#which manifests in yelling at the people closest to her

[smokestarrules]

something about how so many people thought the Eventual Ruby Breakdown would have her utilizing her anger and failures against herself entirely and how it’s so much more heartbreaking and realistic for her to turn and feel that about her family instead

[a-personiftranslator]

i dont normally send asks but i came across ur blog and you have some really cool ideas when it comes to personification stuff,, ur like one of the few other ppl ive found that actually includes polandball and countryhumans in personified fandom stuff so id love to hear ur ideas abt them!! as someone with a fascination with fandom history id be down to discuss stuff more with u if u wanna

uh *checks notes* I am going to assume you mean their dynamic/hcs about each!! I’ve never delved very deeply into Countryhumans fandom history/her dynamics with the others because. Controversy but I still do have lots of ideas about her. And she is *the* quintessential Canonless G(A) fandomspirit to me, probably because she’s the first one I was part of. You get into G(A) through Hetalia, Countryhumans, or Polandball mostly and they’re the faces of the whole place so,,, very well defined House triad here.

What I do say is CH is PB and Hetalia’s conceptual daughter (her premise is kind of both of theirs mashed together) but Hetalia and the other two are separated by the Canon-Canonless divide (and the fact that he has a husband) and thus don’t talk as much. (Which is funny because his two actual sons, Fandomstuck and Socialstuck, are both Canonless.) Also, he gets into Reality more often because he has more cosplayers. But their dynamic is more like older-younger sibling, they swing back and forth between working together well (sharing headcanons and Netizens) and actually beating each other up (raids). From what I’ve seen, and I’m mostly saying this from CH’s POV, he’s more likely to start it than she is.

Both of them are a little scared of each other, PB because he has a lot of overlap with her and is the closest to seeing inside of her brain (he’s read her writing before) and is uncomfortable around it, CH because she can never tell when PB is being sarcastic and when he actually means what he says. She usually assumes he’s being serious.

Also, fandomspirits don’t get as possessive of their people as much as OTJs do, which, considering the way they feed, is probably a good thing. So they don’t fight about who gets the food; they’re content, and CH even likes receiving less because it’s made her swings less severe.

I have no idea what’s going on with her right now because I can’t check her tag and no longer use Wattpad (her Wattpad room is way more active than her AO3 room from what I remember) for personal reasons, but is the Save the Countryhumans Fandom thing still happening?

Fun fact: she’s the second fandomspirit of Countryhumans. The first one was the Country Guardian, Nadia. She got thrown into temporary leave for killing another Guardian which she felt (feels) guilty about even with most of her memories wiped.

CH’s rooms in G(A) are vandalized to hell and back. She’s used to it.

What I meant about swings: she has periods of making shipping Whatever the Hell She Wants (btw in the personifverse G(A) is technically RPF) and then periods of feeling incredibly guilty about it.

Wikipedia, Britannica and JSTOR are her favorite places.

All of her spin-offs (Statehumans, Planethumans, social media humans (subordinate of Socialstuck in the twins’ journalism business)) live in her head but can manifest bodies at will. Planethumans is the most independent one.

She’s jealous of Centricide because they get to unironically ship Nazis and Communists without people yelling at them.

Actually she’s jealous of pretty much every other G(A) member.

Physically 14 because that’s what everyone sees her people as. Russian-Brazilian, I think? Russian definitely (VK). But no one knows exactly where she came from. Also Korean. Maybe. Everyone sees something different.

Oh!! Oh!! She’s thinking about sending ambassadors to Collab Horror (where SCP lives). I’m the result. I’ve been tasked with giving her another child :) I’m trying I know I don’t talk to her a lot anymore but I still love her

I know you came here half for PB but I don’t have many headcanons about him :( he is definitely the face G(A) would most like to show to the public, and really good at art (terrible at writing) except he can’t be bothered to try mostly. (I’ve been on some of his subreddits some of the pictures are pure eye candy)

I hope this doesn’t spark an argument because I don’t want this to be the third site I kick myself out of.

Sorry for taking a while to reply, I blame the Great Ira-Aaron Angstfest of 2023.

[colorcodedbeanies]

S2E1-"Seven Thirty-Seven"

Season 2 let's fucking goooo. Said out loud "Jesse kill him" in this moment

TW: Sexual violence, addiction, police abuse, racism

So I mentioned in the last post that Tuco very much matches a white middle class Idea of what a criminal is. Violent, unpredictable, and indulgent, with a massive temper and hang-ups about respect. At the risk of poor meow-meowing him a little I think its interesting that this is complicated in this episode. Tuco PANICS when he realizes No-Doze is seizing, enough to turn the car around and seek out the closest help he has access to. When No-Doze dies, he gets angry, striking him again. This matches what we'll learn in future episodes (and in BCS). Tuco isn't necessarily violent for the hell of it. Rather, using makes him unstable, and that instability often manifests in actions he regrets later. To be clear: Tuco has definitely killed before and likely would have again had he not encountered Hank. He's certainly not taking any steps to protect himself or the people around him. No-Doze's death is really no one's fault but his own. The Salamancas in general tend to manifest their psychological issues and insecurities into violence directed at a lot of indiscriminate bystanders. But to me, even that capacity for regret and lack of control complicates that "stone cold killer" image that Walt and Jesse have of him. Gonzo is also complicated, worrying that shoving No-Doze's corpse under a stack of a cars "[isn't] very Christian", but I'll dig more into that closer to the end.

So we've got another pairing of eroticism and criminality, but this time its manifesting as explicitly sexual violence. Walt assaults his wife. There's no other way to describe it. She is telling him to back off and until she screams "stop it" he continues to ignore her objections. To me, there's two ways to read this scene. One, Walt is unexpectedly aroused by what happened. Something about the distress of the situation, (or very possibly, being yelled at and degraded by a bigger, younger man) created a sexual reaction in him. And/or, Walt is attempting to imitate Tuco as a way to cope with the fear of that situation. Tuco beats the shit out of No-Doze, Walt attempts to act out his fear and frustration on Skyler's body (including shoving her forcefully against the fridge). Skyler even explicitly attributes it to fear, though she believes it stems from his cancer anxieties. Regardless, this isn't going to be the last time Walt attempts to imitate brown men who humiliate him/terrify him in a desperate attempt to defend his own masculinity. Bringing my inevitable cuckoldry discussion ever closer (threatening).

I think its important to give some due credit: Hank is legitimately making an empathetic attempt at helping Marie with her issues. He doesn't always say or do the right things with the situation (clearly being more comfortable tossing her at a therapist than having honest conversations with his wife). But the thing with dealing with addiction is that there's rarely a concrete right solution. He does his best (for now) to not lay blame at her feet, provides her with multiple support mechanisms, and is resolutely in her corner for dealing with this. Which would be very sweet to see if it weren't also likely some tactics he would make fun of a meth addict's family for employing. Its hard not to connect Marie's issues and Hank's work when the show takes pains to show Hank smacking a prisoner's cell bars after a frustrating interaction with her. Hank may be frequently disrespectful and callous to Marie, but he clearly views her as worth investing in, worth coaching through this, and is clearly conscious that she can't be held meaningfully accountable for what she does unless she has the proper help in place too. An attitude that does NOT apply to anyone who isn't his rich white wife.

It is notable, though, that the Schraders have clearly left this all as a secret in order to save face and keep up appearances. I went after Skyler pretty hard for how she responds to her in the moment, but I want it on record: Hank very much ambushes her with information about her kleptomania, and then immediately asks for support without a word of apology for either her distress or for keeping this from her. What Skyler says isn't kind. It isn't nice and it isn't empathetic to her sister. But she's also not wrong that she's being asked to just box up her feelings at a point when she's already under an immense amount of strain, which no one has really bothered to reach out to her for. They really are Jesse and Jake aged up, both vying to be taken seriously while also being mortally afraid of admitting to weakness in their day to day life.

Walt doesn't nail down the lie about the meth, writing off Jesse's concerns. Specifically what he says is "How much salesmanship do we really need? That degenerate snorts anything he gets his hands on." This is going to bite him in the ass next episode, but is pretty telling of how Walt views addicts. Unthinking, ravenous, almost animalistic, and importantly, with no sense of self-preservation.

Gonzo is my final note: he dies doing something innately human. He dies going back to rebury his friend, another gangster that polite society doesn't give a shit about, because its the respectful, Christian thing to do. He dies slowly and in pain, bleeding out alone. This is all extremely funny to the DEA, who pose for selfies with his corpse and cackle about the idiot criminal.

[ankh-morporkianpostalworker]

I would like to posit that Perry the Platypus is essentially the secret agent version of a guardian angel, looking out for a brilliant, albeit misguided scientist and not at all the James Bond figure the show presents him as, and I have four pieces of evidence I will use in this essay.

The first piece of evidence I have to support this is that, of all the schemes Doofenshmirtz cooks up, the vast majority of them are either a) solving "problems" only he has or cares about or b) manifestations of his childhood trauma, and often both if the ridiculous amount of flashbacks about his awful childhood in an anachronistic German-esque middle European country are to be believed. He suffered untold abuses by his parents, including not showing up to his birth, making him stand outside all night as a garden gnome and showing clear preferential treatment to his brother, Roger.

This trauma brings us to our second piece of evidence, his daughter, Vanessa. Doofenshmirtz goes out of his way to make sure that she doesn't have any hardships like he had, actively working to break a cycle of abuse that's been in his family for who knows how long. He never yells at her, never loses his temper with her and goes out of his way to make sure she's as safe as he can make her at all times. If he was actually the evil cartoon genius he hypes himself up as (which she makes very clear she does not think he is) he wouldn't do everything he could to make sure she has a life better than he had.

The third piece of evidence I'd like to submit is the relationship he has with Perry the Platypus himself. Perry never tries to permanently apprehend or even really injure Doofenshmirtz (most of their encounters end with Doofenshmirtz screaming "CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!!!" as his inventions blow up, and Perry even goes out of his way to make sure Doof is more or less okay at the end of their battles). We also see on multiple occasions (most notably during Doof's midlife crisis during the timeskip episode) that Doof considers Perry one of his closest friends and not an enemy at all, like he understands why Perry is there to stop him.

The final piece of evidence I'd like to submit is Milo Murphy's Law, a pseudo-sequel set after the events of Phineas and Ferb. This series shows us a Doofenshmirtz trying to atone for his crimes, one who eventually becomes a brilliant, world-changing scientist for good. He seems to genuinely regret all the trouble he caused the people of Danville and he wants to make amends, making it clear he has overcome the trauma he suffered and has become self-actualized.

Thus, with those pieces of evidence, I submit that Dr. Doofenshmirtz is essentially a good guy who's had a tough life and not an evil genius at all, and Perry is essentially looking out for a troubled scientist, making sure he doesn't get into too much trouble and not trying to permanently stop him.

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

The Fate You Fight - Pt. 1

Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

[TFYF Masterlist]

Tags: soulmate AU, telephatic link soulmate, architect!reader, jewish!Wanda, post-MoM, hurt/comfort, no proofreading

Warnings: mention of abuse, description of violence, language

Summary: You never wanted anything to do with your soulmate, but when you find her in an advanced state of distress you had to help. After that, it becomes hard to let her go.

A/n: so, after asking everyone's opinion, i of course decided to do exactly the inverse of what people advised me to do because im a rebel like that. Or at this point im just accepting my fate that im not build to write one shots, one or the other

(Also the shadowban situation for my main fic blog is not resolved, so for now im gonna use that account and either it will become my full time fic account or if the shadowban reverse in like a week i'll go back to the old one.)

Taglist: @red1culous

It is said that the first time you cross paths with your soulmate, you develop the ability to hear their thoughts.

Needless to say, for Wanda, it meant nothing. Since she received her powers, she had always been able to hear everyone's thoughts around her. No matter how much she tried to block people, some would always get to her, loud thoughts, or the ones that were pushed the closest to the surface. And that meant she would likely never be able to find her soulmate, unless her soulmate found her - and that too was unlikely. As an Avenger, she mainly kept to herself. She didn't like to meet new people, or to go outside in crowded areas. In the end, as much as she dreamed of it as a kid, she gave up. She didn't need a soulmate anyway, she was one of the most powerful people to ever exist, and she had her friends. She would be fine without anyone.

As for you, you hated the concept of soulmates. You thought it was an egregious concept that you should follow someone around just because 'fate' (what was even fate? Did that prove the existence of a superior being or was it just a weird evolution of humans DNA? It was unlikely since you heard of humans having aliens soulmates. In the end, this was a debate for philosophers and scientists to settle, and you had no time for that) said you had to. And maybe it was motivated by childhood trauma - your parents were soulmates, but your dad still tried to kill your mom - but it was how you intended to live your life. No matter the thoughts that manifested in your mind, you would stay away from whoever intruded in your brain.

It was with this mindset that you heard a voice that wasn't yours in your head for the first time. You remembered it quite vividly since it happened during a bank robbery in which you were an unfortunate hostage. You usually led a peaceful life, you would wake up in the morning, get ready for college - you were a Columbia architecture student on a full ride scholarship thanks to your stellars marks and rowing prowess - go to your classes, stop at the library to work, then go to training, but today your roommate needed to stop by the bank, so you went with her. And that's when it happened. A loud bang and a hole in the ceiling, and everyone was on the ground in an instant, the people in masks barking orders around.

Next to you one idiot tried to stop the robbers, thinking it was his moment to shine as a licensed handgun owner. He was quickly shot down, blood splattering on you and your friend. You wiped your lips, trying to avoid tasting the iron tasting substance, only to see Anath, your friend, scramble to her knees to try and stop the bleeding. She was a med student, and she was a good one at that.

"Hey! Get back to your knees!" You heard the closest of the thief yell at her, the man's weapon in his belt now.

"I need to stop the bleeding," she said defiantly, her eyes on the dangerous man while she kept pressure on the wound. "Or this guy will die."

"I don't care! Lie down!" He pointed his rifle at her.

"No!" She was stubborn, she always had been.

The next second, it was like everything happened in slow motion when you saw him put his finger on the trigger. It was your turn to be an idiot as you were barely standing up when you dived to tackle him. Bullets flew around the room while you wrestled him. You might not be big on fighting, but you were able to compensate with sheer strength. Rowing sculpted your body years ago and it was easy to overpower someone who was so clearly out of shape. Taking the rifle from his hands, you used the cross to hit him in the head and have him pass out. Now the problem was two of his other friends who had weapons pointed at you.

You closed your eyes. That's not how you wanted your life to end, but you saved Anath, so you were fine with it.

But there was no roaring sound, and instead you heard groans and grunts, and the sound of people being slammed around. So you took a peek, and you saw both men enveloped by red auras being pushed against the ceiling, and then the ground, falling unconscious from the impact while the rest of the Avengers team rolled in with some SHIELD agents. Before you knew it, the situation was resolved and you were sitting at the edge of an ambulance with Anath next to you, both in a shock blanket. The man who was shot had been brought to the hospital while most of the other people stayed behind to give statements to the police or SHIELD, or went back home after giving their contact information. Everyone was safe, but you kept replaying the events in your head, the blood flying around, the fear of almost losing your life, when you heard it for the first time.

You had absolutely no idea what she was saying, the words in a language you couldn't understand.

Oh no, no, absolutely not, you thought to yourself, tensing like never before, even when you were in that bank you felt better. But you didn't really have time to flee before someone was in front of you, wearing a long red coat with a black corset and a skirt, brown hair flowing freely around her very, very pretty face. Her green eyes placated you into place.

"What you did inside… it was very heroic," she said, with the most stunning voice you've ever heard. Was it her? No. No way. First of all, Avenger, second of all, way too pretty, and finally, she had no accent - something that you of course ignored was that Wanda heavily worked with Natasha to get rid of her accent.

You opened your mouth uselessly before words finally fell out of it. "Oh, huh, you know, couldn't let my best friend get shot." She offered you a small laugh, and you wish you could have registered it to play it again and again.

"I understand. But, just so you know, you're safe now." She tilted her head as she gave you a warm smile.

That was an odd statement, so you tilted your head, mimicking her, but arched a teasing eyebrow. "How? Do you intend to follow me around to protect me?"

"What?" She blushed deeply, looking away. "No, of course not!"

Your snort turned into a laugh. "Sorry, I was joking." She was still blushing, but your laugh soon died down. "Hey, huh… thanks. For saving me."

"If that's how you thank me, mocking me like that…" she pouted just a bit, and it was adorable. You wished to see more of it.

"Okay, no more teasing."

She looked a bit longer at you, in an hesitation. Next to you, Anath was drinking the water she had been provided while watching what was happening in front of her with vested interest.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around another time," Wanda settled on. You were disappointed, but you kept it to yourself.

"See you around."

With that, she walked away, and Anath slapped your upper arm.

"Dude!"

"What?" You asked with a frown, rubbing your now pained arm.

"Sparks were flying, you should have asked for her number."

You scoffed at that. As if. "I don't have time to date."

And that was that. Your friend groaned from frustration but didn't insist. She knew of your aversion for soulmates, or at this point, dating in general.

It would be years before you saw Wanda again.

*

Years went by. The Sokovia Accords happened. Wanda found comfort in Vision. As a Synthesizoid he didn't have a soulmate, and she knew she would never find hers. And if she did? It would be unfair to impose that on that poor person. So she went with him. It was easy, uncomplicated, and she had good times. And then Thanos happened. Vision died. Westview. She became the Scarlet Witch and almost took one more life for herself, to claim a power she needed to protect her kids. They were all that mattered. But in the end, she couldn't. So she tried to destroy herself along the Darkhold. But she failed. She was still alive, she was still suffering, and she didn't know what to do. She became a shell of herself, called back to one of the only places she ever called home. She went back to the United States. To New York.

*

Years went by. The Sokovia Accords happened. The Blip happened. You stayed behind, already having lost everything else to illness, your mom dead after years of a losing fight - and were lucky enough to still have Anath with you. Your friend wasn't so lucky; she lost her soulmate that day. You moved back together again and for five years you did your best. It was hard. Humanity had lost so many people and the general grief that floated over everywhere in the world was too heavy for those left behind to truly move forward.

But you tried. 

God, you tried.

Then everyone came back and so many people were reunited. But the world lost two of their greatest heroes for good, and some more when they decided they couldn't fight anymore.

Anath and her soulmate reunited, but they both stayed with you as they still had to adjust to many things. It was good to hear your best friend laugh so hard again, and you were happy for her, but sometimes when you saw them together you would feel so lonely. You found yourself wondering how it would feel, but it was probably too late for that. You missed your opportunity and clearly, whoever your soulmate was wanted nothing to do with you or they would have manifested themselves the day you heard them for the first time. So you just accepted your lack of fate.

But Fate hadn't given up on you.

Since half of New York's population returned, your architecture firm had a lot of work and you were assigned to an old new project - one that was abandoned when money dried up due to the disappearance of those who commissioned your firm. The building you were working on had been left as it was, people with no homes moving in and out with no one to keep them out, before they were chased recently. It was none of your business, but you still felt bad about it and hoped they found their way back to loved ones or a place to stay, where they would get the help they needed.

You walked the decrepit building with an inspector to gauge the damages and what would need to be replaced or entirely remade before the project could get back on track. Garbage was littered around with moldy mattresses, the smell was terrible and you didn't need the inspector with you to guess there would be a lot of work to be done when you noticed the broken walls and black stains. But as you walked around, the both of you noticed a silhouette laying down on one of the mattresses. At first it was easy to miss it; there were a number of garbage bags and cardboard boxes thrown around.

"Shit! Did one of those parasites die here?" You frowned at the man next to you. "That's bad for us, it will give us more paperwork," he grumbled and you wanted to slap him across the face. He was talking about a person, for god's sake. "We should still call the cops."

As he was talking you came closer to the body and that's when you heard her again. It was barely above a whisper but it was there, somewhere in your head, and it hit you like a truck. How was that even possible?

You turned to the inspector who already had his phone out. "Call an ambulance. She's alive," you ordered him firmly.

He was surprised but he complied and soon enough you were in a hospital room, sitting on a chair in the corner as you looked at the woman hooked on monitors and fluids. Apparently, she was severely dehydrated and malnourished. You could see it in the way her cheeks caved inside, her skin pale and sickly. The end of her fingers were also colored black but the doctors had no idea why.

Of course you had recognized her, but you seemed to be the only one, and considering her state you decided to say you had no idea who she was, and she was entered as Jane Doe in the files. It was probably better that way. If she was leaving in this building slowly wasting away she probably didn't want any of her old friends to find her. Still, you were half of a mind to try and contact them. Get her off your hands. But something kept you from doing it.

You were ripped from your thoughts when Anath entered the room with two sandwiches and she handed you one.

"Can you still hear her?" She asked. Despite not giving away her real identity you informed the staff that she was your soulmate so she could be covered under your medical coverage. It was a neat little bonus you had thanks to your position in your company.

You took the sandwich, looking up to your friend briefly. "From time to time, but it's very faint."

"That's still a good sign." Your eyes fell back on the woman laying in the hospital bed. You felt Anath's hand on your shoulder. "She'll be fine, she just needs some rest."

Your best friend didn't try to address the elephant in the room; she knew of your aversion to soulmates but would never bring the subject up first.

"How long?"

"Hours, a day, maybe longer."

You kept your eyes on her even as you ate. You'd be there when she woke up, you owed her that. After all, she saved your life once upon a time.

*

You were in the office when Anath sent you a message. It took you twenty minutes to finally open it, and when you did, you swore in front of your boss. He sent you an empathetic smile when you told him what it was about and let you go. He was one of the people who lost his soulmate during the blip, he understood in some way how you felt about yours being in the hospital. You bolted. You were never one to run - you liked to take your time - but you made an exception. When you arrived, Wanda was awake.

"Sorry!" You exclaimed, breath ragged by your run. "I was working when I heard you were awake."

The confusion on her face was obvious, and you cringed. Of course she had no idea who you were. When she saved you, she was just doing her job, and you were probably only one in thousands of people.

"I'm Y/n, I'm the one who brought you here. And…" you came closer so you could whisper. "I know who you are, but thought you'd want to keep your anonymity," you explained.

And Wanda was very grateful for that. She remembered the relief she felt when she realized no one here knew who she was, so when they asked her, explaining they didn't know, she kept the charade up.

"Thank you," she simply said, accent thick to your surprise, voice rocky.

"That's the least I could do." She frowned at that and you looked away. You felt so dumb. You were always so stoic and self-assured, and for whatever reason you just turned into a puppy with her. "A few years ago you stopped a bank robbery and saved me."

A number of things went through her face, but finally recognition settled on her features.

"You're the girl who saved her friend." She would have exclaimed herself if nlt for her way too dry throat.

You grabbed a glass of water that you put in front of her. "Yeah, that's me," you admitted simply.

She took the water and considered you for a few seconds before she finally drank. Apparently she deemed you worthy.

"Why…?"

"Huh?" You put, very eloquently you might add.

"Why… help me?" She looked down in her glass, and your heart broke when you saw all the grief, all the pain, everything that made her say her next words. "I would be better off if I were dead. Everyone would."

You sat at the edge of her bed and ever so gently scooped her face to have her look up at you. "That's not right."

Tears formed in her green eyes in droves. She couldn't hold your gaze, but you were keeping her from looking away.

"You have no idea what I did."

Truly, you didn't. "Why don't you tell me?"

She tensed, grabbed your hand to push it away. You let her do it without any resistance. "I don't deserve to." She looked back down. You had no idea what to do to help her at this point, and if you were honest, there was probably not a lot you could do besides be there for her. So you would do exactly that.

"I don't agree." You followed her gaze down and noticed she was looking at her hands. "What happened to your hands?"

She frowned and never answered. Her silence was enough for you to let it go, so you stood up. She didn't look up but you noticed her eyes following you.

"Leaving?"

You arched an eyebrow and hid a smirk. "Will you miss me?" You teased. But once again you were met with silence. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."

You left the room and headed to the hospital gift shop. Once you arrived, you looked around, grabbing some books at random, a stuffed animal - a bear with get well soon shirt - and some snacks. You don't know what she likes, so you take a few different ones. You ended up with two small brown paper bag with the gift shop's brand printed on it.

When you come back to the room, you see her looking out the window, sadness painted all over her face, so you make sure she hears you come in. You didn't want to intrude on her. She still jumped slightly at your sudden arrival, seemingly surprised to see you again.

