've got two papers to submit by the end of next week! There's no way I can play with you,” she says in a whispered shout, and now she’s the one with her hands in her hair.

He’s grinning. “But you want to.”

She suppresses a smile at his bravado, but he’s right. “I want to help you. But I can't.”

He leans in conspiratorially, and his enthusiasm almost wins her over. Almost. “Come on, it would be fun! And it's just a one time thing, okay? Or at least until we find a new bassist.” 

“Can't believe you're asking me this.”

“Please?”

He’s not pouting, but he might as well be, and Lily can’t deny it: she’s thought about this exact scenario. She’s seen them on stage, she knows how good they are: they’re miles better than everyone else in their local music scene, really, and Lily can’t help but wonder if she’ll feel out of place up there. She loves performing, but being in a band with Severus showed her how awful it feels to be overshadowed by someone else, and she doesn’t want a repeat of that.

“… Can I think about it?”

James’ eyes light up. “Is this a yes?”

“It’s a question.”

“Of course you can think about it! Take a couple of days,” he waves a hand around and sits back in his chair, looking triumphant. Lily smiles; she’s about to burst his bubble. 

“Hmm,” she rubs her chin contemplatively, “What do I get in return, though?”

He furrows his brows, not expecting her question. “Oh… We're not getting paid for this gig, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know, Potter,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. “I've performed there too. I'm talking about something else.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. Cheeky boy. “Anything in particular?”

“I'll let you know. After the gig,” she adds nonchalantly.

“What if I refuse?”

“These are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

James is thinking hard, by the looks of it. She doesn’t know what kind of favour she’ll ask him, but simply knowing that she has the upper hand in this situation makes her euphoric. He knows he’s signing away his soul if he agrees. She still hasn’t decided if she’s going to mess with him or not. Perhaps she’ll be nice about it.

“Fuck it. It's a deal,” he extends an arm to shake her hand and she’s about to do the same when a thought occurs.

“Hang on, did you say this was the worst idea you’ve ever had? What the fuck?”

“Shot myself in the foot, haven’t I?”

“I’m giving you one chance to recover from this. One.”

“Fuck,” he covers his face with his hands, and she thinks he’s blushing a little but she isn’t sure. “Remus is much better at this. He was supposed to broach the subject but he refused to, thinks I’m mental.”

She drops her smile and freezes. “Is he even okay with this? And Sirius?”

“Don’t worry, they both think you’re great. Sirius says you’re the female Flea.”

She beams at the compliment and relaxes into the seat. “Do you agree?”

His eyes roam around her face and Lily feels warm all over. It only lasts a moment, and then he’s smirking again. “You’re easier on the eyes, so…”

Right. He’s just messing with her. 

“Twat,” she responds, and kicks his chair.

His gaze softens. “But to me you’re more Macca than Flea,” James continues, tilting his head to the side as he studies her once again.

“He was fit when he was younger, not going to lie,” she deflects, because she knows she’s talented - she does! - but she feels the impostor syndrome kick in any time she is compared to another great bassist‒ she has a list; Paul McCartney is at the top. Wait, is James aware of this? She hopes not.

He laughs and nods vigorously. “Especially in the late ‘60s with that beard.”

“Shame he never grew it out again after that,” she sighs, and feels the tension dissipate.

James raises an eyebrow. “Wanna watch the Get Back documentary?”

She’s pretty sure he’s joking, but the last time she saw it she cried, and she doesn’t have the strength to hold back the tears in front of him. Besides, her eyelids feel so heavy that she would probably fall asleep ten minutes in, and she’d rather sleep in a bed tonight. “As much as I’d love to, you’re dead on your feet and I’m not doing much better so… I’d better walk home.”

James sits up straight, suddenly very alert. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

He gets up from the chair and grabs the remote. “I don’t want to walk in the cold and neither do you,” he says with his back to her as he turns off the music, “so just do me a favour and use my bed.”

She can’t possibly sleep on James Potter’s bed. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s not up for debate,” his tone is resolute but he’s wagging his finger at her, which makes him look kind of ridiculous. “The sheets are clean, changed them this morning.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’ll take the sofa, goodnight.”

And with that he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Reminder

masterlist

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this is mostly angst, not much whump happening, but it's a crucial lead up to a very whumpy chapter, also I think this is the first chapter I've posted, where Benny appears, so give the boxie a warm welcome

TW: captivity, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, dubcon mention, BBU mention, slight dehumanization ('it' as a pronoun appears once), angst

There was no way she could actually follow the conversation around her. Not with his arm around her shoulder, not with his fingers gently running up and down her arm.

The guys had friends over. Colleagues technically, subordinates to put it bluntly. The company has been taking off, rapidly expanding and taking up space in the industry. The friends indebted to them at best, after taking up Luke's offer to work for him, taking high ranking positions obviously. They were assets at worst, being this close to the fire meant they were the first ones to burn at their whims.

This is what Benny and Alyssa were kept for, in this new arrangement. Entertainment and menial housework as well, sure, but their importance as sentient punching bags seemed to become of top priority.

The new job and lifestyle came with it's new challenges neither of them faced before, so they were quick to air their frustration out on the pets.

Aly was still dazed from the night before. Luke's surprisingly gentle touches burnt into her memory like some sort of twisted brand. The river of "good girl"-s and "that's it"-s were constantly swirling about in her head, letting her feel a new wave of hope and pride. Two emotions she hadn't had the chance to feel in a long time. And so she held her chin a bit higher, her back straighter, fixing her posture, and she followed Luke around like a puppy, when he asked her to accompany them for the afternoon. She actually didn't think twice before replying, forgetting saying "no" was never an option she could choose in the first place.

The guests were seated in the freshly furnished second floor living room. Aly heard them gush about the house, admiring the architecture and thanking the guys profusely for inviting them over. Another bout of pride flooded her mind, it was her home as well.

The guests paid barely any mind to her, at first actively avoiding even looking at her. As the evening progressed, Benny kept refilling the glasses. Elegant and well-practiced motions, never letting a single drop spill down to the table. He kept silent, gazed averted from his betters, he only occasionally glanced over at his master for approval, which Cole was delighted to give. It was rare that Benny wasn't making a show of himself. This time he was well dressed, hair combed back elegantly, almost matching his master's, his usual look of dreamy adoration was replaced by strict focus. If Aly didn't know better, she would have thought he was committed to the role, putting in the effort to look this smooth and captivating to watch as he worked. She always felt that he didn't have a choice, or a mind of his own. The well trained box boy acted like an enchanted puppet, following his master's orders, letting the years of training kicking in, his muscle memory taking over his body, elegantly following Cole's commands. And today he was silent, completing his only task, to wait on the guests, only catching Aly's knowing stare. They rarely talked, still, they shared a semblance of solidarity.

That night however, Aly was sitting on the couch, and Luke casually threw his arm around her. The questions about her started around two drinks in.

"How long have you had it?" one of the men nodded towards her "Is she a boxie, I can't see a barcode" a woman joined in, stretching her neck to look at her hands she kept folded in her lap.

Luke answered all questions, smiling and laughing about, he seemed to barely acknowledg her presence. Aly felt immense shame creeping up her face, she was sure her cheeks were red as tomatoes.

She couldn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation, even if she wanted to. His hand resting around her, his touch burning her skin as he kept carressing her arm.

The casualty of it, the way they talked over her as if she was another piece of expensive furniture mixed into a catastrophic concoction with the "good girl"-s and "that's it"-s.

She felt some tears stinging her eyes, before they could fall she decided to bolt.

She jumped up from the sofa and ran to her room. She heard the startled gasps of the guests and Cole's not so subtle "What the fuck?". Before shutting the door she also made out a mortified "I'll check on her". She sat down on the ground finally letting her tears fall freely.

There was a soft knock on the wood behind her, before she was hit in the back by Luke trying to enter.

"What did I tell you about trying to lock your door?" he asked, not forcing it open just yet. She just sniffled, unable to answer. She knew she wasn't supposed to be sitting against the door. He was free to come and go as he pleased, of course she knew that. But Aly needed a few moments of peace.

"I'll go inside no matter what" he warned before pushing the door in, and succeeding this time. Aly was sitting just beside the entryway, curled up by the wall.

"What's the matter with you?" Luke crouched down and he pulled her hand away from her face to look at her.

"I'm sorry" she blurted out instinctively between two sobs "I'm sorry, Sir"

"You were so good all day, why would you ruin it like this?" he asked with worry poisoned with condescension in his voice.

"I-I don-don't know, I'm so so-so-sorry, I'm so confused" she admitted.

"Confused?" Luke asked with genuine surprise. He sat down next to her "About what?"

"Y-you were so, so gentle and, and k-kind" Aly tried really hard to fix the sentence together "And today the guests... you... I thought- it felt like you..." she couldn't finish as another bout of sobs wrecked her body.

"You're thinking way too much for your own good" he petted her hair, still not understanding what went wrong.

"Do you... uhm, do you like me?" the question came out weak, barely audible. It sounded childish and she cursed herself for that.

"Of course I do, darling, I love you" he chuckled, taken aback "How could you ask me that?"

"The way you spoke about me, is that what you really think?

"I love you like one does a darling pet, don't you forget that" "Doesn't matter if we're in bed, or having guests over, I don't want you to be confused, so I'll remind you of that, and we'll fix you up tomorrow alright?" her heart sank. She knew what he meant by that, but she didn't protest, as she knew she will pay for it the following day. She could only pray that the guests weren't going to complain as to not earn her some extra sessions with Luke.

"It's okay, Claire" he breathed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"What?" she looked up puzzled. And Luke blushed with embarrassment.

"Let's go back to the others" he got up quickly, yanking Aly by the arm with him "You won't make a bigger scene right? I don't feel like making a show of dragging you back on a leash" his voice was cold, empty of all warmth that usually radiates from him. She nodded and followed him, wiping away wet tracks of tears before walking back outside.

She let a few harsh comments fly by, before tuning the conversation out again. Luke was visibly uneasy, posessively putting a hand on Coles thigh, and deliberately pulling away from Aly.

It didn't take long for his stress to alleviate, as Cole reached over to hold his free hand. He relaxed again, slumping back into the couch joining the conversation like nothing had happened.

After the guests left, and he lay in bed staring at the ceiling he couldn't help but go back to that moment. Cole was draped over him, fast asleep, and Luke kept stroking his back.

He hadn't thought about Claire in a long time. Never really forgetting her, but keeping her memory on the periphery of his consciousness.

He hated to admit how much Alyssa reminded him of her. They had that same exact conversation, a long time ago, he almost forgot about it.

The way they both sat on the floor, crying. A beautiful view when he smoothed the blonde locks of hair behind their ears. They asked him if he loved them and he answered truthfully. He felt he had a chance now to make up for the past as best as he could.

[the-faultofdaedalus]

I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying. 

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother. 

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Thyme wakes up in a clearing she recognizes well. Her mother is not there. 

The house she had grown up in is a pile of logs on the ground, destroyed and broken and in disarray, and Thyme is afraid. She calls for her mother, once, twice, and then rolls up her sleeves and begins the trek towards town. 

Her home is not here, she has neither her bow nor her knife, and if she means to figure out what happened she needs supplies. People are always in need of a witch, she knows, and her mother taught her long ago the value of a silver tongue. 

Except.

She walks out of the woods, and the town is... different. Smaller. The mill she knew so fondly, that she used to climb in with the other children of the village, isn’t there. 

There’s no indication it was ever there, and all at once, Thyme realizes what the ritual was for. 

It was a time-spell, and now she is in the past. The house is in ruins because her mother has not repaired it yet, the mill is gone because it has not been built yet. 

She is here, because...

She does not know. 

And now, it is up to her to take care of herself.

She learns the date from the villagers, gets herself a room at the inn and a good hot meal in exchange for looking at the innkeeper’s son, who has been wracked with cough for weeks now, apparently. 

His face is one Thyme knows, one that in her days were covered in wrinkles and laugh-lines, and as she goes back out into the woods to collect the herbs she needs to cure the boy, she thinks.

The boy will take the inn over from his father, and he will always welcome Thyme’s mother in with open arms for saving him when he was a child. Either the story had been wrong, or Thyme has already broken things. 

Thyme does not know which one she fears more.

She waits in the village for a full turn of the moon for her mother to come. She knows that this is when she should have come in to town. She knows that she should show up here, any day. 

The boy’s cough gets better and when it’s gone completely Thyme buys herself a knife at the blacksmith’s and returns to the woods, to the clearing she calls home. Hands on her hips, she surveys the once-cottage, and makes a plan. 

The house takes a long time to build. She buys an axe, makes a bow, and sleeps under the stars while the house is very slowly built back up. Walls, roof, floors, and then a fireplace, big and wide enough to fit a cauldron, built from special bluestone she hauls from a nearby hill one lump at a time, all the better to brew inside. 

Mama, she thinks wryly, you better be grateful for this. 

She hunts for herself, mostly, snares rabbits and shoots down deer, strips them of their skin, treats it and leaves the fur out to dry. They’ll be good blankets, a good winter cloak, someday. She knows what plants she can eat, what plants will be good, and she survives. She builds. 

She does not tell the villagers her name, and they know her only as “the witch.” 

Thyme eventually stops waiting for her mother. She watches herself in the mirror, and aches at how much they look the same. How much she’s turning out like her mother. 

She helps the villagers, occasionally travels further to heal illnesses in other villages, but mostly stays to herself, in the woods, collecting books and herbs and the house grows more and more as she remembers it. Her hair, that used to be so dark, raven’s hair, her mother would say, braiding it back for her before she learned to do it herself, gets shot through with white and goes grey. 

There’s wrinkles on her face that didn’t used to be there. 

Thyme stops waiting, and becomes the witch of the these woods.

And then. 

The King and Queen of these lands show up at her door, and they are holding a baby girl. 

Please, they say, We need a son. Give us a son. 

And Thyme, who now has a scar on her cheek from a branch whipping at her too fast to avoid, who knows that her mother had had the same scar, looks at the baby, meets her eyes, and knows that they are her eyes. 

I’ll give you a son, Thyme tells them, as if through a trance, but the cost will be your daughter.

They agree, as she knew they would, and she makes a boy out of clay and wood and she remembers learning how to make constructs like these with her mother, she breaths life into it and sends it off with the King and Queen and she holds their baby in her arms. 

Black hair. Dark eyes. A quiet baby, who looks up at her with a solemness that Thyme’s not entirely sure babies are supposed to have. 

Hello, little one, Thyme says, holds out her finger for the baby to grasp, feels her voice crack down the centre like a burnt-out log when the infant holds her finger in her chubby little hand. 

She’s a princess. This baby is a princess, and this baby is her, and her mother has never existed. She knows all these things now, but the thing that she knows most strongly is that she will protect this child, and not only because this child is her. 

(It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother telling her, it is alright to take things for yourself. You do not need to give yourself away, remember that.)

She has to build a crib and cradle for the baby, and until it’s finished, until she knows that the birchwood and blanket is as comfortable as it can be, she sleeps with the baby -- with Thyme, her name will be Thyme, and she smiles as she thinks it -- on her chest. 

She goes into the village, walking through the woods as baby Thyme looks at the trees and the plants with wide eyes, brings her to a farmer who has raised three girls, knocks at her door, and says, help me. 

The witch doesn’t know how to care for a child, and she is going to learn. She must learn. 

The farmer helps her gladly, something in her eyes that tells the witch that she misses having children, that however much she loves her girls, grown and adventurous, sun-browned and strong from working the fields with her mother, she misses caring for an infant. 

She learns how to make formula out of goat’s milk, how to burp the baby, how to change and wash her. She learns how to tell why the baby might be crying -- even though baby Thyme rarely cries, prefers to watch the world with her big, dark eyes -- and how to fix what might be wrong. 

She sits with the farmer as Thyme plays with a doll carved from a cow’s bone, and learns how to thresh wheat. 

The farmer never asks where the baby came from, but does remark how alike they look, that Thyme looks just like her mother, and the witch smiles at that. 

Thyme seems to grow quickly, learning to crawl, and then to toddle around while hanging off the furniture, and the witch cries at Thyme’s first, unsteady and unsupported steps, even as she builds high shelves into the rafters of her home so that Thyme won’t end up eating things she shouldn’t.

The witch takes Thyme into the village more and more, first in a bag tucked up close against her chest, and when Thyme grows more, holding her hand as she runs through the woods as fast as her little legs will carry her. Every time Thyme runs off to bring back a flower, the witch feels a surge of fondness she refuses to suppress. 

The mill is built, and the witch watches as Thyme runs off to play with the other village kids, brave and fearless and so, so curious. 

She teaches Thyme her first charm when the girl is eight, and Thyme takes to the craft like she takes to memorizing the names and uses of plants, like she takes to a bow and knife, like she takes to books, exactly as the witch knew she would. 