"I'm back," you announced pretty uselessly and wondered if she thought you left despite saying you were coming back.

She just looks at you.

Carefully, you took the books out of the bag you were carrying and put them down next to her in a neat pile. You left the snacks in the bag and simply put it next to the books. "I brought you some stuff," you told her as if it wasn't obvious.

Then you hesitated a bit before you took the stuffed bear out.

"Thought you'd like some company when I'm away." You placed it on top of the books. Still no answer. But you hear her questions running in her mind. The whys, and the self-loathing comments. She doesn't seem to have noticed yet that she can hear your thoughts, or maybe she did but doesn't care. The latter makes you ache no matter how much you try to fight it. 

You open your mouth, you want to tell her something, the silence around you both suffocating. It made you feel uncomfortable and incredibly inadequate. But before you can really say anything, Anath came in the room after a short knock.

"Hi guys, sorry to interrupt, I'm doing my last round for the day," she explained and grabbed the chart at the end of Wanda's bed. "You seem to be doing fine. We're going to keep you here a few more days to make sure you're on track, then you can go home." She gave you a look at that. You suddenly found the outside fascinating.

"I don't… I don't have money. Or insurance," she said finally, in an attempt to be let go. She knew she wouldn't have the energy to fight her way out. She didn't want to either. She was so tired of everything.

"It's okay, it's covered by Y/n," Anath told as she pointed at you with her chart. The Witch's gaze bore into you and you avoided it. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, miss Doe." She was about to leave the room, she got her upper body back in. "Do we wait for you for dinner tonight, Y/nn?"

You shook your head. "No, I'll probably grab something on my way back."

Finally the doctor left, and once again you were alone with Wanda. You could see in the way she looked at you that she was trying to figure out your motive. You scratched your head and grabbed a book from the pile.

"I'll try this one, I'll tell you if it's any good," you tell her as you go sit in the armchair in the corner of the room. Her eyes stayed on you ten minutes in your reading, until she seemed to lose interest and settled in the bed.

She could hear your thoughts so easily, not all of them, but those she caught were crystal clear, it was uncanny. It was probably because of how weak she was currently, she couldn't put up her mental barriers. Right now she could hear you read, so she listened, your voice calm against the roaring thunder of the tempest raging inside of her. Soon enough, she fell in a deep sleep, and for once, no nightmares plagued her.

*

A nurse came in to inform you that visiting hours were over, and you got up. Wanda was asleep again after eating, and so you decided to let her rest. You checked your bag and found a pen and paper easily to leave her a note you put in the bear's arms. After that you sneaked out.

Wanda woke up in the night and looked around, panic setting in until she remembered where she was. The hospital. She frowned. Last thing she remembered she had just eaten and you were reading again. She must have fallen asleep. She looked around and noticed how dark it was. You were nowhere to be found, but the note in the bear's arms got her attention. With trembling fingers she read it.

'Hey, I had to leave and didn't want to wake you up. I'll be back tomorrow, in the meantime take care of yourself. For me.

Y/n'

She read the words again and again, especially the two you crossed. For you. A warm feeling sparked in her, under the rubbles of her life. Slowly, with utmost care, she folded the little note and put it in the book you had been reading while you were here. She eyed the bear before she settled in bed, looking away. A few seconds later, she turned around to grab it in her arms and resumed her position. There, she fell asleep again.

*

You came by the next day, and the one after that, and again. You brought work with you, knowing that even if your boss was understanding you still needed to put some hours in. From time to time you would try to talk with Wanda, but she barely answered, and when she did it was monosyllabic at best. She was looking better, less famished, but still grieving something you knew nothing of. So you didn't push, giving her the time qhe needed, until Anath came around to check on her once more.

"Everything looks great. We're going to send you home tomorrow," she declared.

"Home…?" There was something in her voice and tears started to pool in her eyes. That was bad. You could feel her thoughts spiral.

"You don't have to," you intervene. You stood up to come closer. "You can come to our place."

Anath looked at your, arching both eyebrows. You never discussed that with her, but now that the offer was out there it's not like you could take it back. Especially since it seemed to have shocked her enough for her to calm down slightly.

"Your… place?" She looked confused.

"Yeah, huh, with Anath. We're roommates, and we have a spare bedroom. You could stay there. If you want." You looked at her expectantly. "You don't have to answer now. And if you don't want to, I can arrange for a hotel or something."

She didn't answer and your best friend looked at the two of you. "Okay, I'm gonna go now. Someone will bring the paperwork for your release."

Wanda kept her eyes on you, so many feelings in her eyes. You gave her the time she needed to talk, hearing the questions in her head.

"Why are you doing this for me?" She asked, and it surprised you.

Why were you?

It could have been the soulmate bond, and maybe it was, a little, and it could also just be that you wanted to repay her for saving your life, but the truth was you just wanted to help her. She looked crushed under the weight of lifetimes of pain, and you wished you could take some pain off of her shoulders. Was it that you wanted to get closer to her? Was there an ulterior motive? Honestly you had no idea. You hated it.

"I… I don't know."

"I feel like you do." She looked down at her hands where the tip of her fingers were still black. "Or at least have some idea."

Did she read your mind?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." You frowned slightly. "You don't owe me anything. Not for your life, or because we're…"

Wanda did hear you, and now it made a lot of sense. But it also meant that until you found her almost dead on the floor you wanted nothing to do with her, but the truth was, you wanted to explain how this whole concept made you feel, to tell her that it wasn't what made you act that way, to defend yourself. That you were better than that, but were you?

"I know," you said. "I still want to help. Once you're back on your feet we can go our own way." 

So many feelings were burning down your throat, and you hated it all. You hated that you were soulmates, and you hated how it took your choices away, and yes, you played with the idea of it recently because you didn't want to live your life alone, but still. This was different, and you didn't know how to deal with it. Maybe you'd find a way one day, but today wasn't that day.

Wanda seemed to have her own train of thoughts on her side, even if she mainly looked at your inside conflict from the outside. She could only grab some passing thoughts of feelings but refused to look at it closer, and decided to stop the cacophony in your head.

"I'll go with you," she finally answered to your big surprise. That was unexpected.

"Are you sure?" Your question was genuine, you didn't want her to feel forced into staying at your place.

She nodded, and that was that. She didn't say anything else for the evening, even when you left and told her you'd pick her up tomorrow morning.

Once you were gone, she thought about everything. Everything that had happened in her life, especially since she met you, and the longer she thought about it, the angrier and more desperate she became as what ifs hit her. What if she realized it when you met? She wouldn't have gotten with Vision, maybe, and she wouldn't have lost him and then her kids. What if you spoke at the time?

She was mad at herself, but also at you. And the worst was that she actually kind of liked you. Your presence made her feel better. It scared her so much, all this, after what she did, because she couldn't slip again.

All she could do in the end was cry.

[handdrawnfantasma]

OKAY it’s almost 1am and i’ve been yelling at kite on discord for long enough, time to commit my thoughts on 13′s final episode to my tumblog. spoilers under the readmore, obvs

okay so first things first let’s get this out of the way: i genuinely LOVED it. like is it in my “these episodes really Hit Different” tier or my “shiny gold star” tier, no, but it is SOLIDLY in my “loved it” tier. i just. it was so much FUN! it was so JOYFUL! i’m so happy that 13 got to go out on this kind of note and i’m so glad that her regen episode was just. a FUN ride.

like tbh nothing about this episode went as i expected it to go but i am actually okay with that! i could definitely think of a few ways that this final special could have been linked in more with like, the wider overarching themes or narrative threads of the era, but the more i think about it the more i am okay with the fact that while a handful of the themes were carried through, there wasn’t really a huge link back to like, say, the Timeless Child storyline. and really, there shouldn’t need to be! for me, i guess the main narrative thread of this era was wrapped up with Flux and with 13 coming to terms with what she’d learned about her past and what she still didn’t know, and choosing not to open the fobwatch and instead keep it safe and hidden because she came to the realisation that what Ryan said to her in s12 was right the whole time - whoever she was before, she HAS an identity right now and obsessing over the past rather than living in the present was destroying her and her loved ones. so like, for me the specials function mostly as an emotional coda for 13 and Yaz, and i was surprised to find i didn’t NEED any big links back. tbh i think the main thematic link Chibs was trying to make with this episode was his first-episode thesis statement of “honour who you’ve been and choose who you want to be next” and the themes of hope and connection so like, those were very much present

that being said, Chibs ABSOLUTELY managed to pull a great fake-out on me with that episode opener. like. the entire set-up with the child in the pod on the train and THEN the reveal that it was an eldritch glowy energy creature that instinctively takes a form that makes people want to protect it (A CHILD????) had me sitting there for the first 30-45 minutes of the special FULLY expecting this to take a turn where that turned into some sort of reveal of the Doctor’s original species or something. like i was there FULLY ready for glowy eldritch trueform Dr. in hindsight i’m glad that this is not where this went bc i think that would have done a disservice to some of the things the Timeless Child storyline was trying to accomplish, but i was FULLY ready to be on board and clowning with it. (i may still clown with it, purely bc its such an interesting concept to me as something to explore in fanworks, LMAO)

still so funny to me that Dan noped out in the first 15 minutes of the episode. man had THEE closest near-death experience and was sensibly like “nope i am not pushing my luck i am Outtie!!” honestly? ICONIC, love this for him. love that he still cites his TARDIS experience as something that has given him the strength to live his life on Earth as well. that said, STILL funny that he missed almost the entire adventure, absolute KING move. we stan

i hecking loved ALL the past Doctor cameos we got, holy shit! i wasn’t expecting any of them at all but the circumstances in which they showed up were ABSOLUTELY my jam??? the idea of vestiges of the Dr’s old personalities kicking about inside their thinkpan?? EXQUISITE. Eight refusing to manifest in robes bc he doesn’t do robes, the man the myth the LEGEND. i loved One being like “oh dang i guess this version of us is VERY strong-willed, just won’t die hm” like YES SHE IS!! YES SHE IS!! i also loved that Five and Seven got to have moments of closure with their old companions via 13′s adaptive AI hologram, those moments were so genuinely sweet and touching and i adored them. honestly i just. im so pleased for the 80s doctors and Eight, also. like, remember when it was the 50th anniversary and the only real look-in they got was a short clip of 8 regenerating into the War Dr and the Five-ish Doctors Reboot, which was a labour of love and comedy film mostly written by the three 80s doctors making light of the fact that they weren't going to be in the 50th?? and then it comes to this special and chibs is like. i am gonna write ALL of you into it. like, Six didn't need to be there!!! unlike Five and Seven, his companions did not feature (with the exception of Mel’s brief cameo in the Companion Support Group at the end)!! but he's there helping to bolster his future self and help her hold on to their existence anyway

i ammmm MANY thoughts head full about the conclusion of the spydoc storyline, like, the more i think about it the more absolutely JUICY things there are to find in here. like. lord. right until the end they were just perfect on the nose foils for each other. the Master becoming so unhappy and so sick and incapable of being himself and presumably still so bitter and depressed about being in the Doctor’s shadow and (he assumes) not having ever been her equal that he hatches a plot to steal the Doctor’s body and identity and completely erase her??? to become her in literally every way and then wreck her reputation??? VS Thirteen who has come to terms with what she does and doesn’t know about herself, and has come to the conclusion that actually she has LOVED being herself!!! the Master being so unable to let either one of them live that even while dying as a result of his own actions backfiring on him once again, crawls after Thirteen JUST to ensure that if he can’t be the Doctor, neither can she. VS Thirteen who wanted more time but gracefully accepts that she has to pass the torch of being the Doctor onto the next them and faces her death with a smile. i just. THEM. THEY. the Master being SO bitter vs the Doctor having seemingly let go of most of her bitterness towards him! (”WHAT a mind!” she says of his plan to LITERALLY STEAL HER BODY AND ERASE HER FROM EXISTENCE! “we used to be friends, once” she says sadly after these aforementioned plans have fallen apart.) i just. GOD. if you two had actually taken a moment to have an ACTUAL PROPER CONVERSATION at ANY POINT during these incarnations of yours y’all could probably have genuinely actually gotten along, but nooooooooooooooooooooooo

anyway this episode also fed me EXCEEDINGLY with regards to my ongoing doctor who theory of mirrors. like. LORD. the Yaz-Dhawan!Master-13 hall of mirrors in this episode was EXQUISITE. can’t believe that in the episode where we had the Master trying to literally, physically take the Doctor’s place in the universe and failing, we had Yaz spiritually embodying what it is to be the Doctor RIGHT at the moment when it seemed like the Doctor was gone forever. like. Yaz was so magnificent during this episode and i’m so PLEASED about this conclusion to her Doctorification plotline. she piloted the TARDIS on her OWN!! using the notes she made HERSELF during those 10 long months separated from 13 trying to get that other TARDIS to move!!! she made a plan with Vinder and saved Ace from crashing into the ground and moved people to where they needed to be and she SAVED the Doctor just by being herself. no destiny, no weird timey wimey bullshit, no special powers. just Yasmin Khan and her faith in herself and her faith in and love for the Doctor. the Master was really there trying to break Yaz’s faith in 13 and she was no-selling him every time. QUEEN.

also she got to bridal-carry an unconscious, injured 13 into the TARDIS and like honestly? stunning, beautiful, powerful, showstopping, incredible

very important point for me: 13 is 4 for 4 with getting companions back home, safe, ready to live the rest of their lives, being wiser and better people for their experiences travelling with her. like sorry but she is WINNING

also like. im still so emotional about 13′s ending. it was just so POSITIVE. the gratitude for having met and loved the people she did and experienced what she did with them?? “my hearts are full of love for you all”. also god. she LOVED being herself!!! the Doctor had an incarnation that LOVED being themself despite what she went through during all that!! i love this so much for her. i love that she got one last quiet moment with Yaz and got to see Yaz safe at home. i love that she got to tell her TARDIS to look after the next one. i love that she CHOSE the way she would meet her own end and she wanted to do it while seeing one last sunrise as herself. i just. she was at peace with herself and with the idea of leaving even if she WANTED more time as herself and tbh this is all i wanted for her from this episode. tbh i’m even only slightly Annoyed at having had to watch her turn into DT again instead of Ncuti and i FULLY expected to be frothingly angry and bitter about it, but the rest of the episode and the lead-up to the regen itself was just so JOYFUL that i am much less mad than expected

tl;dr will absolutely be bothering my parents again this week to steal their iPlayer access and watch this special again, and now i am FREE to write reams of Sunless AU fanfic with wild abandon

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 1 (r.l.)

chapter one: certain uncertainty 

series masterlist

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: remus reflects on when he lost the person he held closest to his heart. 

warnings: swearing 

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi! this is a new remus series i’m working on. WARNING it’s going to be slowburn. hope you enjoy <33

REMUS LUPIN was never one to rely on the idea of certainty. In his sixteen years of life, Remus had gathered that the way the world worked didn’t allow for anything to be certain. For example, he could have been certain that the only peculiar thing about him would have been that he was a wizard (and really this was only peculiar to unknowing muggles). However, at the age of four, his life went off track and he was suddenly a werewolf and had no understanding of what that meant. It wasn’t always bad, however. Sometimes life was uncertain in a good way. At one time Remus was certain that a life of isolation was a fate he would have to accept, but within his first day at Hogwarts, he was proven wrong. 

And so, Remus decided that it was okay that virtually nothing was certain. He had even begun enjoying the uncertainty of life at times. He enjoyed not knowing what crazy adventure his mates and him would journey through next and he even liked the uncertainty of what subjects he would have to tackle next in his favorite classes. Which is why he couldn’t understand why he was surprised by the events unfolding now. His relationship with Y/N hadn’t even been official, yet he was stuck pondering over her recent actions instead of the notes laid out in front of him. He knew he hadn’t imagined the feelings that had been growing between the two of them and he had the image of intimate touches ingrained in his mind as proof of that. So, why? Why had she stopped looking at Remus like he held the stars in his hands? Why had she trained her sight on that lousy Ravenclaw instead? Why was she holding his hands in the halls, when the two of them had never even been so publicly affectionate? But most importantly, why was he so surprised by the uncertainty of it all?

A part of Remus - the part that resonated with his younger self most - knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew it was unlikely that any girl, especially a girl as captivating as Y/N, would have been interested in him for long. Not only was he singularly boring in his opinion, but he was a monster. The other part of Remus - the part he had spent years working on - couldn’t understand why she was suddenly acting like she forgot he existed. He knew they worked well together. He knew that he understood her in a way no one else had. He knew that he was perfect for her. Or at least he’d say he was. 

“What did that poor piece of parchment ever do to you, Moony?” A voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts and Remus’ eyes flickered down to the notes in front of him. He had been holding his inked up quill to the paper for so long it had created a hole that was getting bigger from the severity of his hold. Dropping the quill, Remus looked up to see Peter stood in the doorway. 

“Uh, must’ve zoned out,” Remus muttered, sending Peter a lackadaisical smile. “What are you lot up to?” 

“Headed to Hogsmeade. You sure you don’t wanna join, mate? I’m sure you’re not gonna do much good just tearing through your notes. Literally.” Remus ignored Peter’s poor attempt at a pun and considered his options. He really wasn’t doing much good sitting at his desk and he needed to get his mind off certain things. No better way to do that than with the three most troublesome boys. 

“Alright, yah,” Remus nodded his head at Peter who was frowning. “You’re right, Pete. No point in tearing through my notes.” Content with Remus’ validation, Peter led the two out of their dorm and down to the common room.

“YES! Prongs, we’ve got Moony on board!” 

—

Being at Hogsmeade during the start of the year always felt odd. Remus would argue that it was one of those things that only made sense during the holidays. He had gotten into many heated debates with James about whether Hogsmeade could be considered fun this early in the school year. James would start by explaining September was the holidays and Remus would remind him that Christmas wasn’t for another few months. But he didn’t feel like striking that kind of conversation today. Normally, he’d have Y/N to back him up. 

Remus entered The Three Broomsticks with his spirits a lot higher than they had been a half-hour ago. As much as he renounced being too sure about anything, he was certain he could never be bored when he was with his friends. He prayed nothing would put a damper on his mood, but the world didn’t work the way he wanted. He had heard her before he saw her. The familiar laugh had him looking over his shoulder and following Y/N’s figure from the door.

The Y/H/C haired girl was walking hand in hand with Mason Tomlinson as they looked for a seat in the corner of the establishment. As though she felt eyes on her, she turned to the table the boys sat at and waved kindly. Remus wanted to roll his eyes at her gesture but thought better of it. 

“I don’t understand when that even happened,” Sirius mumbled, his eyes still trained on Y/N.

“Apparently they were paired up for a project,” James shook his head slightly before turning to look back at his friends. “You’d think she’d tell her bloody cousin she was seeing someone, wouldn’t you?” Y/N hadn’t been seen by the group of boys as often as they usually did in the past few weeks and Remus could tell it was rubbing James the wrong way. Actually, all of them seemed annoyed by her absence. 

“Two weeks… I swear that’s how long the two have known each other,” Peter commented. “Remus, did she ever say anything about him - OUCH!”

All three boys were now staring at Remus with guilty expressions on their faces (except Peter, who seemed to also be holding his leg in pain). Remus simply shook his head and gave him a shrug in response. 

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius started and this time Remus didn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “I really did think the two of you were going to get together.” Remus froze, halting the way he was nervously pulling at his napkin under the table. He had expected pitying looks or impetus questions, but he hadn’t expected that. Remus hadn’t expected to be confronted with the exact thought that had been haunting him. When would he learn he really couldn’t expect shit? 

“No idea what you mean, mate,” Remus spoke, trying to appear much more nonchalant than he felt. “Haven’t even spoken to her in weeks. Why would we be together?” The three pairs of eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before Sirius began to nod. 

“Right… Well, boys, I think it's time for some more butterbeer.” Remus’ friends continued with their night, but all Remus could do was stare at the manifestation of his nightmares. Y/N had her elbow resting on the table in front of her and was running her hand up and down the length of Mason’s arm. From what Remus could see Mason's other arm was placed against her hip and he was leaning closer. Within moments Remus’ stomach was lurching forward as he watched Y/N’s lips meet with Mason’s to kiss him passionately. If it had been any other person he would’ve been gagging at the crude disregard of their surroundings, but at the current moment, it was as though he was stuck. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t vomit the sight away. He was stuck watching Y/N crush his heart into pieces without even lifting a finger. 

“Don’t stare, Remus,” James’ words could’ve been taken as a joke, but Remus knew why he was saying them. He didn’t want Remus hurting. 

“Merlin, I don’t understand what has gotten into her,” Sirius, seemingly not learning from his prior mistake, was looking at Y/N again. “That’s not like her, she doesn’t mouth fuck people in public.”

“Sirius!” James and Remus had yelled at the same time. 

“That’s so vulgar!”

���That’s my cousin!” 

“Oh please, Moony. Like you don’t have the mouth of a sailor. James, I do apologize for talking about your very innocent cousin that way, but there is no other way to explain whatever that is.” James smacked Sirius on the back of his head and the two began to argue amongst themselves, but Remus was too distracted to care about what they were saying.

Sirius was right. It wasn’t like Y/N to get into a relationship so fast and even more unlike her to be so publicly affectionate. But then again, he wondered how much of that was dependent on who was sitting beside her. Maybe she was only affectionate when it wasn’t him crowding the seat next to her. Did they even know Y/N? Did he know her? Remus thought back to the first time he had ever felt a sense of mutual understanding between the two. 

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual as a group of five 3rd years faced the welcoming fireplace. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, and Y/N had opted to stay at Hogwarts instead of going to Hogsmeade that weekend and were glad they had. Other than his friend group, Remus noted that the common room was empty which meant they could do anything without prying eyes. They seized the opportunity by playing Wizard Chess and munching on some leftover candy Y/N had from a previous Hogsmeade trip. 

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whined, as he pushed the table in front of him. “How? Again?” Remus just shrugged as he motioned for Peter to take Sirius’ spot across from him. They had all agreed they would have a tournament of sorts and whoever won would get to be the one who executed their next prank. This prank was especially exciting because it was going to be affecting anyone who was innocently spending time in the Slytherin common room next Thursday. 

“No way,” Peter tutted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not playing just to lose.”

“Peter, the rules were the winner plays the next contestant,” Remus argued. He knew he was undoubtedly the best at Wizarding Chess amongst the five of them and he took pride in any moments he could use that to his advantage. 

“Moons, just let me play Peter,” Sirius started. At Remus’ look of dissent, he continued, “Come on, do you even care about actually being the one that says the incantation?” Remus considered this. He didn’t actually care, but he did want to win. 

“No,” The voice came from the body next to him and Remus looked up to see Y/N shaking her head. “You can’t make the rules and then change them just because Remus is better than you.” 

“Shut up, you Hufflepuff,” James taunted. The Marauders had often told Y/N she would’ve been suitable for Hufflepuff because of how highly she valued fairness. Even if it was something as small as a game, she wanted to see the right thing done. Remus admired that. He figured if more people did that, the world would be a hell of a better place. 

“Eh, let ‘em play. They won’t let me hear the end of it once I win,” Remus uprooted from his spot on the floor and took a seat next to Y/N. The pair sat back as they watched their friends banter and laugh amongst themselves. Remus had only known the lot of them for three years, but he knew that moments like these would be life-altering for him. He had come a long way from the glum eleven-year-old who thought he deserved to be alone. He still battled with whether he deserved the love he received, but he was slowly learning he did. And the only reason he was ever able to get this far in that journey was because of the four smiling idiots around him. 

When James began to chase Peter around the common room, Remus turned his face to the side just as Y/N did and the two of them just smiled at each other. It was like they were both thinking the same things, but Remus had no way of knowing. Y/N and he had always been friends, but they rarely spent time alone the way he did with Sirius and the way she did with James. It wasn’t weird, it was just the dynamic of their group. But at that moment, as they laughed with each other, he felt like he had known her for years. He felt like she was agreeing with him on how much these people meant to both of them. He was probably projecting, but it made him feel warm with comfort. At the time he didn’t know that she would soon grow to be one of the closest friends he’d ever have, but he found solace in that random second of certain uncertainty.  

tiny little taglist: @kitkatkl​ 

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 3

(Note: I know Molly hasn’t been confirmed as a demon nor is she in Hell, but for the sake of the story, I’m saying that she is a demon and she is in Hell. There’s not a lot of information on the spider fam so I’m going to be taking some liberties here)

Sunday dinners at your dad’s home have always a tradition, even when you all were alive. It wasn’t religious, Lord knows if it had been you probably wouldn’t have ended up here. But when your family spends every day of their lives and afterlives meeting with mob bosses, disposing of bodies, and doing drugs, it was nice to have a reason to come together and remind each other that you were all still here. It was because of those dinners and the evenings spent cooking with your Nonna that your love of cooking came to fruition.

Oh, your Nonna. You’ve tried looking for her down here, even though you know that there was no way she was deserving of a place like this. She was a saint, the mother you deserved instead of the mother you actually had. Your mother was cold, lazy, vain, couldn’t care for her children to save her life, judgmental -- she always insisted you try whatever insane weight loss trend was popular. Nonna was kind, understanding, taught you to be tough but also how to take care of those you loved, and never tried to pit you and your sister against each other. She’s honestly the only reason yours and Molly’s relationship survived.

But when she died, you took over as the family’s cook as the only person who could actually make something without burning it. Until you yourself died at the ripe age of 23, long before the rest of your family. Your family doesn’t talk about it much, but you can just imagine what the first dinner without you was like. How sad and empty, how burnt the food must have been if there even was any.

But you’re together again and your dinners were able to survive your family’s plunge into the afterlife. Apparently, so did your family home.

As soon as you entered the threshold of the home, you and Angel were smushed into a hug by Molly.

“My darlings!” She cries. Angel and you snuggle into the warm arms of your sister and wrap your arms around her.

“How are ya, Mol?” Angel asks.

“Oh, ya know, same old, same old.”

“Are those creeps giving you trouble at the store?” You take a step back and eye your sister up and down, looking for any physical manifestation that those creepy men crushing on your sister are up to no good.

“Not since you had a little chat with them, (N/N),” she teases.

Molly’s eyes brighten at the sight of your outfit.

“Ooh! You’re wearing the new skirt and blouse! It’s so pretty on you, (Y/N)! And I know I always say this but you have a great rack girl, ya gotta show it off like this more.”

You blush brightly and cross your arms over your torso.

“Gee thanks, Molly,” you mumble.

“I don’t know how you haven’t found a man yet with that bod!” She squeals and pinches your cheeks.

“Well, since ya mentioned it...” Angel smirks.

“Nope!” You shout and storm further into the house to avoid your baby siblings.

Molly looks back at Angel with an arched brow, the question looming in the air.

You make it to the kitchen, where your father and brother are heating up the food you left here last week. You turn your nose up.

“You know, I could have made something fresh. This is all a week old! And here I thought you were going to cook for once.”

“Very funny, (Y/N),” Niss grumbles, stirring the pasta sauce you had brought over last time.

“How are ya, sweetheart?” Henroin gives you a warm hug, one that is snug and warm and reserved for his unofficially favorite child.

“I’m good, dad. Doing just fine.”

“They’re running you ragged at that hotel.”

“Which means I’m left to pick up the slack,” Niss growls. You pull away from the hug and pull your brother into a forceful hug, just to make him uncomfortable. You were the same height as Niss and a year younger, and as grumpy and infuriating he can be, you always felt the closest to him. You’d like to think he felt the same, considering he scolds you the least. Or maybe that’s just because you’re way stronger than him and you have wrestled him to the ground.

“I know, but I’m doing this for Angel--”

“Anthony,” Niss hisses.

“If he tells me he wants to go by Angel, then I’m calling him Angel.” You narrow your eyes, your irises flashing a dangerous red and your teeth grow into vicious fangs in an instant. Niss rolls his eyes but backs down, trying to hide the shiver that went up his spine.

“I still don’t see how they’re supposed to help him.”

“Neither do I but I genuinely believe that that hotel is his only chance.”

“But why do you have to be there, too?” Your father asks.

“Because I’m the only one who knows how to handle him,” you beam.

“And because she’s dating the Radio Demon,” Molly squeals as she bursts in the kitchen, followed closely by a smirking Angel.

“What?!” Your brother and dad yell.

“I am not dating the Radio Demon, right, Angel?” You stalk over to him and stomp on his foot.

“Ah! Fine, fine. But she’s got him wrapped around her little finger, don’t ya, sis?”

“What the hell does that mean, (Y/N)?” Niss growls. Your father just stares at you, his eyes empty of all emotion but his shoulders are tensed.

“It means nothing. We work together and. That’s. It.” Everyone in the kitchen is staring at you. Angel is smirking, Molly is biting her lip as she holds in a squeal, Niss looks as though he’s about to punch a wall, and your dad is still staring at you. Their eyes are like deadly sunbeams and your body is a wilting flower. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and transport you to Second Hell, or whatever lies beyond this reality. A part of you finds yourself longing for arms to hold you, to wrap around you and shield you. Longing for grey arms in a red suit to protect you.

Oh jeez, maybe you do love him.

“The sauce is burning,” you break the silence and move towards the stove. “Is the pasta ready?”

“Yeah,” Henroin says and brings a bowl of noodles to the already set table. You turn the stove off and slip on two oven mitts to bring over the pot of sauce.

“Sit down,” you command. Your siblings scurry to their seats as your dad and you arrange everything on the table.

Once you’ve all sat and filled your plates (and taken away Angel’s phone), you turn to your dad.

“So what was the big announcement?” You ask.

Henroin swallows, “Not so much of an announcement, more of a request of you and Anth-- Angel. I know this hotel has been good for you,” he says to your brother. “And it sounds like it’s been... good for you too, (Y/N). But I need you to start pulling your weight around here, especially you, (Y/N).”

“Why me?” (Y/N) you ask, sending your father an incredulous look. “I thought I told you I wanted out of all of that nasty business.”

“Because some of our partners respond better to you. You have a way with people, in the way that is below my stature and beyond anything your brother can do.”

“Dad!” Niss yells, offended.

“Shut up. Now listen, (Y/N), you can still stay at the hotel, do whatever the hell it is you do there,” he gives you a pointed look, hinting that he hasn’t forgotten the Radio Demon business.

“But when I need you to attend a meeting or negotiation,” he continues. “I expect you to be there. You owe your family that.”

You look down at your barely-picked-at-plate, having suddenly lost your appetite.

“I’m guessing you have a meeting soon that you think I’d be well-suited for,” you mumble.

“There’s an Overlord we need to do some business with and I finally convinced her to have an audience. But word on the street is that she responds better to friends or women. And since we’re not friends and I’m definitely not sending Molly--”

“Daddy, you wound me!”

“--That leaves you, kid. We’re counting on you.”

You nod your head. The conversation continues, your siblings argue, Henroin gives you details for the meeting but you let it all wash over you like a wave. You actually thought you could finally start living for yourself for once, that you could stop taking care of others. You were wrong.

---

The city is alive with the sound of laughing and screaming, but all you can think about is the meeting tomorrow with Rosie, an Overlord and the owner of Rosie’s Emporium. Your eyes are heavy from the chaotic dinner, the three times you had to keep Niss from launching himself across the table at Angel, Molly talking your ear off about some cute man who would be perfect for you, and the new weight that has been added to your shoulders. It takes everything in you not to crash the car on your way home.

When you arrive back at the hotel it’s late at night and somehow Angel has boundless energy. He prances to the door, calling out about some party he’s been invited to by Cherri.

“Angel, it’s a Sunday night,” You scold.

“And? My work doesn’t exactly require me to be up and at em at 8, doll.” He bursts through the doors and immediately goes over to Husk and the bar, probably to pregame. You shuffle your way inside after him, rubbing your temples in an effort to tame the ache developing in your head.

“Oh, darling,” Alastor sings. He dances into the lobby from the kitchen, smile as wide as ever, holding two steaming mugs. Except instead of one of his pristine suits, he is dressed in slacks, suspenders, a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. He looks completely and utterly adorable, and you’re just loving the view of his lithe forearms.

As soon as he heard Angel’s voice bothering Husk, Alastor came running to the lobby with the hot chocolate he had spent hours perfecting. His first batch was too bitter, the second far too sweet for anyone’s liking, and the third was accidentally consumed by Charlie (who is now hiding somewhere in the hotel to avoid his wrath). Plus, he had to endure Charlie’s relentless teasing. But he was certain this would be the perfect cup of liquid goodness to impress his sweetest darling. And judging by your tense shoulders and the stress in the lines of your face, you would definitely be needing something to lift your spirits.

“Goodness, did the dinner not go well?”

You released a deep, exhausted sigh, and lifted your head slowly to meet his eyes. For a moment, Alastor wonders if this might have been the wrong move. You were clearly worn out. You probably just wanted to shut yourself in your room and go to bed and not have anything to do with him and his boyish attempts to woo you. Hot chocolate, really? What was he thinking? Someone like you deserved something lavish, and you would probably scoff at something so simple as a hot drink.

His shoulders deflate at your lack of smile.

“It went about the same as it always did,” you sigh. “Siblings fighting, me saving dinner, my sister trying to set me up with some man.”

Alastor has to restrain the growl bubbling up in his chest.

Your eyes fall to the two mugs in his hands. You sniff the air and smile at the rich scent.

“Is that hot chocolate?”

“Oh... yes, it is.”

“Mm, is there any left?”

“Well of course! I made this cup especially for you, dearest!” He practically shoves the mug into your hands.

You quickly lift the mug to your lips and hope to all that is good and holy that he chalks your blushing cheeks to the heat of the drink.

“Oh, Alastor, this is wonderful. Thank you. I really needed this after the night I had.” You smile up at him, the lines in your face easing immediately. It’s enough to make the Radio Demon’s knees quake.

“You are absolutely welcome...” He pauses. The original plan was to woo you with the drink, whisk you off to a remote corner of the hotel, and attempt to confess his undying love to you. But the yawn you try to stifle almost causes him to deflate. Almost.

“Would like to talk about it, love? I’m all ears! U-Unless you’re too tired. You absolutely do not have to--”

Love. Love. You grip the mug tighter.

“Actually, Alastor, that would be lovely. If you don’t mind.”

Alastor grins.

“Not at all.”

He places a hand on the small of your back and transports you both to the library. He snaps his fingers and a fire lights up the room for you both. You flop onto the couch and Alastor takes a seat beside you, making a point to sidle up to you as you proceed to detail everything about your day.

At first you were rather restrained, convinced that the last thing this important, powerful, strong, kind, considerate, lovely man wanted was to listen to your problems. But as he asked more and more questions, he opened you up like an oyster, waiting patiently for the pearl inside.

“So now I’m meeting with this Rosie tomorrow. Something about transporting her goods across territories.”

“Rosie, you say?”

“Yes. Oh, do you know her?”

“Why yes! She’s an old and dear friend. But, um, quite ruthless towards strangers. You said you’re going alone?”

“Right.”

“Is that... normal? I mean, for you to go alone to meet such dangerous individuals.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been doing so since I was 18 and alive.”

Alastor chokes on his drink.

“That young?”

“I grew up in the mafia, Al.” You send him a coy smile. “I’m not as defenseless as I look.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, dearest, but... to not have anyone there for support...”

“When you grow up the way I did, you learn not to trust anyone. Not fully at least, and definitely not until you know them well enough.”

“Is that right... Do... Do you trust me, then? Or have I not earned that honor?” Alastor smiles at you but within he is a mess. This is it. The moment you tell him that he’s far too dangerous, too vicious, too disgusting for you to ever let into your life in the way he craves.

“You’re on your way.” You smirk at him and the light floods back into his body. That’s a start.

“So, would you allow me to accompany you tomorrow then?”

“Oh, no, Alastor I could never impose on you like that--” He’s just being polite, you tell yourself. He doesn’t actually want to spend time with you outside of the hotel, isn’t actually concerned with whether you die at the hands of this Rosie.

“Nonsense, my darling.” He leans down, smelling the chocolate on your breath. His nose is so close to yours, your lips just as near to his. He could lean forward just a bit, feign a fall, just for one chance to kiss you like he’s dreamed.

“I would love nothing more than to be your knight in shining armor.”

You smile, “Just to be clear, if you are going to escort me, Alastor. I am no damsel in distress.” You boop his nose and giggle at the hot blush on his cheeks.

“But,” you continue, “I would love nothing more than to have your company tomorrow.”

“Well, then have it you shall, love.”

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 11!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Marinette could still feel the way the blood had been against her hands.

Sticky, warm against Pam’s body, but too cool afterwards. She’d wiped it on her dress without a second thought. The streaks it left on her palms and fingers, the way it was gummy and crusted under her nails. It dried to flaking as they had walked back to the hotel.

And of course, she’d had to deal with Adrien and Chloé, waiting diligently in the lobby for her. Distantly, she’d thought meanly that this was why she’d planned the gardens tour first, so they wouldn’t have a time limit except dinner when they went shopping after. She’d felt a little bad about pushing them off on Damian, but- they were her friends. Partners. The closest two people she had in her life. He’d either learn to deal with them or she’d- well. If he was her soulmate, he shouldn’t have any problem anyway.

The second her door shut behind her she let herself collapse against it, Trixx and Kaalki zooming out to check on her.

“Marinette?” Trixx patted her face, wiping away the small trail of blood that had somehow gotten there.

“I just-“ she choked down another tearful breath. “I’m just too used to Akumas. I can fix everything and bring them all back and it’s never- permanent. And they don’t /mean/ it. These people- they kill, and they don’t care. I forgot that that happens without the magic, too.” She paused for a second, looking down at her streaked skin.

“The blood doesn’t stay around after the Cure.”

They both nestled against her and she let them comfort her for a minute. Then she shooed them off.

“I’m scrubbing this all off.”

She did, as quickly as she could, every trace of red she could find on her body. She cleaned her hair, and then stepped out, feeling moderately better.

“Here,” Kaalki gestured proudly at an outfit sitting on the bed. Marinette inspected it, the pink shirt familiar and the jeans comfortable, with her normal converse and a thin black shawl that made it a bit more elegant than just a usual outfit.

“Thank you,” She said, already pulling it on. God only knew what Chloé and Adrien were up to in her absence. She barely bothered with reapplying her lip gloss and mascara, but Chloé could and would make her displeasure known, so she took the half minute to do so.

The kwamis moved her stuff to a new purse and hopped in, ready with snacks. She left as quickly as she could, closing the door and then turning directly into somebody.

“Watch it, Cheng,” Lila simpered. “You wouldn’t want to give me another bruise.”

“Is that what you told them this morning?” Marinette said coldly. She didn’t have time for this. “I don’t care anymore, Lila. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

She tried to move past her, but Lila’s arm shot out to block her.

“I don’t know what you think you’re planning,” Lila hissed, “But it won’t work.”

“Some of us don’t waste our energy planning to ruin other people,” Marinette sighed. “Listen, I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried revealing you, I’ve tried leaving you alone. I don’t know what you want or expect from me, Lila, but I’m tired of this game. Leave me alone. You have the class.”

“Not all of them,” Lila smirked. “But we’ll see. And I will get what I want, even if you don’t know what it is yet.”

Marinette just shook her head and turned around. She could take the stairs.

And she rushed down to find Adrien and Chloé bothering Damian as expected.

“If you would stop threatening him or two seconds,” Marinette yelled, running the last bit as Chloé was glaring at Damian. She gave her friends her coldest stare. Chloé returned it, her lips twitching upwards.

“Disgustingly pretty as always,” She said, and Marinette relaxed. She wouldn’t be yelled at for the makeup then.

“So,” She turned back to her soulmate, securing her grip on his arm. At first it had been a challenge of sorts, what with the odd electricity of their bond, but now it just felt- natural, to loop her hand through and rest there. “Damian, what do you suggest we do?” She let him give her friends one last look before turning her towards the door and away from them.

“I intended to take you to lunch, if you would allow me,” he said stiffly, but she was starting to realize that either he was far more awkward and shy than even he realized and this was how it manifested as someone who was expected to interact with people and the media, or it was quite possibly just the way he spoke.

She gave him her best encouraging smile. She was so torn between- liking him right of the bat, and just giving in to the idea that this person was literally made to match her in every way, even if it seemed like some of those ways were quite opposite, and being extremely wary. She wasn’t falling in love instantly the way she thought she might with a soulmate, there was just too much getting in the way of her thoughts about him. For one, the fighting. She’d been fighting akuma for years now, and even with her lessons from her mother and Kagami and occasionally Kagami’s mother- she was no where near his level, even with her concerted effort. Which meant that her soulmate had been doing this much longer, much more consistently, and with even higher training than her. She couldn’t look at him now without thinking that he was, well…

Dangerous.

She realized that Damian was subtly watching her again and did her best to shake her ramblings from her mind. She could keep having a good time with him even while trying to figure out why she felt so on the edge.

“So, what kind of place are we heading to for lunch?” She prodded, and she even caught him blush a little when he realized she knew he was looking.

Cute.

“A small place nearby, one that my brothers have showed me before.” She was starting to figure out that every mention of his brothers was accompanied by a frown bordering on scowling, but looking at his eyes she was pretty sure he was just posturing.

“If you keep frowning like that I’m gonna think you aren’t having a good time with me,” She tried to tease, and she watched his mouth fall open.

“No-“ He immediately refuted. “I just- You-“

“I’m joking,” She stopped him. “You just- you make this face every time you mention your brothers. Why is that?”

“They’re idiots,” He said immediately, going straight back to the scowl. “And I try not to think of them if I don’t have to.”

“I don’t have siblings.” Marinette says, though she’s sure that he knows this. “Unless you count Adrien and Chloé. I try not to.”

He laughs at that, to Marinette’s delight. “Your friends are… interesting.”

“You haven’t even met Luka and Kagami yet,” she says dryly. “If you think Adrien and Chloé are interesting…”

“Do you- intend to introduce me to them?” He says, blinking. She realizes that, even with her misgivings, she’s been thinking about, well, long term things with him. Him visiting Paris. Her visiting Gotham again.

“Yes,” She says firmly. “Though, not anytime soon- they’re still back in Paris, of course.”

He smiles a bit at that, so she guesses she wasn’t the only one who had been thinking of this going on.

“We’re here,” He says, and she expects some restaurant, probably one she’d be underdressed for.

Instead, it’s a small, homey diner nestled between two larger buildings.

“It’s-“ he pauses. “My siblings and I end up all over the city sometimes. It’s a good, central place to meet.” He smirks then, and opens the door for her. “And the food is second only to our butler’s.”

She laughs and heads in, Damian trailing after her.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[the-shy-shrimp]

Well, hello! I am one of your readers from the AO3 and I just wanted to say that I enjoy your lotr related works very much! And since you allow asking for commission, there is one thing I would love to see if you ever felt inspired and that is Elrond Peredhel being hurt in a fight.

Adding in the rest of the ask because this came to me in three parts:

It seems that since he is a healer in most stories it is quite rare for him to get physically hurt – which is understandable of course... But I would love to see that written by you, as you are quite good at portraying this amazing hurt/comfort stories.

The floor is all yours, but maybe it would be nice to see how his family would react to that? Or any Imladris inhabitants. But you know, it’s just an idea, no pressure. Thank you very much! And whether you decide to use this idea or not I hope we will meet in some lotr-related work. Have a nice day! :D (And sorry for sending three asks - I am not used to Tumblr :c)

So here you go! Sorry it took forever, but I made a bad decision (very, very bad) when scheduling an exam that my entire career relied on me passing, so I was pretty brain dead for the two weeks after I got this ask... But here it is! Enjoy!

...

Pain is the first thing that registers when Elrond wakes, pain and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from fighting for one’s life.

Strange, he can’t remember being in a fight, not recently. Yet here he lays, sprawled out on the floor of his study, exhausted and aching for no clear reason. Attempting to move proves to be unwise, bringing dizziness and nausea with each shift, but the alternative of lying prone until someone finds him seems even more unsavory.

He goes slowly, first turning onto his side as he tries to deduce what has happened. His face and his jaw hurt the most by far, though the rest of his body is not far behind. But his jaw had been tightly clenched for several days now, likely the result of stressing over his third child’s imminent arrival, and so he finds it difficult to relate that symptom with the rest of what he feels. His hands wander over his body in a search for injuries. While he does not discover anything new, he does find his shoulder to be red and hot, the small puncture wound he sustained in a skirmish over a week ago now open and weeping. He groans internally at the finding.

It should have healed long before now, and that knowledge fills his gut with dread. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

The simple act of using the corner of his desk to pull himself upright leaves him shaking, and the idea of forcing himself to walk down the hallway to find Erestor is daunting to say the least. But it must be done. He presses onward, putting one foot in front of the other, desperately clutching whatever furniture seems sturdy enough to lend some support as he shuffles toward the door. Once out in the corridor there would be little to hold onto, unfortunately, but it was only a few yards between the doors to each of their workspaces. He would have to manage.

After fumbling with the doorknob for a moment, he breathes a sigh of relief upon finding the hallway to be entirely empty. The last thing he needs to be gawked at in his present state.

His movements are slow, but determined, as he makes his way along the wall, eventually coming to a stop in front of Erestor’s door. He attempts to knock before entering, but the sound is weak and piteous, barely heard over the sound of his own breathing. He has better luck with the doorknob this time around, and with minimal struggling, he tentatively steps into his friend’s space.

“Elrond? Is something the matter? You don’t look well.”

Erestor is at his desk, several papers in his hands and concern written across his face. He seems to be debating between getting up to rush over, and letting Elrond speak first.

The Peredhel swallows thickly, then gives an almost imperceptible nod, taking one, then two steps beyond the doorway. When he opens his mouth to speak, however, the ache that had thus far been sitting quietly in his jaw crescendos into a roar that races down his neck and back and into each of his limbs as pain engulfs his entire body.

A strangled cry is the only sound he makes, and Erestor’s cursing is the last thing he hears before the world goes dark.

-

“You really are the worst, you know.”

Erestor’s chiding is soft, lacking its usual barbed timbre, and is accompanied by the warm weight of a thick blanket settling over his body. The Peredhel gives him only a quiet sigh in return, blinking until the image of his friend comes into focus. He is not sprawled across the floor of Erestor’s office, as he halfway expected to be, but is instead tucked into a cot in the middle of an unfortunately familiar room. He groans, feeling even worse now than he did before, every muscle in his body wound tight as a bowstring, unable to relax no matter how much he ached.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before Elrond decides that he does not like being the one in the sickbed, and much prefers to stay within his role as a healer.

“Why didn’t you have the wound looked at when you returned? If one of your sons had pulled the same stunt you would have had their head on a platter.”

He can see the poorly veiled concern in Erestor’s expression, creeping through every time Elrond fails to suppress the violent shivers that come in waves almost too intense to bear.

“T-T-T’was only an, an, arrow…”

His voice is weaker, shakier than he would like it to be, stuttering as he tries to keep the shuddering at bay. His advisor only scowls down at him, looking more hurt than angry.

“Yes, only an arrow with a rusted head. If you were fully elven you might have been able to ignore such a detail, but you aren’t, Elrond! Now the poison is already in your blood, and it might just kill you. Andûnél says that it probably won’t, but there is still a chance.”

“I’m s-sure I’ll, I’ll be f-f-fine.”

Erestor leaps to his feet at that, sending the stool he had previously occupied flying back to clatter against the floor.

“Fine? You think this is fine? You cannot take risks with your life like this! What if you don’t make it, hm? Everyone in this valley depends on you, son of Eärendil. Your family depends on you. What if this is what does it? Would you leave your children to grow up fatherless, leave your people leaderless? You are all we have left, Elrond. They don’t have a high king to follow anymore, no one is going to step in and take care of things if you perish.”

He turns on his heel, disgust written on his face as he slams the door shut behind him.

Silence descends on the tiny room, and Elrond finds himself whimpering as the next wave of shivering hits him full force. He knows he isn’t alone, not truly. Someone will be around to check on him eventually. But for the moment he cannot help but feel abandoned. He wants Erestor to come back, but he will need time to sulk. He wants Celebrían, but he knows she won’t be back in Imladris for another week. Perhaps shamefully, he finds he wants Maglor most of all.