Sometimes, the witch hates the lie she’s made Thyme into. She agonizes over it, over she should tell the girl her true parentage, should spill this secret like a cut bag of wheat, but--

She does not want Thyme to know that she was traded away so easily. She does not want Thyme to know that to her birth parents, she was worthless. 

She asks, though. Asks, do you want to be like the girls in the books? a princess? and is warmed to the core when Thyme answers no. 

Yes, the witch had known what she had answered. Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her life, her studies, the woods, her home. 

(Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her mother, because the witch loved her mother. She knows this, and still, she asks.)

The witch teaches Thyme how to make constructs, how to animate them, is proud beyond words when on her fifth try, casting over a wood skeleton covered in clay, the shape of a rabbit, the thing shivers to life, and hops over to push it’s nose into Thyme’s outstreached hands, the girl beaming so brightly that the witch thinks the woods might be glowing with it. The rabbit-construct is lumpy, and uneven, it’s movements slow and unnatural, and she has not yet taught Thyme how to cast the illusion spell onto it that will make it look real, and alive, but Thyme looks so happy that the witch nearly, nearly, forgets her guilt at the purpose of this spell.

Thyme grows, first into a teen, skinny and narrow from how she had shot taller like a willow tree, bony and sharp and lean, and into a woman, growing broad from good food and hard work, takes to hiking into the woods for days at a time with only her knife and her bow and a pouch of herbs, returns home with wild hair the witch combs out for her as Thyme tells her of her adventures.

It matters not that the witch knows all of these stories, knows them because she lived them herself, when she was a girl. She listens to her daughter, dragging the comb through her tangled hair, asks about the falls she found, the cliffs, the animals, the herbs, makes sure that Thyme knows that she will be listened to, that she deserves to be listened to. She listens, because she knows that no matter how much Thyme loves going on these adventures, she also loves coming home, and sharing in these simple, cozy moments.

Winter comes. With the cold comes a grief, a guilt, that weighs heavy on the witch’s heart. She begins preparing for the ritual, for the time-spell that will send her daughter backwards and into loneliness and into the position to save herself from what her true parents would force her to become, backwards to learn the truth, backwards to become her.

She knows why she must do this. She has scryed on her construct, the prince, the soon-to-be-king, every moon since she sent him away and took herself in his place. She sees what he has grown into, she sees what the power has done to him, she sees and she knows that she and her daughter would have suffered greatly in that role. She sees him make hard choices.

She sees him go to war.

She sees the illusion she cast over branch and clay bleed. She sees him, bandages around his torso, arm hanging awkwardly by his side, leave the castle, and wade into the lake outside of it’s walls. She sees the clay in the lakebed melt towards him, heal the wounds, make him fit to wield a sword the very next day.

She does not want that. She does not want that for her daughter.

It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother saying to her, remembers saying to her Thyme, bleeding for others is a gift. It is valued, but it is up to you to give it.

Spring comes. Reedy plants are tended into a circle. Summer comes. Fires are burned over the dirt, ash mixed with soil. Fall comes. The heart of a boar is buried under the circle, placed to rest with gentle words. The witch and her daughter, Thyme and Thyme, stand together, hands raised, looking at each other.

The witch whispers, I’m sorry.

And her daughter disappears.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Clone Wars Character on TikTok

Anakin- Poor Anakin, man does not have a that many creative ideas, but his life and ideas are strange enough that he gets a lot of followers easily. He’s also almost constantly videoing things too, so he’s able to get real time. There are so so many videos showing the reactions that Obi-Wan has because of his dumbass plans.

Everyone, literally everyone, thought he was an f-boy until he made a post, super confused, saying that he has a wife?? That he loves so much? So, coincidentally, the next videos he posts are him and his wife, who doesn’t show her face but there’s a poll going on about who it is. Most people have figured it, though, because some of his videos are him just listening to Mrs. Skywalker rant about people in the Senate when she comes home to him.

He also tries to convince everyone that he’s the best husband in the world by videoing himself cooking her dinner, which he always burns. In those videos, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, staples on Anakin’s account, are heard in the background giving him absolutely terrible advice on how to fix it. They usually end up with burnt pans and a whole bunch of frantic clips of Obi-Wan trying to turn off the oven, “My dear, your time is up.” And Anakin in the background “Force, that’s not going to kriffing work, Master. I’m coming in with the water gun.” (No one questions why there’s a water gun.) Ahsoka is just….chilling in the background. She’s just as clueless as the rest of them, but it’s funnier to watch them almost burn down Padame’s kitchen before she tries to step in and make things worse.

Ahsoka-Her feed is a more controlled chaos than Anakin’s, but chaos nonetheless. She does a lot of dance challenges with Fives, and is sometimes able to rope in Anakin, who tries really hard but is terrible at it, and Rex, who doesn’t actually dance and just stands there staring at the camera. There was one time she got Obi-Wan to do it with her, and he absolutely crushed it. All that grace has to help him somewhere else, right? Because she does dance videos, though, sometimes she get inappropriate comments or duets, which Rex, Obi-Wan, Plo, Fives, and Anakin all duet or make a video about explaining that she’s a minor and how unacceptable this is. Well, that’s what every but Rex does. Rex won’t let anyone, anyone, talk to his little sister like that, so he makes a super menacing video of him cleaning his guns.

Needless to say, she does a lot of videos with Rex. They do a lot of random videos of their conversations and pointless arguments. They also do so a lot of competitions with each other, rather it’s staring contests or sparring matches. Their sparring match videos are actually super popular, and they get more and more intense and complicated as they go on. There are never any weapons involved, but they get to show off combat skills and have huge fights across the ship or compound. Their usually filmed by a hysterical Anakin or Fives. Obi-Wan has made his disapproval clear, but there’s a video on Ahsoka’s account of him betting on the outcome.

Obi-Wan- Mostly on Cottagecore TikTok and posts aesthetic videos of him meditating, making fancy, pretty tea drinks, or any other mundane thing he does. He also posts self-defense videos to teach people how to protect themselves, and gives tips of how to use the force and how to help meditate. I think he posts once a week, but posts a bunch at one time because he’ll have one day of silence where he can get stuff for himself done. Basically, his account is to comfort people, to help people, in perfect Obi-Wan fashion.

He also posts encouraging videos to cheer people up when they need it. Cute messages like “Today’s going to be a good day” with that award winning Negotiator smile that get galaxy wide comments and duets. Sometimes the messages border on him illegally sharing decisions that the Senate’s made, like when he announced on his feed that a certain Planet should get ready to party because a certain vote had gone a certain way.

Sometimes, though, he posts videos of Ahsoka, Anakin, or Cody doing incredibly stupid things. It’s become a series, he shows the person do or say the stupidest things, and then he zooms in on someone else’s face. The most common duo is Anakin and Rex, but sometimes there’s Waxer and Cody, once or twice, Obi-Wan and Cody.

Rex- He doesn’t post a lot, and when he does he’s usually not really in them. People only know him specifically because he’s in so many of Ahsoka’s videos. His are mostly “the stuff I have to deal with videos” showing petty fights between some of the 501st or some animal that a soldier decided they wanted to sneak into the ship. That, of course, lead to a blowup on his account, so he started posting lots of content with his brothers. Ahsoka has the notion that he’s doing it to help the way people see Clones, but he does seem to enjoy it a lot.

He, like Obi-Wan, posts hand to hand combat training video to help people in the galaxy, put his training to more use. He makes sure to show how to hold your first in a punch, how to safely clean a blaster, how to take a punch. Some of his posts are to teach people about clones and mando’a traditions. But he’s not all serious. He likes making videos of him and his brothers when they go out to do things for fun or they go out to 79’s.

This one might be a bit far fetched, but I think he would also post videos of him and Ahsoka doing mundane things together, repainting their armour, making bracelets or some stuff on the floors of the bunks during hyperspace. It’s calmer than what Ahsoka posts, and purposely so.

Fives-Oh man. Fives’ account is a wreck. Half of the videos are him running away from something he’s done and the other half are him running into things that he shouldn’t about to be doing. Shakily filmed, someone (usually himself) screaming in the background, you can hear him panting and out of breath. A lot of the times Anakin is with him or chasing after him, and as you can almost always hear Rex cursing and yelling at them to stop, especially if they haven’t done the thing yet because that means they have a plan. When Fives has a plan it ends up being worse than when he makes it up on the spot. 

He also posts videos of him giving people in the streets compliments, because he’s sweet like that. He usually gets pretty funny reactions most of the time, and the few times they’re bad reactions he simply flips the camera and grimaces, then, of course, starts laughing because he’s not going to let one person put him down.

He also has a series of him painting the Bi flag all over the ship and waiting to see people’s reactions. The cutest was that one time Ahsoka walked past and ran her fingers along it softly and smiling. Also notable was the time Obi-Wan caught him midway through and just pretended he didn’t see him. All of those are posted with the persons permission, of course.

Aayla and Bly- They share an account where they do ALL of the couple-y stuff. Any couples challenge that they’re asked to do, they do. It’s hard to do the challenges like “You could’ve been nicer to me today” because they’re both on it all the time and have definitely heard of it, but they make do with all kinds of others. Aayla and Bly are definitely one of those couples that adopts all the kids that follow their account, and they’re ready to fight anyone who says anything bad the Clones or the Jedi.

There’s also a large amount of videos that some of the 327th takes of them cuddling together, training together, polishing weapons together. Basically, their account is them being cute and the rest of the 327th either being incredibly supportive of them or gagging at all the PDA. They start a trend where they go up in front of random people around the ship and start making out to get the reaction. Some examples of the best reactions are franticly running outside of the room, slapping Bly across the back of the head, and wild cheering.

Cody: You’re kidding, right? He does not have time to do the TikTok, nor does he understand TikTok at all. He is in most of Obi-Wan’s videos, and he’s sometimes in Rex’s too. Most of the time he’s telling all of them not to do whatever they’re about to do, or he’s sitting on the floor and crying with Rex.

Anakin actually started making videos called “When you see your dad and your other dad be romantic.” Where it’s just him finding Obi-Wan and Cody doing cute things in random places, followed by Anakin or Ahsoka making faces at the camera.

Plo- Parent side of TikTok for sure. His account features so many, so many, videos of him doing fun things with the 104th. He may seem like an extremely serious man, but put him with all of his kids and has almost no impulse control. They ask to stop at that restaurant they saw on the way to their mission, and he makes it happen. Everyone pretends not to notice because they wouldn’t dare go against him.

This account is also mostly run by everyone in the 104th because A. Plo doesn’t have a password and B. That’s how they get a bunch of footage. The phone is passed around throughout the day, but all of the content focuses on the Plo’s Bros relationships. Anything that he does, from giving a shiny a thumbs up when he comes up with a new plan, to teaching some of the older clones who are a little overworked how to take deep breaths. All the followers also a learn the Plo is absolutely terrible at any kind of card games, which is shown when they post video after video of the bets he looses.

Next for Star Wars I’ll be doing Bad Batch, then, because this got so long, I’ll do one with some more characters! Sorry it’s so long, this ran away from me a bit.

Some clone wars beautiful mutuals @radbatch (Who is the absolute best person to talk to about Ahsoka ever period end of story) of course and @maiseey (Who is now my my mutual? How?)

[archies-litterbox]

what’s the greater good worth? (definitely not this)

Summary: Merlin rescues Douxie from some lowlife gang of bandits, and he's devastated by what's already happened to his apprentice before he found him - by what he was too late to prevent happening to his son. But there's more to what happened than simply what lay before him.

Words: ~8.5k

A/N: Finally got this oneshot done! It’s actually based on this post I made a while back, but the idea of fleshing it out into a full-lenth oneshot just wouldn’t leave me alone! (Just like I can’t leave the poor moppet alone 😔) Hope you like it!

[CW: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Temporary Muteness]

--

Merlin sent Hisirdoux on a short errand: go out to the marketplace, buy some ingredient he’d needed, and come straight back. No dawdling, no distraction, and no stopping to make lovesick puppy eyes at that maiden who frequented the market at the same time Hisirdoux himself did. 

He couldn’t remember the exact thing he’d told his apprentice to fetch, for the memory was soon overtaken by worry when the boy hadn’t come back by late afternoon. He’d only sent Hisirdoux out that morning, and even if he had forsaken his instructions and tried to muster up the courage to ask that girl her name…

“I, er… don’t exactly know her name yet,” the moppet had said, “But I think it’s something with a Z! At least, that’s what I heard the person she was talking to call her. I haven’t, er… actually spoken to her yet.”

“Focus on your studies,” Merlin had said, “before distracting yourself with thoughts of courting this girl from the shops, and-”

“But Master-”

“Don’t “But Master” me.”

...He still should have been back at this point. Hisirdoux wasn’t one to wander off when he was out on errands. He knew the dangers of that - of being caught alone by the wrong person, prejudiced against users of magic, without anyone knowing where he really was.

The boy’s familiar shared Merlin’s worry, so Archie kept his form as a mostly-inconspicuous black cat (save for his glasses, for he figured he should have the best sight as he could at this moment) and slinked through the town beyond the castle, following the young wizard’s scent, unmistakably that of burnt cloves.

Sure enough, Hisirdoux had gone to the shops he’d needed to visit, but the scent trail made a sharp turn into an alley - one that he’d been dragged into, Archie had feared, if the signs of struggle and kicking feet in the cobble were any indication.

It was then that Archie resolved to fly back to the castle and tell Merlin to follow him, warning the Master Wizard that it was overwhelmingly likely that Hisirdoux didn’t disappear of his own volition. 

To say that worried Merlin, or even terrified him, would’ve been the understatement of the past twelve centuries.

It only took a few hours to track down Hisirdoux’s trail to some cabin in a patch of forest, but every second was too long - far too long for Merlin to wait to find his son.

The thugs looked rudimentary from where Merlin stood unnoticed outside the clearing. One or two - three at the most - stood lazily outside, near the doors. Merlin tapped his staff against the forest ground, and it was enough to send a little spell through the soil and right under their feet, shooting up their bodies like a reverse lightning rod and knocking them to the ground, unconscious. It didn’t kill them, but that wasn’t a mercy; really, the wizard still hadn’t known the condition of his apprentice, and if something had been done to him that only these men could reverse, ending their lives would've been an unwise choice, to say the least.

But the sound of the men hitting the ground was enough to draw out the last two of Hisirdoux captors, who spotted Merlin in the woods. Fine - he hadn’t been keen on hiding for much longer anyway. Stealth was for wizards whose apprentices hadn’t been snatched up by lowly bandits; who weren’t using a headstrong facade to hide their fear for their sons’ lives.

And right now, while he rendered the last of the bandits unconscious, Merlin Ambrosius was no such wizard.

The door was still open, as Merlin dealt with the last of those men before they could even come five steps out of the shack, so the wizard ran to the opening with Archie flying next to him, stepping over the idiots until he was close enough to see into the dark interior, lit only by rays of light that shone in-between boards nailed into the windows.

Merlin hit his staff against the ground and cast a spell with enough to break the boards and let more light into the hovel - light that shined on his apprentice that lay trembling on the ground, unresponsive on his side, not even fighting the restraints that bound him. With his back turned to his mentor and his familiar, he seemed barely aware of their presence at all.

Merlin never ran faster in his life.

Thankful for his armor’s plating, one of his knees slammed against the ground as he knelt down behind Hisirdoux, looking over his bonds and feeling like, for once in his long, long life, he could barely breathe at the sight before him, even though it wasn’t nearly as bad as what could have been - it was more at the audacity than anything else.

His apprentice had been bound with rope at the ankles and knees, with another few winds of it pinning his arms to his back and metal shackles binding his wrists behind him. Of course, the shackles must have been cast with a magic nullifier infused in the cruel metal, so the boy couldn’t use spells or enchantments to break his other restraints; as if to add insult to injury, the boy was also missing his magic bracelet, which had been thrown across the hovel.

(Again, the audacity.)

Merlin knew one of the bandits must have had the key, so he got back up, telling Archie to stay with him before he went back to the cluster of idiots that lay outside the door.

The wizard watched the boy’s shackled hands grasp at the air as he reached for him in vain, and the weak twinge in his pale, thin fingers made something in Merlin’s cold aged heart ache . He wished he’d been a hundredfold more brutal with those bandits than simply knocking them out.

Anyway, it took only moments for him to get the key, and by the time he came back, picking up the boy’s charm bracelet on the way, Archie had broken the rest of Hisirdoux’s bonds.

The boy still hadn’t said a word, or even made a sound.

Confound it, Merlin loathed this.

Once he’d finally uncuffed Hisirdoux, he helped the boy, now entirely free of his bonds, into a sitting position. He was, indeed, quite conscious, his eyes following Archie as the familiar stepped onto his lap. Hisirdoux started petting the black cat before wrapping his gangly arms around the cat in a desperate hug, still as silent as he’d been when Merlin stormed in. He wouldn’t have any more of this… this vexing silence from his apprentice - not if it could’ve been helped.

(...If only he knew how little it could’ve been helped at that moment.)

“Hisirdoux, say something!”

The boy looked up at Merlin with wide, glistening eyes and a trembling lower lip.

He shook his head.

His lips contorted into a grimace, and he mouthed the words…

“I can’t.”

Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as he put his hand on his throat, the skin on his wrist raw from the cruelty of those shackles, and shook his head. Those teary hazel eyes that looked at Merlin were exactly those of a terrified child - his terrified child, and Merlin could see the desperation in those eyes, like he was wordlessly begging him to do something.

...But for the first time in his long, long life, Merlin felt utterly and entirely unsure of a way to fix this. He knew how much his apprentice adored singing, humming, blathering incessantly - his voice almost seemed more central to his character than his magic.

And it was…

No, no, no. It couldn’t be - it couldn’t be gone. Those bandits couldn’t have taken this from him - not from his apprentice - not from that innocent moppet who almost always had a tune about him as he bumbled around the castle. No, Merlin couldn’t accept it - he - he wouldn’t accept it -

The old man was pulled from his shock when Hisirdoux sobbed, a heart-wrenching noise even without any vocal influence, and mouthed three words - a desperate plea from a terrified little Wizard, silent but understandable - silent but utterly heart-wrenching .

“Take me home.”

...And how could Merlin put that off?

With a sigh, he raised a hand and mumbled…

“Interminus Nocti Somburso.”

A jolt went through Hisirdoux’s already shaking body as green light popped out from his widened eyes - but only for a fleeting second before sleep claimed the boy. He fell backward, but Merlin caught him by putting his arm behind the boy’s back.

The spell not only made him fall sound asleep in seconds, but it also conjured a green, velvety blanket that draped over the boy. The velvety cloth, brought forth from Merlin’s will when he’d cast the spell, helped to keep the boy warm through means of a rather cozy enchantment that would never let him get cold as long as the blanket lay on him, as well as it would quell his unconscious trembling.

Merlin wrapped the boy up in a blanket-cocoon of sorts and stood up, letting Archie curl up on his human’s abdomen and start purring to soothe the sleeping boy whose head lolled against Merlin’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against an edge on his armor that couldn’t have been very comfortable.

Merlin glanced at the unconscious bandits and cast an immobilization spell as a quick preventative measure in the event that they woke up and tried getting away while Merlin took the boy back to the castle. There was no way in all the realms that these monsters - more monstrous than any troll or goblin - would get away with what they’d done, and the Master Wizard was absolutely sure of that.

So, with that settled, he started back to the castle with Hisirdoux sleeping in his arms. The bandits could wait, for getting his apprentice - his son home safe was his first and foremost priority, and beyond that was finding out how to get his boy’s voice back, even if he’d had to rip the answer from the bandits themselves.

But Hisirdoux, of course, was his priority.

---

Douxie felt more or less dragged back into consciousness by an ache in his… well, it was everywhere. It was low, barely noticeable - a residual soreness from… from… 

Right.

He sighed - a hollow, quiet thing - and trailed his fingers down his throat, still not opening his eyes yet. Douxie’s throat was free of any tightness or pain, but, as he expected, his attempts to mumble out vocal sounds were fruitless.

Beyond the ache, he felt warmth around him. Yes, he felt the familiarity of his bed, his quarters, his - 

A weight he didn’t even know he was still bearing came off of him, and he sighed a shaky sigh.

- his home.

But he also felt something soft and velvety draped around him. It was a blanket, he realized - a new one, and a rather nice one too. He realized Merlin must have conjured it with that sleep spell he put on him right after he found him. That must have been why it felt like it had been magically heated, and it had a uniquely soothing, almost sedative effect that none of his normal blankets had.

Master…

Douxie finally opened his eyes. Even though he knew his master probably had more pressing matters, he hoped that Merlin might have been sitting at his bedside.

Alas, all he saw was empty space in front of him.

The little apprentice wasn’t wearing his vest anymore, he realized when he couldn’t feel the leather that usually weighed on his torso, but he did feel a little purring mass curled up against his abdomen.

Archie…

The boy turned his head a little and saw a black mound of fluff nestled up against him, laying curled up on the green blanket with round little glasses reflecting sunset light from the window.

Douxie bent down and scratched Archie’s little head, right between his triangular ears, causing his familiar to open his eyes and look at him.

“Douxie, you’re awake.”

The boy smiled - a little, shaky thing. Archie got up and stretched before walking closer to his human’s face.

“It’s over now, what you went through today.” he said as he put his paw on Douxie’s cheek in assurance, “Those bandits are in the dungeons now.”

Douxie’s eyebrows furrowed a little. Sure, he was thankful that they’d been apprehended, but if there was a dungeon break, they could come right through the castle, and...

Archie nuzzled Douxie’s head, sensing his human’s worries.

“You’re completely safe.” he said, “You’ll never have to see them again, I promise.”

Douxie only petted the cat again with a nod. He trusted Archie, and if Archie said he didn’t have to worry about them again, then that’s exactly what he didn’t have to do.

Besides, he had a more pressing worry.

With what would have been a grunt if his throat could’ve made the noise, Douxie pushed himself up, despite his grogginess, into an upright position. He could see his vest folded at the foot of his bed, along with his two belts laying on top of it that had his little pouches and a small green journal he liked to keep on hand for little notes.

He might have to use it for more than that now, though. Perhaps if he’d started studying sign, or learned spells to communicate visually...

The boy was pulled from his thoughts by a very light knock on the door. He couldn’t exactly say it was open, so he turned to Archie, eyeing the door with a nod.

“Come in.” the cat said, understanding the nonverbal message.

The door creaked open, and Douxie hoped it would be Merlin standing there. After everything he’d gone through today… he just wanted to see his father.

But it was Morgana, smiling softly as she walked in and closed the door behind her.

But really, the boy wasn’t disappointed with this - the sorceress had been like a big sister to him ever since he’d been brought here, and her presence was comforting, regardless of whether or not she was the person he hoped to see the most. So, Douxie raised a hand and waved to her as she walked in.

“Hello, Little Douxie.” she said softly as she came to stand in front of him, “When I heard your familiar talking, I assumed you’d awoken. Are you feeling alright?”

Although it was a hesitant response, Douxie nodded, thankful that she’d stuck to a yes-or-no question. Merlin had probably told her about his voice’s condition, then.

What he knew about it, anyway.

“You’ve been asleep for about four hours - a long rest to help accelerate your healing.” she explained, “You hadn’t gotten any broken bones, but you did have some nasty bruises when you were brought back here.”

Douxie winced, a little hiss whistling through his teeth as he traced his hand over his hip, where he distinctly remembered getting kicked by a rather angry bandit with a rather hard boot.

Ouch.

He brought that same hand to his chin and stroked an invisible beard, glancing around the room as if looking for someone.

Morgana laughed a soft little laugh, amused by the moppet’s charade.

“Merlin’s down in the dungeons, interrogating your former captors.” she answered, “He’s mostly putting the screws to those bandits about how to reverse what’s happened to your voice more than anything else.”

Douxie nodded in understanding, but he knew the truth; he knew those bandits didn’t know anything about what had been done to his voice.

“He hasn’t gotten anywhere.” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “It’s of a magical nature, and none of those bandits were wizards. They’re sticking to some ridiculous testimony that you casted a silencing spell on yourself.”

Douxie cast his gaze to the floor. All of a sudden, the lint and strands of black cat fur on the floor looked rather interesting. Indeed, very interesting.

“...They are making that up, right?” Morgana asked.

Douxie shrunk in on himself, hugging himself as if caught in a lie, even though he hadn’t actually lied about anything. How could he have? At most, all he’d done was hesitate. Besides, his body language was apparently enough of an answer for Morgana, whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Douxie saw as his gaze flickered back up to her, as she realized they hadn’t made that up at all.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in his fur above his eyes, raised a bit as that realization dawned on him as well.

“Douxie…?”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“...Merlin doesn’t know, does he?” Morgana asked.

Douxie shook his head.

After a moment, she sighed.

“Well, he probably should.” she said, “Not that the way he’s treating those men isn’t undeserved, but he shouldn’t waste his time.”

So, Douxie stood up to go down to the dungeons, his balance just a little askew from his legs’ time out of use. Archie got up with a stretch and stood next to Douxie’s feet, deciding not to sit on his shoulders due to his already imperfect balance.

“I’ll go down with you.” Morgana said, sounding like it was more of an insistence than an offer. But Douxie didn’t want to be a burden; surely, Morgana le Fay had much better - certainly, more important uses of her time than using it to accompany him to the dungeons.

“I know the way.” he mouthed, hoping it was understandable just by reading his lips, but Morgana shook her head all the same.

“It’s not about whether or not you know the way.” she crossed her arms, “You still don’t have all your strength back, and I can tell you’re off balance. What if you fall?”

She didn’t say it, but Douxie could tell what her biggest concern was: if he got hurt, he’d have no way of crying out, and Archie might not be enough to keep him balanced.

Morgana was just worried, and Douxie knew that. It was sort of nice - better than Merlin’s scolding, anyway - so he took the gesture with a nod, and he started down the corridors and stairwells to the dungeons with Archie stepping alongside him and Morgana hovering a hand close to his shoulder in the event that his balance wavered.

Douxie always hated the dungeons - so dark, so damp and dingy, so utterly miserable. But making sure Merlin knew the truth was worth it, and he was glad to be accompanied down. Yes, it was even worth sidestepping puddles of questionable liquids as he stayed next to Morgana. He kept his gaze down and avoided looking into the cells, tuning out the jeers of imprisoned trolls and “waka-chakas” of goblins as Morgana guided Douxie and Archie to the corridor where that gang of bandits was being kept.

It turned out that they were imprisoned in a far emptier corridor of the dungeon, which made sense, considering any sort of interrogation would’ve done well not to involve the taunting and interjecting of other prisoners. As the halls got quieter, it got easier to hear his master’s voice as he got closer, until he finally stood at the end of an almost empty corridor of cells, where Merlin stood listening to one of the bandits - the leader, Douxie realized.

Whoever he was, and whatever he was saying, Merlin looked more than fed up with it; he hadn’t even looked as angry as he did right now when the moppet had slipped and accidentally sent one of Merlin’s favorite books soaring into his fireplace.

“I tol’ ya already, dust-fer-brains,” the bandit said, speaking in a voice that unsettled Douxie to his core, even though he was safe on the opposite side of a barred cell door and on the opposite end of the hall, “He put a spell on ‘imself. Shut ‘imself up.”

Morgana was only a moment away from shouting to the end of the hall in an attempt to get Merlin’s attention. If Douxie had his voice, Merlin most certainly would have known he was here by now; he probably would have mumbled to himself about nonsense, or hummed a tune, or squeaked when something scared him. As it was, Merlin had no idea that Douxie was standing just a handful of metres away from him.

And maybe if he did know, he wouldn’t have shouted…

“Again, with that ridiculous lie! Hisirdoux may be an idiot, but even that level of incompetence is beyond him!”

Those words were a punch to the gut, worse than every time those bandits kicked him this afternoon. At least he expected that from them, but hearing that…

His breaths got shaky. His eyes stung. His feet felt rooted to the dungeon floor, like he was more trapped here than the prisoners.

He was no stranger to Merlin’s harshness, and he knew his master thought he was an idiot, but hearing that this was something of a new level of incompetence…

Was it really that much of a stupid idea?

His lip trembled.

What was he thinking, of course it was stupid. Of course he was stupid. A stupid, incompetent numbskull of an apprent-

“MERLIN!” Morgana yelled.

The Master Wizard whipped his head around. When he laid eyes on the shaking moppet at Morgana’s side, his face fell, as if he wished more than anything that he could’ve pulled his words back into his mouth and made them unheard again.

But it was too late.

In an instant, Douxie didn’t feel rooted to the ground anymore. No. Now it felt like hot coals lay burning under his feet, and he needed to run. Fuzzbuckets, he needed to run.

“Hisirdoux…”

Douxie’s tears fell.

He needed to run, run, runrunrunrun RUN.

So, he ran.

Pivoting on his heel so fast he scraped the heel of his boot against the dungeon ground, he ran away from the corridor.

“Hisirdoux!”

“Douxie!”

His eyes stung so badly with tears that he couldn’t open them, but he knew the dungeon corridors well enough that he didn’t need to see to get out of there. He could tell Archie was at his side, but that was okay. He knew his familiar wasn’t trying to stop him, but only to catch up to him.

By the time he got to the stairwell back into the non-dungeony part of the castle, he’d gotten winded, and just barely in earshot, he could hear Merlin and Morgana getting in a shouting match.

It sounded like Morgana was winning.

Once he’d caught his breath, he ran up the stairwell and half-ran-half-stumbled to his room, making sure Archie slipped through the door before slamming it. His legs shook as he sat on his bed, curling his legs up so his knees almost touched his chest, which felt so tight that he could barely breathe without gasping.

It was too much. All of it, everything that happened - it was too much for one day, and he -

He could feel Archie drape that blanket from earlier over his shoulders - the green velvety one. The warm one. The one from - 

Douxie shook his head and wrapped the fabric around himself. It was fine, he didn’t care who it was from. He just needed warmth; he needed heat that didn’t come from his face feeling like it was on fire and hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

After a few moments, keeping his legs curled up like that started to ache, so he stretched them out and let his feet lay on the floor while he sat at the edge of the bed, leaving a perfect spot in his lap for Archie to sit and start purring in that way that always calmed him down after his nightmares.

Maybe, Douxie thought as he stroked the cat in his lap while his torso rocked back and forth, Archie could calm him down from this nightmare, too - one he couldn’t seem to wake up from.

There was a tightness in his throat now, an awful one - not from the spell, but from being overwhelmed by all of this.

Today was one of the most terrifying days of his life.

He’d been ripped off the streets by bandits and taken where he wasn’t sure if he’d be found, or even be looked for. He’d been bound and chained and beaten and terrified. He didn’t even have his voice, and of course, Merlin thought he was more stupid for doing what he did than usual, even though he only did it because - because -

Douxie hugged the cat in his lap and let more tears stream down his face, and he realized there was one upside to not having his voice after all.

He didn’t need to stifle his cries.

---

Merlin was no stranger to guilt, to shame. He didn’t often make mistakes, but when he did, they were horrendous ones, and despite his sense of pride being strong enough that it could power a whole trollmarket, he’d had many opportunities to find himself well acquainted with the feeling that he’d done something horribly wrong.

But when he saw his apprentice’s wide eyes shine with tears at the end of that hall, shame didn’t feel like a mere acquaintance, but an inseparable companion.

He’d barely gotten the boy’s name out of his mouth before he turned on his heel and ran out of the corridor, his familiar running behind him. Merlin shouted the boy’s name again and started after him, but since he wasn’t weighed down by any armor, the gangly little moppet ran off rather fast, despite how exhausted he must have been.

Stopping at the corner of the dungeon corridor, Merlin put his hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Look what you’ve done, old man!” he heard Morgana shout next to him.

“It’s not as if I knew he’d be down here.” he brought his hand away from his face, “I thought he was still resting. How was I supposed to know you’d taken him down here?”

Morgana’s eyes widened, seemingly at his absurdity.

“So you’re saying that’s a fine thing to say about him when he isn’t around? That there’s nothing wrong with calling that boy - your apprentice - an idiot and making clear just how stupid you think he is, as long as he’s out of earshot?”

“You’ve seen the way that boy bungles every task he’s given. Really, it would be especially idiotic if he’d put a-”

“What do you think he came down here to tell you, old man?!”

...Oh.

Oh, confound it all.

Morgana pinched the bridge of her nose, “Honestly, and you wonder why his magic backfires whenever you’re around! How can he grow his confidence when you-”

“Why would he do that, Morgana?”

“Why would I know ?” she answered his question with one of her own, “As soon as I found out, I figured you should know. Better to stop wasting your time grilling these numbskulls over nothing. If you want to know so bad, go and ask him.”

But facing the most fierce of trolls had been less jarring a task.

His other apprentice crossed her arms, “You owe him an apology, old man. We both know that.”

And, as frustrating as it was, Merlin knew that indeed.

The wizard figured that Hisirdoux ran to his room, and when he got to the door, he found he was right; he could hear the boy’s hiccups and voiceless sobs from the other side, far more heartbreaking in their quietness than if they had been loud.

Merlin knocked on the door.

“Hisirdoux…”

He honestly wasn’t expecting to be let in at all, so he was surprised to see the door glow blue as Hisirdoux opened it with a spell. If this was a lighter time, he would have scolded the boy for using a spell so needlessly. But this obviously wasn’t a lighter time, and he was just glad to be allowed in.