Maglor who had done his best in spite of circumstance, who made sure their needs were provided for. Maglor who held him when the tears didn’t seem to have an end. Maglor who sat with him late in the night when sleep wouldn’t come because of nightmares or insomnia or the disturbances that had come when his foresight finally began to manifest. Maglor who was the closest thing to a father he had ever really had.

It wasn’t until Andûnél knocked and entered that he realized there were tears in his eyes.

“Now, now, none of that.”

She sighs softly and dabs at the wet spots on his cheeks before anything else. He is grateful for the way her touches are nothing short of professional, devoid of the almost motherly tenderness they held when he and Elros were just young things being brought to her with scraped knees and sprains and broken bones. He already feels small and broken enough without being coddled.

Was it because Erestor had yelled at him? Probably. Being reminded of everything, everyone, that relied on him had left him feeling grossly inadequate. There was no high king. No one was around to supervise him and yank him out of his stupidity anymore. Ereinion couldn’t come to his rescue. Galadriel might, but not because she actually cared for him. She would come out of responsibility, and likely regret allowing her daughter to marry him as a result. Just a stupid, half-blooded fool who managed to survive long enough to reproduce in spite of his own idiocy—

“Elrond? Look at me, Elrond.”

He hiccups twice while trying to blink away the tears, and it takes several more minutes of dabbing at his eyes before he can actually see her face as more than just a wet blur.

“That’s better. Now, are you weeping because you are in pain, or because you are upset?”

“Pain.”

The single syllable is rasped out, barely louder than a whisper. The look in her eyes tells him that she knows he is lying, or at least telling only half the truth. Maybe the pain was a part of it, but Andûnél clearly knew it was just as likely a combination of the two.

“Alright. I can do something about that, at least.”

She leaves his line of sight immediately. If his neck didn’t ache so badly he might have tried to watch her, but he could barely move at all with how tense he was. He settles for staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe evenly. At least he could hear her moving about the room, and so he knew she hadn’t left him. Not like Erestor had.

Another whine escapes him at the thought.

“Hold on, I’m coming.”

He doesn’t get the chance to feel any more sorry for himself before she pries his lips apart and sticks a dropper full of bitter medicine in his mouth. It tastes foul, as all her tinctures do, but it works quickly, dulling the ache in a matter of only a few tense minutes, and for that he is grateful.

“Better?”

“Better.”

Elrond sighs, relaxing against the bed beneath him as the pain is driven back for the moment. He hadn’t noticed just how much the tension in his body was bothering him a moment ago, but with it now under control, its absence leaves him feeling weak and jittery.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do outside of managing the pain that comes with the muscle spasms.”

Andûnél’s voice feels far away, even if vaguely registers that she now sits beside him in the stool Erestor had previously discarded. She smiles down at him, looking tired above all else.

“There isn’t an antidote or any effective treatment for it. You’ll just have to wait it out until your body rids itself of the toxin.”

The idea sits poorly with him, although there isn’t anything he can do to change things, not now. The healer is quick to remind him, of course, that had he gotten the wound treated sooner, properly cleaned and bandaged as it should have been, he might have avoided this unpleasantness altogether. She says he ought to know better, and he knows she is right. But she takes his silence as exhaustion rather than the moping that it is, and mutters something about the two of them being the sole purpose someone came up with the adage that “healers make the worst patients” before tucking another blanket around him and getting up to leave.

“I will send Camaenor in to sit with you while I take care of some other things that need my attention. He will probably be so engrossed in whatever book he brings with him that you’ll hardly notice him, but at least he’ll be present if you need him.”

Elrond is asleep not long after Andûnél latches the door behind her, snatching up what sleep he can while he has the option. He’s seen this sickness before, in mortals wounded by pieces of old metal, and he knows that it is likely to get worse before it gets better.

When it does get worse, either Andûnél or her reedy apprentice are always present, ready and waiting with another draught for the pain and muscle spasms that make his limbs cramp and his back arch off the bed. The Peredhel is grateful that it is only the two of them who see him like this. Not that he doesn’t trust the discretion of the other healers, but he knows that Andûnél will not gossip, and Camaenor has been so absorbed in his studies that he is likely to follow his master’s trend.

The days all blend together, a cycle of sleeping until he is awoken by excruciating pain and downing more medicine until he can once again rest comfortably. More than once he wakes in the dead of night, due not to the constant muscle contractions, but instead because the apprentice perched nearby is struggling with his reading, stumbling over some new term or another and attempting to sound it out.

The first time this happens, it leaves Elrond confused and disoriented, wondering if the apprentice is trying to speak to him and his brain is simply failing to interpret the words. Eventually though, after hearing several similar sounding terms in a row, he realizes what is happening, and rasps out an answer.

“Parenchyma.”

Camaenor nearly jumps out of his skin when his charge suddenly speaks, but quickly recovers and nods his thanks before asking if he would like some water, or if he was in pain. Elrond decides then that the boy will make a good healer, someday, and resolves to help him study during his precious moments of wakefulness and clarity. It is the least he can do.

He loses track of how many days and nights he’s been bedridden, knowing only that it has been long enough for him to grow tired of it. The only break in routine comes when Erestor returns to his previous position, constructing a nest of bookwork at Elrond’s bedside to keep himself busy while he sits with him. He says nothing of the outburst that resulted in his several-days-long absence, but instead chatters on about all the things going on in the valley that he’s missed since this all started. Profit margins for new trade routes. Personal correspondences that need attention. Setbacks in planting a new section of the orchard.

His chief advisor says nothing of Celebrían’s whereabouts, and so he assumes that she has either not been informed of his current state or has chosen to remain with her parents until this has all blown over. Part of him hopes for the former. This pregnancy has already been hard enough for her, and it has only just begun. She doesn’t need the added stress.

It comes as a surprise, then, when the soft morning light brings him toward wakefulness and he is assailed not by the whole-body ache he has come to expect, but by the soft velvet of her lips on his. He sighs, thinking it must only be the remnants of some very pleasant dream, but the gentle brush of her fingertips over his eyelids tells him otherwise.

“Wake up, my love.”

A weak smile finds its way to his face, the first in days, as he slowly pries his eyes open. His silver queen is waiting for him, her soft expression framed by the wild platinum curls of her unbound hair. She kisses him again, more fiercely this time, and though his attempts at reciprocating are sloppy at best, it still fills his heart with joy.

They still cling to each other, even after Celebrían finally stops nibbling at his lower lip and stretches out on the bed beside her husband. Neither of them says a word about what happened, about what Elrond has suffered through in the past week, or about the fact that they are celebrating their reunion here instead of the quiet intimacy of their bedroom. None of it matters, though, at least not to the Peredhel.

The presence of his beloved is like a balm on his aching soul, and in her strong arms he is reminded of what it feels like to belong and be loved. He sighs, burying his nose in the tangled nest of her hair and breathing in the scent that is undeniably hers, causing her to giggle and throw her arm over his bared chest and drag him closer.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

[captainchocolatesstuff]

Emerald Tree Boa [Izuku]

Naga!Izuku Midoriya x Reader

It wasn’t often that people got the chance to meet a naga, humans were often hostile towards things that were unknown to them, and nagas naturally liked to be left alone to their devices. Though nagas understood that humans were different from one another and varied with different ideals, it never meant that they should underestimate them nor see them all as being the same. Humans were definitely weaker than nagas, but what they lacked in strength they made up for with craft and strategy. While one half of humanity agreed that nagas were monsters that should be wiped off the face of the earth, the other side that was more understanding towards these creatures denied the statement, nagas were living beings just like them and they had no right to decide which creatures or beings had the right to roam the earth.

When you were young, you could remember asking your grandmother about her old childhood friend that she once had. Whenever your parents were busy with something you’d peek in on them to make sure they were really busy before running over to your grandmother, your little legs carrying your small body through the house until you found her. Sometimes you caught her reading in her bed, sewing on her rocking chair, or baking some goodies in the kitchen, and no matter what she was doing you’d give a light tug on her skirt and ask ‘Grandma, can you tell me that story again? The one with your childhood friend that had a long body?’.

She’d always laugh jovially and say “Again? Are you sure (Y/n)?”, and when you gave an eager nod she’d pat your head before leaning down to kiss your forehead and lead you towards the nearest chair to sit you down.

She would smile at you before going back to what she was doing, and a distant look would manifest in her eyes as a gentle warm smile made its way to her lips, then she’d begin to tell the story.

“It was a sunny bright day, birds sang, children played, and the town was full of cheer and chatter. But yet, I couldn’t find it within myself to put on a smile, for you see I overheard some other little girls say mean things about me the other day and they were planning on pulling a mean old trick on me that day. It made me very sad and very, very, afraid. So I left my home and ran to my hidden little treehouse, I remember crying into my rag doll because I hardly had any friends and I was fearful of telling my parents, afraid that they would shrug me off because they were already busy with my wild little brother.

I also couldn’t find it within myself to bother them, they had enough work as it is, so I kept the fear hidden and tried to make it seem like I was okay with the other children. So I sat in my little treehouse and I cried and cried… until I heard a twig snap, with fear now instilled in me my first reaction was to freeze up and stop my breathing, I was afraid that those mean girls have found my little treehouse somehow, but then a different girl that I have never seen appeared.

She looked very curious, but also worried, that was when she first spoke to me, “Are you sad?”, she asked. While stunned for a moment I couldn’t help but nod as she asked again, “Why are you sad?”, I then told her about the other little girls that were being mean to me, she frowned and told me, “That’s mean! You seem like a nice person to be with, they don’t need you”. And her words immediately cheered me up, I couldn’t help but already feel so close to the girl, but when she came closer to be that was when I noticed the long tail she had that made up the lower portion of her body, I was so in awe that I didn’t notice how nervous she got by revealing herself to me she when she asked if I was scared of what she was I said, “Oh no! Not at all! I am just very memorized by your beautiful tail”.

It was from that day forward that we became the closest of friends, she was a beautiful creature of nature, and I am so grateful that I got the chance to meet her. We’d make games together that would fit both of our skills together, we’d brush each other’s hair, sing and tell each other the latest gossip of our homes, she’d let me lay on her tail and I’d let her rest her head on my lap. It was like that as we got older too, but one day I was sadly being sent away to get married to a man by my aunt when my parents passed away when that disease was spreading throughout the country. 

She said that since I was at the right age to get married, I should just stay a housewife and get married to a stranger, that man was older than me and he was a mean bully. I told my friend about this and she was so angry that she told me that I should come with her in the heat of the moment, I was so distraught that I told her I couldn’t leave my younger brother behind no matter how much I wanted to leave, and she sympathized with me and told me if I knew where the man lived, I told her everything in detail. I never knew that she’d hatch a plan to get me and my brother out of the town.

I had to stay at the mean man’s house for a while, a long while until the day we were to wed, in the duration of that time he would always yell at me and hurt me, but I endured it for the sake of having my young brother under my aunt’s roof. Then the day before the wedding my friend appeared in my window, in a panic I asked what she was doing here, and she told me, “I’d never leave you behind Lidiya”. She had me hurry and pack my stuff so that I could run away, I was also surprised to learn that she also had my brother with her and during the time I was trapped in the man’s home she was trying to befriend him so he could leave my aunt’s house and run away with me.

She made a plan just for me to get out of the man’s clutches and free my brother from our aunt’s home, she lead us away from the town to a railroad, and gave me the box of money I had stored for my brother, she told me to leave and never come back to the town. I remember asking her; “Aren’t you coming with us?”, and she told me that she couldn’t, the season in which animals hibernate was coming soon and she wouldn’t be able to travel far. It was a bittersweet moment we shared, I couldn’t help but look back at her when we were leaving….

It was the last time I ever saw her, but I keep our memories close to my heart”, she would finish her story there. Her eyes always looked glossy, but she had a content smile on her lips as she stared off in a distance. You always had a feeling there was something more in their relationship, but you never pried into it.

Now as a young woman you occasionally wondered if you’d ever get the chance to meet a naga, while you were curious about them, you also couldn’t help but wonder if you would have the chance to form a relationship with a naga the same way your grandmother did. In the town you grew up in you didn’t mind the fact that many of the youth your age saw you as an outcast, in fact if gave you more time to divulge in your devices and be yourself as they left you out of many activities they participated in. It left your parents worried for a while, but your good impressions with the older generation quelled their worries for a while, most were around your grandmother's age and they were often kind to you since your lively and youthful energy impressed them for the most part.

But after picking up your grandfather's skill in making glass art pieces, you became a bit well known in your town alongside your grandfather, you were becoming his protege for his little shop. It was all going nicely, and today was your day off, still though you felt a little restless. You nodded silently to yourself as you walked to the little shack that your grandpa had around near the river. In the back of your yard was a little dirt road that led to it, in the shack was the same equipment your grandpa had in the shop to make the glass pieces.

You were greeted with quite the surprise when you approached your shack, there was a long huge tail, green in color and as you followed the tail it led to your eyes landing on the top half of the tail. It was then where it clicked in your mind that this was a naga, and it was a male, but rather than panic you carefully watched. He didn’t seem threatening, he looked more curious if anything, and his hair was green and well as his eyes, you also took note of the freckles on his cheeks. He was looking at one of your glass pieces, a bunny that had green speckles all over it, he was also mumbling to himself, eyes glistening with curiosity and awe, you smiled at his seemingly gentle nature as he carefully held the glass piece.

“You can have it if you want”, you suddenly say, making the naga jolt with a yelp as the glass bunny slipped from his fingers, he made a sound that was between a wheeze and his as he frantically tried to catch the glass.

You watched with worry as a hand raised to your mouth until the naga firmly grasped the glass bunny and turned towards you, “U-Uh IMSOSORRY”, he quickly apologizes, you give a relieved smile.

“Sorry that I scared you there, I should’ve announced my presence in a different manner”, you chuckle as you rub the back of your neck.

“Um well, I was intruding on your property”, he sheepishly says as he looked down at the painted bunny in his hands, he slithered up to you, passing you your mini artwork, “Here, you made it right? I should give it back”

You silently stared at the glass bunny, before smiling up at him and closing his fingers around the object before gently pushing his hands towards him, “Like I said, you can have it if you want, my little pieces in there were me practicing different techniques”.

The naga blushed as he began to stutter, “A-ah! A-are you sure? I mean, you probably spent hours on these things!”.

“It’s fine, I can make plenty of more”, you chirp, before stretching your hand to him, “I’m (Y/n) by the way, (Y/n) (L/n)”.

He stared at you for a bit before smiling and taking your hand in his and shakes it, “I’m Izuku, Izuku Midoriya”

It was the start of a newfound friendship.

~~~

You smiled as you set down the newly made glass piece, it was a gift for your newly made scally friend Ochaco, “Do you think she’ll like it Deku?”, you turned to the emerald boa as you wiped the sweat off your cheek.

“I am sure she would, I mean you did go as far as to ask me what she would like, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it”, Izuku smiles.

While Izuku was a bit nervous about introducing his naga friends, but you encouraged him to let you meet them, they also did the same thing when he told them about you. Ochaco Urakra was a Slaty Gray snake, and Tenya Iida was a Blue Racer, you were in awe of their appearance and couldn’t help but compliment them about it, they also returned the gesture despite not really grasping human terms well. Still, you became fast friends with the two and you kept them hidden from anyone who visited your home and work shack, it has been months now.

So when you heard that it was nearing Ochaco’s hatching day, you decided to make her a glass piece since she always loved watching you work on them. You were also mildly surprised that they could still go out during the winter, but Izuku informed you that they would have more restrictions on how far they could go out and how far they could go after telling you.

So with a smile you carefully moved the glass in your hands, it was a star mimicking one that shined, it was transparent for the most part but it did have sprinkles of pink dots here and there. “Yeah I did, didn’t I, still I really hope she likes it”, you hum.

“She did say she liked stargazing that one night you decided to work late”, he points out.

“Ah~ you got me there”, you both laugh as you set down the gift carefully on the shelf before putting other glassworks in front of it to hide it. 

“Uraraka is also pretty excited, I know Iida got her something, I also have her gift ready for her back in my den, I just hope they don’t make a surprise visit there since I am still trying to wrap it “, Izuku sheepishly admits as you chuckle.

“Speaking of Iida, how is he doing? Last I heard from Uraraka his brother was in a scuffle before he too got in touch with the perpetrator along with yourself and another friend of yours”, you say, a hint of worry seeping into your tone.

“Oh, yeah, that… Well Iida is improving now, and his brother is doing better, still he can’t exactly move his tail though and usually needs help getting around, the other naga that was causing the problems”, he explained, momentarily recalling your worried state when he came back from the incident with a few scrapes and bruises.

“That’s good! You guys had me worried ya’ know”, you tease as Izuku began to fluster.

“A-Ah I’m so sorry (Y/n)! Oh geez!-”

“Izuku it’s fine, you’re forgiven silly, but~... promise to come to be when you get into scuffles alright? I worry about you, ya know”, you pout, Izuku gave you a sheepish smile as you stretched before looking up at the sky. “I better get home then, it’s getting late, good night Izuku”, you waved at the naga who waved back.

“Night (Y/n)”, he smiles.

“Hmm~ Oh and Izuku…”, you call out to the naga once more, making him raise his head at you, “...stay safe, yeah?”, you smile as he chuckled lightly.

“I’ll try”, he finally says, making you grin before walking off, when you left a frown formed on his lips as he felt a small tug at his heart. Something about you leaving always bothered him.

As he left your home he made sure to do a quick search around your house for any pests or strangers before leaving to group up with his friends. Upon arriving Ochaco and Tenya greeted Izuku cheerfully, “Deku!/Midoriya!”

“Ah-! Oh Hi Uraraka, Tenya, where are the others?”, Izuku asked, looking around the meeting area.

“Mr. Aizawa said that some might come late since some of our fellow members are dealing with gathering resources or trespassers”, Tenya explained.

“Yeah, from what I heard; Shigaraki and his league have been snooping around our borders, it’s kinda scary~”, Ochaco pouts before looking at Izuku who was looking at the ground. Frowning at her friend's mild distress she asked, “Are you worried about (Y/n)? I know her village is near the borders right? I worry for her too...”, Ochaco frowned at the thought of her human friend being hurt by the rogue nagas.

“W-...Was it that obvious?”, Izuku asked as he looked between the blue racer and slaty gray nagas as he crossed his arms around his face.

“You did reveal your affections for the human awhile back, so it did become easier to tell when you think about (L/n), Midoriya”, Tenya points out.

Izuku felt his face warm up as he looked away, “Ah-ha, I forgot I did that~”, he dryly recalled before looking down again, “Still though, I just… don’t know if I can tell her…”, he sadly frowns.

Ochaco smiled as she shook Izuku, making him yelp, “You won’t know if you don’t try! Besides, I’m sure (L/n) likes you too! I know it, call it a woman’s intuition!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works Uraraka!!”, Tenya panicked while he tried to stop Ochaco shaking the poor emerald boa. 

Once she let go Izuku’s world spun before he fell back.

“Midoriya!”

“AHH! DEKU I’M SO SORRY!”

~~~

Izuku was determined today, for he finally decided that today was the day he would confess to you. “What’s the worst that could happen…”, he thinks before he recalls Tenya’s words.

“If all else fails, she is likely to reject you Midoriya”

Izuku mentaly cried at the thought of being outright rejected as he inhaled deeply before looking down at the tulips in his hand, Shoto helped him make a bouquet of them, and while the majority consisted of red tulips there were some yellow ones included. With one more deep breath he appeared from behind the rock formation that was a few feet away from your work shack, “H-hey (Y/n), how was you-”

“Oh I’m sorry Izuku but my granddaughter is not here”, a kind voice speaks as the elderly woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled, “I have to say though, it feels like history is repeating itself in a better way”, the elderly woman jovally laughed as she looked down at the scarf she was knitting. 

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, but her words about history repeating itself caught his attention and well as the revelation of her being your grandmother, “Wh-what? So you’re (Y/n) grandma?”, he says absently.

“I am, it is great to meet you Izuku, (Y/n) has talked about you so much you know~”, the elderly woman smiled as she continued knitting.

Izuk blushed before recalling her words, “If I may ask Mrs. what do you mean about ‘history repeating itself’?”, he asked.

She smiled as she explained, “You see, when I was younger I made friends with a naga called Lidiya, we grew up together you see, and she saved me from an awful place but in the act of doing so I was forced to leave her behind”, she still smiled kindly as she spoke, “I dearly miss her, sometimes I wonder if she still alive… but I am content with my life and all the memories I had with her, and now that I see what my granddaughter has been up to I feel happy for her!”.

Izuku stared in awe at your grandmother her laughed jovally before gesturing to the bouquet of flowers behind his back, “Those flowers are for her yes?”, she asked.

“Y-yes~”, Izuku admits sheepishly before perking up as your grandmother gently pats his head.

“Don’t worry too much Izuku, I know she’ll return your affections”, she says as she stands up.

“How do you know?”, he asked, genuinely curious and slightly anxious.

“It’s in the way she talks about you, how she talks about you… but most importantly it’s in the way her eyes twinkle when she speaks about you Izuku”, she smiled, and then they heard your footsteps as you called out.

“Grandma! Do you need help getting back home- Huh? Oh Izuku you’re here!”, you chirp as you wave at him, Izuku waved back as he hid the bouquet behind his back before you turned to look back at your grandmother who was already walking to the house.

“I’m fine dear, Izuku is such a nice boy, you should’ve introduced me to him sooner”, she chuckled as you blushed.

“Grandma!”, you panic before sheepishly smiling back at Izuku, “She didn’t say anything too embarrassing did she?”, you ask.

Izuku only smiled, “She didn’t”.

“Great!”, you smile before getting inside your work shed, the routeing continuing as you and Izuku spoke about what has been going on and about your days until Izuku remembered the flowers.

“Hey, (Y/n)...”, Izuku called to you.

“Yes Izu- Oh!”, you gape at the bouquet of tulips shown in your direction as Izuku hid his face behind them.

“I-... I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while- but I- I didn’t know how to get around it so…!”, Izuku looked up at you with a very red face while you stared at him with wide eyes, “(Y/n)... I- I really -REALLY- l-love you!”, he squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for your response.

“Izuku…”, you trail off, seeing him flince made your heart race as you smiled at him, taking the tulips you grin when his head shot up to look at you,”... I love you too!”