Hisirdoux sat on the edge of his bed with the blanket he’d been given draped over his shoulders and a contemptuous black cat in his lap. His hair was still unkempt from his ordeal, completely loose from the bun he usually wore, and tears streaked his cheeks. His big hazel eyes, puffy and ringed with tears, stared down at the ground.

He couldn’t even look Merlin in the eye, and perhaps that was fair.

As Merlin stepped into the room, Hisirdoux shrunk in on himself, pulling more of the blanket around him as if it would shield him from… well, everything.

“I hope you’re here to apologize.” Archie said coldly, but the feline-dragon obviously meant something else, an unspoken message: If you’re not here to apologize, then leave. The boy’s had enough turmoil today.

But he was here to apologize.

After years of trying to prepare for everything he could as a Master Wizard, he knew as he stood there that he was unprepared for what to say, standing here in front of Hisirdoux. He had no speech prepared, no ageless wisdom or proverbs. He wasn’t ready.

...But he knew that his apprentice sitting on the edge of the bed, staring glassy eyed at the floor with tears streaking his cheeks - tears of the old man’s own doing - had gone through too much today that he wasn’t ready for, that he could never be ready for. Far too much.

And he deserved better than to have to wait for an apology.

“Hisirdoux, I’m sorry.”

His apprentice lifted his head and looked up at him, eyes widened and eyebrows raised as if he never in a million years expected to hear an apology of all things from him. But what did he expect, then? A scolding? A lecture on how dangerous what he did was?

A moment later, Merlin realized that was probably exactly what the boy expected, and on all levels except physical, the wizard was whacking himself in the head with his staff right now.

He knelt down on one knee in front of Hisirdoux, both because he wanted to be on eye level with the boy and because he couldn’t stand the thought of him feeling looked down upon any longer.

“The things I said to those men in the dungeons were products of anger, fabrications of desperation.” Merlin said, “I’d been furious at those lowlifes and their audacity, and I said things that weren’t true. It wasn’t fair to say that, especially not after all you’ve gone through today. Forgive me, Hisirdoux.”

But the boy looked like he didn’t know what to say, even if he could’ve spoken. He looked at the old Wizard with wide eyes that still glistened with tears - tears that seemed to have been there ever since Merlin first found Hisirdoux in that shack. Even his familiar seemed surprised by his apology, and to be completely honest, Merlin didn’t blame either of them.

Hisirdoux broke his gaze away and looked down, to his left.

Patting around, the boy’s hand landed on his little green journal and a charcoal stick he kept with it, both clipped to his belt that lay on top of his folded vest. When Hisirdoux opened the book and started to write in the first blank piece of parchment he could flip to, Merlin looked away. He didn’t want to pry - he’d done enough as it was.

After a few seconds of scribbling, Archie stepped on the parchment.

“That’s not true, Douxie.” he said about whatever the boy had written, “You shouldn’t say that about yourself, especially not now.”

But the boy just sighed and started writing again, the motion in his hand leaving Archie no choice but to take his paw off.

After a few more moments, Douxie flipped the book around to show Merlin.

“It’s alright, Master. I know I’m an idiot.” he’d written in that shoddy penmanship of his.

Right, that must’ve been what Archie denied.

“I know there’s a lot I mess up and don’t think through, and I know that most of the time, I can be awfully incompetent, but using that spell is one of the few times where I know that did something smart.”

Merlin sighed.

“But why did you do it, Hisirdoux?”

Hisirdoux hesitated, but Archie looked up at the boy with the same question in mind, and that seemed to be what convinced him to answer.

But this time, he set the journal and charcoal aside. Instead of using those tools to communicate, he brought his hands out in front of him. With the way his hands started to tremble, he was obviously about to cast a nonverbal spell.

Archie stepped back a few paces, “It seems he’d rather show than tell.”

Merlin didn’t think Hisirdoux was in the right state to carry out any sort of spells right now, weakened as he was, but nonetheless, he didn’t stop the boy.

In the future, Hisirdoux would become capable of more powerful spells as his experience grew, and one such spell would be able to create vivid - albeit ghostly - life-size apparitions that replay events of the past in to-scale space. But this wasn’t the future, and he was nowhere near that strong or experienced yet. All he could manage was a little phantom-ish playthrough of events in the little space in front of him, like he was holding in his hands a hazy, blue-tinted window into the past.

Even then, “hazy” was an understatement. The several figures that seemed to be huddled a bit away from where Hisirdoux must’ve been (Merlin rightly assumed the vision in front of him was from the boy’s point of view) looked distorted and grainy, barely distinguishable as those bandits from before. What else, their voices were fuzzy, dreadful murmurs overlapping on top of each other until they were almost indistinguishable.

Merlin couldn’t tell if this haziness in memory reflected how much of a blur the events were in the boy’s mind, or if this was just the best Hisirdoux could manage.

It seemed not to be the latter though, because he squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers a little, obviously trying to use more of his strength to make the events more clear. His efforts actually worked, much to a worried Merlin’s surprise and worry, and the bandits’ voices became much easier to hear, their awful words far more enunciated. 

“This was probably a stupid move.” one of them said, “How’re we s’posed to know that wizard gives a rat’s tail about ‘is errand boy, anyway?”

“If he does, imagine the coin we could get ou’o it.” said another voice Merlin knew was the leader.

“An’ if not, we’re stuck wit’ a brat from the castle.” yet another said, followed by a thwack sound that must have been the leader smacking him in the head, if the distorted movement of the figures was any indication.

“If not , we’ve got a vault o’ information on all those wizard-y secrets they keep in th’ castle. Maybe stuff abou’ the king, too.” the insidious leader corrected, “We can beat it ou’a ‘im if we ‘ave to.”

“Not much to beat though, is there?” another bandit joked, “Gangly little brat.”

Then the view changed, and Hisirdoux’s own trembling hands came into focus. Through the phantom replay, his ghostly fingers’ movements were light but hasty as he tapped his bracelet. This must have been before his captors had the idea to restrain him, but Hisirdoux was clearly afraid they’d get the idea soon (and rightly so, as the condition Merlin found him in made clear that they obviously had), so as soon as his bracelet glowed, he whispered… 

“Vox Silentii.”

Immediately, Hisirdoux gasped in the vision. The noise became more hollow with each passing millisecond, as if - no, because his voice fell away just as fast, sucked away by the enchantment.

And it got the bandits’ attention, shown clearly by the nightmarish figures turning to face him.

“Sod it, I thought you stuck the cuffs on ‘im already!” the leader yelled to one of the other bandits, and whether it was at the display of incompetence, or out of sheer relief that his self-destructive spell worked, Hisirdoux laughed. It was a hollow, raspy, voiceless thing, but clearly a laugh all the same - a laugh that carried on until the leader marched over and raised his boot and - 

The spell dissipated, and though it only lasted a few moments, it clearly took a lot out of an already weakened Hisirdoux in the present, whose arms fell to his sides as he started to sway, his eyes rolling back as his eyelids fluttered.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin exclaimed, reaching out to steady him.

Before the boy could collapse, Merlin put one hand on his shoulder and the other against his head, cradling the side of it. Internally, he cursed himself, for he knew he should have told Hisirdoux not to carry out that vision spell, and to simply stick to writing out an answer. He’d already been exhausted by both the stress of his ordeal and the lingering effects of whatever nullifier was in his cuffs, and his magic, like everything else, was weakened, and the toll it took on him was far higher than usual.

But it hadn’t exhausted him completely. Though it took a moment, Hisirdoux put his hands down on the bed on either side of him to help keep himself upright, and his tired, tired eyes opened again.

“That spell…” Merlin pulled his hands away, “I had you study it in the event that you encountered another wizard with harmful intentions, so you could cut them off from saying an incantation at your expense.”

Fumbling to get his journal again, Hisirdoux quickly jotted something down and held up, “and sirens.”

“And you knew you couldn’t reverse the spell without a vocal incantation, didn’t you? An incantation you knew those bandits couldn’t perform.”

Hisirdoux nodded, and Merlin sighed. As much as the boy bumbled around as he did his chores, seeming at times like there was naught a competent thought to be found in that brain of his, he was clever. Even when it came to sabotaging himself, he was clever.

But somehow, that cleverness coincided with recklessness in a way that only Hisirdoux Casperan could manage.

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If you’d botched the spell, it could have closed up your windpipe, or-”

“This isn’t the time for scolding him, Merlin.” Archie reprimanded. There had been few times where the Master Wizard adhered to the advisings of a cat with glasses, but for his apprentice’s sake, this was one of those times.

Hisirdoux got his journal again and wrote…

“I’d never been tortured like that before. I didn’t know if I could’ve handled it.”

The thought of his apprentice - that sweet, gangly moppet who’d been bested by his own broom once - enduring any sort of torture made the Master Wizard’s skin crawl. He almost wanted to convince King Arthur that those bandits’ transgressions warranted far more harsh treatment than wallowing in their own despicability in the dungeons, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was focusing on Hisirdoux right now, he would go to the throne room right now.

But as it was, Merlin thought Hisirdoux was probably right; it was obvious that he had never endured torture, or…

Merlin reconsidered when he remembered that the boy knew how to use sleep spells that caused permanent memory loss.

...None that Hisirdoux himself could recall, at least.

“It’s not that I would’ve wanted to say anything.” he wrote on a new page, “I was scared I’d blurt something out. And I got knocked out before I woke up there, so I didn’t know where I was, so I didn’t try running away. It was the smartest thing I could think of.”

...Of course. Of course that’s what this was. Of course the boy would’ve taken such a drastic measure, but for what ? So those lowlife scoundrels didn’t have an upper hand, an advantage over a Master Wizard? No, it was too late for that, for they already had the biggest advantage over Merlin that they could’ve held in their grasp; they had his son, the one individual he would always put above the greater good, as a hostage.

Really, not only was Hisirdoux the only apprentice Merlin ever had who was as clever as he was reckless, but the only one who was as selfless as he was reckless - a combination that Merlin couldn’t decide whether or not he was more proud of or worried about.

“...I can reverse the spell now, you know.” he said, “Now that I know which spell you used, I can use a counterspell.”

The little Wizard’s eyes widened hopefully, as if the prospect of a counterspell was a shock.

“Oh, come now, Hisirdoux. Surely you knew-”

Oh.

He stopped.

No.

“Wait a moment… you did know another wizard can cast a counterspell to reverse the effects and restore your voice, did you not?”

As his eyebrows upturned, making him look like a scolded puppy, the boy shook his head.

...Oh, sod it all.

If Merlin Ambrosius were a swearing man, he’d have a sailor’s tongue right now.

Hisirdoux didn’t think the spell could be reversed, and he did it anyway. He thought it would be permanent, and he did it anyway. For all that boy knew, he’d taken his own voice away forever; he’d taken what he’d always used to blather on about nonsense and sing his heart out (albeit very off-key), and he destroyed it.

Merlin put his hand to his forehead, only pulling it down when he heard the boy scribbling again.

“Making sure they didn’t find out anything about wizards felt more important.” he’d written in frantic scribbles, “Or Camelot, or King Arthur, or Morgana, or you, Master.”

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So you thought this would’ve been permanent,” he tried to keep his voice level, “that you would have lost your voice forever, and you did it anyway, just to nullify the hair-slim possibility that you might have revealed some secret to those idiots?”

Hisirdoux looked down and wrote again.

“It felt like-”

No.

No, no, no.

Merlin saw the words at the end of that page, but he did not want to read them. Reading them made them real…

...But they would be real whether he read them or not, and he knew that.

“It felt like the greater good.”

Merlin never thought he could hate that concept as much as he did right now.

No, the greater good was something for him to prioritize - him and him alone, and it never came at the cost of the safety and wellbeing of his son. If it did cost him that, then let the greater good fester and crumble to dust.

Hisirdoux curled his arms and hugged himself, looking down at Archie as the feline nuzzled his arm to soothe him. As much as it pained him to see the boy like this, he couldn’t bring himself to comfort him - not when he had a solution right at his fingertips.

“Hisirdoux, do you want your voice back?”

The boy lifted his head and nodded, almost pleading with his eyes, as if there was ever a chance of Merlin denying him the return of his voice.

The wizard raised his hand and said…

“Vox restituet.”

Hisirdoux gasped, just as he did with his own spell, but it’s effect was contrary to that of the former enchantment; the sound became less and less hollow with each fleeting millisecond as the boy’s voice came back to him.

When his breathing fell back into its normal pace, Hisirdoux traced his fingers down his throat.

“Master…”

His voice sounded so hoarse, so little, but it was there , and as soon as Hisirdoux realized that, his whole body seemed to relax in relief that he probably didn’t even let himself feel when he’d first been rescued.

Merlin was relieved too, but it was outweighed by so much - most of all, by the contempt he still held for those bandits down in the dungeons for making his apprentice feel like he needed to do this to himself, and by the guilt he still felt for what he said down there.

Not only was his relief outweighed, but it was also short-lived.

“...I’m sorry.”

No. No, Hisirdoux did not just say that.

Out of all the things Merlin expected his apprentice to say… at best, he expected thanks for restoring his voice, and at worst, he expected him to voice how upset and hurt he still must’ve been for the things he said about him down in the dungeons. But never, never in a millenia, did he expect an apology.

“Whatever for?” Merlin asked. Truly, whatever for? Hisirdoux had done nothing but endure; but withstand circumstances beyond unfit for those as innocent as him, and do what he thought would protect what was important to him at a cost that Merlin himself could barely imagine - could barely conceptualize even now.

“I really really didn’t mean for this to be such a hassle,” Hisirdoux answered, coughing from his voice’s disuse, “and I’m really not upset about what you said in the dungeons. Everything was just too much, and back there, with the bandits, I just didn’t want to put you in danger-”

“No, Hisirdoux.” Merlin declared, putting two of his fingers against one of his temples. It seemed like now that Hisirdoux could speak again, there was a backlog to his blathering. “None of that.”

Hisirdoux’s eyebrows upturned with that scolded puppy look again, “None of what?”

“None of this…” Merlin gestured vaguely, “throwing yourself in harm’s way for my sake. There’s no sense in that. It is not your job to fling yourself into self-destruction in what you think is my best interest. You are my apprentice, Hisirdoux.”

You are my son . Merlin didn’t say.

“And it is my job to protect you, not the other way around.” he told Hisirdoux with no room for argument, “Your job is to focus on your studies and the tasks I ask of you. Should you ever find yourself at someone else’s mercy again, your first priority should be keeping yourself unharmed, or as close to such a state as possible. Secrets can be stopped from spreading, and memories can be wiped, but you are-"

He almost said invaluable, but he stopped himself; though he himself knew the word meant to be priceless or crucial, he feared for the chance that his apprentice could take the word to have a completely opposite meaning, that he was not valuable at all.

"You are indispensable, Hisirdoux.”

Merlin loathed the look of disbelief on the boy’s face when he heard that, but he continued.

“Whatever it entails, self-preservation should come before all else until you’re rescued, because you will be rescued.”

Hisirdoux nodded - a little, minute thing.

“I understand, Master.”

Merlin stood up.

“You must be starving.” he said, “I’ll have something prepared and brought here. You should go back to sleep until then.”

Hisirdoux nodded and pulled the green blanket over his shoulders again, the cloth having fallen off sometime a bit ago, after Merlin came in.

The boy looked down in thought as if remembering something before raising his head again.

“...They didn’t have what you asked for. At the marketplace. Every shop and stand came up empty.” Hisirdoux said, apologetic for the lack of the one thing he’d been sent out to fetch - as if it even mattered after all of this.

No, if anything, the whole errand being for nothing was just another frustration of the day, mundane - no, trivial in the face of everything else.

Also, it brought another pressing matter to the Master Wizard’s attention.

“That’s quite alright.” Merlin said, “If anything, that reminds me: clearly, it’s far too dangerous for you to go on errands in town unaccompanied. As my apprentice, there are many unfavorable people looking to get an advantage over me and use you as leverage to do so, just like those bandits tried today. So, for the time being, you’ll be chaperoned on your future errands outside the castle.”

“But-” he started, but, as if he remembered what Merlin always said when he tried to question him, he cut himself off and nodded, still looking deflated nonetheless.

“It’s a necessary precaution at this point, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, “Even if it gets in the way of you trying to get the attention of that girl at the shops.”

The boy’s cheeks tinted pink.

“It’s not about her!” he yelped, his voice’s strength obviously coming back rather quickly, “You already told me not to focus on that, and I didn’t even try talking to her today.”

“You never try talking to her, Douxie.” Archie said, pacing around the boy. But Hisirdoux didn’t let himself get distracted by his familiar teasing him.

“It’s…”

He sighed.

“...I don’t want to be a burden.” he confessed, “There are so many more important things to be done around here. Why should anyone waste their time coming with me on errands?”

At this, Merlin realized that it was his turn to sigh. If there was a spell Merlin could use to cast such insecurity from the boy’s head, he would have cast it now. But, much to his frustration, he couldn’t (at least, not without facing something of a moral dilemma over the ethics of mind control). So, simple reassurance would have to do.

“Hisirdoux…”

He placed his free hand - the one not holding onto his staff - on the boy’s shoulder, causing him to look up at the old wizard with wide, questioning eyes.

“Keeping you safe isn’t a burden.” Merlin assured, “I would rather take a few hours out of the day to accompany you, or even complete those errands on my own, than ever have a repeat occurrence of what happened today.”

“...Alright.” Hisirdoux said, although obviously reluctant.

Merlin took his hand off of his shoulder.

“Now, you’re to keep resting the rest of the night, and likely for much of tomorrow, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.” he said, “Just rest.”

The heaviness in the boy’s eyelids made clear how much he needed that rest, and thankfully, Hisirdoux didn’t contest that.

“Yes, Master.”

[simpz-art-stash]

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

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It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hii! Could u maybe do a 12 & 13 from fluff prompts with Bucky?

Also congratulations on the milestone! 🤍

Just say yes

A/N: Beware of the fluff attack and Bucky being an absolute puppy dog!

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Prompts - Dancing in the kitchen & Proposal gone wrong. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: Fluff town, a curse word or two.

Word count: 1500ish

Requests & Challenges

Bucky Barnes Taglist - @marvelgirl7 @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Tags are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be included in any of these lists ;))

.

As the saying goes, ‘everything that can go wrong, will go wrong’ Bucky found it applicable to his current situation now more than ever.

He had been planning the perfect evening while you were away on a small mission with Sam and were expected to be home in less than an hour. He’d ordered your favourite pizza, kept that special bottle of wine you’d been saving on the table with two glasses, even texted every single person in the team to not disturb once you were home. 

Bucky wanted you all to himself tonight. That and the fact that he was planning to propose. 

You arrived fifteen minutes later looking tattered and exhausted. Bucky frowned, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel as he heard the front door slam shut, concerned when he didn’t hear your usually chirpy voice, he walked out to greet you. 

“Welcome home sweetheart, how was th—”

He stopped mid-sentence after getting a good look at your state, hair in disarray, minor cuts decorating your forehead and chin. It wasn’t the first but today was supposed to be an easy one. 

“Oh you look terrible.” 

“Thanks I feel terrible.” 

Bucky chuckled, pulling you into a hug before pressing a kiss on your temple, immediately feeling your body sink into his. 

“What went wrong? I thought the mission was fairly—” 

“Yeah except it wasn’t. I’m going to take a bath okay.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” 

Sighing, you gently pushed him away to get to the bathroom, peeling off the unitard as you went,  exhaustion making you forget he was waiting for a kiss, but he understood.

“Alright, don’t be too long though. I made you dinner, and I can guarantee it’s edible this time.” 

“I’m sorry babe but I’m not really hungry. All I want is sleep.” 

You mumbled, your voice laden with sleep as you reached for the door, missing Bucky’s dejected face that he quickly recovered from, not wanting you to worry. 

“How about I get you a glass of wine and patch you up?” He offered.

“Yep.”

.

You practically crawled into bed after you bathed, falling asleep instantly. Bucky climbed in shortly after, racking his brain for yet another attempt of proposing as he draped his arm across your waist, gazing at your sleeping form for a while before kissing your forehead. 

. 

A lingering aroma of fresh bacon and eggs woke you up the next day. Peeking through a half open eye, you saw Bucky holding a tray of food in his hands and your favourite flower between his teeth.

“God bless you Bucky Barnes!” You exclaimed, sitting up against the headboard with the biggest smile on your face, making grabby hands at the food as your stomach growled. 

He placed the tray in your lap and tucked the flower behind your ear, whispering ‘good morning’ before leaning in for a kiss which you happily returned.

Bucky had already cleared your schedule for the day, made sure that no one bothered you today, he was determined to not let you out of the house before getting that ring on your finger. 

You took turns eating yourself and feeding your super caring boyfriend who had gone through all this trouble for you, not really saying much but rather enjoying the silence you shared. 

“Hey I got us a table at that Italian restaurant that you love for dinner.” Bucky announced matter-of-factly, hiding his nervous self under the facade of a casual dinner date. 

“I’ll have to check with Agent Hill if there’s some updates after last night’s blow-up but I’m sure th—” 

“Oh that won’t be necessary.” 

“It won’t?” You eyed the man who kept his gaze on the piece of fruit he was toying with in the plate.

“Y-yeah I cleared your schedule for the day.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. I want you all to myself.” Bucky’s soft smile warmed your heart as did his honesty, making you lean forward and place a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“So it’s a date Barnes.”

“It’s a date.”

.

Bucky went over his plan once more after deciding to drop the idea of proposing in a public place, he figured he would take you out for a nice meal first, get home, maybe open a nice bottle of wine with some cake and do it then. 

He still had some issues when people disturbed your peace while out at a public place or a social gathering. People would stare, ask for pictures with his vibranium arm or just generally give him the look making him utterly uncomfortable. He decided he couldn’t afford that tonight, everything had to be perfect. He even decided to take the efforts of making you a chocolate cake from scratch. 

Evening rolled by and the kitchen counter was a mess of broken eggshells, a thousand mixing bowls and spoons, the floor covered in sugar and cocoa powder while Bucky wiped the sweat off his forehead and finally got the batter in the oven. 

Looking around, he knew it would eventually have to be professionally cleaned or it would be sleeping on the couch for a week. Somehow he had to evade you from entering the kitchen until he popped the question. 

The super soldier double checked the ring box in his back pocket and set the timer, getting to make the ganache for the cake. 

“Bucky! Get in here right now!” You yelled from the bathroom, voice sounding downright pissed off. 

“Ah fuck what now.” 

Muttering under his breath, he ran, only to find your fully clothed self drenched as the water sprayed everywhere from the broken shower. 

“Oh God, are you alright?”

“Besides being fucking soaked and ruining my new dress & make-up? Oh just fabulous!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping away to let him in the mini pool.

You stood next to him shivering while he tried his best to fix it, his vibranium arm doing the trick as he closed the tap, now completely soaked the same as you. 

A tiny box fallen on the wet floor caught your attention and you bent to pick it up, gasping when you opened it to find the most beautiful diamond ring sitting inside the cushioned box. 

It felt more and more real the longer you stared at it, unable to form words, glancing at the man you loved and who, by some miracle loved you back & enough to take this next big step. 

“Bucky…” 

“Hmm?” He wasn’t paying attention.

“What uh..when did you—please look at me.” You croaked, holding the tiny box up in your palm.

Bucky’s eyes turned wide before his hand automatically went for the back pocket of his jeans from where the ring must’ve fallen.

“Fucking hell.”

“What? I hope this isn’t for someone else.” You chuckled at your terrible attempts of a joke, tears already gathering in your eyes while Bucky scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

“Okay I’m gonna do this now. Wait fuck, let me get you a towel first, you’re shivering.”

He hurried to wrap you in a fluffy towel, walked you out and sat you on the bed before knelt down on both knees and cleared his throat.

“Here we go. None of the amazing things that have happened in my life in the past few years would’ve happened, if it weren’t for you. You have been one of the most integral parts of my journey towards healing and by no means is it over, but I know I can’t go ahead without you. You’ve loved me through my worst and by some miracle continue to do so even today.” He chuckled, tears gathering in his eyes while you were down right sobbing at this point.

“I mean it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I had a whole thing planned and now the kitchen’s a big mess and we have a pool in the bathroom. But again when has anything worked perfectly for us right?”

You giggled through tears, nodding as your mind automatically played all those memories, first date, first kiss, the first ‘i love you’s, everything. It wasn’t the smoothest ride with Bucky but it was the best and you wouldn’t have it any other ways. 

“So Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would you be interested in spending the rest of your life with a semi-stable hundred year old man?” 

Wiping your tears, you knelt in front of the man yourself as fresh tears appeared, cupped Bucky’s face in your hands and kissed him with all the love you had in you.

“What do you say?” He mumbled, never breaking the kiss as he stood up with you and walked you over to the bed.

“What do you want me to say? I already found the ring.” You giggled, flopping on the bed and peeling your clothes off, dinner reservations  long forgotten. 

“Just say yes.”

“Yes.” Saying it out loud made you believe it actually happened, as Bucky climbed between your parted legs.

“Say it again.”

“Yes!” 

.

Two hours later when you were finally ready to leave the bedroom, you found yourself in the kitchen in Bucky’s arms, swaying to some 40s ballads that he put on, the floor was a complete mess but neither of you cared. The cake he’d prepared was mostly burnt - thankfully he ran to turn the oven off right before giving you your second orgasm of the night. 

But you wouldn’t trade this moment, this day or this man for anything. 

[kittydemon9000]

Okay so once again, 3 am thoughts have gifted me with yet another au. It is by no means original but screw it: SmithSwap

The only things I’m switching is their ages, so now Nya is the older one, but it. Gets. Fun.

For specifics, as of the Pilots/S1 Nya is 15 and Kai is 11, because I want bebe kai

Now, prior to Wu showing up, it’s pretty much the same as canon only with roles reversed. Nya mostly runs the shop while Kai is trying to everything he can to make things easier for his big sister, and I mean everything. The only one Nya doesn’t stop him from doing is cooking because Kai is the better chef, though neither can figure out why. Nya also likes to tell Kai stories of their parents since he can’t remember them too well, much to his disappointment.

ANYWAY, Wu shows up, Kai gets upset he’s insulting his sister’s work, then Skulkin show up. Kai does get snatched, much to Nya worry and canon continues.

Okay but also tiny spinoff, it also would’ve been hilarious if Nya still got kidnapped because then when the guys meet Kai they’d be like “who is this sassy lost child?”

So then while Nya’s training, I’m actually going to say what happened when Kai is captured.

You see, a side affect of being really freaking old is that your perception of time changes, specifically how long periods seem shorter. Garmadon decided that because of the prophecy it would be best to snatch the Master of Fire, who he thought would be Ray.

So you can imagine his surprise when his Skulkin bring in a kicking, screaming 11 year old child.

He is, understandably, not happy and very confused.

He sends the Skulkin away and tries his best talking with Kai. Like, as little malice as he can in a gentle voice, and he actually learns a few things. 1) both Ray and Maya went missing years ago, 2) these kids have no idea about anything regarding the Elemental Masters, 3) Kai’s sister has been raising him since their parents went missing, and she’s only four years older than him

Understandably, he is concerned, but also sees this as an opportunity. If he raises the Master of Fire to be loyal to him, then he’ll never want to fulfill his role in the prophecy, thus ensuring his victory. also he really misses lloyd and now when he returns he’ll have two kids!!! how amazing is that

So yeah Kai’s stay in the Underworld isn’t that bad. This Garmadon guy is pretty nice, tells him awesome stories about his parents, teaches him a bunch of things(mostly how to fight), and really just acts like the paternal figure he never had(Garmadad is canon, no matter what form you can fight me on this). The only part that sucks in Samukai, but he’s just a jerk and Garmadon makes sure he’ll never actually do anything to hurt him. He does miss Nya a lot though.

Anyway back with Nya and the guys.

They don’t actually know the exact reason why she was here at the beginning. All they know was that Wu originally left for the Master of Fire and came back with her instead. They know she has a brother, but aren’t quite sure how he falls into it.

They learn her full story the night they’re heading to the Temple of Fire, at which when they’re winding down Zane brings up how she never actually told them how she met Wu.

They are very concerned when they find out the whole story and swear they’ll help her get him back, which is nice.

Then she sees Kai But Actually Garmadon, follows, and bam Sword of Fire time. She isn’t able to fully use it, but she’s able to get a few sparks. However, things then start to take a turn for the worst.

Kai is actually here, very confused why Garmadon’s having him tied to the ceiling, but hey Nya’s here! But then oh no he then realizes that Garmadon is the bad guy, which gets him upset and more then a little betrayed.

Seeing him hurt his sister, the one of raised him, actually has Kai pick up the sword and use his powers. Under normal circumstances, it probably wouldn’t have been bigger than a few sparks, however Kai has his big sister in danger, dealing with the betrayal of an almost father figure, holding the Sword of Fire, and being surrounded by his element.

So yeah. Not that small of a fire.

The guys and Wu are actually able to to witness the truly incredible fire blast he lets out from the camp, put two and two together, and start heading over. Wu didn’t follow Nya…..because plot and was the able to help them fight off the Skulkin.

Anyway, it’s more than enough to dissipate the shadows, however it also wakes up the dragon. Garmadon, who is sort of panicking because That Was Not Supposed To Happen, ends up scooping up an unconscious Kai and the Sword and retreating to the underworld, leaving behind a very pissed Nya and an equally pissed Fire Dragon.

But yeah, Nya deals with the dragon, they get the other ones and head to the Underworld with Wu this time, and he’s actually the reason they’re able to get past all the Skulkin. 

But yeah, Samukai gets vaporized and Garmadon about to leave when a feverish Kai makes his way in and begs Garmadon to not do it and that they can fix things.

And Garmadon….actually pauses for a second and you can see the conflict in his eyes before he shakes his head and says “there’s no going back for me” and walks through. Kai then collapses and the end up heading back home.

As for what’s up with Kai, who would’ve guessed tapping into a kind of power you aren’t supposed to have access to yet in a high stress situation would be bad for the body. He has a really bad fever but he’s fine after a few days.

The few month timeskip in between the Pilots and S1 is mostly spent training Kai, so they have quite a bit less free time. However when S1 starts and Kai hears about Lord Garmadon, he actually wants to check it out himself first.

So yeah, he meets Lloyd by himself and it actually doesn’t go that badly. Kai actually buys some candy for them to share and they leave the town, and Kai actually starts talking with him. Eventually the topic comes up about Garmadon and Kai gives a rough basis about how he sort of got kidnapped, and then his work in progress plan of making him good again. Lloyd is completely down with seeing his dad again and says how they could probably get his dads attention if their got their own evil army.

And because they’re both stupid kids, neither of which have had parents before, Kai thinks it’s a great idea.

So yeah. That’s why they find the Serpentine here.

Ofc, it isn’t a right away type thing. It takes them about a month before they find the Hypnobrai Tomb, and Kai just plays off all his time spent out as him having made a friend, which they can’t exactly argue with.

Ofc, canon still happens and when Kai was busy training Lloyd ended up finding the tomb and releasing the Serpentine, and they do their regular Canon Nonsense. 

However, Kai is not too happy about the whole Attack Villages things and after a bit comes clean to the ninja about their original plan. They very much aren’t happy, but admit his heart was in the right place and they doubt he’d pull something like this again.

Fast-forward a bit more, Kai is mostly chill with Zane’s “weirdness” and unfortunately stays home when the Hypnobrai burn down the Monestary. It’s only because the dragons were able to get out and protect him that he was still alive. Nya’s actually the one who yells at Zane this time around because again. Kai almost died, but it’s all cool later and they find the Bounty :D

Anyway, Canon again continues. Kai is still really good with the dragons and is a little upset they need to leave. He also gets along really well with Ed and Edna. Then when Lloyd joins Kai is a little….well he doesn’t hate him but he does spend a while avoiding him.

Eventually Nya has enough of their dancing around each other and locks them both in the same room so they can talk it out. Turns out the reason Kai was avoiding him was because Lloyd’s betrayal really hurt since they were supposed to do it to find Garmadon, not hurt people. They have a tearful apology, then Kai learns how much of a jerk the Serpentine were and is like “the next time I see any I’ll protect you, since you’re like my little brother and as a big brother it’s my job to keep you safe”

Now it’s Samurai Time :)

You see, this time around Kai has double reasons for being the Samurai. 1) Yeah, he hates being left behind and wants to be involved but also 2) he wants to keep his big sister and big brothers safe

So yeah, that happens. He does think it’s pretty funny when they keep trying and failing to one up him though.

But then :) He gets captured with Lloyd :)))

So yeah, that sucks but it only gets worse because while Kai was able to “summon” his Samurai Mech, he had to send it off to get the ninja away. So that sucks.

Garmadon eventually shows up to help since the Serpentine stole both his kids, much to Nya’s chagrin.

Then comes the freaking Volcano Scene and this one is from Nya when she rescues Kai, then has to choose between Lloyd or the Fangblade. She ends up unlocking her True Potential by essentially leaving behind all negative feels she had for Lloyd and accepting him under her protection just like she did Kai.

The sheer torrent of water easily cools all the lava and thoroughly soaks them. But hey, even Kai has to admit being wet is better than being burnt alive. Also when the ninja start wondering aloud why the Samurai didn’t help Kai bashfully admits he was the Samurai, and this thoroughly impresses the ninja since Kai is like, 12 at this point.