Izuku stared at you, blown back by your answer before tears filled his eyes as he went to hug you, “(Y/N)!”, he cried as he nuzzled into your neck. You laughed as you hugged him back.

~~~

Extra:

After the revelations of your shared feelings for one another you decided to show Izuku something, “Are your eyes closed?”, you ask.

“Yep, I promise”, Izuku assures you as you pull down the cloth on your masterpiece.

“Okay… now open them!”, you smile as Izuku slowly opened his eyes before gapping at the art work before him.

It was a coiled up Emerald Tree Boa coiled that was around your height with green speckles all over it.

“I’m not exactly done with it, but it’s a gift I was crafting for you for when I confessed, but you know, you beat me to the punch”, you chuckle.

“(Y/n), it’s amazing”, Izuku assured you as he held your hands.

A smile formed on your lips as tears filled your eyes, “Thanks Izuku”.

[hunidlo]

Call of Fire

CHAPTER 1 - The Ship

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Warnings: slow burn fic,  graphic descriptions of gore coming in the following chapters - mild violence in this chapter, language

A/N: The first chapter is loosely based on Season 1, Episode 4: Sanctuary. English is not my first language so apologies for any mistakes in grammar. But you know, I try. Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: You should have known better than to sneak into the Mandalorian’s ship, trying to steal from him. 

Next Chapter >   //  Masterlist

***

You hear the familiar, yet unwelcome sound of a horn.

They are coming.

Everyone gives up whatever they are doing at the moment and all people start quietly gathering on the tiny square in the middle of the village. 

You know the drill—you slowly join them.

The villagers are standing next to each other in a line. No one is moving, talking, or making any sound really. About twenty people that you have grown to care about over the past fifteen years, just waiting, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

They always come on the last day of the quarter. Bandits. A horde of armed thieves which have been exploiting the village for more than five years now, living off your supplies, occasionally beating up a couple of villagers to manifest that they can and are not afraid to eliminate anyone who would stand in their way. Then they take most of the harvest you have gathered—leaving the villagers with barely enough to live from—and leave. 

This time is not different.

So you just stand there and watch as they go through and start munching on your supplies again while one of them—you previously figured he is their leader—is patrolling, resting his hand on his holster just to let everyone know he would not hesitate to use his blaster in case of resistance. As usual, with a smug smile on his scarred face—convinced of his own invincibility—he is walking back and forth along the line you and the villagers have formed. He is clearly amused by the frightened faces in front of him.

You feel bile boiling in your guts. You clench your fists by your sides, pressing your nails into your palms achingly, frustrated with your helplessness. You fear them too, just like the rest of your friends, and you would be a fool not to. You are well aware of the fact that you stand no chance against one of them, let alone all thirty. They have blasters, spears and armour. Fairly simple and shabby but still—armour. It’s more than the linen clothes you are wearing. 

Moreover, there are no weapons in the village, at least none that would be of any use against blasters. You’re not even sure if having guns would be much of a help. Everyone here is a farmer. They are good farmers—there is no doubt about that—but no match against the bandits. Your villagers know how to grow crops but they know little about fighting. 

And you? 

Well, you are not quite sure what you are and whether you fit in the village, yet you’re quite certain that you’re no fighter either. 

However—unlike your friends, and despite your fear—you have an excruciating urge to intervene, to stand up to the brutes, fight back and banish them from the village once and for all. 

It feels like a fire inside you—it’s spreading throughout your body growing stronger and stronger whenever you have to witness this injustice again. 

Maybe you could learn how to fight? … Practice?

Nonetheless, right now you feel like you can do absolutely nothing to prevent the raiders from stealing what your friends and you have spent collecting for weeks. So you just obediently stand there with the rest of them.

It is over soon.

“See you in three months,” their leader grins, rolling up his lips and showing his teeth that have most probably been filed down to resemble sharp fangs. You jerk a little as a wave of repulsion runs through you. Then he turns and leaves, following his fellows and the cart that they just loaded up with their loot.

You watch the raiders and your harvest vanish in the woods—

„Someone needs to do something,“ you say, turning your head to Zullu who is still standing silently next to you, watching the villagers as they start cleaning up the mess the bandits made during their visit while counting how much of the harvest they left and whether it will be enough to survive for the next three months.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice thin. Zullu is still evidently shaken from the whole experience. She is younger than you, probably in her early twenties, and she has been like a younger sister to you. Despite the fact that she has seen the bandits raiding her village many times now, she seems to have never gotten used to it and is terrified every time it happens.

You take a deep breath. “I dunno… but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sharing our food with these bastards, fearing them every time they come stealing from us. We should fight back.” 

Zullu stares at her feet for a couple of moments, then raises her eyes sadly back to you. “Come on.”

You sigh, and both you and Zullu help the others, then try to go on with your day while still weighed down by your incapability to do anything in situations like this.

***

Almost three months later, you are resting on the grass on top of the hill above the village. The sun is high. Lying on your back as you lazily chew a straw of grass, you are watching the clouds peacefully floating in the sky. You have finished your work on the field for today and need some time for yourself to relax. You feel your eyelids getting heavy when you notice Zullu running furiously towards you. 

“Have you seen it?” she yells from distance.

“What?” you blink in surprise, noticing the urgency in her voice—the need to take a nap forgotten. She is short of breath when she gets to you, struggling to talk coherently because of her unsuppressed excitement. 

“The.. the ship—I… I saw it flying over the woods… huge—landed on the clearing near the lake!” She bends over, hands on her knees, as she is trying to catch her breath.

 A ship? Never have you seen any ship coming to this forbidden part of the planet. It’s too far away from the closest town, there's literally no reason for anyone to ever come here.

“Do you think it might be them?” Zullu raises her head to look at you, her eyes suddenly wider.

Her question unsettles you a little. You try to stay calm, but you do take a moment before you reply. “What business would they have here?”

“Uh, maybe—” Zullu starts but you quickly interrupt her as you neither want to talk nor think any longer about what she is referring to. There’s no way it can be them, right?

“Probably just someone looking for a place to resupply and buy some spotchka before they set off again.” You wave your hand in a dismissive gesture as you begin walking back towards the village. “On the other hand….” You halt for a second and narrow your eyes. An idea starts to form in your head—

“I need to see it,” you burst out suddenly. “You go home, stay there. Understand?”

“I wanna go with you,” Zullu immediately protests.

“No way. It can be dangerous, I’m going alone.” You’re firm.

“But— ”

“Go—home.”

Zullu knows there is no point negotiating with you right now so she starts walking sluggishly down the path leading to the village and kicking the tallest blades of grass on the way while mumbling something unintelligible to herself.

You put on your hood and cover your face with your scarf so that only your eyes now peek out from your disguise.

A true spy—you think.

In a couple of hours you get to the lake where Zullu saw the ship descending. You pass it and continue your stroll through the now rather dense woods.

“It must be close,” you assure yourself, looking at your boots that are covered in thick mud and suppressing the little voice in your head telling you that coming to look for the mysterious ship was a stupid idea.

Getting closer to the end of the forest, you crouch a little, progress slowly and tread cautiously through the bushes, trying not to make any unwanted noises. Landed on the clearing, there is a starship—just as Zullu described. You notice that the hatch is lowered down. You stay hidden behind the shrubs, not moving a muscle, just trying to steady your breathing. Suddenly—

You hear cracking sounds behind you. You turn around promptly but relax as soon as you see the source of them.

“I told you to stay in the village,” you hiss at Zullu who is approaching you clumsily in what is apparently her idea of a stealth mode.

It could have occurred to you that she would follow you. She has the same sense for adventure even though she usually gets a bit more scared than you do.

“I wanted to see it too,” she blinks innocently.

You sigh. “Okay… but be quiet, they might be dangerous.”

She breaks a few branches before she manages to settle next to you. 

You roll your eyes, just hoping the ship’s crew did not hear the rustle. 

You both observe the ship for a couple of minutes. 

It looks deserted.

“You said it was huge.” You raise your eyebrows at Zullu.

“It looked huge on the sky,” she says defensively, her voice slightly pitched.

“I don’t think there could be more than... three people... at most—and it looks…” You tilt your head sideways, “...old.” 

Well, that’s an understatement. 

It’s a wreck to be honest. You are undeniably a bit disappointed about the miserable condition of the vessel in front of you for it might not be as helpful as you thought after all. On the other hand... it is apparently a gunship—judging by the two laser cannons. 

You shake your head and sigh, “Like I said, I’m sure they just needed to land here for maintenance and to resupply.”

“Lier!” Zullu frowns and elbows you in the ribs.

You jerk with surprise. 

“You—You want to see if there are any weapons... want to use them against the bandits, don’t you?”

She can see right through you, can’t she.

“Not sure yet, first I’m gonna explore it, see whom we have the honour with. Maybe—”

You freeze.

Before you can finish your sentence, a figure emerges from the bowels of the ship and descends the ramp. You are too far away from the scene to recognise clearly who or what it is, but you’re able to see that the figure is… silver? Strangely—but yes, it appears so. It is covered in silver metal that reflects the sunlight so well that it blinds you, preventing you from seeing them properly.

“Is it…. a droid?” Zullu asks dubiously, squinting her eyes to see better.

“Could be... looks dangerous, though.”

And you’re right—there is something about the way they are holding themselves while walking that looks so self-confident and…. and menacing. You can’t tell whether the nauseating feeling in your stomach is fear or excitement.

You observe as the figure walks in the direction of the town—a fishing town—the only larger settlement that can be found on this part of the planet, and which is a couple of miles from where you are right now. You’re wondering what business they might have there unless they are passionate about recreational fishing—which you seriously doubt. They disappear in the woods opposite to you two, leaving the hatch—and therefore the ship—open.

Not so smart, you think and smile devilishly.

“You—stay—put.” You command, emphasizing every word as you say it, remembering what happened the last time you said something similar to Zullu earlier that day.

“Fine,” she exhales and rolls her eyes.

You sneak out from the bush and head to the ship. The owner, whoever they might be, is not in sight. You slowly, carefully get to the ramp and enter the ship, ready to run for your life the moment you see or hear anything suspicious. 

You look around and relax a little. 

It seems empty and you are quite certain now that whoever’s just left was its only inhabitant. You quickly scout the interior. It almost looks bigger on the inside. The cargo hold that you entered is dark, illuminated only by the dim light coming from the outside through the open hatch. You spot one small bunk in the wall at the end of the hull.

“Not a droid, then—” you deduce.

You can see a lot of boxes of ship spare parts stored neatly in the hull, wooden crates apparently functioning as provisory chairs and a side table—judging by their positioning and the toolbox lying on one of them—and a strange complex metal frame with a purpose that remains completely unknown to you. You notice a ladder leading most probably to the cockpit, and a small control panel of some sort right next to it. 

“Eh, what the hell…” you shrug after a moment of consideration and press the big green button on the panel. The metal cabinet on the wall opposite the ladder opens with a hiss.

“Nice!” you smirk excitedly when you realize it’s a weapons locker.

There are dozens of various guns and undoubtedly lethal gadgets. You have no idea what most of them do or how to operate them but you don’t care. You take a couple of hesitant steps, stretch out your hands—eyes fixed on a peculiar black gun in the middle of the locker but—

—the cabinet closes rapidly, startling the living hell out of you. You jump back, pressing your hands to your chest, and frantically look around. 

Standing on top of the ramp, right in the ship’s entrance, there is the metal stranger. With his large armoured body, he is blocking the only way off this ship. Maker, he’s broad.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks calmly even though you can sense the passive aggressiveness in his tone so his question sounds more like a threat. His voice coming from under the helmet is cold and deep, chilling your insides and squeezing your throat shut. His hand is hovering over the holster by his side. You swallow hard.

You cannot see his face as he’s wearing a helmet made from the same material as the rest of his armour, and is staring at you through a black T-shaped visor which prevents anyone from seeing his face.

Paralyzed with fear, you do not answer him.

After a moment of silence that feels like eternity, he starts striding towards you. 

Shit, shit, shit, goes through your head repeatedly. 

Then the familiar fire ignites in your stomach and you know you need to act. Out of desperation, you grab something which could well be a wrench from the toolbox that is laying on one of the wooden crates in front of you. You know it’s a bad idea even before you actually do it but your hands are apparently faster than your brain right now. You throw the wrench in his general direction hoping it could distract him, gaining you just enough time to escape.

You launch forward towards the exit focusing on your one and only task—getting off this damn ship. You know that once you are in the woods again, he will never be able to get you because you know the area far too well. With your eyes pinned to the opened hatch that represents your freedom, you don’t notice that the stranger dodges the wrench with his forearm almost lazily before it even hits his chest. Not that it would do much damage anyway. You’re just about to rush past him and get out of his reach. You can make it. Yes... yes... yes—

—nope. A thick armour-plated arm lands on your stomach. He rapidly hooks his arm around your abdomen, tugs you back and slams you against his cold, rock-hard chest plate. You begin furiously kicking around while trying to wiggle yourself out of his strong hold and shooting your elbows back in vain attempts to hit him. He growls and tries to readjust his grip on you, lifting you off the ground and holding you midair when— 

—one of his hands accidentally grasps your breast. He gasps sharply—the fact obviously shocking him more than you.

He doesn’t hesitate for long though, quickly and firmly grabs your shoulders and spins you around—disorienting you for a moment—until you find yourself facing the pitch-black visor with only inches separating your face and his helmet. You’re in trouble now and you know it. Panic surges through you and you feel petrified once again. His leather-gloved hand comes up and not very gently pulls down the scarf covering your nose and mouth. 

For a moment he just stares at you. Clutching your jaw tightly in his hand—squeezing your cheeks with his index finger and thumb until you are pouting your lips—he tilts your head up to study your face. Towering above you like this and leaning closer, he’s bloody intimidating. You’re powerless, just gawking back at the visor, heart hampering in your chest.

Now what?

Out of the blue, he shoots his free hand backwards. 

You glimpse behind him and see why. 

Zullu is standing behind your captor holding a thick stick, using it as a bludgeon to attack the stranger. Unfortunately—even without ever having shifted his visor away from you—he is somehow able to hear or sense the impending assault and catch the bludgeon behind his back before it can make the contact, the result being Zullu now pulling at one end of the stick, trying to get her improvised weapon back from his iron grip. 

That’s when he looks over his shoulder too to see the attacker. 

Such a distraction is, however, enough for you to act. You swiftly slip by the metal giant and make your way to the exit.

“Run!” You finally find your voice again and take Zullu’s hand as you pass by. 

She let’s go of the stick and you both run out of the ship towards the woods, not even daring to look back to check if he’s following you.

He isn’t.

“What was that?” Zullu is gasping, trying to keep up with you. You are clutching her hand in yours, almost dragging the poor girl behind you as you run. “Was that a droid?”

You stop to catch your breath only when you are sure you’re far enough from the clearing. 

“That... was a fucking Mandalorian!”

***

Next Chapter >  //  Masterlist

[werezmastarbucks]

guest

the reader opens up to her boyfriend about the demonic intruder haunting her at nights

tyler joseph x reader x kai parker

genre: horror

warnings: stalking

word count: 2950

music: ode to sleep by twenty one pilots, o come o come by tyler joseph

At night you put the drawer to the door and put your lava lamp on top. You fell asleep every time looking at the changing neon soft lights, to get woken up at three exactly, to the sound of his fists drumming on the door. Every night.

He’d come from the corridor, a tall shadow, as you once saw him, not in a hurry at all. He knew you wouldn’t run anywhere, not even through the window, because you were always afraid of getting too far out of it.

He’d walk down the corridor and to the door, and try to open it. Once he succeeded, and was inside your room, and you woke up, to see the silhouette standing above you. In the dark of night, he looked completely black. His eyes were vaguely glowing, and you were completely cemented in your place. People are generally divided into two groups when scared: those who scream, and those who freeze. There’s a legend that there’s also a thin layer in between, a group of people who fight, but you’ve never met one. The closest to that was your boyfriend.

You never told Tyler about the ghost hunting your house. You were scared to seem nuts; you had no proof and hasn’t caught it once, largely because the ghost was trying to catch you.

At school, you weren’t really the people’s favorite, so you just got through moderately peacefully by sticking with your best friend and your boyfriend.

What would you say anyway? Hey, Tyler. There’s this dude, he started manifesting himself at my house at nights. He’s invisible to everybody except me, and he always appears in the middle of the corridor, and walks to my room, and I don’t know what he wants to do with me, but he scares the shit out of me.

You were afraid he’d think you got some issues, and find someone better.

There wasn’t much you could do except put the drawer close to the door, and make it heavy, piling all your tings on top, and turn on the lava lamp to see when he comes.

Sometimes you thought it was all your imagination. You’ve heard that urban legend about a girl who thought her house was haunted. The things disappeared, and she heard voces constantly bothering her day and night. She saw shadow people lurking outside, trying to break inside the house, and one of them actually smothered her dog; when she realized she’s the only one seeing all of them, she took it upon herself to protect her family. That girl had a little sister, too, and didn’t want any harm to come upon her. Maybe she was a witch, or just had this thing that some people have. The kind of sensitivity for supernatural things. She was the only one who could defend her loved ones.

She got armed with a kitchen knife and attacked them the next time they tried to get inside. Strike, before they make a move. The girl allegedly spent a tough long afternoon chasing ghosts around her front yard, and killed all of them. To then discover they were, in fact, her family, and she’s been hallucinating the whole time.

That’s the kind of stories that were floating around in the town. No one would really believe you if you told what’s happening. Although your case was slightly different from that poor girl’s. The black shadow guy coming for you almost every night seemed to only have interest in you. It was like he was uncertain yet; that one time he actually got inside the room, he vanished, as you lay there, paralyzed by fear. You never managed to get rid of the sight of him, disproportionally tall, completely silent, watching you in bed. He seemed like he was about to bow, but you opening your eyes made him change his mind.

Other nights he was more persistent and you bet he regretted not having acted while he had a chance.

Usually he wouldn’t get past the door barricaded by the drawer.

You’d look at the lava lamp sending her orange, red, green and infernal blue light across the room, like it was a safe beacon of protective fire; as if it could actually stop him. While he hammered his fists on the door, pulling and twisting the handle, you held the blanket with your numb fingers. You were never religious so you never prayed. You had a strong feeling he wasn’t afraid of Jesus.

The worst thing was seeing the drawer move and wiggle when he pushed the door with his shoulder. Once, the lava lamp nearly tipped over, and you moaned with fear. Nobody heard anything in the morning, and that one time you screamed, unable to hold it inside anymore, you got in a big row with your parents.

Tyler took your fist and tried to undo it, to interlace his fingers with yours.

It was that hour after school when you’re not ready to go home yet, and the street seems gray even in the middle of the afternoon, and everybody looks like zombies.

Maybe I am going crazy after all. Thinking about stuff like that, and listening to depressing music, all those things at school weighing on you, made you feel like you were tied to the house, because the demon boy was there. You were afraid he’d do something to your family, too.

“You don’t seem like yourself these days”, Tyler complained, but his voice sounded pondering, as usual. He was a philosopher, this guy, always analyzing stuff and the words people say, reading into them.

“I don’t sleep well”, you said, putting your head on his shoulder. His soft black hoodie was warm even on the outside. His baggy clothes, his hands, like the lava lamp, seemed such a safe territory. You were scared he’d take it all away if you told him.

“Why?”

You knew Tyler had insomnia, too. He was suffering from regular headaches, turning into prolonged migraine, that started on the top of his head and cralwed down to the very base of his neck. You suspected he had some kind of injury he never spoke about. He did double work; taking care of you and fighting his own pain all the time. You knew it hurts even during the day. You read him when he suddenly put his head into his hands or stopped talking in the middle of the sentence. His silence was soft and dignified. He carried it well. You wished you could help him somehow. Sometimes he’d look so sad, such deep regret in his eyes, that you’d think it was something more serious that he let out.

Now you just needed him.

“I don’t know”, you shrugged.

“Huh. Doesn’t seem true”.

You hid a little guilty smile in the fold of his hoodie sleeve. Your arms vined around his shoulder, and you two watched the playground for some time, silently.

“Is something happening, Y/N?” he asked.

You felt bad.

“I don’t know”, you muttered again, like a dummy. “I’m sorry”.

You kissed his cheek as he tried to read you with his dark eyes. His ears caught your soft whisper.

I love you.

You heard the footsteps and rolled onto your back. Your elbows started hurting almost instantly as you tried to lift yourself up. Sleeping with the lava lamp on, you ruined your dreams completely, and you were sure the sleep wasn’t as healthy as it was supposed to be. You were dozing instead of sleeping, waking up every five minutes, horrible visions floating around.

You knew what came next. He stopped at the door, and for the hundreth time, you couldn’t believe it’s happening. How, in the rational boring world, do you get to have a night intruder vanishing in thin air, getting out of the darkness of your house like a vampire; why you?

The soft knock on the door didn’t, and wouldn’t wake your parents up. You were glad you didn’t have any pets; you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to a dog barking at him.

Your heart pounding, you sat yourself, back to the wall, feeling the glossy smooth surface of a poster with your bare shoulder. Your own hand snaked up to your neck, holding the whimper inside the throat.

He knocked again, mockingly polite, as always. He never said a word, like he didn’t have a voice, which was way scarier.

Knock knock knock still sent a very clear mesage: let me in.

You just wished you’d get through your night routine as usual, and he’d leave again. You felt exhausted, old, thinking, you were slowly getting used to being haunted.

Suddenly, a hammering knock shuddered the door, and you jumped. The back of your neck started sweating. The lava lamp changed from orange to purple, the color you hated because it was too dark for the night. The people on your posters, smiling indifferently at you, they had no idea. They wouldn’t help.

Bang bang bang!

His hand was heavy. He was hitting the door like he was a drumming machine, at the fast pace as if trying to drive you crazy. The door stood, loyal and hard, but when he started colliding with it with his shoulder, it shook like carton.

Suddenly, the thing happened that hasn’t occurred before, and you put the hands to your mouth, feeling the blood pump in your ears.

The drawer actually moved.

He is getting stronger.

The lock clicked, and the door opened half an inch. Lava lamp tipped and fell on its side, banging on the wood, and you closed your eyes for a second.

You held your breath. The demon boy stopped. All of a sudden, there was whistling silence, and you heard the night wind outside. The narrow black line between the door and the wall was sucking the light out, the blackest you’ve ever seen, like space vaccum. Magnetizing your gaze.

You couldn’t sleep like that. The crack was big enough for him to watch you.

You crawled out of bed and listened again: nothing. Perhaps he exhausted himself opening the door. It seemed like he only had so much energy for one night.

Your knees were shaking violently as you stepped to the drawer and put the lamp back up. The jelly soft bubbles were drifting inside, like soulless clouds, casting neon colors on your face.

You reached for the door to push it back closed, having no desire to look into the crack... as your fingers touched the wood, a violent push crashed on it, moving the door and the drawer together. You jumped away, unable to hold a yell.

He was getting inside.

You crashed into the opposite wall. The drawer now stood almost sideways, and door was open wide enough for him to slither inside.

“Go away”, you begged.

“But I love you”, a voice said.

Your knees gave in, and you slid down on the floor, grouping so hard you could come off as a big cat. Your arms wrapped around your legs. He sounded hollow, alien, as if he was standing far away, wrapped in a plastic bag. The door moved a little, and he showed his head inside the room. Seeing him, a human looking guy, was so catastrophically sobering that your mind went numb.

He didn’t have horns or black eyes, or sharp teeth of a monster. His face wasn’t distorted or disfigured; he looked like a usual boy. Only, there was this predatory hungry look about him. Sadistic smirk curled his lips when he looked at you sitting on the floor.

“Go away”, you asked again. He cocked his head, mockery in his eyes.

“That’s a pretty lamp”.