Uhhhh, S2 isn’t too different. Kai is super happy that the dragons are back and is easily Ultra’s favorite. He isn’t hit with either Garms spell nor the Tomorrows Tea, but is there to comfort Lloyd and says that even though he got hit with some magic stuff Kai is still going to protect him since he’s still his older brother. On the Dark Island Kai is heartbroken Nya got corrupted and swears he’ll help fix her. When Garmadon gets purified Kai looses his shit and gets so excited since let’s goooooo not only is his dad not evil anymore they can go out in public together :DDDD

S3, also not too different. During the whole Love Triangle nonsense Kai’s just sitting there so confused. Also Pixal joins team Kai’s Older Siblings. Him getting captured was just him being at the wrong place wrong time. He has a really fun time time in space though, which was nice.

But uh. Then Zane hecking dies, which hits everyone really hard, especially Kai. Only this time, Nya ends up taking Kai back to Ignacia and opens up the forge again, pretty much cutting all contact with the other ninja, Wu and Garmadon. While it might’ve been boring and lonely, at least in Ignacia they were safe. 

Kai is…honestly really miserable, but hides it well. He can barely get up some mornings, but does so anyway since he’s desperately trying to act like things are normal, despite how Nya doesn’t talk very much. He misses the other ninja a lot, even Pixal despite not knowing her for very long, but doesn’t want to tell Nya since again, trying to make things normal again. Nya also doesn’t let him out of the house too often, only really if she’s there to watch him.

This routine goes on for about two months, until Lloyd shows up to try and get everyone back together. And Nya.....Nya doesn’t like that.

She and Lloyd end up having a bit of a passive aggressive argument that is progressively getting louder until Kai just. Snaps.

He yells at them to stop fighting, how they’re acting so horribly and that he wished things could go back to normal, how Zane wouldn’t want this and that he’d be disappointed in them.

The two visibly flinch.

Then Kai realizes exactly what he just said and who he said it to. And he runs.

Nya and Lloyd both spend some time in silence, mulling over what Kai just said because he was right. Zane would hate what’s become of the team and how they separated.

Nya ends up being the one to break the silence, asking Lloyd where and when to meet.

When Kai doesn’t return from the woods, she ends up leaving a note before she leaves, explaining where she’s going and how she’s sorry.

Meanwhile, Kai is having a slight breakdown in a Tree Base he made years ago.

But yeah, fast forward a bit and Kai’s getting ready to sneak onto Chen’s Island, but in a slightly different way than canon. Instead he takes a slightly experimental ship that’s basically a smaller Bounty which he calls the Destiny’s Wish. Think of the comparison like a Car vs a Go Cart. Comfortably, it can fit 2 people long term, but for quick trips can carry as many as 10, but it’ll be a tight fit and the Wish might have some trouble flying.

So yeah, he’s on his own and he doesn’t arrive until a few hours before the EMs all get dropped from the plane. Shade is actually the one to find him first, but has a moment of pause since Literal Child and gives Kai enough time to kick him into a tree and run. The whole chase actually lasts about two hours but unfortunately Kai isn’t able to get back to the Wish and gets caught.

Now for the fun part :)

So all the EMs(and I do mean all because he wanted to “thank them for their contribution”) are in the throne room, their powers snatched, when Chen said aloud “But it is such a shame that we don’t have the Master of Fire, the we’d be able to complete the spell.” and for the briefest second the Ninja Fam are relieved but then Chen does a whole “SIKE, WE GOT HIM” and has some of the guards bring Kai out.

The Ninja are, understandably, freaking out. The EMs kinda are too since Child but only a little bit and it’s not personal

But then just as Chen’s about to snatch his fire, Kai starts saying how Chen cheated since Kai never got to play in a match. Chen refutes it since His Game His Rules but then Kai says that age old statement to get siblings to do Stupid Shit: “What are you, scared?”

Chen is not scared, thank you very much. And you know what, since you’re so confident fine, you now get your own challenge!

So yeah, now Kai has his own challenge.

What is it you might ask?

A vertical obstacle course with a time limit. If Kai doesn’t grab the Jade Blade, the exit closes.

Not that bad you might think. After all, Kai’s been training with the ninja for the past year, he’s probably got this in the bag.

Yeah welllllllll, a little bird told might have told Chen that a certain Master of Fire couldn’t swim.....so he uses Nya’s power to gradually fill up the room and forcing him up.

Surprise surprise, it was rigged against him. I’m talking platforms having false bottoms, ladders being oiled, high pressure water jets to knock him off, the works.

Kai is so close to making it. So close..... but Chen can’t have that happen now can he :)

So yeah, Kai ends up falling in and Nya almost drags all the EMs into the water trying to get him.

Luckily it’s at that moment Lloyd bursts in with Garmadon, frees the EMs and gets Chen’s staff. The EMs bust out and just as Nya’s about to dive in the whole thing starts draining, like an enormous whirlpool.

You see Chen actually thought ahead and realized that “hey, if the kid dies he’ll loose his power” so he made a plan that when Kai was going to fall in, he would use one of the tubes that shot water but in verse and suck him in. Luckily he was able to pull it off before the gem was smashed because if not MMM.

So yeh, Kai is now captured, but still on the island. Skylor reluctantly copies his powers(she got sort of close with Nya and this is the little brother she was gushing about), and Anacondrai happens. However, the two are able to escape, Skylor’s actually able to figure out the Summon Dragon thing, and then they head back to the main group.

Then comes the inevitable question of “how did you get here anyway?” and then Kai shows them The Wish. He actually ends up flying back with Garmadon before all the EMs learn how to Summon Dragon so they can warn people about the ensuing danger.

So yeah, they head out, the Pythor thing happens, canon then Sad because Garm still needs to do the whole sacrifice thing D:

That one hits Lloyd and Kai really hard, but they both use each other for comfort so it isn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

But yeah, this is getting long so tbc for a part 2 :DDD

[ayanna-wild]

Love Like A Story

Word Count: 2033

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining because that is definitely a warning lol, fluff

A/N: Request from wattpad

Summary: Love was a fairy tale, it didn't exist beyond movies and words on the pages of a book. With your fair share of heartache and break, you'd decided you were better off alone, but Lucifer's determined to show you love wasn't a trope for the story books.

Such a persistent devil.

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

You stacked the books from your cart onto shelves lined with even more books. Some new, some old, all with a story or more to tell. This little shop was your own slice of heaven, your refuge from the world outside. You had no need to venture out when any adventure you could ever want was right here, between the pages of all these books. The bell above your shop door chimed faintly, and you called out to whomever it was.

"We're not open yet!"

The sound of footsteps grew nearer and a familiar man poked his head around the shelf you were stacking.

"I'm just here to pick up my order, assuming you have it?"

You smiled faintly, dusting your hands off from the older books that had collected more dust than the ones towards the front of the store.

"Mr. Morningstar, nice to see you again."

Lucifer was a regular in your little shop, always seeking to expand his library and occasionally asking you to find books you weren't sure even existed anymore. You always came through though, and you supposed that was why he kept coming back.

"How many times must I insist you call me Lucifer?"

His voice followed after you as you walked back towards the counter.

"You're my customer, not my friend." You replied, albeit a bit stiffly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow leaning against the counter as you walked behind it, shuffling through a box.

"Shall I pretend not to be offended?"

You mostly ignored his comment, setting a very large and very old book in front of him. The pages were well-worn and bound in a material you suspected wasn't leather. Lucifer smiled and ran his fingers over the spine before open the book.

Words you couldn't understand were written on the pages, and he seemed even happier upon that discovery.

"You even got it in the original Sanskrit."

You shrugged a bit, although you did feel rather proud of yourself.

"It's what you asked for."

Lucifer pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to you. Another reason he was your favorite customer is because he paid handsomely for finding books like this. Honestly he was keeping your shop afloat. You grabbed the envelope but frowned when he didn't let go.

"Mr. Morningstar, you don't get the book until I get my money."

He tsked, still not letting go.

"It's Lucifer my dear, go on try it." He smirked.

You sighed, tapping your fingers on the counter. It was safe to say you were his match when it came to stubbornness. His hand brushed yours when he leaned forward a bit, and you tried to ignore the feeling his skin brushing against yours gave you. You stared him down before he let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well if you won't say my name at least humor my curiosity for a moment."

You nodded, and he relinquished his hold on the envelope, which you tucked into the cash register.

"Do you ever leave this shop? You always seem to be here, don't you ever go out?"

"Why would I? I have everything I need here."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, and he frowned.

"Don't you have friends who miss you? Family? A lover to be with perhaps?"

He noticed the tense of your shoulders, your lips pressed in a thin line, and you pressed the book into his hands, causing him to fumble with it.

"I don't need those things. Have a good day, Mr. Morningstar."

He stared at you surprised by your sudden hostility, and he stood there a moment, holding his book.

"But my dear, surely you don't enjoy being so alone..."

"Goodbye Mr. Morningstar."

You turned away from him, busying yourself with marking the transaction down in your receipt book. Lucifer stood there a moment longer before leaving without another word. You waited until you heard the bell chime before releasing your breath, leaning back against the wall.

You didn't need anyone. It was never worth the heartache that followed after they left, you decided long ago being alone is what you wanted, and he wasn't about to change that.

Not if you could help it.

~

Although Lucifer continued to come as he regularly did, he noticed you grew even more distant than before. Which was saying something because the two of you were never very close to begin with. Not for a lack of trying on his part though, you stopped any advances of friendship he made. Now however, you didn't speak to him at all.

Not beyond a polite greeting, or the total of his purchases. He'd even accept you calling him Mr. Morningstar, as long as it meant you'd at least look at him.

"Are you alright darling? You seem very off lately."

You didn't answer him as you rung up the stacks of books he had sat down. Lucifer frowned when you wordlessly began loading them into a bag.

"Y/N..."

The provoked a small glance from you, he seldom used your name, preferring to call you darling, or dear, occasionally love if he was in an especially chipper mood.

"Good day Mr. Morningstar."

Lucifer frowned when you handed him the bag, his hand brushed yours as he grabbed the bag, and you jerked your hand back as if he had burnt you. He didn't leave though, continued to stare at you until you finally met his eye.

He studied you closely before leaning towards you a bit, with a wall behind you there was nowhere to run. You couldn't seem to force yourself to look away, eyes locked with his.

"Tell me darling... what do you desire most in this world?"

You didn't want to answer, really you didn't, but you found your lips moving before you could stop them.

"I want to be alone, completely and utterly alone."

Lucifer stood up straight, shock and concern written all over his face. You blinked rapidly for a few seconds, breaking whatever spell had fallen over you.

"Why would you desire such a dreary existence?"

You scowled, angry at yourself for saying that out loud, angry at him for asking.

"Everyone always leaves in the end, love is just a fairy tale, a story better left to empty words on a page."

Lucifer's heart ached to hear you say such a sad thing, it left him wondering who'd hurt you so. You didn't give him much of a chance to ask before opening your shop door.

"I have work to do, Mr. Morningstar, please leave."

Your cool tone left no room for argument making it clear you were telling him, not asking. Lucifer conceded, leaving you alone with your darkening thoughts.

~

You closed the shop early that night, locking the door behind you as the sun began to set. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Lucifer standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He put it out once he saw you though.

"Hello love, I was wondering when you'd come out!"

You stared at him confused and a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Have you been waiting for me out here this whole time?"

"Well yes, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back into your shop today, after what happened."

He said it so casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Why?"

"So I could walk you home of course!"

"I can walk myself, Mr. Morningstar."

You shouldered past him, but that phased him very little as he fell into step beside you.

"It's after hours, none of that Mr. Morningstar nonsense, surely it'd be appropriate to call me Lucifer now?"

You slowed to a stop, sighing as you turned to him.

"If I do, will you leave me alone."

"For tonight, yes."

"Then thank you, Lucifer, but I'd really like to walk myself home."

His excitement over you finally saying name canceled out your dismissal of him, and he smiled widely.

"Well then a deal's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow my dear!"

And just like that he was strolling away, you stared after him a moment before shaking your head and going on your way. That didn't stop the ghost of a smile that graced your lips though.

~

True to his word he did come the next day, and the day after that, and every day since. By the end of the month you'd gotten so used to having him around you began to look forward to the lunch breaks you'd take with him, the evenings he'd walk you home, and you'd pretend not to notice he guided you the long way just to talk longer.

It'd become so normal for you that when he abruptly stopped coming one day you grew worried. He'd never been late before, and you'd received no text nor call. Given your past, your thoughts began to darken, perhaps he'd decided to leave you like everyone had.

Really could you blame him?

It had to be you if everyone kept disappearing from your life. You were so lost in your harsh thoughts you didn't even realize you were crying until your eyes began to burn. You wiped the tears away harshly, scolding yourself for being so weak.

"You were fine on your own before, and you'll be fine now." You firmly told yourself, but you had trouble believing your own words.

When had you allowed yourself to start relying on Lucifer?

The bell above the door chimed, and you turned around surprised. Lucifer stood in the doorway, shrugging off his drenched coat to hang it on the hook in the wall. He fixed his hair with one hand holding a bag in the other. He was soaked from head to toe, probably from the downpour outside.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm so late darling, I wasn't expecting the rain and got- Oh."

You had abruptly hugged him, catching him off guard, but he placed a gentle hand to your back nonetheless.

"You'll get wet if you cling to me like that." He said softly.

"I'm sorry..." You spoke, stepping away from him.

"Oh no my dear, it's perfectly alright! I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Lucifer said quickly upon seeing your tears.

You laughed a little, wiping your eyes.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then what is it?" He asked carefully.

Seeing Lucifer standing there, drenched from the rain, looking at you so concerned made you suddenly feel very foolish. How could ever assume he'd just abandon you.

"It's silly now that I think about it... but you were late, and I thought... maybe you weren't coming back."

Your voice grew quieter towards the end and Lucifer let out a small sigh.

Not one of annoyance or irritation, but relief, and he walked over to you.

"Does this mean you don't want to be alone anymore?"

You thought for a moment, your insecurities were still there, the small fears, but you were more scared of not having Lucifer by your side anymore.

"I guess I wouldn't mind... if you wanted to stick around."

He smiled proudly and forgetting his earlier concern of you catching a cold, hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The bag in his hand crinkled, and you pulled back to look at it curiously.

"Oh that's right! I got you a little gift!"

He held the bag out to you, and you opened it eagerly, your heart skipping a beat when you pulled out the book.

"Lucifer, this is... how did you find this?"

The book you held in your hand was one you'd been desperately searching for, but it was so rare you suspected you'd never find it, let alone afford it.

"I called in a few favors, a little gift to commemorate our time together. It's nothing really, you're always finding rare books for me."

You laughed a little running your fingers along the cover.

"But Lucifer this is..."

You laughed once more, throwing your arms around his neck as you hugged him tightly.

"It's amazing, thank you."

He smiled, hugging you back as he leaned into your touch.

"You're worth it my love."

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

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[thesquidkid]

I was the match and you were the rock

This was supposed to be a very different fic, but Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille came on, and this was born (also I listened to the song on repeat, so there may be some lyrics scattered around 😂)

It is also quite sad (at least I have tears in my eyes writing it), so I guess sorry? Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it! 😂 (Also on ao3)

Oh and there might be spoilers for the finale? With everything happening with the airstream.

Michael was sitting on the ground, back against his truck, in the middle of the junkyard, looking at his trailer go up in flames. All the people he cared about were besides him, Alex sitting on his right, rubbing his thigh. He had his arm around the other man, the two of them mourning the airstream and all the moments shared.

But more than just memories with Alex, the trailer held Michael’s life for over a decade. He knew the others were sad, but overall they all shared the same sense of joy - Jones was no more a threat. And as much as Michael wanted to celebrate, he also mentally counted how much everything would cost to replace, if he could live with Alex until he found a solution, how many other vehicles had been touched, how deep in debt Sanders Auto would be in.

“Out.” Sanders said, not leaving any place for discussion. He was standing, leaning against Michael’s truck, his leg touching Michael’s shoulder, a comforting presence.

When Michael had fallen to the ground seeing the flames, Sanders had kept standing, head high. But deep down, he was in a similar state to Michael - teary eye(s) and wet cheek(s), calculating the loss of money, the loss of small sentimental value. Because even if there wasn’t much in the airstream, it was all Michael’s, and Sanders had grown used to it being there, was even attached to the poor thing.

This is why he was asking everyone to leave. They didn’t belong in this place, and didn't understand what was truly happening. They wanted to celebrate the win against Jones - as they should - but they didn’t feel the same loss that Michael did.

Michael didn’t even register Sanders’ word, didn’t even hear the cars leaving, his ears still ringing from the explosion. He had gone into the airstream, to try to save anything, but it was too late, most of the inside had burnt down already, the outside shell starting to melt.

I will burn down everything you care about, Jones had said when they defeated him. At first, Michael didn’t understand. Alex was standing next to him, seemingly not on fire, Isobel and Max in a similar state. He even checked in with Sanders, called the old man to make sure he was okay, when the explosion happened. Michael had driven as fast as he could, rushing to the airstream, Alex shouting after him.

He didn’t see Alex running after him, forgetting for a moment that Michael was fireproof. It was only when Alex grabbed Michael’s hand inside the airstream, that Michael registered the dangerousity of Alex being here. Using his powers, he had pushed Alex out of there, but that didn’t stop both of them to still be coughing and Alex’s prosthetic needing to be replaced.

But neither of those things were at the front of Alex’s mind in that instant. Sitting on the ground, his leg in front of him, still hot from the fire, coughing once in a while, his only focus was Michael. Michael was okay, physically. The flames hadn’t burned him, and the coughing had stopped after a while. Emotionally, on the other hand, he knew that Michael was not okay. Even if he couldn’t fully understand how much the airstream meant to Michael, he knew that he was hurting, and wanted nothing more than to be there to comfort his boyfriend.

And so he stayed. When Sanders told the others to go, he looked up to the older man, who was only looking at the flames. He wondered if he should leave the two to be alone, to mourn, to check the damage, but he also knew that he was not going to leave Michael’s side for a few days, especially not after what happened with Jones.

The firefighters came, eventually. By then, nothing could be saved. Luckily, Michael had used his powers to push the remaining cars and various other inflammable objects present in the junkyard to the side.

When the firefighters left, having checked Alex, Michael and Sanders and advising them to go get checked out at the hospital, the three men were alone, the airstream’s creaking cutting through the night.

“You should head home,” Michael whispered to Alex, his eyes never leaving the airstream, “you need to rest your leg, I’ll join you in a bit.” He turned his head to meet Alex, who could see all the desperation, the sadness and the anger present in those golden eyes.

“You’re sure?” Alex asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Michael nodded, turning back to the airstream with a sniff. “We need to check for what can be covered by insurance, and what we’ll lose,” Sanders said with a gruff, turning his back to the airstream for the first time since the explosion.

Michael wiped his cheeks and turned around, facing Alex properly, who was sitting on the bed of the truck. From where he stood, Michael could see the airstream from the corner of his eye, could smell the burnt metal, could hear the cracks. He took Alex’s hands in his, “I’ll be home in a bit,” he said, his voice breaking, “I just need -” he went on in a sobb, dropping his head into Alex’s shoulder, who put his hand to Michael’s hair, in a comforting gesture.

It broke Alex’s heart to see this, to see Michael be so desperate, so lost, in such pain. “You need to make a list of what burned down,” Alex finished, knowing that this was important to Michael, both financially, and sentimentally. Who knew if Sanders Auto would even recover from such havoc. Alex just knew that he would do everything he could so that Michael wasn’t alone.

Michael sniffed into Alex’s shoulder, breaking Alex’s heart a little more, before standing up. He wiped his face with his hand, and breathed deeply, his hands still holding onto Alex’s.

Alex drove back home, putting his leg through one last painful challenge, before taking it off as soon as he sat on his couch, before texting Michael to let him know he had made it safe and sound.

Examining the prosthetic under a proper light, he could see that it was crooked, parts of it having melted in the heat. His stump was bright red and swollen, he made his way to the bathroom and warmed himself a bath, setting an alarm clock to get out of the water.

When the alarm rang, he dried himself and got dressed for bed, each step made with a wince. After taking two painkillers, he made his way to his bed, falling asleep as soon as he was under the covers.

He woke up when he felt a warm body slide next to him under the covers. When he opened his eyes, he saw Michael, curls still wet from the shower he had just taken, eyes still puffy. Alex scooted closer to Michael, wrapping him in his arms. They could talk in the morning, about Jones, about the airstream and the junkyard, but right now, both needed the rest and the comfort of each other.

In the morning, when Michael woke up, he found himself in an empty bed. He got out with a smile, eyes still puffy from the night before, but not crying anymore (not that he had any tears left in the first place), and walked to Alex’s living room, where he could hear some noise.

Getting closer, he could hear Alex on the phone, finishing up a conversation, “Yeah okay, I will, thanks.” He was sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on top of a pillow, the prosthetic off. On the table were laying a jar of cometquiles spread and some flying sauce-cakes, making Michael chuckle, remembering the last time those were on that exact table.

“Arthuro called and asked what you wanted, he heard about -” Alex said, going off at the end, not wanting to say it, but knowing that they needed to talk about it, the explosion.

“How’s your knee?” Michael asked instead, taking a cake and sitting next to Alex, worry clear on his face. The airstream was gone, the damage already caused at the junkyard, he and Sanders had already talked about their next possible moves, right now the only thing he could act on was Alex. Whether it was a massage, fixing the prosthetic, anything Alex needed, wanted.

“It has known better days,” Alex answered, leaning his head on Michael’s shoulder while he ate. They were silent for a few minutes, Michael enjoying breakfast, Alex texting Kyle about his leg. Once Michael finished eating, he spoke up.

“So, uh, we made a list?” Michael started, hesitantly. “Of all the things we lost in the fire. A few cars were touched, so that’s gonna cost a lot with the clients. Hopefully we can get insurance, but I don’t think that’ll be enough. There’s also a lot of old junk that burnt, which sucks since we wanted to sort through it and melt the metal parts together. Now it’s just a bunch of useless shit, so we’ll have to throw that out. We’ll also need to replace the heavy tools, a lot of them are melted or burnt. So all in all, the bill is high.”

He sighed, “Too high,” he added at the end, a whisper, as if saying the words at louf would make them more real. After the pandemic, the junkyard was slowly building itself back up monetarily, but they still weren’t out of the red. And the explosion only made things harder.

Alex rubbed his hand up and down Michael’s back, listening in silence, being a comforting presence. One Michael finished speaking, Alex talked, voice low, testing the waters if Michael wasn’t ready to talk about it now.

“Did you make a list for the airstream?” he asked, full of concern.

Michael nodded, and suddenly it was as if the dam had broken. When last night Michael was mostly in shock, he was fully sobbing, turning to Alex, who held him tight in the embrace.

“I lost -” Michael sobbed, “I lost everything, Alex.”

Alex held him, tried to make him feel calmer. Except, this was all new territory, seeing Michael brake like that, Alex had never witnessed it. Like everyone else, anger was mostly the emotion he had attributed to Michael in the past. And that anger was still there, now, sobbing into Alex’s chest. Except it was controlled, and surrounded by sadness and pain, that Alex didn’t need to be psychic to feel.

Before, Alex might have taken Michael’s comment personally, told him that he didn’t lose everything, that Alex was still there. But this was past Alex, present Alex knew that Michael had built his life in that airstream, it was his first real home, the first safe place that was his and his only. Because where the truck was technically speaking the first thing Michael owned, the trailer was the first object he built from the ground up.

So yes, Michael had lost everything. Everything he owned, everything he built, the countless drawings and projects that scattered the walls of the airstream and the entire bunker, the photographs he kept hidden in a box.

Where people would see a piece of trash, some place that was unsanitary and dirty, some place that wouldn’t be comfortable to live in, Michael had seen a home for many years. And as much as Alex was Michael’s home, nothing could replace the airstream.

“I know,” Alex whispered into Michael’s hair, “I’m sorry”.

The two stayed in that position for a while, until Alex’s phone rang. Michael stood straight, wiped his eyes and his nose, and grabbed another cake, while Alex talked to Eduardo, giving a fast review of what happened with the Lockhart machine, but keeping it vague enough to not out Dallas.

“Seriously,” Alex laughed out after hanging up, “the Valenti’s need to stop calling me.” At Michael’s confused raised eyebrow, he continued, “I was talking to Kyle earlier, he was worried about my leg, telling me not to put it under pressure. As if I couldn’t make that decision myself. And now, Eduardo is giving me a week off, to, I quote, ‘rest’. I am a grown ass man, I can do that myself!”

Michael giggled at that, turning into a laugh. “What?” Alex asked with a smile, not understanding what was funny.

“Babe,” Michael said, leaning close, “you do need people to tell you to rest.” He kissed Alex’s cheek as the other man chuckled, “That’s fair,” Alex replied, turning to look at Michael.

He was not yet in a good state, his eyes were still puffy and red, his cheeks beard the path of dried tears, his curls were all over the place, and his eyes were still heartbreaking. The sadness and the pain were clear in them.

But when Alex looked deep into Michael’s eyes, he could see that it was going to be okay. That Michael would hurt, for a long time even, and it would be hard to recover financially, but Michael’s eyes had something in them that he had desperately tried to get rid of. Hope.

And that was enough for Alex to believe that they were going to be okay. That Michael was going to be okay. The fight wasn’t over. The other’s may not be fighting Jones anymore, but Michael and Alex weren't done. In more ways than once.

They still had to deal with the damages in the junkyard. Help Sanders with his auto shop. And deal with their personal fears, Michael’s fears about his father.

The fire had destroyed Michael’s home, but from the ashes, a new one was being built.

[zemodaddy]

Shades of Him

Chapter 3

Warnings: violence, fluff, caring zemo, death

For the first time in awhile, you had slept without another nightmare. Granted it was like 3 hour you had rested but still. You didn’t want to get up, not yet. It was so warm and comfy that moving would be a sin. The blanket wrapped around you felt like a cocoon, making you feel safe. Your eyes slowly fall open. They land on a couch across from you. That’s strange, how did you.. Realisation slapped you in the face. That blanket around you isn’t a blanket at all. You look down. An arm was wrapped around your waist. It was then you felt the soft pounding of a heart beat against your back. Panic started to set in. This is not good you thought, not good at all. Closing your eyes you think of the best way to get out of your predicament.

“What the actual hell” Your eyes fly open. Sam stood there, eyes wide, staring at you. Shit. “Sam calm down, this can be explained.” Your whisper. “Can it?!” He whisper shouts “ I’m going to get Bucky”. Oh fuck no. Sam had already left the room to find him. Carefully you untangle yourself from Zemo. He was still sleeping peacefully on that couch, thank god. Slowly you roll over, however you miss judge your move and fall onto the carpet below with a loud thud. Zemo stirs in his sleep. You curse yourself as you get up and race after Sam.

You didn’t realise that as you exited the room, two chestnut eyes had followed your every move. Thankfully you reach Sam just as he was about to knock on Buckys bedroom door. You pull him into a room that looked like some type of storage area for food. “Look I woke up really early this morning and went down to get some pills for a headache that I had” Sam raised his eyebrows. “and so you ended up sleeping with the enemy?” “You make it sound like I did something more than just- anyway he’s helping us! I wouldn’t call him an enemy” He ignores your statement and says “So how did you-“ You explain what happened last night “so I sat next to him and fell asleep, nothing happened!”

You hear footsteps in the hallway. “ I’m no one to judge y/n, just please be careful, especially around him.” “You know I’m always careful!” You grin. He returns the gesture and opens the door. Your glad he kept this between the two of you, Bucky would freak out and get his metal arm in a twist. You walk back into the kitchen followed by Sam. Zemo was gone which explained the footsteps. Had he heard anything? You push that thought aside and go to make some tea for the second time that morning. You and sam both sit at the breakfast table, sipping from your mugs. He really was a good friend to you.

You were getting yourself ready when Sharon announces that she has a location on Nagel. You hurry and quickly check yourself in the mirror. You wore black slightly baggy pants, a matching vest top reaching just above your belly button and an accompanying jacket. It was perfect for missions like these, not too suspicious and practical. You fix all your weapons to yourself including you new gun and head downstairs to meet the others.

You all arrive at a place with cargo containers littered all around you. On the way there you kept glancing at Zemo to see if he acted any different. Fortunately he just kept to himself. Did he notice your intimate moment this morning? His expression revealed no answers. Following Sharon in the maze of cargos she led you to one particular one, handing you each an ear piece. “I’ll keep and eye out for you while you talk to Nagel” she says “thanks Sharon, for everything you’ve done so far” “just hurry people” you nod and all pile into the container.

Finding it completely empty, you do some searching until Zemo finds a secret door leading to a downstairs lab, an upbeat song playing in the distance. Walking down one by one you find a man filling test tubes up with some sort of liquid. Bucky stops the music and he turns around, shocked to find us standing there guns raised. “Who are you what do you want” ignoring his first question you state “you recreated the super soldier serum” after being told to get out of his lab you had no option but to threaten him. Nagel looked just like the crazy scientist you expect him to be, his calculating voice didn’t help that imagery.

“I’m not saying anything” you roll your eyes. This guy does not understand how this is supposed to work. You step forward until you were in front of him. “I can burn you alive from the inside out by making your blood boil, starting from your feet, then your legs, then to your heart, so I suggest you start talking” disbelief was prominent on his face so you summon up a flame around his ankles. “Okay!” He down right screamed. He begins to explain how he created the serum and how it was stolen by a girl named Karli.

“Guys we have company” Sharon says over the device. Shit how have they found us so quickly?

“Is there any serum here?” Sam asks. “No” was all he said. Sharon runs in “we’re seriously out of time”. Bang! A gunshot sounds through the lab. Zemo was holding the gun, now being restrained by Sam and Sharon. Seconds after, you were thrown back against a wall, the noise of an explosion had blinded your ears. Things were breaking and smashing all around you. Your whole body ached from the force that had lifted you into the air.

You hadn’t realise how much derby covered your body until a strong hand lifted you out of the rubble. None other than Zemo was now guiding you out of the collapsing lab and out into the open. “Are you okay?” That was the second time he’d asked you that today. “I’m fine” you were slightly annoyed at him. You were perfectly capable to getting out of there yourself, you’ve experienced worse. Guns were being fired and you both duck. You pull out your gun and start shooting back. “Did you steal that from somewhere?” “what? how did you-“ “they all have trackers on them, this is how they must have found us so soon” he looks at you. The one thing you didn’t want to do was get your friends hurt, and now you have led them right into a trap. “I..I didn’t know”. You were disappointed in yourself, and when you looked over towards the others, now also fighting these bargain hunters, that feeling turned to anger. Anger at yourself for being so stupid. You felt your body fill with energy.

The bargain hunters started shooting at you again, making you explode with rage. Without another word you start to run towards the men standing a few metres away from you, and send a monstrous flame, racing towards them. You let them find you. Another burst of flames in the other direction, engulfing the unfortunate soul in a living hell. You put your friends in harms way. The men started running away now. You couldn’t let them get away. You needed them dead. Fire burnt in your eyes, and death shone upon you, guiding you to them. You felt yourself loose control. Loose that sense of focus you had before, your task was to find them, and make them suffer for your mistake. It was the only way to stop that feeling of guilt building in you. If you deal with the threat then was there really any harm done?

Zemo had been watching your fiery battle in astonishment. He couldn’t move, he could only watch you gracefully send those men to their deaths. Only when he saw you move once again, following the guys running for their lives, did he run after you. “Y/n stop”. You spin around ready to fight whoever that voice belonged to. You stopped short. “Darling I think they’re gone now”

“No” you say forcefully and in a gravelly voice. “They want to hurt us”. You were not yourself anymore. You were only the killing machine you were trained to be. Zemo takes a few small steps towards you. “They’re gone” he repeats, taking another few paces. You look down on your hands, flames licking them. You had let yourself become the person you swore to keep away. “ you’re okay now” Zemo rips you out of that thought. You couldn’t find anymore words to say but “I’m sorry” you whisper, your eyes began to well up with tears. The baron reaches his hand out carefully, making sure not to make any sudden movements.

Before he could reach you however, your knees hit the solid ground and your face falls into your hands. Zemo quickly follows your action and wraps his protective arms around you, letting you bury your head into his chest. At that moment you didn’t care who he is or what he had done. You didn’t care how this would affect your future. All you wanted to do was crawl in a hole and stay there for the rest of eternity. “It’s okay your safe now”. Your mind was spinning with thoughts. It felt like you would never be able to escape them ever again. Zemo strokes the back of your head as he rests his chin on top of it, locking you into that embrace. You felt the most vulnerable at that point but yet so safe.

On the way to the airport you separate from Sharon. No one questions your blank expression as you look out of the car window. They had all seen your outburst. All knew better than to talk to you while your were like this. It was better for you to have space to think. Zemo had helped you get to the car, after you calmed down a little. Now being emotionally and physically drained, you wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped you. Would you ever have ever returned to your normal self if he didn’t come for you?

Back in the jet Zemo was preparing something in the small kitchen at the front of the plane and Sam and Bucky were discussing the next move. You were sat away from them, staring aimlessly out of the window again, pretending to be interested in something outside. A few moments later Zemo hands you a cup of tea that you presumed was cherry blossom from the look of it. You give a very small smile and return to your staring. He leaves and a few minutes later returns with a blanket, silently suggesting to you to get some rest.

You sip at your drink and feel yourself drift away from reality. “How is she” a faint voice asks. “By the look of things mostly just tired now” a different voice whispers. “I should talk to her when she wakes up” “are you sure that’s a good idea.” “It might help” that was all you heard as you travelled to the world of dreams.