He moved so sharply you jumped again, throwing yourself into another corner of the room, like a cat that doesn’t think at all. Your joints were burning, working to escape, but there was nowhere to run.

He held onto the door, and with the other hand, he snatched the lava lamp from the drawer. You didn’t look, pressing your face into the wall, but there was a characterisical click, and the room went dark.

He stole your lava lamp and stole your beacon light.

The walls of his house were stiff and reliable. You liked to be in Tyler’s room because of all the things connected to him. You appreciated his constant musing; some people even said he was a bit slow sometimes. Tyler was a bit sad. But the saddest people are the most precious when you make them smile, and you made Tyler smile a lot.

He was funny when he swung his baseball bat, pretending to be a bad boy, about to smash some heads. He had a quirky sense of humor that always entertained you in a way that stuck with you. He was special, and he was good, and you were completely fine with others not getting him.

You were looking at the baseball bat put against the wall next to the book case.

Tyler came into the room with the towel on his head, rubbing hard his short soft hair, and then threw in right onto the bed. You stood up, sighing, and tried to find a place to hang it.

“You’re messy”, you noted. Tyler puffed, disinterested.

“You okay? You never get up so early on a Saturday”.

“Uh-huh”.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

There was hope in his voice; obviousy. He wasn’t fooled by all the badly masked secrets you kept. Like an owl, he watched you closely, but never intruded, probably, trained well by his folks: he knew how much it sucks when someone is trying to get under your skin. Even his mom thought he was weird, while he was simply sanguine; so she bugged him constantly.

He patted the bed next to him, inviting you. You liked to sit close so that your thighs touched, you connected to him.

“I need to tell you about what’s going on in my house”.

Tyler was quiet.

“There’s someone... uh”.

Anything you’d say, it would come out fucking stupid. Like in a movie.

“There’s this person who comes to my house at nights and tries to get into my room. I’m the only one who can see him. At first I thought I was sick, but last night, Tyler, he took something from my room, and it isn’t there. I think he exists”.

His face hardened. Tyler changed; the expression of his usually kind demeanor was something you’ve never seen before. It was hostile, and for a moment, he felt very distant.

“What does he look like?” he asked, his voice low.

You were taken aback by his question. No ‘are you sure’, no ‘you mean like a ghost?’, no ‘is this a joke?’.

His arm went up your shoulder, and he hugged you, bringing you close as if to keep this conversation quiet and between you. You were getting a strange sensation.

“Y/N, what does he look like?”

“Like a boy. A usual, teenage boy. You believe me?”

“You should see yourself nowadays. You look tired and horrified”.

Tyler never called you ‘honey’, or ‘baby’. His ‘you’s said much more than that. Sometimes they communicated way more tenderness than any nickname.

“You spoke quietly, and then he said he’d stay with you for the night. He got very upset you didn’t tell earlier. His frustration at it seemed very deep; like something made him profoundly uncomfortable. You’ve also never seen peaceful, quiet Tyler so menacing.

He took the baseball bat with him.

“Shithead!”

A sound of broken glass pulled you out of sleep, vivid and simultaneously, ghostly. You couldn’t tell if you dreamt it or not.

The room was dark; without the lamp there was no way of telling who else was in here. You searched for Tyler next to you, and he wasn’t in bed. The sheets were stil warm, and you had a sensation of his skin under your hand.

You sat in your bed, dizzy. As your eyes got used to the dark, you finally realized the drawer is moved away from the door.

There was something happening in the upstairs bathroom.

You jumped off the bed. You couldn’t lose him. Tyler was yours.

You went to the door and opened it wide, stepping into the darkness. Few feet away, the narrow line of light was indicating someone was in the bathroom. Okay, maybe Tyler just knocked something over because he’s sleepy.

“Come here!”

His voice was hissing like a snake. He was whispering, but it sounded like the rain noise. Something bumped against the door, like there was a swift fight.

“Tyler!” you called.

Silence. Then, a sudden burst of laughter of that hollow, distant voice again. Your feet carried you on, and you pulled the handle, opening the door. Laughter rang in your ears, fading away in the depth of the house and your own brain. For a second, you were blinded and frightened by the light.

Your lava lamp sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, and Tyler was holding onto it, panting, his back humped like he’s been trying to outpower someone. But there was no one else.

His neck was covered in black, something that looked like blood, or oil, but was complete, vanta color, and it moved, as if darkness was consuming, coming up to his chin. Tyler’s jaws pressed together, and then he turned and looked at you - with the eyes of a stranger instead of his own. Like there was somebody else inside.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #57: Eric Bloodaxe

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making Eric Bloodaxe, He’s a Viking king best known for his bloody axe, which is why they call him “Bloodaxe King”.

Check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the build summary over here!

Race and Background

Eric is a Viking, and therefore probably Human, which will give him +1 to all his stats. He may be a king, but we’re going to make him a Marine, for Athletics, Survival, and Land and Water Vehicle proficiency. 

Stats:

In typical berserker fashion, your stats go Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Charisma, Intelligence, Wisdom, in order from highest to lowest. You’re strong, tough and built like a brick, but your Madness Enhancement wrecks your mental stats. Your Charisma is less wrecked than the others though, both because you’re scary and because we’ll need it for multiclassing. We’re multiclassing into Warlock to get Gunnhild into the mix, partly because I don’t want to make three fighter-barbarian builds in as many weeks, partly because I’m scared about what she’ll do to me if I don’t put her in.

Class Levels

1. Barbarian 1: Wild, right? First level barbarians have proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two barbarian skills. You’re a scary guy, so you’ve got Intimidation down pat. And you can see how lovely your wife is, so your Perception has to be great! please don’t hurt me

You also get Rage, which you can activate as a bonus action for extra damage with strength based attacks, advantage on strength based rolls, and resistance to common physical damage. You also get Unarmored Defense, giving you an unarmored AC of pretty good, based on your dexterity and constitution.

2. Warlock 1: The question of what warlock patron Gunnhild would fit under is a tricky one. Mechanically, the one thing we know you can do is curse people, and Hex is a first level spell any warlock can learn. The Fiend’s off the table right now for reasons I can’t go into, so my second pick would be the Raven Queen. Alongside their normal charisma-based Pact Magic, warlocks of the Raven Queen get a Sentinel Raven, a raven shaped spirit that obeys your husband’s commands. When perched on his shoulder, it can’t be targeted by attacks or other negative effects, and takes no damage. It also gives him 30 feet of darkvision and adds his charisma modifier to his perception checks. As long as it’s within 100 feet of him, they can speak telepathically, share senses, and it can wake him up as a bonus action. If the raven’s killed, he gets advantage on all attacks against the killer for 24 hours. The raven vanishes if either of them are killed, or they’re separated by more than 5 miles. Finally, he can recall the raven, even from death, at the end of short or long rests.

For your cantrips, Toll the Dead will help you finish off whatever your husband started, and Infestation will make them regret starting anything in the first place. For spells, grab Hex for the obligatory curses, and Unseen Servant to manifest yourself to help out.

3. Barbarian 2: Second level barbarians get a Reckless Attack, and when you use it you get advantage on all of the turn’s attacks in exchange for your enemies getting advantage against you until your next turn. You also get a Danger Sense, giving advantage on dexterity saves caused by things you can see. Honestly, becoming more reckless and more attuned to danger seems counterintuitive, but I’m not a berserker.

4. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get two Eldritch Invocations, which you can use to customize your pact experience. Fiending Vigor will help keep your husband alive with an at-will False Life spell. Save the second one for third level. 

For your spell, Armor of Agathys lets hubby go on the offense and defense at the same time, giving him a shell of temporary hit points, and while those hit points still exist, dealing ice damage to anything that hits him in melee range.

5. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians set down their Primal Path. The path of the Berserker should be familiar by now. It lets you turn your rage into a Frenzy, adding an attack as a bonus action while raging at the cost of one level of exhaustion after it’s over. Again: It’s bad.

6. Warlock 3: Third level warlocks get a Pact Boon. The Pact of the Blade gives you a pact weapon you can summon as an action. It can be any weapon you want, but for the sake of this build we’re making it a Battleaxe. You know, it’s the Blood Axe, for the Bloodaxe King. To make it especially bloody, use that other invocation you were saving to grab Improved Pact Weapon, adding one to Eric’s attacks and damage rolls while using the axe, and allowing you to cast spells while he’s holding it.

Speaking of spells, Silence will be useful if any women try to talk to him. It creates a 20′ radius within which no sound can be made, including thunder damage and verbal components of spells.

7. Barbarian 4: Use your first ASI on your Strength for more damage an accuracy.

8. Warlock 4: Use your next ASI to round out his Constitution and Charisma for more health, AC, and better spell saves. At least one of you has to look out for his safety...

For your spells, Prestidigitation lets you create a bunch of magical effects without burning any slots, and Crown of Madness forces a wisdom saving throw or you choose what it attacks at the start of each of its turns. In name, this is the closest thing to Eric’s NP, but using it on him is kind of pointless.

9. Barbarian 5: Fifth level barbarians get an Extra Attack, letting you strike twice with each attack action. They also get Fast Movement, adding 10′ to their speed as long as they aren’t wearing heavy armor. Thankfully Armor of Agathys doesn’t count, even at third level.

10. Warlock 5: Speaking of, fifth level warlocks have third level slots and spells! Grab Spirit Shroud so you can take a more active part in your husband’s life. Add 1d8 necrotic damage to his attacks, prevent them from healing, and slow them down, all for a single spell slot!

You also get another invocation at this level. Eldritch Smite lets you burn spell slots like a paladin for some extra force damage. It deals 1d8 as a base, plus another 1d8 for each level of the spell slot used. Since you’ve only got third level slots, that means they’ll hit for 4d8.

11. Barbarian 6: Sixth level Berserkers can go into a Mindless Rage, making you immune to being frightened and charmed for the duration, and suspending any frights or charms already affecting you. It’s useful, but you’re mostly doing it because you’re afraid of what Gunnhild will do to whoever’s foolish enough to charm you.

12. Barbarian 7: Your Feral Instinct gives you advantage on initiative rolls, and you can ignore surprise if you rage first thing. Turns out having multiple people looking out for you makes you hard to ambush.

13. Barbarian 8: Your next ASI is going to turn you into a War Caster so you can cast spells even with your hands full. This also gives you advantage on concentration saves, and you can cast spells with your attack of opportunity. Now Gunnhild can hex somebody on their turn, and you can make them regret being born on yours!

14. Barbarian 9: Brutal Critical lets you add an extra damage die to critical hits. You can also use that smite thing to add lots of dice to your critical hits. Basically, your crits hurt.

15. Barbarian 10: Tenth level Berserkers have an Intimidating Presence. You can use your action to try and frighten someone, forcing a wisdom save with your spell save DC. It only lasts a turn, but you can use your action next turn to extend the effect without causing another save.

16. Barbarian 11: Your Rage is now Relentless, letting you continue fighting after terrible wounds. When you would drop to 0 HP, you can instead make a DC 10 Constitution Save. On a success, you drop to 1, and the DC of the save increases by 5. After any kind of rest, the DC resets.

17. Barbarian 12: Use your last ASI to bump your Charisma. This gives you better perception via bird, but more importantly it makes Gunnhild’s spells hurt more.

18. Barbarian 13: Another Brutal Critical level, another die added when you deal critical damage.

19. Your final Berserker feature is Retaliation. When you take damage from a creature within 5′ of you, you can use your reaction to attack them. 

20. For your final level, you gain Persistent Rage, which means your rages don’t end until you want them to. Or until a minute is up. Or until your wife tells you to stop yelling.

Pros: 

Being able to smite as a barbarian is great! You can do a ton of damage in a single blow if you’re lucky: while raging, you’ll deal 4d10+4d8+8 damage with a critical hit..

You’re also very difficult to surprise, both in the sense that you can ignore being surprised, and that you have a scout that can fly up to 100′ ahead of you and warn of danger.

Cons:

Once again, having to juggle spells and rages can be a tricky decision, reducing the overall effectiveness of the warlock levels.

Your magic is also very limited, especially if you’re going to spend some of those slots on smites. .

Up next: Look in the kitchen! It’s a dog! It’s a cat! No, it’s Tamamo!

[carlycchapman24]

The Adventures of Celine Markus-Chapter 3

The following morning, they all get up, step outside their tents, and see Jolien still wide awake outside, “Not a thing happened,” she answered before anyone could say anything. “I suppose we’ll go our separate ways then,” Sidqiel says, beginning to pack up his and Arlech’s tent. “I suppose so, may the Gods and Mother Nature herself keep you all safe, I have some things to do,” Jolien said, standing up and dusting her cloak and dress off. “You can’t come with us to Tortoise Landing?” Celine says sheepishly. Jolien laughs, “No, this is a test to get into a Guild. Having someone like me be there would be cheating, especially according to Mistress Bula, who I dare say would likely disqualify you and kick out her favorite member,” she glances over at Sidqiel who has a look of shock on his face when she mentions him. “Now, I must be off, could day to you all,” she says and turns towards where the four came from, leaving them behind as Daxina picks up her and Celine’s tent. “Well, off we go then,” Sidqiel says and they all make their way down the road. “So, Elf lady,” Arlech says, “are you going to tell us your name or-?” Daxina sighed in annoyance, not wanting to tell the Wizard Girl or the Tiefling her name, but she was tired of them calling her ‘Elf’ or ‘Blondie,’ “It’s Daxina Amakiir, I’m a Pirate and I like fights, are you happy now?” “Yes,” Arlech answered. “What are your names then? It’s only fair that I get to ask too.” “Arlech,” the Tiefling said. “And you?” She asks the redhead, who seemed to not be paying attention. Daxina waved her hand in front of Celine’s face and said, “Uh, hello, Wizard Girl, are you there?” Celine shook out of it and said, “Huh, what?” Daxina sighed, “I said, what’s your name, since we’re all stuck together?” Before Celine could ask the blonde what her name was, Arlech whispered, “Her name is Daxina, she just told me.” Celine cleared her throat, “Uh, Celine, sorry to not pay attention, just, there’s a lot to think about after what’s happened in the few days I’ve been here.” “So you really aren’t from here?” Daxina said, genuinely surprised. “Obviously, did you not see my reaction to that giant fucking cat?!” Celine answered. Before Daxina could be snarky back at her, Sidqiel spoke up and said, “Tabaxi, they’re called Tabaxi, and they find it offensive to call them giant cats, even if that’s exactly what they are.” “So Tieflings, Gnolls, Elves, weird Dragon looking things, Tabaxi, Halflings, Gnomes, Devils, according to something Arlech told me when he was drunk, Demons for the same reason, drunk Arlech told me, but what else is in this ridiculous world?” Celine said, frustrated at having to remember all of these new things. “Much more than that, I can tell you that much. A lot of which I hope you’ll never have to run into. There are some nasty things in this world, and many would scare the living daylights out of you.” Sidqiel answered. “Okay, okay, I get it, you don’t want me to go looking for anything too dangerous,” Celine said, both aggravated and slightly freaked out. “Not until you’re strong enough, no.” The man answered and they continued.

After what seemed like ages, they arrived at Tortoise Landing, only to be greeted by the sound of bagpipes and people rushing out, getting ready to fight, “No, no, please, we’re here to help with your Gnoll problem!” Arlech says. No one believes him and the villagers prepare to defend themselves with what little they have. “No, please, he speaks the truth,” Sidqiel shouts and lets his glowing bronze wings out and both of his eyes glow a bronze color. Out of the crowd steps a, what looks like to Celine, a giant turtle. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is that?” Celine whispers but is told to hush by Arlech. The giant turtle says, “I am Koryver, the Chief of Tortoise Landing. If what you say is true and you’ve come to deal with our Gnoll problem, let us have a feast and discuss more of my job for you.” “Of course, we would be honored to join you for dinner,” Sidqiel says, putting away his wings bowing to the Chief, the other three follow his lead and bow to the Chief as well. When they stood back up the Chief said, “Come along” and they all went after him. After they set up the feast, with the members of the group sitting on either side of the Chief, Arlech and Celine to his left and Daxina and Sidqiel to his right, the Chief stands up and says, “Tonight, we welcome these four brave souls who are willing to rid us of the Gnoll problem we’ve had for the last few weeks. May the Gods smile upon them as they take on these dangerous foes who have done nothing but wreak havoc on our land and our people. Vu uas tewoust!” The villagers repeat “Vu uas tewoust!” The quartet looks on in confusion and after the Chief sits back down, he says, “It means ‘to our saviors’ in Aquan, my language. Now to the business at hand, there are usually three or four Gnolls that attack our village per night. We do not know if they are the same ones each time or different ones, but regardless, I want them dead and I want them to stop torturing my people. Gnolls are cowards, so if they see us fighting back, they’ll run away. If they see that none of their scouting party has returned, they will run. I want you all stationed at the front entrance, Gnolls are not smart creatures and will attack the same place every time, and they’ve been coming through the front entrance each time. Are you willing to take on this task?” All four nod and the giant turtle actually smiles, Celine notices, which is a little off-putting. “Good,” the Chief says, “now let us enjoy this feast and hopefully you’ll be victorious come the morning.”

They finish eating their meal and make their way to where they entered about three hours ago, keeping an eye out on the path ahead. Within minutes, Arlech and Daxina see three Gnolls making their way up the path and they point them out to Sidqiel and Celine. “How far away do you think the first one is?” Celine whispered. “A good one hundred feet, why?” Arlech answered and in an instant, Celine shot off a Fire Bolt, and it impacted the first Gnoll in the line, scorching it alive. All three Gnolls immediately run as fast as they can towards the source of what attacked them. “Good work Celine!” whispers Arlech. The first Gnoll, the one Celine hit, kept on running forward, Daxina also shot off a Fire Bolt towards the first Gnoll, just barely hitting it as well. Seeing what the other two were doing, but not being able to do much, he waited for them to get closer. The Gnoll furthest away just kept running forward, as did the middle one. Arlech looked between the two women, not being able to do much, so he prepared himself and waited until the Gnolls got closer. Celine shot off her Magic Missile and aimed it at the closest Gnoll with direction from Arlech, two out of the three went wide and the third one made impact, causing a little damage, but not enough to her liking. The first Gnoll kept running forward, trying to find its target. Daxina grinned and shot a Fire Bolt at the Gnoll getting closer, but missed, getting too cocky. Celine chuckled at Daxina’s misfortune and Sidqiel rolled his eyes and cast his Spiritual Weapon, which manifested as a Morningstar again, and placed it right next to the first Gnoll, then tried to hit it, but missed. The third Gnoll was keeping pace with the first two. The second Gnoll was right behind the first one. Finally able to do something, Arlech yelled, “You’re worthless, you’ll never amount to anything!” to the first Gnoll, casting Vicious Mockery and it instantly kills the first Gnoll. “You just insulted it to death.” Celine said in amazement. “Yes, yes I did,” he answered her with a wink. Celine rolled her eyes and shot a Fire Bolt at the second Gnoll, now that the first one was dead, hitting it with ease. Daxina pulled out her pistol and fired a shot at the second Gnoll since the first one was dead, and it hit easily. It was looking pretty ragged now. Sidqiel grinned and tried hitting the Gnoll again, it impacted and knocked the Gnoll down. The third, now second, Gnoll shot an arrow at Sidqiel, but missed and the arrow bounced off of a rock and fell on the ground. The second, now first, Gnoll tried hitting Sidqiel with an arrow as well but also missed. Both Gnolls growled at their attackers and Arlech used Thunderwave, hitting everyone. Killing one Gnoll, damaging the other, and accidentally hitting Celine, Sidqiel, and Daxina, apologizing in the process. Celine said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, let’s kill this last one quick,” and threw a Fire Bolt at the last Gnoll, but just barely missed. Daxina laughed and shot a Fire Bolt herself at the last Gnoll, hitting it, it now started slowing down and was scorched and bleeding. Sidqiel threw a spell none of the recognized at the Gnoll, it was a gray-ish color, but it, unfortunately, missed the Gnoll, “Gods dammit.” The last Gnoll finally reached the quartet and bit at Sidqiel, but its teeth met Scale Mail, earning a chuckle from Sidqiel. Arlech shouted an insult at the last Gnoll, “You are a disgusting creature and no one will love you,” and cast Vicious Mockery, but the Gnoll seemingly wasn’t affected. “Oh move over,” Celine said, backing up a bit, so she was fifteen feet away from the Gnoll, and she casts a new spell of her’s called Burning Hands and a cone of flame came out of her hands, hitting the Gnoll who now looked like it could collapse any second. The others stared in shock, but Daxina shook it off and pulled her Great Sword out of its sheath and sliced at the Gnoll twice, the first slice missed, but the second one impacted it and killed it instantly. Celine collapsed on the ground and sighed in relief, “Holy fuck, thank whatever deities

this place has that we won.” A few moments passed and then Arlech asked, “Does anyone need to be patched up?” Celine, Daxina, and Sidqiel all raised their hands, “So everyone but me, all right then,” the Tiefling said. “I can heal myself, you can take the ladies.” Sidqiel answered, touching his shoulder and casting a spell that Celine didn’t recognize, all she did know is that it had a bright, white, light from her perspective. Arlech walked over and asked Daxina, “May I?” Daxina sighed, “Yeah, go ahead,” and let him touch her shoulder, a bright, white light like what Sidqiel’s spell looked like came out of Arlech’s hand and any bruises from his Thunderwave spell disappeared as if they had never been there at all. This surprised Celine and she blinked and shook her head, as if it was the darkness playing tricks on her. The next thing she knew, Arlech knelt next to her, holding a hand out, “Well?” Celine hesitantly stuck her hand out and Arlech took it and held it for a second, his skin feeling weirdly like warm coals, she noticed, and just as with Daxina, the bright, white light came out of his hand and her bruises from his Thunderwave disappeared before her eyes. “What the hell?” She said, not realizing how quietly she said it. “Well,” Daxina said, “let’s get a pelt off of one of these guys, that was the thing, right?” “Indeed,” Sidqiel answered, “Who wants to do it?” Arlech got up, stretched, and said, “I’ll do it.” “Do you have a knife?” Sidqiel asked. “No, but I have a dagger.” Arlech answered. “That should do it, have at it.” Arlech went down the path to the very first Gnoll they killed and skinned it with ease, taking the pelt off with precision that surprised everyone. “Celine,” he said, getting back up, “put this in your Bag of Holding and we’ll take it back to the Guild,” and gave it to her. “Gross,” Celine said, but did what she was told. Then, they finally went back into the village and were met by the Chief, “Did you kill them?” “The ones that tried to get to the village anyway,” Celine said, pulling out the Gnoll pelt with a disgusted look on her face. “Oh good, here, one hundred gold to split amongst yourselves,” the Chief said, handing them a large bag of gold, “and you’re free to stay for the night in one of the empty houses from the previous attacks. Maybe you could suggest this village to people on your travels so we can become more than just a small village.” “Thank you, sir,” Sidqiel said, taking the bag of gold. They made their way to one of the abandoned homes, split the gold amongst themselves, and went to bed.

The following morning, the quartet said their goodbyes and headed back to Crisherton. “So, how did you all enjoy your first contract, besides, of course, those damn bandits on the way?” Sidqiel asked. “It went better than I expected at least,” Celine said, stretching to wake herself up more. “Your idea to start attacking from a distance was a great one,” Sidqiel answered with an amused tone in his voice. “Yeah, well, after attacking those bandits or whatever they were head-on, I figured it would at least be something to try,” Celine said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, it was a smart choice,” Arlech said with a grin. “Well, thanks, guys,” Celine said awkwardly, not really sure how to accept the praise she was receiving. The two days to get back to Crisherton passed surprisingly quickly and Celine could only hope that the pelt didn’t decompose and get all gross inside her bag. When they got back into the Solarstriders’ building, they were greeted by Mistress Bula, “So you’re alive then? That’s amazing, considering you lot couldn’t take on a simple group of bandits that you ran into on the road,” she said and before any of the four could say anything she added, “Oh yes, I heard all about that, the whole town has. Jolien told us herself that she had to heal all of you up and bring Miss Red Head over here back to life completely, as she had been killed, not just knocked out cold. Here’s some advice, and I’d expect more from you as well Sidqiel if you cannot take on an enemy, run if you can. This world has no place for cowards, but nor does it have a place for martyrs. Now hand over that pelt and I’ll induct the three of you into the Solarstriders and forgive the damage from the Elf girl.” Celine sat her Bag of Holding on the desk and pulled out the Gnoll pelt, which to her surprise, didn’t decompose in her bag, and handed it over to the Mistress. Mistress Bula observed it and said, “Interesting, I’ll send this to the leatherworker in town so they can prepare to send it to the tailor for clothing. Now, come along, we need to mark you to induct you into the Guild.” “Uh, what do you mean, ‘mark us?’” Celine asked, which she regretted when she heard the answer. “Well you can’t expect to join any Guild without a branding of some sort, now can you?” Mistress Bula said. “Wait, branding, as in burning us? No. No, no. No, I refuse, I’m not going to get some symbol burned into my fucking skin!” Celine exclaimed and her wrist was grabbed roughly by the Mistress who said, “You will or you’ll be arrested and tried for trespassing in my building and for doing a trial and then leaving. Got it, Princess?” Celine tears her wrist out of Mistress Bula’s hand and massages it to get rid of the pain of the woman’s grip, “I’m not a princess,” she says with venom in her voice. “Then stop acting like one, you may not be from around here, that’s clear enough, but you’ll follow our customs and rules if you plan to stay. Now, as I said, come along.”