Note~

I know these aren’t the longest ever but the next part should be up in a day or so! Hope you enjoy 😊

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

 Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining. 

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers. 

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice. 

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

[auspicious-voice]

auspicious voice Voicebank Roadmap

Hi guys~

Spring has already arrived, and yet I am still busy... ^^ I still need to finish a lot of work before I take a huge break that should last for months!

And speaking of that, I'll be explaining what plans I have in store for this wonderful dumb vocal synth project of mine under the cut. It's mostly voicebank plans for the most part.

Please keep reading for more info!

UTAU Voicebank Plans

This one's the main part of the roadmap that remains as the highest priority for me to complete. Considering that I have a lot of plans for developing UTAU voicebanks, I'll infodump a lot of tidbits about them.

Fuwa Maria AUSPICE + & Fuwa Mario OPULENCE+

So! About these updates, they've been in development since early December of 2021. I never really intended to work on them until I realized how bad their current voicebanks were, which prompted me to make new updates completely from scratch with a new recording setup save for the microphone.

I've been spending these past few months fixing these voicebanks since I first recorded them. It was mostly rerecording faulty samples when rendered in UTAU, fixing incorrect oto.ini entries, and so on. I will say that the quality of these voicebanks have been significantly improved since then, but there's still a lot of room for improvement.

On the other hand, I am definitely considering distributing these voicebanks privately for beta testing purposes before the final release, but I may limit myself to close friends in case that happens. I feel like I am at a point where I've mostly fixed all of the errors and issues I've encountered when using these voicebanks, so I might rely on some friends to catch any issues and errors I may have overlooked and report them as feedback.

That being said, Maria and Mario's WIP updates will be their final Japanese voicebanks in UTAU for the foreseeable future. I intended these updates to be comprehensive and that it will suit anyone's needs when making content with them, so I am doing my best to make them the best they can be! So yeah, many appends in once packages along with a plethora of add-ons, with the icing on top being OpenUtau compatibility.

Plans for voicebanks in other languages

I might get around to record voicebanks in other languages ONCE I release Maria and Mario's Japanese updates. But I'll be taking a huge break once I release them, as I want to focus on other projects.

I am interested in recording Korean CVC voicebanks for Maria and Mario, but I cannot find the reclist for the life of me. So if anyone knows the link to that reclist, please let me know!! I also plan on recording English Arpasing (still have troubles finding a comprehensive reclist that won't beat the shit out of me) and potentially Tagalog voicebanks.

Potential updates for Junka Meteo & Suiden Zero

Considering that Meteo and Zero are secondary UTAU voicebanks, I don't think I will be giving them any updates? I mean they are there, but I'm getting burnt out from recording so many new voicebanks that it's not too much of a priority anymore.

I might work on them in the future depending on the circumstances, but so much has been going on lately that I can't keep track. Zero is also hard to voice act, so he might not even get a new update at all.

DeepVocal Voicebanks

I've actually made voicebanks specifically for DeepVocal! This was in 2019 I believe, and I made separate designs for my UTAUs. Not sure if DeepVocal is still used today, but I kind of like the program.

Status on Maria & Mario's DeepVocal voicebanks

So Maria and Mario's DeepVocal voicebanks have been sitting around on my computer for a long time, but because I recorded these voicebanks in 2019, the recording quality is very subpar. So I've been considering porting Maria and Mario's UTAU updates, specifically their normal voicebanks, into DeepVocal since I don't want to record from scratch. Plus there are already utilities for porting UTAU voicebanks to DeepVocal.

What about Meteo and Zero?

They're probably not going to get DeepVocal voicebanks anytime soon.

AI Voicebank Possibilities

AI voicebanks have been the hot topic of the vocal synth community, and a lot of hobbyists have been making their own AI voicebanks! The process is rather complicated as you need to record a lot of lines, label them, and let some deep learning shit do the magic, but it's worth it.

English AI

Fun fact: I have recorded an English AI text-to-speech database for Mario (using Tacotron)! You can find it here. It's pretty barebones and I'd like to update it in the future. Other than that, I might record an English AI text-to-speech database for Maria as well.

Also, is singing English databases a thing in the vocal synth community? Like is there a demand for that sort of thing? I've never really heard of databases like those so I would like to hear your opinions on it ^^

Japanese AI

I am interested in developing Japanese AI databases for Maria and Mario! I do have a corpus ready to use when I record the talking database, but I have NO idea where to start for the singing databases, because I would like to develop them for ENUNU or NNSVS or whatever it's called. This might be the first thing I'll start on once I am done with my break from recording voicebanks (which should start when I release Maria and Mario's UTAU updates).

Anything else?

Life's been pretty hectic, I'll say that. It always was to be honest, but I suppose that in late April things will calm down and that I can work on things normally. For now, I have temporarily suspended all vocal synth activities so that I can focus on work. I wrote this post as a sneak peak into what I'll be doing for the auspicious voice project, but it's mostly voicebank plans.

I'll see you guys in a while I suppose ^^

[yellowbellbird]

Under the Moonlight- Part 1 - Her

Once again, it was pouring with rain. You had been at the academy for a week, and every day had been much the same. Of course, you were happy to be here, it felt wonderful to be around other witches, to feel a true kinship to people, but something was wrong. Something inside of you was just wrong, and you didn't know how to fix it. It happened sometimes; you'd wake up and feel the familiar ache. The rain didn't help. You longed for a clear sky and sun. The memory of the sun beating down on your skin like a thousand sharp kisses made your soul ache with longing.

You'd made some friends in the academy, but mostly you kept to yourself. It's not that you didn't like them; you did. It's just something about connecting to people was difficult. The distance you had created was reassuring, and you felt slightly happy that you had protected yourself this way.

Bounding out of bed, you stretch for a moment and look at the clock. 5am. Why can't I sleep like an average person, you thought in frustration. Abandoning the idea of sleep, you throw on a thick cardigan and quietly head downstairs. Maybe there's a recipe for a sleeping draft you could find. You ponder the thought in excitement. The academy is entirely silent, the girls asleep in their rooms. Something about the academy in the moments you see it in silence makes you marvel at its safety.

A rustle in the kitchen makes you pause, someones here. You are filled with anxiety as your mind rushes through potential problems. Someone's broken in. It's a witch-hunter, the men Zoe told you about or something else wrong, but before you can get too worked up, you hear a familiar sigh. A voice you think you would know anywhere. Cordelia's. The headmistress and supreme of the coven. You'd only really caught glimpses of the woman in your week here. Zoe and Queenie had explained that some minor threat had kept Cordelia away from the girls.

The first time you saw her was in a transfiguration lesson. Zoe was showing the class how to change tulips into chocolates when a gorgeous blonde woman had whisked in, capturing your attention instantly. She pulled Zoe aside and spoke to her in a soft voice. You could only hear because you were sat quite close. You weren't really interested in the conversation, more the sound of the angelic woman's voice. It reminded you of beautiful music. The blonde stopped talking to Zoe and suddenly met your eyes. You turned away as quickly as you could and attempted to put all your focus on the tulip in your hand. When you were brave enough to sneak a look again, she was gone.

Every encounter since then had been much the same. Cordelia would whisk in for a moment and be gone in the next. Sometimes you noticed the other witches trying to get her attention and how she would smile lovingly but only engage in the shortest conversations with them. I'd learnt that this was unusual behaviour for her as the other witches complained about her sudden absence frequently. You felt mildly sad that you'd come to the academy at the only time this gorgeous woman seemed to be away from it.

Your mind snapped back as you heard her sigh come from the kitchen again. You debated going in and seeing her alone for the first time, but fear got the better of you, and you snuck past the kitchen and tiptoed into the greenhouse. It was a paradise under the soft moonlight, and instantly, you sighed in relief. The idea of a sleeping draft suddenly flooded back into your head, and you began searching through draws and under plants for anything you could use. Some of the draws were locked, and you realised you were making quite a bit of noise. The lack of sleep was making you clumsy. You sighed loudly in frustration.

You had an idea. You weren't untalented with plants; you knew they had energy, each different and unique. Maybe you didn't need a recipe and could make one on your own. An ambitious task, but you were bored of looking and besides, what else were you going to do.

Closing your eyes, you began to search for your feelings. The darkness behind your eyelids started to show colours. The plants began to hum in a way you could understand ever so slightly. You held your hands in front of your body and walked forward, quickly feeling lavender. Keeping your eyes closed, you picked a few stems of it. You became engrossed in this little ritual, moving amongst the plants, picking a leaf here and there. Only when you felt a considerable warmth behind you did you pause. Something light and powerful was pulling you back around, and keeping your eyes closed and your hands forward, you moved towards it. This was the final ingredient, you were sure. You reached up and felt something soft and hair-like in your fingers. You pulled at it to break it off.

"Ouch."

You jumped back, and your eyes flung open. Standing before you was Cordelia Goode. Dressed in a beautiful pink robe, she was rubbing her head and trying not to laugh.

"Cordelia! I mean Ms Goode. No wait supreme? Um.."

You were so shocked and embarrassed that your face burnt and you had no idea what to do.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."

She looked at you curiously.

"One doesn't tend to see people with ones eyes closed."

You put the leaves you were holding on the desk behind you and used its weight to steady yourself.

"I didn't think anyone would be here. I was..."

Cordelia looks at you and then at the ingredients on the table.

"You were trying to make a sleeping potion?"

Through your embarrassment, you couldn't help but feel slightly proud that your intuition was correct. You let out a small laugh.

"Yeah. I looked for a recipe but I couldn't find one."

You gesture to the leaves and plants you collected. "I was just collecting what I felt drawn too."

You blushed once again at the thought of pulling her hair. She must think you're the craziest person ever.

"Well I'm impressed, you collected nearly everything."

Cordelia moves next to you to examine your ingredients.

"You're y/n right?"

You nod with a small smile.

"I'm Cordelia. I'm sorry I haven't been here to welcome you this week, there were some complications."

Her voice becomes dark, and it makes you shiver.

"Yes Zoe told me. Is everything okay?"

Her eyes soften as she looks at you.

"Yes dear, it's all sorted now. Nothing you need to worry about."

Cordelia sits down, and you watch the elegance in her movements, unable to take your eyes off her.

"Anyway, trouble sleeping?" She says with a small laugh that you echo.

"Yep. For the last 20 years in fact. I never could get that skill down."

Cordelia laughs, and you can't help but smile at the fact that you caused that laughter.

"Would you like some help making the potion? Well it's more of a face mask if we make the one I usually make."

You blush and shake your head.

"No no you really don't have too. I'm sure you're really busy."

Cordelia shakes her head and smiles the most beautiful smile, her lips captivating you.

"Nope. There's no threat to the coven so I'm free as a bird."

You laugh slightly at the expression you hadn't heard in so long.

"Aren't you tired?"

You ask, looking at the little dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm not a great sleeper either."

You search her face to see if she just feels sorry for you, but you see only honesty in her eyes.

"Then yes, I'd love the help. I have no idea what I'm doing."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

The next hour is lovely. You come to life in the presence of the supreme, laughing like you haven't in months. She asks about your interests and what you did before coming to the academy, and you ask her about herself. You talk about your greenhouse at home. She's very open, but you notice very brief when answering a personal question. You understand, though, she doesn't know you, and you're just her student. For a moment, you feel sad, but your face lights up again when she begins talking about how she discovered the sleep mask recipe. The awkwardness you initially felt evaporates, and suddenly you understand why the other witches missed her so much this week. She's like the sun. Completely warm and captivating.

"I think it's done."

Cordelia says, pulling her paste covered hands away. You look down at the brown covered paste she's made.

"Ew."

The consistency of the paste looks disgusting, and you frown at it. Cordelia playfully elbows your arm.

"Hey this stuff is a lifesaver, trust me darling you won't be saying that later."

Your heart stops at the pet name, and you think that if you weren't sat down, your legs would give way. Instead, you focus really hard on the horrible looking paste.

"We'll see. I've tried a lot of sleeping recipes and nothing has worked before."

Cordelia hums in acknowledgement.

"Ah but you've never tried anything made by me."

Once again, her voice makes you melt, and you try not to look into her eyes which only results in looking at her silk pyjamas which make your heart race. You look into her eyes now and see that she's looking at you softly.

"It's only 6 am. I think you could get a few hours of sleep in."

Cordelia takes the paste and puts it in a jar before moving to the sink to clean her hands. She moves back to the seat and opens the jar, taking a small amount and putting it on her thumb. She looks at you with her big chocolate eyes, and you melt under her gaze. You barely notice her lift her hand, but you shiver when her thumb traces a line on your forehead.

You hum slightly as a warmth encases your body and then blush before looking back at the stunning woman.

"It works quickly. Come on let's get you to bed."

You're about to protest and insist you can get there yourself, but your legs give way as soon as you stand up. Cordelia grabs your arms and holds you comfortingly against her body.

"I told you it would work."

You hum into her shoulder, your head struggling to stay up.

"Come on sleepy head."

Cordelia chuckles and puts an arm around your body, and begins leading you upstairs.

"Which ones your room? Y/N?"

You try to get words out, but for some reason, your mouth refuses to move. Everything is soft and dreamlike. You think you hear someone saying your name, but you're not sure. Your eyes flutter open, and you see yellow and pink before they shut again. You hum contently into the warm feeling inside your body and let your brain finally sleep.

Birds. You can hear bird calls. The noise is comforting, and you cuddle into it. You feel like you're in a warm cloud. You sink into the calm feeling and listen to the birds for a while whilst feeling comes back into your body. It starts as a tingle in your toes; you wiggle them contently. Feeling suddenly comes into your arms, and you feel yourself holding something warm. You hug it tighter in a state of bliss you've never felt before. This is the warmest perfect moment, the very moment you've been longing for. More feeling comes back, and you freeze up.

"Someone's awake I see."

Shit. Feeling starts coming back everywhere, and you realise it's not a blanket you're holding, but legs. You freeze completely as memories come flooding back to you: Cordelia, the greenhouse, the sleeping draft.

"Cordelia?"

You say softly and guiltily as if you're saying sorry. You peek open your eyes and see Cordelia's soft skin under your head. Her nightdress had ridden up, meaning you were holding her soft legs and laying in her lap. You felt fear and embarrassment seep into your cheeks until you felt her hand on your head stroking your hair.

"I'm sorry y/n. I didn't realise how strong the sleep mask was and I didn't know where your room was..."

Wait, you thought, she's embarrassed? You were literally clinging to her legs, and still, she thought she was at fault? The craziness of the situation gave you strength as you slowly moved your arms to free her legs.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. I've been holding you like a koala all night."

That earned you a soft chuckle, and you moved to sit up but ended up only lifting your head to look around. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that this was definitely not your room. It was sparsely but carefully decorated, light and open, and the bedsheets were the softest and comfortable you'd ever felt in your life.

"I like your room."

You mumble and rest your head back down. This time you move your head to lay next to Cordelia instead of on her.

"Thank you."

The husky but gentle way she says it makes you open an eye to look up at her. She's sat up watching you with wide eyes, and for a moment, you think you see the longing in them.

"Damn that sleep mud was amazing. I've never sleep that well in my life."

You don't know what possesses you to do it, but you wiggle your head slightly closer to her, so it's resting against her legs. You feel her hand return to your head again.

"I told you."

She says, and you can't be sure, but you think she's smiling. Keeping your eyes closed, you reach out a hand to feel the energy of the sun. By the angle of your hand, you deduce that it's almost nine o'clock.

"I have a class soon don't I."

You mumble in annoyance. You've just had the most perfect sleep of your life, and now you have to have classes. You sigh against Cordelia's leg.

"What did you just do?"

Cordelia whispers.

"Sighed?"

"No, how did you know the time?"

You freeze up as you realise what you have been trying to ignore—your gift. If any of the other girls had paid any real attention to you, they would have seen it, you weren't exactly hiding it, but you knew that nobody knew.

"I felt it. I felt the suns energy."

"Felt it how?"

Cordelia says in engaged wonder.

"It's how I found the ingredients for the sleep draft. The energy that every living thing has I can feel. It's better when I close my eyes, then I can see it."

You move your head to look up at Cordelia again. She's looking down at you.

"Amazing."

You feel your cheeks blush and move to sit up.

"I'm sorry if I caused you any inconvenience last night. I didn't mean to ..."

You trail off thinking of all the things you could apologise for, but she just smiles.

"Don't be."

Her voice is so silky and warm that it takes your breath away.

"I should go get ready for classes. Thanks again for the sleep draft."

She smiles warmly at you as you climb out of her bed and head for the door. You take one quick look back at her, and she looks like an angel. You pry your eyes away before you do anything else embarrassing.

A/n

If anyone’s reading this I really hope you are enjoying it! I have written quite a lot of this book and will post as often as possible. I’ll post it on Wattpad as well.