The trio is led down a flight of stairs and taken into the first door on the right at the bottom. They stepped in and saw a large furnace with fire blazing, a chair nearby the furnace that looked like a torture device, and a very tall woman, who looked like she was carved out of a mountain, was banging away at a weapon of some sort, “Niria, dear,” Mistress Bula said and for the first time since she met her, Celine noticed the woman had a look of admiration and love in her eyes, ‘Is this her wife or something?’ Celine thought. The giant woman turned around and said, “Ah, Umog, my love, what have we here? Some new recruits?” “Umog?” Celine whispered. “Her first name I assume,” Arlech answers back, just as quietly. “Yes indeed, they need to be branded, could you take the time to mark these three?” Mistress Bula asks. “Of course, but you’ll need to make it worth it since you interrupted me making more weapons for the Guild,” the giant woman said suggestively. All three rolled their eyes as Mistress Bula continued in the same suggestive tone, “You know I will.” The giant woman went over and kissed Mistress Bula on the cheek and said, “Well, then I’ll see you later tonight. Head back on upstairs, I’ll take care of them.” “I’m sure you will,” Mistress Bula said with a smile and left the trio downstairs. When the Mistress was out of sight, the giant woman’s demeanor changed, “Alright you lot, clearly you got far enough to be able to get inducted, so you better be able to handle yourself when I do this. If not, well, I don’t know how you got this far. Now, who’s first?” “I’ll do it,” Daxina said. “Then get in that chair over there,” Niria said, pointing at what Celine had thought looked like a torture device when they walked in. Her fears were confirmed when Niria tied down Daxina’s arms with some type of leather and rolled her sleeve up to her shoulder. “Uh, what’s this for?” Daxina asked. “Well, some squirm when I do this because it’s quite literally hot metal being placed against your skin to mark you.” Daxina went paler than usual and said, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.” “Now, let’s begin.” Niria said and pulled out a brand with a symbol that looked like a sun with a sword surrounded by fire in the middle of it, and above the point of the sword it read ‘Solar’ and it read ‘Striders’ beneath the hilt and pommel. Niria heated the metal until it was bright orange, “Now, take a deep breath,” she said and pressed the heated metal against Daxina’s shoulder with enough pressure to leave a permanent scar. Daxina gritted her teeth and passed out from the pain, which made Celine even more nervous, if Daxina passed out from the pain, she might just die. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Niria said and unhooked Daxina after she was done and sat her in the corner. “Who’s next?” the woman asked, holding the brand up. “I’ll do it.” Comes Arlech’s voice, sounding cocky. “Ah,” Niria said, looking up and down Arlech’s form, “Devil spawn, are we? This should be no problem for someone of your heritage. I may not even tie your arms down.” “A pity,” Arlech said, “I was quite looking forward to that,” and winked. “You’re quite charming, but as you saw, I’m a taken woman. Now, sit down.” She said with a laugh. Celine was dumbfounded, Arlech’s flirting almost worked, and the only reason it hadn’t was because Niria was with Mistress Bula. She took a minute to process this as Niria heated up the brand again and pressed it against Arlech’s shoulder with the same amount of pressure as she did with Daxina, if not more. Arlech sucked in air as the pain hit his skin, but stayed conscious, after it was imprinted, he got up as if he felt nothing at all and went over to Celine, “See, nothing to it. Go on,” he said gently. “Come over here, girl,” Niria said, not unkindly. Nervous, Celine hesitantly walked over to the very large woman and the chair, her legs felt like lead and it seemed like it took hours to get over to them. She sat down and let her arms rest on the arms of the chair and Niria tied Celine’s arms to the chair, noticing how worried the young woman was. “Take a

deep breath,” came the woman’s voice, but it seemed slow and distorted to her. The second the hot brand hit her shoulder, Celine screamed out in pain and agony and the next thing she knew, she saw blackness and felt nothing. The next thing she knew, she woke up lying on the ground with Arlech and Niria standing over her with very worried faces and when she sat up, she saw Daxina looking at her nails with a look of disdain on her face, which Celine assumed was directed towards her. “You really are weak,” Daxina said, not looking Celine in the face. “Fuck off.” Celine said as she leaned against the wall. “Are you all right?” Niria asked before the two young women started fighting, “I think I’m okay now, I’m sorry if my reaction ruined the branding so you couldn’t do it.” Celine said with a monotone voice. “No, no, don’t worry about it. That’s the usual reaction, albeit a bit more extreme.” Celine looked embarrassed as Arlech made his way over to her “Here, let me help you,” he said, kneeling next to Celine, “I already fixed up Daxina,” then he held out his hand. Celine rolled her eyes and held out her arm, he took her hand and cast Cure Wounds on her, “There you go, all healed up.” Celine immediately glanced at her shoulder, and the brand was still there, which she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed about. Then it dawned on her, she had no idea how long they had been down here, she reached in her Bag of Holding to try and pull out her phone when Arlech smacked her hand lightly as if to say, “Not here.” Not wanting to potentially fight Niria for whatever reason, she sighed and took her hand out of her bag and closed it back up, deciding instead to ask, “How long have I been out?” “A few hours perhaps, why?” Niria said. “Well, I’m pretty tired after that, but if it’s not dark outside then I don’t want to go to bed.” Celine reasoned. “Well, then you all should make your way back up the stairs. Welcome to the Solarstriders.” “Thank you.” Celine said and got up, then the three of them headed back up to the main room.

“I cannot believe you flirted with her and it almost worked,” Celine said to Arlech when they were out of earshot. Which made Arlech laugh, “I told you it works in the right scenario, but you didn’t believe me.” “Wait, he did what?!” Daxina said in disgust. “You two are quick to judge, it meant nothing. Obviously, she’s with Mistress Bula, it was simply in hopes of having her be gentler with the brand.” Arlech said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever mean it when you flirt with people or is it all just a game to you?” Celine asked with an annoyed tone at the Tiefling, disgusted at his attitude with such things. Arlech looked genuinely hurt at the accusation for a second and said, “Well, it depends on the person I suppose.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Daxina asked, now honed in on the conversation. “Well, when it comes to store clerks or others of the sort, it’s merely just to get what I want, like information for example. If it’s someone I’m genuinely interested in, I mean every word.” Both women were still unsure but went with it and Celine asked, “And how does someone know the difference? The person on the receiving end that is? You’ve tried flirting with me multiple times and I haven’t fallen for it, because to me it certainly just seems like some bullshit a lot of men in my world do just to get in a woman’s pants. I call them fuck boys, as do many other people.” Arlech was taken aback and Daxina covered her mouth, snickering. “Mind explaining that term to me?” Arlech said, raising an eyebrow. “A fuck boy,” Celine said, starting to step closer to Arlech, “is a young man or as I say, a boy,” she stepped closer, “who thinks they’re hot shit,” even closer, “and who thinks they’re sexy,” closer still, “and will flirt with multiple women at a time,” she got even closer until she was as close to Arlech’s face as she could be with the slight height difference, “and don’t know how to take no for an answer, and the only thing on their mind is sex. They don’t want actual relationships, they just want a fuck buddy or friends with benefits and will keep on asking even after one of the many women he’s flirted with has said no.” Celine looked Arlech up and down, the tension in the air was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Arlech stood his ground and said, “Well, they sound like terrible people,” also looking Celine up and down. Daxina looked on, half expecting the two of them to kiss, and cleared her throat, “I don’t know if you’re going to kiss or kill each other, but maybe we can do it outside of the Guild?” Just then, both Arlech and Celine looked around and saw Sidqiel, Mistress Bula, and a few random members of the Solarstriders that none of them recognized, staring at them with their jaws on the ground. Celine stepped back first, “I think I’ve made my point,” she said, glancing over to the Tiefling. “I don’t know if you have, maybe you could explain it further later on,” Arlech answered with a wink. “Maybe I will, but not in a room alone with you, I’m not that stupid.” She replied haughtily and stormed out, finally letting herself flush red at his flirting, which she thought was odd, it had never worked on her before, why now?

Not long after, Daxina and Arlech join her outside and immediately Daxina shouts, “I’m sorry, but what in the Nine Hells was that?! I have never, in the short period that I’ve known you two, seen you go at each other like that. Care to explain?” “I’d ask Celine that if I were you, she’s never snapped at me like that before. She’s been sarcastic, but never gotten in my face like that, it was kind of sexy.” Arlech answered with a grin. “You’re gross,” Celine said a few feet ahead of the two. “You’re attracted to me,” Arlech shot back. “No I’m not,” Celine answered, getting furious now. “Then why did you get in my face like that?” The Tiefling shouted back. Just then, Celine turned around sharply and shouted angrily, “Because I’m tired of your bullshit!” and passers-by in the streets turned to stare at the two. “Just admit you find me attractive and we can settle this,” Arlech said, smiling. “You’re delusional,” Celine answered and made her way to The Clydesdale Inn. “I’m not convinced,” Arlech said to Daxina, who was walking next to him. “I’m not either,” she said, watching Celine walk off. A moment later, a light bulb went off in Daxina’s head and she suggested, “I have an idea, either before or after the next time we fight something, you kiss her and see what happens?” “It seems a bit rude to kiss her without asking, don’t you think? I’ll shamelessly flirt with someone, especially her, no big deal, but unless they permit me to do anything more than that, I don’t go further than a flirt,” Arlech reasoned. “So you do have feelings for her then or at least are genuinely interested in her,” Daxina said. “Well, yes. Ever since I first met her I thought she was cute and rather interesting. What are you supposed to feel when someone claims they’re from a different world? You’re instantly interested and drawn to them in some way, correct?” The Tiefling answered as if it was the most logical thing in the world, “You want to know more, you want to see how they tick, how they react, yes?” Daxina thought on this for a moment and said, “Yes, I could see how that would make you interested or attracted to someone, and while I respect the fact that you want to ask permission before going any further than flirting, I don’t find it very likely that she’d give you permission to kiss her or do anything of the sort with her adamant claim that she’s not attracted to you in any way, shape, or form.” “I understand your point, but it just feels wrong to not ask first.” Arlech insisted. “Fine,” the Elven woman started, “but if you change your mind or feel like you aren’t getting anywhere with her, take my idea into account.” The red Tiefling sighed in a defeated way, “I will.” When they got back to The Clydesdale Inn, Arlech took a seat at the bar and tapped on it to get Mr. Longfoot’s attention, the Halfling turned and went towards Arlech, “Hello Arlech, how are you doing today? What can I get you?” “Nothing today Mr Longfoot, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be performing tonight. I don’t feel well and I have a lot to think about.” Arlech answered. “Well,” started the Halfling, “it’s a shame you won’t be performing, but if you feel you need time to yourself, I have no problems with that.” “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. I think I’ll go two doors down to Madam Fibavam’s Bathhouse whilst I think.” Arlech answered, and walked out. Not long after, Celine came down from her room and started walking out, only to be stopped by Mr Longfoot, who asked, “Are you going two doors down as well?” “To the bathhouse? Yeah, I feel like shit after getting branded by the Solarstriders today, why?” Celine asked. “Arlech just went over there too,” he said and Celine froze in fear, thinking Arlech would see her naked, but then she remembered there was a fence between the two sides of the bathhouse and relaxed a little. However, she second-guessed herself and asked Mr Longfoot, “There are two sides blocked by a fence, right? A men’s and a women’s side?” “I believe so,” the Halfling answered, “but I’d ask Madam Fibavam to make sure.” This made Celine

nervous, but she went over to the bathhouse anyway.

As she stepped in, Madam Fibavam was at the desk and she looked up from her book in surprise, “Two people in one night? That’s a new record I think. How are you doing Celine?” “Fine, hey I have a question,” Celine responds. “What is it dear?” The Gnome asks, sitting up more. “Uh, are the baths separated by gender or only the changing rooms?” Celine asks and the Gnome laughs, “Yes, the baths are separated by gender as well, with a tall wooden fence, don’t you remember that from when you were here a few nights ago?” “I didn’t really pay attention, so I suppose not.” Celine answered. “Well, they are, are you wanting to be here for a while too?” Madan Fibavam says with a warm smile. “Yes, two silver, right?” Celine asks and the woman nods. Celine hands over the two pieces of silver and goes into the same changing room as last time and puts her stuff in the same closet. Then she tries to stealthily step into the hot spring so Arlech doesn’t hear her, but unfortunately, Arlech hears her step in the water through the fence. He jumps up, startled, and says, “Hello?” Celine clasps her hand over her mouth and tries to make her breathing slow and silent and succeeds, and her second step was far more silent than the first one. “Hello?” Comes Arlech’s voice again and a shift in the water as if he were turning around to look through the fence to see if anyone was on the opposite side, but nothing. Celine heard him shift again, assuming he was turning his back to the fence again. Celine sighs in relief as quietly as possible and leans against the fence herself. Just then, she hears Arlech talk to himself and clearly hears, “How do you even tell someone how you feel about them? I could just go ahead and say it to her face, but what if she thinks it’s just another attempt at flirting? I could try Daxina’s idea, but she might smack me across the face. Gods, this is difficult.” Celine tilts her head, was he talking about her? She couldn’t tell, all she could understand was that he was clearly stressed out about whatever and whoever he was talking about. She thought back on all of the times he flirted with her from her understanding of what she knew to be ‘flirting’ in her world. The suggestive comments, him calling her cute while he was drunk, him holding her hand when he healed her instead of placing his hand on her arm or shoulder, did he really mean those things or was he just trying to get in her pants? Because what she knew from her world, men, or boys even, would only act that way towards women with one thing, and one thing only on their minds. Then she thought about how his earlier attempts didn’t work on her, yet this afternoon, something changed. His flirting actually worked on her, why then and in that moment? Did he use a spell on her? She knew he had healing abilities, could he make people fall for his flirting with some sort of spell too? “What did it all mean?” she unintentionally said aloud and froze in fear, “Celine, is that you?” Comes Arlech’s voice from the opposite side of the fence. He even recognized her voice, which she was dumbfounded about. “Uh, no, not at all. Who is this Celine you speak of?” She asked with a horrible, fake, English accent. She could hear in his voice that he had rolled his eyes, “That was the worst accent I have ever heard. What are you doing here?” Then it was Arlech’s turn to freeze in fear, “How long have you been here?” She made a split-second decision to lie and said, “I just got here.” Arlech sighed in relief, but Celine couldn’t keep the smirk off of her face, and it could be heard in her voice, when she said, “Why do you ask?” “Don’t torment me like that,” Arlech says, hearing the tone of her voice ‘You torment me enough by just existing,’ he thought. “Okay fine, you don’t have to tell me. I just thought I would take the opportunity to mess with you like you did to me earlier.” She said, and it was that moment when they remembered they were both naked and talking to each other through a simple wooden fence and an awkward silence followed. “So, um,” Celine finally said, subconsciously

covering her top half even though he couldn’t see her, “why here?” “What do you mean?” Arlech asked. “I mean, you came here, as I heard from talking to Mr Longfoot, why here and not, I don’t know, another bathhouse or the hot spring behind The Clydesdale Inn?” Celine asked. “Oh, well, the only other bathhouse in this city is on the complete opposite side of town and the one behind the Inn is pretty small and I wanted to stretch out and maybe swim around in the hot water a little.” The Tiefling explained. “Is the one behind the Inn really too small for that?” Celine asked. “For someone my height, yes, the one behind the Inn is for one person at a time and for just cleaning up and getting out. I think it’s six and a half feet long and three or four feet wide or something, and I’m six feet tall. These ones are about thirty feet long and forty feet wide, each. Madam Fibavam was lucky that she managed to get this much land on this side of town and still be far enough away from the ocean.” He explained, which prompted Celine to look around and see that it is indeed a very large hot spring and for a moment she felt quite lonely in the wide expanse of this spring. “She’s been here longer than this town has been here, this town is maybe a hundred years old, Madam Fibavam is about two hundred years old, so her bathhouse and spring have been here longer than this town, so they had to build Crisherton around her bathhouse. Gnomes can live up to five hundred years, you know.” Arlech says and Celine immediately says, “I call bullshit, there’s no way.” “Fine, don’t believe me, but you can ask her yourself,” he responds. “Maybe I will.” She answers indignantly. Then Celine comes up with an idea, grins, and says, “Oh yeah, you wanted more of an explanation about fuck boys, didn’t you?” Even though she couldn’t see it, Arlech’s mouth dropped open and he said, “Hold on, now this isn’t what I meant when I said that.” “I know what you meant, but I’m not gonna give you what you want. Now, a fuck boy is somewhat in the same vein as an incel. Now an incel is a man, or boy rather, who likes to be creepy to women online, I’ll explain what ‘online’ is later, and they often feel entitled to a woman’s body, which is absolutely disgusting behavior. When a woman rejects this man-child, he often calls her many names such as ‘bitch,’ ‘fat fuck,’ ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ you name it, it’s probably thrown around and they often assume the account on a dating app or even apps that aren’t meant for dating, is fake just because she rejects him. I’ll also explain what an app is at a later date. They also objectify women, only seeing them as a piece of meat, or ‘a piece of ass’ and see them only as things to reproduce with or just have sex with and leave them for another. Following along so far?” Despite this not being what he expected or wanted, Arlech found himself very interested in her explanation. A few hours and some questions later, Arlech said, “Gods, they really do sound like awful people. I may be a shameless flirt, but I don’t feel like I’m owed anything if I do flirt and they flirt back. I also ask permission before I go any further. I just find flirting to be fun and in some cases, useful.” “Then you’re neither of those things, surprisingly.” Celine responded. “Did you really think I was one of those things?” Arlech asked, somewhat offended. “I didn’t know what you were or how you were. I mean, for Gods’ sakes, I’ve only known you for a week,” and at that moment it registered in her brain, and there was a pit in her stomach, she had been in this world and away from home for a week and suddenly she panicked, “Wait, oh Gods, I’ve been here for an entire week, I died in my first week and came back alive, my parents probably think I’ve been kidnapped, or worse, murdered!” and she started hyperventilating. In the short time he had known her, Arlech never heard Celine sound so scared and panicked, if anything, to him she seemed the least likely to be scared of anything. “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said, trying to calm her down to the best of his ability while

naked and separated by a fence, which made it slightly awkward, but he shrugged it off, “Is there any way you can contact them and let them know that you’re safe?” “No,” Celine said, starting to sniffle but holding it back, “my phone doesn’t work here, I have no service, so unless there’s a way to send a letter to another world, it’s hopeless.” Arlech thought it over for a moment, “There might be a way, but it’s rather complex and pricey. There is a sort of magical letter paper that can be sent to anyone in any plane of existence as long as you write their names on it. It is, however, a good one thousand pieces of gold, if not more. Then there’s also something called a ‘tuning fork’ that you can attune to any plane of existence, and obviously, there’s a little bit of magic in your world if The Royal Wizard was able to bring you here through magical means. However, those are rare and require very strong magic.” That gave Celine hope, if only a small amount, and she imagined something that made her laugh through her sniffles, “I just had a thought, imagine what my parents would think of you if we brought them here, the world itself would be strange but imagine if they got brought here and you, Daxina, and I were right in front of them. Daxina looks at least somewhat normal, by my world’s standards, but just with pointy ears. You on the other hand,” she said with a weak laugh, “and Madam Fibavam, and Mr Longfoot.” Arlech began laughing too, “And let’s not forget Niria and Mistress Bula.” “Holy shit, yes.” Celine said, now in a full-on laugh. There was a moment of silence and out of nowhere, with a hint of awkwardness and shyness in his voice, and no evidence of his usual cockiness, Arlech asked, “May I hug you? When we’re out and dressed, I mean, not now. I don’t even think there’s a way right now, even if you were okay with that, which I’m sure you aren’t considering the state we’re in.” Celine rolled her eyes, which he could hear in her voice when she answered, “Yes, but preferably not in front of Madam Fibavam or Mr Longfoot, I feel like they’d take it the wrong way and start some rumors and gossip around Crisherton.” “That’s understandable,” he said and then added sarcastically and playfully, “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation of being able to easily reject any of my attempts at flirting with you.” “Ha, ha, very funny.” She responds sarcastically as well.

They finally got out of the hot springs after what seemed like several hours, both of which had wrinkly feet and hands, and went to change. They walked out of the changing rooms at the same time and Madam Fibavam looked at them and said jokingly, “Certainly took you two long enough, I almost thought you’d drowned. I’m glad to see that I was wrong.” Celine laughed and then said, “I have a question, and I don’t mean to offend you,” the Gnome answered, “It’s hard to offend me, go ahead,” “Is it true you’re about two hundred years old and did this city really need to be built around your bathhouse?” Celine asked cautiously. The Gnome laughed and said, “I take it Arlech told you this?” Celine nodded and the Gnome continued, still laughing, “Well, two hundred years old is a bit of an exaggeration, I’m around a hundred and seventy-five years old, but yes, Crisherton had to be built around my bathhouse because I refused to leave when they began building it up.” Celine’s jaw dropped and Arlech burst out laughing, “I told you so.” “Shut up,” Celine said, now embarrassed. Then the two went back to The Clydesdale Inn, having to knock so that Mr Longfoot could let them inside and Celine and Arlech added two extra nights in their respective rooms for four gold each. The Halfling gladly accepted the gold and went back to bed. They both glanced around to see if Mr Longfoot was still in the room, but it was hard to tell, so Arlech hesitantly put his arms out for a hug, which Celine had forgotten she agreed to for a split second, and she cautiously wrapped her arms around him, as did he in return. It most definitely wasn’t her imagination when Celine thought Arlech’s hand felt like warm coals, in fact, to her astonishment, his entire body felt like warm coals, which was rather relaxing. She could feel it through his shirt as her arms were wrapped around his torso, and she could feel it in his arms, which were wrapped around her waist. ‘A first step at least,’ Arlech thought as they let go of one another. “Uh, before I go to bed,” Celine said awkwardly, “may I ask you something?” “What?” The Tiefling asked. “I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination when you first grabbed my hand to heal me or not, but now I know what I felt was real. Why does your skin feel like warm coals? Is it like that all the time?” “Ah,” said he, and they sat down in front of her door, “that’s part of my heritage. As a Tiefling, or a Half-Devil, you have a higher body temperature than beings such as full-blooded Humans, or Dwarves, or Elves. Our skin also does, in fact, feel like warm coals when someone touches an arm or whatever. Think of it this way, a full-blooded Devil’s skin, living in the Nine Hells, would feel like raging fire, or burning coals. A Half-Devil, like myself, living on the Prime Plane, which is what this is called, our skin would feel like warm coals, or a dying, low, fire, like embers.” “Would that change if you went to the Nine Hells?” Celine asked. “I’ve never been, so perhaps, but perhaps not. The only way to find out is if we go, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Arlech answered, standing up. “Fair enough,” Celine said, getting ready to stand up on her own, but Arlech held a hand out as if to ask if he can help her up. Celine rolled her eyes but had a small smile on her face, and she grabbed ahold of his hand. He pulled her up as if she weighed nothing and said, “Goodnight,” letting her hand go, and the two went to their separate rooms for some sleep.

[flightfoot]

Divergent Points - Feast

AO3/FFN

Previous installment: Divergent Points - Weredad

Turning Points

Inspired partly by this conversation I had with @fearlessinger

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Plagg curled up against Adrien, purring. It’d taken a long time for Adrien to fall asleep.

He didn’t blame him. He’d be having nightmares himself for a long time after this.

Plagg had been separated from a lot of his cats. Most of the time, it was bittersweet. On the one hand, it’s hard to be around a person a lot who wasn’t COMPLETELY despicable and not grow to care about them, at least a little.

On the other hand…

Tikki got the “nice” wielders and the “nice” powers. Sugarcube got paired with idealistic, inventive users who would quickly become fast friends with her. At worst, they’d see her mostly as a tool.

But at least she wasn’t usually considered a THREAT.

Plagg’s wielders tended to fall into two categories; the cautious wielders and the unrestrained wielders.

The cautious wielders were usually wielders he was assigned to by some outside force. The Order of the Guardians, for example. He might get to pick among a few different candidates if the person in charge was extremely generous, but this was a rare privilege.

The most dangerous kwami were rarely allowed that kind of freedom.

 And he was considered the most dangerous of them all.

Those cautious wielders were chosen for their ability to temper both their destructive impulses and his own, keeping him on a tight leash. They were rarely outright malicious about it, and if he really, truly wanted to he could probably leave… well, most of the time.

But then he’d have to leave his friends behind. And if the person was mistreating him badly enough that he was at the end of his rope and WANTED to leave…

The monk who had created the Miraculous in the first place in order to allow Kwamis to physically manifest, had also built a safeguard into every Miraculous, just in case the spirits he was trying to pull into the physical plane turned out to be malicious.

Not a totally unreasonable precaution, but it screwed him and all the other kwamis over. They’d never figured out a way to undo the compulsion, and he suspected that most of his wielders hadn’t really wanted to, either.

If his wielder was terrible enough that he wanted to bolt? It was very rare he’d be able to.

He sympathized with poor Nooroo. He’d been in that position often enough.

In those cases, he was lucky if he just wanted to leave because he felt stifled or ignored or unwanted, and his wielder was just enough of a jackass that they wouldn’t let him go or listen to him.

The unrestrained wielders were often far worse.

If he ended up with one of them, it was usually due to something going horribly wrong. His ring falling out of the Miracle box and getting lost, for instance, like what happened to Duusu and Nooroo. Or more commonly, being stolen from one of his other wielders.

With the wielder being either random or an outright thief, he’d rarely had a good time with those wielders, at least not for long. Some of them could be okay at first, giving him more freedom than he’d normally have and not treating him like he was about to launch a cataclysm at any moment.

But they were often the worst ones, because unlike the cautious wielders, they often became corrupted, if they weren’t already. The power to destroy ANYTHING, very, very easily, was a heady power, especially in the wrong hands.

He was often glad to go back to a cautious wielder after his miraculous was inevitably removed from the offender. The cautious wielders wouldn’t make him kill anyone.

Over time he’d just… tried to stop caring. Make light of destroying the dinosaurs, of sinking Atlantis, of any mistake he’d ever made, and it wouldn’t hurt as much to have it thrown back in his face.

Then he was given to Adrien.

At first, he thought this would be just like the other cases where he was assigned; given to a cautious wielder who’d be nice enough, but was ultimately there to control him. Yeah this kid was a lot younger than his usual wielders – while some of the other kwami were assigned to kids for bonding purposes, the Order of the Guardians usually assigned him to adults, who wouldn’t be influenced or persuaded by him as much – and he hadn’t been raised as a monk or even really been vetted much, but Fu had chosen him. Considering how cautious and fearful Fu was of Plagg going out of control, he doubted that the monk would’ve chosen any sort of loose cannon or free spirit as his wielder.

He’d underestimated Fu’s desperation and lack of vetting.

When Fu’d said that he’d found the right wielder for him, he’d known that Fu wouldn’t have been able to look deeply into the wielder’s background or get to know them – they were operating on only a few hours of notice. It’d made him pretty nervous about the type of person he might get, honestly. He’d seen even people who appeared nice and kind slowly become corrupted and dangerous over time.

With only having a few hours to research? There was no telling whether the wielder would be decent even at the outset.

Turns out, Fu’s actual vetting process wasn’t even THAT extensive. Wayzz had told him later that Fu had just randomly tried to walk into the middle of a busy street to see whether anyone would help him, and decided that the first person to help should be Tikki’s wielder. For finding Chat Noir, he just randomly acted like he was super frail, dropping his cane and pretending he couldn’t get up, and waited to see who’d help him. Adrien did, so Fu decided that he’d be Plagg’s wielder.

Honestly he was lucky that Adrien was as famous as he was, otherwise Fu wouldn’t have been able to find out where he lived. At least with Marinette, he’d been able to see her leaving her house beforehand.

…Okay, maybe he was being a little harsh on Fu’s vetting. He genuinely had almost no time to work with, and his tests at least established whether that person cared about the APPEARANCE of being a kind, helpful person.

Plagg shuddered. It was a good thing Lila hadn’t been around at that point. She probably would’ve passed the tests. She at least knew it was a good idea to appear helpful and kind. Made it easier to manipulate people later.

But it hadn’t been Lila.

It had been Adrien.

Even the first time he met Adrien, he liked him.

The kid was bright-eyed and thrilled to see him. Still, just because he was thrilled right off the bat didn’t mean much. Plagg had wanted to make a good first impression – they’d probably be working together for awhile after all – but also test him a bit. Feel out where the boundaries were and how controlling Adrien would be. So he gave a little test. Flying around the room trying to eat everything sounded like a great way to test his patience and his new wielder’s problem-solving capabilities.

Also it was just plain fun. He’d never have been able to get away with this in the temple!

Adrien had gotten annoyed, but nothing worse than that. Had to compliment the kid’s acrobatic skills too. The leap off his climbing wall was impressive, to say the least.

He’d given Adrien the usual spiel about not telling anyone about him, keeping his identity secret, his powers, etc. Well, maybe wasn’t fast enough on explaining his powers. Kid jumped the gun a bit on that one.

After he’d told Adrien some basics about the Miraculous, he’d gone and spread toilet paper all over his room. To his surprise, Adrien didn’t seem to care much. Around that time he’d realized that while Fu may have thought that he’d given Plagg to a cautious wielder, that definitely wasn’t the case. A cautious wielder would’ve lectured him about making a mess, probably in that calm, authoritative voice they often had. Better than the yelling he’d gotten from some of his unrestrained wielders at least.

And then…

“But I'm stuck here! I'm not even allowed to go to school! What good is a superhero who's imprisoned in his own house!”

That was the first glimpse he’d gotten of Adrien’s frustrations.

The first glimpse of the similarities between the two of them.

Their imprisonment, their caution, were for different reasons. People feared Plagg and tried to, if not imprison him, control and restrict him at least. Adrien’s father (and Plagg used that term in a loose sense) at least claimed that he was imprisoning and controlling his son to try to keep him safe. Considering how he acted whenever Adrien did something that was perfectly safe, but that didn’t benefit Gabriel and ESPECIALLY when it threatened his control? He had his doubts. Plagg had had enough wielders justify enslaving him as “keeping everyone else safe from destruction” that he knew the type.

At least Adrien had the Dupain-Chengs now. He may not have been willing to run away to stay with them permanently – yet – but they were there for him. He had a safe place to go with adults who cared about him as a person rather than what he could do for them.

Sadly, he couldn’t say that about any other adults in Adrien’s life. Gorilla came closest, but even then the most he’d really been able to do was look the other way when Adrien needed a bit more freedom than he was technically allowed. He wasn’t really able to give him the support he needed.

Plagg winced a little. While he’d given Adrien some support even early on, he tried not to give too much. Get too attached. The kid was nice and a lot more fun than most of his other wielders, but… well, he’d been burned a lot.

But Adrien had a way of worming his way into even Plagg’s cheese-obsessed heart.

He’d get annoyed with Plagg, but never in a way that suggested he was a burden or unwanted.

He genuinely enjoyed spending time with Plagg, even if most of it was just Plagg sitting around eating cheese.

Most importantly, Adrien NEEDED him. Not just for his abilities – though for that too – but as a person.

Adrien was lonely. Even when he did get to hang out with his friends – which wasn’t as often as he liked, and was prone to changing at a moment’s notice – he still didn’t feel comfortable showing all of him. He had a lot of feelings he kept repressed, that he felt like he HAD to keep repressed, because that’s what he’d been taught to do. And if he stepped out of line where his father could see… well, it wouldn’t be the first time that Gabriel had threatened to pull him from school.

Plagg had been the first person who was always there for him. Who couldn’t be taken away. Who he could express all sides of himself around. Anger, frustration, adoration… everything. Even as Chat, he mostly just let out the part of him he didn’t feel safe showing normally. He still didn’t really show every side of his personality.

Plagg had always been the one who people felt like they needed to teach and lecture.

He’d never needed to be the one to teach and provide support instead.

It made him feel needed. Wanted. In a way he’d never been before.

And this kid…

He looked at Adrien’s sleeping face as he twitched, making small distressed noises.

Plagg snuggled up against him harder. “Don’t worry, kitten,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you. Not forever. I’ll always come back.”

Somewhere along the way, Adrien had turned from just a kid, to being HIS kitten.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the change had occurred. It just kind of… was. But he knew when he first suspected it.

Adrien hated being left in the dark. Feeling like he wasn’t trusted. Wasn’t wanted.

But it wasn’t Plagg’s place to bring him to Fu without a very good reason. Not when Fu could’ve gone to Adrien at any time and chosen not to.

Plus – well, there was a more selfish reason.

He was afraid that Fu would interfere in the bond he had with his kitten. Teach him about how uncontrollable and dangerous destruction was, how out of control Plagg’s powers could get, and that he should keep him on a tight leash.

Even as Adrien’s frustration grew, Plagg still didn’t give in, though he was tempted. And not just by exotic stinky cheeses, though those WERE tempting.

Then Adrien reached the end of his rope. He took off his Miraculous and detransformed, believing that it genuinely didn’t matter whether he was around or not. That he wasn’t needed, that no one would notice or care if Chat just… didn’t show up.

That’s when Plagg realized just how much he cared about Adrien. And how much his kitten needed to hear that. That HE would care if Adrien wasn’t Chat Noir. If he didn’t see him again.

I  will!

Why? Because you won't have anyone to give you Camembert?

Oh, I'm sure there'll be another Chat Noir to give me cheese... but he won't be you. 

That’s what Adrien needed. People who genuinely trusted and respected him as a person, and not as a tool. Who valued his feelings and opinions.

As nervous as Plagg had been about how Fu’s interference could affect his bond with Adrien, he was glad he’d showed up right then. That Marinette had cared about her partner’s distress over the seeming lack of trust – of not even having enough information to know WHY he was being left in the dark – to push Fu into talking to Adrien directly. To showing Adrien that it wasn’t that Ladybug didn’t trust him or believe they were equals, but that it was just Fu’s commands, and it wasn’t her secret to tell.

Even if it meant that Adrien might put him on a tighter leash, if meeting with Fu helped Adrien… well, he’d survived being restricted before.

But that hadn’t happened. In either sense.

Sure, Fu had met with Adrien ONCE – but that was it. Only once. And only after being pressured first.

Plagg kept on waiting for Fu to contact Adrien again. He might not be able to hand out his address – with Marinette visiting regularly, there was too much chance of them bumping into each other – but he could still drop by and visit Adrien. Or even ask Ladybug to arrange a private meeting between him and Chat Noir, if he couldn’t get to Adrien without being spotted.

But he just… hadn’t.

Plagg had entertained the idea of asking him on one of the occasions he himself went back over there, but he doubted he’d get a satisfying answer. It hadn’t seemed worth having a confrontation about at the time.

Even at that point though, he still wasn’t quite ready to tell Adrien everything. He trusted Adrien, he really did, but… well, old habits die hard. He was terrified that this would all end, and Adrien would turn cold and controlling, like some of his other wielders.

Which was why for Nooroo’s birthday, he created a stand-in and didn’t tell Adrien that he was leaving. They were already going behind Fu’s back to do this. Going behind his wielder’s back just seemed normal. Natural.

When Tikki had told him that she’d just told her own wielder exactly what she was doing, he wasn’t surprised. Tikki rarely got the controlling ones. Telling the truth rarely had negative repercussions for her.

Then the akuma happened.

And Plagg hadn’t been there.

When Adrien had needed him most, he WASN’T THERE.

And Adrien didn’t even know what’d happened to him.

He’d flown back to Adrien as quickly as he could.

Finding him imprisoned in his room, alone, desperately pulling on bars he KNEW wouldn’t bend  - he’d known that Adrien feared being imprisoned. That he lived in a gilded cage, one that Gabriel would open the door of occasionally, but that Adrien always had to return to lest he lose that right.

And worse than being imprisoned? Being alone.

Without even knowing why the person he’d cared for, the person who’d cared for HIM, had vanished.

He’d felt pretty guilty after that, especially seeing Tikki and Marinette affirm how much they trusted each other.

Because honestly?

He trusted Adrien too.

He might have hang-ups about his previous wielders, but taking that out on Adrien was unfair. And that day, it had hurt him. Badly.

So when Adrien had told him that he knew what it was like to have his freedom restricted, that he didn’t need to sneak around to leave – that was when he’d decided.

His previous wielders were his previous wielders. They were NOT Adrien.

And it was high time he returned the trust that Adrien had placed in him.

Because Adrien placed a LOT of trust in him. He didn’t even fear his powers! Everyone else was always worried about Plagg going out of control and destroying everything, even his fellow kwamis.

Adrien had never doubted him.

On Heroes Day, he showed no fear or trepidation about Plagg causing a little destruction in the street to let Adrien escape from Gorizilla and transform. He KNEW he could do it. And when he did? When he managed to keep his powers in check himself, only causing as much destruction as was needed? Adrien had patted him on the head and called him his hero.

Now it was time to be Adrien’s hero again.

Carefully, he extricated himself from Adrien’s side. Now would be the WORST time to wake him. Seeing Plagg gone after what he’d just been through? Would be his worst nightmare.

But at least Adrien still had the ring this time. He’d know that Plagg hadn���t been stolen. And he trusted that Plagg would come back.

Still, best to be back before Adrien noticed he was gone.

He looked back at Adrien – his wielder, his best friend, his kitten – and flew off into the night.

Fu was sound asleep when he arrived.

Unsurprising. Feast being around wouldn’t have been conducive to sleep, even if Fu HADN’T pulled his little escapade during the middle of the night.

He was probably exhausted after the kind of day he’d had.

Unfortunately for Fu, Plagg, frankly, didn’t give a crap about that.

If he didn’t want to do this now? Tough luck.

“WAKE UP!”

Fu startled awake, flailing wildly.

“WHA-?”

Wayzz appeared at his side. “Plagg, what are you doing here? Master needs his sleep.”

Plagg growled. “Well, he should’ve THOUGHT of that before KIDNAPPING ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“I had to,” Fu mumbled groggily, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Feast would’ve eaten Adrien and Marinette otherwise.”

Plagg glared at Fu, then took a deep breath. “You were willing to put your own life in danger from Feast, but not theirs. You believed that taking their Miraculous was the only way to keep them safe. Fine. I can respect that.”

“What I CAN’T respect is everything you did surrounding that.”

Fu looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You gave me and Tikki to Marinette and Adrien with almost no explanation, no training, and no support. And I was fine with that at first! Just sink or swim, either they’d manage or they wouldn’t.”

“But then I got to know them better. And I got to CARE about them. Fu, Marinette is drowning in her responsibilities. I don’t get to see as much of her as I do Adrien, but- well, she’s not subtle about it, and Chat’s one of the few people she can open up to about it. It’s gotten better recently since she can talk to Alya and Nino about it as well –“

Fu’s head shot up. “What! Alya and Nino know her identity?”

Oops. He didn’t mean to let that little fact slip.

“For how long?! Marinette knows the rule-“

Oh HELL no.

“THAT IS A STUPID-ASS RULE!” Plagg shouted. The shop shook slightly, his destructive energy leaking out – though thankfully not enough to actually cause permanent damage.

Still, he needed to reign himself in. Destroying Fu – or the rest of Paris – was not on his agenda.

He wanted to shake Fu and make him understand what he was doing wrong, not make him go the way of the dinosaurs.

Once everything stopped shaking, he took another deep breath and continued. “I understand the reason you don’t want anyone else to know their identities. If Hawkmoth akumatized or just had the right mind control akuma take control of that person, their identities could be jeopardized, putting them, as well as Tikki and I, in danger.”

“But you know what? NOT having anyone else know their identities is ALSO dangerous.”

“They’ve both been suffocating, Fu. Marinette in her responsibilities and the pressure to maintain her double life, and Adrien with not being able to really show all sides of himself, and of having very little stable support.”

Fu frowned. “Marinette is a bright young woman who has handled the Ladybug Miraculous admirably, and Adrien seems to have managed well enough before now.”

Plagg bit back some nasty curses. Best not to destroy the shop. Or Fu, he guessed. “Yes, they’ve MANAGED. Which is more of a testament to how resilient they are than anything you’ve done. But the point is, just because they’ve MANAGED doesn’t mean that they should be expected to! They’re only FOURTEEN. They need more support and help than you’ve given them – than you can provide. Alya and Nino give them that. They were able to take babysitting off Marinette’s shoulders, help them sneak out when they need to transform, and just generally have their backs!”

“Wait, so they know not only Marinette’s, but also Adrien’s-“

Plagg flew up to Fu’s face, an inch from his nose. “If you even THINK about taking me away from Adrien again, I will cataclysm you where you stand.”

“Plagg!” Wayzz shouted, dismayed. “How could you threaten-“

“How could I? HOW COULD I?!” Plagg screamed. Vases started to rattle.

Deep breaths, Plagg. Think of cheese. Lovely, delicious, stinky cheese.

After getting a handle on himself, he spoke, struggling to keep his voice level. “You have no idea what waking up to find me gone DID to Adrien. What that’s like for him.”

Fu frowned. “I know he’s your friend, but he survived before I gave you to him-“

Plagg growled, quivering with rage. “SURVI-“

He cut himself off as the shop started to shake again.

“PLAGG, GET CONTROL OF YOURSELF!” Wayzz yelled, positioning himself in front of Fu.

As much as Plagg hated to admit it, Wayzz was right. He needed to calm down.

Mmmm… Adrien with Camembert… Camembert bread straight from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery (seriously why couldn’t they just live there, human laws were stupid)… Marinette and Adrien kissin-

Nope. Nopenopenope. He’d seen enough of that. Those two were gross together, why would that even come up when thinking of calming things?

(He steadfastly ignored the warmth that filled his chest when he saw the two of them finally able to be together and happy. It was warmth from eating tons of cheese bread, that was all).

Ok. Back to yelling at Fu. He NEEDED to understand this.

“Do you know what his life was like before he met me?” Plagg hissed.

Fu blinked. “He’s grown up wealthy, so he’s never wanted for anything – except going to school. He models a lot, though he only started doing that in the past year, after-“

Fu’s eyes widened, realization dawning. “After his mother went missing…” he ended softly.

“Do you get it now? At least that small part of it?” Plagg asked.

“He probably had flashbacks to when his mother disappeared,” Fu murmured. “Thinking that he was losing someone else he cared about, so soon after losing a parent.”

“Yeah.” Plagg deflated slightly. “That hit him pretty hard, but he’s persevered and done REALLY well despite that. Especially considering – well, you know what you said regarding him ‘never wanting for anything’? That’s not true. At all. Him not getting to go to school? That’s the tip of the iceberg. Gabriel – that man does NOT deserve the title of ‘father’ – has kept him isolated from people for basically his whole life. Maybe his mother too, I’m not sure, I’ve been afraid to pry too much. She’s a sensitive topic, and even I know better than to stick my paw in that.”

“Anyway, Adrien’s only friend growing up was little miss cause-of-half-the-akumas-in-Paris CHLOE, and even THAT was mostly because Gabriel saw some value in having his kid be friends with the mayor’s daughter! And once Emilie went missing, he didn’t even allow Adrien to see HER! He was stuck all alone in his room with no one to talk to or support him right after losing his mother. And by ‘stuck’ I mean actually imprisoned, because yeah, Gabriel’s a DICK, and worse than that, he’s a RICH dick who can afford a security system that seals all entrances and exits in his house!

“Oh, and remember when I said Adrien was ‘alone’? Well I MEANT that. His father’s only left his house a handful of times since Emilie went missing, but does he spend any time with his son, who just lost his MOTHER? NO! He constantly makes Adrien cancel or just prevent him from making plans so they can eat together at least, but he only shows up maybe a fifth of the time! No apology, no nothing. Adrien has to drop everything to accede to his wishes, but he doesn’t even CARE enough to apologize on the few occasions when they DO see each other in person! He treats Adrien as an employee at best and an object at worst. He only holds value as long as he does EXACTLY what Gabriel says, and if he ‘fails’ him in any way – doesn’t do quite as well at a photoshoot, isn’t as perfect at piano-playing as Gabriel would like – he’s punished severely, often by taking away his ability to spend time with his friends, some of the only people who DO care about him as a person!”

“I care about Adrien!” Fu interjected, affronted.

“Do you?” Plagg growled. “You’ve only visited him ONCE, after Marinette asked you to. You’ve never asked me what his life was like or how he was feeling or doing, even though I’ve visited here a few times! So tell me, how have you showed that you care?!”

“Master was willing to let himself die to keep BOTH Adrien and Marinette safe,” Wayzz cut in. “Yes, Fu may have made some mistakes, but he DOES care.”

Plagg breathed out. “Ok, yeah. I’ll give him that. He was ready to sacrifice his life for them. But the way he did it – that didn’t exactly scream ‘I know and care about them as people’. He had you KIDNAP me ad Tikki, and he didn’t even give Adrien the luxury of knowing what was going on beyond a quick letter! The only reason he wasn’t completely lost on that was because Marinette texted him with details after talking to Fu, because she was TIRED of leaving her partner in the dark when he didn’t need to be.”

“Fu never gave me or Adrien the chance to protest or argue, present alternative plans or arguments. He never gave us the chance to decide. He just decided that that would be the best course of action, and that was that. No one else’s opinion mattered, because HE’D made a decision. If anyone protested? He shut them up.”

“Well…” Wayzz looked uncomfortable now.

“Oh.” Plagg’s voice lowered, his ears pinning back. Softly, he said, “He did it to you too, didn’t he? Shut you up when you started poking holes in his plan? When you said things that went against his decision?”

Wayzz squirmed, not looking Plagg in the eyes.

“..Yes,” Fu admitted, taking over from Wayzz. He walked over to the turtle kwami, cupping his hands, allowing him to rest in the bowl shape they formed. “I’m sorry, Wayzz. I should never have done that. I truly believed at the time that taking the Miraculous was the best move to protect them, but at the very least, I should never have tried to stop you from talking. To renounce you so I didn’t have to listen to your arguments.”

Wayzz just gave a small nod.

“You see the problem?” Plagg asked. “You care about other people’s lives – I’ll agree with that much – but you keep on forgetting that they’re people, and that they have the right to know information that affects them, to give their input, and to make their own decisions. Yes, Marinette and Adrien are young, but they’re the ones out on the field, not you. They have the right to know whatever they need to in order to make informed decisions – BOTH of them, not just Marinette. She normally takes the lead, and she’s damn good at it too, but don’t dump everything on her shoulders. Let her have support, let her lean on other people. And give other people the ability to provide that support. Yeah, you can’t tell both of them everything – there are some things even we kwami can’t be allowed to know, in case we’re compromised – but you can sure tell them more than you have. Like for instance, what happens when a Guardian renounces their Guardianship?

Fu flinched. “I don’t know how much longer I have before Hawkmoth catches up with me. I don’t want her to worry before then.”

Plagg’s tail lashed. “Oh sure, and you don’t think she might worry AT THE TIME?! I know she’s a superhero, but she’s still HUMAN! And she’s just a kid! I understand not wanting to worry her, but when you plan to dump the guardianship on her lap, she has a right to know what it comes with!”

“And that’s another thing – did you ever bother to really ASK her whether she was okay with being Guardian? Or did you just decide she would be?”

Fu looked at the ground, mumbling. “That’s how it’s always been done…”

“Yeah, and ‘how it’s always been done’ is STUPID,” Plagg said. “Look. Honestly? You’re a decent Guardian compared to some of the others I’ve had to put up with. But that’s not saying much, and Adrien and Marinette deserve better.”

As Fu opened his mouth, Plagg hastily added, “And by that I do NOT mean shove the Miracle Box onto Marinette and skip out of their lives! –well, let’s be honest, out of HER life, you’ve never done squat with Adrien.”

“The sad thing is? I’m not sure who has it worse – Marinette for being the one you shove everything onto, or Adrien for being left in the dark.”

Fu was quiet for a moment.

After a few tense moments, he spoke. “I knew I had failed as a Guardian – that I was never even really a Guardian in the first place – but I’d never realized I’d failed these young people so badly.”

Plagg nodded. “Yeah. You have. But that doesn’t mean you can just skip out because you did poorly. You made this mess. Now, you need to fix it as best you can.”

Fu nodded, determination shining in his eyes. “What do you recommend? Beyond what you’ve already said.”

“Well for one thing, actually try to get to KNOW Adrien. Talk to him, treat him as a person, not just a tool. Let Marinette and Adrien know that the secret identity rule is rescinded, reassure them that you won’t take their Miraculous, and that you’re ok with Alya and Nino knowing.”

Plagg hesitated a moment, but then plowed on. “And… this one really IS more of a suggestion, not an order. But. Maybe observe Alya and Nino and get to know them as well? I think they might also be good candidates for permanent Miraculous, and Nino might be a better Guardian candidate than Marinette. Not because she’s not perfectly capable – she’d make an awesome Guardian I’m sure – but because that’s really too much to dump on her, and to prevent hers and Chat’s relationship from becoming too imbalanced again. Divide the responsibility, so it’s not all resting on a single person’s shoulders – especially when they haven’t agreed to it, and don’t know what all it entails.”

Fu closed his eyes, contemplating. “If you think that’s best, then I’ll follow your suggestions. If there’s one thing this incident with Feast has taught me, it’s to listen to others seriously. And honestly – you’re right. About everything. And… I���m sorry.”

“Apologize to Marinette and Adrien, and try to fix this mess. THAT, will be a sufficient apology,” Plagg said.

Fu smiled. “I will.”

As Plagg flew towards the window, Fu called out, “Oh, and Plagg?”

Plagg stopped, turning around. “What?”

“Thank you.”

Plagg grinned. “Hey, I’ll give you a kick in the butt whenever you need it. Just – don’t need it again, alright?”

He flew off into the night, back towards his kitten.

It looked like things would change for the better.